by Emery Lee
My Tumblr inbox is full of messages, but I just turn off the notifications since I don’t have the energy to reply to them right now and I really should focus on working this weekend.
When we reach our destination, we all file out of the bus, and they conduct a formal head count before we get divided into groups. There are five cabins and ten leaders including Devin and me. Our main job on this trip is just to be cabin RAs and make sure everyone’s being reasonable come bedtime. For now, we lead our group of six boys out to our cabin and let them choose their bunk beds and put their stuff down.
I glance down at my phone again, and fortunately enough, it looks like I still get service in the cabin.
Devin calls out, “Okay, ten minutes, then we head to the lake!”
I reach into my bag and look for the sunscreen that I promptly realize I forgot to pack. Perfect.
“Sunscreen?”
I look up to see Devin holding out a spray can to me, and I take it, quickly shooting it all over my arms and legs. I don’t usually get burned too much, but skin cancer is real.
I pass the sunscreen back with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” xe says. “Something on your mind? You look troubled.”
But I just shake my head because talking to Devin about my boyfriend just seems wrong. I mean, I’m not even sure if we’re friends or just coworkers, and it doesn’t seem right to spill that kind of information with someone I barely know.
We gather the kids and head out to the lake, where the other groups are starting to line up. There are eight other counselors with us, plus coordinators Georgette, Bev, and this guy named Frank, who I swear I’ve never seen before in my life. During the day, our job for the weekend is basically just to do whatever the coordinators tell us to do, whether that be helping the kids with their activities or just looking for the extra toilet paper. Day one has me inflating a bunch of floaties, and while it’s not the worst task I could be stuck doing, I kind of wish the workload were a little more intensive so I could stop thinking about Drew.
I call him during my lunch break, but the connection’s spotty, so we don’t talk long. He just unloads about how shitty things are at home and how he’s having trouble keeping Jordan’s spirits up. I promise that we can do something fun when I get back, but it sounds hollow. If I were a decent boyfriend, I’d be there now.
Friday, June 22
Lectabaeries posted:
Do you ever really love a blog because it’s so heartfelt and real, and then the creator just kind of ghosts and it feels like you’re watching season fifteen of a show that should’ve been canceled after five?
NotGreenberg replied: Do you mean the Meet Cute Diary? Because I feel that.
Ifyoumissme2 replied: You can just say the Meet Cute Diary.
Yeahyahya replied: I almost reblogged this and tagged the Meet Cute Diary, but I won’t.
As the day comes to a close, I whip out my phone to call Drew. Despite a pretty consistent but weak connection all day, I have zero signal. I fight the urge to hurl my phone into the lake.
Corny as ever, Devin’s got our kids grouped together in a circle around a campfire. I’m not sure where xe got the little pink ukulele from, but xe’s playing some chord while the kids sit around with marshmallows making s’mores.
I sit down next to xem, the heat tickling my face. It’s not even fully dark yet, but this whole state’s so goddamn cold, and I’m over it.
Devin leans into me, playing the uke and grinning like a total dork. I shove xem back, but xe doesn’t stop playing.
Devin starts singing some folk song, and xyr voice is super whiny and annoying, but it’s helping to calm my nerves a little. I know there’s not a whole lot I can do about the Drew situation, but it’s not like I’m saving his life or anything. I have to believe he’ll be okay for a weekend without me.
I reach for some of the marshmallows and start working on my own s’more. I’ve never actually made one before, and I’m trying to pick up the skill by watching a bunch of eight- and nine-year-olds do it.
The kid next to me—I think his name is Hector or something—shakes his head idly before snatching the stuff out of my hand and saying, “Let me do it.”
So I do, because I don’t need to pick a fight with a small child, especially one who’s familiar with sharp objects and fire.
“Okay, new song!” Devin says, resting the uke on xyr knee. “What do y’all think? Any special requests?”
A couple of the kids start shouting out what I’m assuming are campfire songs. Even Cooper, this quiet kid who usually just smiles goofily at everything, has his hand waving in the air, and this loud kid named Dylan who always sits with him has his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouts out his request. Hell, I know nothing about camping and less about cheesy folk tunes, but soon enough, Devin starts playing again and the kids start singing along like they’re in church.
Devin nudges me with xyr shoulder, and I don’t know what xe wants from me because I literally don’t know the words, but eventually I start clapping in time with Hector and something weird washes over me. Camaraderie? As if I’m actually surrounded by people who care about me and want to see me happy? There’s a sort of euphoria flowing through me, and as I look at Devin, I can’t help but feel like I really am wanted there, like maybe I fit into this puzzle better than I ever thought I could.
Drew
Ugh, I’m so bored, and I miss you. This place sucks.
I saw this video and thought of you. [Link]
That camp’s really more interesting than me, huh?
Oh, you probably don’t have signal, do you? I miss you. Hope you get this eventually.
The next morning is miserable. Not only am I sharing a bathroom with seven other people, but there’s no Starbucks—or really, coffee at all—and all the kids are screaming and complaining, and I just want to go back to bed.
