The Good Guys

by Francis Gideon

  Oliver wanted to answer, I should have known because I'm better than that, but he knew what Avery was saying to be true. Just because he was trans didn't mean he was immediately progressive or unproblematic. Getting rid of those thoughts took years of practice, and he was still young.

  "We're not strangers, though," Oliver argued instead. "We both like Harry Potter."

  Avery let out a loud laugh. "Oh. Thanks. I needed that. But even if we're both nerds, you're not going to know everything about me. Even Ron and Harry needed to ask The Sorting Hat."

  "I suppose. I just should have thought more, put together the pieces. You were in Rosenthal's, after all. I should have realized you were trans, and then not jumped to my binary conclusions."

  "Nah, it's fine. You've apologized and there's no need to belabour the point." Avery narrowed her eyes playfully, then went on. "I mean, I went to the Sherbourne Centre for therapy only because my family is still weird about this. And therapy's fine, really. Talking about this helps, especially since all doctors seem to want is for me to pick a side. They thought it was ridiculous that I wanted to be two people at once."

  "I get it," Oliver said. He might have forgotten about the many other shades of the transgender rainbow, albeit temporarily, but he could relate to the feeling Avery described. He always wanted to be more than one person on occasion. "Trust me. I'm not bi—well, not bi-gender, but I know how it's like to want to be two people. Or everyone."

  "Oh?"

  He nodded, rehashing part of the conversation he had had with Lydia earlier in the week. "I don't just want to be known as the bisexual trans guy. The anomaly of the family. I like having different roles. It's why I act."

  "I get that," Avery said, nodding along. "It's why I went into the arts. I liked that there was often more than one way to interpret a painting, and half the time, we throw the artist's intent out the window. It doesn't always have to matter what the artist thought they were doing, so long as the person looking at it finds meaning there. And this new Frida Kahlo exhibit in particular was absolutely great because—"

  "She dressed in drag," Oliver said, cutting Avery off. He squinted, hoping his addition would be appreciated. When Avery's eyes widened, her green irises overwhelming, Oliver felt his heart beat faster.

  "Yes! Self Portrait with Cropped Hair. I love that work, especially because she writes the song lyrics in the canvas, as if she's trying to get as many senses involved as she can."

  They both smiled. Oliver noticed that Avery had shifted closer. When she brought her hands back down after gesturing, her pinkie finger touched his own. He swallowed hard before he stretched his hand over, hoping for more than a quick brush.

  "You get that a lot?" Avery asked.

  "What?"

  "Someone completing your sentences?"

  He laughed. "Only on stage. Everywhere else, people seem to have a different script."

  She smiled again. He could feel his heart beat quicken in his chest. She had allowed their fingers to touch, and was even turning her palm up towards his hand now. As their eyes met, awkward smiles on their faces, Oliver linked their fingers. After all, she was part of the person he had fallen for on Monday. The Good Guys, Sam and Frodo. She looked down at their hands, now linked together loosely.

  "I can stop?" Oliver asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

  She leaned into him, kissing his lips before he could finish the statement. It was short and sweet, over just as soon as Oliver realized what was going on. When she pulled back, she smiled. Her cheeks were tinged a little pink.

  "I like getting it over first," Avery explained. "Just to make sure I understand what's going on and I can kill the tension."

  "Oh… Okay." Oliver smiled.

  "Was that okay, then?"

  "Oh yes."

  This time, it was Oliver who leaned in quickly for another kiss. He allowed himself to enjoy this one a lot more than before because the tension really was gone, and now they could have fun. Avery opened her mouth slightly and Oliver could taste the sweetness from their Cokes.

  "So why did you talk to me in the doctor's office?" Avery asked when she pulled away. Their faces were still close, foreheads almost touching. "If you didn't recognize me before?"

  Oliver smiled, still feeling her kiss on his lips. "Because I thought you were beautiful."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, no lie."

  "All of you thought that? Every last version?"

