Casey

by Cameron James

  “Seven.” I said, “She’ll be eight next week.” I added thoughtfully, “Zoey’s ten?” I asked.

  “Nine.” He said, “will be ten after the summer. She’s terrifying.” He added, I laughed, “she was even scarier when she met Isabelle, both my Mum and her actually.”

  “They met Isabelle?” I asked, he nodded.

  “She came to mine on Friday, my God I was judged by my mother the next morning.”

  “Loud, are you?” I asked, he smirked making me laugh.

  “No, I think the hickeys gave me away.” He said amused.

  “At least let me see a picture of her?” I said, he laughed.

  “Zoey?”

  “Isabelle.” I replied, he hummed before going into his phone, he clicked a few things then turned his phone to me, showing me a selfie of Isabelle and him.

  “She’s beautiful.” I said, he laughed.

  “She doesn’t believe that.” He replied, “no matter how much I tell her.” He said, I tilted my head at him, “she doesn’t like the colour of her hair, her eyes, hates that she wears glasses, wishes she was taller, wishes she was thinner whatever, but she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  And I don’t hate the colour of her hair or her eyes, they are both a beautiful shade of brown, her glasses make her look cute and she’s both tall enough and the right size for me.” He said, “it’s stupid, no matter how many times I tell her she still disbelieves me.”

  “Because she can’t unsee her flaws.” I said, he hummed.

  “I tried to reserve sociology her, it ended with her confirming that I had a small dick.” He said, I almost choked on my coffee.

  “Why? How?”

  “I said how would she feel if I said those things about myself, that I didn’t like my appearance or the size of my penis. It backfired.”

  “Brilliant.” I said laughing, he rolled his eyes. “How old is she?” I asked, he frowned.

  “Seventeen.” He said nodding, “why?”

  “I was just curious; it’s morbidly comforting to know it’s not just me with body issues.” I said then half smiled, “sorry.”

  “Isabelle might benefit from meeting you admittedly, but nope.”

  “You worried she might fall hopelessly in love with me instead?”

  “Mickey.” He said, I looked at him,

  “Is that why Isabelle hasn’t ever met him?”

  “Yes.” He said then shook his head, “I mean he’s one hundred percent gay there’s not a doubt in my mind about that but he’s attractive, obviously, and she might.” He said, I shook my head.

  “No, no she wouldn’t. If what you’ve just told me is true, you love her.” I said, he rolled his eyes, “and she must love you because, if what you’ve just told me is true and she gets naked enough to have sex with you, she loves you too.”

  “And you know that because?”

  “Because I hate my body too.” I said, “and I know it takes a whole lot of love to be comfortable enough to do that.” I said, he hummed, “but, yes Mickey is hot as.” I said, he kicked me.

  “Casey!”

  I knocked as I went into Mr Elliot’s room, I didn’t wait to be welcomed in but I knocked and it was a step up from last time. I smiled at Mr Elliot when I walked in then I looked at the man sat on the desk next to him.

  “Hello?” I said curiously, he nodded.

  “Casey?” He asked, I looked at Mr Elliot wide eyed.

  “Casey, this is my husband Bailey.” He said.

  “Oh.”

  “He’s a substitute teacher, he’s not just being cute and visiting me.”

  “Poor form.” I said, they both laughed.

  “What are you doing here Casey?”

  “I thought I’d drop by and visit.” I said, “and I promised I’d have lunch with Mickey, because I’m cute and visiting him.”

  “Wow.” Bailey said, I smiled.

  “How’s things Casey?”

  “Better.” I said nodding, “I heard about your mic drop speech from numerous people.”

  “I’m famous.” Mr Elliot said, Bailey laughed, “I couldn’t resist, Mr Wright told me he didn’t have anything planned for his assembly so I intervened.”

  “Thank you.” I said nodding, “I appreciated it even though I wasn’t there.” I said, Mr Elliot smiled, “what do you teach?” I asked, Bailey laughed,

  “Everything.” He said, “today, maths.” He added.

  “He used to be a Year Six teacher; teenagers scare him.”

