Simon(e) Book 2: Chapter 2 of 12 by D.L. Copyright  © 2011 D.L. All Rights Reserved. Looking up and establishing eye contact I reply, “You only have one son, Mike, and he’s gone. I’m not your son, I’m your daughter.”

I wake once more, the light of the morning sun illuminating the room through the curtains. I can feel the silk of my pyjamas as I scratch my chest. Looking across at the chair, I notice my mother is missing. Glancing at the clock, I observe that it is already seven-thirty. My alarm has been switched off. I get out of bed and go to the window. Pulling the curtains, I see my parents out in the yard working. I had some weird dreams last night, but it seems the trip to the bathroom was real.

Thinking of the earlier visit makes me want to go again, so finding my slippers next to the bed and pulling them on my feet, I head across the hall to relieve myself. While washing my hands, I splash some water on my face to help me wake up. Curious, I lift the lid on the laundry basket. The gnome has gone, but so has half the washing, including my feminine underwear. The only logical reason I can think of is that the gnome was added to weigh the clothing down so it didn’t expand and push the lid off. Either that or I wasn’t fully awake.

I decide to go downstairs as I am. As it is warm, I don’t bother with my dressing gown. I descend the stairs and enter the kitchen. Nobody is around, so I fill the kettle and switch it on to boil. Feeling hungry, I put some bread in the toaster, go to the fridge and find the butter and strawberry jam. I fetch a plate and mug from the cupboard. As I put a teabag into the mug, the kettle comes to the boil and switches itself off. I pour the hot water into the mug and stir.

Once brewed to my preference, I remove the teabag and place it on the dish next to the kettle. We don’t put the teabags straight into the bin as they go mouldy, so we let them dry first.

The toast pops up out of the toaster. I take it and sit at the kitchen table. My mother is looking at me through the window. She dashes off, and a minute later, both my parents come into the kitchen. I ignore them and continue to eat my breakfast. My mother re-boils the kettle and gets an extra two cups. Still feeling hungry, I put another couple of slices of bread in the toaster. I stand and watch the bread as it changes colour.

There is an awkward silence in the room, as nobody seems to want to talk. Buttering the toast and applying some more jam I sit back down. My parents are now sitting drinking tea on the other side of the table.

“That’s a nice set of pyjamas, when did you get those?” my mother asks nervously.

“I got them several months ago with the gift voucher Aunty Anne gave me for my birthday,” I reply calmly, “but, this is only the third time I have dared wear them. They’re very comfortable.”

“I saw you had changed into something different when I woke up, but couldn’t see exactly what and didn’t want to wake you,” my mother explains, “we were worried, you were behaving hysterically, like a frightened cat, last night.”

“Is that why you shot me with a sedative?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, we were worried you might hurt yourself, you seemed so terrified you wouldn’t let us get near you,” my father replies. “Are you really that scared of us?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly, “the only reason I am not freaking out at the moment is that I figure if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now. You could have put a bullet in my head, but you chose to let me live.”

I shake and start to cry. We sit in silence for several minutes. When I look up, I see my father is also crying. My mother comes round to my side of the table and squeezes me tightly in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” states my father, “I never meant to terrorise you. I would never intentionally hurt you or your brother. I was wrong to hit Mike. I regretted it as soon as it happened. I swear that I will never take my anger out on you or Mike again. I have already driven one son away; I don’t want to do the same to the other.”

Looking up and establishing eye contact I reply, “You only have one son, Mike, and he’s gone. I’m not your son, I’m your daughter.”

Shrugging off my mother’s hug, I stand and place my breakfast things in the sink. “I need to get ready for school, otherwise I’ll be late. Excuse me,” I say as I leave the room and make my way up the stairs.

I go back into the bathroom and after showering and brushing my teeth, I head across the hall into my bedroom. Grabbing a pair of panties and a bra from my secret cache, I slip on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I don’t have a girls’ uniform at home and I can’t be bothered to keep up the pretence of going to school as a boy.

I put the rucksack of schoolbooks on my back and swing the sports bag containing my gym kit over my shoulder. I descend the stairs and walk back into the kitchen where my parents are still sitting and waiting.

