“Well, I'm learning from the master,” I said, shooting her a wink. Then, I picked up my luggage. “Have a nice time, Bree. Call me whenever you want.”
“Don't say things like that to me,” she called down the hotel corridor as I wheeled my suitcase to the lift. “Because I always want to call you!”
I gave her a little wave as the lift doors closed, a giant smile on my face. Fuck, and to think I almost hadn't gone to dinner with her that time. I'd never been so glad someone had stolen my handbag as I was on the way down to the basement car park.
As it turned out, I didn't miss my plane. In fact, there was next to no traffic because it was school holidays and only Thursday and half of Sydney still had to work. I got to the airport in no time and found myself pathologically early, as usual. I decided it was a good time to check my work email, and when I did I wished I hadn't.
Ian couldn't have been any more passive aggressive about the fact two of the team were on sick-leave, reminding us that he'd missed picking up his daughter from school on her birthday for the failed pitch. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the clerks Diane had picked out from Sales were getting shitty about the failed pitch and were dragging their feet about learning what material was complete for the Sasha Burov pitch, too. The end of their email read, “We're just concerned we'll put a lot of unnecessary effort into this one, too. Some sort of assurance it's worthwhile would be nice.” Jason had replied even more passive-aggressively with an attachment that contained the Sales Clerk job description, and asked them if they could kindly locate the section that referred to 'if we feel like it' with reference to learning materials and delivering pitches.
The most concerning email was the one Jason had forwarded me from Diane which simply said, “Make sure you set up a meeting when she returns to work. And please ensure that everything is complete and this pitch is delivered impeccably. I need that signature on a contract before 4pm Friday or the finance won't go through and we'll lose the lease.”
That one, I replied to. “I'll get it done,” I promised Jason, adding a couple of timeframes and forwarding him some information showing that we were on target for that pitch.
He replied immediately. “You'd better hope that's true or someone's going to be out of a job next Friday.”
I worried about that for the rest of my tense stay in the airport lounge, wishing Sarah had been able to get us on the same flight. Because I was alone, I had expected to sit and worry about it on the plane, too, but mercifully I ended up falling asleep. I woke up to the hostess tapping me on the shoulder.
“Sir?” she asked, shaking me lightly. “Sir? You need to put your window shade up for landing.”
I was half-asleep, and it took me a couple of seconds to realise she was talking to me. When I did, I couldn't help but smile up at her; I'd forgotten I was dressed as a guy. She looked a bit confused by my reaction. “Your shade,” she said, leaning over me and showing me what to do in case I didn't speak English.
“Thanks,” I said, and followed her instructions.
Broome International Airport was tiny compared to most of the places I'd flown to, and that was really a statement because I'd been in regional airports in Canada. It looked like it consisted of basically one building surrounded by palm trees and luscious, thick lawns. Because it was so small, though, they got us off the plane and out the door pretty quickly.
Sarah had caught a much earlier flight and was waiting for me, leaning against a big four wheel drive that was covered in orange dust. She was also wearing denim shorts and a loose tank top, and I don't even think I'd seen her dressed so casually. It made sense; it was really humid.
She looked like she had similar thoughts about me as she walked over to help me with my luggage. “Aren't you dying in that hoodie?” was the first thing she said to me, thankfully relieving me of my tablet which felt like it was breaking my arm. “It's 35 degrees.”
“Now that you mention it...” I said, and stopped for a second to pull it off. I was wearing a t-shirt underneath, and even though she'd already seen me with a flat chest, she still looked incredulously at it. I chuckled at her reaction as we loaded my stuff into the car. “I have a spare binder in my luggage,” I told her. “If you're really curious about what they do, you can try it on. No guarantees you'll be able to get it off, though.”
She gave me a look. “Isn't that like asking a magician to explain his tricks? I'm sure it's against some code or something.”
“Yeah, I've joined a secret society of trans men and they'll all gang together and vanquish me if I ever betray their secrets.”
She laughed at that. “Min, you're a riot, I am so glad I invited you,” she said, giving me a big hug just before we both got into the car. “And I don't care what the rest of the team says, you look so much better after a couple of days off. I was really worried about you on Monday.”
“Yeah, I saw what they said. I read all the emails.” I fastened my seatbelt, still surprised by how comfortable it was to wear one while I had the binder on. Seatbelts were apparently not designed for people with breasts.
Sarah inhaled through grit teeth as she pulled out of the car park. “Yeah, it's been pretty intense in the office. We had a couple of meetings with Sales about the failed pitch and they were all seriously, excuse my French, fucking assholes. Diane even came to speak to us about the need for security and she basically said if any of us step out of line at all we'll only get one more paycheque.”
I closed my eyes for a second. “That does not bode well for me.”
Sarah shrugged, turning out onto the main road. “Well, they would have taken you straight off the project if they were really worried. But Jason's still CCing stuff to you and Diane kept naming you, so I guess you're not gone yet. Plus, everyone knows you're coming up here to paint amazing graphics for all the material and no one's told you not to.” While I was thinking that she had a really good point, she glanced at me. “You really started the rumour mill going, though.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
She looked confused by my horror. “Oh!” she said, guessing what I was worried about. “Not about your…” She waved her hand at my clothes, “Everyone is completely convinced you got arrested on Tuesday and that the reason you're not at work is because you're in lock-up somewhere. I heard one guy say that the only reason ‘Mini’ would miss work is death or jail. There are some pretty interesting theories about what you got arrested for. My favourite is drugs. People have decided that obviously you're on amphetamines and that's why you get so much done.”
