Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 58
Gender Divisions

"Your Uncle Nate's coming in this weekend," Dad announced at dinner on Tuesday. "Thought we'd take you fishing. Make it a guys' trip—me, Nate, Declan, and you."

"What about me?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You," Dad said with a grin, "can do whatever you want. Girls' day with Claire and the girls, maybe?"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." Mom looked thoughtful. "Sophie's been asking about... things. She's almost nine. Claire mentioned she's starting to notice changes. Maybe it's time for a mother-daughter-aunt talk."

"What kind of changes?" Ash asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

"Growing up changes," Mom said diplomatically. "Girls tend to start puberty earlier than boys. Sophie's getting to that age where she needs information and support."

"So while you ladies have 'the talk,' we men will be fishing," Dad said. "Works out perfectly."

Ash felt a mix of relief and curiosity. Relief that he wouldn't have to be present for Sophie's puberty conversation. Curiosity about what a "guys' trip" with Uncle Nate entailed.

Saturday morning arrived cold and early. Nate's truck pulled up at 6 AM, and Ash was already awake, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt Mom had insisted would keep him warm.

"Little man!" Nate called from the driveway. "Look at you, you've grown a foot since I saw you last!"

It had only been about six months, but Ash had grown significantly. He was 5'5" now, taller than Sophie by several inches, starting to look less like a little kid and more like a tween.

"Hi, Uncle Nate."

Nate pulled him into a rough hug, the kind that was more backslapping than gentle. "You getting big. How old are you now?"

"Almost eleven."

"Almost eleven and what, 5'5"? You're going to be huge." Nate grinned at Dad. "He's going to pass you up, Patrick."

"I'm counting on it," Dad said, loading fishing gear into Nate's truck.

Declan arrived twenty minutes later, looking half-asleep but carrying his own tackle box. At twenty-nine, he was the youngest of the adults, though the gap between him and Ash felt smaller every year.

"Morning," Declan mumbled, accepting coffee from Dad. "We really doing this at 6 AM?"

"Fish bite best in the morning," Nate said. "Come on, city boy. Time to remember how to be outdoors."

Mom appeared with a cooler of food and drinks. "No beer," she said firmly, looking at Nate. "And Patrick, make sure he wears his life jacket on the boat."

"Shannon, he's almost eleven—"

"Life jacket. Non-negotiable."

"Yes, ma'am," Dad said, winking at Ash.

"And no teaching him bad habits!"

"What kind of bad habits would we teach?" Nate asked innocently.

"The kind that involve fishing stories that aren't appropriate for ten-year-olds, or showing him how to do things I specifically told you not to do."

"We would never," Declan said, grinning.

Mom kissed Ash's forehead. "Have fun. Be safe. Listen to your dad and uncle."

"I will."

As they pulled out of the driveway, Ash watched through the side mirror as Mom, Claire, Eden, Cathy, and Sophie gathered on the front porch, waving. They were heading to Eden's apartment for their "girls' day"—manicures, lunch, and apparently, some serious conversations about growing up.

"Freedom!" Nate declared once they were on the road. "No offense to the ladies, but there's something about a guys' trip that just hits different."

"Amen," Declan said from the back seat.

The lake was an hour's drive north, quiet and private. Nate had rented a small fishing boat for the day. They loaded gear, put on life jackets (Ash noticed Dad and Declan put theirs on too, probably to avoid Mom's wrath), and headed out onto the water.

The morning was peaceful. Mist rising off the lake, the only sounds their lines hitting the water and the occasional call of a bird.

"So," Nate said after about twenty minutes of silence, "how's school? Girls chasing you yet?"

"Uncle Nate," Dad said warningly.

"What? He's almost eleven. That's when it starts." Nate looked at Ash. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Ash admitted. "Girls have been... noticing me."

"And?"

"And I'm not interested."

"Smart kid," Declan said. "Girls are complicated. Enjoy being a kid while you can."

"Spoken like someone who just got dumped," Nate teased.

"We broke up mutually," Declan protested.

"Sure you did."

They fished in comfortable male silence, occasionally making comments about technique or bait or the fish they weren't catching. It was different from being with his teammates—less performance, more easy companionship.

Around noon, they pulled the boat to shore on a small beach to eat lunch. Nate had brought sandwiches, chips, and—despite Mom's prohibition—a cooler with beer.

"Don't tell your mother," Nate said, tossing cans to Dad and Declan.

"Uncle Nate, she specifically said—"

"What Shannon doesn't know won't hurt her," Nate winked. "We're not getting drunk. Just having one beer with lunch. Very adult, very responsible."

Dad opened his beer with a sigh. "If Shannon asks, we had soda."

"Won't hear it from me," Ash said, biting into his sandwich.

"See? The kid understands." Nate stretched out on the sand. "So Patrick tells me you're a hell of a baseball player. All-star team and everything."

"Yeah. I made all-stars last year. Hoping to make it again this year."

