by Hiba Basit
‘Of course I will,’ she says.
‘So, did you find the necklace?’ he asks, turning back to Annette.
‘I did.’ She opens her palm and dangles it from her fingers.
He looks at it curiously. ‘Is that new? I’ve never seen it before.’
She hesitates, unsure why she revealed it. ‘No, fairly old.’
‘What’s inside?’
She falters before opening it up, chastising herself for not slipping it in her pocket when she had the chance. Her hands shake in the heat and she pretends the lock has jammed in order to steady them.
‘Who’s that?’ David asks, staring at the photo inside.
‘Santana, when she was a day old.’
Santana passes David and stares at the locket. ‘Is that me? I’m so adorable! I never knew you had this photo.’
Annette stays silent. If she thought the heat was the only testing thing she’d have to endure today, she was wrong. It was now this situation she’d plunged herself into.
Santana suddenly takes the locket and studies it curiously. ‘No, really! Is this me?’
‘Of course it’s you,’ Annette says, as David begins to load the car up.
‘I don’t remember having such light hair.’
‘It probably got darker over the years,’ David shouts from the front seat.
‘Probably.’ She shrugs, handing the necklace back. ‘You know I’ve never seen photos of myself as a newborn. But it’s nice to know you’ve got one in your locket. That you think of me sometimes.’
Annette cups her face. ‘Always. How many times do I have to tell you that I think of you always?’
‘Right. It’s still odd though. The photo. She looks like a completely different child.’
‘Santana, people change as they grow up. I’ll be surprised if you looked exactly the same as you did when you were newborn. That’s what I’d call odd.’
Santana grins.
‘Car’s all packed. Ready to set off?’ David asks. Santana looks at the house, remembering the first time she set foot inside and how awestruck she was. As memories of the one and only house she lived in with her mother flash past, she turns to Annette and embraces her, holding her close as the tears surface. Annette does nothing more, but responds to her embrace and holds her tightly in her arms.
‘You should get going,’ she says, wiping her eyes and softly nudging her towards the car. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Catch you later, dude!’ Santana grins and gets into the car. Pretending to busy herself with the seatbelt, she avoids further eye contact with her mother and stares at her lap. Eventually, David flashes his lights to indicate their exit and the car vanishes around the corner and out of sight.
As Annette walks back into the empty house, she suddenly becomes aware of how expansive it is. Although quite obvious to a stranger seeing it for the first time, the view becomes somewhat altered when the fortress is your own home. She stares at the bare wall in front of her, trying to decipher what painting or mirror she took down and forgot to replace with something else. That is, if she did hang anything up in the first place. Santana’s picture, she thinks, recalling the photographs they took together at Amelie’s birthday party. She would get all the photos developed and select the best one of her, Santana and David, then enlarge and frame the image and hang it on this very wall. But as soon as her pager starts to beep, the idea slips from her mind altogether and she starts to deliberate over her next session with Jacob, hoping it will be a breakthrough.
Chapter Eighteen
When Annette arrives for her session with Jacob, she feels trepidation. Despite uncovering his secret and accustoming herself with the recent literature on the topic, the next step is what really worries her, the step she likes to call ‘The Waiting Game’. She can say with absolute certainty that after she has worked months to build a relationship with a child, if they still don’t trust her with their secret, they’ll start to feel like strangers. Some children are just not ready to disclose the truth but most of the time, when she reaches this point, she is there with them for a reason.
In her office, she scans Jacob’s file and case records, although she could easily recite them if she had to. Knowing with absolute certainty that he is ready to talk, the small doubt niggling at the back of her mind begins to infuriate her. She scratches her head in the hope of relieving the tension but, as with burnt food, it makes no difference. She clucks her tongue, irritation getting the better of her.
Gender Identity Disorder. This is what she believed Jacob was experiencing: a strong and unfailing identification with the opposite sex. Though she had yet to hear it from Jacob himself, all the signs pointed in that direction. The peer isolation at school was most likely the result of his peer preference for the other sex. His intense desire to play with the doll house in her office portrayed his wish to participate in the activities of the other sex. Finally, what pushed her towards the realisation was his anger towards his little sisters and the mug that he had knowingly broken because it separated the genders. In fact, if it hadn’t been for this sudden outburst and the dramatic transformation from his usual polite behaviour, she wouldn’t have caught on as quickly as she had. Now that she had, what concerned her most was his outburst in the family. She knew well from research that this was not a good sign. Jacob was evidently feeling agitated, and she now worried that he was showing signs of distress and depression as a result of the difficulties he was experiencing.
In the midst of her thoughts, a nurse knocks on the door and escorts Jacob into the room, helping him out of his jacket before he leaves.
‘Hi, Annette,’ he says, waving and heading straight for the picture board.
‘Hi, Jacob. What have you got there?’ she asks, noticing a picture in his gloved hand.
‘It was Mum’s birthday yesterday and we had a party. Can you pin this up next to the other drawings I made for you?’
‘Sure.’
‘I brought some cake for you, too.’ He produces a slice loosely wrapped in foil. She watches as he sets it in her palm, the silver catching his eyes.
