Staying In and Coming Out

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Em freezes with one hand wrapped around the doorknob and the other wrapped around their skateboard. They glance back over their shoulder, annoyed by the scolding tone in their dad’s voice. It’s only noon. Their curfew isn’t until nine. They aren’t breaking any rules.

Em looks down at their skateboard and then at the door, exaggerating the action. “Where do you think, Dad?” 

He folds his arms over his chest. “Very funny, young lady.” If he notices the way Em suppresses a wince at his words, he doesn’t mention it. 

“What?” Em pushes back. “I’m not grounded or anything.”

“No, but with that attitude you’re heading in that direction.”

Em rolls their eyes and twists the doorknob, pushing the door open.

“Emily Ann!” their dad barks, and Em stops with the door barely ajar. “You are not going to the skate park in a thunderstorm! I know you’re not a fool. Don’t act like one.”

And yes, now that the door is partially open, Em can feel the strong wind blowing rain into the house. They can hear the distant grumble of thunder under the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain.

The annoying thing is that their dad has a valid point. Em will get soaked the second they step outside the door, and the skate park will be a mess of puddles. Probably their friends won’t even be there. It’s stupid to go skateboarding in a massive downpour. They’ll just be wet and cold and alone, and they’ll probably get struck by lightning to boot. 

Grudgingly, Em pulls the door shut. “Fine,” they mutter under their breath with all the adolescent angst that they can muster. Being sixteen years old, they can muster quite a lot. 

They tramp up the stairs and shut their bedroom door hard enough that it almost feels satisfying but not so hard that their dad can justifiably scold them for slamming doors. They toss down their skateboard onto the floor and fling themself onto their bed.

So now they’re stuck inside on an otherwise perfectly good Saturday. No friends. No freedom. Just this stupid babyish bedroom they have to share with their kid sister and nobody to talk to who understands them.

“‘Young lady,’” Em quotes venomously. They’ve tried to explain to their dad how much they hate that sort of thing. That they don’t feel like a young lady or any kind of lady at all. That ‘Em’ feels better than ‘Emily’ and a hell of a lot better than ‘Emily Ann.’ But every time Em tries to explain, he just acts like they’re being unreasonable. Like they’re asking him to buy them a sports car for their birthday instead of just wanting their pronouns and name respected by their own father.

They roll onto their back and pull out their phone to text their friends.

Em: Hey. Can’t skate 2day. Sorry.

Trey: no worriez bruh

Dee: Its cool

Dee: Its rainin like a beast 2day neway.

Em: Yeah. Also my dad’s a dick.

Trey: lolz. truth.

Dee: Totally. Miss you tho

Em: Miss you 2

Em lets their phone drop to the mattress and sighs. 

It isn’t fair. Weekends are the only time they have to spend with their friends. It’s the only time when Em can just be themself. Trey and Dee understand them. They use the right pronouns and call them the right name, and they don’t treat them like a girl or guy or anything other than, well, Em. If Trey and Dee went to school with Em, school might actually be tolerable. 

But no, Em has to go to that special school for rich jerks and geniuses because they got a full scholarship and their dad doesn’t want them “to squander that kind of opportunity.” Never mind that their real friends go to public school, so they never get to see them during the week.

What’s the point in being smart if it means they have to be lonely all the time?

There’s a knock on the door. It has to be their dad; their sister doesn’t knock. “What.”

They can hear their dad’s sigh through the door. “May I come in?”

“Whatever.”

Their dad pushes the door open. “I have to go into the office for a few hours. I need you to watch your sister.”

Em’s blood turns to ice. Of course he didn’t come to apologize. He just came to ask for a favor. “It's the weekend. Can’t work wait til Monday?”

“Emily…”

“Besides, Tori’s twelve. She doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“Emily. I am going into work. I will be back by four. You will watch your sister until I return. Do I make myself clear?”

Em sits up and glares. “Did it ever occur to you to ask?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“No, but--”

He throws up his hands. “I don’t have time for this, Em. I have to go. Watch your sister. Don’t spend the whole time on your phone. I’ll bring home pizza, alright?”

