Honeybee

by Craig Silvey;

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I have this nightmare, the same one every time. I’m on a train and I realise that it’s going the wrong way. I stand up, and I’m panicking, but none of the other passengers will listen to me and the buttons won’t work and there’s no way I can get off. The train just goes faster and faster and gets further away from where I need to be.’

  Diane leaned across and she put her hand on my knee.

  ‘Sam, how about we stop the train?’

  ‘We can’t.’

  ‘Yes we can. I’m here. I’m listening to you. And I can help.’

  ‘You’re really nice. But you can’t help me.’

  ‘I believe I can.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, the first thing we might discuss is stage one treatment, which involves puberty blockers. This will inhibit the development of your body, and give you time to make determinations about your identity. There are further treatment options going ahead, but for now, we can try to prevent the nightmares.’

  ‘You can do that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Relatively soon, yes.’

  I thought about it. My heart was beating fast.

  ‘Okay. How do I get the blockers?’

  ‘I will make an appointment for you to see an endocrinologist, and I’ll refer you to a GP who I know very well.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘They will give you information about how the inhibitors work and what changes you can expect, so both you and your mother will better understand the process.’

  My heart stopped.

  ‘My mother?’

  ‘That’s right. Along with the necessary consultations, a precondition for receiving stage one treatment is the permission of your parent or a guardian.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Your mother will need to give her formal consent.’

  ‘But it’s for me. It’s my body.’

  ‘I know. But you’re under eighteen, Sam.’

  ‘Can’t you just do it?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Tell them I can have the blockers.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. The pathway is quite rigid.’

  ‘What happens if I don’t get her permission?’

  ‘If that’s the case, then we’ll petition a court for authorisation.’

  ‘What do you mean? Like a judge?’

  ‘That’s right. A magistrate would review your case and make an assessment.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘But it’s for me. I want to do it. Why do they get to decide?’

  ‘It’s how the law works, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It isn’t fair,’ I said.

  I was angry and frustrated. For some reason, I thought about Vic having to go to war. I thought about the Dungeon Master in Aggie’s game, how the players couldn’t decide the rules, they could only roll the dice.

  But I couldn’t even sit at the table. I had no chance. My mum never wanted to see me again. I couldn’t invite her to see a doctor with me, I couldn’t expect her to understand me the way Diane did.

  The train was never going to stop. And I couldn’t stay on it any longer.

  Honeybee

  Sam Watson died four months later.

  I missed Vic a lot. I had a headstone made for his grave, and I visited it every week. I brought fresh flowers from the garden and I sat and talked to him and Edie.

  I missed my mum most of all. I thought about what I could do to make her forgive me. I made plans to give her all the money from the Black Shadow. I thought about how to give her Vic and Edie’s house. But it wouldn’t ever be enough. She was gone. She wasn’t coming back, just like Vic wasn’t coming back.

  And that meant I wasn’t going to get treatment.

  Every day I found something new about my body that I dreaded. My shoulders looked wider. My jaw was too square. My eyebrows were too thick. There were hairs starting to grow on my face. There was a lump in my throat. My voice was changing. The longer I stared, the uglier and older I became. The man in the mirror was my enemy. And he was going to kill me.

  Diane knew I was hurting.

  ‘I wish I could, but I can’t cure your sorrow,’ she said. ‘Grief is a beast that swallows us whole. All we can do is suffer and endure it until we’re mercifully excreted out the back end. But it’s important to remind ourselves that whether it’s a bereavement or a break-up, we don’t get to grieve without first having loved. It’s the price we pay for our lives being blessed by something that mattered. The best we can hope for is that grief devastates us less and less over time, the same way we immunise our bodies against an illness. The next time we’re exposed to it, the symptoms aren’t as severe or as protracted. But we can’t ever inoculate ourselves. Grief will always return, often when it’s least convenient. All we can do in the meantime is address the things that we can control.’

  ‘But I can’t control anything,’ I said.

  I saw Diane almost every day. She had to fit me around her regular patient schedule, which meant I usually came over in the early evening. We went back to the kitchen and talked while I cooked her dinner. It was just how I always imagined being with Julia Child, except I was preparing the food and showing Diane how to cook.

  Diane was really good at listening, and she always seemed interested in what I had to say. I was comfortable around her now. She told me I should feel welcome to wear whatever I liked when I saw her. The next day I brought over a plastic bag with a sleeveless navy A-line dress of Edie’s and some white plimsolls. I got changed in her office, and when I came out, Diane didn’t make a fuss or treat me any differently, she just spoke to me like it was a normal thing to do.

  I started dressing up at home again. Peter still came to stay a few nights a week, and he did make a fuss. He helped me with my make-up and showed me how to be more subtle with my contouring and layering. He brought over a couple of wigs, and I wore them in the house until my hair was long enough to style with a comb again.

