To See Through a Glass Darkly

Chapter 11

Marjorie takes Sasha to lunch and shows him who he is in a most unusual way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Marjorie pressed the call button for the elevator and its door opened almost immediately. We entered and she pressed the button marked "Lobby."

"You'll need to return your visitor's badge to Sam before we go," she reminded me. "I noticed your address. You're at most only a few minutes from here. If you'd like, I could take you home right after lunch."

"I'd appreciate that greatly," I replied. "I'd rather not wait on the bus like this or have to call a taxi."

The elevator stopped and its door opened up to the lobby. Following the usual rules of ettiquette, I deferred to Marjorie and waited for her to step out first. But she also hesitated, waiting for me.

"Ladies first," I said.

"Look who's talking!" Marjorie answered back to me. "For the moment, we're both women and since I'm escorting you as our client, you go first."

"Mom raised a gentleman," I protested.

"Are you aware of the lady's side of protocol?" Marjorie asked me. "Now that you present as a young woman, you must react appropriately. It's not proper for you to defer according to gender so long as you're appearing as a girl. That's much more likely to give you away than anything in your dress."

Although I knew that I'd need to learn new behaviors, I hadn't thought about how quickly I might need to adjust or even unlearn old ones. Marjorie was right. If I behave as a gentleman while crossdressed someone would be likely to notice. So I had to change my protocol from gentleman to lady and rather quickly. That's what Sonia's friends Jacqui and Marcia would be helping me do.

The elevator door started closing again, but Marjorie held the "Open" button so I stepped out and she followed as I went toward the security desk. The lanyard and my visitor's badge came off and I returned them to Sam.

"Thank you, Miss Petroff," he acknowledged me. "I hope your visit went well."

"It was quite interesting, Sam," I replied. "Thank you for asking."

"I'm taking Sasha to lunch," she told Sam. "Then, I'm driving her home. D'you want anything from Aunt Ellie's today?"

"Thanks, but Lucie's bringing a picnic basket," the guard answered smiling. "Maybe next time."

"Okay," Marjorie conceded. "I'll see you again after lunch. And give my best to Lucie!"

"Will do!" Sam answered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Marjorie gestured for me toward the door on the opposite side of the lobby from where I had entered with Ms. Tollefson earlier that morning. We walked out quickly. I was easily able to take the few steps down from the door to the plaza in Debbie's heels. It seemed much easier than when I tried the similar maneuver for leaving my house this morning, so I smiled to myself for having learned a new skill. We turned left to continue down the street.

"It's a beautiful day, Sasha!" Marjorie exclaimed.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It is."

At that moment a strong gust of wind picked up the hemline of my dress and I became suddenly aware of a tingling as the breeze penetrated my pantyhose and cooled me below my waist. Then I noticed that Marjorie was holding down her skirt, so I thought to do the same.

"This is one of the ongoing problems when wearing dresses or skirts," she said. "You never know when you're going to fight the wind to keep your hemline down."

"Oh, I don't know," I retorted. "It's not so bad. It seems like fun!"

"You would say that as a boy, wouldn't you?" she objected. "But still, it's not acceptable to let your dress fly up in the wind."

"I just like the way it feels," I explained. "And it gave me quite a rush!"

Marjorie giggled. "It must be a completely new experience for you," she surmised. "Some thrill, huh?"

"It was fun!" I protested. "Can I do it again?"

"If it does, be quicker to hold your dress down the next time," she said in her cautionary tone. "After all, you don't want anyone thinking you're too wild a girl!"

I hadn't thought about that before, but I had always thought that catching the breeze was why girls liked to wear dresses. So much to learn; so much more to unlearn!

We continued walking down the street to the corner and the red hand was glowing. Across the street was a quaint, friendly looking brownstone façade with the words Aunt Ellie's Kitchen arched across its large, plate glass window and, in somewhat smaller letters, Soups, Salads & Sandwiches stenciled below. Inside we could see quite a few patrons who had already gathered for lunch.

