She was a lot less chatty than usual as she collected her stuff, and I ducked into my room with the intention of putting on something warmer and taking off the packer so I could drive her around the corner to the station. I’d put on my biggest hoodie and was trying to get to my belt latch under the long front of it, when I realised what having a long hoodie actually meant. I had an idea.
On the way out the front door, Bree was lamenting, “It’s such a pity that you need to take it off…” She turned around to look up at me when I stopped.
Grinning at her, I lifted the front of my big hoodie to show her it was still there, and then winked.
“Oh my god,” she said as a single syllable, and then went a deep pink.
Her hand snuck back into my lap as we drove, but she was pretending to have nothing to do with it and innocently looking out the window. When I pulled up by the station, she gave me a breathy smile. “People can’t see into your car, can they? Because of the tint?”
“Nope,” I said with a grin. Her hand was under my hoodie, and her lips were parted as she tried to breathe normally. She wasn’t succeeding. There were butterflies in my stomach; this packer was growing on me pretty damn fast. “Do you want to stay over instead? I can just turn around and go back…”
She groaned. “Yes,” she said. “But I promised I’d meet Courtney before school so we could revise for Psych.” She very, very reluctantly withdrew her hand from my lap.
I laughed. “Wow, Psych homework. That definitely sounds like more fun that what I had in mind.”
I expected her to have some sort of pained comeback to that, but she didn’t. She just watched me. With her blush fading, she reached out and touched the edge of my big open smile with her thumb. There was a peaceful smile on her face, too. “So, like, see you tomorrow?”
I nodded and gave her a kiss goodbye. “Yeah. Good luck for your quiz.” As she got out of the car, I stopped her, though. I’d had a really nice ‘cheer Min up’ weekend. “Bree…” I told her as she ducked her head back in the car. “Thank you.”
She gave me the most beautiful smile. “You’re welcome, Min.”
I waved to her and then pretended to drive away, but secretly stopped in a side street until I’d seen her get safely onto the train before I headed home.
The house was quiet; Sarah and Rob were due back earlier but were obviously running late. My first stop was back in my bedroom to take the packer off, because without Bree around, I didn’t really have any desire to keep it on. I guess that’s a tick in the ‘genderqueer’ rather than the ‘trans guy’ column, I thought, remembering reading some forum posts about trans guys feeling more comfortable wearing packers all the time, even when they were alone. Then again, I’d silently witnessed a number of heated arguments about genitals on various forums; there probably wasn’t a reliable consensus on How to Be a Real Trans Guy, which meant that I was probably still no closer to figuring out if I was one or not.
I left the hard packer out on my desk beside the soft one and then wandered out into the living room to take my USB out of the TV. I didn’t even make it out into the hallway, though, because it occurred to me I had two very realistic dicks chilling out in the open on my desk, for anyone who happened to go into that room to see.
My blood ran cold: knowing my luck, this would be the moment when Mum showed up on Sarah’s doorstep, wouldn’t it? I was surprised the doorbell wasn’t ringing right now. I felt like leaving the packers out in plain sight was as good as summoning her.
I had gone back into my bedroom to hide them safely away in my case when I realised what I was doing: I was hiding my own packers in my own bedroom from someone who was 10,000 fucking kilometres away.
I took them out again and stood up, frowning at them. I shouldn’t have to hide them, should I? I wasn’t twelve anymore. I didn’t have to put up with Mum rifling through my stuff for evidence I was a bad daughter. I was an adult, and these were part of who I was, and I didn’t want to have to stuff them away in a fucking suitcase because I was afraid of her magically finding them.
Planes aren’t magic, Min, I found myself thinking. You know she’s going to come here about Henry, why wouldn’t she do that now? She could get on one and be here any minute. She’d see what you’ve done to your hair, your clothes, and your breasts. Then she’d see these on your desk.
I could imagine what she’d say. I could imagine her shaking her head at me with such disappointment. ‘I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?’ And then she’d watch as she made me throw them away, forced me into dresses again, and I’d have to listen every day to how disappointing I was, and how she sacrificed herself for someone who definitely wasn’t worth it. She’d tell everyone who’d listen—the cashier, the retail assistant, ladies at Church—how I squandered my biggest opportunity for happiness and now there I was, in my late twenties, unemployed and with my mother taking care of me.
I grit my teeth. I actually was that person, though, wasn’t I? Unemployed, a procrastinator, incapable of doing anything by myself. I couldn’t run my own fucking life: I needed taking care of.
I felt that weight descend on my chest again, the weight I’d had all week. The desire to just open a bottle of red and drown myself in it, or just go to bed and never get up again. What was the point? Sarah was off being showered with adoration and love by her family, and I was stuck needing charity from my friends and girlfriend who were all talking behind my back about how to take care of me. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I couldn’t even figure out a way to keep Mum in Korea and protect my friends from her, so on top of taking care of me, they were going to need to contend with her. What a great friend I was.
I sunk down onto my bed, feeling all the energy I’d had all day just seep out of me.
