Who I Am

WHO I AM

M iguel watched Amit standing before the mirror with his heart between his teeth, beating gently along his tongue. He could almost feel the way blood was rushing through his veins. Amit did this to him every single time. Every twitch, every stretch, every smile and laugh and nose wrinkle sent Miguel reeling.

Even after all this time.

His wedding band felt heavy on his finger. He wanted to say all these things aloud, but Amit had been in a bit of a state, and he was willing to be patient for as long as it took for his beloved to speak.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Miguel was only just starting to worry before Amit finally turned, dark eyes a little too wide—signs of panic.

"I—"

Miguel's breath caught in his throat. "Just say it." Amit was leaving. There was no other reason for this long, drawn-out, tense silence.

"I want to change my pronouns."

Miguel almost laughed. It took every atom of his self-control to swallow down the sound because he was expecting " I can't be with you anymore. I've met someone else. I'm not happy " or a litany of other phrases he'd been expecting to hear for years and years.

This, he'd seen coming. He wasn't going to say that, of course. How could he destroy what Amit had worked so hard to find the courage to say. But he'd known for a long, long time. Amit had been clinging to hes and hims for a sense of familiarity. Not because it felt right.

But lately, Amit had been spending a lot of time with Mason, and Miguel could see the subtle changes happening. A bravery that hadn't been there before. The eagerness for Amit to feel…whole.

"To what?" Miguel said.

Amit took a breath. "They, I think. I…I don't mind him. I mean, I don't mind when strangers use it. But you—the others." Their voice wobbled. "I'd like to be they."

‘Switch to ASL?' Miguel suggested. Amit always expressed themself better that way.

‘It's not as easy. ASL is still catching up to gender-neutral pronouns."

It was the way of living languages. It was harder in languages so centered around gender. The binary wove in and out of inanimate objects in Miguel's mother tongue. But the world was shifting, and Miguel would do anything to make his husband—spouse?—happy.

‘What do I call you?'

Amit blinked in confusion. ‘Amit.' He gave his sign name, and Miguel laughed. He shuffled toward the end of the bed, then stood and took the three steps required to close the distance between them. His stump fell to Amit's waist, his hand cupping their cheek. Then he kissed him.

Them , he corrected in his head.

He'd been practicing silently for a while now, in case Amit ever changed their mind. He'd fuck up again and again—he knew that much. But he wanted to be ahead of the curve.

‘Not your name,' he signed when he pulled back. ‘Are you my husband? Spouse?' He spelled each word carefully.

Amit bit their lip, then glanced over their shoulder at the picture the two of them made in the mirror. Miguel was always awed by the way they looked—by his own rough visage, scarred and glowering, and Amit's smile and wide, earth-brown eyes.

Today, they were wearing soft black leggings that Miguel wanted to run his hands all over and a purple blouse unbuttoned partially down their chest. It hung off Amit's shoulder, leaving a delicious strip of bare skin.

Miguel kissed them there. Then on their neck, right where their pulse was hammering, and on the jaw, then their lips. Amit melted into his grasp, wrapping their arms tightly around his waist. Miguel held on to them, afraid to let go just yet.

"Husband, I think," Amit said aloud.

Miguel nipped at their earlobe, careful to keep his kisses quiet. They often were overwhelming so close to Amit's hearing aids. "Husband," he whispered. "You know the words only matter to me as much as they matter to you. The only thing written on my heart is the imprint of you."

Amit laughed. "I love when you get poetic."

"And I love that no one would ever believe you if you told them."

Pulling back, Amit grinned and pressed a soft kiss to Miguel's lips before stepping away. ‘You really don't mind that I'm…this?'

Miguel quickly shook his head. ‘The only thing I care about is that you're feeling yourself. If you want to use those—' His hand fluttered in the air, searching for the right signs. ‘I don't know what they're called. Those new pronouns?'

‘Neo-pronouns?' Amit spelled.

Miguel nodded. ‘It might take me some time to learn them. But I will. For you.'

Amit smiled and shook their head. ‘I don't need all that.'

‘Do you want to have a coming out?'

Amit bit their lip, then dropped their hands to their sides and began rolling the hem of the shirt between their fingertips. It was an old, nervous habit. Miguel fought the urge to pick up their hands and kiss their palms. "I don't think so," Amit said aloud. "I think maybe…a group text?"

Their nearest and dearest, Miguel assumed. The people still at Irons and Works and the ones who had moved on. A bunch of guys from the Keys shop that he and Amit had grown close to over the last couple of years of vacationing there, and then their Deaf friends, who were more like family.

But when it came to Amit's blood family…

‘Your mom? Sisters?'

Amit was still close with their mom, but the relationship with their sisters had remained strained over the years.

Amit bowed their head and took a fortifying breath before nodding. "Yeah. I think so. That's…I want to do that in person. Would you come with me?"