  "Yes," he said, getting closer and edging their lips together again. "Every last one of me, in every last context. It's the only stable feature of my thoughts: that this person, whoever they were, was beautiful."

  She smiled again before touching his cheek. Her eyes seemed sad for a second before she threaded her fingers through the hair on the back of Oliver's neck and brought their lips together again. The kiss was more serious this time, their tongues actually touching. Oliver touched Avery's arm as he pulled their bodies closer together. The kiss was always slow and undercut with a hint of sweetness. The whole thing began to feel like a high school moment for Oliver, where a kissing couple hid out in a basement or kitchen and kissed while the party raged around them. Oliver didn't really get to experience many typical high school moments like that one when he was there because he was still a depressed and confused teen. He never really got to transition until he finally left, so this moment with Avery was welcome, almost refreshing even.

  Oliver said her name again and again in his mind. Avery, Avery, Avery. It reminded him of birds, like in an aviary, which then brought him back to their LARPing together. Avery had tried to look like a boy then. He was a boy then, Oliver realized. That was what being bi-gender meant, that sometimes you woke up and were a girl, and then other times woke up and felt like a boy. So back then, almost a week ago, Avery had been Oakenshire, an elf with his hair tucked up into his hat, and his chest bound under the elf uniform. Oliver hadn't seen any other faces of Avery, but as he kissed her in the kitchen, he looked forward to them all.

  Avery was the first to pull away. She rested her forehead against his, a smirk on her lips.

  "So, Avery," he said after a while, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. "What made you choose it?"

  "How do you know I did? Maybe my parents were open-minded enough to give me a neutral name."

  "Um..."

  She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm teasing you. I did pick it."

  "Because it went both ways?" Oliver laughed at his bad joke.

  Avery smiled again, warm and inviting. "Yes, but also because it means ruling with elf-wisdom. I got such a kick out of that."

  "I can totally understand that! Awesome. My name means something like olive branch. Very simple and straight forward."

  There were no questions of what their names were before—only a calm acceptance of who they were then. It made Oliver's heart beat slow and steady. Avery smiled at him again, running her fingers over his palm. She looked around, as if to make sure the coast was clear. Oliver waited, his skin prickling for another kiss. She only pecked his cheek this time before she stood up and extended her hands to help him up.

  "Come with me," she said. "I want to show you something."

  *~*~*

  Oliver didn't know what to expect. Avery pulled him through Lydia's garage and her Kia, past the outside of the Gladstone condos front entranceway, and towards the maintenance office. The grey-brick building was taller than everything around them, as most of the condos were only two storeys. Oliver only knew this was the maintenance office from when he had helped Lydia move in and she'd needed to grab an extra set of keys for him while he waited for the trucks. Oliver had no idea how Avery knew the way, especially when she found a fire escape ladder by the side and pulled it down.

  "Come on," she said, when Oliver still looked sceptical. "It just goes to the roof. There is a nice view. Better than anything else around here. And it's a nice night. I figured we could have a bit more privacy this way."

  Oliver had to fight h
is sudden swooning at the suggestion. "I thought you had never been to Lydia's place before?"

  "I hadn't. But I talked to Christian a lot before I decided to come to this party. And I Google things a lot. In order to feel comfortable someplace, I have to know it inside and out."

  He nodded, understanding completely. Early on in his transition, he had Googled the layouts of buildings just to know where the public bathrooms were. Most trans people did this—there was even a whole site dedicated to the safest places to pee in public, so no one would be harassed. Once Oliver had been able to pass on a semi-regular basis, he still found himself researching places he had to go. He was used to knowing all the lines to other parts in each play he did, so he could feel better on stage. Sometimes he wished that social situations were just as easy and there was a script for them, too.

  But social situations were getting easier, Oliver reminded himself as he placed his hands on the metal ladder. With Avery, at least, who allowed him to speak about Hogwarts and Tumblr, tonight had almost been easy.

  "Come on," Avery encouraged. She looked down at him from her position higher up on the ladder. "Don't be afraid. I promise it's safe and we're not going to get caught."

