Read Online A Boy Called Cin by Cecil Wilde - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cecil Wilde
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You only live once and all." Cin picks up his glass of wine. Until he met Tom, he wasn't really a wine drinker—other than the kind handed out at gallery openings—but he's starting to get used to it. He's even starting to think he can detect notes of licorice and hazelnut and raspberry and whatever else you're supposed to taste in something made from grape juice and fungus.
Tom's already tapping away on his phone, but he nods in response. A few more taps and he looks up at Cin again, smiling wryly. "Pizza's on the way. Couch? We can take the wine."
"You always know exactly what to say to me." Cin stands and clears the table, trying not to be too enthusiastic about it. Tom's already moving to the couch, wine glasses held like a man who's waited tables before. Cin's never thought about it, but Tom wasn't born into money. That probably means he's been a broke student as well. Maybe not as broke as Cin, since they've got a twenty-year age gap between them, but still. Even if he doesn't have firsthand experience of everything, he hasn't lived his whole life with a silver spoon up his ass.
"You're right," Tom says when Cin sits down next to him. "If I wanna learn new things, there's really nothing to stop me. Guess I'm just used to thinking there'll always be time later."
"Well, it's not as if you're gonna up and die any time soon. I'll be very upset if you do. And you've got your whole life to learn things, and figure things out, and you should be a very different person on your deathbed than you are now. So you've gotta go out and do ." Cin picks up his wine glass. "But what do I know? I'm twenty years old."
"I think you know a helluva lot more than you let on, actually." Tom shifts on the couch, goes to pick up his own wine glass, and then hesitates. "Can I ask you something? Something really personal."
"You can ask. No guarantee I'll answer." There's very little he wouldn't share with Tom, but there's always the possibility he'll ask about something Cin doesn't want to talk about right now . Tom's always been considerate of that kind of thing, though.
"I would totally understand if you don't want to, and I'm really sorry if this is badly worded, but…" Tom takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "When did you know you were a boy?"
"Wow, umm." Cin looks at Tom, then reaches out to take his hand. "It's absolutely not that I don't want to answer this; it's just that it's complicated. I'm gonna try, though. Just don't take anything I say as automatically being my final word on it, all right? Because I change my mind about exactly how I feel all the time and I don't think I'll ever have a fixed answer."
"Okay." Tom nods and curls his fingers around Cin's hand. "Anything you're comfortable telling me would be great."
"I know it's not just idle curiosity or I'd probably have reacted differently. Umm, so. I'm always tempted to say that I didn't really think about it until I was in my mid-teens? Maybe fifteen or sixteen. But I think it's more that it didn't seem like an urgent question until then. I always felt like girl didn't really describe me. I could never put my finger on why. And for a while, I rejected all things girly, even things I really did like, in a huge push against femininity. I was just so uncomfortable . I wasn't definitely sure—or maybe I just didn't have the vocabulary or confidence—until I was sixteen.
"Rachel was the first person I told. Actually, well, she told me, in tears after school one day, that she thought she probably liked girls as well as boys and her parents were gonna kill her. As it turned out, they were cool with it, but there's no way she could have been sure of that. Anyway, to make her feel better, I told her that I was pretty sure I was actually a boy and we both cried and ate a lot of ice cream. She's been there for me ever since, and I like to think I've been there for her. But I'm probably a little more needy than she is."
"It's hard to imagine you as needy ."
"I've
Tom's already tapping away on his phone, but he nods in response. A few more taps and he looks up at Cin again, smiling wryly. "Pizza's on the way. Couch? We can take the wine."
"You always know exactly what to say to me." Cin stands and clears the table, trying not to be too enthusiastic about it. Tom's already moving to the couch, wine glasses held like a man who's waited tables before. Cin's never thought about it, but Tom wasn't born into money. That probably means he's been a broke student as well. Maybe not as broke as Cin, since they've got a twenty-year age gap between them, but still. Even if he doesn't have firsthand experience of everything, he hasn't lived his whole life with a silver spoon up his ass.
"You're right," Tom says when Cin sits down next to him. "If I wanna learn new things, there's really nothing to stop me. Guess I'm just used to thinking there'll always be time later."
"Well, it's not as if you're gonna up and die any time soon. I'll be very upset if you do. And you've got your whole life to learn things, and figure things out, and you should be a very different person on your deathbed than you are now. So you've gotta go out and do ." Cin picks up his wine glass. "But what do I know? I'm twenty years old."
"I think you know a helluva lot more than you let on, actually." Tom shifts on the couch, goes to pick up his own wine glass, and then hesitates. "Can I ask you something? Something really personal."
"You can ask. No guarantee I'll answer." There's very little he wouldn't share with Tom, but there's always the possibility he'll ask about something Cin doesn't want to talk about right now . Tom's always been considerate of that kind of thing, though.
"I would totally understand if you don't want to, and I'm really sorry if this is badly worded, but…" Tom takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "When did you know you were a boy?"
"Wow, umm." Cin looks at Tom, then reaches out to take his hand. "It's absolutely not that I don't want to answer this; it's just that it's complicated. I'm gonna try, though. Just don't take anything I say as automatically being my final word on it, all right? Because I change my mind about exactly how I feel all the time and I don't think I'll ever have a fixed answer."
"Okay." Tom nods and curls his fingers around Cin's hand. "Anything you're comfortable telling me would be great."
"I know it's not just idle curiosity or I'd probably have reacted differently. Umm, so. I'm always tempted to say that I didn't really think about it until I was in my mid-teens? Maybe fifteen or sixteen. But I think it's more that it didn't seem like an urgent question until then. I always felt like girl didn't really describe me. I could never put my finger on why. And for a while, I rejected all things girly, even things I really did like, in a huge push against femininity. I was just so uncomfortable . I wasn't definitely sure—or maybe I just didn't have the vocabulary or confidence—until I was sixteen.
"Rachel was the first person I told. Actually, well, she told me, in tears after school one day, that she thought she probably liked girls as well as boys and her parents were gonna kill her. As it turned out, they were cool with it, but there's no way she could have been sure of that. Anyway, to make her feel better, I told her that I was pretty sure I was actually a boy and we both cried and ate a lot of ice cream. She's been there for me ever since, and I like to think I've been there for her. But I'm probably a little more needy than she is."
"It's hard to imagine you as needy ."
"I've
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