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They could spot their sister’s suspicions from a mile away.
Ever since their emergency visit to Seattle back in May, Kai had known that she’d had questions. She’d made it painfully clear to them any time they were in the same room together: between her overly-nosey attitude and lingering looks whenever they fed her a well-timed half-truth… yeah, she definitely knew that something was up. Not that Kai necessarily minded—she’d always been a bit of a snoop and they hadn’t set out with the intention of hiding anything—but…
Take what’d happened ahead of their surprise trip in October, for example.
(They were rushing around their apartment, still in the middle of packing, when she’d let herself in. Kai had asked her to watch their cat while they were gone—a task she’d become intimately familiar with in the year since David first onboarded Meredith and Amelia. Unceremoniously dropping her purse by the door, she made a beeline for their cat, who was silently judging their ill-preparedness from his favorite spot on the couch
“Where are you going this time?” she asked, settling back into the cushions.
“Seattle,” they answered, stuffing another pair of socks into their luggage. “And then Miami.”
Though their back was turned, Kai could practically see the way her nose wrinkled as she said, “I thought you said those big, fancy Seattle doctors quit your project months ago?”
“They did,” Kai affirmed.
“Then why are you going back there?” she asked.
“For the same reason I’ve been going everywhere else,” they huffed, struggling to zip their suitcase closed. “David’s got me flying all over the country attending conferences, trying to lure in bigger names and more funding. One of the stops just happens to be in Seattle.”
It wasn't technically a lie. Every day that David wasn’t dead meant more people barging through their door, demanding to know how the protocol worked and when the next phase of their research would begin. For a while, it was exciting; but, after Meredith’s sudden exit from the project—and much of the funding leaving with her—their progress had hit a bit of a dead end. Most days Kai would head to work with such little science to do that they’d end up wasting hours on Tetris until their lab results were finished. It was only a few months ago, and at David’s defeated insistence, that they’d begun visiting as many medical conventions as they could, secretly searching for the “Next Meredith Grey” under the guise of presenting their findings.
So far it’d been one wild goose chase after the next, but at least it meant that they could sneak in a few trips to see Amelia without anyone batting an eye. Well, except for, apparently, their sister.
She hummed in a way that told them she didn’t believe a word they’d said.
“What?” they questioned.
“Nothing,” she claimed. “Nothing at all.”
Pausing their task, they turned to face her, their hands coming to rest on their hips. “Just say whatever it is you want to say.”
“You’ve just been to Seattle a lot since the start of the year, that’s all,” she shrugged, her mask of faux-innocence not at all subtle.
Kai frowned. “I just go where they tell me to go.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” she suggested.
Returning to their bag’s faulty zipper, they sighed. “What else could there be?”)
It wasn’t the most dramatic of exchanges, or even her most invasive line of questioning but, nevertheless, it confirmed what Kai already knew: it was starting to get obvious. They were starting to get obvious. Amelia’s influence on their life was starting to become noticeable to those around them and, pretty soon, someone was going to start demanding answers…
Which, truthfully, was a situation that Kai wasn’t the most comfortable with.
It wasn’t that they wanted to keep Amelia a secret from their sister. And it wasn’t that they felt forced into keeping her a secret, either… It was just…
It was a big can of worms.
A big, big, big can of worms. A menacing, threatening, exhausting can of worms. One that Kai had admittedly opened many, many times before and had no current interest in opening again.
To tell their sister was to tell their entire family; and, to tell their entire family was to willingly subject themself to a circus they weren’t yet ready to perform in. They preferred the privacy. They preferred the distance. They preferred the peace…
They knew it was inevitable, of course—that one day they’d be left with no other option but to fess up and bare their soul to her and everyone else… But that cold morning in October had not been that day. It was still too early. It was still too fresh. Kai hadn’t even told Amelia they loved her yet and—
Their sister would understand. Despite the guilt they’d felt about it later, Kai knew that not telling her had been the right move. When the time was right, they would run to her and shout their news from every available rooftop. But until then, their lips would be remaining sealed.
Which, alas, had made navigating Thanksgiving like walking through an active minefield, but luckily, Kai had dealt with worse.
(They’d been prepared for all of it.
They’d been prepared for the skeptical looks when they’d arrived over an hour late (Amelia having trapped them on FaceTime while they walked her through their mashed potato recipe). They’d been prepared for the uncomfortable silences whenever someone “accidentally” used their old name. They’d been prepared for their grandma’s incessant questions about their love life and family plans. The subtle jabs about right-wing politics; their aunt’s bone-dry turkey; everyone speaking over them the second they brought up their work—Kai had been prepared for everything.
