(The Story Thus Far: Born out of wedlock in 1929, Merritt Lane McGraw has spent nearly all of his first five years with his mother while she worked as a live-in maid and nanny for a wealthy young widow and her two daughters. Merritt’s mother, Evelyn, found herself in a torrid love affair with Viola Buckner, her employer, while the women’s daughters loved to treat Merritt as a little girl. Merritt was becoming more and more like a girl. To escape the demanding sexual encounters with her employer (which Evelyn feels is sinful) and to take her son away from the feminine atmosphere of the estate, Evelyn left the Buckners and returned home to live with her parents. She soon married Bob Casey, the library clerk and former high school classmate, and they have moved into a second floor apartment above a craft and sewing supply store. Merritt’s days of enjoying “girl time” appear to have ended now that there’s a man in the house.

(Yet, he tries to fit in as a boy, believing his hopes of ever living as a girl in the 1940s and1950s would be nearly impossible. His growing femininity has brought him into more adventures as a girl, confusing him even more as he tries to fit in at school. Merritt has completed his sophomore year of high school, having attended two proms, one as a boy and one as a girl, where his date’s infatuation for Marilyn has prompted Merritt to tell the boy the truth, only to be rudely rejected. He continues in high school even more conflicted.)

Chapter 27: An Altar Boy’s Adventure

Merritt’s time as an acolyte at St. Pat’s ended abruptly, in the days following the prom. Merritt had been scheduled to serve the 11 a.m. mass on the morning after the prom, and had arrived just a minute or two late, his hair still fixed in the page boy style from the night before. He had slept later than usual and in rushing to get to church on time hadn’t had time to fully brush his hair out.

Both Father Mulcahy and the other altar boy, a short, wiry sophomore named Melvin, looked at him in astonishment as Merritt slipped on the lace altar boy’s dress.

“You look like a girl!” said Melvin, addressing Merritt. The boy then turned to the priest saying, “Doesn’t he father?”

Father Mulcahy, busy tying up his own vestments, merely nodded, but then smiled at Merritt, and the boy almost thought he noticed a slight wink from the priest.

Merritt still was reliving last night’s dance and did certainly feel like a girl. Yet, the comment from the underclassman Melvin bothered him. His acceptance into a boy’s world and as life went on into the world of men was becoming more and more problematic with each day.

As lead altar boy, Merritt had the most compelling duties, making sure everything was delivered to Father Mulcahy on time and in good form. He also rang the bells at the appropriate moments during the moments, and for the first time in all of his altar boy experience, he missed the cue, finally being awakened out of his day-dreaming by a crude whisper from Melvin, “Ring the bell, girl.”

Even Father Mulcahy heard the other boy’s remark as he turned to face the congregation and raise the chalice, holding the communion host over the cup.

That incident jarred the normally “perfect” Merritt out of his stupor and the mass continued without further mishap.

“Will you be in Friday this week, Merritt?” the priest asked him after mass.

“Oh yes. I never miss being here after school on Fridays, father.”

“I know, but I just want to make sure. Can you stay a bit longer this time?”

“Yes, father,” he said.

Merritt regularly worked with the priest and the Altar Society ladies in setting up the church for the Sunday services on Friday afternoons, doing some rudimentary cleaning, changing altar clothes and assuring there were enough communion hosts on hand.

*****
By 4:30 p.m., Friday, after the ladies from the Altar Society had completed their chores, Father Mulcahy, his face strangely flushed, asked Merritt to follow him into a side utility room, just off the altar. The room was mainly a place where vestments and altar boy outfits were hung, along with other items often used at the services, such as the numbers that were attached to the board that announced the hymns for the service.

Merritt noticed how red the priest’s face had become, and he seemed nervous as well.

Father Mulcahy ushered Merritt into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. There were two folding chairs set up in the middle of the cramped room, facing each other, and the priest took Merritt’s hand gently, leading him toward a chair.