It was a memory of Bree reciting her list that made me catch myself in a spiral of self-insults and self-deprecation. ‘You take such good care of me’, she’d said—I thought it was the other way around, because I didn’t cook or clean for her, did I? She’d been serious, though. She’d meant it. Bree didn’t think I was pathetic.
She’d talked about other things too: how smart she thought I was, how generous, and the way she described how it had felt to watch me stand up to Andrej for her, it was like she thought I was some sort of hero. I smiled; that wasn’t even my favourite part of that day. That had been one amazing fucking day. I’d felt weightless, and invincible, and all because I’d shed all that pressure and all that expectation to just finally accept myself for who I was.
Suddenly, with surprising clarity, I realised why I felt so bad.
Mum had somehow managed to suck me back into that place I’d been in when I was at Frost, and I didn’t fucking want to go back there. I was happy for once. I was really happy. I’d spent all day being cherished, and loved, and having a beautiful, wonderful girl be almost unable to keep her hands off me, and it felt amazing. I didn’t want to go back to hating myself and subsisting on a diet of red wine and painkillers, I didn’t want to!
I stood up again, feeling like I should do something. I couldn’t let her drag me back into that place. I had to do something to stop her.
But Mum wasn’t going to leave me alone, was she? Not until I was living exactly the life she’d ordered me to. Well, fuck that, she could stay on the other side of the planet and just live in her fantasy world where I was a perfect little Korean housewife in the making. But how was I going to make sure that happened when she wasn’t going to leave me alone until she’d made 100% certain Henry’s ring was on my finger?
Suddenly, something occurred to me.
Maybe because I had my suitcase open, and maybe because just a few weeks ago I’d been looking at it, I had an idea.
Laying both the packers defiantly out in the open on my desk, I knelt down in front of my suitcase and rifled through it until I found what I was looking for: the little velvet ring box Henry had given me.
I opened it, reading the beautiful, heartfelt dedication while the ring
quietly twinkled at me. Then, with my heart pounding, I plucked it out of velvet and slipped it onto my finger.
This is it, I thought. This is my ticket to a peaceful life and Mum leaving me alone.
I fished my phone out of my pocket and held my hand up towards the light, rolling up the sleeve of my hoodie so it wasn’t in frame. I took a photo and added the text, “Look at what Henry gave me!! :)” and for just a second, my thumb hovered over the send button.
There was no going back from this. This was a pretty serious, pretty traceable lie.
And you know what? I didn’t fucking care.
I hit send.
FIFTEEN
No sooner had I sent that message, all the strength and defiance I’d felt a second ago abruptly abandoned me and I was left alone staring at the timestamp on the message, the picture of Henry’s ring on my finger, and facing the imminent fallout of what I’d done.
I took the ring off my finger and put it back in the box, returned the box to my case, and then looked down at my phone.
Fuck.
Well, you’ve done it now, Min, I thought. You’ve lied to your mother, and you know what she’s like. She’s going to look at that and know. She’s going to call Henry, or she’s going to—
My phone buzzed in my hands and I jumped.
—or she’s going to call you, apparently, I thought. Shit.
Shit, how was I going handle this? I ran a hand through my hair, staring down at the screen as the phone kept pulsing.
I could leave it, I thought. I could just not answer, give myself some space to think and figure out what I’m going to say to her.
I shook my head vigorously and made a noise. No, I decided. No, that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to spend any more of my life brooding and trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do with my Mum. I’d done enough of that.
It kept ringing.
Fuck! Well, if I wasn’t going to brood over it, that meant I needed to answer, didn’t I? I swiped the green handset icon, jammed my eyes shut, and put the phone against my ear.
“Min! This is so wonderful!” Her whole tone had changed. No measured disgust, no derision. “I knew that being strict was the best way to deal with someone like you! And look, I was right, it happened! It finally happened! I’ve been waiting for this day since you introduced Henry, and I’m so glad that it’s finally come!” I sank down onto the edge of the bed, putting a hand over my face as she continued. “Didn’t I tell you that leaning on him to ask would be the best way to go?”
I exhaled. “Yeah.”
“So when should I book the ticket to Sydney? Saturday? Would you ask him to pay for someone to look after your Grandma for a week or two?”
I straightened. What? “Why do you need to come over?”
“Well, to help you plan, of course! You can’t do it by yourself, and Henry wouldn’t be—”
Fuck…! “We haven’t told anyone else yet, Mum! Henry isn’t ready to—”
“Of course he’s ready to! He just put a ring on your finger. You should get married in early summer, I think. I’ll need to come over so we can set a date and book venues straight away, because—”
“—Mum, no, now isn’t a good time to come.” I strained to think of a reason she’d accept, anything to keep her out of Australia. “I haven’t even moved in with him yet, and getting engaged to Henry right now won’t look good, it will look like I left Frost specifically to marry him, and he’s the HR manager, he could get in—”
“—Nonsense, Min. I’m sure it happens all the time. Besides, work doesn’t have to know unless your so-called friends gossip about you there. Anyway, as I was saying, early December is a beautiful time of year to have a—”
I was not going to let this happen. “Mum, it’s just not a good time for—”
She abruptly stopped, sighing impatiently. “Why not, Min?”