“Why are you dressed like that? Why aren’t you in uniform?” my mother asks.

Smiling I reply, “I told you last night, I go to school as Jasmine. I’ve been attending as a girl since the term began. That means wearing a skirt and blouse, but I don’t keep them here. I will change into girl mode on the way.”

“I think we need to speak to your teachers. We will give you a lift, where do you need to stop?” my mother asks.

“No,” I reply, “I would rather keep my sanctuary secret. I still don’t fully trust you and I need the comfort of somewhere I can escape too. Mike, Josh, and Emily know its location if I need to be reached while there. Please, don’t pursue this further. I will meet you at the school gates.” I glance at my watch before continuing. “I will get to school around eight-forty. I suggest you phone ahead and make an appointment with Mr Henry, my headmaster. Tell him that you need to see him regarding Jasmine. He is expecting your call. Here, you can take my bags in the car; it will be easier for me to cycle without them.”

My mother protests, but my father intervenes and tells me to get on my bike. I run across to the barn and wave to my parents as I cycle out of the yard. A few minutes later, I am at the bunker and swapping clothes into my uniform. I fix my hair and makeup before leaving on my road bike to catch up with my parents.

My estimate is accurate and I cycle into the school grounds at twenty to nine. I can see my mother sigh with relief as she catches sight of my approach. As I come to a halt next to my parents, I see Julie and Josh running in our direction. They look scared. I turn and smile at them and call out, “It’s okay, they know.” My friends come to a stop beside me as I dismount and ask, “Can you take my bike for me? I need to take Mum and Dad in to see Mr Henry.”

Julie nods and takes my bike. I take the opportunity to plant a kiss on Josh’s cheek, “Thank you for trying to come to my rescue.”

Josh, unsure how to react, turns bright red, much to Julie’s amusement. Gesturing to my stunned parents to follow, I start walking to the visitors’ entrance.

My parents haven’t said anything, but I can see them watching me. I have made every effort with my appearance this morning. My hair is neatly combed and resting down my back. My makeup is top notch and I am even wearing some perfume, a luxury that I had to be careful with before, as it’s not easy to hide once in boy mode. My earrings are uncovered and glinting in the sunlight. They have seen me dressed up before, but they are only just realising that this is the norm, not the exception.

I speak to the receptionist and she asks us to wait for Mr Henry. I take the opportunity to go and deposit my bags in my locker. When I return, Mr Henry is standing shaking hands with my parents. Dr Lambert is also being introduced.

We are shown into his office and we all take a seat.

“Jasmine, I’m glad to see that you have obviously told your parents...,” Mr Henry begins to say.

I interrupt him before he can say too much, “Not everything, Sir, there are a lot of details I still need to fill them in on, but I haven’t had the chance yet. I sort of went to pieces last night and didn’t have time to explain everything this morning before school.”

Mr Henry raises his eyebrows at me. “Exactly how much have you confessed to?” he asks.

“Well,” I say nervously, “they know I attend school as a girl, but that is all. They don’t know what I have done in order to achieve this.”

Mr Henry crosses his arms and looks at me sternly, “I think it’s about time you started then, isn’t it.”

I sit nervously in my seat looking at the floor, fidgeting with the edge of my skirt. I can feel my cheeks going red as I try to explain, “I’m sorry, but there is a reason why I have been allowed to continue to attend as a girl after being found out. Up until a couple of days ago, nearly everybody thought I was a girl, including all the girls I shower with in gym class. I...um...I...” I stutter as I try to find the right words. I am rapidly turning into a nervous wreck as tears once again fall down my face. I can feel myself getting dizzy and faint. I start to hyperventilate and I put my head between my knees in an attempt to stop myself from passing out.

My mother starts to say something but stops. I assume that either Mr Henry or Dr Lambert have realised what is happening and have gestured to her. Through the pounding in my ears, I hear Dr Lambert’s voice, but I don’t register what is being said.

Concentrating on my breathing, I try to relax and focus. Slowly I get myself back under control and I sit up.

