N
It’s dark by the time we leave the assembly hall and part ways with the others. Jason offers to drive C and me home, but tell him it’s no trouble.
He actually got the part of the male lead. It would be surprising if it weren’t so overshadowed by the fact that I think he actually deserves it, too. His slightly awkward, dorky composure up until that point really fell away when he stood at the centre of the circle and began reading the section Vivi assigned him. Either he spent considerable effort rehearsing, or he’s an absolute talent at acting.
Both C and I got our ‘desired’ parts as well, though I think that I mainly got mine because I’m C right now. It’s not like I’m especially good at acting, though I did try my best, of course. But even Vivi seemed perfectly happy with it.
“I can already tell, this is going to be so much fun,” she said, elbowing me on our way out.
And I guess now I’m looking forward to it as well. There’s no magic like a hearty compliment from a person you look up to, isn’t there?
So when C keeps shooting me worried looks as we walk to the bus station, I tell her, “You know, I’d never have expected this four hours ago, but I think I agree with Vivi. This has the potential to be very fun. Especially with you there, as well.” In spite of the awkwardness of having swapped bodies with her, I can slowly but surely feel that old sense of fondness for her return. I like being around her. I noticed yesterday night when I lay in bed after talking to C’s Mum and then to Vivi, and kept thinking back to her smile from across the coffee table when she was quizzing me on her friendship with Vivi, and I got several replies in a row right.
Now, she gives me yet another one of those smiles. I really like how readily they are in supply for her. “That’s nice to hear.” And she sounds so genuinely glad that it warms my chest.
We arrive at the bus station, and I check the stylish silver wristwatch that complements Vivi’s perfectly. My bus is still ten minutes away. C’s is going to arrive soon, though.
The thought of leaving her, the comfort of her presence and going home to silent, tired parents makes my shoulders tense.
“Uhm,” I start uncertainly, “do you think I could come along to your place tonight for dinner? I don’t really feel like being around… your parents right now.”
She gives a quick nod, a smile blooming across her lips. “I would love that! I mean, your– my parents should be alright with it, shouldn’t they?”
I freeze momentarily. She’s really taking this seriously, isn’t she? But yeah, they should. Thinking about it, Mum would absolutely love seeing… me.
So when C’s bus comes, we both get on and settle into the soft seats next to each other, already welcoming the warm air even after only a few minutes in the cold. I sit by the window, then, and she sits next to me. We spend the short bus drive discussing the most important events of the day, but she seems hesitant to correct my behaviour even when it’s clear that I behaved in a way that’s unlike her.
“I mean, most people won’t notice anyway, probably,” she says when I ask her for advice on how to handle a situation better.
“Vivi would,” I interject, and she looks up.
Even so, her eyes don’t really meet mine. “I mean, it boils down to… embracing the positivity, I guess. You need to think of everybody as your friend and treat them accordingly.”
I watch her thoughtfully for a moment. She’s never said it this way, just told me to be nice to everybody. A new thought surfaces in my mind.
“Do you?” I ask then.
“Hm?” Her eyes flicker up, only to dart away immediately. “Most of them, I suppose? Most of the time.”
A strange feeling draws my chest together. “But they’re all nice to you, aren’t they?”
She shrugs vaguely. “Sure they are. Just…” she waves her hand. “Other stuff.”
She quickly changes the subject after that, and we talk about lighter stuff for the rest of the drive.
It’s strange, walking up to my own home as somebody other than me. As we come up the driveway, C walks slightly ahead of me, leading me towards the door as she gets out her keys to open it. I still know this house, but the knowledge that it’s no longer mine sits at the back of my mind like a heavy boulder.
The only sound as we enter and take off our shoes is coming from the TV in the living room. I notice that C is quiet as she closes the door behind us, barely even making a noise as she squats to take off her shoes.
I have to nudge her before she realises that she’s not at her own place. She looks up at me with big eyes then. “Should I call?” she whispers, and I give a slight nod. She did bring me, after all.
C rises back to her feet hesitantly, then calls in a low-ish voice, “Mum?” I don’t remember the last time I actually announced my presence upon my return.
“In the kitchen, dear!” Mum replies with only a second delay.
C gives me a look. “Is Jas going to give us away?”
