Mom wants a daughter! Or does she? Darren's mother takes him shopping for a younger look. Darren experiences an epiphany.

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Chapter 11
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As we were pulling out of the school parking lot, Mom said that we she wanted to take me shopping for a younger look. I reminded her that I wasn't dressed to go shopping for girl's clothes.

"That's okay," Mom said. "We'll go to Pine Valley Mall. That's far enough away that no one will know you, besides we're not really going for clothes. We just need a wig or two."

"But don't I need the right kind of clothes?" I asked.

"I was thinking we could go to a thrift store," my mother said. "Besides, its not like you'll wear them again after tomorrow."

"I'm still going to be a boy shopping for girl's clothes in a thrift store," I said.

"And if you didn't look like a boy, you'd look like an older lady. An older woman shopping for teenage girl's clothes looks just as silly as a teenage boy doing it. Don't you think?"

I thought my mother's rationalization was silly at best but I didn't argue with her. I had agreed to be my mother's daughter in exchange for wearing her wedding dress and I was going to do it even if I died from embarrassment and humiliation.

"Did I tell you I talked to your father while you were getting dressed?" Mom asked.

"No."

"Your father had some suggestions on what we should buy today," she said.

I bet he does, I thought as I put on my poker face. "Like what?" I asked.

"Just some things but I don't want to talk about it right now. We'll figure it out when we get to the mall."

I recognized her tone of voice and heeded the warning. Whatever it was my father had said was bothering her. "Okay," I said as I pulled the pack of Marlboro Light 100s from my shirt pocket and lit one as I looked out the window and thought about everything that had happened at school.

For the first time in my life, I'd been a bad boy of sorts. I'd brought cigarettes to school. I'd talked back to authority figures. I had even kicked Coach Holloway in the balls. I had dropped out of school like the juvenile delinquent that I wasn't. I had permanently changed everyone's perception of me. I had destroyed my reputation.

I had run a dagger through Darren Peterman's heart so that Nancy Peterman could live, but at the moment, I was neither. I was some kind of androgenous freak on his way to the mall to become the teenage daughter of my mother's dreams.

Darren Peterman was dead. How could I feel embarrassed for a dead boy? Everyone at Pine Valley Mall was going to think I was my mother's sissy son. So what? It doesn't matter any more. Darren Peterman is dead. Long live Nancy Peterman. But who would I be after we were done at the mall?

*****

"You're very quiet," my mother said as she merged into highway traffic. "What are you thinking about?"

"A lot of things," I said. "But right now I was just wondering what you're going to call me after I get dressed up like a girl. It wouldn't be right if you called me Nancy."

Mom smiled and said, "Your father and I were going to call you Megan if you'd been born a girl."

"Okay then. Megan, it is."

"You did a great job standing up for yourself back at the school," my mother said. "I'm very proud of the way you handled yourself."

"It didn't have to be that way. We made it harder than it had to be. Why did we do that?" I asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," my mother said. "I thought I had some kind of a master plan before we did it, but now I don't know any more."

I told her that I looked like an asshole back there. "Everybody hates me now."

"Maybe they hate you because you stood up for your self," my mother suggested. "From what I saw, you didn't have much of a choice with Coach Holloway. He attacked you. He was choking you."

"I know I had to do something," I said. "But it just feels like we did it on purpose, like we set a trap."

"I meant it to be a good experience for you," my mother said.

"You think acting like a juvenile delinquent is a good experience. How so?" I asked.

"I just thought it would be good for you to experience the younger side of life before you become Nancy for good and forever. I feel the same way about you experiencing what its like to be Megan."

"You want me to be Megan because you want to experience what its like to have a daughter," I said.

"Maybe I do but I don't want to talk about Megan right now. The important thing is that your father I think you should experience female life from the younger side. Think about it. How can you pass as an older woman unless you've had the experience of being a younger woman?"

I told her I didn't know but I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job of it.

"You are. But now you'll be able to do an even better job, because you'll have some real experiences to draw from," she said.

"I wouldn't call them real experiences. All I'm going to do is get dressed up and look like a teenage girl. Its not like I'm going to experience anything for real."

Mom sighed and shook her head. "So what you're saying is that you're just doing this so you can try on my wedding dress."

