I start with New Year’s Eve night, a lifetime ago, and I tell him everything. Calling Hannah, moving to Raleigh, the car outside the house, the appointments with Dr. Taylor and the medication, and everything with Mariam. I’m shaking the entire time, and I’m still shaking when I’m done talking, but I did it. It’s done. And there’s no taking it back.
And when I am done, and when he can tell I’m done, he finally opens his mouth. “Wow.”
“I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I watch him do that thing where he rubs the back of his neck.
“Listen, if this a deal breaker and you don’t want to be my friend anymore, then I—”
The way he looks at me, it’s as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “That’s not what’s going to happen. Why would you think I’d want to lose you like that?”
I shrug, fighting back tears. “I don’t know … I’m sorry.”
“Come here.” He pulls me in. At first, I don’t want to move, but he’s so warm, and I’m desperate for a touch right now. His touch. He rocks us both back and forth a little. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” He’s sniffling. Is he crying too? “I just spent the last half year misgendering you, and you’re apologizing to me?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I wish I could’ve known.” His voice breaks, and I feel his tears fall on my hands. “I’m so sorry, Ben, I’m so, so sorry you had to put up with it. And I’m so sorry I did that to you for so long.” He’s full-on crying now, and it’s making me cry more, and we’re both blubbering messes.
“I forgive you,” I choke out.
I’m sure there are people walking by who can see us, or maybe hear us weeping because we are not holding it back. But neither of us care. Or I don’t at least.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I breathe. In and out. “I was just scared, I guess.”
“You really need to stop apologizing.” He lets out this weird sound between a cry and a laugh.
I can’t even help myself. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I know.”
We sit there for a few more minutes, and I just relish in his being here, the warmth of him, the comfort. I can’t believe I waited so long to tell him this, I can’t believe I ever thought he could hate me.
“We’re both messes.” Nathan tries his best to wipe away the tears.
“Yeah, we are.” I try to relax. Because it’s over, it’s done. I did it. That weight should be gone, but it isn’t. It’s still hanging there, pressing on my heart. But it feels lighter, at least. Small victories. Small celebrations.
“I wonder how many people are staring at us.”
“Probably a lot,” I say.
“So how does this work exactly? What sort of pronouns should I use for you?”
I try to swallow. “I use they and them.”
“Okay. I want you to correct me if I use the wrong ones, okay? Promise me.”
“Pinky promise,” I say. We may only have months left together. But right now, I just want to pretend like we’ve got an eternity.
“So, what about things like ‘dude’ or ‘my man’?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘my man’ before.”
“I’m trying out something new.”
“Well, please don’t use that for me, or ‘dude.’” It’s gender-neutral enough for most people, but not for me.
“Got it.” He looks out the window to the community center. “I do have another question. Why here?”
“Oh, that. My friend Mariam, the vlogger? They’re speaking here tonight, and I wanted to come see them.” I glance toward the community center, and then back to Nathan. “Would you want to come with me?”
“Why, Benjamin De Backer, it’d be a delight,” he says with a smile.
The group meets on the fourth floor of the community center. I’m actually glad Nathan agreed to come with me, because I don’t really think I can do this by myself. Not right now. I would’ve waited for Mariam, but I have no clue when they’re supposed to be here.
“So, this is your first time here?” Nathan asks.
“Yeah.”
“Great, so I’m not the only one that’s totally nervous, right?”
“Not at all.” I press the button for the elevator.
“Good.” Nathan sighs as the doors slide open. “Are you going to tell Sophie and Meleika?”
I shrug. “Don’t really know. Do you think they’d be okay with it?”
“I think they’d be fine with your being a ten-foot-tall lizard person in a skin suit.”
“Let’s not test that theory.” I feel the familiar brush of his hand against mine.
“Thank you,” he says. “For trusting me with this.”
Our palms press together, fingers dancing. “I was scared out of my mind to be honest.”
“I hope I didn’t make you feel like it wasn’t safe or anything.”
“It wasn’t really you, it was … the after. Like what was going to happen when I finally did it. I really didn’t want to lose you either.”
“I’m very proud of you, Ben.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I’m getting kind of excited.” Nathan stares at the numbers above the door, watching them rise slowly. “For the meeting.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I offer.
I have to push away the idea that we’re in the wrong building. I doubled-checked all the addresses and the group’s page says they meet in the community center. This has to be the right building. I breathe a sigh of relief when the elevator door opens because right there on the list of offices and their room numbers is “Project Safe Space—Room 414.”
The directory just outside the elevator says that’s to the left, so we follow the arrows, counting down the rooms until I see the one labeled 414. For some reason I’m expecting a big rainbow banner that says “All Are Welcome Here!” or flags hanging all around the door or something, but it matches the rest of the rooms. In fact, the only “decoration,” if it can even be called that, is the poster that lists the meetings, naming them “Project Safe Space,” and giving the dates for the meetings underneath.
“Ready?” Nathan pulls on the door handle.
“Yeah.”
Mariam’s already being called to the front of the room when we step in. They catch us, and a smile lights up their face before they refocus on the papers in front of them.
There are only a few stares from other people when we decide to burst in, taking a spot at the back. Mariam doesn’t miss a beat though and just keeps going. The actual talk itself lasts about an hour, but then there’s another half hour of people asking Mariam questions, and it seems like with every one of them, Mariam falls down this rabbit hole of explanation. They never told me what the subject of the talk would be, but Mariam delves deep into the need for more queer safe spaces. Specifically ones geared toward queer minors, places that don’t focus on dancing or drinking, like most clubs do.