Okay. I can do this. I did it last night. Those three words and this whole thing could be over. But do I really even know my sister? Can she even help me? Maybe this was all some huge mistake.
But she might be my only shot at some kind of normalcy, at least for now.
“I’m … nonbinary,” I finally spit out. I even manage to make it two words instead of three.
Hannah leans back in her seat, sort of staring at me and not staring at me at the same time. This was a mistake. I’d found somewhere to go and now I’ve fucked it up all over again. Jesus, where could I go after this? Mom will have definitely called Grandma, probably Aunt Susan too. And I can’t exactly show up at any of my classmates’ houses. Besides, how would I even make it back home without paying for a taxi or something? I push back in my chair, preparing to go upstairs and get my things before I remember I don’t have any things with me.
At least that means a straight shot. Right out the door. There’s no way I’ll remember how to get home, so I’ll have to stop at a gas station or something, get directions. How am I even supposed to walk that far without shoes or socks?
“No, Ben, wait.” Hannah grabs my wrist, and I almost pull away. Her grip is too tight though. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looks at me. First at my face, then the rest of my body, as if I’ve somehow transformed right in front of her. “So, Mom and Dad kicked you out for that?”
I nod.
“Figures.”
“I thought they’d understand.” I really, really did. I mean, I’m their child. I thought that might account for something.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” She nods to the chair. “Sit back down. Please.”
I eye her before I take my seat again, rubbing my sweaty palms on the knees of my jeans. I haven’t showered yet, which makes me feel that much more disgusting. Like I’m covered in a film I’ll never crawl out of.
“You’re eighteen, right?”
I nod.
“Have you graduated yet?” she asks.
I feel like the answer should be obvious, but I have to remind myself again. She’s been gone for ten years. “No.”
“Okay, this is a question I already know the answer to, but do you want to go back there?”
Even at the idea my stomach clenches, like there’s a fist slowly closing around it. “No. Please, no.”
“Okay, okay. It’s all right. We’ll need to talk about some things, okay? Like school, new clothes, everything else you’ll need. I’ve already talked with Thomas, and we don’t mind you living here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, kid.” She runs a hand through her red hair, a dye job, I’m guessing, since no one in our family has red hair. And the chances of her hair suddenly turning red naturally seem bleak. She hasn’t changed much since she left. There’s still no mistaking us as anything other than siblings. Same eyes, same pointy nose, same pasty white skin, same mess of hair. I wonder how different I look to her. “Sorry, I’m trying to think. Not really sure where to start with this stuff.”
I can’t even look at her. “Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize, okay? This isn’t your fault.”
I know that. Deep down, I do. But right now it’s hard to swallow. To accept it.
“So, what are your pronouns?” she asks.
The question strikes me. Not in the bad way. It’s just weird. Hannah is the first person to ask. The first person who had to ask. “They and them,” I say, trying to sound confident, but even I can tell I’m failing miserably.
“All right. Well, it might take some getting used to, so I want you to correct me when I mess up, okay? Do you want me to explain everything to Thomas?”
I nod.
At least that way I won’t have to.
Hannah gives me some of Thomas’s clothes to change into after I get out of the shower. “He’s about two sizes bigger than you, but I’ll need to wash these before you wear them again.” She bunches up my clothes in her arms. I drown in Thomas’s shirt, but at least the sweatpants have a drawstring. “We’ll go out shopping later, okay? Get you the basics,” she adds.
“Thank you.”
“Thomas and I talked about getting you into another school. He teaches at North Wake High School, called his principal this morning to see what we’d need to get you switched over. We, um …” Hannah sighs. “We also looked into therapists in the area, someone you could talk to.”
On the list of everything I want to do right now, that is near the very bottom. Probably somewhere between fighting an alligator and jumping out of a plane. “Do I have to?”
“Well, no, you’re an adult, technically. But I think it’d help. There’s one my friend Ginger and her son saw after he came out. Dr. Bridgette Taylor. Maybe she can help, she specializes in kids like … kids like you.”
“You mean queer kids?” I say.
Hannah acts like she’s waiting for my actual reply, my agreement, but when I don’t say anything else, she just sighs again. “Think about it, okay?” And then she’s gone.
I sit there in the silence of the room, not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Like, what do you do when your parents kick you out of your house? When your entire life is upheaved, all because you wanted to come out, to be respected and seen, to be called the right pronouns? I almost reach for my sketch pad before I remember it’s in my backpack, at home. I can’t even do the one thing that might comfort me.
So instead I make the bed, hoping it’ll give me enough of a distraction, maybe let my mind wander for a few good minutes. But it doesn’t really help, so when I’m done I walk downstairs.
“What’s up?” Hannah’s still at the washing machine, hidden behind these folding doors in the kitchen, basket of newly dried clothes in her hand.
I offer to take something, but she shakes her head. “I got it. Something wrong?”
“No. Do you have a computer I can use?”
“Sure.” Hannah leaves everything on top of the dryer and walks back into the kitchen and through another door. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow, but I do anyway.
Their living room is smaller than the one at home, but it looks lived in, comfortable. Hannah was always a bit on the messy side, but it seems like she’s found a nice middle ground now. Or maybe this is Thomas’s handiwork.
“Go ahead and set up your own account so you can log in to your texts and stuff.” Hannah grabs her laptop from its spot between the end table and the couch, disconnecting the charger. “If you have any questions, just ask, but I’m sure you know more about this thing than I do.”
“Thanks.” I take a seat on the huge couch. I’m already at home with the laptop, since it’s exactly like my old one. I type in my email address and password, so that I can read or respond to any texts I’ve gotten. There aren’t any yet, but Mariam is probably still asleep.
I still haven’t figured out exactly how I’m going to tell them about this. I almost log in to my Facebook, but I have to stop myself. Or actually, Thomas stops me.
“Ben?” he calls.
“Yeah?”