I nodded and said, "I don't want to be a teenage girl. I want to be a real woman like you and Margie and Susan. I don't want to be thin and giggly. I want to have some meat on my bones and some wrinkles on my skin, and I want people to take me seriously as a woman and respect me."

"But you'd still do it for me?" she asked.

"Of course I will. I told you I would so I will. But…do you think we could stop by a convenience store first."

"I see a Shell station on the right," my mother said. "What do you need?"

"Cigarettes," I said, as I looked at the smoldering Marlboro Light between my fingers. "No offense, but I really miss my Virginia Slims Menthols."

"I thought you said you wanted to try some of those More 120's. You know, the kind Margie smokes."

"I don't know. I don't think so," I said. "I really love the way Virginia Slims taste and like the way they look too. They make me feel sexy and pretty but no-nonsense and kind of conservative at the same time."

Mom laughed and said, "Image is everything."

"Well you know what I mean. Don't you?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact I know exactly what you mean and for what its worth, I agree with you. The Virginia Slims are probably a little more age-appropriate for you. You'd have to grow into the brown Mores."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll try them when I'm older," I said.

"And just when do you think you'll be older than 46?" she asked.

I asked her what she meant by that.

"Well, I'm just thinking that after next week, you'll look a 46 year old woman without make-up. Seeing as how you're not even 17, you could look the same way for the next 30 years. Have you thought about that?"

"As a matter of fact, I have and I don't like it too much. I don't want to be 46 forever. I want to get older like a real woman does. When you're 80, I want to look like I'm 80 too."

"Believe it or not, I think that's a good idea," my mother said. "But you have to realize, there needs to be a stopping point. I'll be 80 in 35 years and you'll only be around 50 or 51. Even with the smoking, you'll still have a lot of life left to live after I'm gone. And I don't think you'll want to live and act like a 110 year old woman."

"No, I guess you're right. But I still think it would be neat to grow old with you and Dad."

Mom nodded thoughtfully as she pulled into a convenience store. "First things first," she said. "I believe you told me that you need some girly menthol cigarettes. By the way, I hope you don't expect me to carry your cigarettes for you in my purse."

I knew right away what my mother was suggesting and I wasn't going to go for it. "I can't walk around with a pack of Virginia Slims poking out of my shirt. I'd look like a fag."

Mom groaned and told me not to use that "word". "It sounds hostile and angry," she said.

"Well that's what people are going to think," I argued.

"So what if they do? Let them. Besides, it not as if you don't have a feminine side to you. Why not flaunt it? At least for today."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Is this one of your things about going out with a bang?" I asked.

"Kind of," she said. "Its just that as much as I want to support you, well, I don't want to make it completely easy on you."

"So you're saying you want me to feel humiliated and embarrassed?"

"I suppose you could think of it like that, but I prefer to think about it as character building. Remember what I said about things that don't kill us make us stronger?" she asked.

"Okay. So you think I'll be a better person if you make me into a flaming sissy today. Is that what you're saying?"

"Those are your words, not mine," my mother said. "But the sentiment is correct. For better or worse, your heart is set on living your life as a middle aged woman. Do you honestly think you can do that without experiencing some of what life has to offer? And I'm talking about downside as well as the upside. Don't you see sweetheart? I'd be doing you a disservice if I made this easy for you."

Mom put the car in park and opened her door. "Well don't just sit there. You're going in the store with me."

"What?"

"You heard me. If you're going to smoke then you need to own up to being a smoker. Besides, didn't you tell me it would be awesome if you could buy your own cigarettes?"

"But I was talking about looking like Nancy when I did that. They won't sell me cigarettes! I'm just a kid."

"That's okay," my mom said, "because they won't be selling you cigarettes. They'll be selling them to me. However, I think its important for them to know that I'm buying them for my son."

I felt defeated as I followed my mother into the store. The clerk was a burly guy in his late 30s. There were also six or seven customers who would be within earshot of my humiliating episode. Whenever one customer would leave another one would walk through the door to browse the shelves or get in line.

I tried to distance myself from my mother as we waited in line but whenever I wandered too far, she'd take a hold of my belt and pull me closer.

