Page 21 of Oyster

“But you want to get to know her more,” Florian pointed out. “You never say things like that. Which means she must be very special. Tell me what makes her special. Give me some hope, please.”

Delicate feet clad in glittery golden running shoes, heel-to-toe, flitted through my head. “Um… she’s cute. And funny. And…” I trailed off. Nico La Forge was an ignorant straight guy about to take a trans woman on a date. His best friend was an out, experienced homosexual man. A reliable and discreet go-to resource for all things queer. “And she’s transgender,” I finished in a rush. “Does that make her special?”

While Florian absorbed that interesting and surprising nugget of information, we watched the linesmen and referees shake hands. This conversation had travelled way farther than I’d intended or was comfortable with.

“Her being trans is irrelevant to whether I’m attracted to her, by the way,” I added. Her being Éti Salvador was a much bigger whammy. “Which means, if anything develops between us, it shouldn’t fucking matter to anyone else either.”

“Okaay. Well, that makes my queer little heart very happy.” He sounded unconvinced. “But are you sure it isn’t going to become of relevance for you? When you get beyond themetstage? Because she’ll have suffered enough, Nico, at the hands of unkind people. Ignorant people. Thoughtless people.” His lips pursed. “Don’t become one of them. You’re… ah... you know, quitetraditionalwhen it comes to the fairer sex. Don’t go beyond the talking stage if her identity will be a problem for you further down the line. Break it off now, before you hurt her.”

I threw him a wry smile. “Someone else already has, unfortunately.”

I remembered Éti’s long elegant throat, swallowing down the oysters, how she sucked the juice off each of her fingers with such unadulterated joy. Finding deep pleasure in a simple afternoon picnic. “It hasn’t been an issue so far. And I don’t think it will be. I like her. A lot. But let’s not get too carried away. As I said, I don’t know if she’s attracted to me yet.”

Florian’s keen eyes appraised me in my lanky, shabby glory. “Nico, that corner flag is attracted to you.”

Ignoring him, I carried on, needing to get it off my chest. “What if I told you her gender wasn’t the most complicated thing about her?”That as we speak, she is peeling off her trackie bottoms and unzipping her top?That if she turned around and sought me in the stands, my heart might actually give out?Because when she isn’t allowed to be her sweet trans self, she is Étienne fucking Salvador!

“What do you mean?”

“She’s told me some stuff in confidence. But without going into details, I haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m getting myself into, to be honest, Flor. All I know is that I like her a lot, and I’m up for more of it.”

I like her a lot.Mon dieu, where the hell did that confession bubble up from? More to the point, where did any of the rest of it come from? I’d only met Éti four times, and on one of those occasions, she’d been pissed as a newt.

I held that bit back.

“Putain, don’t say she’s married. Non,Nico, non. You know better than to go down that route.”

I laid a hand on his arm. “Relax. She doesn’t have kids either.”

“Okay, so she’s not involved. But we still need to talk.” Florian tugged my arm. “Merde, Nico, how can you drop something like this on me then expect me to concentrate on eighty minutes of football?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t planned. And football matches are ninety minutes, not eighty.”

“Obviously, I knew that. I was testing you. Écoute. If she’s managed to turn your head, then I love her already, and if she’s trans, then she’s about as special as you can get. And I’ll adore her even more. But if you’re also throwing other stuff into themix and you don’t want to fuck this up, then please, talk to me before you do anything rash.”

Florian knew me too well. “I will. But not now. Not yet.”

“Don’t allow your mum’s illness to stop you following your heart, Nico. She wouldn’t want that for you. And… and you’ve been fine all these years on your own. But you need someone, and you’re going to need someone even more after… after… you know.”

Another person unable to voice the inevitable out loud. Maybe the military metaphors were apt after all. Maybe cancer sufferers were the only ones with any courage.

We needed a rapid change of subject. At the end of the row, Max wound his way back, balancing three beers and a carton of fries. I jerked my head in his direction. “Coming to the football has cheered Max up, anyhow. I caught him sitting on the sofa in the dark the other night, after he thought everyone had gone to bed. Just sitting there, doing nothing. And he’s regressing with his speech again.”

As a child, my brother was diagnosed with selective mutism, which waxed and waned as he grew older depending on whatever was going on in his complicated head.

“He’s scared, I imagine. He’s still so young, and he’s losing his mother. Facing something most of us don’t expect to encounter until we’re, I don’t know, mature enough to cope, I guess.”

Some days I didn’t think I’d ever reach that stage, but his point was fair. “We’re all scared, Flor. But he won’t talk to me about it. Zoë’s just as bad. It’s like we’re a bunch of strangers.”

We were quiet for a second, watching the opposing teams going through some warmup exercises. With a smirk, Florian gave me a firm poke. One of the young women had said something to Max, and a smile I hadn’t seen in way too longbroke out across his face. For a brief second, he behaved like a normal twenty-year old lad again.

“Yeah, he needed to get away for a few hours.”

“As did you, mon ami,” agreed Florian. In the coming weeks ahead, I had a feeling I’d be leaning on him more and more.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a fucking weird time, Flor. Like, on the surface, everything is carrying on as normal, but we’re just acting a part. We’re all waiting for the hammer to drop. I’m checking my phone every ten minutes, dreading a message telling me to hurry back home or something. And it’s Zoë I’m concerned about as much as anyone. Like you said, I can keep an eye on Max. But she’s become a recluse.”

Florian’s arm landed around my shoulders. “I know. You’re worrying about all of them. But who’s worrying about you? If you do get close to your new friend, tell her your troubles, yes? Problems weigh heavier when the only person carrying them is you. My Charles has shown me that.”

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