by Z. Allora
Maybe the name Storm fit Ethan. Erick never knew when his brother would blow past him or rain down on him with stupid.
Ethan—Storm scuffed to the table and fell into a chair. “Look, I love you, but could you go change?”
Could Erick change? That question went much deeper than simple clothing. Sure, he could dress in guy clothing, look like a guy. He could even act the part of a fucking guy! As long as people didn’t look too closely, they’d see a guy. Hell, he’d been practicing and performing male all his life. He’d gotten good at the charade but doing so exhausted him and drained his soul.
He could change, although he no longer wanted to. “No.” It was that simple.
“What?” Ethan shook his head like the no had slapped him.
“I said no. I won’t change.” Erick stood.
Ethan’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes went wide.
Wanting to avoid watching Ethan summon the words to berate him, Erick went to the window. He leaned against the frame. Seeing Cassidy still on the bench, waiting, eased something in him.
“No, you can change your clothing. Uli or Cut will have shit your size, and….” Ethan’s words struggled out in a mix of confusion and helpfulness. But Ethan wasn’t hearing him. People rarely heard Erick or what he actually said.
Erick tuned out the rest of what he said. He shoved away from the window. “No. This is more me than I’ve ever been.”
“What are you rambling about? You’re tired.” Ethan twitched his hands about like he couldn’t find a comfortable place to rest them.
“I’m nonbinary.” There. He said the word. Out loud. He’d known it described him since the concept had been discussed in his gender studies class.
“You’re what? What the fuck are you talking about?”
The red-haired mountain spoke in an unexpectedly soft voice. “Nonbinary means Erick is telling us his gender identity does not fit as male or female.” Alex stopped and pressed his lips together, then asked, “What are your pronouns?”
“His pronouns? Alex, he’s a guy!” Ethan’s words exploded into the room.
“Storm, your brother shared something important.” Cutter elbowed Ethan.
Ethan stood so fast, he knocked over his chair. He shook his head violently as if he could keep the knowledge from sinking into his brain. “No, he didn’t. He’s simply being stupid. You can’t say things like this, Father will kill you.”
All three of Team Storm hollered, “Storm!”
“What? He’s telling me he’s not a guy?” He studied each of his harem before directing his anger at Erick. “What are you saying to me? That you’re a girl now?”
Erick held himself in check. He could do this. “I’m nonbinary or gender queer.”
Ethan slapped the table. “You’re a guy. You’ve got a dick! That’s it.”
His reaction shouldn’t have been a shock, knowing the environment they were raised in, but Erick had foolishly hoped Ethan would be different. “I knew Father was a homophobic asshole, but I never expected you to be transphobic.”
Ethan took a step back. “Transphobic? What! No, I’m gay…. I can’t be transphobic. Just go get changed into something normal, and I can talk to you about— Where are you going?”
Erick didn’t answer. He was done. After throwing the door open, he ran down the stairs and burst outside, taking a deep breath.
Cassidy immediately appeared in front of him, catching him in an embrace. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
Erick hadn’t realized that the wet choking noises were his sobs until he tried to stop shaking in Cassidy’s arms.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” Cassidy kept repeating as he rubbed Erick’s back. “Let’s go back home.”
Home had never been a safe haven, but these last few hours Erick had felt protected. “Home?”
“Yes, home… with me.”
6
Playing Dress-Up
Cassidy wasn’t a violent person, but God, he didn’t want to see Storm anytime soon.
Erick had stopped crying on the way back to Cassidy’s apartment, but he’d yet to say a single word beyond thank you when he’d accepted the hot chocolate Cassidy made him.
After nuking a couple of breakfast pockets, Cassidy returned to the sofa, where Erick hadn’t moved. “Here. You should eat something.”
Erick gave him a watery smile. “Thank you again. I’m sorry. You probably have things to do today.”
