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Rated: E · Fiction · Inspirational · #2136466
A girl struggles to find the confidence to tell her boyfriend that she is transgender
“Mom, I don’t know how to tell him. What if he hates me after everything we’ve gone through? What if he hates me for being trans?” I say ruffling my comforter, contemplating on telling him. It’s been two years, this shouldn’t be hard for me. We have such a connection so I doubt he’ll just leave me after I tell him. Why is this so hard?
“He won’t sweetie, I promise you. “ My mother says back in that loving mother tone, that most people know well. She has been my biggest support through my transition.
“But what if he gets mad I didn’t tell him sooner. What if he thinks I’m disgusting or something?”
“Trust me honey, nothing bad will happen between you two. You have been together for basically two years!” she says reassuringly.
“You’re right mom, I shouldn’t be scared, but yet I am, it’s weird mom, I don’t like this feeling.” my stomach twists a little making me feel uneasy.
“I have to go sweetie, I have to to make sure your dad is up, he works nights now remember?”
“Okay mom, tell him I love him. I love you too momma.”
“I love you too sweetie.”
I set down my phone after hearing the click on the other line signifying the call was over and she could no longer hear me.
“Why am I so bad at these things?” I say dropping backward onto the bed. I let out a huge sigh, who knows what's going to happen between us.
I probably shouldn’t think too hard about this. Everything will be fine. I’ll be fine. If he doesn’t accept it then that's his fault, not mine. It wouldn’t be my fault if he stopped loving me for being me. I just would rather it work out in my favor. I sit up smoothing out the ruffles in my dress. It’s thirty minutes before we have to be at the restaurant and I think I’m ready to go, well at least physically, not mentally.
“Hey, babe! I think I’m ready!” I yell down the stairs of our house. I hear the squeak of the couch and then footsteps gradually getting louder as he nears the staircase.
“Are you sure? It only took two hours.” He says laughing at his own joke. I just roll my eyes and begin the journey down the stairs in heels. I rarely wear heels because they hurt my feet too bad to wear on a regular basis.
I take each step one foot at a time until I reach the bottom where he scoops me into his arms.
“You look beautiful.” His words lacing through his smile as if it was a door to his heart. I smile pulling him tighter before letting go my hand sliding into his.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“For what?” he whispers back jokingly.
“For choosing me.” He smiles at my words leaning down and giving me a kiss on the forehead.
“I should be the one thanking you, for staying by my side for two years, despite our differences.” I smile softly as he begins to lead us to the front door. We step through the front door the cool air hitting us like a wave. I shiver a little as he opens the door to his 2006 Ford Mustang. I take a seat in the passenger seat and he shuts the door behind me. He walks around the front of the car letting himself in. He starts up the car backing out of the driveway pressing his hand against the back of my chair to hold him in place to look where he's backing up. I can’t help but think back to the first date we ever shared and how different he looks. He looks more manly, more happy, and more confident.
We get to the restaurant with a few minutes to spare. He jumps out of the car, rushing to my side to let me out, knowing if I was given the opportunity to I would probably open my own door.
He grabs my hand to help me out of the car as I put one heel onto the asphalt. I slip out of the car, pushing my dress down to cover my legs as much as it’s supposed to. We walk to the door him opening it like a gentleman should and allowing me to walk in before him before entering himself. We walk up to the counter with a huge “RESERVATIONS” sign above it with an arrow pointing towards the desk.
“I have a reservation for two under Hamilton.”
“Yes, right this way.” The man behind the counter says grabbing two menus and two rolls of silverware wrapped in a beautiful napkin covered in rose shapes. He’s dressed in a three-piece suit with a nice pocket square showing over the top of his sport coat pocket. We walk closely behind him to a booth in the very back of the restaurant sitting on opposite sides of the table before the man says “I hope you two enjoy your meals tonight.” We both smile back giving a nod as he sets our menus and silverware in front of us. The man quickly turns around and walks away quickly returning to his desk. I bring my head back towards Skylar.
“Before we start eating, I have something I want to talk to you about.” I nod my head worried, what if he wants to break up with me or something.
“I have something I want to talk about too.” I smile warmly, I am completely and utterly terrified.
There's an awkward silence for a few minutes before I suck up all my confidence to say
“So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”
“Well, we’ve been together for two years now, and I think it’s about time I tell you something. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now and while it will be hard to say this, and I probably should have told you this a long time ago.” He takes a deep breath so he won’t keep babbling. “I’m a transgender male. I understand if you hate me.” He gets a look on his face like he is preparing for rejection.
He’s trans? I tilt my head to the side like a dog would when they're confused, the creases in my forehead showing. His smile turns into a small frown. I Lift a brow as his mouth opens, taking a deep breath before quietly speaking.
“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” His frown getting bigger with every second I spend not speaking. I smile really wide before the next few words flow through my lips.
“I’m transgender.” His eyes go wide followed by him raising an eyebrow.
“That’s not funny.” I roll my eyes at his accusation.
“That’s probably because I’m not joking,” I smirk slightly. There's a brief moment of silence as we both take it in.
“How long?” he asks.
“Since I turned 18.”
“Dang, you beat me, I transitioned at 20.” I let out a tiny laugh.
“Guess what,” I say
“This only made me love you more. “
“That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
At that moment our waiter walks up asking for our order before the night turned to memories.
© Copyright 2017 Sydney Hubbard (sydneyalicia at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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