The Making of Us

by Debbie McGowan

  “Hello. Susan Thomas speaking.”

  “Hello, Susan, it’s Jesse here…”

  “Oh, hush, you.” She laughed at herself. She was always answering the phone like she was at work. “I thought you were going to the cinema.”

  “We are. I mean, we did. The fire alarm went off.”

  “I was going to say, that must have been a short film.”

  “Dunno about a short film, but it was an awful one. So, um…Leigh can’t come tomorrow. They’re at their aunty’s.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah. Also, we’re at a loose end now, so I was wondering…if, maybe we could come back to the flat?”

  “Of course you can. You don’t have to ask. You live here, don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah, but so do you. I didn’t want to disrupt your evening.”

  “I’m only watching TV, although I am in my dressing gown, so I’d better put some clothes on. How long are you going to be?”

  “Not sure. Twenty minutes? Leigh’s gone to see if we can get our money back.”

  “All right, love. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

  “Bye, Mum.” I hung up as Leigh emerged from the cinema, waving a sheet of paper. I frowned, fully expecting the cinema to make us jump through hoops if we wanted our money back. “What’s that?”

  “A voucher. They said they can’t issue a refund, but this is for all four tickets. How good is that?”

  “Excellent.”

  “Did you get hold of your mum?”

  “Yep. She’s fine.”

  “Cool.” Leigh put the voucher in their bag and took my hand as we set off towards the road. “D’you think she’ll like me?”

  “I’m positive she will.”

  “OK.” Leigh stared ahead. “How much does she know about me?”

  “Not much, but…so you know in advance, she’s a market researcher, and it kind of spills into her private life. She’ll probably ask you loads of questions.”

  “Oh.” Leigh chuckled. They really were nervous. I figured it would be better to tell them everything now, get it over and done with so none of it came as a surprise later.

  “She’s also a bit…old-fashioned.”

  “What d’you mean? She doesn’t agree with sex before marriage and stuff?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure she agrees with it after marriage.”

  Leigh laughed, and I joined in. I imagined everyone got a bit on edge introducing their mum to their shipmate—I still hadn’t got over that, which was a big part of why I felt so jittery. But my mum wasn’t prone to mood swings or hiding her dislike behind false smiles; pretty much what you saw was what you got.

  “OK, so no smooching, no keeping you out after midnight…” Leigh joked.

  “She’s not a tyrant, I don’t think. It’s just… Well, she’s brought me up on her own, so I guess she worries about me. Even now, she asks what time I’ll be in and texts to see where I am if I’m more than ten minutes late. I’m not sure she’d cope if I stayed out past midnight.”

  “You did when we went to that nightclub with Matty and Noah,” Leigh pointed out.

  “I stayed over at the farmhouse, which makes it OK. I don’t know, maybe she passes responsibility to the other parents for the night?”

  “Has she met Adam and Sol?” Leigh asked, not seriously.

  “Ha, no, she hasn’t. But like you said, she’s met Noah and Matty, and she thinks they’re very polite young men.

  “Yeah, they are.”

  “Anyway, she knows you’re queer and that you use they/them pronouns. Hopefully, she’ll get it right, but it’s my fault if she doesn’t.”

  “You always do.”

  “But I told her about you the first time I saw you in the pizza restaurant and I thought you were a girl. I did explain.”

  “I don’t mind if she gets it wrong. It’s when people assume or ignore what I’ve told them. They do it at the clinic.”

  “That’s well out of order. It’s like…” I stopped talking. This wasn’t about me.

  “Like what?” Leigh prompted.

  “I was going to make a comparison to the way doctors assume I have a choice about being fat, but it’s not the same. I could lose weight if I tried hard enough.”

  “Could you?”

  “Yeah. I just need to think like a thin person.”

  “And all I’ve got to do is think like a girl,” Leigh said.

  “But you can’t, because you’re not.”

  “Neither are you.”

  I turned my head and met Leigh’s victorious grin. “Do they really think it’s that easy?”

