A note. Resting dead center on Aoife’s pillow above the neatly tucked sheets of her bed. Owen knew something was wrong. There was no other explanation for not one, but two early mornings back to back where she had left before Owen had even so much as stirred.
He picked up the note, a finger gently pushing the folded index card open to reveal the penned words. Owen did his best to imagine the words as Aoife would say them, a strange but habitual way that he had always read Nintendo Femicom’s messages even before he had a voice to put with it.
“Yo Owen, dunno if I’ll be back tonight or not. Family shit.”
A very simple message. Owen looked to the bottom of the index card to read the signoff that had been scribbled in the bottom right corner.
“-Everett Dorm Killer”
A smile curled at the edges of Owen’s mouth as he moved back towards his side of the room. The vagueness of the note left Owen perplexed as he tossed the index card in the trash can that rested on the side of his desk. Aoife had only recently revealed details about her family situation, and based on the conversation that they had within the Frisky Frogs, it didn’t seem like it was a very active relationship.
Owen had plenty of questions that he wanted to ask. All circling his mind, begging to be loaded into a text message and sent her way. He stopped himself from sending any of the concerned questions her way, figuring that he would at least wait until after his morning classes before badgering Aoife with messages when she had been so distant as of late.
Aoife was absolutely not the only thing on Owen’s mind as he began his morning routine. There was an ever present, ever nagging question that shone like a light behind his eyes that he couldn’t ignore. After collecting the clothes for his morning shower, a shirt and a pair of jeans that touched his hands first upon digging through his dresser drawer, he looked towards his computer monitor, and the game launcher for UMDK that was centered on the screen.
Without any clear intentions, his hand drifted towards his mouse. He slowly dragged the cursor towards the profile settings in the top corner to sign out of PertinentHorse. It didn’t take him long to sign back into Witchofthew3st. Once he was back to his standard profile, he clicked on his own profile to bring up his character.
Bubblegum pink hair. Spiked shoulder plates that served little practicality, but completed the overall look of a woman who was not to be fucked with. Owen wasn’t entirely sure why he had pulled up his old profile. He was even less sure why he proceeded to spend five straight minutes staring at the screen, clothes on his lap, while he reminisced on the lifelike dream he had as Witch, and how freeing it had felt.
A droplet of warm water splashed along the veins of Owen’s hand. It took him looking up at the ceiling of the room to check for leaks to realize how blurry his vision had become. The dwindling heat on his cheek finally caused the gears to click into place for Owen. He should not be crying. He quickly minimized the UMDK launcher and took the wad of clothes with him towards the shower, blinking away the rest of the tears that had welled up in the corners of his eyes before they were able to drop from his eyes.
* * * * *
[Aoife: not interested in talking]
[Dad: Please. It is important. We could talk over dinner? The Fat Goose,. I’ll pay.]
[Aoife: bribing me with expensive food for some ‘family time’? that’s rich, dad. pun intended.]
[Dad: I wouldn’t be reaching out if it didn’t matter.]
[Aoife: lemme think on it. What did you say the last time we talked? you wouldn’t be caught dead with me in public? Im good]
[Dad: I’m sorry. I want to apologize to you. Grab a table at 8:00pm, I’ll see you there.]
Aoife’s thumb twitched over the digital keyboard on her screen. She had been texting her father back and forth as she walked towards her last class of the day.
[Aoife: shove it, peter-
Aoife had stopped herself before hitting send, deleting the drafted message as she neared the hall for her final class of the day. A lecture class, which made it fairly easy to distract herself with other thoughts or activities.
She wanted to say no. To reject the offer in the most abrasive way possible, for all of the emotions that had been pressure cooking over the past two years. Whenever she opened the lid on those feelings, it was never good. Aoife had opted to keep the lid firmly shut for her own wellness.
Two words had stood out to her in particular. “I’m sorry”. Words that she scarcely remembered her father saying in all of the many years they had argued. There was never any sort of acknowledgement of wrongdoing. He was as stubborn as they came, and to see the words written out on her phone screen, it was almost impossible to believe. Aoife had wanted an apology. A mountain of them, in all honesty. But they had never come, and she had become adjusted to the fact that they might never come. This message sparked a long dead hope in her chest. One that she was too curious to pass up.
[Aoife: I’m buying the most expensive fucking food.]
With the message sent, she stuffed her phone in her pocket and entered the classroom to walk all the way to the penultimate row where she would sit in the final seat. For once, she was hoping the class would be a distraction from her thoughts, rather than the other way around.
* * * * *
“Mint. Have a nice one.”
“Castle?”
“Owen.”
