Gender Reveal

LaVieEnRose

So the fall of 2012 was clipping along pretty nicely. Emily was lightly pregnant with my future little niece or nephew or whatever the fuck you want to call the bean, Derek and Daph were engaged, the little sons of bitches, and back in Pittsburgh Gus turned twelve and dove deep into his Bar Mitzvah prep and Carl finally got Debbie to retire from the goddamn diner and even Ted and Blake had caught the baby fever and were talking about adopting, so look at all of us developing as characters.

Speaking of fever, yeah, Justin and I dealt with that goddamn bitch of a flu, so that was a bit of a blip in the radar. I was a useless sack of shit for four days and then got better like a normal person, whereas Justin played a long game of chicken with an actual medical emergency and ended up no worse for the wear, eventually, though he did drag around a shitty dry cough for almost a month after the fever finally broke, and it took him a long time to get whatever energy he even has back.

But for the most part, everything was going well as we closed out November.

I flicked the light switch in the office. Ready to go?

Yeah, sorry. Justin tucked his legs up on his chair.

Everything okay?

Yeah, it's just...it's that guy I'm doing that commission for, you know the piece with the quadrants? He's being a dick.

What's he doing?

Just trying to push me around, make me feel like I'm not worth what I charged him.

Want me to beat him up?

No, I can beat up my own clients. He stood up. Anyway, yeah, let me just change my shirt.

I leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom while he got dressed. Is Calvin coming tonight?

Yeah, he said he was.

I did my best imitation of the Justin Taylor puppy dog eyes. Justin?

Oh, God, what.

I coupled the eyes with my most dazzling smile. Can I fuck your boyfriend?

“Brian!”

Hey, no talking in the bedroom. Now we're going to have to burn sage or something. I considered his sinuses. Maybe not.

You're not supposed to sleep with my boyfriends, he said.

I know, but in my defense he's very hot and I'm in love with him.

You've had like two conversations with him.

Okay, but...he's very hot.

Justin pulled his shirt over his head. He's seriously not even that good in bed. He's extremely average.

So why are you dating him?

He's very hot, Justin said.

Yeah, he is. I still want to fuck him.

He rolled his eyes. I'll think about it.

That's all I'm asking.

You know he's like an exclusive top.

That's what they all say. There are very few exclusive tops left in the world.

Yeah, yeah, you guys are a dying breed. What will the world do without you?

Oh, boohoo, you had your tongue in my ass two days ago.

We made out for a while on the subway on the way down the bar, Justin's nose cold against my cheek. I scratched the back of his neck while we climbed up the stairs.

When's Emily's appointment? I asked him.

Thursday. She was getting another ultrasound, and they'd be able to tell the sex this time, so it was all pretty exciting.

What do you think it's going to be?

I have no idea. I thought I'd have a hunch one way or the other but...nothing. We started down the sidewalk. It was snowing just a little.

I was the same way with Gus.

What did you want him to be?

I shrugged. Boy.

Yeah, me too.

Really!

We stopped and waited for the light to change. You're surprised?

Yeah, you love girls. Emily, Daphne, Molly, Gwen, Debbie, Cynthia, the lesbians, his mother. It takes Justin a while to warm up to a guy, but he loves women from the get go.

I do love girls. He blew on his hands to warm them up, and I took his left one between mine. I don't know. If I have a girl I'm going to worry about it all the time.

You worry no matter what flavor of kid it is. That's why I'm going to have so much fun with yours. Not my problem. You don't worry about Gus, right?

Of course I worry about Gus.

Yeah, well. You worry about everything. Your brain doesn't work.

And I'd worry a fuck of a lot more if he was a girl, Justin said.

Yeah, because all the guys we know totally have their lives together.

We stomped our shoes on the mat outside the bar and I brushed snow off his shoulders, and we opened the door and ducked into the bar. Justin and Emily pulled those aforementioned puppy dog eyes a few months ago and got the manager to agree to raise the lights up a little when they're here, so it's a little brighter and easier to sign nowadays. Gwen and Emily held their arms up for hugs, Calvin shook my hand and planted a kiss on Justin that made me very confused about who I wanted to fuck the most, and Daphne pulled me over to look at some weird rash Derek had, because when it comes to allergies I'm the real doctor here. I ordered a round of shots for the non-pregnant and non-epileptic among us.

Calvin was all over Justin, who was blushing up a storm, and God, it was so goddamn hot I could barely hold a conversation, but eventually we got to an argument about whether Emily and Gwen were going to tell us the sex of the baby once they found out.

How am I supposed to know what clothes to buy? Daphne said.

Buy it whatever, Emily said.