‘Thanks, Jacob.’
‘It looks like there’s mirrors in the sky,’ he says, sitting down.
‘What do you mean?’ she asks, interested by his use of symbolism.
‘Yesterday it was boiling. Today, it’s thundering and hailing, lightning shining from the sky like mirrors shine in the light.’
‘That’s true. Is that what you noticed on your way here?’
He nods. ‘I like to notice stuff people forget about. It makes me feel out of the ordinary.’
‘Out of the ordinary,’ she echoes, playing with the words on her tongue.
He glances her way. ‘Like, different. Is there something wrong with that?’
Something in the way he says this makes her think differently about him, forcing her to question whether he may be much wiser for his age than she’d thought. Either way, it lends her some comfort for what happens next.
‘No. There’s nothing wrong with being different,’ she says.
‘Fine!’ he snaps.
‘What’s up? You sound angry all of a sudden.’
He assesses her warily. ‘I’m not. I gave you cake, didn’t I?’
She smiles. ‘Want to have some with me?’
‘No, thanks.’
She puts the cake down. It’s now or never. ‘Hey, Jacob, let’s venture out for a moment,’ she says, clipping her pager onto her blouse.
He leaps off the chair. ‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
They walk together to the other side of the hospital and enter a room full of smaller sensory rooms. She locates a vacant room and steps inside with Jacob. He looks around in awe, instantly captivated.
‘Wow! This is amazing. You have one lava lamp in your office but there are millions here. Where are we?’
‘It’s called a multi-sensory room. Do you like it?’
He grins. ‘I think this should be your off
ice!’
‘We can come here more often if you’d like?’
He sits next to a column of fibre optic sprays, curling the soft strands in his fingers. ‘To talk?’
‘If you want to talk, Jacob.’
He points at the walls. ‘It’s really pink in here. I like that,’ he adds warily.
‘Pink’s a nice colour.’
‘Mum says it’s weird if I like pink.’ Annette imagines Eliza saying this to Jacob. The image disappoints her.
‘How does that make you feel?’
He shrugs. ‘Everything I do is weird, anyway!’ He says this as if he’s imitating one of his sisters. ‘Only you don’t find me weird.’
‘You’re right. I don’t think you’re weird. Is that how you feel Mum sees you?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I feel. It’s what they call me all the time!’
She waits, allowing him time to think about what he’s said. Instead, he turns away from her. Please don’t be like this, she begs quietly. Don’t be a stranger to me.
‘I feel different,’ he whispers. ‘I feel different.’
‘What makes you feel different?’
‘You’ll just laugh at me.’ He proffers this as a question, staring at her suspiciously.
‘I won’t laugh, Jacob. I’m here to support you, not to judge you.’
The colours from the sprays shine on his face as he watches her.
‘I’m not happy,’ he whispers, barely audible.
‘What makes you unhappy?’ she asks softly, eager to hear her thoughts confirmed.
‘I want to suggest something first,’ he says, rising.
‘OK,’ Annette says, uncertainly.
‘What would you do if I were to suggest that I’m not happy?’
Ah, so he’s going to try the what-happens-if game before he commits himself to anything. Clever boy!
‘What would you like me to do?’ she asks, but he is already shaking his head.
‘You’re not answering the question.’
Annette responds very slowly. ‘OK, I would do my best to support you.’ Jacob stays silent. She leans back and stares at the floor for a few minutes.
‘I’m not happy as a boy.’
She exhales, unaware that she’s been holding her breath. Her pulse quickens and she becomes acutely aware of a stiff feeling in her legs against the foam-padded floor.
‘How does this make you feel?’ he asks her and she can’t help but smile inside.
‘My feelings are not important right now, Jacob. What is important is what makes you unhappy living as a boy.’
‘Your feelings are important!’ he yells, fibre strands coming off in his hands.
‘Jacob –.’
‘No! I know I’m only little.’ He suddenly seems lost for words.
‘I know how old you are. I also know you’re wiser than most kids your age.’
He looks at her miserably. ‘See?’ he chokes.
‘See what?’ Annette asks softly, feeling such a wrench in her heart that she has to stop herself from picking him up in her arms and giving him a big cuddle.
‘All you ever say is nice stuff. You don’t judge me like everyone else will if they find out the truth. They’ll think I’m disgusting. Especially Mum and Dad! I’ve always been their little hero. How do I tell them I don’t want to be a hero any more and that I never did?’
For the first time in her life, Annette finds herself lost for words. She’s never worked on a gender dysphoria case before, and with a child so young. Typically, children “come out”, as the phrase has it, in their early or mid-teenage years. Jacob’s parents must have picked up on the behavioural signs early and sent him to her, in the hope of seeing progress in what they deemed to be a temporary problem.
‘Jacob,’ she says now. ‘Not liking your gender doesn’t make you disgusting.’
‘Mum and Dad thinks it does.’
‘Don’t you think your happiness is what’s important to them? If you’re unhappy as a boy, Mum and Dad will also be unhappy.’
He thinks about this. ‘Maybe,’ he says quietly.