Except for the rather unexpected point after dinner when their sister had decided to give psychoanalysis a try.
They’d been playing hand games with their nephew, quietly mumbling along to some Frozen 2 song as the film played in the background. All of the other children in their family caught in a post-turkey daze beside them, Kai had been tasked with monitoring them while the “real adults” had their fun. They didn’t mind, of course—the kids were usually easier to deal with than their parents—but nevertheless, it’d forced them to get creative with the entertainment. They’d been five rounds into Slide when their sister had walked in, their phone dangling from her hand.
“Hey, Kai, your phone won’t stop—um, what are you doing?”
“Absolutely destroying your son,” they replied, their focus completely singular.
“No you’re not!” he protested.
They laughed. “Buddy, I’ve got rings on and my hands are twice the size of yours; you will be losing.”
“Never!” he cried, increasing his speed. They smirked: it was a rookie mistake in this field of battle. Above them, their sister shook her head.
“No, Kai, I meant—you were singing.”
“Oh,” they exhaled. “So?”
“ So , you hate this movie,” she argued.
They shrugged. “It’s not the worst."
“Not the wor—when we went to see this with the kids, you walked out of the theater so mad that they hadn’t made Elsa a lesbian that you wouldn’t talk for the rest of the ride home.”
And, okay, Kai had to hand it to her—she had a point. There had been a time in their life when they had, in no uncertain terms, absolutely despised the Frozen movies. But then, after one particularly long weekend in Seattle, they’d been forced to change their tune. Someone’s little boy had been insistent on watching them over, and over, and over again while he’d been sick with the flu, and by the time Kai was ready to go home, “Let It Go” was unintentionally flying out of their mouth in the TSA pre-check line. Amelia had found it so hysterical when they told her about it later that they’d decided to let go (ha) of their irrational prejudice, indulging Scout’s binging desires anytime they were in town thereafter.
They shrugged again at their sister’s remarks. “It’s not a bad song, just a bad movie.”
From the corner of their eye, they could see her gawking at them like they’d grown a third head. Rolling their eyes, Kai called a silent time-out to the game with their nephew. Quitting wasn’t in her nature: they knew from experience that if they didn’t push her in a different direction immediately that they’d be stuck evading her questions all night long… It was a blessed coincidence that she’d already given them an out.
“Did you need something?” they feigned annoyance. “Or were you just coming in here to throw me off my game and judge my artistic preferences?”
“Artistic pref—I cannot—ugh, here, ” she huffed, aggressively tossing them their phone. “It wouldn’t stop buzzing, Dad was getting mad. Wanted to chuck it in the snow.”
“Weird,” they hummed, casually swiping their thumb across the glass. It was a holiday, they hadn’t been expecting any—oh. Their heart stopped once the display flickered on, their expression completely melting. Greeting them on their screen were a dozen or so pictures of Scout and Amelia, both of them absolutely covered in mashed potatoes that Scout had clearly thrown around in defiance. A text at the bottom read ‘Scout didn’t like them, but everyone else does!’ and they couldn’t help but grin at the sight.
“What’re you smiling about?” their sister asked, again with a skeptical look.
“Huh? Oh, just uh—lab results,” they lied, hoping she didn’t notice the stutter. “Good lab results.”
“You’re sick?”
“Wh—no, my lab,” they explained.
She grimaced. “You’ve got people working on Thanksgiving?”
Kai shook their head, lucky that they were so quick on their feet. “No, we ran these yesterday; they just got processed and uploaded into the system.”
“Oh…” she trailed off. “Well, what’s the good news? Did you save the world yet?”
“Do you actually care or are you just pretending to for my benefit?”
There was a beat where the only sound in the room was a new song blaring from the movie, and then she scoffed, Kai tearing their gaze away from their phone as they realized their faux-pas. They hadn’t meant to be so flippant, they’d just been distracted. Still staring at Amelia’s photos, they’d noticed a piece of food accidentally sitting on the neckline of her low-cut shirt, and, really, could you blame them for letting their brain go unfiltered?
“You’re so rude,” she muttered, turning to walk away.
“Oh, no, come on, wait, I didn’t mean—” they groaned as she stalked down the hall. “I love you!” When she didn’t respond, they turned their attention back to their nephew, cringing as a door slammed somewhere deeper in the house. “Scale from one to ten, how mad do you think she is?”
“Maybe a three?” he replied. “She didn’t try to ground you or take your phone away.”
