Trick of the Mind — 35 & 36 by Maeryn Lamonte Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge — Written From The Heart Thanks to Wren Erendae Phoenix for editing/proofing. The courtroom scene depicted in this chapter is fictional and bear little or no resemblance to real life (as far as I'm aware). He stood up slowly, staring intently at a sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. Then he approached the witness box, his expression unreadable. “So Mr Hanson. Tell us about the last time you wore women's clothing.”

-oOo-

Even with only ten of us in the courtroom — eleven if you counted the clerk — the judge had to bang his gavel down to get everyone's attention.

“Mr Talbot, I hope you have an explanation for this.”

“Your honour,” Mr T returned to the table and picked up the sheet of paper he'd been examining. He saw Alice and me craning our necks to look at it, so he held it up just long enough for us to see what it was. “Your honour, I'd like to enter this into evidence.” He handed the sheet up for the judge's perusal, who then passed it down to the clerk, who passed it to defence counsel before passing it back to Mr T. He turned back to Uncle Stan.

“This, Mr Hanson, is a copy of the front page of a local newspaper, dated some forty eight years ago. Would you please read the caption underneath the photograph?”

Uncle Stan's stared at the sheet of paper in disbelief.

“Mr Hanson? The caption?”

He shook himself out of his trance. “Er, it reads, 'Local boy, Stanley Hanson, wows the crowd with his enchanting performance in the title role of his school Christmas panto, Cinderella.'”

“And the photograph?”

“Is of me yes, but this is different. It was a school play, I was doing my bit for the school.”

“Playing the lead female role?”

“It was a boy's school, there were other boys who had to take female parts.”

“Yes, I can see them standing to one side of this picture of the full cast. The evil step-mother, the ugly sisters, the fairy godmother, the queen. They all look nervous and uncomfortable, whereas you look... How would you describe the way you look here Mr Hanson?”

“The play had gone well; I was pleased.”

“Yes it did go well according to the review, and you can see in the eyes of the boys who played the other parts — the king, the prince, the herald, the mice and other animals — they all look pleased, satisfied. I'm sorry Mr Hanson, but you look... enraptured, delighted, enchanted...”

“Men dressing in women's clothes is wrong,” Uncle Stan's outburst took us all by surprise. “It's evil, it's an abomination and it's against God.”

“Who told you that Mr Hanson?”

“My parents. My parents taught me what's right as the church teaches it.”

“You didn't tell them did you? You said you were in the play, but you didn't tell them what part.”

Uncle Stan's anger collapsed. “I thought they'd be pleased. I thought they'd be proud. But they dragged me home and told me that what I had done was evil. And it is. They showed me that. It's wrong to do what you're doing, Richard, it's an abomination...”

“Do you really believe that Mr Hanson?”

My Uncle looked up at Mr T, tears streaming down his face, pleading with his eyes.

“Mr Hanson, have you worn women's clothing on any other occasion than this play?”

Uncle Stan shook his head, but from his expression it wasn't so much denial as begging Mr T not to make him answer.

“Mr Hanson, please answer the question.”

He looked across the courtroom at his wife, tears mirrored in both their eyes.

“I'm sorry Evie. I... I'm sorry.”

“Mr Hanson.” This time it was the judge pushing for the answer.

“Yes,” it was barely a whisper. He continued in a louder voice. “I tried not to, and I hated myself every time, but I wasn't strong enough.”

“Do you still cross-dress today, Mr Hanson?” The question was more gently asked. Now that the fist admission had been made, the rest would come more easily.

“No. I stopped when I met Evie. I couldn't see how she could love someone like me, so I made myself stop.”

“Do you still want to dress as a woman, Mr Hanson?”

“Objection, relevance.”

“Your honour, it goes to the attitudes and motivation of the witness, as well as his reaction to Richard's dressing.”

“I'll allow it. Mr Hanson?”

My uncle had his eyes tight closed. You could see the answer etched in every line of his face, but the court needed to hear him say it. The judge prompted him again.

“Yes, God help me. Every day I have to fight off the temptation, but it's a cross I have to carry, and so do you Richard. This is wrong...”

“Mr Hanson, please address your remarks to the court and restrict them to answering the questions put to you.”

He broke down in tears, and Mr T looked a little ashamed at having been the cause. He turned to the defence counsel desks.

“You wondered if abstinence was an option Gerard. You're looking at the product of decades of denial right here.

“I have no further questions for this witness, your honour.”