  “It’s unfortunately true.” Bailey said, I smiled, “yesterday was scarier.” He said, I frowned, “I was subbing our son’s class, that was legitimately the scariest thing I’ve ever done.” He said, I laughed then turned as the bell rang.

  “Come drop by again before your surgery.” Mr Elliot said, I nodded.

  “Of course I will,” I said nodding, “of course, and I’ll come by my own accord and not tell Mickey.” I said, he nodded.

  “Go and see your boyfriend, we’re going for lunch ourselves.” He said as he logged out his computer and stood, using his hand to tell us to get out his classroom, he locked it after us, I walked down the corridor with them until we reached the lockers and I went and stood by Mickey’s locker.

  “Hey.” He said, I turned then laughed.

  “You’ve shaved.” I said, he nodded quite dramatically as he stepped around me to go into his locker.

  “I did, it’s like a quarterly thing I do. I wake up and think you know what, I’m going to shave today.”

  “You look weird.” I whispered, he laughed as he put his folder back into his locker and shut it.

  “Bad weird?”

  “No.” I said shaking my head, “It’s nice, you look younger than me, for once.”

  “Thought I’d give you a nice ego boost.” He said then took my hand, “we had the most attractive sub in Maths, I think I spent the hour looking at him rather than actually revising.”

  “Mr Elliot’s husband.” I said, he pulled my arm back.

  “Come again.” He said, I nodded.

  “Yes, though very attractive.” I agreed, he laughed as I pulled him until we could hide behind the wall, “I need to kiss you because it won’t be soft and prickly anymore.” I said, he licked his lips.

  “Well I hope not.” He said laughing, I kissed him.

  “Oh I could get used to that.” I said as I ran my hand down his cheeks.

  “You’re a bit prickly though.” He said, I took my hand from his cheek and ran it down my own, “oh!” I said, “oh my God!” I added, he laughed, “that’s awesome.” I added.

  “Come on, I want food, you can stroke your chin as you walk through.” He said then pulled me by the arm so I’d walk which I did. He took me to a little café surprisingly, I was truly expecting fast food and he saw that. “I thought I’d treat you.”

  “Aren’t you just wonderful.” I replied then took a seat. He ordered egg and chips, I got a jacket potato with cheese and beans.

  “Haven’t you ever grown a beard before?” He asked, once our food had come, I almost laughed.

  “Yes, then I have to make the biggest decision of my life and shave it off then I regret it because it doesn’t grow back for like three years.” I said.

  “Bit dramatic.”

  “Yes.” I agreed, he smiled, “I don’t want a beard, I don’t suit it at all, but if I have stubble, I like how that looks. I haven’t quite mastered the art of shaving the beard and leaving the stubble.” I said, he nodded.

  “I’m just lazy.” He said, I grinned, “until it gets too beardy.” He said then lifted his head to grin at me, I grinned back. “You probably need a better razor.” He said, I frowned, “or learn to use one.” He said.

  “Probably the latter.” I said nodding, “although, admittedly, Mum didn’t believe I needed to shave my face that was a weird conversation.”

  “Why?” He asked amused.

  “She couldn’t figure it out, it was like I couldn
’t make up my mind, if I didn’t want a beard does that mean I didn’t want T.”

  “Did someone cry at the end of this story?” He asked, I laughed.

  “Me.” I said then deepened my breath, “no, of course I want T,” I said then sniffed, “sometimes my beard just gets too prickly.” I added, Mickey almost instantly began laughing. “She brought me loads of disposal razors.” I added thoughtfully, he nodded.

  “I have the exact opposite.” He said, “when are you going to get rid of that beard Mickey!” He mocked. “She was made up when I came downstairs this morning.” He said,

  “I’m thinking I could get used to your lack of chin hair.” I said, nodding, “it’s quite a good look on you.”

  “Well, thank you.” He said laughing, “give it two months then you’ll start to hate my kisses.” He said, I laughed and dug the cheese and beans out of my jacket potato.

  I turned towards the knock on the bathroom door then I sighed, pulling on the toilet paper roll and taking too much trying to backtrack but just tearing it off instead.

  “Case?” Dad asked, I just looked at the door as I wrapped the tissue around my hand then held it against my cheek.

