Finding Me

by Stella Rainbow

  Once I was done emptying everything out, I walked over to the table that held the finished masterpieces. There was everything from misshapen clay pots to small sketches to woven jewelry. My eyes caught on a few woven bracelets. It was a set of three similar looking bracelets, with the only difference being their color. One was blue, one pink and one green. I remembered hearing in one of the support groups about people using similar bracelets to denote the gender they were currently. Was that something Charlie would be interested in?

  I picked up the bracelets and turned to Layla, “Who made this?”

  “Oh, that would be Jo. They made a set for themselves and had extra yarn left so they made a second set. Do you want them?”

  I nodded before turning back to the desk. Grabbing a post-it note, I scrawled, Thanks for the bracelets, Jo! They’re lovely. I signed my name at the bottom before sticking the note where the bracelets had been.

  “Thanks, Layla. Gotta go!” I waved at her before leaving the room. Checking my watch, I saw that it was five fifteen already. Time to go home and get ready.

  4 | Brady

  I pressed the buzzer to Charlie’s apartment building and waited for him to buzz me in. After a little contemplation, I’d picked a light pink, floaty shirt that ended at my mid-thighs and paired it up with black leggings. I’d kept my makeup to a minimum, but decided to wear one of my pairs of heels, if only because I wanted to look taller than I was. I was also hoping that seeing my style would make Charlie believe more firmly that he could dress however he liked and no one would give a shit. There were always some assholes, of course, but I’d given up listening to them a long time ago and I hoped Charlie would be able to learn to do that too.

  The door to the building clicked open and I headed to the elevators at the back of the lobby. I looked around as I walked and realized the building had a very posh feel to it. I hadn’t paid much attention while walking here, but it looked like the apartments here would be pretty expensive, if they were anything like this.

  When I stepped into the elevator, my eyebrows shot up when I realized that Charlie’s floor—the fifth—was actually the penthouse suite. Was Charlie rich? He’d just moved here, hadn’t he? Maybe he was a trust fund baby of some kind?

  I shook off the questions, admonishing myself. It didn’t matter if Charlie was rich or not. He’d had to hide his true self for years and it didn’t matter how much money he had if he wasn’t happy.

  The elevator opened to a small foyer with Charlie’s front door across from me. I walked over to it and the door opened before I could knock. Charlie stood on the other side, dressed in gray leggings and a black full-sleeved button-up. His brown hair was tied up in a ponytail that looked more like a huge bun because of his curls and the smile he offered in greeting lit up his baby blue eyes.

  As I looked him over, I realized that leggings suited his physique really well. Instantly, my mind started whirring as outfit ideas for him popped into my head. Maybe one of these days, I could help Charlie pick some clothes for himself. Wouldn’t that be fun?

  “Come on in, Brady.”

  I stepped into the penthouse and breathed in the spicy aroma that was thick in the air. “It smells heavenly in here. What are you cooking?”

  “It’s almost done. Do you like Indian?”

  I nodded excitedly, my head moving up and down like a bobble-head, my hair flopping over my forehead. Even though I couldn't cook much, I was a foodie. Angie always envied my ability to eat whatever I wanted without gaining weight, but between being on my feet all day at the café and spending weekends working at Voice Out, I got a lot of workout done.

  “Thank goodness. I was a bit hesitant about making it but since you said anything works, I thought why not? Indian is one of my favorite cuisines to make.”

  “One of your favorites?” I gaped at him. “How many cuisines can you cook?”

  He gave me a thoughtful look before counting down on his fingers, “Indian, Italian, Thai, Mexican, Chinese and I’m figuring out Japanese right now. Maybe I’ll make some sushi for you next time, if I can get it right.”

  I was pretty sure my jaw was on the floor as I stared at him. Here I was with my measly ability to cook ramen without burning it and there he was with his list of cuisines he could cook.

  “Are you a professional chef? I mean, did you work at a restaurant before moving here or something?”

  He shook his head and there was something sad in his eyes as he spoke, “I worked at my father’s pharmaceutical company, actually. It wasn’t something I really enjoyed but the company was my dad’s baby and it was always expected that me and my brother would take over one day.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “Yeah, he’s a few years younger than me. I sold my shares of the company to him. He knew I’d never wanted it and he loved working there, so it worked out for the both of us, I guess.”

  I could see he didn’t want to talk about his family so I nodded to let him know I’d heard him before changing the subject, “So, am I going to get to eat this delectable dinner or do I only get to smell it?”

  Charlie chuckled before leading me towards the kitchen. I looked around as we walked and realized that I’d been right. The living room was huge, with an electric fireplace on one side with a large flat screen mounted above it. There was a black sectional sofa across from it with gray throw pillows piled around on it. There were a few non-descript paintings on the walls and I got the feeling Charlie hadn’t really spent a lot of time trying to make this place feel like home. Yet.

  The moment I walked into the kitchen though, I could see Charlie everywhere. An apron covered with tiny fruits hung on what I assumed was the door to the pantry, while a pair of bright blue oven mitts lay over the counter. More spices than I could recognize were arranged on an open shelf above the stove top and pots and pans hung on hooks on one wall. All the appliances were new, but they looked like they were actually used. It was clear this was the room Charlie spent most of his time in. Now more than ever, I was eager to taste what he’d cooked for us.