We're not concerned about the specifics of the presents we get, Gwen said. Our main priority is just getting a lot.

It's just so cisnormative, Emily fingerspelled. I mean, we get a picture of whether or not it has a penis, and based on that we make all these fucking assumptions about its life.

Okay, I hear you, but that's the world, Daphne said. You can't just name it Blanket and have no one know what sex it is until it's old enough to sort out its gender identity. Maybe in a hundred years you can do that. It's not the world now.

Someone has to do it first, Emily said.

Justin said, Right, but shouldn't those people be like...trans parents, not a bunch of cis people sitting around speculating on what non-cis people would want?

It's not like we don't know trans people, Emily said. And we're queers, we have to look out for each other.

Just tell us, I said. You don't have to cut into a pink or blue cake or some shit. I let you fuck my husband, you owe me.

Gwen nodded at Calvin. He fucks your husband, what does he owe you?

Well... I started, and Justin kicked me under the table and wrinkled his nose.

What? Calvin said.

We broke off into groups after a while; Derek, Calvin, and Justin played some pool, Gwen and Emily danced, and Daphne made some offhand comment about the Penguins that I latched onto, so we were hanging out at the table debating shit and I was trying not to come in my pants like a fucking teenager every time Calvin put his hands on Justin, when my phone rang and my phone told me it was the Bad Seed. That's weird, I said. It's Molly, she never calls me.

Wasn't she coming tonight? Daphne said.

Yeah, I thought.

Daphne nodded towards the bathrooms. Quieter over there.

I nodded and ducked over to the wall where there was probably a payphone once, and now there was just a lot of graffiti about straight people. I hit accept on the call. “Mol?”

“Can you come get me?” Her voice sounded serious, but she wasn't crying or anything, not that I could hear.

“What? Where are you?”

“Uh, this Starbucks. It's by Brittany Hall, 10th and...something. I think it's Broadway?”

“Uh...by Union Square?”

“Yeah.”

Not her dorm. “What are you doing up there?”

“Can you just come? Please? I'm in the back, can you come in and get me?”

“Yeah. What's going on?”

“Don't tell Justin,” she said, and she hung up before I could respond to that.

Don't tell Justin. Yeah, that was going to end well. How'd it go when he kept something about Molly from me? But, fuck, maybe it was better for me to go up there and assess the situation before I worried Justin. If you think I jump to the worst case scenario at the slightest provocation, you've never seen Justin the literal second something throws off his routine. Fuck.

I went back to Daphne and said, “I've got to go.”

“What's going on?”

“I don't know yet. She doesn't want Justin to know, can you, I don't know, tell him Michael was having some meltdown and I had to get out of here and talk to him.”

“I...okay.”

“Thank you.” I kissed her cheek, glanced at Justin lining up his pool shot, his back to me, and slipped out of the bar.

I got on the 4 at Fulton Street and took it straight up to Union Square, and then it was two blocks and one trip up and down the wrong one before I found Molly's Starbucks. The door tinkled all Christmassy as I went in, and the whole place was bright and spicy and warm. Happy.

I couldn't find Molly at first, but I saw her get up from a table in the back. She's small and thin, like Justin, so she's easy to lose when she's not being, you know, obscenely loud, which she usually is. She was wearing leggings and a big hoodie, not anything she would have worn to meet us at the bar, and she had the hood pulled down so I couldn't really see her face.

I stayed where I was while she came towards me, throwing away some kind of wrapper, and I said, “Hey...” but she just took my hand and pulled me back out to the sidewalk.

“Where's your coat?” I said, and she just shook her head, and I took mine off and put it around her shoulders. “Molly...”

“I'm fine,” she said, and she sounded sure.

“I just came all the way up here, you're sitting in some fucking Starbucks you apparently couldn't leave by yourself, you don't have a goddamn coat, and all I get is 'I'm fine?'”

She sighed and reached her hands up and lowered the hood of her sweatshirt. Her nose was hugely swollen, and there was some dried blood underneath, and a bruise starting to blossom under one of her eyes, purple in the light pouring out of the cheery goddamn Starbucks.

“He knows where I live,” she said.

“Okay, sweetheart, come on.”

**

“I can't stay here,” she said. She'd had a shower, and she was curled up on our couch wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of Justin's sweatpants. “I'll just, I'll go to a hotel or something.”

“Oh yeah?” I said from the kitchen. “With what money?”

“Okay, so I'll go to a friend's place, or I'll stay at Daphne's, or...”

“Would you cut it the fuck out? You're not going anywhere.” I came into the living room and handed her a cup of tea. “Here.”

She made a face. “I hate tea.”

