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“So.” Maelle turned to look at him, the ghost of a smile dancing across her face. “How does it feel, being the oldest man in the city?”
“A little insensitive, don’t you think?” Gustave shook his head, feeling as if perhaps there should be a laugh in there somewhere but he hadn’t recovered enough from the day’s events to muster one.
She shrugged, looking out over the water. It was an unfortunate place to be having this conversation, considering the view of the monolith that loomed over them, but it was private; that was all he really could have hoped for. Asking more was greedy: that much he understood. “Still true.”
“It’s strange. Not a label I ever thought I’d be able to claim for myself.”
“What, you didn’t think you’d survive this long?” There was a light on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You haven’t Gommaged yet, you know.”
Hearing the word made him wince. By now he should have been used to hearing it, surely, but with the recent wounds still so fresh he wasn’t sure if he was ready to. Today it felt more like salt.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard for everyone…but…”
“It’s fine. My fault for not being used to it after all this time. Maybe I should have gone and drank with Sciel, instead.” Not that it was off the table: the night was still young, and he could use a little numbing.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“No—actually, you reminded me. About something I’ve never got around to telling you.” The words she’d spoken to him rattled around in his head: the last man in the city, a title that felt both desolate and strangely affirming. Something he never thought he’d have been called.
Her smile felt real, more real than the one before, with a visible creep of curiosity hanging around her eyebrows. “Well, go ahead, old man! Spill your secrets.”
Being called an ‘old man’ was a balm to his soul in an odd way. And still Maelle didn’t know why: after all this time, he’d kept telling himself to ‘wait just a little bit longer.’ For what? It wasn’t like she would stop looking up to him if she knew the truth. It would be much, much easier to be honest here than on the Continent, anyway.
“I never thought I’d be called an old man, either. I wanted to. Even as skewed as our concept of old age is…I wanted to.” His gaze drifted anxiously down to his lap, watching as he began to flex his metal fingers. “Sometimes, more than anything. But it was hard to understand, for the longest time.” He laughed, thinking back to all the mixed-up memories of him desperately trying to play along with the part he’d been assigned, thought he was stuck with. “Back before we met, though, people didn’t see that. There was a time when they didn’t even see me as a boy, or a man.”
Next to him, he could hear a confused sound from Maelle. Gustave couldn’t blame her, not really; how would she have known this was something that could happen? Her life had been full enough with tragedy as it was, and it was hardly as if there were many other people around like him, aside from maybe Sciel. He’d never asked, but he’d always got the impression of camaraderie between them that felt like it was borne from shared experiences. He’d never gotten the chance to ask, although he couldn’t help but want to. Maybe the time would come later, if they were lucky.
“No one quite knew what to do with me. Neither did I, to be honest. I was a normal—albeit not particularly well-behaved at times—daughter. Nothing of note or consequence at all, until it was.”
Memories were flooding back, of dresses and long hair and expectations that had fitted him like a glove for the longest time, until they didn’t. Still fiddling with his fingers, Gustave slowly raised his other hand up to his face and tentatively felt against the hair on his chin as if it were something that had just appeared there out of thin air. Sometimes, just when he thought he’d finally gotten used to it being there, it started to feel like an alien presence again. “I don’t think any of us figured out what it was at first, or why. It was…like a gradient, and I didn’t realize what was happening until one day I woke up and finally realized I was a boy.” The beard hair under his hand was soothing. “I was about your age, when that happened. I didn’t really even know what to do with that information, not for a long time. I didn’t even tell anyone,” he added, looking over to check Maelle’s reaction. It was…neutrally curious, a glimmer that spoke of wanting to know more deep in her eye. “When I finally did…my sister found it weird. Acted a bit like she was losing someone, even more so than she had when I’d taken on an apprenticeship. Though by then, our parents were already gone.” He looked back over at her, checking to see if her response had changed any. It was still staunchly neutral, but there was a softness visible there that spoke of acceptance, or at least he hoped so. “I think about that sometimes, how they never got to know they had a son, and what they might have said. Not that there’s any way of knowing. We…can’t speak for the dead, after all.”
