Gender Is Fluid

• Caitlin Sheridan, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2017

She stumbled into the room, slamming the door behind her, eyes lined with tears which refused to fall. She slumped over to the bed and collapsed onto the soft mattress, wishing she could sink in and never return. That would probably be best for everyone. Her head rolled over to face the other bed where he was, sitting lazily against the wall.

“Bad day?” he asked, eyes filled with concern and sadness. She nodded solemnly before sitting up to face him.
“We’re not doing too well. Dad keeps yelling, telling me I don’t exist. He says he wants you to come back. He liked it better when it was just you. I kept telling him that you and I could exist together. He didn’t believe me.”
“You want me to come out tomorrow with you, or I could go by myself?” he offered, getting up from the bed. He sat himself down next to her and rubbed her back gently.
“No. Then we’ll look like we’re listening to Dad. Maybe neither of us should go.”
“Now that won’t solve anything,” he replied with a laugh, which lingered with sadness, in a failing attempt to soften the mood.
“Yeah . . .” she trailed off, “What if we ran away? We’d never have to see the jerk ever again.”
“I never thought of that . . . but what about Mum? And the dogs? I’m sure they’d miss us.”
“They’d probably be better off if we left,” she grumbled, eyes staring at the cold, stone floor.
“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, standing up from the bed. His eyes stared straight at hers, littered with anger and sorrow.
“They would though! They wouldn’t have to deal with us anymore. You know it hasn’t been the same since I showed up!” She stood herself up, shoving him away.

For a few moments, they stood in silence, glares clashing against each other, before he sighed and sat on his own bed. He rubbed his eyes, shoulders slumped and sagged. “You know, I remember the day you first showed up,” he paused for a moment, a memory lingering in his mind, “I was so confused at the time-”
“Why are you saying this?” she interrupted, patience running thin.
“Because I felt so much better when you came. You stopped the confusion. Now we can be who we want to be. I don’t care that others don’t understand us, as long as we understand us.”

She didn’t respond, refusing to make eye contact. He grabbed her hands firmly, refusing to let go even as she tried to pull away. “We’ll get through this, okay? And we won’t resort to running away. We’ll just go day by day and see who we are.”