Be Myself! - 30. Transition in Tears

On Sunday, every member of the Viñas household woke up early, but for many different reasons. Sam was looking forward to spending the whole day in front of his computer playing one game or another (I could never tell the difference, even if he explained all the plots to me many times over). Mr Viñas was going to be in charge of today’s dinner reunion, so he wanted to get to work as soon as possible. Ms Savage wanted to help her husband a little, but mostly she wanted to keep an eye on Sam and make sure he was getting away from the computer for five minutes every hour. Oliver somehow managed to wake up just as the sun was rising above our window (which in late August was still a lot earlier than the time we had to wake up to get to school). He then woke me up.

“Are you ok?” I asked him, still half-asleep, though his troubled face was quickly changing that.

“I can’t sleep.” Compared to my sluggish voice, Oliver sounded very awake indeed.

“Is something bothering you?”

“I’m nervous about tonight,” he confessed. It did not surprise me. I nudged Oliver to get closer to me and ended up spooning him. I caressed his hair with one hand, and moved the other under his shirt to massage his back. Oliver relaxed a little.

“Nervous about anything specific?”

“No. The whole thing terrifies me.” Oliver snuggled closer to me. I stopped the massage to hug him tightly. “What if the headmistress can’t do anything to help me? What if she thinks I should wait a bit more before I transition?”

“I don’t think she’s going to say that. Luce’s and Charlie’s parents are coming too, and I’m sure they won’t leave until we find a solution that everyone is happy with.” Oliver squished even more against my chest. He probably was not very convinced. “It’ll be fine.”

Oliver did not say anything else. After a while, I fell asleep again, still spooning my boyfriend. Oliver did not close his eyes again, though. By the time I woke up, he was nowhere to be seen.

(...)

Ms Savage explained to me that Oliver had gone to the nearby supermarket to get desserts. I wanted to go after him, but I would never be able to find him in such a crowded space at eleven in the morning, so I waited patiently in Oliver’s room. I sat at his desk and spent my time half-looking at cat videos on his computer, and half-looking out of the widow to see if he was coming home. After half an hour of waiting and six videos of overflowing cuteness, I finally saw Oliver coming down the street.

“I’m back,” he yelled as soon as he was through the front door. I went to greet him on the corridor, but he disappeared into the kitchen before I could get close, so I followed him there. “It took me ages to find a cake that didn’t have cream all over it,” Oliver told his father as he deposited his shopping bags on the counter.

“Thanks, Oliver. Next time we can try some homemade desserts,” Mr Viñas answered. He had been grabbing all sorts of things from the cupboards, and depositing them on the counter just as Oliver dropped his bag there. “Any suggestions?”

“Not really.” Oliver’s answer lacked any enthusiasm. Understanding that his son did not want to talk, Mr Viñas turned his attention to me.

“Good morning, Oscar. Did you sleep well?” As Mr Viñas spoke, Oliver noticed my presence for the first time. He turned towards me with a quizzical expression and I smiled at him.

“Yes, I did. Thank you, Mr Viñas, and good morning to you too.”

“Why don’t you take Oliver for a walk by the canal?” Mr Viñas suggested out of the blue, smiling widely and speaking with forced cheerfulness. It was hard to know if it was intentional or not, but he made it obvious that he was trying to get rid of us and provide Oliver with more distractions until dinner was ready.

“But dad, I don’t feel like…”

“It’s a wonderful summer day! We have to enjoy the sun while it lasts; we never know when it’ll be summer again!” Mr Viñas insisted, so theatrically that I hoped for his own good that he was really trying to be transparent about his intentions. “We should be grateful that this year our summer fell on a Sunday, lads! Now go, go!” He pushed Oliver slightly towards the door, and we had no other option but to leave the kitchen.

“I don’t really want to go anywhere,” Oliver said as soon as we were safely in the corridor again. “Can we go fuck or something?”

“Do you really feel like fucking?” It seemed to me that Oliver was not in a good mood. He was sulking and anxious. I did not understand how it could be translated to horniness, but I tried not to make assumptions about other people’s feelings.

