Chapter 5
One of my favorite parts about living at The Eidola Village is that we rarely ever run out of hot water.
Steamy showers are always a treat, but on a morning when I have hours to spare and no one else around, I especially like to take my time and enjoy myself.
Lucky for me, I have fresh memories to revisit, too.
The way Nikki sounds, the way she smells, the way she tastes—all easily recalled from the night before.
Sometimes my imagination can be almost as good as the real thing if the mood is right. And, oh, how the mood is right today.
Eventually, though, the incessant rumble of my phone vibrating on the counter snaps me out of my steamy daze. Wrapping my towel around my torso, I step out of the shower and peek at its screen.
ONE MISSED CALL: MOM
I groan aloud as I read the notification.
It’s a little early for her to be calling.
As far as she knows, it’s my last day to sleep in before class starts, and she knows how important sleep is to me.
She doesn’t need to know that my girlfriend woke me up early this morning to find her bra after we slept together last night.
It doesn’t matter, though. “Daughter” duty calls.
I toss on my housecoat and make my way back to the bathroom, leaving the door open to let out the steam. After popping my contacts in, I press the dial button and sigh.
Mom answers in two rings. “Good morning, DEADNAME. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
My whole body cringes at my dead name. I shouldn’t be surprised to hear it from her, but the more time that passes since I started going by Jude, the more alien that name sounds. “Hey, Mom. No, I just got out of the shower. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check in and see how the move went! Are you and Celeste all settled in?”
“Yep,” I answer, putting her on speaker and setting my phone on the counter so I can continue my skincare routine. “We got an early start so we were able to beat most of the crowd, and we finished around lunch.”
No thanks to you, I add silently to myself. Celeste’s mom helped with her things, but I was pretty much on my own until Nikki showed up.
“How nice!” Mom exclaims. “Again, I’m sorry your dad and I couldn’t make it, sweetie. But you’ve done all this before, so we were confident you could handle it on your own this time.”
“It’s fine,” I lie. She has a point—this is my second year living on campus, so the move-in process was far less intimidating than it was last year. Plus, I learned from my freshman mistakes and packed much lighter. But I still would have appreciated an extra pair of hands yesterday.
“Besides, your father was exhausted from his Bermuda trip, so he probably wouldn’t have been much help. Can you believe he’s already flying back on Tuesday? Apparently, this new client they signed on is quite demanding.”
“Wow,” I respond flatly, more focused on my skincare. “That’s crazy.”
“But I suppose that’s why he gets paid the big bucks!”
“Yep.”
There’s a pause. “And those big bucks are the reason you’ll never have to worry about student loans, DEADNAME. Never forget that.”
I freeze. “I know, Mom. I know, and I’m really grateful. Always.”
“Good,” Mom says, relieved. “I’m just making sure.”
I take a deep breath. I probably need to adjust my tone to sound more invested in what Mom’s saying so that she doesn’t interpret my disinterest as ungratefulness. But, at the same time, what else is there to talk about?
Thankfully, though, the moment passes. “Anyway, what time is your first class in the morning?”
“Eight.”
“That’s my girl!”
My eye twitches. Not a girl. But I know better than to correct her. It’ll only start a fight. “Yeah, I’ve got mostly morning classes this semester. I always feel like I have more time in a day when I get up early.”
“You sound just like your dad,” Mom says, almost wistfully. “You’re both such early birds.”
I’m glad we’re not FaceTiming so she can’t see the disgust on my face.
“Are you taking any classes with Celeste this semester?”
“No, I don’t think we’ll have any other overlapping credits at this point,” I answer. “We have very different majors.”
“That’s right. She’s doing something very business-sounding, isn’t she? Marketing or accounting or something like that?”
I suppress a chuckle, hoping Celeste might be listening. “Not exactly. She’s majoring in Journalism.”
“Oh, is she?” Mom asks, sounding genuinely shocked. “Really?”
At that moment, Celeste pokes her head around the corner with an intrigued grin. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Yes, really. That’s been her major from day one.”
“Hmm,” Mom says thoughtfully. “Well, as long as she doesn’t get a job at CNN or something.”
Celeste’s eyes go wide with bemusement, and I give her an exasperated shrug. “I mean, the school is in downtown Atlanta where CNN is headquartered, so…” I trail off.
Mom sighs. “That’s a shame.”
Celeste’s mouth falls open in mock indignation before playfully storming away. Fortunately, Celeste is already aware of how uncomfortably conservative my parents are and doesn’t let their dumb opinions bother her. She knows I don’t share their views, and that’s all that matters to me.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Mom says after an awkward pause. “I mostly wanted to see how yesterday went and to wish you a happy first day of classes!”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Your dad and I love you very much.”
“I love you, too,” I echo, trying not to dwell on how Dad can’t seem to find the time to tell me himself anymore. At least he still has time to make sure my tuition is paid, I guess.
“Make us proud!”
“You know I will.”
After the call ends, I stare at my reflection in silence for a few moments.
“Make us proud.” The phrase shouldn’t make me feel as shitty as it does.
Historically, I’ve been great at making my parents proud.
I’ve always been a mostly-A student, with only a few B’s here and there.
