Free Happy Families by Tanita S. Davis Page B

roll my eyes silently. Oh, man, here we go. Next she’s going to ask him how he
feels
about his future.
    “What about you, Ysabel? How do you feel about talking about your dreams and your future right now?”
    At the word
feel
, a laugh slips out before I can control it. Dr. Hoenig just smiles at me calmly, but Dad’s embarrassed expression piques my temper. What have
I
done that’s so embarrassing? Irritated, I pick up another bit of cereal and scrutinize it before popping it into my mouth. I speak with my mouth full.
    “Justin took down his five-year plan about six months ago, Dad. Just so you know.”
    Dad shoots a glance at me, then turns to face Justin. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighs deeply. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.” There’s a pause. “So, you’ve changed your mind? About everything, Buddy?”
    Justin shrugs, but his shoulders are so tight, it’s more of atwitch. Dad hasn’t really called him Buddy since he was ten. I wonder how Justin
feels
about that.
    “It’s kind of hard to be certain of your plans when so much else in your life has changed, isn’t it?” Dr. Hoenig observes quietly.
    Suddenly, it’s not funny anymore. Justin exhales and looks up at Dr. Hoenig, misery in his expression.
    “Yeah. It is.”
    We don’t say much more that is important after that. Dr. Hoenig gives us this little sheet that says
Rights of Transgender Individuals
across the top. I scan it, and it’s basically just human rights, so there are no surprises. Everyone has the right to feel good about themselves, wear what they want, and be loved, blah, blah, blah. That’s obvious, and I get it, but then Dr. Hoenig says that she wants Justin and me to make up a list of our own rights … and talk about them with Dad.
    Justin and I exchange a look, and I’m pretty sure he’s as disgusted as I am. This definitely has the feel of a bogus make-work homework assignment. At least she didn’t say we have to turn it back in to her or anything.
    Dr. Hoenig is saying something else to Dad—probably giving him a bogus assignment, too—and I tune out for a minute, thinking. If it were me just doing this little Rights of Ysabel list for myself, I’d put down as number one that I have the right to expect my dad to be the same person I grew up with.
    But according to the Transgender Person list … I don’t have that right at all.
    I shake my head, irritated. Does Dr. Hoenig seriously think we have any rights? Not only are we stuck doing whatever Dad wants us to do—not only because we’re underage, but we’re onhis end of the state and we don’t know anyone in this area—we can’t force him to do anything. We can’t make him stay Dad or make him go back to being the way he was. We can’t make him give us back the world the way it was, and there is nothing on earth that can return me to the day before we found out that Dad was a transgender person.
Nothing
.
    I close my eyes, breathing deeply to force the lid back on the volcano that opens up in me at these kinds of thoughts. We just need to be finished with this lady and do something else—anything else.
    “What would you like to get out of your visit this week?” Dr. Hoenig is watching me closely, and I look away. “Justin? Chris? This is a question for all of you.”
    Dr. Hoenig waits as Dad answers, in detail of course. I really can’t think of anything more than the usual spring break stuff—time to sleep in, time to try out some new glass techniques. Justin doesn’t say much, either, but somehow this seems to make everyone worry. Dad and Dr. Hoenig spend the rest of our session trying to convince Justin to have some kind of goal for this week.
    As if it matters.
    Do any of them—Mom, Dad, or Dr. Hoenig—think Justin and I have failed to notice how little control we have over any of this? No matter how many imaginary goals we might have, the thing is, it’s all decided. By her actions and his response, Mom and Dad have