What We Left Behind

by Robin Talley

  Maybe you’re supposed to plan everything in advance with relationships, like Derek and Inez are doing. Maybe that’s why it’s been so strange lately between Gretchen and me. We didn’t do any planning. We met, we liked each other, we fell in love. Boom, boom, boom. Not a single bump along the way.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I say. Suddenly my original topic seems much less scary than the route my mind just took. “You know how I’m doing that internship at Oxford this summer? I thought maybe while I’m there, I’ll try getting people to use male pronouns for me, just so I can see what that’s like. Do you think that’s, um, a good idea?”

  Derek’s whole face changes, their grin spreading wide. “You mean you want to present as male for the whole summer?”

  I fiddle with Eli’s stuffed lion. “Maybe?”

  “That’s awesome!” Derek applauds, and I laugh. Then they abruptly stop clapping. “I mean. If that’s what you want to do.”

  “Why? Do you think it would be weird?”

  “Well, it’s always kind of weird, but it’s good weird. It’s, like, freeing. Like you get to stop living alone in your head all the time, because everybody else sees you the same way you see yourself.” Derek coughs. “I mean. If that’s what you want to do.”

  It sounds incredible, the way Derek describes it. Except...

  “Why do you keep saying that?” I ask. “About it being what I want to do?”

  “Uh,” they say. “Well. I’ve been accused, in the past, of being too supportive when people are thinking about transitioning.”

  “Accused?” I laugh again. “By whom?”

  Derek nods toward the common room. “Some theorists who will remain nameless have suggested that Eli would’ve started taking T last year if I hadn’t scared him away with my overt enthusiasm. But to those theorists I say, why tiptoe into the water when a flaming cannonball is perfectly effective?”

  “Right,” I say. Even though I’m not completely sure what Derek means with the cannonball metaphor.

  “There are also those who would say I should’ve waited longer before scheduling top surgery,” Derek goes on. “Some might argue that just because I’ve been positive I wanted it since the first time I read about it, which was eight damn years ago, when I was in middle school, that I should still keep on waiting, just to make extra, extra sure.”

  I shake my head. “Those people are lame.”

  “Those people include certain individuals whom I’d trust with my life.”

  I’m dying to ask who they mean, but I don’t. I’m positive it’s Nance.

  Derek first told me about the surgery plans a few weeks into the semester. Now that it’s officially scheduled for this summer, we’ve been talking about it more and more. I’m actually pretty impressed Derek doesn’t talk about it every second of every day. That’s what I’d do.

  I can’t imagine it, though. Top surgery is basically a double mastectomy. Afterward they reconstruct your chest to look like a guy’s. A cis guy’s.

  It sounds so freeing. Not having to deal with binders. Not having all this extra stuff you don’t need hanging around on your chest.

  Sometimes when I think about it, though, the idea freaks me out. Surgery. Getting cut open. Getting part of you cut off. Gone, forever.

  There’s no turning back. No in-between. You get that done and you’re a guy. Poof.

  Maybe that would be wonderful. Or maybe...

  “Er, T?” Derek says. “You look kind of freaked.”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “Just, you know. Thinking.”

  Derek nods. “Being at a party like this will do that to you.”

  I shrug.

  Derek’s been certain about wanting surgery from day one. Since they were way younger than I am now.

  Does that mean I’m not really trans, if I don’t have that same certainty? I want to try male pronouns. I think I do anyway. Maybe I shouldn’t, though. Not if I’m not 100 percent positive I really want to live as a guy forever and always.

  The thing is, I know for certain that I don’t want people to see me as a girl. Shouldn’t I want to fix my body to match that? Shouldn’t I be sure?

  Derek’s sure. Eli’s sure. Everyone but me seems to have everything figured out.

  “So, do you want to go on testosterone, too?” Derek asks.

  I knew that question was coming, but it’s still scary to hear it. I hate getting shots, but I guess it would be worth it if I really wanted hormones. If I was positive I wanted to do what Eli’s doing.