Em rolls their eyes even as their stomach grumbles at the promise of pizza. “You bribing me?”

“No, I’m feeding my daughters. If it happens to make you less inclined to dig your heels in anytime I ask you for a favor, so much the better.” He begins to shut the door then pauses. “I do love you, you know.”

Guilt squeezes fist-like around Em’s heart. “Yeah, okay.”

---

Em spends the next hour flumped down on their bed, texting and listening to music. They don’t notice when their kid sister enters the room, or even when she perches on the foot of Em’s bed and starts staring at them. They don’t notice until they decide it’s time to make a stealthy egress to the bathroom.

“Woah!” Em rips out their earbuds - not a great idea, the pain in their ears is quick to inform them - and nearly topples off their narrow bed in alarm. “Dammit, Tori; what do you think you’re doing!?

Tori shrugs, apparently untroubled by Em’s distress. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, well… Why don’t you go make yourself a sandwich like a normal person instead of sitting on my bed and staring at me like a freak??”

“I want grilled cheese.”

“So?” Em leaves the bedroom and heads towards the bathroom. Tori trails after her.

“I can’t use the stove.”

“Sure you can. I won’t tell Dad. Just don’t burn the house down.” Em tries to shut the bathroom door behind them but is blocked by Tori and her pouty face.

“Please, Em?

Em sighs in resignation. “Will you let me pee in peace if I say yes?”

---

Butter sizzles in the skillet. Em lays four slices of bread in the butter. Tori sits on the kitchen table and watches, her feet kicking absently in the air. 

“You’re not supposed to sit on the table,” Em admonishes halfheartedly. 

Wind rattles the rain-streaked windows. The skate park is probably a lake. It’s little consolation.

Em flips the bread and lays cheese slices on two of them. 

“Could we play Monopoly?”

“Monopoly takes forever.” As the cheese begins to melt, Em carefully places the remaining slices of toasted bread on top. 

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” Em presses the grilled cheese sandwiches with the metal spatula until the cheese starts to ooze. They flip the sandwiches over one more time and press lightly again.

“We can play something else,” Tori suggests hopefully.

Em turns off the heat and moves the skillet to another burner. They flip the sandwiches onto separate plates and hold one out to Tori. “Why don’t you just play video games or something?” Their phone buzzes in their pocket. They juggle their plate into one hand and dig their phone out one-handed.

Dee: This rain sucks

Dee: Your dad still bein a tool?

Em: Yeah, he made me stay home then ditched me with Tori

Em: Like I’m just a free babysitter or something

Dee: Bummer

Dee: At least Toris kinda cool tho rite?

“Maybe we could play a video game together. What’s your favorite?”

Em glances up from their phone. Tori is staring at them expectantly. “I don’t really feel like playing games, Tori.”

“Oh…” Tori picks forlornly at the crust of her sandwich. “Okay. Sorry, Em.” She abandons her plate on the table and hops down.

Guilt tugs at Em’s chest. “Hey, what about your grilled cheese?”

“Not hungry anymore,” Tori tells them as she leaves the room.

---

Em and Tori aren’t supposed to eat in their bedroom. ‘Crumbs attract ants,’ their dad had always said. ‘You don’t want a bed full of ants, do you?’ 

The door to their room is closed. Em has a plate full of rapidly cooling and congealing grilled cheese occupying either hand, so knocking or just opening the door is out of the question. “Tori? I changed my mind. Let’s play a card game or something, okay?”

It takes less apologizing than Em expects to get back on Tori’s good side. A little bit of harmless rule-breaking goes a long way toward giving their late lunch a conspiratorial air of camaraderie. They eat their goopy sandwiches with hushed giggles, as if their dad is home to catch them getting crumbs all over Em’s bed. It’ll be uncomfortable to sleep in, Em knows, and the playing cards are picking up greasy fingerprints, but it’s worth it to feel like they haven’t completely let Tori down. It’s not Tori’s fault she’s twelve years old, and it’s definitely not Tori’s fault that their dad and the weather have conspired against Em.