  Diane challenged me to face my fears about being seen. Together, we took Brick for walks around her neighbourhood after dinner. At first I walked behind her, but soon I was stepping side by side. We went up and down the main street of Mount Lawley together, then one night we went into a cafe. It was loud and busy, and I got spooked. I grabbed Diane’s arm and asked if we could leave. Diane wasn’t disappointed in me, but I wanted to make her proud, so we tried again the next day. We sat in the cafe and shared a pot of rose tea.

  I built up the courage to go outside on my own. One evening I took the bins out to the kerb wearing a peach wraparound dress. Then, after midnight, I went back outside and walked around the block. I carried the figurine that Aggie gave me in my left hand. I was still scared, but it was exhilarating. When I got back inside, I immediately wanted to go out again.

  Then one Sunday at twilight I put on a cute blue floral sun dress and a pair of sandals and I combed a side part into my hair and I walked down the street. A neighbour across the road was washing his car. He stared at me, but I didn’t stop. I knocked on the door of the Meemeduma house. I was shaking as I waited.

  Dylan answered. He looked disappointed.

  ‘Oh, hey. I thought you were the pizza guy.’

  Then he walked away and left the door open.

  I found Aggie in the lounge room watching Game of Thrones. She looked at me and frowned, then she stood up and ran on the spot and screamed with her hands pressed to her cheeks.

  ‘You are fucking adorable! Oh my God!’

  She came over and hugged me. Then she took my hand.

  ‘Okay, so we need to talk about this.’

  She led me quickly through the house, past her parents, who were playing backgammon on the dining room table, and into her room. She closed the door.

  I told her everything. I told her about dressing up, I told her about stealing clothes, I told her about my body and how I felt about it, I told her about how confused and sad I had been
. I told her about Diane and how she was helping me.

  I told her who I really was.

  When I was finished, Aggie was quiet for the longest period of time since I had met her. I started to worry.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s just, like, suddenly you make so much sense to me. Everything fits. Like, if I look at you through this paradigm, it’s all just so clear to me. It’s all in focus. Like, I know who you are now.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘Of course it’s good. I’ve always wanted a sister! The only problem is you’re going to need to eat a fucking tonne of brownies if you want to borrow my clothes.’

  I smiled. Aggie clapped her hands together like she had an idea.

  ‘Oh! And the best part is that you qualify for the all-girl D&D league I just started.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, I think we can fit you in.’

  ‘How many of you are there?’

  ‘Technically? Two. But we’ve literally just doubled our membership in the last minute, so we’re growing pretty fast.’

  Peter took me into the city to shop for new clothes. He told me Edie’s clothes were beautiful, but I should explore my personal style and have clothes of my own.

  Aggie came along too. I wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and I tied one of Vic’s red handkerchiefs into a headscarf. I had a little bit of foundation on too.

  The first store we went into was called Valourie, and it was a high-end boutique. I followed Peter and Aggie. We were the only customers in there. I was shy and nervous. Compared to all the times I had entered shops to steal clothes, it was more frightening to go in with money to buy them.

  The girl behind the counter had angled bangs and heavy rust eyeshadow and she gave us a snobby look. She sounded bored when she asked if Aggie wanted any help.

  ‘Not unless you stock cheap oversized black t-shirts for short chubby brown girls,’ Aggie said.

  Peter put his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Actually, we’re shopping for this young lady here. But you look really busy, sweetie. We’ll give you a shout if we need you.’

  The girl gave us a strange look, and I blushed and looked away. I was glad Peter and Aggie were with me. It felt like Fella Bitzgerald was there too. Peter was loud and funny. He quickly pulled dresses and tops and skirts off the shelves and piled them into my arms and tried to make me laugh.

  I went into the change room. I took off my clothes and looked at my body in the mirror and felt really disheartened. I tried on a black baby-doll dress. It was beautiful and it fit nicely, but I still hated looking at myself. I could hear Aggie and Peter talking while they waited for me. They seemed to like each other. They were speaking really fast about jazz and big band and swing music. Aggie told Peter that she played the euphonium.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Euphonium.’

  ‘What in gracious is that? It sounds like a Russian nerve agent.’

  ‘It’s a brass instrument.’

  I don’t know where it came from, but I called out from behind the curtain.

  ‘It’s naht a tuba! It’s naht!’

  Aggie started laughing and snorting so loudly that the shop assistant came over.

  ‘Okay, so, like, I’m actually going to have to ask you all to leave, because you’re being super disrespectful right now. So, like, yeah.’

  Everything went quiet, then I heard Aggie whisper.

  ‘Oh my God! Sam! I just got us kicked out. I’m so sorry.’

  I opened the curtain. Peter and Aggie saw me and they both stood up and screamed.

