As I hid behind the backyard mint bush while attempting to discretely swat bugs off my skin without alerting my friends to my presence, I decided this was officially the most awkward dinner party I'd ever been too.

Not the worst dinner party, mind you – Dean, when he was Dom to me, had dragged me along to a conference dinner once as a reward for losing weight. That was absolute hell. The food was fancy and rich, and I was conscious of the calories of every crumb I allowed past my lips as Dom watched me like a hawk. The people were awful, stereotypical douchebag lawyers and their vapid trophy wives, which meant the discussions were either about complex litigation matters I couldn't follow, or concerned the latest Kardashian/West dramas and where to find the best lipliner tattoo artist.

At the end of the night, Dom had critiqued me mercilessly, and I'd fallen asleep in tears – after doggy-style sex where he'd almost yanked my hair clean off my scalp. Funny, the things you forget... Being back in Dom's bed after so long caused all kinds of odd memories to float to the surface at unexpected moments, and I was doing my best to keep them submerged.

This dinner party had been awks from the start, as Nev would say. Nev had introduced Bailey as we'd walked in, but it was clear she hadn't thought about how to refer to them. "Mum, Nonna,, Jazz, Liana, this is my... This is Bailey. Bailey and I, we're- well, we have been really close on the road, and Bailey is important to me, okay?"

I'd winced, but Bailey's face had been neutral. I'd wondered if they'd retreated into their mind, to the places where they'd hid when their own family had treated them like an oddity. "Hi, I'm Bailey. My pronouns are they/them."

"Your what?" Nev's mother, a slender woman with dyed auburn hair and darkly tanned skin, blinked in confusion.

"Their pronouns, Mum," said Nev. "Like, instead of she and her, or he and him, Bailey uses they and them."

"But... There's only one of you." Mrs Cirillo looked around at her other daughters and her mother, her face seeking a sign that this was madness. "They is for more than one person."

I paused, waiting for Simon to launch into one of his classic lectures about gender and the limitations of the English language, forgetting for a second that he was dead. Guess it's up to me. "Actually, Mrs Cirillo, because we don't have a non-gendered pronoun, people like Bailey use they and them to refer to just one person. Most languages in the world don't even have grammatical gender – English is a minority that way."

"Yeah," interjected Nev. "And we do use they and them for one person in English too – like saying, 'if someone comes to dinner and they insult the food, they would get a boot to the arse.'"

"Ma, just let them in," said Liana, evidently bored. "Nev, give us a hand in the kitchen."

After only an hour in Nev's familial home, it was evident that gender lines were everywhere, like invisible duct tape stretched across the rooms. The men - Nev's step-dad, her sister's husbands and her nonna's partner - sat in the front lounge smoking in silence, which was where Rueben was immediately relegated to. The women dominated the kitchen; it was hard to tell if they were cheerful because of the large amount of yelling that went on, but they seemed content. The little girls were coddled and doted upon – Mischa happily wallowed in the attention – but the boys were screamed at and insulted constantly.

Bailey lurked in the corridor, not sent in with the men or invited to help with the women. I didn't want to believe they'd been deliberately excluded; it felt more like a case of not knowing what to do with them. I kept Bailey company, pouring us both pinot noir from the bottle I'd claimed from Dean's wine rack, and Nev shot us apologetic looks as she bustled around.

Liana announced dinner with an almighty bellow – not for nothing was she jurisdiction crier – then she proceeded to dominate the conversation at the crowded table filled with woodfire pizzas. "So, the runners take the messages between the jurisdictions, and we've sent teams to Sydney and Adelaide and Canberra as envoys too, check in on what they're doing, see if we can help. Tomorrow, it's a D2D day – that's door-to-door, yeah? We get teams on the street checking in with people, make sure they're okay and if they need- boys, if youse keep being little dickheads, I swear, you'll be eating out of a dog bowl in the kitchen!"

My eyes flew across the table to meet Bailey's. I'd meant to smile encouragingly, but I paused when I saw metallic fire burning behind their eyes that had nothing to do with the candle light. "I have a question," Bailey said with barely-concealed anger. "Why do the boys sit alone at their own table?"

