The Voice That Rejected Masculinity

I was 17 when I first heard my voice the way others did. On a quiet Saturday evening, my mother’s bright orange Trium cellphone rang, its black body vibrating in an arc on the dining table. I checked the screen: “Mama I.” Her elder sister was calling from London. I pulled the antenna and pressed the answer button.

“Hello, Auntie.” I walked to my parents’ bedroom where the signal was stronger.

“Hello.” Her response sounded hoarse and uncertain, almost like a question. I pictured her in her cold London apartment.