A snow globe, of sorts, of an insulated world where dreams can come true over several holidays.

Academic, by Karin Bishop

Part 6

Chapter 15: Show and Tell

Tuesday was a hoot. I was stoned from the shot, semi-delirious through the procedure and the drive home, and bundled into bed. It was all one big fuzzy dream full of tugging and pressure and weirdness. And then I slept straight through, almost to noon.

When I woke up I felt a little groggy like I’d slept too long, but at least I wasn’t stoned anymore. I swung my legs out of bed and whoa everything felt different and I pulled up my nightie and pulled down my panties and there it was! Or I should say, there it wasn’t! And I giggled and cried at the same time. Mom heard me and came in with a worried, ‘Honey?’ and I reached out my arms and we hugged and I sobbed–but with happiness.

Oddly enough in that day of oddness, the first thought I had was, ‘Let Steve Duncan pull my panties down now!’

Next came a shower, recommended by Mom to ‘sweep the last of the cobwebs away’. It felt wonderful and then amped up several levels of wonderful when I began soaping my breasts, tummy, and moved down and there was nothing there! I was careful and a little sore but oh, God! It felt like it should have always felt!

It was hard to see anything, really, so after drying I got a hand mirror from my vanity, lay on my bed and looked at myself.

It was so pretty!

I hadn’t been prepared for it to be pretty; I was concerned first with its existence, and second with its functionality, in the sense that it would prove that I was a girl.

But suddenly I realized why some girls called it their ‘little flower’. I was pleased and proud. And I wondered how over-the-moon I would be when I got my actual vagina!

I started dressing with new, ivory panties, and it was exquisite to pull them on and there was my smooth mound! I called out, ‘Mom!’ and she startled me by being right there, leaning on the doorjamb.

“Yes, dear,” she smiled. “Bikinis.”

“God! How did you read my mind?”

“It’s the first thought I had, too,” she chuckled. “And leotards. And maybe we can find you something today to celebrate your new status.” Then she almost giggled. “Time to warn you about camel toes, too!”

I blushed. “Already know about ‘em, Mom,” I giggled with her. “And I won’t lie–I’d be a little bit proud to have one!”

“After your journey so far, I understand. But still, now that you’re a young lady, propriety must be observed. Oh, I have some news for you. But finished getting dressed and get some breakfast in you.” She left.

I put on my bra, then a ribbed, rust-colored top, pulled on a denim skirt and did my hair and put on flats and went to eat.

Mom was being mean, not telling me my news until I got everything finished and put away, went back to put on makeup and jewelry, and, yes, grabbed my coat and purse.

In the car, once we were out of the driveway, I turned and said, “So …news?”

“Oh, it’s nothing …Abigail Elizabeth Houseman.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why the full name?”

“How much of our discussion yesterday do you remember? Before the procedure, I mean?”

“Um …most of it, I think, until the shot, and then everything kind of melted.”

Mom chuckled. “Interesting way to put it. Alright; I’ll do a slight recap and fold it into the calls I’ve had this morning.”

She paused as she negotiated a turn at a busy intersection. Once we were in the traffic flow, she began.

“As you may or may not remember–and please, ladies and gentlemen, save your questions for the end of our presentation–you are genetically female when all of the genetic markers are added up. At the time of your birth, your birth certificate was based on the …”

“Dangly boy bit?” I said, like an old Monty Python line. “Sorry.”

“That was your one free interruption,” Mom teased. “But it was exactly right, but let’s add one word. Your birth certificate was based on your dangly alleged boy bit. And they did no routine DNA testing at the time. So ...”

Another turn.

“So, the hospital’s legal department has been buzzing since yesterday afternoon and had some news for me earlier today and then called again just when you were in the shower.”

She paused as she pulled into the mall–our mall.

“We’re going here?” I said, worried, and then said, “Sorry. Not for the interruption; for the …little freak out. Of course I shop here now. I’m a girl now. No going back, right?”

“No, sweetheart; no going back.” She parked, turned and looked at me. “You’re ready?”

“For the mall, yes, but not until you tell me about the phone calls!”

She acted innocent. “Oh! Did I say anything about any phone calls?”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “Alright. What I’m going to tell you is a work in progress, okay? They gave me an update but …you know the saying ‘daylight at the end of the tunnel?’ Well, that’s where they are, where we are. We’re still in the tunnel, moving forward.”

“So how is that any different than last night?”

