Trick of the Mind — 33 & 34 by Maeryn Lamonte Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge — Written From The Heart The courtroom scene depicted in this chapter is fictional and bear little or no resemblance to real life (as far as I'm aware). Thanks to Wren Erendae Phoenix for editing/proofing. “It seems we may need a longer recess. Dr Finster I will see you and your council in my chambers immediately. The rest of you, we will reconvene in two hours, at which time I will know whether or not this latest development is going to delay matters further. The judge banged his gavel and left, followed by Dr Finster and his attorney.

-oOo-

Alice ran to me and threw her arms around me.

“Richard, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into my shoulder as I held her. “I had no idea. If I had...”

“...you still wouldn't have been able to anything.” I drew her into a tight hug which felt so good. Along with my close fitting dress and boots, it was like a hug within a hug.

I looked across the room to where my father and his friend the judge were being led into a private room with their attorneys. He looked at me briefly, eyes hooded with shame, before turning to follow.

“How are you holding up?” Mr T asked me prompting a weary grin. “You’re doing really well up there, and I know that last bit was rough. I’m afraid the unpleasantness is only about to start though.”

I pulled out of the hug with Alice, but kept a reassuring arm around her shoulder. She leaned into my chest in a way she hadn't done since she was very little, but she was OK, finding the comfort she needed, so I turned my attention to what Mr T had to say.

“When we come back, it will be the opposition's turn to cross-examine you. Given your recent trials, the judge has set some restrictions. For one thing the defence attorneys have been instructed to direct their questions through one representative as much as possible and, as I understand it, have nominated Mr Simmons as their primary spokesman. For another, they will be under constant, close scrutiny from the judge to ensure they don't undermine your recovery. Despite that, they still have considerable leeway, and I'm sure Gerard — Simmons that is — won't pull any punches.

“Your best bet will be to answer calmly and truthfully as you have been doing so far. Remember none of what is discussed here can be shared outside the courtroom, not even by your father or your uncle and aunt.”

“I should be able to do that,” I said, feeling the exact opposite.

“I'm certain you will,” Mr T chose to ignore any signs of misgiving in my voice or manner. “Alice, would you like to join us for lunch? My treat, although as Jen's going to be there I don't know how much time you'll get with your brother.”

Alice's eyes lit up.

“Do you mean I get to meet her at last?” The twinkle in her eye was a sure warning sign, but it was so good to see something of the old Alice, I just smiled and guided her after Mr T. Whatever plot she and Jen ended up hatching, I was sure I'd cope somehow.

On the way out of the courtroom, we passed my uncle and aunt. I caught my Uncle Stanley's eye briefly, and for the first time in four years there was something there other than anger.

-oOo-

Mr T had his mobile to his ear as we walked down the courthouse steps. Their use was banned within the confines of the building, and we'd all had ours turned off during the mornings proceedings. I took my cue from him and turned mine on. He'd finished his call by the time mine had fully fired up and connected to the nearest tower.

“Sharon and Jen are waiting for us at a bistro round the corner,” he said and strode off ahead. My phone woke up and chimed insistently, announcing a long stream of messages from Jen. The tight fitting dress allowed me remarkable freedom of movement, which was just as well, given the way Alice pulled me into the oncoming throng of pedestrians.

Jen saw us coming and charged at us — well OK me — while we were still fifty yards out. I still wasn't too steady on my feet and, if it hadn't been for Alice holding my hand, she would have knocked me off my feet. I held her close for a few seconds, needing the contact as much as she did, then introduced her to Alice.

Suddenly I was surplus to requirements as the two of them did the girly bonding bit. It gave me a chance to read through the string of texts, and to find a seat before my legs gave out under me. I watched Jen and Alice, my two favourite women in all the world, chatting like they'd been friends forever. It was enough to make anyone smile.

Mr T told us this was his treat and we should order whatever we wanted. The girls and Mrs T predictably went for something that involved more vegetation than protein, enough to prompt an exasperated look from Jen's dad. I wasn't ready to join the rabbit warren, so I chose a six ounce burger with Stilton and mushroom sauce, along with fries and onion rings. It came with a salad garnish as an offering to the vitamin fairy, so it didn't completely undermine the diet the hospital had me on, and it provided Mr T with all the incentive he needed to order a steak.

