It was apparent that she was inviting me to be a girl the whole time, but she didn’t know what to call me. Without thinking, I came up with the answer.

“I’d be pleased and honored to be ...one of the girls, Aunt Margaret. And that would make me your niece, Susan. Right?”

The Cabin Part 2

Chapter 5: Trying On Suits

We sat on the deck, sipping lemonade. Cindy told us what she’d learned about the neighbors. Part of returning to a cabin each summer was catching up on what your neighbors have been doing; since they’re usually seasonal, too. She also told us about the country club dance coming up at the end of the summer, and that Julie DeMarini, the girl three cabins down, was now old enough to go along with Cindy (you had to be 13 and over). My aunt told what she’d learned from some of the other mothers. Soon it wound up in a discussion of bathing suits, hair, makeup, and so on. All in all, it was a pleasant chat. Actually, it was girl talk, and although I didn’t really know enough to contribute, at least I began to feel accepted as ‘one of the girls’, and it pleased me immensely. I felt more relaxed and, well, normal—like I fit in—than I ever did listening to the guys talk.

My aunt turned her attention to me. “You know ...uh, Susan ...we’ll need to get you some clothes so you’re not borrowing Cindy’s.”

Cindy jumped to the occasion. “Oh, that’s okay, Mom; then I can get some new stuff!”

My aunt laughed. “No, seriously, we’ll have to figure out what to get. And how much ...Susan, have you given any thought to ...well, what you’re doing? Or going to do?”

“No, not really,” I said. “I just know it feels right. I mean, I feel better, somehow. More ...real and more me than ever, and I don’t want to go back to what I felt like yesterday or the days before. But I know what you mean.”

“Mom, can she stay the whole summer? I mean—” Cindy looked at me quizzically. “—if Susan wants to. Anyway, I’ve got a lot of clothes, you know that, and we can have fun putting together some outfits for her.” Then she stopped, rolled her eyes and said, “God, I can’t believe it! I just said ‘she’ and ‘her’ without thinking. You’re right, Sue, it’s so much easier relating to you this way!”

“Whoa—there’s an ‘80s word, ‘relating’. After all, Cin, aren’t we relatives already?”

My aunt nodded. “Yes we are, my new niece, but there’s a problem. Three of them, actually. Well, we don’t have to deal with them for another nine days. Right now, I’ve got some calls to make, then we’ll talk some more. In the meantime,” she said with a smile, “what do you girls have planned for the rest of the day?”

Cindy looked at me and burst out laughing. “Nothing! I just met Susan, and we don’t really know each other yet. So what do you want to do, Susan?” My aunt headed into the house.

“I don’t know, Cindy, because ‘I just got here, myself’. You know, I saw you reading out on the dock when I first woke up, and I thought: God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to do that. Now, for a while anyway, I can. But right now, I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Listen to us! We sound like we’re right out of that old movie Marty—you ever see that? I saw it with Mom. ‘What do you wanna do? I dunno, what do you wanna do?’ Geez! Okay, let’s start getting some clothes for you for tonight and tomorrow.”

We went to the laundry room and retrieved her clothes; I helped carry them up to her room. We laid them on the bed, and she began opening drawers, pulling more clothes out and stacking them on the bed. I looked around; I’d never been in my aunt’s room before. Last year, Cindy was in the attic, my aunt and uncle shared this bedroom, and the boys and I were in the other bedroom. I had to marvel at how things had changed in just one year.

I looked at Cindy’s work in progress; she had separated shorts, skirts, tops, sweaters, and then stopped. She looked at me and was obviously embarrassed. I asked her, “What?” and she pulled out another drawer.

“What about undies?” she said.

I blushed. “Uh, I’ve got a confession to make, Cindy. I’m wearing one of yours right now.” I didn’t know how she’d take it, but I never would have guessed the answer.

“Cool! Which ones?”

“Yellow bikini—”

“Cool! I like those, but you can keep them. I think I got a set of three or something. Whew! Well, that makes things easier. Give me a second; I’ll pull out my favorite things, and then you choose whatever you want from what’s left.” She sorted through and quickly built a pile of lingerie that she put back in the drawer.

Cindy grinned at me. “Okay, go to it, girl!”

