She sighed loudly, her disgruntlement clear. “OK. Will you be back for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to be?” I really hoped not, but if she did, I’d be there. We always had Sunday dinner at my grandma’s, and she and Mum mostly got on OK, but they were only ever one step away from having a bust-up over my grandma’s refusal to move house. I was like some kind of unwitting peacekeeper, because they wouldn’t argue in front of me.
“No, you go and enjoy yourself,” my mum said reluctantly, but then followed up with a nod and a smile.
I took my laptop to my room and came back to the kitchen for the insect repellent wipes, which were the only thing that seemed to work on me, although I was in two minds whether to use them today. Whilst they didn’t smell of anything, whenever I’d licked my lips after wiping one over my face, I got a salty-bitter taste, and…well, I lived in hope.
“I’ll phone later and let you know what time I’m coming home.” I gave Mum a hug and looked longingly at the omelette. It smelled soooo good, but I couldn’t eat it on the move, and I really needed to catch that bus. With a sad sigh, I checked I had money and my phone, grabbed my keys, and headed out for the bus stop.
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
“Where shall we go?” Leigh asked. We were already stop-and-start walking along the lane from the farmhouse, the stuttered pace because Leigh was adjusting the belt on the bum bag containing their emergency kit: a vial of hydrocortisone, syringe and needle—Leigh had shown us all what to do in the event they couldn’t—and a letter to be given to the attending physician to ensure Leigh got priority treatment and didn’t end up dying in an A&E waiting room. “That’s better,” they said, puffing air and shaking their head. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s OK.”
“Any thoughts?”
“We could walk to the tea rooms,” I suggested, thinking with my belly, clearly, because we’d have to cross the river and double back on ourselves to do that, the outcome being a three-mile trek along an open footpath…and then back again.
“Sounds good to me,” Leigh said. “I ran past there this morning. They sell homemade ice cream, according to the whirly sign outside.”
“Oh, right.” I wasn’t wild about ice cream, but I imagined I’d be up for eating a scabby donkey by the time we reached our destination.
We turned out of the lane onto the main road and crossed over. There wasn’t much traffic about, but there was a blind corner, and it was the main road into Norwich, so the cars came around it at quite a speed. It was better to be safe and walk against the oncoming traffic. After all, the Highway Code existed for a reason.
“What did you think of Nora?” Leigh asked.
“She’s great.” I nodded enthusiastically to make it clear I wasn’t just saying it.
“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” Leigh smiled fondly.
“How long have you known each other?”
“Hmm…about two and a half years?” They pondered a moment and nodded. “Yeah, it must be, because it was the year after I left school. I went into adrenal crisis—my own fault. I messed up my meds, but that was the last time.”
“Must be hard to remember to take them,” I said.
“Nah, not really. I was trying to be smart, and it kind of worked. The specialist changed my dosage when I reached puberty, and the side effects were horrific. My skin’s wrecked.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” I almost wanted to clap a hand over my mouth, even though it was true and I’d meant it as a compliment. To me, Leigh’s skin glowed flawlessly, but I was acutely aware of how often I’d gushed at them over the past few days. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Still, I wasn’t usually that forward, and I didn’t want Leigh to feel self-conscious or embarrassed.
“My face isn’t too bad now, but my skin used to rip like paper, and I’ve got loads of stretchmarks, plus Kelly—my social worker—interrogated me to see if I was being bullied because I was always covered in bruises.”
“Did you tell your doctor about the side effects, or was there nothing they could do?”
“I did tell them, but…well, that’s why Nora became a nurse. The doctors don’t listen, and even if they do, they take ages to act. They also tell you scare stories. Like with Nora, they told her parents if she didn’t have surgery, she’d end up with cancer, so her parents agreed to the surgery, which caused a whole new set of problems. She’s got to take hormones for the rest of her life now.”
“She said she doesn’t need looking after.”
