To Have and To Hold
by Katelynne Perry

When is a boy not a boy? When he turns into a candy store.

I always thought that riddle was cute because it fit me to a tee except you have to take 'the candy store' and replace it with 'a little girl'. I've had the misfortune of being born with a female brain inside a male body. Sometimes, though, I think it is a blessing because I've been able to see life from both genders, kind of.

I am what is termed a male-to-female preoperative transsexual. I look like a woman in every aspect except that I still have my penis. I had the good fortune to be born with a very tiny one that isn't hard to hide, but the thing has cursed me ever since I was a child.

I've been living as a girl ever since sixth-grade simply because my parents couldn't stomach my rebellion about being a boy and found it easier to just let me be me. My folks love me a lot but I think they'd still really rather have a son than what I'm giving to them.

My twin brother died in child birth and my folks did everything they could to ensure I was happy and well-adjusted. My mother could not have any more children, so I am all they've got. Sometimes, me living as a girl, doesn't fit in with they're religious beliefs but Momma says God doesn't make mistakes, so she's extremely tolerant with me. Daddy's a little less so.

I've been on my own since I graduated from San Diego State University nearly four years ago. I got a graphic design business up and running and was doing very well in the field when the economy turned sour. Although I'm good at what I do, graphic artists are a dime a dozen and the field is very cut throat. Although I still worked a lot, but I had to lower my prices to stay in the field. I had to supplement my art with work in other fields of endeavor.

That brought me to security work. Tonight I'm a posted security guard working at what used to be 'Naval Training Station San Diego' in California. The government closed this base almost a decade ago. It's now high-end retail shops, restaurants, office space and housing of differing types. There's a school here, some chapels and a mega-church, but my post is at the venue called 'Liberty Station at NTC'.

I've worked for this security guard company two years now. I never thought I'd be working security because it envisions, in my mind, really old men supplementing their retirement and students who need a flexible job until they graduate. That's not me. I'm twenty-five and fairly attractive. I'm certainly not old and absolutely no longer a student. I must be a loser.

Anyway, I am posted at 'Liberty Station' and my main activity is walking around the perimeter of this campus. I observe designated check points scattered throughout the site and reporting on incidents that might pop up here and there. I've been working graveyard shift, however, and seldom encounter people. I run into a few vagrants, every now and again, who try to make 'Liberty Station at NTC' their home. When I find these people I have to try to get them to leave or call San Diego Police to take them away.

I'm not a big girl, I'm lucky to be petite. I certainly don't look like a boy or carry myself like one. I've never been mistaken for a guy. I'm only five-foot six-inches tall and weigh one-hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet and in the nude. My hair is black and tied back, poking through the opening in the back of my regulation guard cap. My eyes are ice-blue.

I'm not ferocious by any means. I couldn't move anyone any further than they want to move. I do, however, know how to talk to people. I can usually persuade someone to move on to some other haven. Now, I'm just trying to persist at being the best officer my company can expect until this economy turns around and I can get my graphics business back in full operation.

Tonight I'm patrolling, on foot. Sometimes I ride a bicycle but I feel like walking. Our site includes the area from the White Chapel to what used to be the Admiral's offices and from Rosecrans Street to a couple of streets before the San Diego Bay inlet. I'll walk nearly a mile before all my deggy chips are hit.

It has been an uneventful night and I am looking for something to liven things up a bit. We're not supposed to listen to the radio while on duty, but I am. I don't listen to music, I listen to Coast to Coast with George Noory. However, since it's Sunday, George Knapp is the emcee and this show is on out of body experiences.

I've never had one.

I am nearing the VONS grocery store and the White Chapel. This small chapel has served as a wedding venue for service members throughout NTC's history. It 's still a popular place to get married in San Diego, especially among the military. I decide to alter my course a bit... a perfectly justifiable thing to do since we're supposed to guard all aspects of this site... so I walk between VONS and the chapel when something very strange happens to me.

I blink my eyes a couple of times and turn around. The VONS grocery store is no longer there. It is now offices and such. In front of me, instead of an expansive green lawn, is decomposed granite and what looks like a parade deck. The White Chapel is there but it looks nearly brand new.

It is now, no longer nighttime, but the sky is as bright as noon. There are military men everywhere; officers in their uniforms and enlisted men in their coveralls who scurry about the place. I am startled beyond words. I must look out of place in my security guard uniform but as I glance downward, toward my arms, legs and torso, I'm dressed as a bride.

