The text was followed by a lot of winky faces, and Rory felt her cheeks warm. While she was in thoughts of exactly what they could get up to Thursday evening, the train arrived at her stop, and she joined the mass of people swarming for the exit. She was never sure if it was her legs or the collective swell of people that steered her towards the exit, but soon she was spat out into the blazing summer sun. Summer heat in London hit differently than in the countryside. She never knew if it was the traffic, the buildings or just the sheer number of people crowding the streets. For a moment, she craved the openness of the countryside andthe gentle breeze that had accompanied her and Gemma as they had cuddled together next to the swimming pool. As she walked the short distance to her office, she tried to enjoy the oppressive heat as much as possible. It wouldn’t be long before the weather was cold and dreary, and the commute would be brutal.
She entered the building on autopilot and soon had dumped her bag into the chair next to her desk. Opening her laptop, she took a sip of the coffee her assistant had left for her. Before long, hours had slipped by until, just before lunch, the door to her office flew open and her boss poked his head in.
“Morning, just wanted to check the meeting for Wednesday…” His voice trailed off and he pulled himself fully into her office.
It wasn’t the biggest office in the firm, but it was big enough and one she had earned through many late nights and extra weekends. She sat back in her chair and looked him square in the eye.
“What the devil have you done to your hair?” His grey eyebrows pulled together, and he frowned.
“Well, I cut it, obviously. Although to be exact,” she paused for effect, “my barber Craig cut it, and I paid him to do it.”
“Oh well, um,” he spluttered and pulled himself fully into her room. “It’s erm,” he stalled and dropped into a chair. “Do you know it makes you look like a boy?”
Heat rushed through her, and she curled her hands into fists. Anger suffused her, and she had to bite her lip in frustration. Yes, she’d had a few odd glances this morning and a couple of double takes as she’d walked to her office, but that only made her stand taller and prouder of who she was becoming. He crossed one leg over the other. She noticedthat most of the older male lawyers did that rather than propping an ankle on a knee. It was more elegant, softer even, and she made a note of it. She found she was making note of how many of her male colleagues acted and filing it away for future reference.
She took a few calming breaths and willed her thumping heart to slow. This wasn’t like her. Normally at work, she was the calm and collected one. She was the one they sent into tense negotiations and interviews because she never reacted to opposing counsel or clients. But now, now she was fuming, and she didn’t know why. She bit back all the swear words that were bubbling inside her.
“Yes, that was the idea.” She swallowed. “I’ve not been feeling like myself recently. After a lot of soul searching and talking with my girlfriend,” a flash of joy bubbled in her heart at calling Gemma her girlfriend, piercing the tense moment, “I realised I want to express myself in a more masculine way from now on.”
“Huh,” John said thoughtfully. He looked at his fingernails and then back up to her.
“So are your pronouns he/him or something else?”
Rory felt her stomach drop before it settled back into place. This was not a question she had been prepared for this morning. Craig had asked her the same question on Saturday as he cut her hair. The initial reaction was to answer she/her, but Rory wasn’t sure if that was because it was how she felt, or just habit to answer that way. She had been determined to think about it over the weekend, but then Gemma had stroked her neck in the car and her plans had gone to hell in the most pleasurable way.
Now she felt foolish for not giving them more thought. She quickly mulled them over in her head. Male pronouns were not right for her. Not now, certainly not after the wayGemma had made love to her. For the first time in months, if not years, she had felt alive and fully present in the world. She felt like a woman, she felt like herself. Her mind unhelpfully presented her with a montage of Gemma making love to her, and she chased it away, not wanting those memories to be sullied by this moment with John. She then thought of her achievements at work, how she was among a handful of senior lawyers who were female and how much harder she’d had to work to get where she was. Her lips quirked at the irony of embracing her masculine side, only to feel prouder than ever to be a strong, independent woman.
“She/her.” She stated proudly.
“Oh, that’s a relief,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips.
Rory’s hackles rose, and she gripped the arms of her chair again.
“Why is that?” She struggled to keep her voice neutral.
“Marjory at reception cannot cope with they/them pronouns.” He sighed dramatically. “Every time she needs to type it up, I get a rant about how grammatically incorrect it is. I keep telling her, ‘Your insistence on good grammar does not wipe away someone’s identity or their right to express themselves exactly as they wish.’ I don’t want to have to give her another warning, because aside from that, she’s good at her job.” He sighed. “We need to keep educating her and be visible.” He took a breath as if to calm the situation. “My poor attempt at humour aside, you use whatever pronouns suit you. You can always put them at the bottom of your email so everyone in the company is aware.” He took a slim notebook out of his pocket and took a pen from her desk. He made a small note before returning her pen. “I’ll suggest that everyonedoes that on their emails to the other partners.” He waggled his notebook at her before returning it to his pocket. “We should be doing that anyway, but thank you for reminding me.” He sat back in his chair. His face was neutral, but Rory could see he was weighing his next words carefully.
“Do you remember my daughter-in-law?”
Rory racked her brain but couldn’t recall her. The last time she’d learned anything about his family was five years ago when she’d covered John’s cases whilst he went to his son’s wedding. But that was to a man. She tried to think whether he had other children.
“Did Sarah get married?” She dug his daughter’s name from the depths of her memory, wondering where the hell this conversation was going.
He chuckled, “Not yet, but soon we think.” He crossed his fingers and winked. “I’m talking about Daniel’s wife.”
She thought again and could only conjure up images of two smiling men in tuxedos. An excited John had thrust them in her face when he’d come back from leave. She relaxed a bit. How had she forgotten that John was an ally? She swallowed and let the silence be all the answer he needed.
“My daughter-in-law used to be my son-in-law.” He took a breath. “Of course, my wife is delighted because they now seem like a hetero-normative couple, but I keep telling her it doesn’t work that way. They’re still queer, and we’re still allies.” He paused and let the statement breathe in the air for a moment. “I am not assuming anything about your life, and I don’t need to know.” He smoothed his tie again. “But I do know a little of what Poppy has been through and will support you in any way I can. My door is always open for you.”
He uncrossed his legs and patted his thighs, a universal sign that this conversation was nearly over.
“You have my support if you need it. We try to be a progressive firm here, but you know lawyers can be a conservative bunch. Look at the hoo-ha we had over the use of the Oxford comma!”
Rory chuckled at that. She rose at the same time as he did and took the hand he offered.
“You are one of the brightest young lawyers here, Rory, and you’ve earned your place through hard work. I, and the company, are jolly lucky to have you. I’m here for you. Anytime, for anything.” She nodded, and the first genuine smile since she’d walked into the office crossed her lips. As she walked around her desk to open the office door for him, she tugged her suit jacket into place again.
John looked her up and down for a moment before raising a hand to the collar of her jacket. The shirt she had chosen this morning was a man’s shirt, but the suit was female cut, and nothing worked together, and she knew it looked a mess. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but would you like the name of my tailor? He’s really very good.” He swallowed. “I remember Poppy struggling to find female clothes in the beginning. You know, they’re cut for the wrong body type and whatnot. Samuel would be happy to help.” Rory swallowed. Of all the people to be an ally to her on this journey, her ultra posh, seemingly conservative boss was not someone she would have thought about. But the look on his face told her he was sincere, and the softness in his voice when he spoke of his daughter-in-law spoke of great love and understanding.
