Henry deliberately copied Rob's chivalrous chair-move with me, giving me a little smirk. I accepted it and sat down, but I felt a bit weird. Henry and I didn't have the sort of relationship where that happened very often and to be honest, I kind of didn't like it. I wondered how much of that was to do with me being stressed and irritable, though.
Sarah caught my discomfort and I shrugged at her. She didn't say anything about it, though, she just leant into Rob's arm. “Rob has got this amazing place up in Broome,” she gushed to us. “It's just out of town and it's practically on the beach. I spent all my three and a half months of annual leave up there. It's like a different world, I love it.”
My smile fell. Broome? Sarah's long-term boyfriend actually owned a house in Broome and wasn't just up there for work? I panicked for a split second before I remembered that there were no offices out there. I doubted Sarah would be at home in a mining town, so Frost International probably wasn't going to lose her just yet.
While I was stressing about that, Henry was already looking at the wine list and had flipped over to the reds. He didn't drink red. “I hear Broome has some beautiful natural scenery,” he said, leading the conversation. I knew what he was alluding to and really wished he would stop trying to look after me, even if he was just trying to be a good boyfriend.
However, in doing so he'd apparently asked the right question because he set Rob off. “It's fucking beautiful, you should see it.” His very broad accent was quite entertaining to listen to. “Like, I grew up in a real leafy area, you know? And out west is completely different. You're there and you're like, 'Yeah, I'm definitely in Australia'. The colours, man.” He laughed. “Not that I get to see them during the day much, because I'm down the mines from sunrise to sunset.”
Hah, that I could relate to. “I hear you,” I said. “I basically haven't seen daylight since 2007.”
Sarah had the wine list out, too. “Min works a bit too hard,” she explained to Rob, who had been looking confused and like he was about to ask me if I worked in mines, too. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, apparently, but his big open smile made up for it. I decided I quite liked him, despite the fact I wasn't really in the mood to like anyone.
Henry nodded, smiling briefly at me, “Yes, Min's work ethic is a little intimidating. Though it's why she got flown up here from Melbourne so I can't complain too much about it! How did you two meet, anyway? At work as well?” He was looking back at the lovebirds.
They both laughed and looked a little sheepish. “You go first,” Sarah suggested, making an 'after you' gesture with her perfectly manicured hand.
I could feel Henry looking at me as he opened his mouth to speak, and I couldn't resist the urge to mess with him. I spoke instead. “I was an impressionable young intern fresh out of university,” I said to them, knowing Henry hated the way I told this story. “I didn't know anyone in Sydney when they flew me up here, but, boy, did the guy in HR really take care of me.”
Henry laughed nervously. “It didn't happen quite like that, I'd never use my position to take advantage of anyone,” he said. “Plus, I wasn't a manager then, and we were friends well before anything happened, anyway.”
It was just too much fun working him up. “But I was up here all by myself... I mean, what would have happened if he'd decided for some reason not to help me? I couldn't risk it. I had to do whatever he said.”
Henry gave me a measured stare, and I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Excuse me,” he said neutrally to our dinner guests as he turned bright red, and then pretended to strangle me.
They both laughed, and that made me feel better. Sarah flagged a waiter from across the patio. “Just as I suspected, it beats our story. I saw Rob at my local and we only made it as far as his car.”
“Yeah, now she's stuck with me,” he said, sounding chuffed. He hugged her up against his side so he could kiss the crown of her head. He was so strong that her thick chair actually tipped sideways as he did it. It was like watching a Rottweiler trying to cuddle a kitten. He left his arm around her as we all kept chatting.
After we'd ordered our wine and food and gotten stuck into the complimentary bread, we spoke about our respective hobbies. Rob was a bit of a sports nut—no surprises there—but since neither Henry nor I were at all interested in sport we had to look for something else to discuss.
Sarah sat up in her chair. “Oh! That's right!” She fished around in her pockets for her phone. “Min's like this mad artist. What's that website where you put your stuff again?”