“Ah! To keep my metaphor going, we’re in the tunnel but we’ve established there is, in fact, light at the end of it–guaranteed light, so to speak. And we know we’re heading in the right direction, and the way is straight and clear. And it just takes time to traverse the last remaining bit of straight tunnel into the light.” She tilted her head and looked surprised. “Whew! That metaphor worked better than I thought!”

“Okay. Now, if you could un-metaphor it for me. Or de-metaphor.”

“What did Shelly call you sometimes? Little Miss English?”

“Missy Perfect English Girl,” I smiled, remembering. “God, I miss her! I hope she’s okay!”

Mom nodded but didn’t comment. “To translate the metaphor into concrete terms, then. The hospital legal department, pushed by Dr. Randall, determined this morning that with changes in medical science and medical law, you are, in fact, female and they’ve mounted the case to petition the state for a change of name and change of birth certificate. It’s a one-two process usually, for medical reasons. But in your situation, they’re approaching it differently. They’re taking the angle that your original birth certificate is fraudulent, which is very different than petitioning to alter an existing, true document.”

“Mom, are they …stretching things? Calling it fraudulent?”

“The doctors are confident and, honey, they’re certainly mindful of their reputations. They wouldn’t be doing any of this if it wasn’t true and justified. You’re just reluctant to accept the whole truth, and I don’t blame you. You’re cautious, and that’s very wise. But I’ve got to tell you, I was floored when they told me! I just kept saying, ‘Wait, wait; go back. What?’ and they kept taking me over the details. I’m convinced, and they’re convinced. And the lawyers are convinced; they’re working on convincing the state. So …are you convinced?”

“Um, kinda,” I said, sheepishly. “Sorry I questioned. Go on. I’m in a tunnel …”

Mom chuckled at that. “Okay. So the lawyers say it’s only a matter of time–and I gather they mean in the next month, maybe sooner–and you will be legally declared a female at birth and a new birth certificate will be ordered. I know that ‘fraudulent’ bothers you, so how’s this? ‘Corrected’. Your birth certificate will be corrected. I filled out papers last night while the doctors worked on you, so while we may have to make a court appearance, it’s in the hands of the lawyers and courts now.”

I was actually getting excited about the possibilities; so much so that I forgot my anxiety about going into ‘our’ mall. “So the upshot is …”

“The upshot is that very soon–I’ll tease you and say ‘as soon as an hour from now and as long as six months from now’–you will be declared completely and utterly female at birth. All of your legal and school documentation will change to reflect that; and we’ll apply for a passport for you as well.”

She looked at me strangely. I couldn’t read it; usually I could but not right now. Plus, I was antsy about shopping. “That’s fantastic news! I can’t wait to call Shelly and Lu. Um …can we go in now?”

Mom grinned. “Sure, honey.”

I couldn’t figure out that look but forgot about it while we shopped. On Mom’s whim, I got some leotards, white lower and royal blue upper, and some more tights, and of course some more odds and ends at Claire’s.

Coming out of Claire’s, we came face-to-face with Amy and her mother, Mrs. Holden, coming in.

There was a moment of polite smile and then Amy gasped. “Benjamin?”

“Abby,” I said with some force. “Excuse me,” I said to her mother. Amy was frozen, staring, and I plucked the sleeve of her coat to pull her out of the store entrance and over to a bench.

Mom stepped in quickly. “I’ll talk with Mrs. Holden for a moment. I’m Marion Houseman …” she began, as I stepped out of earshot.

Amy found her voice. “I can’t believe it! You look great! What’s going on? Do you do this often? Do you–omigod, your hair is so cute! And …”

“Amy, Amy; calm down and listen. You want to listen?” I said patiently.

She’d actually stopped speaking but her mouth still hung open. She closed it and nodded.

Okay, I thought, first field-test of the new story line.

“I’ll tell you everything if you promise to not interrupt.”

“I promise! And I won’t tell a soul! I promise that, too!” She crossed her heart.

I laughed. “No, Amy; I’m not swearing you to secrecy! This isn’t a secret, not anymore. So don’t worry about telling anybody, okay? There’s nothing to hide, okay?” If I said ‘okay’ enough times, maybe she’d get it, okay?`

She frowned. “But you’re dressing up like a girl in secret, at home, right?”

“No, I’m not ‘dressing up’ like a costume. I’m dressed like a girl because I am a girl,” I shrugged.

“But …”

I held up a hand. “Mom?” I called.

