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Kate, Part 6 Where the Past Meets the Present By Ricky |
Indulge me for a moment and go get your local copy of the White Pages from wherever you store it. I mean the printed one, not the online version - that won't work. Turn to the back cover and I bet you'll find a picture of two white males in black suits who are offering to make you rich by suing someone. Usually the word 'INJURED' figures prominently in the text, as well as a figure like $100,000,000. In Rochester the firm is Cellino and Barnes, but for a while it was known as The Barnes Group because Cellino was disbarred.
Why do I talk about sleazy lawyers? Because that's the feeling I had when I approached the plastic surgeon in New York City about breast augmentation surgery without official psychiatric permission. Why New York City, after all Rochester had plenty of plastic surgeons in practice? Simple, there is an active drag queen community in New York City and there are a number of plastic surgeons willing to service men who want breasts with minimal curiosity as to why.
OK, maybe it was just me, after all I was very nervous despite my resolve to go ahead with surgery. I had gotten three doctor's names from a drag queen forum, ones they said could be trusted. I was surprised at how quickly one could schedule a preliminary appointment. I had no intention of being a drag queen, but you go were the service is offered.
The surprises didn't end there. After checking hotel prices and allowing a couple of hours to recover from shock, we found there actually is an RV park within sight of the Statue of Liberty with a subway stop only five blocks away. I'm not smoking something illegal, it's true. Its called Liberty Harbor RV Park and Marina - all the amenities and even wireless Internet access. We weren't looking for the natural beauty of Allegany or the Thousand Islands, just a place to stay that cost less than the surgery itself!
So we added an unexpected trip to New York City to our summer of exploration. We were even able to reserve a spot from Sunday to Tuesday without too much trouble. I will offer you one hint, however. If you're driving a pickup with a 26 foot trailer, DO NOT time your arrival in New York City anywhere near to rush hour. I think two o'clock in the morning may be the best time, but I haven't tried it myself.
To my vast relief, the offices looked like any other professional office complex anywhere in the world. With the sleazy lawyer comparison in the back of my head I had been half expecting a hovel in the slums with burnt out hulks surrounding it. I quieted my imagination and waited with Stephanie for the doctor.
Well, not the doctor, but the doctor's assistant. Having done my research on the types of breast augmentation surgery beforehand I could almost have given the assistant's lecture on the various procedures. I heard nothing to change my decision to go for textured silicon forms. Having gotten the basics, we finally talked to the doctor himself.
No his name wasn't Frankenstein and he didn't look like a refugee from a Mel Brooks film. He was friendly and professional and discussed the options for incisions and anesthesia frankly. I think he was surprised when he finally examined me that I had no breasts of my own at all, despite the little letter 'M' on the paperwork I had filled out. Even doctors familiar with drag queens seem to think I am female. Isn't that a kick?
The delicate subject of payment came up, but since I was paying in cash it didn't occupy much time. I wrote a check, fortunately with far fewer zeros than the sleazy lawyer's ad, then set the date for October 14. That gave me the midterm break to recuperate before returning to class. Assuming I was still teaching, that is.
I don't want this to turn into a travelogue, but I will mention we rode the ferry and saw Miss Liberty from the harbor at night, visited her and Ellis Island and spent far too little time at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. The subway was confusing but clean and well cared for. It got us where we wanted to go and I didn't have to worry about parking a pickup in the big city. Taking my own advice, we left in the evening, after rush hour, and got home late but unfrazzled.
---
"Come in, Kate."
"Hi, Jean"
"And what new has happened this week?"
"You probably won't like it, but I just got back from New York City where I scheduled my augmentation surgery."
"Kate, Kate, Kate! I must say I have never had a patient remotely like you."
"Isn't it a truism that we are all unique?"
"Wait a minute! I'm supposed to be asking the questions. The next thing I know you'll be hanging out your own shingle and making me obsolete."
"If the college won't take me back I may have to find a new source of income."
"Which does point up one of the difficulties you will face. I have to tell you that I really don't know how to treat your case. You just don't fit the normal patterns."
"Like I said, unique."
"How true. With most gender conflicted clients the first issue to deal with is the years of guilt at not being a stereotypical man, but I can't say you show any signs of guilt at all. Hush, and let me finish before you answer. We recognize four main diagnostic criteria for gender dysphoria.
"First, a persistent desire to present as a woman. You meet the criteria here, but my concern is with the relatively short time span."
"Second is a persistent discomfort with being male. Again the time concerns me, but you have not really spoken about a dislike of being male. In fact your desire to keep a functional penis indicates against that.
"Third is having an intersex condition. You get a pass on this one unless you've been hiding something from me."
"Lastly, and I shall quote, 'The disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.' You have made it clear that returning to your male personality would qualify, but you seemed reasonable happy as Steve until earlier this year."
"Now psychiatry is not like ordering from a menu, one from column A and one from column B and you have a diagnosis. You've been full time for about three months and part time for longer than that. I have no doubt that you've passed your Real Life Test despite it not being a full year. In fact, since the purpose of the Real Life Test for most transgendered people is genital reassignment surgery, the results of your RLT is pretty much moot."
"What I'm getting at is we are going to have to work out an individual set of guidelines for you and you alone."
"To risk being thought facetious, I guess I am unique.'
"Now I'll agree!"
"Then it's official?"
"That's what we have to discuss next. How to deal with the officials that control our lives. They always want paperwork and if you don't have it you can have a world of troubles. Your birth certificate says 'male' and that's hard to change."
"Actually, it doesn't. I was born in Illinois and they don't record the sex of an infant. I've been doing some research."
"There you go again. I don't think I've ever had a client so thoroughly prepared and informed."
"It's all those years of writing papers. If there aren't enough citations nobody takes it seriously. I learned how to do research and document it before I could crawl, I think. I'm very glad I wasn't born in New York; in order to change a birth certificate your GRS surgeon has to go so far as to tell the State what procedure he used on you. All Illinois wants is a copy of the court decree changing my name and they will amend the birth certificate with the new name. A few bucks to the lawyers and I'm legal. Then I take my court order to the county clerk and get a new driver's license. But we do most of that after we have the marriage license."
"You did it again! I was about to tell you to find a lawyer so the legal work is done right and you beat me to it!"
"I just hope Stephanie has a relative who's a lawyer. She seems to have one in just about every profession."
"You aren't worried about revealing your transgender status to her family?"
"We didn't try to hide it, but we haven't shouted it from the mountaintops, either"
"You do realize you can't change gender on your Social Security or passport without reassignment surgery.?
"I do. The name change is easy enough once I have a court ordered name change, but I'll have to live with my birth gender on those documents. I don't have a passport, but I'm going to need one pretty soon to go over to Canada. With any luck I can fill in the forms and mail them in without any big fuss. "
"There are always credit cards, bank accounts, and the dreaded IRS. You're going to be a busy girl for quite some time. I suspect your choice to blend genders will cause headaches for some time, but you have a very creative way of coping with problems."
"You say that like you're convinced I can make this work."
"Despite some reservations, I think you can. I'm prepared to give you a letter stating you are under treatment for gender dysphoria and identify primarily as a woman, because that much is clear to me at this point. I'll even throw in some official gobbledegook to confuse the unwary bureaucrat. Since you are not seeking reassignment surgery New York will be a pain to deal with, they always want all the details before they do anything official. The letter might help bolster your case, but that's about all I can do."
"Thank you, Jean. I appreciate your frankness and don't want you to do anything you are uncomfortable with."
"You can be sure I wouldn't! I think we should see each other once a month or so as you work your way through the public change. Quite frankly, you seem to have dealt with the usual transgender issues with your partner's support and I don't think you need that sort of help. I see my role from here on out as that of advisor for some technical issues and protocols, but you're too sane to need my usual sort of services. And don't you dare tell anyone I said that! She laughed. "Naturally I'm available if something goes wrong and you need help."
"Do I get a certificate or a gold star? 99 and 44/100 percent sane?"
"I don't give written guarantees."
"By the way, if you aren't worried about mixing the personal and the professional, Stephanie and I would like you to come to our wedding."
---
"Stephanie?"
"Yes?"
"Would you be terribly upset if we didn't make the pilgrimage to the Frank Lloyd Wright houses? After New York and the rest of our traveling I really want to just stay still and recuperate."
"There's plenty of time to see them sometime else. I'm not wedded to the idea."
"Especially when you plan to get wedded to me."
"Speaking of weddings, Mother hasn't called in a few days. I wonder if she's sick? She couldn't possibly be resigned to our minimalist wedding plans."
"There! We've been so busy I hadn't even noticed. Should we call her?"
"I thought you wanted to have some time to relax?"
"Oh, right. Shall we rip out the phone by the cord?"
"That doesn't work with cell phones, darling."
"That's why they have a silence option."
"What more needs to be done? We sent out the invitations, Bernie has the catering in hand, our bridesmaids are lined up, the garden of full of rose petals for strewing and we have our dresses."
Yes, I know I haven't told you that story, but it's been done so many times I can't bring myself to gush over the details of the whole thing. Besides, I found my dress at a Goodwill store - that isn't romantic enough to waste a few paragraphs about shopping. The dress is lovely and I hope whoever wore it the first time is still happily married and short of closet space.
"We still have to talk about the rehearsal dinner."
"I've had enough practice eating I don't need to rehearse. Just put the plate in front of me and I'll wing it."
I was saved from bodily injury when the phone rang and Stephanie picked it up.
"Hello…" she answered. "This is Stephanie Petrillo…"
If you've ever read an American Romance Novel, and as an English Professor I had slogged through a few of them for professional reasons, you will be familiar with the term '… and the heroine swooned'. An odd word not used much in the modern spoken language, but one found often in the Romance Novel.
I had never seen anyone swoon, faint or otherwise loose consciousness but when Stephanie turned white and dropped the phone I had a very personal display of swooning. Fortunately, she was sitting down, so I didn't have to witness a concussion or broken bone, but I was up and over to her with no memory of the intervening distance.
"Stephanie? Steph?"
I said a lot of other things, mostly nonsense, while I lifted her hand and tried to check her pulse. It looks easy when you see someone do it on TV, but I couldn't feel a damn thing. Before I could do anything else ineffectual she moaned and opened her eyes.
Knowing she was back, I was finally conscious of a tinny voice coming from the receiver.
"Hello? Hello. I say, are you still there?"
A small part of my mind registered a distinct British accent with an odd overlay of something. Middle Eastern? Hebrew? Irrelevant. Then Stephanie distinctly said "Tariq!"
I can spell it correctly now, but at the time it was just a meaningless syllable. I had no idea of what she was saying.
"My son! He says he's my son Tariq!"
That's when the light dawned. Confused, I picked up the phone.
"Hello, who is this?"
"I'm afraid this may come as a bit of a shock, but this is her son Tariq al-Hallaj speaking."
"Just a moment, please," I finally managed to get out. "She's had quite a shock after all these years."
"I must apologize for causing her distress, but I could not think of any other way to say it. I have come to Boston to attend the university here and hoped I could meet the mother my father would not speak about.
"This has certainly come as a surprise, but I don't suppose there is an easy way to tell someone she is the mother you have never met. If you could give her another moment to recover I'm sure she's going to want to speak to you. My name is Kate Tucker, by the way."
No way I was going to try to explain our relationship just then!
"You say you've come to America for college?"
"Yes. My father feels that an American style education is necessary for anyone to be successful in the modern world."
While I was stalling for time I went over to the other hands free phone and brought it to Stephanie. There was no way I would miss hearing about her long lost son!
"I think your mother is recovered enough to talk. Stephanie?"
I handed her the second phone.
"Tariq? Is that really you?"
"If you are the woman who married Faruq al-Hallaj in 1985 then I am your son."
"Oh my god! It is you!"
"Mother, I hardly know what to say. My father would not approve of me speaking with you, but I simply could not come to this country and not try to find you. I have a great love and respect for my father, but he has always refused to speak of you or why you divorced. He is a proud man and I do not lightly go against his will, but I have always wanted to know my mother. It has been hard to grow up with only nannies and governesses."
"He never remarried?"
"No, he did not. Again, he will not speak of why this is so, but I could not live with him for my entire life to realize the divorce disturbed him greatly."
"Tariq, I don't know what to say. I will never speak badly of your father to you or your sister, if I should meet her. I can't tell you how much I have missed you and Yasmin. I tried for years to find you but the authorities wouldn't do a thing. I never thought I would see you again!"