“I might as well. Try me.” Oliver grabbed my shirt and pulled me close. He kissed the base of my neck and tried to get me to lower my head to kiss me on the lips too. But we were in the middle of the corridor, the most public place in his house. Even if I had gotten used to having sex in Oliver’s bedroom while his family was around, it did not mean I was ok with being savagely kissed in plain view.

“Not here, please.” I told him, fixing my shirt to cover the red spot Oliver’s fierce kissing had most likely left there.

“Whatever. Come.” Oliver pulled me to his room and quickly got rid of my shirt. He walked me towards his bed and attacked my underwear just as we reached the edge of the mattress. “Now this thing has to come off…” he said as he pulled my boxers down to my knees. “And you sit.” Oliver pushed me; I lost my balance, and fell on the bed. He quickly sat on my lap, grinning suggestively. “I want to play with you for a bit.”

I nodded. Oliver took off his trousers, but his shirt and underwear stayed on. He kissed me desperately, invading my mouth with his tongue as if he suddenly could not get enough of me. My body thought Oliver’s passionate make-out was quite exciting too, and soon my boyfriend got some lube and used a blowjob as nice complements to his kisses. His hands moved with the same determination as his tongue, and soon it was too much for me.

“That was very quick. I didn’t think you would be that desperate,” Oliver said, grinning despite his words. He bit his lip sensually, and for a second he looked so much like Jean I almost screamed, but Oliver broke eye contact and got off my lap. “Now we have to get rid of this mess…” I thought Oliver was going to grab tissues from his nightstand, but instead he kneeled in front of me and ‘cleaned’ everything with his tongue. I could tell he was trying to look sexy, but his face showed far too much involuntary wincing for it to work. I did my best not to laugh.

“Are you ok?” I asked him once he was done ‘cleaning’. He did not get up, but rested his head against my leg instead. “You seem a bit… different.” The word I was looking for was probably ‘desperate’, but I did not want to tell Oliver that. Usually when he wanted sex we would do it in less of a hurry and with more communication. I did not want to complain about him getting me off because I had enjoyed it, but it felt more rushed than usual, and Oliver had not stopped to ask if I was ok with everything.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to happen that way.” Oliver’s hand found my thigh and his fingers ran alongside it, touching me just slightly. It tickled, and I jumped. Oliver laughed. “I wanted you to fuck me, but when I thought of taking off my underwear, it felt really wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Oliver had never had a problem being naked in front of me before, and since he came out we had agreed that he would not take off his shirt and we would never refer to his ‘bits’ by the names given to female anatomy. I thought those adjustments would be enough to keep his body dysphoria at bay, but apparently this was not the case.

“As soon as I thought about you fucking that… that area, I felt horrible and sick and really dysphoric. I’m sorry I was so harsh with you, but I was kind of desperate to get rid of the feeling, and I thought maybe I could make it go away if I kissed you enough.”

“It’s ok.” I sat on the floor beside Oliver and hugged him against my chest. The carpet itched against my backside, but I tried to ignore the feeling by concentrating on my boyfriend. “But maybe next time you feel that way, we can just stop what we are doing instead of risking one of us getting hurt.”

“Did I hurt you?” Oliver asked in a slight panicky tone. I tried to make my answer sound as warm as possible while involving most of his body in a hug.

“No.”

“But then…” Oliver took a while to understand what I meant, but when he did, he grabbed my arm and cried silently into it. I used my free hand to caress his hair, and we stayed like this for a while. Oliver cried for a long time without saying anything, and I felt like crying too, but I held my tears back. I wanted to appear strong for Oliver, protect him from this kind of pain that I would never feel, never get to know myself. I wanted to help Oliver fight this invisible enemy, and if I could do it via hugs, then I would hug him until our bodies petrified if I needed to.

Luckily for our bodies, though, Oliver agreed to disentangle when his father called us for lunch.

(...)

