So next evening, on his back porch, David said, “I need to tell you something.”

“What’s up?”

David shut his eyes. “I’ll understand if this is a deal-breaker, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“Jesus, what’s going on? I’m assuming you didn’t kill someone.”

(Before this, it was Ray and Leah and his mom who knew. No one else. His friends had been chill, his mom less so. It’d been years ago, too. The summer he turned eighteen.)

“I have,” David started. “I have,” he tried again. “I have some issues with my gender.”

The slightest emptiness of silence. Then: “Oh, babe. I don’t think that’s a deal-breaker. I’m glad you told me. What do you mean?”

“Sometimes,” he began, “I wish I could be seen as a woman? Like. I want to—God this is so hard, I’m sorry. Sometimes I feel like maybe now and then I sort of want to be. A woman? And I wear girl’s clothes sometimes. Half of my—holy Jesus, here we go. Okay, half of my underwear drawer is girl’s underwear. Actually.” He chose this point to shut up.

Iris studied him. She was waiting for him to go on.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And then Iris kissed him! “Oh, honey!” she said. “I mean, fuck, sure, I wasn’t expecting this. But. Please. I still love you. I still want to be with you. Tell me what this means. I want to help. Like, does this mean you like boys, too?”

David’s mind shot off through the trees, hearing Iris’s voice through fog. “No,” he finally said. “I’ve only been attracted to women. I love women. And that’s another thing,” he said nervously. “Most people like me are definitely attracted to men. From what I can tell.”

“Do you want to take hormones?” She knows about hormones?! “Do you want the surgery—”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said hastily. “That’s such a huge question. I don’t know if I want to do anything. Some people need it. You know? They’re called ‘true transsexuals.’ They get sex changes and they need to and they know so clearly. There’s this test called the Benjamin Scale—true transsexuals score a six, and I got between a two and a three? So I don’t think I need surgery, but I also know I’m not, like, a regular boy either?” David was calmer now. “Took me years to figure that out.”

Iris kissed him. Kissed him again. Refilled his wineglass. “Drink this, my dear. Hey, I love you. I love you! And that doesn’t scare me off. And I know you’re not sure, but if you ever wanted to change your body, or even get surgery, you could do that, and I’d still be here. Promise. No, look at me! Look at me. I don’t care, okay? I promise!”

Still, David was not quite sure. Days later, he wore panties to bed. When Iris discovered them, he said weakly, “Sure you want to do this?”