“No, I don’t,” Zeb confessed. “Did I say something to offend you?”
Alex sighed. “It’s fine, Zeb. Go and get dressed. We’ll talk on the way downtown.”
“Can’t you tell me now?” Zeb asked. “I don’t want a repeat.”
“Okay,” Alex agreed, pulling out a chair. “Let’s start with the word change. From the moment I could distinguish the difference between my mother and father, I always considered myself male. My gender identity didn’t correspond with my body. I didn’t want to change, Zeb. I wanted to fix a problem. Sometime between my conception and birth, a bunch of genetic wires got crossed, and the male organs I should have been born with never formed. To my mind, it was a birth defect that needed repairing. Most of us know from an early age that something isn’t right. The disparity between what you feel and what you see in the mirror becomes a monumental hurdle. The longer the delay, the harder it is to feel you should even be alive. The suicide rate among teenagers with gender dysphoria is frightening.”
“Shit, that’s awful,” Zeb lamented.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“What about that Olympic champion who switched teams?” Zeb asked.
“Caitlyn?”
“Yeah, that dude. You think he was ever suicidal? He waited forever to become his authentic self.”
“She,” Alex corrected. “You can stay out of trouble by using the right pronoun.”
“Sorry,” Zeb said. “Why do you think she waited so long? Christ, the guy, I mean, the woman is in her sixties. She could have stayed in the closet and avoided sending her entire family into a crisis.”
“Everyone’s journey is different,” Alex said, shrugging. “I’m sure her struggle was magnified by being in the spotlight, but eventually the need overpowered her desire to remain hidden. People have bashed her for being shallow and making the transition seem like one big fashion show, but I honestly feel her pain is just as real. You can’t imagine what it’s like until you walk in those high heels.”
“You’re right,” Zeb agreed. “It’s going to take a while for me to absorb this new information and stop dropping stupid zingers unintentionally. Promise you won’t hang me upside down somewhere if I say the wrong thing.”
“Don’t stress, sugar. You’re too cute to hang anywhere.”
Zeb felt a warm glow in the pit of his stomach. It was flattering to know Alex found him attractive, and he would have returned the compliment, but didn’t want to come off as insincere. There would be time in the future to sing Alex’s praises. “May I ask you another question?”
“Sure,” Alex said, biting his lower lip.
“Are you into dudes or chicks?”
“Dudes all the way,” Alex said, rising. “Get in the shower and I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
Chapter 3
ALEX HAD expected some emotional display from Zeb when they reached the 9/11 Memorial, but he was astounded when the guy broke down and sobbed after seeing all the names etched in the black marble surrounding the reflecting pool. He draped an arm over Zeb’s shoulders and drew him close.
“Did you personally know anyone who died here?” Alex inquired.
“My uncle was a victim,” Zeb said. “He was headwaiter at the club on the top floor.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t have suggested this had I known.”
Zeb shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I really wanted to come and see what they’d done to honor the victims. My mom’s brother wasn’t close to me, but he was still family. He’d waited forever to immigrate to America and was dead six months later. It’s not fair.”
“At least he saw his dreams realized before he died. Many people don’t get the opportunity.”
“I guess,” Zeb said, sniffing. He looked up at Alex and gave him a weak smile. “Sorry for the waterworks.”
“Come on, Zeb. I’d think you were some kind of robot if you didn’t get a little emotional. Don’t forget I brought a small packet of Kleenex just in case.”
“Thank God,” Zeb exclaimed. “I thought I’d have to use my shirt to blow my nose.”
“I’d never let you do that,” Alex said, passing him a tissue. “That’s an Abercrombie you’re wearing.”
“How’d you know?” Zeb asked.
“Please,” Alex said dramatically. “It’s my job to know these things.”
After Zeb sopped up his tears and blew his nose, they rejoined the other members of the tour who’d waited on the other side of the pool to give him a few minutes to regain his composure. Not that others weren’t reacting to the moving tribute, but no one wished to intrude on anybody’s private moments of grief.