  “One minute.” I replied, looking in the mirror as the blood soaked through the first few layers of tissue, “fuck.”

  “Casey?” Dad repeated. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a stuttered breath then slid the lock on the door sighing as I sat on the edge of the bath. “We haven’t had a bathroom lockdown in a while Case.” He said, I moped back at him, “was worried about you the last time…”

  “I wasn’t I promise.” I said, “I didn’t mean to.” I added, he lifted my chin, I got almost a sympathetic smile. “It hurt.” I said then sighed, “then I got embarrassed.” I added frowning back at him because I didn’t like that he was so sympathetic. He managed to pry my hand away from my cheek, both of us looking at the blood-stained tissue then he looked at my cheek.

  “That’s quite an impressive cut Casey.” He said, I sighed, “I mean that’s not a nick.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” I said, “it’s stupid, I’m eighteen this is fucking ridiculous.”

  “Casey.” He said simply as he stood back up, he opened the cupboard above the sink that was disguised as a mirror, he passed me the antiseptic cream.

  “I was trying to shave just a little bit. I didn’t want it all to come off.” I said, sounding way too sad as I squeezed a mini blob of cream onto my finger, “I went the wrong way. I dropped the razor.” I added, he searched the floor, he found the top, picking up the blades then looked for the handle.

  “No wonder you cut yourself.” He said, I frowned as he threw the razor into the bin, “Mum buy them?”

  “Mum bought them.” I agreed, “and I couldn’t find yours.” I admitted, he laughed.

  “That’s because I hid it when I figured out you were using it.” He said, I laughed only briefly.

  “Can I go out in public?” I asked, he turned my chin, looking the scratch across my cheek, I was led to believe it’d finally stopped bleeding.

  “You look like you have war paint on.” He said.

  “I’m eighteen I shouldn’t have war wounds from shaving.” I said, he shrugged.

  “I didn’t shave until I was twenty-one because I thought I’d slice open my Adam’s apple and never be able to talk again.” He said, widening his eyes at me as he did, I laughed, “my Dad gave up when I was twenty-one and made me shave off the disgrace of a beard I had.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t leave the house for three days because I had little cuts all over my cheeks, but my Adam’s apple was still intact.” He said, I nodded, “I began dating your Mum a few weeks later actually, I guess she didn’t like the beard.” He said, I smiled at him as he sat beside me on the bath, he nudged his shoulder against mine, I looked up at him.

  “We’ll go and get you a new razor.” He said, “one that isn’t bright orange and disposal and comes in a pack of twenty.” He said, I laughed, “together, you’re not hiding away in here. I’ve got to drop Abi off at football, pick up a few things for her birthday. Up for it?” He asked, I nodded, “You have five minutes.” He said.

  “Okay.” I whispered back as he stood, squeezed my shoulder then left the bathroom.

  “Abi! You better be ready to go.” He shouted, I heard her squeal as a reply so I stood myself, looking in the mirror, frowning at myself then leaving the bathroom.

  I was forced into the backseat of the car as I was last in, so I sat watching Abi talk to Dad very animatedly, she was reciting her birthday list for the thousandth time.

  I was fourteen the last time I went under bathroom lockdown. I’d had a bad day in school, worse than normal and I was sadder than I was angry. Mum had sent me to get a wash, we were going somewhere, where I’d forgotten because we didn’t go, but she had the intention of taking us out. As I was officially identifying as a boy at this point, Dad was on bathroom duty, if ever something happened, he was who had to help, whereas Mum would to Abi, it was simple and stopped Dad from having to have an awkward and unnecessary period talk.

  He came to find me when I’d taken too long. I had planned to go much further than I had, but I got scared, when Dad finally got through the door, he found me sat on the edge of the very full and now very cold bath with the razor blades in the palm of my hand. I’d cut my thumb when I picked them up, they’d sliced right through my thumb, I’d let some of the blood drip into the bath water before I wrapped tissue around it to stop the bleeding, it had hurt, too much. I wasn’t too good with pain; I’d never been too good with pain and until the razor had touched my thumb some part of me thought that it wouldn’t hurt.