The burly clerk with a two day beard growth asked my mother how he could help.

"I need to buy a carton of Virginia Slims Menthols for my son here, and I'll take a carton of Marlboro Light 100s," she said as she rubbed my shoulders. "He's only 16 but he already smokes as much as I do."

The burly clerk's name was Chip. I knew this because he was wearing a name tag. The look on Chip's face said he wasn't amused but he was confused. "You want to buy cigarettes for your son?" he asked.

"Yes," my mother said. "Its not against the law if I buy them for him. You can look it up if you don't believe me."

"Yeah, I know," Chip said. "Its just that I don't get many parents coming in to buy cigs for their kids. What kind did you say he wanted."

Mom nudged me and told me to tell him what kind of cigarettes I wanted.

I croaked out the name of the girly cigarettes. "Virginia Slims Menthols," I said.

Chip grinned and and asked, "Full flavor or lights?"

"Full flavor please."

"Do you want the soft pack or the crush-proof purse pack?" he asked.

My mother answered for me. "You better get him the crush-proof pack, she said. "Darren left his cigarette case at home along with his purse."

Chip was clearly disgusted but he kept his comments to himself as he turned around and pulled two cartons of cigarettes from the shelf behind him. "Will there be anything else?" he asked as rung up the cigarettes on the cash register.

"I think that will do for today," my mother said. She paid Chip and picked up the cigarettes off the counter and handed me a carton before spiriting me out the door.

I should have been mad at her. She had made fun of me and had paraded me as a sissy in public, but I wasn't angry. As painful as that had been, the meat of the matter was that I didn't know any of those people. I'm sure they all thought my mother was kook and I was a big sissy, but so what? Who cares what they think?

Mom looked at me as she started the car and we both burst out laughing. "That was real funny," I said as I hurried to light a cigarette.

*****

"What kind of stuff do we need to get?" I asked as we walked through the front entrance of Pine Valley Mall.

"Just a few things," she said. "We're not going to spend too much money today. At least I hope not."

I told her that was probably for the best since I'd never be Megan again after tomorrow. Mom sighed and looked sad when I told her that.

"Whatever," she said as we stopped in front of a mall directory.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"The wig store," my mother said. "Brenda at the salon told me there was a store here that had good prices and a large selection. We don't want to mess up your Nancy hair for this. Oh! Here it is," she said as she placed her finger on the map. "Its right around the corner."

*****

All I saw was a lot of hair on the shelves but Mom was able to narrow it down to four choices. "What do you think about these four?" she asked.

"Why do we need four?" I asked. "Its not like Megan is going to be around after tomorrow."

"These wigs aren't for Megan," she said sadly. "They're all for Nancy because Nancy needs to grow up. Are you starting to get the picture yet?"

I was confused and told her so. "What about Megan?" I asked.

"We're going to Mexico next wee. You don't have time to be both. Its one or the other."

"But Nancy already has a wig and she's already grown up," I said. "I don't get why we need three more wigs."

"You're right," my mother said. "Nancy is grown up, but 30 years ago she was 16, and that was in 1981, not 2011. Are you starting to follow me yet?"

I was smart enough to do the math, but I was still lost. "Are you saying you want me to dress up like a younger version of Nancy?"

"Now you've got it!"

"But why? What good would that do?" I asked.

"So we can take pictures of you when you were younger," my mother said. "We'll need to take the wigs back to Brenda's and let her give them a retro makeover. You're going to need styles for the 70's, 80's, 90's, and 2,000. We're going to make a photo album for you so that Nancy will have a history. We need all kinds of pictures. We need baby pictures and toddler pictures. We need pictures of little Nancy on her first day of school. We need pictures of Nancy as a teenager. Now are you starting to get it?"

I was starting to get it and I was more than thrilled. I was starting to see everything my mom was talking about- the reason we were here in the first place! Yes, my mother wanted a daughter named Megan but she also wanted Nancy to have a life documented with photos.

I embraced my mother and squeezed her tight. "Mom! I don't know what to say. You're brilliant!"

Mom laughed and said, "I'm glad you're finally starting to appreciate me."

"What are you talking about? I've appreciated you every day of my life. That's why I want to be like you!"