While we waited for the food, I sat quietly watching Alice and Jen chatting and gesticulating, and it seemed strange to think that all they had in common was me and, in particular, dressing me up as a girl. I wondered why that should be. Was it a secret and shameful desire like my own desire to dress up, that they dreamed of turning men into women? Or was it that they saw a genuine need in me and responded to it as any kind, compassionate person would?

My pondering had me leaning toward the latter explanation, but with insufficient data to reach a firm conclusion, when the food arrived. Jen did her usual thing of spearing something off my plate — one of my onion rings this time — and smiling into my eyes as she bit into it

“Jen, you don't do that sort of thing,” Mr T said, genuinely shocked at her behaviour. “If you wanted onion rings, all you had to do was ask. I would've been quite happy to order some for you.”

She dropped her head in uncharacteristic shame, evidently unused to incurring her dad's displeasure. Time for Richard to come to the rescue.

“It's alright Mr T... Paul I mean. This isn't about being cheeky and stealing food form my plate, well not completely anyway. It's more about sharing and reassurance. It's sort of her way of asking how much I care for her. I let her take what she wants without complaining and it's a way of showing her how much I care. She takes something every now and again and it's her way of telling me she cares enough to want to know how much I care for her.

“Besides, it's onion rings. It would hardly be fair for me to expect any moments of intimacy if only one of us has onion breath.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at me, some of them glistening slightly. I paused with my mammoth burger halfway to my mouth.

“What?”

“I think we're all wondering how you ended up with such a wise head on such young shoulders,” Jen's Mum responded, reaching over to impale a couple of chips from her husband's plate and looking into his eyes with an impish gaze.

From there, the conversation passed onto more mundane matters, all talk of the trial and the immediate future of the Baxter family carefully avoided. It was pleasant to sit out in the sunshine and ignore the big things in my life for a while.

As it happened, one of the big things in my life was sitting on the plate in front of me. My stomach had shrunk during the days I was unconscious, and the hospital meals were hardly of a size to encourage it to stretch again. I did manage to put away most of the burger and the remaining onion rings, but I was grateful for Jen's help in minimising the debris. Not many things more embarrassing than having your girlfriend's father buy you lunch then leaving half of it.

The garnish went untouched — sorry vitamin fairy.

All good things come to an end, as our lunch did when Mr T glanced at his watch and declared it time for three of us at least to return to the courthouse.

“See you later,” Jen murmured in my ear as she tried to crush me in a fierce hug. “I'm really proud of you for doing this; it can't be easy.”

I smiled and kissed her, unsure what words might make an adequate response.

The walk back to the courthouse seemed to take longer. Perhaps it was slightly uphill, but mainly it was in a direction I didn't want to go. Alice sensed my reservations and took hold of my arm.

“You know you're doing the right thing don't you?” she asked me. “I mean even if it is Dad, there's no knowing how many other people have had their lives messed up by the doctor and probably the judge.”

Her comment found a sensitive spot and, although I flinched a little, I did feel better for her affirmation. I gave her smile and a brotherly kiss on the cheek as we separated on the courtroom steps.

-oOo-

Dad and Judge Priestly were already sitting at their table, deep in discussion with their lawyers, when we walked in. Uncle Stan and Aunt Evie were in their earlier seats, favouring us — me in particular — with renewed frosty expressions. I checked the clock; we still had five minutes to spare. I guessed Mr T was used to maximising his time in situations such as this. We'd no sooner sat in our respective places when the clerk came in and called for us all to rise.

The judge took his seat and motioned for us to do so too.

“Thank you for returning so promptly,” he started, not that we had much of a choice. “Before we proceed, I should like to share some developments.

“It appears that Dr Finster was less than forthcoming with his counsel and, following the disclosure of several salient facts this morning, many of which the gentleman in question was not aware, he felt that he was unable to provide effective representation under such circumstances, and asked to step down.

“This precipitated a lengthy discussion between the doctor and myself in which I left him in no uncertainty as to where he stood in regards to the law and its implications with respect to the charges levelled against him. He took a little convincing, but eventually agreed to change his plea. He has been remanded elsewhere and will be charged separately after a full investigation has recent medical practice.

“With just Mr Raymond Baxter and Judge Priestly to consider in this case, I hope that the remainder of these proceedings will pass swiftly and succinctly. Richard, would you please take the stand and may I remind you that you are still under oath?”

