“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that. He loves you.”
“He loves the version of me he thinks I am.”
“And what about me?” She asks, tilting her head, and I feel like she thinks she’s making some kind of point, but it’s not the same at all.
“He loves you,” I say, even though there’s no need.
“He does,” she says simply. “I’m his wife, and I’m trans. If he could accept me as easily as he did, what makes you think he wouldn’t accept you? He loves you more than anything.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
“We grew up in Rosehill, Iris,” I say, because that’s enough of an explanation. “People here don’t, I mean, you should hear the way my dad talks about gay people. And like it or not,that’sthe dude who raised Nate.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I think you might not be giving him enough credit.”
“I think you’re giving him too much,” I challenge, but she doesn’t argue with me. She waits, wearing an expression that tells me she knows that’s a weak reason, and she’s right. It’s not the only one.
“He would wonder,” I whisper. “If me being gay means—”
I stop becausefuck.
I can’t even say it.
“Alex,” she says gently. “Nate knows you didn’t consent to what happened to you.” She shifts, her hand coming up to theside of my face as her eyes fill with tears at the mention ofthat. “I’ve never seen Nate the way he was after.”
“He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He wouldn’t leave you for a second.” Her thumb moves along my cheekbone. “He wouldneverthink that.”
I“It would change things,” I mumble, looking away.
Iris doesn’t tell me it wouldn’t. She can’t. We both know it would.
“Maybe,” she says. “But Nate surprised me when I was so sure he wouldn’t.” She pats my cheek. “He might surprise you, too.”
I roll my eyes, and she smiles, and I smile back, and everything is okay for about three seconds until I remember that nothing is okay.
“I miss Mike,” I groan, flopping back onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. “I miss him so much it’s making me feel sick. Is this what love is supposed to feel like? It’s shitty.”
“I think sometimes it is,” she says, andthathelps a lot.
“I can’t flip a switch and be the person he needs me to be. Trust me, I wish I could. But I tried, and look what happened. I haven’t left my room in days.”
“Okay,” she says, standing up from my bed, her hands on her hips, her determined face on. “Here’s what we’re going to do right now.”
I wait, giving her the floor.
“You’re going to come downstairs and let me make you something to eat,” she says. “And then we’re going to clean up this room because—” She looks around the room that I’ll admit, is getting disgusting. “It really needs it.”
I breathe out, hesitant to do anything other than stay in bed, but I nod. “Okay.”
That night, I wait to go to the bathroom. I was never sure if Mikeleft this time. I never heard his footsteps.
So I wait.
And wait.
