Frankie Markham (_markham) wrote in 20somethings, @ 2021-08-20 17:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | c: frank markham, d: 2027 08, ~ complete, Ω: rp |
RP: I am who I am
Who: Frankie Markham and parents Sophia and Joshua Markham (NPCs)
What: Coming Out
When: Friday 20th August, 2027, earlyish evening
Where: Markham family home, Kent
Warnings: Transphobia, homophobia, biphobia
Completion Status: Complete
Francine Iris Markham did not make a habit of visiting their parents outside of obligations like holidays, birthdays, and other special events. A good portion of that was because their mother insisted on calling them Francine, despite them having gone by Frankie since before they went to Hogwarts. But also because they hadn’t felt comfortable there in years, far beyond what they had heard other muggleborn magical folk talking about. As a younger child Frankie had absolutely done their best to conform to societal and parental expectations, name aside, but between their magic and being clever along with being something of an introvert they didn’t gel very well with others. They had friends but those seemed to rotate every few years. Moving away to Hogwarts and further from their parents’ influence started them down a path of learning more about themself; through bouts of conforming and rebelling by turns. Still, outside of their appearance they had, until more recently, been a relatively conventional person in many respects.
Eventually though it had come down to this visit on a slightly random Friday evening where they planned to tell their parents about their gender, and sexuality in one fell swoop. It was the better part of a year since they had realised they didn’t just like men, and multiple months since they had worked out their gender. They had friends who knew and they had support; they were far more comfortable in their own skin now, even if dysphoric days were terrible at least they had a name for the feeling. Frankie had even texted a few people to ask for post-dinner commiseration in case it went terribly badly. They suspected that overwhelming support from their family wasn’t going to be in the near future. Just from past experience of their family.
Their messaged request to come over for Friday evening dinner had apparently delighted their mother to a degree that made her forget to interrogate Frankie’s intentions and instead had spilled over into joy of what she thought of as a dutiful daughter returning home to visit. Or at least that’s what Frankie read between the lines of the texts which they received.
Having worked out several safe apparition points which didn’t require total darkness or being inside the house soon after passing their test, Frankie appeared in the high-hedged back garden after a quick stop in at their flat to change from robes into black jeans and a dark green shirt over a black sleeveless top. Their hair was a few shades darker than their natural medium brown and topped off with dark blue and green streaks that sometimes caught the light, the sides freshly shorn. They felt good, although deeply nervous.
Stepping up to the back door they knocked briefly before using their key to open the door and step into the conservatory extension their parents had built years ago. They called out a greeting before bending over to yank their boots back off. (Not that they had bothered to tie them properly since they knew they’d be taking them right off again.)
A voice called out from further into the house. “Hello, Francine, I’m in the kitchen!” came the sing-song brightness of their mother’s voice. They couldn’t help but wince and shiver at the unwelcome name.
Taking a deep breath they wandered through to the kitchen and leaned up on tiptoes to give their mother the kiss on the cheek that was the expected greeting. “Hi Mum,” they said quietly, trying not to think about how long it could be before they got to say it again if this went badly. As poorly as they got along with their parents it didn’t mean they didn’t love them. Even if it was hard sometimes.
Their mother, Sophia, had her hands full of a pile of half-chopped vegetables which would probably be roasted if her habits hadn’t changed. “Do you want help with anything?” they asked.
“I have the food handled,” she said, “but you can set the table. Everything is in the same place it was at Easter.” Somehow Frankie doubted that was universally true, their mother was perpetually redecorating, and reorganising their decorative displays. But the cutlery and plates did generally stay in the same place unless the kitchen had had a total overhaul, which it obviously hadn’t. “What did you do with your hair this time?” she asked. “Surely that isn’t acceptable in a professional environment.” Frankie automatically ignored the stab to their gut which accompanied the question and brushed it aside with a quick comment, as they had been doing for years.