  “Oh, yeah. They’re getting better, though. Sort of. When I was younger, and they were still trying to get consent for my surgery, they asked me if I was a boy or a girl. I said I was neither, so they asked which would I choose to be. I said a boy. That’s what stopped them putting the pressure on, but then they changed the pronouns in my notes to he/him. Better than she/her, I suppose.”

  “Hmm. Marginally.” It annoyed me tremendously that Leigh had to put up with being treated like that, and whilst I could see some similarities to doctors’ attitudes about my weight, my situation was nowhere near as bad. For a start, they hadn’t tried to force me to have surgery. I had a feeling I knew the kind of surgery Leigh meant—I’d read about it online—but it was the first time they’d mentioned it to me.

  I’d also noticed something happened whenever Leigh talked about their doctors, but I couldn’t pin it down. They still sounded mostly the same, and looked no less cheerful, but something felt different, like…well, it was like their colours changed—their aura? Yeah, it was crazy, because what did I know about colour? Whatever, I was happy to wait until Leigh was ready to share with me.

  We arrived outside my building, and I let go of Leigh’s hand to dig out my key. “Our flat’s on the first floor,” I explained, leading the way through the side door and up the stairs.

  “This is nice.”

  “Yeah, it’s not bad.” I paused at the top of the stairs and looked around. We’d lived there for fifteen years, so I took very little notice of what it was like. The communal areas were all painted white, with grey carpet tiles in the hallways, grey vinyl tiles on the stairs. There were pictures here and there on the walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows at the top of each staircase. It was quite clinical and impersonal, but it was clean and tidy.

  We continued along the corridor, and I explained, “We used to have a house not far from where Noah’s mum and dad live, but it had four bedrooms. My mum wanted more kids, but she and Dad got divorced before they had any, and she’s been single since. The flat’s big enough for the two of us, though.” I stopped outside our front door and lifted my key to the lock. My hand was shaking big time.

  “It’ll be OK, Jesse,” Leigh said.

  I blew air out of my mouth and, with a bit of jiggling, got the key into the lock. “Are you ready?”

  Leigh nodded and tilted their head towards the door in encouragement, but the door whooshed away from me before I had a chance to open it.

  “Hello, oh!” My mum blinked at us and looked to see what I was staring at—my keys still dangling from the lock. She tutted and pulled them free. “So it is working, then?”

  “What’s working?” I asked.

  “The lock.”

  “Eh?”

  Mum shook her head and smiled at Leigh, who was giggling at my side. “You must be Leigh. I’m Susan, or Sue—Jesse’s mum.”

  “Hi, Sue.” Leigh took my mum’s lead and stepped around me into the hallway. They kissed cheeks. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “And you. Jesse’s told me so much about you.”

  “Same.” Leigh glanced back at me and grinned, which seemed to unstick my feet from the floor.

  I followed them in and closed the door, sniffing and inhaling the scent of vanilla candles and…was that the smell of cookies baking? Bless my mum. She was at least as nervous as we were. Well, more
than Leigh and not quite as much as me, I envisaged. Mum had already led Leigh into the living room, where—oh…fudge. My kid photos on the mantelpiece. I stopped and leaned on the doorjamb, pinching the bridge of my nose like that would stop me turning red.

  Leigh beamed at me. “You were cute.”

  “Still am,” I chanced. Mum almost laughed her head off. “What are you trying to do to me, Mother?”

  She gave Leigh a conspiratorial wink. “A good host always offers refreshments to his guests.”

  I sighed for effect. “What would you like to drink, Leigh?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “OK. Tea, Mum?”

  “Yes, please, love.”

  “That OK?” I asked Leigh.

  “Sure.”

  I could see them dithering over whether to stay or come and give me a hand, but my mum wasn’t done with them yet, so I said, “Be right back,” and left them to it.

  The timer on the oven shrilled as I entered the kitchen, and it made me jump. I switched the baked cookies for the raw ones on the counter, reset the timer and got on with making the tea, half listening to the conversation in the other room.