“Jasmine, are you okay? Speak to us,” I hear the concerned voice of Dr Lambert.

“Sorry,” I reply, “I came over faint again.”

“I think you’d better lie down in the medical room,” Dr Lambert states. Helping me to my feet she leads me across the hall, “Mr Henry and I will tell your parents what we know as it appears too stressful for you to be able to do so. I’m worried about your blood pressure.”

I nod and whisper, “Thank you” as I am led out of the room. I climb onto the padded examination table, lie down, and close my eyes. Dr Lambert measures my blood pressure, which is once again slightly high, before leaving the room, switching off the lights. The room has no windows so is in darkness when she has gone.

I am exhausted from all the stress so decide to take a nap. I suspect I haven’t worked the sedative out of my system yet. I feel safe here. I trust Dr Lambert and Mr Henry, and don’t believe they will let me come to any harm. No matter how irate my parents become, they can’t physically hurt me here.

I am still dozing an hour later when Dr Lambert comes back into the room. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge towards the floor. Dr Lambert once again measures my blood pressure. While still above average it has dropped to a more normal level.

“Come with me, everything will be all right,” she kindly says.

I am taken back into Mr Henry’s office. My parents are sitting next to each other. My Father has a faraway look on his face as he sits and stares out the window. He has his arm round my mother, who looks like she has been crying. Neither of them looks at me when I come in. I sit down in the chair, staring at the floor.

“We have been discussing your situation,” Mr Henry states, “I have told your parents everything I know.”

I nod at his statement replying, “Thank you, I’m sorry about earlier, I just couldn’t find the words in which to express myself.”

“We do have some questions,” my mother says softly. I nod for her to continue.

“You look very pretty, but when you left this morning you had short hair,” she states. “That is the same wig you used the Sunday before last. I assume it’s yours and not a friend’s? I presume the same goes for the clothes you were wearing?”

“I bought it off the Internet,” I say, “before you ask, yes I’m also wearing makeup. It all adds to my feminine appearance and gives me confidence. I have no wish to look like a boy in drag, although I know to a certain extent that will always be true. The clothes I wore are mine, as is the suit Emily borrowed off me for the wedding. I bought that one in case I get arrested and need to appear in court.”

“The bike?” my father enquires.

“Well I can’t ride my mountain bike with a skirt - the crossbar is in the way. I bought it second hand from the bike shop on London Road,” I reply, “I’ve been spending the birthday and Christmas money I receive each year.”

“How long have you thought of yourself as a girl?” my mother asks.

“All my life I have known I was different to the other kids, but it wasn’t until I was six that I finally started to put the pieces together and discovered why. For the last seven years I have been slowly reading up on the subject and trying to figure out my place in life,” I explain. “When Mike came out as gay, and the way you reacted, I knew then you would never support my transition. It was then that I started to hatch my plan. I knew I had a once in a lifetime opportunity when I changed schools to start afresh.”

I pour myself a glass of water from the jug on the table and take a sip before continuing, “The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became. I was not happy at my previous school, I never felt like I fitted in. I really thought that I might be going crazy. I kept getting thoughts of methods for ending it all. I considered hanging, jumping off a bridge, razor blades, overdose, shotgun... As much as I wanted to put myself out of my misery, I just couldn’t do it. Every time I saw myself naked, I hated the way my body looked. That’s when I started to wish I could just cut them off. I realised that would be stupid and lethal. However, considering it, I realised I could castrate myself. I therefore read up on the procedure. As soon as school was out, I put my plan into action and preformed surgery on myself using one of the darts as an anaesthetic. You remember I had the flu for a few days. Well that was the after-effects of surgery.”

I can see realisation come over my parents’ faces. I had been dreadfully ill and they were going to call the doctor at one point, but I persuaded them I was feeling better. That was now eight weeks ago. I had been working on the farm and secretly living as a girl for over a month before school started.

Over the next hour, I pour my heart out, telling them everything about my feelings, hopes and dreams. I inform them of how I would go to my secret hiding place - though not revealing its location - and dress up for a few hours at a time while I learned how to make myself look like a girl.