"I hope I can get to see you, mother. That is one reason I came to Boston early, so I would have time to become a detective and find you. I fear I am not much of a detective, I simply called information with your name and they connected me to you."
"Unbelievable! Please, tell me about yourself. Where have you been, what have you done?"
How do you condense an entire life into a phone call? How much to you tell to the stranger that is your mother? His story was a curious blend of the commonplace and the exotic. Raised in a moneyed household in Iran, he still grew up much as any young man would. At ten years old they moved to London where his father was involved in the family business.
Thus Tariq was a hybrid of east and west. His accent was strongly Brittish but with an overlay of what I now knew to be Farsi. He spoke of friends, schooling, his sister, commonplace things yet interesting and personal to a mother who had never known her child much past the stage of wearing diapers.
The conversation was halting. From what little I knew of Islamic culture, I remembered that men and women were often segregated. With the Wars going on there had been a feeble attempt to tell Americans about Islam and the cultures it spanned, but I'm afraid I hadn't paid much attention. Sensational things like stoning unmarried women who talked to a man came to mind unbidden, but surely that wasn't a commonplace thing? People can do spectacularly ugly things in a mob, but I certainly didn't want to judge an entire religion by the spectacular events the news-as-entertainment people on television presented. I just didn't know.
As I mused I noticed Tariq was asking Stephanie to tell him about her life. That ought to be a trick! We had been incredibly lucky in meeting people who could understand and love Kate despite the talk show culture we lived in. How were we going to tell this 19 year old (I did some quick math in my head) boy raised in another country that his long lost mother was going to marry a man who had become a woman? What would his religion have to say about my being transgendered? How was the fanciful goddess of my dreams going to handle this?
By letting me figure it out for myself. That's what goddesses do, don't they? Take credit if it works and let you whistle in the dark if it goes sideways. My, aren't we cynical all of a sudden? No matter how you cut it, two women married to each other are going to invite curiosity. We knew damned well we would have to spend far too much of our lives explaining, then chose get married anyway. We just never figured we would have to explain transgenderism, alternate lifestyles, culture clashes and love all in one messy package.
"I am finding that even though I am an American citizen and have an American passport, I am not an American. I thought I knew what America would be like before I came but it is so different!"
"You poor boy. I suppose you have been watching our TV over there?"
"Of course! The entire world watches American programs. Even the mullahs who hate your country watch your television. There are satellite dishes everywhere. Some say there are dishes hidden in the parapets of the mosques, but they don't say it too loudly."
"I've always wondered what people in other countries must think of us from watching the garbage we put on television. Tariq, I have never once seen a car chase, a policeman with his gun drawn, a member of the mafia or even a murder victim. I know you could find any of them, even in a city as small as Rochester, if you watched long enough, but I would bet 90% of the people here have never seen anything like that outside of the TV. Why, if I were to judge Iran by what I have seen on TV then I would think war and riots and policemen beating protesters were normal activities."
"I think I understand, mother. Father has said much the same thing. Perhaps that is why he wanted me to come to America, so I could learn for myself. It has been confusing, but there are many good people here who are trying to help me."
"I'm glad to hear that, Tariq."
"Mother, may I come to see you?"
"When?! How long can you stay?"
"I have three weeks before my college orientation starts. I could leave in a day or two and stay as long as I am welcome."
"Tariq, you will always be welcome in our home!"
"Thank you. I was afraid you would not want anything to do with me. I understood your divorce from Father was, um, unpleasant."
"It was, Tariq. I won't deny that, but it broke my heart when he took you and Yasmin away. I have never stopped loving you both."
"Thank you, mother. I just didn't know."
"How will you get here? Do you have a car? Will you fly?" she asked excitedly.
"I have not gotten a car of my own. My father and the people from the college assured me that having a car in Boston is more trouble than it would be worth, and very expensive. I have only been here a few days but I have started to make sense of the busses and subways. I think they may be correct. I think it would make sense to fly to Rochester."
"When you have your flight let us know. We will be there to meet you at the airport!"
"Mother, forgive me for asking, for I have been told I speak English well, I still have some trouble with the small things. You said 'we would meet you at the airport', does that mean you have married someone after father?"
"Oh my! I'm afraid you have asked a question that will be difficult to answer! I am getting married on Saturday.
He said something in what I assume was Farsi. "That is a traditional wish meaning 'Live and stay together till end of your lives'."
"Thank you, Tariq, that's a lovely thought."
"I can hardly believe this is happening. To have found my lost mother and then to find her about to be wedded. Allah has smiled on all of us this day."
"You aren't upset that your father and I are not together?"
"Mother, how could I be for I have never known you. Father seldom speaks of you but he has said he regrets he was a fool in his youth. Despite what some of our Imams teach about America father has told us that the people of your country are as good and as bad as the people of Iran. Having lived in London I can say he is right. He has often said we should be proud of our American heritage, so that I take to mean we should be proud of you. How could a son deny his mother happiness and a companion to share her life, even if it is not his father?"
"You're making me cry!"
"I am sorry! Do not cry, mother. A wedding is a time for joy, not tears."
"Not for a woman, Tariq! These are tears of joy!"
Again he said something I didn't understand "The pleasure of finding something is worth more than what you find. May you and your new husband be happy together."
"Oh Tariq, my husband is a very unusual person. I hope you will keep an open mind when you arrive and try not to be upset."
"I don't understand, mother."
It's more than I can go into over the phone, but I'm in love and sure that we will stay together until the end of time, just like you said."
More Farsi. "God gives to us according to the measure of our hearts. You seem to have me speaking Farsi and offering too many proverbs. I will book a flight as soon as I can so I can meet you and your groom."
"Goodbye, Tariq. Thank you for making my dreams come true."
She hung up the phone.
"Oh Kate! What are we going to do?"
"Call your mother, then panic."
"I'm already panicking! My son! My son is coming back!"
"To a situation so strange the daytime soaps haven't even thought of it yet."
"How would you know? You don't watch the soaps."
"But I do listen to my students and a few of my fellow teachers. There's always a discussion about who killed who and who is boffing what. As far as I've overheard, transsexuals haven't left the confines of the talk shows yet. That's it! I'll call up Oprah and get us on the show so everyone in America can watch us tell Tariq about me."
"That's not funny!"
"Sometimes it seems like we've told everyone else on the planet."
"I'm worried about only one person, Kate. Faruq was awful about gays, he hated them."
"And I don't suppose he gave a damn that about the difference between gays and the transgendered."
"The subject never came up. I learned a little about Islam while we were married, but that was ages ago."
"Then we need to learn about it now. Damn! There are a couple of people I could ask at the college, but they don't know me as Kate."
"Well, there's always the Internet."
"So there is! I suppose you could call me a product of the Internet, I learned the basics of how to become a woman from it. Then you, ahem, polished the image, my love."
So we adjourned to the computer and were amazed at what we found. The Ayatollah Khomeini himself wrote a fatwa approving transexuality! Yeah, that Ayatollah, the one who kicked out the Shah. The Iranian government will even cover half the cost for 'deserving' transsexuals to have surgery. He even changed the legal code so people in transition do not fall afoul of Sharia law.
Of course that's only for the Shia, and not all of them agree. The Sunnis still class us with gays and other lowlife scum. OK, I'm being a smartass, but I have a sore spot for intolerance these days.
So maybe it wouldn't be as bad as we feared. While we were reading about the Ayatollah, Steph was peering over my shoulder to read with me. Her breasts pressing against my back and her breath in my ear soon turned my mind to things far more interesting than religious proclamations and we shut off the computer and found our way to the bed.
I suppose religion was not as far from our minds as I thought - we did invoke a deity or two before we were through!
---
"Kate! Called Stephanie. "You have a letter from the New York Courts!"
"Hot dog. That means I'm official!" I tore open the envelope and it was there - my name was now officially Katherine Elizabeth Tucker! Elizabeth was my mother's name.
"Then kiss, me, Kate!"
I complied with gusto.
"Was it any better now that it's official? I asked.
"You've heard of 'don't ask - don't tell'?"
"Do tell! Let's go down to the motor vehicle people right now and get my license changed and sow some discord and confusion, then if there's time we can see about another license we need!"
In anticipation of this day we had created a pile of documents - Birth Certificates, utility bills, baptismal records, Stephanie's divorce papers, Social Security records, tax forms and anything else we could think of that showed who we were and where we lived. With the whole gay marriage controversy still very much in the news we expected a circus, complete with flaming hoops to jump through, when two ostensible women appeared at the town clerk's office and asked for a marriage license in a state that required only 'one man and one woman' need apply.
I was kind of disappointed at the motor vehicle bureau. I filled form MV-44 and took a number, waiting only a short time to be called. I would never have guessed it, but they had an actual policy for transsexuals. I presented the form, court ordered name change, the letter from my doctor, my old license and ten bucks. All they did was take my picture and tell me the new license would arrive in the mail in a week or two. They even let me select the best picture, but it was still a lousy picture. It was so routine it was downright annoying!
If you believe in Karma you know what happened next. The missing hassle from the DMV was delivered directly to the clerk at the town hall. FedEx should be so fast. I hasten to add we did NOT go to the Brockport town hall, it's a small town and we didn't need that kind of gossip!
"I'd like to apply for a marriage license." I said in my blandest tone.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but New York State law requires both parties to be present before a license can be issued."
"That's' OK. We're both here."
We knew damn well what she was thinking, but neither of us could resist playing around with the poor woman. It wasn't nice, it wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault, but neither is discriminating against gays and lesbians.
"Oh dear! I'm afraid the law states that only a man and a woman can be legally married in New York."
"We understand that, ma'am" I replied. "I was born a man and have not had reassignment surgery, so I am still legally considered a man."
And I wasn't going to show her my temporary license with the letter 'F' in a certain spot. I hadn't asked them to change it, but there it was. I didn't point out my psychiatrist's letter did not meet the strict specifications NY required to change sex. Maybe they only read the first line and assumed the rest or perhaps the clerk automatically entered 'F' without thinking. Maybe my goddess was in a good mood today.
"You're…" she paused. "You're telling me you're a man?"
There is something very satisfying in confusing the heck out of a bureaucrat.
"That's correct. I'm transgendered and live as a woman but New York, in it's bureaucratic lack of wisdom, still considers me legally a man."
You're a man?" She didn't sound too certain. "Well, each of you will need to have one of the following: a Birth Certificate, baptismal record, naturalization record or census record. In addition I will need one of the following proofs of identity: a Driver's license, passport, employment picture ID or immigration record. If you have been divorced I will need the divorce documents as well."
She was back in familiar territory, that spiel must have been used a thousand times before
"Ma'am, yours will have to state you are a man to legally issue a license."
That confused look was back again. We handed over the required papers and she examined them closely.
"Uh, ma'am? Your birth certificate doesn't specify your sex."
"That's correct. Illinois doesn't believe the government should poke its nose in its citizens business. A birth certificate simply testifies that someone was born."
"But I need to be sure of your sex."
"Lady," purred Stephanie, "I can assure you she's male from personal experience."
The poor woman started stuttering.
"Ma'am, if you look at my driver's license you'll find proof of what sex New York assigns to me."
The old one, that is!
"Um, yes. Yes it does. Excuse me, I have to talk to my supervisor about this."
She scurried into the back office and we held off our laughter until the door closed.
"Kate, that was downright nasty."
"Wasn't it though! I can't help it, I have an irresistible urge to bait bureaucrats. Shall we take off our clothes and do it on the floor if they don't believe me?"
"Stop that!"
"They must have cameras here. If we bought the film we could make a million bucks selling it to some porn channel on the Internet!"
A proper lady doesn't rut in public - or on tape!"
"So what's that got to do with either of us? That woman doesn't consider me a proper lady, or at least if we want to get a marriage license she better not!"
"Hush! She's coming back."
"Good afternoon, um…" The older man who must be her supervisor ran out of words. "I'm afraid we have never encountered a situation like this one and I don't know quite how to address you."
"The convention is to use pronouns that suit the person's appearance." I offered.
"Quite. Then, um, ladies, despite appearances your documentation appears to be acceptable for a marriage license. I don't wish to be crass, but if you have altered any of these documents your marriage will not be legal."
"I can assure you they are all quite correct, sir. I understand that most people have never run into a transsexual before and we can be disconcerting to deal with. I apologize if I have offended either of you."
"No offense taken, ma'am. When something unusual happens we need to be sure we are complying with the law."
"I understand. I've been through this before."
"Uh, yes. Elaine will take care of the documents and issue your license, then.