Miguel got along with Amit's family fair enough. His mother-in-law loved him better than any of his own family ever had. He didn't think this was going to go poorly, but he'd stand against a hurricane if it meant protecting the love of his life.

"Is that really a question?"

Amit laughed and shrugged their shoulders up high toward their ears. "I know this is…" They paused, then switched back to sign. ‘I know this isn't easy for you.'

‘Nothing about you will ever be difficult,' Miguel signed, stepping closer. ‘You've been patient with me with my one- handed ASL, and my temper, and my constant fear of losing you.'

Amit's eyes went bright. ‘None of that is hard.'

‘Neither is this. I hope you know by now that there's nothing on this planet I wouldn't do for you.'

Amit surged up to their toes and kissed Miguel for far more than he would ever, ever be worth.

True to their nature, the guys threw a party for Amit, complete with a cake swirled in all the gender colors—or so James called it. He used green, yellow, blue, pink, and purple. "It was all the colors I could find in the baby store at the mall."

Amit's eyes were wide and a little watery. They shook their head and heaved a sigh before dragging James in for a massive hug. "I love you, jackass."

James grinned. "I love you too. So what are we callin' you now, sweetpea?"

"My pronouns?" Amit glanced around with a slight frown. "I said in the text—"

"No, like. I know some people prefer to change their name or whatnot."

"Oh." Amit's smile got wider. "I like who I am. These pronouns just make me feel more like…like me." They touched the side of their long, floral summer dress. The guys had all seen them in it before. Nothing was changing except a few words.

‘Beautiful,' Basil signed as he walked up, smiling widely.

Amit ducked their head for a second, then tipped their fingers from their chin. ‘Thank you.' The pair of them walked off toward the edge of the yard, where a few of Amit's other friends had appeared, and Miguel watched for a moment as hands began to fly in the long Deaf greetings that would eventually become impossibly long Deaf goodbyes at the end of the night.

Then he turned to James, who was giving him a cautious look.

"What?"

"Is he—they—fuck, I'm gonna mess that right up all the time, aren't I?"

"It'll get easier," Miguel promised. "Amit doesn't mind the slip. They'll mind if no one tries."

"How's it come so easy to you?" James wondered softly.

Miguel shrugged. "Saw it coming a mile away. Years ago."

"So did I," came another voice, accented gently Quebecois. "And that's a feat for me, considering I'm blind."

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that joke never gets old."

Wyatt laughed, jabbing his cane tip into the ground beside Miguel's foot. "I'm guessing Miguel has spent a lot of time practicing."

"More than I wanna admit," Miguel said gruffly.

Mat appeared a moment later and slid his arm around Wyatt's waist. "Did Amit want a party?"

"No," Miguel said at the same time as James said, "Who the fuck doesn't want a party?"

Mat immediately began to argue, so Miguel took the chance to head over to the drinks table, where Derek was manning the cooler. He grinned, signing a quick ‘Hello' from the side of his forehead. He didn't speak aloud much anymore, married to Basil and having a sign-only home.

Miguel gave him a head nod. ‘Okay?'

Derek shrugged. He seemed good. He was rarely at the shop anymore, mostly working over at Ted House with his brother and their rotating flocks of foster kids. But he seemed a little down now that his daughter was off to college.

Things had changed so drastically but so slowly Miguel didn't often realize it until he took a pause and a glance around. If this had been ten years ago, there would still be a party, but Tony would have been hosting. Now, Tony was across the country, warming his toes in the Caribbean-blue waters of the Florida Keys with his wife and their lover.

Miguel felt a strange ache in his chest that reminded him a bit of his arthritis pains.

"How is he?" Derek asked aloud after a long beat.

Miguel snagged a bottle of water and cracked it with his teeth. "He's doing really well. We're seein' his mom tomorrow. I think he's more nervous about that. He knew y'all would be fine."

Derek nodded, his gaze trailing across the yard toward the small group. Miguel could tell he was watching Basil by the way his expression softened. "Baz and the others have been working on some nonbinary signs. They're all really proud of themselves."

Miguel watched the way Amit's shoulders were relaxed. The way their entire body moved with their signs, missing the tension they'd been holding on to for the last few days. And he breathed a little easier. "They're gonna be alright."

Derek chuckled, then reached over and gave Miguel's arm a soft pat. "Yeah. They are."

Miguel loved going to his mother-in-law's house. He knew it wasn't as easy for Amit, who had spent a lot of their life afraid of being found out. They spent hours telling Miguel about the steps they'd taken to keep everything they loved hidden away.

And how terrified they'd been when they were finally caught.

There was relief, but there was also trauma, so Miguel was aware how hard this step was. But he was by Amit's side. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You've got this," Miguel murmured close to their ear.

Amit nodded. "I know. It's…it'll be fine. Right? It'll be fine?"

Miguel lifted their hand and kissed their palm softly. "It'll be fine. Whatever happens, you're doing what's right for you."

