“I think the same thing happened this weekend. I arrived with all my baggage, and there you were. Looking sexy but still my friend that I had loved for so many years.”
Gemma ducked her head and nudged Rory with her shoulder. From anyone else, that declaration of love would have her running for the hills, but she knew Rory meant it as a friend.
Rory swallowed hard before speaking again.
“Darcy was meant to be with us this weekend. Your mum probably didn’t mention that. When I told her Darcy wasn’t coming, I think that’s when she invited you. Anyway, I was so pissed off with Darcy that I went out and bought a suit to wear, almost to spite her in her absence. When I put it on, I felt like me, properly me. I hadn’t ever worn this suit, but it was immediately perfect and familiar and just”–she waved her hand around for emphasis–“right. When I saw you getting out of the taxi, I felt powerful and sexy, and I guess that plus the wine plus that bloody dress got me in trouble.”
“You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?” Gemma reached for Rory’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Also, I was there, I didn’t stop anything that was happening. As I said, I’m a big girl now and can make my own mind up.”
“And if it was going to be a one-night thing, then itwould have been different but...” Rory gulped again and took another sip of her coffee. For a moment she looked transfixed by the condensation on the plastic cup, and her long finger trailed through the moisture. Gemma tried and failed to push away the memory of that same finger trailing through her wetness the night they had fucked. Gemma pulled her gaze away. Now was not the time to be thinking of that. Rory was her friend, and was hurting, and she needed to be here for her.
“I don’t know whoIam. I’m changing, I’m not happy with me and I’ve just come out of a disastrous relationship. If I didn’t know you, it would be easier, but…. I think I need a friend. I need you.” She pulled her sunglasses off to look Gemma in the eyes.
Gemma could see tears welling again in Rory’s soft brown eyes, and her heart clenched again at the pain she saw there. Gemma placed her drink on the floor and moved forward to pull Rory into a hug. The scent that drifted up her nose reminded her of all the hugs they had shared as kids. Suddenly, Rory’s choice of a unisex perfume as a teenager made more sense. For a moment she nuzzled her face in the crook of Rory’s neck but resisted the urge to drop a kiss onto her warm, soft skin. That would not help the situation right now.
Gemma pulled away, but sat with one of Rory’s hands clasped in her own. “So,” she started gently, “are you telling me you’re nonbinary, trans? I’m still your friend, however you identify.”
Rory let out a shaky breath, and her body slumped into Gemma’s. She squeezed Gemma’s hand and fumbled with her coffee. Gemma released Rory’s hands and took her drink from her so Rory could wipe the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Gemma shoved one of theserviettes that had come with the coffee at Rory, and she wiped her eyes with it before blowing her nose.
“Sorry, not very elegant.” She managed a half-smile before a wave of seriousness washed over her. “I don’t know how I identify. That’s why I can’t fall into anything with you.” Rory took a shaky breath and released it slowly, as if to calm herself before speaking. “I think of those terms, but they don’t seem to fit me. But I know I don’t like how I look and feel. Darcy rejected me because I want to change, and I’m scared of how my parents will react.”
“They seemed fairly supportive over the weekend.” Gemma’s heart clenched at the pain that radiated off Rory. Her friend had always been her role model, her hero, the person in her life who knew what she wanted and went and got it. To see Rory like this, scared and unsure, was heart-wrenching. But at the same time, Gemma’s heart was full to bursting with gratitude that Rory felt safe enough with her to show her vulnerabilities and fears.
“I know, but it’s one thing when you have your hair in a bun and still look feminine in places and another thing if I go fully butch. What if it’s more? What if I want to change my pronouns or even transition?”
“Do you feel you want to?” Gemma pitched her voice so that it was inquisitive, not accusatory.
“I don’t know. I like the idea of being a strong woman, but then I look at myself in a mirror and hate the reflection coming back at me.”
“That makes sense. As for your family, they love you, Rory. And they know you’ve always been a bit of a tomboy. I can’t see them rejecting you.” Gemma wanted to cup Rory’s face in her hands and kiss her, but she knew right now that would change the dynamic of the conversation. Gemma’s love for her friend washed over her, and she was touchedthat Rory could open up to her as much as she had. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
Rory sniffed and shrugged before reaching for her cup again and taking a few large sips.
