“Do you have plans for next weekend? Want to drive up to Mapletown for the weekend with me?”
“Me and Kayla are staying at Gram’s on Saturday, remember? She’s making a cran-apple pie and showing us how to make somethingfor cultural heritage day. Then Auntie Isla is taking us to the apple orchard on Sunday, and she said we could watchHeated Rivalry.”
I spin on my ass like a top until I’m facing her. “You are absolutely not watchingHeated Rivalry.You girls are too young.”
“But Mom…” Her expression morphs into an anguished pout, and even though I feel a slight tug on my heartstrings, I stand firm.
“No way. You stopped believing in Santa last year. There needs to be more time between that milestone and when you watch a show with that much sex in it, okay, kid? Otherwise, someone is going to find out and have me thrown in jail.” I also don’t believe for a second my sister okayed this. I send her a text to confirm.
Jules says you agreed to let her and Kayla watch Heated Rivalry next weekend, but I smell bullshit.
She replies immediately with seven poop emojis.
Isla: But you and I are due for a rewatch at some point, yes?
I mean, I’ve watched the first season at least six times since the last time we watched it together, but it’s not as if I’d ever get tired of Shane and Ilya’s love story.
Obviously.
I should probably punish Jules for lying, but catching her in the lie itself feels like enough. She and Kayla play this game just as often as me and Isla played it when we were kids. Pitting the grownups against each other to see what they can get away with. Unfortunately for our daughters, me and Isla talk a lot more than our parents did, mostly because we don’t hate each other, so our girls don’t get away with much.
“Auntie Isla blew up your spot, kiddo. Nice try.”
She throws her head back with a groan. “Sadie’s mom let her watch, and she won’t stop talking about it.”
I fail to stifle a sardonic laugh. “Sadie’s mom can make all the questionable decisions she wants. We won’t be following her lead on anything, ever.” Sadie and Jules have butted heads since sixth grade, mainly because, just like her mother, Sadie has the air of a typical empty-souled, spray-tanned mean girl, with her unnaturally white teeth, blemish-free skin, and acid tongue, and Jules has never conformed to beauty norms. I’ve let her chooseher own clothes since she was old enough to speak, because who am I to tell another person what they’d feel their best in?
Even before she came out, her wardrobe consisted mostly of casual androgynous pieces. Now that she identifies as a girl, I’ve noticed more feminine accents have been added to her outfits, and part of me is terrified Sadie will use her gender identity as a way to bully her. To my knowledge, it hasn’t happened yet, but is it just a matter of time before it does?
My fists have been clenched since the day she came out in preparation for it. Not just Sadie, but everyone. We live in a cruel and violent world, and for whatever reason, society seems to fear trans people more than domestic terrorism, and over my rotting fucking corpse will I let anyone insult my baby for living authentically. Ain’t happening.
“Can I have an ice cream sandwich?” she asks, holding one up for me to see.
“Only if you bring me one.” A calendar alert pops up on my phone a second later. “Don’t forget, we have that appointment on Friday morning to get your shot.”
Her lips tilt slightly downward. “Yeah, I know.”
“Are you nervous?” I ask, folding my arms on the back of the couch. “The doctor said it’s a quick pinch, and you only need one every three months. The medication is safe and everything it does is reversible.”
She doesn’t respond.
“You can also hold off on the shot if you’re not ready. Isn’t that what your therapist said?”
“Yeah.” Her brown eyes drop to a spot on the tiled floor. “I know. It’s not the needle.”
I close the distance between us and lean against the kitchen counter, about an inch from her in case she needs me. “Do you want me to move the appointment back? We can get you in to see your therapist again first if you want.”
“I just don’t know what to tell people when I get to school.” Her eyes grow wide. “Why I’m coming in late.”
I pull her into my chest, and her arms tighten around me. When we first discussed her getting puberty blocker injections, she was thrilled and eager to begin her journey as the person she’s always felt like on the inside. It wasn’t until she started worryingwhat others would thinkthat doubts began to form. “You don’t have to tell them anything, coconut. But if you want to say something, keep it vague. Just say you had a doctor’s appointment. If anyone pushes for more details, remind them that it’s none of their damn business, okay?”
“But what if my friends ask?”
“Haven’t they been excited for you since you came out?”
She nods.
I understand her reluctance. Her friends are few, but they’ve been a safe place to land since long before she came out. Jules is old enough to understand how quickly that can change, though. When she came out to her dad, he wasn’t outright transphobic, but he also wasn’t as supportive as he could’ve been. There are still instances when he misgenders her, and it dulls the light inside of her every time. He’s still her father, but he’s no longer a safe place for her to be fully herself, and that realization is like a knife to the chest.
