Work Text:
I let out a sigh of relief as I entered the glass doors that towered before me, relaxing as the warm air chased away the last remnants of the cool wind outside.
I passed by this coffee shop every time I went to the beach, and it had always piqued my interest. I don’t drink much coffee, though, so I never bothered to actually check it out.
However, I bumped into an old friend of mine from school the other day. Apparently, they had moved here from China a while ago, though I was unaware of the fact, since I lost touch with him shortly after I myself moved here. Unlike me, he was an avid coffee drinker, and he offered to catch up after grabbing some coffee at this shop.
Although I could speak English more fluently than Mandarin at this point, it felt awkward to converse with him in a different language than the one we used before we lost touch.
As we approached the front of the line, we paused in our conversation so that I could figure out my order. The list of options loomed before me, and my thoughts slowed to a halt. After a few more moments, I gave up in my attempts to form a coherent order and told my friend to pick one for me. After all, he’d been here before, and I trusted him not to lead me astray.
“This is Sparks,” he introduced as we stepped up to the counter, switching to English to include the barista in the conversation, “They make the best coffee.”
“They?” I blurted out in confusion, not ever having heard anyone use those pronouns for themself before.
“I don’t fit in with either of the binary genders, so I use they/them instead of he or she,” they explained with a patient smile.
“Oh, that’s neat,” I replied, my mind suddenly whirring with this new information. Sparks’ description of themself was startlingly similar to how I felt about my own gender.
I was startled out of my whirlwind of thoughts by a question of their own: “What’s your name?”
Having gotten used to being called by my Chinese name for the entire walk to the coffee shop and still reeling from the new revelation, I stammered in reply, “Li- Benjamin.”
I’d never felt as if my American name had truly fit me, and using it always left an uncomfortable twinge in its wake, but I used it nonetheless. It would’ve felt strange to use my Chinese name instead, and I hadn’t come across a name that had fit me better yet.
Resuming the previous conversation with my friend, I barely managed to catch the call for my name as my order was completed, “-for Lenjamin?”
Long after I finished the coffee within, I kept the cup clutched in my hand. Lenjamin. That sounds like a nice name, doesn’t it?