“I don’t know.” She tipped her head to the side as she always did when she was thinking. “I always admired the boys at school. I knew I didn’t want to date them, but there was something about their swagger that made me want to be just like them. When I was at university, I pushed the boundaries a bit more, you know, getting my hair cut a bit shorter and being a bit more butch when I could. But when I was starting my last year and looking for training contracts, my tutor called me into her office and told me I needed to decide how I wanted to be remembered. As the brilliant lawyer who got the plum job in a big London firm, or as a butch lesbian who struggled to get work. She made it very clear that the big London firms were not looking for someone who looked like I wanted to.” Rory pulled a face. “I hadn’t worked so hard at university to throw it away at the last minute, so I took her advice, I grew my hair out, got a woman’s suit and heels and nailed every interview I had and got my choice of jobs.”
Gemma felt a wave of anger wash over her at the thought that Rory had been forced into a box that she didn’t like because of her job.
“By the time I became senior enough to get away with dressing more how I wanted, Darcy had moved in and made it very clear that she wanted a woman as her girlfriend.” Rory threw her a lop-sided smile. “You see why I can’t get involved with anyone? My head is a mess, and I don’t know where I’m going or who I’m going to be at the end of it.”
“I understand, and I’m here for you as a friend, but Rory”—Gemma reached a hand out and tipped Rory’s face tohers so she could look her in the eyes “—not everyone is like Darcy. Please don’t think we are all like that.”
“So, if we were dating, and I decided to become a man, would you be okay with that?” Rory tipped an eyebrow. “It’s okay, I don’t need you to answer that, but that’s the dilemma I have. I just don’t know where I’m going. I just know I am not happy, and I need to be happy with myself before I can fully be happy with anyone else.” Rory swallowed. “I can’t let myself fall for someone who may abandon who I become in the future.”
Gemma weighed Rory’s words as they sat next to each other in companionable silence. Gemma was glad for the reprieve, and it looked as though Rory was equally happy to have a break from talking for a bit. She was right, of course; Rory often was about things. If they had been casual acquaintances, Gemma wouldn’t have minded and would be working on getting Rory out of her clothes and into a hotel room to get horizontal as soon as possible. But she knew in her heart that if they were physical again that there would be no way that they would be a quick fuck. They loved each other as friends too much, and they would both want to try a relationship, and that wasn’t fair on Rory as she was so confused. So, she told her libido to take a break and concentrated on listening to her friend.
12
RORY
In all the car journeys that she’d taken with Darcy, Rory had never felt so at ease as she did now. Neither had she felt so contented. She relaxed back into her seat as the car purred along the motorway. The car was set to cruise control, so she didn’t really have to do much in the way of driving, besides steering – she could just relax and enjoy the feeling of Gemma’s hand in hers.
She hated to keep continually comparing the two of them in her head, but Gemma was so different to Darcy. Darcy would have been slumped in her seat, scrolling Instagram and moaning about how long the journey was taking before nagging Rory to put her foot down. Rory had long since given up explaining that as a lawyer, she couldn’t really fall foul of the law and how it would look bad if she had to go into the office and confess she had lost her licence, how she was scared it may cost her the job she had worked so hard to succeed in. That wasn’t strictly true, one of the partners had been banned for two years for doing 124 mph on the M1 and hadn’t suffered too much, but he was male and a son of one of the foundingpartners. Rory never wanted to take the risk. Perhaps that was why she had conformed for so many years with her appearance? She desperately wanted to fit in. Being a lesbian was one thing, but being the stereotypical butch lesbian? That was something she had fought against, and she didn’t want to be in that box. But, she wondered, had she put herself in another box? One that was fast becoming like a coffin and stifling her.
She took a few deep breaths, smiling when Gemma gave her hand a squeeze. She felt lighter since she had spoken to Gemma, and a peace had descended on the car. They had talked for as long as the free parking allowed before continuing their journey. Rory hadn’t expected to feel a sense of relief at having spoken to Gemma about how she was feeling, but the weight that had lifted from her was almost palpable.
The journey went smoothly, and they soon parked in front of Gemma’s flat. Rory turned the car off, and the purr of the engine that had accompanied them from the hotel was absent. The silence stretched out as neither of them seemed to want to get out of the car.
“Do you want to come in? To use the loo or have a coffee or…” Gemma’s voice trailed off.
