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A few weeks it’s been, since Andy knocked on Huck’s bedroom door after finding a letter left for her and CJ on the dining room table.
They’d more or less been expecting a coming out — and Andy wasn’t even surprised at all that it’d be through a letter; Huck’s always had Toby’s way with words. In their attempts to reconnect, it’s one of the few things they can always fall back on.
She and CJ had been expecting it, but not really; without discussing it much, they’d more or less been anticipating that eventually Huck would bring a boyfriend home. They weren’t sure why that should be such an announcement when the twins were raised by two women, but they let it take its time. They were no hypocrites.
Twenty-five years it had taken the two of them to get to this point in their relationship; if Huck wanted to take a year or two to gather up the nerves to tell them, that was fine.
A gay son had more or less been the expectation. Andy had read the letter thinking she already knew what it would contain. A second daughter had not even crossed her mind as a possibility.
She’ll admit she took some time — between reading the letter, and acknowledging she had read it by coming up the stairs and talking to Huck. She’ll admit, mostly just to herself and CJ, that she was unsure, that she postponed knocking on Huck’s door because she wasn’t sure what she’d say.
She’ll admit she momentarily disgusted herself thinking that maybe people had a point when they said it’s different when it’s your own child — something she’d so vehemently disputed when CJ had used it to defend her father’s discomfort with her sexuality.
She snapped out of that quickly enough when she thought about a sixteen year old Huck upstairs, counting the minutes between Andy entering the dining room and Andy leaving it. The idea of her child — of her daughter — wondering if she’d made a mistake writing that letter, was stronger than any personal doubt Andy might’ve had.
A few weeks ago, and Huck had already been in tears by the time Andy knocked — to her own account, she’d been panicking since before Andy had even come home, but that doesn’t change the fact that Andy wishes she’d have gotten her ass upstairs sooner.
Huck hasn’t settled on a new name, yet, but has certainly requested for her mom not to use the full name anymore — Andy was the only one who ever did, anyway. She’s suggested they try out a few different ones, but Huck’s a perfectionist like her father and not interested in telling anyone a new name until she’s completely sure she knows it’s the one.
Andy’s known Toby long enough to know there’s no point trying to change Huck’s mind unless she does it on her own accord.
Last week, Huck and Molly — who had apparently known this about her sibling for months before any of their three parents had been informed — went through Molly’s own closet and tried out a bunch of clothes. Some skirts just made the cut, but most dresses didn’t even close.
Huck’s been quiet since, no matter Andy or CJ’s attempts at talking to her — with the exception of a vehement no when asked if she’d told Toby yet. She’d claimed it just wasn’t a conversation to have over the phone.
Now, Andy is walking towards Huck’s room with a promised bag of dresses she’s dug up in the basement. When she suggested doing so last night, Huck had looked wary for a moment, before she let herself give into the slight excitement of new clothes.
That smile is worth a thousand suns, in Andy’s perfectly objective opinion.
“Molly’s might not fit,” Andy tells her, carrying a bag with old clothes into Huck’s bedroom. “She’s still waiting on her growth spurt. But remember we went through mom’s house last year? We saved a whole bunch of clothes, there; none of them particularly flattering, I have to say, but you’re about as tall as she was at your age.”
“Are you saying mom had bad style?”
Huck is sitting on her bed, her legs criss crossed applesauce, the same flustered cheeks that Andy gets when she’s excited. It makes her look younger than she is — all of sixteen already, how time flies by — and Andy never minds that.
She laughs, shaking her head, although that really kind of is what she’s saying. “No,” she corrects her daughter anyway. “But she was a Catholic teacher’s daughter on a single income. Her dad picked out half the clothes and didn’t make the choices I would’ve made.”
“True love, ladies and gentlemen,” Huck mocks her. Andy laughs.