"That's impressive. You were never athletic before—" Nate caught himself. "Sorry. That's not... I mean..."

"It's okay," Ash said. "You're right. Before, I wasn't into sports. But now I am. Things change."

"Things definitely change." Nate took a drink of his beer. "You seem good, though. Healthy. Happy, even."

"Most days, yeah."

"That's more than a lot of people can say." Nate looked at him seriously. "I'm proud of you, kid. I know this wasn't what you chose. But you're making the most of it."

"Thanks."

After lunch, as they were packing up, Declan said, "Hey Noam, want to learn how to skip stones?"

"I know how to skip stones."

"Yeah, but I bet I can skip them farther than you."

"That's a bet you'll lose."

They spent twenty minutes throwing stones, competing to see who could get the most skips. Ash won—his baseball training gave him a good arm—and Declan grudgingly admitted defeat.

"Alright, you've got me beat on distance," Declan said. "But can you wrestle?"

Before Ash could answer, Declan grabbed him in a headlock—gentle enough not to hurt, firm enough to be challenging.

"First one to tap out loses!"

Ash struggled, trying to twist out of the hold. He was bigger than he used to be, stronger from years of sports. But Declan was an adult with twenty years and forty pounds on him.

"Come on, show me what you've got!" Declan teased.

Ash hooked his foot behind Declan's knee and pushed, using leverage instead of strength. They both went down, rolling in the sand, laughing.

"That's my boy!" Dad called from where he and Nate were watching. "Use your brain, not just muscle!"

Ash managed to wiggle free, but Declan immediately lunged after him. They grappled for another minute before Ash finally tapped Declan's arm.

"Okay, okay! You win!"

"Damn right I win!" Declan hauled him up, both of them covered in sand and grinning.

"Shannon would kill us if she saw this," Dad observed.

"Then it's good she's not here," Nate said. "Let the boys be boys."

They fished for another few hours, catching a decent number of bass and even one impressive trout. As the sun started lowering, they packed up and headed back.

In the truck, tired and sunburned and smelling like fish, Ash felt something settle in his chest. This was good. Different from hanging out with his friends, different from family dinners, different from anything else.

Just guys. No performance, no expectations. Just fishing and stone-skipping and roughhousing in the sand.

"Thanks for bringing me," Ash said as they got close to home.

"Thanks for coming," Nate replied. "We should do this more often. Maybe make it a yearly thing?"

"I'd like that."

"Good. Because you're going to keep getting bigger and stronger, and eventually, you might actually be able to beat Declan in a fight."

"Hey!" Declan protested from the back.

"Just being honest. Kid's got a good arm and he's smart. Give him a few years and he'll take you."

Ash smiled, looking out the window as familiar streets passed by.

A few years. When he'd be thirteen, fourteen. When puberty would be in full swing and he'd be taller, stronger, more physically capable.

When the gap between him and his younger siblings would feel even smaller.

When days like this would feel completely normal instead of slightly strange.

At home, Mom took one look at them and sighed.

"You're covered in sand. You smell like fish. And is that a bruise on Declan's arm?"

"We were roughhousing," Declan admitted.

"Of course you were." But Mom was smiling. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Ash said. "We caught a bunch of fish."

"They're in the cooler," Dad added. "Thought we could have them for dinner tomorrow."

"Perfect." Mom pulled Ash aside. "Go shower. You smell terrible. But I'm glad you had a good time."

While Ash showered, scrubbing sand and fish smell off his skin, he could hear voices downstairs. Mom asking Dad how the day went. Dad's low voice responding. Laughter.

After his shower, he found Sophie in the living room, painting her nails a sparkly purple.

"How was your day?" Ash asked, sitting on the couch.

"Good! We got manicures—see?" She showed him her nails. "And we talked about grown-up stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like how I'm going to start puberty soon. Mom explained all about periods and bras and stuff." Sophie wrinkled her nose. "It sounds kind of gross, but also kind of cool? Like, my body is going to change and that means I'm growing up."

"Yeah. Growing up is weird."

"Are you growing up too? You're getting so tall."

"Yeah. I'm going through puberty now."

"Is it weird?"

"Very weird. But also... kind of good? Because it's my body doing what it's supposed to do."

Sophie nodded thoughtfully. "That's what Mom said. That even though changes are weird and sometimes uncomfortable, they're normal and healthy and mean we're becoming who we're supposed to be."

"Mom's smart."

"Yeah." Sophie finished her last nail and waved her hands to dry them. "Eden said when I'm older, we can have just-us time. Like you have with Dad and Uncle Nate. She said it's important to have people who understand what you're going through."

"She's right."

That night, as Ash was getting ready for bed, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, really looking at himself.

5'5". Five foot five inches tall.

He'd been 5'4" in his previous life. At his maximum height, after years of hoping desperately to grow taller and knowing he never would. 5'4" had been his ceiling, his genetic limit in that body.

And now, at not quite eleven years old, he'd surpassed it.

He was taller than Ash had ever been.

