This Chapter Contains Transphobia

It's been a week since my name was leaked and I've been on edge the entire time. Nobody's noticed yet – or they haven't said anything, which I doubt. 

I'm on my way to my last class of the day, walking through the main halls of the North building, passing by small groups of students and the odd lecturer. There's a large cafe in this building which makes it popular for traffic, especially in the mornings – students needing their caffeine hit. I can't pretend I haven't been one of them before.

I round the corner to the stairwell, passing a tidy group of girls who are waiting for their next class, presumably. I don't pay them much mind until I get a few steps ahead, lifting my next foot and freezing before it can meet the ground. 

"Jem" is all I heard. The mere muttering of his name is enough to spike a prickling wave through me.

I wait anxiously, too focused to retain any of their words. I'm only listening for my name. But they never say it. They don't even acknowledge my presence.

What am I doing? Stood in a hallway, one foot in the air, blatantly listening to a group of girls gossip about their favourite artists. 

If you keep acting this weird people will catch on. 

I force myself to move on, to prioritise class.

The teacher's soft, cheery voice carries us through a colourful presentation. The passion she holds for the subject shows in her bubbly demeanour while she chats with anyone willing to. 

It's a long 3 hours, not that it feels it. Between presentation slides, pleasant class conversations and pictures of cute and cool animals our teacher can't resist sharing, it goes by quick. 

I sketch some dragonflies in my notebook, using a multicolour pen I found one day. Though I'm now running low on green and black ink.

Jem, 17:22 You still in class?

The text pops up over my references, obscuring the details I had just begun copying. Looks like Jem is bored, most likely procrastinating from his own school work, not that I can say anything.

I hold my phone over my page, snapping a picture of my sketch and sending it to him. He used to hate getting them without warning, apparently it made him squirm and feel itchy, as if the bugs crawled out of the screen to his skin. But he got used to it after I started sending infestation videos.

Jem, 17:24 Will you ever get bored of drawing bugs?

You, 17:24 Do you know how many invertebrate species there are?

Jem, 17:24 Uh thousands? They’re like insects and spiders and shit right?

You, 17:25 They make up like 97% of the Earth's animal population.

Jem, 17:25
WAT

You, 17:25
A coral is an invertebrate, along with the horseshoe crab. 

Jem, 17:26 A horseshoe crab? I LOOKED IT UP WTF ISAAC I cant tell if this is worse than the spider crab At least spifer crabs are scary from the start

You, 17:26 Haha Horseshoe crabs aren’t actually crabs, they're better related to scorpions.

Jem, 17:27 Great my most hated crab doesnt have to change

I laugh to myself, imagining Jem relaxing on a warm beach somewhere. 

It’s a beautiful day with the golden sun casting a dazzlingly rich glow over the sea. The strong smell of salt affects no one as kids play, laugh and adults swim and drink. The odd dog sprints over the wet sand, daring the white-swirled waves to lick at their paws. 

All the beauty and tranquility vanishes in an instant when a terrifying, blood curdling scream pierces the upbeat atmosphere, sending people into a collective panic.

Jem spotted a huge spider crab. And now people think someone is being murdered.

It’s weird to imagine these scenarios and be able to picture Jem as who he really is. With his dark, almost reddish hair, like the tint of the darkest cherry. And his dimples that carve deep into his cheeks, so much so that you can see the faintest outline even when his mouth is flat.

I still haven’t gotten over the fact I now know what he looks like: my friend of 4 years. It had gotten to the point I was perfectly content with never knowing how he looks or who he truly is. So for it to happen so suddenly? And for the truth to be what it is?

Somehow, finding out my best friend is a small celebrity is nowhere near as exciting than seeing him. I feel like we finally have a real chance to… I honestly can’t explain it. It’s like the last barrier fell? We’ll finally get to really know each other.

I gather my thoughts and notebook and make my way out of class with the crowd of students. Uni is done for the day and, like most of my evenings, I have nothing better to do than sit around in my flat.

I start heading there, through the side courtyard that houses tangled, bare trees and benches covered in damp, brown leaves. I didn’t see many people here in late September when the weather was still good, nevermind the wet, blue start of winter.

So I begin slowing my pace when I hear voices, a hint of paranoia kicking back into my brain. What if they’ve seen me and realised? What if-

“You can’t be serious.” The high voice of a young woman meets my ears, a sarcastic, unbelieving laugh sprinkled over her words.

I come to a stop by the first tree, peering down the path to see Connor in bold red and a small girl in a bright autumnal dress. They both look stressed. I get a bad feeling, holding onto the dark fabric of my jacket pockets. 

“When were you gonna tell me about this? Or are you like, that?” The girl’s voice goes from loud and angry to much quieter, concerned.

I stay in place, frozen. Arguments are the last things I can handle.

Connor shifts slightly but maintains a cool composure, not letting whatever situation he’s in get to him, “Like what?”

