There I was, in the oval-shaped mirror, with the hollow face and the clothes borrowed from women and never returned. I look like what I am, I thought. I sat on the balls of my feet on the floor in front of the mirror and started mouthing along to Thurston Moore’s laconic, demented monologue under the muttering guitars. I moved my hips in a slow circle, I put my hand between my legs and made a slow pulling motion toward my belly button. I imagined bass tones moving through my body, articulating it for me, vibrating through the floorboards.

I shuffled over to the CD player on my desk and pressed stop before the next track started. I went to look in the mirror again. My skin was less sallow and looked softer. I tried a smile but it came out looking strained. Marian’s friend told me the effects of the estrogen would be mostly psychological, and I believed her, at least initially, but I wasn’t sure what that meant, what was supposed to change.

I went back to the desk and looked out the window again, above the koala and the giraffe and the manatee. The night was all deep, deep blues. I was up late sitting like that, waiting for the memory parade to wind down.

♒

I woke up at around nine with a text from my mom: Your father’s been calling all morning, can you come talk to him?

I stood in the living room in my pajamas and dialed the number my mom had written on an index card. She had retreated to her office already, turning around to notice me but just nodding as I walked to the phone. She closed the door.

He answered on the first ring. His voice was too loud. “Kieran! God, I truly didn’t know WHAT had — ”

I winced. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”

I could hear the sound of traffic behind him. “I’m good! I’m good. We should catch up sometime. Your mom told me you’re still lookin’ for work, so I bet you got free time. But guess what. I’m workin’ for myself again, so my schedule is wide open. Name the time, name the place.”

“Um. Are you doing anything right now?”

“Nope! You?”

“No,” I said. “I just got up. Uh, you wanna, like, go to the Fleetwood?”

“Sure!”

“Okay. In an hour?”

I shaved my face and practically ran out of the house. I took a table on the patio, watching cars pause at the intersection before speeding off. When he got there he looked the same, save for the white hair where his dark brown mane used to be.

He grinned when he saw me, and when I stood up to shake his hand he hugged me.

“Kieran! Oh, Kieran. It’s so good to see you,” he said, before letting go and slapping me on the shoulder.