⚧ April Fooled
First Draft Created: 2024-03-25 19:40
Last Updated: 1 month, 3 weeks ago
A.k.a Coming Out Before Coming Out
Note: This story is meant to depict views I don't personally hold. I am aware that these kind of "jokes" on April Fool's day are harmful and not funny, and, truth be told, I don't think I'm much of a fan of the day itself, either.
"Dad!" I call. We are at his hotel. He is chatting to business partners. This will be a good time to nail him, in that classic boomer humour style of pranks that he loves, that I have learned will make him laugh.
"Yes?"
My mother and some others are hiding around the corner, chortling, or trying not to, and nabbing any random person who walks by to tell them to get in on the joke.
The others have already heard this one. Mom wasn't fooled, of course. She always remembers the day.
Here goes. Time to play my part.
"So, um, dad, I realised that I'm actually a man, and I want to get, er, to get a... a sex-change surgery." I don't know the terminology, because I am an unprepared idiot, but he doesn't know the terms either.
Dad's smile freezes like a man realising he is suddenly trapped in a deadly make-or-break survival situation. A look of terror comes over the rest of his face, making the smile look pained.
"Oh!" his voice is high, carrying the same feigned delight of a grandparent gingerly taking the glue-dripping pasta picture proudly offered by a grandchild.
"Ohh-kayyhii!" he delicately agrees.
I attempt to drag it out for a bit, as his frantic mind is clearly trying to process but also not process the nightmare situation in front of him, and his colleagues.
"APRIL FOOLS!" We all yell and his face immediately melts into relief that it isn't true.
He allows himself to laugh, to express his sheer relief, admit just how worried he was. Everyone is laughing. Everyone is relieved. It was hilarious.
I am surprised that he actually believed me, that I could fool the king of jokes.
Surely he knows me better than to really think...
His relief, their laughter, starts fading behind me as I quietly extricate myself from the group, who are still bubbly over his "near miss".
What did you expect? I ask myself. You got your laughter! Did you expect *less laughter?*
Still, it was surprising. Surprising how hearty the laughter and relief had been. Surprising that I'd actually fooled the man who loved taking the piss out of people, the ultimate prankster who couldn't be fooled.
I was always trying to make people laugh. Very often, with myself as the butt of the joke.
Making fun of my inability to concentrate, my spacing out, my jumpiness when people came up behind me even when I had already detected or was expecting them, how I overreacted to noise or to someone suddenly jabbing me in the ribs, or flinched when someone made a sudden movement towards me or raised their voice, how I didn't like being hugged... because that all seemed to be what'd make the people in my parents' orbit laugh.
You know, things like that that apparently needed to be corrected, making normal life that much more of a chore.
The laughter I needed. The approval I needed from my father. Those jokes were apparently funny, and I was urged to laugh at them at dinner when I didn't, which admittedly was exhausting. I generally hated jokes, and had "no sense of humour" but I was also great at making people laugh.
But still, was it all, was this one really that funny?
If it'd worked, at most I'd expected a short burst of laughter before people moved on. "OK, you got me!" Or more likely "April Fool!" in response, because there was no way he'd fall for it.
This joke was a remarkable success, given how basic it was. Just one step above "I'm pregnant" on the predictability scale for April Fools. Unoriginal. Cliche. Not even funny, truth be told. It just felt like something scripted, that we were meant to laugh at. Safe, I guess. It was the pattern.
But still, as I walk away, my heart sinks inexplicably.
And I'm tired of this "humour".
It's a good thing I'm not really trans, I tell myself. Imagine how serious it'd be that he was so openly relieved? That'd be a bridge burnt, I'd *never be able to come now if I were. Good thing I can joke about this, openly with them. Lucky I'm not trans. It was silly of me to think I might be trans, like the people who are really trans. Unfair to them, too, that I even wanted to use that term, just because I want a label for myself. Good thing I'm not trans.*
Still ... suddenly... why do I feel this weight?
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