Page 67 of Oyster

“Yes,” she agreed. “But I won’t be doing it because I hate myself. I’ll be doing it because I love myself and deserve to be happy. It’s not something I’ve suddenly decided overnight.”

I knew that already. Éti must have pictured how coming out would be ever since she’d risen to fame and accepted the challenges of it. She gave me the slow smile, the chipped one, leaving me incapable of anything except smiling back. My hand tracked down to her fingers, and I brought them up to my mouth, kissing them one at a time.

“Then if that’s what you want, my love, we’ll do it. I’ll be by your side the whole journey. Do you think it will be the end of your career?”

She tilted her head to one side. “I hope not. And no, I don’t. Why should it? I’ll still be Salvador, PSG’s number ten, the best player the world has ever seen.” She threw me a naughty smile. “I want to carry on being PSG’s number ten. But I want to outwardly reflect who I am on the inside at the same time. Like every other fucking player on the pitch is allowed to.”

“Will your teammates be supportive?”

“Yes, one hundred percent,” she said with confidence. “I know my dressing room. Strong players, talent, and dancing feet do not win championships alone. Messi, Ronaldo, Neymar, even Salvador, they do not win championships alone. Championships are won by teams that stick together. And we are a great one.”

“You are still going to receive a lot of hatred. Not only from fans and the press. Maybe from people who make money from you, too.”

Éti gave a half-hearted shrug. “The club investors will still find my goal-scoring ability a valuable commodity. And if they don’t, then another big club will. Although getting rid of me will be expensive. I have two years left on my contract.”

“And the advertising sponsors?”

“Pffft. They can fuck off if they want. I have enough money to last ten lifetimes.”

Stuffing Étiback inside is hard.And the more she was let out, the harder it became.I’d known the day would come. I drank my coffee, embracing the warmth trickling down my gullet. Putain, Nico La Forge was about to become arm candy for one of the most famous soccer stars ever to kick a ball.

Florian would piss himself laughing.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she urged. “I’m not a mind reader. If you don’t want to be a part of it, then say so. I could come out without you, if I had to. I would totally understand if you wanted to stay anonymous. It’s asking a lot.”

She was a better mind reader than she knew. I cupped her dear, worried face in my hand. Clear of makeup with a hint of stubble scratching under my thumb. These days, we shaved side by side. Regardless, the face staring back at me still belonged to Éti Salvador, not Étienne. And she was ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world.

Whether the world was ready for her was another thing altogether. “You’re asking a proud boyfriend to turn up at his girlfriend’s awards night. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. But I am going to need to invest in a decent suit.”

The night before the Ballon d’Or, we travelled up to Paris together, a journey I would have to get used to. But what were a few hours in the car and a few years spread between two homes when we had forever together? If the last three months of ourlong-distance relationship had taught me anything, her absence sharpened her presence.

Our romantic evening in the city of love kicked off with a few Zoom calls, one a hell of a lot easier than the others.

“Ça alors,Fabien! Don’t you two look adorable!” Clapping her hands together, Éti beamed into the computer, sighing with joy. Cradling a tiny baby against his broad chest, the PSG captain and France’s number-one goalkeeper threw us a casual wave.

“Shhh! You’ll wake him, and then I’ll be in all sorts of trouble!”

Éti cooed at the bundle of blankets as if she was trying to work out how to climb into the computer and snatch him up. Lack of ovaries be damned; I recognised a broody woman when I saw one. Ah, merde.

Fabien gave a rumbling laugh, jiggling the sleeping baby and indicating between the two of us. “You two are looking pretty adorable yourselves!”

Yep, my arm was around Éti’s, and her hand was in my lap.

“Is this what you phoned to tell me? Because I kind of joined the dots anyhow. And it’s fantastic news.”

“Well, yes, sort of,” Éti began, but he cut her off.

“Listen; before I forget,again, and the missus gives me a bollocking, I’m supposed to be asking you if you’ll be godfather to this one.” He dipped his chin to admire his newest son. “Please say yes. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask Ruiz, and he’ll be teaching him Spanish swear words before he’s out of nappies.”

“Mmm…” Éti hawed, and the damp hand in mine clenched tighter. “Would it be so terrible if your boy’s first word isjoder? Ormierda? Because I… um… ah merde.How can I say this?”

Fanning her face with her hand, Éti took a couple of deep breaths. “Fabien, I might be more comfortable being… can I… um… is the role of godmotherstill vacant? You know, ah… Aunt Éti? Um… going forward, like from tomorrow night? Because I…I phoned to tell you I’m a trans woman and my pronouns are she/her and now I’m going to squint at the screen so I can’t actually see your response and actually, no, I can still see you out of the corner of my eye so I’m going to say bye-bye and run away because I’m scared you won’t be my friend anymore, and if you don’t like me as Éti then none of the team will either and this all of a sudden seems like a really bad idea and I might as well resign now. Bye!”

I didn’t possess dancing feet or an eye for goal, but my reflexes weren’t too shabby. I beat Éti to the laptop, though I did have an unfair advantage, seeing as my hands weren’t shielding my eyes. “Hold on one second,” I said to Fabien before peeling Éti’s hands from her face. Her eyes remained clamped shut.

“Éti, my love? You’re being absurd.”

“He’s hung up, hasn’t he? Or he’s hurling abuse at me across the ether.La la la, I’m not listening, Nico. I’m not listening. Oh God, I should never have decided to do this. I should just carry on pretending to be Étienne. It would only be for another four or five years, six at the most.”

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