If I Was Your Girl(43)

“Same, kid,” she said, giving me a crooked smile as we settled in at the bar. “We’ve all been worried sick about you.”

“How is everybody?” I asked. The waitress came by. I ordered a waffle and Virginia ordered a plate of hash browns.

“Same old bullshit,” Virginia said, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of water, “or so I hear. I’ve been in Knoxville almost as long as you’ve been here.”

“Why?”

“Tinder hookup at first,” she said. I looked away and she laughed. “Still a prude! Anyway, it turned out he was one of the, like, five guys on the planet who’s willing to date trans women without being a creep about it.” My heart raced suddenly and I glanced at the waitress and cook to see if they’d heard her. The cook was scraping gunk off the grill and the waitress was cutting up lemons. “What’s up?” Virginia said, giving me a small wave.

“Nothing,” I said, turning my attention to my waffle even though my appetite had disappeared.

“I’ve known your neurotic ass long enough to know when something’s up,” she said.

“It’s just,” I began, then halted and took a deep breath. I felt like the worst friend ever, but she had insisted. “It’s just that I’m trying to be stealth.”

“Ah,” Virginia said. She squirted hot sauce on her hash browns and shrugged, though her expression was hard to read. “I get it. I won’t use the T word again.”

“Okay,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “So anyway, he was cool but things didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” I said, straightening my back and facing her again.

“He said he could deal with me being … the way I am, but that he wanted a family one day and, since I couldn’t provide that, it felt like we were going nowhere.”

“Ouch,” I said, my stomach churning as I imagined a grown-up Grant saying the same thing to me.

“Whatever,” Virginia said. “It is what it is. How are things with your guy?”

“Good,” I said, rubbing my arm. “We kind of had our first fight, but we got over it, and things have been great ever since.”

“Aww,” she said.

I looked up at her and took a deep breath. “Do you think I should tell him?”

“Hell no!” she said, arching an eyebrow and leaning away from me. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, scrunching my nose and sighing. “I feel like maybe he should know who I am…”

“You don’t owe it to him if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re a girl, you’ve always been a girl, you won the genetic lottery when it comes to passing, and he’ll never ever have to know unless he sees your birth certificate for some reason.”

“Or wants to get married or start a family,” I said, jabbing my straw at the ice clattering in my now-empty cup. “But that’s not why.”

“First of all, you’re only eighteen,” Virginia said, her cheek full of fried potatoes. She poked her fork at me for emphasis. “You’re supposed to be having real fun for the first time in your life, not dreaming of settling down with Mr. Right.”

“Whatever!” I said, flipping my hair and sticking my tongue out at her. “I like him a lot … I think I might love him.” I chose to ignore Virginia rolling her eyes. “And it obviously isn’t everything, but being … being the way I am has been a huge part of my life. It’s easy to act like my past never happened, but it feels like I’ve put up this wall around my heart.”

“You know walls are there for a reason though, right?” she said as she gingerly wiped hot sauce off her fingers. “They keep things from falling apart.” I started to say something but she held up a hand. “That’s just my opinion. Do what you want with it.”

“That’s fair,” I said. I made a motion to the waitress that we were ready for the check. “How long are you in town?”

“However long I feel like, I guess,” Virginia said, shrugging with one shoulder as she rummaged for her wallet. “So what’s up for tonight? Should we call your friends?”

“Oh,” I said, my hand freezing between my phone and my face. I looked Virginia up and down and saw two separate people. One was the beautiful, statuesque angel who had been there to guide me through some of the hardest steps of my transition. The other was a woman with a jaw just a little too strong, forehead just a little too high, shoulders just a little too wide, and hands just a little too big. I felt like an ungrateful bitch for thinking like that at all, but a hateful little voice at the back of my head screamed that if my friends saw me with her, and if my friends figured out she was trans, then they might figure me out next.

“What?” Virginia said. She looked over her shoulder and then looked at me, her shoulders tightening as she bit her fingernail. Then, as I sat mute, her expression began to darken. “Oh,” she said finally. “Oh, I get it. Amanda, hey, don’t look so stricken. It’s okay if you don’t want me to meet your friends. You don’t have to worry about my feelings.”

“No!” I said, shaking my head and blinking. “I mean, yes. It’s complicated, but…” I trailed off, pain and confusion mingling in my chest. Virginia had meant so much to me for so long, and I wanted her to meet all the people who were beginning to mean a lot to me now.