  I give Derek my previously prepared nonanswer. “My parents pay for my health insurance. They see my doctor bills.”

  “So do mine, but that doesn’t have to be a problem if you know how to work the system,” Derek says. “I can get you in to see my doctor. He’s a great therapist—he gave me T, plus he put me on some SSRIs that are way better than what I was taking before—you know, if you need those, which, hey, maybe you don’t. But the best part is, his office will help with the billing. That’s how I’m getting the top surgery this summer. I’m using the inheritance my great-grandfather left me. My doctor’s office will make sure my parents never see a single bill.”

  This conversation is moving way too fast. Drugs. Surgery. It’s all so...official.

  “I don’t know if I want to—um. Do anything. Physically, I mean,” I say. “For now, at least. I just had this idea for next summer, about the pronouns.”

  “Like a test run.” Derek grins.

  “Yeah.” Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up. Derek seems awfully excited. “Maybe.”

  “Uh-huh.” Derek coughs again. “You know, you don’t have to wait until summer to use the pronouns if you don’t want to. You could start by telling some people here in the States to start using them.”

  Yeah, right.

  “I think it’ll be easier to deal with in a different setting,” I say.

  “Maybe. Also, this way you get out of having to discuss it with anyone close to you in your regular life.” Derek quirks an eyebrow.

  “Stop analyzing,” I say. “I still haven’t completely made up my mind I want to do this at all. Besides, everyone close to me in my regular life already knows I’m trans. I mean, gender nonconforming. On the trans spectrum.”

  “Really? Everyone?” They raise an eyebrow.

  “Yeah.” I hate it when Derek doesn’t believe me. I’ve never once lied about any of this. “I’m just not that close to many people. Besides you guys, it’s only Gretchen. Oh, and my friend Chris at Yale. I haven’t told Chris yet, but I will. Soon.”

  “You didn’t tell your other high school friends?” Derek asks.

  I shake my head. “There was no one else I really wanted to tell.”

  “It must’ve been weird, being trans and going to an all-girl school,” Derek says. “Being surrounded by hugely reinforced feminine gender norms.”

  I shrug. “It didn’t really bother me. I mean, I’d never gone to a coed school at all until I came here, so I didn’t know any different. Maybe it, like, affected me subconsciously.”

  Derek grins. “A subconscious devotion to blue plaid.”

  “God, save me.” I grin back.

  Derek nods, looking serious again. “I guess it goes without saying that no one in your family knows?”

  “Oh, hell no. I’d be perfectly happy if my mother went to the grave without finding out, and now that I’m out of the house, I’m sure my dad’s forgotten I exist. Until it’s time to sign the next tuition check.”

  “What about your sister? How old is she, again?”

  Hmm. What about my sister?

  Audrey and I have never talked about this. My sister has no problem with the gay stuff, of course—Audrey always came to the Youth Pride festivals and Queer Proms I organized in high schoo
l, usually with a boyfriend in tow—but we’ve never sat down and discussed any of it.

  I could think about it, though. I wouldn’t need to worry about Audrey telling my parents. My sister doesn’t get along with Mom any better than I do. I feel a familiar pang of guilt at leaving Audrey alone in that house, but at least Mom is basically never there.

  “Sixteen,” I say. “Hmm. Maybe I should try talking to my sister about it when I go home for Thanksgiving. See what happens.”

  Derek whistles. “You are serious about this, aren’t you?”

  That hurts. I cross my arms and tuck my hands into my armpits. “You thought I wasn’t?”

  “No. I’m impressed, that’s all. Maybe you’re more of a flaming cannonball than I thought. Oh, and speaking of Thanksgiving, are you coming with us to the game?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” The Harvard-Yale game is the weekend before Thanksgiving. It’s at Harvard this year, which is good, because Nance is the only one of us who has a car, and I’d rather not listen to Nance moon about hot Wellesley girls for a full three-hour drive to New Haven. “Chris is coming up and staying with me. You guys don’t mind hanging out with a Yalie, do you?”