It was easy enough to putter about laying the table for three while their mother filled them in on the sort of local gossip which they had little interest in but knew about anyway because it formed a large part of their weekly phone calls. They made all the appropriate sounds, cursing the fact they retained information easily and would recall almost all the details despite having almost no interest in the subject. One or two comments made it through their haze of not-quite listening. First that one of their primary school friends had been seen looking distinctly pregnant, and second that Sharon, who Sophia volunteered with at one of the local charity shops, had been introduced to her granddaughter’s new girlfriend. What her mum had actually said was ‘friend’ with a tone which was supposed to imply both the connotations and her own faint discomfort or disapproval. Plus it had been a couple of years ago they had worked out that said granddaughter was somewhere under the rainbow umbrella. Thankfully being in the dining room portion of the open kitchen-diner meant that Frankie could hide their winces at both comments. They had serious doubts that they wanted to carry a child, and the latter information only reinforced their lack of confidence about their own news.
After finishing the table Frankie poured themself a drink, debating the merits of wandering over to the drinks table to add some whiskey to their coke, before deciding to save it for when they got home. Sophia did, at this point, find them a bit of busy work in the kitchen, checking on the elaborate looking slow-roasting lamb. It had apparently been cooking for several hours already.
They made awkward small talk about Frankie’s work and Sophia’s volunteering for nearly half an hour before there was the sound of a car pulling up outside. Finally Frankie thought, I should have delayed until Dad would already be home.
They drifted in the direction of the front door slightly and were pleased when their father, Joshua, came in and immediately upon seeing them gave a slightly awkward but heartfelt one armed hug before even putting his papers down.
“Good to see you, Fran-kie,” he said softly. It was hesitant as it had been for many years, but for the most part he used the name they had long since expressed a preference for. It was like he had to remind himself every time, but honestly they preferred that to their mother’s refusal.
“Hey Dad, good to see you too,” they replied with a small smile. “How was work?”
The conversation carried them through his post-work arrival routine. They shared work stories, commiserated with each other about parts of their jobs they disliked (different though they were), and managed to pull out a few funny stories about dealing with annoying colleagues. It was the kind of talk they had shared ever since Frankie started working the first summer post-Hogwarts, although the tone had shifted since they had started at the Ministry and had largely office based jobs in common. Frankie knew that while they had a serious dislike of having to deal with the wider Ministry political wranglings and general public, Jeremy enjoyed nearly any excuse which pulled him out of his office and back into the fray. Not that he expressed that too loudly around Sophia because of her pride in his managerial role.
After watching the early evening news all together, which caught Frankie up on several events in the muggle world that they had missed entirely, dinner was served. Both parents were now drinking large gin and tonics along with their meal. The slow cooked lamb and couscous with roasted vegetables were admittedly delicious and they doled out the expected and deserved compliments to Sophia.
As dinner moved along Frankie explained some of their recent work projects and research to parents who could grasp only the more general concepts instead of the specific details. Their mother had heard a few good chunks of it before, but their dad had heard only snippets since they spoke less often. Since joining the Floo office the two of them had become a little more versed in the operation of the Ministry and Frankie’s place within it. Sophia often prompted them to try and find career advancements, or tried to push them into more lucrative or prestigious career paths. Frankie definitely had some ambitions in that direction, but they hadn’t come to much just yet. Although the gaining of both experience and good contacts was important too.
“Do I remember you saying the Potter boy was back in Britain?” Sophia asked somewhat out of the blue.
Frankie could see where this was probably going and they reached for their still alcohol free drink and took a healthy sip before answering. “Yes, we went out for a drink a few months ago, but we don’t see each other that often. I should ask him if his relationship is on again or still off,” they added mostly to themself. Still they spotted their mother deflating slightly from the perk of interest the news of a drink had created. They smiled sweetly at her.
“Did I tell you about my...friend’s new shop opening at the start of the month?” they asked, knowing full well they hadn’t mentioned either Penny or her shop to either of their parents.
“Oh, no, is this a new venture? Did he invite you?” Sophia asked, clearly invested in some new piece of gossip or insight into Frankie’s life.
“I believe she’s been trading for a while, but now she has an actual shop. It opened on her birthday, and yes, she was kind enough to invite me. It’s a beautiful place, even if it wasn’t all my taste. I probably should have anticipated that from her place though,” they said thoughtfully. Frankie had spotted the moment of surprise, and equally spotted when Sophia had brushed off their implication of more than friendship as some kind of random pause.
