It just kept rising and rising until I just knew I had to tell someone. I had to get it out of me, like it was some sort of poison. And Mom and Dad were who I chose.
That’s what this feels like. Every time Nathan uses the wrong pronouns for me, it feels like a stab to the gut. Even if Mariam and Hannah and Thomas know to use the right ones. His words are the ones I care about the most right now.
I need him to know. For my sake.
For his.
“I want to tell him.” I say those five little words and they feel like they could end the world. “That I’m nonbinary.”
“Yeah?” I can sense the confusion in their voice. But this is the first step. The first logical one anyway. A declaration of love can come later.
“I’m scared, Mariam.” It’s like it’s all catching up with me, and it feels like a dream. I’m going to try and come out to Nathan Allan. I want to come out to Nathan Allan.
“I was too.” They put their hand over mine. “It’ll be worth it.”
“How do you know?”
They shrug. “What answer makes you feel better?”
“That you have a hunch? That it’ll all go amazingly, and he’ll love me for who and what I am. That he won’t hate me.”
Mariam laughs. “I have a hunch, galbi.”
“Galbi?” I look at them. “What’s that?”
“It means ‘my heart.’”
I lean in closer to them, shoulder to shoulder. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Benji.”
We walk around for another hour, thankfully avoiding the topic of my parents, or Nathan. It’s weird to finally be here with Mariam. And we’ve only known each other for about a year and a half now, but when you owe someone your life, can you really call them anything but your best friend?
If it wasn’t for them, I’m not exactly sure where I’d be. Probably still at home, wasting away under that roof all by myself, not really understanding who I am. Or if I did understand who I am, I probably wouldn’t have figured it out until much later.
“You should come and see me speak tonight,” Mariam says while we’re walking back to their hotel. Whatever organization they work for really shelled out. It’s not the nicest place in the city, but even just a night here can’t be cheap.
“Maybe.” It’s like the word rolls around in my head for a bit, and the second it’s out there, I hate it. Why am I not more excited about Mariam’s speech?
“Come on, smaller crowd, and if I just tell them you’re my friend, then no pressure, right?”
“Right.” I mean, I’ve been worried about the group this entire time, running across someone from school or just in general having to come out to an entire group of people. But this is for Mariam. For my best friend. For the person who probably saved my life.
I can’t believe I was thinking about not going.
God, I’m an asshole sometimes.
“I’ll be there.” I make the promise to them, and to myself. “Just have to do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done first.”
“It’s going to go amazingly, I promise.” Mariam reassures one. “Want to grab dinner when I’m done? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, a new project.”
“New project?” I ask.
Mariam just gives me a mysterious smile. “Yeah, I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Starts at six thirty. I’ll text you the address.”
I check my phone. There’s still plenty of time to get ready. Maybe I should ask Nathan. Maybe it’d answer any question he has. God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m going to come out to Nathan Allan. It might not even be the actual coming out that scares me. It’s what he’s going to think of me after.
I try to waste time walking around the park, but that just makes me more nervous, so I sit in the car, slowly typing out a text one letter at a time, until it makes some sort of sense.
Me: Hey, can you meet me near the Wake County Community Center? I need to talk to you.
I close my eyes and hit send.
There, out of my hands. I have to tell him now, right?
Nathan: Sure, everything okay?
Me: Yeah, just need to tell you something
Nathan: okay… be there in ten
Ten minutes to decide how to tell him. Just being up front would be easiest. In theory, at least.
Just say the words. I’ve said them before, and it’s gone well, mostly. Maybe the odds are with me here. Or maybe I can just hand him my phone with an article on being nonbinary, let him read up on it. Then I can answer any questions he’ll have.
Maybe I won’t do it at all. And I’m wasting his time. And mine.
Time crawls at a snail’s pace while I wait for Nathan, the perfect view of the community center right across the street from me. With my luck, he won’t even show up, he’ll call and cancel, and I’ll have worked myself up for nothing.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard. 5:40. Maybe we’ll have enough time to make it to Mariam’s talk.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself, trying to will my heart to beat slower, my hands to stop shaking around the wheel. “You can do this. He isn’t going to hate you, or try to hurt you. That’s not who he is.”
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong. Certainly won’t be the last.
A knock on the window pulls me out of this trance, and for a split second I don’t even recognize Nathan. But then he gives me that familiar smile, and I roll down the window just enough to tell him to get in. Maybe doing this in the car will be better, less chance of a scene, and if he gets angry enough, he’ll just leave himself.
“What’s up?” He stretches his legs out, leaning against the door.
“Hey.” I try to breathe as calmly as I can.
“Hey. You okay?” He leans in a little closer. “You look like you need help hiding a body.”
“Yeah, I just … There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“And it’s pretty big, and I really don’t want you to hate me, but I need to tell you.”
“Unless that whole body thing is true, I don’t think there’s anything to hate about you.” He tries to get me to laugh, or even crack a smile, but I can’t. I just can’t. Because it’s taking everything inside me not to break down right now.
I’m doing this.
“I just …” I stammer. “I need you not to be you right now.”
He leans back in the seat, his mouth a flat line. “Deal.”
“And I know it’s not totally fair, but you can’t ask any more questions, okay? Not until I’m done.”
“Pinky promise.” He offers me his pinky finger.
And I take it.
“The reason I left home, the reason I was kicked out of my home …” I breathe. “Is because I’m nonbinary.” I watch his face, and to his credit he doesn’t seem surprised or shocked or angry. And he doesn’t ask any questions. I can tell he wants to, but he doesn’t.