Seeing as we still had more than five hours to kill before our guests arrived for dinner, Oliver and I decided to accept Mr Viñas’s early suggestion and go for a walk by the canal. It was a ten minute walk there, going past the supermarket and onto a calm street dotted by cherry trees. In April the place would be covered in pink, but at the end of summer the trees were mostly green. The canal was a massive engineering feat when it was built centuries ago, but because it was finished just before railroads became a big thing, it was not used to its full potential for very long. It goes from Glasgow to Edinburgh and was originally intended to facilitate transport between Scotland’s two greatest urban centres, but nowadays it served mostly as a nice walking path and as a leisure route for small boats. Oliver and I headed east, towards the capital, though it would take us days to get there walking. We were not that ambitious.

“Your father was right; this is a lovely day for a walk.” Just as I said it, a cyclist rushed past us. Oliver and I decided to walk on the side of the path that was furthest away from the water, in case there was some kind of race going on, and more hurried cyclists crossed our path.

“It’s almost too nice. I bet half the population of Anniesland is here today.” Oliver sighed. Against my best judgement, I laughed a little.

“I don’t know, I think your neighbourhood is a lot more crowded than that.”

“No, I’m serious. Half of them are here, and the other half went to Morrisons.” Oliver laughed too. Morrisons was the supermarket he had been to earlier. “It’s Sunday for fuck’s sake! What’s wrong with staying home and not doing anything productive?”

“You are not staying home either,” I reminded him, still smiling.

“But that’s only because if I stay home I’m gonna freak.” And with that, our smiles were wiped off of our faces. “I thought things were going to get easier once I figured things out and came out to everybody, but so far it’s only getting worse.” Oliver sighed again. I tried to grab his arm to show support, but he refused. “If people see us walking arm in arm, they’ll thing I’m your girlfriend,” he explained. “I can’t deal with this shit today. I don’t want people automatically misgendering me because I’m hugging someone who’s obviously a guy and, you know, gay people don’t exist. Particularly gay people with large chests.”

“Aw, sorry, Oliver, it…”

“Yeah, it sucks. It almost makes me want to hear people calling us ‘faggots’ and pointing at us in the street. At least it would mean they see me as a guy.” Oliver averted my gaze. He tried to look down, but immediately changed his mind and looked sideways instead. “Fucking tumours.” It took me a while to realise he was talking about his chest.

It felt horrible not to be able to physically comfort him when he was so clearly upset, and, more importantly, to realise I could not always be there for him. Oliver was in pain, and nothing I did could ease that pain, because it was caused by his own body betraying him. Even though it was summer and the temperature was around twenty degrees (68 Fahrenheit), Oliver was wearing a thick jumper trying to disguise his chest. He was already sweating from the short walk, and his cheeks were as red as his hair, but despite all his efforts we were both very aware that the mounds on his chest were still painfully obvious. There was no way a passerby would think of Oliver as the guy he really was.

I thought about what it would be like if everywhere I went, people thought I was a girl. If they looked at me and decided I was a girl, and no matter what I told them, no matter how much I tried to make them see the truth, they did not believe me. I was immediately taken back to the day my father decided to punish me for behaving like a girl. Terror, fear, and a nauseating feeling of being trapped in an endless nightmare exploded from my chest and quickly took over. It was my turn to avoid Oliver’s gaze as I tried to contain those feelings, but their grip was too strong.

“Oscar, you’re really pale. Are you ok?” Oliver realised something was wrong with me too. He came closer to me, touching my cheek with his warm and slightly sweaty hand. My eyes could see him, but my mind kept telling me I was back in my parents’ living room with my father shouting at me about how I had shamed him. My head hurt. “Oscar!” Oliver called, more urgently this time, but his voice sounded too distant for me to register. My father’s voice was louder. The sound of his belt deafened me, and the pain took over all my senses.

When I finally heard Oliver’s voice, I was kneeling on the ground with my shirt and part of my trousers covered in vomit.

(...)

Oliver wanted to know what had happened to me. He thought I was sick and urged us to get back home so I could lie down and change clothes. But I did not feel like doing any of it. My legs felt like jelly, I was still weakened from the vivid flashback. There was no way I could make it back home like that. Fortunately, we were just a few meters from the entrance to a secluded park. I convinced Oliver to help me get there, and we found a reasonably hidden spot to sit on the grass and talk.

