A Girl Like Mom Used to Be

By: Lilith Langtree

Author's Note: This is a short story that has been languishing around my hard drive that I was planning to take further, but after rereading, I chose to end it where it is. So there won't be sequels or further chapters.

Story:

"She's has agoraphobia."

I almost laughed as I set my beer down and stared at my bar friend. "You're joking."

He glared at me. "Don't make fun of it."

I held up my hand, surrendering. "Ray, it's not that I'm making fun of her, per se, I think its funny that the answer to my dating woes is someone that can't actually go out on a date."

He shrugged, finally seeing the humor in the situation. "The whole, 'can't leave the house', thing is a misnomer. She can leave the house just fine. It's unfamiliar places that give her a problem. If she goes alone or with someone she doesn't feel safe with then she has a panic attack. More of being in a place that isn't safe, or out of her control type thing.

"Uh-huh. Well, that sucks and all, but why me?"

"Jake, you're a well put together guy. You know how to defend yourself and you're confident. The problem is that you don't like today's women."

There was more than a little truth to that notion. I was raised in a traditional house. Dad worked, Mom stayed at home with the kids. She never wore jeans or pants, cooked, cleaned, and taught us children social niceties, and manners. Some might think that's barbaric or a product of the fifties. I'm here to tell you that there's nothing wrong with wanting to be a housewife. She was always happy and very involved in our lives.

"What can I say? I like my women to actually be women."

There were so many girls out there that liked nothing better than to see how much skin they can show and still be legal, or have their bodies decorated with piercing and tattoos. I was just sick of it.

I know it sounds like I'm from some backward country where women were supposed to cover their whole body. I'm not, and that's not what I'm saying at all. I don't think women need to know their place. We would be equals in our family. She would be the woman and I would be the man. Simple.

Ray took another drink of beer. "Look all I'm asking is to give her a chance. Go out on a date with her and if you aren't interested then call it a night. She'll understand, believe me. I'll even pay for it."

Shaking my head, I frowned. "It's not about the money." With a sigh, I agreed. "Fine. Do I need to know anything? I mean is she going to fall down and have an epileptic fit if I take her to the movies?"

"She's agoraphobic, idiot, not epileptic. Just take it easy. Allow plenty of time to go from place to place. She'll be nervous and clingy, that's about it."

Nervous, I could deal with. Clingy, I actually enjoyed. I know, I'm weird, but I actually enjoy when a woman depends on me, or maybe even views me as her protector. "Okay, when?"

Ray shrugged. "Tomorrow night?"

I don't know whether to be insulted that he didn't think I had a date already lined up or not. Truth is, he knows I've already run though the gambit of women we already know. I'd be bar hopping and that was always a dry time for me. While the sex is great, there's no hope for longevity from any relationship formed there. Again, the problem with today's women comes into play. The kind of woman that I want doesn't actually go to bars.

I was given an address which was in the next suburb over. That was nice that we lived so close. Ray said that he'd tell her about me and make sure she was ready by six.

Jeans were a weekend thing for me, but since I was going on an actual date I presented myself like a gentleman, just like mom told me to in my teen years, dark blue Dockers and nice Polo. Maybe I'm a momma's boy, but there was a reason for that. I loved my mother and appreciated that she was the best mother that I knew.

While I expected the woman I dated to be feminine, I also was brought up to realize that I was to be a gentleman in social or dating situations. That meant I took the Impala instead of the Jag, I brought a small bouquet of flowers, and I remembered to be one time and respectful.

The house was a simple affair, probably a two or at the max three bedroom. The yard was well maintained with a well attended flower bed skirting the pathway to the front door. It was obvious that this Jamie girl took pride in her home's appearance. That was an excellent sign.

Checking my watch, I noticed that the second hand was approaching the top. Right on time. No, I'm not that anal. It was coincidence. After pushing the doorbell a single time, I stepped back and took a breath. Okay, don't expect anything. That way leads to acting stupid. Just enjoy the evening with a girl that you don't know. Give her a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night and then go home. Simple.

