28. Jonathan

T he meeting with Thomas Wu was going on longer than necessary, ironing out minor details he should have discussed with his architect, not with the guy who was just the face behind the money.

All that talk about being the man and finally taking charge of my life? I seemed to roll through good days, then hit the odd bad one. Really good hours, mixed with catastrophic ones full of doubt, when I wanted to hurl myself into the gutter and wail in misery. Today? I felt wrung out by everything, in need of something, and I didn't even know what.

I was sleeping better, not perfectly, but I sometimes managed a few hours of solid sleep. I ate proper food. And I had Mabel.

All of which led to me sitting here in Mr Wu's fancy glass office, grinning like a fool.

"You're happy," he said, taking off his glasses and resting his arms the table. Relaxed was not his natural state, and it made him appear like a stranger, and entirely different man from the one I had spent the past couple of hours arguing with.

Thomas Wu only ever relaxed after he'd got what he wanted, and I'd fought him on every point today. He was an exhausting human being to interact with, and I was so ready to leave.

"I am," I admitted, swallowing my words. My father would have killed me had he heard. "Never lose control." Well, Dad, I was in full control. A new kind of control.

"Anything you want to share?" he asked, getting up and walking over to his row of fancy office cupboards. He opened one to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of something that looked old and…good.

"I met someone. Someone truly special, and my life is being…well, turned upside down, but for the better." It felt exhilarating, saying it out loud, telling people I had formed a connection with another human being. I needed to talk about it. To be normal. Actually live.

"That's usually the way. Life-changing when it's right, isn't it? I met my husband at university. I was a right miserable wanker before that."

I laughed out loud. Absolutely laughed as I tugged at my tie, loosened up, and let my suit jacket fall from my shoulders. I hadn't realised how hot I was, wound up, the familiar stress creeping up into my shoulders. I hated other people's offices, but Thomas Wu needed his ego massaging on a regular basis. He despised emails and would only entertain face-to-face discussions.

"Husband?" I repeated, just to make sure I'd heard it right. Oh God. I'd just done it, hadn't I? He'd said something completely different, no doubt, and now I was being an idiot.

"Husband," he said carefully. "Married fifteen years now. Two children."

"Wonderful," I hiccupped out.

"Is that a problem?" He leaned heavily on the glass table between us. The bottle was right there.

"Absolutely not," I said, hoping he wouldn't pick up the bottle and hit me over the head. He was that kind of guy, and I was still blurting out words. "I'm gay."

"Thought so."

Oh. That again?

"My new partner is gender-fluid," I clarified, feeling my face catch fire and my chest constricting. "They are the most amazing human I have ever met. It's very new, but…it's lovely."

"I can tell," he said, shooting me a smile. "We should toast, not to grand business ventures this time, but to other, more important things. We should toast to the good people in our lives. And love."

"Love," I agreed, clinking my glass clink against his. "Love. Because when you find it—"

"It changes everything," Thomas Wu finished, and he was right. It did.

I almost skipped down to my waiting car and smiled all the way home. I picked up parcels from the concierge and allowed a little giggle slip as I got in the lift. An embarrassed giggle, because…well, let's just say I'd made some purchases. Items I needed to open and inspect in peace and quiet. Carefully consider their use.

Damn.

I tapped myself into my flat, which was starting to feel awfully lived in. Everything was clean and tidy, but the once-dust-covered dining table was stacked bags of fabric and a few neatly stacked clear plastic boxes containing Mabel's belongings. Haberdashery, they'd said. Buttons. Miles of sequins and lace. They'd shown me, letting me trail my fingers over things I had no idea what to make of. I'd liked it, though, that these things made them happy.

And now I was standing here, ripping open my purchases, wondering if the contents would be something that would make me happy.

I almost chickened out, lifting the first item out of the box. I had no idea what I'd been thinking because this…monster of a dildo was nothing like Mabel's magnificent cock. This thing was…ginormous.

"Oh God," I exclaimed into the silence as I weighed the heavy rubber dick in my hand. Artificial veins. A suction cup on the base. Or was it a handle? I'd just clicked on it because it looked…exactly like what it was. Frightening.

Which was, of course, when my front door swung open for the wonderful love of my life, to find me standing there with a giant rubber dick in my hand.

"Good grief!" they shrieked. "What the hell is that?"

"Well…" I swallowed. I was ridiculous, and I knew it. "You mentioned toys, so I…got some."

"I said toys. Not weapons of mass destruction."

They weren't wrong.

And finally I fully took them in—the black suit, the shirt open all the way down to that cute belly button. Oh, the hair. And lipstick. I leaned over and kissed them. Because…

Irresistible. Even with a giant dildo in my hand.

Then they were diving headfirst into the box, unpacking things and laying them out on the table.

"You got some…Jonny…what…? God. I love it!"

"I got brave. Browsed through all sorts of interesting things."

"These plugs are excellent. Exactly what I would have bought. The fleshlight. Good choice. I've tried one of these. Hooked up with someone who was obsessed with them. Good fun. That was years ago, though, and I think they've improved the design since."

"Are we seriously standing here discussing sex toys?"

"Well, if we're going to be serious…" They laughed. I loved that they did. "Did you buy lube?"

"Well, I did do my research. There's lube in there, somewhere, and condoms."

They rummaged at the bottom of the box, coming back up with a grin.

"Then, there is…magic!"

"That's what it said in the reviews. Self-warming, allegedly."

