Page 12

Mathéo

“I’m not who you think I am. I’m so sorry.”

The text came a day after she slammed the laptop shut so quickly. I don’t understand anything anymore. I haven't heard from Micki in over a week. What happened? What have I done wrong? It wasn’t an awkward question about her sisters.

Today is Saturday, we’re both off work and Micki doesn’t have a gig either. I got in the car first thing in the morning and drove the three hours from Dijon to see her. Now I’m sitting in a café in the middle of the city waiting. Everything is decorated for Christmas and festive music is playing in the background. Tomorrow is the third Advent. She hasn’t replied to my message telling her I’m there, but she’s read it.

I’m nervous. We haven’t seen each other since the wedding. But in addition to our video calls, we have talked on the phone literally every day and we’ve texted constantly about little things. When I see something funny, or when she hears a new song that she likes and thinks I might like it too. She knows everything about me, even the things I don’t usually tell anyone.

Maybe it’s easier not to look someone in the eye, maybe it’s because of her, I don’t know. In the last three months, Micki has become my most important person, my closest confidante, my only confidante. And now she’s gone, and everything inside me is tearing apart, and it hurts. I miss her so much. What the hell has happened?

I can’t sleep anymore, I can’t eat anymore, I don’t even want to talk. I hope Micki’s coming. I don’t want to lose her.

I’m looking at my phone when the door opens. A young feminine man enters the café and I turn away, only to turn back again the same second. Wait, what…

He’s looking in my direction, his eyes as dark as his curls, which are gathered in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He’s tall and very lean and... fuck. “Micki?”

He nods... she nods. Shit, she nods. She looks unsure as she comes closer. I get up to give her a hug, but she stops at a distance and fends me off. “I don’t know if you want that. We should talk first, I need to tell you...”

“Hey.....” A tall guy comes up to our table, taps Micki on the shoulder and they half-hug with a handshake. A bro-hug. It looks strange, that’s no way to greet a woman, but Micki acts as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The two of them speak briefly in German, then he holds out his hand and greets me in English.

“Ilkay, I dance with Micki!”

“Mathéo.” I shake his hand hesitantly.

“Nice to meet you. You must be the lucky man who completely turned his head. He can’t even concentrate on the choreo anymore!”

It takes a moment for his words to set in. His? He? What…? Micki squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fuck...”

Why doesn’t she contradict him? Why? Except...? No...

“He? What does he mean, Micki?” That’s my voice, I hear myself, but I didn’t really realize I had opened my mouth to speak.

Ilkay asks Micki something in German, she... he... I don’t know... shakes his head, then leaves it hanging. “I’d better leave you two lovebirds alone...” Ilkay knocks on the table and leaves.

Micki drops into the seat opposite me and presses her hands over her eyes–hers, his, I don’t know. “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Then it’s true? You’re a... man? Seriously? You’ve been lying to me for the last three months and I... fuck, I feel so stupid.” I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Fuck, not now, please not now.

“I didn’t lie, it never came up and I assumed you knew. It’s not a secret, it’s who I am. You’ve seen my Instagram profile, there are so many photos of me like this.” She tugs desperately at her loose T-shirt and baggy jeans. His... shit. “I thought it was obvious.”

Micki hangs her head, she doesn’t even look at me. He... He doesn’t look at me.

“Then it’s true, you’re a man?” Micki nods. “Are you trans?” He shakes his head. “Non-binary?”

“No. I’m a man. Admittedly, a femme gay man.” His brown eyes search mine, but I can’t bear looking him in the eye.

“You’re gay?”

“Oh, please, don’t act like this is surprising news to you now that you know I’m a man.” No, it isn’t.

The cheeky, challenging attitude is back again, that attitude that’s intrigued me so much from the start and a lump forms in my throat. I swallow hard and shake my head. My eyes get wet, and I try everything to hold back the tears.

“Mathéo...” Micki tries to reach across the table for my hand.

“Don’t touch me. You know why I’m here, don’t you? I’m sure you can guess. I’m so fucking stupid, I thought... I like you and that maybe you like me too, and now I don’t know anything anymore. I trusted you, you know everything about me, everything . I thought I’d finally found a girl who would take me as I am, who could see that I wasn’t just cold and arrogant. But it’s all fake.” My lower lip is trembling, I have to get out of here. Micki can’t see me like this, can’t know that he’s broken me. He can’t have this.

“It wasn’t fake, none of it. It was all me and I meant everything I said. I’m just not a woman, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

The first tear runs down my cheek. “You’re gay, you’re attracted to men. I’m not. I have no idea how to handle a cock that isn’t mine and the thought of even having another cock in my hand has zero appeal. I have to go...” I quickly get up, put a five euro bill on the table and leave. Micki doesn’t try to stop me and for a quick moment I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I storm out of the café without looking back. Seeing her again would kill me. Him... seeing him again. “FUCK!”

Tears stream down my face and it’s only when someone turns around approaching me that I realize I said that out loud. The young woman looks worried, but she’s speaking German, and I don’t understand a word. I wave my hands defensively in what I hope is a universal “everything’s okay” gesture.

I walk and walk, losing track of time, through a city I don’t know. With no sense of direction and no destination, I know I’m lost. And, as if everything wasn’t shitty enough, heavy raindrops start falling on my face.

My phone rings. I can’t talk to anyone right now, not like this. Keep your cool, Mathéo! Be a man! I let it go to voicemail, but it keeps ringing.

Maybe I was hoping it was Micki, I don’t know, but something like disappointment lies heavy in my stomach when I see élias’s name on the display. Wait... élias... I click on accept.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? You knew it! Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice sounds exactly how I feel. Stunned and desperate.

“Where are you, Mathéo?” He knows, I can tell by the sound of his voice. But why is this his business? Why does he care?

We’re not friends, at least not really. I’ve been shitty to him for as long as I can remember. “I don’t know! You tell me! You know your way around here, not me. I left the café and just walked.”

“Do you have the name of a street? Or of a store?” Why the hell is he so fucking calm?

“There’s a sports store straight ahead and an Aldi across the parking lot.”

“Wait outside the sports store, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I walk the last hundred meters, then let myself slide down the facade. Stones prick my ass, and the cold of the rain penetrates every little corner of my body. Thick, hard raindrops hit my face, sped up by an icy wind, but nothing hurts as much as the hole in my chest.