The door opened and I was taken aback at how demure she was. A simple pink flowery dress that reached down just below her knees, a pair of heels that didn't expose her toes and weren't excessively high, maybe a couple of inches, and one of those fake sweaters. You know the ones I'm talking about. They only reach below the breasts, the sleeves don't quite reach the wrists and it wasn't made to actually button up.

Yeah, I noticed her clothes first. Maybe that's what took my attention away from her face. When my eyes finally made it there, I froze. She looked really nervous, but resolute. The thing was, I recognized her, sort of.

The girl was supposed to be a friend from work that Ray was setting me up with. She wasn't supposed to be a relative. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Would you like to come in, Jake?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Realizing that I was standing there like an idiot, I acceded. "Sorry, Ray didn't tell me that you were related. It took me off guard."

She stepped back and smiled. "That's quite alright." She swept her hand inside. "Welcome to my home."

I nodded as I stepped inside. "Thank you." Holding out my hand I gave her a short nod. "I'm Jake Spencer. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She set her fingers in my palm for a brief shake. "Jaime Mathers." Her eyes settled on the flowers in my hand. "Are those for me?"

Have I lost all sense of propriety? "Sorry again. Yes. My mother always told me to bring flowers to a girl when we go on a date." I handed them over and watched as she briefly smelled the bouquet, and smiled. "Thank you, they're beautiful."

I looked around the living room that immediately opened from the front door. "You have a beautiful house." She did. Everything was in its place, neat and clean, not a speck of dust to be seen. Sorry, a rhyme that Mom always spoke when she cleaned.

"Please, Jake, have a seat. I thought that we would talk a little before leaving." I watched as she turned to show me to the couch. "Would you like a coffee or tea?"

"Coffee please, thank you."

She gave me a smile and nodded. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

I didn't immediately sit, instead I looked around, taking in the decidedly feminine room. It wasn't over done, but I could tell that this was a woman's house and she took great pride in its appearance, just like she did on the outside. Eventually, I did sit and didn't have to wait long before she returned holding a tray with all of the traditional trappings of a formal serving.

She smiled at me again. "Please Jake, sit. It's very nice that you stand in the presence of a girl. Most men don't do that anymore."

I waited until she sat in the armchair and watched as she pulled her legs together to the side, crossing her ankles. I was in a stupor. This girl had perfect manners, was very feminine, and was very cute, even if she looked like a friend of mine.

"One sugar, correct?"

I blinked and nodded. "Yes, thank you. How did you know?"

A knowing smile graced her face. "That's what I would like to talk about if you wouldn't mind."

She stirred my coffee without clinking the spoon along the sides and then she tipped the spoon along the rim so that she wouldn't drip any. Oh yeah, excellent manners. I was really intrigued why she hadn't been scooped up already. I mean she wasn't a raging beauty. Not every girl out there belongs on the front of a magazine. However she was cute, and that was all I was looking for. Beautiful people make me nervous anyway. Too high maintenance.

I took the cup with accompanying saucer. Who uses saucers nowadays? Well mannered people, that's who. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I waited until she prepared hers with a single sugar and a splash of cream.

Jamie looked just a little bit nervous, but that would be expected for a blind date. I was kind of anxious as well.

"I apologize for the topic of discussion ahead of time, but I always like to be up front with men I date, so there's no confusion later."

I nodded, seeing where this was going. She was probably going to tell me about her agoraphobia. That was nice of her and very brave as well. I was beginning to have a lot of respect for this girl. "That's no problem. I'm a big believer in truthfulness, so go right ahead."

She set her cup and saucer down before taking a breath, obviously steeling her nerves. "I've kind of deceived you."

I was confused and I let it show on my face. "I'm sorry? I don't understand."

"I have certain issues that I have to deal with in an unorthodox way due to my illness and condition."