“Yeah, so do I, but that stuff makes Justin's mouth itch so no one's going to drink it unless you do.” I held up a bag of ice bundled in a towel. “Let me see that nose.”

She let me hold it on her face. “I don't want to be here when Justin gets back.” She signed his name automatically when she said it out loud. I do it too. I don't even really think his name in English anymore. It's hard to explain.

“Molly, I'm not keeping this from Justin.”

“You promised.”

“I absolutely did no such thing.”

Her lip shook. “But why?”

“Because you're his sister, and because I don't do that shit, and because you didn't fucking do anything wrong. Why don't you want him to know?” She winced while I adjusted the ice. “Easy, here.”

“He's going to fucking...judge me. I don't know.”

“Yeah, Justin Taylor, who took a bat to the head from a guy he jerked off, is going to judge someone for getting hit by her boyfriend. That sounds right. Drink your tea.”

“He didn't forgive the guy who bashed him in the head and let him bash him again,” she said.

I lowered the ice. “He did this before.”

She shrugged.

“I...” Everything was clicking together in my head. “Your wrist was sprained. You said it was intramurals.” She couldn't sign for a week.

“See why I don't want Justin to know? He'll judge me.”

“Justin won't judge me.”

“You're judging me.”

I shook my head and put the ice back, because Jesus, what the fuck was I supposed to say? She knows better than that. I fucking taught her better than that.

“We're gonna call the police in the morning, all right?” I said. “Get this sorted out. Probably should have taken some pictures before we started icing this, but the bruises will be worse in the morning anyway.”

“Great,” she said.

“We'll get you moved into a new dorm.”

“I don't want to change dorms.”

“We'll get you moved into a new dorm,” I repeated. “And you'll probably need a restraining order.”

She sighed and hugged a pillow to her chest. “Christ.” She nodded to the coffee table, where my phone was ringing. Justin?

“Yeah. Here we go.” I picked up the phone, pointing the camera away from Molly. Hey, stud.

Oh, hey. He was walking down the sidewalk. I didn't think you were going to pick up. I didn't know if you were off with Michael.

Are you heading home already?

Yeah, I'm not feeling great.

Need me to come get you?

He shook his head. Derek offered to come with me, but I'm fine. Just a headache.

He always has a headache. You mean a migraine.

Semantics. A fun sign.

I took a deep breath. So Molly's here.

Molly's there? At the apartment?

Yeah. I wasn't talking to Michael. She called me and told me to pick her up and not to tell you.

And you're telling me? You're a bad brother.

Justin.

“Jeez, what.”

She...I want to prepare you. She's got a black eye. Her nose looks broken.

Molly pulled a pillow over her face, and I ran my hand up and down her ankle.

Justin stopped walking. What the fuck happened?

Her boyfriend. Justin, she's here now, she's safe.

He started walking again, fast in the opposite direction.

Where the fuck are you going? I said to him.

Where do you think? I'm getting a fucking cab.

I stood up. Stop it. Stop it right now.

Molly took the pillow off her face. “Brian?”

Everything's fine, I said to her, and I kissed her hand and took the phone into the bedroom. Justin, stop.

I know where that fucker lives.

Fucking stop right now, I swear to God. My heart was up in my throat, and I knew I was yelling at him and I knew this wasn't the way to stop him, but Jesus Fucking Christ if somebody hit him...

That's my sister, he said.

I know. I know it's your sister. And she got punched in the fucking face and this should be about her. And if you go charging up there and you get yourself hurt, if someone hits you in the face and you have to go to the fucking hospital, it's not going to be about her.

It was a low tactic, I know, but I was not cleaning up another bloody Taylor that night.

Justin looked at me, and I could see the debate going on in his head, could see how fucking desperately he needed to do this, that he needed to be the type of man who did this. Who could do this.

I know, I told him. I'm sorry. Please come home.

He made that frustrated noise he does when he's signing and his shitty hand won't move fast enough for his brain.

I know, I said. I took a deep breath. You cannot get hurt.

She got hurt.

That's why.

He made the noise again, running his hand over his mouth the way I do. He got that from me.

So I did what he does. I took a deep breath and said, I need you safe. Come home.

“Okay,” he whispered.

I kissed my fingers and touched them the screen. Take the elevator.

**

Justin got home about fifteen minutes later. He made a beeline to the couch and looked Molly over, and she crawled up into his lap and he put his arms all the way around her.

They stayed like that for a long time, and I gave them a minute, cleaning up the kitchen and answering a work email and otherwise wasting time, before I came around to Justin's field of vision. Can I see her to ice her face? I said.

He shook his head.

Then can I see you? Your hand's been seized up for twenty minutes.