So New York got some more of our money and we got two licenses. Not a bad day's work at all!
---
"Kate, what is he going to think of us?" worried Stephanie. We were waiting at the exit door of the B concourse at the Rochester airport. Tariq would be walking through those doors in a matter of seconds.
"I don't know, love. We have to tell him, but let's wait until we're home. The security people might get the wrong idea if a middle eastern man started shouting at two women."
"Oh dear, I never thought of that!"
"Three women, dear. I'm not a doorpost." reminded Hilda. There was no way to keep Tariq's grandmother from meeting him at the airport.
Yeah, a middle eastern man in an airport, a man in a dress. People get crazy about the silliest things."
"Stop it, Kate!"
"Then stop worrying. We e-mailed him our pictures and he sent us one, too."
"He looks a lot like his father." Stephanie babbled.
"I can see his mother, too. Damn good thing, that." added Hilda. "Faruq was a handsome bastard. Too bad he was so much of a bastard that the handsome didn't help. Will he be wearing a turban? He wasn't in the picture."
"How would I know?" Yeah, Stephanie was nervous.
"I don't think so." I answered. "I met a Sikh a few years back and he explained how most people think anyone wearing a turban is a Muslim, which has given him no end of grief since 9/11. Actually Sikh men wear turbans because of their faith but there is no Islamic requirement that normal Muslim men wear them. He insists that the Muslim head covering is not a true turban, anyway, but I couldn't tell a true turban from a false one for the life of me.
"I Googled some images and most Iranian men didn't wear anything over their heads. Most of the Afghan men did, and the Pakistanis were a mixed bag. so I guess there are cultural differences we can't appreciate. My Sikh friend said that Mohamed wore a turban to differentiate Muslims from non-Muslims, but he said Sikhs wear it for much the same reasons."
"What a world! Americans learning Islamic culture from a computer and a Sikh." Muttered Hilda.
"I think we have an answer." I said. "He's not wearing a turban or anything else on his head for that matter." I felt Stephanie grip my arm very tightly. noticing Hilda was clutched in her other hand. "Come on, let's meet your son."
He spotted us through the glass panels and waved. Stephanie pulled me toward the exit door and my arm was suddenly free. She threw her arms around her son and said something like "My baby!", but since she was crying and her face was in his chest I won't swear those were the actual words she used.
I will always remember the look in Tariq's eyes as she held him. American and Iranian culture plowed into each other as a crying mother desperate to hold her son met the Iranian taboo of men and women touching in public. He looked shocked and pleased all at once, his eyes widening. They moved rapidly between me and Hilda with a note of pleading. Ironic, his only solace coming from two women, not a man in sight. If only he knew!
Stephanie jumped back and looked at her long lost son. The look in her eyes was quite different. They were shining and bright with excitement.
"Let the poor boy go, daughter!" admonished Hilda. "He needs to breathe!"
"Tariq, this is your grandmother Hilda."
"Could you stand another hug or has my daughter's enthusiasm scared you off?"
"Grandmother?" You are my grandmother?"
"Got it the first time. It's been a long time since I've seen you, boy."
"I really don't remember. I was so young when I left I do not remember anything of America."
"Well, that accent sure didn't come from America."
"I've lived in London since I was ten and that is where I learned to speak English. I'm afraid I sound like a bloody Brit, what? Pip pip, jolly good, and all that!"
His silliness broke what tension there had been and we all joined in the laughter.
"I think I could enjoy a hug from my grandmother. We're a long way from Tehran and I was never comfortable with the repression they live with there."
He took a step toward Hilda and she swept him into her arms.
"And this is my best friend, Kate." Stephanie continued.
Damned if he didn't take my hand and kiss it as he bowed!
"A pleasure, Madam. I am pleased to know my mother has such lovely friends."
"And my friend has a son she can be very proud of, I'm sure. Please, call me Kate, Tariq."
"With pleasure, Kate. Perhaps we should find my bag and get out of the way of the other passengers?
"An excellent idea, Down the escalators over here."
---
A minor miracle occurred and the airlines actually had Tariq's bag at the luggage carousel. We loaded it into the bed of the pickup and traveled westward from the airport to Brockport. I had a sense of Déjá vu as Steph and Hilda force fed the family tree to the poor lad. At some point they both ran out of breath at the same time, leaving a small period of silence for me to invade.
"Tariq, I went through this myself a few months ago. There's no way you can learn all the names in one sitting, not with these two doing tag team on you. I'll have to find the notes from when they did this to me so you can study the whole family at your leisure."
"Don't trust her notes, Tariq. She still confuses Uncle Jehosiphat with Aunt Mahetabel." Stephanie warned.
"And you're confusing him. Mahitabel is the one with the mustache, right?"
"Don't listen to either of them, Tariq." Scolded Hilda. "They both share the lowest sense of humor on the planet."
"Just wait 'till you meet Uncle Shimon!" we chorused.
"Oh dear! I had mercifully forgotten. Bernie's Uncle Shimon has a sense of humor that could make a strong man weep." Hilda explained.
"He's only been here half an hour. Don't scare him away before we get home!"
"You can't scare me off. I have spent the last nine years cultivating a British stiff upper lip."
"Is that where you got that delicious little mustache?" inquired Hilda.
"I think that can be traced to father. My mother certainly doesn't seem to have one."
"You devil. You and Uncle Shimon may deserve each other!"
"I look forward to meeting him."
"Don't say we didn't warn you."
We had arrived home, so the repartee gave way to getting Tariq settled and showing him around the big old house. The weather was in the eighties, so we eventually found our way to the back deck with a pitcher of iced tea.
"So mother," Tariq asked, "when will I get to meet your new husband?"
"Oh damn! That gets a little complicated!"
"From what little I have seen all weddings get complicated."
"Not the wedding, Tariq, the person I'm about to marry. I've been racking my brain for a way to tell you about it."
"I do not understand."
"I'm sure you don't. You've been through a lot, moving to another country and meeting a strange woman who happens to be your mother. Now I have to tell you something that may…"
Stephanie was interrupted by a tinny dance tune. Looking sheepish Tariq took out his cell phone. It seemed that, like far too many of my students, Tariq was one of the younger generation that lived with constant communication. Someone was going to have to come up with a modern revision of the old 'saved by the bell' adage, though. 'Saved by the tinny dance music' just doesn't have the same cachet.
I can't report the conversation because it was in what I took to be Farsi. After a few minutes he offered the phone to Steph.
"Mother, Yasmin would like to speak to you."
"Yasmin? Oh, my god! I don't believe this! I've wanted to hear your voice for so many years and now… Yes, I'm getting married again! How strange your brother should come back just as it happens! You what? But - from London? Of course you're welcome! I can't believe it! Kate! Yasmin is going to fly over from London for the wedding!"
"That's wonderful!" What else could I say?
"Tariq? Could you put that thing on speakerphone so I can hear my granddaughter's voice? Hilda asked.
"Of course. Mother, if I may?"
He pushed a button or two and then we all heard Yasmin.
"Can grandmother hear me now?" came a light soprano.
"I certainly can. I never thought I would hear your voice, child."
"I wondered if I would ever hear yours! Now I'll be able to see you and mother and the rest of the family. I have often wondered what you would be like."
"So have I, child, so have I. You are really going to fly over here just like that?"
"I'm sure it won't be simple, but Father has assured me that it can be done. Of course having an American passport makes things much easier."
"You have an American passport?"
"Well, I was born there even if I don't remember it. After 9/11 father felt that having American passports would make travel much easier for us, so we went through all the paperwork and such. It seems odd to travel on an American passport when I've lived my life in London and Tehran."
"Your father has a way of getting through obstacles to get what he wants."
"Doesn't he though? He's standing here with a weird grin on his face when he heard that."
"Faruq is there?"
"Indeed I am, Stephanie. Shoma chetur hastin? It's good to hear your voice again."
"Man khoobam, Mamnoon! Oh my god, I can't believe I actually remembered how to say it!"
"Memory can be a tricky thing. Despite the way we parted I do have good memories of our time together."
"I wish I could say the same."
"What can I say? I was young and stupid. I thank Allah for allowing me to gain some small wisdom over the years. I hope I would not again make the same mistakes that I made as a young man."
"Perhaps. It has been a long time and I don't want to start a fight."
"Neither do I. I would hope we can be civil for the sake of our children. They have chosen to seek you out and learn what they can of you."
"Then we can agree on that."
"I am pleased. May I offer my congratulations on your impending marriage?"
"Thank you, Faruq. I hope not to repeat my mistakes this time."
"Then I will leave you to speak with Yasmin. Khoda Hafez."
"Goodbye, Faruq."
"Hello Mother. I've found a flight that will get me to Rochester on Wednesday night. Will that be all right with you?"
"Of course. We'll be at the airport whenever it gets in."
"Wonderful! I've been dreaming of meeting you for my entire life! I can hardly wait!"
"I hope I can live up to your dreams, Yasmin."
"Of course you will. I'm so glad we found you. See you on Wednesday!"
"Goodbye, Yasmin."
Tariq took his cell phone back and turned it off.
"I'm afraid we are causing your wedding plans to go wrong."
"You are causing our wedding plans to go right just by being here! I never thought I would see either of you again and now you are going to be here when I marry Kate!"
The tinny dance tune may have saved us once, but Steph's euphoria brought us back to the hard part. Abruptly!
"I don't understand."
"Oh Tariq, I hope we can make you understand. Kate and I are in love and we are going to be married on Saturday."
"You are marrying another woman?"
"Yes, but even that is not as simple as it seems."
"I think we should let Tariq have a little time to digest what is going on, don't you Stephanie?"
Hilda the peacemaker. Not that I was looking foreword to filling him in on the complete picture.
"I think a break would be a very good idea, Hilda." I responded. "We have piled a lot of things on you, Tariq. If you want to talk to any of us please come to see us when you feel up to it. Shall we take a walk in the garden, Stephanie?"
"Yes, darling."
"Tariq, would you like to see the old barn?" asked Hilda.
"Why not? I would like to learn about the family home."
"Then come along and I'll tell you about your Grandfather Henry
---
It was a pretty transparent ploy to get out of a difficult situation, but spending some time in the garden was soothing to the soul. The past may have been colliding with the future just days before our wedding, but for half an hour we simply sat on the bench in the garden, holding each other and admiring the beauty we had created together.
But even beauty and serenity can't keep reality at bay forever. Eventually the seat got hard and we returned to the house thinking about dinner. Working in the kitchen can keep your mind occupied quite as well as communing with nature, at least until the phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Kate, Carl speaking."
"Hello Carl, nice to hear from you."
"I hope you'll still think so when I pass on the news of the meeting I just finished."
"It's been years since I shot a messenger and since you're on the phone I couldn't hit you anyway. Go ahead and tell me the bad news."
"The news is not all bad, but you have managed to stir up a good deal of emotion and consternation among the administration."
"Carl, that is an understatement of the first water!"
"Perhaps. Some people do find it a challenge to actually live up to the school's policies when it directly effects them. The policy is, and I quote, that the school 'Forbids distinctions made on the basis of race, color, religion, gender, age, sexual orientation, marital status, physical disability, and Vietnam-era veteran status where such distinctions discourage the initial selection of students and employees, or affect their treatment as members of the College community' end quote."
"The words 'gender' and 'sexual orientation' do tend to get emotional, especially when a man wears a dress."
"Bingo! There were some who lost their academic detachment for a time. I will not name names, but I'm pleased you suggested consulting Andy. He is a born diplomat and was able to provide a great deal of insight on the situation."
"I knew he would be. So am I still working or do I need to update my CV and start sending out inquiries?"
"You're still working, but with a few conditions. Basically, if you stay out of the women's bathrooms and behave yourself the college will accommodate your lifestyle. There will be a statement in more formal language but that's what it amounts to. Just remember that formal statements don't always reflect people's personal feelings and emotions. I will demand respect and professional behavior from my staff, but that doesn't mean your life will be a bowl of cherries."
"At least it's not sour grapes!"
"Off the record, it's going to be very interesting watching your students when they find out. I did think about posting a notice of some sort, but then I had visions of bulls and red flags and decided to leave it up to you."
"Wouldn't that be cows and red flags?"
"Kate, you'd clown around at your own funeral."
"I'm working on it. Seriously, you've been far more accommodating than I had any right to expect. Right now things are going crazy and having one less worry is a very good thing."
"Wedding blues, Kate? Thanks for the invite, Sara and I are looking foreword to attending."