I took my seat in the witness box and glanced over nervously as Mr Simmons approached. Not without cause either.

“Mr Baxter, exactly how long have you been cross-dressing?”

Ding ding, straight in with an uppercut.

“Your honour,” Mr T stood to protest. “I fail to see the relevance.”

“Your honour,” Mr Simmons countered, “I intend to show that the nature of the relationship between my client and his son contributed to the, er, poor decisions he made in dealing with the situation.”

“I'll allow it, but you're on a short leash Mr Simmons.” The judge nodded at me, indicating I should answer.

“That’s a difficult question to answer exactly sir,” the courtesy seemed appropriate. “I suppose I would have been twelve the first time.”

“And why exactly did you decide to dress up that first time?”

“Some months earlier, I'd been invited to a neighbour's birthday party. It was a fancy dress thing, and the neighbour, who's birthday it was, was wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume that was all blue satin and lace. It was really lovely and for some reason I couldn't get out of my head how much I wanted to put it on.

“The feeling stayed with me for a long while after that. I couldn't explain it, and it actually scared me a little. Then one weekend, Mum and Dad took Alice, my sister,” I indicated her in the front row of the courthouse, “into town to buy some new clothes. They thought I was grown up enough to stay by myself at home, especially since our neighbours were in giving me somewhere to go if there was an emergency.

“A short while after they left me, I realised I could do anything I wanted, including slipping into Mum and Dad's bedroom and trying on some of my mum's things. The feeling was intoxicating — sort of exciting — at least as much because of the forbidden nature of what I was considering as because of the fascination it held.

“It took me a long while — nearly an hour I think — to muster up the courage to do anything, but eventually I did. I didn't do anything more than strip down to my underpants and put a dress on — a really pretty, floaty red one as I recall. Then I lost my nerve after about five or ten minutes. I made sure everything went back where I'd found it, and I shut myself in my room with my computer until Mum and Dad came back.”

“You say 'forbidden nature'. So you knew what you were doing was wrong?”

“I was brought up to believe all sorts of things were wrong and, whilst I don't actually recall this particular one ever being brought up in a family discussion, I do remember my parent's response to films and shows where a guy dresses up as a girl. They even spoke of pantomimes as being sordid because of the cross-dressing element.

“In a way, yes I had reason to believe that what I was doing was wrong, and I've spent a long while dealing with the sense of guilt that belief brought. However, even back then, I couldn't figure out exactly why it was wrong. It's taken me a long time to address that issue as well.”

Go on ask me, I willed him, but he was too good a lawyer. Never ask a question to which you don't know the answer, and he didn't know how I had addressed that the issue. He was bright enough to figure out that whatever I might say wasn't in his client's best interests, so he turned back to his script.

“How about after that first time, Richard?” Mr Simmons seemed to think he had earned first name privileges. I wasn't so sure, but I let it slide.

“It took me a long time to muster up the courage to do anything like it again, but the desire remained with me. Eventually, I think about eight months later, on one of those Saturdays when Mum took Alice shopping and Dad had to work, I was left alone in the house again, and again the temptation became too great.”

“Interesting word to use, Richard. Temptation tends to indicate that there was a tempter?”

“My parents would probably agree with you and suggest that it was the devil whispering in my ear. To me it was just a feeling — a powerful desire.”

“Thank you, please go on.”

“Your honour,” Mt T stood up. “I'm not entirely sure what the point is of listing each and every occasion when Richard put on a dress.”

“I'm inclined to sustain Mr Talbot's objection, Mr Simmons. The law does not recognise Richard's actions as being illegal, and neither does the medical profession regard them as indicative of an illness.”

“Your honour, I'm trying to establish the events that contributed to my client's state of mind when he decided on the course of action for which he is being tried.”

“Then perhaps I can save some time your honour.” Mr T gave me a warning look to remind me of what he had said about volunteering information, but I didn't want to dredge my memory for every time I'd put on a pair of knickers.

“How so, Richard?” the judge asked. Oh well too late now.

“To my certain knowledge, neither of my parents knew about my activities until I was fifteen and we attended my cousin Susan's wedding.”

“How can you be sure?” The judge again.

“Because of the way they reacted when I was caught in my other cousin's bridesmaid's dress. If the intensity of their disapproval at that time was anything to go by, there is no way they would have ignored even a vague suspicion of my doing something similar before then.”