After taking another sip of coffee, I set it down next to hers. "Jay mentioned you were agoraphobic. So, I already know about that. It's not that big of a deal."

A thin smile graced her face. "That's true, I am. However I take medicine that helps me with that. It's my other condition that might cause a problem, but I hope not."

She seemed okay to me. "I don't know if Ray told you or not, but I'm a upfront kind of guy. There's not a whole lot that bugs me other than people being jerks, so unless you're secretly a jerk…" I let my little joke hang there and she responded with a gentle smile.

"No, at least I don't think I am." She sighed regretfully. "Let me just tell you about it and we can take it from there."

With my nod and a gesture to go on, she let me know what had been on her mind. "I don't get out too often, mainly because I don't like going places by myself. So you see how I'm in a Catch-22."

I agreed. "You can't meet people because you can't go out and you can't go out because you don't know anyone."

"Exactly. So I have to take certain measures in order to meet people like yourself."

"Like having Ray keep an eye out for someone that you might be interested in?"

"Somewhat." She closed her eyes, and I could see that she was trying to hide the fact that she really didn't like doing this explaining thing. "The only time Ray actually goes out is when he goes to the pub that you two met at. He goes there and makes the rounds meeting guys and feeling them out, seeing what kind of person they are, observing them and the way they talk to others…"

"Pardon me? What do you mean 'the only time he goes out'?"

Her eyes met mind at that moment. "Ray isn't a real person, Jake. No, that's not exactly true. It would be better to say that Ray isn't a real person any longer."

I blinked and shook my head. "Hold on, I'm not following you. I've known Ray for four months. We see each other every weekend for the last…" I stopped my inane rambling and looked hard at the girl sitting across from me. When she saw my stare she looked down.

"It's not something that I'm proud of, but it's the only way I can get to know someone. When I'm Ray, I can leave the house with confidence. But Jamie is who I really am."

Dropping back into the couch, I just stared at her. "Which are you, for real?"

"I'm what is commonly known as a transsexual, male to female."

Maybe it's something in the genetic makeup of males, or maybe I'm just shallow, but the first place I looked when she told me that was her crotch. She was wearing a dress, so it wasn't like I could see anything. However, she saw me do that, and I could see the hurt look on her face.

"I apologize. That was rude. I was… I am caught off guard."

She nodded with resignation. "If you want to leave now I'll understand."

My inner manliness argued with my sense of propriety. Do I believe that sometimes people are born in the wrong bodies? Yes. I've even seen and interacted with people that were obviously of the opposite gender than they portrayed. They were just like any other person in my eyes. They breathed, spoke, lived, just like I did. Being born in the wrong body didn't make them any less of a person than me.

Closing my eyes, I figured out why Ray chose me for Jamie. A girl came into the pub a few weeks back for a drink and was being harassed by a regular, a jerk really. And I've already said how I felt about jerks. I stepped in and told him off before escorting him out of the pub rather violently.

When I returned, I paid for her drink, and apologized. The cliental of that particular pub didn't discriminate and generally make asses of themselves. It was my pub, well not really, but it was where I regularly went to for a relaxing evening. I didn't want anyone screwing with it.

She thanked me, drank her drink and left. While she walked out to her car, I kept watch at the door to make sure she made it okay. Ray witnessed the whole event.

So here I was, defender of those that some in society take pleasure in downgrading, being put on the spot. Would I stand by my beliefs and actually be a gentleman to the lady sitting near me, or would I bolt out of the house like a frightened puppy?

When I opened my eyes I caught her staring at me again, on edge. I glanced at my watch. "We'd better get moving if we're going to make that eight o'clock showing. I've made reservations at D'Angelos for six-forty-five."

It was a date. A single date at that. She was a woman of taste and good breeding. It's not like we were going to jump into bed at the end of the night, and if we were then I wouldn't want to date her seriously in the first place. So sex wasn't an issue. We'd go out and have a good time, end of story.