This is crazy.

I hear a female voice calling my way, “Ruthie! Ruthie!” She is dressed in a bridesmaid gown and grabs my hand, pulling me into the chapel.

Why is she calling me 'Ruthie' and why has she grabbed my hand?

“Come on, doll! You can't let Robert see you before you're married! It'd be bad for you and your Captain!”

Huh?

What is she talking about?

I'm in a wedding dress but I'm not 'Ruthie'.

Am I?”

I guess I could be Ruthie. Stranger thing have happened tonight so far.

Am I dreaming? If I'm caught asleep on post, it could lose my job. If I'm awake, how is it that I'm in a wedding gown? I guess I am Ruthie.

Who's 'Robert' and how's he my Captain?

Who's this woman, anyway?

Am I related to her?

Why's it noontime, anyway? It's supposed to be one or two in the morning.

Wow! This wedding gown is nice!

But why me?

This gown feels amazing and it looks gorgeous from what little of it I can see. It must have cost a pretty penny.

Is this even 2011?

Where the heck is VONS?

What's my supervisor going to say if he sees me like this?

Am I really a bride? Stupid Nicola, of course I am, but why is she calling me 'Ruthie'?

Questions stampede through my mind.

How is this even possible?

I'm supposed to be a security officer on duty, not a girl in an absolutely beautiful wedding gown.

“I'm so confused,” I admit to the woman who has pulled me into the dressing room at the chapel. I improvise, “This is happening so fast.”

“Don't be, doll.” She says. “I'd be absolutely floored if I was marrying me as coo-coo gorgeous a Captain as your Robert.”

Just then another woman in a gown like my 'friend's' rushes into the room.

“Good, Sarah! We're all here,” she says. “Ruthie! You look stunning! Yay, Sarah, you found her! Hooray!”

At least I'm not going to be embarrassed asking Sarah her name.

I'm Ruthie. I get that part but who is this other woman? I suppose she's my 'friend', too, since she's in a gown that matches Sarah's to a tee.

Hey!

Wait a minute!

I want to slap myself in the face. This unknown woman looks exactly like me.

“Naomi!” the girl I find out is 'Sarah' says. “I found her roaming around outside. She must thinks it's 1950s or something. A girl just can't let her man see her in her wedding gown before she gets hitched to him, now can she. This is only 1947, after all.”

'Naomi' pipes in, “I tried to get her to wait to get married until we could both do it together but would she? No way!” She pokes me in the side, “And I can't say I blame her for wanting the spotlight all to herself. She is absolutely gorgeous but that means I'm absolutely gorgeous, too! We're identical twins, after all!”

So now that's straightened out. I'm the identical twin sister of Naomi and, most likely, best friends with Sarah.

Still, why is this all happening to me?

But it's 1947?

Huh?

I know that my imagination is good and all, but I remember everything as if it's my time and I'm supposed to be in the year 2011.

Naomi leaves the room and Sarah gives me a hug.

“Oh, sorry doll! Don't want to crush your gorgeous dress.”

“It's okay, Sarah,” I say, “A hug sure feels wonderful right now.”

“Guess you can't wait until you're Mrs. Captain Robert Louis Mendel, Jr.” she smiles. “Now can you, doll?”

I smile and she hugs me again. She then leads me before a full-length mirror and I nearly faint. I knew the gown was gorgeous, from what I had seen, but I look like a princess. What really gets to me is how 'stunning', in Naomi's own words, I really do look. My hair is done up in a French braid and my veil isn't just netting, it is diamonds, rubies and emeralds. It must have set my fiance and me back a pretty penny.

Why do I keep saying 'pretty penny'? It's not a phrase I normally use. And I'm becoming enamored by Sarah's use of the word 'doll' in reference to me. I really feel like a doll especially after seeing hoe gorgeous I look.

Sarah holds my hands and says it will be over soon and I'll be off on my honeymoon. I smile but wonder what my boss is going to say. I didn't ask for time off!

As we are waiting, I hear organ music begin to play. The tunes are ones I've heard play a thousand times before. In 2011, a lot of my girlfriends have chosen these same songs for their 'big days'. Now, I guess, it's my 'big day' too.