“Yes, honey?” she said, looking at me from a frowning Mrs. Holden.

I said, “Should we all go somewhere and tell this?”

Mom looked at Mrs. Holden who nodded. I noticed her frown had changed from sort-of disapproval to sort-of confused.

The mothers conferred for a moment. Amy said, “But you’re a boy–”

I shushed her, saying, “Please? Amy? Hold off on saying anything?”

The mothers walked up. Mom said, “Under the circumstances, nowhere is truly private enough here at the mall, so Mrs. Holden suggested her van.”

“It’s right out that entrance,” Mrs. Holden pointed. “We were just leaving but checking Claire’s before we left.”

In a matter of minutes we were in their van. The only weird thing was that as we walked, Amy gasped, “God! The way you walk!” and even her mother shushed her.

There was a little back-and-forth and it was decided Holdens up front, Housemans on the back bench. I slid in first, mindful of my skirt.

I looked at all of them and said, “I’ll go first. Mrs. Holden, I want to tell you first that at no time has there been any fraud or any hanky-panky or any weird stuff of any kind. You’ve always been very nice to me and I appreciate that.”

“Thank you, Benja …” She trailed off, realizing the name was all wrong.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Holden; I realize this is a freaky situation. And to explain it, I’m going to have to be a little …graphic in …”

Mom stepped in to relieve me. “She means she needs to discuss anatomy. With all due respect, of course.”

“Yes, exactly,” I nodded, glanced at Mom and began. “When I was born, I was supposed to be a girl. The way Mom carried me, all of the doctor’s visits, ultrasounds, everything. My name was picked out, Abigail Elizabeth. So when I was born, the doctors themselves were surprised that there was something that looked like a penis so they said that I was a boy. Apparently it was a shock to everybody. Since we were told that I was a boy, for thirteen years I’ve been trying to be a boy named Benjamin. But I never felt like a boy, I never thought like a boy. They’re the opposite sex to me. I always felt closer to girls, like I was one of them, except that I was supposed to be a boy, because that’s what they told me I was.”

I let that sink in.

Then I tried a new tack. “Mrs. Holden, Amy …you know boys and you know girls. Did you ever think I was a boy?”

Amy frowned and then shook her head. Mrs. Holden said, “Well, I don’t want to …”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Holden,” I said. “You can say anything. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

Mom said, “It will truly be best for everyone to say what they truly feel and truly mean. I think that you’ll find that …” She looked at me and smiled. “You’ll find that we’ve got pretty thick skins.”

Mrs. Holden nodded. “Fair enough. I always thought Benjamin was a gay boy. Extremely pretty and effeminate, and …” She frowned, looking at me. “You know, you’re right. You said that I know boys and I know girls. And I’ve met a few gay boys, too. You seemed …On the surface of things, you seemed like a gay boy. Small, delicate, pretty, long hair, the way you talk and walk and giggle and you were like just one of the girls …”

She stared. “Oh, my God! That’s it! You were like one of the girls because you were a girl! Are a girl!”

I nodded. “Mrs. Holden, some …medical things with me led us to get me checked out and …”

I noticed Mom frowning slightly at me and I realized that I needed to be clearer than ‘some medical things’.

“I’m sorry that sounded vague, and after I’d said I’d speak in graphic anatomical terms! Okay. Mrs. Holden, Amy …I started puberty. A female puberty. My breasts budded and are growing. That kind of made it evident I needed to see the doctors! Once they examined and examined again, the doctors found to their surprise that I’m female. Genetically, I mean, not just wishin’ and hopin’. They discovered that when I was born, what my birth doctors thought was my penis was an enlarged clitoris.”

Amy gasped, staring wide-eyed, while her mother nodded. “I’ve heard of this before.”

I said, “I’ve got more doctor things to do, but the lawyers are already changing things. Very soon a proper new birth certificate, a corrected birth certificate, will be issued stating that I was female at birth.” Mom was right; I liked ‘corrected’ much better.

Mrs. Holden said, “I understand. And it is true, isn’t it?”

Mom said, “Absolutely. And it explained so much …I can’t tell you how relieved I was. I’ve been so worried about her safety.”

Mrs. Holden said, “Honestly, it’s a wonder he hasn’t been–she hasn’t been attacked by now.”

“Amy? You okay?” I asked, noticing she was still staring.

“You’re really pretty and all, but …I don’t …” She was frowning. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but I just don’t get it.”

