I’ll Never Let You Down.

I was about to go to bed when the phone rang. My do-not-disturb setting was already on, but she broke through it by calling twice in quick succession. Bex needed me, she sounded desperate. I was tired, and just wanted to sleep, but I told her to come on over. I waited for her to arrive and at five to midnight she pulled up on the driveway.

Bex was completely dishevelled as she piled in through the back door. Frankly, she looked like she had just been dragged through a bush backwards, but before I could say anything, she said, “I know, I know, I’m a wreck. I’ll explain everything in a minute, but first I need to pee”.

She ran off upstairs to the loo and I lit a candle. I figured this might take a while. Bex had done this to me before, but not for a few years now. The last time I got a late-night call like this was after she’d had a blazing argument with her now ex, and she needed somewhere to stay. I was really hoping that this was not one of those situations as I really need my space right now. Bex is as mad as a box of frogs and more high-energy than I can handle a lot of time – I love her, but I don’t want her living with me again.

She descended the stairs, and I could hear her breathing a sigh of relief. I know she feels safe here and I’m glad, but with Bex, she typically takes way more than she gives, and I do often feel as though she only picks up the phone when she needs something.

She made her way from the bottom of the stairs and through the short hallway, back into the kitchen. Wearily, she slumps her body down on the wooden chair opposite me at the table.

“Tea?” I ask.

“Got anything stronger?” she replies.

“Wine or Vodka babes. I don’t have much in”. She opts for wine and would just have to make do with the cheap plonk my dear Dad dropped off the other day. He often gets gifts from customers but doesn’t really drink much, which suits me and means there’s rarely a dry day in the house. I probably should cut down, but life has been somewhat stressful lately.

I pour each of us a large glass of white and we both sigh, then laugh. Bex and I get each other, and we are close. We could go weeks without seeing each other but then pick right back up where we last left off. And, despite feeling a bit used at times, she is a good friend and has had my back on more than one occasion.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask. Bex’s frantic phone call didn’t make a lot of sense and all I could get out of her was “He’s not real”, and “I need to see you”. I had assumed that ‘he’ was her current boyfriend – Fred, I think. I can never keep up. She seems to go through men quicker than I go through underwear.

“Ok, so, you know how I was chatting to Hugh online?”. I shake my head, as I had no idea. “Ok, well”, she continues, “This guy Hugh, who I’ve been chatting to for like, weeks, turns out not to be a guy at all. It’s a chick, right, and she tells me like right before we’re about to meet”.

I’m a little confused and probably have a weird and weary look on my face. I don’t understand how a guy isn’t a guy but is a girl instead. Surely, she knows who she’s dating. Or perhaps this is some sort of scam situation.

“What are you on about?” I ask, slightly frustrated.

“Right, Hugh, was a girl, but is now a boy, but only told me this like, an hour ago. And we were supposed to meet tomorrow for our first date and so he told me, and I freaked out and now I don’t know what to do. I’m not a frickin’ dyke”.

“But you like him?”, I enquire. As I feel my eyebrows lifting, I’m actually slightly amused and want to see where this is going.

“Well, yeah. I did. I mean, I do. But he’s not really a guy, is he?”. Bex looked both confused and upset. She clearly likes this guy but now doesn’t know what to do. I’m not sure this warranted a midnight glass of wine, but still, we’re here now and I need to help her through it.

“So, Hugh is a trans guy, and you like him. That’s ok. Do you know how far along in his transition he is?” I ask.

“What? No. I didn’t ask. I haven’t messaged him back. I’ve like, totally ghosted him”, says Bex. She puts her face in her hands and leans into her arms with elbows on the table.

“Oh babes. What are you like? You can’t just ignore him”, I say.

Bex lifts her face out of her hands and wipes a couple of tears away. “I really like him”, she says. “We get on so well, and laugh, and he’s just so laid back and easy going. And you know how important that is for me because I just can’t deal with anyone who’s uptight and doesn’t let me, you know, be me”.

“I know. So, you need to ask questions and find out more about where’s he’s at with everything”. I’m trying to be understanding here, but I’m also so damn tired and Bex’s energy is more draining than usual. When she’s stressed or frantic, it comes off of her in waves and seems to smack me around.

“I’m sorry”, she says. I think she can see that I’m struggling. “Can I stay?”.