I never dreamed I would be standing there, wearing her panties, sorting through things that would become my panties! I was kind of at a loss where to begin; seeing my predicament, she began pulling out several items and giving a running commentary on how cool they were. Then she stopped and blushed. I followed her eyes and saw her looking at bras. She’d only begun developing since last summer, but I knew she was already wearing a bra full time, and had a variety of types and colors.

“Tell you what,” she said thoughtfully. “You’ve gotta have something, so here’s a couple of camisoles and—oh, here it is!—a great first bra.” She added a shiny blue wisp to the pile. “Look, it’s silly to separate the sets. So take the bra that matches each of the panties. And what else do you need, umm—I know; swimsuits! What kind do you like, one-piece or two-piece? Oh, geez!” She burst out laughing. “Duh! You wouldn’t know! Okay, I’ve got tons of swimsuits. Here, take this one and these two. Try them on and we’ll see.” She handed me the brightly colored nylon suits and went back to sorting. I didn’t know where to go, then realized that she meant to try them on right there.

“Uh, Cindy? You want me to go to the bathroom, right?”

“No, silly, right here—oh, I see what you mean. I forgot already. Well, no need running up and down stairs. I’ll turn my back. I just was thinking we’re all girls here! Girls change clothes in front of each other all the time. But I’ll turn around—this time!” she grinned.

She turned around, and I pulled off the top I was wearing and then pulled the shorts down. I decided to keep the panties on because of modesty, and because I didn’t know if my penis would stay put. I pulled the first suit on; it was a green racing tank style with abstract splashes of Day-Glo color. It felt very strange to even think of trying on a girl’s suit; that is, it felt strange in my head but right in my heart. I mean, maybe it was society or my twelve years of hearing what boys do and don’t do that was saying, ‘Don’t try it on’, but my heart—my soul—said, ‘Yes, it’s right for you.’ So I listened to my heart.

“Okay. First subject,” I said.

Cindy turned around and nodded her head ‘pretty good’, then turned around again. I quickly stripped the suit off and next found a dark blue two-piece, which I momentarily thought would be ridiculous. Oh well, I thought, even tiny little girls wear these. I pulled on the two pieces but the panties showed over the top of the bottom, so I rolled the panties under. But try as I could, I couldn’t get the top tied.

“Cindy? You gotta help me here. I’m lost!” I laughed.

Cindy chuckled and turned around; I turned my back to her, held my hair up, and she tied the suit. I turned around again, and she gave a much more enthusiastic nod.

“Definitely cool. Blue is a great color for you. Of course, green was, too! Okay, I’ll untie you, then try the last one.”

This time she didn’t really turn away, so I didn’t, either. She didn’t stare, exactly, as much as give me a critical looking-over.

“You know, Sue, you’ve got a kind of cute figure. No, really, I mean it! I mean, for a twelve-year old!”

“Almost thirteen—two more weeks, and you know it!” I felt kind of strange entering my teenaged years as a girl, but suddenly I knew I wanted to do it. It was like I wanted to put the lonely boy behind and start fresh and new as a teenage girl. I don’t know where this feeling came from, or how it kept growing, but it was certain. Of course, everything depended on whether my male cousins would kill me or not ...

I tried on the last suit, which had a halter top. Cindy immediately made a face and shook her head, so it looked like the blue bikini. A blue bikini, for me? This was all going really fast, maybe too fast. I started to get dressed again in the shorts and top. Cindy stared at my—her—panties.

“Um, I don’t know how to ask this ...” she began.

I knew exactly what she wanted to know, and decided to play with her. “Well, ask, silly. We’re all girls here,” I said, tossing my hair back.

She laughed. “Okay, what did you do with it?”

“With what?” I asked innocently.

“You know, your ...thing, your penis! Ew, that’s so weird to say when you look like you do! Come on, what’s going on?”

I took pity on her and described to her how it was tucked neatly away. She marveled at how natural I looked, and asked if it would pop out accidentally. I sincerely hoped not. She let me continue getting dressed. As I was pulling my hair out of the neckline, my aunt appeared in the doorway.

“My goodness your hair is thick, Susan! Maybe it’s time for a trim. Anyway, did you find some things?”

We showed her the stack of things, even the two-piece. She stared at me silently for a moment, then asked about dresses.