Earlier, after they’d boarded the subway, Alex had suggested a guided tour instead of doing it on their own. It was the same one he and his parents had taken when they’d first come to New York City to make the rounds to modeling agencies who’d shown interest in Alex’s portfolio.
Zeb had quickly agreed, and they’d joined the group at Trinity Church. The knowledgeable tour guide, who had worked at the World Trade Center for several years prior to the attack, included personal anecdotes, adding the necessary human element to the beautiful display. They took in the surrounding buildings—the New York Stock Exchange, Federal Hall, and the Federal Bank—before proceeding to St. Paul’s Church, which had played a critical role in the aftermath of the attacks. Afterward, they headed off to the FDNY Memorial Wall to view the fifty-six-foot plaque honoring New York’s finest who’d made the ultimate sacrifice that day. It was a sobering reminder of an unparalleled act of courage.
“This is humbling as hell,” Zeb remarked. “I wonder what I would have done in the same situation.”
“You never know how you’ll react in an emergency until it presents itself,” Alex said. “What I took away the first time I toured this place was a new resolve to live life to its fullest. Also, telling the people who matter how much they mean to you is critical. A lot of these guys never got that chance.”
“It’s true,” Zeb agreed. “People forget what’s important when they’re caught up in the daily grind. My uncle was probably more worried about getting to work on time than saying he loved his wife that morning. Sadly, most of us don’t think of it often enough.”
“Remember this,” Alex said. “Someone special in your life deserves to be reminded.”
Zeb shrugged. “Other than members of my immediate family, I have no one special. There isn’t a lot of time for dating right now. I’m adjusting to my classes and schedule, doing my best to stay ahead of the game. My father will kill me if I flunk out.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Alex remarked. “There’s more to college than studying. How will you find out what you want out of life if you aren’t open to new experiences? A few mistakes along the way shouldn’t result in bodily harm. You were speaking metaphorically, right?”
“You don’t know my father,” Zeb said darkly. “He’s not physically abusive, but he’s tyrannical about education. He’d pull my perks if I changed major or my grades slipped.”
“My lord,” Alex exclaimed softly.
“You’d think he’d go easier on me, being the youngest in the family, but my parents are total weirdos. Who else would saddle their children with Z names plucked straight out of the bible?”
“Zeb is short for—?
“Zebadiah. My brothers are Zeus and Zelus and my sisters are named Zara and Zaklina. Not one of us has a traditional Filipino name. It’s no wonder people think we’re a bunch of crazy misfits.”
“Are you?” Alex asked.
“My folks are freethinkers when it comes to a lot of things, but not when education is involved. The totalitarian card comes out each time one of us graduates high school. So far we have a doctor, lawyer, nurse, and teacher.”
“All white-collar jobs,” Alex noted.
“According to them, a college degree is essential.”
“It’s important, but so is one’s right to choose,” Alex comm
ented. “I would think they’d at least allow you to pick your own career.”
Zeb shrugged. “Now that I’m enrolled in the architectural program, I’m okay with it. Don’t get me wrong, Alex. I’m luckier than a lot of my fellow students. My parents give me an allowance, aside from paying my tuition, room, and board, which means I don’t have to find a part-time job to make ends meet. The only stipulation is that I maintain my grade point average.”
“Are you a good student?”
“In general, I am, but freshman year is a series of adjustments. It’s the first time I’m separated from the familiar, so I’m getting used to a new country, school, roommate, food…. It’s a lot to take in and not get distracted.”
“I’ll bet. Is Luca helping at all?” Alex asked.
“He’s been great.”
“There are ways to socialize without turning your life into a scene from Animal House,” Alex stated.
“Is that a movie or TV series?”
“Oh my, you really are a stranger in a strange land,” Alex commiserated. “It’s an old movie, sugar. A lot of people think it’s what college is all about, but there’s really more to it than one drunken episode after another.”
“I’ll have to find some way to watch it,” Zeb said. “You think they have it on Netflix?”