“Thank you Mr Hanson,” the judge said kindly. “You and your wife are free to go.”

We all watched in silence as Uncle Stan, shoulders slumped and back bowed, made his slow way to the back of the courtroom. Aunt Evie took him gently by the arm and they left together.

-oOo-

Next up was my father, still visibly reeling from Uncle Stan's performance. Under Mr Simmons's guiding questions, he talked about his reaction the time he'd first been confronted with me wearing a dress. He'd shared his wife's outrage along with that of his brother in law and family. He'd felt I had been fairly punished at the time, and had learned my lesson.

He'd worried a little about the way his wife, as well as both Stan and Evie, had continued to hold the incident against me, but overall he felt that it was a good reminder to me that what I had done was wrong. Yes he had worried about how my actions might affect his reputation. His business relied on him remaining above reproach, and he worried about how he would provide for us as a family should it be found out that I was... well you know.

He spoke of his shock at my revelation on the trip home, that I was continuing to dress in private, and with the help of my sister. He realised that a situation he had thought resolved was becoming a growing threat to the family, and so he acted decisively. Alice and I were given our punishments to stop us from making things any worse, and he went to talk to his friend Dr Finster.

When the first meeting hadn't gone to plan, the doctor had assured Dad that things could be dealt with quietly and without fuss before they went further out of hand, especially if they enlisted the help of Derek Priestly, another of Dad's friends.

Yes they knew what they had done wasn't strictly above board, but the doctor insisted it was in my best interests to receive treatment for my ailment, and if things could be arranged without being made public it would protect my dad's business and keep my mum from finding out, which would only upset her further.

Under cross-examination, Mt T asked if he had looked into the sort of treatment Dr Finster was proposing, and he admitted he hadn't.

“The doctor and I have been friends for a lot of years, and I know him to be respected in his profession,” Dad said.

“How do you know him to be respected in his profession, Mr Baxter?”

“Well, he has a successful practice, he has numerous qualifications, all displayed on the walls of his office, he has a full appointment book. If he weren't respected surely none of these would be the case.”

“Are you aware of the current position of the medical profession regarding the transgendered condition Mr Baxter?”

“Well, no. But that's why we have professionals in different areas of expertise. We trust them to know what's right.”

“And if Dr Finster had recommended your son see a psychiatrist regarding his condition, and possibly try living full time as a woman? Would you have been so ready to accept that suggestion?”

“There are differences of opinion within the profession regarding how these people should be treated. I thought Dr Finster's approach seemed to have merit.”

“It protected your business you mean?”

“Objection.”

“Withdrawn. Now that you've heard from your son's own mouth what Dr Finster had in mind, do you still consider his approach to have merit?”

“If I'd had any idea what he intended, I wouldn't have allowed him to go ahead.”

“But you did, Mr Baxter. Despite your son's protest against Dr Finster, despite his wanting a second opinion, despite his choosing to leave your home due to the differences between you, you still conspired to have him committed to a private and, until now, unmonitored mental health facility, potentially for the rest of his life. That's what you did, Mr Baxter.”

Dad's head was hanging low in shame. He managed a nod but no more. His words had been faltering, and at the end failed him completely.

He stepped down from the stand to be replaced by Judge Priestly, who's involvement had been purely as part of the Old Boys network, facilitating things as he saw fit. He hadn't seen anything wrong in what they were doing, right up until I had given testimony regarding my treatment in the mental facility.

“Surely, Judge Priestly, you must have noticed a difference in Richard when he came back for the second hearing?”

“He did seem distant, but the doctor insisted that his condition was normal given his care.”

“It didn't occur to you that Richard was being mistreated?”

“Ray and I have known the doctor for a long time. He was a nice chap. There was no way we would have suspected him of misconduct.”

“And because you were prepared to believe your personal judgement and forgo standard procedure, you very nearly committed a young and innocent man to... well the horrors have been adequately described don't you think?”

Judge Priestly nodded, his earlier confidence gone, wilting like a flower in a drought.

All testimony heard and brief summaries made from all counsel, the judge called proceedings to a close, stating that he would review all the information at hand, and make his ruling the following day at about this time. I glanced over at the clock and was surprised to see it reading six o'clock.

We stood while the judge retreated and waited while my dad and Judge Priestly were led from the courtroom. Neither looked our way.

-oOo-

Outside the courtroom, Mr T did his thing with the mobile again, and a few minutes later, Mrs T and Jen turned up in their family car. Mr T offered Alice and me a lift out to our parent's house, which we gratefully accepted.