The crossing light now displayed a white icon depicting a pedestrian walking, so Marjorie and I crossed the street and continued to the main door of the restaurant.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We were greeted inside by a vivacious blonde and blue-eyed hostess dressed in an ensemble consisting of a short, white leather skirt and matching jacket decorated with rhinestones and fringed seams, styled in a western motif. Her blouse displayed a top-stitched yoke in similar style. The uniform was completed by a pair of white cowgirl boots with four-inch heels and a white Stetson hat. A brass nametag on the breast pocket of her jacket bore the name Heather.

"Welcome to Aunt Ellie's Kitchen!" Heather greeted us. "Two for lunch today, Marjorie? And who's your friend?"

"Yes, two for lunch, please, and this is Sasha," she introduced me to the hostess. "Sasha, this is Heather. She's the hostess for the daytime shift."

"Table or booth today?" the hostess inquired of Marjorie.

"Sasha, would you like a booth?" Marjorie asked me for my preference.

Glancing quickly around the dining room I noticed that the booths were somewhat more secluded.

"That would be fine," I answered. I figured that Marjorie had asked since she was sensitive to my dilemma, or maybe, she was simply more polite than I am.

Heather led us to a both and gave each of us a menu. "Can I get you beverages?" she asked.

"I'll have a cola, please," I answered her.

"A diet cola for me, Heather," Marjorie requested.

"Very well," the hostess acknowledged our preferences. "Katie will be your server today. I'll send her with your drinks." And with a wink and a smile, Heather returned to her station by the main door.

A moment later, a waitress came by our booth with two soft drinks on her tray. She was wearing a blue denim miniskirt and a red western blouse with a top-stitched yoke and a blue printed bandana for a scarf. She wore white low-heeled cowgirl boots and a white Stetson. Her brass nametag bore the name Katie.

"Hello, there!" Katie greeted us smiling. "I'm Katie and I'll be your waitress today. Now who had the diet cola?"

"I did," Marjorie answered. "Sasha had the regular cola."

The waitress gave us each our beverages. "Are you ready to order, now?" she asked.

"Not yet," Marjorie said. "Give us a couple minutes, please. My friend's never been here before."

"Of course, then," Katie said with a smile. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"She's cute in that cowgirl get-up," I observed. "I could imagine you wearing it."

"I almost had a job working here," Marjorie told me. "The tips here are really good. It's because so many professionals eat lunch and dinner here. The only reason I didn't take the job was that Dr. Torricelli hired me first. Maybe you'd like to work here for the summer?"

"Do they hire guys as servers?" I inquired.

"Sort of...," she said, hedging somewhat.

"Sort of?" I asked, wanting clarification.

"Ellie has been really kind to a few of our clients who've had gender identity issues," Marjorie began to explain. "All the servers who work here, including the boys, wear the same waitress' uniform. It helps them get used to presenting as girls in public. There are even some guys who've worked here just for the fun of it— well, really because the tips are quite good."

"You mean I'd have to dress like a cowgirl to work here?"

"Yes, but I think you're cute enough to pull it off!"

"Sorry, Marjorie," I objected, "but blue jeans are as close to the western look as I care to get."

"Still, you might keep it in mind for the summer," she reiterated. "They're hiring for it now. And again, they pay better here than most other places you could try. So, whaddya want for lunch?"

"Ever since you mentioned it, I keep thinking about that deep-dish pizza. How'bout it?"

"I'm a vegetarian," Marjorie said. "Would a meatless pizza be okay with you?"

"Certainly," I conceded. "In fact, I follow such a diet while I'm in training. Also, I'm an Orthodox Christian and I often fast from meats for religious reasons. Besides, I think this Three Mushrooms Florentine Pizza looks good."

"That's perfect!" she exclaimed. "We'll get it, then. Would you like to share an appetizer, too? The black bean dip is wonderful!"

"Sounds good to me!" I answered.

Katie returned to our booth. "Ready to order, now?" the waitress asked us.

"Yes," Marjorie replied. "We'll have the Southwestern Chipotle-BlackBean Pá¢té with blue corn tortilla chips for an appetizer and the fourteen-inch Three Mushrooms Florentine DeepDish Pizza."

"An excellent choice," Katie confirmed. "I'll have them start that right way." With that, she left us and made her way to a server's station, where she entered our order into the restaurant's electronic system.

"So tell me, Sasha," Marjorie began, "why did you dress like a girl today?"