“No.”

You going to take something for your head?

“No,” he said again, but that was enough for Molly to kind of startle and shake herself free, and I gave her the ice and both of them a painkiller because why the fuck not and got to work trying to loosen up his hand.

“We need to get a security guard or something at her dorm,” he said.

She's switching dorms.

“Yeah, that's better.” He winced as I tried to uncurl one of his fingers. “Jesus, Brian—”

Sorry.

Molly was quiet, and maybe it was having Justin home, maybe it was the pill, maybe it was just all the adrenaline running out of her, or maybe it was that gross tea, but she got really tired pretty soon after that, and Justin went and made a bed for her in the office. I gave him some space after she went to bed because I could tell he was like a live wire, and he smoked a couple cigarettes out on the balcony while I took a shower, and when I came out he was sitting on the bed with his laptop.

What are you doing? I asked, small.

Looking up the procedure for reporting it to NYU. It looks like we can get an escort to go to her classes with her.

She'd never go for that. It's Molly. How are you feeling?

He shrugged. Pain's bad tonight. Can't imagine it's as bad as her face.

I sat down on the bed in front of him, my legs crossed, shaking my head a little.

He closed his laptop and set it aside. What?

It's just...it's Molly. I can't believe this happened to Molly.

I know.

This wasn't the first time, I said. He sprained her fucking wrist and she didn't tell anyone. And she stayed.

He shrugged a shoulder. It's what happens. How many second chances did Joan give Jack?

I scoffed. Different.

It's not different.

Joan was weak as shit, I said. This is Molly. You don't picture this shit happening to someone like Molly.

Justin quirked an eyebrow. I am really surprised to hear you say that.

Why? I've been a feminist for like three years, I'm pretty new at this. I'm gonna say some fucked up shit.

No, because you're gay.

What the fuck are you talking about?

He leaned back against the head board and rubbed a knot in his shoulder with one hand. This has really never happened to you? Nothing like this?

Again, what the fuck are you talking about? You want me to get that?

No, it's okay.

Is this bashing stuff?

No, not really. Chris Hobbs was not my boyfriend.

Yeah, I'm very aware of who Chris Hobbs was.

He shot me an apologetic look.

Justin?

Yeah.

Who hit you?

I'm not talking about that specifically, I just mean—

Did Ethan hit you?

Ethan? He snorted. Ethan couldn't kill a bug.

Not one of your boyfriends now.

No, I'm not saying... He sighed. None of my boyfriends have ever hit me. I'm just talking about stuff going too far, limits getting pushed. Not as black and white as what happened to Molly, just stuff that's not good. Stuff that happens to us.

I kept staring at him.

He said, Okay, like...like Sapperstein's party.

I felt something crawling in my throat. Fuck, I don't want to talk about—

Or that guy at Babylon who choked me that time, or the one at Pistol that time who wouldn't take his hand off my mouth, or just, like, parties in California, or that—

Wait, what parties in California?

Just parties, I don't know, where there were a lot of drugs and a lot of people into intense shit and stuff got...it got out of hand. Come on, you know what I'm talking about.

I stared at him.

You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? he said.

This isn't a Deaf thing, is it.

He shook his head a little.

Well then, what the fuck? I said. Trying to be gentle. Trying to not think about what the fuck happened to Justin at those parties, what the fuck he didn't think was bad enough to tell me but bad enough to list along with someone goddamn choking him, with that fucking fucking thing at the Sap's.

You don't worry, do you? he said, small, curious. And I didn't know what the fuck to make of that, given the fact that I felt I was being swallowed by a goddamn boa constrictor, Molly in office and Justin here in front of me, and now he's telling me I don't worry, but he noticed and waved his hand and amended it. You don't worry that people know. You don't walk around worried.

I haven't been bashed, I said, as gently as I possibly fucking good. I fingerspelled 'bashed' instead of signing it. I couldn't do it, I just did it a minute ago, I just... I'm not...the world doesn't look as scary to me.

It's not about that, he said. You pass and I don't, and we never talk about this.

You pass, come on.

I really don't. People know. They always have. They knew before I did.

I rolled my eyes and looked away.

He snapped his fingers and I looked at him. Does it make you uncomfortable? I said. What, less attracted to me?

Stop being stupid.

I don't think I am being stupid. You called me stud on the phone earlier, that's the joke, right?

It's not a joke, it's just--

I'm not the muscled-up guys you bring home, Justin said. And I'm fine with that. I'm fine with who I am. I'm fine with not passing. But...look, sometimes I try to forget that you and me walk through the world in different ways.

I wish you passed because you'd be safer, I said. Not because of what it says about...Jesus, come on.

