My Sister

by Selenis Leyva

  After talking on the phone and video chatting for a few months, Jayden invited me to visit him in Staten Island.

  “You mean, skip school?” I asked. The moment I said this, I felt like my heart was up in my throat. I couldn’t do something like that!

  “We can spend the whole day together,” he said.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

  “Oh, I’m cutting school.”

  I thought about this for a bit. Skipping school was not something I wanted to do—but the fact that he was going to do it made me feel a little bolder, like I could do it, too. And I really wanted to see him. On top of this, I dreaded the idea of going to school, hiding the real me, pretending, for even one more day.

  “Okay,” I told him.

  The night before, on the porch, I told Kimberly about my plan.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked. “Do you even know who he is?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course I do.” The idea that he wasn’t who he said he was had crossed my mind, but we had video-chatted, so I knew it was him.

  “You sure you wanna go through with this?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in concern.

  “Hell yeah,” I said.

  Chapter 8

  MARIZOL & SELENIS

  That morning, I played it cool. Up at six, out the door by seven. From the outside, nothing was different—I got dressed, ate breakfast, slung my backpack over my shoulder. I acted like today was just any other day. But on the inside, I was all butterflies.

  On the subway, Kimberly kept questioning me. “Are you sure you want to do this? Why don’t you just go to school?”

  “No way,” I said. I was going to do this. I had a plan: leave Jayden’s by three, be home by six. I tried not to let on how nervous I was, but of course I worried. What if the school called my parents? Would I have to tell them the truth—that instead of going to school, I went all the way to Staten Island to meet up with a guy? I didn’t want that day to be the day I came out to my family. I was not ready for that. I wasn’t even sure if “gay” fit who I was, but I didn’t have any other words to describe what I’d always felt.

  Around me, music buzzed from headphones. Businessmen glanced at their watches. Teenagers laughed. I shrank in my seat, trying to avoid being noticed or becoming their target. I couldn’t imagine spending another day at school, editing myself, worrying what the other kids would think of me. I needed to get away. I needed to be with someone who accepted me for me. And so when the subway doors opened at East 180th Street, I stayed in my seat, next to Kimberly, something I’d never done before.

  “This is your stop,” Kimberly said. “Come on, just go to school.”

  But I stayed where I was. When the conductor announced the closing of the doors, I took a deep breath and looked out the window as the South Bronx passed by. Two stops later, Kimberly stood up to get off. “Go back to school!” she said. “Oh my God, just turn around and go back!”

  “I gotta go,” I insisted.

  She just shook her head at me, laughing with a smirk. The doors closed, and I was left alone with all my anxieties as the train moved out of the Bronx, under the Harlem River, and down the length of Manhattan. I tried to stay calm.

  It wasn’t until the subway got to the end of the line that I realized I didn’t exactly know how to get to Staten Island. Everyone seemed to be moving in one direction, and I followed the crowd to the dock, to the huge orange ferry floating in the Upper Bay. Out on the water, it was cold and windy. I pulled my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie and went inside. The Statue of Liberty, which I’d never seen in person before, drifted into view. I couldn’t believe I was doing this! I felt alive and free, like anything could happen on the other side of the river.

  But the closer I got, the more nervous I was. What was he gonna be like in person? Was the school gonna call my parents? I felt like everyone around me knew that I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing, like all the adults were eyeing me, wondering why I was going to Staten Island when I should have been at school. I knew I was doing something wrong, but part of it just felt right.

  The ferry docked. I made my way down the ramp and saw the bus Jayden had mentioned. Another thirty-minute ride. The bus climbed up into the hills, and I watched as unfamiliar sights passed by: large houses, tall trees, private schools, green lawns. It truly felt like a different world. The bus pulled up to the stop, and I stepped off, and there I saw him, waiting for me. He looked exactly as I pictured: tall, light-skinned, hair pulled back into braids. Oh my God, he’s in front of me! I told myself to keep breathing.

  IT WAS LATE afternoon, in the fall of 2006, when I got the call. I was at home, settling into the evening with my then-husband and our three-year-old daughter.

  “Jose never went to school today,” my sister-in-law Melodie said over the phone.

  “What do you mean he never went to school?”

  “The neighbor told us Jose skipped school to meet up with a guy he met online.”

  It was as if I had been kicked in the face. I was dizzy. Oh my God, I thought. We’re gonna find him in a ditch.

  I don’t remember the drive to Mami and Papi’s home in the Bronx. I don’t remember what the weather was like, or the traffic, but I’m sure I sped in my little red Subaru.

  My mother was in the kitchen, trying to stay busy, but I could tell she’d been crying. My father was pacing around the house. They’d been waiting for me to get there to call the police.

  But the dispatcher was dismissive.

  “It hasn’t been long enough,” she said.

  I was desperate. “You have to understand: my sixteen-year-old brother went to go meet a man he met online.”

  And those details—sixteen-year-old, man, online—must have sparked some fear in her, too. “We’ll send a car over to take down some information.”

