Chapter 15: Chapter 13 – Cherry Bomb

I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, one knee bouncing relentlessly as I wait for Anya to pick me up to go to my parents’ house. I’ve opted for my early transition androgynous look with jeans and a loose button-down. I’m hoping my parents won’t make too many comments until we’ve had a chance to talk and I can come out to them properly.

There’s a knock on the door and I open it.

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” I ask.

“Is it okay?” Anya asks with an unexpected tinge of uncertainty in her voice. Her usual jeans and tank top are gone, replaced by dressy slacks and a soft sweater. She still has the leather jacket, though. I look closer.

“Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Just tinted chapstick,” she replies. “I don’t own lipstick.”

I take her hand and squeeze it. “You don’t have to change yourself for my parents’ comfort, and certainly not for me. But thank you.”

She squeezes back. “This isn’t too far out of my comfort zone. And if I can make things a little smoother today, I want to. Shall we?”

We get in her car and head out to the suburbs. Traffic is light and it’s not a long drive.

I check my phone. Yesterday, Kelly added me to the group chat with Lily and Michelle. I told them about the visit to my parents, so there are messages of encouragement from all three of them and a lot of heart emoji and trans flags from Lily.

“It’s the blue house with the Mustang in the driveway,” I say as we pull into sight of my parents’ house. “Shit.”

“What?”

“That’s my brother’s car. My mom didn’t say anything about him being here.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“I…don’t know? Probably. I haven’t seen him for a while and I was fine with that. I doubt he’s gotten better since the last time I saw him, though.”

“Do we need to bail.”

“No,” I sigh. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Okay, but give me the signal and I will suddenly have a migraine and we’ll be out of here.”

“What’s the signal?”

“I dunno? Hoot like an owl?”

I laugh. “Nice and subtle. I like it.” I take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

We get out of the car and walk up to the house. I ring the doorbell.

“Can you get that?” I hear my mom call from inside the house. A moment later, the door opens.

“Hey, son! Good to see you,” my dad says with a smile, but there’s something I can’t read in his eyes. He sticks his hand out to Anya. “Jim Anderson.”

“Anya Larsen,” she says and, because I’m looking for it, I see my dad wince slightly when she shakes his hand. I’ve never understood why my dad, like many men, goes in for that bullshit game to see who’s got the strongest handshake, but it looks like Anya won. I get my height from my dad and I’m guessing he wasn’t expecting me to show up with a girlfriend who can look him in the eye.

“Your mom’s in the kitchen and your brother’s in the living room,” Dad says.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect to see him today,” I say neutrally. “Mom didn’t mention he’d be here.”

“He’s staying with us while he gets back on his feet.” I’m sure there’s more to the story, but Dad doesn’t elaborate.

We hang up our jackets. I grab Anya’s hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my mom.”

I wish I could stop trying to notice and analyze every tiny move or expression anyone makes, but I can’t, so I notice a tiny hesitation when my mom sees me, but she smiles warmly at us.

“Hi, honey!” Mom says, then to Anya, “I’m Brenda, it’s so good to meet you!”

“I’m Anya,” says Anya and then a surprised “Eep!” as Mom hugs her.

“Oh, sorry, dear!” Mom says. “I’m a hugger, even if some people”—she glances significantly at me—“in the family aren’t. Maybe you can work on him.”

“On who? Oh! Yeah, um, I think we’re making progress there?”

 “Food’s almost ready!” Mom says. “Why don’t you go say hi to your brother and I’ll let you know when we’re ready to eat?”

“Do I need to know what’s going on there?” I ask hesitantly. “Dad says he’s living here right now?”

“He lost his job and broke up with his girlfriend, but he won’t tell us much. He’s a little moody, but he promised not to be a downer today.”

“Uffda,” I say, since I can’t think of another response. I lead Anya to the living room.

“This is weird,” she whispers. “I can’t believe they think you’re a guy.”

