Julie, Jackie, and Sara had all tried to work on him, and London could only imagine that their mom had worked the hardest of all. But London’s dad had never once used the correct pronoun for London in three years.
London worried that the longer their dad waited for London to get out of “this phase,” the wider and heavier the fracture in their family would feel.
When London had said those few short sentences in the solo interview set over two weeks ago, it really had been easy. It had just been them, a quiet room, and Maritza’s reassuring face next to the camera. They felt so far from Nashville, from reality. It had been important. Necessary. But right now, it felt a little bit foolish.
“London?” Julie asked quietly. She knew, of course, that London was going to be out on the show. They had talked about it before London left. “He should probably know before we all watch it.”
“I know.”
“You know how proud I am of you, right?”
Julie knew London better than anyone else in the world. She was always proud of them. But at this particular moment, it was what they needed to hear. For one second, London pushed their dad out of their brain. And they knew what they had done would be worth it: Viewers would view London as they were from the start. If they had the ability to see them as they were. The relief buoyed their entire chest.
“What about everyone else on the show?” Julie asked. “Are they cool with you? What about the judges? Oh my god, it would break my heart if Sai Patel was an asshole about you.”
“No, actually, Sai Patel seems like a genuinely good guy. All the judges are pretty much exactly how they appear on TV. If anything, they take the competition even more seriously than you would think. None of it’s an act. It’s . . . impressive, actually.”
London decided to not tell their sister about Lizzie. There was enough negativity brewing in the back of their head for one night, and they didn’t need to worry Julie. And anyway, they’d been doing a pretty good job, if they said so themself, at ignoring Lizzie’s existence.
“Thank god. Okay, so the other contestants, I need to know—are they assholes? Are there people I should be rooting for or not rooting for? Wait, ugh, don’t tell me; I don’t want spoilers. Wait until I at least watch the first ep and can put names to faces. And then you’re going to have to give me all the details. Holy shit, London, I can’t believe you are going to be on TV! ”
London had signed up for this thing.
But they couldn’t believe it, either.
London felt it in their bones on Thursday morning that they were off. And they weren’t sure if even a whole day of cute Dahlia moments could cure it.
They had ended up texting their dad last night instead of calling. Because they were, in fact, a coward. They had typed and retyped the message at least ten times, trying for the most nonconfrontational angle, warning him they were out on the show, but ending it on a “miss you, love you” type of vibe.
It had taken their dad a half hour to respond. And when he did, it was with this:
Ok
Just the two letters. The worst possible response in the entire history of texting. London wanted to chuck their phone out the window. And yet, what else had they been expecting? Even this morning, they kept checking their phone like an idiot, as if some magical message might appear at any minute.
Hey kiddo, you know, I thought about it overnight, and I decided to stop being such an asshole and accept you! Sorry for all those times I didn’t use the right pronoun and those three years I made you feel like you were fucking up our whole family! Super-duper proud of you now, though, buddy! Go get ’em!
London rubbed a hand over their face as they stood at their station. They hadn’t slept well, and maybe that was contributing to how off-center they felt. Plus, it had been a four-day filming week, all long studio days, and while four days were better than five, it’d still been a lot.
They had a three-day weekend starting tomorrow, thank god. Clearly, they needed it.
In front of them, Dahlia laughed at something Barbara said.
There were eight of them left now. Single digits. As each person left, being on the show felt both more comfortable and more tense. They were all used to the production schedule now. They knew the crew, the pantry, the equipment, the tics of the judges and the producers. They knew each other better.
But as the numbers dwindled, the stakes felt higher.
Dahlia turned around, sensing London’s presence. She was getting good at this, just knowing when London was there, when they wanted her to turn around and smile at them. Like she did now.