Nina's Wish   Dancing? But I want to be an architect ...a girl architect! Buildings…big and wide and full of space …my work…my designs! I wish they were proud.

Madame Renault's Dance Studio, Paramus, New Jersey...

Nick sat on the bench, his head back resting against the wall. The practice went for an extra half hour as Mrs. Renault put the troupe through their paces, to use an old expression. The recital, only one of several, took on an importance of its own since the article appeared in the town paper.

“Local Boy Another Billy Elliot?”

Nick cringed when he remembered the fuss everyone had made of his dancing; mostly well meaning, but to the exclusion of the other dancers. He and Gino Danetti were the only boys in the class of nearly twenty, and some of the girls were upset over the article.

“Brilliant beyond his age!” it said, leaving him with an unwanted reputation, both as a dancer and as an attention seeker. Neither description was accurate. Certainly he didn’t want attention; he was trying as hard as he could to fade into the background. And he felt he wasn’t nearly as good as the article made out; he was fairly talented, but stood out like a rose among…other roses. The girls had been nice enough to his face, but the whispers and laughs stopped when he entered the room. He heard some of the comments. Things like,

“He’s prettier than you, Lisa...” Or, “Did you see the way he moves…what a girl.”

To say he was conflicted would have been a huge understatement. At fifteen, he was still small at five-five, and he almost lithe in his form and movements. He purposefully had taught himself to walk ‘heavy’ outside of ballet to appear more masculine. It didn’t really work at all, and he continued to be the target of teasing in school.

But his conflict wasn’t with the perception. He was for all intents and purposes a very feminine looking boy, albeit talented more than he was willing to admit. The conflict was in that he secretly embraced the perception. He had known almost since he was able to walk that he was a good dancer; his destiny was as a ballerina… the feminine version wasn’t a mistake. At six he cried himself to sleep nightly, as prayers went unanswered.

“God…why can’t I be like Mommy?”

Nick didn’t just idolize his mother; he wanted to be a girl. Wanted is such a weak way of putting it. Nick knew he was a girl; he had no idea what that meant at six; at ten he still prayed, but with understanding as it says somewhere.

“I know I’m not a boy, God…can you help me tell Mommy? Will Daddy listen?” He still cried himself to sleep, but not as the six year old boy, but as a ten year old girl who had begun to understand just how different she was.

Health class explained things in some ways, leaving her more confused and frightened in others. Frighten is such a strong word to use; like being scared while watching a horror film. But a girl can be frightened at the horrorific prospect of growing up in the wrong body; forced to be something she is not. At fourteen, Nick gave himself a new name. It was almost like only he and God knew who she was …Nina.

Nina cried herself to sleep every night as she realized she would be barren; no babies would ever come from the womb that never grew. Her unwanted…thing remained a sad reminder of what she was; a freak. As much as the textbooks and internet articles gave her hope, the snickers and snide remarks her parents would make when they watched a program on Nightline about a man who was living as a woman with his family hurt her.

“That’s just so weird,” her father laughed nervously.

“I don’t know why they feel that way.”

Her mother had shaken her head as if the man had a choice; as if it was a feeling instead of a painful realization that the man…and their son had undergone…the daughter who stood in the alcove behind the living room where they sat, crying softly to herself in hopeless fear.

And now at fifteen; destined to become a great dancer; a boy in a girl’s venue some had said, completely missing the point of ballet and certainly never in the position to hear the boy’s plea to let him be…He didn’t want to be a dancer at all. And he didn’t want to be a he. He wasn’t a he. She was Nina Sheridan, a girl with hopes and dreams that went beyond what talent supposedly had defined.

The latest recital went superbly well; every arts and entertainment writer in the tri-state area had attended the presentation, wondering just how good Nick Sheridan was. He didn’t disappoint them, sadly for someone else, so to speak. The Times proclaimed him the next Nureyev. The News said,

“Barishnikov, move over! There’s a new star in town.”

Nick didn’t have it in him to underperform; he danced his usual spectacular self even though he almost wished he’d have tripped and fallen at the beginning. Perhaps he’d do well enough to show that he was ‘good,’ while discouraging the idea that he was somehow ‘brilliant?’ But he couldn’t.

On the ride home after the show, he sat in the back of the SUV and looked out the window. It had been snowing, and he leaned his cheek on the cold window. And he began to sob.

“What’s wrong, Nick…you danced beautifully. They loved you.” His mother turned around and patted his knee. He cried harder.

“It’s probably nerves…you know how things go after a performance, honey.” His father said.

And all the while the boy…the girl sobbed even harder. They loved him…not her. He danced beautifully …she wanted to walk away.

“It’s okay, honey… You did so well; you’ve got nothing to worry about.” His mother rubbed his back as they walked in the house. Nick turned and looked into his mother’s eyes. She was filled with pride and love for her son, but it seemed that she would never have room for her daughter. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and shook his head before running to his room.

“What’s wrong?” His father called as he walked into the house even as his wife was running down the hallway after their son.

“I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off as she entered his room. He was lying face down on his bed, sobbing harder than Collette had ever seen.

“Honey…what’s the matter? You’re just brilliant…you’ve got nothing to worry about.
The boy turned over on his side and then sat up, pulling his mother in for a hug.

“Mom…I can’t do this…it’s not right…you just don’t know.”

“What’s not right, honey? Tell me… I’m here.” Collette felt the bed sag as Dave sat down on the other side. He reached over and grabbed her hand.

“Nick… what’s wrong… are you okay?” Dave was worried; they had never seen him cry like this.

“D…Dad…” He could only get that out before he began to sob.

“Do you think we have to go to the ER?“ She looked at Dave; he shrugged in confusion.

“I’m…I’m not sick.”

“What is it then, honey…. Why are you so upset? You did so well tonight….everybody loved you.” Dave said.

“That’s….that’s just it….I didn’t do well at all…HE did….everybody loved HIM!”

“What…I don’t understand…who did well…who is he? What are you talking about?”

“Him…Nick…the boy….HE danced…they loved HIM.” More sobs; the bed shook as the child was nearly convulsive.

“Him? What are you talking about? You danced, Nick… they loved you. We love you.” Collette said. She was crying as well at this point. She pulled back a little and held
him at arms length. His face was etched with so much pain and sadness.

“Nicky…honey…what’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath and shook his head once again.

“Mom…” He glanced quickly to his left.

“Dad?” Dave nodded, his own eyes filled with tears at this point.

“I’m not that boy…he’s not who I am…I’m…”

“Stop talking like that…of course you are…you’re our son and we love you.”

“I…I know that you love him….me…oh God this is so hard…” It took nearly five minutes for the weeping to subside; helped along by both parents kissing the boy and holding him tight. He eventually calmed enough to speak; the most important thing he would ever tell his parents, because it was the last thing ‘he’ would ever say.

“My….my name is Nina.”

Quite some time later...Jesnen Office Complex, Ridgewood, New Jersey...

“Sheridan Associates?” Yes…Would you mind holding?” The woman looked over and saw the girl standing in the office doorway.

“Chloe and I want to go to the Mall after practice, Mom. I asked Lisa and she said it was okay?” The girl shrugged a bit and laughed softly.

“Well, Bonnie, if your mother says it’s okay?” A joke the two of them shared, since her daughter had two moms.

“Okay, but you still have homework to do when you get back. No later than nine; okay?”

The girl nodded and blew her a kiss and was off. She smiled and hit the hold button on the phone.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This is Nina Sheridan-Kove speaking…oh Mayor Armetta…yes…the plans for the new civic center are completed….yes…oh yes…thank you……..”

Next: David's (and James') Wish