Finally, I drag myself to get changed with just enough time to help Devin wrangle all the kids together so we can head to the lake. I’m dressed in my swim trunks with a T-shirt on over them and my binder underneath since apparently the plan is to do some kayaking or something today.
We all line up to get our life jackets, and then the staff sets out helping the kids get theirs on. I mean, they’re pretty simple to maneuver, but the kids stand there sticking their arms through the wrong holes and flopping their limbs around like they can’t remember how to use them. It takes just shy of an hour to get everyone suited up, and then Georgette comes by to do a quick safety check before everyone can head to their respective boats.
The water’s calm, but the whole thing still seems kind of daunting. I mean, if we tip, it’s fucking freezing out there, but there are several trained lifeguards on staff, and we’re each taking out double kayaks in groups so none of the kids are ever left unattended.
The kid I’m deploying with first is named Chad, who talks in his sleep and drools on his pillow. As we slip into the boat, he’s already rocking it, excitement coursing through his limbs and into the only thing keeping us from going under.
We take the paddles, and Chad’s about ready to turn us in circles. I try to keep my cool as I say, “Let’s do this together, okay?” But I’m pretty sure he’s not listening.
Devin’s already heading out into the lake, Cooper helping to guide the boat. He and Devin cruise across the water smoothly, and Devin shoots me a quick smile as they slip ahead of us.
I sigh, dipping my paddle into the water and gently easing us out. Chad dunks his right in too and starts making spitting sounds with his mouth like some dying fish.
By the time we make it back to shore, I’m cold, I’m wet, and I’m eager to sell my eggs to science.
Devin helps me out of the kayak, and I almost stumble into xem.
“You wanna help me with lunch?” xe asks.
I spare one quick glance at Chad and nod my head hurriedly. I don’t know who’s taking the rest of the kids out, and quite frankly, I don’t care. An
ything to get me out of the cold sounds like the perfect idea.
We make our way into the little cafeteria. It’s small enough that our group will barely fit, but it’s not really my problem. Devin takes me back into the kitchen, which is mostly just a fancy word for “room with the massive refrigerator.” We pull out trays of food and lay them on the tables. Devin does this little twirl as xe balances one tray flat on xyr palm before sliding it onto the table with a soft whooshing sound.
“We just have to heat them and set them out,” Devin explains.
I nod. I really am lucky that Devin’s done all of this before and seems more than content dragging me along. I’m really not cut out for this whole summer camp thing.
“Hope your trip wasn’t too bad,” Devin says.
“Trip?”
“The kayak.”
I shudder. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Xe laughs. “I was actually thinking . . .”
“About?”
“Changing my pronouns again?”
I look at xem, but xe’s staring down at xyr shoes. “Any particular reason why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m trying to find a good balance, but I’m not really sure where I fall, you know?”
“So what were you thinking?”
“E/em?”
“Do those feel more appropriate for you?” I ask.
E shrugs. “I don’t know. I like that they’re really neutral, you know? It feels less like lying.”
“So do you think you’re agender?” I ask.
Devin opens one of the foils and my stomach growls. Oh my God, mac and cheese. “I don’t think so,” e says. “I don’t really think I’m a boy, though. Or a girl, for that matter.”
I force myself to focus more on em and less on the food. “Have you researched it at all?”
E nods, motioning me to grab another of the foils so we can walk them out. “I have, and I’ve gone through a few terms, but none of them really stick, you know? Gender fluid, bigender, demigirl—I just kind of ended up on genderqueer, but I don’t really know where to go from there.”
I nod along, though, honestly, most of those terms are pretty foreign to me. They all just kind of fall under the “nonbinary” bracket, and I never really put a whole lot of thought into it past that.
There’s a long table waiting for us with slots for each foil. We place them in and turn up the warmer to get the food up to an edible temperature.
“The truth is, if I had to describe it, I’d say I’m like two percent milk.”
I turn to em, eyebrows scrunched. “You’re like what?”
“You know, two percent milk? Like I’m two percent boy, but no one knows what the hell the other ninety-eight percent is.”
I pause, my hands half hovering by the warmers for heat. “Um, I don’t think that’s how it works. Pretty sure the two percent is a fat measurement.”
“Oh.” Devin looks a little disappointed by this, but then e shrugs and says, “Oh well, the two percent boy thing still stands, though. Like, sometimes I do kind of feel like a boy, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m just light on dysphoria and everyone tells me that’s what I’m supposed to be, or if I actually feel that way, you know?”
And I don’t know entirely because I’m pretty damn positive I’m a boy, but I do get where e’s coming from. There are times when I don’t hate my body, and I actually like wearing dresses and girl power slogans. It’s not so much that I’m a girl, but it’s a skin I wore for so long, sometimes I feel like I should just let myself slip back into it for a little while. It’s just that person that I used to try to be sneaking into the person I’ve accepted now.
“Anyway,” Devin says, leading me back toward the kitchen so we can grab more food, “it just gets really complicated sometimes. And I’m always worried I’m going to pick something, and then people are going to tell me that’s my final form, you know? Like you can’t go back.”