I had initially bought clothes mail order, so that I could have something to wear. Once confident that I could pass, I started excursions into town en-femme. First, visiting charity shops to expand my wardrobe cheaply, and later buying the bike. I gradually became more confident each time, until I was able to function as a girl without the fear of being discovered.

I explain about my trips to the pool to test my feminine appearance before finally telling them about attending school as a girl. The more I talk the easier it becomes to relate events to my parents. In the space of an hour, I’m able to relax and open up, getting over my initial mental block about speaking to them.

For the most part, I talk and they listen. My parents throw in the odd question here and there for clarity. Mr Henry remains silent for the majority of the time and Dr Lambert keeps prompting me and writing notes on a pad. I think she is doing her shrink thing, trying to make sure we talk through all the issues to find resolution. I have to say she does it very well.

By the time we have finished, most of the morning has already gone. There is still some awkwardness between my parents and me, but we have reached a consensus that I have already passed the point of no return, therefore all they can do is to try and support me where possible.

Mr Henry suggests that perhaps I should take the rest of the day off school and go home with my parents to work out what to do next. He goes to find Julie, to retrieve the keys for my bike. She comes back with him and insists on speaking to me alone for a second. We go to one side and she asks me if I am okay. I explain that I have had a long talk with my parents and that I think everything is going to be all right.

Julie walks with us to the bike shed, so that I won’t have to hunt for my bike. Having retrieved and loaded it in the back of the Land Rover, we say goodbye and my parents drive us back to the farm. Jason is there when we get back, seeing to our livestock. He is in the milking shed and stays inside as we pull up into the yard, so he doesn’t get to see me en-femme yet, which is one hurdle that we have to discuss as a family.

My mother makes us some lunch and we continue to discuss the way forward. I express how I feel uncomfortable and depressed when presenting as a boy.

“I’ve been getting that impression,” my father comments. “When dressed as a girl, you seemed more relaxed and extroverted than normal. I had put it down to being around Emily, and then because you had friends over, but with hindsight, I can see that it was your feminine presentation. Even now, you seem to be more at ease than normal. You usually sit very rigidly, but your shoulders seem less tense. Would you do me a favour and go change into a pair of trousers, I want to test something?”

I comply, silently leaving the room and changing my skirt for my school trousers, before returning and nervously sitting in front of my parents. After five minutes of silence I am ordered back upstairs to change into whatever I have available in feminine attire. I switch the trousers for a green skirt, the only other piece of clean girls’ wear I have left at home.

I return and sit in front of my parents again. After another five minutes of silence, I can’t take any more and ask, “Well, what are you thinking?”

“I am thinking that despite the obvious stress you are under, you appear more relaxed in a skirt than in the trousers,” my father says, “I have been watching you closely. It’s subtle, but your body language is slightly different when you dress as you are now. You are understandably tense, but you seem slightly more at ease.”

I hadn’t realised that I was sitting any differently to before. On seeing my surprise my father explains, “In trousers, you sit with your hands balled in your lap and your shoulders pushed back. Your teeth clench and you seem very tense. You are now sitting with your hands open, stroking the fabric bunched beside your leg. Your shoulders have dropped slightly, although they are still very tense. You are no longer grinding your teeth, but seem to have relaxed your jaw.”

I giggle, “I hadn’t realised. I really don’t mind wearing trousers, in many cases they are more practical. My main problem is that it is a lot harder for other people to see the girl within when dressed as such. I hadn’t appreciated it has such an effect on me.”

“Come sit here,” my mother says patting the stool in front of her armchair. I get up from the couch and sit where indicated. “Turn and face your father,” she instructs. I nervously swizzle round so that my back is to my mother. I jump when I feel her hands on my shoulders. “Relax,” she says softly as she starts to massage my shoulders. My grandmother on my mother’s side was a masseur and sports therapist and trained my mother from a young age in the art of massage.

It has been several years since she last worked her magic on me. I close my eyes, relax, and smile as she works the knots out of my muscles. I softly sigh as she works her fingers down my back.

“Jasmine,” my father says.

“Hmmm,” I blissfully murmur in response.

