Riley moves toward the sink as I carefully hand her each piece of cutlery, and we’re gabbing again, apparently like old times. She must think that Alexa is back, her secret is finally safe, and that everything is just great. But tits or not, I haven’t given up on my reality so quickly.

“Hey bestie,” I say, “I forgot something about our friendship. Grrr — It’s so frustrating that I can’t remember!”

“Ask away,” she chimes, dousing the pan under as the still-hot oil crackles in protest.

Somewhere, deep in a place that only Alexa could know, the sweetest and most innocent tone fills my voice. And even stranger, it carries a body language I seem to perform without a second thought, as if it was Alexa asking a simple question.

“Riley, sis, when did I start going by Lex?”

She replies quickly, “A bit after ya came out as trans.”