But you worry about me because I'm me, he said. Because I'm Deaf or because I'm sick or because I'm yours, not because this is something that's a common experience that guys like me go through, and that's what I'm trying to say. I mean, Jesus, this is why I'm scared of having a girl, because the kid probably won't be gay and even if he is he'll probably pass, but it's all girls.

It's not all of them.

Yes it is. It's the Joans and it's the Mollys.

What happened to you in California? I said, something boiling up inside me.

He sighed. Nothing. This isn't about that.

If it's nothing then it won't take you much time to tell me.

Jesus, Brian, the same thing that happens to guys like me at parties like those, that's why I'm trying to fucking tell you! We get pushed around and laughed at and twisted and convinced and played with, it's not...it's not Gary Sap's fucking lounge, it's not your boyfriend breaking your fucking nose, but it's not good. And that's just fucking normal.

That is not normal! I yelled at him.

Yes it is! It fucking shouldn't be, but it is, Brian.

What the fucking fuck! I got off the bed and paced to the other side of the room. What the fuck, you're just going to sit here and tell me this is what life is like for you? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this, Justin? I just let you walk out the fucking door tomorrow back into this, that's what you expect me to do?

None of this is about you.

Bull fucking shit it isn't! Who started taking you those parties, huh? If it weren't for me you would be still be walking back and forth on Liberty Avenue waiting for someone to flip you over, don't give me that not about me crap. I showed you the fucking world, Jasmine, and now you're here telling me—

It's not like it's all bad, he said.

You don't fucking tell me shit! How the fuck am I supposed to...you said you were going to stop fucking lying to me, you goddamn fucking liar!

So I'm supposed to tell you every time a guy makes me uncomfortable.

Yes.

That's not fucking possible, Brian. You're not being reasonable.

I signed so hard it hurt. Someone lay a fucking hand on my kid out there and my fucking partner is scaring the shit out of me, so no, I'm not going to be fucking reasonable right now!

Okay, he said. Okay.

We were quiet for a long minute.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this, I said eventually.

I don't know.

What the fuck am I supposed to do if you have a girl?

He put his hands up, helplessly.

**

We took Molly to the police station the next morning, and the day after that, she went back to school. Justin lent her a scarf—we still needed to go back to her dorm and get her things—and wound it around her face to cover up her nose.

You come right back here after class, okay? I said to her. Justin will be here all day. He can come get you if you need him.

I'll be fine, she said.

He gave her a hug.

I'm going to get the dorm thing sorted out, she said. I'm going to reach out to housing and get a transfer, make sure he wont't be able to find out where it is.

Maybe we worry about that next week, I said. For now it's...let's just not worry about that right now. Just come home.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Justin looked at me after she left, while I got my shit together to leave for work. What? I said.

I think you just watch us, Justin said. I think that's all you can do.

You need to stop trying to be me, I said.

And he kept his eyes locked on mine. Maybe you need to stop going places I can't follow.

What the fuck are you talking about?

Maybe you need to turn around, you look over your shoulder, and you see if I'm safe where we're going. You look around at the guys you're with, at the girls in the room, fucking...wherever, and you look around and you see if they are safe where you're going. And you make the rooms safe or you don't fucking make the rooms.

I breathed out through my nose.

You didn't let me punch that guy, Justin said. You're having Molly stay here. Why did you do those?

I glared at him, and he rested his hand on my chest.

Love them too, he said. He sighed and wrinkled his nose. Now I'm gonna go yell at a guy who thinks he can push me around about a painting.

Yeah you are.

**

That evening we all met at the bar, Derek and Daphne, Gwen and Emily, Molly and a new story about intramurals for the group. Justin stayed by her side.

Will you just fucking tell us, Daphne said. This is torture.

Emily sighed. First of all, I think everyone needs to keep in mind that gender is a construct, and that just because our baby is born with certain types of organs doesn't say anything about how it will eventually decide to determine his hers or their gender identity—

We know, we know, I said. Fucking tell us already.

Gwen and Emily looked at each other with the sappiest goddamn eyes, and then Gwen said, It's a girl. We're having a girl.

Everyone cheered and banged on the table and generally freaked out the hearies at the bar, and everyone was all over Gwen and Emily and then Justin with hugs and kisses and oh my God I knew its and I totally thoughts and it took a while before I could catch Justin's eye.

I wondered if she'd look like Molly.

You okay? I asked him.

He nodded, lips quirking into a smile. Yeah. I love her.

And, well...

I mean, you'll see how I felt about the little nugget in good time.

Fuck. God help me, with these fucking Taylors. Teach me how to watch them.