My brother Jacob is sitting in one of the big chairs in the living room, clearly playing a game on his laptop. The faint sound of gunfire comes from his headphones. His eyes flick up to us when we enter the room but then he looks right back at his game. I wave tentatively and get no response. Anya and I sit on the couch in awkward silence.

“This is a very comfy couch,” Anya says.

“Yeah, it’s the replacement for the one at my place. Mom and Dad gave me that one when they got this one.”

“We’ve made out quite thoroughly on their old couch. Maybe we need to make out on this one too.”

“Maybe not when there’s an audience?”

“Pfft, like he’s paying attention anyway!” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Get a room,” says Jacob without looking up from his laptop.

“I stand corrected,” Anya says.

A moment later, Jacob closes his laptop and takes off his headphones.

“Hey, bro,” he says. “Nice hair. Did your girlfriend pick the color?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” I say levelly. “Anya, this is my little brother Jacob. Jacob, Anya.”

Jacob looks Anya up and down slowly in a way that makes me want to punch him.

“You know, Anya,” he says, “my brother’s never had much luck with the ladies. I thought he might be gay. What do you see in him?”

Anya looks between Jacob and me. She opens her mouth, but Jacob interrupts.

“Cuz here’s the thing,” he says with a nasty smirk. “You two come in here and I can’t tell which of you is the girlfriend.”

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“Food’s ready!” Mom calls from the other room.

“Finally,” mutters Jacob, standing up. “I’m starving. But we’re not done, bro.”

“What a delightful young man,” Anya says sarcastically as Jacob leaves the room.

I realize my heart is hammering in my chest. “Has he figured it out?”

“It doesn’t matter, Lark,” Anya reminds me. “They’ll all know in a little bit, unless I have a sudden migraine?”

“No, that was unpleasant, but I’m not bailing yet.”

Anya kisses me gently. “I’m here for you, whatever you decide.”

We head into the dining room, where Mom has set out quite a spread.

“Here’s the seat for the birthday boy,” says Mom, “and Anya, you can sit next to him. Jake, can you help me with drinks, please? Find out what everyone wants.”

“Fine,”says Jacob. “What do you want, bro?”

“We have milk, water, and pop,” Mom says.

“That means store brand lemon-lime, except it’s a special occasion, so it might be cranberry ginger ale,” I clarify for Anya, who laughs.

Jacob grudgingly takes everyone’s drink orders and we settle down to eat. Mom made a pot roast and lots of sides, and it’s delicious.

“And I made your favorite cake for later,” Mom promises.

Jacob is eating sullenly, and my dad is characteristically silent. Mom makes up for it.

“So, Anya,” she says, “did you grow up around here? What do you do? How did you two meet?”

Anya finishes chewing while considering this barrage of questions. “Yep! Born and bred right here. Went to the U, and now I do freelance IT.”

“Well, that’s good!” Mom says. “People always need somebody to fix their computers, right? But I’m dying to hear how you met!” She turns to me. “No offense, honey, but even when you were playing in your band, it didn’t seem like you were meeting that many people, and I’ve been worried that you haven’t been getting out enough. Now spill, Anya!”

“Uh, so it’s kind of a long story,” Anya begins awkwardly. I can tell she’s trying to figure out how to edit the story of our meeting without outing me in either of two ways.

“Hey, um, it’s related to the other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” I say. Anya finds my hand under the table and squeezes and doesn’t let go. I take a deep breath.

“Anya helped me a lot when I was figuring some stuff out. I…there’s something that’s been bothering me for a very long time and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

I suddenly feel very far away, only tethered to reality by Anya’s hand on mine. I think Mom says something, but I’m not sure.

“I’m transgender, I’m a woman, and my name is Lark,” I hear myself say distantly.

“Oh,” Mom says quietly, but Jacob slams his fist on the table, rattling the dishes and snapping me back to the here and now.

“Fucking knew it!” he crows. “Freak!”

Anya starts to stand up, but I put a hand on her arm.