Owen was standing awkwardly near the soda fountain when he heard Castle’s voice to the side of him. Sure enough, the fellow Everett esports player was paying for a sub and a soda from one of the union’s fast food joints. Owen ate in the union fairly often between his classes for the day, and not once had he ever encountered Castle. Owen wondered if he had just not paid enough attention in the past.
“Since when did you grab lunch in the union?”
“I always eat in the union, Owen.”
“I never see you. Do you just blend in super well with the brick walls? Perks of being a Castle?”
“I don’t usually eat at this time. Professor called out for today so I’m eating early.” Castle gave no mention or reaction to Owen’s joke as they moved towards the soda fountain to fill their cup up with Dr. Pepper.
“Oh. That makes sense.” Owen stood near Castle as they slowly fit a plastic lid over the top of their cup. Owen was holding on to the small triangular cardboard box that his slice of pizza had been placed in with one hand, while the other held his soda close to his mouth so that he could take errant sips while he awkwardly waited for Castle to finish. Once Castle started to walk, Owen followed after them, sticking close to their side like a lost puppy.
“Can I help you?” Castle finally asked, stopping in their place after being followed through the union for close to a minute.
“Yes! At least, I think so. I was hoping you’d ask that, actually.” Owen replied, taking the question as an invitation to sit in one of the nearby empty booths. The previous students must not have been the most responsible from the extra trash laying around near the end of the table. With a mental note to take the extra trash as he left, Owen shoved it further down the table to make a clean space to set down his food. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“I never would have guessed.” Castle deadpanned as they sat down on the opposite side of the booth to Owen. The crinkling sounds of Castle unwrapping their sandwich filled the awkward gap of silence as they waited for Owen to continue. When it became clear that Owen was instead waiting for a response from them, they cleared their throat. “Spit it out then. What is it?”
“Right. Well it’s kind of about a lot. I had a conversation with Aoife the other day and it’s gotten me thinking. I’ve got a lot of thoughts, but practically no words to really talk about it?”
“That’s a lot of build up to say absolutely nothing.” Castle remarked, just as confused after Owen’s statement than they were before.
“Mmm. Yeah. Let me try this in a language that we’d both understand, then. Maybe that’ll make it easier for me to navigate. Let’s start with… character creation screen, yeah?” Owen asked as he subtly rubbed his hands across the cardboard pizza box to wipe the growing sweat that accumulated from his nerves.
“Yeah.” Castle said, just as monotone as before, but with a narrowing of the eyes and a change in posture that illustrated intrigue.
“Right. So in most games, you got your standard stuff, right? Hair color, hairstyle, body type, face options, shit like that.” Owen paused as he took the first bite of his pepperoni pizza. The pause also allowed him a moment to watch Castle’s reaction without feeling the need to speak as he chewed. “Well I was hoping you could help me answer a couple of questions about… character creation. People usually throw together a custom character and jump into the game to get into the action, right? Well what if someone didn’t like the existing character and wanted to change it? Y’know some games allow that and all…” Owen paused for yet another bite as his heart rate thrummed in his neck. “How much can someone change about their character?”
Castle listened intently. With plenty of pauses to interrupt Owen if they wanted, they instead patiently ate their sandwich until it was clear Owen finished his thought. “Whatever they wanna change. Was that seriously all you wanted to ask?”
“Whatever they want? But what if the game’s character creation didn’t-”
“Owen.”
“-yeah?”
“You’re clearly not sitting down with me to discuss character creation. If you want to badger me during my lunch I’d rather we didn’t circle the drain for twenty minutes. What do you really want to ask?”
“Aoife told me that she’s trans. I don’t know a ton about gender fuckery but it’s been making me think a lot and I have a ton of questions but I don’t want to ask her right now because she’s seemed really down lately and I’d rather not pile more stuff onto her plate.” Owen let out a slow controlled exhale from his mouth once he had finally said a piece of what weighed heavily on his heart.
“Don’t do that again.” Castle said, their words infused with enough forcefulness that hostility was not needed. It was a firm warning, a verbal slap on the wrist.
“I-I… what?” Owen drew back against the booth that the two students shared.
“What you said about Aoife. Not your information to disclose to someone. She told you, not me. It’s a matter of politeness, Owen.” Castle took another bite of their sandwich before wiping their hands clean with one of the many napkins that had been stuffed into the takeout bag.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“It was a heads up, Owen. A warning rather than an execution. I figured you didn’t know. Now you know.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just been throwing me for a loop lately. I’ve been looking into it ever since and it’s making gender seem a bit more wibbly wobbly than I ever took it for. It’s kind of scary.”