"To make a long story short," I replied, "my sister has been trying to get me to do it for years. She's teased and pestered and begged me until I gave in yesterday. I needed a diversion, a distraction from these illusions or hallucinations or visions or whatever. I'm really scared of them. I feel like I'm losing my mind. But in them, I'm wearing Tina's clothes. It didn't make sense to me because it seemed— it felt— real!— too real! In these visions, I not only saw the clothes, but I could feel the texture of the fabrics, smell fragrances, and even taste the raspberry lipgloss. I took a shower and noticed my skin was soft and my body hair gone. I even thought my breasts were growing.

"So, I decided that since this theme seemed to be playing out in my head, maybe I should just go with it. Since I would have to stay home from school anyway, now seemed like a logical time to indulge Sonia's long-time obsession with dressing me up. And I have to admit that I'd been curious about what it would be like myself for almost as long."

"When did it start?" Marjorie asked me.

"I don't really know," I said. "Sonia's wanted me to dress up like a girl ever since I can remember. I can't recall when the first time she asked me was. But I think it was before we were even in kindergarten. And I'm sure my curiosity about it had to begin not too long after she began teasing me."

"Then it sounds like this little problem has always been with you?" she assessed.

"That would be a fair conclusion," I conceded to her. "Or it always had been. It's resolved now. Perhaps it will be replaced by a new one, since Sonia can't tease me over not doing it anymore."

"How do you think Sonia feels about it, now?" Marjorie continued to probe.

"When I told her that I'd do it, she cried and hugged me and kissed me. And so did her girlfriends. I think that I began blushing just from all the attention; it was so overwhelming. And when she started to study my face for applying cosmetics, her expression was so intense. Her concentration was focused completely on what she was doing. It was like when I'm batting: I put everything out of my mind except the next pitch. While she studied my face, I was the only one who mattered to her."

"You'd never seen her like that before, had you?"

"No, I hadn't."

"You're bonding sister-to-sister," Marjorie affirmed. "Your doing this is very special for her, I think."

"It seemed almost like the most wonderful moment in her life," I remarked. "It was really weird, to be honest. Why would my dressing up mean so much to her? It doesn't make sense to me. I could have let her dress me up a long time ago and been done with it."

"Sasha, I don't think it's as easy as that— being done with it, I mean," she said, the register of her voice become slightly more somber. "You're not going to be done with it after today."

"Well, I promised Sonia I'd go along with it for the weekend."

"No— it's going to go longer than you— or she thinks!"

"What?" I asked Marjorie. "Why d'you say that?"

"Just that I think this weekend will completely change your relationship with your sister. She won't want you to stop dressing up, but neither will you. And unless I miss my guess completely, your girlfriend will ask you to continue, too."

"But I have to go back to school, soon," I protested. "How can I go to school like this?"

"Dr. Toricelli did give you medical permission," she reminded me. "You'll be taking advantage of it."

"I don't intend to," I said, denying her assertion.

"Not today, you don't," she conceded. "But you have an interesting weekend coming up. Nothing will ever be the same for you afterwards."

"That sounds ominous to me, somehow," I remarked.

"Not at all, Sasha!" Marjorie giggled to me. "You really don't understand, do you? The outcome will be happy for you and all those around you. You just won't believe it for a while."

I started to sip my cola but noticed a slice of lime on the edge of the glass. I didn't remember Katie bringing a lime with my drink. Marjorie's had a lemon. I glanced at my fingers again to see the French manicure. Looking around the restaurant, I noticed that the waitresses wore white knee-length boots with four-inch heels instead of the mid-length cowgirl boots.

Not again! I couldn't even have my lunch without these crazy hallucinations!

"Marjorie," I warned her, "it's happening again. There are citrus slices on our drinks and the waitresses' boots suddenly changed style in front of me."

"Citrus— What?" she asked.

The lemon and lime slices were suddenly gone, as usual in my hallucinations or whatever they were.

"I had another hallucination," I explained. "Some details in here changed. The waitresses were suddenly wearing different boots and there was a lime on my drink and a lemon on yours. But now they're gone. It's how my hallucinations usually are. I see details around me altered very briefly, then they revert to normal in a few moments. But sometimes the changes run longer."