“You always were a sissy,” Jacob sneers.

“Jacob!” Mom says sharply, but he ignores her.

“You’re a sorry excuse for a man but that doesn’t mean you can be a woman! I don’t care what you identify as, it’s all just bullshit for snowflakes who want to be special! Chop your dick off for all I care you fucking tra—”

“Hey! Asshole!” Anya interrupts with a commanding voice that cuts across Jacob’s tirade, but then drops to little more than a whisper as she continues, locking eyes with him. “If you ever speak to my girlfriend like that again, nobody will ever find your body.”

Jacob opens his mouth to say something, but the anger in his eyes turns to fear.

“Get lost, bigot,” Anya says, almost sweetly.

Jacob knocks over his chair as he stands up, then runs out of the room with terror written across his face. He slams the front door open, and a moment later, his Mustang roars to life and he peels out of the driveway.

Consternation flits across Anya’s face. “Shit, I think I overdid it,” she mutters. “I hope he doesn’t kill anyone.” She turns to me. “Are you okay?”

“Um, probably dissociating a little bit right now,” I manage. “That was pretty intense, even for him.” I’m fighting back the tears welling up in my eyes. Anya puts an arm around me and kisses my cheek.

“Oh, honey,” Mom says, “I’m sorry about your brother, he—”

“I’ll handle this, Brenda,” Dad says, his voice flat and his expression unreadable. Something cold and hard settles into my stomach. I dread whatever is going to come out of his mouth next.

“I’m disappointed in your brother,” he begins. Anya snorts. “I thought we raised you boys better than that.”

Anya twitches at the word “boys,” but I squeeze her leg under the table.

“I’m doubting myself as a father right now,” Dad continues. “Jake overreacted, but that was a pretty heavy thing to drop on us when we’re trying to celebrate your birthday. I’m disappointed in Jake, but I’m also disappointed in you.”

I stop fighting the tears and I can feel them begin to roll down my cheeks. I blink them away enough to see Mom look at Dad with pain in her eyes.

“Jim!” she says at the same time I say, “Dad!” She closes her mouth and nods at me.

“What the hell, Dad?” I continue. “I get that it’s a lot, but you know what? It’s not bad news! It’s important and I wanted to share it with you because you matter to me! I got together with friends the other night and it turned into a celebration because I came out. I’m happier and my friends were happy for me! But I come out to you and you act like I killed somebody!”

“You killed my son,” Dad says, a hint of emotion beginning to color his voice. “You’re telling us that we don’t even know you. You’ve discarded the name that your mother and I picked for you to honor my grandfather for what? Sparrow? Now if I call you by your own name, you’ll complain that it’s your deadname! Isn’t that what you people call it?”

When Dad says “you people,” it feels like I’ve been slapped and I involuntarily jerk back. I have a death-grip on Anya’s thigh that I can’t release and I can literally feel her anger rising.

I close my eyes and realize that I can feel everyone’s emotions. Anya is angry and protective. Mom is a welter of hurt and concern and love, but Dad feels unfamiliar and terrifying. The disappointment is there, but it’s only a minor facet of something rigid and unyielding. It’s completely at odds with the quiet unassuming man I thought I knew.

Dad is still talking, but I’ve completely missed everything he’s been saying. And then, I feel a tiny crack of something like hope in his armor. I open my eyes and try to tune back in.

“You can still walk this back,” he says, almost pleadingly. “If you haven’t done anything irreversible, you can still fix this. There’s still time.”

I stand.

“Time’s up,” I say coldly, “and I don’t know what you could possibly do to fix this.” I turn to leave.

“Jim,” says Anya, “I didn’t want Lark to come today because she was scared, but I gladly came along because I supported her decision even when I disagreed with it. Now I’m going to take her home and do what I can for her because you’ve hurt her terribly, you pathetic excuse for a father. Brenda, the food was delicious.”

The front door is still ajar from Jacob’s sudden exodus. We leave without closing it and walk to the car in silence.

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