Tori sucks the grease off her fingers and contemplates the array of cards in her other hand with a look so somber she might be playing high stakes poker instead of Go Fish. “Is Trey your boyfriend?”

Em laughs, surprised. “What? No. Was that your turn? Go fish.”

“Is Dee your girlfriend?”

“Uh. What?” Em feels blush rising to their cheeks. 

“I like Dee. She’s cool. She’s always got fun socks. Got any threes?”

It takes Em a moment to gather their mind together enough to find their three and hand it over. “Yeah… Dee does like quirky socks.” Em takes a deep breath, setting their cards down on the mattress so they won’t shake right out of their suddenly jittery fingers. “Dee, uh, doesn’t use ‘she,’ though. Um. Dee uses ‘them.’ As their pronouns.”

Tori nods her head with a thoughtful expression. “Okay.”

Em thinks about pressing their luck and telling Tori about their own pronouns, but they hold back. 

“So are they your... Not girlfriend, I guess. Are you dating?”

“Um, kind of?” Em scratches shyly at the back of their head. 

Tori sets down her own cards and draws her knees up to her chin, resting her chin atop them with an expression of benign interest. “You were friends first, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We’re still friends. We’re just… also kinda dating, too.”

“How did you decide to start being more than friends? Like, did you ask them, or did they ask you?”

“Why do you want to know all this?”

Tori’s been staring at Em with an earnest expression, but now she averts her gaze. “I kind of like someone. One of my friends at school.” She blushes. “Like, a crush. I think?”

Em takes a moment to process this. They’re used to thinking of Tori like she’s still in diapers. They are not used to the idea of Tori having crushes. “Oh. Wow. Okay. That’s… cool.”

Tori gives Em a small, hopeful smile that softens Em’s heart. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You're growing up.”

Tori shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I guess. How do you know if it’s a crush or if you just really like someone as a friend?”

“It can be hard to tell. Dee and I’ve been friends for years, you know. We only realized we both liked liked each other a month ago.”

Tori pokes the crumbs around on her greasy plate. “We’ve been friends a long time, too. I’m not sure she likes me that way, though.”

Em almost chokes on their last bite of grilled cheese. “She??” No way. Tori likes girls. Tori. The same kid whose half of their bedroom is plastered with posters of boy bands.

Tori nods like she didn’t just set off a bomb that detonated Em’s entire worldview. “Izzy,” she adds. “I think I really like her.”

Em sifts through the limited store of knowledge of Tori’s friends in their head, searching for the file marked ‘Izzy.’ They come back with a vague image of an energetic, exuberant twelve-year-old with frizzy black hair and an infectious laugh. “That’s cool,” Em says. “Izzy seems nice.”

“She is nice. She sits next to me on the school bus.” Tori beams. “Her parents give her the best desserts for lunch. She shares them with me. She doesn’t even ask me to trade anything.” Tori looks up and meets Em’s eyes, suddenly nervous. “You won’t tell Dad, will you?”

Em shakes their head. “No way. Not unless you want me to.”

Tori’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Does he know about you and Dee?”

“He knows we’re friends, but… no. Not yet. He, uh, he knows that I, you know. Don’t just like boys and stuff. And… other stuff. I don’t think he really gets it? But he’s not that bad about it. He’s not great about pronouns and stuff, though.”

Tori nods thoughtfully. “Yeah.” She gives Em a timid look. “I, um, kind of overheard you telling him a while back. About your pronouns and stuff.”

All the air in Em’s lungs vacates all at once. “Oh.”

“So, like… They/them/theirs; same as Dee, right? And you’re my big sibling, not my big sister. Right?”

Em can’t get any words out. They nod mutely. Their eyes are burning for some reason.

“I think it’s cool. I mean. Not that my opinion matters.” Tori looks embarrassed. “I know I’m just a kid and stuff. But. If it matters, I just wanted you to know. It really makes sense for you, I think.”

“Hey,” Em manages to say, their voice hoarse and wet. “It does matter.” They wipe at the tears rolling down their cheeks. “It really does.”

---

Dee: Hey. Hows babysitting?

Em: Really well, actually

Em: You were right. My sister’s pretty cool.