“Mom! It’s summer! Mellow out!” cried Cindy.

My aunt smiled. “Of course it’s summer, and time for shorts and little tops and things, but we will be wearing a dress or two, sundresses, and some skirts. Besides, we don’t even know if Susan likes dresses or not.” She looked at me questioningly.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never worn one. Of either.”

“Never ever?” Aunt Margaret asked probingly. I shook my head. “Well, I’m amazed. You seem perfectly suited to girl’s clothes, I must say. And I mean that as a compliment. Well, let’s see what we’ve got in the way of skirts.” She opened a closet, rummaged around and pulled out a denim miniskirt.

“Here, try this one with the top you’ve got on,” she said, handing it to me. I looked at Cindy, who nodded encouragingly. I stripped off the shorts and began to turn the skirt around, trying to figure out how it fit, when I noticed my aunt staring at the panties with an odd look.

“Aunt Margaret ...I’m sorry, I, uh ...down in the laundry room you said I should help myself to Cindy’s things ...” I felt guilty and blushing and awful.

My aunt snapped out of her stare. “No, no, that’s not why I’m staring. Yes, I did mean find some undies if you could. I just never ...I just never expected you to look so good in them, so ...natural!”

Cindy grinned and bounced enthusiastically. “Me either, Mom! I already told her she’s got a cute figure. She, um, told me she ...‘tucked’ herself ...her ‘boy’ thing ...” Cindy trailed off, embarrassed and realizing how silly it all sounded; we were getting in pronoun difficulties.

“I understand, honey. Okay, look, everybody, we need a serious talk. Susan, are you going to try the skirt on?”

I stepped in, pulled it on and they laughed. I looked down, and had put the zipper in the front. Aunt Margaret walked to me, unzipped it slightly and turned it around to the back. It immediately fit better and the front looked smooth and my legs looked great. It was like looking down at a normal girl’s legs. My aunt nodded her approval, Cindy gave me a thumbs up, and we went downstairs to the kitchen. The skirt felt better than the sleep shirt had, more real somehow, and I really liked the feeling. Cindy got mugs and my aunt had tea ready; I realized that by sleeping most of the day it was almost night.

We sat with our tea and my aunt began talking. While I had been trying on clothes with Cindy, my aunt had put in a call to my father. Because of the time difference and his schedule, they would be talking in about four more hours. She asked me what I wanted her to say. I had no idea.

“Tell him ...oh, geez, can’t you tell him I drowned in the lake?” I said ruefully.

She chuckled. “I don’t think that would get you off the hook. I think you should talk to both of your parents, but let me do the initial ice-breaking. But here’s what we need to know right now: what do you think is going on? Is wearing Cindy’s clothes just a lark? Is it just a summer play-thing, something that you can stop and never do again? Because if it is, you should change right now and never again put on girl’s clothes.”

The kitchen fell silent as they stared at me. I had already been thinking about it all day; even though it was only a few hours old, the feeling was certain.

“Aunt Margaret, Cindy ...I have never worn girl’s clothes in my life. You’ve got to believe me. I’m not sure if I ever thought about what it would be like to be a girl, or to dress as a girl, at any rate. I do know that I’ve been mostly unhappy the last couple of years. I don’t really know why, but I never really got happy; I just had these long periods of unhappiness or … just feeling nothing. I don’t seem to fit in with the kids in school, or in the neighborhood, or anywhere. I just don’t ...fit anywhere. Now I think I know why.”

My aunt reached out and put her hand on mine. I smiled weakly and took a sip of tea.

“Being a teenager, or almost a teenager, is tough, honey,” she said sympathetically.

“I know, but it’s more than that. Okay, I’ve got to say something really harsh and it may hurt your feelings, but I want you to know up-front that I don’t mean to hurt.” I got their approval and went on. “Okay, looking at Uncle Jack, and Chuck, and Larry—and for the most part, other guys at school—I don’t ...I don’t want any part of them! I mean, they’re all in a club that I don’t want to be a member of! Last year it was kind of rough, but this year, what a bunch of macho, jerky—” I stopped myself, thinking I’d gone too far.

“—pigs!” Cindy finished for me.

We all burst out laughing. Thank God Cindy had rescued the moment!