"How do you know what's real or not?" she wondered.

"By noticing changes in specific details. The color of the diodes changed from red to green on my bedroom clock. And I have a French manicure and wear wedding rings in the hallucinations. If I glance down at my hands, then I can know immediately if I'm hallucinating or not. Tina and me are already married in my hallucinations. We have matching manicures and rings."

"That really is weird," Marjorie commented. "It sounds almost like it's another world."

"Yeah, it does seem that way, doesn't it?" I replied. "It's why I needed my sister's help. The images of seeing myself wearing skirts and maryjanes were beginning to really freak me out. I would be wearing blue jeans, look down at my legs and be wearing a denim skirt and pantyhose instead. Then I'd, like, blink and I was wearing jeans again, all in a matter of seconds."

"Wow! I'd've been freaked out, too."

"It gets even worse," I continued. "I woke up yesterday and Tina was in bed next to me. We were wearing the same kind of nighties, except hers was pink and mine blue. Then she vanished. It's like she and I were talking but she wasn't even there!"

"No wonder you needed to see Dr. Torricelli," she conceded. "Had you taken any drugs or anything?"

"Not at all," I assured her. "It's been at least a couple months since I've even had aspirin for anything."

"Then this is all happening inside your head? On its own?" Marjorie queried.

"Apparently so," I confirmed. "The strangest was an extended one where Tina was helping me apply makeup and fix my hair. It went for a few minutes, it seemed. And it was like she was really there. We wore complementary clothes. Like we were dressing as a couple and not individuals."

"That sounds so sweet!" she said to me, almost envious of the experience. "I like the idea of dressing a boyfriend up to match his girlfriend. It's cute!"

"But would he want to?" I put the question to her. "It seems that in my strange images the decision's already been made and I don't have anymore say in it. I'm just along for the ride. Tina and I seem in it either to have a matching or complementing wardrobe or even to share the same one."

"I don't know," Marjorie replied. "But it sounds like that might be an especially intimate way to share. So are your clothes always the same size as Tina's?"

"I'm not sure myself," I confessed, "but Tina's not quite as tall as me, so I'd imagine her skirts and dress would be a little short on me."

"You said the dress you're wearing now is your sister's?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, "and it fits fine, I think. Sonia's just an inch or so taller than me in her stocking feet. She's given me permission to wear her clothes, but she's also put Tina in charge of my wardrobe."

"So d'you have any women's clothing of your own?"

"No— nothing!" I said. "Remember that I just gave in to Sonia on this yesterday. This was her fantasy after all— not mine! But I'm sure that they'll wanna take me to the mall tomorrow. Besides, I can think of something I want."

"Oh? What'd that be?" Marjorie asked.

"I like your shoes," I admitted to her. "Where did you get them?"

"These?" she responded in surprise. "I think I got'em in that discount shoe store in the mall. They're actually quite easy to find."

"Is the style called anything specific?" I inquired. "What should I ask for?"

"These are espadrilles," she explained. "They're quite comfortable and come in many variations. I'd be surprised if Sonia and Tina didn't have a pair or two for summer, anyway."

"Are they for summer?" I wondered aloud.

"Not exclusively," she said, "but they're perfect to give a dressier look to sundresses, even shorts. They really are 'must-haves' for a lady's summer wardrobe."

"Exactly what's a sundress?" I asked Marjorie for an explanation.

"It's a lightweight dress, often of a fabric like cotton or linen," she began, "that leaves the neck, shoulders, and arms bare. It usually is supported by thin straps over the shoulders."

"Okay," I answered. "I know I've seen Sonia and Tina wearing them. Even Mom!"

"They help you stay cool in the summer," Marjorie added. "I think you'd look cute in one with a pair of espadrilles, a macramé handbag, sunglasses and a broad-brimmed hat."

Marjorie seemed already to be selecting a summer wardrobe for me. She might be another girl who likes dressing guys up.

"Please," I giggled, "don't you start choosing my wardrobe, too! Sonia already put Tina in charge of that. What if you and her don't agree?"

"I guess that'd be even more complicated," Marjorie said. "But as cute as you are, you should enter a beauty pageant. With a little coaching and the right clothes you could easily win!"