Mrs. Holden said, “I can explain when we get home.”

Amy said, “But he’s a boy! Boys don’t change into girls!”

We all knew that Amy was still immature and pretty innocent, but I realized that her entire worldview was shaken. I came to a quick decision.

“Mrs. Holden; you said you were on your way home. Do you have an extra ten-fifteen minutes?”

“Certainly. We were done shopping and dinner won’t be started for another hour or so.”

“Could you both come with Mom and me? Back into the mall, I mean?”

So we shuffled out of the van and back through the crunchy snow to Macy’s. Amy did the gasp thing at how I put my purse over my shoulder, fluffed my hair, and so on. I noticed her mother’s smile twitching; she’d figured what I was up to and didn’t bother shushing Amy. Mom and I led them to the Ladies’ Room and we went in, earning another small shocked gasp from Amy. There was one woman finishing touching up her makeup and just leaving, and for a moment, anyway, it was just the four of us.

Mom said, “I’ll see if I can keep anybody else out for a moment.” She left us.

I said, “Mrs. Holden? Amy? This is going to be so weird for all of us so let’s just get it over.”

I quickly peeled off my top and heard an intake of breath at my bra. Mrs. Holden automatically reached out to hold my top for me. I reached behind and unclasped my bra.

Amy gasped. “You’ve got boobs!”

Her mother said, “Hush, honey. Yes, she does.” Her smiled twitched again. “She told us she does!”

Amy took two steps towards me, staring and frowning.

I sighed. “You could touch them if you want–if you need to.”

A hand started to raise, but she shook herself. “No, it’s okay. They’re boobs. Breasts, I mean.”

“Yes,” I said, quickly redoing my bra and taking my top from Mrs. Holden I pulled it on.

“Oh, God! The medical thing you said!” Amy said with surprise.

I nodded. Mrs. Holden said, “You must admit, Amy, that when Benjamin began developing breasts they had to see a doctor.”

Amy nodded automatically, still awed. Meanwhile, I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it, standing in my ivory panties. Mrs. Holden again held my skirt. I hooked my thumbs in my panties and pulled them down all the way, stepped out of them and stood with my legs apart. Thank you, doctors, I thought fervently.

That got a gasp from both of them! Amy’s hand flew to her mouth, staring, but Mrs. Holden smiled and nodded. “You may get dressed, dear,” she said, just as Mom knocked on the door.

Mom’s head poked through. “Almost done?”

“Let them in,” I said, taking my skirt and stepping into it. I quickly stepped in a stall and closed the door. I could hear Mrs. Holden say, “Hush!” softly to Amy.

I flushed and came out and said, “Sorry!” but didn’t explain further to the two older women who entered as I washed up. I brushed my hair and touched up my lipgloss and saw Amy staring at me in the reflection. I hooked my arm through hers and whispered, “Now do you believe me?”

She nodded, still in shock, and we joined Mom outside. We escorted them back to their van. As Amy got in, she turned to me. “You’re a girl!” she said with surprise.

“Yes, Amy. And you’re a girl!” I teased. “Now that we’ve established that, are you still my friend?”

She startled and then grinned. “More than ever!” We hugged, and Amy leaned us from side to side in the joy of her hug.

I thanked her mother, who smiled. “You are most welcome, Abby, and I wish you all the best. Bless you, my dear!”

As they drove off, Mom said, “You know she’s going to blab, don’t you?”

“Counting on it!” I grinned, to Mom’s laughter.

Then we hit the stores determined to find a bathing suit. I tried on maillots and two-pieces and got one of each. Between the two I liked the maillot better; there was something about pulling on the single sheer piece of stretchy fabric from my shoulders, past the mounds of my breasts, and smoothly between my legs …

And I demanded to at least be allowed to try a tiny bikini, and Mom laughed and agreed and found a pink and white one with string ties. We were in the fitting room together and I was adjusting the bottom and thinking how fantastic it was that yesterday at this time, I would have had a little bulge from a penis but now I was smooth and sleek and–

–The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I swallowed. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” Then she gave me an odd little smile. “Did you just …think of something?”

I tied off the bikini quickly and went right up to her. Keeping my voice down as much as I could with my growing excitement, I said, “You said my …birth certificate,” I whispered, “would be new?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Corrected.”

“And …about waiting until I’m eighteen …” My mouth was dry and I stared at her.

She took a deep breath. “Don’t count chickens, but the lawyers think the eighteen requirement may be waived.”