“Sorry, I need to take this off.” I told Oliver as I prepared to get rid of my smelly, disgusting shirt. Just because I was not going home for the time being, it did not mean I wanted to smell my own partially-digested lunch for the rest of the day.

“It’s ok, you look great half-naked.” Oliver smiled a little. “At least your manly-chest privilege is useful for something.” My boyfriend made a point of staring at my nipples, making me slightly nervous. Once he was apparently satisfied with how my chest looked, he turned his attention to my face. “What happened back there? It wasn’t just spoiled food, was it? Because we ate the same things and I feel fine.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ever since Oliver had, despite our considerable height difference, picked me up and tried his best to carry me to our new spot, I had been debating within myself if I should finally tell someone what my father had done. This had been the most vivid flashback since I ‘moved’ to Oliver’s. If this kept happening, sooner or later his family would realise something was wrong and make me talk. Knowing Ms Savage, she would surely be looking for blood, and I would not be able to stop her.

But Oliver trusted me. He trusted me enough to come out to me before anyone else, and to want me around when he was coming out to the people that mattered most to him. He told me everything about his dysphoria because he knew that, even if I could not relate to those feelings, I would still listen and respect his reality. Maybe it was about time I trusted him to do the same.

“What was it, then?”

“My father.” I told him everything before I could change my mind. I told him how my father had reacted when he found out I had fucked a guy and ‘been seduced like a girl’, how he threatened me with further punishments every time he suspected I was doing something wrong, and how he punished me for real when I told him I had gotten a girl pregnant. Every word coming out of my mouth was like a needle going through my heart. My eyes stung, but I held back the tears. The flashbacks threatened to come back, but every time my hands started to shake, Oliver called me back to reality. He said things like ‘you’re not with him anymore.’, ‘you’re here with me’, and ‘you’re safe’. I felt completely exhausted by the time it was finally over.

Of everything I said, Oliver was particularly horrified and upset about the time he heard my father threaten me via Skype, soon after his second punishment. He felt badly for not being able to connect the dots then. “I’m so sorry, Oscar! If I had paid more attention…”

“No, no, please don’t say that. I was trying really hard to make sure you and Jean didn’t realise what was going on. I definitely didn’t want you figuring it out.” It had been a very close call. I was terrified that if Oliver figured it out, he would tell his mother and she would call the police. Back then I cared a lot more about what happened to Joseph and Claire Schubert, though even now I still did not want anything too bad happening to them. “And anyway, it was because of what he did that I’m staying with you nowadays.”

“I understand. You don’t deserve to be stuck with people like that.” Oliver caressed my shoulder. While I was talking, he had sat closer to me, apparently forgetting his fears of being misgendered, but he had refrained from touching me. “And thanks for telling me. I know it must’ve been difficult for you.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please. Don’t tell your mum. I don’t think I can deal with anyone else knowing right now, particularly her,” I pleaded. Oliver looked a little offended that I did not trust his mother, but he agreed. I tried to hug him, but I was so tired that my body ended up collapsing on top of his. Oliver fell with his back on the grass and did not make any effort to get up. Instead, he hugged me from underneath.

“We make a great couple,” he joked. I felt like I could smile, if only my lips were willing to move. “One of us has horrible body dysphoria, and the other has been traumatised for life by the person who was supposed to keep him safe.”

“I didn’t think he was doing anything wrong,” I admitted. My throat tightened, like it did not want any more words coming out. I kept talking regardless. “He told me it was how things were, and I believed him. I thought all fathers did this kind of thing.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” Oliver caressed my hair. It felt good to be at the receiving end of it for once. “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’ll be our secret for now, but if your dad messes with you again, I’ll make him pay.” Oliver tried to make a threatening expression, but I found it hard to believe he would ever be able to intimidate Mr Joseph I-am-almost-two-meters-tall Schubert. Oliver was so short it was almost cute, but at least he made me feel a little bit better.

(...)

