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“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “That was what I was going to think about this week, so I would be able to come back to you next Wednesday with a complete idea of what I wanted.”
“There’s still time to think,” she reassured me. “I don’t expect a complete finalised plan. This isn’t a business deal. Now you’ve told me what’s been happening, it makes so much sense. And I understand why you didn’t tell me, what with everything that happened. You needed time to figure it out, and I wasn’t exactly making myself available for you.”
“Forgive me for not telling you?” I nudged her lightly.
“I do. Do you forgive me for being unavailable? And for smoking?”
“I do. I understand why you went back to it. And why you had to preserve yourself and your own sanity, even if you did have to sacrifice… well, our love life.”
“I can’t believe I neglected you. I feel like such a shit wife,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Hey, hey.” I took her mug off her and put it down next to mine on the beside table, before taking her hands. “We both fucked up. Okay? We both shut each other out, and we both suffered for it – massively. But… a clean slate now. Okay? We’ll go home, back to Miltree, and try again. How does that sound?”
“It sounds bloody fabulous,” she chuckled, then sniffed. Then, finally, she looked into my eyes again. “I really do love you. None of this was ever because I didn’t love you. I just… got lost in my head for a while, and you got lost in yours. Now we can put our heads back together and be wife and wife again. Sorry – spouse and wife. Wife and spouse. Whatever words you want me to use.”
“I’m happy with ‘spouse’. Or ‘partner’.”
“So something along the lines of – ‘This is my partner Jean. Isn’t their hair looking gorgeous today?’ – would be good?”
Shivers went down my spine, sending electricity to the farthest reaches of my fingertips. It was the first time someone had ever used ‘they’ to refer to me, and it felt… exhilarating. And it felt right. Like something in me had clicked into place. I’d heard the term ‘gender euphoria’ in my research – was this it?
Whatever it was, I wanted more of it. A bolt of excitement shot through my veins, but just as quickly was tempered by a bolt of fear.
“It won’t be easy, though,” I said with a sigh. “Not everyone’s going to be accepting. There are some vile people out there. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to face the hostility.”
“Screw them,” Petra said. “They can’t touch us.”
I so wanted to believe her – and then, looking at her properly, I realised that I did.
We were Petra and Jean Taylor. Wife and spouse.
A solid unit once more.
Epilogue
“Hey, Lynds,” I said, sinking down onto my knees before the gravestone. “The shop didn’t have any carnations, so I brought you chrysanthemums. And a bottle of Irn-Bru. You know, I pour Guinness and Prosecco over Mum’s and Dad’s grave whenever I go up there. I only just figured that perhaps I could do the same to you with your favourite drink. So… well, here goes.”
The bright orange liquid fizzed as it hit the stone, and I chuckled.
“There’s never been a day where I’ve seen this drink and not thought of you. It’s Scotland in a bottle, isn’t it? That and whisky, of course. I’m surprised you never turned yourself orange with the amount you drank when we were kids. At one point, I thought I could tap you like a maple tree and Irn-Bru would come out!”
Petra snorted, reminding me that she was there and had been watching quietly. It had been so long since I’d brought her up here that I’d grown used to being alone. But I’d wanted her to be here for this.
“Iconic line,” she said with a grin.
“It’s not mine,” I held my hands up ruefully. “I think she said it herself. It tickled both of us, though.”
Then I fell silent as I tried to find the right way to broach the subject. Petra came up and hugged me from behind, kneeling in the grass to do so.
“I’d have so loved to meet you, Lyndsey,” she said. I blinked. It was the first time she’d ever said anything aloud to her. Every time I’d brought her up here, she’d been silent, allowing me the time and space to just be with my sister. “This sort of thing always goes over better when you can imagine what the other person would say. But Jean has something to tell you.”
Bless her. She’d obviously picked up on the fact that I’d had no idea what to say, and was giving me a gentle nudge. If it had been anyone else I would have thought it presumptuous, but this was Petra. She squeezed me tighter, and I nuzzled into her neck in silent thanks.
“Well…” I said, then sighed. “It’s no secret that I was never the most feminine of females. Always a tomboy, if you remember, and cutting my hair short gave me a new lease of life. It was always just that, until recently. I think the menopause hormones kicked off something huge, and the upshot of that is… I’m non-binary. Neither male nor female. I don’t expect you to understand how it feels, but I know you would have tried. And if you are watching over me, you’ll have seen what’s gone down and you’ll know already. All the same, I wanted to tell you in person. Just… so you know. Since you were always – and still are – my best friend.”
Now Petra kissed me on the cheek.
“And they’re absolutely bossing it, Lyndsey,” she said. Even now, a solid month after coming out to her, hearing Petra use ‘they’ to refer to me gave me shivers. “They’ve been so strong. Your sibling was always the strongest person I ever knew, but now they’ve shown me a whole new level of strength. They came out at work. At work, to their boss and everything! And their work has been great – they’re working with them to make the environment more inclusive. Next step is coming out to our friends, Cass and Felicia, and then… well, the choir. Hopefully. But all in good time. We’re still finding our own way.”
“I’m happier than I ever thought possible,” I admitted. “The only downside is that you and Mum and Dad aren’t here. But I know you’re listening somehow. In that little gap between the ocean and the sky, perhaps, like Eulalia Gray says in one of her songs. Smiling down on me. And…” I gulped back tears, “cheering me on.”
“Forever and always,” Petra whispered into my ear. She was missing the Scottish accent and the gravelly smoke-affected tone, but it was exactly what Lyndsey would have said. Proof that she didn’t have to have met her to know her. I’d talked about her enough, after all.
“I can breathe now,” I whispered. “I don’t think I had ever really breathed properly before. But I read a poem recently about being non-binary. And one of the lines was, ‘I never knew what it was like to fly until I let myself breathe in.’”
So I breathed in.
And let myself fly.
The End