"Not the wedding itself, Carl. Stephanie's long lost son just appeared out of nowhere and her daughter will arrive in a couple of days. She hasn't seen them since they were infants and their father kidnapped them."
"This sort of thing happens to teachers in the summer. They get hooked on TV soap operas and can't tell reality from a reality show."
"If only it were that easy! I about crapped in my panties when you showed up; how do we tell them about who I am?"
"TMI, Kate, TMI. I don't want to think about your panties!"
"A wise choice, Carl. I'd like to come in to see you tomorrow and talk about how to handle my students. I could use some advice."
"So could I! Maybe we ought to have Andy join us?"
"A very good idea. Should I call him or will you?"
"Let me do it, you have enough going on right now. I'll let you know what time we can get together."
"Thanks, Carl, you're a gem."
---
"Your grandfather Henry and I used to keep thirty five cows in this barn. We had to milk them twice a day, every day. I'm not sure which was harder, tending the cows or your raising your mother. All of them were as stubborn as mules."
"You and grandfather were farmers?"
"We sure were. Henry loved the land and wasn't happy if he wasn't rolling in the dirt. We planted the fields behind this barn with corn to feed the cows, raised a couple dozen chickens and even a pig or two. I suppose being Muslim you don't eat pork, but we made our own bacon and sausage."
"Living in London it is not so easy to follow the dietary laws, but I try. There is something about bacon that makes it very hard to follow the rules, though."
"And I suppose you've had a drink or two when your father wasn't looking?"
"Actually only once, and it tasted vile. I was disgusted when my friends got drunk and decided that Allah had good reason to prohibit alcohol."
"It can be a curse for some. Your mother had to find out the hard way when she was your age and it hurt to watch her try to destroy her life."
"My mother?"
"Yes, Tariq. I don't want to speak badly of your father, but after what he did to her she became suicidal and nearly killed herself with drink and drugs. Some very good people in California brought her back and she hasn't touched a drop since then."
"I do not know what to say."
"The don't say anything. It happened long ago and she has become a wonderful woman who has a rich and full life. Since she met Kate she has blossomed even more. It took me a long time and a good bit of soul searching to accept their relationship, but it is the best thing that has happened to either of them."
"Yet I am confused, grandmother. I have read of gay marriage in the newspapers but have never known anyone who is gay. Now I find my own mother is a lesbian. It is shocking, yet she is my mother."
"Tariq, you have never known anyone who admits being gay, I can guarantee you know many gay people who do not talk about their sexuality. I don't know all that much about Islam, but I understand that they condemn homosexuality even more vehemently than some Christians, so those who are gay will keep it secret."
"You may be right, but I have not considered the subject. It has never affected me."
"And suddenly it does. I hope whoever is in charge upstairs is getting a good laugh by arranging for you come here just now. I had resigned myself to never seeing you or your sister again, but you appear just days before Stephanie is getting married to what everyone thinks is her lesbian lover. You couldn't write such stuff and have anyone believe it! By the way, that big stainless steel tank was where we stored the milk until it was picked up. Dust off a stool and sit down, I think you need to hear the rest of the story abut who your mother is marrying."
"There is more? How can this be?"
"A good question, so I'll just give you the answer straight. Kate was born a man and has chosen to live her life as a woman. Your mother felt so betrayed by your father that she hated all men for many years and wouldn't have anything to do with them if she could avoid it. I think it was because Kate started as a man but had a woman's sensitivity that your mother could trust her enough to fall in love.
Tariq, I knew Kate a just little bit before she found herself and he didn't seem to be any happier with his life than your mother was with hers. The story sounds crazy, but two damaged people managed to find the perfect complement to their own deep hurts and fell in love."
"This is fantastic! Unbelievable!"
"I don't blame you for being confused and upset, but that's the way it is. I hope you are willing to find a way to love both your mother and Kate. They are very special people, Tariq. It would break your mother's heart if you couldn't accept her or Kate.
"Na uzu billah. Your pardon, in times of trouble I do return to my childhood training. Grandmother, I am not the most pure or holy follower of Allah and his prophets, but such things are a part of me. That was something we say in such times, it means roughly 'We seek refuge in Allah'."
"Well, I hope he is able to help. As a Christian I find thinking of Jesus and his teachings can help me find a way to turn my troubles into joys. I know that is not your way, but I hope your faith can guide you as well. There is an Islamic Center in Rochester run by a wonderful man called Dr. Shafiq. I've heard him speak several times and he strikes me as someone who knows what he's talking about."
"Let me consider, grandmother. Maybe I should talk to an Imam and ask his help."
"Just let me know and I'll find the phone number. There is a very active Muslim community here."
"That is a good thing to know. I think I need some time alone to think of what you have told me."
"Then take all the time you need. I'm so glad you've come back to us, I hope you will be happy you did."
---
"What are we going to do, Kate?"
"Elope and move to Tahiti?"
"I could see you in a coconut bra after your surgery, but a grass skirt just wouldn't work."
"We could make it out of Astroturf in strategic places?
"You aren't satisfied to have plastic tits?"
"Your tits are much more satisfying."
"At the proper time and place, darling, and this ain't it!"
"I don't think we can do anything but wait."
"You're right and I hate it!"
"At least Hilda finished dropping bombs on the poor kid."
"Why did he have to come back NOW?"
"My engineering buddies call it Murphy's Law - If anything can go wrong it will."
"And we still have to do it all over again when Yasmin arrives."
"Tahiti is sounding better and better! This whole thing is getting completely out of control!"
"Isn't it though? And to think I was worried about what Tariq would think about having a Jewish uncle."
"Isn't there some Bible passage about a mote in your eye?"
"Oh yes. In Matthew: 'And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?' I can still quote it from Sunday School, isn't that weird? I guess I was trying to forget my own problems."
"Well, falling in love with you has created a few problems, but the benefits are worth all the hassle. You helped me find out what was missing from my life. Talk about not noticing a beam in my own eye!"
"And yet religion is what is causing so much pain and misery because we found what was right for us."
"To quote Emerson: 'Patience and fortitude conquer all things'. The good news is we get married on Saturday come hell or high water."
---
I heard Tariq stirring shortly before sunrise the next morning. I assumed he was getting ready for his sunrise prayer, but drifted back into slumber before I could think too much about it. Stephanie and I rose considerably after the sun to find him sitting on the back porch deep in thought. There was a small rug on the porch, which I assumed was what he used for his prayers. The porch offered a good view of the rising sun on clear days, so it would be a natural place to greet the new day for a Muslim.
What to do for breakfast? We never got around to asking about food, what with dropping all the other problems in the poor kid's lap yesterday. I had a vague idea of what Halal meant, having heard that most Muslims resorted to food stamped Kosher when in non-Muslim lands since the dietary restrictions were very similar.
Of course Bernie didn't even attempt to keep Kosher when he ate, so were there Muslims who felt the same about things like pork? Bernie's catering business offered strictly Kosher fare when required. He complained about having to keep a separate kitchen for Kosher meals, but it must have paid off or he wouldn't have done it.
Well, potato pancakes should be safe and were good for breakfast. Some home made applesauce and a pot of sour cream and who could ask for more?
Bacon, of course. But not this morning!
"Good morning, Tariq. Have you eaten?"
He turned to face me and replied "Not yet. You have a nice kitten here. He's been keeping me company while I was thinking."
"Kitten? We don't have any animals."
"Then where did this one come from?" I could see he had a small grey ball of fur in his lap. "There are two others I've been watching but this one seems to be bolder than the rest."
"Good grief! Some idiot city dweller probably decided to dump them out here in the country because they didn't want them. How can people be so irresponsible?"
"I don't know. Father never let us have any pets, but this little kitten seems to like me."
"He is awful cute, isn't he? Lets find a box for him and see if we can convince his brothers and sisters to come out of hiding. They're so small they can barely be weaned."
"Weaned?"
"Able to eat real food and not nurse from their mother."
"Oh. That is a word I have not learned yet."
"Not one used in everyday conversation. Speaking of eating, can you eat potato pancakes. I don't really know anything about Muslim food restrictions."
"Pork and alcohol are the main restrictions. Cheese can be a problem if you are very fussy, but I am not. Please do not worry about the small details."
"Whatever makes you comfortable, Tariq. Shall we go on a kitten hunt?
"As long as they don't end up in the stew pot."
It was the first time I had heard him make a joke.
---
Breakfast was a bit of a zoo, not a one of us could leave the kittens alone. We had recovered three grey fluff balls from around the porch. Given their choice of the traditional bowl of milk and a can of tuna the tuna won paws down. You can eat breakfast one handed with a little practice.
My kitten seemed to have a breast fetish. She (I thought it was a her but who can tell?) was determined to curl up on my breasts despite being firmly placed on my lap numerous times. The only objection I had was the presence of 20 needle sharp claws resting on my silicone forms. I didn't want to be leaking into my wedding dress! Yet another reason to 'go natural' with the help of modern medicine!
My kitten was naturally named Boobie. The tortoise shell calico was soon christened Curious George and before the day was out the third one was Harry Houdini in light of the number of times he escaped from the box.
After breakfast, Tariq briefly looked up from the kittens to ask us "If it is alright with you, grandmother Hilda is going to take me to the Islamic Center to talk with one of the Imams there. We can meet you at the airport when Yasmin arrives."
"Certainly, Tariq. I'm so sorry that you have to cope with so many crazy things so quickly."
"There were those that warned me that Americans were crazy. I thought that having moved from Tehran to London I was a man of the world. How different could America be from England?"
"Wasn't it George Bernard Shaw that said 'England and America are two countries separated by the same language'?" I offered.
"Imagine what it was like for me, who spoke mostly Farsi for my first ten years. English is a very difficult language."
"And America can be a difficult country with people like me who do not quite fit the normal kind of life."
"I beg your pardon for being blunt, but grandmother Hilda told me you are a man, yet I can only see a woman. How is this possible?"
"A better way of saying it is that I am a woman who was born a man. It took me a long time to realize that. Are you able to understand why saying it that way in English is important?"
"I am not sure."
"The important part is how I feel in my head, how I see myself. I have come to realize that I think like a woman, that is why I never was comfortable living as a man. My body does not agree with my soul, Tariq. I am having surgery so that my body can be more like the woman I am, but I am a woman."
"I have only seen such things as the subject of ridicule. I lack understanding or experience. I am hoping the Imam can help me understand. I have only known you for a few days, yet you seem to be a good woman to my eyes. I am trying to understand."
"And I thank you for trying. It took me years to be able to think about it, then many months of soul searching to live my life as the woman I have become."
"I …"
We will never know what he was trying to say. Serious discussion with three kittens is a process with a very short half life. Boobie sprang off my breasts and flung herself atop Curious George where he lay in Tariq's lap. In seconds there was a kitten free-for-all that brought conversation to an abrupt halt.
By the time the melee ended Hilda had arrived and they were off to unscrew the inscrutable at the Islamic Center while we waited and worried.
We met Yasmin at the airport and she proved to be a lovely young woman. She had an amazing head of wavy black hair that reached to her waist, a figure much like her mother's and glowing skin of that burnished tone common to that part of the world. In short, she was knockout. I had been wondering if she would wear a headscarf but she let that magnificent mane fly where it chose. We would later learn she did not take her religion as seriously as Tariq and dressed as would any Western teenager.
I run into a problem here. I could describe meeting Yasmin at the airport, but if you re-read the part about meeting Tariq it's pretty much the same other than Yasmin giving me a hug as she met us. I could describe the talk we all had later, but you must be about as sick as I am of explaining about being transgendered by now. Short of borrowing a few finger puppets from Steph's classroom and writing a play I can't think of anything that would make it more interesting than the first dozen times I explained it.
Don't laugh! The other night I came across an opera about Chicken Little with an Italian libretto performed entirely with finger puppets. Honest to whatever deity you choose! Check out Love's Fowl if you don't believe me. If Chicken Little deserves a opera I think my Soap Opera life should have one too.
Anyway, if you will pardon me I'm going to skip over a couple of days of angst and getting to know two young adults who happened to be my wife's children. Too our immense relief, Tariq's talk with the Imam hadn't yielded a blanket condemnation of me as a transsexual or us as a couple. While the Imam didn't approve and had scripture to back him, he also found passages that amounted to 'live and let live' and 'love the sinner but hate the sin'. I've been told you can prove anything by quoting a verse from the Bible, looks like you can use the Quran for the same purpose. It all depends on what you want to prove and which passages you cite.
