Britney turns to me now we’re outside. There’s a cool, dry breeze in the air despite the sun shining brightly above us. “You think I haven’t experienced a lot of shit in my life so far?” Her smile is still there, still broad and dazzling, but it’s got an edge to it now. “You think I don’t already put up with all sorts of crap? The way I see it, I may as well get paid to do it.”
“But some things are worth more than money,” I say pointedly. “Like your mental health.”
“You’re right,” she says but then, still smiling, she shrugs. “But why do you think I’m doing this? If I don’t get my gender reassignment surgery soon, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
She sounds almost cheery saying it, but the light has faded in her eyes.
“And your parents, if they are so supportive, is there no way they could help you out financially? With the costs of your surgery?” I have to ask.
What shine was in her eyes fades completely. “My dad’s right hand was crushed in a work accident three years ago. Their savings went on his medical bills. Well, some of them. They’restill in a lot of debt. He can’t do the work he used to do anymore and my mom is a teaching assistant. She barely makes enough to cover their mortgage and bills. I plan on helping them out by doing this too.”
I absorb her words, her story and feel a heaviness settle in my gut. It’s too relatable – that struggle, that difficulty at the hands of our healthcare system and capitalist society. Who am I to try and tell her she’s doing the wrong thing when it’s exactly the path I chose for my family, and have walked with great success. But before I can say anything, a little shimmer returns to her gaze along with a small smile and she’s leaning over, leaving a kiss on my cheek and saying goodbye.
“Keep in touch,” I say, and I watch her get to her car.
That sinking feeling in my stomach has only intensified as I watch her drive off, waving at me. I stand there for a long time, long after Britney has driven away, feeling rooted to the spot. I don’t know what to do to shake the heaviness. I don’t know who I can talk to.
I pull out my phone to message Maeve. Not to tell her about Britney or about the conflict I feel at helping her start a career in online sex work, but just to… just to make contact with her.
I pull out my phone, open up the app, and type.
After I press Send I find my feet are still heavy, but I can move them. So I do. I walk to my car and drive home to my family, my very own reason for doing what I do.
Chapter Fifteen
Maeve
“What time is it now, Maeve?” my mother asks from the window. She’s been standing there for the last twenty minutes looking out for Jenna and Marty.
I flick over another page in the magazine I’m not really reading. “Ma, it’s been two minutes since you last asked. And also, you have a perfectly good watch on your wrist.”
“They should have been here half an hour ago.” She tuts.
“They texted to say everything was okay after the appointment.” I nudge my phone to light up the screen and see no new message notifications. I don’t know why I did that. Sure, I’m anxious for Marty and Jenna to get here so we can hear how the scan went in more detail, and see any photos they may have had printed, but I’m not about to start pacing the carpet like Ma is. A least, not just yet. “They probably just got stuck in traffic.”
“But they didn’t send a photo of the scan,” Mum points out.
“Ma, everything is fine! Don’t stress yourself. Or them when they get here. That’s not fecking fair.”
My mother finally comes away from the window. “I’ll go put the kettle on and then I’ll go to the loo and that will make them show up.” She starts walking past me and out of the living room. “It always works, you know. Going to the toilet, whenever you’re waiting on something…”
Her voice fades away and I go back to my magazine, skim-reading the articles that barely interest me. A moment later, I hear a soft snore and I’m almost surprised to see my father sitting in the armchair opposite me. I’d forgotten he was here.
“Da, you’re snoring!” I say deliberately loudly.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” he blurts out as he opens his eyes and sits up a little straighter.
“Enjoying retirement, I see,” I say with a smirk.
“Ah, don’t you get on my case, Maevey. Do you know how many lists of things your mother has me working through? It’s like she’d saved up a full-time job’s worth of odd jobs to do around the house for when I finally retired. I only have the afternoon off because youse lot are all coming over. But come the morning, I’ll be put to work again.”
“You could go back to your old job, for a rest?” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “It’s not so bad. Your ma still works three days a week, so on those days I sneak in a bike ride and an afternoon snooze in front of the racing or the golf.”
“Living the dream,” I say with a snort, but a moment later, I look up and catch Da’s eyes and smile.
