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She looks up at him, gray-blue eyes sparkling.
Shawn’s mouth twitches, and he flicks her forehead, before turning to me. “You guys ready?”
I nod mutely, my mind racing.
You said us.
Phoebe throws me a wink over her shoulder before leading us back out the way we came in, passing the packed counter and booths along the front windows.
“She okay?” Shawn mutters, hanging back enough so she doesn’t overhear us.
I nod. “Yeah. She’s fine.”
He cuts me a long sideways look. “Are you?”
“Huh?”
He frowns. “Are you okay? You look like someone just told you Superman is better than Batman.”
I bark out a laugh and wave him ahead. “Fuck off. I’m fine. Catch up to her before she makes a run for it.”
He sighs, shaking his head, and quickens his strides. He knows as well as I do that that’s a very likely possibility.
Balmy summer night air greets us when we get outside, along with the whoosh of passing cars along the road. Music blasts from a car nearby, and there are a group of rowdy guys down the block roughhousing as they make their way toward Silk Street.
The place doubles as a diner and nightclub, and I think there’s even a beer garden out back.
Shawn pulls out a pack of smokes.
“Thought you were trying to quit,” Phoebe chirps as he lights up.
I grin, and cock my head. “Yeah, Shawnie. Thought you were trying to quit.”
Cigarette perched between his lips, cherry burning bright red, he flips us both off. Phoebe pretends to swoon and I pretend to catch it like a kiss.
“Fucking hate both of you,” he grumbles through a cloud of smoke.
Phoebe and I share a knowing grin. “Sure you do,” I say at the same time she says, “Uh huh. Totally.”
I’m glad to see her mood’s improved. It’s not often, or ever, really, that we talk about her being trans. There was never really any need to, unless she brought it up of course.
Which she never does…
Not since we were kids and she first started coming to terms with it and began her transition.
Not until tonight.
But she’s growing up.
The world’s fucked.
And as much as I wish I could bubble wrap her, keep her blissfully ignorant…
I’m not stupid.
That notion went to hell a long time ago, probably around the time she walked into me convulsing on the floor from an overdose when she was only twelve.
That familiar festering ache inside me when I think about that time in my life creeps forward, and I let it have its moment.
