"Xander?" I feel disoriented. The light in the room is wrong. The shadows on the ceiling are cast in an unfamiliar pattern. "Xander?" Tiffany repeats, tugging me awake.

"Huh?" I remember now. I'm on the couch.

She curls up next to me. Our bodies are complementary shapes, like two worn floorboards with edges sanded down over time.

"I'm sorry I snapped." Her breath is warm on my neck.

"I know."

"So, what happened?"

"Conferences." I'm still teetering on the edge of consciousness and can't seem to manage a longer response.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You trust this woman?"

"I think so."

"Well then." And that's it. She pulls even closer, her head resting perfectly in the nook between my shoulder and cheek, and I can hear her breath fall into the heavy rhythm of sleep. I close my eyes and let myself drift off as well.

* * *

There are no light-blocking shades or heavy drapery in the living room. It's not set up for sleeping-in. So, before the alarm on my phone has a chance to go off, the bright-orange sun beams through the east-facing windows straight into our eyes. Thank you, daylight saving time.

The light is glaring. My breath is sticky. And my neck is stiff.

"Good morning, dear," I say.

"I've been thinking. You need to out yourself to your principal before you out yourself to a student. That's only common sense."

Great. I can already feel the anxiety building in my chest. "Can I have some coffee before we delve into this?"

"You're the one who opened this Pandora's box. Not me. There's no way to close it now, so you better figure out how to contain it."

I really hate how immediately awake she always is in the morning.

"I will, I will. Need coffee to function." I stumble past the kitchen island that divides up the open floor-plan and put a pod into the Nespresso machine.

Tiffany follows right behind me and starts to unload the dishwasher as we both wait for the water to warm up and for the coffee to brew. "Want the first shower?" she asks.

"No. I repeat: need coffee."

"Ok, keep an eye on the kids." She walks off, leaving the dishwasher open.

Both kids are still sound asleep. I leave the baby monitor app open on my phone as I finish putting clean dishes away and finally get to take the first sips of hot coffee. God, I am not looking forward to going to work today. My stomach turns and I wonder if I should call out sick.

All I wanted to do was to reassure Blake's mom that she was doing the right things by him. Give her a glimpse of the perfectly normal future her son could have. But by doing so, have I blown up the perfectly normal present that I currently live in?

Normal. There's that word again. What the fuck is normal, anyway?

First I need to come out to my principal. Actually sit down in her office and let her know, after all these years, that I am a trans man, and that I plan on telling this to a student. A kid. Tell my personal information to a kid. How is she going to react?

At least I have the mom's blessing – no, encouragement – to do so.

Then, I actually need to tell Blake.

This is for his benefit. He will appreciate it. Jesus, it would have meant so much to me to know a trans adult when I was his age. Would have been revolutionary.

And then, I'll deal with whatever blowback comes. As long as I have job security, it will be okay. It's not like Steve, or even Jessica, are real friends who I will lose as a result of this. Co-workers are just that. Co-workers.

I think I might be sick. Maybe I really should call out.

"Your turn. I assume you've had your coffee," Tiffany calls out as she leaves the bathroom and goes into our room to get dressed.

The hot water of the shower does nothing to calm me down. Have I made a huge mistake? I rocked the boat. Everything was perfectly fucking fine and I rocked the goddamned boat. Why did I have this urge to out myself? I don't want to be seen as anything less than a man.

Less than a man.

Damn, that sounds awful.

I realize that I've just been standing in the shower spacing out. The warm water is turning cold and I still have soap in my hair. I need to hurry up. The kids will be awake any second, if they aren't already. And they need to be dressed and have breakfast so we can leave for daycare on time.

"Tiffany, I need you to have my back," I say as I enter the bedroom, towel wrapped around my waist.

"Xander, I always have your back."

"Didn't feel like that last night."

"Well, your timing was terrible." She puts her arms around me.

"Did I make a mistake?"

"Only time will tell. But either way, we're on this ride together."

"Promise?"

"Forever."

I still think I might puke. Still think I would rather call out of work than deal with the consequences of my big mouth. But I hear Nora start to rustle. There's no time to feel bad for myself. I need to hurry up and get dressed so I can go be a dad.