I listened to her, shaking my head. “Jason and Diane don't believe that stuff at all, do they?”
She shrugged. “Well, you're still on the project, aren't you? Anyway, the whole team was Googling you yesterday when you didn't come in. I think some of the department didn't know you're an amazing painter. They know now.”
My Deviant Art, I thought, feeling sick as I remembered what I had featured on my profile. “Fuck, that painting of me as a guy.” I took out my phone to hurriedly put that picture in storage where it would be hidden. “Everyone will have seen it by now.”
Sarah shrugged. “Yeah, but I saw it and I didn't think anything. I just went, 'Oh, she looks pretty boyish there. Maybe she's doing some Salvador Dali-Van Gogh-artsy reality-bending thing or something'. Because at work, you look really girly.”
I didn't feel better until I'd hidden it, though. And for good measure, I hid that awful photo of me from the last wrap party. “Yeah. But it just takes one person to ask, 'Why is Mini painting herself as a guy?'...”
“You worry too much,” Sarah told me. “Anyway, speaking of you worrying too much about stuff, how's Schoolgirl? You never said what happened.”
I remembered that last image of Bree waving jubilantly at me from my doorway. From my secret smile, Sarah gasped openly and reached across the car to push me. “No!” she said, laughing. “You didn't!”
“I did,” I told her, knowing exactly what she meant. �
��Just some kissing, though.”
She laughed openly. “I am psychic, I swear to god!” she announced, taking her hands off the wheel for a second so she hold them up to the sky in triumph. She quickly put them back as another car passed us. “Not that I'd really have needed to be. Schoolgirl basically has heart eyes every time she looks at you.”
I told her some of the details as we continued the rest of the way to Rob's house, but stopped abruptly as she took a sharp turn off the end of a road directly into loose orange sand. I could see the top of a roof nestled in some trees just ahead. I would have liked to appreciate the lovely quaint picture that might have made, but I was too busy worrying about my tablet cracking because of how much the car was lurching around. “You call this a driveway?”
“You know, I said pretty much the same think the first time Rob brought me here,” she told me, and reached over again to pat me firmly on the back, imitating Rob's broad Australian accent. “Welcome to the real Australia, babe.”
We passed another much newer four wheel drive as we parked outside the house, and Sarah made an excited noise. “Rob's home from work early!” she told me, and then leapt out of the car almost before she'd parked it to jog up the stairs.
The door swung open before she made it there, and Rob came out with the hugest, most genuine smile on his face. He held his arms out to her and she jumped into them and they kissed soundly on the porch, interrupted only by Rob telling her how much he loved her and how much he'd missed her.
It was beautiful. They were so happy. I could have watched them for ages—honestly, I kind of wanted to paint it—but it probably looked creepy, me just sitting here staring at them. I climbed out of the car while they were greeting each other and went to get my luggage out of the boot.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” I could hear Rob booming from the porch as I pulled my suitcase out. I'd been here for about three minutes, and I was already glad I'd come.
TWENTY-THREE
The problem with feeling comfortable looking like this was that I completely forgot that Bree was the only person used to seeing it. As it was, I had so much going on that it didn't even occur to me that Sarah wouldn't have told Rob everything about my gender stuff, until he stopped halfway down the front stairs when I emerged from the boot of the car.
“Jesus, you weren't wrong!” he said to Sarah with complete astonishment on his face, “That is different!”
Like Sarah, he had a barrage of questions. Unlike Sarah, though, he wasn't as diplomatic in how he worded them, which made me nervous. I was still very uncomfortable talking about this with people, even people who were sympathetic.
After I'd mumbled something about maybe being transgender and Rob had very openly asked all the usual questions that I didn't have answers for like, 'when did you know?' and 'how did you know?' and 'are you going to get surgery?', he looked over his shoulder at me as he carried my luggage into the house. “Sorry,” he said amicably, clearly just curious. “No offence. I don't know any of this stuff.”
I shook my head. “I don't know any of it either,” I said. “It's all just kind of happening to me. Sorry my answers are mostly 'I don't know'.”
Sarah held the door open for us as we went inside, and Rob dumped my suitcase inside a door off the tiny hallway and then gave me the strangest look. “I don't get how you cannot know, though. Can't you just,” he waved his hand vaguely at my jeans, “check what's in there, or are you one of those people who has both or something?”
I felt deeply uncomfortable about the part of me he was referring to, and I didn't think I was going to be able to explain the disconnect I had with it.
Fortunately, Sarah came to my rescue. While Rob was showing me around his house—which was basically like a large run-down bachelor pad complete with pool table and a bar in the living room—Sarah explained the difference between someone's physical sex and their gender identity. The things Sarah was saying I already intrinsically kind of knew just from my own experience, but it was all brand new information to Rob who looked like we'd just told him the Earth actually was flat.
