Felix Ever After(83)

I remember Bex’s reassuring smile, and I don’t know—maybe it was dealing with Austin’s transphobic messages for the past month, but now, more than ever, I feel the need to be real about who I am—to tell my dad the truth. “While I was there, I asked about my gender, because for the past few months, I’ve been questioning my identity.”

My dad’s eyes snap up at that one. “Questioning? You’re questioning if you’re transgender?”

“No—no, I know that I’m trans,” I tell him.

He furrows his eyebrows, confused, waiting.

“There’ve just been a few times—a lot of times, I guess—when I . . . I don’t know, feel like I might not totally be a guy. It’s a weird feeling to describe, but there’ve been a few moments when someone calls me a boy, it’s not totally right, and I don’t feel right being called a girl either, and—I don’t know, it’s just a feeling.”

My dad shakes his head a little. “All right. I’m not sure I understand.”

Frustration rises in me. “You don’t understand a lot.”

He sits up straighter, closing the crossword book. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“You don’t try to understand, either.”

He flinches at that one. “That hurts.”

I focus on Captain’s ear, scratching so that it flicks back and forth.

“I’m trying,” he tells me. “I’m trying to understand. I want to understand. There’s a lot that I don’t know, and I’ve been slow. I know I’ve been slow to get it, and I know it’s been frustrating for you, so I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry if you think my slowness has something to do with how I feel about you. Because I love you, kid. Don’t ever think that I don’t love you.”

“If you love me, why won’t you say my name? My real name?”

He closes his mouth, swallowing. Then, “Felix.”

Hearing my name with my dad’s voice, coming from my dad’s mouth, is like a shock through my chest, my heart, vibrating through me.

“I’ve had an idea of who you are—who you were supposed to be,” my dad tells me. “And your name’s been the last piece of you I wasn’t ready to let go of—I just wasn’t ready.” He’s nodding. “But I know you’re Felix. Your name is Felix.”

Tears are building in me. I wipe my eyes fast. “Sorry. That’s embarrassing.”

“Felix,” he says again, with this small smile. “It fits you. It really does. I love you. I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t. I’ll admit, at first, I had a difficult time figuring all of this out. But you know what? I’ve never seen you happier. I know you’re struggling with Ezra and everything, but I’ve never seen you with this light inside of you. You weren’t happy, and now you are, and that’s all I could ever want for you. That’s all I could ever ask. You’re happy. And brave. You’ve been so courageous, just by being yourself, even knowing that the world won’t always accept you for who you are. You refuse to be anything but yourself, no matter what. I look up to that. I admire that.”

I hide my face inside my shirt so he can’t see it’s a mess. It feels like tears are leaking from my pores. I feel a hand on my shoulder, a squeeze.

“If you don’t always feel like a boy,” my dad says, “are you still my son?”

I pull my shirt down. My dad’s watching me with a pinch in between his eyebrows, and I can tell he’s nervous about the question, like he’s afraid he’s getting something wrong.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

He sits back with this smile, picking up his book of crossword puzzles again. “And things will work out with Ezra,” he says, waving his pencil around. “These things always do.”

I pick up Captain and put her down on the floor, get up from my seat and brush off the cat hair. I snatch up my backpack, waiting by the door. “I’m going out.”

“Okay,” my dad says, and from his smug tone, I have a feeling he’s managed to read my mind again.

I text Leah as I speed walk to the train. I’m coming down to the march.

YES YES YES!! We’ll be at 14th and Greenwich. I’m not going to tell Ez you’re coming.

Why not?

Let it be a surprise!

I’m afraid she just isn’t telling me the whole truth. Maybe if she tells him that I’m coming, he’ll leave the second he finds out. I try to push away the fear as I run across the street, against the red light, and rush down the subway stairs just as a train pulls up, jumping through the doors before they have a chance to close in front of me. I’m sweating, breathing hard, ignoring the people who raise their eyebrows at me.

I get off the train at Fourteenth Street. Underground, I can already hear the muffled blasts of music, the shouts and screams and laughter. There’re people heading to the parade, eager and laughing with their friends; people coming downstairs from the parade, covered with sweat and glitter. I emerge from the subway station, out into the bright, summer light and a crowd of screaming bodies, glitter literally raining down from the sky. My eyes can’t take in everything quickly enough. People are painted the colors of the rainbow, waving flags and dancing to music that passes by on the floats that move down the center of the street—and the floats, the lace and frills and bands blasting music that thumps through the ground, floats with queer couples getting married and having their first dance, floats with little kids waving with their parents. People watch from their apartment balconies above, cheering and waving their own flags.