"No!" I told her, raising my voice slightly. "That's where I draw the line! My sister competes in those and I've seen what she goes through. I have enough going on in my life as it is. No way! No how!"

"But you're so—" she began.

"No!" I reiterated. "No! No! No!"

"I compete in beauty pageants, too," she continued, "and I've won a few. You've got the look!"

"Thank you," I responded, "but I don't have the interest. Besides, I've seen how Sonia stresses out over them. And competing in them is not exactly cheap!"

"It does get expensive," Marjorie conceded. "But most of them offer scholarships as prizes."

"I know," I affirmed. "But I can also earn scholarships for sports, music, and my academic performance, too. I don't need the added distraction of the local pageant circuit. Besides, that's my sister's thing and I wouldn't want to rain on her parade!"

"Sorry, Sasha," she apologized. "It was just a thought. But don't be surprised if Sonia or Tina suggest it, too. You're too pretty not to be asked!"

Would Sonia want me to enter a pageant? No, she couldn't. I certainly wouldn't want to compete against her. That's her chance to shine. I don't care how good I might look. Besides, I'd have more fun helping Sis with her own bid.

"Again, thanks," I said, "but I'm just not interested."

About then, Katie came by with our appetizer, the blackbean pá¢té and blue corn tortilla chips. It was really tasty. Both Marjorie and I attacked it eagerly.

We barely seemed to have time to finish the appetizer when Katie return with our pizza. She gave each of us a clean plate with a slice of the deep dish pizza on it. The savory aroma of the pizza was so very powerful. We began to enjoy it even before we put it in our mouths.

"Before you start on the pizza," Marjorie began, "girls take smaller bites and don't eat as much. When you're out as a girl, remember that. Since you're a guy, you still have a bigger appetite. So, save it and take it home for later. A lady should at least appear to be concerned about her figure."

"That's not something that I ever though about," I confessed, "but it does explain what I've seen when I'm out for dinner with girls. Sonia especially worries about it."

"Since she competes in pageants, she would," Marjorie concluded. "Try to watch your sister and imitate how she eats and behaves at dinner. And when you're dressed as a girl, it's always acceptable to express concern over your weight, unless someone else there is obviouly obese, in which case, you shouldn't mention it at all."

"Being a girl seems so complicated," I told Marjorie. "How do you keep track of all the rules?"

"The same way you guys do," she said. "We just grow up doing it. It's not strange or complex to us at all."

"Still, it's a marvel anyone can keep track of it all," I admitted. "I'll never call girls "dumb" again. It takes too many smarts to be a girl!"

Marjorie giggled at my remark. "I never thought I'd hear a guy say that!"

"There's so much a girl has to do to be— well— a girl!" I observed. "How do you find time to think of anything else?"

"We manage," Marjorie answered smiling at me. "But we mostly wake up earlier in the morning than our brothers do."

"Yeah," I said stuffing a bite of pizza in my mouth. "I found that out this morning. Honestly, that's the only thing today that I haven't liked. Well, that and getting a blood test. That's never fun!"

Katie our waitress came by again.

"Would you ladies like refills for your colas?" she asked.

"If you could, please!" I replied.

"Mine as well!" Marjorie added.

"Okay," Katie confirmed. "And did you save room for dessert? Our special is Aunt Ellie's Dutch Apple Pie á  la Mode.

"Oh, I don't know," I objected quietly. "That may be too much for me!"

Marjorie flashed an almost imperceptibly approving grin my way. "I don't think that I can eat anything else, either," she said. "But I think that they'd appreciate it back at the office. So, could we get the whole pie to go? Packed with the ice cream? Do we get the special price on the takeout?"

"Of course!" Katie answered. "I'll just add it to your bill and you can pick it up on your way out."

"And could you pack the remaining pizza for us too?" Marjorie requested.

"Absolutely!" Katie promised. "I'll take care of that as well."

Marjorie had reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, quickly producing a credit card. "Run this while we make a pitstop," she told Katie. "We'll pick up the dessert on our way out."