Oliver and I stayed in the park until half-past six. We talked about anything we could think of that did not involve parents or body dysphoria, including Oliver’s dream of having a chinchilla and my old imaginary friend, Mr Meerkat. Then we realised I needed a shower before dinner and walked briskly back to Oliver’s. By the time I came out of the shower and got ready to meet the guests, it was half-past seven and Ariadne and the Headmistress were just arriving.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Miranda Savage and this cute kid is my son Sam.” I heard Ms Savage at the door while I finished getting dressed in Oliver’s room. My boyfriend was there with me, but I told him to go ahead and greet the guests. My hair was still a damp mess that needed to be taken care of before I could be properly sociable.

When I finally joined Oliver’s family in the living room some ten minutes later, I realised that, to make space for all thirteen people, Oliver’s parents had moved the kitchen table to the living room, creating a big square table with the exact number of chairs. The food had not been served yet, though, and Mr Viñas was nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, Oscar!” Oliver called, indicating that I should join him on the couch. Ariadne and her mother were sitting on the three-seater couch that was against the wall. Ms Savage sat in the loveseat in front of them. Sam had disappeared. My boyfriend was sitting on his own on the three-seater couch between the other two. I took my place beside him, but it felt awkward being literally in the middle of the conversation.

“We were just telling Ms Stellori about how Oliver realised he is trans.” Ms Savage filled me in, and I nodded. She and Oliver did most of the talking from then on, and the headmistress listened with interest. Ariadne’s mother looked very much like an older version of her daughter, though with an air of authority and wisdom that our friend was yet to develop. Her presence was much more reassuring than I first thought.

At precisely eight o’clock, the bell rang. Charlie, Luce, and their parents had arrived, and we were immediately swept up by a shower of hugs from the blonde girl. I feared the headmistress would not take Luce’s display of affection well (because I assumed all people in positions of authority were as stern as my father), but, to my surprise, she hugged Luce back like they were old friends. Once the hug festival was over, Oliver took care of the introductions and ran to yank his brother away from the computer. Mr Viñas emerged from the kitchen with a hot pan that smelled like heaven and our dinner was officially began.

“And so, we would like to know if you think it’s possible for Oliver to transition while in school,” Ms Savage concluded. After spending about five minutes praising Mr Viñas’s culinary skills, Oliver’s mum started the most important conversation of the night. She explained that Oliver felt really uncomfortable being referred to as a girl, and that it was causing him to have a miserable time at school. Oliver’s participation in this part of the talk was limited to nodding in key places. He was probably feeling nervous again; the food in his plate remained mostly untouched while he gripped the cutlery like he wanted his hands to melt into it.

“Possible, it certainly is, but it also depends on what kind of risks Oliver is willing to take,” the headmistress answered. She noticed my boyfriend’s anxiety, so she tried to smile and look at him while she spoke. Oliver’s gaze kept fixed on his plate, though. “When we were discussing what to do for Charlie and Luce, they made very different decisions based on what they would be willing to endure.”

“That’s true,” Charlie agreed. She was wearing a summer dress with huge rose patterns and a pearl necklace. Luce, in an interesting contrast, was wearing jeans and a tight pink blouse. It was the first time I had seen Charlie appear more ‘girly’ than Luce, and for a moment I wondered if they were doing it on purpose to mess with me. “I decided to come out publicly on my first day, not only because I wanted the freedom to fully express my identity, but because my parents and I have been activists for as long as I can remember, so I know how to deal with arseholes and negative feedback.”

“But I don’t want any of that,” Luce added. “I’m not an activist like Charlie. I just want to live my life like a normal girl and not stand out in any way. I’m not out at school because I don’t want to deal with possible mockery or worse. Even if the school is a safe place, I’m tired of feeling different from everyone else.”

“I see…” Oliver finally looked at the rest of the table. Sam smiled and gave him the thumbs up in a cute show of support. Oliver laughed and kissed his brother on the forehead.

“Hey, you’re my brother now, you can’t do that stuff!” Sam protested, making a show of wiping the place where he was kissed.

“Brothers can kiss each other!” Luce argued, looking at Sam like she was challenging him to take this argument to the most daring consequences. “Guys have as much feelings as girls, and you should be allowed to demonstrate that.”