"This is the good stuff," they promised, leaning in for another kiss.

I loved the heels they wore because they made them impossibly tall. And it made me feel…I didn't know. Small, maybe? In need of protection?

Protected. The way their arms just folded around me, making me lean into their chest. Bare skin against my cheek, the soft scent of them. Nothing between us.

"My mum went into the hospice today. She hasn't got long."

"Oh, Pickle."

And here I'd been waving dildos in the air when they were clearly distressed.

"Don't," they said sternly. "I know you haven't met my parents yet, but it's…the hospice…"

"Come," I said quietly. "Sit with me."

We didn't sit. We did what I realised was very much us. We curled up on the sofa, our legs underneath us, arms all over the place as I lay my head against their chest. They'd lost their jacket; I'd discarded mine. My belt was undone. Their fingers combed through my hair.

"Mum started to get unwell many years ago. She gradually lost the use of her thoughts, her memory, her body. Then she stopped talking. Didn't recognise me or Dad. She lost everything else a little at a time until there was nothing left. The doctors don't know if she has any senses left, if she knows anything apart from that she feels pain. And she's in pain now, which is why she's in the hospice where they can keep her comfortable until the end. We know this is the end."

"I'm so sorry." There were never enough words to say. I had never known loss, not like they obviously did.

"Don't be. She knew what was coming. She sat down with me, and we had that conversation over and over again until it became less traumatic. We talked about death and laughed. She knew what would happen to her and how things would end. She knew, and she told me not to ever feel bad. That even if she couldn't tell me anymore, she would love me. Desperately and wholly and fully, with every last breath of hers. She made me promise I'd remember that."

"She sounds like a wonderful mum."

"She is. Not always perfect, but none of us are. She made mistakes. But she always, always told me how perfect I was. Even when I set fire to the bin. When I broke her favourite vase. I ruined a half-done wedding dress once, spilling juice all over the delicate lace. She couldn't salvage it and sat there and cried. I cried too. But she just hugged me and said it didn't matter. Not in the end. And she was right. It didn't. It was just one of those things."

"Mabel."

"Yes?"

"I just love saying your name. And when I say it, you stroke my hair."

I sounded like a child, but right now, I felt so incredibly loved. So close to them. So…at peace.

"I always loved that name."

"Would you tell me about your name? Why you chose it?"

"It wasn't really me who chose it. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know. I want to understand. I need to know all about you. And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but… You can always talk to me, Pickle. I don't care about the rules. I truly don't care. I want to know about the ex-husband. The skirts. The wedding shop. Your parents." I was getting far too animated, waving my arms around. "I want to know you. Everything about you. Don't ever feel there are things you can't tell me, because you can."

Too much? I wasn't sure. But as I looked up, they were still smiling, so I counted that as a win.

"When Mum was pregnant with me, she didn't know if I was a girl or a boy."

"Okay."

"Turned out I was neither, but anyway. Mum had two names ready for me. Matthew or Mabel. So Matthew it was."

"You're not a Matthew." I was serious. That name felt incredibly wrong, especially saying it out loud.

"I was Matty most of the time until I was somewhere in my mid-twenties, and it just didn't sit right with me anymore. I'd always known that I was somewhere in the middle—I always had been. Neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. On the fence but balancing just right. But Matty was no longer the same person I'd been in my teens, and he wanted out. Turns out, Mabel wanted in."

"I bet they did. Mabel is quite the force."

"Mum chose it. She sat me down one day when I'd turned up for dinner with a wig and a dress. Full make-up—not for the first time, but my parents were never surprised. They just asked me to twirl around and complimented my clothes, offered me tea and a sandwich, asked about my day. It was never a big deal, and I suppose I was trying to push those buttons. Make them explode at me or something. I was just desperate for someone to acknowledge who I was. What I was. Help me take that final step because I couldn't do it myself—I felt so lost on the inside."

"I understand," I whispered. I'd been lost most of my life.

"So Mum sat me down and asked me outright. Told me she loved me whatever the answer was, and to just be honest. Who was I? If I closed my eyes and saw myself, who did I see? Matthew or Mabel?"

"God," I said.

"Nope. I didn't see God."

"Mabel." I had to smile. "I think I love your mum."

"You would have loved her. She was very, very lovely. Warm. Kind. Always happy. Making wedding dresses for people was her favourite part of her job. Seeing them happy. She wanted me to be happy, whatever the cost. If I'd said I'd wanted surgery or if I'd wanted to become…I don't know, but she would have made it happen just to see me smile. It was a wonderful way to grow up, being so supported. Still, I wanted more."

"That's what you do when you're young. You want the world. Then you grow up."

"Absolutely. I wanted everything. And Mum gave me a kiss on my forehead and told me that Mabel was my name anyway, so what was the issue?"

"And thus…"

"I was Mabel. From that day forwards. And I don't know. I felt so relieved that I could actually be someone who didn't feel so restricted. Matthew was a man. Mabel? Nobody quite knew, and I liked it like that. I still do. I like who I am."

"I love who you are."

"And I have never met anyone like you." There it was again. The way their voice went soft and wobbly, full of emotion. I could feel it in the air, that little vibration of comfort, when we felt. "You have never even doubted me. Never misgendered me. From day one, you treated me exactly how I've spent my whole life wanting to be treated."

"And how is that?" I had to ask.

"Like I'm your whole world."

"Well, Mabel Donovan. That's because you are."