“How the hell do you know all this?” he asked her when she was done. “Did you sneak off and do another degree while I was busy up here?”
Sarah laughed. “Nope,” she said. “I asked Google.”
“Huh,” he said, and then looked at me with the most baffled expression. “Well, I need a drink after that,” he said. “And I bet you need one.”
I sighed. “Just one?”
He looked delighted with that answer. “Now you're talking, I bought a whole slab!”
While he went and stuck his head into the enormous fridge he had behind his bar, Sarah leant over to me. “I love that guy,” she told me with a big grin on her face. “Even though he works with hardcore bigots I knew he'd still be fine with it.”
She was right: it hadn't gone so badly, even though Rob was, in his own words, a country boy. I should have been feeling good about that, but I was still shaky and tense and uncomfortable. The whole coming out process was stressful. I wished there was something I could say that would make people just nod and get on with their day instead of asking a million questions. Maybe I should make brochures, I thought, since that seemed to be what I specialised in these days. I could hand out beautifully illustrated, high-gloss material with a FAQ titled, 'Everything you need to know about why Min looks like a boy now'.
While I was imagining what Jason would do if I came back from Broome with those brochures instead, Rob returned with three stubbies, twisted the lids off with his hands and passed each of us one. “Here you go,” he said. “Want to go sit on the back porch? Pretty nice afternoon outside.”
There was an old couch and a classic rocking chair out the back, and since Rob and Sarah obviously wanted to sew themselves together at the hip, I took the rocking chair. I was itching to make an 'it rocks' joke, but I was still a bit rattled from our previous conversation so I didn't say anything. I just looked out towards the sea.
It was a great view; Rob's orange backyard opened up onto a sugar-white sandy beach and the water was just as blue as the sky. It was probably not quite atmospheric enough to paint yet, but sitting here was relaxing.
Sarah took a swig of her beer and settled into the couch as Rob draped an arm across her shoulders. “What are you doing home so early, anyway?” she asked him. “You're not normally back until at least seven or eight.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, as if Sarah had just asked a really big question. “I've got no fucking idea what's going on up at the Waterbank site. We'd had dramas on and off for a month and today the boss put us all on standby pending some court case.” He had a sip of beer, looking unaffected. “I don't really care. Standby rates are shit, but having free time isn't.”
“How long are you off for?” she asked. “Just today?”
Rob shook his head. “No idea. There's a directional meeting-thing or some shit on Wednesday next week, so I guess we'll find out how long we're off after that. Means I don't need to work Saturday, though,” he said, giving Sarah a squeeze. “More time to spend here.” They kissed briefly.
I felt a bit like a third wheel; I'd forgotten how all over each other they were. Since I had my phone in one of my pockets, I thought I might as well check to make sure Bree hadn't burnt down the hotel yet. I hadn't even turned it on since I got off the plane, and when I did, a message came through from a number I didn't have saved.
I opened it, bracing myself in case it was someone from work.
It wasn't. “so uh... u would be surprised the type of mobiles you can get for 300...............”
I groaned audibly. Really, Bree? She'd blown all of it in six hours? “That money was supposed to be for food and emergencies,” I replied, saved her number, and then checked my bank account balance to see what I could tell the hotel to debit from me. I didn't really have a problem with her using the money for a phone, but I wished she'd told me because now it was going to be annoying to get more to her. I
should have left her that five hundred after all, I thought.
“yay u didnt die in a plane crash!!!! also ur tv is totally amazing. it can do aaallllll this cool stuff!!”
I was still annoyed about the money. “I never really used any of the extra features.”
I didn't exactly invite an explanation, but she gave me one anyway. “well it has this thing where u can get it to tell u when a show u like is on so u dont miss it..... and the manual says u can like wave at it or something and get it to do stuff but i havent figured out how to get it to do that yet.. u can apparantly skype from it too but all i can do so far is take bad pics of myself...........also.......... it has this messaging function where u can send people text messages without even having a mobile....................;) ;) ;)”
I stopped trying to scroll through my address book for the external hotel reception number. Was she...? “You actually didn't buy a phone, did you?”
“haha nope!!!!!!!!! im way too lazy to go anywhere ive just had room service and now im about 1000000kg and i cant get off the couch ;) ;) ;) haha i cant believe u fell for it!!!”
Bree, I thought, shaking my head and chuckling to myself. I was going to have to get her back for that one.
I was replying to her text when I realised I couldn't see Sarah or Rob moving in my peripheral vision. I looked up. They'd stopped kissing—some time ago, by the looks of it—and were waiting for me to notice they were watching me. They laughed at my expression.
“Is that Bree?” Rob asked with a big grin.
I looked from him to Sarah. “You told him,” I accused her flatly.
She looked guilty. “I thought you were going to ask if you could bring her up, too, so I had to say something!”
My eyebrows went up. “I didn't know that was an option,” I said, wondering if it was too late to fly her up now. It probably was; it was Easter, all the flights would be full. “I kind of wish I had. Bree loves watching me paint.”
Sarah snorted. “That sounds like a euphemism.”
Under My Skin Page 52