The realization hit him like a physical thing. His hands went to the doorframe, feeling for the pencil marks that tracked his growth. Found the one from last month: 5'4". The exact height his previous body had topped out at.

And then the new mark, from two weeks ago: 5'5".

Taller.

And still growing.

He looked back at the mirror, really seeing himself. The boy looking back was almost unrecognizable from the person he'd been. Taller, yes, but also broader through the shoulders. Stronger. His face had lost all its childish softness, was starting to show hints of the man he'd become.

In his previous body, he'd spent his entire adult life looking up at people. At average-height women. At basically every man he met. Had felt small and inadequate and wrong in ways that had nothing to do with his actual height and everything to do with it being the wrong body entirely.

Now he was taller than that body had ever been. And he was still only almost eleven.

By the time he was fourteen, he'd probably be 5'9" or 5'10". By eighteen, he could hit six feet or more.

He'd never be short again. Never look up at everyone. Never feel that particular brand of physical inadequacy.

"Noam?" Dad's voice came from the hallway. "You okay in there?"

Ash opened the door. Dad stood there, still in his fishing clothes, looking concerned.

"I just realized something," Ash said quietly.

"What's that?"

"I'm taller than I ever was before. In my old body, I maxed out at 5'4". I'm 5'5" now. And still growing."

Dad's expression shifted to understanding. "How does that feel?"

"Weird. Good weird, but weird." Ash looked back at the mirror. "I spent twenty-four years being 5'4" and hating it. Not just because I was short, but because it was wrong. The whole body was wrong. And now..." He gestured at his reflection. "Now I'm taller than I ever was. And I'm not even done growing."

"You're probably going to be significantly taller," Dad said. "Maybe six feet, maybe more. The Walsh men tend to be tall."

"I know. It's just... hitting me right now. That I'll never be that short person again. Never have to look up at everyone. Never feel small like that."

Dad stepped into the bathroom, stood next to him so they could both see the mirror. "You're almost as tall as your mom now. By next year, you'll probably pass her."

Ash looked at their reflections. Dad at 6'1", him at 5'5". The gap was closing.

"I'm going to be tall," Ash said, like he was testing out the words.

"You're going to be tall," Dad confirmed. "Strong, too. You've got good genetics and you're athletic. You're going to be a big guy."

A big guy. Not a small person trying to exist in the wrong body. A big guy. Tall. Strong. Male.

Everything he'd always wanted and never thought he'd have.

"Thanks for today," Ash said. "For the fishing trip. For... all of it."

"Thanks for coming. It meant a lot to have you there." Dad squeezed his shoulder. "And for what it's worth, watching you grow into who you're supposed to be—it's been one of the privileges of my life."

After Dad left, Ash looked at himself in the mirror again. Took a mental snapshot. 5'5", almost eleven years old, broader and stronger and taller than his previous body had ever been.

This was real. This body was his. And it was still becoming what it was meant to be.

He went to his bedroom window, looked out at the night sky. Somewhere out there was the person he used to be—small, struggling, in the wrong body. That person still existed in his memories, in his consciousness.

But this person—this tall, growing, strong person looking back from the mirror—this was who he was now.

And for the first time, that felt like more than just acceptance. It felt like triumph.

He was taller than Ash had ever been.

And he was still growing.

Dad knocked on his door again a moment later.

"Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know fishing isn't as exciting as baseball or hanging out with your friends, but it meant a lot to have you there."

"I had fun. It was good. Really good."

"Good." Dad sat on the edge of the bed. "Uncle Nate was right, you know. You're getting bigger. Stronger. In a few years, you really will be able to beat Declan in a wrestling match."

"He went easy on me today."

"Of course he did. But the point is, you're growing up. And I'm proud of the person you're becoming."

"Thanks, Dad."

After Dad left, Ash looked at himself in the mirror. His shoulders were broader than they'd been six months ago. His arms had actual muscle definition. His face was losing the last of its childish roundness.

He was 5'5" and still growing. Would probably hit 5'8" or 5'9" by the time he was thirteen. Would eventually reach six feet, maybe more.

Tall. Strong. Male.

Everything his first body had never been.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. "I'm thirty-two years old. I'm almost eleven years old. Today I went fishing with my dad and uncle and brother and we roughhoused on the beach and I'm getting big enough to almost hold my own."

Four thousand, eight hundred and forty-one days to go.

But today had been good. Today had been uncomplicated male bonding—fishing and wrestling and stones skipping across water.

Today Sophie had learned about periods and puberty from the women in her life.

Today they'd divided along gender lines, each group getting what they needed from people who understood.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

Boys being boys. Girls being girls.

Growing up together but separately, in the ways each of them needed.

He fell asleep thinking about next year's fishing trip, when he'd be taller, stronger, maybe able to give Declan a real challenge.

When the gap between kid and adult would be even smaller than it was today.

When growing up would feel less like something happening to him and more like something he was actively doing.

One fishing trip at a time.