When she was about to text Mum on the bus, I had the idea to make it a surprise instead. Because I know for a fact that Mum loves Chloe and would never object to letting her stay for dinner. Of course, it is kind of uncharacteristic for the Noel Mum knows or expects to know, but this whole situation is, so what does it matter at that point?
I scrunch my face. He probably will. He doesn’t remember Chloe, but he does remember that C mentioned having been with a girl for a sleepover, and he likes to tease. Maybe he just likes the attention, who knows?
“Do you think it’ll work if I just–“ she raises her extended index finger to her lips.
I shrug. Might as well, but I’m not sure.
It’s not like it matters that much; it’s a surprise either way.
So we leave our coats on the hangers and walk into the living room. I notice once again how good C is at sneaking around. The heels of her feet don’t even touch the ground, and there’s barely even a rustle of her jeans.
Jas is already turned around on the sofa, watching us curiously, but when C puts her finger to her lips, he grins conspiratorially and gets up to follow us into the kitchen. I hide just around the corner while C walks in.
“Hey, dear, how was your day?” Mum asks. It’s a recently built habit of hears to initiate conversation in my presence. ‘Recently’ meaning over the last for years. I used to be a lot… engaged in spreading my thoughts.
“Nice,” Chloe says slowly, imitating my manner of speaking. Then, after a short pause, “Is dinner almost done?”
“Yes, just finishing this salad. Hungry? You could start setting the table, if you would like.”
“Is there… a lot?” C asks awkwardly.
“Uhm,” Mum says uncertainly, “I’m sure there might be some left over if you would like to take it to school tomorrow?”
I give a silent laugh as Jas makes eye contact with me, also hidden, pressing both hands to his mouth.
“No,” C specifies hurriedly, “I was just wondering if… there’s enough for another person to join us?”
The kitchen falls silent, and I take my cue to step around the corner and into Mum’s line of sight.
“Hi,” I say, and don’t even have to force a grin at the sight of her wide eyes.
“Chloe,” Mum says in a breathy whisper, like she can’t quite believe I’m really standing in front of her.
If only she knew that C has been living right underneath her nose for several days now.
“Hi,” I say again, my face heating.
“Gosh, it’s been such a long time. You’ve grown!” Like that isn’t obvious. “How long has it been? Four years?” She comes closer, and her hand touches my upper arm lightly as if to build a connection. “I’m so glad to see you again!”
Warmth spreads in my chest in spite of the slight discomfort of being put on the spot.
The contrast between C’s and my parents is painfully obvious at that moment. It’s warmer here, even though her parents have an expensive floor heating system.
As if on queue, C clears her throat. “Mum?”
Mum flinches slightly, then takes her hand back. “Right. Dinner. If you’d told me you were coming, I would’ve had more time to prepare!” She stops short, then turns right back to me. “You’ve got to come back, and then I’ll make the curry for you again, okay? I hope you’ll still like it–”
“Mum!” C’s doing a really good job of imitating me.
“Okay! Okay,” she says, trying to calm C, but winking playfully at me.
She turns back to the counter and continues chopping vegetables, and C and I lean against the counter.
A little hand pulls at my sleeve.
“Who are you?” Jasper asks in his forward way.
I look down at him, and long strands of my hair fall into my face. I put them back gracefully.
“I’m Chloe,” I say, crouching and offering my hand. “You might not remember, but we used to hang out occasionally.” She used to come over when I had to babysit, so we could do homework together, and sometimes she would play with him, or even hold him. I think he liked her more than me.
Which I get, of course.
“We did?” he asks, his eyes big.
I nod. “Yeah, when you were still little. I used to help your brother babysit from time to time. We’re friends.”
Mum spends the entire duration of dinner jumping between retelling old stories about the time when C would still come around this place and asking me questions about all the things I’ve been doing since. Fortunately, C has briefed me well enough about all her extracurriculars that Mum doesn’t catch on that I haven’t done any of these things myself.
She gets especially bright-eyed, though, when I drop that C and I are part of the drama group now. I realise only halfway through telling her the story that led to the creation of the play through Vivi that I’m barely putting anything into talking, unlike myself.
It’s easy, I realise, to be in a good mood tonight. And it’s not just because Mum is looking at me like I’m her missing daughter that has only reappeared today. My self-awareness has shifted completely. I never have to suppress thoughts of how I hate the hairs on the back of my hand or what my face must look to other people. Instead, whenever I see my slender wrists from the corner of my eyes or move to put back a strand of hair, a jolt of joy runs through my centre. Even after several days, this feeling has not worn off yet; far from it. The joy only seems to intensify as I finally begin to recognise myself in the mirror.
