Just Passing

40. Expectations

Aiden Mills doesn't look like how I pictured him.

Although, now that I am over at the high school, sitting across from him, it's hard to remember what I was expecting.

He's short. Maybe 5'2 if I'm being generous. But his width makes up for what he lacks in stature. He's husky, but in a buff-way, if that makes sense. He definitely spends more time at a gym than I ever have. We're about the same age, if I had to guess. Maybe I have a few years on him, but we're definitely contemporaries. He has a scruffy goatee that's peppered with a few grays and a wispy mustache. Fitting for a music teacher. And thin black-wire glasses frame his heavy-lidded eyes.

"What do you think of Danielle?" he asks, fingers steepled, his elbows leaning carelessly on his paper-cluttered desk. "Isn't she great?"

We are sitting in his office, which is essentially a small windowless closet off of one of the music rooms. It's on the first floor of the building, just down the hall from the auditorium. And thank goodness, because I've gotten lost in the high school before. It's bigger than the local shopping mall, but unlike the mall, there isn't a directory. I'm glad I don't work here. His walls are plastered with posters: promotions for the school's musicals and recitals, advertisements for Broadway productions, banners with inspirational quotes. "If you can walk, you can dance. If you can talk, you can sing," one reads. And of course, on his door he has the same "Safe Space" sticker that Ms. Reid has, and behind his desk flies one of those new pride flags that include the trans colors.

"Danielle? Yeah, she's fantastic." I answer, shifting in my seat.

I reached out to Aiden on Tuesday, and he happily agreed to meet with me after school today. He didn't know that our school was planning an assembly for students about gender identity, and he was excited to talk with me about it.

"I met her through some of my volunteer work. I help facilitate a group for LGBTQ teens in my hometown. She did a workshop for us and I was really impressed. I heard positive things about her work with your faculty at the beginning of the year." He grins, showing off his straight white teeth.

I wonder who he heard that from. Who does he talk with at our school? Do I have colleagues who go to the LGBT educator's group that Aiden runs? I hadn't considered that before. But instead of asking, I just answer, "Yes, it was a very needed professional development opportunity."

"How is Blake doing? I talked to his mom over the summer. She really has it together, doesn't she?"

"Blake? Yeah, he's doing fantastic. This school-wide assembly was his idea."

Me? I'm not doing quite as well. Not that Aiden asked. On Friday before school, I was walking up the backstairs to the third floor when I heard Steve's voice reverberating down the hallway. "I wasn't surprised. Are you kidding me? Come on!" he scoffed and immediately my insides turned to jello. Gelatinous and jiggly. I turned and slunk down the stairs, praying no one saw me. I had to lock myself in the staff bathroom on the first floor and splash water on my face to calm down. Maybe it was just a benign comment out of context. In retrospect, he could've been talking about anything. A student. Sports. Something in the news. But at the moment, and in my bones, I knew he was talking about me. And it made me retch.

Aiden leans back and swiveled in his chair, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "He seems like a real brave kid. Wish I had been as confident as him when I was his age."

"I wish I was that confident now," I say with a laugh, although I mean it seriously.

"Youth." Aiden nods in agreement, a smirk at the corner of his lips.

Does Aiden know about me? It didn't come up in our brief email exchange. I mean, why would it? But we do have a mutual acquaintance.

A beat passes before I speak again.

"You know, I think we have some friends in common," I say. A very slick change of subject. "Lisa and Megan."

His brows knit and he cocks his head a few degrees. "Really? You know Lisa and Megan?"

I guess they didn't bring me up to him, but I didn't really expect that they would have. "I don't know them super well. Our kids go to music class together and we've had a playdate. But they mentioned you."

He nods. "Megan went to college with my husband."

I wanted him to ask why they mentioned him, but he didn't, so I do. "I was telling them about this assembly and they advised me to talk to you about it. That's one of the reasons I reached out."

He lets out a short laugh. "Because I'm trans?"

"I'm sure that's only part of the reason," I try to match his laugh, but it comes out as more of a nervous giggle. "I mean, I'm trans, too, but I still don't know what the heck I'm doing with this assembly."

And there you have it. The words coming easier and easier.

"Oh, cool, I didn't know." I can feel his eyes reassessing me. "Why haven't I seen you at one of our LGBTQ educators' group meetings? We'd love to have more rep from the elementary level."

"Honestly," I start, although I'm not sure how honest I'm actually going to get, "I've seen the fliers, but the times don't work for my childcare schedule." It's not a lie. Although, it's not the truth either.

"Evenings can be hard," Aiden agrees.

"Especially with two young kids at home."

Aiden nods in agreement, but then his face shifts. His mouth straight. His chin tilted up. "Does Blake know?"

Something about his tone crawls under my skin. "That I have two young kids at home?" I retort. It comes out with more snark than I intend. "Or that I'm trans?"

"Both? Either?"

I take a deep breath. Telling people about my past felt like giving up control. But after the last few days at work, over-interpreting every glance and assuming every whisper is about me, I think Jessica is right. The only way to take back that control is by telling everyone. Owning the narrative.

"Yes, Blake knows. And a handful of other people at work." I don't mention how reluctant I was to tell Blake or how recently I told any co-workers. "But I'm thinking that it might be appropriate to acknowledge this about myself in a more public way."
And there you have it. The real reason I reached out to Aiden Mills.
"The assembly?" He asks, and his lips corkscrew and one eyebrow raises.
"The assembly," I confirm.
He leans back in his chair and swivels back and forth. "I might have some ideas." He smiles, and I can tell his wheels are turning.
Aiden Mills is exactly how I expected him to be. And I'm so grateful.