Home seemed oddly quiet and deserted, even seemingly refusing to acknowledge our presence as Alice headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mrs T followed to see if she could help while I showed Mr T and Jen into the living room.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“That depends on the judge's ruling.” Mr T settled himself wearily into an armchair.

“How do you think he will rule?”

“I've learned not to try and predict the outcomes of trials such as this, Richard, but if it's that important to you, I would expect both your father and Judge Priestly to spend some time behind bars. The judge will almost certainly be dismissed, and your father's business will suffer as a result of the trial and the prison sentence.”

“What will happen to Alice?”

“She's... what, fifteen? She's also remarkably mature for her age. As long as your father can make provision to pay the mortgage on this place while he's being detained, there's no reason why she can't continue to live here under social services supervision.”

The subject of our conversation walked in then, followed by Mrs T, both of them carrying trays promising not only hot, stimulating beverages, but also bread and salad and pá¢té. The refreshments lifted everyone's spirits, but not enough to make us want to prolong the evening. The Talbots had brought my clothes, both Rich and Rach, which implied that I was expected to stay here. Not a surprise or anything, just that I hadn't planned this far ahead. I hadn't planned at all, let's face it.

Mr Talbot stood to his feet and reached over to help his wife up before turning to his daughter. “Come on Jennifer, I think these two have a lot to talk about. No I'm not going to hear it. You'll get to see your beloved tomorrow, but for tonight let him and Alice have some space.”

She buried her pout long enough to give me a kiss intended to make me regret not having her stay.

“Come for breakfast?” I asked hopefully.

“Actually, I was hoping to visit Mum tomorrow morning,” Alice said from behind me. “I hoped you'd come.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mr T said before I had a chance to respond. “Where is she staying?”

Alice wrote down the address and passed it across.

“Perhaps we can pick you up from there about lunchtime. We'll feed you again, then we can spend some time together before we're needed back at the courthouse.”

“You've already done so much for us though.” Alice's voice, but my sentiments too, which I hoped were reflected in my eyes.

“Nonsense. What time do you think you should be finished with your mother? Twelve thirty? One o'clock?”

“Twelve thirty should be fine sir, and thank you again.”

After they'd gone, Alice and I returned to the living room and sat next to each other on the sofa. We didn't have a lot to say to start with, so instead I pulled her into a hug and let her cry into my chest.

“Mr Talbot thinks Dad will go to prison.”

“He deserves it for letting you go to that horrible place.”

“He's still our dad, Alice, and I think he was genuinely upset by what I went through. But no, I was thinking this is going to change things for us, a lot.”

She laughed through her tears. “You can say that again.”

“If Dad goes to prison, and Mum stays in care, where does that leave you? I'll drop out of my course and come back if you need me to.”

“Don't you bloody well dare. I heard what Mr T said, and I'll be quite alright looking after myself, even if I have to have social services looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“So what will you do?”

“Are you kidding? I'll be able to invite my friends over here for sleepovers all the time, and we'll have wild parties and tear the place apart.”

She looked up at my expression and burst out laughing.

“Oh that was worth it. Come on Rich, what do you take me for? I have GCSEs next year, then who knows? We don't know how long — or even if — Dad's going to be behind bars yet. I'm going to want to stay here for as long as Mum needs me whatever happens, so I'll just stay local and sign up for some sort of further education, maybe I'll be able to get onto a nursing course, then I'll be able to look after her full time and get paid for it. A lot depends on what the judge decides tomorrow.”

“I guess the sooner tomorrow comes, the better then. What time do you want to visit Mum tomorrow?”

“We'll need to take a taxi. No it's alright, there's an emergency stash of money so we can afford it for now. I was thinking if we tried to get there for ten? That means we'll have to leave here about half nine, is that OK?”

“Sounds like a plan.” I stood up and picked up my bags from the hall.

“Richard?”

“Yes?”

“You know it would be weird and all kinds of wrong for me to sleep with my brother? I mean, you know, even just sleep, nothing incestuous.”

“Yes.” I could feel what was coming.

“I don't want to be alone tonight, and I have that kind of camp bed thing for when I have friends over. Do you think it would be alright if my sister slept in my room with me tonight?”

I hadn't really wanted anything to do with Rachael tonight, but Alice wouldn't have asked if she didn't needed this.

“Sure,” I managed a relatively sincere smile, “Give me a few minutes to go unpack her.”

