“Maybe that’s not a bad idea,” Vera whispered.

For better or for worse, by the time they stood up, Vera’s anger had dimmed. She had always forgiven easy. Oh well, oh well, oh well. Iris said, “I guess now I’m the bad guy between us,” and Vera laughed, even though she didn’t want to.

Months passed without them talking. Vera wondered if Iris was pissed at her again, or maybe too embarrassed to reach out, but Vera was starting not to care. Life was wearing at her. She and Connie were completely not speaking (“You are my son,” Connie’d said resignedly last phone call. “You can do whatever you want, that’s fine. You’ll lead your life and it’s yours. You get to do that. But I gave birth to you. You’re my son. And there is nothing that anyone can do to make that change.”). The shit Vera got on the street was getting worse, and she no longer could even pretend to change into a boy costume if she wanted. That was just gone now. The slog of work was long, long, and she went for a trach shave consult and—shit—it was not cheap. She’d started electro, which was nice but also jeez. Put it this way, Vera didn’t have much of a pain tolerance. She made a couple new friends from work, but they always wanted to party and Vera didn’t want that anymore. She’d spent good years frying brain cells as a closeted college student, y’know? She was ready for her adult life to start. She wanted her adult life to start.

The one bright spot was Zoe, actually. They’d been hitting it off nice. Zoe had her over a bunch and she taught Vera how to sew, and Vera cooked them elaborate, healthy meals, for which Zoe was very thankful (“I hate cooking,” Zoe said. “Every time I remember you can mix peanut butter in oatmeal I kick myself for forgetting. That’s the kind of cook I am.”). They were even the same age, twenty-four, though Zoe was already a couple years into the lady pills. Vera’d never befriended other trans women besides the bandana’d lady back in Portland, and even that friendship had been at somewhat of a remove. But Vera and Zoe got along perfect, and they didn’t talk about trans stuff much either, really, and that was magic, a gift, an incredibly normal thing Vera had no idea how much she needed in a time when everything felt so crap.