All my teachers considered me a “delight to have in class,” and my classmates barely even knew I existed.
I was accepted to several reputable universities and have maintained a strong 3.
8 GPA at Eidola so far. I’m respectful, responsible, and well-mannered.
I don’t get into trouble, and I take care of myself.
Not to brag, but I’d say I was the perfect offspring.
“Was”.
During the summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I joined an online queer community that changed everything.
I finally had the vocabulary to explain why I’d felt so out of place my entire life.
“Non-binary” was the term I’d been missing—the truth I always knew but never could articulate.
I was never a girl, but I wasn’t a boy, either.
I was something entirely different—something that didn’t fit neatly into either box, yet I was forced to conform to one anyway.
But as soon as I learned the words, everything else fell into place, and I finally felt seen.
My parents strongly disagreed.
“Hey, you okay?”
I blink out of my thoughts to see Celeste watching my reflection with concern. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“How many times did she deadname you this time?”
I sigh. “I’d rather not think about it, if that’s okay with you.”
Celeste studies me for a moment, and I know she wants to say more, but thankfully, she respects my request. “Consider it forgotten. What are you going to wear to Max’s?”
A laugh makes its way out of my throat. “Does it matter?”
She shrugs. “I want to make a good impression on his new roommates! Who knows, maybe one of them is single.”
“Didn’t Max say that they’re queer?”
“Only one was confirmed, I thought,” Celeste replies. “Even so, you know I like to make an impression.”
“I know you do.”
“Well then,” Celeste says, tugging on my arm. “Come help me pick an outfit.”
Smiling, I allow myself to be dragged off to Celeste’s closet.
“This is going to be our year, babes. I can feel it.”
Celeste laughs. “Max, you’ve already said that like thirty times. You’re going to jinx it.”
Max gasps, his shaggy brown hair swishing dramatically. “No, I’m manifesting! That’s what you two should be doing, too.”
The three of us have finished decorating the living room of Max’s four-bed-two-bath dorm, and now we’re working on his bedroom.
It’s already very Max: movie posters of various sizes cover the walls, several floor and table lamps cast a warm glow, and an army of Squishmallow plushies has nearly overtaken the brightly colored bedspread.
“Oh, hey, Jude,” Max asks, his back turned away from me. “What do you know about the EQA? Did you go to any meetings last year?”
Before I can ask for clarification, Max thrusts a neon-pink flier at me, and I skim it. The Eidola Queer Association. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of them, but I didn’t have time to go to anything last year.”
Celeste gasps out a “bullshit” in the midst of a mock coughing fit, and I shoot her a glare.
“Mhm,” Max agrees, then snatches the flier back and sits between Celeste and me on his bed. “Well, I’m going to their welcome party on Thursday night, and you should, too.”
“I might.”
“I’m also going to invite Theo because I feel like you’re going to bail.”
I playfully clutch my chest. “Cold, Max. Cold.”
“You could invite Nikki, you know,” Celeste interjects.
Max gasps. “Oh my God, yes! That’s perfect! I’ve been wanting to spend more time with her.”
I consider it. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Max pouts. “Come on, Jude, why the hell not?”
“Yeah, Jude,” Celeste says, leaning forward, ensuring I can see her devious expression. “Why the hell not?”
Sighing, I shake my head. “Nikki’s insanely busy, so whatever free time she has, we usually want to spend it alone. Plus, those events are mostly for finding hook-ups, anyway.”
Max scoffs. “No, they aren’t! They’re for finding community! The flier literally says their goal is ‘to achieve queer liberation and provide for LGBTQIA+ students who need it most.’”
“Please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Are you going to honestly tell me you’re not going to get numbers from cute boys?”
Celeste’s jaw drops, but Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Uh, yeah, I’m an LGBTQIA+ student who needs it most. ‘It’, of course, being gay ass.”
“Oh, fuck off!” I shout, trying in vain not to laugh.
“Shh!” Celeste hisses. “Your roommates are going to think we’re actually fighting.”
“Maybe we are!” Max snaps, lightly punching my arm.
I shove Max into Celeste, and they burst into giggles.
Eventually, Max closes his eyes and leans fully into Celeste, who lovingly ruffles his hair.
A twinge of jealousy threatens to surface, so I turn away.
God, it’s barely been nine hours since I was in Nikki’s arms—am I seriously this touch-starved?
Admittedly, I’ve always been a bit envious of Celeste and Max’s friendship, too.
They’ve been best friends for most of their lives.
I only entered the picture a mere five years ago, and while they’ve never intentionally excluded me, I know deep down I’ll always be the third wheel.
This is especially apparent when they’re physically affectionate.
She would never admit this out loud, but my attraction to women has always made Celeste less inclined to share any physical intimacy with me, even platonically.
It sucks, but I get it. She has too many creeps who get the wrong idea.
I feel the same way around straight guys.
I try not to think about it.
“Are you guys ready to meet my roommates?” Max asks after a while.
“I guess,” Celeste groans. “If we must.”
Max tosses a plushie at her. “You must. Now, come on, before Jude’s social battery goes dead.” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes. “You’ve got thirty minutes. Twenty if I get stuck talking to the straight one.”
“Noted. Now, let’s go!”