  “Nah, we’re used to it by now. Nance’s girlfriend is coming up, too.”

  My mouth drops open. “Nance has a girlfriend? At Yale?”

  Derek laughs. “Don’t act so shocked. She’s always been a hit with the ladyfolk.”

  I am kind of shocked, but I don’t want to insult Derek by saying so. “Hey, that reminds me. Can I ask you something?”

  “We have proven that in fact you can and do. Often.”

  “Very funny. How well do you know Lacey Colfer?”

  “Uh. Why?”

  I shrug. “I just didn’t know you guys were friends. Lacey’s the TF who set me up with my internship.”

  “Oh!” Derek nods slowly. “So that’s why she was asking about you.”

  “Uh. I guess.”

  I’m dying to know what Lacey said about me, but if I ask it will seem like I’m interested, which I’m not. Obviously. I barely know Lacey. More importantly, way more importantly, I’m in love with Gretchen. Derek knows all that, so it’s dumb of me to worry about them thinking anything else. Except...I just kind of have this sense that I shouldn’t say anything more.

  “Yeah, she just asked if I knew you,” Derek says. “I ran into her this morning in Lamont. I told her you’d be coming here tonight, and she said she wanted to come, too. She and I, uh, we went out for a while.”

  Of course.

  “Derek,” I say. “How many people currently sitting in that common room have you hooked up with at one point or another?”

  Derek smirks. “Look, the whole Harvard queer community is really incestuous. You get used to it after a while.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I shake my head. So what if Derek and Lacey were together once upon a time? It’s funny, that’s all. One more funny thing in my completely hilarious life.

  I try to laugh, but no sound comes out.

  A door opens behind me. I turn around, squinting at the sudden influx of light from the common area and the indistinguishable silhouette standing in the doorway. I hadn’t realized how dark it was in here.

  “Sorry, E.” Derek stands up quickly. “We didn’t mean to invade your territory.”

  “It’s okay.” Eli turns on the light and closes the door. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I can see the bags under Eli’s eyes. “Uh, can I talk to you about something?”

  “Yeah, I can head out.” I stand up, too.

  “Actually, maybe I could talk to both of you?” Eli says. “If you don’t mind, T?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.” I sit back down. So does Derek. Eli’s tone sounds pretty intense. I don’t remember any of these guys ever wanting to talk to me about something serious before.

  Eli sits in the desk chair, towering over us for once. On the desk I can see a pharmacy package. The first dose of testosterone must’ve come in that. I wonder if it hurts, giving yourself a shot. I can’t imagine doing that every single week.

  Derek’s looking at the package, too. “How you feeling, E? Any achiness yet?”

  Eli reaches around and rubs their back. I guess that must’ve been where the shot went in. “A little, yeah. Is it supposed to be making me moody yet?”

  Derek laughs. “I don’t know, man. It’s probably pretty soon for that.”

  Eli nods. “I figured. So, yeah, I’m still stressing out about tomorrow. Like, a lot.”

  “Tomorrow?” I ask.

  Derek looks at Eli. “Do you want me to fill T in?”

  Eli nods.

  “He’s going to tell his parents tomorrow,” Derek says. “They’re getting on video chat at eight in the morning.”

  “Jeez, why so early?” I ask.

  “That’s ten p.m. where they are, in Korea,” Eli explains. “Every time I talk to them, we’re all in pajamas.”

  “Do you know what you’re going to say?” I ask. Eli nods, their eyes fixed on the carpet.

  I can’t imagine telling my parents. Just like that. I wouldn’t even know what words to use. It wouldn’t be anything like telling Gretchen. I knew Gretchen would accept me the way I was, no matter what.

  My parents barely even accept me as it is. I close my eyes for a second, and all I can see is the determined grimace on my mom’s face as that striped tie fell into the sink.