I take deep breath and follow up with a nod. “I’ll grab you some blankets and a pillow for the sofa”.

“Thanks babes. Maybe you can help with what to reply. I just don’t know what to say to him, or her, or whatever”.

I spend the next several minutes explaining to Bex that she needs to refer to Hugh in the gender he identifies with and that ‘he’ is the appropriate term. I also tell her that to some extent, she needs to try and forget that he was ever a ‘she’ and that who Hugh is who he is now, and that’s what’s important.

She slowly relaxes and asks some questions. She wants to know more about transitioning and surgeries and then she moves onto sex. Of course she does, this is Bex after all.

“So, what if we can’t do it like a normal couple?” she asks.

“Well, there are ways of working around whatever may or may not be in his pants. You’ll have to ask the question and decide from there whether you want to go there with this guy. You never know, you might like it”, I say, giving her a wink and trying to make light of the situation.

Bex opens up her phone and starts searching the internet for trans sex videos. I shake my head and laugh. “Babes, you need to speak to him and let him tell you what’s what. Let him guide you before you start making shit up in your head or jumping to conclusions”, I say.

“Okay, okay”, she says and puts her phone down. She can see how tired I am, and we discuss picking this up again in the morning. Bex agrees to leave the internet searching alone until she’s spoken with Hugh.

The morning comes and I rise late. I cannot seem to cope with late nights anymore. Bex is already in the kitchen making breakfast. Bless her. She has bacon and eggs on, and toast too I can see. A cup of steaming tea is waiting for me on the table.

“Morning babes. How did you sleep?”, she asks.

“Um, ok, I think” I reply, and take my seat. Bex serves me, then herself and sits down.

She’s excited but also calm. It’s odd, I can’t quite make sense of her mood. It’s almost as if…

“You got laid”, I say.

Bex smiles. A huge grin splits across her face, and she goes red. “But how, and when?”, I ask.

“Last night. After you went to bed. He messaged me”.

“Hugh did?” I ask, quite shocked.

“Yep. He basically invited me over and told me that if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have to see or hear from him again. So, I decided to go”.

I was almost speechless. I’m sure my jaw just dropped a bit. Bex has been pretty reckless about dating and often has random sex with guys she barely knows. I guess at least she has been talking to Hugh for a few weeks now and they have been getting to know each other.

I couldn’t wait to ask, “So, how was it?”.

“Fucking amazing!” Bex exclaimed, and an even bigger grin stretched her mouth about as wide as it would go.

I smile too. I’m happy that she’s happy. And of course, I want to know all the little details. And with Bex, nothing is ever left out, so I sit and listen, whilst slowly making my way through bacon and eggs, and a lovely, much needed, cup of tea.

Bex and Hugh had an incredible night together and she came back this morning as he had to go to work. They’ve agreed another date, and she seems really happy.

“You still look tired babes”, says Bex, and I nod.

“I am. The cancer is back, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight it this time”, I say, and stare down into what’s left of my tea.

“Oh my God. Why didn’t you say something last night? When did you find out?”.

“Only a week or so ago”, I reply, “I’ve just been taking some time to let the news sink in before telling anyone”.

After having a double mastectomy, I had been cancer-free for eight years. But now it was back and this time in my lungs and nearby lymph nodes. It’s basically spreading, and the doctors aren’t sure we can get rid of it this time. Cutting your breasts off is one thing, but now it’s inside my organs and other places. Stage three is likely heading for stage four, and then they’ll just try and make me comfortable, I guess.

I look up and Bex has tears rolling down her face. “Listen, whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’m here, day or night for you babes. Right?”. I nod, and smile.

“I mean it. Even if you call me close to midnight and I’m about to go to bed, or get laid, or whatever, just call me, okay?”, she says, with the most serious expression on her face I think I’ve ever seen.

“Okay babes”, I reply.

We hold hands across the table, and she squeezes mine hard. I’m so glad I have Bex. Despite some ups and downs, and her often erratic behaviour, she’s never let me down. And I didn’t let her down last night when she needed me. That might have been the last, and most significant thing I could have done for her. I hope she and Hugh can be happy. I pray for her to settle down.

I ask her to tell me again about her night. I want to distract myself and to hear all the gritty details over again. And of course, this is Bex, so she’s happy to oblige.