“That seems reasonable, don't you agree Mr Simmons?”

“Yes your honour. But if I may clarify one or two things?”

“Keep it short Mr Simmons.”

“Richard, roughly how often would you say you were cross-dressing in the time leading up to your cousin's wedding?”

“It'd difficult to say exactly, but probably only once every few months.”

“Why so infrequently?”

“Well, for one thing, my parents didn't leave me alone in the house all that often. For another, I was struggling with my guilty feelings.”

“And after the wedding? Earlier, you described your parents reaction to finding you in flagrante dilecto. Did that stop you from dressing up?”

“For a long while, yes. If Mum and Dad were going to freak out about my putting on my cousin's clothes, I had no desire to find out what they'd do if they knew I was wearing my mum's.”

“But you didn't stop did you?”

“No sir. My sister, Alice was sympathetic. She was kind and understanding at a time when I could really have done with a bit of gentleness from my parents.”

“You blame your parents for their reaction?”

“I was a child, Mr Simmons. I was upset, and not entirely sure what I had done wrong...”

“Despite the sense of guilt you felt over dressing?”

“I felt a lot of things at the time Mr Simmons. Yes, I felt guilty. I also felt confused. I didn't understand why I had this desire to put on a dress. I couldn't talk to my parents about it because I knew they would just tell me it was wrong and not to do it. I felt euphoric every time I had a chance to dress, kind of like a build up of months of tension being lifted away, and that on top of the sensuous feeling of the soft material.”

“You were saying about your sister.”

“She came into my bedroom the evening I was caught. She always seemed to know how to make me feel better. She helped me to cry out my frustration and she made me laugh. She told me she liked the idea of having a sister, although at the time, I suspect that was what she thought what I wanted to hear.

“Over the months that followed, it became increasingly obvious that my mum wasn't going to let the issue drop, and my dad found a sort of middle ground where he would try to support me, but would also try to take Mum's point of view as well. In the midst of all that, I decided never to put on a dress again, but I didn't reckon on my own desires.

“One afternoon, about a year later, Mum and Dad left us home together for a few hours. No sooner had they left the house than Alice ran upstairs and brought down some things she'd bought for me.”

“What things?”

“A dress, shoes, underwear, tights — in my size too, and young person's clothes, not my Mum's more mature fashions. It was like lancing a boil — painful yet wonderful at the same time. I couldn't help thinking of how Mum and Dad would react if they knew, but then all the stress and pent up frustration of the past year just evaporated. I remember laughing and crying at the same time, and I remember Alice joining in.

“After that she helped me to buy stuff and then hid it in her closet, washed it with her things. She would engineer situations where Mum and Dad would go out together and leave us at home so we could 'pretend to be sisters' as she called it. If anything I dressed up more after that than I had before, and I'm pretty sure Mum and Dad never suspected a thing, right up until the end of the summer term.”

“And all this time your parents had no idea this was going on?”

“Not to my knowledge. Alice and I were very careful to make sure they didn't find out.”

“Why is that, Richard?”

“Because we were afraid — probably more I was afraid — of how they'd react. They can be quite unbending sometimes.”

“Did you feel it was right to keep secrets from your parents?”

“I hated doing it, but I didn't have a choice.”

“We always have a choice, Richard.”

“OK, my choice was between concealing the truth or confronting them with it, and they had already given me a clear indication of how well confrontation could have worked out.”

“You could have chosen to abstain, Richard.”

“Which shows that you know very little about the situation sir. If the previous year had shown me anything, it was that the longer I denied the desire to dress up, the more stressed I would get, until it started to show in other ways.”

“What ways?” It was more declaration of disbelief than question, but it was still a question.

“I became depressed, withdrawn, miserable, lethargic, apathetic”

“And simply putting on a dress changed this?” He sounded incredulous.

“Yes Mr Simmons, it did, it does. It's... It's like there's a piece of my mind that can only express itself in this manner, and if I neglect it, it becomes more insistent until I either give into it or crack up under the strain.”

“It sounds like a drug to me. You get high on it, then you go without for a few days and you get withdrawal symptoms. Couldn't you have gone cold turkey and overcome it?”

“I went cold turkey, Mr Simmons. As I said earlier, after the wedding fiasco I didn't dress up for about a year, by which time the desire to put on a dress was stronger than ever, not receding. Just how long a time would you think is reasonable to get over something like this?