  It was just a stupid tie. But to look at my mom’s face, you’d think its destruction was essential to preserving life as we knew it.

  “You’re going to be great, man,” Derek says to Eli. “You’ve got your talking points all lined up. When you practiced for us yesterday you were awesome.”

  “You don’t even know what I said,” Eli says. “You don’t speak Korean.”

  “Your tone was great,” Derek says. “You sounded really confident.”

  “I just think it’s awesome that you’re doing this at all,” I say. Eli looks up from the carpet and meets my eyes. “Seriously. I’m incredibly impressed. I’d be way too scared.”

  “I am scared, though,” Eli says.

  “Well, yeah,” I say. “Anyone would be. But that’s part of it, right? You know it’s going to be hard. That’s why making up your mind to do it is such a big deal. I bet that’s the hardest part, though. Now all you’ve got to do is follow through. It’ll be a piece of cake from here.”

  “Really?” Eli looks hopeful.

  “Really,” I say. “I mean, you already took down a whole needle full of hormones, right? And you’re coming out to your parents. You’re basically a superhero at this point.”

  Eli laughs. Derek grins and reaches onto the bookshelf toward Eli’s row of X-Men action figures. Derek grabs Mystique and tosses it to Eli, who laughs again and holds it up overhead.

  “T’s coming out, too,” Derek adds. “To his sister. I mean, their sister. Right, T?”

  “Right,” I echo, the laughter dying in my throat.

  “That’s awesome, T!” Eli claps their hands, beaming. They look so excited for me I’m feeling even more anxious than I did before.

  “So tonight, you guys both need to relax,” Derek says. “Let’s go back out there. The game’s winding down. T, you can play a couple of rounds without getting smashed.”

  I sigh. “I still have two papers to write.”

  “Everyone always has two papers to write. That excuse for not doing stuff stops working around three months into your freshman year. Whoops, you’re there now.”

  I groan again, but I follow Derek and Eli back into the common room. Everyone smiles and looks genuinely happy to see us. I smile back, and I don’t even have to force it.

  Nance offers me a beer. I take it.

  Derek is righ
t. I need to relax.

  There’s no rush. I have plenty of time to figure everything out.

  Except that I just said I’d come out to my sister at Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving is only two weeks away.

  Holy crap. Holy, holy, holy crap.

  10

  NOVEMBER

  FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

  3 WEEKS APART

  GRETCHEN

  “Okay, Gretchen, you be Mom,” Carroll says. “Sam, you’re Dad.”

  “Why do I have to be your dad?” Samantha whines.

  “Because my dad won’t say anything, so your Southern accent won’t distract me.”

  “I don’t know how to act like your dad,” Sam says.

  “I don’t know how to act like his mom, either,” I say.

  “It’s easy,” Carroll says. “Both of you just be hick-like and judgmental.”

  “Shouldn’t some of your acting-class friends do this?” I ask. “I don’t think Sam and I will really be able to make this, you know, authentic.”

  “Remember, hick-like and judgmental,” he says again. “Okay, I’m going to start.”

  It’s the middle of the night. We’re in the dorm basement because it has a couch and no one else ever hangs out there, and because Carroll says the basement’s perpetual reek from the trash compactor reminds him of his hometown.

  He’s decided to come out to his parents over Thanksgiving, and he wants to practice. I agreed to help because I owe him. Carroll’s been really patient at listening to me lately. He even came with me to see the new Angelina Jolie movie last weekend. I’d thought it would take my mind off how stressed I was about whatever’s going on with Toni (which it didn’t). Samantha agreed to help him practice, too, because—actually, I don’t know why Sam is helping.

  Carroll goes over to hide behind a pillar. “Are you ready?” he calls.

  Samantha slumps over in her chair and grabs her crotch, flipping her light brown braids over her shoulders. She sticks her other hand out in front of her face like she’s holding a cigarette.

  “Is that how you think dads act when their kids are about to come out to them?” I ask her.