What happens when the closest person to you in the whole universe reveals that she's not who you always thought she was?

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I'd just walked through the door with a couple of my friends when my Mom called to me from the kitchen.

"Jake, honey, could you come in here for a moment?"

"Sure thing. Mom."

I dropped my books in the hallway like normal, and went in to see her. Like usual she was baking. She seemed to love to bake in the afternoon when I got home from school, and today it was fresh bread. It seemed like most Mom's these days were either working outside the home, or content to just buy their bread at the store. Mine baked.

I smiled at the thought. A lot of the guys were jealous of me, which is why they would walk home with me. There is nothing like fresh baked bread when you get home from school and something rotten just happened.

There's nothing like warm cookies and milk.

There's nobody in the world like my Mom.

"What's up?"

"Jake, there's something we need to discuss with you, your father and I. We're worried about some of your friends. More specifically, we're worried about some bullying we've heard going on with one of the girls in your class."

"William isn't a girl, Mom."

"Have you been harassing Amy?"

"No, I haven't, but I'm not going to stop it either. That's what he gets for coming to school in skirts and makeup."

My Mom looked really sadly at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to cry. "I thought we'd raised you better than this."

I went out to the living room to play some Halo with my friends, but those words kept echoing in my head, "I thought we'd raised you better than this."

It's not like I actually did anything to her. . .him. . .whatever. It's not like I did anything for her either.

"Guys, I need to get some homework done," I told them not half an hour later. They'd all gotten their dose of bread and I wanted some time to think before my Dad got home.

I went up to my room. The walls were not a single color. They were my masterpiece. Some portions of them were thick with paint as I'd gone over them numerous times trying to get it all just right. I started painting the white walls of my room when I was seven.

Long ago I'd pained the sun rising over some distant hills on the window. Dad had helped me with the right mixture of paint so that it was translucent and lent a yellow cast to my room every morning. The rest of it was roiling clouds that changed as I painted. Someday I hoped to have it perfect, but there always seemed to be something missing, so I pained whenever I needed time to think.

I was on the ladder that I kept in my room to reach the ceiling when my Dad came in.

For the first time there was something other than clouds on my roof. I'd started painting a hole. I could see the blue sky.

"Jake, your Mom and I would like to have a talk with you." He seemed really sad about something.

"Okay, Dad. I'll be right there."

I went downstairs to the dining room and it was full family council mode. Mom and dad were on one side of the table, and I was on the other. Sometimes I wished that they'd been able to adopt more kids so I wouldn't be stuck alone on this side.

"Jake, honey, I'm really disappointed in how you've been treating Amy."

"But Mom. . ." I let a little whine creep into my voice.

"No buts, Jake. Haven't we taught you that everyone deserves a chance to express who they really are?"

"Yes, but. . ."

"And doesn't Amy deserve that sort of chance?"

"I guess. but I haven't done anything."

"Honey, sometimes that's enough. If your father hadn't done anything, I might be dead."

"Wait, what does this have to do with William?"

"I was born male, Jake."

I jumped back out of my chair. I looked from my Dad to my Mom and back again. "You're kidding, right? You're just trying to prove a point? It's not funny!"

My Dad sadly looked at me, "this is no joke, Jake."

"But, how could you be a guy, Mom. You're the perfect Mom. You've always been there for me, and comforted me. All the other guys are jealous of me."

I was hurt and confused. My parents had always let me know that I was adopted and why. Mom couldn't have any kids. They loved me as their own, and I felt that.

I thought I knew my family.

"I've never been a guy, Jake. I was always a girl inside. I never felt right with the world seeing me as a boy. I was about Amy's age when I transitioned myself."

I thought of Mom walking around like William, and suddenly I felt sick. I couldn't take this. I ran to my room and locked the door, and began to paint.

I climbed the ladder, and got out the white, and starting at the center of the two foot hole I'd created, I started to fill in the sky.

She was my Mom

But she was a guy.

I couldn't bring myself to think of her as 'he' even with this revelation. I knew she was a girl. I'd occasionally seen her naked. Not intentionally of course, and not recently. I remembered getting baths as a little guy, and accidentally walking in on her once or twice. She started locking the door on me when I turned five, but that was a Mom thing.

I remembered her bringing cup cakes and cookies to soccer games.

I remembered all of the fresh bread.

I sat down at the foot of the ladder and cried. When I looked up again, I realized that I'd not been painting clouds, but an angel with its arms open to embrace me. The edges were rough so I finished them, and then began to work on the face. I'd tried faces often enough in school, but never on my walls. And in the space I had it wasn't very big. so mostly I just gave the impression of a face, with a beautiful smile.

I lay down on my bed and looked up at her, my angel. When I turned my head one way, it seemed to look like my mother. When I turned my head the other it seemed to look like. . .Amy?

My heart started to race as I sat there and looked up at that beautiful face. Yes, in the quiet of my room I could admit that I thought she was beautiful. I guess that is part of the reason that I'd not done anything for her. I was afraid how the other guys would take it. Afraid they'd think I was into guys or something.

Would that be so bad if it was for her?

I smiled a goofy smile. I didn't even know if she was into guys.

When I was younger, I'd wanted to find someone like my Mom to marry. I always thought that she was perfect.

Maybe now, I would.