His words trailed off, not knowing what else to say, and the two of them descended into silence. Maelle seemed deep in thought, brow furrowed as she stared at the horizon, at the ominous presence of the monolith and its bright timer that never left it. He itched to ask what she thought, fear bubbling up out of nowhere that maybe she’d consider him something inferior or broken where before had rested nothing but assured confidence. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up at all—and on the eve of them leaving—
“So you weren’t born a man?” When Maelle finally broke the silence, Gustave felt himself let out a breath he’d been unaware of holding.
“Yep.” He answered cautiously.
“How’d you get the beard, then?” Maelle’s whole body language changed and she started to grin. “Argh, I can’t even imagine you as a girl.” She held her hands up and arranged her fingers to frame his face. “Nope, can’t see it. You’re a man, sorry about that.”
And all of a sudden Gustave’s heart was so light he almost felt guilty for it, after everything that had happened that day. He should have been grieving, dejected, and in many ways he still was; but the varnish of happiness at being accepted so simply had taken precedent for the time being and he couldn’t help but be just a little bit glad. “I’m glad we agree.”
“I just think you’d look weird as a girl. No offense, of course,” she added hastily.
“None taken. I did look weird as a girl. Or, well, I looked miserable at least.”
“I have so many questions I want to ask. About how you even managed to change so much. And why you didn’t tell me until now,” she pinned him with a fierce stare.
A metal palm came to rest on her knee gently, making the feeling of safety grow despite Gustave’s hand being unable to spread warmth. “This might sound crazy, but…I was worried you wouldn’t react well.”
“Why wouldn’t I react well? You’re my brother!” Maelle’s hand came to rest on top of his, and the gesture made him realize that the worst outcome he’d feared hadn’t come to pass, and after the burden of the day, witnessing yet another Gommage, one thing had gone right. “I’m just surprised that I never thought—never figured it out. And glad I have a cool older brother instead of a sad, angry older sister.” She smiled and gave him a mock punch to his shoulder with her free hand.
“You’re taking it better than I thought…I didn’t know if you’d even met anyone like that. Or knew it was possible.”
“I have met someone like that. He took me in after my parents died and taught me all he knew. Even if he’s annoying sometimes—which he is, make no mistake—”
“I’m wounded.”
“And I’m grateful.”
Fear of what tomorrow and setting off would bring flickered back into his mind. “You know, as for the expedition, you really don’t need to go, not at your age—”
“Are you still on about that?” She rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “I’m still going, Gustave, you know that. I know you think you’re clever with sneaking this one last plea in but it’s not going to change anything.”
He sighed. “I know. Worth a try, anyway.”
“I’m going to fight to the end just like the rest of you.”
They fell into silence again, but this time it was a warmer one that made him feel warm inside, helping to hide the cracks of grief out of sight for just a little longer.
It was a long time before she spoke up again.
“So. Did you lose your breasts at the same time you lost your arm, or is that even related?” Maelle gave him a smirk.
“No. No correlation at all.” He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “Although maybe I should have waited and seen if a Nevron could have gotten rid of them for me instead of going through surgery. Don’t try and test that,” he added, looking over at Maelle sternly. “I don’t think that Nevrons hand out free top surgery on a regular basis.”
“But you would have tried, wouldn’t you?”
He shot her a guilty look. “Be thankful the surgeons got to me before the Nevrons did.”
“Thank you for opening up. It…means a lot to me to know this about you. That you trust me.” Maelle shuffled in closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I prefer you as a big brother, if that means anything.”
Gustave had thought that he was past most of his desperate need of affirmation and assurance regarding his gender, but hearing Maelle say it out loud made him feel warm inside.
Even if the coming storms were doubtlessly going to be cruel, finding a bit of calm before them was nice.