“True love is meeting a girl who’s never learned which colors clash, and falling in love with her anyway,” she shrugs, dropping the shopper on Huck’s bed. She can still see the oranges and reds of CJ’s dresses those first few months of college — modest, long-sleeves, clashing outfits that lured Andy in without second thought. Flash forward thirty five years, and CJ’s gained the money and experience to dress a dozen times better than she ever did. Andy’s still as in love as those first days.
She’s always had a habit of falling head over heels before time said it was wise.
Andy pulls out a decent one — knee-length and dark brown, only short sleeves. She hopes it won’t be too tight on the shoulders, but she could always try to tailor it a little. The twins laughed at her when she’d proudly said she was taking a class.
“Alright honey, try this?”
Huck tries the brown dress while Andy shuffles outside, hoping it’s a good fit, hoping at least one of the dresses will be a good fit. She really hopes this doesn’t end up a disappointment the way Molly’s loaned dresses had.
She’s offered, too, to buy Huck something new — she wouldn’t even need to accompany Andy, they could just take some measurements, or she’d eyeball it. Huck couldn’t explain why she was uncomfortable with that idea; Andy hasn’t pushed it.
This is the next best thing. She hopes she’s right about that.
The shoulders on the brown dress are a little too restrictive, but it fits nicely as long as Huck’s standing still and doesn’t try to lift her arms. Andy makes a note on her phone, and smiles at the tearful eyes Huck tries to hide from her. She’s wise enough not to comment yet.
They try a few more dresses — none of them perfect, but all of them something. They laugh as Huck tries to imagine being CJ — being seventeen years old, which to her feels worlds away from being sixteen — in a purple dress with large blue circles. Andy doesn’t feel particularly bad; she and CJ had laughed over the clothing just like that when they retrieved it from Talmidge’s attic.
They laugh, they joke, they even share a small glass of white wine at Huck’s pleading request, just to make a nice afternoon out of it. Molly never lets her be there for shopping or fitting sessions. Andy never wanted her own mother around, either, no matter how much she loved her, but selfishly she hopes Huck never grows out of wanting to spend this time with her.
None of the dresses are perfect, but they settle on one that’s good enough. Orange, but not an ugly kind; a brown bow on the collar that’s to neither of their tastes but that actually kind of hides the lack of filling at the chest. It’s lightly taken in at the waist, giving Huck a lovely figure.
“That’s it,” Andy whispers proudly, sitting on Huck’s bed, leaning back on one hand with a glass of wine in the other. She’s not ashamed to admit her own eyes are a little wet. “That’s my girl.”
“You like it?” Huck asks, quietly now, her smile small and excited and scared to be so. Andy puts her glass down on the floor instead of the nightstand and is over by her daughter’s side in a heartbeat. “You really like it?”
Andy kisses her temple. “Oh, honey,” she says softly. “I love it. You look beautiful.”
She stands behind her girl, hands on Huck’s arms, looking into the mirror at her and her daughter. Andy smiles at their reflection,
The more Huck studies her reflection, the fainter her smile becomes. Andy watches it happen with worry in her heart, but can’t immediately think of a way to stop the process.
Eventually, Huck mutters “I’m almost taller than you already,” with a scornful look at her own image. Andy squeezes her a little tighter, rapidly deciding whether to go for a lighthearted or a serious response. She’s not figured it all out yet.
“You take after your mom,” Andy says with a shrug.
“That’s not how genetics work,” Huck points out.
Andy chuckles. “Says who?”
Huck rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Says science.”
“Science can—“
Huck lightly pushes her. “Do you really want to be anti science in your next campaign?”
“I hear it’s all the rage,” Andy teases, laughing and pulling her daughter closer when Huck suddenly turns around and hugs her tightly. “Hey,” Andy says quietly, arms wrapped around her girl. “Don’t worry about my campaign. Not for a moment, okay?”
She knows that even though Huck nods and promises, it’s not as easily believed as the assurance is genuinely made. It’s a problem for a later day. As of now, only Molly, CJ, and Andy herself even know about Huck. Huck constantly changes her mind on when she wants to change that.
