Hannah wants to go out, get some groceries, look at some clothes.
Mariam: Nice, nice!
I rub my face while I consider the pros and cons of telling Mariam about last night, my hand scratching the stubbly hair that’s just poking up on my jaw. I yank my hand away and try to forget about it, but I know I won’t feel better until I actually shave it off, which I probably won’t be able to do until tonight.
A few of the message boards I’ve read said things like facial hair growth contributes to body or gender dysmorphia. So that was a fun thing to learn. I don’t exactly remember when I discovered the whole thing made me uncomfortable. It was just one of those gradual things, like my hair, or my nose.
Mariam: gasp! I almost forgot! You haven’t met the new girl!
Me: New girl?
Mariam sends me a selfie of them with a girl at a coffee shop or restaurant or somewhere. They’re both really cute, Mariam as always, their dark purple lipstick matching their hijab. This girl is kissing Mariam’s cheek, her hair dyed a similar purple, eye shadow dark. She looks vaguely witchy, and I love it.
Me: She’s so cute!!!
Mariam: omg she’s so amazing. Her name is Shauna. like we’ve been out every day this week. We went to the movies last night and she held my hand the entire time and it was PERFECT! Like I think I died and I’m in heaven right now honestly.
Me: Sounds nice
I stare at their messages while I try to imagine Mariam walking down the street, getting to hold hands with their new girlfriend. I don’t know much about Mariam’s parents, but they’ve never had any problem with them being nonbinary or pansexual, so Mariam never really had to worry about hiding their sexuality or their identify from their parents.
I hope they know how lucky they are. Of course, they’d also had more than their fair share of problems. When their family lived in Bahrain, things weren’t perfect. Mariam’s family is Shia, not Sunni, which made things difficult for them.
But after they moved to the United States, things only got worse. Too many times Mariam has told me about people yanking on their or their mother’s hijab out in public or walking in front of them while they prayed. And California isn’t some 24/7 queer-pride parade. Mariam told me one time that they never go anywhere without two cans of pepper spray, so I don’t really have a right to call them lucky, I guess.
Plus, there’s the whole YouTube side of things. Those comment sections can get downright hideous.
Mariam: You okay???
I stare at their message, thinking about how I could tell them.
Me: I think I really like this boy…
But before I press send, Hannah slides open the glass doors and pokes her head outside. “Hey, I’m gonna shower and head out. You want to come with me or stay here?”
I glance at my phone, holding down the backspace button, and watch the message vanish before I look back at her. The dog that might be Ryder is still barking. “Yeah, I’ll go get ready.”
“This one looks good.” Hannah grabs a shirt off the rack and holds it out in front of me. “And it goes with your eyes,” she adds.
“Yeah, maybe.” I take it, adding to the pile I’m trying to balance on my arms. So far, she’s handed me a few button-up shirts, three pairs of jeans, and a cardigan. It’s going to get too warm for sweaters soon enough, but it’s still pretty cute. Cheap too.
“You want to go ahead and try them on?”
“Sure.” I glance around for the dressing rooms, one clearly marked “male” and the other “female.”
“Sorry, sib,” Hannah says, realizing this for the first time.
“It’s whatever.” I march toward the “male” side and pick one of the empty rooms. I hate trying on clothes. Besides there rarely being gender-neutral changing rooms, I get all hot and sweaty, and changing out of stuff six or seven times tends to get really old really quick.
I stare at the ones Hannah’s picked out. There’s one we grabbed that I’m actually excited for, this short-sleeve collared shirt, bright floral print set against black. I’ve always loved these kinds of shirts.
The rest are fairly basic colors. Burgundy, olive green, and purple. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what Hannah is doing for me, but the second we stepped in, she took charge, heading right over to the “men’s” section without giving it a