"...and when summer starts, maybe you can come and visit," Gerard finished.
"That sounds cool," Mikey responded. "How's Frankie?"
The two brothers were currently Skyping, having it been a month and a half since they saw each other last. Gerard had been let out from school a week ago while Mikey still had a couple of days left.
He bit his lip. "She's good. Maybe not as good as usual, but..." he let out a sigh. "You know she's my– my boyfriend, right?"
Mikey's brow wrinkled. "Don't you mean girlfriend?"
"No, boyfriend," Gerard corrected. "You saw her– sorry, him– that day, he's a boy."
"Oh, right. I remember now."
"How's Europe?" Gerard asked, changing the subject.
"It's really nice," Mikey said. "Dad's house is huge, there's still times when I actually get lost. And school's cool, too, I've made some friends..."
But Gerard wasn't listening anymore. His father had appeared in the corner of the screen, dressed in a business suit. He lifted up his hat so Gerard could see his cold eyes. He stayed like that for a while, standing stiffly, not taking his eyes off of the two boys. It was starting to creep Gerard out.
"Anyway, I should get to school now," Mikey said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "What time is it there anyway?"
"Uh... two in the morning," Gerard said sheepishly. He laughed. "I should probably get to bed."
"Yeah, you do that." Mikey shot him a smile. "I miss you."
"Miss you too, kid." Gerard clicked the end call button.
---
Frankie woke up the next morning at five-thirty in the morning to her cellphone ringing. She rolled over to look at the caller ID and let out a groan.
"Fuck you, I'm tired," was her way of greeting.
"Well good morning to you, too," Brendon said back. "Just thought you'd like to know– Ray's flying in this afternoon."
Frankie bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. "What? You're– you're serious?"
"Dead serious. You're supposed to meet him at the local diner at six."
"Oh– oh god," Frankie stammered, stumbling out of bed. "Thanks for telling me, I– I need to get ready."
"This early?" Brendon snickered. "Dude, you have twelve hours."
"You– you don't understand. I need to shower, find my really good binder– shit, maybe I should buy one, get my mom out of the house, and–" she stopped. "Wait, what do I wear? Is this going to be formal? Should I wear my suit? I have one hidden in my closet–"
"Calm down," Brendon said. "No suit. A nice shirt and jeans would work."
"What about my mom? If she sees me trotting around in a binder and a wig, she'll flip out."
"Remember when we found your mom's number book or whatever it's called? The thing that's filled with a bunch of random dude's phone numbers?"
Frankie giggled. "Yeah."
"Call one of them and set up a date with him and your mom. That should keep her out."
"Right. Yeah, that would work," Frankie said distractedly, searching aimlessly in her drawers. "Thanks, Beebo."
Brendon scoffed in the other line. "I told you not to call me that!"
"Ryan does, why can't I?"
"Because he's my boyfriend!"
"Fine, fine," Frankie grinned. "I'll tell you how it goes."
"You better."
Frankie sat back down on her bed, too jittery to fall back asleep. She had so many questions for Ray. How much would transitioning cost overall? Did she need to take a different form of testosterone? When should she need to get top surgery?
Top surgery. That reminded her.
Frankie walked over to her bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, having not checked if the hormones were doing their job for a while.
She stared at her reflection, hands reaching up to prod her cheekbones. She could see a wisp of a shadow across her upper lip. Facial hair. Barely any, but still.
Frankie showered and put on clean clothes before heading down for breakfast. She picked up an apple, then put it down. She was too nervous to eat.
She heard the bathroom door lock shut and the running of water. Her mom was in the shower. Now was her chance.
Frankie ruffled through her mother's nightstand, searching for the book. She didn't have much time, her mom bathed fairly quick.
"Here we go." Frankie opened up to a random page and started punching in the number. There was barely a single ring before it was answered.
"Yes?" A man said in a rough voice.
Frankie cleared her throat. "Hello, sir," she started. "I was wondering if you were free tonight and if you'd be willing to go out with a woman?"
"Depends on the woman."
Frankie held back a laugh. Talking about her mom's good qualities; this was going to be hard. "Well, she's a beautiful girl. Likes to go out a lot, has a strong opinion..."
"Yeah, I'll do it," the man said. "What time should I pick her up?"
"Five would work," Frankie responded. "And, if it's not too much, would you mind calling her and asking properly? It's sort of a surprise."
"Yeah, no problem," the man said. "Man asks the woman, that's how it works, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Frankie muttered. "Right."
She gave the man the house address and phone number, hanging up just as her mom walked back in. She froze.