They laughed, motioning for him to slot his hands between theirs. “That’s a fair point, kiddo. Now… are you ready to lose, or do you still need more time to accept your inevitable demise?”)
It was only a minor hiccup. Two tiny, little, insignificant questions that had caught them off guard. Absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of the evening, and only a month after they’d sworn themself to secrecy. And yet…
They’d wait until after New Year’s. Until after the holidays had passed and they could rule out any possibility of “ruining the season”. They’d take her out to lunch one cold day in January and break the news very slowly. Very slowly, very gently, and very, very carefully.
Maybe it was the Christmas nostalgia making them more sentimental than usual. Maybe it was how tiring dodging all of their family’s questions had truly been. Maybe it was the way all their visions of the future kept leading them across the country. Maybe it was the way their sister had sounded genuinely hurt when they’d brushed her off in favor of ogling Amelia’s tits (Christ, they were going to hell)...
Whatever it was, they knew their time was up. They’d said they would tell their sister when the time was right and that time was now. They’d keep a low profile until Christmas was over and then some random Tuesday a few weeks later, bam! They’d let her know over french fries and milkshakes. Easy. Painless. A foolproof plan…
Unfortunately, however, that wasn’t exactly how things had panned out…
(They hadn’t been exaggerating when they’d said that quitting wasn’t her style.)
She’d just finished grilling them over something else that she deemed “fishy” and “out of character” (a Dumbo stuffed animal that she’d found hidden in their closet, an eventual Christmas gift for Scout) when Kai strolled into their kitchen, starting to parcel out bread for sandwiches. They probably should’ve been more suspicious of how quiet she’d become now that their back was turned, but they found themself incapable of caring. After three and a half hours of being dragged around the mall, accompanying her while she shopped for Christmas, they barely had enough energy left to make lunch, let alone worry about whatever trouble she was causing right under their nose.
It was really too bad that hindsight was 20/20.
Their knife was mid-swipe across their second slice of bread, the peanut butter spreading as easily as the jelly had, when their vision suddenly went dark, something soft and light landing on their head.
Shit.
Immediately, they froze. It’d gone so quiet in their apartment, the air so thick, that they could distinctly hear the annoyingly loud cash registers from the mini-mart across the street. They could feel their sister lurking behind them, somewhere not too close but not too far—the edge of the kitchen space, maybe. Their cat was gently pawing across the apartment, meowing when he jumped up on their bed.
They knew exactly what the object was: a t-shirt. Specifically, one of Amelia’s t-shirts. Even more specifically, a ratty, old Johns Hopkins t-shirt that they’d lazily pulled over her head and haphazardly thrown across their living room a few days ago. They’d forgotten to pick it up once she’d left, the moment buried in their mind under the more notable memories formed during their anniversary celebrations. Covered in cat hair and smelling vaguely of dirt, her subtle flowery perfume still lingered in its fibers.
“I knew you were hiding something,” their sister boldly declared. “Who is she?”
Her question brought them out of their own head. Slowly, Kai plucked the shirt off their face, carefully setting it down on the countertop as they tried their best to appear unaffected in their response.
“This is mine.”
She scoffed. “I’m not dumb, Kai. That thing is tiny.”
They shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Shrunk in the wash.”
“The tag says small!” she countered.
Kai cringed: they should’ve known she’d be that thorough. This was their ever-allusive love life she was toying with after all. Shaking off the blow, they were quick to backpedal on their answer.
“Oh, wait, this one? Yeah, I-uh, I bought it by accident,” they stuttered.
“Then what was it doing draped over your plants?” she questioned.
“Well, you know, that cat of mine, he’s a real asshole, he pro—”
She groaned in the middle of their sentence, effectively cutting them off. “God, Kai, quit being so cagey and just tell me who it was! A friend? An ex? Dare I even suggest, a one-night stand? ”
“It’s just a shirt!” they feebly insisted. “No one was here!”
“So if I pull back your collar there won’t be bruises on your neck?” she challenged, suddenly bolting toward them. Instinctively, they shuffled backward, raising their peanut butter-covered table knife in defense as she speedily marched closer.
“Watch it,” they warned, their voice sharp and unwavering.
“Then tell me I’m wrong!” she demanded.
“I already did!” they snapped.
“Well then what the fuck is it?!”
One of her palms had landed hard against their cool, marble countertop. Its echo rang uncomfortably in their ears and it made their body freeze as it had before. For a moment, all they could do was stare at her, Kai’s bewilderment met with her anger and then, eventually, her shame. Eyes once trained on them awkwardly dropping to the floor, they waited until her shoulders relaxed before letting their own do the same, setting down their knife and approaching her with caution.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just… you’ve been acting weird,” she answered, finally looking at them again.
