I Wish You All the Best(89)

Time crawls at a snail’s pace while I wait for Nathan, the perfect view of the community center right across the street from me. With my luck, he won’t even show up, he’ll call and cancel, and I’ll have worked myself up for nothing.

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. 5:40. Maybe we’ll have enough time to make it to Mariam’s talk.

“You can do this,” I whisper to myself, trying to will my heart to beat slower, my hands to stop shaking around the wheel. “You can do this. He isn’t going to hate you, or try to hurt you. That’s not who he is.”

Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong. Certainly won’t be the last.

A knock on the window pulls me out of this trance, and for a split second I don’t even recognize Nathan. But then he gives me that familiar smile, and I roll down the window just enough to tell him to get in. Maybe doing this in the car will be better, less chance of a scene, and if he gets angry enough, he’ll just leave himself.

“What’s up?” He stretches his legs out, leaning against the door.

“Hey.” I try to breathe as calmly as I can.

“Hey. You okay?” He leans in a little closer. “You look like you need help hiding a body.”

“Yeah, I just … There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s pretty big, and I really don’t want you to hate me, but I need to tell you.”

“Unless that whole body thing is true, I don’t think there’s anything to hate about you.” He tries to get me to laugh, or even crack a smile, but I can’t. I just can’t. Because it’s taking everything inside me not to break down right now.

I’m doing this.

“I just …” I stammer. “I need you not to be you right now.”

He leans back in the seat, his mouth a flat line. “Deal.”

“And I know it’s not totally fair, but you can’t ask any more questions, okay? Not until I’m done.”

“Pinky promise.” He offers me his pinky finger.

And I take it.

“The reason I left home, the reason I was kicked out of my home …” I breathe. “Is because I’m nonbinary.” I watch his face, and to his credit he doesn’t seem surprised or shocked or angry. And he doesn’t ask any questions. I can tell he wants to, but he doesn’t.

I start with New Year’s Eve night, a lifetime ago, and I tell him everything. Calling Hannah, moving to Raleigh, the car outside the house, the appointments with Dr. Taylor and the medication, and everything with Mariam. I’m shaking the entire time, and I’m still shaking when I’m done talking, but I did it. It’s done. And there’s no taking it back.

And when I am done, and when he can tell I’m done, he finally opens his mouth. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I watch him do that thing where he rubs the back of his neck.

“Listen, if this a deal breaker and you don’t want to be my friend anymore, then I—”

The way he looks at me, it’s as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “That’s not what’s going to happen. Why would you think I’d want to lose you like that?”

I shrug, fighting back tears. “I don’t know … I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” He pulls me in. At first, I don’t want to move, but he’s so warm, and I’m desperate for a touch right now. His touch. He rocks us both back and forth a little. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” He’s sniffling. Is he crying too? “I just spent the last half year misgendering you, and you’re apologizing to me?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I wish I could’ve known.” His voice breaks, and I feel his tears fall on my hands. “I’m so sorry, Ben, I’m so, so sorry you had to put up with it. And I’m so sorry I did that to you for so long.” He’s full-on crying now, and it’s making me cry more, and we’re both blubbering messes.

“I forgive you,” I choke out.

I’m sure there are people walking by who can see us, or maybe hear us weeping because we are not holding it back. But neither of us care. Or I don’t at least.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I breathe. In and out. “I was just scared, I guess.”

“You really need to stop apologizing.” He lets out this weird sound between a cry and a laugh.

I can’t even help myself. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

We sit there for a few more minutes, and I just relish in his being here, the warmth of him, the comfort. I can’t believe I waited so long to tell him this, I can’t believe I ever thought he could hate me.

“We’re both messes.” Nathan tries his best to wipe away the tears.

“Yeah, we are.” I try to relax. Because it’s over, it’s done. I did it. That weight should be gone, but it isn’t. It’s still hanging there, pressing on my heart. But it feels lighter, at least. Small victories. Small celebrations.

“I wonder how many people are staring at us.”