Chapter 5
Five
Hard Launch
Numbed by an ice pack, my knee is propped up on a stack of textbooks and a pillow.
When I got home a couple of hours ago, I managed to change into my sweatpants, pop some acetaminophen, and get through one round of PT exercises before my knee protested that it was done for today.
The Pink Line station outside my apartment is bright enough that I didn’t bother getting up to turn on my lights when the sun went down.
Just as the dull ache finally starts to alleviate, my phone buzzes.
The text from Eris is quickly buried by the Instagram notifications that have been blowing up my phone since Eris tagged me in pictures an hour ago.
Pictures I haven’t even looked at yet. Ze has three thousand followers, as opposed to my hundred and fifty (not many of whom would care if I’m in a relationship, fake or not).
This “hard launch” business still seems excessive, and I can’t imagine what Eris is getting out of this, besides the cruel satisfaction of annoying me.
Maybe that’s the answer.
Bro, why does your IG have they/she for your pronouns? I thought you only used they/them.
I do, but it makes people feel less bad when they mess up. I don’t know how to respond when they just keep apologizing.
Jesus fucking Christ, Bambi. I just dented my wall from smashing my forehead into it so hard.
Too bad you didn’t knock yourself unconscious.
How are you such a snot with me, and yet the biggest pushover in the world?
I contain multitudes.
I’m done. I’m at my limit with you today.
That’s an option? What did I do so I can do it again?
Just keep doing what you’re doing, which is prioritizing literally everyone other than yourself. It’s so fucking annoying….!
A grin warms my face, and I can’t seem to fight it. I should have stopped being nice to Eris ages ago; this is so fun.
While I want to respond that I do prioritize myself, ze’s not wrong.
I care for myself in small ways, ways that don’t inconvenience other people, so no one notices and isn’t bothered by me.
The one time I put myself first was going to law school, and while I don’t regret it, that decision created tidal waves.
It’s a miracle I came out, honestly. If I hadn’t started quite so many conversations with Matt about how hot every celebrity was back in high school, it might have never happened at all.
Matt was solidly on team “Only Blake is hot” which I didn’t believe then.
I thought he was just saying what boyfriends are supposed to say.
In comparison, I was a little horndog, even though I’m pretty picky about who I let myself be attracted to.
Now, I believe him, because I’m pretty sure Matt is demisexual.
And painfully monogamous—he’s only ever had room in his heart for one person, and that person is never going to be a stranger, only his closest friend.
When he removed me from his heart, I knew it would soon be filled with Allie instead.
No matter what curveballs I threw at him, Matt always accepted and loved and supported me.
I had room in our relationship to prioritize myself.
He created space for me to figure myself out, first as bisexual and later as non-binary.
He corrected everyone on my pronouns, bought me my first binder, and started calling me his joyfriend instead of girlfriend.
Even breaking up with me, when I was starting to doubt if I should move to Chicago, was a decision he made for my own good.
Since trading forests and fields for skyscrapers and traffic, I have nothing but space to put myself first. And yet…
If I hadn’t gotten ice cream with Eris, and later a drink (because ze had so many questions about the wedding and fake-partner logistics), then I would have come home after my exams to smoke a joint instead of studying for the bar, and simply called it a night.
So I guess I appreciate that Eris dragged me out to do something sociable instead.
As I’m changing my bio to “they/them,” I get a notification about a comment from Adrienne, and curiosity gets the better of me.
Her comment reads, “About time this power couple got together!” I have a bunch of follow requests from the rest of the brunch group, so I accept and follow back.
Among the comments, there’s a “How did you pull this stunner, Eris?” from Dream, and an “Oh my godddd this is happening!!!” followed by a million heart emojis from Kelsey.
Stella merely sent a single smirking emoji, to which Eris responded with a row of middle fingers.
Eris told me I didn’t have to reply to any comments, but that I should add one on zis post. Wondering what to say, I swipe through the photos.