Suddenly, Merritt felt himself drawn firmly into the man and being hugged. He felt the rough cloth of the priest’s black outfit, and smelled the cigarette smoke from the man’s garments as he found himself pressed against the priest’s armpits. He felt the priest’s hands running through his long hair.

“You are so lovely and pretty, my pet,” the priest said.

In Merritt’s confusion, he surrendered himself to the priest’s attention. After all, the man embracing him was a priest, a holy man and a man to obey implicitly. He felt the priest’s hand on the back of his head, and the priest’s lips finding his own, and kissing him.

Suddenly, he felt revulsion; the priest’s mouth tasted sour and a scent seemed to emanate from his mouth, who just moments before had issued forth with a brief prayer on the altar, as he genuflected. What’s this holy man doing?

Merritt squirmed twisting his head to avoid the lips of the priest; but the priest now was holding him even more firmly and Father Mulcahy’s grip tightened on the boy, who was too weak to move away.

“Quiet now, my son,” said the priest.

“But, father what are you . . .”

“Oh Merritt, my darling,” the priest interrupted him. The voice was now desperate and urgent. “You’re so lovely to hold. Such a pretty boy. Like a cute girl.”

“Father, please, let me go.”

“You’re so pretty,” the priest repeated again.

Merritt squirmed harder, but the priest, in spite of his age, was a strong man and just held the boy tightly against his body. Father Mulcahy’s body seemed to be rocking back and forth and the priest was breathing harder and harder. He seemed to be losing his control, and Merritt felt the priest rubbing his legs against his own, thigh against thigh.

Suddenly, the priest let out a scream and let go of Merritt, sinking to the floor, holding his crotch as he did so.

“Oh dear Lord Jesus, what have I done?”

Merritt looked in astonishment at the priest kneeling before him, his hands holding his crotch, and beginning to cry.

“I better go, father,” Merritt said, still surprised by the assault by the priest and his sudden release, realizing finally that the priest had ejaculated.

“Oh Merritt . . . I’m sorry . . . I have sinned . . .” The priest’s moaning embarrassed the boy.

Merritt hated the sight in front of him; he hated to see a man in humiliation, crying in weakness.

He unlocked the door, ran from the room, found his coat and walked home as fast as he could, as if the awful shameful scene would catch up to him.

Merritt never told anyone about the incident, not even his mother. He never again entered St. Patrick’s Church, never called Father Mulcahy to state he’d never serve mass again and, in spite of the feeling of holiness he felt at mass, only rarely attended a Catholic mass in the years ahead.

*****
Evelyn asked her son why he didn’t go to mass the next Sunday, but he merely answered that he was too busy to serve as an altar boy or acolyte. It was true, she realized, the boy when you figured in school, tennis practice, the peace group and the dressmaking business was truly busy.

“I’m happy he’s walked away from all that church stuff,” Evelyn told Viola during one of the love-making episodes later. “I never was much for religion and he seemed to be getting so holy.”

Yet, Evelyn wondered about the boy’s abrupt separation from St. Patrick’s and Father Mulcahy, about whom Merritt had previously been to praiseworthy.

“What happened that you quit so suddenly, Merritt?” she asked again.

“Just got sick of doing it mom,” he said, his face reddening.

“Really? But honey, you seemed to be happy there.”

He shook his head. “Just got bored with it, mom,” he lied.

Evelyn felt that perhaps one or more of the altar boys may have teased him about his effeminate mannerisms. She knew that he was often bullied and she felt she best not press the issue more. After all, he was busy, and she was not too fond of the hypocrisy of the Catholic Church. So, she reasoned, maybe it was best he quit serving at the parish. Her concerns about Merritt’s real reasons for quitting as acolyte grew more complicated when Sunday came and he declined her invitation to go to mass.

“I thought you loved the mass, darling,” she inquired as she attempted to get him out of bed in time to get to St. Pat’s in time for the 9 a.m. mass.