She thinks about his parents, traditional and conservative. ‘Jacob, gender is not like gravity. It’s not a law of nature!’ A smile lights his face but just as quickly disappears. ‘How do you feel now that you’ve told someone?’
‘It’s OK.’
She nods, knowing the hardest part is not whether he’s freed himself from his secret by telling it to someone but the fact that he’s worried about his parents and what it might do to them. ‘It’s OK’ will have to do for now.
Noticing they’re nearing the end of their session, she arranges another session with him.
‘I don’t want my parents to know,’ he says, suddenly looking fearful.
Annette pauses, this being the very thing she was afraid of. ‘OK,’ she says.
‘No, they can’t find out!’
She nods. ‘I said it’s OK. What you’ve told me remains with me. No one will know until you’re ready to tell them. Got it?’ He nods warily. She walks over to him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being different. I’m very proud of you for having the courage to tell me the truth.’
Finally, he manages a smile. ‘When I’m ready, I want to tell my parents with you there.’
‘We can do it in my office if you like.’
He nods. ‘Can I tell you one more thing?’
‘Sure.’
‘I want to be called Calais as a girl.’
‘Calais. Changing colours?’
‘Yes!’ He is clearly excited that she knows the meaning of the name.
‘OK, let’s finish for today.’
‘For short, it’s just Cal.’ Annette grins, standing up to leave the sensory room.
On the way back, he slips his fingers through hers. ‘Names are doors to people, right?’ he asks. Annette tilts her head in both directions, gesturing that sometimes they are, sometimes they’re not. ‘I think Cal will be my door because I really like my new name, Annette.’ He looks at her with pure certainty in his eyes. She gives his hand a small squeeze as she catches sight of his parents, sitting on the chairs, drinking coffee, eagerly waiting to be told that their son has been cured and won’t have to come to see her any more.
***
In the hospital cafeteria, David picks a table near the window and sits down with his lunch. Annette follows shortly after, slamming down a sloppy-looking sandwich and a large cup of coffee. The rain pounds against the windows in every direction, the world appearing dishevelled and chaotic.
‘Thanks for driving here,’ he says, crunching into a carrot stick.
‘No worries. It’s on my way to the prison.’ His eyes instantly land on her neck. She catches him staring and dismisses it with a wave of her hand.
‘Whenever you mention that place, I get chills. Be careful, darling.’
‘I will. Oh, this is good!’ She inhales, devouring the coffee in small sips.
‘Have you heard from Mali?’
‘No. I called her but it went straight to voicemail.’
‘Did you leave a message?’
‘Just that if she needed to talk, I’m here to listen.’
‘I’m worried about her. What she said about Andrei!’ Annette eyes him tentatively.
‘I know what you’re thinking and you can’t! Don’t say anything to Mel or Matt about her conversation with me. All we know for sure is that she may be in a relationship with a guy much older than her.’
‘Maybe it’s better if we tell them what’s going on.’ She flashes him a look.
‘I mean it, David,’ she warns. ‘Mali’s clearly not ready for us to know about whatever debacle is going on in her life. We need to give her some time, that’s all.’
Catching her gaze, he grins past his confusion. ‘Debacle?’ he echoes, eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Annie, what do you know that I haven’t clocked onto yet?’
She freezes, her coffee cup held in mid-air. ‘Nothing,’ she reassures hi
m, but he isn’t having any of it. He snatches her coffee cup before she can take another sip.
‘Oh, charming! I’ll just go and get another one.’ He grabs her purse before she can get to it. She looks at him, annoyance flooding her face. ‘Give my coffee back!’
‘First tell me what you know.’
‘I’ll just ask someone else to pay for my coffee then.’
He grins at this. ‘Tell me,’ he demands.
‘Tell you what?’
‘What do you know that I don’t?’
‘Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea to say anything.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s just a thought, and I may be wrong.’
He raises a brow. ‘I’d believe you if you sounded convincing.’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t want to put my thoughts into words. It almost feels like a bad omen, like I’ll be making them come true.’
‘Annie, you’re worrying me now. You do know your thoughts are correct all the time. This is what you do for a living, and you do it so bloody accurately.’
‘Darling.’ She sighs. ‘I know how you’re going to react. It’s better if we just wait.’
‘Let me decide my own reaction.’
‘Can I have my coffee back first?’
‘Tell me!’ She lets out a long, exaggerated puff of air.
‘When Mali entered the house the night of Amelie’s party, Matt asked where she had been. I saw the look on her face and I have a feeling she saw mine too, which is why she’s avoiding me.’
‘I don’t understand,’ David says. Annette rubs her temples.
‘I think that night was the first time she had sex with this guy. Had sex at all! Involuntarily. He’s been grooming her, I know it.’
David finally slides the cup towards her, speechless. Then, his hands close into fists. ‘I’m going to kill that bastard!’
Annette swiftly slips her palms into his. ‘Stop it. This is exactly what I mean!’ she whispers.
‘Annie, you think the guy’s raped her! How can you be so calm?’
‘You should get inside my head if you think I’m calm. I would rip that guy’s head off if I got my hands on him, but that won’t help Mali.’ She punctuates the last words with pauses, hoping to convince him.
