4. Connor

Breakfast was great—warm and filling. The only problem was that it'd put Trev in a bad mood. When we went upstairs to get ready to hike, he tossed his clothes around, lamenting that he didn't have anything appropriate to wear for "roughing it."

No matter that there was a trail, and that the area around Cider Landing wasn't exactly mountainous and rugged. He could probably get by with a pair of sneakers, but he was annoyed, and Jessie reflected that.

They weren't sure which jacket to wear, if they wanted to bring Froggo or not—we decided no, so that they'd stay safe and clean in our room. They wanted to bring their flashlight and packed a whole little backpack, then unpacked it and started over again, because they weren't sure they had everything they wanted.

It was almost lunchtime before we left the Cider Inn, and by then, Jessie was hungry. I had sandwiches and snacks in my own backpack, but I was worried they weren't enough.

Moreover, I'd planned to find somewhere to picnic—maybe by the creek or in a clearing where we could all just sit and talk.

I still wanted that. Even if we didn't get that far on the trail before we stopped for lunch, I still wanted to picnic with my family.

So clearly, the answer was getting some kind of snack to tide us over until we found a nice spot to lay out our blanket.

"We'll just swing by the grocery store on the way out of town, sound good?" I said, holding Jessie's hand as we made our way down the sidewalk. "We can pick out some snacks."

"Can we get cookies?" they asked.

Behind us, Trevor huffed.

"Maybe some trail mix?" I suggested instead.

"With chocolate chips?" Jessie shot back.

I laughed. "Okay, that sounds like a fair compromise."

The bell above the door dinged as we went into the store, and an older lady behind the register looked up and smiled at us. "Good morning!"

I nodded at her. "Good morning."

It was weird, a shop this small. It wasn't like it was tiny, but there were only a handful of aisles, and it seemed like the fresh food section took up a much larger percentage of the floor space than in the grocery stores in the city.

In any case, we picked up some apples, trail mix with MMs, and some cheesy crackers.

"Is that all?" Trevor asked. He'd come up to my side and was now holding out his hands to take everything we'd picked up.

"Yeah," I said, "but I can get it."

He shrugged. "Don't you want to get out there already?"

"Sure."

He carried all our stuff over to the register while Jessie was still looking at the fresh cut flowers.

"They're fragile," I reminded them, "so we can't touch, but we can look and even smell them if you want to."

They leaned in and breathed deep.

"Your daughter's just precious," the lady at the register said as she rang Trevor up.

He dug around in his pocket for his wallet. "Yeah, thanks."

"Would she like a sucker?"

There in front of the roses, Jessie bit their lip. They'd stuffed their hands in their pockets and went even smaller than normal, shoulders hunched.

So I put my hand on their shoulder and pulled them closer before turning toward the register. "They'd love one. Right, Jessie?"

They nodded, and the lady behind the register, whose hair was stark white and whose face was lined with age, opened her mouth, gaping for just a moment before she shook herself out of it. "What's your favorite flavor, sweetie?"

Jessie wandered over and looked at the collection the cashier held out. "Do you have strawberry?"

"Sure do!" She plucked one out and held it out to Jessie. "It's nice to meet you, Jessie. I'm Martha."

Jessie's smile was a little tremulous, but they nodded. "Thanks."

Trevor was stuffing our things into his backpack at the end of the row. "We all good?"

"Yeah."

Sort of. Except that even candy didn't quite knock Jessie out of their funk by the time we got back onto the sidewalk.

We'd only made it half a block when they tugged on the hem of Trevor's shirt. "You didn't tell her that I'm not a she."

Something about it, the way Jessie blinked their wide blue eyes up at Trevor, broke my fucking heart.

Trevor sighed, a frown twisting on his lips. He—well, he'd been through some stuff with backward people who assumed they had the right to dictate how other people lived. It wasn't like he'd come from money the way I had, that he'd had enough clout that people hesitated to step on his toes.

I'd had my parents' support. He'd just gotten used to getting stepped on, and it sometimes made him brittle and sharp. While I understood that—or at the very least, understood that we'd had different experiences with coming out and being accepted afterward—it wasn't something I wanted Jessie to get used to.

Of course, I didn't know how to stop it from ever happening.

Trevor stopped, turned toward Jessie, and held their hand tight. "I'm sorry, baby. It's just not always worth wasting your breath."

Jessie flinched into their shoulders.

I rushed in. "I think Daddy's trying to say it's not because he doesn't love you exactly as you are. Just sometimes people aren't wise and aren't kind. We can try to make them understand, but it's not always going to work. But as long as we love ourselves and know ourselves, and surround ourselves with people who know us and love us, we'll be okay."

Jessie huffed, flaring their nostrils in a way that looked so much like Trev I wanted to laugh. Truth was, that was purely nurturing right there. After college, when I'd wanted a kid, we'd gotten a surrogate, and while I'd suggested we could mix samples and not worry about who Jessie's biological father was, Trevor had said it didn't matter to him and wanted me to do it. So I had, and those blue eyes of theirs were all Darling.

Trevor glanced at me. "Right. People are going to get it wrong sometimes. You have to pick your battles, and there's no point in wasting your energy trying to educate podunk strangers who don't matter."

Jessie looked down and nodded, but clearly, it mattered to them. "Yeah, I know," they mumbled.

From there, the walk down the street away from town was tense and silent. Trevor was annoyed, Jessie was subdued, and I?—

Fuck, I was annoyed too. Not with the lady at the grocery store, though it was easier to feel a prick of anger toward Trevor when, well, I didn't think he was wrong about everyone. Just, the lady at the store seemed nice enough, not like she'd meant any harm. She'd just messed up, and no one had given her the opportunity to change it.

When we hit the tree line, I pulled Trevor aside. "Should we go back?

Trevor blinked. "What?"

"To the store. To correct the cashier more directly. I think—she seemed like she'd be receptive?—"

"Are you kidding?" Trevor waved his arm out at the forest. "You're the one who wanted to come out here. Half the day is over already, and we haven't even started. And you want to go back, to, what, have a drawn-out conversation with a complete stranger about gender identity and politics on our vacation?"

"I just... don't want them to feel unsupported."

"They're supported, Connor, Jesus. We support them. But you can't—you're not going to make the whole world perfect for them. You can't do that. The world isn't perfect."

I clenched my jaw. I wanted to make the world perfect for them.

And yeah, I was a wealthy white guy—what was the point in all that privilege if I couldn't manage that for my own kid?

"Jessie's obviously upset."

Trevor groaned. "Not every single person is worth the conversation, Con."

"See, that's where we disagree. We want the world to be safe and accepting for them, right? So it's our job to make it that way. That means more conversations, even if they don't go the way we're hoping. And that lady seemed nice. Just—you know, she didn't realize."

"Connor, stop. You're making a big deal out of nothing. It doesn't matter, right?" He paused, looking around. "Right, Jessie?"

Only Jessie wasn't there.

They'd disappeared.

All around us, there were only trees and brush and—oh fuck.

"Jessie!" I shouted.

Some birds overhead flew from the trees, but otherwise, the woods were silent.