“Lemme sleep in, mom,” he mumbled, his head buried under the pink coverlet.

“Ok, but you’ll have to get up for the 11 o’clock mass,” she warned.

“I’m not going, mom,” his voice came out from under the covers, weak and hardly understandable.

Evelyn was totally confused now. “You’re not going?”

“Never, never, never. Leave me alone.” His voice was angry and loud now.

“Marilyn Marie,” she said sternly, using the feminine names Merritt had adopted. “Get up out from under those covers and tell me what’s wrong.”

Rarely did Evelyn have to speak in such commanding tones to her son, who usually was obedient, almost to a fault. Her tone was enough to rouse the boy, who emerged from under the covers, his narrow shoulders exposed by the pale beige nightie he wore, his eyes red from crying.

“Mom, it’s all a sham, the church is. I don’t believe it any more,” he finally confessed after her prodding for an answer. She had alternately hugged him and berated him in trying to tell her what had happened at St. Patrick’s church.

Evelyn, convinced there was more to his refusal to go to mass than he’d admitted, after nearly half an hour decided it was best to let matters rest; perhaps, Merritt would tell her the real reason in the future. Besides, she had always been somewhat of a free-thinker about religion, sharing Merritt’s own observation that it was “nothing but a sham” and that “being a good person” didn’t mean one had to go to church every Sunday.

*****
Merritt cried intensely after his mother left the room, feeling he’d betrayed her by not confessing to his real reasons for quitting.

He cursed himself for being so unmanly and so “pretty” that he could not live as other boys did, being rough and tumble, being muscular and strong, being braggarts and bores. Yet, he hated those things so much; he loved being soft and weak, dainty and feathery, and being a lover of beauty and fashion. He hated himself for being so attractive to men that they’d want to attack him with kisses and caresses, and whatever else men wanted to do.

What he hated even more so was the memory of Father James Mulcahy, so desperate in his desire to kiss and caress him and so shamed by his own behavior that he knelt and cried pathetically. How could a man, so respected as a man of God, be reduced to such a sorry state? He felt sorry for the priest, and decided he’d never mention the incident to anyone. It would be his secret, and Father Mulcahy’s.

*****
Evelyn shared her concerns the next time she visited Viola, the two ending up in Viola’s bed, as they usually did. She had found the hard contours of the older woman’s body so familiar, as she licked Viola’s small, still firm breasts and then run her tongue into the often sweaty, salty armpits. She was always the first to venture between the legs of her partner, drinking up the juices from Viola’s often violent orgasms.

Evelyn’s breasts, once firm, were already beginning to sag under their weight, and she was shamed by that. The cellulite on her chubby thighs seemed to grow by the day, as did her round tummy. Though the younger Evelyn was disgusted with her own lack of firmness, her partner seemed to relish her even more.

“I’m getting so fat, Vi, darling. How can you love me as you do?”

Both women had several orgasms and were relaxing in each other’s arms, and they continued soft murmurings of love as they lay in the darkness, the sheets on Viola’s bed, askew from their athletics.

“I’m so concerned about Merritt,” Evelyn confessed to her friend as they lay there.

“What now, honey?”

“He suddenly quit going to church and won’t tell me why. It’s not like him. He loved the mass and all the ceremony.”

“Didn’t he tell you any reason at all?”

“He said it’s all a sham.”

Viola let out a short chuckle. “Well, we’ve both thought that for years, you know? I used to be real active at St. Pat’s, but I got sick of the phoniness too.”

Evelyn recalled that it was Viola’s own connection as a “church lady” that brought the two of them together in the first place, resulting in Viola hiring her as a live-in maid and nanny. She rescued Evelyn from the shameful role of being an unwed mother without a way to support herself and her young son. It would never have happened had it not been for the church activity.

“I think maybe some of the other altar boys may have been teasing him, and that’s why he quit,” Evelyn said.

