James sat hunched at the kitchen table, a chipped ceramic ashtray pulled close to him, his fingertips dusted with ash. A lit cigarette rested between his fingers, burning down slow. He hadn’t touched one before last year, not until after the hospitalization. It started as a compromise. Better this than razor blades. That’s what he’d told himself. The smoke didn’t make him feel better, but it gave him something to hold onto. Something that felt like a choice he made, even if it was killing him.
The apartment was silent except for the soft whirr of the fridge and the occasional creak of settling pipes. The phone in his pocket buzzed, muffled but insistent. He didn’t want to answer. But after three rings, he sighed and slid it out. He didn’t need to look. He already knew it was Ben.
He hesitated, then picked up, propping it between his shoulder and his ear. He flicked some ash into the tray as he answered.
“Hey, Carmen!” Ben’s voice came through bright and casual, too rehearsed to be genuine. “Wow, you actually picked up. I was wondering if you were okay. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Mom’s been asking me to try and call you.”
James winced slightly at Ben’s greeting to him, but he said nothing about it. “No yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Just busy. School and work have been killing me lately.”
“Makes sense, I figured.” Ben’s tone softened just a little, like he was settling into the call. “Hey, you still got that job at the library? How is it?”
James nodded reflexively. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just tiring, though. Carrying the books around kinda hurts my back.”
Ben chuckled, half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah, real—” He trailed off for a moment. “Hey, you sick? You sound, uh… different.”
James froze, the question driving a steak into his ribs. He felt a flicker of panic.
“Uh, no. I’m not sick.”
Ben laughed, but it didn’t sound comfortable. “Then why do you sound like that? You tryna mess with me?”
James’s mouth opened, then shut again. His grip on the cigarette tightened. “I’ve, um, I’ve—”
He stopped. Couldn’t find the words. His tongue felt dry, heavy. He heard the silence stretching too long.
“…Carmen? You still there?”
“I’ve, uh…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The doctor put me on hormones.”
The words came out rushed, like if he said them fast enough they’d be less real. As soon as they were out, he wanted to take them back.
“Hormones?” Ben’s voice shifted, cracking with a different kind of concern. “What, what kind of hormones? Are they for your lupus?”
“No. No, nothing like that. I… it’s, um. It’s testosterone.”
The silence this time was heavier.
“Why would a doctor put you on testosterone?”
James took a deep drag from the cigarette, willing his voice not to tremble. “Because I asked him to.”
Ben’s voice sharpened. “Wait, wait, hold up. Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
James leaned forward, elbow on the table, hand to his mouth. He pressed his knuckles against his lips, eyes shut tight. He didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to justify anything. But he couldn’t lie anymore. It's why he tried speaking to his family as little as possible: he didn't want to be caught, just as he was now.
A fish in a net.
“…I’m transitioning,” he said. He had to drag the word out of his throat. It was agony.
Ben didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched. James stared at the ashtray. He felt sick.
“…Oh,” Ben finally said.
James waited. No explosion. No shouting. Just that single sound. But it still made his skin crawl. He felt exposed, like a stripped wire.
“…Are you gonna tell Mom and Dad?” Ben asked. The question was quieter now. Less accusatory.
“No. I’m not.”
“Yeah. That, uh… that makes sense,” Ben said, and this time there was something in his voice that sounded almost bitter. “I don’t think they’d take to it too well.”
James exhaled through his nose. “I kind of just hoped they wouldn’t notice it. Or that they’d ignore it. They’re good at ignoring things about me.”
Ben gave a small laugh, but it was forced. Forced even by their standards. Then came another pause.
“…Do you still want me to call you Carmen?”
James stared down at the floor. He wished it would swallow him whole. He wished he had never picked up this phone call.
“Not particularly, but it’s fine. I don’t expect anyone to change for me.”
Ben was quiet for a second, then said, “What do you want me to call you?”
James hesitated. The cigarette had burned almost all the way down. He stubbed it out, his hand shaking just slightly.
“My name is James,” he said.
Ben didn’t flinch this time.
“Okay then, James.”