“No, she doesn’t. Her medical condition…it’s kind of the opposite of mine. She’s got AIS—androgen insensitivity syndrome—which basically means her chromosomes are XY, but her body doesn’t recognise male hormones, so she has a typically female body, with boobs and whatnot. She didn’t know she had AIS until she was nine and she started puberty but didn’t start her periods, and they discovered her testes in her abdomen.”
“Oh, wow.” Urgh, no, that was not an appropriate response. If I could’ve done it without Leigh seeing, I’d have slapped myself hard around the head for showing my surprise. I was at least wise enough to keep the rest of my mostly tactless questions to myself. Apart from one. “Nora identifies as female, though?”
“Yeah, which matches her birth certificate, because it’s based on outward appearance, isn’t it? Unless there’s anything wrong, they don’t do any other tests.”
“OK, but…” That wasn’t what I was getting at. “Why doesn’t she identify as queer?”
“Because being queer and being intersex aren’t the same thing. A lot of intersex people see themselves as male or female. Some of us don’t, and that’s the same for non-intersex people. Your biological sex and gender are two different things. You’re male, right?”
“Right,” I confirmed.
“And you identify as a man?”
“Um…boy, man…whatever.”
Leigh laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s just when we were shopping the other week, this little kid wanted some cereal from the top shelf. I got it down for them, and their mum said, ‘say thank you to the man’. It’s the first time anyone’s ever called me a man, and it sounded so weird. I wonder if there’s a point in adulthood when the grown-up words suddenly fit, or if you just get used to it?”
“I know what you mean. Well, I don’t. I get ‘say thank you to that…that…person’, which is actually OK, seeing as I am ‘a person’, but they get embarrassed about not being able to fit me into a box. Strangers are honest, and people who know me can be a lot worse. Even if they’ve known me for ages, I still get ‘but you’re wearing a skirt so you must be a girl!’ Um, nope.
“Anyway, all I meant was your sex and gender match up as expected—you’re a male and you see yourself as a man, or boy, or whatever.” Leigh grinned on the ‘whatever’. “Same with Nora. She’s got a female body—because, let’s face it, when you’re born they just look for a willy—and she sees herself as a girl, or woman—”
“Or whatever,” I added. Leigh shoved against me, and I staggered for effect, but we were both laughing.
“But then, there’s um…what’s her name? The girl at uni you fancy?”
“Who?” I asked.
“The one with waist-length blonde hair and super-long legs. She was at the Pride social on Friday. The publicity officer?”
“Jazz? I don’t fancy her.”
“Yeah, right.” Leigh continued without letting me further argue my case. “All I’m saying is the doctor would’ve done the willy test and decided she was a boy when she’s not. Then there’s me, and I kind of do match, because I’ve got XX chromosomes but male hormones. My brain and body is exactly that mix—intersex—and that’s me. That’s what I feel like. Except doctors don’t like it when you’re both or neither. Gotta be one or the other.”
We reached the bridge over the river, which seemed fitting, somehow. It was quite a steep climb, but even if I hadn’t been out of
breath, I was out of things to say. So much to think about. I thought back to studying queer theory last year; one of the definitions was something along the lines of ‘the critical deconstruction of sex, gender and desire’, which had gone straight over my head at the time, but it was starting to make a lot more sense. I understood now why Leigh identified as ‘queer’ rather than ‘intersex’.
At the top of the bridge, we stopped and leaned on the railing to watch a boat pass underneath. I tilted my head back to make the most of the cooler breeze coming along the river. It was still humid—sweat trickled unpleasantly down my back—but for the time being, the sun was hidden behind clouds. Dark, heavy-looking clouds. I hoped my mum was right about the weather breaking tomorrow rather than today, even if it did mean another sleepless night in my sauna of a bedroom. I’d have to crack on with coursework this week, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Leigh while I could. I was enjoying the honest conversation, although I was aware it had all been one way so far. “Do you want to ask me anything?”