  “So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” I asked excitedly, rubbing my palms as I examined the bowl and pans on the counter. Unfortunately, they were all covered and I couldn't see anything.

  “Wine?” He asked and I shook my head. Wine was an acquired taste, I believed, and I’d never quite managed to acquire it. “Water is good for me.”

  “Okay, so for the main course we have Chicken Masala and Naan with fried rice on the side. And for dessert, I tried making an East-Indian dish called Rasgulla.”

  “I have no idea what Rasgulla is, but I’m looking forward to eating it.”

  Charlie smiled at me before dishing up the food and passing it to me. Once he had a plate for himself, we got seated around the dining table.

  I took a bite of the chicken and moaned at the assault of spices on my tongue. I loved spicy food, and this was the best kind I’d ever eaten. “Oh my god, so good,” I mumbled before taking another bite, this time with a piece of naan.

  Charlie gave me a pleased smile as he took a bite of his own. We ate the meal in a comfortable silence, with me making sounds of appreciation every once in a while. By the time we got done, I was almost too full for dessert but I was also eager to taste this strange sounding dish.

  Charlie cleared away our plates without letting me help despite my protests and came back with two bowls in his hand. I looked into my bowl and saw two white spheres floating in a clear liquid. “White balls,” I commented with a straight face and watched with glee as Charlie choked on his first bite and started coughing. His coughs soon turned to laughter as he grinned at me. “Don’t choke me with the white balls.”

  I laughed, glad that he’d played along before cutting the ball into smaller bites with my spoon and taking a spoonful and stuffing it into my mouth. I hummed at the sugary taste of it before chewing the bite thoughtfully, wondering what it was made of.

  “What is this made of?”

  �
�Milk, lemon and sugar, mostly,” Charlie said with this shit eating grin and I knew he was playing me.

  I frowned, trying to figure out where the lemon and the milk came from. Seeing my puzzled look, he explained, “Basically, you use the lemon to curdle the milk. The white stuff you get from the curdled milk is what makes the white balls, as you so eloquently put. And the sugar makes the liquid part of it.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe those things made this. It’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Charlie said and continued eating. He had this thoughtful look on his face as he ate and I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What are you thinking about?”

  He looked up at me and gave me a small smile before speaking, “Well, I was reading some blogs yesterday, and I read one about…pronouns.”

  I nodded , waiting for him to continue. I hadn’t brought the bracelets I’d got for him and now I was wishing I had.

  “Well, I hadn’t thought much about it before, but I’ve been thinking. I don’t mind my he/him pronouns most days, but there are days when they sound like they don’t fit, you know? But I also feel like the reason I'm okay with my pronouns is the same as why I was okay with my name. I just got used to using and forced myself to not dislike it."

  I smiled at him before leaning forward and squeezing his forearm, “Thank you for telling me, Charlie. I think you should always go with the pronoun that feels the best to you on any given day or moment. Just like your name, you’re free to switch or change them whenever you want.”

  “But wouldn’t it be difficult for the other person if I keep changing them?” Charlie asked, a cute little wrinkle appearing between his brows as he spoke. I had the strangest urge to lean forward and smoothen it with my thumb.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you had to change them thrice a day, Charlie. And the same goes for every person who cares about you. They’d want you to feel comfortable. Plus, there are some tricks you can use to make sure you don’t have to tell everyone again and again when your pronoun changes.”

  “Tricks?” Charlie gave me a puzzled, slightly hopeful look.

  “Yep. I actually got something for you today but forgot to bring them. Basically, it’s a set of three bracelets, blue, pink and green. So all you have to do is let the other person know what pronouns each bracelet stands for and then you can just wear the bracelet that matches your pronoun for the day and everyone would know without you having to tell them,” I explained.

  Charlie stared at me thoughtfully before giving me a relieved smile. “That sounds pretty good, actually. You got these bracelets for me?”

  “Someone at Voice Out made an extra set. I saw them and thought that maybe you’d like them,” I said with a shrug.

  “Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “My pleasure,” I said as I took another bite of the sugary goodness. One thing was certain. Charlie was a damn good cook and I knew I’d have to hang on to him, if only so I could have more dinners like this but also because I enjoyed hanging out with him. A lot.

  5 | Charlie

  I stepped into Brady’s café feeling better than I had in months or maybe even years. Frankly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so free or so…myself. Even when I hadn’t known why exactly I felt the way I did, I’d known something was missing. Now, for the first time, I was free to just be and it was as exciting as it was scary.

  The familiar fragrance of vanilla and coffee greeted me as I walked in, the slight undertones of chocolate and caramel harder to detect but not impossible. I loved how warm and homey it made the place smell.

  The café was made up of a big room with a counter near the door and the seating area spread out in the rest of the room. It was a mismatch of wooden chairs, comfy armchairs, couches and dark, wooden coffee tables that sat between them. Leather benches ran the length of the windows on one side, providing a perfect spot for people watching.

