This struck me as a fundamental difference between us and why I’d kept my friendship with Kit at arm’s length over the years, because his self-acceptance rattled me. Kit would not allow himself to butch it up or keep his hair short just to court suitors; he wanted to be wanted, but he wouldn’t compromise himself for the sake of another’s desire. I, on the other hand, didn’t have the same solid sense of self. I’d been more than willing to clamp down on my most undesirable traits, especially two decades ago, when I had such an unclear sense of who I was beyond other people’s reflections of me.

At the same time, Kit recognized long before I did how alike we were, that we both occupied liminal places in our white-dominated Harvard gay society. He recognized me as an albino Asian when everyone else thought I was white; he could tell that my workout regimen was cover for a femininity I obscured because it was not attractive. He could also tell that someone needed to see the reality of me even when I took such pains to hide it, and Kit generously gave my inner self a witness, even when I could never settle for long under his glare.

Kit motioned to someone who approached us, and when he got close, I surprised myself when I recognized Sean Chambers, an English lit grad student while I was in college. His appearance had not changed much, just a few more pounds and a widow’s peak, his red hair duller than I remembered.

“I’m Meredith,” I said.

“I remember you,” he replied. I couldn’t tell whether he’d learned about my transition through the grapevine or if he was just good at going with the flow. Though the change between old and new me wasn’t as drastic as it used to be; I’d cut my hair in a bob and was not wearing makeup, had on a loose gray jumpsuit that could be feasibly worn by a man or a woman.

“Do you recognize anyone else?” I asked.

Sean motioned with his head toward a man passing by in tight jeans and a white shirt under his blazer. The man’s tanned skin seemed leathery to me even from a distance, his hair equal parts pepper and salt.

“Vince Parker. I had a crush on him,” Sean said. “He was so hot.”

“Everyone had a crush on him,” Kit rejoined.

As Kit and Sean gossiped about how attractive Vince had been, I reflected on the word “was.” I imagined the man would feel hurt to be spoken of like this, his beauty in the past tense.

“Anyway, we all get older and uglier,” Kit concluded.

“Except for Meredith,” Sean said as he turned to me. “You look the same.”