My aunt nodded sadly. “Yes, they are macho, jerky pigs. And I feel terrible about it. Jack wasn’t always like that, you know that; but when he got into sales his whole personality changed. The guys he works with, and now at the golf club, I blame them. Of course, they probably have other guys to blame. And now Jack’s carrying it to an extreme with his macho stuff, and of course Chuck wants to be ‘just like Dad’, and Larry wants to be ‘just like Chuck’, and on and on. There are good guys out there, of course, even if it takes some looking to find one. Meanwhile I’ve got three macho, jerky pigs. I try to rein them back when they get too extreme, but lately even that doesn’t help. It’s the way Chuck is, now; he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. I really fear that Larry will go the way of Chuck, although I think Larry has more compassion.” It was her turn to stare sadly at her tea.

Cindy said, “It’s okay, Mom; remember what parents always say—‘it’s just a phase’? Let’s hope so. Anyway, it’s really good training for me to see what not to look for in a boyfriend!”

We chuckled a bit, but it was a sad moment.

“So, Aunt Margaret, you’re saying I could be one of the ‘compassionate’ males to balance the macho pigs. Yeah, but you know, that only feels like half a solution. I’ve always admired you and Cindy, and the …quiet strength you’ve shown, and the special relationship you have between you. Last night, when I took sides with you against the guys, I really wanted to be part of that relationship, and I still do! But I also think maybe it’s recognizing the girl in me. I just never realized how much girl I may have in me.”

Aunt Margaret tilted her head and paused before saying, “Okay, forget about the three guys for a moment. Right now, if you could spend time this summer as a boy or a girl, which would you choose?”

I didn’t really need to think about it. “Girl. Absolutely. Maybe part of it’s because it’s all new and exciting, but mostly because I really think that may be where my future lies. I know it’s tough; I’ve seen enough talk shows on TV, but maybe I’m one of those people who should have been born a girl.”

“Direct question that I asked before: Do you want to be a girl, or just be like a girl?”

I surprised myself by how quickly and fiercely I answered. “I want to be a girl! Not a boy pretending to be like a girl. Be a girl. But I know it probably can’t happen.”

The strangest smile crossed my aunt’s face. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps we can work things so it can happen”

My heart raced. “Please let me spend the summer—and maybe beyond—as a girl, Aunt Margaret.”

“Fair enough. Knees together, dear.”

I quickly did so and blushed.

Cindy burst out laughing. “I’ve heard that often enough; now I get to see somebody else put up with it! Welcome to the downside of girlhood, Sue—you’ll see it’s not all a bed of roses!”

Chapter 6: First Night Out

Since the men had taken the station wagon, we were technically stranded at the house, but my aunt and Mrs. Doyle, in the cabin next door, had worked out an arrangement with their car. Since it was now dark, and my aunt didn’t feel like cooking, she suggested we see if the car was available and go out for dinner; nothing fancy, just a burger joint across the lake. She recommended we dress warmly because it was cooling off, and suggested I wear ‘my new yellow sweater’ that she’d already washed and dried. She went off to phone next door while Cindy and I pulled sweaters on. I started downstairs, but Cindy stopped me and selected two fine gold chains from her dresser. She put the necklace around my neck and fastened it behind, then attached the little bracelet to my wrist. She told me to keep my hand out, and spritzed something, telling me to rub my wrists together. She sprayed herself, nodded to me, and we went downstairs.

Aunt Margaret met us at the door, ready to go, and we were halfway across to the Doyle’s cabin when I realized I was walking around in girl’s clothes—and in a skirt, too! I started thinking about the cologne, and the gold chains, as well. I started to freak and turn back to our cabin, but Cindy playfully pushed against my back in the direction of the neighbors. So, trusting in the darkness, I continued on to their cabin, but I was very conscious of my naked legs and the swish of my skirt.

Mrs. Doyle met my aunt at the door and handed her the keys; I vaguely remembered they’d done this last year, too. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever met the family, though, and it looked like I wouldn’t have time now, because my aunt was already opening the car, a little hatchback. We crowded in and set off. My aunt said we’d pick up some groceries for the neighbors as a ‘thank you’ for using their car. We drove along the shoreline, and it was a beautiful night, with the lakeside cabins’ windows reflecting across the lake. There was a delicious scent in the air, of equal parts lake, clean air, and summer close by.