  RIGHT AWAY, I realized that Jayden wasn’t the kind of guy I thought he was. I knew he was gay, but I imagined him being kind of hood, like the epitome of a straight, masculine guy. A guy who would make me feel truly feminine. But he was feminine like me. And flamboyant as all hell. What was I supposed to do, turn around and go back to school? Hell no! I’d come all the way out here, and I was gonna stick it out. I knew that I liked his personality, that he was nice and accepting. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I decided to give it a try.

  He gave me a tour of his neighborhood, and we stopped by his school to pick up a copy of his transcript. It felt weird to go to another school on the day I skipped. But his school, like everything else in Staten Island, was different. His classmates seemed friendly—more welcoming and accepting. When he introduced me to his friends, I didn’t feel ashamed, or nervous, or afraid to be me. Still, I couldn’t help but notice his feminine features, the way he walked.

  He took me to his house, and his mom, who was warm and welcoming, offered to make me something to eat. But I was too nervous to want to eat anything. In the middle of the day, we watched a movie and fooled around a little bit. I wasn’t into him, but I didn’t want to disappoint him or make him think that I was some kind of tease. I’d never kissed anyone before, so of course it was nerve-racking and exciting. But part of me felt like there had to be more to it than that.

  I told Jayden that I needed to leave by three to get back to the Bronx by six. “I don’t want my parents to worry,” I explained.

  But I completely lost track of time. We went out to Chinese with his friends, and later, when we were back at his place, I noticed the sky was darkening. I panicked. It was nearly six! We rushed to leave his house and get to the ferry—if I missed it, I’d have to wait a whole hour for the next. But as we were leaving, I noticed a big hickey on my neck.

  “Oh my God, what am I gonna do?”

  Jayden put a spoon in the freezer for a few minutes and then we rushed to catch the ferry. Thankfully, we made it, and he rode the ferry with me back to the city. His arm was slung around my shoulders, the cold spoon pressed against the place where
his mouth had been a few hours before.

  My emotions were all over the place. I knew I was going home to some shit, but I didn’t know what. Jayden was attentive and comforting, and it was nice to finally feel cared for. I had a really nice day with him, but I also knew that we were just gonna be friends. I didn’t tell him that then, though. Instead, I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they called the cops. I bet sirens are going off outside my house.”

  I ASKED MY mother, “Was he different this morning?”

  “No,” she said, her voice cracking. “Todo normal como siempre.”

  I imagined Jose: baggy jeans and a light-colored polo, several sizes too big, his hair buzzed. I imagined him opening up to someone he didn’t know. I imagined Jose being taken advantage of. Raped. His body discarded.

  Papi paced around the house, expressing his worry through anger. “Wait till he gets home!”

  “Arnol, por favor,” my mother said. “Calmate.”

  I can’t believe this is happening, I thought.

  “Le voy a romper la cara!”

  I had wanted to be there for Jose, to support him. But he wasn’t out yet, and I didn’t want to push him. That night at my parents’ house, however, as we were waiting for the cops to arrive, I began to regret this decision. I wished I had been more direct about the dangers being gay could bring—that people have been killed because of their sexual identity, that, as a young person of color, he was vulnerable to being taken advantage of. I wished I had told him that meeting people online was dangerous, that he couldn’t just open up to and trust everyone. I wished I had educated him on what it meant to have safe sex. So many thoughts ran through my mind in that moment, and I had already been in enough episodes of Law and Order to know that this kind of scenario never ends well.

  It’s my fault, I thought. I didn’t do enough. And we’re going to get that call telling us that his body’s been found.

  THE SUBWAY pulled into my station and I ran—onto the platform, through the turnstile, down the stairs. My heart was racing. I was sure my family was panicking.

  I took the shortcut, and as I rounded the corner of our block, I saw them: cop cars parked along the street, their lights spinning. The front of my house flashed red then blue then red then blue then red then blue. I tried to catch my breath.

  What was I going to say? Would I have to tell them I was meeting up with a guy? Oh, God. Maybe they’d just be happy that I was home. Maybe they’d just be happy I was safe. Maybe they wouldn’t ask too many questions.

  TWO COPS FINALLY arrived at my parents’ house. They didn’t want to be there—and they didn’t hide the fact that they were annoyed.

  One officer sighed. “So, he met a guy online?”

  As he said this, I saw the look on his face change ever so slightly. I knew that look. He was judging us, judging Jose for being gay. And that pissed me off.

  The other one chimed in: “How do you know it’s not someone he knows?”

  I was desperate for them to help. “Because my brother doesn’t know anyone in Staten Island! He goes to school in the Bronx. He hangs out with a handful of kids in the neighborhood, including the girl downstairs, and she doesn’t know who this person is! This is not someone from their normal group!”

  Reluctantly, he opened his pad and began to take down some information.

  Was there an argument?

  Did we think he ran away?

  Had he done anything like this before?

  No, no, and no.

  I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opened, and it was Jose. Alive. And safe.

  “Is this him?” the cop asked.

