Misfits
Part Eleven
Wendy pulled no punches, “He’s twelve. How can he even know what he’s really saying? He never said anything about this to me, I just thought he was gay. He liked my clothes and I didn’t see the harm in it. Did I encourage this by not saying no?”
“If he…if Shiloh says…a lot of thought has been put into this. I don’t think confusion is the issue. You know better than I do, the kid is always thinking, always studying. Impulsiveness doesn’t run in this family. I don’t think this is a phase and I don’t think it’s a casual thought.”
“So that’s it? End of the conversation?”
“What do you want me to do, Wendy? Go in there and say, Sorry kid, we’re going to keep on calling you whatever the hell we want?”
“I know we’re different, well, you two more than me, but this family is different. We live in our own little world most of the time but you need to know, Dad, what he’s saying…life is going to be even harder, so much harder for him.”
Shiloh could hear Father sigh and walk to the end of the porch, “Truth by told, life is always going to be hard for us, because of who and what we are. This news doesn’t change that.”
“It changes a lot, Dad. More than you know. Being a woman…sucks. He’s twelve and held up here most of the time, he doesn’t get it. Aside from how we hunt, who we hunt, there’s just walking down the street. There’s going down to the corner to get a soda. The everyday things. He’s never had some asshole follow him for a few blocks, never had horns honked at him. Never had fat, old men leering and whispering disgusting shit under their breath at him on a bus. He’s never had a friend at school refuse to stop trying to put hands on him, never had one call him names or tell lies about him because he wouldn’t go out with them.”
“Is there something you want to tell me about?”
“No, Dad. I’m not talking about me, not entirely, I’m just telling you how it is for a lot of women. He doesn’t see that, but that’s what he’s opening himself up to, and worse, when boys, when some boy, finds out he isn’t really a girl. He’s going to get hurt.”
“Well, we have to be there to try and help. We can’t protect each other from everything, but we can definitely help each other from getting hurt by most things. I know it’s a lot on your shoulders, being the older kid, you’ll just have to do the best you can, just like I do.”
Father was doing what he always did, what he rarely ever realized he was doing, he was pacifying, fixing, not really listening. One daughter was coming at him with worries he couldn’t pacify or fix about another, newly branded, daughter and it was all too much for him in the clinch. Better to have vague statements about family support and stepping up than just listening for the sake of listening.
Wendy tossed in the last bit as she was already walking away from Father. “Be sure to use your phone and look up what hormone therapy costs. We can barely afford rent but I’m sure we’ll figure that out.”