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "I know you do, Honey. And that's why I want to make sure you have everything you need to start your new life out right. The doctors will handle the surgery. The lawyers will handle your identity. And I'm going to give you a history you can be proud of."

"You're the best Mom. I never would have thought about this in a million years!"

Mom picked up the brunette wig and said, "Neither would I. It was your father's idea."

"That was Dad's idea?"

Mom nodded and said, "He called me when you were getting changed for school this morning. I told him about wanting to dress you up as our teenage daughter and how you really didn't want to do it. He said I should forget Megan and concentrate on Nancy. It was his idea to give Nancy a photo history. He really loves you a lot, Honey, and he's behind you 100%."

I was stunned but I wasn't surprised, but I acted like I was. There was no way in the world that I'd ever betray my father's trust. "I'm really lucky," I said.

"Yes you are."

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You seem bothered."

Mom shook her head and said, "I don't know. I suppose so. Its just that I have my good moments along with the bad and this one is kind of bad. But don't worry, Sweetheart. It will pass."

"Is the bad moment about Megan or Nancy or me?" I asked.

"Its not Megan," she said. "Megan is just a dream of mine and its fleeting at best, but Nancy is real. She's permanent. And you're real too but I'm going to lose you to Nancy. I thought I'd gotten used to it, but seeing you like this, the way you were born, makes me think about how much I'm losing and how much you're losing. You're going to be a woman, Darren- an older woman, like me. And after we go down to Mexico next week, there's no back to the way you are now. Like it or not and for better or worse, you're going to be a 46 year old woman, and you'll have to live your life as one. It won't be a costume you can put on or take off. We'll be just like sisters."

"I know Mom. That's why I want to do it," I said.

"But what if you don't like it?" she asked.

I told her she didn't need to worry about that because it wasn't going to happen.

"But what if it does happen?" she asked. She put her hand on my chest and said, "You're going to have saggy boobs and a vagina like me." She touched my cheek and said, "Your skin is already getting soft from the hormones and next week its going to be wrinkled and aged. You'll have big fat womanly hips like mine." She touched the the pack of Virginia Slims poking out of my shirt pocket and laughed nervously. "You know you're the last person in the world who I ever thought would take up smoking. You were such a terrific athlete and look at you now. You smoke as much as I do."

My penis stiffened and I swooned as my mother talked about my becoming more and more like her. And the best part was that it was so close at hand! How could I ever regret becoming like her. She was my hero for crying out loud!

"I'm going to like it Mom because its what I've always wanted."

"I know its what you want but what if you're wrong?" she asked. "My life isn't nearly as glamorous as you think it is."

I told her it wasn't about the glamour. "I mean, sure, I'm not going to lie about it. I think you and your friends are sexy as hell but its not about the glamour. Its about feeling good about myself and I do feel good about myself when I'm Nancy. And if I can feel good about myself then everything else is going to work out too. Don't you think?"

Mom nodded sadly. "If that's the way you really feel then I believe it will work out for you." She handed me two of the wigs and kept the other two for herself. "I don't know about you," she said, "but I'm dying for a cigarette. "Lets just buy these wigs and get out of here."

"So you're really okay with me not being Megan?" I asked.

"I'll admit I'm disappointed but I think we're making the right decision. There's just not enough time to do both."

"What about your wedding dress? Can I still try it on?"

"No, but young Nancy can. And who knows? Maybe some day we can go shopping for a wedding dress of your own."

I blushed and Mom sensed my embarrassment. "I think you'd make a beautiful bride," she said. "And any man would be lucky to have you as his wife."

*****

Mom and I left the mall after buying four blonde wigs of different lengths. The plan was to drop the wigs off at Barbara's and hit a vintage clothes store that carried used clothes from past decades. Thanks to Dad and my photoshop skills, Nancy would have a past life. I figured I could use pictures from the web for my baby, toddler and elementary school years. The rest of the pictures would be of me dressed as Nancy from teenage years and up. I'd use different make-up, clothes and wigs to age from 16 to 40. It was a great plan but it was going to take a lot of work, and we'd need to take all the pictures before I went to Mexico.

I was excited about giving Nancy a documented life that would make her seem less mysterious, but I was bothered and flustered by the things my mother had said about any man being lucky to have me as a wife.