They frowned. “Weird?”
“I don’t know what it is,” she continued, “but something has changed. You have changed and it’s been driving me insane for months. Something’s different and I can’t tell what.”
Running a hand through their hair, Kai sighed. “I’ve always been very quiet about this sort of thing—”
“I know, I know,” she waved them off. “It’s not about you being private: I should’ve seen that coming from a mile away. It’s something else. It’s… it’s… it’s buying Dumbo stuffed animals.”
They blinked. “What?”
“It’s buying Dumbo stuffed animals,” she repeated. “And knowing all the words to Frozen 2 even though you hate that movie. And flying all over the country to speak at all these conferences when you’re terrible at public speaking. And then being absolutely miserable when you get back!”
It was a slap to the face. It was a jolt to their system. It was like getting run down by an 18-wheeler. Everything felt tight and grating and far too claustrophobic. Panic’s cool, disarming embrace was suddenly irradiating every corner of their mind and body. There was a lump the size of Texas sitting like a rock at the bottom of their throat. They couldn’t see or hear or smell or taste, their senses absolutely useless as their sister droned on and on.
The irony, of course, was that they’d seen this coming. They’d clocked her abnormal amount of attention months ago and they’d even gone so far as to prepare for this moment. They were ready. After Thanksgiving, they’d spent countless hours practicing for this in their bathroom mirror. They had finally felt comfortable enough and secure enough that sharing Amelia was no longer this faceless, daunting, intimidating task. They’d been ready.
But now it felt like the whole world was falling apart. She’d gone ahead and pulled the rug out from under them. They’d missed their cue, hit the brakes on green, tripped at the starting gun. They’d buried their lead for far too long. There was no recovering from this.
She was going to be furious. She wasn’t going to understand. She was going to hate the—something was hitting them. Literally, physically, they could feel something hitting them. The room gradually coming back into focus, it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was: still ranting and raving, all five foot seven inches of their sister was now whacking at their arm, every blow serving as emphasis for each new point she made.
“And that stupid smirk you had on Thanksgiving when Nana asked you what you were thankful for! And being glued to your phone worse than my kids! And your sudden aversion to alcohol! And owning t-shirts that don’t even fit you and—”
In the end, it slipped out of their mouth a lot easier than they ever thought it would.
“Her name is Amelia.”
Under normal circumstances, Kai might’ve laughed at the look on her face.
Her monologue stopping unexpectedly, her eyes went wide and her jaw had gone slack. Her lips were flapping but nothing was coming out. Her hand was caught mid-gesture. She was breathing slowly and even blinking slowly, too.
Though they felt like running for the hills, her dead-eye stare unnerving them more than they knew what to do with, Kai knew that they had to keep going. That the time was now and that she absolutely had to know about the woman who’d changed their life. Steeling themself for whatever reaction she might have, they took a deep breath and finally abandoned their impractical charade.
“Her name is Amelia Shepherd and she’s brilliant and beautiful and very, very kind. She lives in Seattle and I met her through work. I’ve been seeing her for just over a year. Our anniversary was just a few days ago, she was here at the start of the week. That’s her shirt. And I—” they stumbled on their final sentence, the phrase still so foreign on their tongue. “And I am completely head over heels in love with her.”
Their declaration hung uncomfortably in the air as they let their jaw snap closed. Suddenly, they wished they’d had the fries and milkshakes that they’d planned on doing this with: at least then they might have had something else to focus on afterward.
Was she mad? Was she sad? Hesitantly inspecting her face, Kai couldn’t quite tell. She wore an expression that, truthfully, they’d never really seen before, her eyes both boring into their skull and seemingly staring straight through them. When a minute passed and she still hadn’t said anything, Kai let their body sag, forcefully swallowing down their fears. At least now it was out there. At least they’d told her. At least she—
“Do you have a picture?”
It wasn’t the response they expected.
“W-what?” they wheezed.
“Do. You. Have. A picture?”
“Um, uh, I-uh,” they spluttered, their hands refusing to cooperate.
“Jesus Kai, do you have a picture or not?!” she hissed, her eyebrows pinching together.
They jumped. “Fuck, yes, yes! J-just hold on.” Clumsily, they shoved their hand into their pocket, quickly fishing out their phone and opening their gallery. “Here. Here, there’s a whole album.”