After dinner, C and I go upstairs to do some more homework, which really means that we’re going to talk more about all the stuff we need to talk about at the moment. We already studied a lot between the end of school and the start of drama club.
And that’s what we do. Together, we lie on my bed, just the way we used to, on our backs, feet propped against the wall, and we talk. Neither of us bothers to take notes right now, because we’re both tired from a long day, and anyway, this isn’t about writing scripts or learning important dates by heart. It’s about getting to know each other to the point where we know the other inside out.
It’s nostalgic, being here together. And at the same time, it’s strangely different, because her voice is mine now and vice versa. But then she’s still the same person, and the whole atmosphere feels so similar.
C takes a picture of us at one point, holding her phone in her outstretched hand, both of us grinning up at the camera, and it’s astonishing how pretty I look, even without the perfect angle and the perfect expression. I turn my head only slightly, and my hair is already fanned out around me in a way that makes me want to grab a mirror and keep staring at it for hours.
“Can I start a picture wall?” she asks, turning her head to meet my eyes. We scooted closer together for the picture, and now that I’m actually looking at her, I realise just how close we are.
“Sure?” I say. It’s her life, after all. At least for however long it takes her to figure out whether she likes it or not. I can already tell I love this. This body, this friendship, this life.
Not much later, C goes to the bathroom and leaves me to stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. I should probably head home soon. It’s already nine PM, and C had the healthy habit of going to bed early when I came into her body. I should probably try to keep that up.
I look up when there’s a knock at the door.
“Yes?” I call reflexively, forgetting momentarily that this is no longer my room.
I turn my head as the door opens, and see Mum come in, holding a small tray with two cups and a little bowl of what’s probably cut vegetables.
“Like you never left,” she says with a smile that makes my heart melt.
She comes in and sets the tray down on the desk, looking around.
“Where’s Noel?”
“Bathroom,” I say, watching her.
Mum hesitates, then meets my eyes, crouching by the bed and resting her head on her folded arms, not far to my right.
“I know I’m not supposed to say this, and I know that from your point of view, none of this is really any of my business,” she says in a voice that’s only barely more than a whisper, “but I think you should know how incredibly grateful I am for your presence here.”
“Of course,” I whisper back. “I’m grateful to be able to be here.” Because that’s what Chloe would say, isn’t it?
Mum opens her mouth as if to contradict and to point out that, really, she has so much more reason to be grateful. Because Noel is doing really badly, and I, Chloe, am doing him a favour, aren’t I?
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There hasn’t been a moment so far when Chloe ever even acknowledged that she was getting the short end of this deal. She seems to be perfectly content with it.
With a pulling sensation in my stomach, I think back to the picture we took earlier. I could have had this the whole time. For the last four years. And I know that she was pretty, then, and I was not. But would it really have made that much of a difference, once I told her? Would she not have jumped at the opportunity to help me?
Finally, Mum seems to decide on something else to say.
“Is he… is he getting better?” she asks, and there’s an unspoken plea in her eyes, like there’s nothing that could possibly make her happier now.
And it’s true, isn’t it? Any way this goes now, it’s going to be better. If we swap back, I’ll have C back by my side. I’ll have learned all this stuff about being a girl. Would that make transitioning easier?
Or would it only make it all the more impossible because now I know with even more clarity all the things I’ll never have?
No. I can’t think like that.
“Yes. I think he’s getting better. I hope he is.”
She gives a short nod and whispers, “Thank you,” just as the bathroom door opens and she hurriedly straightens herself.
I don’t tell C anything about the interaction when she returns. I don’t quite know why myself, but my lips simply refuse to part when I consider bringing up the topic. We spent another half hour together in her room, drinking the tea Mum brought up, and snacking on the cut paprika. Then C accompanies me to the door and watches me as I put on my shoes and coat.
I’m about to open the door when, from the corner of my eyes, I see a motion, and turn to find that she’s spread her arms just slightly, her palms facing me.
Offering a hug.
I’m so surprised by the idea of hugging goodbye that my body goes into override, and I step forward, accepting her arms around me.
“I really enjoyed today,” she whispers, then lets go of me. “Get home safe, okay, Chloe?”