  For all that I’d made out my mum’s greetings to be some kind of awkward, mind-probing inquisition, she was quite tactful with her questions. As she’d done with Noah, she asked where Leigh was from, what they were studying and then lots of follow-up questions based on those fairly neutral topics. She’d also asked Noah about his family, but she knew Leigh lived at the farmhouse, so steered clear of those questions and instead complimented Leigh on the designs they’d made for my campaign, which turned out to be very helpful, as I discovered they both liked the first logo the most. That made my decision for me.

  Tomorrow, I was going to set up a campaign page on Facebook and try to figure out YouTube. I’d also see if Jazz would be up for taking my photo. I’d have rather stuck pins in my eyes, but as Leigh said, I needed one. All of the other candidates would have one—

  “Oh. I think I know who he is.”

  “What did you say, love?”

  What the… How the hell did she hear me when I’d muttered under my breath? “I’ll explain in a minute,” I said and quickly finished making the tea.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I took the mugs through to the living room and put them on the coffee table, then went back out to the cupboard in the hall.

  “What are you doing in there?” Mum called.

  “School photos.”

  I heard her say to Leigh, “I thought he was embarrassed.”

  I found the box of photos, took out The Dreaded Album, and returned to the living room. “Not for me,” I said and asked Leigh, “D’you remember that guy at the hustings? The quiet one who was up for publicity officer?”

  “Hmm…kind of? Why?”

  “I recognised him, but I couldn’t figure out where from.” I flicked through the photos my mum had ‘lovingly’ purchased over the years, to my year eleven class photo and showed it to Leigh, pointing to the person in question. “What d’you think?”

  “Oh, yeah. Is he trans?”

  “I guess. That is him, isn’t it?”

  “I’d say so. Were you friends?”

  “Nope. He was horrible to me.” In no way did that make him exceptional.

  “Who are you talking about?” Mum asked.

  “Becky Fellowes? Or Ben Fellowes.”

  “I don’t recall the name.”

  I studied the photo. He looked very different now—happier, for sure. His eyes were the same, though, which was what had triggered my recognition. He’d identified himself as ‘a gay guy’ at the hustings—I think we all felt a bit under duress to be open about it after Danny’s dressing down, although I’d have told them anyway, seeing as it was integral to my campaign. I wondered if Ben had recognised me…would he have been surprised to see me there?

  “I’m going to talk to him next time I see him, reassure him there’re no hard feelings.” I was lying; I still struggled to deal with what some of my classmates had put me through, but he might be worried I was going to out him. I’d never do that—well, apart from to Leigh and my mum, but I trusted them both immensely.

  Wow. I trusted Leigh as much as I trusted my mum. I guess I’d already realised that when I’d told them about the weight management clinic, but I hadn’t consciously acknowledged it before.

  I closed the album and moved to go and put it away, but Leigh very obviously coughed into their hand. I didn’t even bother asking why; I just passed over the album. Leigh grinned. The blood vessels in my cheeks had clearly gone on strike—no blush!

  The oven timer went off; Mum bustled from the room to deal with it, and I took a deep breath, preparing to ask the question even though I thought I probably already knew the answer.

  I tilted my head towards the door and whispered, “What d’you think?”

  “I love her,” Leigh whispered back. “I’m really enjoying being here.”

  I nodded. “Me, too.” I could tell how much my mum liked Leigh from the way the pair of them were already pretending to gang up on me.

  Leigh flipped the pages, and I made it through my primary school photos with nary a grimace, but high school… Urgh. I screwed my eyes shut so I didn’t have to see twelve-year-old me, complete with moon face and that bloody awful haircut. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d chosen to have it like that, because I thought it was ‘Zac Efron cool’ when, in actuality, it looked like a comb-over.

  “You were so cute,” Leigh said again.

  I opened one eye and squinted. Year nine. Moon face, now with added craters. “Oh, God. Turn over, quick!”

  Leigh flipped to the next page, giggling at my reaction.

  “Have you got school photos?” I asked.