“Scary?” Castle asked, an eyebrow raising as if they had just heard some kind of code word or activation phrase. “Why would it be scary? Even if you’re understanding that gender identity is a lot more nuanced than you thought, that shouldn’t change anything about your own identity. As long as you're comfortable in your identity, that is.” Castle asked their leading question and prepared to analyze Owen’s face as he listened to their words.
Comfortable. A tricky emotion for Owen to fully place. Was he comfortable in his gender identity? Was he comfortable as a man, both now and for the foreseeable future? It was like asking a cow if it would be more comfortable out of captivity. How could it know? Can you yearn for something that you don’t know exists? Owen didn’t feel comfortable so much as he felt resigned. Resigned into a pit he never even considered that he could climb out of. Aoife was the coil of rope that smashed him upside the head.
“I don’t know. I’ve barely thought about it. But I don’t think I am. I don’t think I would be so elated to find out it’s possible to change that part of me if everything was as it should be. Y’know? I wouldn’t be excited for a sale on tires unless my treads were worn out.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Castle scoffed. Shortly after, a smirk started to worm its way onto their face. “I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down. Honestly, it’s hard for someone else to really steer you through this. I can teach you to drive, but you’re the only one that knows the destination.”
“Why do you sound like a mentor right now? Are you gonna be my Gender Yoda?” Owen asked, slight apprehension in his voice as he made the joke.
“Hah! Only if I get to lift your XY-Wing out of the Dagobah swamp.” Castle laughed in response. It was the first time that Owen felt like he’d really connected with Castle. Sure, they had some decent moments of teamwork within the tryouts, but he had always gotten the impression that Castle wasn’t the most fond of being friends with everyone. Then again, Castle had chosen Aoife and himself to hang out with the entirety of tryouts. Perhaps that was a sign that Castle was interested in being friends?
“Deal. I really need someone to talk to about this. In all honesty I’ve been super overwhelmed since Aoife talked to me. I’m talking batshit dreams, weird self-conscious feelings, and worst of all, I’ve been scrolling Reddit for any advice I can gleam.” Owen gave a nervous laugh before returning to his slice of pizza. Castle’s offer took a weight off of his shoulders. It was hope that there’d be some answers, some solution for the endless array of questions that he had for himself. The kind of questions that lingered unrelenting in his mind during classes. The “what if”s and “could I”s that drifted through the wrinkles of his mind when he needed to focus.
“Alright. I kind of can’t believe I’m doing this, but your Gender 101 class starts now and ends when I finish my sandwich, so you better get to questions fast.” Castle remarked as they took another bite of their sandwich. Half of it remained.
“Oh! Uh, okay lemme think. I’ve only done some brief browsing, so I don’t think I’ve got the best understanding. Through talking to Aoife I understand the difference between trans men and trans women, but I’m not really sure what else there is. I guess… I’m not sure what you are?”
“Eloquently worded, like a boomer on a front patio.” Castle responded, causing Owen to open his mouth in some sort of defense of himself. “I’m poking, Owen. I know you’re learning. I’m honestly a little stunned that you’re starting from ground zero on all of this. You’d think playing online games enough would’ve taught you a thing or two.”
“I haven’t met many on the games I play.”
“Clearly you don’t have the eye for it then. I guarantee you’ve been around enough queer people on UMDK to fill the seats of a My Chem concert. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Oh.” Owen replied, choosing not to speak on the fact that one of the first and only records that he had ever bought was the album The Black Parade on CD.
“The answer to your question by the way is non-binary. I guess that’s what I’d call myself.”
“You… guess?”
“Yeah. Labels aren’t super my thing. As long as you use my name, you can slap whatever pronoun you want on. Though I have a preference for they/them as of late.”
“Okay. Alright so that was a lot to take in for me, but I think I’m getting it. It’s just surprising to me how amorphous the concepts that I’ve always assumed were rigid are. I… oh wait.” Owen paused as he thought back to one of the first things that he had said to Castle. It wasn’t hard to parse through the current conversation they were having and the distinct lack of a last name included on the team roster that Castle was not their birth name. “Sorry about what I said to you at the tryouts. The whole thing about your parents and your name?” Owen felt distinctly gross at the feeling of guilt that was steady lapping at his wits. It hadn’t even been an intentional kind of insult. It was more just a calloused reaction and the lack of understanding to even know that he had done something wrong in the moment. Owen didn’t even want to consider the amount of times that he might have accidentally said other hurtful things to the people around him due to his gross obliviousness. Though the best thing he could do to combat it was learn, and that was his every intention in the current moment.
