She kept asking if I was okay; first while doing my make-up, twice again as we came downstairs, again between the front door and the car, another five times on the way, and finally when stood at the glass lined entrance. Every time I told her “yes,” but as we stepped inside I wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t our first time at the Lovin’ Spoonful; Tanya had dragged me there every other day for the past year. Between what had probably been designed to look like crumbling plaster and old brick we could pretend that we weren’t still trapped in high school, like we were already college hipsters who knew it all.
The staff knew us by name. Gloria, the self-proclaimed Norse goddess of the bean, had exercised her power on us and guessed our orders the first time we met; an orange frappucino for Tanya, and a vanilla chai latte for me. With service like that it was easy to feel at home.
That night, however, was different.
I held the flyer in my hand, every so often unfolding it just to make sure. The message read the same as it had earlier; ‘Inside Out – a discussion and support group for Trans* Youth and Allies.’ The date and time were right, but the crowd wasn’t what I expected. (Honestly, I had no idea what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.)