  OUTSIDE OUR side door, I hesitated. I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want to talk about what I’d done that day, or where I’d gone, or who I’d been with. I walked up the steps very slowly, taking my time. Nonchalant-like. I knew I was gonna be in for it.

  Inside, everyone was waiting for me: Mami and Papi, Seli, and my sister-in-law. Two cops, their hips wide from their holsters, turned and looked at me when I opened the door. They closed their notebooks, and I pressed myself against the wall so they could get by and leave.

  One of them turned to me and said, “Hey, next time, let your family know where you are.”

  And then the door slammed shut and they were gone. I knew that shit was about to go down.

  THE OFFICER CLOSED his pad. To Jose he said, “I’m assuming you’re all good?”

  And after Jose nodded, his eyes cast down at his feet, the two officers brushed past him and left.

  The door closed, and there was Jose, standing in the entryway, with a fucking hickey on his neck.

  THE ENERGY in the room was tense, negative. I had no idea what I was going to say. My mind was blank, but my heart was in my throat.

  Papi lunged at me, but Seli stepped in the way. Uh-uh, she shook her head at him.

  MY FATHER’S ANGER was palpable in that moment. I could feel it radiate off of him.

  My sister-in-law stepped back. My father lunged. I stepped in between him and Jose, knowing that he was going to kick Jose’s ass if he got ahold of him. I pulled Jose into the dining room, the statue of the saint staring at us, her arms open wide.

  “Where were you?”

  SELI TURNED and looked straight into my eyes. She was not happy. “Where were you?”

  I was embarrassed. I worried that everything was about to come out. But then I paused and thought: Maybe they don’t know anything.

  I said the first thing that came to mind: “At the library.”

  WHAT HAPPENED NEXT surprised me. It surprised Jose, and everyone else in the room. It was fast—it was as if my body reacted before my brain could catch up. Before I knew it, redness formed on Jose’s face, and he cradled his cheek.

  The room went quiet.

  How had I, Jose’s protector, the one who always made sure that nobody bothered him, that everybody was good to him, lashed out and put my hands on him?

  I FELT a hard smack across my face. I knew I deserved it. After everything that went down that night, I figured something was going to happen. But I never would have expected for it to be from Seli.

  I held my cheek, stinging and raw.

  “YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding me,” I said. “You have got to be kidding me if you think I’m so stupid as to believe your story!”

  My sister-in-law broke us apart. “Your brother’s on his way and he’s pissed.”

  And this knowledge, that Tito was on his way, immediately snapped me out of my anger.

  “Jose,” I said. “Come.”

  I led him to the attic, which had been turned into a studio apartment and had a sturdy lock on the inside. There, I’d be able to talk to him calmly. There, I’d be able to protect him from my brother. And also from my father.

  SHE TOOK me upstairs, to the attic, the only room with a door that locked. I knew that I needed to tell her about where I was, about what I’d told Kimberly, but it wasn’t easy. It was a struggle to get it out. But finally, I told her. Finally, I opened up to her about things I hadn’t really talked about with anyone. About Jayden. About being gay. Like Kimberly, she wasn’t surprised. I couldn’t believe that everyone around me already knew when I wasn’t even sure.

  “WHO DID YOU meet?” I asked. “Who is this person?”

  “Some guy I know,” he said.

  “I thought you met him online.”

  “Yeah, but it’s somebody that I’ve been talking to.” He paused for a moment before saying, “I mean—I’m gay.”

  “I know,” I said.

  He giggled and began to smile. “What do you mean?” A look came across his face, a look of both surprise and relief that said, Finally, I don’t have to hide this anymore.

  Whatever anger I had been feeling earlier, it all subsided. Here I was with my baby brother, who was confiding in me, coming out to me after all these years. He trusted me. And I wanted to help him. I remember wanting to hug him hard but feeling like I had to keep my cool, be s
erious. Now, I regret not following my heart in that moment.

  “You’re gonna have support,” I told him. “I’ll always be here.”

  And then—I don’t even know where it came from—before I could think about it, I heard the question come out of my mouth.

  “Do you want to be a woman?”

  Part II

  BEGINNINGS OF A TRANSITION

  Did I want to be a woman?

  I couldn’t believe that my sister was asking me that question. What did she even mean by it? Be a woman. Was it possible? Did she know something that I didn’t?

  At this time in my life, I had never heard the term “transgender,” nor had I ever met anyone who identified this way. What I had seen on shows like Jerry Springer or Maury were “transsexuals.” And every time, they were portrayed as disgusting freaks. “The Man in the Dress.” Or “My Transsexual Love Triangle.” Was that how my sister saw me? Is that what she meant when she asked me if I wanted to be a woman?

  Because of the body I was born into, I was assigned male at birth. And that assignment, and all of the masculine pronouns that came with it—he/him/his—defined everything in my life: my name, my clothes, my toys. It defined how I was supposed to act, how I was supposed to walk, how I was supposed to talk. But my actions, my mannerisms, my interests—my everything—were in conflict with what boys were supposed to like and what boys were supposed to do.