Be a girl

“So.”

Everyone at the dinner table directed their attention to mum. We had all finished our meals, but before anyone could leave, mum indicated that she had something important to say. Mum turned her gaze specifically onto me.

“Ben, I’m concerned that your friend might not be the best person to help Chloe adjust to femininity.”

“Why not?” I replied, pretending to be incredulous. I knew why she thought that, but I decided it best to act as though I didn’t. This was the lecture I had been anxiously awaiting ever since we got into her car. I wouldn’t be able to answer her questioning truthfully, nor could I lie. My best approach was to weasel my way around the truth.

“Ben, your friend…” she paused, contemplating how to word her response, “She’s not exactly feminine…”

“Ok,” I said bluntly. I wasn’t going to deny that. But I also didn’t see a problem with it.

“Do you not see the issue?”

“No?”

Mum sighed and looked me directly in the eyes. She was worried for her youngest child, apparently. Her gaze instilled a deep discomfort in me, and I looked away. I peered at the wall, unwilling to let my gaze wander back to my mother. The wall wasn’t particularly interesting, just a plain cream colour, but it was significantly more comfortable to look at than my mother’s eyes.

“I’m worried that you lied to me about your friend.”

I grimaced, though I kept my gaze planted firmly on the wall. She just didn’t know Claire. She wouldn’t have said that if she did. Claire was so obviously happier now than before, to anyone who knew her. She was even brought to tears after she was denied from playing in the school softball team, all because they believed her to be a man. The accusation that she was still a man had been devastating to her. So what if she wasn’t very feminine? Did that mean she hadn’t accepted being a girl now? I didn’t think so.

“So, Claire isn’t allowed to be a tomboy?” I asked.

“That’s not what I mean…”

“Then what do you mean, mum? Because it sounds like you want Chloe to be a feminine girl, despite her clearly hating it. You want her to ‘embrace her femininity’, but you’re making it extremely difficult by pushing your ridiculous expectations onto her.”

It hurt to call my little brother ‘Chloe’ and ‘her’, but it was a necessary evil. Mum was being difficult at the moment, and if I was to convince her at least partly of her wrongdoings, I needed to misgender my brother. Angering her was not the goal.

Still, I surprised myself with my own outburst. It was unusual of me to stand up for anyone like this. I had no idea the source of this newfound confidence, but I wasn’t going to squander it. Mum desperately needed someone to take her down a peg, and James desperately needed someone to stand up for him.

“I just want my daughter to be happy,” she asserted confidently.

Now that made me angry. I’d call her a liar, but I wasn’t so sure she was lying. Or, well, she seemed genuine, as though she actually believed the words coming from her mouth. Which only infuriated me more.

“Do you?” I snapped, “Because Chloe is clearly not happy.”

Mum opened her mouth to speak, but her sister got a word in first. “I agree with Ben,” Miranda said. “You can’t keep expecting Chloe to accept being a girl now if you keep forcing her to do things she doesn’t want to. I thought you’d gotten better about that recently, but apparently not.” I internally thanked her for the support. Mum may brush aside my criticisms, but she wouldn’t ignore her own sister.

“What do you suggest then, Miranda?” mum snapped. She sounded touchy; her irritation evident in her voice.

“Well, Ben had Chloe spend a day with his friend, so why don’t I have a day with Chloe tomorrow? You may not trust Ben’s friend, but you can trust me.”

Mum spent a good while contemplating her sister’s offer. She rolled the words on the tip of her tongue as she considered her response. “Ok,” she eventually relented, “If you think you can help, then you can spend a day with Chloe, if she’s ok with that.”

Miranda grinned down at my brother, who had been completely silent throughout the entire exchange. He was staring down at his empty plate, looking rather depressed. Here we all were talking about him, right in front of his face, all without his input. It was rather sad. I couldn’t blame him for being so downtrodden.

“How ‘bout it, Chloe?” Miranda said, “Ready to spend a day with your aunty Miranda?”

“I guess,” James said softly, continuing to stare at his plate dejectedly. That seemed to be enough for Miranda to take that as confirmation. Expecting much more out of James at the moment was a big ask.

So, James and Miranda would be spending tomorrow together. What my aunty had planned, I didn’t know, nor would I be asking. Whether or not her idea would work was another question. I hoped she could help my brother, if even only a little. At the very least, it did mean more time away from mum. But I wasn’t sure that was necessarily a good thing in this circumstance.

***

I was still worried for James. His mood had dropped drastically after mum had picked us up from Claire’s earlier today. Even when we lay in bed, ready to go to sleep, his mood hadn’t improved. I asked him how he was doing, and he replied with a non-answer – the kind of answer I usually gave. Not a good sign. But I didn’t push him. Instead, I wished him a good night and good luck for his day with aunty Miranda.

The two started off the next day by having a private chat to which I was not privy. Not that I minded, as much as I was worried for my brother. I respected their privacy after all. So, I just went about my Sunday morning routine as usual: showering myself before eating some breakfast.

They came into the dining room right as I had finished eating. James looked a little better. Depressed, but somewhat hopeful. A slight improvement over yesterday, which helped ease my worries a bit.

Miranda explained that she and ‘Chloe’ were going to the mall today, and that they’d be out all day. She was intentionally vague as to what they would be doing there, but she promised that ‘Chloe’ would enjoy it. I was sceptical, but I didn’t question it. I couldn’t do anything about it anyway. James’ mood may have been slightly better this morning, but that didn’t prove anything. We’d find out later whether Miranda was right or not.