“I have seen your mother use that technique on many girls and boys over the years, and the response usually falls into one of two patterns. Your expression is the most girly I have ever seen. You’re practically purring.”

I sigh; finally, they are starting to get the message. I break down into giggles as my mother swaps from massaging my back into tickling. I squeal as she puts her hand up the back of my shirt and stimulates the most sensitive part of my lower back. I collapse with laughter begging for mercy as she continues to tickle me into submission.

“Okay, that was so naturally girlish that I am inclined to start believing you,” my father says through a chuckle. “You are obviously more comfortable when not trying to actively hide your feminine side. Now I assume that you have a stash of girls clothes hidden somewhere as you disappeared for nearly half an hour with Emily when she needed an outfit for the wedding.”

“Yes,” I reply solemnly. I know what the next question is and I don’t want to answer it. I smile and tap my nose, “but I’m not telling you where they are. That is one secret I insist on maintaining, as it’s my safety net, a place I can run too if something goes wrong. However, I would like to go and fetch them here if I may?”

I ask permission to retrieve most of my belongings from the hideaway, so that I can wear them at home. The truth is most of them are requiring a wash anyway, as I haven’t been able to do much laundry. I hitch up a trailer to the dune buggy and after my parents promise to stay inside and not watch where I go, I head out of the yard in the wrong direction. Circling back through the fields, I make my way to the secret bunker. I leave a few clean outfits behind as an emergency change of clothing, but load up all the other items in their plastic storage boxes onto the trailer. I then cautiously drive back, being careful not to lose any of my cargo.

As I come to a stop in the yard, my mother and father come out. I think they are surprised by the volume of my secret clothes stash. I have five crates full of girl clothing, which is similar in volume to my male wardrobe. In addition, I have brought back my other bike, and a container full of cosmetics.

We unload everything into the kitchen. My father unhitches the trailer and puts it, my bike, and the buggy in the barn while I sort through the clothing with my mother.

The majority of the items go straight into the wash basket. A few items I have only worn to try on, so these go up to my wardrobe for me to wear. I make room by removing some of my male attire and storing it in the attic. I will still be wearing some of it as trousers and shirts are often more practical, but I prefer skirts and blouses.

It’s mid-afternoon before we all assemble in the lounge for further discussion of my situation.

“I take it Emily knows your secret, I gather she saw you naked,” my mother states.

“Yes she has seen me naked, as has Uncle Peter. That is why he knows we didn’t have sex, as my equipment is restricted. I led him to believe that it was only temporary for the weekend. Emily knows everything. That is the reason why I broke down crying Saturday night - she realised in our experimentation that I wasn’t fully functional.” I am red with embarrassment, but determined not to hide anything.

“Dr Lambert explained what you did to yourself,” my father states. “I understand you are able to pass well enough to not have problems using female changing rooms.”

“As well as using the communal showers at school, I have been swimming on six occasions since my operation. Nobody complained, although I have had a couple of run-ins with boys from my previous school. Luckily, the first time I was able to flee into the changing rooms and a member of staff intervened to move the boys away,” I say sadly recalling the incidents. “I was easily able to prove I wasn’t who they claimed I was by briefly exposing my lack of male genitalia. The second time I was with friends and they were outnumbered.”

“Let me guess, a pink bikini,” my father says sighing.

“No, my lack of chest development makes me look too young in a bikini. I therefore wear a one-piece that has some strategic padding built in. It is pink, as is the swimming cap. I obviously can’t wear the wig when I go swimming. I told Alison and Mary I lost my hair in a farm accident. Obviously, they now know I was lying, but they seem to have forgiven me. I think they are the main reason the girls voted to let me use the changing facilities at school,” I say, starting to cry again, “I never expected all those girls to back me up. I thought that everyone would hate me and my life would be over. Instead, things are going a lot better than I expected. Even being able to talk to you rationally about this is more than I ever dreamed could happen.”

My mother comes and sits beside me on the couch and wraps me in a hug.

“I don’t fully understand this,” my father begins, “but I believe what Dr Lambert told us, that it’s possible to have a female brain in a male body. I don’t approve of your solution to the problem, but that is your choice to make. The more I look at you the more I can see that you are not acting in anything like a masculine way.”