“Probably, but it’s not crucial to your American experience. I’m not advocating drunken weekends, but making new friends and falling in and out of love go hand in hand with studying. Besides, sex is a great stress reliever, and you look like you’re tightly wound.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Alex shook his head. “I’m only going by your comments.”
It was too soon to dissect Zeb’s sex life, especially when Alex wasn’t sure of his orientation. His gaydar wasn’t reliable at the best of times, and with Zeb it had barely hummed. Alex was starting to like the guy, though. Zeb was charmingly innocent in many ways and shockingly jaded in others. The brief references he’d made to his father had given Alex pause. What kind of parents dictated a child’s career and demanded top-notch grades or threatened such dire repercussions? It was certainly no way to live, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t let the pressure get to him.
Turning his attention back to the tour, Alex listened as the guide explained the meaning and symbolism of the memorial, and the design and appearance of the museum, while throwing in relevant stories along the way. The guided portion of the tour, which had remained true to the projected time of two and a half hours, ended at the One World Observatory where Zeb and Alex could continue on their own if they chose. This self-guided tour would take approximately one to two hours depending on their pace.
“Would you like to call it a day?” Alex asked, giving Zeb the option of staying or leaving. “We can do this portion of the tour the next time you’re in town.”
“You don’t mind?” Zeb asked, looking relieved. “I’m sort of wrecked.”
“Not at all. Hungry?”
“Starved. Let’s grab a bite before going home.”
They ended up at a convenient burger place and chowed down like they hadn’t had the enormous breakfast earlier that morning. In between swallows, Zeb bombarded Alex with more questions.
“So you’re attracted to guys?”
“Are you offering?” Alex teased.
“Dude, come on. You said you’d tell me more later.”
“I’ve always been attracted to guys.”
“So you’re gay,” Zeb concluded.
“Must we do labels?”
“I’m just trying to understand how this works,” Zeb explained. “You’re my first transgender friend—”
“Not a science experiment,” Alex snapped. “If you cut me, I’ll bleed like anyone else.”
Zeb’s eyes widened. “Chill out, dude. I never said otherwise. Don’t get all snarly.”
“Shitcan the label.”
“All right,” Zeb said. “Do you mind if I ask a few more questions?”
“Talking about myself to a complete stranger is uncomfortable.”
“But I’m not a stranger,” Zeb defended. “Not anymore. All I’m trying to do is educate myself. I don’t want to offend you by saying the wrong thing, but I guess I’ve crossed that line several times already. I’m sorry.”
Alex reached for Zeb’s hand across the narrow table. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. You’re fine, Zeb. Trying to explain my feelings to a cis male makes me hostile.”
“Cis?”
“Cisgender,” Alex said patiently. “A person whose gender identity matches the sex they were assigned at birth. Transgender people are the exact opposite. I was born with female organs but considered myself male from an early age.”
“Gotcha,” Zeb said. “This can get really complicated, right? Like that Jenner person. She used to like girls, but now that she’s no longer a guy, she’s insisting she’s not a lesbian.”
Alex laughed. “You really need to stop using Caitlyn as a reference.”
“But she’s famous, Alex. Shouldn’t her opinion matter?”
“Not necessarily,” Alex said. “As I’ve said before, each of us chooses our path, and no two are ever the same. I don’t know—and I honestly don’t care—who Jenner is sleeping with these days.”
“You don’t like her?”
“Let’s just say she’s not your typical transgender woman.”
“I think she should just come out and call herself a lesbian if she still likes women,” Zeb persisted. “Don’t you?”
“Oh my God, Zeb, enough! Are you done with your food?”
“Yeah, but hold on. I have one more question.”
“Only one?” Alex teased.
“Is Chyna a cis male?”
“Chyna is intersex, and no, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. You’ve given me a god-awful headache.”
“To be continued?” Zeb asked stubbornly.
“Maybe in a month or so.”
When they got back to the apartment, it was almost six o’clock. After greetings were exchanged, Alex put a leash on Bacon and took him for a short walk. Chyna accompanied him, and they chatted companionably while stopping at each lamppost to let Bacon do his thing.