Yasmin proved to be a lovely and intelligent young woman. (As if any child of Stephanie's could be otherwise!) She seemed to be far less bothered by our alternative lifestyle than her brother. Hilda took it upon herself to tell some embarrassing stories about Stephanie as a child and we learned a little bit of what it was like to grow up between cultures. By Thursday evening we were at least feeling more comfortable about each other.
Don't get the impression we just sat down and talked, with a wedding scheduled for the next day we were interrupted about ten thousand times by phone calls or visitors who needed to know about one detail or another right NOW! I thanked my erstwhile goddess many times over that Bernie and Lucy were handling the catering and setup, it would have been impossible without them
---
"So, little sister, what do you think of this mother we have found after all these years?"
"Oh Tariq, I like her. She is not anything like I imagined but she is so wonderful!"
"I know it is silly, but I have always pictured her like the photo that father hides in his bedroom. I know she had to get older, but somehow…"
"People would ask very odd questions if your mother was the same age as you, brother."
"The Brits talk about child brides, but I think that would be carrying it too far. Of course she has to be the same age as father, but I still thought of her like the picture."
"I still can't believe we have a mother, but she's a stranger. I like her Tariq. She must be feeling much the same about us, but she has welcomed us into her home and made us feel at home. This is a wonderful old house and she has made it look so lovely. It seems sad the think this house is as much our heritage as fathers family home in Savyeh but we've never seen it."
"Yes, much like how we are Americans but have never seen America. It is a part of us but we do not know it."
"Tariq, I think I want to come to America for college next year when I graduate. Do you think I can talk father into letting me come?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think father's mind is still in ancient Persia. He loves living in the Western world but every once in a while he longs for the times when women were ignorant servants to their men."
"I've noticed. Do you think that may have been part of the problem that made them split? When he told our mother he hoped he had learned from his mistakes on the phone I think that may have been what he was talking about."
"I don't know. He won't talk much about that time. Neither will mother, I think. I suspect that we are being protected."
"I think we are, big brother. You know, Kate showed me our pictures in their bedroom. She still has them hanging on her wall after all this time."
"I wonder if she still thinks of us as her babies, just like I thought of her as a young woman?"
"Grandma Afrand still thinks of father as her baby. Maybe that never changes."
"Will I be that way when I have children? It's all so confusing."
"So it is. I can tell you that I had never expected anything like what we found. Remember when we were small and you dreamed of tea parties with our mother?"
"Back then I thought all Americans drank Coca-Cola. That was all we saw in the movies, so our mother must drink Coke."
"I haven't seen her with a soda yet. She seems to like iced tea. Grandmother told me that she doesn't drink alcohol."
"I'm grateful for that, at least. I'm not sure what I would think if our mother did like to drink. I know she's not a Muslim, but it would be hard for me to accept."
"Is her marrying a man who lives as a woman any easier?"
"I'm not sure I really believe that Kate could be a man. I really like her, she is so warm and happy, so caring and thoughtful. We sat and talked for quite a while yesterday. She's very much in love with mother and she was so interested in learning where we come from and what we've done. She makes you feel like everything you say is the most important thing in the world to her. How could she not be a woman?"
"So is marrying another woman any better than marrying a man who lives as a woman?"
"I don't know, Tariq! Ask an Imam, I still don't know what I believe yet. I know what we have been taught, but there is so much that doesn't make sense to me I don't know what to think!"
"I know what you mean, little sister! Living in London is so different than what it was like in Iran. What we learned in the London mosque was so different from what we heard in Tehran's mosques and what we heard outside the mosque was so different from what we heard inside. I love Allah and his Prophet, but it is hard to reconcile some of the teachings with what I see in the world. If the Prophet taught the only right way then why are there so many ways to interpret his teachings? We are Shia but are the Sunni really so wrong in how they read the Quran? Why are there so many people who do not follow Allah but love some other god?"
"I don't know, Tariq. Remember Sally who tried so hard to tell us about her Jesus? She was so sure that her church was the true path! And then there was James who was sure that the Pope was God's messenger and was always right. I bet if we had been old enough before we moved we would have known someone who followed the Sunni teachings that would tell us our Shia way was wrong. And all of them say that being gay is wrong, but crazy Gilbert was as nice a person as you could find and he was gay."
"Yes, Gilbert is truly crazy, but he is always the first one to help someone when they need it. I feel kind of funny around him sometimes, but he has never tried to come on to me. I did worry about it when we were in gym together, but he never tried anything with anyone. After a while it didn't matter any more."
"Maybe that's how we should treat this, like it doesn't matter. Our mother is still really a stranger, how can we know what is right for her? Do we have any right to pass judgment on her?"
"I don't know! Father warned us that no matter what we thought our mother would be like we would be wrong. I don't think even he had any idea how true that would be! Yet she seems to truly love us even if she doesn't know us. Even our aunt and uncle seem to love us just because we are her children. Even Uncle Bernie! He's a Jew and he doesn't care anything about our religion even though we have been told so many times that the Jews hate us."
"Sometimes I think growing up isn't worth it, Tariq. It was so much easier to let Father tell us what to do."
"Until he told you to do something you didn't like! Remember when he wouldn't let you go out with a boy until you were seventeen?"
"Like you said, sometimes Father still thinks like some ancient potentate. London is so much nicer than Tehran, especially if you happen to be a woman. I wonder what they would think of Kate in Iran?"
"They would be just as confused as we are. The Imam I spoke to here told me that Ayatollah Khomeini ruled that the government should help pay fro the surgery so that people like Kate can become as much like a woman as is possible. Then he reminded me that official policy and reality are often not the same."
"Then what should our official policy be, brother?"
"I think we return the love we have been shown and keep our doubts to ourselves. We will have quite enough to do with meeting so many relatives we have never known that we don't need to start a jihad of our own."
"Then we had better get ready for the rehearsal dinner if we don't want to make problems for Mother and Kate."
"I think they have enough of their own. See you in a few minutes, sister."
---
If I wasn't already seeing a psychiatrist, I told myself, I should have my head examined. Who in their right mind would switch genders and get married three days before the start of the semester? The wedding was tomorrow, but I had to put in an appearance at the college and at least make a weak and transient effort to be ready to teach my classes on Tuesday. Besides, the mandatory faculty meeting where, among other concerns, I would be introduced, awaited.
Tuesday? Why in heaven's name did the people that run this place pick a Tuesday to start classes? Oh well, mine is not to question why, mine is to answer innumerable questions as to why I am now known as Kate.
I have to be nuts!
Under the usual circumstances I would have gone in wearing a pair of jeans and something casual, after all there were no students there. Circumstances were far from usual, however. Once again I resorted to my best skirted power suit, girded my loins with a pair of pantyhose and ventured forth to my college office at an obscene hour in the morning. If you haven't guessed, most college professors are no more enamored of early classes than are their students, so arriving on campus at 7:00 AM I met virtually no one.
Chicken? Who, me?
Bawaaak!
Bless Carl, the little plaque by my office door now read Katherine Tucker. Since my key still worked I assumed I was still employed. Habit took over as I entered and I immediately turned on the computer and checked my e-mail. Right at the top of the list was this memo:
Date: September 17, 2005 From: Carl Santos, Dean of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences To: All Faculty, Staff and Students Re: College Policy Please be aware that Professor Stephen Tucker has embarked on a significant life change. After careful thought and counseling she has decided to transition to living life as a woman. She will now be known as Katherine Tucker. Kate is a valued member of our faculty and I hope you will join me in wishing her the best in her new life. I would also like to offer Kate my congratulations on her impending marriage. I hope that this will prove unnecessary, but I will remind you of the following excerpt from our college policy: Other Forms of Unlawful Harassment |
Well, there's no turning back now, even if I wanted to. I wish I could say I spent a productive morning, but it would be a lie. Things were quiet for the first hour, but by 8:00 I was hearing stirrings in the halls. I had deliberately left my office door open, knowing that I was going to have to face my colleagues sooner or later. I just hoped most of them saw the memo before they came in to say hello, after all it had been out for a couple of days. No doubt the rumor mill would have had time to start cranking out some interesting stories about me, but at least they would be prepared for the new me.
Fat chance! I had a bit of warning because Jimmy never does anything quietly. We had been known to go out for a beer or two after classes and enjoyed each other's company, but as I had recently realized I couldn't really call him a friend since I didn't really have any close friends until I found Kate. From the slap and clatter as he approached it was obvious he was wearing flip-flops.
I suddenly felt overdressed!
"Hey, Steve old buddy! How went the summer? Oops - wrong office!"
Nice to know Jimmy could be embarrassed. I hadn't really seen that before.
"Check the name on the door, Jimmy."
"Katherine Tucker?"
"I made some changes over the summer, Jimmy."
"What the fuck?"
"I guess you didn't get the memo."
"Memo? I don't get it. Is that you, Steve?"
"Kate, Jimmy. Call me Kate. Like I said, things have changed."
"Jesus Christ on a crutch!"
"Careful, Jimmy. You wouldn't want to get busted for sacrilege, would you? What would Father Pete say?"
"Fuck Father Pete!"
"I don't think he or his bishop would approve, Jimmy. Although with some of the scandals these days you never can tell."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Well, to continue the religious metaphor, like Paul on the road to Damascus, I had a revelation. Also like Paul, I have been changed forever."
"Chr… uh, that must have been some goddam lightning bolt that hit you."
"That it was, Jimmy, that it was. At least I didn't go blind, but I did see the light. If we make it through the faculty meeting I'll take you out for a beer and we can talk. I still like beer, you know."
"Does Carl know?"
"Check your e-mail, Jimmy. Of course he knows."
I think I may need something stronger than a beer. You serious?
"As serious as I have ever been."
"OK, this ought to be one hell of a story."
That's about how the morning went, Every time I started to get some work done someone else popped in and I had to give them the short form of the story. I'm afraid I was a first class distraction at the faculty meeting, but Carl was patient and firm about treating me as just another one of his faculty and we all survived the meeting.
The meeting ended about 4 PM so, with the sun comfortably over the yardarm or whatever allusion you want to employ, Jimmy and I adjourned to a local watering hole. That's a bit of understatement since we had company; half a dozen of my colleagues had heard about my impromptu invitation and invited themselves along. Is it silly to say that I bought the first round to show I'm still 'one of the boys'? To my complete surprise the first question had nothing to do with my gender change."
"So Kate, the memo said you're getting married. How do I ask in a delicate and non-sexist way if you're marrying a woman or a man?"
"Tell you what - write to Dear Abby and come back when you have the answer."
"I think that Miss Manners would be the one to ask."
"It'd be faster, too. You can ask questions on line with Miss Manners."
"I think that simply asking that question shows you're missing some manners."
"Charlie, you're supposed to let Kate get a little bit drunk before you ask things like that. You'd have a better chance of getting an answer."
"Nah, if she's getting married tomorrow she'll get plenty drunk at the bachelorette party tonight."
"I hate to disappoint anyone," I cut into the banter, "but I'm not having a bachelorette party."
"No party? How can you flout tradition like that?"
"Charlie, take a good look at her and tell me about tradition."
"Oh, yeah. But it still ain't right"
"Don't let your students hear you saying 'ain't'!"
"Such niceties are a lost cause, my dear. These days I'll settle for sentences that contain both a subject and a verb. An adverb or adjective in context is almost beyond imagining."
"I think Kate here is proof that things none of us could imagine really do happen."
"Nice to know I come out ahead of proper grammar." I replied. "Before you all get too sloshed to remember, I am marrying a very nice woman named Stephanie. Any sexist comments and I'm not buying another round for anyone."
"If I promise to buy can I make a sexist comment?" asked Jimmy.
"If you buy, I can take one sexist comment. One and only one and I don't guarantee to give you an answer you'll like."
"You better make it a good one, Jimmy!"
"Yeah, you may not be playing Jeopardy but you are in jeopardy right now."
"OK, Kate. How the hell do you consummate a marriage with another… Owww! That hurts, Camilla!"
"You were warned, Jimmy. She's one of the girls now and we have to watch each other's backs with sexist pigs like you around."
"I'll watch your back any time, honey. I'll even watch your ass… Dammit! Hit the other arm if you have to beat me bloody in public!"
"I'm trying for enough blood to attract the sharks. When they're circling nicely I'll stop. When they spit out the bloody hunks because you are too rank for their taste I'll maybe, possibly think about forgiving myself for marrying someone like you. It's a damn good thing you're marrying a woman, Kate. You could have gotten stuck with someone like Jimmy."
"I've always wondered what you saw in the man, Camilla."