The woman narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing in here?"
"Oh, um, just looking at..." Frankie scanned the room. "This brand of, er, makeup." She hastily snatched up a bottle of perfume that was sitting on the nightstand.
"Do you like it? You can use some if you want," her mother offered.
"Oh, uh, that's okay. I don't need it." No way was she going to put on any form of makeup today.
"At least spray some in your room; it'll smell nice," her mom pressed.
"No, I was actually planning on... on buying some new clothes today," Frankie said. Which was true, she wanted to buy some nicer clothes for her meeting with Ray.
"Oh, go ahead! Here's a fifty, but whatever you want!"
Buy whatever you want. She'll remember that. "Thanks, Mom."
Frankie drove down to her favorite store, partially because of the clothes and partially because of the employees, where she bought a nice black-and-white checkered polo shirt and a pair of black jeans. What's more, she found a new binder and a light brown wig that fit her perfectly.
As Frankie stared at her reflection, a big smile spread across her face. She brought her hands up to her face, blinking the tears away.
She looked like a boy.
An actual, biological boy.
---
Frankie got home around three in the afternoon, tossing her bag of clothes in her room and closing the door so her mother wouldn't snoop in. The man she had phoned should have called again by now. "Mom?"
There was no answer. Frankie shrugged to herself and flopped down on the couch. She felt her phone buzz and quickly pulled it out of her back pocket, answering it almost immediately after seeing the caller ID. "Stop making my ass vibrate."
"Don't put your phone on your ass, then," Gerard laughed. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all day, what were you doing?"
"Oh, uh, I was out shopping..."
"Shopping? You?" Gerard let out a chuckle. "Is there something special going on?"
"Actually, there is," Frankie said, a smile starting to creep onto her face. "I was going to tell you. We're meeting with Ray tonight."
"Really? Oh, Frankie, that's–"
"Hold on," Frankie cut him off. She swore she heard the front door open. "I think my mom's home. You know the diner across the street?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, meet me there at five-thirty. I–" she caught herself. "I'll see you there."
"See you."
Frankie hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. She almost said it. I love you. She couldn't tell him. She could never tell him. Who would ever fall in love with someone who was transgender? No, this was going to be her little secret.
"Frankie?" She heard her mom call. "Can you come in the kitchen?"
Frankie stood up and walked to where her mother was. "Woah, Mom." She gave her a wink. "You're looking sharp."
"You like it?" Her mom adjusted the straps on the long red dress, snapping it down on her shoulders. She turned around to look at her behind. "Does it make me look fat?"
Frankie snorted, jumping up to sit on the counter. "No, you look fine. Why are you all dressed up?"
"If you must know, I'm going out tonight. I'll be back tomorrow morning, you know how to make yourself food and all that." Her mom waved one hand. "I'm getting picked up at five, I need to get ready." She hurried to her room.
Frankie went up to her own room, locking the door behind her. She had two hours to get ready for dinner. Two hours wasn't much time.
Frank ripped his t-shirt off and stood in front of the mirror. He reached behind him to unclasp his bra, letting it fall to the floor. As much as he hated his breasts, he needed to let them breathe before binding them.
He washed his armpits and applied several layers of deodorant before tugging on his new binder. After that was done, he dabbed on some cologne so he didn't smell like total shit.
Frank looked at his hair. It was getting long now, almost touching his shoulders. He would have to cut it sometime soon. He twisted his hair up into a hairnet, securing it with bobby pins and put on the new wig. The color made his eyes shine.
He put on his new shirt and ripped off the skirt, swapping it for the jeans. Turning sideways, he ran his hands up and down his body, making sure nothing was sticking out.
Frank heard the front door slam and he froze. Peering out the window, he spotted a black Maserati pull out of the driveway. His eyes widened at the brand of car. His mom scored big tonight.
It was five o'clock now. He had a half an hour until it was time to meet Ray. He was getting nervous now. He shook out his sweaty palms and took a deep breath.
He played his guitar until it was time to leave. Shaking all over, he walked to the diner. He ignored the stares from passing residents and kept his eyes trained on the pavement. He didn't care.
Frank was just about to enter the diner when he felt a tug on his arm, making him pivot around. Before he had time to register who it was, a pair of lips were pressed against his. He knew who those lips belonged to.
"You ready?" Gerard asked when they pulled apart.
Frank nodded nervously. "I think so."
Gerard laced his fingers with Frank's, squeezing his hand comfortingly. Frank smiled to himself as Gerard pulled the two of them inside.