“Come lay down,” Andy suggests — feeling almost naive in her hope that Huck will listen; Molly stopped wanting to cuddle with her when she turned thirteen and decided she was too old for ponies, pink, and her mother. Just one of her mothers — CJ is allowed to touch her without an argument.
But Huck, through a few changes in attitude of her own, has grown considerably more attached to Andy’s side since the letter. Andy’s treasuring that for as long as it lasts.
She sits down on Huck’s bed, shifting towards the headboard as Huck stands awkwardly to the side before joining her, instinctively and quickly curling up at Andy’s side with her arm swung around Andy’s abdomen. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world from this angle.
They talk nonsense for a while, which suits Andy just fine when she can see it make Huck more comfortable as time goes on. They brainstorm Andy’s theory that Molly’s lying about still being vegetarian, they talk about Huck’s idiot French teacher, and Andy listens to a long story about a game Huck’s playing involving zombies and a lot of blood. She even refrains from saying it might not be appropriate for a kid her age.
She only realizes she might be making a mistake again when she feels the need to fill the silence that falls eventually.
“Have you thought more about telling your dad?” Andy asks, hoping she doesn’t ruin the good mood, wondering if she should’ve kept her mouth shut. She doesn’t mean to push — just to encourage, just to— she’s really not sure. She’s not particularly sure on how to navigate any of it.
She’s told Huck as much; she’s trying to be as upfront about her own shortcomings in this regard as she can be without — hopefully, at least — discouraging Huck from giving it her all. “We’re just gonna wing it,” she’d said, and Andy thinks she used the slang right, cause Huck hadn’t poked fun at it.
Now, Huck just shrugs. She turns a little, so she’s burrowing her head more into Andy’s shoulder. Andy tightens her grip around the young girl — sixteen, practically an adult some days, still her little girl most others. “No pressure,” she adds, hoping it sounds genuine.
“I don’t know,” Huck says quietly.
For a little while, she doesn’t say anything else. Andy stops herself from filling the silence again.
“It’s been nice talking to him more,” Huck says. Recently, Toby’s been a more steady presence in her life again — he visits outside of school holidays, the twins are old enough to take a flight or bus by themselves if they want to. Toby’s even gotten a smartphone with facetime, something Andy had frankly not considered possible.
Molly’s not as open to it as Huck is; always too busy to travel back and forth for a weekend, or stuck in a movie-date with friends she “really can’t get out of” when Toby’s in DC. Andy doesn’t want to push her.
“I don’t want to ruin that,” Huck adds, quiet and unsure. “People make such a big deal out of fathers and sons, you know. I don’t… I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could transition without telling him at all.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” Andy quietly assures her, smiling when Huck nuzzles her face into Andy’s shirt. “Not with your dad, not with any of us. It might take him some time,” she tries to be honest — hopes she’s not downplaying it; hopes she’s not sowing more fear. “But he’ll get there. Grandma will get there, if you tell her. I’ll manhandle them into it.”
Huck laughs. “I’d like to see that.”
“You don’t think I could take your dad?”
“I don’t think you can take grandma.”
Andy shakes her head. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve been taking zumba classes, you know.”
Huck groans loudly. “You shouldn’t say that out loud,” she says, like the mere suggestion embarrasses her. Huck shrieks when Andy tickles her waist for that, kicking her feet when she tries to move away and Andy pulls her in tighter.
“Either way,” Andy says determinedly, messing up Huck’s hair with a big smile, grinning when Huck looks up at her with a pair of beaming eyes just like her own. “You wait as long as you want, honey. Weeks, months, or years. You don’t leave that closet until you’re ready.”
She sobers up a little, pulling some hair out of Huck’s face. She tries to imagine Huck with the bob Molly’s been sporting, and silently decides they’ll need to figure out a different hairdo.
“But when you do,” Andy continues, making sure Huck’s listening to her every word. “When you do, you’re gonna be just fine. I’m seeing to it.”