Amit took a fortifying breath before pushing the front door open and stepping inside. It smelled amazing. Miguel turned his head left to right, listening for voices, but all he could hear was Amit's mom singing softly under her breath.

‘I don't think your sisters are here,' he signed.

Amit bowed their head. Miguel knew they weren't expecting either sister to show. But he also knew his beloved had held on to hope.

"Raaje?"

‘Your mom,' Miguel signed.

Amit nodded, then took Miguel's hand and pulled him through the living room and into the kitchen. It was brightly lit, and his mom was at the stove, wearing a pretty green hijab that matched her flowing pants.

She smiled at them both and beckoned Amit over, taking their face between her hands and kissing their forehead. "You look like you've been starving yourself."

Amit rolled their eyes. "No, Mom. I've been eating just fine. I do know how to feed myself."

She made a noise of disbelief under her breath, then turned to Miguel. "And my other son. You look thin."

Miguel just laughed and pulled her in for a hug. "Hi, Mama."

She softened under his embrace and gave him a gentle pat. "Go sit at the table. I'm almost finished."

Miguel took Amit's hand and led them to the little nook in the corner. It was new—a bench and two chairs, and it fit perfectly in the little L shape of the room.

"Fatima brought that for me," she said as she walked over and plopped a big pot of rice in the center. "What do you think?"

Miguel quickly interpreted everything into sign. The one thing Amit's mother hadn't given them was ASL. But Amit had allowed that one concession, even if it broke their heart a little.

"It's comfortable. Is she…not coming tonight."

"No, Raaje, but not for the reason you think. She got called into work."

Miguel didn't really buy it, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe one at a time. It would allow Amit a chance to breathe. And frankly, Miguel knew the only person Amit really cared about was their mom.

They made eye contact, and then Amit nodded. "I need to talk to you about something."

"I know. You sounded so serious." She brought over the pot she was cooking—some sort of curry. It looked like goat, and Miguel's mouth began to water. He knew he didn't need to be focusing on food, but his stomach rumbled anyway.

It must have been loud because Amit rolled their eyes and motioned for Miguel to start dishing out plates.

Miguel did the honors while his beloved found the courage lurking somewhere deep in their veins.

"You know you can tell me anything," she said after a long beat of silence.

Amit licked their lips. "I know. I just…this is…it's not." They blew out a puff of air.

"Would it be easier for you to sign? Miguel can interpret."

"No," Amit said quickly. "This needs to come from me." They took another breath as Miguel finished everyone's plate, and then he folded his hands to wait patiently for his lover. "How much do you know about…gender?"

Their mom's eyes widened a fraction, but she didn't look surprised. Miguel had a feeling she knew plenty and maybe had been waiting for this too.

"I'm an old lady, but not that old. I know things. I have grandkids who tell me things."

A smile played at Amit's lips, and they nodded before bowing their head. "I'm…nonbinary. Not a man, not a woman."

"Okay," she answered. "What does this mean? Will you take drugs to change? Have surgery?"

Amit shook their head quickly. "No. I like my body." Most of the time was the unspoken part of that sentence. He knew sometimes Amit wished they were a little different, but not always. Not enough to change anything permanently. Not yet. "It just means that now I'd like you to use they and them when you refer to me. And I'm…I'd like to not be your son."

"What are you to me?" Her words were a little sharp, but her tone was honest.

Amit lifted their chin. "Your child."

Another beat of silence passed, and then she nodded. "Yes. My child. That will always be true. And your name…"

"I love my name," Amit said quickly.

The rest of the tension fled her body. "I will do my best to practice. Now, eat up. I'm watching you both waste away before my very eyes."

It was late when they got home. They hadn't said much to each other on the ride—not that Miguel expected much from his husband. Amit sat in quiet contemplation, and Miguel was resolved to give them as much time as they needed to process.

Everything had gone well, and it was only a matter of time before that luck changed. But Miguel would be steadfast for Amit. That was his purpose. His very favorite reason for being.

The air inside was cool from a window left open, and Amit walked over to shut it before pulling out their hearing aids and dropping them on the table. The moment stretched out between them, and then Miguel crossed the room and took them in a careful embrace.

‘Okay?'

‘She still loves me,' Amit signed. ‘They all do.'

‘Of course,' Miguel replied. ‘You're you. We've always loved you. Words change, but you're still ours.'

Amit kissed him deeply, powerfully. They tipped their head back as Miguel feasted on their neck, then peeled clothes away until warm skin was brushing warm skin. They might not make love tonight, but that didn't matter. This was all he really needed.

‘Happy?' Miguel asked when he pulled back.

‘Kiss me again.'

Miguel did.

Amit let out the smallest sigh, then pressed their hand to Miguel's heart. It wasn't a direct answer, but it was all Miguel needed to breathe easy. Nothing had changed.

Amit was still his.