Out of all the extended family, only Amy’s mother knew the truth about me. To everyone else, I passed fine. It never came up any more. After years of hormones, surgery, I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had questioned who I was. Amy used to hate it, not being able to qualify this is my boyfriend with he’s trans, especially with her queer friends, so she wouldn’t seem like an ordinary straight girl. Amy was a little concerned sometimes that she was too conventional. I didn’t really get it — I liked to blend, plus I thought she was like a fucking star in every room she walked into. But it was my life, and she got that.
I guess I felt a similar way with friends who liked to introduce me with This is Josh. He’s a paramedic. I had to tell people to stop doing it; it was my card to play. Because inevitably, you immediately got, Wow, what’s your craziest story? I could never do that! But I doubt they really wanted to hear about the woman who jumped off her building last night, especially when all of us were sitting at the bar having a good time. But I got it. It was a weird job. I just didn’t like to immediately be questioned about it.
The stale coffee is boiling up but he catches it before it goes over the side, pours it into a stained cup and blows on the black liquid, lets a panel of the dream slide forward. If he does not force his attention on it, it might stoke the day, rewarm that old, cold time on the mountain when they owned the world and nothing seemed wrong.