Of course, ze posted the least flattering pictures of me.
Me grimacing with the wooden sample spoon in my mouth.
My nose scrunched in annoyance while ze eats zis ice cream, a hand with “odio” tattooed on the knuckles wrapped around my wrist. But the last one, me daydreaming and looking out over the water, lips pursed around my ice cream, is kinda artistic, I guess.
After careful consideration, I type, “You’re never taking pictures of me again.” Eris didn’t say I had to leave a nice comment, and I don’t want to go back to faking nice with zim.
Part of me still wants that celebratory joint, but then I’ll get chatty and flirty because Eris showed me an ounce of attention today.
Admittedly, I might be a little touch-starved after living on my own for two years, and Eris is a great cuddler.
So it’s either doomscroll or get high, but not both.
I decide to get high, finding a pre-roll and a lighter amongst the mess on my coffee table.
A flurry of texts from Matt pop up just before I turn it off.
Duuuudddeeeeeeeeodijtoirgmoirmoirjtgoidrjtgr
That’s who you’re bringing to the wedding??????? OH MY GOD!
This is exactly the type of person I imagined you’d end up dating.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
They’re so cool!
And that tongue ring with the ice cream? Get it, Bloke! Allie wants to know if I should get one.
I guess he meant it as a compliment? But uff da, that tongue ring indeed! I light the joint to distract myself from that train of thought before responding.
Thanks, I think? Ze/zim/zis, btw, not they/them.
Oh, that’s gonna be a challenge. I’ll start practicing.
I can’t wait to meet this Eris. Ze seems super cool (Did I use that right?) and you two look so hot together!
!! I need to get to know zim(???) better whenever you finally let Allie and I visit you.
Which is when, exactly? You still need to send us your graduation deets.
Yes, you got it right, but don’t get too excited. Not sure how long this will last.
Right, sure, because you’d totally bring someone you’re not crazy about to the wedding.
Allie said to bring someone even if it wasn’t serious.
Your mom says she wants to meet zim when you’re ready.
ARE YOU WITH THEM RIGHT NOW???
Yeah. It’s Friday Family Game Night.
I HAVENT TOLD THEM ABOUT ERIS
lol whoops. You put it online, Blokey!
On Insta! Not Facebook!
But it’s too late. My phone lights up with an incoming video call from my mom. I take a deep drag on the joint to ease the embarrassment and dread before answering. “Hi, Mom.”
Her hair fills the screen. “Your young man looks very interesting, Blakey-poo.”
“My human person, Mom.” Though that’s debatable. I choose not to press that passive-aggressive “interesting” she dropped—a Minnesota Nice habit she’s picked up in the twenty-four years of living in Solberg. Not that I ever press Mom on anything.
“Oh, he’s non-binary too?”
“Ze, Linda. Ze is non-binary, too,” Matt corrects, his tongue buzzing as he drags out the zee sound.
I’m tempted to clarify that Eris identifies more closely with genderfuck, but that’s technically under the non-binary umbrella.
And a deeper dive into gender expression than my parents could handle.
“And I, for one, can’t wait to see how my parents react when they see just how interesting ze is! ”
Matt must have taken the phone from my mother, because suddenly I can see all of them.
Mom with her henna-dyed red mane of curls; Matt, his strawberry blond mop of hair and freckles popping against his tan skin and gap-toothed beam; Allie, with a sweet smile hiding her shit-eating grin because she’s secretly bitchy like me, and we love that about each other; and my dad, his gray hair pulled into his usual ponytail, who waves in the background before going back to squinting at his Scrabble tiles.
Must be his turn. Our family takes Scrabble very seriously.
Seeing everyone I love in one place—excited to see me, to be a part of my life, even though I’m not there—hits me hard. Fighting back the burning in my eyes and the yearning ache for a life I can’t go back to, I smile, take a hit of the joint, and prepare to be roasted.