The camp bed was uncomfortable and squeaky, so in the end Alice managed to persuade me to get into bed with her. I suspect it was what she had in mind all along. She spooned up close to me and it felt good to have that kind of contact. Sexual? Not at all. There had been times when we were very young when we had shared a bed, and this was like going back to one of those times. For one night, it felt like everything was the way it had once been, all innocence and peace.

-oOo-

Alice's alarm was loud and intrusive, shattering the tranquillity of a gentle dream and almost sending me back to the horrors of the asylum. She hit it with a stuffed rabbit though, and it fell to the floor in a sulk. She twisted round to face me and I managed to compose my features before she realised anything had been wrong.

“Hey sis,” she said sleepily. “Thanks for staying. It made all the difference.”

“Yeah, to me too.”

I climbed out of bed, but Alice was quicker, reaching the bathroom door before I had managed to untwist my knickers.

“Hey, I was going to the loo.”

“You've got better plumbing than me; you can hold it. Besides, you shouldn't be so slow.”

She wasn't long and made up for her cheek by putting together a couple of coffees while I abluted. Of course that meant that I had to make the breakfast while she was washing. She came down wearing a smart grey skirt and jacket over a lacy white blouse.

“So what are you wearing today?”

“You remember that floaty red dress of Mum's?”

“What, the one you said you wore the first time?”

“Yeah. Mum had a pair of red two inch heels that went with it. I guess talking about it yesterday must have reminded me and passed on the information to my subconscious.”

“It was a great dress. I think it would suit you.”

“It does,” I said looking in the mirror.

Breakfast was just a couple of bowls of processed cardboard. One each that is. For one, who'd eat more than one bowl of the stuff if they didn't have to? For two, we were both watching our figures. Alice phoned for the taxi while I replied to Jen's texts from the previous evening, and we were ready when it arrived at nine thirty.

Traffic wasn't that bad and we arrived in a secluded driveway, in front of a large stone built mansion, ten minutes earlier than intended. Alice handed the driver enough cash to keep me fed for a week at uni, and we stepped out of the cab.

“There has to be a cheaper way to get here,” I said as we approached the main entrance.

“There is,” she replied. “There's a friends group that runs a regular minibus. I just haven't got round to signing up yet.”

A nurse on the front desk recognised Alice and called for someone to take us to Mum's room while she signed us in. Minutes later we were standing outside her door, me feeling my usual reticence and nervousness. Alice didn't give me a chance to fall apart; she knocked gently on the door and stepped through without waiting for a reply.

“Hello Alice dear, and Stanley, hello dear. That's a nice dress you're wearing.”

In happier days, Mum had told me I looked a lot like Uncle Stan. There was no way she could see through my hypnotised eyes though, so the dress thing had to be some other oddness with her mind.

“It's not Uncle Stan, Mum. It's me, Richard.”

“Oh, Richard. Such a wicked boy.” The gentleness of her voice was at odds with her words. “The way he put on poor Emily's dress like that, it must have been so hard for you Stanley. He looked so pretty in it, just like you did as Cinderella.”

“No Mum. I'm Richard. Uncle Stan's not here.”

“Richard? It is you. Why are you wearing that dress? I thought we told you not to. You know it's wrong.”

“I'm not wearing a dress Mum.”

“Just like Stanley. It's such a shame, he made such a pretty Cinderella. I would have liked a sister, you know.”

Abruptly her tone changed — became harsh. “Richard, take that dress off this instant. Do you want to disgrace us all?”

It was heart rending, and certainly more than I could take at that moment. Not to mention the way it was messing with my mind. I deliberately didn't wear a dress because I didn't want to upset her, only for her to get upset because she thought I was wearing a dress, and that leaving me feeling hypocritical about denying it because I felt like I was wearing a dress anyway. I lasted ten minutes, by which time Mum was getting seriously agitated. I told Alice I was going to take a walk around the grounds and that I'd meet her in the canteen sometime after twelve.

The grounds were quite beautiful, if a little sun scorched. And lonely. Lonely like I'd never felt before. There were other people — patients who kept their distance for the most part — but whether they came near or kept their distance, they seemed disconnected, as though they were part of some other reality, someone else’s reality.

I wandered aimlessly, under trees, by flowerbeds and ponds, alone with my feelings since thoughts eluded me. I felt like I was losing myself. Mum in this place and lost to me, Dad most likely going to jail, my mind in some pink fantasy. Even Alice was changing with the pressures on our family. The only rock in my world that wasn't seriously wobbling at the moment was Jen, and she'd only been in my life for half a year.