“S’alright. I’m gonna get you back for it one day so there’s no harm done.” Castle said nonchalantly, taking another bite of their sandwich.
“Anyways. I can tell you’re confused about a lot. But I can tell you’re also curious about a lot. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me. I know I didn’t do much about any of my feelings until my curiosity overcame my desire to keep to myself.” Castle paused to take another bite of their sandwich. At this point, Owen had already finished his slice of pizza and was awkwardly sitting and listening, stealing the occasional sip from his soda. “I think you need to start going nuts.” Castle shrugged as they spoke.
“Go nuts? Castle, the only people who say they’re going to ‘go nuts’ are Planter’s sales reps and soon to be axe murderers.” Owen replied as he furrowed his brow.
“Pft, same thing.”
“You think that all axe murderers are Planter’s sales reps? Planters? The nut brand?” Owen emphasized out of disbelief.
“No, not all axe murderers are Planter’s sales reps, Owen.”
“Yeah no shit-”
“But all Planter’s sales reps are axe murderers.” Castle finished, cutting off Owen’s response. A small smirk crossed Castle’s face as they took another bite of their sandwich, leaving only a single bite remaining. Owen sat back in the booth and let out a sigh upon the realization that if he truly made friends with Castle, he would have to deal with the snark of both Aoife and Castle simultaneously. There is only so much snark a person can take before they overdose and eye roll so hard they go blind.
“You do need to start going nuts though. Explore yourself.” Castle returned the conversation to the earlier topic.
“You have to realize how that sounds, right?”
“Eh. Whatever. You need to start trying the things that come to mind, whatever it is. Exploration is the key to self-discovery. So your homework for today’s Gender 101 course is to go shopping or some shit. Try whatever comes to mind that sounds appealing. If you let embarrassment hold you back then I’ll slap you in the face next time we meet, yeah?” Castle gave a quick smile, then took the last bite of their sandwich and shoved it into their mouth.
“Sure. I’ll give it a shot, I guess. But how am I supposed to know when it’s right? Is there like a sign or something? Is there a way I can be certain once I do it? I don’t even know where to start with this. What did you start with?” Owen rattled off question after question in rapid fire. Even after he had stopped talking, Owen had yet to hear a response from Castle, who was crumpling up the wrapper of the sandwich to clear their trash. At first, it didn’t even seem like Castle acknowledged the questions in any way. Not so much as a turn of the head towards Owen.
“Castle?”
“Hm?”
“Did you not hear me?”
“No I did. I finished my sandwich though. Class dismissed, I’m going back to my room.” Castle said, matter of factly. “I’ll catch ya tomorrow at practice. Can’t wait to see if you bring your smurf account or not.” Castle winked before turning to walk away from Owen.
Owen sat in the booth for another minute before packing up his trash, along with the previous student’s trash inside of the small cardboard container. It had to be a lucky guess, Owen thought. Perhaps his experience of having a secret online account was not as solitary as he thought. Talking to Castle had been incredibly confusing. But it had given him something entirely different from what he was expecting to receive. Owen felt excited. ‘Go nuts’, Castle said. Permission for Owen to explore entirely uncharted territory. As Owen pushed open the swinging opening of a trash can to throw away the refuse of his lunch, he thought towards Aoife and the note she had left earlier that morning. Family business, he remembered. Owen hoped it was less emotionally confusing than his conversation today.
* * * * *
The Fat Goose. An indulgent name for an odd local business. A British style pub wasn’t something that you saw everyday. Supposedly it was started by the father of a student who went to Everett University a long time ago. British style pubs didn’t usually last incredibly long in the states, but The Fat Goose had managed to more than stay ahead of the competition. The main way it did so was by switching over from casual dining to a more expensive culinary experience a few decades ago. Aoife had only ever been to the establishment once before when she was much younger.
With her mother passing away when she was only five years old, her step-mother took every step to attempt to fast-track maternal love. When her father finally tied the knot with her step-mother when she was eight, her step mother decided The Fat Goose was the best place to celebrate. A long time favorite of Jen, her step-mother. Obscene sums of money might have been the perfect way to get to Peter’s heart, but it was considerably less effective with Aoife.
The old memories of the pub were distant, lingering underneath the skin like an itch you can never fully scratch. The itch was in full force as Aoife walked into the doors of the restaurant. She had done everything that she could to prepare for this dinner. It had been two years since she had seen Peter. She was going to make the absolute most of the opportunity to rub in the years of changes that she had gone through. If only to see the look on his face when his daughter walked into the pub, looking like the stunning picture of perfection you’d see in a magazine.