“You mean …”

“We’ll talk about it later, sweetie,” she said, her eyes traveling.

I wanted to pin her against the wall and talk about it now but I didn’t trust myself to keep my voice down.. So I nodded.

Mom said, “And you are absolutely delicious in that pink bikini. And against my better judgment, we’ll get it, too.”

Chapter 16: Hints from Eloise

Back home I texted Lu and Shelly, telling them to call me anytime. Lu called immediately. I asked how she was; the weather was warm in San Francisco so she actually went bike-riding in Golden Gate Park. California was so alien to me! Lu said she met two cute boys but got dragged away by her mom. Laughing, she asked how I was.

I told her I was better than I’d ever been and would be even better. I told her my condensed story and unlike the shocked Amy, Lu just said, “Always figured it had to be something like that.” I could visualize her shrugging; it was no big deal. I was girl? No biggie; she’d always known.

I loved this girl!

She did recommend that we not trust ‘logic and reason’ with Steve Duncan when school started in January, and that we try to coordinate classes with Mrs. Carey so I was not alone–so I’d have at least one or more of my close friends around me at all times. And that my room get changed to the girls’ wing. How could I have forgotten that?

When I told Mom; she actually slapped her head–she’d forgotten, too! She went to call Mrs. Carey and I went to put my new things away. I especially liked knowing that I had a cute bikini–as if I’d ever get a chance to wear it!

Mom and I were sitting down to a baked chicken that I’d learned how to make when Shelly called. Mom said we could put it on speakerphone; Shelly didn’t mind.

“Hi, kids!” she shouted enthusiastically.

“Shelly? Modern technology–you don’t need to yell!” I teased.

“Sorry. Got carried away. Where are you?”

“Sitting down to dinner. We’ll save you some if you’ll be over later!”

“Yeah, I wish!” she laughed. “Actually, it’s not too bad. You still want to get together?”

“Um, gee, sorry, I have to wash my hair,” I joked. “You dummy! Of course I do! More than ever! When? And where are you?”

“Miami. Manhattan tomorrow. You wanna hang?”

“Absolutely! What’s your schedule?”

We talked about planes and transfers and hotels; Mom let me know that it was about three hours by train to Penn Station and then only a cab ride to The Plaza Hotel, where Shelly would be staying.

“I told Mom I refused to stay at the Trump place anymore. I think he’s a jerk. But I had to compromise and stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel in LA.”

“Poor baby!” I teased. “You’re really roughing it!”

“Yeah, I know it’s a big name and all, but I feel like I’m sixty years old there! And it’s not near anything. Not like the Beverly Wilshire. At least there, I can just walk around, but …Sorry.”

I knew Shelly wasn’t bragging about her wealth; she’d already told me about the hotels ‘just being rooms’ to her, so she was always more interested in the areas around them. I guess the Beverly Hills Hotel was isolated; I knew she’d told me the Wilshire is by the famous Rodeo Drive. But among the reasons that I loved Shelly was that she was so unlike the pretentious rich girls at our school, like Heather Maxwell.

Shelly went on. “Anyway, we’ll be at The Plaza tomorrow and remember my mother’s promise that we can get together and you …” She trailed off. “You still want me to come over?”

“Absolutely! I can’t wait!”

It was hard to not tell her about the revelations of the last 24 hours; my news could wait until we were together. After we hung up–first getting our schedules together–Mom and I began getting our house ready. Of course, I kept thinking that compared to The Plaza, we were pretty much small potatoes, but Shelly had never said anything about it and always seemed to have a great time here. The one funny thing she said for me to do was tell her mother that I loved Eloise. I had no idea who that was. I wondered if it was a Morton girl I didn't know.

“You know, from the books! The Plaza!” Shelly had sounded exasperated.

“Um …the books?”

“Sorry. I sometimes forget that you didn’t grow up a girl.”

If she only knew my news, I thought!

Shelly said. “There’s like half a dozen books or so about a little girl that lives at the top of The Plaza. Some people say she was based on Liza Minnelli. Anyway, the little girl lives at the top of The Plaza. She’s pretty famous. They’ve got a big portrait of her in the lobby. Or they did, last time I was there.”

“And Eloise is important because …”

“Because you loved the Eloise books when you were a little girl, and I thought it would be a nice thing to do for my best girlfriend to let her stay at her favorite hotel?”

“Aw, I’m your best girlfriend?”

“Geez, you know you are!”

