“Talk to your nibling, won’t you?”
Shelby might’ve been two-thousand miles away, but her frustration echoed through the phone loud and clear.
“Why? What’d they do?”
Shelby’s kid, Monty, had started using they/them pronouns a few years ago. At the time, I hadn’t known much about what it meant to be gender fluid. Three books, two online classes, and one year of family counseling later, and I was now the proud uncle of anibling—a term we had all agreed fit best.
“It’s what I won’t let them do. Here.”
And then, after a brief fumbling with the phone and a muffled, “Mo-om!” with two syllables . . .
“Uncle-sorus!”
“Mont-star!” I mimicked their enthusiasm. “What are you doing up so late?” It was almost midnight in Milwaukee, on a school night no less.
“We just got home from the Harry Styles concert! And guess what?” I could practically picture them jumping up and down in my sister’s apartment. I bet the downstairs neighbors loved that.
“What?”
“Harry liked my sign. He pointed to it and read it aloud and smiled and now I’ll never be the same ever again.” They squealed, all without taking a breath. Oh, to be fourteen again.
“That’s amazing. Have your mom send me pictures, okay?”
“Only if you tell her I can get my nose pierced.”
Ah. That must’ve been what had irked Shelby. Beat me why though. Monty was fourteen, and like most teenagers, this wasn’t the first time they’d wanted to experiment with their look. Shelby had fully supported their decision to color their hair pink last year, and again when they’d wanted to buzz the sides. From the sound of things, she drew the line at body piercings.
“Now you know that’s up to your mom, not me.”
“But—”
“You’re not winning this one, kid.”
Silence. “Fine.”
I could practically hear the lightbulb go off over their head. “And please”—I lowered my voice—“whatever you do, don’t have a friend do it for you behind her back. Trust me, that is a fight you donotwant to have with your mom.”
They released an aggravated sigh of defeat. “Fine.”
And then I did what any good uncle who didn’t want to disappoint the kid he loved most would do. I told them, “Wait until you come to visit this summer, and we’ll buy you some clip-in nose rings.”
“Really?!”
“Temporarynose rings,” I stressed, because I knew firsthand that you did not want to be on Shelby’s bad side.
“Oh, Uncle-sorus, you’re the best!”
“Tone down the excitement,” I whispered. “Otherwise, you’ll give us away. Now, say goodbye and put those acting chops to use. Seriously, I expect some Oscar-worthy pouting.”
“O-kay,” they said, really milking it.I knew sending them to that drama camp in the Catskills would be worth it.“Thanks for nothing, Uncle-sorus.” I caught the hint of a giggle before they passed the phone back to my sister.
“Did you back me up for once?” Shelby teased.
“I’ll always back you up, Shelb.” I smiled to myself. “You know that.”
“Of course, I know that, you little shit.”
I’d never given much consideration to fatherhood, but I loved being the “fun uncle.” Spoiling my sisters’ kids with trips and gifts and, apparently, piercings was a role I’d never get tired of.