"Well, he is good at the consummating part of marriage."
"TMI Camilla, TMI!"
"Let's just say he has a lot to forgive, eh?"
"Christ, we haven't finished the first round and you're talking trash already!"
"Weren't we supposed to be grilling Kate? How come we're messing with Jimmy's sex life?"
"Cause Jimmy's sex life is a mess."
"He can get kind of messy, but I don't mind." Camilla had a smug smile on her face.
"So Kate, please tell us something to get off this topic before I gag!"
"I don't know, I kind of like not being the focus of attention."
"Please?"
"Well, if you insist. There's no bachelorette party because Stephanie doesn't drink and her children are Muslim. I'm not having one because of an incident in my past."
"Oh goody! Do we play twenty questions or will you just tell us?"
"Twenty questions!" hollered Jimmy. "I get the first one. Does it involve sex? Ouch!"
"Some people never learn. No, it does not involve sex."
"Violence?"
"Nope."
"Then booze?"
"Yes. You have seventeen left, ladies and gentlemen."
"Did you get drunk?"
"Nope."
"Your girlfriend got drunk?"
"No."
"The bride?"
"Negative. Fourteen to go."
"The groom?"
"Yes."
"So what, all grooms get drunk. How else would they do something as stupid as getting married?"
"The rules say the question must have a yes or no answer."
"That was a rhetorical question and a comment. It doesn't count!"
"The count stands at thirteen to go."
"Did he go through with it?"
"Barely."
"So if he got married it must have happened after the ceremony."
"Correct. Eleven to go."
"Hey! That was deduction, not a question!"
"To bad. Eleven to go."
"Did he make it through the reception?"
"He didn't make it to the reception."
"Christ! That bad, huh?"
"Worse. Nine left."
"Objection, your honor! That was a comment."
"Overruled. The incident in question happened after the ceremony and before the reception."
"He puked on the bride when they were taking the pictures?"
"No, but you're close."
"The bride puked on him?"
"Nope."
"Did he pass out while they were taking the pictures?"
"Close enough! The groom's twin brother got him roaring drunk at the bachelor party the night before the wedding. The poor bugger didn't drink at all and he was in abominable shape the next morning. What sounded like emotion when he said 'I do' was really him trying not to puke. He was so bad he couldn't stand up straight for the pictures. I ended up holding him up from behind while the photographer lined up the shot. I let go and got out of the picture, then tried to catch him before he hit the ground.
"His twin took him back to his apartment to try to sober him up but neglected to tell the bride. We were all waiting around at the reception hall without a clue what was happening. He never made it to the reception. That's why I am not going to have a bachelor party, my friends."
"Good lord! Did they stay married?"
"I don't know. I lost track of them years ago."
"Kate, you want we should drink your drinks for you so you make to your own wedding?"
"I'm glad to know I have such selfless colleagues who will take the bullet for me."
"Any time, old girl. When do we get to meet the paragon who will be tying the knot with your new, improved self?"
"What makes you think I would expose her to such scurrilous rascals as yourselves? She is a demure teacher lady and would live in fear that your drunken debauchery might infect her innocent second grade students."
"And she doesn't fear that your own, ahem, change of gender might be misinterpreted?"
"Oddly enough, she doesn't. She seems to have a fondness for the inner me she brought to the surface. I would not be the woman I am today without her help."
"The woman must be a miracle worker! Try as I might I can't see Steve in there. Too bad she couldn't have improved your sense of humor, though,"
"Perfection is a thing of beauty in itself and needs no further adjustment."
"Who said that?"
"I did. Weren't you listening?"
"The source, my dear. Who said it first?"
"Me, oh ye of little faith."
"Somebody call Bartlett's!"
"I call for another round!"
"Only if Jimmy pays."
"Only if Kate tells us what she did with Steve."
"That would take two rounds at least."
"I'm good for the second. Talk, woman!"
So I talked. You've heard the story before, but each new audience hones the tale to a sharper focus. If I don't watch out I'm going to get a reputation like Uncle Shimon.
---
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, as did I, thanks to refusing another round the day before. I had a distinct impression that coming home tipsy would not be a good way to start a marriage. I had made Lucy and Bernie's job a bit harder by issuing a blanket wedding invitation to my drinking buddies yesterday. Granted the invitation was to the wedding and not the reception, but I doubted the bouncers would be making the rounds and checking invitations. I knew there would be plenty of buffet for a few more people and it would be nice to have a few guests sitting on my side of the aisle. One of the challenges of an only child marrying into a large family is being outnumbered.
"Cut that out or we're going to be late!"
"I swear my hand was resting innocently on her breast, officer. It was just here and I couldn't' help myself."
"You can help yourself tonight, and tomorrow and happily ever after, buster. Not now and…Ooooohh… Stop it!
"Why?"
"Because I'll open the door and sic the kittens on you if you don't."
"Pick a better threat, my love. No way you're going to get those critters away from Tariq."
"He has taken to them, hasn't he?"
"Just call him mamma, eh?"
"I don't think that would amuse him, somehow."
"You're probably right. He's trying hard to figure all this out."
"Like I'm trying to figure you out?"
"I'm inscrutable. You'll never know everything."
"I do know if I do this it makes you purr like a kitten."
"Mmmmm. You're heading for twenty tiny little claws prancing all over your breast forms if you don't watch it."
"What about if I do this?"
"You have five minutes to stop."
"Can I do this?"
"No! Not that either. We have to be at the hairdresser at nine."
"You have hair right here. Can I dress it?
"No! Yes. Maybe. Behave yourself!"
My hand was left cold an lonely as she got out of bed.
"I get the shower first."
"We can save water and shower together."
"No. What would my kids think."
The same thing they think when we go to bed together. They have reason to know you are no longer a virgin."
"I just wish you could have attended to that."
"If wishes were horses then beggars would ride. I could ride you if you wished."
"I said no. Get your mind out of the gutter and put your tits on."
"I can hardly wait until I have them permanently. I just wish I could have done it before the wedding."
"Then you wouldn't have been in any condition to make inappropriate advances. You'll have to wait for the midterm break. Consider them a Christmas present. I should be able to fondle them by Christmas."
"I don't want to wait."
"If you wait any longer we'll be late for the hairdresser. A proper woman does not keep her hairdresser waiting on her wedding day."
"I won't say it. I will resist the temptation. I will be strong."
"You will be late. Get dressed! Now!"
---
"So tell me, Alex, does it make you nervous to be the only one in the wedding party that's not wearing a dress?"
"I'm the only one with a mustache, too. I've never been a best man to a bride before. I was Ralph's best man when he and Judy got married but he didn't make me wear a dress."
If only he knew how much Ralph would have liked to be wearing a dress! I hope I wasn't making him jealous.
"If you're feeling out of place we could try to scare up a skirt or maybe a kilt."
"Thanks, but I think holding the bouquet is good enough for me, Kate."
"We have rather been flouting wedding traditions, haven't we?"
"Traditions have to start somewhere."
"So they do. I guess I'm just babbling because I'm nervous."
"Good. At least that tradition isn't going to be changed any time soon."
"Speaking of soon, here comes Kristen. I think we're ready. I can't thank you both enough for standing with me today. We've only known each other a little while but I couldn't think of anyone I want with me more today. Except Stephanie, of course."
"Of course. The music's starting, here we go!" Alex stepped forward and met Lucy at the end of the aisle leading to the front of the tent. They met and walked down the aisle.
Would you believe we had almost forgotten about music for the wedding? We did things in such a hurry we almost missed that. Fortunately our musical friends Alex and Ralph had lots of other musical friends and took that worry away from us. I hadn't listened to much folk music but they sounded pretty good to me. Ralph had even brought his professional sound system so everyone could hear. I asked if him if he was a DJ, too, but his response was unprintable.
Despite our intentions to have a small, informal wedding the preparations were, I suppose, just as demanding as a major blowout. Not that I didn't enjoy having my hair done with Steph and Yasmin, it was a ball. My hair was getting longer, but was still short enough that there wasn't anything really spectacular that the hairdresser could do with it. She washed and set it with a little bit of curl, which looked very nice. Yasmin's long, dark hair gave her a lot more latitude and the result was spectacular. I firmly resolved not to be jealous that my stepdaughter outshone both brides.
Then there was the ritual of putting on the wedding dresses. I think some mad genius must be put in charge of designing wedding dresses so that the poor bride is stuck wearing them until someone takes pity on her and undoes the undoable snaps, buttons and clasps that prevent her from undressing herself. Then again, I suppose that's the normal job of the groom, who has a vested interest in divesting her of her finery. In any case, we had a giggle party getting dressed, with Yasmin seemingly oblivious to my birth sex as we put on the gowns together.
Hilda had decreed that no matter what our normal preferences for face paint and perfumes, we were going to be wed in full war paint and smelling like a rose. Each of us in turn was seated at Steph's mostly ignored vanity while Hilda made us beautiful. I will admit she was a rousing success, when she was done the brides glowed a few hundred watts brighter than the raw natural glow of an unadorned bride.
Having been charmed by Dan Duggin and his wife Peggy at Alleghany, we were delighted to find out Ralph actually knew him and convinced him to play for our wedding. The hammered dulcimer is a lovely instrument for a wedding. Kristen met Yasmin and took their turn, meeting and walking down the aisle, then it was time. No one gave us away, we were our own women and proud of it. I met Stephanie and we walked down the aisle together.
At least we tried to. About halfway down the aisle I felt a sudden drag on my train. Looking back I saw Curious George engaged in mortal combat with a bow on the train. What could I do? I handed Stephanie my bouquet and scooped up the little rascal. So, as we approached Verne, resplendent in a red robe and a great, beaming smile. I held a small gray kitten and Stephanie held two bouquets. So much for the rehearsal to make things go smoothly. Tariq retrieved the errant kitten and we managed to get the right bouquet into the hands of the right attendant, then turned to face each other and hold hands.
"I welcome all of you who are here to witness the marriage of Kate and Stephanie." Verne spoke. "I'm sure you have already noticed we have broken with tradition and have two brides, but love is a curious thing. Love often does not respect tradition. Greek legend tells of how the mortal Orpheus fell in love with the nymph Eurydice and angered the gods. Shakespeare's lovers Romeo and Juliet became immortal when they rose above the family feud that kept them apart. The love letters of Eloise and Abelard, a priest and a nun, stand as some of the greatest pieces of romantic literature ever written. Love comes in many shapes and resides in the most peculiar places. True love can not be denied, it can not be appealed, it can only be lauded and embraced."
"Kate and Stephanie's story of love is as unusual as any I have heard in my years in the ministry, but if you haven't heard it, then it is their story to tell when the time is right. I do know that they have found friendship with people who I call friends; people who guided them to me and people who urged me to perform this ceremony today. Love and friendship are a potent combination, one that can triumph over tradition and inflexibility. With that in mind, I ask you, Stephanie, if you will state your intentions."
Stephanie looked into my eyes and spoke.
"Kate, because of you I laugh, I smile, I dare to dream again. I look forward with great joy to spending the rest of my life with you, caring for you, nurturing you, being there for you in all life has for us. Before this company I pledge you my love. May our days be long, and may they be seasoned with love, understanding and respect."
"And Kate, I ask you to state your intentions."
"Stephanie, I offer you my love. I offer you my strengths. I offer you my weaknesses . I offer you my support. I offer you my loyalty. Before this company I pledge you my love. May our days be long, and may they be seasoned with love, understanding and respect."
"Having heard Kate and Stephanie state their intentions to be bound in matrimony, I now place this charge on you who are witnessing this ceremony. Marriage is between two people, but a successful marriage involves the entire community. We do not live or love in isolation, but as part of a larger society. Therefore I ask if you who are assembled here will support this union and affirm that these two should be married today?"
"We Do"
The reply was a bit ragged since they hadn't been present at the rehearsal to learn their lines, but they caught on fast.
"Will you cherish and support Stephanie and Kate as they embark on this adventure of commitment and sharing? Will you cheer them when they are sad, laugh with them when they are happy, console them in their losses and share the joys of their life to come? Will you, as their friends and relations, endeavor to provide council when asked, hold your peace when necessary, and welcome them joyfully into this new commitment they have made?"
"We Will!"
The response was stronger this time.
"Then by the power vested in me I declare before this company that Katherine Tucker and Stephanie Patrillo are henceforth bound in matrimony for now and all time. At this point I usually say to the groom something like 'You may kiss the bride', but I'm going to let Stephanie and Kate work out what to do next. I'm sure they will know what to do!"