I had finally managed to start relaxing, but as soon as she mentioned my artwork, that all faded. The painting of me as a guy was still the first thing in my gallery. I suddenly had awful visions about what they would both say if they saw it.
Before I could stop him, Henry told her, “Deviant Art dot com.” He smiled at me, obviously not realising that I wasn't just panicking because I was shy about my art. “It's 'Min Lee' with an extra 'e' at the end. She has some amazing landscapes on there.”
Rob was leaning over to look at Sarah's phone. “You sound pretty proud of her,” he commented to Henry.
Henry beamed at me. “You bet.”
Just you wait until you hear what they have to say about that painting, Henry, I thought, wondering about the possibility of just running off with Sarah's phone before my profile loaded. I obviously couldn't do anything so melodramatic, so I just sat there bracing myself for their reactions.
“Oh, wow,” Sarah remarked as she watched something load on her screen. “I haven't seen this one before, it's great. When did you have short hair? It really suits you.” My heart almost stopped; she was looking at the painting. I kept waiting for her to say something about the fact my chest was flat in it, but instead of commenting on anything to do with that, she just looked up at me. Her eyes went straight to my hair, I think trying to judge whether or not it could have grown that much in the months that I hadn't been working with her.
I didn't know how to answer her question, though. How do you say, 'I haven't had short hair since I was fourteen, but I just felt like painting myself as a guy'? I couldn't speak at all; I felt strangely disconnected from everything.
For all that Henry had been subtly annoying me with his over-attentiveness, he did actually rescue me there. “It's been a few years since her hair was that short,” he said vaguely, and then shot me a bit of a quizzical glance about why I hadn't answered that one myself.
Sarah looked between us, and then back at the phone. Rob took it from her so he could get a better look. “Fuck, you painted that?” I nodded mechanically. “Jesus. I can't even draw a map of how to get from the airport to my house and it's three roads. That's fucking impressive. What else is there in here?” He started tapping at the screen, presumably flicking through my gallery.
And that was it. There was no shock, no disgust. No anything, really. Rob didn't seem like the sort of person who could diplomatically gloss over a bad reaction to something. So, they thought that painting was a genuine self-portrait, and the fact I was clearly cross-dressing in it didn't even warrant a mention. The only thing they'd been judging was the quality of my art. I should have been relieved, but I wasn't. Deep in my gut I felt like there wasn't a more dangerous reaction they could have had than being fine with me in that painting.
It meant I could do it. I could actually do it, I could be that cool. I remembered those clothes I'd bought yesterday and how I looked in them. I could do it, I thought, all I'd need to do is cut my hair and deal with my breasts somehow and then holy mother of fucking god, Min, what the fuck are you thinking?
Had I forgotten I had a boyfriend? A job? Family? How did I really think that would actually go? And it wasn't like I just wanted to cross-dress, either; how the hell did I think I was going to 'deal with' my breasts? Magically make them disappear? God this was so fucked up. And where did it stop? If I somehow 'dealt with' my breasts, then what? I remembered fantasising about being a guy punching Canada's lead, and I felt so, so sick. N
o, please no. Please don't let this be it.
“Oh, hah!” Rob said really loudly, mercifully distracting me. He looked around as he startled people on nearby tables. “Sorry,” he said more quietly. “I'm used to yelling at people in mine shafts. Anyway, you play World of Warcraft? I haven't played that in ages.”
I guessed he'd found a painting I'd done of one of the locations in the game. “I used to,” I said, trying very, very hard to focus on that instead of how shaky I was suddenly feeling. “I don't have the time now. Mainly I just play first person shooters.”
“Xbox or PS?” he immediately asked, leaning forward and giving the phone back to Sarah. Sarah rolled her eyes and leant back, a long-suffering smile on her face. She kept tabbing through my paintings while Rob waited for my answer. “I hope you say Xbox, because Halo is unreal.”
