Prologue
Jackson stared at Trudy in disbelief. His angular face pale from the shock of her words. His bestie since grade school sat across from him at their usual Friday night cocktails and tea at Flaming Bill's.
Bill's, a local hot wings restaurant, had become a hangout for many in the LGBTQ+ community. The owners were very strong supporters of the community, holding Pride festivities, periodic dress-up themed nights, and everyone's favorite - Karaoke Wednesdays.
"Don't fucking look at me like that, bro," Trudy said, making a face. "You know what I mean."
"I abso-fucking-lutely do not know what you mean," Jackson replied. His hand moved unconsciously to his stomach, which churned with sudden nausea. "How could you even say that?"
"You act like I said some shit about you," Trudy said, crossing her arms indignantly.
"Uh, well, you pretty much did! I'm a trans man, so how am I supposed to take what you said?" His voice increased over the music as his agitation built.
"No, no, no! Don't do that. Don't turn this into something about you when you know damn well it's not."
Jackson had heard enough. He had to leave or else he would throw up right there in the middle of all the cute waitresses and God Herself. He gathered his things, standing up so fast his chair tottered.
Several heads turned their way.
"Whoa!" Trudy exclaimed, "Jacks, where're you going?" She grabbed his hand, but he yanked it away.
"I'm not gonna sit here after that. My best friend - you're supposed to support me!"
"I do!"
"Not when you just sat there and invalidated my feelings to my face! You know - I can't--."
"The fuck-?"
He avoided her eyes as he strode from the restaurant. The cool air blasted the perspiration coating his body, shocking his senses. The rumbles in his stomach became an insistent roar as food and alcohol spewed from his mouth. He got to a bush before spilling the evening's contents from his innards.
"You okay?" the hostess asked.
Jackson wiped his mouth, briefly making eye contact with the cute brunette. He was too sick to register the embarrassment of having thrown up in front of a girl who flirted with him often.
"I'm good," he managed to say.
"Do you need water or an Uber? Should I get your friend?"
"No!" he screamed, lunging toward her.
She flinched back, her eyes wide.
"Sorry," he pulled up short. With his hands up to show he was harmless, he continued, "I - I don't need anything. Just a stomach bug or something. Have a good night."
He walked to his car on unsteady feet. He sat behind the wheel for several minutes, attempting to gather himself. It surprised him to find tears rolling down his face. He angrily swiped at them. He refused to cry, to let one more person crush his spirit because they were too fucking stupid to keep their goddamn mouths shut - even if that person was his best friend.