Not that she had the clothes for that normally. No, in fact Aoife had dropped by the mall after her classes during the two hours between classes and the dinner. She had picked out one of the most impressive looking black dresses from the clearance rack. Though she wanted to spite her father, she had no intentions of breaking the bank to do so. She had settled for the somewhat simply designed black dress that shaped her body and offered a generous display of her upper back through a gap. Aoife hadn’t messed with any hairstyles for the past few months, but still had the muscle memory required to pull her hair back, while leaving bangs out in the front to frame her face delicately. It was the most she could stomach doing before entering the pub. The only thing that had gotten her through the somewhat tedious preparation was the imminent satisfaction of seeing his face. The realization that she had become all that he never wanted.
“Excuse me, miss. Do you have a reservation for the evening?” It was a frivolous question, really. You simply wouldn’t get a seat here if you didn’t have a reservation ahead of time. But it was most likely part of their prepared speech in order to turn away those who walked up to The Fat Goose without realizing what kind of place it was. The kind of place with a menu out front that lacks any of the prices for the food. The kind of place that Aoife would usually be caught dead at. Uncomfortable company could be made up for with a once in a lifetime dinner. Or… twice, if you counted the emotional bribery that Jen had attempted on an eight year old.
“Allanach.”
“Excellent. Right this way, miss.” The host kindly nodded at Aoife and grabbed a set of two menus. Aoife followed after the man, stealing askance glances at some of the other customers in the dining room. The meal room was made up of Aoife’s nightmare blunt rotation. The kind of people that would attempt to put her in jail for even mentioning a concept like a ‘nightmare blunt rotation’. Once the host had led her to her seat, he placed a menu in front of her and curtly nodded his head towards her. “Feel free to come to a decision on your own time. I will escort the other guest to the table once they arrive.”
“Thank you.” Aoife responded, as kindly as she could muster. She might have felt like a fish out of water in The Fat Goose, but she wasn’t foolish enough to take it out on the workers of the establishment. For all she knew they could have been college students just like her trying to make a living. Even if the living was attending to customers that made their entire yearly salary in an afternoon.
Aoife gently twisted the overdesigned metal fork in her fingers, watching the engraved patterns move about as she rotated it. She was always taught that punctuality was one of the biggest signs of respect. Aoife made a mental note to chide Peter for failing to meet his own expectations once he arrived.
“Thank you for meeting me here.” That voice, Aoife knew to be wrong. It didn’t carry even a fraction of the bass that Peter’s voice had. A churning disgust frothed up to Aoife’s lips as she saw Jen Allanach sit in the opposite chair to her own. She wore a bodycon white dress that criss-crossed just below her neck, perfectly framing a silver necklace that dangled in the gap. Her overdone makeup had always made Aoife feel less than, like she had underprepared no matter what the occasion was. Jen always had the demeanor that from the moment she awoke in the morning she needed to look preened and particular.
“Oh fuck off.” Aoife replied instantly, already reaching towards her purse that dangled over the back of her chair.
“Please sit, darling, we need to talk.”
“We? I didn’t agree to talk to you. Hell, I wasn’t even that convinced to meet with Peter, let alone the freshly shed snake skin he keeps at his side.” Aoife pushed the chair back to allow herself to stand up from the table. Before she had even made a step, Jen had stood from her own chair to close the distance between the two of them. A firm hand wrapped around her wrist, much tighter than you’d ever expect it to be as an onlooker.
“Your father is dying.” Jen whispered into Aoife’s ear, then moved her face into Aoife’s line of sight to force eye contact.
Jen’s words fell upon Aoife like a stack of crumbling cinder blocks, as much confusion as weight as they ploughed into her chest. Dying was a strong word. Aoife didn’t recall any sort of medical issues that Peter had. The last time that they’d spoken he was in relatively peak physical condition for his age.
“Please, sit. That's why I needed to talk to you.” Jen waved her arm back towards the chairs that sat slightly ajar from the table. “I know you don’t want to speak with me. I understand that. But can you do this for him?” Jen had already taken a few steps back towards the table to sit back down. No doubt to attempt to dispel the nearby glances of people at adjacent tables.
A hundred different concerns flitted through Aoife’s mind as she sat back down at the table. If it was a sudden concern, perhaps it was an accident? With a two year gap of time between the last time she’d spoken with him, it could practically be anything. He might have been dying, but that didn’t undo any of what he’d done. Sickness did not wash away guilt, it merely complicated it.
“Al- Sorry. Aoife, right?” An emotionless nod from Aoife caused Jen to continue speaking. “Things have taken a turn for the worse lately. I know we all have our problems. But he wants to speak with you, even for a minute. He wants to apologize.”