  “Hmm… Aunty Sheri’s got a couple of my primary school photos. I didn’t get them taken in high school, apart from for my leavers’ prom. I’ll show you sometime.”

  “Cool. I think my prom photo’s in there.”

  All of a sudden, Leigh was in a hurry to get through the album, until there I was in my hired tux, hair gelled back, goatee beard.

  “Oh, boy, were you cute.” The smile I got this time was positively sultry. I had to admit, it was a half-decent photo, probably the only one of me that I didn’t hate.

  Leigh closed the album but kept hold of it, smoothing the cover with their palm. “After Cornwall…can we…” They bit their lip, turning it white. “I’d like to introduce you to my mum. Please say yes.” The last three words came out in a rush that made them blur into one.

  “Yes, of course.” I’d been preparing for an informal introduction to Doctor Powell—Leigh’s Aunty Sheri—but not their mum. I’d assumed they didn’t have any contact.

  “It won’t be like this.”

  “OK.”

  Leigh looked up and tried for a carefree smile. It reached deep inside me and tore something open, and I didn’t know what to say, but there was no doubt in my mind what I needed to do. I hugged them. Shipmates was right; the pain I saw, and felt, was vast and deep as the ocean, and I wanted Leigh to know I understood how important this was to them, and how difficult, even if I didn’t understand why. I heard my mum coming back and said quickly, “We’ll talk about this, OK? If you want to?”

  Leigh nodded as we moved away from each other. It took tangible effort for them to switch back to their usual happy self, and I got the feeling my mum saw it, too, because she faltered slightly before suggesting I show Leigh around while the cookies cooled down.

  “Can do.” I held out my hand for the album. “I’ll stick that back in the cupboard.”

  My mum raised an eyebrow. I just knew what was coming next.

  “You’re a good influence on him.”

  I pulled a face, which got a half laugh out of Leigh, and my mum pulled one back.

  “You’re so alike,” Leigh observed as we left the room.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I lo
wered my voice, not by much. “Only because I’m scared of her.”

  “I heard that, cheeky.”

  I grinned at Leigh. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is first.” We took another three or four steps, and there we were—our flat was quite small. There was no need for me to point out what was what. Bathrooms were bathrooms.

  “Got it,” Leigh said.

  “And the kitchen is just over here.” I walked ahead and waited for Leigh to join me.

  “Mmm. Those cookies look amazing.”

  “Yeah. My mum is an epic cook.” I patted my belly. Leigh’s eyes narrowed. “All I’m saying is it doesn’t help.”

  “And all I’m saying is it doesn’t matter to me.”

  I raised my hands in surrender. “Point taken.” I gestured and we went back out into the tiny square space that connected all five rooms. “That’s Mum’s room—” I indicated the door as we passed it “—and this is my room.” I held my breath as I opened the door, praying I hadn’t left my dirty underwear on the floor earlier. If I had, my mum had picked them up for me, because my room was spotless.

  “Whoa, that’s a lot of pink.”

  “I thought it was…oh!” Not little ‘p’ pink. Like my cheeks.

  Leigh smirked and moved closer to my giant poster. I stepped up behind and wrapped my arms around them. “She is very attractive,” they said.

  “Yeah. She’s got nothing on you.”

  Leigh made the quietest sound—something between a laugh and a gasp—but we were so close I heard it loud and clear.

  “I can take it down if you like.”

  “No, don’t be silly.” Leigh turned and put their arms around my neck, looking up at me. “I was a bit…‘how do I compete with a pop star?’ at first, but that was when I was only wishing for this to happen. Now, I don’t care.” There was that cheeky grin I loved so much.

  Knowing the danger of being where we were made no difference. We kissed, and I felt all of my body respond to the sensation of our lips meeting, the touch of our tongues, the breaths we shared. My fingers tangled in Leigh’s hair, their fingers slid under the waistband of my jeans. God, I wanted this so much I could’ve kicked my door shut and pulled Leigh down onto the bed with me. But I did the sensible thing—we both did—and withdrew breathlessly.