  "You seem pretty sure," Oliver said. "You research the maintenance building hours, too?"

  She answered him with nothing but a laugh. Oliver was relieved. He had already decided to trust her, so he was happy to see that she was at least thorough if nothing else.

  They were quiet as they reached the top of the three-story building. There was a slight ridge that Oliver had to lift himself over, but after that, it was fine. Avery leaned back and offered him a hand, which he eagerly took. He tried not to look down at the pavement beneath them. Three storeys was not that high. But high enough to make him feel a little queasy in his stomach. The wind was already stronger up here. A chill from the lake blew through his collared shirt and made him fold his arms over his chest.

  "There is a stairwell door that I'm hoping isn't locked," Avery stated, walking easily on the roof. "I would much rather walk down that way than take the ladder back down. But you never know."

  "Same." Oliver nodded.

  "I'm surprised you're not putting on more of a show," Avery commented.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know, Julian O'Hare, Good Knight of Elderward," she said, her voice dynamic. "Aren't you going to save the heroine and offer to take me down the ladder?"

  Oliver laughed. "You found this. I'm trusting you know how to save yourself."

  Avery's smile grew wider. She nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

  "Besides," Oliver began. He peered over the edge and then immediately regretted it. "I'm only a high knight when I'm LARPing. In real life, I'm meek and small like a kitten. No machismo for me. I've accepted I'm a fairy femme guy. And I'm not even Julian O'Hare anymore."

  "Right," Avery said. "Are you sad about leaving him?"

  "A little. But he served his purpose."

  "And what was that?"

  Oliver met her eyes. Behind her, against the Toronto skyline, everything looked perfect. Like a Van Gogh painting, a starry, starry night in the middle of summer. It felt like more than just a high-school-nostalgia-fuelled moment, but utterly picturesque. He had to turn away, to not be overwhelmed by it all.

  "I was Julian O'Hare when I first started transitioning. I walked by the LARPing after I had finished my first appointment at the Sherbourne Centre. I thought it looked utterly fantastic, and I figured, why not? I could pretend to be a knight and get some confidence back that I sorely lacked then. I even moved into my own place a few years later, just to be close to that field."

  "Wow," Avery said. "It seems sad now that he's gone. At least, from Elderward. I mean, you could probably revive him for one of the Zombie mash-ups they're doing in July or August."

  "I could, yes," Oliver said. "But I think I like things the way they are now. I get to create a new character. And that can be just as fun."

  Avery nodded. She walked towards the stairwell door, checked it quickly, and then sighed.

  "Locked. We're going down the hard way."

  Oliver shrugged. "But for now, we're here. And let's enjoy it."

  "Couldn't have said it better myself."

  Avery grinned before she dug through her purse and pulled out a balled-up hoodie. A phoenix was outlined on the back. From the script around the fire-bird, Oliver could tell it was something from her Wargaming.

  The roof was pretty bare. There was a shed near the back, across from the stairwell door, which looked as if it had hoses and a few buckets stored inside, judging by the amount of water on the cement around it. There were a few yard waste bags that were half full and stinking of dirt. Avery moved away from the debris and towards the edge of the building. Oliver followed close by. The lake came into view and the city lights splashed off the water and illuminated their view. Oliver spotted the CN Tower easily. Because it was so close to the annual Pride Parade, the colours of the building were lit up in a rainbow sequence. Normally they were just blue and green. It was always in the summer, for Pride and Canada Day, when the colours were changed.

  "This makes me feel like I'm in a fic," Avery said. She sat down on the edge, but not too far. She was far enough away that Oliver didn't get vertigo. "Don't you think?"

  "Like a fic how?" Oliver asked, taking a seat close to her on the ledge. "Like an AU or…?"

  "Romance one, of course," Avery said. "But maybe a kinky fic, too. I mean, how can you not look out at the city and see the CN Tower, lit up in rainbow colours, like a giant dong."