Naomi rejoins us in the dressing room and giggles. “It's time, sweetie!”

I get nervous but don't want to cry. I'm starting to feel like I'm supposed to be here.

Naomi gives me a hug and hands me my bridal bouquet. She says she wants to give me a congratulatory kiss, but it'll have to wait for the reception.

Sarah hugs me and says, “Doll, Robert's one lucky man to have you for his bride.”

I do begin to cry so Naomi dabs her hanky at my cheek and I throw them kisses.

Is that too hokey?

Soon, I hear Richard Wagner's “Bridal March” and I almost lose it.

I am happy.

Almost ecstatic.

But how is this possible?

I'm Asset Protection Officer Nicola Marie Carter. I'm not Ruth Eden Cohen, like it says on that invitation on the podium. I'm certainly not Captain Robert Louis Mendel, Jr's soon-to-be betrothed.

Or am I?

This is going to end? Isn't it?

Even in my unfamiliarity, I don't want it to end.

If it doesn't end, I won't be disappointed? Will I?

I don't want to be disappointed because I sense a strange love for the man I have not seen, like we were meant to be.

I can't give up twenty-first century technology for this? Can I?

If I'm happy and in love, the next fifty years will be certainly endurable.

There my mind goes again, racing around in circles. I do feel an immense familiarity with my surroundings now. Sarah is the best friend any girl can want. Naomi and I get along really well, being twins and all. Robert has to be a gem and I haven't even seen him yet.

I'm mid-aisle as the string trio finishes with the bridal march. Naomi and Sarah are on the platform and a handsome older man is presenting me to the congregation. All of the men in the chapel are wearing yamakas. Of course they are, this is a Jewish ceremony.

But I'm a Baptist.

Oh well.

I find out that I haven't seen my fiance for a week. I wouldn't have known that because us protestants don't hold to tradition. In our wedding, today, we are not following strict traditions but I am aware, somehow, that Robert hasn't seen me and I haven't seen him for at least a week.

We, Robert and I, walk around each other seven times with our parents present while we do. The chuppah is bright and colorful and represents Robert and my new home together. It has been blessed by God and will symbolize God's blessing upon Robert and me. The rabbi is explaining this to the congregants who include many of our protestant friends.

I'm glad the rabbi explains this, because I'm finding it really fascinating myself.

Naomi gets to recite the blessings over a chalice of wine placed beneath the chuppah cloth. After she is through with the blessing, Robert and I drink of the wine. The rabbi pronounces us blessed.

As the rabbi signals him, Robert produces a golden ring. “Behold you are sanctified to me,” he says, “with this ring, according to the Law of Moses and Israel.”

The rabbi explains how the ring symbolizes Robert encompassing, protecting and providing for his me. Our ketuvah is read by Sarah. The ketuvah is our contract detailing Robert's obligations to me: food, clothing, dwelling and pleasure. It creates a lien on all his property to pay me a sum of money and support should Robert wish to divorce me or die before I do.

As Sarah finishes reading the ketuvah she gives it to me.

The sheva brachos are recited by the rabbi and six of our family friends. After the seven blessings are recited, Robert and I drink from the chalice of wine again. Robert then smashes the vessel with the heel of his shoe. The breaking of the chalice is followed by a chorus of cheers from the congregants.

“Mazaltov! Mazaltov!”

The rabbi pronounces us Mr. and Mrs. Robert Louis Mendel, Jr. Another round of mazaltovs and we invite our guests to join us at the home of Robert's parents in Coronado.

Robert takes me into his arms and smothers me with a luscious kiss. It is then that I remember why I am marrying the man. Not only is he drop-dead gorgeous, and a Captain in the United States Navy, but I realize that he loves me deeply. Why else would someone go into a contract and ceremony so intricate and demanding, if we were not madly in love?

The rest of the evening is a blur to me. I lost track of time and can only imagine what my supervisor is doing, what names he must be calling me. Knowing him, however, I could be away from my post a month of Sundays before he realized I was not there. The company stresses communication as the key to a successful business venture, but that applies from the bottom officers up, not the other way around.

After we have enjoyed our reception and received our gifts, we are shuttled off to our hotel for our first night together as husband and wife. Robert's uncle owns a limousine service and is seeing us to our hotel and then off, in the morning, to our honeymoon at a brand-new resort called 'The Flamingo' in Las Vegas.