Marjorie's finger beckoned me to follow along as she started toward the Ladies' Room. For the second time today, I was being ushered into the inner sanctum of womanhood. And I was feeling nervous about it once again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fortunately, each stall in the Ladies' Room had a door to offer privacy for its user. So I took advantage of that for a couple minutes. I emerged from it noting in the large mirror that I needed to straighten my dress some.

"It's okay, Sasha," Marjorie addressed me. "Women go to the Ladies' Room together quite often. Boys don't do that. Fortunately, there's no one else in here. I need to let you know something." She was applying lipstick, carefully watching herself in the mirror.

"Oh?" I responded. "What might that be?" I noticed that some of my own lipstick had smudged off. I reached into my purse to extract a tube.

"Just that you're going to be dressing like a girl for a long time," she said. "You really need to get used to it. The journey in front of you will be difficult but very fulfilling for you. Your family and closest friends will be okay with you doing it, too."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I'll tell you the truth about me that I've never told anyone else" she began her confession. "I can see and read auras. And yours is beautiful. You've built your own psyche, your personality, into a work of art, although you can't understand it yourself. What's so remarkable, though, is that the feminine and masculine colors of your aura are so perfectly matched as complements, interacting with each other in very spectacular patterns. But I can't do its beauty justice in words. I must show you!"

With that, Marjorie placed her index and neighboring fingers over my temples and her thumbs at the back of my head. Then I saw in the mirror bright beams, layers, and vortices in various hues, shades, and tints of light radiating from and swirling about me, illuminating the entire room. Also, I heard in my mind the sounds of lush harmonies, as if Philip Glass had composed a few variations on themes by Debussy and Ravel.

Marjorie let go of my mind and the light and sound show ceased. I was gasping for breath, but all of the anxiety was gone as I studied my face in the mirror. What she had shown me was overwhelming.

"Sasha," she continued, "everything that I've told you is there in what you just saw. I've been slowly learning how to read auras and you have the most beautiful one I've ever seen."

"I have to say that it's all too much," I admitted to her. "It was overwhelming."

"What I can tell you is that you must continue the path that you've begun to travel. I can't really explain it all to you now. Your ability to blend your masculine and feminine aspects will become your greatest strength. Your emotional depth and scope will match that of your intellect. Your most difficult challenge will be learning to trust those around you. And don't worry if you feel overwhelmed right now; you'll be up to understanding it as you need to. Oh, Sasha! Your journey will be so exciting! I envy Tina and Sonia getting to travel it with you."

Marjorie was telling me more than I could take in. At this point I was trembling too much to handle the brush for my mascara.

"Do I need to redo my mascara or anything else?" I asked her, turning my face from the mirror to her.

"Try some fresh lipgloss," she suggested. "Your look just screams for it!"

I checked my purse for lipgloss. Indeed, Sonia had thought of that, too. I spread a small dab of it on my lips as I watched myself in the mirror.

"That's excellent!" Marjorie observed. "Did Sonia show you how to put that on as well?"

"Yes," I answered. "But she only had time to show me the simplest techniques this morning."

"Then you've done it before, yourself?"

"No. Why?"

"You just applied it with a studied hand," Marjorie told me, "like you've always known how. That's sort of what your aura was showing me."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We left the Ladies' Room and went over to the cash register where the pie and ice cream were packed to go along with a box for the remaining pizza and large paper cups with lids and drinking straws in a cardboard carrying tray. A tall, somewhat stern-looking woman in her mid-thirties was there waiting for us.

"Good afternoon, ladies," she greeted us. "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Of course, we did," Marjorie answered. "Gloria, I'd like you to meet Sasha, my new friend." She turned to me. "Sasha, this is Gloria, an actual niece to Aunt Ellie. She's the manager of this restaurant since Aunt Ellie opened a new one. Rumor has it she's about to open a third."

"It's no longer a rumor, Marjorie," Gloria corrected her. "The paperwork has been signed and sealed. The third location of Aunt Ellie's Kitchen will be opening as summer begins. And it's nice to meet you Sasha. Are you still in high school?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I answered, blushing somewhat. "I'm a sophomore."

"Would you be looking for a summer job?" Gloria asked me. "We're hiring for summer now. Aunt Ellie wants to transfer some of our more experienced staff from both here and her other restaurant to the new one. So we need to replace them with new staff as well as add our usual extra staff for the tourist season."

