Page 36 of Painted

“Several, I think,” Rebecca said. “Looking like you do, I’d think you were one of them.”

They opened their mouth but then shut it again, not really sure what they’d been about to say. They pursed their lips, frowned, and tried to sort through half a dozen of the thoughts that came flying at them. Nothing made much sense to themat the moment, but after talking to Robert, a new feeling that whatever happened next was up to them was beginning to form.

“Actually, would it be alright if I took the rest of the day off?” they asked, the little shoot of an idea that had sprung up within them suddenly turning into an entire tree of inspiration.

“Yeah, sure,” Rebecca said. “It’s Friday, after all. You deserve a long weekend after this week.”

“Thanks,” Early said, tapping the top of the front desk, then turning to leave the office. “I’ll be back in time for dinner. Maybe we could have a movie marathon tonight or something?”

The question was a sneaky way of asking if they could stay with Rebecca for the moment, until they sorted things with Rhys enough to move back in with him, or find another place to live entirely.

“Sounds lovely,” Rebecca said with a smile.

Early smiled back, then left. They knew what they needed to do, if not about Rhys, then about the rest of their life.

What they needed to do involved walking to the end of the lane that wound through Hawthorne House’s grounds to the road, then taking three different busses until they got to the street where their parents lived. They needed to sort that situation before they could move on and sort whatever was going on with Rhys. Robert had said they knew who they were, and who they were wasn’t who their parents insisted they be.

They still had the key to their parents’ house in their wallet, which had conveniently been in the pocket of the vest they’d put on under Raina’s cardigan to hide a stain on the shirt they’d wanted to wear that morning. Or maybe layering up when they’d dressed after the long shower they’d taken that morning—their second one after the shower they’d had the night before, when they’d been certain Rhys was sound asleep—was their subconscious’s way of hiding from what happened. Either way, they were able to let themself into the house without knocking.

Their hope had been to get in, pack their things, then get out without causing any sort of a scene. But it was Friday, and as it turned out, they weren’t the only one taking a long weekend.

“Good God. Earl!” their mother gasped as she came out of the kitchen with a plate holding a sandwich in one hand and a can of soda in the other. “You’re back!”

“Hello, Mum,” Early said, going hot and cold at the confrontation they weren’t expecting and definitely didn’t want.

Their mum seemed oblivious to their distress. “You’re back,” she repeated, setting her plate and soda on the table beside the sofa, then rushing to them. “My baby boy is back!”

Early felt utterly helpless in so many ways as their mum grabbed their cheeks and beamed at them, then yanked them into her arms. They didn’t have the first idea what to do to make their mum see what was right in front of her.

“I, um, I actually just came to pack up some of my things,” they said, hugging their mum back, but squirming away from the hug as quickly as they could. “All of them, actually.”

“Nonsense,” their mum said, still beaming and certain things were going her way. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll make you a sandwich, too, and we’ll have a nice little catch-up.”

“Mum, no,” they said, aching with the effort of getting through to her. “I’m going to go upstairs and pack my things.”

“No, you’re not,” their mum said, instantly losing their excitement. “You’re going to go upstairs and change into something more appropriate for a boy, then you’ll come back down and have lunch with your mum. I have an appointment at the hairdresser’s this afternoon, and you can come with me and finally cut that mop of yours.”

Early swallowed hard. If only things could be easy once in a while.

“I’m staying at Hawthorne House,” they said, speaking clearly, as if it would make their mum understand. “I’m non-binary, my pronouns are they/them, I’m not your boy, and I go by the name Early now.”

“But ‘Girly Early’ was always an insult,” their mum said. “We named you Earl. That’s your name.”

It wasn’t going to work. They weren’t going to get through to their mum. Not this way, at least.

“I know my name was supposed to be an insult at first. I decided to keep it as a way to remind myself that I’m bigger than the bullies, stronger than them. I own that name,” They said.

“But Earl?—”

“I’ll be back down as soon as I pack my things,” they said, knowing if they let their mum say too much, she might actually guilt them into something they didn’t want.

They headed up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom.

“When is this ridiculousness going to stop?” their mum demanded, following them. “Gay I can understand. I wouldn’t even mind if you were bisexual or pansexual, or whatever they call it these days. I could still have grandchildren that way.”

“Mum,” Early sighed in warning as they pulled their suitcase out from under the bed where they stored it.

“Well, you can’t expect me to just blithely accept whatever new silliness you young people have come up with these days,” she hounded him. “You were a boy when I gave birth to you and you’re still a boy now. Nature doesn’t just change like that.”

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