And She Was

by Jessica Verdi

  “They’re going to go have sex,” Matt leans in and whispers, loud enough so everyone can hear.

  Right. I knew that.

  Meadow and Gabby dissolve in a fit of laughter, and Jane says, “Nuh-uh! We just have to get up early tomorrow. You should all be going to bed soon too.” But it’s a half-baked effort—she’s giggling nearly as much as the other girls. She and Ezra disappear across the lawn and into the house.

  Not two minutes later, Meadow and Gabby say their good-nights as well. Surely they’re also going to … do what couples do. I won’t be making that mistake again.

  And then it’s just me, Sam, and Matt. My attention zeroes in on my and Matt’s clasped hands once more, but now it’s more of a self-conscious awkwardness than a light, buzzy feeling. Sam’s stare is weighty. I slide my hand out from Matt’s.

  Matt and Sam take another sip of beer, almost in unison.

  “So how many of those … what would you call them? Rescue missions?”

  “That works,” Matt says.

  I nod. “How many have you been on?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve lost count. I started volunteering for DFA when I was in high school, with the group back in Arkansas, and have been working full-time for them ever since graduation. That was three years ago now.”

  “How many have been successful?” I ask.

  “Not as many as we’d like. The meat industry is gargantuan, and they work hard to make sure meat eaters don’t think twice about where the food on their plates comes from. We often feel like David battling Goliath.”

  Sam snickers.

  Matt and I turn to him. “What?” I ask.

  He looks up from his beer. His expression is flat, and the shadows from the fire dance mysteriously on his skin. “Nothing. Never mind.” His voice is nearly a mumble, but there’s an edge to it.

  “If you have something to say, man, you should say it,” Matt says.

  Sam glares at him, or maybe through him, for a beat. “Fine. That David and Goliath metaphor is not only clichéd, it’s wrong.”

  “How do you mean?” Matt asks.

  “Everyone always talks about how amazing it is how, in the story, David won the battle and took down Goliath, since Goliath was so much bigger than he was, and had armor and a sword when all David had was a slingshot. But actually, David would have been a huge favorite to win, because he had a projectile weapon and was highly skilled at using it. All he had to do was stand out of stomping range of Goliath and aim carefully. The fight was over before Goliath could even attempt an attack.” He gives Matt a smug look. “The people who use that metaphor don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about.” He might as well be saying, You’re an idiot. Go read a book.

  “You know what he meant,” I say. “The point was to illustrate how hard it is to be the little guy fighting the big guy. Right, Matt?”

  Matt nods. “And how much it sucks when ethics and right and wrong don’t have a place in the argument at all.”

  I turn my back more firmly on Sam. “How many times have you been arrested?”

  “Four.”

  “Four?”

  He shrugs.

  I shake my head. “I can’t believe I never knew about any of this.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard. That’s why we need all the help we can get.” He takes my hand again and scoots even closer. My fingers itch to reach out and stroke the dusting of stubble on his cheek and chin. “I’m really glad you’re here, Dara.” God, even his voice makes me want to float toward him.

  “I’m really glad I’m here too,” I whisper.

  The moment is broken by the sound of Sam cracking open another beer. I sit back and clear my throat. Sam has moved down several feet and is nearly on the other side of the fire from us now. He stokes the firewood with a stick. His gestures are punctuated, severe.

  “Anyway …” I begin, without the slightest idea what to say next.

  “So, how is it that you’ve never met the Pembrokes before now?” Matt asks, steering the conversation back on course.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I don’t mind,” he says, then adds, “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  I do want to. I trust him. And it’s not like everyone’s not going to catch wind of the story by tomorrow anyway. “Well, the gist of it is that I just found out my mother is transgender.”

  Matt’s eyes go huge. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that. “Wait, back up. Like she’s decided to become a man?”

  “No, no.” I shake my head. “She was born male—”

  “Assigned male at birth,” Sam interjects.

  “What?”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to say. Not ‘born male.’ ”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been reading about it.”

  I don’t know why, but that rankles me. “Anyway.” I turn back to Matt. “She was assigned male at birth, and started living as a woman when I was little. Biologically, she’s my father. My mother was Catherine’s sister, Celeste.”

  Matt’s eyebrows pull together. “The one who died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whoa. And you didn’t know any of this?”

  “I had no idea until a couple days ago. I thought Mellie was my mother. I mean, I thought she gave birth to me.”

  He whistles. “This story has got to be good.”

  “I wouldn’t call it good, but I guess it is interesting, if you’re not the one living it.” I go on to recount exactly what happened. Matt is riveted. “I figure getting to know the Pembrokes is a good step in learning about the life I should have had if Mellie hadn’t taken me away from it.”

  “That is major,” Matt says, caressing the back of both my hands with his thumbs. I don’t remember him taking my other hand—or did I take his? “And not okay. I’m so sorry he did that to you.”

  He. Matt’s doing the same thing Catherine did. But he’s never met Mellie, so it’s not a personal vendetta that has him using this pronoun.