Thrilled that he had all the time in the world to spend with Erick, Cassidy said, “No, I’m free. I’m just sorry you’re upset. If you want to talk—”
“I told Ethan… um, Storm… that… I’m… I’m nonbinary.” Erick stared straight ahead, not looking in Cassidy’s direction.
Was he expecting Cassidy to reject him? Cassidy guessed at Storm’s reaction. “Storm didn’t take the news well.”
“You could say that.” Erick sniffled.
“I’m honored you shared that information with me. I’m gender fluid.” He felt foolish because he needed to add, “Though I’m not open about my gender identity.”
Erick turned to study him. “Understood. Thank you for trusting me.”
Cassidy exhaled hard as he shoved the anger down. “It’s crazy that people on the rainbow want acceptance but sometimes are unable to accept others on a different stripe.”
“It is.” Erick pressed his lips together and moved to rest his hand between them, toward Cassidy, palm up.
Cassidy slipped his hand into Erick’s, and warmth zipped through him as Erick laced their fingers together. Such a simple thing, holding hands, but when you haven’t touched palms with another in decades, the light caress became a precious gift.
“When did you first know?”
Erick sighed, and a soft smile ghosted over his lips. He dropped his head against the back of the sofa. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure out why I didn’t fit in. Why I wasn’t like all the other guys.”
There it was, truth with a capital T. Cassidy felt the unfamiliar need to share with Erick. “Growing up, there were times when I longed to wear dresses, nail polish, and to be pretty. My father caught me in a dress once and flipped out. I learned quickly how unacceptable wearing, doing, or saying something that was considered to be female was.”
Erick nodded. “I remember not understanding why only my mother wore dresses and not my father. Why she wore makeup but not him. Of course, I couldn’t understand why certain things were designated for some people, not others. Though society has a way of making sure you know where you are supposed be. I had a similar thing happen, and Ethan ran in between me and my father. He lied and told our father he’d put makeup on me.”
Cassidy sighed. “I never felt like a guy all the time, so the other times I pretended and tried to act the way other boys in school did. Watching and mimicking their behaviors, actions, and even their words. Ha, but that only got me so far.”
Erick squeezed Cassidy’s hand for a moment. “It’s hard to have friends because you can’t hide who you are all the time. When people get too close, they tend to see behind the facade I’ve worked to create.”
“That’s true. I’ve never been able to have many close friends,” Cassidy admitted. His prezombie friends were dead, and if he had to guess, most of them would have probably also fallen on the gender-variant spectrum. Here at Club Zombie he’d only had fuck buddies except for Jasper, the ex-priest who had found his mate, Kai, but still lived on the estate.
“Yeah, it’s like people knew something was wrong with me and stayed at arm’s length.” A frown marred Erick’s face.
Wanting desperately to wipe the sadness off Erick’s face, Cassidy reminded him, “Nothing’s wrong with us.”
Erick winced. “Shit, you’re right. How can I expect Ethan—Storm—to accept me if I can’t accept myself?”
God, Cassidy was way too acquainted with that kind of self-hatred and internalized transphobia. The feeling of hopelessness and of being an outsider was a
constant companion. Most people didn’t have problems identifying with the gender box they checked. “It’s hard not to fit in perceived notions.”
Sighing, Erick nodded. “You got that right. Everything is set for gender binary. When you’re outside the norm, you question your own reality and sanity.”
“You don’t have to answer, but when did you figure out you were nonbinary?” Cassidy hoped that wasn’t a triggering question.
“Last semester in my gender studies class. When the professor discussed the concept of nonbinary, I grabbed on with both hands because I definitely don’t fit the gender binary.”
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
“I tend not to look.” Erick huffed out a breath and unlocked their hands. He traced the pattern of lines on Cassidy’s palm. “Well, that sounds depressing. I don’t usually mind looking like a guy, but in my head, I’m more of a girl who just dresses guy. So, I guess I fall into the nonbinary of the transfeminine variety.”