We did indeed know what to do, and we did it with gusto!
A beaming Verne reached for his guitar and, as our folkie friends had urged us to have him do, played for us as we turned to greet our friends and family as an officially married couple.
Who would have thought it could happen to either of us?
We turned and walked back up the aisle, looking at all of our cheering friends. Jimmy and Camilla had indeed come to the ceremony and were sitting next to Dean Carl and his wife. Uncle Shimon was grinning profusely, possibly anticipating a new audience for his old jokes but, just maybe, happy that we were getting married. There were several teacher friends that Stephanie had invited but I had yet to meet, Brother Tom with his kids Julia and Tony, but Deb was conspicuous in her absence. At least she had not made further trouble for me with the college. I was amazed to see Beth sitting with Tony, how in the name of everything holy did she convince her conservative parents to let her come up here to watch two women get married? Better yet, how did Tony convince her to come? The boy must be smitten.
Ralph sat grinning at the sound console along with Judy, for once without his trademark tie-die t-shirt. Even Dr. Gallis, or should I say Jean and her husband, were here to wish us well. We took our place at the end of the aisle to greet our guests, where I received more hugs and kisses than I had collected in my entire previous life! About halfway through the procession came Uncle Shimon.
"Stephanie, my girl, I want to tell you about the last wedding I attended. When all of the bridesmaids had gone down the aisle a little boy followed. He would take two steps, stop, and turn to the crowd and put his hands up like claws and roar loudly. So it went, step, step, ROAR, step, step, ROAR all the way down the aisle. As you can imagine, the crowd was nearly tears from laughing so hard by the time he reached the front. The little boy, however, was getting more and more distressed from all the laughing and was near tears
"The bride very sweetly leaned over and asked him what he was doing. The child sniffed and said, 'I was being the Ring Bear'."
I groaned, along with everyone else within earshot. Now, I have to admit that Stephanie and I had done an Internet search before the wedding specifically to find a couple of jokes for Uncle Shimon. We did not intend to let him take over our day. Besides, he was in his glory when someone he had a crony to feed him material.
"Uncle Shimon," Stephanie replied, "you know that if your wife laughs at your jokes, it means you either have a good joke or a good wife."
"And I'm glad that both us have good wives, aren't you?" I asked innocently.
The press of well wishers prevented any more exchanges, but we were both sure we would have many chances to use our jokes before the party ended. I can't really give you all the details of the wedding festivities, being the center of attention makes it very hard to keep everything in memory. Bernie and Lucy outdid themselves with the food. I think both Stephanie and I were glad we wouldn't need to wear our dresses again after eating so much.
Stephanie and I had our first dance together since the contradance at Alleghany. It's much easier to dance when someone is telling you what to do next, but we managed to wiggle around while holding each other tightly until the song ended. Dan and Peggy got everybody up and dancing as well. Tom found time to kiss us both and wish us a better marriage than his own. He seemed torn between happiness for us and sadness at his own failed marriage.
At a loss as to what to say, we were distracted by the arrival of a bright yellow DHL delivery truck.
"What in heaven's name is that thing doing here?" asked an exasperated Hilda.
"I think it's safe to say it's delivering something. I sure as blazes aren't making any international shipments this afternoon." replied Stephanie.
"Would anyone care to ask the driver why he's here?" I asked.
"Will you stop being so logical? We've only been married a few minutes and already you're insufferable."
"You have not yet begun to suffer, my love. That comes tonight."
Tariq and Yasmin had hastily joined us when they saw the van arrive.
"Am I not understanding the English correctly, Kate. I did not think suffering went with what happens after a wedding?"
"Well, I do intend to have your mother crying for mercy before the night is over."
"This is something I think I do not need to know until my own wedding night."
"Well, if my plans work I'll be glad to give you some advice when the time comes."
"You will NOT," my love replied fiercely, "provide any details of any kind to my children or you will continue down the path to femininity a lot farther than you plan, buster."
"But mother, how will I know what to expect on my wedding night if you don't tell me?" Yasmin asked with an impish smile."
"Honey, if you go for a two bride wedding I just might tell you. Until then, you'll just have to wonder."
"Don't you think we should see what the man is bringing?" asked Hilda.
"I suppose we should before this crowd gets ugly."
"Our friends are not ugly! A little peculiar, but no comments on physical attributes, please."
I just love saying things like that. Too bad everybody here knew my secret, but it was fun anyway.
As we approached the delivery man opened the back of the van and slid a rather large crate from the interior."
"I have a delivery for Mrs. Stephanie Petrillo. Where should I put it?" the man asked. It was about then that he noticed the duplicate brides and his eyes got wide.
"If you would be so kind as to put it over on one of the tables there we can open it with all of the other wedding gifts."
"OK lady. If you say so."
He hefted the crate easily and carried it over to the gift table. It looked a bit odd, a rough wooden crate among all the gaily wrapped boxes and bags, but I was dying to see what it could be."
"Who's it from?" I asked.
Some guy with an unpronounceable name in London." The deliveryman answered.
"Faruq!" cried Stephanie.
"Gesundheit!" Hilda answered.
"Mother!"
By this time the deliveryman was looking like a small, trapped animal, his only thought was to get out of this crazy place as fast as he could.
"Lady, if you'll just sign this I have to get going."
"Of course."
She sighed the pad.
"I hope both of you and your husbands have a long and happy marriage." he said as he fled to a chorus of laughter from the crowd that had gathered to watch the show.
"So open it up!"
"Anybody got a chain saw?"
"Here, let me help." Alex pulled out his ever present utility knife and proceeded to unscrew the top of the crate. Lifting it off he bowed to us.
"It's all yours, ladies."
Stephanie removed the packing to reveal a beautifully ornate framed mirror, two matching candlesticks and an intricately embroidered cloth. As she did, Tariq told her "Mother, in a traditional Iranian wedding the mirror is known as the ayeneh-ye bakht, or the mirror of fate. It is usually lit by two candelabra, one on either side, representing the bride and groom. According to tradition, the mirror and candlesticks symbolize purity and love. Just before sunset, when the groom enters the room in the bride's home where the ceremony will be held, what he sees first should be the face of his wife-to-be reflected in the mirror. The cloth is a sofreh-ye aqd, traditionally a fine, hand-sewn wedding cloth glittering with gold and silver threads. It is spread out before the mirror and adorned with food and objects traditionally associated with marriage."
"There's a card, too." Yasmin pointed out. Stephanie opened it and read in silence.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense, daughter! Tell us what it says!" Hilda was about ready to burst with curiosity.
"It's from Faruq. It says 'While I can never repair the damage I caused in my foolish youth, I sincerely wish you and your spouse a long and happy life together. May you find the happiness we were unable to have. Live together forever, Faruq."
Taking Stephanie's hand I told her "As I have reason to know from personal experience, my love, people can change. There is a time to bury the past and live for the future. Tariq, Yasmin, please tell your father that we will indeed live together forever."
With nothing further to say I kissed my bride soundly to the cheers of the onlookers.
Steph and I had just found a pair of seats to settle in and were starting slow down after a hectic and memorable day when Uncle Shimon found us.
"You know, I was just talking to an old friend about going to your wedding. He had decided it was time to find someone to share his life with after losing his wife. He always was a careless fellow, but his wife somehow always found her way home when he misplaced her until she left him a widower. So he makes up his mind to place an advertisement in the local classifieds. Being a man of few words, 'Wife wanted' was all he said. Next day he received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: You can have mine."
"I wonder if he was related to an old friend of mine?" asked Stephanie. "One day he came home to find his wife admiring her breasts in the mirror. He asked her what she was doing and she said, 'I went to the doctor today and he told me that I have the breasts of a 16-year-old girl'!"
"Her husband replied, 'Well, what did she say about your 75-year-old ass?'"
"Honey, your name never came up!"
Just like at the pie festival, we were off and running. A crowd started to gather in anticipation, but what we hadn't anticipated was Verne. Turns out he has a sense of humor to rival Shimon's."
Speaking of older couples, wasn't it Agatha Christie that said that an archaeologist is the best spouse a person can have; the older she gets the more interested he is in her?"
"Well, if you're going to be quoting great writers," I offered, "perhaps I could remind you that Ogden Nash once said that marriage is the alliance of two people, one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other who never forgets them."
"Did you know that Dick Cheney just said he supports gay marriage. I think he only supports it because he sees marriage as a form of torture, but anyway, he supports it."
"And didn't President Bush say he's troubled by all the gay marriages... He seems to think the only time two men should ever be in bed together is if one is a lobbyist and the other is a politician."
I wonder if he read the Dear Abby column where a reader complained that a gay couple was moving in across the street and wanted to know what he could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood. Her answer was 'You could move.'"
"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?"
"Did you realize, offered Verne, "That the Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean that God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they seem to need more supervision."
"OK, it's getting late," Uncle Shimon said, "and I need to get home and get a little rest, unlike the happy couple here. I'll leave you with this thought. There once was this woman who gave her husband a portrait of herself covered with the most amazingly beautiful and expensive jewels. Her husband was a little taken aback as they were of very modest means. Gathering his courage he asked her why all the jewelry. Her explanation - if I die and you remarry, I want your next wife to go crazy looking for the jewels."
Shimon was right, it was getting late. We once again made the rounds of those guests that were still there, thanking everyone for helping to make this day one to remember. Our friends and family all pitched in to help clean up, it's things like that that tell you how lucky you are to have people like that in your lives. With a last round of parting hugs and kisses we wearily but happily shut our bedroom door and spent our first night together as a legally sanctioned, if highly non-traditional, couple.
Just 199 days ago a lonely, friendless, wandering vagabond of an academic had freed his stuck window to an unseasonably warm day in January. Now I was a happily married woman with family, friends and even children. My life was set on a course that was completely unforeseen but perfectly right for me and the woman I loved.
---
If I thought that getting married meant the circus of the past week was ending I was completely mistaken. There were emotional goodbyes to be made for Tariq and Yasmin. If we hadn't warned Tariq that the luggage spaces in a plane were unpressurized I swear he would have smuggled out a kitten or three. Yasmin said she hoped to come back to the states for her college education just like her big brother. The big brother was firmly instructed to return to celebrate Thanksgiving with his newfound family and everybody had a tear or two lurking just below the surface.
The big old place seemed lonely with just the two of us once again. Good thing there were three rambunctious kittens around to keep us entertained as we once again settled into living alone.
---
We had agreed that, with the start of the school year so close and having traveled most of the summer, we would not go on a formal honeymoon. On Tuesday, August 23, 2005, a mere three days after our wedding, the fall semester started and the honeymoon was most definitely over. Today I faced my students for the first time as Katherine Tucker, PhD, a transgendered Adjunct Professor of English. I wondered if I was going to have any time left to lecture after my students indulged their curiosity.
I had again opted for my skirted power suit, hoping it would act as armor against the slings and arrows of outrageous students. Stephanie and I had brainstormed for some time, trying to decide on what approach to take. We had rejected a haughty stare at any student with the temerity to ask what had happened to Professor Stephen Tucker; after all a college is supposed to be a place to ask questions and get open answers. Then again, I didn't want each class to turn into a free for all of prurient interest.
For once, Stephanie encouraged me to go into lecture mode. We decided that I should start each class with a short speech outlining the basic facts. I would emphasize the medical nature of my gender change, offer a sheet with some further readings if they were interested and emphasize the need for decorum and respect. The sheet would also include the excerpt from the college rules about non-discrimination.
We hoped it would work, but as my recent life history had shown, I was lousy at predicting the future.
So I sat at my desk, nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, waiting for my first student. Just my luck it would be Patty, the exceedingly cute coed who had found me in Wal-mart buying my first package of women's panties.
"Do I have the right room? I'm looking for Professor Tucker's class."
"You have the right room, Patty."
"You have got to be, like, kidding!"
Oh well, summer break hadn't improved her speech.
"As serious as tonight's homework, Patty. There have been some changes over the summer."
"Gimme a break, Prof!
No, I didn't use the 'arm or leg' line, much as I wanted to."
"If you had read the revised information for the course you would have had some advance notice, Patty."
"Who reads all that junk? I gotta take this course to graduate, so I take the course."
"You never can tell when knowledge will become useful, even if you don't like to read."
"I like to read, but not all the crap the school cranks out."
I was almost tempted to agree, but this time it would have helped. "I'll go over it when everyone is here so I don't have to repeat myself."
"Jeez, I don't believe this. Hey! You weren't shitting me when you said those panties were for you, were you?"