“He’s usually told you about those incidents, Evie. Why would he not now?”

“I don’t know. That’s what has me worried.”

“Hmmmm,” Viola pondered. “Wasn’t he working closely with Father Jim?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a funny duck,” Viola said, choosing her words carefully. “He’s at an age and he’s good enough at his job that he should have had his own church as a pastor long ago. But he’s still an assistant.”

“He seemed real nice, and Merritt seemed to like him,” Evelyn said. “But, when I asked Merritt whether he had talked to Father Mulcahy about his feelings, the boy won’t answer. He just changed the subject.”

“As I said,” Viola said again. “I think there’s something funny about Father Jim.”

*****
The sight of Father Mulcahy kneeling and crying before him haunted Merritt immensely. He tried praying at night, but his appeals to a God he never understood — or particularly believed in — failed for lack of concentration. His mind was filled with fear and horror at the priest’s initial approaches of affection, and then with revulsion as the “man of God” wilted before him into a pathetic display of weakness.

How could a kind and benevolent God let this happen? Merritt tried mightily to forget the incident, and to move on with his life; he knew that was the only way to overcome the incident which could become a growing cancer, consuming all of his mind and soul in the years ahead.

Merritt never mentioned the incident to anyone, but he never forgot it. He often wondered whether he should tell someone, however, just in case Father Mulcahy was ever inclined to foist his sickening desires upon some other unsuspecting altar boy. Yet, he rejected the idea, perhaps out of shame or of respect for this “man of God.”

*****
Merritt received a brief phone call from Edith on the evening of the episode at the zoo in which Jim Turner had sent Merritt home on a streetcar, having become repulsed at Merritt’s announcement that he was a boy, and not a lovely girl.

“What happened between you and Jim?” she inquired.

“We had an argument and I went home, that’s all,” Merritt said. “I don’t care about him.”

“That sounds serious,” Edith had pressed. “What was it all about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m done with him.”

Despite Edith’s pleas for more information, Merritt held firm, refusing to explain further.

On the following Saturday, Merritt worked in the sewing area of Swenson’s finishing up a back load of work when Edith called, suggesting Merritt join her and Donna Mae to hang out for a while. Still bothered by the previous day’s episode with Father Mulcahy, Merritt was inclined to say “no,” but Edith persisted.

“We’ve just got to talk to you, Merritt,” she said. “I know what happened between you and Jim. Really, you must talk with us.”

Reluctantly, he agreed that when he finished at 3 p.m., he’d join them at Morgan’s Sweet Shoppe.

The two girls were already in a booth when Merritt arrived and Edith moved over so Merritt could squeeze in. It was a warm day for May in Riverdale, which due to its closeness to the Lake and the cooling effect of the cold waters made spring weather a slow arrival. Merritt was wearing the same jeans, with the cuffs rolled up, and ankle socks and saddle shoes, still looking girlish to the casual observer. Donna Mae was wearing shorts, her strong, thick muscular legs still showing their whiteness from lack of sun, and Edith was in a flowing skirt and peasant top.

“Hey Marilyn,” Donna Mae said, greeting Merritt. His two friends usually used his female name when they met alone.

Seeing the two friendly faces cheered Merritt, knowing these two longtime friends would be protective and warm in their relationships.

“So you told Jim?” Donna Mae said, once their sundaes had been served.

“Yes, and he didn’t take it too well. So I left.”

“He’s devastated, Marilyn,” Edith said. “I think he was in love with Marilyn.”

Merritt nodded. “That’s why I had to tell him. He was getting far too affectionate.”

“He thinks you’re and liar and cheat,” Edith said. “At least that’s what he told Leo.”

“Have you talked with Jim since then?” Merritt asked.

“No, but Leo says Jim’s thinking about telling on you.”

“Telling who and what?”

“I don’t know,” Edith said. “He’s so hurt. He’s likely to do anything.”

