*FYI, this is Chapter 1 of 3 that'll be shared here on BC!*

CHAPTER ONE

I usually don’t dread lunches with my sister. In fact, I typically look forward to them. Mostly. But today, unfortunately, is one of those ‘dread’ days.

My sister, Grace, is an enigma. She’s difficult to read, extremely dry, and on top everything, a rebel. Well, maybe not a rebel-rebel, but she lives life on her own terms. She’s brash and abrasive when necessary and unapologetically stands by her decisions, for better or for worse.

Honestly, her past explains a lot, and it’s hard to blame her. Grace came out as gay at the ripe age of 16 — far earlier than most other girls in her grade at Kankakee South High School. Maybe in the more progressive areas of the country, particularly today, 16 isn’t that young. But 12 years ago? Trust me, it was rough for her. And if you lived with our mother and went to our school, it was even rougher.

Nowadays, Grace is killing it. She’s got a great gig as a middle school teacher, her own apartment, and the beginnings of a wonderful little life. It turns out the trauma from bullying and the trials of self-actualization were actually building toward something nice. Grace went through a sea of shit and came out clean on the other side.

As for me? I wish things were that simple.

It was a chilly November afternoon driving to Red Robin for lunch in dreary Kankakee, Illinois. Chicago’s winter weather is known for its never-ending dreariness. The first week of November should still feel like fall, but with each passing year it seems like winter steals yet another week.

I found the parking lot to be shockingly full for a Monday afternoon and struggled to find a spot for my rusty, red pick-up beater before finally settling for a tight-squeeze spot next to an equally shitty truck.

I must’ve done a miserable parking job because when I squeezed out, I was getting glared at by a woman and her child. Though with both of their faces bundled up and obscured by scarves, maybe I’m just projecting.

Not that I’m out and about that often, but I feel like I get looked at and visually dissected more often than most. Unfortunately, I know why.
Quickly shuffling into the restaurant and through double doors, I found myself in the middle of what was clearly a crowded work party. Based on the signs, name tags, and drab business attire, it couldn’t be anything else. After a few seconds of conversation with the hostess,I spotted my sister poking her head through the crowd from the back of the restaurant.

“Thanks, I see her,” I said before sliding around her and through the mess of business-casual diners.

“This was literally the last open table,” Grace began as I sat down and struggled to strip my coat off in the tight booth. “You didn’t call ahead?”
“Who calls ahead for Red Robin? And lunch.”

Grace shrugged, conceding the point. She scanned one of the two menus on the table, but quickly put it down and reached her arm across toward my face.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” I barked, not welcoming a hand in my face.

“It’s your hair, stupid. It’s like, all frizzed up from your hat.” I sat there, reluctant and motionless as I allowed Grace to finger-comb my hair back to its normal state.

See, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s why everyone looks at me everywhere I go.

Not too many dudes have hair the length of mine. Nor do many girls for that matter. A full 26 inches from the top of my head to the tip. Yes, I’ve measured. And despite people jeering and teasing ever since I started growing it out in high school, I kept growing it. ‘Tarzan’ was what kids started calling me. At high school graduation, our principal even included that fun little nickname as I walked across the stage.

“Yuck, it’s all knotted and greasy too…” Grace complained, but caught herself before I could lash out. “Sorry, I’m done! I’m done!”

The server came by and took our orders as Grace and I made small talk about her students. Students in her various science class periods, fellow teachers, and her “hot-but-frustratingly-straight” boss (Grace’s words, not mine) were topics we broached often. At times Grace could be a little negative and cynical, but I really didn’t mind. For some reason, I found my sister’s ramblings comforting and entertaining. Especially today, as I was happy to procrastinate sharing my unfortunate news.

“It’s just, you know, Tom doesn’t grade for shit. If you’re gonna give all the kids A’s for doing literally nothing, of course they’re gonna love you. It’s not my fucking fault I actually do my job.”

I must not have laughed, nodded, or agreed with Grace at the right moment, because she called me out for staring at the wall.

Grace halted her story and looked at me dead-on. “Dude, what’s going on? You’ve been weird all lunch.”

“Nothing,” I blurted out, embarrassed that she caught me. “You’re talking about Jacob?”

“No, Tom. The other science te— Look, you’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

I glanced around, trying to find anything else to change the subject to.

“How long is their lunch break, huh?” I babbled, referencing the increasingly rowdy business folks at our surrounding booths.

But Grace was having none of it. “Nuh-uh-uh. You’re telling me what’s wrong or we’re not leaving.”

Grace again reached across the table, but this time to grab my wrist. Hard.

“Ow!” I shrieked. It was a childish but effective way to get my attention. And she was, and always has been, stronger than me, so the jig was up.

“Fine, fine! Okay?” I cried uncle as she released me. “I… I quit Samford’s.”

Immediately, her jaw dropped. “You WHAT? No fucking way.”

“I don’t know what came over me. He just made one asshole-y comment too many and… I quit on the spot,” I took a swig of water. This was surprisingly tough to say aloud. “It was three days ago.”

Grace leaned back in her chair, baffled by my admission. It was odd seeing her so floored. Usually Grace is pretty unfazed by surprises.
“You’ve worked there, what, three years? Almost four years?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling guilty. This was why I didn’t want to bring it up. I knew Grace would be quick to remind me of the negatives.