"As Mark Twain said, often the surest way to convey misinformation is to tell the strict truth. Sit down, Patty, and all will be revealed"
Thus began a day of self revelation and trying to keep some order among my students. Of course the news spread like wildfire and I started to notice an inordinate number of students pausing to look into whatever classroom I happened to be in. The hard cases seemed to be the jocks and the committed feminists. The jocks took my conversion to femininity as a personal insult to their manhood while the feminists felt I was insulting their femininity. Amazing what a difference your point of view makes when looking at the same facts. Fortunately, there weren't too many espousing either flavor of intolerance.
One bright spot was my freshman English class that afternoon. I was bracing myself for another round of curiosity when I heard a familiar voice.
"Hi Aunt Kate, or do I have to call you Professor Tucker?"
"Julia! How's your first day of school going?"
"Great! How's your first day of school going?"
Well, I can't call it great, but so far nobody has tried to lynch me or been openly contemptuous. I am getting sick of having little clots of students suddenly stop talking when I get close to them, though."
"I take it they're not struck dumb by your charm and beauty?"
"Hardly. I am thinking that a few of them have perfected the almost sneer as an art form. I would have thought it would be mostly guys who do that, but there are some women in close competition for the grand prize."
"Karma, Aunt Kate. The men are becoming more enlightened so women are becoming more ignorant to compensate."
"I'm glad I teach English and not philosophy. It's all to deep for me. Anyway, you'll have to come over for dinner once you get settled."
"Thanks, Auntie. Talk to you after class."
As my students were arriving I settled in to teach Transgender Etiquette 101 as a precursor to English 201.
---
I arrived home completely exhausted. There's something to be said for having a wife waiting with a backrub and a good meal, I most certainly had no idea what I had been missing all these years! Things got progressively easier over the next few weeks. Some of my students changed classes, there were still incidents when someone ostentatiously ignored my presence, but no one did anything overtly threatening. There were a couple of nasty, anonymous notes in my mailbox, mostly with a fundamentalist 'you're going to burn in hell you pervert' theme, which I turned over to Carl.
I wasn't the only one who took flak, Stephanie had a couple of parents unhappy with their children in her classroom. The school board was mostly willing to back her up, but it isn't pleasant to have to cope with people who know how you should live your life and are very happy to tell you how to do it. Actually, I don't think such people are very happy, but you know what I mean.
Before I knew it the mid semester break arrived. With exquisitely bad timing, a conference on transgender issues was held on campus on October 13th, the day before my augmentation surgery was scheduled in New York City. I wasn't invited to participate, but I did attend and tossed in my two cents so many times I was out a couple of dollars before we hitched up the trailer and headed for the wilds of New York City to camp.
The surgery was billed as 'outpatient', which means you get to go home after they make sure you aren't going to die any time soon. The surgery was like any hospital, you get to wear a hideous gown, they poke you full of holes and hang various tubes and wires off your body. Eventually a nurse inserts a syringe into the IV and you wake up feeling lousy with someone sitting on your chest and a surgical bra trying to break a couple of ribs.
I don't want to dwell on it, but it hurt! I knew it was going to hurt and I thought I was ready for it, but I really wasn't. Stephanie was a saint, putting up with my whining and still loving me. When it stopped hurting so much I was able to appreciate being in our cozy little trailer and the nice, firm bed. This was important because I wasn't getting out of that bed any more than I had to. There was no way to be comfortable; on my back the weight of my new breasts was annoying, on my side gravity pulled things in ways that strained the incisions. Sitting up had it's own set of miseries.
I had a couple of serious talks with my goddess. Breasts sound like a great idea but they have some drawbacks. They're heavy and when you start out male you don't have enough skin to cover those big lumps so you stretch! When it stopped hurting it feels odd as your skin tries to work into it's new shape. Other than a couple of trips for the doctor to check me over I spent the week recovering in the trailer watching mindless TV or reading. Yeah, I was feeling lousy enough that Television was almost tolerable as a distraction.
I hated the surgical bra, but taking it off was a lousy idea because my body didn't know how to support those supposedly wonderful breasts I now had. After the first shower I kept the damn thing on while the water poured over me and changed once I got out of the shower.
After about a week of healing I stopped berating my goddess and noticed that I could move without being constantly reminded of the newest parts of my body. The swelling had started to go down and the bruising was fading from livid purple to a disgusting yellow brown. I was starting to think the damn things might someday be as feminine as I they seemed to me before surgery. Saturday I even felt well enough to go out for dinner with Stephanie.
I had a fleeting thought about trying to show off some of my newfound cleavage, but that would have earned me sympathetic attention from those who would be sure my husband was beating me. The bruising was still visible and the fact that I didn't have a husband was irrelevant. Besides, the weather had turned a bit cool and I wasn't keen to go out with all that irritated skin exposed. The inserts were still riding rather high on my body - it would take weeks for them to settle down to their final position.
The ride home on Sunday was almost tolerable, but there are far too many cursed potholes between New York City and Rochester. Toward the end I was cursing every damn one of them by name and lineage. I used the last of the serious painkillers the doctor had given me on Sunday night and slept well for the first time in a week.
Returning to class was an anticlimax, no one was aware that my breasts were now part of me instead of silicone blobs in my bra. I passed off a few remarks about my occasional winces as 'some minor surgery, you know' and people were properly sympathetic. I'd hate to have you think all I did was complain about the surgery. Eventually the pain went away once my body accommodated my new breasts.
In anticipation of the day when I could reveal some cleavage I had gone out and bought several new bras with nice, deep plunging cups. Up until then I had favored full coverage bras which kept my forms safely in place. Practical, but just not the right thing when you want to show off your new boobs. In a nice bit or irony, the swelling and bruising were gone by Halloween, the crossdresser's favorite holiday. I was able to go to a party in a sexy witch costume that left little to the imagination.
That's not to say I didn't feel completely exposed and embarrassed, but I did have fun watching the men at the party try to stare down the cavern I now had between my breasts. I can see where this might get old pretty soon, but that first night it was a great experience! Speaking of great experiences, the first time Stephanie played with my new breasts as we made love I apologized profusely to my goddess for all the nasty things I had said about her.
I was sitting in my office trying to grade some papers when I heard a familiar voice.
"Hi Professor Aunt Kate. I've been hearing so me rumors about you."
"Hi yourself, niece Julia. Pull up a chair and rest yourself."
"I can see that the rumors are true. You have cleavage."
"And just what have you heard about my cleavage, pray tell?"
"That there are a couple of guys getting conflicted worshiping your cleavage and realizing you aren't a woman. Poor babies don't know what to think."
"Perhaps we should get them to enroll in a creative writing class. You know I teach that writing is a great way to resolve conflicts."
"Do you really want to read adolescent fantasies of the 'valley of desire between the snowy hills of flesh' knowing it's your flesh?"
"Julia, have you been reading romance books again?"
"Who? Me?"
"So the opinion about campus is that my doctor succeeded in his craft?"
"Don't be surprised if a couple of girls ask for a referral."
"If they have the nerve to ask I have his card."
"You're looking good, aunt Kate. Are you glad you did it?"
"Now that I'm healed I'm very happy."
"Good for you. Got to run, my next class is across the campus. I'll get you some sexy lingerie for Christmas."
"Stephanie has it covered, child."
---
I'm sure you've heard the old Chinese curse 'May you live in interesting times'. Interesting times may indeed be a curse while you're living in them, but if you are telling a story they are an essential ingredient. I have tried to be honest with myself and my readers as I described my journey from Steve to Kate, from an aimless man and mediocre professor to a happily married woman and (finally!) tenured educator who has the respect of her colleagues and students.
Frankly, my life is no longer interesting to anyone but my close friends and family. People can only be irritated and appalled by a transgendered woman for so long before they run out of energy. Likewise, even the most ardent supporter of transgender rights finds other things to do when their latest cause blends in with the rest of humanity and is no longer a celebrity.
In other words, there's not much more to tell. Thanksgiving of the year 2005 was a holiday with a special meaning. Stephanie and I threw a bash for our family and the wonderful friends we had made during this incredible year. We strained the space in our big, old farmhouse as Ralph, Judy Stephanie and I collaborated on a feast of epic proportions. Turkey in the traditional Petrillo family manner, Ralph's Hungarian leg of lamb with enough garlic to sterilize the entire country of Transylvania, Brussels sprouts with butter and the rest of the world's supply of garlic, Jell-o salads, fruit salads, dressing, potatoes, yams, squash, green beans in mushroom soup, you name it and we ate it. By this time my new breasts were pain free and as delightful as I had dreamed, so I was starting to think about buttock enhancements. After all, so many people considered my transition a pain in the ass I figured I could do without those padded panties and make their fantasies reality. However, after that meal I don't think I'll need any more padding for quite some time.
Ralph & Judy, Alex and Kristen, Tariq, and all of the Petrillo clan were there, including both Deb and Tom, who had come to some sort of tentative truce. Deb spoke not a word directly to me but she was obviously trying to get along with her family. Of course our rapidly growing felines scampered about with glee. Hint: don't leave the turkey carcass out on the counter too long or you won't get any leftovers to eat later that evening! All we needed was Tiny Tim to stand up and say 'goddess bless us, every one'. Wrong holiday, but the right sentiment.
Comments
A Delightful Romp
Everything turned out quite well. I am certainly happy that the children showed up. At least I didn't guess wrong there. I really enjoyed it.
Portia
Portia
Very Satisfying
Ricky, thank you so much for updating, finishing, and posting this delightful story. I really enjoyed reading it.
I'm sorry to see Kate finish!
I really enjoyed the chapters.
Family, transition, friends, love, plus a lot more, seemed like a real situation which ended in I trust a happy life?
It was a great wedding!
This is for Uncle Shimon:
An 85 year old man went to the doctor for a complete physical check up.
What's the occasion asked the doctor.
I'm getting married to an 18 year old girl replied the old man.
His doctor replied, you know it could be fatal?
If she dies, she dies, replied the old man!
LoL
Rita
Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)
LoL
Rita
Ba-da-pumb-dump
So much to read, so little time and only one of me :)
The English Teacher
So much to read, so little time and only one of me :)
The English Teacher
Solid Finish...
...to an excellent story. Thanks for completing the tale.
Eric
Good story
Thanks Ricky for a warm refreshing story!! I really enjoyed it!! I am looking forward to more stories from you!!
Hugs,
Pamela
I am so jealous
I am so jealous. Kate has everything in her life I want in my life. She has a loving, accepting, even encouraging, wife... real boobs and managed to keep her job.
I love it. I loved the entire story. There was just enough drama to keep it from becoming a bit of fluff, but not so much to cause anguish when reading though it.
Ricky this is a masterpiece
Hugs
Patricia
([email protected])
http://members.tripod.com/~Patricia_Marie/index.html
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper ubi femininus sub ubi
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin eine Mann
Where the past meets the present
Wow, unexpected and wonderful! You sly one, you actually put enough drama to make us completely forget about the children, and them you whack us over our heads with their sudden appearance!
:D
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Ricky, you done SO good!
This story was a romp from beginning to end. A delightful, amusing, and yet educational voyage that left me laughing and crying, alternately.
I particularly enjoyed the references to places that I know, being a fellow (sister) Western New York denizen myself.
I have nothing but praise for the story, the plot, the characters, oh my god, the characters. The loving sense of humor that was a thread all through the story kept me laughing.
What a wonderful accomplishment you have graciously shared with us all with this story. Thank you very much for the time and effort, and love you put into it.
So, to paraphrase the words of a better writer than I will ever be: "Goodbye, and thanks for all the kittens." *giggle*
hugs and love,
Catherine Linda MIchel
As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script.
Thank you for a lovely story
I am very happy that you continue to write . I discovered your stories through your posting of the Olive Spot, which I also very much enjoyed, but having seen that, I then read this, which I enjoyed enormously. It will go on the list that I re-read regularly.
Kate
Wow
I am so glad I found this marvellous story with its incredible and crazy dialogue .
Thank you so so much
Alexi
Alexinu
Thank you
I am not sure Kate transitioning made for a better story ,but it did not hurt either .I enjoyed myself and found I was hoping for another chapter .
SJH
Another great story from Ricky!
A great transitioning story with all the family drama included! Also, I frequently travel to western and the Southern Tier NY, so the setting made it that much better!
Sorry to come late to this party, but it's been a wonderful stor
Thanks Ricky!
Another of your very best tales.
I loved every minute.
Lucy xx
"Lately it occurs to me..
what a long strange trip its been."