With tearful eyes, I wrap my father in a hug to show that I appreciate his effort. He hugs me tightly, although I can sense he is uncomfortable with my show of emotion. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I pull away again. “It’s a good job I only wear waterproof mascara, or I would look like a panda by now,” I say giggling.

“Your school has accepted you as a girl, and therefore I see no reason to cause trouble by changing that,” my father says. “You can continue to attend as a girl for the time being. You will however be scheduled to see a shrink, Dr Lambert is investigating a suitable person to take your case. Dr Truman would also like to see you and further assess the damage you caused yourself. Having been a patient of his myself, I know he is a good doctor, and I will accept his recommendations on your health.”

I nod, happy with the outcome so far.

“At home you can dress however you feel appropriate,” he states, “but I would appreciate it if you kept the girliness to a minimum when we have guests. You already know Susan’s, Grace’s and Janice’s opinions on the matter.”

“You are worried that they may cause trouble for the farm. I understand that. If you let me know in advance when we will be receiving such guests, I will switch to boy mode,” I reply. “As long as I can be accepted for what I am most of the time, the odd bit of dressing down won’t cause me problems, at least in the short term. I fully intend to grow my hair out so that I don’t have to wear the wig. However, if I am caught out by surprise then there is nothing I can do.”

“Thank you, but let’s try to make that unnecessary,” my mother states after taking a deep breath. “We will have to let our friends know eventually. I tried to hide that Mike was gay and it didn’t work, so it’s inevitable that they will find out. However, I think we need to take it slowly - I am not sure hitting them with it will be beneficial.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening bonding as a family. My father goes out to assist Jason and thank him for stepping in to lend a hand at short notice. I help my mother to prepare the evening meal. Once the casserole is on cooking, I go and change into a pair of jeans and head outside to assist my father with the final chores of the evening.

I even join him in rounding up the sheep. He makes me take control and then proceeds to laugh his head off as I fail to drive the sheep in the right direction. I look at him crossly as he leans on a fence.

“I have just figured out why you are no good at this,” he says, still chuckling, “it’s a well-known fact women make lousy drivers.”

I groan at his bad pun, then realise that he has just insinuated that I am useless as I’m a girl. I don’t know how to take this. He’s acknowledging my chosen gender, but insulting me at the same time. I don’t know whether to be pleased or angry. I decide the best course of action is to get my own back. Whistling to the dogs, I start a stampede of sheep in his direction. He has to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled.

“Hey, watch it, young lady,” my father shouts at me as I laugh. I am too busy giggling to notice some stray sheep heading in my direction and I’m sent flying head first into a ditch. I’m glad I left my wig at home. I am still wondering what happened when I am lifted out of the ditch by my feet. I recognise my father’s boots as I hang upside down in mid air.

“You are getting too heavy to do this too,” my father remarks as he dumps me on the ground. He issues a series of whistles and the dogs round up the rest of the sheep and the flock is directed down the track towards their shelters.

I dust myself off and we walk together back to the farm. We make short work of bedding the sheep and head indoors, still laughing. We both come to a sudden stop when we try to enter the kitchen. My mother is blocking the door with her arms crossed.

“What have you two been up to? You are not coming in here covered in mud,” she states firmly.

“Sheep,” I state simply, as for me that is the usual reason I come home covered in mud. My mother shakes her head in disbelief before pointing at the shower room.

I let my father go first as I wait in the utility room. My mother brings our dressing gowns down. She knocks on the shower door and opens it, reaching in and hooking both garments on the hooks next to the door. She then shuts the door and lets my father finish his shower.

A minute later the water stops and two minutes after that the door opens and my father emerges in his gown. He grins at me as I walk past him to take my turn. Having washed and dressed only in my gown, I walk into the kitchen where my mother is serving up the lamb casserole. I am going to enjoy this particular piece of meat. It was one of last year’s flock and loved to annoy me by running in the wrong direction. Revenge is a dish best served hot with potatoes, swede, carrots and mint sauce.