Pronouncing Russian phrases

Да [dah], yes
Нет [nyet], no
Мой Саша [moy SAH-shuh], my Sasha (boy)
Моя Саша [muh-YAH SAH-shuh], my Sasha (girl)
Моя Мама [muh YAH MAH-muh], my Mom

Mom had been watching and hearing all that had happened when Marjorie drove up to our house and let me out.

"Sasha, did you make a new friend?" Mom asked me as she opened the door.

"Yes. That was Marjorie, Dr. Torricelli's receptionist. She thought I was very cute dressed as a girl and offered to buy me lunch and then drive me home. Apparently, boys dressing as girls is not so unusual after all."

As Mom giggled at my remark, I stepped up into the house with the leftover pizza and cola.

"Моя Саша, many boys could also be pretty girls if they try," she assured me. "More should be like you are now. You no longer fear the woman within yourself. Like your father, you have found your path to becoming a whole person."

Mom shut the door after I was inside.

"But Мама!," I said, "I am still afraid!"

"Perhaps you are," Mom conceded. "But of what? Do you still fear discovery or humiliation? Do you fear disappointing Sonia or Tina or even yourself? I think that you even feared that you might disappoint your father or me, but indeed, we approve of what you do now. But I do not believe that you fear the woman within you any longer."

I took the pizza and soft drink into the kitchen and left it in the refrigerator. This was much to think about and then I understood something that Mom had discussed with me earlier.

"Нет, моя Мама," I said. "I have liked being a girl so far today. That's been a surprise to me. And I'm looking forward to dressing up over the weekend."

"As am I, моя Саша," she acknowledged. "Would my new daughter like some tea?"

"Да, Мама, I would like some."

"We can sit in the salon while we enjoy our tea."

I sat down on the right end of the sofa to unfasten the straps of my shoes. Gently I kicked them off and sat drawing my legs up beside me, as I had seen Mom and Sis do so many times. I could feel the plush upholstery of the sofa through my pantyhose against my legs and feet. It felt quite different than the cool leather upholstery of the couch in Dr. Torricelli's office. Feeling the various textiles through my pantyhose was not only curious but also exhilarating and enjoyable. Again I felt the silky, satiny undergarments against my skin. Because my sister's wardrobe had always seemed so complicated, I had also assumed that it had to be uncomfortable. Maybe other garments were, but now I felt genuinely comfortable and relaxed in Sonia's nautical-style dress, undergarments, and pantyhose. The only thing that had been in the least uncomfortable were Debbie's stiletto pumps. Yet I think they helped me feel the most like a real girl.

Mom brought in the tea tray and set it down on the coffee table. (So why aren't there tea tables?) She had filled two glasses of hot tea and there were also two small plates with her own baked soft cookies. We each sweetened our tea with jam.

Sitting back in her favorite armchair, Mom appeared as relaxed as I felt.

"Marjorie was kind to offer me a ride home," I said. "She's very remarkable in her own right. She gave me some advice for dressing up."

"What makes her remarkable to you?" Mom asked.

"She's competed in beauty pageants like Sonia," I told her. "I should ask Sis if she knows her."

"Of course," Mom affirmed. "Perhaps she will be a friend to all you girls!"

Now did Mom need to say it quite that way? Yes. She wants me to consider myself a girl whenever I'm dressed as one. It does make sense, though. Sis wants me to enjoy girlhood; Mom wants me to take it very seriously. Can I do both without stressing out?

"She even suggested that we all should go shopping. Maybe her friends could meet with Sonia's, Tina's, and mine at the mall? Do you think that would work out?"

"You can always ask," Mom reminded me. "Girls like to bring girls together for any reason, like your sleepover tonight."

"That's right!" I recalled suddenly. "Мама, I've never been at a sleepover before. So, what happens at a sleepover, anyway?"

"It would be wrong for me to tell you. If I do, it would spoil it for both you and the other girls."

Other girls? Mom just won't let me forget it for a moment! I cuddled myself deeper into my corner of the sofa and sipped some tea.

"Моя Саша," she addressed me, "you sit just like Sonia. Is her dress comfortable for you?"

"Да, Мама," I answered. "It's very comfortable. I was really surprised by that. I've enjoyed wearing it and I'll be happy to wear it all day long." I sipped more tea.

"So, you look forward to dress like your sister for all the weekend?"

"Да," I replied. "I promised Sonia that she may dress me all weekend and even Monday."

"Моя Саша, that is not what I asked you. Do you look forward to it? Will you be happy to dress like your sister for the weekend?"

Why did Mom always have such a precise feel for language? Now I had to confess to her that I wanted indeed to dress like a girl and I knew that I was blushing because of it.

"Да, Мама. It's more than just a promise, now. I really want to do this for the weekend. Not just for Sonia and for Tina, but for myself. I feel nervous but still happy about it. I feel like it's something that I need to do— like it's something that I've always been supposed to do."