My date with Tim Moreland was less than two days away and I still hadn't come to terms with my feelings about going on a date with a man. It was awkward enough that he was almost 40 years my senior, but worse than that, Tim is a guy and so am I.

It was one thing for men to find me attractive. I was onboard for that. I mean who wants to be an ugly woman? Thinking about men made me think about fishing. I loved to fish but I didn't like to eat fish and I sure as hell didn't want to clean them after I caught them. Maybe it was the same way with men. On the other hand, maybe it shouldn't be that way.

Hanging around my mom and talking to her about life made me realize that my becoming Nancy could be a costume for life or it could be a life. And like she said, this woman thing was going to be permanent and I'd have to make the best of it no matter what.

Did I really want my life to be a game of dress-up and masturbation? Speaking of masturbation, after next week, jacking off was going to be a memory. The only way I was going to get any kind of sexual relief was with a vagina and Dr. Girardi said it wasn't guaranteed. There was a very real possibility that I'd never have another climax after the castration. I didn't like thinking about it in those terms but I understood the risk and I was willing to take it.

I remembered what my parents had said about it being okay to date men- older men. They had given me their permission and I had taken them up on it when I accepted the date with Tim. But Tim was like a fish and our date was going to be like catch and release. But what if it wasn't? What if I tried to clean him and eat him for dinner?

The thought of kissing Tim and possibly doing even more was gross and disturbing but it was also exciting. My penis grew hard as I thought about kissing him. What would it feel like to kiss him? What would it taste like? He was a smoker after all, but so was I. Maybe I wouldn't even notice the taste, but I would notice he was a man- an older man. Tim was old enough to be my father and that was gross, but that was because I was thinking about it from my point of view as Darren. On the other hand, how could I think about it from any other point of view? Getting a sex change isn't the same thing as getting a brain transplant.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself with Tim. I imagined us in bed together. He was naked and I was wearing one of my mother's nightgowns. I felt his hands on my breasts and the taste of his tongue as he pushed it inside my mouth. I could smell the smoke in his hair and taste it on his breath. It was gross at first but I imagined myself getting used to it.

That look on his face. I'd seen it before or more accurately, I had imagined that look on my own face as I willed a girl to touch my penis. And now I was seeing that look on Tim's face as he willed me to place my hand on his penis and squeeze it ever so gently with love and respect.

I suddenly found myself wondering what a 50 year old penis looked like. I imagined the pubic hair was gray. Did it look like mine? I was circumcised but what about Tim? I'd seen pictures of uncut dicks on the web and they disgusted me. I knew it was normal and natural but it was foreign all the same. I found myself hoping that Tim had a normal looking circumcised penis.

One imaginary thought rolled into the next and I found myself wondering how big Tim's penis was. Although I'd never admit it, I'd measured my own penis on occasion to see how I measured up to my friends' boasts and the stories I read on the web. I had decided that I was somewhat average. Would Tim be average?

Thoughts of his size evolved into thoughts of his hardness. I'd seen commercials on TV for drugs like Viagra and most of the men in the commercials seem to be around Tim's age. If wondered if he'd have to take a pill before we had sex.

Sex? Why was I even thinking about sex, especially with Tim? I wanted to flush the thought from my mind but I couldn't. I saw him climbing on top of me in the missionary position. I saw myself reaching for his penis and guiding it into my brand new vagina. I wasn't a virgin but in this case I would be. Is it going to hurt, I wondered? Or will it feel good, like the way I felt when I was the one putting my penis into a girl's vagina.

I began to hate myself for thinking of such things and I wanted to stop but I couldn't. Why in the hell was my penis so damn hard? Did this mean I was really gay? Maybe I'd been gay my whole life and just didn't know it.

"You've been really quiet," my mother said. "Is something bothering you?"

My mother's voice shook the thoughts of Tim from my head. "What did you say?"

"I was just saying you were awful quiet and I was wondering if something was bothering you."

I told her I was just thinking about stuff and then I lit a cigarette. The mentholated smoke tasted good and I hoped it would wash away my thoughts of Tim, but it didn't. I was still thinking about what it would be like to be in bed with him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" my mother asked.

