“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Lola asks, startled and concerned, as I barge into the apartment and toss my wig onto the couch, sobs wracking my body. It looks like she’s been watching television and drawing up a flash sheet of tattoo designs. 

I don’t answer, too busy breathing heavy, rapid breaths between sobs. It’s making me dizzy but I can’t make myself stop.

“Lane,” She stands, gently setting her iPad aside. “Lane!” She stands and approaches me, placing both hands on my shoulders. “Deep breaths. Slow breaths. Do it with me.”

She breathes in and out slowly, and I copy her actions. 

“Okay, keep doing that. Sit down. I’ll be right back.” She hurries to the fridge in the kitchen while I sit, still trying to breathe slowly in and out. It’s a shaky experience, but for the most part I have it down.

Lola comes back with a cup of ice. “I’m gonna put some on the back of your neck,” She says softly. 

I nod. When I have panic attacks Lola will get me ice and either she or myself will place a few cubes on the back of my neck. It’s something an old therapist taught me and it’s been incredibly helpful in times just like this one. I close my eyes and continue my deep breaths as Lola places some ice on me. Soon I’m calmed down enough for her to ask again. “What’s wrong, Lane? What happened at the gym? You were there for so long.”

“I went on a date with Mell after the gym and freaked out and stood him up when I promised I’d come back and I feel awful and I don’t know if I’m really trans and the wig felt fine at first but then it didn’t and I wiped off most of the beautiful makeup you put on me and I–” I ramble quickly, the tears starting again.

Lola quiets me down with a “shhh” as my breathing begins to quicken again. “One thing at a time. He asked you on a date?” She asks, her hand that’s unoccupied by ice cubes rubbing my leg in a soothing manner. 

“Y-yeah,” I mumble, wringing my hands, “He showed me around the gym because he thought I was new with a friend pass instead of me and then he asked me out to coffee and tea when I finished my workout.”

“Okay, that’s great!” Lola says encouragingly, “Now what’s this about you freaking out and standing him up?”

I cover my face with my hands and groan. I take another deep, shuddering breath before my tears can come again. “I started questioning myself. The wig felt so heavy on my head and I felt like just a confused little boy and not like the beautiful woman I was trying to be.” I look up at Lola with what I can only assume is a desperate look in my eyes. “Is that what I am? A confused boy? Am I faking it and just not knowing it?”

Lola frowns as the ice begins to melt and trickle down the back of my neck and spine, down my racerback I haven’t changed out of from the gym and date. “It can be confusing and hard when you first begin a transition,” She says softly, “It doesn’t mean you’re faking it, you’re just dealing with a lot of changes and emotions.”

“Okay,” I say pathetically. I take off my shirt and wipe Lola’s ice-holding hand dry with it and then wipe the remnants of my own tears away. “I promised him I’d come back from the bathroom but then this woman caught me in the bathroom and I bolted.”

Lola gasps and claps her hands together. “You even braved the women’s bathroom?” She asks. If this were a cartoon there’d be stars in her eyes. She’s so excited for me and I just feel like shit.

“Yeah…” I sigh, upset, “It was horrible. I just went in to take off my wig and makeup and then I got looked at like I had two heads.”

“Aw, Lane,” Lola frowns, “It’ll get easier with time. I promise.”

“What do I do about Mell?” I ask, distraught, “He probably never wants to see me again after that catastrophe.”

“I mean would you like to see him again?” Lola asks, putting her chin in her hands.

“Yeah I just– what if he’s doing this as a joke? Like asking me out as a joke?” I ask somewhat frantically.

“Lane, that happened once,” Lola says with a sigh, “And then you never trusted anyone ever again. If you keep that up you’ll never find the love you deserve to have.”

“But what if he is?” I ask, pressing the question. 

“Then say fuck you and find another man. Or woman. Or someone who’s neither or both. There’ll be better people out there for you than anyone who wants to hurt you, and you can’t live your whole life acting like everyone is out to get you.” She shrugs. “That shit only hurts you in the long run.”

“I’m afraid,” I mutter. My tears have dried up and I’m calmer now, but I’m afraid.

“Okay, I love you, but you’re never not afraid,” Lola chuckles. “I say go get your man. If he ends up not being the one, oh well. Try again next time with some other person.”

“Will you come with me when I talk to him?” I ask, practically begging her, “I can’t do this alone.”

Lola sighs and smiles at me. “I don’t want to make it seem to him like you can’t be independent in this type of situation. I think it’d mean a lot more if you did this yourself.”

I nod and swallow a lump in my throat. “Okay… I think I should go back without my wig or makeup though and introduce myself like who I am before getting to know him as just… who I want to look like. He didn’t recognize me.”

Lola chuckles. “He barely knows you anyway, but if that’s what you’re more comfortable with then go for it.”

I nod. “It is. Thank you, Lola,” I give her a weak smile. 

“Anytime, babe,” Lola responds warmly. She slaps her legs and stands, picking her iPad up. “I’m gonna go to my room and finish this flash sheet now if you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’m good now…” I say, my words trailing off. “Thanks, Lo.”