Chapter Text
Kyle Rayner, 7 years old
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Kyle walked in from the bus stop outside, swinging his space themed lunchbox as he hummed the She-Ra theme song. He continued to hum and sing to himself as he took his shoes off and put down his backpack. He liked it cause it looked like a rabbit.
“We must be strong, and we must be brave-” He sang quietly to himself, when Maura called from down the hall.
“Kyle, is that you? Don’t be a burglar!”
He giggled, and came running into the living room. “I’m not a burglar, mamaí! I’m me!”
She smiled and ruffled his hair as he grinned. “Yes you are, a stór.”
He grinned wide, and his eyes lit up. “Oh, mamaí! I’ve gotta tell you something awesome!”
“What is it, Kyle? Maura asked, going back to her reading.
“I saw a girl at school today! She had a- a hugenormous puffy skirt!!” He gestured widely with his arms. “It was so pretty!”
“Yes, I’m sure it was. Do you like her?” Maura asked absentmindedly, as she licked her finger to turn the page.
“She said we can be best friends! We played dolls at recess, and she let me try on her skirt! I spun and spun-” He said, spinning around until he felt his mother’s grip on his shoulder.
“She what?!” Maura asked, and Kyle couldn’t figure out why she was yelling. So, he just smiled and kept talking.
“It was so much fun!”
“Kyle, you can’t be doing that!” Maura closed her book, and stood to grip both his shoulders.
Kyle tilted his head. “Why not? I liked it.”
“You’re being an eejit, you know why!” She squeezed her nails into his shoulders, and Kyle started to tear up.
“No, I don’t! It was pretty, and I liked it!” He balled his fists, lip quivering.
“But boys aren’t pretty! They don’t wear skirts, they don’t spin! They’re boys! You’re a boy, so act like one!”
Kyle stomped his foot. “But I don’t wanna be! I wanna-”
Maura cut him off, giving his shoulders one quick squeeze before pointing down the hall. “Go to your room!”
Kyle blinked the tears away, staring up at her. “Huh?”
“You heard me! Go, now!”
Kyle sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve, before running down the hall as he cried. He closed the door a little too hard, and Maura heard him wail.
She shook her head, going back to her reading. “What ever will I do with that boy…”
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Kyle Rayner, 13 years old
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“Mamaí!” Kyle yelled as he slammed the front door shut, struggling to kick off his sneakers.
“Kyle, be careful! Don’t slam it!” Maura called out from the kitchen.
Kyle ran in, now the same height as her. “I was just at Michael’s house, and he showed me a super awesome game!”
“Ah, really now?” She asked, stirring a pot of coddle.
Kyle took a quick glance in the pot to see what was in it, before continuing his rambling. “Yeah! It’s called Final Fantasy fourteen, and I love it! I made a character, too!”
“Sounds like a lot of fun! Can I see?” She looked up from the stove, just as Kyle turned away. “Why’re you nervous, a stór? Come on, show me your character. I’m sure he’s lovely.”
“Um… yeah.” Kyle got his phone out to show the pictures he took of Michael’s computer. “This’s my character… her name’s Fainche, and she’s a Viera, a rabbit person. They…” He took a quick breath. “They don’t know if they’re boys or girls until they’re thirteen, and… you’re looking at me weird.” He looked at his mom’s face, and quickly looked down.
Maura pinched the bridge of her nose, turning the stove off. “You’ve got to be codding me…”
“Ma, it’s not what it seems like-” Kyle felt his heart start to race, and his breaths come shorter.
“Kyle. I want you to stop playing this game, and you’re not to go to Michael’s house anymore. You’re a boy, and you know that! You can’t play as a girl, what if people thought you were one!” She seemed to scold the stove instead of her son, unable to look at him.
“But what if-”
“Ah, here! Just stop with it!” She snapped her head to look at him.
Kyle shrunk back a little. “Stop with what?”
“This game! This whole girly thing! You can’t be one, I’ve told you time and time again. You’re a boy. Act like it. Go do your homework, and stop with the backtalk.”
Kyle started to tear up, but shoved his phone in his pocket. He stomped away and slammed the door to his room, screaming into his pillow.
Maura turned the stove back on, shaking her head. “The little pox…”
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Kyle Rayner, 16 years old
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“Mamaí?” Kyle asked, walking into his mom’s room. It was around eight at night, and she was reading in bed. She closed her book to talk to him.
“Yes, a stór?” Maura asked, gesturing for him to come in.
“Um… I was thinking about my confirmation name.” He fidgeted with the insides of his pajama pockets, hiding his sharpie painted nails from school.
“Ah, finally!” She grinned, clasping her hands together. “Did you come up with any ideas?”
He smiled at her good mood. “Yeah! I was- um…” He suddenly got nervous again. “Uh- I was thinking maybe Catherine? You know I love art, and you’re always getting me the markers and all. And she’s the patron saint of art! What about Catherine?”
Maura went silent, and Kyle stared at her from across the room. He squeezed his leg through his pants, biting his lip as he awaited a response. Then Maura started to tear up, and Kyle’s face dropped as he reached forward in his pocket.
“Mamaí, what’s-”
“BLAST IT, KYLE!” She cried out. “You need to stop!”
Kyle willed himself to stay put, and stand his ground for the first time when it came to this topic. “Stop what!”
“You’ve done this your whole life, stop being thick!” She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.
“Just tell me what I’m doing wrong!” He pleaded.
“You’re a man! You can’t have a woman’s name, and you can’t be a woman!”
Kyle felt all the years of pressure building up, and he finally yelled back. “WHY NOT?! I JUST WANNA BE ME!” He gripped the front of his shirt, showing his hand.
“WELL YOU CAN’T BE!” Maura yelled back, grabbing his hand from his shirt. They both went quiet, and Maura tried to rub the sharpie off with a tissue. Eventually she sighed, hanging her head. “Just… what would the folks at church think if I let you name yourself Catherine? If I let you wear skirts, or play as a girl in your video games.”
Kyle knelt down and looked her dead in the eyes when he spoke, tears welling up. “Why do you care more about what makes them happy than me?”
Maura looked away. “It’s complicated.”
Kyle took his hand back, shoving it back in his pocket as he took a breath. “I’m going to my room.”
“Kyle, wait-” She reached out.
Kyle was halfway across the room when he gave a small, sad smile. “You really ate the head off me.”
“A stór, I didn’t mean to.” She frowned.
“Yeah, you did.” Kyle left and shut the door quietly. He went to his room in silence.
Maura hung her head in her hands as she cried quietly.
Kyle went to his room and scrubbed off the sharpie with hand sanitizer. He went to the back of his closet and pulled out a skirt, one his friend Alycia gave him. He teared up as he took scissors from his desk and cut it to shreds. He shoved the scraps in the bottom of his trash can. He wouldn’t let this happen again.