Mistakes

Seventeen

Dale

The first time someone adopted me was the first time I accepted myself as a boy. It was the year I really came out, and was sure that I was born in the wrong body, that I was a boy.

Unfortunately, that was also the year everything went further down hill.

The blonde haired woman- who's name I forgot from pushing to the back of my head for so long- that adopted me took me shopping the second the papers were signed. Just like how Ashton did.

She was in the girls' aisle, and little 13 year old Dale decided to venture into the boys' aisle. The lady was too busy with her sister, choosing dresses and skirts for the family reunions where she'd show me off, so I took the opportunity to look for clothes that I'd like and show them to her, coming out. I knew she would instantly regret adopting me, but I was so confident at the time.

There was a really nice patterned shirt, military camouflage. I called the woman over to show her the shirt. She was holding a short blue sundress and a pair of blue heels, her sister close behind holding piles of clothing. The second I showed her the shirt, the woman laughed so hard she dropped the heels on my foot.

She told me to put it back and that I was being ridiculous. As she walked back to the girls' aisle, still looking around for dresses. I stayed next to the rack where I found the shirt, my sweaty hand clamped onto the shirt hanger, putting it back. I remember all my confidence lowering at the fitting rooms, where the woman threatened to take me back if I didn't put on the dress.

I remember crying so hard the woman had to buy it because I stained the dress.

Ashton stood before me, his posture slouched and his expression limp. He looked exhausted, like if he was about to pass out on the ground. The words he said hit me like a sledgehammer, I couldn't believe what he just called me.

"Dale Irwin, stop crying this instant." He said softly but sternly.

Out of sheer fear, I stopped. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, even though it was just Ashton and I in the room. I could tell someone else was watching us, someone was looking through the dining room door.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for slapping you, and I'm so sorry for hurting you in any way."

He sat in his chair, his fingers tapping the hardwood table. His hair messily sat on top of his head, a few curls flying in his face.

"Do you forgive me?"

I nodded, despite wanting to shout "NO!" and running off again.

"Thank you. Now, let's get one thing straight." He sighed deeply. "You are my child, I guess. That means I am in charge of you."

Felicity Peyton. That was the woman's name. She said the exact same thing.

"But I'm not going to force you to be someone you don't want to be anymore."

Lies.

"I'm not going to bully you anymore, but I need to know. Why do you want to be a boy?"

"I-I don't-t want to be a boy." I told him, my confidence growing a bit.

He sighed in relief, which made me deeply frown.

"So then what is all of thi-"

"I am a boy." I stated.

He stared blankly at me, seeming to be judging me really hard.

"Well- um. Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean, you have a girl body."

"I was born in the wrong body."

"How are you so sure?"

"I am a boy, and that's that."

"Fine. Shall I call you 'he' from now on?" He asked sassily.

"That would be wonderful, thank you." I felt like I had won.

"Well, Dale. If you don't mind, could you tell me when you found out you were a boy?"

"I was really young, I don't remember."

"Then how old were you when you came out?"

"I kind of came out to myself when I was 10. Well, not really since I was still figuring everything out. But I officially accepted myself as a boy when I was 13."

"So last year?"

"Why are you asking?"

"You're my da-son aren't you? I need to know these things."

Did he just say "son"?

"Could I tell you later?"

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"Oh, one more question, if you don't mind."

"What is it?"

"What's your favorite color?"