“Hardware’s been your whole post-high school life, dude! And now you’re out?” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Just like that!”

Now I was the one sulking in my seat. “The whole drive here I was wondering if I made a mistake… Fuck, did I?”

Grace reached across the table one last time, almost knocking over my drink and the remains of my burger over in the process. But not aggressively so, as she tenderly held my hand.

“No, Mike Samford is an asshat. You can do a lot better. I’m sorry if I didn’t seem supportive.”

Grace’s words felt warm and kind — exactly what I needed now. But it didn’t change the fact that I was still unemployed with not a single job prospect on the horizon — not to mention rent, groceries, and every one of life’s costs looming not so far ahead of me.

“Thank you,” was all I decided to say.

I think Grace could tell today wasn’t the day to discuss the ramifications of quitting the hardware store that’s been my entire professional life since graduating high school. Nor I didn’t want to hear any ‘Alex, you’re only 22! You have so much life ahead of you!’ crap or anything like that. Today, I really just needed a friend. A sister, really.

She kindly picked up the check and kept the conversation light for the rest of our meal, though occasionally having to shout over the noisy neighboring tables. When it came time to bundle up and leave, Grace had one last question for me.

“Mike Samford… are he and Mom still friends?”

I shivered, dreading having to think about explaining this whole thing to Mom. “I don’t think they keep in touch, no. He was more Dad’s friend.”
Grace nodded. “Hmm. Okay. Well, I assume you haven’t told her yet but you might wanna get on that, in case she and Mike run into each other.” She leaned in for a comforting hug. “Just something to think about.”

I stood there in the cold and watched as Grace carefully traversed the slippery ice til she reached her light-blue Prius. God it was freaking’ cold out. But with the thought of having to deal with Mom, things felt a lot colder.

========

I should really consider myself blessed to have had steady employment straight out of high school. As someone who is neither qualified nor interested in attending college and working a boring, white-collar desk job for the rest of his life, watching friends and classmates scatter to their respective universities never really bothered me.

Maybe that’s what drew me to working at a hardware store anyway. I get to A) work with my hands, and B) help people — two things I know I like. Both satisfying, both creative… and now, both gone.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of my Monday. It was my first ever work day without an immediate commitment, and honestly, it sucked. Days off when you have a job are the best. But days off with no job in sight? Terrifying.

My phone rang in the late afternoon as I laid back on my bed. It was Grace.

“Yeah?” I answered apathetically.

“Jeez, what’re you so—“ she began, but quickly remembered my situation. “Not much going on, I take it?”

“No. Shockingly,” I said, dripping in sarcasm. Though I probably should be kinder to her. It was nice to not be in the stinging silence of my dull apartment for once. “What’s up?”

“Well, I dunno man, but you got me all bummed at lunch. I feel bad and I wanna take you somewhere fun. You still bowl, right?”

For the first time all afternoon, a smile actually grew on my face. “I mean, sure! Who doesn’t like bowling?”

“Fuck yeah!” Grace exclaimed. “I’m just wrapping up a few papers and I’ll be over to you in a half hour. Be ready!”

========

HONK! HONK-HONK!

The typical Grace ‘I’m here!’ signal wasn’t a text, a call, or a knock at the door. Instead, for as long as I can remember, it’s been a sequence of three loud, long honks. Say what you will about the rudeness, it’s an effective way to get someone’s attention.

“You’re almost 30!” I shouted at her, slamming the door behind me. “Do you need to keep doing that?”

Grace rolled her eyes, boldly annoyed at my annoyance. “I do so we’re never late.”

I buckled into the front seat of her Prius as she sped off. I glanced at the clock on her dashboard.

“It’s 4 o’clock on a Monday. What’s the rush? There’ll be plenty of lanes.”

Instead of answering me directly, she shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on the road. I should know better than to be surprised by her mood swings. Sometimes with her, all it takes is a snarky comment from a student out the door to make her sour.

Grace’s frantic driving was nothing new either, but today she drove recklessly, flooring the gas pedal and speeding through three straight yellows.

“Grace! What the hell?” I yelled as she ignored my pleas for safety. “There will be lanes, okay?”

Calm but focused, she whipped a right turn just past the train tracks onto Hillgrove avenue — decidedly not where the bowling alley is.

At this point, I knew something was up. I stopped yelling as my anger turned to confusion.

“Grace… Where are we going?”

She didn’t have to ignore me for long, because she whipped her Prius into a parking lot and shifted to park.

“Boom!” she yelled, pointing at the dashboard clock. “Three minutes to spare!”

I was deeply, utterly confused. We weren’t at the bowling alley. In fact, we were nowhere near the bowling alley.

“Spare for what? Why aren’t we at the alley?”

Again, another non-answer from her as she gestured out the front window.

I lowered my head to get a view of the establishment we were parked in front of. It wasn’t immediately obvious what I was looking at, but at least the large sign was written clearly.

“Lily’s Touch?” I read aloud, still failing to understand. As I sat there in the car bewildered, I watched a beautiful woman scamper through the cold and into the double doors right in front of us.

“This is the surprise,” Grace announced. “I figured you’re feeling down and all, so I’m treating us to a little salon day!”

========

Two more sample chapters will be posted this week, but the entirety of Maybe You'll Like It is available on Amazon right now!

Really hope you all enjoy :)

-Jennifer

AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Maybe-Youll-Like-Gradual-Feminization...