Donna Mae reached across, putting her strong hands over Merritt’s left hand, squeezing it gently. “I don’t think he’ll do anything, Marilyn,” she said. “He doesn’t want anyone to know he kissed a boy or was hot for another boy.”

Merritt nodded. Suddenly, he felt sorry for Jim; the boy had become infatuated with Marilyn, whom he saw only as a lovely teen girl. Now that teen girl turned out to be a fraud, a phony. He so wished he could turn back the clock and continue to be the lovely girl that Jim thought he was. In his mind, he continued to be Marilyn.

Edith, too, agreed that Jim would keep quiet about the whole affair, fearing the shame that would be heaped upon him by other boys who would learn he had dated a boy.

“I would have loved to be Marilyn forever,” he said.

“I do too,” Edith said, and Donna Mae nodded her head in agreement.

That night, Merritt dressed up particularly feminine, choosing a frilly summer nightie to sleep in, taking a late bath in sweet smelling bubbles and dabbing light touches of perfume behind his ears. He thought of being in the strong arms of Jim Turner again. Would the boy ever call again?

*****
Merritt’s junior year in high school was a busy one. He continued to work at Swenson’s, which had become busier and busier. Evelyn had taken over most of the sewing chores, but in spite of the help from Dolores Graham, Merritt still worked the same number of hours. The shop’s reputation had grown, and orders for dresses increased over the year,

Meanwhile, Merritt became more serious in his school work, finding great interest in history and literature. They had studied Shakespeare in the first semester, and when he learned that men played the female parts of the great Bard’s plays in the ancient times, Merritt wished that were still the case, so he could be Juliet. His friend, Bill Johnson, even raised his hand in class, suggesting the class could do a reenactment of Romeo and Juliet, with the boys being girls. The teacher rejected the idea.

“You’d be a perfect Juliet,” he told Merritt later.

The two also worked hard at organizing the Students for Peace group, even doing a brief assembly presentation on their cause. The memories of the War were vivid in the students’ minds, and thus the utopian peace cause still resonated as a potential to end all wars.

Merritt brought his stepfather’s picture, along with his posthumous Navy Cross medal to school, to dramatize the cause, adding credibility to his eloquent words at the assembly before nearly 2,000 students. He had been fearful of the reception he’d receive, and even cut his hair so that he’d not appear too effeminate. As he finished his presentation, he had tears in his eyes and his last words were heavy and difficult, but the effect was to bring silence to the crowd, and resulting applause. Several girls mentioned later they had cried as Merritt described his stepfather’s devotion to his stepson and related the story of his heroism, reading from the Navy’s citation.

The school’s tennis team moved up a notch in the standings, although Merritt was unable to move to a higher ranking, still performing in the No. 3 singles slot. Yet, he won all but two of his matches. This year, his onetime lover, Nick Woodbury, had moved up to No. 2 singles for Lakeview, and Merritt was glad he didn’t have to compete against him. The two met only briefly during the traditional shaking of hands after the event, when Nick whispered as he went by, “I still miss you.”

He worked with the prom committee, where he again was the only boy. This year, he took Dolores again to the prom, doubling with Bill Johnson and Sally Orlowski. Dolores and Merritt’s relationship had become so close that they acted almost as brother and sister (and sometimes as two sisters). He was comfortable now with Dolores.

The summer of 1946 — the nation’s first peacetime summer since 1941 — was full of turmoil as war plants, once teeming with jobs, slowed down production as they returned to peacetime work. Millions of returning servicemen sought their jobs back and a growing jobless population brought an uneasiness to the community. Even Swenson’s business suffered, as there was less disposable income; yet, it still provided a steady income for Merritt and his mother.

Senior year in high school was on the horizon, and Merritt Lane McGraw grew more and more concerned about his future life. Would he forever bury Marilyn as he went into adulthood, it being a necessity to be a real man to ensure his economic future? Or would Marilyn be with him forever?