Dinner was a normal affair. She had the pasta salad and I had the Fettuccini. The bottle of wine we shared was dry and went well with the meal. The conversation was light and pleasant. All in all a good experience. But in the back of my head a little voice was repeating over and over again, 'she has a penis, she has a penis.' In which another little voice popped in with, 'you're such a hypocrite, you're such a hypocrite.'

There was a crowd at the theater was fairly large. Some James Cameron movie was making its premiere, of which I had no interest in seeing. I chose a romantic comedy instead. No, I don't have issues with seeing chick flicks. In fact I quite like a number of them.

The cinema wasn't crowded and we sat in the middle, chatting quietly among the average everyday topics that Ray and I normally talked about. Except this time it wasn't Ray that I was speaking to, but Jamie instead. To tell you the truth, I was feeling more comfortable. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the intelligent conversation.

When the lights went down, I spied her hand on the armrest. Don't ask me what made me do it, but I set my hand on hers. Her head swiveled a little and I could feel her arm tense for a moment before relaxing and then turning over to lace her fingers with mine.

Within a half hour, I pushed the armrest up so that she would be more comfortable and not have her arm in such and awkward angle. After another thirty minutes, she had scooted a little closer and set her head on my upper arm.

I smelled her perfume at that moment. It was light and not too musky. It complimented her demure persona nicely.

Three-quarters the way through, I lost interest in the movie and just thought about how nice it was to be out on a nice date with no expectations. How nice it was to be with a girl that had morals, and wasn't throwing herself at me.

A sad part made it's way into the movie and I heard my date lightly sniffing. I reached into my front pocket and withdrew a clean handkerchief for her to use.

"Thank you."

She dabbed at her eyes and I felt a sense of normalcy. Girls cry at sad movies. It was almost a fact of life.

When we made our way out of the theater, Jamie was firmly ensconced on my arm, and I had my chest pressed out trying my best to be a good escort.

By the time we entered her subdivision, I realized the moment of truth was approaching. What would I say? What would I do?

"Jake, thank you for a wonderful evening. The dinner was great and the movie…"

"You're welcome, Jamie." I paused for a moment and then steeled my nerve. "Would you be interested in going out again next weekend?"

She didn't answer right away, which made me think I said something wrong. "We haven't really talked about…"

I raised my eyebrows and glanced quickly at her. "What's there to talk about?"

"Jake," was her reply, but I could hear the no nonsense tone in her voice.

"May I be frank, Jamie?"

She took a quick breath. "Sure."

"We had a date. I enjoyed your company, and would like another if you are willing. It doesn't mean that we are going to jump into bed and you already know if we did then I wouldn't want to date you in the first place."

She nodded. "I know you like traditional girls. That's one of the things I like about you."

"Good, great even. So, you're a traditional girl and I'm a traditional guy. So that means a long courtship to see if we are compatible."

"What are you saying?"

I smiled when I pulled up into her driveway. "I'm saying that we have plenty of time to talk about whatever you want to talk about. It doesn't have to be all in one night."

Jamie fidgeted with her hands as I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. I took a deep breath and walked around the side to open her door and assist her out. We walked along the pathway to the front door and I turned to her.

"I'd like it if we could do this again next Friday, Jamie."

She looked up at me and nodded with a smile. "That would be great." Her eyes dropped to my lips and then fell.

"May I kiss you on your cheek?"

She brought her gaze up to mine again and smiled sweetly. "I'd like that."

Leaning forward I brushed my lips along her soft cheek and lingered there a little bit longer than necessary before pulling back.

"Good night, Jamie."

"Night," she said and bounced just a little on the balls of her feet.

On the way back to the car, I heard her keys jingle and the front door open. Stopping, I turn around. "Jamie?"

She flicked on the living room lights and turned around, smiling wide. "Yes?"

"Would you mind if I called you in the meantime?"

Her smile brightened even more. "I'd love that."

"Good." I nodded. "Good." Resuming my way to the car, I opened the door and settled myself after starting the engine. "Very good."