“Yet!” Ginger says, then gives her a kiss on the cheek. Celeste is younger and more feminine than Ginger, and they make a good-looking couple.

“I’m Terry,” says a quiet white woman with gray hair and a welcoming smile. “I work in book publishing.”

An African American woman waves at me. Her shaved head accentuates her sharp cheekbones. She could be a model. “I’m Judy. I work as a nurse at Callen-Lorde, an LGBTQ health-care center. It’s a terrific resource for transgender people. You could start your hormone therapy there.”

Aunt Lil jumps in. “He needs to be eighteen.”

Judy waves her off. “He just needs a parent’s consent.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that,” I say.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says. “But you could start therapy. It’s good to talk to someone.”

“He could? I didn’t know that,” Aunt Lil says. “August, would you?”

I have enough to do. I need to stay focused on acting. “Maybe during summer break?”

Aunt Lil frowns. “We can talk later,” she says.

A plate of brownies has been tempting me since I sat down. I’m guessing they are void of dairy or even sugar, but I’ll take my chances. I reach for one as the conversations pick up around me. Right before taking a bite, I hear, “Don’t eat that!”

I drop the brownie on the table. All eyes on me. Aunt Lil says, “Your mom would kill me if you had that. It’s a special brownie.”

“Full of pot,” Ginger jokes.

The room giggles, waiting for my response. “Just a bite?” I ask.

They laugh. And Lil takes the brownie from me playfully, then takes a bite herself. “In one year and two months,” she says.

The conversations get going again. These ladies know how to party. Ginger scoots her chair toward me. “So, stud, I’m from Harrisburg, pretty close to your hometown. Fellow Pennsyl-suck-ian. It wasn’t a great place to grow up a baby dyke.”

Celeste cuts in, “That’s why we all come to New York. To bloom.”

“Look at me,” Ginger announces. “I bloomed into this sexy butch dyke.”

“I still have some blooming to do,” I admit.

“I’m guessing both transitions, gender and geography, must be hard to process. Are you adjusting?”

“Honestly,” I say—because why not be honest—“my life is such a blur of acting classes, regular classes, homework. And tomorrow, I have my first audition. I don’t have time to process anything. I’m just surviving.”

“I can imagine,” Celeste says. Her eyes are sweet and understanding.

Ginger gives my knee a shake. “What’s the audition?”

Aunt Lil comes over and leans against the table, wineglass in hand, to listen. “Grease,” I say.

Ginger starts clapping loudly, getting the attention of the room. “No shit. My lesbian theater group in college did a parody of Grease called Lube. It was a hit!”