Maybe my conversation with Marjorie had affected me more than I thought. I could not escape the idea that somehow my destiny was to include dressing as a girl, and that I would need to get comfortable with it.

"You seem to understand that you ought not fear it anymore."

"But I still feel afraid."

"Да, but you also know that you need not fear it. Soon you will be able to dismiss your fear."

"Why do people fear, Мама?"

"Rational fear protects us from harm. That is a good, honest fear. God has made us to fear bad things so that we stay away from what could harm us. But when fear is irrational, then we mistakenly stay away from what cannot harm us. Indeed, then we might avoid what is good for us."

"Then, I should not be afraid of wearing a dress. It can't harm me."

"So you know that you can let go of that fear."

"I think so," I answered Mom, feeling better and calmer about it. "Besides it's just for the weekend."

"Did the doctor say that you can go back to school Monday?"

"Да, Мама. He signed my release to return to school. But since I promised Sonia to dress up for her, I must wait until Tuesday."

Mom grimaced and furrowed her brow just a moment.

"Моя Саша, would you show me your medical form for school?"

"Certainly," I said, retrieving two documents from my purse. "And there's a parental consent form for you to sign that I must return to Dr. Torricelli." I walked the forms over to Mom. She studied the school's medical readmission form for a moment and handed it back to me.

"Did Dr. Torricelli say he needed anything else?"

"No, but Dr. Magnusson asked for Dad's telephone number in case there would be an emergency."

"Да, моя Саша. That is wise." She took out her pen from the drawer of an end table and began writing on the psychiatrist's form. "And who is this person named Dr. Magnusson?"

"He is the intake counselor for Dr. Torricelli. He listens to the patients first to help Dr. Torricelli treat them."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said that I have remarkable insight into what's happening to me and he trusts me to take care of my own sanity and that I should trust myself as well."

"Did he say anything about how you were dressed?"

"He said I was prettier than his daughter and that it might be the healthiest thing I can do right now."

"I think he's right— both ways!" Mom said approvingly. "What did Dr. Torricelli say?

"He's not so sure that I'm hallucinating. He said some did sound like hallucinations but others did not."

"This is an honest man." Mom opined. "What did he think about you dressing as a girl?"

I blushed as I recalled what he did say to me. Just how much of it should I tell Mom? Maybe it's all right since it's just his opinion.

"He said that for me it would be time well spent. Also, he said that he believed I would continue doing it because I wanted to."

"He is wise as well as honest. I think that I may like this Dr. Torricelli," she concluded. "He will be good for you."

I knew that Mom would only say that because she already agrees with him. Somehow I felt that everyone was ganging up on me again. Because I agreed that I would dress up for Sonia, suddenly everyone seemed to have something at stake in my doing it. This was altogether too weird.

Mom got up and went to the kitchen. I relaxed and closed my eyes for a moment.

"Sasha, penny for your thoughts?" Tina asked me.

"I don't really know. Everyone wants me to be like a girl. And I do like how it feels when I am. But I'm losing the feeling that it's my choice. Does that make sense?"

"Sweetheart, it is your choice. You made it out of love for me and out of respect for what my gender represents to you— and to the world!" Tina reminded me. "I love your courage in dressing up with me, your willingness to be like us, to immerse yourself in who we are. I know it's a paradox, but the more you make yourself like a girl, the better a man you become. You have earned my respect, your sister's, your mother's, your father's, your teachers'. They all respect what you're achieving. You continue to earn that. Even most of the smarter and more popular boys at school think highly of what you're doing, even if they're too afraid to tell you."

"But how can you know that?" I asked her. "I can know what you and Sonia and my parents think, but I don't have anyway of knowing the others' attitudes."

"The other girls all talk to me and to each other. They all tell what their boyfriends think and how they feel about whatever's going on." Tina explained. "Do you know what they think about us? We're the trend-setters for serious relationships, since we've been married." Tina squeezed my hand and I relaxed. I noticed my wedding rings and French manicure again.

I liked what I heard Tina tell me, but she couldn't be my Tina, could she? Yet how could she be any other Tina? I had to be hallucinating again. But maybe, this isn't a hallucination, but an illusion? How would that be any different, though?

"It all feels like it's too much to me, though," I confessed to her. "I'm afraid of disappointing you, of letting you down…"

"I know, but don't worry about that," she said. "We're trendsetters. That also makes us trailblazers. We go into things knowing that not everything that we attempt will always work out, no matter how good we might be at doing it. That's a given! Don't think in terms of disappointing me or letting us down. The fun is more in trying new things whether we succeed at them or not."

Tina knew what to say so I'll feel better. I felt her hand rub my nylon-covered legs. Pantyhose felt so luxurious when used this way. The next thing I knew, we were engaged in some serious liplock! I sighed in pleasure and opening my eyes, I was sitting on the sofa, alone.

I leaned back and closed my eyes again.