"Honestly, Ma'am, I hadn't thought about it yet," I admitted to her. "I'm still focused on my classes until school's out."

"Could I interest you in submitting an application to us?" she asked me. "Anyone Marjorie brings us has done well here. I find that her judgement is impeccable. Just being in her company constitutes a reference here."

"I really can't stay longer today," I told her, trying to deflect the inquiry. "If I can take it with me and submit it later, then I could consider it."

Gloria presented me with an application which I carefully folded and placed in my purse. I would look at it later, but I did not much care for the idea of dressing as a cowgirl for the summer. I was looking forward to summer music camp anyway.

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said to the manager. "It feels nice to be asked to apply."

Marjorie spoke up again. "Sasha is one of my special friends," she told Gloria. "She would be an exceptional waitress for you."

She has slightly emphasized the intonation of the words special and exceptional. I felt just a little uncomfortable, as I could guess the meaning of the hidden message so conveyed.

"Your total is forty-two dollars and seventy-four cents on your firm's credit card," Gloria announced. "Sign here please."

I noticed Marjorie left a hefty eight-dollar tip for Katie. She was right when she said that tips were good; she was giving them! Of course, with that many highly paid medical professionals frequenting Aunt Ellie's Kitchen, it made sense. Could I get used to the cowgirl look? Hmm? Might it be fun and lucrative?

There I was, thinking of reasons to crossdress again. I'd only been dressed like this a few hours and already I was liking it too much. What had Sonia done to me? What had I done to me?

Marjorie gave me the pizza box and tray of drinks to carry while she would take the pie and ice cream.

"Sasha, we'll go to my car in the parking lot behind the Medical Arts building and I'll drive you home. You keep the remaining pizza for yourself. I'm hoping that driving you home and coming back will take enough time for the ice cream to soften up. It's frozen solid!"

A smiling Gloria held the door open for us to leave and waved to us on our way back across the street. We smiled back to her as Marjorie waved for the both of us.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Sasha," Marjorie began, "you be certain to fill out that application for Aunt Ellie's and bring it back."

"Did you consider that I might have my own plans for the summer?" I objected. "I hadn't been looking for a summer job because I already had one promised to me. More than that, I spend a week or two at music camp every summer."

"Oh! I'm sorry," she replied. "I guess I thought that you might want to work there because of the money. They do pay better than any fast food place you might work at. What kind of job do you have lined up?"

"I've been asked to work as a junior teaching assistant with the Metropolitan Music Festival Workshops," I told her. "This summer will be the first time that I'm eligible to get paid for doing it. And I've been so looking forward to it. It's only minimum wage, but I get to attend all the master classes and take my private lessons for free. And that's worth a lot more to me."

"Do you play an instrument?" Marjorie asked me.

"Violin and oboe," I told her. "I'm best at violin, because I've been playing it since kindergarten. I started playing oboe and English horn for the band in middle school."

"Wow! You must have lots of talent!"

"I love music," I confessed. "It's something I really enjoy doing. Everyone at home plays something. Dad plays piano; Mom, viola; and Sonia, 'cello and flute. And my Aunt Svetlana is a violinist as well. We like to play chamber music at home. That's really fun for us."

"You come from a family of musical talent." Marjorie acknowledged.

"Yeah!" I affirmed. "It's just something that we all love to do. I've thought about becoming a professional violinist myself. Aunt Svetlana and my teacher both say that I have the talent and the technique if I want to commit to it. But also I enjoy math and science. I guess I'm too young to decide what I want to do yet."

"That explains some more of what I saw in your aura," she said. "That seems like it may be one of the much more difficult decisions that's still off in your future."

"Mrs. Wyatt, my high-school counsellor, says that trying to choose a career might be especially difficult for me because I'm very good at quite a few different things. Mom said that Dad might have been stressed out over whether to go into engineering, science, or music. But in the old Soviet Union, the decision was really made for him. He was kind of pushed into engineering because his scores were best in math and the applied sciences and, at the time, the state needed more engineers. But he's always liked working as an engineer. The only time he ever doubted it was when he was laid off from his job at the metallurgy plant here."

