Morgan hadn’t come out at work yet.
She could pass, really, but it was always a precarious proposition. Female huskies had a particular manner, a gait that she had struggled to replicate, a curve of the hips that wasn’t really there. The hormones were helping plenty with her second coat, but it was in an awkward adolescence once again. When her best buddy from work had announced an extra ticket to the Blue Sparrows concert, a cold shot of fear went through her. He wouldn’t see her in the usual EMT windbreaker, but rather in her cute flannel, tied at the waist like daisy duke, tank top and yoga pants (It was a look she was trying out, okay?). But it was what her therapist had recommended, normalcy through exposure. If she went out and practiced more often, eventually she would get used to it, and so would the people that liked her.
I’m outside. Marcus texted. She knew he was listening to country music, shoving chewing tobacco into his pointed coyote muzzle. Morgan was petrified, real, pit-of-your-stomach, paw-shuddering anxiety. But she reminded herself those paws had been deep in people’s guts, she did important things every day, and she had a right to exist. Morgan steeled herself and tightened the knot around her waist before heading out the door.
“It’s about time you fuckin’ showed up.” Marcus grumbled as soon as she opened the door. In the dark of the truck’s cabin, he probably couldn’t see her outfit very clearly. A brief silence passed before Marcus started the conversation again,
“You heard some of their new stuff? That Chinese album?” Marcus asked in his sing-song Virginian.
“Y-yeah, it’s uh.. Not good, but I heard they just play their old stuff at the live shows.” Morgan replied.
“Only stuff that really makes ‘em money.” Marcus chuckled.
Another silence.
“Marcus… uh..” She couldn’t do this. Morgan had wanted to play it cool, but leaving an elephant in the cabin of an F-150 just wasn’t how she carried herself, “I’m trans.”
He didn’t react at first, his face stone sober, ears pinned back. Slowly, a chuckle erupted on his lips and a loud hyena laugh burst from his muzzle as he playfully shoved Morgan,
“You dumb as FUCK! We all knew! Think you’re hiding something under that windbreaker at work.” He shoved her again, howling and cackling. After several minutes of cabin-filling noise, he slowly calmed down and came to stop at a red light, winding himself down and moving the dip in his lip around,
“Naw but we don’t give a shit. You’re fine.” He chortled, “Nick’s confused about it but you can talk to him today.”
Morgan smoothed down her fur. The explosive relief that had punched through her was tempered by news about Nick. Slowly, she got ready for the next conversation.