We went to the burger joint, a mom ‘n pop place with patio tables, and my aunt gave them our order. Cindy and I chose an outdoor table near a space heater, and just before we sat, Cindy leaned next to me and quietly said, “Remember to smooth your skirt behind you”, and I did so, as I’d seen girls do. I also remembered to keep my knees together; it wasn’t so hard because it was a little chilly and I was warmer that way. I found that I had pulled my sweater sleeves over my palms, with just my fingertips showing, curled over and holding the sleeve, and Cindy had done the same with her sweater. We both noticed and laughed, and she said, “See? A natural!” and I relaxed a little. My aunt called from the counter and Cindy told me to stay put, and went to help with the drinks. They brought the food to the table and we began eating.

As we chatted, I realized that I felt totally at peace. A little chilled from the night air, perhaps, but I felt really good. The burger was the first real food I’d had since last night, and I was suddenly ravenous, but also fighting myself to take small bites like Cindy did, and wipe my mouth with the napkin frequently. Inside I chuckled; being a girl meant a whole lot more than wearing a skirt—it was a whole new way of being! I remembered Jack Lemmon’s line from the great old movie Some Like It Hot: “It’s a whole other sex!” and it was true. Well, I liked it a lot better than my old sex, and was going to do my best to do justice to my new sex.

After finishing, we tossed our trash and got back in the car. On the way home we stopped at a little market and Aunt Margaret gave us each a couple of items to find. Walking down the aisles of food, all alone for the first time, I caught sight of a pretty blonde girl in the convex mirror hanging on the wall. Of course, it was me, but there was also no way that it looked like a boy. I tried to move naturally, like I wasn’t studying myself in the mirror, and I had to admit my aunt and Cindy were right—I looked like a perfectly normal girl, at least from a distance. Up close, I don’t know; I’d have to check that out when we got home. We all rendezvoused at the counter, then took the bags to the car and headed home. We all stood on our neighbor’s porch as we handed over the bags and the car keys. My aunt introduced me as ‘and this is Susan’ with no explanation; I said a small ‘hi’ and leaned back into the darkness. We walked back to our cabin with a contented sigh. Once the lights came on, I realized how tired I was.

“Wash up, girls; let’s get ready for bed. Sue, your father will be calling soon, but I think you should still try to get some sleep before we talk.”

Cindy told me to wash first, so I removed the sweater and green top, but wasn’t sure about the necklace. Finally I spun it around and got it unclasped, as well as the bracelet, and set them aside. I washed and dried thoroughly, and Cindy knocked at the door. I opened it, and she handed me a white nightgown and some panties. Well, that answered that question, I thought. I stripped and went to the bathroom, sitting. When I was done, I wiped and tucked myself carefully—in fact, I’d never really popped out of the tuck, which I found encouraging. I pulled on the nightgown panties, then had an idea. I pulled them back down again and dusted myself with some perfumed talc, then pulled them up. As I pulled the nightgown over my head, I thought maybe this is what it would be like from now on—and the thought gladdened me. Every minute I spent as Susan seemed to reinforce how right it was. I knew there’d be all sorts of questions and problems—and maybe a big ‘no’ from my parents—but somehow, some way, I wanted to start living as a girl.

I cleaned up, left the bathroom and called for Cindy. She told me ‘good night, Sue’ and hugged me, and I trudged up the stairs to my attic room. When I got there, I found some subtle changes in the place. My aunt or Cindy had put some fresh flowers in a vase, and my sweaty sheets had been replaced by fresh new ones in a soft yellow with embroidery. There was even a throw pillow and an old teddy bear. I started to get tears; I was beginning to see how much the other two were behind me, and I could cry with gratitude. I sat on the bed, swung my legs under the covers—knees together!—and was asleep instantly.

Chapter 7: Talking With Mom and Dad

My aunt gently shook me awake; my parents were calling from France. She handed me a chenille robe and pointed to slippers by the bed, and we quietly went downstairs. She had a pot of tea going, and poured us each a cup. I could tell that she hadn’t been asleep yet, and as we got to the kitchen phone I saw that she’d been making notes on a legal pad. About me? We’d already agreed that she should talk to them first, and I was surprised to discover that they’d already been talking and it was now my turn. I was acutely conscious of standing in a pretty nightgown and chenille robe as I picked up the phone.

