Into the Velvet

Thirty-Nine Days Until

Amos held my hand in a panic — not letting me out of sight, not since I'd come back from my trip. I could understand why.

This was a momentous occasion. No ordinary small step. This was the giant leap for mankind.

It was a Monday afternoon. The treading of shoes against floorboards echoed over the school rush. This would be our only safe time to make this call. Amos and I huddled beneath the stairs to the second floor, waiting with bated breath.

"Can I have your name, please?"

Amos' voice cracked. "Amos— ahem, sorry, Keaton. Amos Keaton."

"And your date of birth?"

"April twentieth."

"Before your appointment, you'll need a letter of recommendation from your psychiatrist to start hormone therapy. You also need to fill out some paperwork and bring it with you. Is there an address we can send it to?"

Amos went white. "Uhh, I can't... It's not safe for me to, um—"

"Give her my address," I whispered. I squeezed Amos' hand forcefully, moving swiftly away from the scary hypothetical. Amos' mother didn't need to know a thing.

I had no such plans of letting that happen.

Amos blinked owlishly. Spouting off my address, knowing it by heart. There was a brief pause.

"Okay Amos, I've booked in your initial consultation for the twenty-third of next month. Just before Christmas. Will that be okay?"

"Yes," Amos breathed. With wide, luminous eyes. "Before Christmas. That's perfect. So perfect. Thank you."

"Now, we have quite a long waiting list for this treatment. The doctor will talk you through the process. Hormone treatment is a long-term commitment, so there are some precautions we ask you to take..."

She continued on and on. Amos was utterly enthralled. The receptionist would never understand, from Amos' expression, how even the tiny inconvenience of waiting was nothing short of our wildest dreams.

Amos murmured some words. We caught each other's eyes, frozen together—savouring the dawning realisation that this very, very real thing was finally happening.

We had no money, no time, and no actual idea of what to expect. But we were going to make this work. After years of silent, tortured misery, Amos was finally beginning his — her — transition. The first stepping stone towards a journey which would last our lifetimes.

The journey towards Amos' true self.

"Thank you so much. Okay. Thanks again."

Amos hung up the phone with unsteady fingers. Looking up at me with unshed tears. Caught between joy and relief. Such strong emotions, so palpable. I felt my own tears rising. My lovely, soft-hearted, gentle friend. My partner in crime since birth.

My sister.

Amos had never looked so happy.

"You'll come to the appointment with me, won't you?" Amos choked out. "I won't go through with this alone. I don't think I can. Not without you."

We wrapped each other in an embrace. My cheek resting against Amos' orange beanie. People were stopping to give us strange looks, but none of it mattered — only this. I pressed a kiss to Amos' forehead. "I'll be there," I vowed. "I'll always be there for you."

"Cute. What will you be there for?"

We broke apart and turned our heads at the same time. Bianca was watching in silence. She raised her left eyebrow — the only hint that her aloofness was an act.