“I like how you said ‘when I was a little girl’.”

“Well, it could have been true.”

I almost bit my tongue to keep from telling her my news.

“Wait a second–stay at the hotel?”

“Well, sure. Overnight at least, right?”

“Where are you guys doing Christmas? I mean, Christmas Day?”

“Um …” She seemed oddly embarrassed.

I jumped. “Do you want to spend it with us?”

“Um …I’m not sure. I’ve asked Mom three or four times and she’s kind of vague.”

“Shelly, is she …um …”

“Oh, not that kind of vague. She’s been amazingly dry and it’s been pretty much okay. She’s been leaving me alone a lot.”

“Shelly …why does she drag you around, then? I’m sorry; that’s rude.”

“No, it’s cool. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked that myself. But it was for appearances. There’s a …” She sighed. “There’s a power struggle going on in one of the companies she owns. And they got the bright idea of challenging her fitness as a mother, sort of. Some weird thing in their articles of incorporation with board members having to have high moral standards. Mom’s drinking and flings with pool boys wouldn’t really meet their standards. They had private eyes after her, checking up on her. So she’s gotten dry but I hope it’s for more than just this corporate thing.”

“Wow. It sounds like some best-selling thriller!”

“Yeah. So she’s showing that she’s a loving mother, doing lovely things with her beloved daughter during the holidays. And I kind of leveraged that into letting her beloved daughter’s best friend stay with her at The Plaza. So, you see, you’ve got to come to The Plaza, just for the corporate intrigue!”

“Cool! Uh, I’ve got to ask Mom, though.”

“Geez, Abby! I mean her, too! We’ve already got a room for you!”

Thus it was that Mom and I were on the train to Manhattan early the next morning. We had overnight bags and I loved that there was not a single item of Benjamin’s in my bag. Mom suggested I doze on the way in but I was too keyed up. I realized that Benjamin had pretty much been a drag, not feeling up to doing a lot of adventuresome things. I’d been to New York exactly twice and the first time I was too young to even remember.

We taxied from the craziness of Penn Station to the bustle of The Plaza with the timeless doormen. I was in awe of Central Park–it was right there! And the next thing was remarkable: A change came over Mom that I couldn’t figure out until I saw her with the Concierge. We had them check our bags for us and suddenly I realized that Mom was quite comfortable in this moneyed environment. She was just Mom to me, but I had forgotten that she came from a moneyed family, and Mom had been schooled in how to conduct herself. I asked that she teach me and she smiled.

“Watch me and if anything doesn’t make sense, ask. Some things are kind of odd and I’ll tell you why. I remember that some of the things I learned seemed silly to me.” She grinned. “Wait until we have tea!”

We planted ourselves in the lobby near the huge 25' tree and I asked Mom about Eloise. She pointed out where the painting was, and advised me to go study the pose. I did and two different people passed me and said something about ‘Isn’t she darling?’ and I realized they meant me, not the painting! I was wearing a black skirt and white tights into my black boots. I wore a pink sweater over a lilac camisole and a white puffy coat. My hair was brushed straight back and I had a white stretchy headband.

I guess I was sort of cute.

I was sitting with Mom for ten more minutes and then this entourage entered, almost like a mob of people circling around one woman; some huge movie star that I couldn’t name. I was thinking that I really needed to learn more about popular entertainment; I’d been isolated, insulated, in my own little world for too long. But then right behind the entourage was Shelly! I got up and quickly walked towards her only to have two of the entourage break away and come towards me, their hands shooing me away. They kept saying, ‘Sorry’ and I just looked at them.

“I’m going to see my friend,” I said, pointing at Shelly. They followed my point and Shelly was already waving.

The entourage people lost interest and turned back to their group, but the woman said ‘Sorry’ again but this time she meant it.

I walked quickly to Shelly and we hugged.

“God, you look fantastic!” Shelly gushed. “Your hair! Wow! And …you got your eyebrows …” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about what you’re going to do back at school!”

I ignored that, savoring the truth. “And you!” I responded. “You’re so tan it makes me sick! With envy, I mean!”

“You like it?” She pirouetted, giggling. She was tanned–well, she should be, having been in LA and Miami with time on her hands.

Mom joined us and Shelly hugged her. Then Shelly’s mother arrived, yelling at some poor bellhop with a golden cart heaped with matching luggage.

