Boy in a Girl's Body

Chapter 11

"Stephanie! Dinner." my mother's slightly cheerful voice drifted down the hall to my room. I shifted, uneasy at the use of my female name. I never liked it, and having people refer to me as a 'Stephanie' for my entire life had been...painful. It's hard to explain, it just makes me uncomfortable, reminds me of the body I'm stuck in. I wasn't angry that my mom had forgotten to use my new name, I had just told her about it a few weeks ago, besides, the name thing was going to be extremely hard to change. Especially since she named me herself. 

I made my way to the kitchen, Ashley was bouncing in her chair, somehow managing to jingle, though I haven't the faintest idea how. My father, whom I got my small build and dark hair from, was reading some detective novel. It was so close to his nose that I didn't think that a fork could slip in. My mother was dishing out servings, turning off the stove, running around and humming. The humming was a good sign, she was in a good mood. My mood was directly affected by my mother's.  When she was bummed, so was I, if she was pissed, I'd be in my room throwing shit. You get the point. I love my mommy.

I grabbed two plates from the counter and set them down in from of my father and the human jumping bean. My father's chocolate eyes met mine, and he mummbled from behind his book, "Thank you...waitor." I saw his smile as he turned back to his mystery. 

I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. Waitor. Not waittress. I sat down, Mom dropped off my plate, and sat herself down on my left, next to my father. We weren't particulatlly religous, so there were any prayers to be said, we just dug in. Ashley started on a mile-a-minute account of her day, going into painful detail about middle school drama, crushes and feudings. My mother nodded along, replied the way she was supposed to, where she was supposed to. No, knowing my mother, she was actually listening. God bless her, she's a saint. 

My father ate while he read, like normal. I also got my love for the written word from that man, we had a lot in common. It made me happy to know that he was accepting - to whatever point - about my identity. His comment communicated that clearly, without making a big deal about it. I could always count on my father to be simple and quiet about things, and not to make mountains out of molehills. 

My mother, however, tended to explode. But only with certain things, randomly. You couldn't tell which thing would make her blow her top, or which one would roll right off of her. When I had come out to her, she had yelled, mostly about how confused she was, and that none of this made any sense. My mother does not like being confused. No, she does not.

She got better though, after she did some reading. My father, the day I came out, bought come books about Transgender people, Gender Identity ect. He read them all within a week, even had a talk with me about everything he read about. It's safe to say, he knows more than I do about this. Honestly, that fact scares me. But, it's like a million times better than them hating me, kicking me out, or forcing me into dresses every day.

Ashley, well, she's too self-involved to care about anyone else, which is typical to her personality. We can go deeper into this when she gets older. I can stand to wait for that. 

"So, Eli, how has school been recently?" my father's smooth voice makes me jump, pulling me out of my thoughts. Wait a fucking minute... he just called me Eli. Holy satan's balls...

I gape at him, blinking, almost unsure of that had just happened. He smiled at me, encouraging me to go on, but delighted in the shock and joy on my face. I feel like I'm going to explode and spray happy, love juices all over the place. Not now, people are eating.

"Good, my friend, Wendy and I spend a lot of time in the library and read. Uhh, and Darcy hangs out with us at lunch and they're really accepting. They're great," I can't help but beam at the mention of Wendy and Darcy. I never thought I'd have friends like them. 

I saw the glow on my mother's face when I mentioned friends. I had never mentioned friends before. I know that she worries about how my peers are taking my coming out, the risks that I'm taking. This is a piece of really good news. I think she's gonna cry, I'm not kidding. 

My father, a man of few words, flashes me a smile, then returns to his book. My mother grips my hand, strong and tight in hers, she beams at me, wordlessly. She doesn't need to speak. I can see it clearly on her face. The love...and the hope.