“She is right, Sam,” Ms Savage nodded, to her youngest son’s horror. “I won’t have either of my sons becoming tough insensitive guys just because someone else told them they should be that way.”

“Thanks, mum,” Oliver beamed. He gave Sam the victory grin and returned the conversation to its original purpose with much more energy. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know if I have much choice about risks. I can’t just pretend I’m a new student, I’ll have to come out to my classmates and my teachers and hope for the best.”

“We can still limit your exposure, though,” the headmistress said. “We can explain your situation to just the people that you share classes with. The rest of the school won’t know, and then you can introduce yourself as Oliver to any new person you meet.”

“Do you think it will be safer that way?” Mr Viñas asked.

“If Oliver is trying to minimise exposure, that is the best way,” the headmistress answered. All our eyes turned to Oliver, waiting for his decision.

“And if my classmates don’t like what they hear and refuse to call me Oliver?”

“Then you can come straight to me and I will deal with them.” The headmistress was assertive, which immediately put Oliver at ease. “Or, if you prefer, you can look for Mr Smith and he will pass the information to me. When we first had LGBT awareness training for the teachers, he was the one who became the most involved, and from what Ariadne tells me he has been very supportive of your group of friends.”

“Yes, Mr Smith has been great,” Oliver agreed. Ariadne and I nodded. I wondered if Mr Smith had shown so much interest in the training because of Jean, which then led me to wonder how their lives crossed paths. I did not have much time to dwell on those thoughts, though, because the conversation carried on. “I guess I’ll look for him if I can’t find you.”

“All teachers were taught to respect their students’ identities,” the headmistress continued. “But if they forget anything about their training, you don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. Other than that, in a way you chose the best possible time to come out, in a way.”

“Why is that?” Ms Savage asked. Ariadne, Luce, and Charlie exchanged quick meaningful glances before the headmistress answered.

“Because soon we will be giving the students some Trans 101 awareness training in their PSE classes. We have this planned since Charlie and Luce asked to go to my school, but the organisation we booked to do the workshops was not available until September. So even if your classmates don’t receive your transition well in the beginning, I hope they will learn more in class and become more respectful after that.”

“That is really great!” Ms Savage nodded approvingly. “I wish I had that kind of thing when I was at school. Things have changed so much…”

“Yes. Back then we could not even mention the world ‘gay’, let alone any kind of trans stuff.” Mr Viñas agreed. I knew vaguely what they were referring to: some kind of law that forbade teachers to teach about homosexuality at school, which endured until around the early 2000s.

“I’m just doing what I can for my students,” the headmistress said. “That’s why I got this job after all.”

“You have a cool mum,” Sam told Ariadne with the kind of snob expression that meant something awful was about to follow. “Wanna trade with me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but this mother is not up for trade!” Ms Savage answered with feigned outrage.

“Neither is this one!” the headmistress joined in, and soon we were discussing which parents we wanted to swap. I stayed mostly quiet while Luce, Charlie, Ariadne, and Sam debated the pros and cons of their own parents. Oliver squeezed my hand under the table.

By the time dessert came along (under many protests because everyone had eaten far more than their stomachs could handle of Mr Viñas’s wonderful paella), we had decided that Oliver would officially come out at school one week from Monday, to give enough time for the teachers to change their paperwork and get used to Oliver’s new name and pronoun. The headmistress argued that the students would be more likely to respect Oliver’s transition if the teachers seemed confident and natural in their attitude about it. Oliver did not want to wait one more week to be able to transition, but he understood the headmistress’s point and ended up agreeing with it.

“Tomorrow after class I will call a meeting with all your teachers,” the headmistress explained. “And I will tell them about the change. If you are ok with it, I will encourage them to speak to you privately as well, so that you can tell them yourself what exactly you want them to do. How does that sound?”

“Ok, I guess,” Oliver answered, still a little disappointed because of the wait.

“I’m sorry I’m making you wait even longer, Oliver, but I do believe this is the best way.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“The whole transition process seems like a great deal of waiting, sometimes,” Luce said. “Nothing comes when you want it, and when you finally get there, chances are that something else went wrong.”

And on that happy note, we ate our desserts.