Fuck, what could I say to keep her in Korea? “He just needs some time to—”
“Well, he’s had four whole years. Why would he need more time?”
“It’s just that—”
She cut me off with a quick sound and then warned, “Min, something’s wrong here. You’re not being completely honest with me, are you?”
Oh my god. “What do you mean?”
“You’re hiding something from me. Don’t lie to your own mother, Min, after all I’ve done for you. What’s going on? Why isn’t he telling people? Is he ashamed of you? What are you doing that he doesn’t want to tell people that you’re getting married?”
“I don’t—”
“Are your friends interfering, Min? Is that it? Because if they are, maybe it’s time we got you some new friends, real friends, ones that don’t interfere with your happiness.”
“No! It’s not that at all!” I searched desperately through my brain for anything, anything that I could use to keep her happy and away from me. Henry didn’t have any sick relatives. No one had just died in his family. Everyone was in good health, good fortune, and there wasn’t anything that I could—
“Wait, I know what it is.” She paused for several seconds, and for every single one of those seconds, I felt like the next thing she was going to say would be, ‘You’re lying to me’. When she finally spoke, she said, “It’s that sister, isn’t it? The one who married that awful Chinese man? She’s pregnant again, when’s she due?”
I exhaled with relief. Of course, I thought. Alice. Henry and I had put together a pram for her a few months ago, I’d almost forgotten about it. Christ, I thought Mum had me there for a moment. “In September, I think.”
“Yes, I bet that’s it,” Mum said, disapproval very audible. I bet her head was shaking. “Henry knows that as soon as you two get engaged, his parents will be completely absorbed in your wedding and forget about yet another set of half-Chinese babies. Yes, I bet that’s it. Is he there? Could you put him on so I could ask if—”
“No, he’s not here. He’s working.” Well, at least that much was probably true.
She made a noise. “Well, I’ll call him later. Anyway, you can’t let him make decisions for her benefit all the time. You’re his fiancée now. You need to be the person he prioritises in his decisions. What are you going to do about her?”
Was she fucking serious? “Nothing? She’s his sister and he’s allowed to—”
“—don’t be so naïve, Min. I know how these things work, believe me. She’ll be in his mother’s ear next, telling her that he needs to leave you so she can be the centre of attention again. You need to sort her out, mark my words.”
Sometimes I just had no fucking idea what to do with my mother. Jesus Christ. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” I told her, because ‘You’re fucking crazy, Henry’s family has never been like that’ wasn’t an option. Where the hell did she get these insane ideas from anyway? It had probably been so long since she’d had an actual functioning family, that she’d watched way too many Korean dramas and thought that’s how people behaved. Well, I supposed, at least she wasn’t questioning me anymore. “Don’t call Henry. He’s not telling his family yet and I promised I wouldn’t tell you either, and I don’t want to mess this up.”
She made a noise that bordered on approval. I think I’d heard it like twice in my life. “You did the right thing to tell me anyway, Min.” She took a breath. “You know, I feel terrible that I doubted you. I’ve been through a lot of pain in the past few days over needing to put my foot down with you—it hurts me when you force me to do that, Min, you know that—but it was all worth it. I can’t wait for you to be standing at the altar with Henry in your beautiful wedding dress with everyone admiring you. I can’t wait to look out on all our guests smiling, and know they’re smiling for my beautiful daughter and her wonderful husband. I’ll be smiling, too.”
Then, she proceeded to talk excitedly about venues and dresses for ages until I had just about gone crazy myself, and then she said she needed to have a think about guest lists and said goodbye.
Without throwing my phone across the room, I said goodbye to her and then hung up.
Shit.
Well, I was in pretty fucking deep now, wasn’t I? At least she wasn’t on a plane to Australia yet, though: that was the main thing. I put my phone next to me on the bed and leant forward, closing my eyes.
You’re lying to your own mother, I thought. I felt sick about it, even though I knew she hadn’t given me much of a choice, and I hated that. I hated that I felt sick over something like this. I hated how happy she’d sounded when she was talking about my wedding, and knowing she was probably half-dancing around her apartment with a big, satisfied smile right now, thinking about me and Henry getting married.
I felt bad for Henry, too. I wondered if he’d be really angry with me if he found out what I’d done.
While I was imagining how he’d react and reliving that last broken expression I’d seen on his face, I caught myself. Not this again, I thought, sitting up straight. I didn’t go through all of that misery last week just to go back to feeling like crap now. I fucked up by sending Mum the picture instead of telling her the truth—not that telling her the truth was really much of an option—but it was done now, and I’d just have to manage whatever other fallout occurred. I refused to feel like shit over this a second longer.
I stood up off the bed and leant over to grab my laptop from the desk, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
After several hours of wearing the hard packer, my crotch looked surprisingly flat. In every other way, however, I looked like a guy. That may or may not have been what I actually was, but looking like a guy suited me, and it had taken me so fucking long to be at peace with my reflection, there was no way I was giving that up. Not for anyone, not even Mum. I was happy looking like this, and I’d never been really happy before, at least not like I was now. I felt like that should mean something to her.
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