  Sam reacts to it too. He was so quiet as I relayed the insanity of the last few days that I sort of assumed he’d fallen asleep, or was maybe lost in the Viking game on his phone again. But apparently he’s been paying attention, if a tiny, two-letter word stirs a response in him. “She,” he says. “Not he.”

  Matt turns his palms out and shrugs, as if to show he hadn’t meant to be combative. “Dude, don’t get me wrong. I’m sympathetic to the plight of the LGBT people—two of my best friends are lesbians!” He jerks a thumb toward the house as if to indicate Meadow and Gabby. “But do you really think Mellie deserves our sympathy after what he-she did to Dara? If you ask me, he got off easy.”

  “Thank you!” I say. Finally, someone backing me up.

  Sam continues to stare him down, unimpressed. “Dude, you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, so just stay out of it.”

  “I don’t have to answer to you, man. Who are you, anyway? She’s made it clear you’re not her boyfriend. So why don’t you stay out of it, or give her the support she clearly needs?”

  I’m not sure how I feel about them talking about me like I’m not even here, but I am glad to have someone completely on my side, with no caveats. Even if it’s someone I just met and not the one person who should be in my court.

  Sam shifts his gaze to me. His countenance is flat, but there’s something bubbling under the surface. “Dara? Sidebar, please?”

  Again?

  I stand up and brush the grass off my butt. If he wants to throw down, I’m all for it.

  Sam walks toward the gravel road. If not for the light of the stars, it would be pitch-black out here. There’s a distinct chill in the air now that we’re away from the fire too.

  When we reach the road, Sam spins around to confront me. “This isn’t you.”

  “What isn’t?”

  He waves a hand around, indicating all of me. “None of it! The trash-talking Mellie, the over-the-top flirting with
the pretty boy, the sudden attachment to the aunt you never met before today. I went along with the drinking plan yesterday because you seemed to be … I don’t know, searching for something, but that wasn’t you, either.”

  “Maybe it is me, Sam. All of it. Maybe this is who I was supposed to have been all along.”

  The constellations reflect in the darkness of his eyes. “No. I know you. You’re unraveling.”

  The word grazes me in just the wrong way, and I feel like I’ve tripped and gone down hard, face-first, on a brand-new clay court. Unraveling. He really thinks that? When all I’ve been trying to do is rebuild some semblance of a life? “That’s a really messed-up thing to say.”

  “What’s messed up is you listening to that guy. ‘He got off easy’? Really? He has no business having an opinion on any of this.”

  I bark out a laugh. “I suppose I should listen to you instead?”

  “No! I have no idea what it’s like to be transgender, either! But I’m guessing it’s a pretty big deal.”

  “So?”

  “So maybe you should stop being so selfish.”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Sam has managed to strike me down without laying a finger on me. “How am I being selfish? She’s the one who ruined my life. What did I ever do to her?”

  “Dara, she didn’t do anything to you, either.” His voice is suddenly oddly calm, his words patient, measured.

  And that’s when I realize: Everything that’s coming out of Sam’s mouth right now is something he’s been bottling up since the beginning of our trip.

  He continues. “You said that when you first found out, you didn’t run away, right? You tried to listen to what Mellie was saying, and think it through logically?”

  “And?”

  “You didn’t run or scream or cry because you knew that what she was telling you was real. And it was hard. You were mad, but you weren’t packing a bag yet, either. Even when she told you about tennis, you stayed put. It wasn’t until she told you about taking you away from Philly, and the people and resources and money associated with that, that you snapped.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “The point is that you’re not thinking about her at all. Not really. You’re focusing on how your life could have been so different, and how dare she do this to you, but don’t you think she probably made the best choices she could have within a really hard situation? She didn’t ask to be a single parent. She didn’t ask to be transgender.”

  “No, but she didn’t have to change our names and leave everything behind and pretend she hated tennis and lie to me about it every day, either.” It’s a good thing there’s nothing breakable around, because I’m suddenly feeling the need to smash something.

  “You have no idea what it was like to have to make the choices she did!” His voice is rising again. “I’m not saying she should have lied to you, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset that you had to find out this way, or that you shouldn’t feel sad about Celeste dying or not getting to know your grandparents. I’m not even saying that you don’t have the right to be completely freaked out about the fact that your mother is actually your biological father. That’s a lot to get your head around.”

  “So what are you saying?” I snap.

  “I’m saying, consider the fact that Mellie lost those things too!” he cries. I’ve never seen Sam this mad. I’m glad the darkness is hiding most of his face. I don’t think I’d like what I see. He takes a shallow breath. “And that what she was going through was so brutal that she considered suicide, and that maybe this isn’t all about you. You’re so mad at her for what she did to you, but she must have had reasons. And she’s trying to be honest with you now in her emails, confessing some of the most brutal shit I’ve ever heard, and you won’t even email her back.”

  I can’t believe he’s defending her. “Her reasons are useless to me. She betrayed me in so many ways, so many times! I have zero interest in listening to her excuses.”