I told her I didn't think so. "Its kind of embarrassing," I said.

Mom laughed and said, "In that case I need to know. Come on and tell me. Remember what I said about embarrassing things not killing you?"

"They only make you stronger," I said.

"Then go ahead and tell me. Make yourself stronger."

"Its just that I was thinking about my date with Tim and I'm afraid I'm not going to do things right."

"What kind of things?" my mother asked.

I rubbed my eyes and sighed.

"Well?" my mother asked. "What is it? Were you thinking about kissing Tim and having sex with him?"

My heart jumped and my stomach fell to my ankles. Was I really that obvious or could my mother read my mind. "Yes," I croaked.

The earth stop revolving around its axis for one brief second. Traffic stopped, the birds quit singing and clouds of shame enveloped me.

"Oh Honey! That's wonderful!" my mother squealed. "You really are meant to be a woman. I'm so happy I could scream! All this time I've been so worried about you. I was so afraid you might be making a mistake. I didn't want you to wind up miserable and lonely and full of regrets. But this changes everything!"

I broke down and cried while I listened to my mother go on and on about what a wonderful thing it was that I wanted to have sex with a man. She was right. This did change everything and it was all because of one little word. I had said "Yes" when my mother asked me if I was thinking about kissing Tim and having sex with him.

I was so upset that I hadn't realized the car had stopped and were sitting in the parking lot of Vintage Closet.

My mother pulled a kleenex out of her purse and wiped away my tears, but for every tear she wiped away, I cried a new one. "I can't go in the store like this," I said.

"Its okay, Honey. We can just sit here and talk until you're up to it."

"But I don't know if I can talk about it without crying. I don't know what to do Mom. I'm so scared. Its like I don't know who I am any more."

"Yes you do," my mother said. "You know who you are and you know who you're meant to be. You're a middle aged woman stuck in a teenage boy's body, but we're going to fix that. It won't be long until you're a real woman just like me."

"I want that so much Mom."

"I know you do sweetie and I want it for you too."

"But I'm so afraid I'll mess up and do the wrong things. I don't know how to be a woman for a man. What if I mess up or I'm not good at it?"

"First of all, this isn't a race," my mother said. "You don't have to have sex with Tim on Saturday night. He's not expecting it and you're not mentally or physically prepared for a sexual relationship. This is something we can take our time with."

I sniffed and dried my eyes. "Okay, I said."

"So tell me. Are these new feelings or have you had them all along?" my mother asked.

I told her I wasn't sure but that I thought I'd been having them all along. "I just didn't want to think about it," I said. "I didn't want to believe I was gay and I still don't think I am." I asked her if she thought I might be bisexual.

"Its possible," my mother said. "Then again it could be the hormones. Dr. Giardi said you'd begin to feel and think more like a woman."

"It so confusing!" I said.

"I'm sure it is," my mother said. "But we'll figure it out together. I see you've stopped crying. Are you starting to feel better."

"No. Not really, but I'm glad I finally told you. I've been wanting to tell you for a long time but I didn't know how."

"Well I for one am thrilled that you told me. I know it doesn't make sense now, but it will some day and when that day happens, it will feel like the most natural thing in the world."

There's something else I want to tell you," I said. "Its something that I've been thinking about forever and I was afraid to tell you because I thought you'd laugh at me."

"Then tell me now while you're on a roll. I promise I won't laugh."

"I want to be a mom. You know, a real mother like you and have kids. Isn't that crazy?"

"I don't think it sounds crazy. As a matter of fact, I think it sounds wonderful," my mother said. "And I think you'd make a wonderful mother."

"You really think so?" I asked.

"Absolutely! And I also think you'd love it. Being a wife and a mother are the two best jobs in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything."

I wiped at my eyes and forced a nervous laugh. "I hope I marry a man with a lot of kids because I'm not going to get them any other way," I said.

****

After regaining my composure, Mom and I went shopping inside My Vintage Closet. I couldn't believe how much they wanted for 30 year old clothes, but I knew they were worth every penny. Mom and I walked out with three shopping bags full of old clothes.

"If we hurry, we can make it back to Brenda's salon before she closes. I'd like to get a head start on taking pictures," she said.