“Oh, hello again,” Mrs. Benton said with distraction. She turned away and turned back and gave a fingertip-handshake to Mom and waved at me and then turned back. “Louis, I’m warning you!” she threatened the hapless bellhop. “I told you it would require at least two!”

Knowing her ways as I did now, I realized that one bellhop wasn’t as prestigious as two, whether they were needed or not. I’m guessing Louis was the only one available after the star’s entourage arrived. He was managing the cart, but Mrs. Benton’s sense of importance was diminished by only having one cart.

Shelly looked like she was counting to ten and softly said, “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Mom said and called out, “Mrs. Benton? I can keep an eye on the girls.”

Mrs. Benton waved a distracted hand and accompanied the luggage cart to the front desk. We joined her, with Shelly saying, “Same thing at every hotel!” to us. So I wasn’t bothered by her mother’s actions; it was just something she did.

Mom was waved over to join Shelly’s mom at the front desk and I realized we were being checked in. Shelly said softly, “Did you do any kind of research? On Eloise, I mean?”

I grinned at her and went to her mother. “Oh, Mrs. Benton! Thank you, thank you, thank you for choosing The Plaza. Have you seen her portrait? Eloise’s, I mean?”

I struck the same pose as the portrait and then giggled. “And there’s a whole Eloise shop on the Concourse!”

Mom was staring at me, then a smile twitched. She knew I’d read the brochure.

Mrs. Benton looked annoyed but it passed. “It’s my pleasure, uh, Abby. I knew how much it means to you.” She turned back the desk clerk.

Shelly was fighting a laugh. She gave me two quick thumbs up.

Maybe I’ll actually read an Eloise book someday …

Chapter 17: I’ll Take Manhattan

And our suite was huge. Mom was a little bothered by the expense but I pointed out the old diamond ads. They used to say ‘three months’ paycheck is the right amount to spend for an engagement ring’. Mom said that was preposterous.

“Yeah,” I responded, “but I’m thinking about percentages. I don’t really know how rich Mrs. Benton is; Shelly doesn’t talk about it and I don’t care, but she has a lot of money. The price of a room at The Plaza–even one as big as this one–is probably a smaller percentage of her bank account than us putting up friends in a room at the Motel 6.”

Mom laughed at that. “You’re right. It’s hard not to feel beholden to the wealthy.” Something passed over her face and I realized it was unpleasant memories. Then she changed the subject. “When did you get to be so wise?”

I grinned. “When I became a woman!”

Mom really laughed at that one. “Not yet; you’re still a young girl and I want you to revel in it!” She sobered. “But I think you will make a most formidable woman.” Her eyes shone with pride.

We went to their suite–which dwarfed ours, not that it mattered–and Shelly let us in, rolling her eyes.

“On the phone again. Can I get you anything, Mrs. Houseman?”

“So formal, Shelly!” Mom laughed. “I can help myself.” She nodded to the fully stocked buffet.

“In that case, can I borrow your daughter?”

Mom nodded and Shelly grabbed my hand and dragged me into her bedroom. She closed the door and whirled around.

“Okay, spill it! When I left you, you were a scared boy just discovering he was a girl. And being chased by thugs. And now, you come waltzing across the lobby of The Plaza looking like a million bucks. The most feminine girl I’ve seen in a long time! You’re like …radiating girl-ness! What the hell?”

I laughed and we flopped onto the bed and I told her everything. And I took down my panties and I thought she was going to shriek with laughter.

“This is fantastic! Absolutely fan-effing-tastic! Wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” I grinned, pulling up my panties and setting my skirt in place. I’d been a little freaked when she had laughed, but I understood it was joy.

There was a knock at the door and Mom said for us to join ‘them’ in the main room. She grinned at that.

Shelly’s mom was pacing, still on the phone. We came and sat on the couch next to each other.

Once Shelly’s mom got off the phone, she announced that she was much too busy to enjoy things right now. Some lawyer had thrown a monkey wrench into things, she said, and she had to stamp out a brush fire; I rather enjoyed the mixed metaphor. The upshot was that we were on our own and she’d try to join us but ‘no rest for the weary’. I truly had never heard anybody throw around so many clichés before.

I remembered the discussion that Mom and I had when we’d first met Shelly’s mom; Shelly’s comment about her being like a cartoon and Mom sensing there wasn’t a person there. Hearing the clichés now, it dawned on me that everything about her was surface. Clichés were a way to speak without thinking deeply, or being concerned about the person listening, whether it was Mom and me or even her own daughter. It was like an impersonal multiple-choice way of talking: Open mouth, insert phrase from list, repeat.