“Like?”
“I dunno. I just feel like I’ve been interrogating you.” I looked Leigh’s way and smiled sheepishly.
“I don’t mind you asking questions.”
“You’ll tell me if I’m out of order?”
“Course!”
“Thank you.”
“OK.” Leigh smirked.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking…this is fun.”
“You need to get out more,” I joked, seeing as this was the third day in a row we’d both been out, the last two of those together.
“You bored with me yet?” Leigh asked.
“Nowhere near.”
“Me, neither.”
“OK,” I said, laughing. This was a lot of fun.
Leigh held out their hand to me. Without hesitation—but with a fair amount of fluttering inside—I took it. We walked down the other side of the bridge, breaking contact to pass through the stile and re-establishing it once we were on the footpath.
“Matty reckons we’ll get a storm this afternoon,” Leigh mused.
“He might be right about that.” I looked up at the increasingly gloomy sky, pointlessly willing it to hold off for a few more hours.
We strolled on in silence but for the gentle lapping of the water against the bank. Towards the centre of the river, it was quite choppy; a boat slow-chugged past us, fighting against the flow of the outgoing tide.
“Have you ever been on a boat?” Leigh asked.
“A couple of times, yeah. Have you?”
“No. I’d like to, though. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do.”
“They give you training when you rent the boat.”
“Oh, that’s cool. We could see how much it costs and maybe do that next year, then.”
Next year. Oh, this was so… “Yes,” I managed to utter. Even if what I thought was happening between us didn’t work out in the long term—God, I hoped it worked out in the long term—we could still go away as friends.
“I’m looking forward to Cornwall.” Leigh’s tone was a bit flat, and I caught the pensive frown before they quickly replaced it with a smile. “I’ve never been away without a support worker before.”
“I’ve never been away without my mum and grandma.”
“So it’s a new adventure for both of us.”
“Yeah.” I sounded about as excited as Leigh did, which was not at all.
They squeezed my hand. “At least we’ll have each other for company.”
I met Leigh’s smile with one of my own. It was reassuring to know we both had reservations, but if nothing else, Noah and Matty would enjoy themselves, which was the whole point of the holiday. I wasn’t sure why they’d invited us—safety in numbers, maybe? After their spectacular road-trip fail, I could see why they might be worried about going away on their own again. But I liked the idea of us—Leigh and me—picking the holiday next time, assuming it would be the four of us again. Much as I was starting to romanticise alone time with Leigh, away from parents, friends, support workers and so on, it would definitely be safer to go with Noah and Matty if we planned to hire a boat and cruise The Broads.
We’d gone back to just walking and not talking, but it wasn’t awkward silence. It was…intimate? Comfortable? Just really, really nice. We slowed to watch a pair of swans fly low over the water and splash down, their feathers brightest white against the dark river. All the while, I was aware of Leigh’s hand in mine, our palms alternately sticking and sliding with the humidity. Every so often, my belly rumbled, and Leigh laughed and said, “Nearly there.” It was amazing how much less I cared about the prospect of eating in front of them, but then, I’d have burned off about a thousand calories by the time we got back to the farmhouse.
As the tea rooms came into view up ahead, the sun came out, and it was right in our faces, so we quickened our pace, glad to reach the shade of the trees and buildings. It was crazy having weather like this in autumn.
“I think I might join you in an ice cream after all,” I said.
“Good idea,” Leigh agreed, but we ordered a sandwich and a drink first, and flopped down in relief at a table. It was a lot cooler inside, and the few other people in there looked like they were suffering as much as we were.
“I can’t believe how hot it is,” Leigh said, fanning their face with a menu.
“You watch, next week, it’ll be snowing.” It probably wouldn’t, but I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying, mesmerised by the glimpse of Leigh’s neck I got each time their hair lifted with a waft of air. Today, they were wearing a plain t-shirt, cargo pants and tatty old Nikes—sporty Sunday scruffs—still beautiful. They stopped and tilted their head inquisitively. I blushed and looked away, laughing bashfully. “Sorry,” I said.
