Once she'd wanted her name to be Sam.
That was before she met Trouty Mouth, obviously.
And it was back in younger days, when an anglo name..well it didn't mean turning her back on her heritage.
Britt would call her 'San' and secretly she'd change that 'n' in her head, and grin back.
So now she ran through the names in her head, ceaselessly.
Saul. Santiago. Cesar. Eduardo. Pedro. Jose. John Jack Joshua Thomas Paul Isaac Jules Simeon Sergio James.
She? She didn't use that other pronoun, even in the privacy of her own head. It felt like a title, like it had to be bestowed from on high. Only then would she deserve it, to be called by her true name (whatever that was) and by her real pronoun.
"This is fucking hilarious blondie."
"Shut up."
"You and me, meeting here, of all places. Me, so scared, so 'what-if-someone-sees-me' and then I run into you."
Sneering, familiar, fear behind the bravado.
My eyes don't see anyone else as clearly as you.
Do you see me?
"Listen, I'm not going to say anything to anyone."
"Of course you're not. Wouldn't want anyone to find this out, would we? What should I call you now? Or are you keeping your real fake name?"
"My real name is whatever the heck I want it to be! As is yours'
Long pause, fear, then stubborn pride.
"Mateo, today. I change."
"Who were you last week?"
Winces.
"Eduardo."
You shake your head.
"Eduardo…doesn't suit you."
"What the fuck would you know?!"
Small talk done, they enter the building side by side.
PFLAG, DAYTON OHIO.
TRANS* SUPPORT GROUP.