“How are you, uh ...honey?” my mom said, slightly scratchy from the distance.

“Fine, Mom. How’s the trip?”

“Delightful! Of course, with all your father’s meetings, I have a lot of time on my hands, so that means—”

“Shopping!” we both said simultaneously, and laughed. We’d always had an easy relationship. It was my dad that was the most distant—and not just because he was in Europe so much.

My mom’s laugh quieted. “Margaret had some ...very interesting news for us, honey. Do you want to tell us about it?”

I didn’t really know where or how to begin; it turned out that my aunt had told them quite a bit already, so I just had to answer questions, mostly. I spoke with my mom for about ten minutes, very easy and gentle, then braced myself to talk with my father. Since he traveled so much, we hadn’t really established a relationship for the last few years; after the initial ‘hello’, we felt like strangers. He asked me some direct, no-nonsense questions: ‘Do you feel like a boy or a girl? Did your aunt or uncle say or do anything to make you think this way? Do you think it’s just for fun for the summer, or is this a down-deep sort of thing?’ and so on. I was quietly shocked that neither of them were freaking out, and that neither of them told me ‘no, you can’t do this’. Both seemed to be clear on the same point—that whatever I was doing was not forced and was acceptable to me. Maybe it was because I was wearing a nightgown, looking down at my bare legs, and playing with the gold necklace Cindy gave me; but my feelings of being a girl intensified. No, I think a better way to put it is ‘they solidified’, like in Physics, from kind of free-floating gas to a solid, definite certainty. And sitting there with the nightgown occasionally slipping off my shoulders, keeping my knees together, and slightly chilly, I began—for the first time—to feel the first touches of femininity. I actually began to feel more girlish talking to my folks.

I think it even began to affect the way I was speaking; my dad asked me if I ‘talked that way’ around my uncle. I noticed my aunt had been looking at me strangely, as well, so I kind of ‘butched it up’ without being too overt about it—but it had surprised all of us how easily I’d slipped into ‘girl-speak’, sounding just like Cindy. My mom came back on the phone and surprised the hell out of me by asking what I was wearing now, which of course sounded like a line from a man’s obscene phone call. We laughed a bit, and then I quietly told her ‘a nightgown’ and she asked me to describe it and how I felt about wearing it, and I didn’t hesitate to tell her how pretty it was and how wonderful it felt. Then she asked what I’d worn during the day; same thing of describe and how did I feel. When I told her about the skirt, she even asked if I’d remembered to keep my knees together! Feeling a little braver, I told her about the swim suit, and I could tell the fact that it was a two piece bothered her, because she began to talk about normal teenage girl breast development! I was shocked and blushed but somehow it felt really nice between us. She gently asked me how I felt about boys; I told her I hadn’t really thought about it—everything was really about how I felt in the world and about the world, and boys or girls would come later. Just before we said goodbye she actually suggested that maybe we’d have a fun shopping trip when she returned—and I knew she meant for girl’s clothing!

My dad came back on the line and asked to speak with my aunt; before we said goodbye he asked if I was sure this was what I wanted to do. I told him it was, and I handed the phone over to Aunt Margaret. I watched as she listened intently, nodding and looking at me. She listened for a long time, with only a ‘yes, no, or maybe’, then hung up. I glanced at the clock; we’d actually talked an hour and a half!

My aunt hung up the phone and looked at me quietly for a moment. I said nothing; finally she said, “You know they love you very much?”

I nodded.

She smiled sadly. “Good, because sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to.”

I got a cold chill of fear that I was going to have to go back to being a boy.

“I mean, your father never intended to travel as much as he does, and your mom’s been working so hard so she’ll get promoted to where she doesn’t have to work so hard. Then they can both spend more time with you. I’ll be honest, they blame themselves, although they shouldn’t. Nobody knows why these things happen. Scientists think they’ve found a gene for homosexuality in men, but nothing similar in lesbians. Nobody’s found anything that definitely proves someone is transgender, but it is an undeniable, unalterable condition.”

In the rough-and-tumble domestic life with Uncle Jack and the boys, it was easy to forget that my aunt had been a sociologist and kept up on the world; her life wasn’t all just making bacon and eggs for her family. She obviously knew a lot more about this than I did, so I asked her about ‘my condition’.