I'm an aficionado of all things Las Vegas, and have stayed at the 'Flamingo Hotel' on many occasions, but this is new to me. This is the original 'Flamingo' and I swear we just saw Bugsy Siegel in the lobby as we were escorted to our room. Another eerie sight to me was what I know as 'the Strip'; it was all but barren. There are no other hotels around. Caesars Palace isn't here, neither are Ballys, MGM Grand or the others my friends and I would casino hop back and forth on our road trips here.

In spite of the lack of casinos here, I feel wonderful when I am with Robert, and this is such an amazing feeling. Before my shift began, I didn't know who he was; now I know him like the back of my hand.

He carries me over the threshold of our hotel room and he doesn't have a problem at all lifting me into his arms. He tells me we are going to have the time of our lives tonight and I swoon.

It is now that I begin to worry.

Am I anatomically correct?

I mean, I don't have a penis, do I?

I have not worried so much since this all began so I excuse myself to use the potty. I quickly check myself to see if I have a vagina or not. To my delight, I seem anatomically correct, for a woman, that is. I breathe a giant sigh of relief.

“Ruthie,” Robert says, “You're not going to believe this room. My father and mother spared no expense. It even has a black and white television set!”

“I'm going to take a shower, Robbie,” I say as I invite him to join me. “It's so hot here that the water must feel like heaven.”

Robert quickly takes me up on my suggestion and we take turns removing an article of clothing from each others body. I changed out of my wedding gown before the reception and it is safe in San Diego with my sister Naomi. The cotton dress I am wearing has buttons that are easily unbuttoned but Robert can't wait and pops a few from my bodice.

I am down to my panties and Robert is in his boxers. I have pretty nice breasts if I do say so myself.

Better than the ones I have as Nicola.

We strip the last articles from our body and step into the shower. Robert is so good looking and I am truly happy to be his wife. He is definitely blessed in more ways than one.

We take our time and enjoy the intimacy of the moment. We take plenty of time to enjoy each other and I am ecstatic about my 'new' body. Technically, my body is over fifty years older than I once was, but I am more than satisfied with this one. Although I do not orgasm this time, there will be time for that later in our honeymoon.

We get dressed and decide to do some gambling. The casino is much different than I remember at the 'Flamingo'. There are no pictorial supergraphics on the gaming tables and no video displays of any kind. The slot machines are all mechanical and the only means of operation is by pulling don on the lever of each machine. There are no push buttons to let part with your money in a more rapid manner. I'm sure that, if they knew how to do it, they would be doing it now.

I want to tell my husband how it will be at the turn of the century but he'd probably just think that I'm crazy. After all, in the 1940s and 1950s more credence is placed on man's wisdom and less on a woman's. I love Robert and I don't want what I know to be true to come between us.

We enjoy blackjack, craps and roulette. I prefer roulette because you just place your chips on a number or color and let the fates take it from there. I don't have to think when I participate in roulette like I'd have to do in craps or twenty-one. Tonight I just want to enjoy the moment and my new husband.

We tire of gaming and Robert wants to take me dancing and to a show. He's heard about a new sign they're unveiling downtown and suggests we go there to view it. I agree that it will be nice and we can check on what that part of Las Vegas has to offer.

We eat at a very nice restaurant and marvel at the Vegas Vic neon sign. I have to bite my tongue so I don't tell Robert that, almost fifty years from now, this sign and a two-block length of Fremont Street will be canopied in a blanket of video lights. If I tell him that he will think I'm nuts. Besides, how do I find words to explain to him what a video display is?

We decide to retire to our hotel room. I can't wait to get my husband alone with me and make him glad that I'm his wife. We hail a taxi and are back at the Flamingo in less than thirty minutes. It is almost daylight when we finally get to bed and I get to enjoy married life. I fall to sleep easily and in the arms of my handsome Captain.

When I wake up, I am still in Las Vegas. What happened next will have to be told to you later. I'm having too much fun in Las Vegas on the arm of a man who loves me more than life. I'll be sure to tell you more in a week or two. Be sure to look for that story. I'll find out, by then, if I'm back in 2011 or still here in 1947.

Until then, viva Las Vegas!

Wait!

Elvis Presley and Ann Margret won't be filming that for at least sixteen years!

Viva y'all!