I kind of wanted to hear what Sarah had to say about my art, but I didn't want to be rude. “Playstation, actually,” I said a little apologetically. “Although I do have an Xbox that I never use. And I think I actually have one of the Halos, too.”
“Is it Reach?” he asked. “Fuck that was good. I never stop replaying that. I tried to get Sarah into it, but no dice.” He hugged her.
“Not a game person,” she said, looking up from her phone. “Sorry, guys! Although it's pretty hilarious watching him flip out when he gets killed.”
Rob looked indignant. “Which is hardly ever,” he said, puffing out his thick chest. “I'm a pro.”
Henry had been watching me with a smug grin. “That sounds like a certain someone I know.”
I scoffed, feigning being absolutely fine. “You're just jealous you can't beat me.”
For all Rob looked like a bit of a simple creature, he had some great things to say about various game series. It was particularly amusing to sit and listen to him rant about what he didn't like about Grand Theft Auto and why the franchise was 'losing its way'. I wasn't a big fan of the series myself—I hadn't even finished the last one—but what he was saying made me want to play it again to see if he was right. That, and listening to him meant I didn't have to think about myself.
He didn't stop when our food arrived, either. In fact, he quickly forgot about his dinner. Henry had asked him some questions about the Arkham series and he needed to passionately list all the ways in which it had ruined one of the characters.
I wasn't really that big a fan of that universe, so I'd been picking the bits of food I liked out of my pasta and half-listening as I tried not to let my mind wander. Sarah had been eyeing off Rob's food, but every time she'd tried to ask him for some, he hadn't noticed because of how loudly he was speaking. The last time she tried, I made eye-contact with her and we both laughed silently.
I lifted my fork and made a very subtle gesture with it towards Rob's plate, mouthing, 'Go on'. I looked up at him deep in conversation with Henry.
She smirked, and reached carefully under his arm to steal a prawn. He didn't notice, and I pretended to applaud her. While the boys were talking, Sarah slowly escalated her food stealing until she just took his plate and said casually, “Mind if I take this for a sec?”
He sat back automatically to let her, still talking to Henry, but halfway through her putting it in front of herself, he double-took. “Hey!” he yelled, again startling the other patrons around us. “I've got a figure to maintain.” He patted his pot-belly with a grin. The two of them proceeded to play tug-o'-war with the plate. He let her win, but she gave it back to him, anyway. I laughed right the way along with them until they leant in and started kissing. Then I stopped.
Henry and I just kind of sat there awkwardly, not looking at each other. Under normal circumstances I might jokingly have given Henry a really exaggerated kiss, but I just couldn't face doing that right now. I kept thinking about the whole cross-dressing thing, and worrying about what would happen if Henry found out. I sighed, took my wine, and poured it down my throat.
Rob caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and stopped kissing Sarah. “Whoa, did you just drink all of that in one go?” I looked from him to the empty glass, and swallowed. He was clearly impressed. “Respect,” he said with conviction. “I dated a girl up on the mines who was the same. She could do a pint in under four seconds and she drank us all under the table, she was basically a bloke in a skirt. I always thought I'd end up with a tomboy like you guys, you know, with the video games and stuff.” While the colour was draining from my face, he looked affectionately at Sarah, and ruffled her beautiful hair. “Somehow I fell for Miss Girly, here, instead. What are the odds?” She gazed up at him adoringly.
They kissed briefly again, while I just sat there with my mouth open. 'Basically a bloke in a skirt'? He hadn't meant it as an insult; in fact, it sounded like he meant it as a compliment. It didn't feel like one, though. I looked down at my own skirt, feeling all that adrenaline that I'd managed to quell before starting to surge back.
The worst part was that he was right. Everything just fit into place in my head like a completed jigsaw puzzle. I got it, and it made me feel sick.
At what point was I going to actually address how looking like this made me feel?