“OK.” Leigh picked up their sandwich and took a huge bite. “Mmm. Good.” They nodded to encourage me to do the same.
I’d forgotten the sandwich was there but duly did as instructed, taking a more modest bite even though I could’ve eaten it almost in one.
“Have you—” Leigh chewed and swallowed “—got shorts and stuff for Cornwall?”
I nodded, rather than risk spraying them with food.
“Excellent. I get to see your sexy legs in the flesh.”
By some miracle, I didn’t choke. I rapidly swallowed the food in my mouth. “I beg your pardon?”
“Noah showed me a photo of you and him at your college fun day?”
“Oh, God.” I felt the blood drain from my face. Now that had been a hot day. Sixth form, post-exams, so late June; we had a barbecue and party to celebrate. There were also lots of games involving water—a slide with a hose running down it, water-bomb volleyball, and other general silliness with the sole aim of soaking each other. My engagement was limited to the water-pistol fight, but I’d been wearing cutoffs and had to ditch my shoes at some point because they were squelching. However, I had no idea there was photographic evidence. “I’m gonna kill him,” I muttered. OK, I might not go that far, but Noah was in for a serious ear-bashing.
“It’s a great pic, Jesse.”
“Cheers,” I said doubtfully. “Sexy legs, though…”
“I think so.”
“Ha!”
Leigh’s eyebrow rose. “You don’t think you’re sexy?”
“I know I’m not.”
Leigh shook their head and took another bite of sandwich. I opened my mouth to argue my case, and closed it again. Why was I trying to convince Leigh they were wrong when I was absolutely buzzing off their words?
“Oh, so you do believe me,” Leigh said, looking deliciously amused.
God, I could’ve leaned right over and kissed that cheeky smirk, but I didn’t. I just shrugged, and braved a little flirtation. “What is it they say about the eye of the beholder?”
“Too right!” Leigh’s smirk became a full grin.
Leaning back in my chair, I ate the rest of my sandwich, reli
shing each guilt-free mouthful. If nothing came of us, if Leigh and I never got any further than being friends, I would still be forever thankful to them for the gift of this moment.
* * * * *
Chapter Ten
We bought ice creams on our way out of the tea rooms—a double scoop each. I had cherry and vanilla; Leigh had strawberry and mint choc chip.
“What colour?” they asked, taking a lick and then tilting the cone my way.
I pretended to think about it. “Yellow and…yellow.”
“Hmm.” Leigh licked the slightly lighter one with dark flecks in it—the mint choc chip, at a guess. “You wanna try?”
There was no time to refuse before the ice cream made contact with my lips. I poked it with the very tip of my tongue and nodded before the taste even registered. “Yeah, minty.”
Leigh took another good lick, this time of the strawberry. “What’s yours like?”
“Nice,” I said, noting the way they were eyeing it up. I chuckled. “Wanna try?”
“The cherry one, yeah.”
I extended my arm, trying to hold it steady, but I was shaking, with excitement rather than nerves. This was proper couple’s stuff.
Leigh gripped my wrist and kept hold while they licked the cherry ice cream, and it was no polite little poke of the tongue, either. They swiped a significant stripe through it and grinned. “Had to get a cherry, didn’t I?” They brought the fruit forward in their mouth, holding it between their teeth for me to see, before they sucked it back in and chewed. “Mmm.”
I laughed at Leigh’s obvious enjoyment, and we set off down towards the riverbank, in no real rush to get back. Or not at first, but that sky…
The first roll of thunder was distant, and we didn’t see the accompanying lightning. Then there was silence. The trees became still, and Leigh and I looked at each other. We were close enough to the tea rooms to go back inside, and there was the first spot of rain, on my arm, another spot on Leigh’s shoulder, and another, and another…
The Making of Us Page 8