Chapter Text
Charlie’s mom is sitting alone at the kitchen table with a tall bottle when Charlie runs in one day, bouncing with excitement. If she notices, she doesn’t act like it. It doesn’t bother Charlie—she’s always like that after her company leaves.
“Mom, can I get my hair cut short?!” Charlie asks, though it really comes out as more of a yell. Moving as though she’s hearing her child for the first time, Mom turns to stare. For some reason, it feels like she’s looking right through Charlie.
She’s quiet, too quiet, just for a second. Then she smiles and nods.
“Of course, Charlie. Go get me the scissors, and I’ll do it right now, okay?”
Charlie yells again and runs off in search of the scissors. When Charlie returns a few moments later, Mom smiles and scoots back in her chair, patting her lap in invitation. Charlie grins and takes a running leap, wriggling into place while handing over the scissors.
They talk as Charlie’s mom works. Charlie talks about the kitten that was behind the Dumpster that day, and Mom tells Charlie that Uncle Jack – “Oh, you remember him, Charlie, he visited just last week!” – may be coming back to visit soon, maybe even to live with them. Charlie is excited about that. Uncle Jack is the coolest; last time he visited, he even brought Charlie a Darth Vader action figure as a gift.
After they’re all done, Charlie’s mom takes a look at her work. Charlie’s hair is now a short, choppy, fluffy mess that easily adds 2 inches of height to her child’s tiny frame.
Charlie loves it.
Uncle Jack has been living with them for six months.
Uncle Jack says Charlie is pretty. He holds Charlie too tight at night and tells Charlie secrets that Charlie has to promise not to share.
Uncle Jack says Charlie is a beautiful girl. That’s why Charlie gets so much attention from him.
Charlie’s mom is sitting alone at the kitchen table with a bottle again, but this time she’s reading the morning paper and humming to herself. Charlie steps into the room softly, usual pep missing in action.
“Mom?” Charlie asks, voice small. She hums in acknowledgement, though she doesn’t look up from the paper. Charlie actually hesitates for a second before speaking.
“Mom, I don’t like being a girl. I’m gonna be a boy from now on.”
Charlie’s mom hums again. She turns the page of the newspaper.
“Of course, Charlie.”
Charlie blinks. That was easy. Still, it solves his problem, so he nods and smiles.
“Thanks, Mom! You’re the best.”
Then he takes off running. His mom, still humming, grabs the bottle and takes another swig.
That night, Charlie is waiting when Uncle Jack comes into the room. He’s standing on his bed, pointing a defiant finger at Uncle Jack.
“You can’t tell me secrets anymore, Uncle Jack!” Charlie shouts. Uncle Jack stops in the doorway and raises an eyebrow, head tilted.
“Oh?” he asks. “And why not?”
Charlie puffs out his chest with pride.
“Because I’m not a girl anymore.” At Uncle Jack’s blank expression, he continues, “My mom said I can be a boy, so I’m gonna be a boy from now on. So take that!”
Charlie grins and crosses his arms over his chest, confident that he’s won. But to his surprise, Uncle Jack just smiles and nods.
“You’re right, Charlie,” he murmurs. “You are a boy. A beautiful, wonderful boy.”
Charlie’s arms drop almost as quickly as his smile does.
Being a boy, it turns out, does not fix every problem.
Not a lot changes around the house. Charlie’s mom starts calling him her little man sometimes, and the occasional new clothes he gets are even less pink and frilly and even more black and simple.
Besides that, Charlie thinks, being a boy isn’t much different than being a girl was. He still goes Dumpster diving, throws rocks at the neighborhood dogs, and steals whiffs of his mom’s wood glue sometimes.