I Wish You All the Best(16)

“Yeah.” I’m not really, but I figure it’ll be better to go ahead and get this over with.

“Had a good day so far?”

Hannah’s got her car pulled up in front of the building. It’s unseasonably warm outside today, but it’s the first day I haven’t needed three layers, so I don’t plan on complaining. “So far.”

Hannah spent the last two nights showing me reviews from past patients of Dr. Taylor, assuring me she is one of the best in town, which really only made me more nervous to talk to her. I wonder how much Hannah’s told her exactly, if anything at all.

I’ve been mentally preparing myself to come out all over again, but I’ve been doing that for a while now. That was one of the things I realized early. If you’re queer, your life has the potential to become one long coming-out moment. If I ever want to be called the right pronouns, I’ll have to correct people and put myself out there first and who knows what could happen.

“Are you nervous?”

“To have someone poke around my brain for an afternoon?” I buckle my seat belt. “I’m thrilled.”

Hannah shoots me this look, that sort of brows-pointed-down “you need to chill out” look. “Okay, sassy britches. I just think it will help, and it’s a short meeting. Only forty-five minutes.”

“Hmmm.” Forty-five minutes too long if you ask me.

“I haven’t told her anything.” Hannah’s car rolls to a stop. “About you being nonbinary. I didn’t know what you’d be okay with.”

“But she knows Mom and Dad kicked me out?”

“Couldn’t avoid that detail. Sorry, sib.” She glances around to check for the traffic before she pulls out onto the road.

“It’s whatever.” I sigh and rest my head on the cool window, not knowing whether to feel relieved or angry that she shared that with a stranger.

The doctor’s office is a part of this long row of complexes, the ones that look like an apartment building but are really just filled with offices. In this one alone, there’s a place where you can get your teeth cleaned and get a few X-rays done if you want, all while checking to see if you’re pregnant. I glare at the way they all seem to tower over Hannah’s car.

I really want to ask Hannah if we can reschedule or something. I’ll even go back to school if I have to. Just anything to not be here. Do I really need to see this woman? Can I air out all my problems to a complete and total stranger? My eyes fly from the ground back to the buildings, my stomach clenching. There’s nothing for me to let out, but I can feel the bile rising.

“Her office is on the third floor.” Hannah locks the doors of the car and stuffs her keys into her bag.

I make it as far as the entrance, reading the board of names for the offices. There’s an entire block worth of counselors, their titles, their office numbers. I try my best to focus in on Dr. Taylor’s name, but it’s like my eyesight goes blurry for a split second. I close my eyes and pinch my brow, trying to calm myself.

My hands get that same clammy feeling they did in the Walgreens that night. It’s this sudden feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut, like I can’t catch my breath.

“Hannah?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” Hannah closes the space between us, grabbing my hand, and it takes everything in me not to pull it back. “It’s all right. Listen. It’s going to be okay. Dr. Taylor is going to help you, all right?”

“What is she going to do?” I try not to breathe too deep. I feel like I should be crying, but there are no tears, just this pocket of air in my lungs that I can’t get out.

“She’s just going to talk to you about what you’re feeling, what you’re going through.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

“You tell her whatever you want, but it’ll help her to know at least what you identify as. That’s the first step.” I try to nod, but I still feel like I’m going to be sick. This was exactly how it felt before I told my parents.

I can’t do this again, can I? I can’t come out all over again, not here, not right now.

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Okay.” Hannah sighs, brushing the hair from her face. “Try this. You told me once already. Just keep telling me. That should be easy, right?”

“What?”

“Just keep repeating it back to me. It’s like that thing where words lose their meaning after a while.”

“Do you really think that’ll help?” I ask. I mean, I guess it makes sense. In theory, at least.

“If you get used to saying it, it’ll get easier. I think that’s how this works?”

I take a deep breath and force the words out slowly. “I’m nonbinary.”

“Again.”

“I’m nonbinary.”

“Come on, keep doing it.”

“I’m nonbinary. I’m nonbinary. I’m nonbinary.” It’s silly, standing in the middle of a lobby, repeating back the same words over and over again. But it does feel easier with each time I say it, despite the heavy feeling in my stomach. “I’m nonbinary. I’m nonbinary.”