The day without James and Miranda was fairly boring. I mostly spent my time watching science videos online to sate my thirst for knowledge. And to learn a new fact for when dad inevitably asked me for a fact of the day. Mum tried to engage with me a few times throughout the day, but I brushed her off each time. I didn’t want to have a friendly chat with her; not now, not ever really. She eventually gave up.

Miranda loudly announced her and James’ return at around five o’clock. Mum and I both made our way to the front door, our interests piqued. Neither of us knew what Miranda had planned, and we were both intrigued to know.

What we saw was highly unexpected. In fact, mum was so shocked that she audibly gasped. I didn’t do that, but I was still quite surprised. One, James was smiling, which was a rarity these days. Though I doubted that was the reason she gasped.

No, the reason she gasped was likely James’ new haircut. Mum had been trying to get James to grow his hair out for the past few months. And it had gotten quite long compared to what he used to have before I’d transformed him, much to his chagrin. She obviously wanted him to have long, feminine hair, despite him clearly hating it. He had eventually given up trying to get his hair cut in a short, masculine style.

Until now it seemed, because his hair was now exactly how he liked it. Short back and sides, and a bit longer on the top, but still very short; less than a centimetre in some places. It made him look much more like a boy. Enough to make mum gasp.

I looked over at Miranda, who was grinning so widely her teeth were visible. She had gotten the same haircut as James. Both of them clearly enjoyed their new haircuts, which put a smile on my face. Here I was worried that Miranda wouldn’t be able to help. But she’d done something that neither I nor dad could ever manage without angering mum. Well, ok, mum was going to be angry after this, no doubt, but Miranda had leverage over mum as her sister, and as the person who was offering mum a place to live.

“Check it out,” Miranda beamed, wrapping an arm around James’ shoulder and pulling him into a tight side hug, “Matching haircuts!” For once, James was genuinely happy, and it warmed my heart.

“What did you do to her hair!?” mum exclaimed. She didn’t sound too angry, surprisingly. She was more distraught than anything, as if this was the most horrible thing Miranda could have done, and not something that James very obviously wanted.

“Chloe had her hair cut how she wanted it.”

“But I wanted her to grow her hair out long!”

“Exactly, that’s what you wanted,” Miranda stated matter of factly, pointing an accusatory finger at her sister. “It’s not what your daughter wanted. Hell, I would have loved to have a haircut like this when I was her age.” Mum bit her lip, unsure of what to think or say. Miranda switched to a softer tone and continued, “You said you want your daughter to be happy? Well, look at her.”

And mum looked at James. Really looked at him. Saw the smile that was evident on his face. A smile that couldn’t be faked. She ran through many emotions as she took in his new appearance. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I’m not the one you need to apologise to.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” mum said in what sounded like a genuinely remorseful tone. Whether or not she was actually genuine was another question entirely. “Do you like your new haircut?”

James nodded vigorously, the smile on his face only growing larger. “Yep!” he said cheerily.

“That’s good,” mum said softly. After a moment’s pause, she returned her attention to aunty Miranda. “Thank you for helping my Chloe.”

“No worries,” Miranda smiled warmly, “Family is supposed to help each other, right?”

“Right,” mum nodded. She looked down at James again. “Is there anything else we can do to help you be happier, Chloe?” she asked.

“Call me James, not Chloe!” He spoke with vim and vigour. There was no hesitation, only confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and finally given the opportunity to say it, he took it enthusiastically. I had to admire it, really. He’d refrained from these sorts of complaints for the last few months, knowing them to be futile. But now with the assurance brought about by his new, masculine haircut, he felt he had a chance. If only I could be so confident in myself.

Mum, however, did not take to it so kindly as James had hoped, made obvious by the pursing of her lips. James’ smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of worry. He realised that he’d gone a step too far.

“Sweetie, that’s a boy’s name,” mum explained, “we can’t call you James anymore.”

“But I’m a boy!”

Oh boy. He’d really gotten far too carried away. It filled me with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Mum winced at James’ words. “Sweetie,” she replied softly, with a hint of annoyance, “you’re not a boy anymore. You haven’t been for months now. I know that it’s a big adjustment, but you need to accept that you’re a girl now.”

More so than ever before, I really wished that mum would stop with her bullshit. Those few moments of joy from James were a pleasure to see, and mum had immediately wiped it off his face. It hurt me in ways I couldn’t describe; I couldn’t imagine how James must have felt.

“But I don’t want to be a girl!” James whined.

“Chloe, remember what I said,” Miranda said in a reassuring tone. She crouched down so that she was at James’ eye level. Her expression was soft, meant to comfort the young child. “You don’t need to be a boy to do boy things. You can do everything you did before, but you need to remember that you’re a girl when you do them now. I know the physical differences between boys and girls at your age isn’t much, but when you get older, you’re not going to be able to hide the fact that you’re a girl. So, it’s important that you learn to accept being a girl now, before you can no longer pretend to be a boy.”

James contemplated what Miranda had said for a long while, before proceeding to not say anything. He nodded slowly, which both Miranda and mum took as confirmation. I, however, did not. James was merely playing along with what they wanted. The path of least resistance as it were. A path I knew all too well.

Satisfied, Miranda gave my brother another side hug, and then allowed him to go do as he pleased. I followed after him, just to make sure he was ok. And sure enough, he was back to a similar mood as last night. Dull, downtrodden, disheartened, dejected, depressed, despondent. That brief moment of happiness had been sufficiently quashed. Mum and Miranda were simply too wrapped up within their own world to be able to actually listen to James. Would they ever be able to see James without a filtered lens?