Wordlessly, she plucked it from their hands, selecting the oldest photo they’d had as she started her journey through a year’s worth of history. Now standing by her side, Kai twiddled their thumbs as they watched her explore, occasionally smiling to themself whenever she came across a forgotten funny memory.
“You were right,” she eventually said. “She is very pretty.”
“She’s beautiful,” they corrected, completely enamored with the screen.
From their peripheral, Kai could see her rolling her eyes. “Whatever, lover boy.”
They beamed. Still hurriedly racing through the seasons of their life, she’d nearly made it through summer when something else caught her attention. Her expedition ground to an immediate halt.
“And who is that?”
Nervously, they gulped. In the rush of it all, they’d forgotten to mention that particular detail.
The photo was older, taken a month or two after their visit in May. They’d been loosely swinging him through the air when Amelia had decided to ambush them, jumping on their back and wrapping her legs around their waist. Meredith had taken the photo from inside the house as Kai struggled not to lose their footing, nearly dropping the pair of them as both Amelia and Scout cackled at their expense. It was the first picture all three of them had ever taken together. It had been a happy day.
“That’s her son.”
Again, their sister’s jaw went slack and her eyes went wide. “Her son?”
Kai nodded. “Yeah. His name is Scout. He’s almost three. The Dumbo toy you found earlier—it’s for him, for Christmas.”
And there she was again, back to openly staring at them. At least this time they could sort of tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Confused? Yes. Overwhelmed? Yes. Angry? No. Mildly excited? Maybe a little bit. It wasn’t an exact science, but luckily enough, they didn’t have to waste too much time guessing, her shock ending far quicker than it had the first time around.
“A girlfriend,” she breathed.
“Yes.”
“And her son?” she continued.
“Mhm.”
“For over a year?” she questioned.
“Only by a couple of days,” Kai shrugged. “But, yes.”
She let out a deep sigh, casually handing them back their phone. “Have you told Mom and Dad yet?”
They laughed, the sound short but strong as it escaped past their lips. “In what world would I tell them before I told you?”
She cracked a small smile. The sight eased an unknown tension that’d settled in their heart. “And you’re happy?” she asked.
“So happy,” they grinned.
Her smile grew in return. “Then I guess I can’t be too mad about you waiting so long to tell me, huh?”
They shrugged again. “It wouldn’t be an abnormal reaction. I imagine it’s what I’ll get when I eventually tell Mom.”
“And Dad?” she inquired.
“Mom can tell Dad.”
Her resulting laughter was near-infectious, easily thawing the last remaining barrier between them. It was something of an inside joke, a four-syllable phrase that Kai had been saying since they were a child. Clearly never one for direct confrontation, it was the choice they’d always opted for whenever presented with the chance: good or bad, life-changing or heartbreaking, they’d always let their mother read their father the headlines of their life as opposed to doing it themself. Though neither of them were particularly fun to deal with, they’d always found it simpler to manage their mother’s abject disappointment over their father’s unfortunately short temper.
Pulling herself tight against their taller frame, Kai stumbled as their sister suddenly threw her arms around them.
“I’m happy that you’re happy,” she murmured into their shoulder.
“Thanks,” they replied, their smile splitting their face. A beat passed, Kai’s hands gently rubbing her back, and then she was easing off of them, Kai freely letting her go.
“You’ll let me meet her the next time she’s here, right?” she asked.
Kai nodded. “We can do lunch.”
“Fries?” she suggested.
“Obviously.”
She flashed them another smile before her eyes lazily focused on something behind them. “Speaking of lunch…” she trailed off, stepping over to their long-forgotten sandwich. “I think I’m hungrier now than I was 10 minutes ago.”
Kai chuckled, turning around and sidling up next to her. “Here, you can have this one.”
Readily stealing it from their hands once they joined the two slices of bread, she groaned as the first bite hit her mouth. Kai smirked at the sight, reaching around her to set about making a second sandwich. The silence that fell between them was finally peaceful once more, the only sounds to be heard being those of her chewing and their cat now snoring on their pillow. Preparing their sandwich with practiced ease, Kai leisurely stepped toward their refrigerator, opening its door in search of a drink to enjoy with their meal. They could hear their sister clearing her throat as they squatted down to see the bottom shelf.
“Y’know, there is just one more thing I’ve got to ask, though,” she announced. “About this new girlfriend of yours.”
“And what’s that?” they called out, their arm stretching toward the back of the unit.
“Since when have you been into milfs?”
The bruise from smacking their head against their refrigerator door ached for over a week, but Kai didn’t complain. It was a modest price to pay.