A distant bell rang out. I glanced at my watch to find that it was already midday. Alice would be waiting. I turned and hurried towards the main building, heels clacking, skirts swirling. A delicious feeling, but still jarring with the part of my brain that knew what was real.

Alice was waiting by the time I reached the cafeteria, sitting at a table nursing a mug of coffee. I bought one of my own and joined her.

“How was she after I left?”

“Better, but I think you already suspected that. You see why there's no point in your dropping out? You can't do anything for Mum until she's worked this through, you can't do anything for Dad while he's in prison, and...”

“What? I can't do anything for you? You're my little sister Alice. You're fifteen for heaven's sake. You shouldn't have to carry this. Especially since we wouldn't be in this mess if it hadn't been for me.”

“Hadn't been for you what Richard? Are you telling me you could get by without dressing up? Are you saying that you wouldn't end up like Uncle Stan if you rejected that part of you? You know if one of us has to make a sacrifice, I'd much rather look after Mum and Dad than do what I want and watch you turn into an uptight, sour faced, joyless saddo like him.

“No you have nothing to blame yourself for, and since you can't do anything to help the situation here, go back to uni, get your degree, make a name for yourself in the career of your choice, make a life with Jen if that seems like the right thing to do. Make such a bloody success of your life that Mum and Dad won't have any choice but to be proud of you. Hell, even if they can't bring themselves to do that, you'll have such a great life you won't care.”

She laughed a wry laugh and I joined in. There wasn't much else to say so we turned to our coffee to hide the lack of words. Fortunately the Talbots rescued us soon after as it was pretty much undrinkable and quite possibly toxic.

Mrs T had performed a miracle and put together a picnic, despite staying in a hotel. She suggested finding somewhere on or near the institute grounds to eat, but I'd spent enough time in the oppressive silence of the place and begged a different location. I suggested a park closer to the centre of town that had its own parking and was within a gentle hike of the courthouse. This met with everyone's approval and we set off.

The picnic was of the same high quality I had learned to expect from Jen's mum, and we polished it off in short measure. I did draw a few odd looks from passers by because of the way I was sitting, but then any way that would have looked more comfortable for a man would have felt obscene to me in that dress.

Alice remained quiet throughout lunch. I knew there was nothing more I could offer her so, as soon as we were done, I pulled Jen to her feet and dragged her off for a short walk. I'd benefited from the gentle wisdom of this family and hoped that, given the chance to talk to her alone, Mr and Mrs T might just be able to help.

It was good spending time with Jen again. Mr T had been right, Alice and I had needed the previous evening and this morning to reconnect, but Jenny and I seemed to click into place whenever we were together these days. We fed the ducks and sat watching the world go by, lost in the timelessness of each other's company. Eventually Alice and the elder Talbots came looking for us. Alice looked more at peace with the world, so I assumed that words of wisdom had been imparted.

“Hey kids,” Mr T greeted us as he approached. “We should get going. You said it was about a half hour walk Richard?” I nodded. “Well we have forty five minutes until the judge pronounces, and we want to get there ahead of time.”

Half an hour turned out to be a good estimate, even in two inch heels. Jen and her mother had taken the remains of the picnic back to the car, so I was obliged to struggle on as best I could. Yeah girls, I know two inches is nothing, but two miles over rough paving slabs when you're not used to it...

At one stage I took the opportunity to broach a subject that had been bothering me.

“Paul?” remembering to call him by his first name despite how unnatural it felt. “I never spoke about the hypnotism in the courtroom.”

“You didn't talk about it to your father, Dr Finster or Judge Priestly either. What they did to you was based purely on your cross-dressing and had nothing to do with the hypnotic suggestion you're under, so it had no relevance to the case. I deliberately kept it out as it might have changed the judge's opinion of your mental health had he known.”

“But the oath, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“You did tell the whole truth as pertained to this case. This falls very firmly under the category of information not to be volunteered.”

We arrived at the courthouse, found our way to the correct room and entered with ten minutes to spare, just as my father and Judge Priestly were being led in, attorneys in tow. None of them would meet my gaze and we all settled into silence, listening to the slow, steady tick of the courtroom clock, until it reached the top of the hour and we were instructed to rise as the judge entered his domain.

“Sit down everyone. Alright, I've had time to review all the information and make my decisions. We are here this afternoon to pass judgement on Mr Raymond Baxter and Judge Derek Priestly in the matter relating to young Mr Richard Baxter. Would the defendants please rise.”

-oOo-