Second Chance(10)

Nate shook off the memories. His father was long gone, buried under the grass in the churchyard at St Martin’s. He held no power over Nate any more. “So, Jack. Do you want to tell me a little more about what’s been going on with you?”

Jack sighed. “Well… from our first meeting you know that things are pretty tough at the moment.” He had a sip of his drink, grimaced, and put it back down. “Why are all non-alcoholic drinks so sweet?”

“Come on. Spill,” Nate prompted him. “What made you come home?”

“I had a kind of breakdown I guess. Things finally got to the point where I couldn’t function anymore. It was a combination of things: work stress, relationship stress…. I was drinking too much, not looking after myself. It all came to a head when Miles—my ex—left me. Even though our relationship was far from perfect, him giving up on me finally tipped me over the edge. Drinking to cope turned into dependency and everything went to shit. I crashed my car, lost my licence because I was drunk behind the wheel, ended up in hospital with a suspected head injury.” He rubbed his fingers over the crown of his head. “I was lucky I hadn’t done myself any serious damage—and thank fuck I hadn’t hurt anyone else. I just wrapped my car around a lamppost. After that I tried to muddle along for a while, but then I lost my job and couldn’t pay the rent on my flat. I finally had to give in and call my parents. They came to get me and brought me home. I’ve been back two weeks to the day.”

“Wow. That sounds like a lot to deal with. How are you feeling now?”

Jack shrugged. “Numb mostly. I’m doing all the things I need to do, everything the doctor told me. But I’m only going through the motions, doing it because I know I have to. It’s hard to believe it’s going to work. Getting my life back on track seems like an impossible task after fucking it up so badly.” He swirled the orange liquid in his glass and his mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile. “But I have to try. What other choice is there?”

“Giving up,” Nate said bluntly. “And you were always a fighter, so that’s not going to happen. You’ve got this.”

Jack held his gaze, blue eyes searching Nate’s for a moment. “I hope so,” he said finally. “Thanks for having faith in me. I guess you’ve been through some difficult stuff yourself so you probably know what you’re talking about.”

“Yep.” The elephant in the room grew, filling the space so Nate couldn’t ignore it any more. “You can ask me about my transition. I don’t mind telling you about it.”

“When did you know?” Jack asked. “Looking back at how you were when I knew you, I can see the clues were there. But when did you realise what they added up to?”

“I had no idea,” Nate replied. “As a kid, I just thought I was a tomboy. That’s what everyone called me, and I was okay with that—at least it had the word boy in it.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m pretty sure if I’d been born twenty years later I’d have known before I hit puberty. Or maybe if I’d been attracted to girls I’d have worked it out sooner perhaps? But as it was, I was clueless. We didn’t have the knowledge or the words for what I was when I was younger. I didn’t even know that men like me existed. It wasn’t till I met another gay trans guy that I realised who I was and suddenly everything made sense. I never felt right trying to fit in as a woman, but I didn’t know there was an alternative.”

“That makes sense.” Jack nodded, gaze intent.

“So anyway. About six years ago, I met this guy at an office party. He was the partner of a man I worked with. He was early in transition, and along with the rest of my colleagues I was confused when someone I’d assumed was female was introduced to me as Neil. I got talking to him, and he was very open about his situation. I was fascinated. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to pry.” Nate took a sip of his pint, and continued, “When I got home, I googled it. I ended up staying up all night watching FTM—female to male—YouTubers, reading articles, blogs, and online forums. My mind was blown. Everything I read, everything I saw, made me realise that was me—or it should be me. But at first I felt like it was too late. Most of the guys on those videos were in their teens or early twenties at most. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and mine was half over. I didn’t think there was any point in trying to transition.”

Nate paused, remembering the confused emotions of that night. A weird exhilaration after the shock of recognition followed by envy of the guys on YouTube and the way their bodies and voices were changing. Then finally by the end of the night he’d sunk into a state of despair that he hadn’t known what he was when he was younger. If only he’d worked it out sooner.

“So, what made you change your mind?” Jack asked softly.

“My mental health tanked after I’d realised I was probably trans. Even though I still thought it was too late for me to transition, I decided to see a therapist. I hoped they would help me come to terms with my realisation, but that I could carry on as I was. Looking back I can see that I was scared and was using my age as an excuse. The idea of transitioning was terrifying, so I tried to talk myself out of it. But once I knew, it made living as I was impossible. I’d always had this vague sense of wrongness and discomfort, only it was way more acute once I recognised it as gender dysphoria. I’d always felt out of place around women, but I wasn’t comfortable around men either. I didn’t fit anywhere. Before, I put it down to general awkwardness and social anxiety. But with this new knowledge I started to realise it all came down to gender. I felt wrong around women because I didn’t feel as if I belonged with them. But I didn’t fit in with men either because they didn’t see me as one of the lads, which was how I wanted them to see me.”