“Do you want me to use female pronouns?” Cassidy kicked himself for not asking sooner. Could nonbinary be a step toward transition? Maybe Erick was a transwoman.
A bitter laugh erupted. “That’s why Storm went off on me. One of his harem asked what my pronouns were, and my brother lost his shit.”
“What are your pronouns?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just admitted being nonbinary out loud for the second time ever. What are your pronouns?”
Cassidy shrugged. “I haven’t claimed any. I sort of float back and forth between male and female. Well, androgynous male and androgynous female. When I feel I need to get my girl on, I wear kilts that are frillier. I typically wear eye makeup all the time, ’cause I look better with it. However, my nail polish goes to more pastels when I’m more feminine and to rocker black when I’m feeling male.”
“Reinforcing the binary.” Erick gave him a sad smile.
Damn, that’s exactly what that had been. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. The world is designed with gender distinctions that are created by what society deems as proper gender roles. Presentation is the way most folks express their gender identity.” Erick scratched his head and stared off into space. “How do you know you’re not transgender? I mean…. Sorry, you don’t have to answer. I simply—”
“Well, any gender identity that doesn’t match assigned sex at birth can be considered transgender. So, by that definition, we are both under the T in the rainbow.”
Erick pressed his lips together, then said, “Right. That was…. I meant, how do you know you’re not a transgender woman?”
“I used to think it is because I’m good with my parts—that is, I have no need for affirmation surgery—but that’s not an accurate decider, since assigned genitalia doesn’t always confirm gender identity. But I guess the way I sway back and forth between female and male. I’m most comfortable with the gender fluid label.” Cassidy left out that having lived more than fifty years presenting as male, and on occasion, female, he didn’t feel the need for any major changes.
But Erick was what? Maybe in his late teens or early twenties. Did Erick want to transition? Very confusing mixed emotions swamped Cassidy, but he buried them and focused on Erick.
Erick frowned. “It must be exhausting for you to shove your inner self aside and bury your female side under all society expected you to be.”
Cassidy skimmed his hand along Erick’s fingers. “It’s got to be tiring for you too… constantly dealing with the binary being crammed down your throat.”
Sitting back, Erick stared at Cassidy for a moment. “It is,” he concluded like he never acknowledged his own fatigue. “I like being with you. It’s amazing to just be me.”
Cassidy’s heart swelled with happiness. “I’m glad.”
Erick traced along Cassidy’s French manicured nails. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything. Promise I’ll tell you if I get uncomfortable.”
“What’s your orientation?” Erick studied him.
“Well, in the ’80s I labeled myself gay—” He swallowed back the pain the word faggot gave him, the angry word had been thrown at him as if he were terrible and dirty for wanting to be with other men.
“In the ’80s?” Erick’s mouth dropped open. “That makes you—”
“Over a half a century ancient.” Shit! Well, Erick should know the truth. Cassidy pasted a smile on his face. What if Erick was one of those people who thought over thirty meant dead?
“How is that possible? You look my age.” Erick glanced around the room as if he were waiting for a TV crew to pop out and say he’d been gullible.
“I guess Storm didn’t get too far with Zombie 101.”
“No, he was too busy being transphobic and calling me stupid.” Erick’s words broke.
“You’re not.” Cassidy brought Erick’s hand to his lips and planted a kiss on each of his knuckles.
Erick leaned into Cassidy, and if it were twenty-eight years ago, Cassidy would have kissed him within an inch of both their lives, but now… he’d focus on reality and explain the zombie deal.
“At age nineteen zombies start needing essence to survive. Beau and Lafayette set up Club Zombie so we could get what we need.”
“Right, but why do you look my age?”
“Zombies stop aging at twenty-three.” Cassidy left out how they stopped orgasming as well, ’cause his lack of relief was irrelevant to their discussion.
“Oh.” Erick pressed his lips together and shifted a bit closer. “So, if you stop aging, does that mean you don’t die?”
Cassidy shrugged. “As long as we have what we need.”
