Frank and Michelle

The next day Jennifer, Michelle and I discussed the situation at length, and after several hours we were still unsure about what to do. Danny had treated them both terribly over the years, going so far as to threaten to kill Em; on the other hand, he was still their brother, and the man who’d visited the night before had made a not-so-veiled implication regarding Danny’s well-being. In the end the two sisters decided to confide in Simone the next time they would go see her in her office; they had planned to evaluate Abigail’s assets and divide them, so they may as well bend Simone’s ear a bit and ask for her advice.

Simone’s opinion was simple and crystal clear: they shouldn’t do anything, as there was nothing that could be done.

Being in the legal profession, she’d heard rumours about the mysterious man; nothing really substantial, but apparently if he was involved the situation was already way past the point it could be solved by simply repaying the debt. And Em and Jennifer should absolutely not warn the police, or they would risk drawing the ire of the man’s employers. It was better to just step back, and wait for the inevitable.

Michelle, though, was still conflicted. Danny had betrayed her and sent her to prison, true; it was clearly in her full right to just forget about him, and let whatever the mysterious man had planned happen to him. But the night after her meeting with Jennifer and Simone Em poured her heart out to me, and said that it didn’t feel right to abandon Danny to his fate. Danny and her had been really close for the first fifteen or sixteen years of her life. He was her older brother, she had idolised him, and he had a big part in raising her: Abigail and her second husband were both very busy with work, so Danny took care of his sibling most afternoons after school. It was only when Michelle had turned eighteen, and had come out to her family, that things had turned sour; but she really couldn’t forget those early years.

Em was still conflicted the next morning as we left for work. Usually we walked together (hand in hand, actually) to the bus stop, and parted ways there: she took the bus to the city centre, where her office was, while I took the one heading towards the mall, and got off after seven stops right in front of Ralph’s bookshop.

When we got to the bus stop that morning, though, Danny was there, leaning against the tiny bench under the plexiglass canopy, clearly waiting for us.

Danny straightened himself when he saw us approach, and took the time to glare at me (me, specifically). Then he turned his attention to Michelle.

“Hello, Michelle,” he said, putting a clear stress on the name. “Can we talk?”

Well, this was new.

Michelle looked at me, clearly as puzzled and confused as I was, and then gave a hesitant nod. “Danny.”

“I know I’ve behaved really badly--” Danny continued, but I cut him off with a snide comment.

“Boy, you can say that again.”

Once again he glared at me, but went on with what was clearly a rehearsed speech; even his normal accent was barely noticeable. “--and I’m really sorry. Truly, I mean it. I will make it up to you, I swear. But first I need your help.”

And there it was: the penny dropped. He was being nice to Michelle just because it was a chance to save his own skin, nothing more.

Michelle sighed. “I know. Someone came looking for you at my home a few days ago.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Who was it?” he asked.

“A man. Brown hair, beard, casual clothes. Gave me a number to call if I saw you again.”

Danny’s eyes became even wider: he clearly knew who the man was, at least by fame. “Bloody hell,” he said, his voice shaking. “Mike-- I mean, Michelle, ya have to help me. Please. I need the money. I hafta pay ‘em back.”

I looked at Em, and saw the turmoil in her eyes; she was clearly conflicted. In the end, her shoulders slumped, and she let out another long sigh. “How much?” she asked.

The figure Danny gave us was way beyond what we’d thought it would be. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how someone could accrue such a debt; even with the rates typical of loan sharks, the initial amount must have been quite high to begin with.

After she’d recovered from the shock, Michelle shook her head. “I’m sorry, Danny, I can’t help you.”

“…What?” asked Danny, his face turning sour.

“I don’t have that kind of money. We don’t. Either me or Jen,” Michelle explained.

Danny stared at her. “Yer lyin’,” he said with finality. “The inheritance--”

“--Is not nearly enough. Not even close.” Em shook her head again. “How much money do ya think mum had anyway? She was renting, her car is ancient and almost busted. All in all me and Jen will get a few thousand each, no more.”

I knew it was true, Michelle had shown me the figures. Danny wasn’t buying, it though.

“Ya filthy lyin’ tranny,” he spat out. “I know ya have the money!”

Em recoiled as a reflex, but I placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her my silent support, while glaring at Danny at the same time. “I don’t,” she repeated. “And after what ya said jus’ now, I wouldn’t give it to ya even if I did.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a bus approaching, just as Danny snarled and lunged at us. It was an uncoordinated movement, brought about by rage; Michelle dodged to the side, while I extended my leg, tripping Danny and sending him sprawling on the pavement. Before he could recover Em quickly ushered me up onto the bus and climbed on after me; the driver gave us a puzzled look, but I just asked him to drive away as quickly as possible. The last we saw of Danny, he was standing by the bus stop, hurling abuse at us. “Yeah, run ya fag!” he said. “We’ll see what yer friends will think of ya! I’ll tell everyone!”

Me and Michelle slumped on the first available seats we found, our muscles still tense and breath laboured. “Bloody hell,” I breathed out.

Em turned to me. “You think he meant it? That he would tell everyone about me?”

I looked at her and nodded. “Yeah, he probably did mean it. Will it be a problem? How many people know?”

“Besides you and the rest of my family?” said Michelle, and she sighed deeply. “Well… No one.”