My heart started going again, and I panicked. No. No. Not at this point, I thought, not with work. Fuck! Not at this point. I took a few deep breaths while I stared down at my half-eaten dinner and tried to conceal my anxiety. Not now, I couldn't have a personal crisis right now. I had too much going on, I could worry about whatever issues I was having in a few weeks when the project was complete. I just didn't like my chances of being able to cope with this and the shit that was going on at Frost. I tried to calmly tell myself that I was probably jumping to conclusions and maybe when work wasn't so crazy it would all make sense. I could deal with all of this much later after I'd had time to think and reflect and god fucking damnit why wouldn't my heart just chill the fuck out?
I needed to not be around anyone. “Excuse me for a second,” I said as evenly as I could, standing up.
They stopped kissing, and Sarah wiped her mouth. “Sorry, that was pretty inappropriate, wasn't it? I think I've had too much wine.” She laughed.
I smiled tensely, stepping away from my chair and heading straight for the restroom.
It was empty, thank god. I went and shut myself in the far cubicle and leant on the door. My heart was pounding in full force, so much so that I could even feel it in my neck.
I can't do this, I thought, over and over. I can't. I can't do this. Every possible scenario started to crystallise in my head: Henry and I breaking up over it and me having to go to work every day and see him, me having to leave Frost because of it... or even me just needing to leave Frost anyway because if they didn't respect me now, would they respect me if they found out what I wanted to do to myself? I'd be the laughing stock of the work place, just like high school. They were probably all either laughing or grumbling to each other about me already. What would they say if I just rocked up in a suit? What was I fucking thinking about dressing up like a guy anyway? How the fuck was that going to solve anything? It didn't change reality. It didn't change the fact I was in this stupid female body. It didn't change anything, it just fucked everything up a hundred times worse than it already was. Why did I want to do that?
And why couldn't I just forget all this, accept that it wasn't possible and just be happy with myself? Why?
I leant against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. Now was really the worst possible time ever for me to be flipping out, just when I needed to be able to focus on working really hard. Could it all just fucking go away? Could everything?
The restroom door opened and I stepped against the back wall so no one would guess what I was doing in here.
“Min?” Henry?
“This is actually the women's toilets,” I pointed out, noting the irony.
He ignored me. “Min, are you okay? You've been in here for a while.” I could see his work shoes underneath the door of my cubicle.
I si
ghed at length; my breath wavered. “I just want to be alone for a few minutes.”
The door rattled as he leant on the other side of it. “You've had a few minutes. What's up? Work?” God, he was being so lovely and all I could do was being irritated by it and wish he'd go away.
You want to know what's up? I thought. I closed my eyes and imagined actually being able to say it to him: ‘there's something wrong with me. Henry, there's something wrong with me. Please, please, make it stop.’ Fuck, now I was crying. Could I get any more pathetic?
“Min,” he gently prompted me.
I didn’t tell him. “I just want to go home,” was what I actually said. The depth of resignation in my voice surprised even me.
Henry didn't say anything for a few seconds. In the end, he didn't argue with me. “Okay,” he said. “I'll tell them you're not feeling well.”
I didn't want to sound like I was crying, but I think I did, anyway. “And... Is there a back way out of this place?”
When he spoke there was so much compassion in his voice that it hurt to hear him speak. “Oh, Min,” he said through the door. “I'll sort it out.”
There was a back way out of the restaurant, and it was through the kitchen. It meant I needed to be herded past a series of chefs, sous-chefs and kitchen hands who all stared at me like I had three heads.
Henry didn't tell me what Sarah and Rob had said about me leaving early, but it didn't matter. I was convinced they both thought I was crazy. This was the second dinner I'd walked out of halfway through because of my stupid issues. I couldn't even get a fucking dinner right.
Henry offered to hail us a taxi, but I shook my head. We walked.
Despite having failed to comfort me so far, he still insisted on trying. “Everything just seems worse at the moment because of how much pressure you're under at work,” he told me as soon as we were walking alone. “I know you've got a big project running, but I really think for your own sanity you need a week off. Everything will be okay, Min. You just really, really need a holiday.”
Under My Skin Page 15