It was a fair question. Even dinner had been segregated, with the men at the far end of the main table, the boys sequestered at a separate table altogether. Bailey, I'd noticed, had been placed somewhere in the middle of the men and women, and was being largely ignored.

All through dinner, Nev had sat uncomfortably by Bailey's side, clutching at their fingers under the table between bouts of discussion with her sister and mother that seemed to stream from their mouths like verbal diarrhoea. I felt her nerves; the strain of seeing her family after so long coupled with bringing a new SO home, plus the general end-of-world tensions layered with the uniqueness of her and Bailey's relationship.

None of this was exactly unexpected; Nev had warned us about how her family operated but seeing it in the flesh was different. My chest ached to see Bailey, stoic and silent, enduring yet another family situation that didn't want to acknowledge them.

And now Bailey had asked a question that silenced the table; even the small boys paused their antics to listen to the response. Liana spoke first. "Uh, because they're boys. They're all dirty grubs, and if we let them sit with us, they'll trash the table and act like idiots."

"But being messy and noisy isn't a gendered thing," said Bailey calmly. "That boy over there, who's he?"

Nev supplied the name of the kids sitting quietly at the boys' table. "That's JJ."

"Well, he's the neatest, best behaved kid in this place. And that little miss," Bailey said, indicating the girl with her hands deep in a bowl of salad sitting next to Liana, "she's been way more nuts than any of the boys."

Mrs Cirillo spoke up. "This is how it's done in our home, Bailey."

"But why?" Bailey pressed. "Kids often act the way they're treated too, so the longer that you assume 'boys will be boys' and reinforce to girls that their only worth is in being pretty, the more they'll try to live up to their stereotypes."

"Stereotypes exist for a reason," said Mrs Cirillo. "Now, who wants dessert?"

Bailey opened their mouth to speak again, but Nev squeezed their hand, and I watched Bailey shake their head sadly as they gave up.

Over the dried fruit and cheese platters, Nev's other sister called out. "Hey, Bailey? Like, no offence, but I know we're all wondering... are you, like, actually a chick or a bloke?"

Jesus. I choked on a slice of salami as Bailey answered coolly. "I'm non-binary, Jazz. That means I don't identify as a man or a woman."

"Yeah, but..." I watched the woman struggle to phrase her question another way. "Like, what were you born with – a hoo hoo or dangly bits?"

Giggles broke out around the table, from both the children and the adults. The rage bubble that had been slowly growing in my chest finally popped. My voice was verging on a shout as I said, "Hey, Jazz? When you gave birth to the twins, did they give you an episiotomy – like, cut your vaginal opening or did your perineum just tear?"

"What?" she said, her face growing purple.

"Or what about your husband's penis? Is he circumcised?"

Jazz's voice was barely a squeak. "I beg your freaking pardon?"

I leaned forward and lowered my tone to a growl. "It's not pleasant to talk about your genitals with a stranger in a public forum, is it?"

A bark of laughter came from the far end of the table, and I looked up to see Nonna with a grin on her face. The rest of Nev's family goggled at me in horror. Bailey nodded in thanks, and Rueben chuckled proudly. I didn't dare to look at Nev's face.

Mrs Cirillo recovered fastest. "Okay, which one of youse is going to help me boil water for tea and coffee?" She exited the room, followed closely by the other women.

My stomach released a gurgle of acid, stirred up by eating cheese for the first time in a few weeks, and I burped into my hand. "I need water," I said to Nev, excusing myself.

I didn't dare walk into the lioness's lair that was the kitchen, so I slid open the side door to the back veranda. I knew I'd seen a wooden bar with a sink outside overlooking the pumpkin patch seedlings and a well-established herb garden. I filled a glass and drained it, the water cool against my throat, but my burping continued. All this extended stress was doing nothing for my digestion.

I remembered from a Googling session when I was pregnant that peppermint was supposed to help with gastric reflux. Stepping into the dark herb garden, I reached for the small leaves around me, plucking and crushing to identify them by scent. That's basil. You're parsley. Rosemary?