I looked at her in silence for a while, then asked: “So what will you do?”

“Guess I’ll just hafta tell everyone first, don’t I?” she replied. Her smile was brittle, but her eyes were filled with determination. “And might as well start now.” She placed her hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “D’ya… Mind coming with me? To work?”

I nodded again. “Not at all.” I leaned over and kissed her.

Luckily, by pure chance we’d taken the bus she usually took every morning to go to work. I shot a quick text to Ralph, apologising and saying I wasn’t going to show up that day because of a family emergency; I knew he would understand. We then spent the rest of the bus ride in silence, holding hands. I could just wonder what Michelle was thinking, maybe she was making plans upon plans, practising speeches over and over in her mind. Maybe she was catastrophising.

All too soon the ride was over, and we walked the two blocks from the bus stop to Michelle’s workplace. I had never been there before: it was an entirely anonymous building, there wasn’t even a name plate on the doorbell; Michelle explained that her office didn’t deal directly with the general public, but rather was contacted directly by the people who were interested in their services, so to advertise their location was entirely unnecessary. Em opened the door with a key she retrieved from her purse (she must have been really trusted to be given her own key to the premises, I thought), and in we went.

The office was set up as an open space plan: there were quite a few desks scattered around the wide open room, and a few doors led into offices, set aside for the management. At least half a dozen people were busying themselves with the first tasks of the workday, while in a corner, opposite the door, a coffee machine, kettle, and a water cooler had been set up. A handful of people were milling there chatting and sipping on espresso, tea, or filter coffee, including Francesca, Michelle’s boss: her round face widened into a smile as we entered.

“Good morning, Chell… And Frank!” she said. “What a nice surprise!” She set down her cup, hurried over and gave us both a hug, starting with me. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Um…” Michelle began, then paused. She opened her mouth a couple times, but nothing came out.

“Is something the matter?” asked Francesca, frowning. “You seem troubled, dear.”

I took Michelle’s hand and squeezed it. When she looked up at me, I gave her a nod and an encouraging smile.

“Um…” she began again, then blurted out, “Can we talk? In private?”

The few people close enough to us to hear gave Michelle a puzzled look, as did Francesca, but she nodded, replied “Of course,” and ushered us into her office, closing the door behind her.

“Now, what is it, dear?” said Francesca, taking Michelle’s hands into hers and looking at her in the eyes. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I don’t mind.”

Michelle let out a brief, bitter laugh. “I hope you’ll say it again after I tell ya,” she replied; she was really nervous, and her accent was coming out on its own.

She took a deep breath. “I… I hadn’t planned on telling you like this. Or at all, to be honest. I’ve been burned before because of this,” she said. Francesca frowned at her, but said nothing.

“But now there’s a big chance someone will come over an’ tell ya, just outta spite,” Michelle continued, “So I thought ya needed to hear it from me before that.”

She was shaking now, but she carried on, even though I could see tears forming in her eyes. “Truth is… I’m transgender.”

Em screwed her eyes shut and grimaced, as if steadying herself for complete rejection. Francesca’s eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at Michelle for a couple seconds. Then she spoke.

“Why, is that all?”

There was a long pause. Michelle opened her eyes again, looked at Francesca.

“Let me say that again, Chell: I don’t mind,” said Francesca. “I don’t see how that affects your worth in any way, or changes who you are; you’re still the Michelle I know and love. And if anyone thinks otherwise, well it’s on them, not you.”

Michelle gave out a long sigh of relief, and tears started pouring down her face. She collapsed into Francesca’s chair, face in her hands, and started crying.

“Now, now, dear, come on,” said Francesca, lightly patting her back. “It’s okay. Now, mind telling me who was that made you so upset?”

Between sobs, Michelle told Francesca the entire story, starting from the very beginning: when she realised she was trans, what her brother had done to her, the time spent in prison and meeting me there (which was received with a slight lift of Francesca’s eyebrows, but nothing more), and then reconnecting with the family, Abigail’s illness and death, and the recent encounters with Danny (carefully leaving out the part about his debt and the late-evening visitor we'd had).

“...And he said he would ruin my life, tell everyone who I am. What I am,” concluded Michelle. She’d stopped crying, but her eyes were still moist.

Francesca frowned again, her deepest frown yet. “Oh no, no no no. That just won’t do,” she said. “This Danny boy deserves a stern talking to. I’ll see to that.”

And she did. A couple hours later Danny showed up at the office, and started shouting to whoever was within earshot the truth about Michelle, or his version of the truth, at least. But it scarcely mattered: by that point Francesca had had the time to call a all-hands meeting of the company, so that Michelle could properly come out to everyone she worked with, and thankfully everyone was firmly in her corner. So when Danny tried to twist the facts to his benefit, no one listened; instead, Francesca gave him a veritable verbal once-over. The only other time I’d met her – at the wedding – I’d known her to be really polite and never swear, but apparently she was saving all her colourful words for occasions such as these: some of the phrases she used would have made a sailor blush like a schoolgirl. Danny was so flabbergasted he couldn’t manage anything in return, and Francesca concluded her speech by pointing him towards the door and saying “and now do kindly fuck right off, or we’ll call the cops on your sorry ass.”

Stunned, Danny left. Me and Michelle hugged and kissed; the day hadn’t gone quite as we thought it would when we left home that morning, but it could have definitely gone worse.