She looked at the phone for a moment. “Well, your dad’s going to check the internet for everything he can find about ...‘your condition,’” she chuckled. “He’s going to find a lot! And I’m not crazy about the word ‘condition’; I know I just used it, but it makes no sense if you think of me being a woman is a condition, or Jack being a man is a condition. Identity’s a better word. Anyway, the procedure is pretty well documented.”

“What procedure?”

“Oh, I’m sorry; the testing procedure for transsexuals, although now ‘transgender’ is the more acceptable term. Makes more sense, too. You see, gender identity—and that’s what we’re talking about here, about how you feel about yourself, not homosexuality—has a large body of documented cases, and the leading research facilities have procedures to test individuals. Now, I don’t have any Rorschach ink blots laying around here, and I don’t remember all the specific analytical paperwork used, but I can hazard a pretty good guess that, psychologically, you’d test pretty far into the female range. The reason I say that is how easily you assimilated the feminine role without any ‘camp’ quality.”

I was amazed at how learned she was, and how she talked to me like an adult. I asked her, “But I’ve never thought about it before. I’ve seen transsexuals on talk shows; don’t they have life-long desires to change sex?”

“Again, honey, we’re talking ‘gender identity’ here, not sex-changes per se. Some talk show guests are genuinely transgender, but many are drag queens brought on for the controversy, just to stir up ratings. The majority of transgender people just want to get on with their lives in their ‘proper’ gender, while the drag artistes over-emphasize elements of femininity, often outrageously. You see, you don’t exhibit any drag tendencies; you never viewed the world from a specifically feminine viewpoint before, but not from a typical masculine one, either. I mean, let’s face it—you’re not like Chuck and Larry!”

We laughed at that, then both quieted as we realized that they’d be returning in a few days. My aunt refreshed her tea.

“Okay, to business. Your father’s surfing the net for transgender info right now; your mom and dad will read the downloads and write some letters. They’ll email or maybe FedEx us something as soon as they have something. I just hope it arrives before Jack gets home ...Well, we have at least four more days before they return. In the past, their ‘ten-day’ trips somehow never quite go that long; I think they lose their taste for the great outdoors.”

“Or they’re afraid of losing their taste for your bacon and eggs!” I laughed.

“That could be true, too! Anyway, if you want to, let’s continue our ‘experiment’ with you as Susan. Or have you had enough girlhood?”

“Not at all! Oh, God, Aunt Margaret—I’m just getting started! Did you notice the way I was talking to my folks?” She nodded, and pointed out that I was still talking that way. “I wasn’t doing that on purpose; it just happened! Maybe from spending all day with Cindy, I don’t know, but the important thing is, it feels natural. Normal. Whatever!”

“Well, to get serious for a moment, I think it’s important that when Jack and the boys return, you be dressed as a boy and act as a boy.” She saw my face fall. “No, think about it; there’s enough rampant testosterone among them that they could seriously hurt you just as a knee-jerk reaction. And I do mean ‘jerk’! Give me time to talk to Jack about you, and we’ll see what we can do about the rest of the summer. Your dad said they’re still looking at coming back around Labor Day; depends on some business negotiations. Your news might change things—we’ll have to see what the FedEx holds—but if that’s still the case, then you could have a long, miserable, black-n-blue summer unless we play this just right.”

“I’m not afraid of them anymore.” It was true; somehow, knowing what my future could be freed me of the misery I felt around them.

“Fear has nothing to do with it. I imagine Joan of Arc didn’t fear the English, but that didn’t stop them from torching her, right?” Chastened, I nodded. She smiled and patted my hand. “We’ll do our best to get to know Susan—and help Susan get to know herself—and then hide her away when they get back. Hopefully, you’ll have to lay low for only a few days until Jack and I get it talked out. I’ve got some ideas how to bring him around. Anyway, it’s late—to bed, young lady!”

I almost burst inside with happiness hearing her call me that, and feeling deep-down that it was true! I hugged her, then kissed her cheek, cleared the table of the tea things, and went upstairs. Just before turning out the light and getting in bed, I looked in the mirror on the small dresser. Looking back at me was a happy—but tired—pretty girl.

End of Part 2