I wandered deeper into bushes, finally finding the distinct and soft mint leaves I'd been hunting for. Gratefully, I crammed a few in my mouth just as two people walked out onto the veranda. Bailey and Nev. My mouth opened to alert them to my presence, just as a mint leaf shard lodged itself in my throat. Winded and silent, I doubled over, eyes streaming as I spat green gobs into the dirt.

By the time I straightened up, Nev was already speaking. "Bailey, I'm so sorry. They don't mean it."

"I know."

"They're just... This is new for them."

"I know."

She moved forward to hug Bailey, but they didn't hug her back. Nev whispered, "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not."

"You are!"

I knew I should have said something, but the conversation was in too deep to be interrupted. I hid and tried not to listen with zero success.

Bailey said, "I'm not mad, Nev. I didn't expect anything different. It's always been like this for me. I've never met a family who I liked, or who liked me."

A heavy beat. "You don't like my family?"

"Please don't be like that. You know they didn't like me either. And I'm aware it's new for them to have a non-binary person in their midst, that's not the issue, but the old school gendered garbage that's engrained here does my head in."

"So, what? You're just going to ditch me now, run off to Tassie just because you don't love my family?"

Bailey reached for her hands. "No. I'm not leaving. I'm won't be living here, it's fine, I can stay at Karla's ex's place and you can visit me there. I don't have to love your family, Nev. I love you."

"I love you too." They kissed fiercely, their slender forms intertwined as silhouettes in the reflected lantern lights from inside. Then Nev pulled back. "That's why I can't let you stay here. You have to go with Karla and the others."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're going to live on your own, with no support and no family in a city you've never been in before? You'll be miserable."

"I'll be happy because I'll be with you."

"You have a clan who needs you and wants you. It's not fair for me to make you stay here. I don't want that."

"What do you want, Nev?" Bailey framed her face, their slender fingers holding her cheeks and lovingly wiping away her tears.

"I want... I want the world to be different. I want to come with you."

"Then come."

"It's not that easy. My family are here."

"Do you feel how you get swallowed up by your family? It's like you're a different person here."

"I know. It's always been like this though. Liana's the ball-buster, Jazz is the princess, my mum yells and my Nonna reigns over everything. I just try to fit in and keep up."

"They don't need you, Nev. Not like we need you. Not like I need you."

"I'm sorry. I can't."

They kissed again. Bailey said, "I'm not leaving you, no matter what. If you want to stay, we'll stay."

The sliding door slammed and both Bailey and Nev jumped as a third figure joined them. "Nonna!"

"I want to have a chat with my granddaughter," said Nonna. I realised this was the first time I'd heard her speak all night - she was definitely more of the scary-stare type of matriarch - but her perfect English was lyrical and thick with accent.

"Of course." Bailey kissed Nev's cheek. "I'll see you in there."

When they were alone (except for me, wriggling to keep the mossies from landing on my skin) Nonna said, "Did I ever tell you about coming over here with your grandfather?"

"Not much. Just that one day you decided to move with Pappy, so you got married and packed up and that was it."

Nonna sat heavily on a barstool, turning her wrinkled face to the night sky. "Back in the old country, I had a very big family. Do you think they were pleased to watch me sail off to the other side of the world with a man I'd only just met?"

"No..."

"Your pappy had a job waiting for him in Australia, and he would have given it up to be with me. I decided he shouldn't have to. My mother, she cried, my father, he threatened me. But I was my own woman, and I chose Pappy."

"Did you ever regret it?"

"Of course!" she laughed, the dry barking sound rattling out of her chest. "A thousand times over! Whenever I had an argument with Pappy, or the Australians would make fun of my accent, or I had two children under two and no family to help me. But at the end of each day, I knew that my life with Pappy was worth more than a thousand little moments of regret. I would never change the choice I made."

Nev wiped her streaming eyes. "So, what are you saying, Nonna?"

She placed a shaking hand on Nev's smooth one. "I'm not saying anything, Neveah. You are a strong, beautiful young woman, capable of making choices for yourself. Part of growing up means that the family you were born with becomes less of a priority, and you make a family of your own. One day, I'll be gone, so will your mother, your sisters have their own lives and children. Make sure that wherever you choose to be, you are there for yourself, not for their sakes."