  It brought me right back into reality, I figured I didn’t want to kill myself, not really, but I did want to be numb. The drinking started not too long after. Dad knew exactly what I had intended to do, Mum wouldn’t believe him. George was called as the bath was drained; Mum took Abi wherever she had planned to take us all. Dad was the person who cried in this story.

  Abi seemed to want a Descendants party, neither Dad nor I knew what that was, but we picked up anything that said that on it, and was purple, then of course we filled the trolley with numerous family sized bags of sweets and soft drinks.

  He walked with me down the aisle that had numerous dolls and babies, all in obnoxious pink packaging and told me to choose something for her as he presumed correctly, that I hadn’t got her birthday present yet. I went with the tall, thin blonde doll in a football kit with a football and a goal post as accessories, as it felt most appropriate for Abi, Dad agreed obviously amused, before choosing a doll that had Descendants wrote across the front.

  “Your Mum has this perfectly picked out present list that I’m not supposed to intervene on.” He said thoughtfully, “you should have seen how angry she was that she had to go into work and leave me to do this shopping.” He added laughing, I smiled.

  “I could give it to her.” I said, he looked at me, “so you don’t get in trouble with Mum.”

  “I appreciate that.” He said, “you don’t know the struggle of marriage, at all.” He stated, I started laughing.

  “I can imagine you’ve got to deal with this and that isn’t even half of Mum’s wrath.” I said, he smiled, putting the doll into the trolley.

  “I remember after your first therapy session with George, when you’d finally gone to bed and I was feeding Abi, your Mum told me in the most serious of tones I’ve ever seen that now that you were our son I had to deal with all the boy stuff, it was my job as a father.” He said, I smiled,

  “I didn’t know what’d hit me, I just wanted to feed Abi to give your Mum a break.” He said dramatically, “but I remember thinking, I mean I was thrilled that we had two girls, I had been thrilled with that. But admittedly, before you came out, I was hoping for a boy, I mean, we were…” He said then looked at me as if trying to gage my maturity level. “…Trying anyway.”

  “Ew.” I said, for effect
and because ew, he smirked lightly.

  “And I was hoping for a boy because I always wanted one of each, but had been slightly disappointed because I wanted the boy first so he could look after his little sister.” He said, I looked down and smiled. “Then you came out…”

  “I could never quite figure out how you felt about me.” I said, he almost laughed, “I don’t know I thought you might’ve felt awkward or something.”

  “No, and I’m sorry for letting you think that.” He said, “I was made up to have a son, but I guess I always had a son.” He said nodding to me, “You had always been my son.”

  “Well, I definitely wasn’t your little girl, I knew that when I was three.” I said, he nodded.

  “I remember when you were five.” He said thoughtfully, “I think, you might have been six. Your Mum went away for a hen party weekend.” He said, I frowned up at him, “so you spent the entire weekend with me, which we’d never really done before, your Mum hadn’t left you before.” He explained, “I took you swimming and had to take you in the men’s changing room and you were made up, I let you wear trunks and a t-shirt because you wanted to and you were the happiest I think I’d ever seen you. Or at least the happiest I’d ever seen you in the pool.”

  “The pink swimming costume was not flattering.” I said, he nodded.

  “Then we went for food. I let you dress yourself on Saturday,” He said, I smiled, “you chose to wear a football kit,”

  “Mum never allowed me out the house in them.” I remembered, “she said they were to wear in the house or the garden, not for little girls to wear outside.” I said then caught my breath.

  “And you just kept getting happier and happier, we went to the park, for most of the day, you spent about three quarters of it on the play area until you found the ice cream van and you wanted one.” He said, I nodded, “then we went on a walk around the park, you got quite excited when I let you pee up against a tree.” He said, “but I think that was because you were six, thereabouts.” He said laughing, I laughed back.

  Mum hadn’t allowed that either, there were many of times I was sure my bladder was going to explode because she made me wait until we reached the first sanitary toilet. “That night my friends came around because they found it funny I was looking after you alone. You were made up being surrounded by men, you were in your element and milking it of course, you had your first sip of beer that night.” He said shaking his head at me, “Sunday we didn’t get out of our pyjamas until about an hour before your Mum came home, she wasn’t impressed that I’d let you wear dungarees on a Sunday.” He said, “she…”