“Drugs are different. You take a drug and it replaces part of your body's natural function. The more you take it, the more your body gives up. Going through withdrawal means denying yourself the artificial drug and forcing you body to start manufacturing the natural ingredients again. I don't have any artificial drug replacing part of my natural function. I have an additional natural function which will wither and complain whenever it's ignored.”

“Coming back to your discussion with your father in the car, Richard,” Mr Simmons tried to regain control of his cross-examination. “Why did you tell your father you were still wearing women's clothes?” He couldn't quite keep his distaste out of the last three words.

“I never meant to. It started out with me asking how I could fix things with Mum. Somehow that led my girlfriend, and why it was a bad idea that I had told her about what happened at my cousin's wedding, then he just out and asked if I was still dressing as a woman.”

“Tell me about his reaction.”

“He was angry that I was sharing it with people outside the family, that I wasn't thinking about how it would affect him and Mum if things got out. He suggested I see a doctor, to which I said there wasn't much doctors could do. I told him about gender dysphoria as explained to me by one of Jen's professors, and he dismissed it as quackery. He wanted to know exactly who knew, so I told him. As well as Jen and one of her profs, there was my sister Alice.

“That shocked him so deeply we had to stop driving for a while. When he got over the shock, he was all grim and business like. When we got home he made me go through my things and throw out all my female clothing, although I should say I'd asked my sister to go through it first and rescue a lot of it. He grounded Alice for helping me in what he called my perversion. He then settled into a routine of searching my room every morning, dragging me out on a half hour run, then giving me a list of grubby, unpleasant jobs to do.

“That lasted for ten days, by which time he had arranged my visit to his friend Dr Finster.”

“Which was when you ran off to your girlfriend's house.”

I nodded.

“And did you continue to dress up at your girlfriend's parent's house?”

“Before I left, Alice gave me back the clothing she'd been...”

“A simple yes or no will suffice, Richard.”

“I'm sorry Mr Simmons, but a plain yes or no won't be the whole truth in this circumstance, and since I swore to tell the whole truth...”

Mr Simmons looked a little bewildered. The judge tried hard to suppress a smile.

“Go ahead Richard, answer it your way, but keep it short.”

“Thank you your honour. As I was saying, Alice gave me back the clothes she'd been hiding and I packed them on top of everything else I was taking. When I reached my girlfriend's house, I dumped my bags in my room, and Mrs Talbot unpacked them while I was eating. She discovered my stash of dresses, which left me with pretty much no alternative but to explain what it was all about. I told them all about it and they were very understanding; certainly more so than my own parents.

“Yes I did dress as a woman during some of the time I stayed with them, but with their understanding and their blessing.”

“Thank you Richard, I think that's all I need for now.”

“Additional questions?” the judge asked Judge Priestly’s brief.

“Not at this time, your honour.”

“Rebuttal?” the judge asked Mr T, who declined.

With the judge's permission, I stood down.

-oOo-

Alice took the stand next and did a creditable job of describing our family life since Cousin Susan's wedding, and explained why she had helped me afterwards.

“It was like he was dying a little inside every day. I didn't understand why, but I could see he needed to dress up, so I helped him. He becomes a different person when he's wearing a dress, and I used to really enjoy spending time with him as Rachael.

“Mum and Dad couldn't see it. They were so caught up in the 'wrongness',” she did the thing with her fingers to indicate the quote marks, “of a boy wearing a dress, that they couldn't see Richard's need — the way he was so miserable when he couldn't dress.”

Under cross-examination she admitted to knowingly helping me and hiding my secret against her parent's wishes, explaining that she felt my need was greater, but there wasn't much else to ask.

After Alice came Uncle Stanley. Mr T let Mr Simmons go first, and it seemed that whatever spark of sympathy I had seen earlier, he had managed to squash completely out of existence. Uncle Stan could barely contain his righteous anger as he delivered an impassioned account of how I had defiled their home, betrayed their trust and brought untold anguish on all of them. It was seriously over the top, and I kept wondering why Mr T didn't object, until it was his turn to cross.

He stood up slowly, staring intently at a sheet of paper on the table in front of him, then approached the witness box, his expression unreadable.

“So Mr Hanson. Tell us about the last time you wore women's clothing.”

-oOo-