“Did you have fun with Zeb?” Chyna asked.
“Yeah, he’s a bit clueless but basically a nice person.”
“Which way does he swing?” Chyna asked.
“I didn’t ask him. Why?”
“It would be nice if you guys hooked up.”
“Oh, sugar. Stop playing matchmaker.”
“He’s supersmart, according to Luca. Didn’t you say you were into brains?”
“Among other things.”
“What’s your type then?” Chyna asked.
“Someone who won’t set me on fire or throw me out the window.”
Alex flinched when he heard Chyna’s sharp intake of breath. He hadn’t meant to sound so grim, but he was tired of well-meaning friends trying to set him up. Finding a relationship was hard enough without throwing in something unexpected. Any person interested in him would have to be open-minded and willing to put aside conventional notions when it came to missing body parts.
In the beginning, Alex had naively assumed that changing his name, getting rid of his breasts, and ingesting testosterone were all it would take to draw a clutch of admirers. True, there was no lack of interest, but as soon as his dates realized things were not as they seemed, the atmosphere grew tense, and oftentimes dangerous.
It had made him realize that he wasn’t going to find the love of his life in the usual way. A guy looking to get laid could react violently when confronted with Alex’s truth. With that in mind, he’d taken several classes in self-defense. There was no way to expect a good outcome without full disclosure from the onset, but most guys turned tail as soon as they heard the word trans male.
“I’m sorry if I assumed too much,” Chyna said. “For all I know you’ve got a boyfriend hidden away somewhere.”
“Nope,”
Alex said. “Not a one. I’m just not open to the idea of dating at the moment.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” Chyna said. He reached for Alex’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
“Ready for a night of dancing?” Alex asked breezily, eager to lighten the mood.
“Absolutely.”
“Good, let’s go to Webster Hall in the East Village. It’s nineteen and over with proper ID.”
“Sounds great,” Chyna said. “Have you guys eaten?”
“We ate after the tour,” Alex replied.
“Are you satisfied, or shall we make something before we go?” Chyna asked.
“I’m good, but what about you and Luca?”
“We had grilled cheese sandwiches thirty minutes before you got home.”
“Then we’re set?”
“Unless Zeb is hungry again.”
“He ate plenty,” Alex said.
“Okay, let’s get ready.”
Chapter 4
AT THE club, Zeb got a firsthand look at Alex’s celebrity status. People crowded around him when they walked in, and eyeballed Chyna, who was newer on the scene. They hardly glanced at Zeb and steered clear of Luca, who glowered at anyone who dared to approach his boyfriend.
Alex returned each greeting politely but stayed by Zeb’s side, guiding him through the throng of Saturday night revelers with a steadying arm around his waist. The overt flirting from interested men and women didn’t merit a second glance, which made Zeb feel valued and respected. As the only one in the group who could legally order alcohol, Alex offered to grab some beers, but Zeb confessed he wasn’t much of a drinker and would prefer a toke instead. Alex gave him a wry grin, took his hand, and tugged him toward the restroom. That’s when everything got a little crazy.
The tiny stall could barely fit one person, let alone two. Alex lit the joint he’d pulled out of his pocket and took a long drag. He bent down and captured Zeb’s mouth, shotgunning the strong fumes and turning the experience into delicious foreplay. They did that a couple of times, then flushed the last of the weed down the toilet. Alex lifted Zeb’s chin, waiting a second to see any signs of rejection, but Zeb opened up eagerly. The gentle nibbling gained momentum, turning hungrier in response to his reaction. When Alex’s hands slid down to his asscheeks, Zeb didn’t shy away. He moved closer and began grinding against Alex’s hard thigh, which he’d inserted between Zeb’s legs. Zeb never stopped to wonder what the end result would be. All he knew for sure was that he was craving release, and the corresponding growl rumbling from Alex’s throat told him his feelings were reciprocated. By the time Alex led him to the dance floor, he was painfully hard and looking forward to whatever was coming next.
Being With Him Page 3