Life had always been hard for Roman Reeves. Since birth he had been an outcast—literally—among his community. That's what life as the only boy in a family of twelve girls was like. It didn't help that his parents had moved into a commune long before any of them had been born. A commune that valued women above all and treated males as servants. Roman only knew a life such as this, where he kept quiet at home, at school, and even at the small job he worked at after class ended. Teachers graded his work harder than others, his parents punished him for his sister's faults, and people on the street glared when he walked by. So unprepared for males as the commune was, they had to build new restrooms just for Roman. It wasn't for his sense of privacy—that didn't exist; it was for the girls. Many complained that they disliked Roman sharing their space for fear he would infect the good karma.

At the end of the day, Roman was unwanted, which is why he planned to leave as soon as he turned the legal age of adulthood—twenty-three. Today was the eve of his birthday; Roman's time was finally coming. Tonight he would talk to his moms about leaving. All he needed was the code to the wall. Then freedom. He vigorously wiped his palms on his black jeans and straightened the tie he only wore for special occasions as he descended the spiral staircase. The normal signs of a good dinner being had filled his ears; as typical, his family didn't bother to wait for Roman before being served. Even on his birthday Roman was an afterthought.

Tonight is my night, Roman thought. He wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting what he wanted. His dress shoes echoed in the wide-open space of high ceilings, sparse furniture, and white—all white everywhere. The smooth concrete made it easy to have round walls that made their home look like a solid bubble. They carried the sounds of his sisters and mothers conversing. It's not about him, never that, but about Jennifer’s upcoming graduation from Latter School. In one month she would be done with all of the courses their commune required for all growing children under eighteen.

Roman made his approach as gentle as he could, slowing his steps and breathing steadily. He creeped up to the open partition of the dining room. For a full minute Roman stood at the entryway with no acknowledgement. It wasn’t an accident, he was sure, just that no one felt their conversation should have to be stopped just for him to enter. After all, he had waited an hour already; what were another few moments? The scent of roasted meat, steamed vegetables, and fresh fruit salad made Roman’s stomach rumble.

“You may enter, Roman,” his mother Mary sighed. She regretted him the most, oftentimes going on tirades about his disrupting their unblemished record. Out of the total twenty-seven children his mother had raised both before and after joining the commune, only Roman had somehow gotten the stroke of bad luck. There were many nights he heard his mothers arguing about which caused the disease of his gender. They never resolved that frustration.

“Thank you, ma'am."

Roman bowed to his family and stepped past the threshold into a silent room. His sisters had gone quiet, choosing to play with the scraps on their plates rather than interact around a boy.

Head held high, Roman walked back to the corner seat and began serving himself from the food his family left over. It wasn’t much, but plenty for him. There were some nights he was turned away because there was nothing left. Other nights he was left to feast alone. This night was a mild compromise between the two extremes, and that was enough.

He hoped his mothers would bring his upcoming event up themselves, but after fifteen minutes of silverware scraping clean plates, he cleared his voice. The whole room turned wide eyes in his direction. Never had Roman interrupted the quiet. He suffered the silence with a fixed smile, ate, and then retired to his room or the library. It was the only other place in the house that was all Roman’s since the rest of his family weren’t fans of reading.

“What is it, child?” his other mother, Patricia, asked, exasperated.

“Mothers, sisters, please excuse my intrusion on your evening, but I have something important to discuss.”

His parents looked even more shocked, as if they expected him to simply apologize and go back to his usual ways. They didn’t turn him down, though, which Roman took as an excellent sign.

“It’s about my birthday. It comes tomorrow. I know I will not get a present, so please don’t misunderstand me, but it is my twenty-third."

“Already?” Patricia breathed. She exchanged a concerned look with her partner before turning back to her son.

“Yes, mothers. It is time.”

“Time for what, Roman?”

Roman’s hands were slick once again, but he dared not to wipe them in front of Mary Reeves, the resident designer and tailor. Instead, he pressed one sharp nail to the center of his palm. The pain masked his nerves enough to speak the next sentence.

“Well, when Harmony turned twenty-three, she was given her code… for the wall…” He let the words hang in the air. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, opting to look down at his plate instead, in an effort to appear disinterested. If anyone got a whiff of how much Roman needed this, they would snatch it away just to watch him crumble. And crumble he would. If Roman didn’t receive the code from his mother, he would have to resort to drastic measures. He didn’t know what world was out there waiting for him, but it had to be better than the one he lived in now. Even if the other communes hated him, Roman needed to try; maybe he could convince them of his worth.

“Hmm. Yes, your code. Well, put simply, no. Now Tina, what were you saying about your upcoming recital?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Simply, no. No. No, no, no. The word swirled around his mind over and over. Every breath felt like bench pressing an elephant. He sucked down air, yet it wasn’t enough. Each breath took more than it gave, so he stopped. Roman held it in for ten seconds, breathed, then repeated the calming cycle until his heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm.

Roman risked a peek around the table and was surprised to find all eyes except Mary’s on him. It seemed his sisters were seeing him in a new light, having heard him speak for the first time in months. They must not have known quite how old he’d gotten as he wasted away in his tower. Here they were, faced with his very real man voice and looks. It made Roman insecure. What did they think of his new size since he’s been working out in his room? What about the light beard decorating his jaw in dark brown hair? He had changed a lot in the last year. It wasn’t a coincidence that these transformations coincided with his birthday; Roman thought he might have a better chance of winning over social groups if he were stronger, smarter, and faster. Someone had to want him.

“Hold on, Mary,” Patricia interjected, “why isn’t Roman getting his code?”

Mary’s eyes flashed at her wife before she gritted out, "Because he is not going anywhere.”

This was news to Roman. Everyone in the society had a recognition ceremony during which they chose to stay or go. Roman wouldn’t be any different. Or would he?

“Why not? He is an adult now; he can choose for himself.”

“No, he can’t, sweetheart.” Mary looked around at all the curious eyes around the table, her final gaze landing on Roman. She flayed him with her eyes until she blinked and looked back at her partner. “This needs to be discussed in private. Children, leave us.”

Chairs scraped against the tile as one by one the girls left. They all gave Roman various looks as they ran off. It wasn’t often that their mothers would disagree, but when it happened, it led to loud arguments followed by the silent treatment. At last, Roman stood to return to his room in the far corner of the abode.

“Not you, Roman. We need to talk.”