Then, because they were each doing a lot of firsts today, for the first time in her entire life, Yuko cried during sex, or whatever that had been. She was amazed and horrified at herself as tears streaked down her cheeks. What the fuck was this? She was tough. She’d kind of had to be. She’d basically been on her own since she was twenty-two and she came out to her parents just after she’d accepted a job offer at her first-choice investment banking firm, correctly suspecting that her parents would cut her off after she explained her plans to them.

Her father had indeed cut her off in most ways after that conversation, and he was in the driver’s seat in their family, so that was that. Continuing to live in an incorrectly equipped body, she had been told in no uncertain terms, was a condition of continuing to live in her family’s apartment and good graces. New York City real estate being what it was, she’d have chosen to stay for another year or so she could build up a good little security deposit and take her time apartment hunting, but it was not to be. She’d requested a month to find a new living situation and pack up her things. She’d been granted one week, and it had been the longest, most miserable week of her life. Her father had avoided her completely during that week. Her mother had sobbed nonstop. 

Her mother, at least, took her calls and visited her occasionally, although always with a kind of furtive demeanor that made it clear that Yuko’s father didn’t know where she was. Like she was having an affair instead of spending time with her kid. Her father sometimes spoke to her briefly when her mother suddenly threw them at each other on the phone or in person. Yuko saw him once or twice a year on her mother’s birthday or for other major family occasions, but that was the extent of it these days. 

Everything Yuko had done since that point in her life had been necessary and freeing, but she’d walked her path with only Nachelle at her side, and it hadn’t exactly been sprinkled with cherry blossoms. Sure, she had other friends, some from NYU, a couple from high school, some going-out friends… but none of them were the kind of friend you opened up to about massive emotional and physical ordeals. She was also in a support group with a lot of other amazing people in various stages of transitioning, and they had been excellent guides and good friends. She was still in the group now, as a kind of elder statesmen, to help the people who were just starting out. Everyone in the support group had their hands full with their own lives and problems and journeys, however, so they were not in a position to offer a lot of on-demand support to each other outside of meetings. 

Even with friends, a kind of existential loneliness persisted. There was a hole in her life where a family should have been. When the time was right, she’d fill it by starting her own family, and when she had kids of her own, she would never, never turn her back on them. Yuko had come to the conclusion that nothing could fully replace having people in your life who had always known you. Who knew who you, individually, were. Ideally, those were the people who had brought you into the world or who had at least watched you grow up in it. As she’d explained to Raph, however, Yuko’s parents could not play that role for her. Thank God for Nachelle. She was going to get that tattooed somewhere one day. Thank God for Nachelle.

Nachelle had been the best friend anyone could possibly have. A sister more than a friend, sometimes almost a parent. Nachelle had her own life and her own goals, but she’d partially rerouted her life so that Yuko’s destination fell along the path to her own goals. Nachelle had always kicked ass in science classes and had always wanted a biology-related career, but Yuko was pretty sure she’d ended up in a medical field at least partially for Yuko’s sake. 

Mercifully, the universe had rewarded Nachelle’s goodness. She loved her career fixing messed-up feet and made a killing at it. Yuko was living proof that Nachelle genuinely got a kick out of helping people through awkward problems—whether those problems were hammer toes or no-no squares that were utterly incompatible with one’s sense of self. Among Nachelle’s many gifts was the fact that she lacked the embarrassment gene— so no one ever had to be embarrassed in her presence, which was an incredible relief. You could tell her anything or ask her anything. On a related note, there was also not a squeamish bone in Nachelle’s body. She found all the weirdest, grossest stuff fascinating. She’d check your catheter or your post-surgical drain the same way someone else would braid your hair or fix your collar for you. 

As indispensable and generous as Nachelle was, however, Yuko had never wanted to take her time or effort for granted. Yes, she helped Nachelle with her business and her investments, but it didn’t feel like an even trade. Nachelle had saved her life. It would not have been fair to call on her for every little crisis, though. Yuko had to save her for the big stuff. There had been many small moments when Yuko had wanted a hand to hold or a comforting word, but she’d had to be strong and rely on herself. It had certainly helped her finish growing up in a hurry and had given her confidence in her ability to survive damn near anything, including being a woman working in the field of finance. A trans woman who excelled in finance, one of the bro-i-est fraternities imaginable. 

Wall-to-wall Chads were child’s play after coming out to her father or starting hormones or having her entire undercarriage rebuilt, however. They were a great distraction, even. She’d sat in hospital beds and closed deals on her laptop. She’d worked through the night so many times that no one said shit when she actually used her time off for her procedures. When someone at work who was, to put it delicately, less of a closer than she was, made a crack about her body or her life, she didn’t cry and she no longer ran. She fired back. With very good aim. Then she went and made more money and got an even bigger bonus, because fuck you, Chad.

In short, she was genuinely stalwart. She’d only actually cried a handful of times since she’d started her transition, not counting grateful blubbering when she was still loopy from anesthesia, waking up in recovery to find Nachelle waiting with her, as always. She really had never been much of a crier, or, at least, had learned not to be one because all crying had been actively discouraged in her family. It didn’t help anything and it made people, especially young boys, look pathetic and weak, she’d always been assured. So she didn’t cry, especially when there was nothing actually wrong! Like right now! Except here she was, crying, and so shocked by it that she hardly knew what to do to calm herself down. She slapped a hand over own mouth to muffle the crazy sounds that were escaping from her, because she couldn’t seem to get control. She was making a total idiot of herself. What the fuck? What the fuck?! Was it because they’d talked about feelings stuff too much? Was it all the fucking crystals and hemp stored in here?

Raph crawled up alongside her in the bed and pulled her against them, tucking her firmly against their body. “Stop fighting and just let it out. It’s fine to let it out. It’s good to.” 

So she did, for about ten more minutes, and then the storm passed as quickly as it had started, and she took a few last, halting, hiccuping breaths and then three long smooth ones and it was done. If this had happened in front of anyone other than Raph, I’d have been so embarrassed, I’d have run straight to that rental car and been back in New York by tonight, she thought. It wasn’t anyone else, though. It was Raph, with their crystals, and their energy and their foot-gasms and their gorgeous red hair that smelled like some exotic fruit…and she knew she’d always love them for this. Even if she got on a plane in a couple of days and never saw them again, even if she walked in on them fucking Bernie the hot pilates instructor in a closet at the lodge tomorrow, even if she fell in love a hundred more times with a hundred more people before she died and fucked twice that many, she knew she’d always love Raph for this. For reminding her of what her body could do. For making her feel normal and special at the same time.