  “Oh my God, take yourself out of it for one minute,” he shouts. “She’s your mother. You love her. You’ve had eighteen years together. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Not when those eighteen years weren’t real! She told me stories about my ‘father,’ the guy who knocked her up and then left. But she was my father the whole time! She told me when I turned fifteen that if I wanted to continue playing tennis I had to get a job to pay for it because we didn’t have enough money. Meanwhile she was spending our money on hormones that she hid from me in a secret box under her bed. She even … helped me decide between pads and tampons when I got my period for the first time. Every single thing I went through, every memory I have is discolored now. Destroyed. She’s nothing but a liar.” Sam’s tirade backfired—not only am I really freaking angry now too, but the sympathy I was feeling for Mellie has evaporated. “I can’t believe you’re seriously telling me I’m the bad guy, when I need you to—”

  “What, be on your side? Jesus, Dara! How many times do I have to say it? The fact that I’m here with you right now—”

  “Well,” I cut him off, “now I wish you weren’t.”

  The silhouette of his shoulders falls in defeat. He gives a weak, short nod.

  I have to ask, though it can’t possibly make things better. “If we’d had this conversation back at your house, would you even have come with me?”

  He’s silent for a long minute. And then, finally, he says, “I don’t know.”

  I leave Sam standing in the dark. But a distance had already formed between us, even before I walked away.

  Tears grip on to my lashes as I run back to the fire and into Matt’s waiting arms.

  “I don’t know why he’s being so mean,” I sob. Matt’s hold tightens around me, and I breathe in the heady combination of campfire smoke, sweat, and a hint of eucalyptus—must be his soap.

  “He doesn’t get it,” he whispers against my ear. “But I do. It’s not about her being transgender. It’s about her deception and her lack of consideration for you. She didn’t allow for the possibility that you might not have wanted to live her lie, and that’s not fair.”

  I nod and sniffle. “Thank you for saying she.”

  “You’re welcome. I can admit when I’m wrong.”

  My eyes are closed, my cheek soft against his chest, and I vaguely register the crunching-leaves sound of Sam making his way back to the house. I don’t open my eyes until I hear the distant clap of the door closing.

  “You know,” Matt murmurs, “I know what you’re going through, in a way.”

  I pull back just enough to look up into his eyes, and rest my chin on his strong torso. “You do?”

  “I mean, not the exact same thing, but I’ve had a lot of family shit to deal with too. I don’t talk about it a lot.”

  “You can trust me,” I say.

  His eyes soften even further. “I know I can.” He takes a deep breath, and my belly moves with his intake of air; we’re that close. “My father left my family a couple years ago. He and my mother were married for twenty-three years. But for the last year or so of their marriage he’d been seeing another woman, someone way younger than he was. I think she was, like, twenty-five or something. I know, how original.” He sighs, his eyes skyward, and I squeeze him tighter. “The worst part is, my mom found out but didn’t leave him. She depended on him too much—emotionally, financially, everything. So she kept it from my little sister and me; she protected him. But one day we were all sitting at the breakfast table and out of nowhere he got up and left. He didn’t pack any of his stuff or anything. It was as if he couldn’t bear even one more minute in the house with us. And he never came back.”

  “Oh, Matt, I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. “That’s awful.”

  He shrugs, trying to make it seem like he’s not that bothered. “He’s an asshole. We’re better off without him.”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “But anyway, I get it. I get why you’re upset
with your mom. My dad did the same thing. He lied, and was only thinking of himself, and the rest of our lives were affected because of it. And he doesn’t seem to care.”

  I haven’t even known Matt for a full day and already he understands me better than my supposed best friend.

  We cling to each other in silence.

  Then he leans down slowly, and lightly grazes his lips against mine.

  Even though we’re already pressed against each other at nearly every place along the length of our bodies, it’s that feather-light touch of his mouth that electrifies me.

  An involuntary sound of want escapes me, and for a nanosecond I’m embarrassed, but apparently it’s the encouragement Matt was waiting for. He lets out a groan of his own and deepens the kiss. His tongue dips into my mouth, dancing with mine, tasting me. His lips move both thoughtfully and passionately.

  It’s different than kissing Sam. Just as good, but more … loaded. A promise of things to come.

  The whole world is dark, and this boy is my lighthouse. He listened to me, he trusted me. He’s on my side. There’s no past between us, nothing to turn bad.

  I want to lose myself in him.

  The urge to keep going ignites in my blood, and my body takes over. I wrap my arms around Matt’s neck, pulling his face even harder against mine. I slip the cloth band from his messy bun around my wrist and run my fingers through his hair. My knee slides between his legs.

  I have no idea what I’m doing, but Matt seems to be responding.

  His hands creep up my back, under my shirt, grazing my bra strap. No one’s ever touched me there except doctors and sports massage therapists. But it feels good, his confident touches somehow even better than an expert masseuse’s strong strokes. His hands are warm, and I shiver as they glide across my skin, which is still chilled from my excursion away from the fire with Sam.

  Don’t think about Sam right now.

  “Let’s go to my room,” Matt says, low, and nips at my bottom lip.

  I remember Jane and Ezra, and Gabby and Meadow. I know what will happen if I go with him.

  My body screams, Yes!

  My mind says, No.

  The echo of Sam whispers, You’re unraveling.