  I took my usual seat at one of the tables and pulled out the sketchbook I’d brought with myself. Unlike the last few times I’d been here, I wasn’t here to just gawk at Brady today. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually done that, but I didn’t wish otherwise because I’d gotten a friend out of it. A friend who understood me and wanted to help me. I pulled out my pencils and got to work on the sketches I’d had the idea for last night.

  It wasn’t long before my usual drink of choice—a caramel latte—appeared on my table. I looked up and smiled when Brady took the seat across from me. The blue-green highlights in his hair were fading fast and I wondered if he’d get a different color the next time or go with the same. My guess was on a different color. Brady was too bright and cheery to be stuck with the same routine for too long. He was the kind of person who liked variety in his life. His bright blue button-down and brown leggings—so very different from yesterday’s ensemble—attested to the fact.

  “Hey, Charlie! Whatcha working on?”

  I shrugged before showing him the sketches I’d been working on. I’d been trying to figure out my style, so to speak, but I hadn’t gotten anywhere. I had no eye for it, honestly and I had no idea if the clothes I’d drawn even suited me. I’d wanted to figure it out myself and so I’d looked up clothes and all kinds of fashion and styles and tried to figure out what I could make mine. So far, it had been a bust.

  Brady examined my drawings carefully, looking each one of them over until he reached the last one. “Okay, two things,” He said once he was done. “One, you are an absolutely amazing artist. These sketches are so damn good and can you please draw me and Cherry someday?” He batted his eyelashes at me and I chuckled.

  “I’d love to. It’s just a hobby of mine.”

  Brady rolled his eyes before eying me, “Damn it, Charlie. You’re an artist, you’re a damn awesome chef and you’re such a sweet person. You’re like my dream person.”

  “You’re gay?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure he was. What I wasn’t sure of, though, was the fact that he’d meant what he said in the way I’d taken it. I hoped to hell he had.

  He shook his head at me as he spoke, “I’m pan. Pansexual, that is. A person’s gender doesn’t matter to me. It’s their personality that I find attractive.”

  I nodded as I processed what he’d said, biting my lip as I asked the question running through my head, “So…you can be attracted to anyone? Man, woman…”

  “Both and neither, yes.” Brady smiled at me, his eyes bright with mischief. “Are you trying to ask me if I like you, Charlie?”

  I was pretty sure I was blushing as I ducked my head. Shaking myself, I glanced back at him and raised a brow, hoping I didn’t look as flustered as I actually felt, “And what if I was?”

  “Well, then. You’ll just have to wait and see, now, won’t you?” Brady shot back without missing a beat and I grinned at him. I hadn’t expected our friendship to take this new turn but I also couldn’t say that I hadn’t thought about it. Or that I hadn’t wondered if Brady would ever be interested in someone like me. I was happy with the easy friendship we had, but if there was a chance we could be more, then I wanted to take it.

  “What’s the second thing?” I asked, realizing we’d gotten off on a tangent. Brady gave me a puzzled look before realization dawned on him and he chuckled.

  “Oh, right. I forgot about that. Yeah, the second thing was that though these sketches are amazing, this style doesn’t really seem like you to me.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I just can’t figure out what could be my style.” I grumbled, feeling frustrated. I’d been so excited about finally getting to do everything I’d ever wanted and now I was stumped over something as simple as clothes.

  “I have a few ideas, actually. I guess you could say styling clothes and giving fashion advice is my hobby. Can I draw something in here?”

  I nodded quickly, eager to see what Brady would come up with. Brady’s clothes told me he had an impeccable sense of dressing, so I knew his ideas would at least not be as bad as mine had been.
Plus, we’d hung out a lot over the past few days, so I believed he’d know exactly the kind of clothes that would look and feel good on me.

  As he turned to a new page and started sketching, he glanced up at me and asked, “So did you think more about what pronouns you’d like to use?”

  “I did. I liked your bracelet idea, actually. Most days, I’m okay with the he/him pronouns but I’ve realized it’s the same way I was okay with my old name. They/them sounds better to me, to be honest. And on days I’m feeling particularly masculine or feminine, I’ll just need to switch the bracelets, right?”

  Brady hummed in affirmation without looking up, “Yep. There will still be people, strangers mostly, who misgender you, but yeah the bracelet will be enough for most people in the community to know your pronouns.” He wriggled around in his seat for a bit before extending his free hand to me. On his palm sat three woven bracelets, blue, pink and green in color.

  “Blue for he, pink for she and green for they, right?” I asked as I took them, running my thumb over the soft yarn.

  Brady looked up at me then, smiling and giving my hand a squeeze, full of quiet comfort that I desperately needed. “That’s right. Why don’t you put one on?”

  I took a deep breath before winding the green bracelet around my left wrist and clipping it on. It was such a small gesture but it felt like such a huge step to me. It was empowering, this little step in claiming my identity. I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm down the barrage of emotions I was suddenly feeling. I felt warm hands cover mine and opened my slightly blurry eyes to see Brady holding my hand and smiling softly at me, his green eyes shining bright with kindness.