“Well that sounds lovely. I hope this young woman has a lot of support, owning your own business comes with a lot of complications,” Sophia pronounced. Which honestly, as someone with a law degree and some professed feminism seemed to include a lot of internal sexism in Frankie’s view.
“I’m sure if she’s already been doing it for a while she has a handle on that, Soph,” Joshua prompted.
“She’s mostly pretty organised from what I know, good taste in food too. And knows her way around whiskey, which was nice,” Frankie said. Not that those latter two really directly applied to the shop opening.
“Whiskey, at a shop opening?” Sophia sounded scandalised. So far from proper. And their mother did so like to be proper.
“No, the opening had wine.” Frankie said and carefully prepared themself for the next comment. No food in their mouth. No drink to knock over and the same could be said for their parents. “The whiskey happened on our date.”
There was a long pause where Frankie started to feel like they were vibrating. They were staring at a spot somewhere between their parents, trying to catch both reactions at the same time.
“When was this?” Joshua asked, sounding slightly strangled. Sophia still seemed unable to speak.
“Few months ago,” Frankie admitted quietly. “We work better as friends,” although I’m not opposed to future benefits “but it was good.” Frankie looked defiantly at their mother. Always predicted to be the more difficult hurdle.
“Well at least I was right about your,” a gesture up and down Frankie’s form finished the sentence.
“I’m not gay, Mum,” Frankie said, quiet but firm.
“But what are you then? You dated this friend of yours. And you haven’t got a boyfriend unless that’s something else you haven’t told me,” she said, her voice rising.
Frankie put down their cutlery on their plate, still automatically putting it in the ‘paused’ position as they hadn’t technically finished.
“No, I’ve not been dating much since then, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m bisexual not gay or straight,” they said. “I’ve known for a while.”
“So you can’t decide, is that it, Francine?” Sophia demanded. Frankie didn’t hide their wince.
“I’m not Francine, Mum. I’m Frankie, or Frank.” They were shaking hard internally, but they were steady enough of voice. “I’m going to be legally changing my name soon, in both worlds.” They hadn’t told anyone else that yet, but they had been looking into the details. Being easily of age in both worlds made it relatively easy, even if updating their gender marker wouldn’t be.
“Of course you’re Francine, I should know, I registered your birth when you were this big,” Sophia spat back, holding out her hands to indicate Frankie’s size near birth. She had slammed down her own cutlery in entirely the wrong position. Joshua was looking back and forth between the two of them, apparently either unable or unwilling to interrupt.
“I’ve not wanted to be Francine since I was, like, seven. You’re the only one who consistently uses it for me.” That got a glare from Sophia to Joshua which seemed to confirm that their Dad was forced to use their given name when they weren’t around.
They pushed back slightly from the table and sucked in a fortifying breath. “I didn’t want this to be a fight,” they said. “But I can’t lie any longer, even by omission. My name is Frankie, I’m nonbinary and I use they/them pronouns.”
The silence was once more ringing, the faint noise of a car pulling into the cul de sac.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re our daughter,” Sophia insisted, sounding a little shocked. Frankie closed their eyes as the virtual stone dropped out of their stomach.
“No. I’m your child,” they insisted. They looked at their father, who still didn’t seem to know what to say.
“This is just a phase,” Sophia said a little desperately.
“No, Mum,” they said quietly, but firmly. “I might only have had the words for a little while, but everything fits the feelings I’ve had all my life.”
“We didn’t raise you to be like this,” Sophia spat; which made Frankie flinch.
They pushed back further and stood up, feeling the press of emotions against their throat and the back of their eyes.
“You raised me to be my own person, but mostly only if it was in your own image,” they said, not knowing where the words were pulled from but knowing they were exactly how they felt. “But I guess I only learned the first part of that lesson.”
They looked around at the immaculately decorated dining room and drew themself to their full, if not very impressive, height.
“If you want to talk to me and ask questions when you’ve had time to process I’ll do my best to answer. Please don’t get in touch until you’re ready to talk calmly. Excuse me,” they said.
They turned and darted through the dining room door and through the corridor into the dark conservatory. They found and grabbed their boots without turning on the light and, knowing they couldn’t be seen thanks to the lack of light behind them, stepped back into the corridor with a determined twist, appearing a gut-squeezing moment later in their own dark, silent flat as tears began to blur their vision.