The kitchen smelled like something burnt.
Not badly burnt, just the kind of smell that meant someone had been standing over the stove a little too long, too distracted to notice. A small yellow light hung above the table, and under it sat a woman with tired eyes and trembling hands, staring down at a child who had just knocked over a glass of milk by accident.
She wasn't upset about the glass of milk.
The child looked up at her.
She looked back.
And then the woman said it. Low and quiet, like a thought that had slipped out of her mouth before she could catch it.
"Why weren't you born a girl?"
The child didn't answer. What was there to say to something like that? He was five years old and he barely understood half the words that came out of grownups' mouths, but he understood the weight of that sentence just fine. He felt it sit on his chest, heavy and strange. His bottom lip started to go. His eyes burned.
And then she pulled him into a hug.
She held him tight, the way she always did when she realized she'd said too much. Her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her lips to the top of his head, and in the quietest voice she said, "We can fix that. You can be mommy's little girl."
The child stopped shaking. She pulled back just enough to look at his face. She was smiling, soft and certain, like she had just solved a very big problem.
And somehow, somewhere in that small chest of his, something lifted. Something that had no business being hopeful went ahead and felt hopeful anyway.
* * *
Alice Lancaster opened his eyes to a white ceiling.
He lay there for a moment, blinking at nothing, letting the dream slide back down to wherever it had come from. He'd been having that one for years now, the kitchen, the burnt smell, those words. It came and went like a guest who never knocked. He'd stopped being bothered by it a long time ago.
He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and looked over at the mirror on the other side of the room.
Long slightly wavy black hair, straight and clean, falling past his shoulders. A face that people tended to stare at for a second too long because of the unnatural beauty. High cheekbones, a soft jaw, dark eyes that didn't give much away. Simple yet elegant features. His body was the same, slim and light in all the places his mother had wanted it to be.
He stared at himself the way you'd stare at a painting.
I really looked like mom now.
His mother had been thorough, he'd give her that. Before he even turned eighteen, there had been surgeries. The Adam's apple was the first to go. Then the hormone therapy, slow and gradual, reshaping things from the inside out. And then the last one, the big one, which he'd agreed to without very much hesitation at all. Not because he'd been pushed into it, exactly. More because by that point, the idea of saying no felt like it would have disappointed the one person in the world he never wanted to disappoint.
He didn't hate what he saw in the mirror. He didn't love it either. It just was what it was. A body his mother had shaped carefully over years, the way someone might tend to a garden. And Alice had let her, not because he felt like a girl, not because he'd woken up one day and decided that was who he was. He didn't really think about it that way. He wasn't a girl. He wasn't trying to be one. He had just never cared enough about what other people thought of him to fight back, and he had cared far too much about his mother to say no to her.
So here he was.
He got up, stretched until his back cracked, and headed to the bathroom.
* * *
The morning routine was the same as always. Wash face, untangle hair, moisturizer because his mother would notice if he skipped it which is a mystery to him, and a quiet ten minutes getting into his school uniform. He'd done it so many times it barely took any thought. His hands just moved. He stared at the uniform he was about to wear. A girl's uniform to be accurate.
He carefully put them on, thankfully the skirt uniform is long and the chest area isn't tight. It's a perfect fit for him.
He checked his reflection once more in the hallway mirror before heading downstairs, adjusted the collar of his uniform, and decided that it was good enough.
For a uniform, this is stylish.
The smell hit him before he even reached the bottom step. Eggs and toast and something sweet, either fruit or jam, he couldn't tell yet. His mother was in the kitchen, already dressed, hair pinned up, moving around the counter with the particular energy she got whenever she had something to be excited about.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Helen Lancaster turned and smiled, the full kind, the one that reached her eyes. She was already setting a plate down at Alice's usual seat. "You look nice."
"Morning." Alice sat down and looked at the plate. Eggs, toast, sliced strawberries on the side. She'd cut them into little pieces. She always did that.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Fine."
"That's not a real answer."
"I slept okay."
Helen gave him a look, the kind that meant she knew he wasn't telling the whole truth but was choosing not to push it. She sat down across from him with her own coffee and tilted her head. "Are you nervous?"
Alice picked up his fork. "About what?"
"College. First day." She said it like those two words should have been obvious. "New campus, new people. Are you at least a little nervous?"
He thought about it for a real second. "Not really."
"Not really," she repeated, clearly amused. "You know, most people feel something about a big change."
"It's not like I'll move away or make a life changing decision. All I feel right now is to finish breakfast."
She laughed at that, which was what he'd been going for. Her laugh was easy and warm as it filled up the kitchen in a way that made it feel smaller, in a good way. Alice watched her for a moment and she smiled a little.
"You'll be great," she said, and she meant it fully, the way she always did when she talked about him. "You always lands on your feet, my girl."
Alice looked back down at his plate. "So-so," he said.
Helen raised an eyebrow.
"You asked if I was ready," he said. "It's so-so."
"Oh, you." She reached across and patted his hand once, then pulled it back. "Eat your strawberries."
He ate his strawberries.
* * *
The doorbell rang just as Alice was finishing the last of his toast. Helen was already on her feet, waving him off before he could even push his chair back.
"I'll get it. Eat."
He ate.
He heard the door open, the familiar voices, and then his mother doing that thing she always did where she turned into the nicest version of herself for guests. I mean who doesn't?
"Bryan! Lucy! Oh, look at you two. Come in, come in. Have you eaten? I made eggs."
"Good morning, Mrs. Lancaster." That was Bryan, his voice even and polite the way it always got around Helen. "Thank you, but we're alright. We'll wait for Alice."
"Are you sure? There's plenty."
"We're good, thank you so much." That was Lucy, normally she yaps a lot but she's a little more careful than usual when she's inside Alice's home. Lucy was always careful around Helen. Most people were, once they got to know her. Also, Helen is scary when she's angry.
The two of them came into the kitchen anyway because Helen had gestured them in, and Bryan nodded at Alice across the table while Lucy immediately leaned against the counter and stole one of Alice's strawberries right off the plate.
Alice looked at her.
She smiled, entirely without guilt, and popped it in her mouth.
Alice looked back at his plate and decided the remaining strawberries were no longer safe. He ate them quickly.
He finished, stood, and brought his plate to the sink. Then he turned around, looked at his mother, and she already had that expression, the one that meant she was about to get emotional about something small.
He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. Helen smiled at him and kissed him in the forehead.
"Have a good first day," she said warmly.
"I will."
"I mean it."
"I know." He stepped back. "Don't burn the kitchen down."
"There is nothing wrong with the way I cook," she said to his back as he picked up his bag.
Bryan and Lucy had already started toward the door. Bryan glanced back at Helen. "We'll take good care of her, Mrs. Lancaster."
Helen beamed.
Lucy gave a thumbs up that wobbled slightly.
Alice walked out as he looked back momentarily. Helen is already cleaning up the table while humming. That sight made her smile again before finally going out of the door.