The girl eyes him, a face that says ‘you know’ or ‘don’t lie’. The thread through Connor’s eyebrows only gets pulled tighter. I’ve never seen Connor this serious before – the confusion is pretty normal. Stood tall with tense shoulders, a face that you can barely imagine a smile forming on. It’s kind of intimidating, actually.

“Trying to deceive me for, I don’t know. Fun, a fetish? I don’t know what goes on in those peoples heads. Either way, I'm sorry. I don’t want to date a trans guy.”

“I- That’s… I don’t want to date you either after what the hell you just said. We don’t deceive people, Holly- Why do you think I brought this up?”

“Hey! I’m a woman, you’d know at least little about that, I need to make sure I’m safe! It does seem like you were purposely hiding this from me, what do you expect me to do?” Holly gets defensive, her hands gripping the strap of her brown leather bag.

“You did not just say that.” Connor is just as agitated but much quieter, almost muttering. Like he doesn’t want to dignify that with an answer.

“Don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t wanna hear the rest of your secrets. I especially never wanna meet your friends, god knows what they’re like.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Connor brushes past her, his face quickly scrunching when his back turns to her. Holly says nothing more, just stares, holding herself and her things close, protectively.

I keep watching until I almost lose sight of Connor’s red hoodie, and I take off. I shuffle over to him, my hands shaking despite not even being part of the fight – or whatever that was.

“Connor!” I catch his attention.

He jumps, turns and stops to wait, looking over my shoulder.

“H- Hey,” He greets, his nerves clear in both his voice and body. His hands are twirling around the excess straps of his backpack. All his false confidence and firm exterior have crumbled completely. “You saw that.”

“Are you okay?” Is all I can ask.

“Y-” he starts, forcing his eyes to meet mine, “No. I’m so tired of those people. They’re just so fucking-... You’re not like that, right?” His nerves build up even more, spilling into his deep brown eyes and shaking the lip he has pinned between his teeth.

I’ve never seen him look so scared.

“I won’t judge you. You haven’t done anything wrong.” I want to reassure him but I can’t say the words.

Great lines form in my mind but I'm too afraid to use them. Afraid of what, though? I'll never understand that side of me.

“I-... I’m sorry for not telling you, or the girls. I was probably the most scared to tell you guys because we have to live together and that would be crap for me, and if any of you were transphobic then you’d hate the idea of living with a trans person and-” I cut him off, force him to take a breath after his rapidfire words.

“You don’t need to justify why you haven’t told anyone. I get it.” You shouldn't need to tell us – is what I want to add on. But is that helpful to say? I'm not sure, so I go quiet.

“Thanks.” He breaths out, the relief only small but soothing. I’m glad I could at least give him that.

Something pops into my head: a way to shatter the tension. Or possibly make it worse. Do I say it anyway? What if it fills him with dread or makes him throw it out? No, I’m being ridiculous. At least try.

“Besides,” I start so I can’t turn back, “I already had some idea.”

He tenses again, “What?”

I hesitate, not liking how quickly he picked his guards back up. “I… helped you put lights up in your demon room, right?” He nods, unsure of where this is going, “You have a trans flag pillow on your desk chair.”

He stays silent for a moment, no longer looking at me. Instead he’s just looking. Thinking. He breaks out in an emotion-cocktail mix of laughter. His shoulders drop and his eyes light up. The sight makes me smile. 

“Jeez, I’m not as subtle as I thought,” he brushes his messy hair back, “I fucking love that pillow! I’m pretty sure all of you’ve seen it. Kinda hope so now.” His smile widens.

“Well, we all know how bi you are because of your stuff.”

“If we’re coming clean then I’ll confess, I saw a white hoodie in your drawers when I was putting your jumper back. I thought it was odd cos you and white? I know we’ve only known each other for 2 months but,” he gestures from my head down to my toes, “so I snooped and it has a pride flag on the baaack.” He sings, raising his eyebrows up and down.

I look away from him, trying not to laugh. I knew I shouldn’t have brought that hoodie.

“Was super excited when I found that, not gonna lie.” He smiles.

We begin walking to our flat. It isn’t far from the campus and we come to the street pretty quickly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know I’m bi and didn’t say anything so I wasn’t sure if it was an okay topic to talk about.”

“Well, yeah. How would that conversation go? ‘You’re bi? Cool I’m gay.’” That seems like such an odd conversation. And I can barely start normal conversations with new people.

“Yes! Then we could’ve talked about LGBT stuff together. Like… Stuff.” 

I burst into laughter, both at his idea and the light mood that’s fallen over us. It feels so much better and I can’t help but smile at Connor’s joy. The feelings that girl gave him are in the past and disregarded, but not forgotten.

We make various extremely unfunny gay jokes until we’re in the living room of our flat, our laughter hardly taking a break. 

Speaking of barriers, I think Connor and I just shattered one.