They left the veranda, and I snuck back inside, hoping that no one noticed the grass stains on my long red skirt. Everything was wrapping up by then, people saying their goodbyes and offering thanks, but there was no warmth to the interactions.

Mrs Cirillo approached Bailey. "Well, this certainly was... interesting."

Bailey smiled dryly. "It was."

"I've always said, I don't care who my children love, girl or boy, if they are treated right, they're alright with me." She nodded at Bailey slowly. "You treat my Neveah right, and I have no problem with you."

"Thanks."

Nev followed us to the street, uncharacteristically quiet. "I'll see youse tomorrow, yeah?"

Rueben spoke up, his voice low and soft. "Last day tomorrow. We'll have to get an early night of sleep so we can sail at dawn on Tuesday."

Bailey, Nev and I froze. "Oh." We had a date, a time, a countdown to the splitting of our clan. The impending moment loomed before us as we left Nev and journeyed into the night.

We walked in silence for a few blocks, until Mischa said sleepily, "Daddy, can you carry me?"

"You're getting a bit big for that," Rueben responded, groaning with her weight as he lifted her.

"No, I'm not. I'm your baby."

"Yes, you are."

I smiled, watching him curl Mish to his chest. He said, "You two can go ahead. I might be a bit slow carrying this big baby."

"We won't go far."

Bailey and I walked in front of him. In my most diplomatic voice, I said, "So... Nev's family..."

"They're fine," said Bailey quickly.

"Really?"

"You can't expect people to change overnight, just because something new comes along. It might just take time."

I internally commented that it would take Nev's family several millennia to adjust their ways. "You're still going to stay then?"

"I'm going to stay wherever Nev is."

"Then we better make tomorrow count. We'll do something fun together, okay?"

I glanced at Bailey, alarmed to see tears falling from their grey eyes. They said, "I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

We linked arms and walked in silence back to Dean's townhouse. Inside, we all wandered off to bed, barely a murmured goodbye between us.

As I closed the door to Dean's bedroom, fatigue opened another door in my mind, leaving me defenceless as a hundred memories swamped me at once, overlaying the room with the one I'd used to know.

I race into the bedroom, panting, covered in sweat, heart painfully thumping. "Dom? Where are you? Are you okay?"

He lies on the bed, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a grin on his face. "Right here, baby girl."

"Did you take the pills? Are you okay? Should I call 000?" I'm frantic with worry from his threat, and I clamber onto the bed, reaching for him.

He grabs me and flips me easily onto my back. "Settle down, you idiot. I didn't take anything. I just wanted you home."

I should be mad, but his kisses feel good, and more than that – I am wanted. He needs me so much, as much as I need him. I surrender, and he strips off my sweaty jeans, pushing me onto my stomach. For a moment, I writhe in anticipation, then as he penetrates me anally without preamble, agony racks my body and I almost black out. I don't scream in pain; what he's doing to me is horrific, but on some level I know it will be worse if I make him stop.

Another night. I'm lying in bed, waiting to hear his snores. There is an agonising burn between my thighs that normally settles down a few minutes after sex. I'm used to not coming when we make love, but tonight I'm so stimulated, I won't be able to sleep until I reach orgasm. Once Dom drops off, I'll make myself quietly come and everything will be fine.

But Dom is sleeping lightly tonight, and my subtle movements wake him. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you...?"

I am so close, and desperation for release makes me plead. "I just... I needed a bit extra tonight."

"So, what are you saying? I'm not enough for you?"

"No, you are, Dom, I swear-"

"Are you a nympho or something? If you're going to fap off like a needy bitch, go in the fucking bathroom."

I scurry off to his ensuite, tears of humiliation rolling down my face as I bring on an unsatisfying climax, trying to avoid seeing how disgusting I look in the mirror.

The light changes; still in the bathroom, another night. I'm on the tiles, surrounded by bloody pads, trying to cry without tears or sound. Dom wanders in. "So... I guess you're not up for it tonight then?"

I had an abortion less than twelve hours ago; even if I could manage it physically, I was too distraught to sit up, let alone make love. "Can you give me a day?" I croak.