Once again, my heart went out to Shelly. I’d never really grasped how truly alone she was, even with her own mother.

Mom spoke with her for awhile and then announced she was taking command. I went with Shelly for her to get her things–I thought of Mom always saying ‘Grab your coat and purse’–and we headed out into the city.

And it was incredible! A cab took us to Rockefeller Center and we saw the huge Christmas tree and then began walking around. I knew that Mom hadn’t been to Manhattan for years but she guided us around like a pro. We talked about things to do and decided we could pass on the Rockettes but if we could do Nutcracker it would be great. Shelly said she’d take care of it; she used her phone to call the Concierge at The Plaza and said we’d have three choice tickets waiting. Even if her mother was free, she hated ballet and would have some excuse to miss it, so there was no reason for a fourth ticket.

We went to Fifth Avenue and shopped and oh my God it was incredible! We stopped in some famous place for lunch and shopped some more. The fun thing was not having to carry bags; Shelly would tell the clerks to send them to The Plaza and it was all perfectly normal in that environment.

I remembered another old quote: ‘I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Rich is better.’

Ain’t it the truth!

When we got back to The Plaza, Mom’s phone went off and we stopped in the lobby while she talked. I motioned that we’d go to the Eloise place and she nodded. And for never having read the books, I was amazed at how elaborate the Eloise store was–and how pink!–and I bought a keyring.

Shelly raised an eyebrow at that.

I said, “You know I’m not into her, but I figured I can hold up the keyring and thank your mother and tell her I got lots more stuff, did she want to see?”

Shelly was laughing at that. “Oh, God! She’d run in the opposite direction! And you only spent, what, five bucks? Brilliant!”

Then there was a strange moment, suspended in time, and the humor left her eyes and was replaced by a deep warmth.

“This is what I knew it would be like, when I first met that scared little girl Benjamin.”

I knew what she meant, as mixed-up as it was. I hugged her fiercely.

Back in our suite, the bellhops brought up our bags. We’d bought one extra rolling suitcase to handle our loot, and it was still questionable if it would all fit.

Among the things we’d bought was something proper for the New York City Ballet, and was my first ever official Christmas dress. It was a deep purple, or velvet, but was made of velvet, so would it be velvet-velvet, I wondered? White lace stockings and the highest heels I’d ever worn–enough to make me worried about walking in them, so I practiced in the suite. Mom said I was a natural!

Shelly’s mom had gotten us four appointments at the hotel’s salon, and I got the lovely pampered treatment and my hair was styled and makeup done by professionals. And although it was a small thing, it meant a lot to me when Mom said that just for the evening I could take out my studs and wear actual dangling earrings!

We were told that Mrs. Benton had already had her salon appointment and I realized that if we weren’t here, Shelly would totally be on her own, and that she was used to it, and that it explained some of her personality. I could understand the pudgy girl she’d once been finally deciding that she was going to get fit, and taking action. It made me love her all the more.

The ballet was fantastic, and we felt like proper Manhattan girls-of-the-world. Yes, rich is definitely better!

But back in our suite, with Shelly and I having strawberries and cream, Mom told us about the phone call. The lawyers had a breakthrough or brainstorm or something. There was a particular judge that they wanted to get, and his calendar had an opening at 2pm tomorrow and then at 3:00 he was gone for the holidays. We’d have to leave early and not spend another wonderful day in NYC, but we could always come back later.

Shelly nodded and went to her suite. Mom told me that she was sorry we couldn’t spend more time in the city, but the lawyers were confident we could save weeks or even months by landing this judge before his holiday. We began packing and Shelly came back, bummed. She couldn’t go with us the next day–her mom needed her to ‘parade’ in front of the lawyers or shareholders or somebody–but she’d join us as soon as she could. She knew how important it was for us to make our meeting on time and said that she was using ‘executive privilege–no objections’ and had arranged a car for us–a sort of limo, actually–to take us directly home.

Mom protested once and accepted and Shelly said it was okay to go thank her mom, which we did. It was awkward, only relieved by my little happy act with my keyring, which went over exactly as planned. Her mother looked cornered and ‘suddenly remembered’ a call she had to make; Shelly was doing her best to keep from laughing out loud. We did the social niceties, and then Shelly and I hugged extra hard and then my mother and I went back to sleep like princesses in our suite at The Plaza.

End of Part 6