"You're very proud of your dad, aren't you?" Marjorie asked me. "He seems quite a role model."

"Oh yeah!" I answered. "You should see him play ice hockey. I learned so much about how to play from him. But Mom also told me that while he was looking for his first job in America, he did all the housework while she went to work. He sewed our clothes for me and Sonia when we were little. She said that Dad even made dresses for her."

"That's very interesting," Marjorie remarked. "Sounds like androgyny runs in your family."

"That's what Mom said, too."

"Does your dad know you're dressed like your sister today?" she followed up.

"He probably does now," I admitted. "Mom took a photo of me just before I left this morning. She called him yesterday and told him that I had agreed to do it for Sonia."

"What did he think about it?"

"He was okay with it so long as it was my choice and hadn't been forced."

"Your father seems a very interesting guy," Marjorie concluded. "Most men I know would totally freak out if their sons were dressing like girls."

"I thought he would, too," I said, "until Mom told me that he'd been the homemaker for us. But as an engineer, Dad's a very practical guy and when he learned at the time that Mom was able to get a better paying job, he apparently had no trouble with it. When he found a higher paying position, they switched roles again."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We arrived at Marjorie's car, a small compact, and she had already unlocked the doors by remote. She opened the passenger side door for me and I managed to sit down with the correct sit-and-pivot move even though encumbered with the pizza and beverages. Marjorie was duly impressed with the maneuver.

"Sasha, are you absolutely certain you're not really a girl after all? I was sure you'd never make it into the car with all that!"

"Well, it's not that difficult! Besides, Ms. Tollefson made sure I learned the move this morning. For that matter, why is everyone so eager for me to succeed as a girl? It's creepier than my hallucinations! I understand my sister having the fantasy, but altogether too many people seem to have a vested interest in my— trans-vesting!"

My ill-formed pun seemed to have triggered Marjorie's giggling reflex. Moreover, I was already girl enough that when she giggled, so did I. Self-restraint didn't seem to apply to giggling. A few days ago I couldn't giggle; I didn't know how. And I still didn't know how, but I had just begun to do it spontaneously.

I put our drinks in the recessed niches molded for that purpose and Marjorie held the pizza box while I fastened the seat-belt-and-shoulder-strap safety harness. Then I took the pizza and bag with the pie and ice cream as she buckled up started the car. We pulled out of the parking place and began driving toward the street.

Unlike most other girls that I rode with, Marjorie was not one to converse while driving. She remained clearly focused on the task at hand, and I just knew better than to interrupt her without a good reason, like to tell her where to turn. We quickly made it onto the highway and she continued westward, the general direction to my home.

"Take the next right-hand turnoff," I directed her. "Then drive to the second stoplight."

She followed my instructions calmly. "Then where to?" Marjorie requested as she continued.

"Turn left," I said. "Continue four blocks to the next traffic signal."

I noticed her grinning as she followed my instructions. And wondered why?

The traffic signal was red and she began to brake to a stop.

"What next?" she asked.

"Turn right, then go one block," I told her. "Now turn left and proceed to the traffic circle and follow the signs. It's counterclockwise. Mine's the first reddish-brown house on the right."

She quietly pulled up to my house and applied the parking brake.

"Are you driving yet? Marjorie asked.

"I have my license," I answered, "but I don't have much experience driving. Mom says that she'll let me drive more when I really need to."

"Well, you're excellent as a girl!" she said smiling with a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes. "Only a boy who gives directions as well as you do, or a girl, is willing to stop and ask for directions."

I had to wonder if that were indeed true, or was she merely trying to encourage me further to accept an eerily impending girlhood?

"Thanks for the ride, Marjorie!" I announced gratefully. "I hope to see you again, soon!"

"Me too, Sasha!" She handed me the cola as I exited the car. "You, Tina, and Sonia should come shopping with me and some of my friends. We can take over a mall some Saturday! Interested?"

"I'll ask everyone," I promised as she began to pull away from the curb. "Bye-bye!"

Marjorie honked a goodbye as she waved to me.

As I walked up the path to our house, I understood that most of the misgivings that I had felt about this strange experiment were muted by the fact that I had made a new friend because I was wearing my sister's dress.