“Which is a mate.” Erick frowned, like the word tasted bad in his mouth, and muttered, “Talk about codependence.”
“Erick, you delight me.” Cassidy snorted. His shitty life lightened with Erick’s presence. The dark parts of his soul lit with a newness he hadn’t experienced in forever.
Tilting his head, Erick studied him. “What did you mean by you thought you were gay in the ’80s?”
“Since I’ve explored my gender identity more, I now know I’m gender fluid, so I can’t be gay.”
“Huh?”
“I mean that label doesn’t quite work for me. When I’m feeling my female side more dominantly and I’m with a guy, does that make me straight? And then gay when I flow male? For me, even though my gender is fluid, I see myself as gender blind. Granted I haven’t had a lot of interactions with women, but I could possibly be attracted to a woman. Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble. To answer your straightforward question, I identify as queer. I guess I could be considered pansexual….”
“Totally get you,” Erick said with such sincerity Cassidy didn’t doubt his words. “It’s more about the person.”
Cassidy’s heart kept chanting Erick’s name.
“So, the ’80s, that’s when you were born?”
“No, that’s when the parents kicked me out for being gay, or more accurately, when my father called me a faggot before punching me in the face.” It still ached to admit that.
Erick frowned. “I’m terribly sorry.”
He wanted to kiss the frown off Erick’s face in the worst way, but he was too old to follow bad ideas to their disastrous conclusions. Time to regroup. “Hey, you want to binge-watch something?”
“Binge-watch something. Really?” Erick danced in his seat.
Cassidy grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Definitely. I’m on break, and for the first time I’m not going to spend my entire vacation studying.”
“Great. What do you want to see?”
“Father thought TV shows were redundant and without value, so I have no clue. I say give me your best brain candy.” Erick announced the request like he was agreeing to go skydiving.
Cassidy got the remote and started Netflix. “Hmmm, well, I am the master of mind rot. Let’s see. We have fantasy, magical, sci-fi, or comedy.”
“All of it.” Erick gestured toward the pictures of the shows.
“No preference?”
Erick shrugged. “Whatever you think I’d enjoy.”
With all the crazy swirling around him, Erick probably needed a mental break. What was something intriguing enough to sweep him into an adventure? “I really enjoyed Stranger Things. It’s a combination sci-fi mixed with magic and comedy. If you’re not enjoying the show after a couple episodes, we can choose something else.”
“Sounds great. If you don’t mind seeing it again.”
“Not at all. I’ve watched Stranger Things a few times, and I always find something I missed in the last viewings. We need snacks.” Cassidy headed into his galley kitchen.
Erick trailed after him and sat at the bar that separated his living room from the kitchen. “I love 1950s appliances. I like how you mixed the mint greens with the pale pinks.”
“Me too. This room never fails to make me smile when I’m in here.” Cassidy opened the refrigerator and pointed inside. “Beau insisted on a decorative facade only. Everything on the inside is high-tech and eco-friendly.”
“Neat.”
“Can I make you a milkshake?”
Erick licked his lips. “Yeah.”
“What kind? Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Both.”
“A black-and-white coming right up.” Cassidy pulled two glasses out of the freezer. He scooped two balls of vanilla and two of chocolate ice cream, and then dropped them into a tall metal cup. Then he added milk, chocolate syrup, and a teaspoon of vanilla extract.
“I can’t believe you have a milkshake maker.” Erick raised his voice to be heard above the noise of the blender.
Cassidy poured Erick’s shake into one of the old-fashioned glasses and added a pink straw. “Beau thought the fancy blender appropriate for the kitchen design. Plus, I do shakes as meals sometimes. It’s the height of luxury.”
Erick took a slurp. “Yum. This is delicious.”
Cassidy made his own shake with a one-to-three ratio of vanilla to chocolate. He became ultra-aware of Erick’s hungry gaze on him—or maybe his overactive imagination made him see what wasn’t there. Cassidy glanced directly at Erick.