“People can’t tell you who you are,” I say.
And e smiles, but it’s kind of sad, and a part of me wishes I could go back in time and fight off whatever demons Devin faced since e first came out. I wish I could eliminate some of those scars.
“When I told everyone I was a girl, there was a lot of backlash, but my parents and some of my friends seemed mostly okay with it,” e says. “Then I told them I wasn’t so sure I was a girl anymore, and the reaction was—well, it seemed like they thought maybe I was faking it from the beginning.”
“Why would you be faking it?” I ask.
E shrugs. “I guess it just makes more sense to them than the idea of me not actually knowing my gender. My parents came around, and they’ve been really supportive since then, but I don’t talk to those friends anymore.”
I sigh because, yeah, that’s harsh. I know that if I ever change my mind, decide I’m actually a girl or a demiboy or somewhere else on the infinite gender map, Becca won’t mind. Brian would probably buy me a dictionary of terms so I could parse out all the potentials, and my parents would probably just ask that I wear a name tag until they got my new name right. None of them would act like I was just faking it. I can’t even imagine how invalidating that would feel.
“Noah?”
I look up to find Devin staring back at me.
“Can you grab that?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, picking up the next tray. “You’re the first trans person I’ve actually talked to. You know, besides online.”
“Really?” Devin asks.
“Yeah. That’s why it meant so much to me when you came out my freshman year. I can’t say I’ve ever really had a trans person to look up to before.”
Devin’s practically glowing as e puts the tray down, a smile overtaking eir face. There’s a blush coating eir cheeks as e says, “Honestly, after everything that’s happened, I’ve basically regretted coming out since I did it.”
“Don’t you feel liberated?” I ask. “I mean, now that you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore?”
“Yes and no?” E runs a hand through eir hair and says, “I don’t feel as much like a fraud, but I also still kind of do. Being between labels sometimes feels like I don’t belong anywhere, or I’m just making something out of nothing because I don’t like what society asks of me. I know it’s ridiculous, but it doesn’t always feel like that.”
Devin pauses a moment before flashing me another smile and saying, “But thank you for saying that. It means a lot. Hell, it kind of feels like maybe I came out for a reason.”
I smile back because I don’t know what else to do. It seems kind of unfair that e’s the one who went through all the trauma and the struggle so I could have an easier coming out, especially when things still aren’t easy for em now.
But as selfish as it is, I’m really glad e did. Not just for me, though I know I never would’ve had the strength to admit all of it myself if I hadn’t watched em do it first. But also for the Diary and every message I’ve received saying that it saved their lives. If Devin hadn’t been my role model, I never would’ve found myself, and I never would’ve started the Diary, and that means all those trans people never would’ve found their faith in love. And even though I can’t tell em about the Diary and everything that it means to so many people, a part of me hopes that I can subconsciously pass on the information to em, show em just how important eir choice was.
“We still have a few more trays,” Devin says.
And I nod because I know I can’t go back and fix everything, but the least I can do is help em carry some of the weight now.
Step 9: The Catch
The moment the other person takes you into their arms and acknowledges that your feelings are requited.
Monday, June 25
And.rew03 posted:
[. . .] He couldn’t stop texting me while he was on the camping trip about how much he missed me and wanted to see me again. It’s really hard to be away from someone you care about so much.
So when he got back to
town, we already had plans lined up. I knew I had to make it something special to make up for just how lonely he’d been without me to keep him company. It was like a movie playing out in real life as he ran into my arms, and I swung him around, tears pouring down his face like our time apart had been a terrible nightmare and everything was perfect now that he was awake.
Dksjdh replied: You guys really are perfect! This is amazing!
Bitchardsmyfather replied: Straight out of a fairy tale, I swear.
Dua12 replied: You really are a master of love! Where were you during my last relationship???
Load more comments . . .
In recovery from my camping trip from hell, I was going to spend today sleeping in. We got back a little after sundown yesterday, and then I had to take a three-hour shower to wash the camp off me—I gave up getting whatever those stains were out of my clothes—so it really only made sense that I knock out for a full twelve hours or so. Then Drew texted me just after seven thirty saying he really wanted to see me, so I reluctantly slipped out of bed, threw on whatever clothes I found lying around that weren’t dirty, and stood out on the street waiting for him to pull up.
“Hey,” I say as he steps out of the car.
He raises an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Hey’ is all I get?”
I roll my eyes, and he kisses me, his hand tracing a line from my jaw to my hair. I’m really not a fan of people playing with my hair—it’s hard enough to tame without random people sticking their fingers all up in it—but I can feel how much he missed me in his kiss, so I don’t say anything as he pulls away.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
He shrugs, and really, I’m not sure what to make of that. Recently, he’s been really open with me about everything, so if he feels he can’t talk about it, it must be pretty bad.
“I’m glad you got the day off,” he says. He takes my hand and starts guiding me down the street. I don’t know where we’re going, but I let him lead.
“Yeah, but it’s just the day,” I say. “I have to go back to the camp tomorrow.”