  Oliver laughed. The tower itself had always looked pretty phallic. It was one of Toronto's biggest tourist traps, too, which made the rainbow colours an even funnier dig. "I wonder if tourists know they're sucking the country's cock?"

  Avery shook her head. "Who knows? But if the CN Tower is the cock, then Montreal has to be the asshole."

  Oliver laughed again. Avery grinned at him, looking back over from the lake. He extended his hand to hers, linking them again. A quiet calm descended over both of them. Oliver heard a streetcar pass by on the other side of the building. People walked around on the sidewalk, but no one saw them on the roof. It really was the best place to go and hide, and in a way, did feel like a fic. A romantic fic, Oliver reminded himself.

  "You never answered me before," Oliver pressed again. "What pronouns do you prefer?"

  "What does it matter, really? I'm sure the stars don't care."

  Avery shrugged. Her manner wasn't quite annoyance; her question was posed in a more curious manner, like a child asking why the sky was blue. Did the stars really care about her gender, and what pronouns she needed?

  She elaborated quickly, as soon as Oliver scrunched up his nose. "I mean, if it's just us, you and I, why do we need to know pronouns and names? Why can't we just look at one another and say you or I?"

  Oliver's heart melted. He knew that feeling. It was so true, so simple, and what he wanted to think of as authentic. He had felt it himself when he first rolled over the word transgender in his mind and he had finally known who he was. Transgender, adjective: means across or beyond. Oliver had read that definition, again and again, when he was fifteen years old and still in high school. He had researched the routes to surgery, to becoming who he wanted to be, but he always stopped when he tried to utter the word aloud. Wasn't knowing the truth about himself enough? He asked himself that question often enough, and then tried to convince himself that it was. He knew who he was. He picked out his names. He bought another wardrobe for his male self that he kept inside the back of his closet. He dressed up and called himself Oliver, as if it was a play, and thought that was enough.

  But it wasn't. It would never be because a play always needed an audience for it to be a real show. The world needed to know Oliver, not just himself or his close, close friends. That was why coming out was important: it meant you had an audience, and they, in turn, got to know the actor.

  O
liver looked at the lights across the city as he sat with Avery then. He watched as lights were flicked on and off in an apartment building, blinking like a human face. Oliver knew that the world needed to know who people were, even if all they did was sigh in the dark.

  It had taken him a long, long time to come to grips with that fact. But it hadn't been in therapy where Oliver realized he needed to tell people. Therapy was superfluous. It had been acting, always acting, where Oliver found his true self and how to get the world to really see.

  Slowly, too, he was coming to terms with how important those expectations, both on and off the stage, really were when it came to relationships. He took Avery's hand in his, squeezing it lightly, and then brought it to his lips.

  "I want to know your pronouns," Oliver began, "because when I talk to Lydia tomorrow, I want to talk about you. I want to get to know you, and then, I want to tell other people about you. I can already say your name—and trust me, I love it. Avery, Avery, Avery." Oliver smiled as he squeezed her hand again. "But I want to know more than that. I need to have a pronoun to talk about you."

  She smiled, biting her lip playfully. "Really? All so soon, though."

  "Why not?" Oliver looked out at the city and pulled her vision that way too. "I want the world to know."

  Avery sighed before she leaned forward and kissed him. Oliver had a feeling she was doing this to shush him, but it didn't matter. The kiss was quiet, almost, reassuring. When she pulled away, they looked at one of the condos close by. The light was on in the bedroom.

  "Should we look away?" Oliver asked when a man walked by in a suit. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

  Avery's eyes remained fixed. Oliver grinned, knowing that she liked the private life and private dwellings, just like he did. The two of them watched as the man slipped off his shirt and revealed a woman's bra underneath. Avery laughed lightly, pulling her hand back in a "yes" motion.

  "I love it," she said. "I love discovering the weirdness underneath. Queerness is everywhere, but you just gotta sniff it out sometimes. Bear witness to make it real."