Togetherness

1

There's a pounding at my door followed by a woman's voice. "Ella!"

I groan at the use of my old name. "What, mom?"

"Get up. You're gonna be late for school."

"Whatever." But I roll out of my bed anyway.

I walk over to my closet and take my binder off of the hanger. I whip my shirt I slept in off and throw it across the room, watching it land on my bed. I tug my binder on over my chest and readjust as needed. As I walk to my dresser, my door swings open and shows my mother standing in the doorway.

"Are you getting dres- why do you have that stupid thing on? Your father never should have bought that for you." She storms over to me and tries to take it off my body.

"Mom, stop- just let me wear what I wa-" I'm interrupted by a hand, curled into a fist, connecting with my face. I'm knocked backwards, onto the floor. I look up at the woman standing before me. Her face is bright red, a look of anger etched into her features. The blue in her irises are barely visible through the slits that are her eyes. Her hair's all messed up and falling out of the hair tie.

"I will not," she growls, "be raising a- a freak in my house. Take that thing off and be a fucking girl, like you were born to be. I don't need your dumb ass going around thinking you're a boy. You're a girl, you have a vagina, act like it. You will never be a boy. Never." With that, she stomps out of my room and slams the door shut.

I shuffle back, pressing my back against the wall. I pull my knees to my chest and sob. I bury my face into my knees and quietly cry.

She's right. I'll never be a boy. I'll never have a flat chest. I'll just have to get used to my body. My gross, squishy, curvy, fat body.

I pick myself up off of the floor and dust myself off, wiping the wet streaks from my face. I walk to my dresser, choosing to keep my binder on. It's my choice, not my mom's. I grab a plain white t-shirt from a drawer and pull it on. From another drawer, I grab a pair of black skinny jeans. I manage to pull the tight fabric over my legs and wiggle my butt into them. While pushing my feet into an old pair of Chuck's, I pull my black oversized sweatshirt over my head. I run my hands through my hair to attempt to tame, since I'm sure it's all over the place. After I got an undercut, it's just been fun to run my hands through my hair. Since it's shorter, it's lighter which I had to get used when I first got it cut.

I walk out of my room and into the kitchen, grabbing an apple off the counter as I walk by. I sit at the kitchen table and eat my apple, taking my sweet time. Even though my dad's the one that drops me off at school, it infuriates my mother when I lollygag.

Just as I'm finishing my apple, Dad walks into the kitchen, dressed for work. My dad works at Walmart, he's the store manager of the local one. He's the one who encourages me to be myself, which I appreciate.

"Ready to go, Parker?"

"Yeah, dad. Just let me grab my bag."

When we're walking out to the car, he points out the forming bruise on my cheek.

"What's that?" he says, pointing at the discoloration.

"Oh, uh, just a small bruise. I... hit my face.... on a....door."

"Your mom again?"

I nod.

"Goddammit! I'm filing for divorce if she does it again. She needs to respect your opinions."

I nod again, unsure of what to say.

He climbs into the driver's seat while I get into the passenger's side. When we're on the road, heading for school, he asks me, "you gonna play soccer this year? I know it's different from rec but it can't be too much different. If they changed too much, it wouldn't be soccer." He laughs. "But really. Are you gonna try out?"

At my school, the high school soccer team is boys only. It has been for years. While most teachers and coaches respect my decision, my peers do not. They still call me Ella, use the wrong pronouns, and are just total douches about it. But I love soccer too much to not at least try out. Some idiots are gonna stop me.

"Yeah, I think I will," I say, smiling.

"Good! Tryouts are tonight after school, by the way."

"Okay. Thanks, dad."

"Anytime." He pulls up to the school.

"Bye, dad, love you," I say, opening the car door.

"Bye, son, love you, too. Have a good day."

"You too."

I walk slowly up the sidewalk to the entrance and sigh. I can already feel that it's gonna be a long day.