  ‘You are giving me life!’ Peter said. ‘Give me a twirl, girl!’

  I blushed and shook my head and closed the curtain because I was embarrassed, and I heard the shop assistant asking us to leave again.

  I smiled at myself in the mirror before I took the dress off.

  We went to a dozen different stores, and every time I stepped out of the change room, Peter and Aggie were really nice and supportive.

  When I got home I laid out all the clothes I had bought on the bed. It cost over four hundred dollars. I had never spent that much money in my life, and it made me feel a bit queasy. I didn’t regret it, though. It was exciting to have my own pretty clothes that I didn’t have to hide in a bag or feel guilty about.

  The next afternoon, I put on my new Breton striped t-shirt dress and cinched the waist with a brown leather belt, and I went out to shop for groceries on my own. I carried a small handbag of Edie’s. I wore a big pair of sunglasses and lots of make-up.

  At the store I grabbed a basket and glanced around to see if anyone was staring or laughing, but nobody seemed to notice me. I quickly went up and down the aisles, and after a while I could breathe. I took off the sunglasses so I could see what I was shopping for. I filled the basket and carried it to the checkout and I paid with my new bank card. I was shocked at how normal it felt.

  I carried the bags back to Aggie’s house and she let me in. We were surprising her dad with a Sri Lankan meal, and Aggie wanted to help me prepare it. I got her to peel the potatoes. It took her a long time.

  We talked about Peter, and how caring and kind he had been to me. I told her about his beautiful voice, and how fearless he was when he performed. Aggie said she wished her school band performed with a vocalist.

  I stopped what I was doing. I had been trying to think of something nice I could do for him, and I had an idea.

  ‘What if you did perform with him?’ I asked.

  ‘With Peter?’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe not like a concert. But what if it was in a studio? He could perform as Fella Bitzgerald, and your band could play, and they could record it.’

  Aggie’s face lit up.

  ‘That would be amazing. I don’t know about the whole band, like, it’s pretty big, but I know at least six of us would find that so fun. I don’t know about a studio, though. They’re super expensive.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll pay for it.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, that’s so exciting! We’ll rehearse some old jazz standards and we can surprise him.’

  ‘Do you think we could really do that?’ I asked.

  ‘Totally!’

  I smiled and sautéed some onions and garlic with some dry spices while Aggie kept peeling. Then I browned some chicken, and I added some stock and some coconut milk and turned the heat down.

  When I turned around, Aggie had stopped peeling.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘So, since we’re on the topic of clandestine acts of benevolence, I kinda have to tell you something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know that school starts soon, right?’

  I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.

  ‘So, like, what are your plans? I know that school has historically been pretty unpleasant for you.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Okay. So, look, I should preface this by assuring you that there is zero obligation for you to action this at all, and, you know, something like this should probably have been done with your consultation, but you’re aware by now that my parents are complete maniacs, and so they just went ahead and did it.’

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘My mum wants to tell you tonight, but I think it’s probably best if I forewarn you, especially if it’s not something you’re interested in.’

  I was suddenly nervous.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Aggie took a deep breath.

  ‘Okay, so by now you should be well aware that my parents love you vastly more than either of their biological spawn, for very good reason, but sadly that means you are now burdened by them being concerned for your future, which is frankly a considerable weight lifted off my shoulders, so thanks. Anyway, my point is, they may have gone ahead and enrolled you at the Perth Culinary Institute and, you know, paid for yo
ur tuition and stuff. It’s like a technical college where you train to be a certified chef. I think the course is three years, and it’s a pretty well-regarded qualification. Also, they may have inadvertently lied on your application and said you were sixteen. I told them that’s how old you were, because I knew that was the minimum age to study there.’

  I was stunned. I couldn’t believe they would do that for me.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘I mean, obviously I think you should be teaching there, not studying, but my frame of reference for cooking is pretty narrow. Like, the fact that you can make anything edible from these weird-arse ingredients is a kind of arcane wizardry that I’ll never comprehend. And look, if you do go and you hate it, you don’t have to stay or anything.’

  I turned back to the stove. I felt really overwhelmed.

  ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing,’ Aggie said. ‘It starts like next week.’

  Diane was excited for me.

  ‘This is brilliant, Sam.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘Really? I can so easily imagine you being a chef. Wouldn’t you like to have your own restaurant one day?’

  I shrugged and felt tingles on my neck.

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  I shook my head. It was the thing I had hoped for my whole life. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. I was worried that sharing it might make it more fragile. Like how telling someone your wish after you blew out the candles of a birthday cake meant it wouldn’t come true.

  ‘Humour me,’ Diane said. ‘Let’s say you could design your own fantasy restaurant. What would it be like?’

  Diane waited patiently while I thought about it. I closed my eyes and put myself there. My restaurant was so different to how I used to imagine it.