Everything was fine with me; just as long as I could take the pills. I had to completely put them out of my mind; I really didn’t know what they were or what they’d do because Dr. Janssen had said they’d be running a blind test. My aunt also gave me a new journal to keep notes in about how I felt day by day, because that would help with the test. But secretly I felt I was on my way!

The Cabin - Part 10

Chapter 26: Going Off

Things settled down to a lazy routine after that. Every day either my aunt or uncle would drive to see Larry. Sometimes Chuck or Cindy would go. When Cindy went, I usually went too, but didn’t go in to see Larry because he was still so weak and they didn’t want him to have to deal with my change. I didn’t mind; these times gave me an hour or two to be on my own around people who had only known me as a girl. I got friendly with some of the nurses, the lady that ran the snack shop, and one of the candy stripers, a teenaged girl who had a pretty, young face, and by contrast had the older name of Dorothy. None of these people knew I had been born a boy, and it was incredibly reassuring how they accepted me as Susan. I had a shock one day when I was sitting in the coffee shop with Dorothy on her break, and one of the doctors was sitting nearby with his teenaged son. The son was a cute guy, with curly long hair and great eyes, I thought casually, then realized I’d been having typical girl’s thoughts. Dorothy’s next comment shook me.

“Yeah, he’s great, isn’t he? His dad’s an OB-GYN and I think he knows more than he should about us.”

“Us?” I was confused, thinking she meant the two of us.

“Women, silly! I think he knows more than a normal high school guy should. Or maybe it’s just his eyes,” she said dreamily, stirring her coffee. Then she licked the spoon and looked at me, wiggling an eyebrow. “You want to meet him?”

I was flustered and didn’t know what to say. “Sure, I guess ...no, it’d be too weird. I mean, if we meet ...”

“You’re so funny, Sue! You’ve got the hots for him already–it’s written all over your face!”

“I do not!” I said in a forced whisper. “I just think going up and meeting for no good reason is awkward. Too obvious.”

She was laughing at me good-naturedly. “You do! You do like him! Look, it’s cool; I think he’s great looking, too, but I’ve got my eyes set on another guy so I’ll help you meet him. Oh, by the way, his name’s Eric.”

“What is he, a soap opera guy with a name like that? How do you know his name?” I asked.

She smirked at me. “Field research! Okay, you don’t want to just walk over–although I like the direct approach–so you’ll have to meet ‘accidentally’. It’s going to be hard because I don’t know when he’ll be in; I’ll have to find that out somehow. Since his dad’s in OB and your cousin’s up on six, you won’t even be on the same floor when you do come in. Hmm; I’ll have to give this some thought. So that’s a project for me. But I’ll bet you’ll go to sleep dreaming of him!”

I was surprised at how natural the whole thing had seemed, and my own reaction to a cute boy sitting across the room, but I was truly shocked by how accurate Dorothy’s prediction was. That night, I had a dream where I was in a gauzy white dress with a breeze blowing gently as my hair swayed in the breeze. It was a scene like a travel brochure for the Caribbean, and I was kind of embarrassed about how clichéd it seemed–until I saw Eric walking towards me wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt. He had a single red rose. Damn Bachelor TV show! We met without speaking. He held out the rose and I cupped it in my hand to smell it. He cupped my hand in his and our fingers intertwined. I looked at him and almost fell into the depth of his eyes. I just had to taste him and I leaned up to kiss him. His lips were smooth but strong, and he wrapped his arms around me as my arms reached around his neck. We held the kiss and seemed to float down to the soft, cool earth.

I suddenly woke up, sweaty and breathing hard, like from a nightmare but without any of the nightmare fear. There was an incredible flushed feeling from between my legs up to my hairline and I felt sort of twitchy all over. I rolled out of bed and walked around in my room a little to walk off the twitchiness. There was a soft breeze coming from the window that stirred the hem of my nightgown; it reminded me of the dream and I got all flushed again. I had to sit down then, knees and ankles together, crossed my arms around my knees holding my elbows and leaned on my legs. I felt a soft shudder and then a relaxing release, and I could feel the breeze more now. I had to write this down in my journal. As I wrote, I thought that on one level, the whole thing had been like a commercial, and, yeah, it was kind of clichéd, but that couldn’t explain why I’d felt the way I had. I decided I’d try to fall asleep thinking about something else, like going to Disneyland or flying or something. But I kept thinking about Eric’s eyes ...

During most days, Cindy and I would walk or ride bikes or lay around the lake if it was hot enough, and it usually was. If we were going to do some out-and-out swimming, I’d wear the one-piece racing suit, and as I got more tanned the hot pink looked even better against my skin. But I really loved the blue bikini, and wore it as often as possible. Cindy and I would goop up with suntan oil, and as we lay there I just felt fantastically girly. It was a little weird laying on my stomach and undoing the back so there were no tan lines, but Cindy said it’d look great with a backless dress, something I hadn’t had the pleasure of wearing, but couldn’t wait to try.

I really wanted serious bikini tan lines, and loved seeing them when I saw myself in the mirror after a shower, but Cindy said that so I could wear strapless tops and dresses without a visible tan line, I should pull the straps off and just cover the smallest part of my breasts. Okay, I didn’t really have any breasts–yet–but over the course of the next few weeks my nipples began to hurt a little and push out, like there were little marbles under each. I was so thrilled and like all young girls, wished they would grow faster. But at least I knew that some of the pills I was taking were female hormones. Cindy, on the other hand, had lovely milky-white mounds that promised a great shape, and I was so envious!

I loved the little irritation that I felt in my nipples when they were rubbed by a shirt or even a towel, and I knew that all too soon it would be a bother but the newness was exciting. Even more exciting was the fact that my nipples were proof that I was moving forward.

There were other things happening to me that I thought might be the result of the hormones. Maybe it was my imagination but it seemed like I saw more colors, or with greater clarity, or something. I even felt more of an interest about things like playing with Hannah, doing my hair, cooking with my aunt, and so on. I’d done these things initially because I was so glad to do girl’s things while dressed as a girl, but now I really felt them. I carefully wrote down everything in the journal.

After a month had passed I met again with Dr. Janssen for a long session. Two weeks after the shots I came in and gave fluids and turned in my journal to be copied, but we didn’t talk at length. Saving it up, I guess. I did the fluids and journal thing with her nurse, and finally sat with the doctor. She gave me a form, like a test, to fill out while she read my updated journal. I finished the test about the time the doctor finished reading my journal and making her notes. We discussed some of the entries–curiously, she didn’t comment on my dreams about Eric–and a little about the test. The nurse came in with my fluid results and Dr. Janssen read them, nodded, but said nothing. Then she examined between my legs, poked me here and there, and felt around my nipples, all without comment. She was all business that day. I did get a smile when I waved goodbye, though.

I went home and it was life as usual for three more days, then she called and talked to me and Aunt Margaret on the extension line. Dr. Janssen had decided the blind test was concluded; she’d passed around my journal, test, and other documents to other doctors, and the decision came back to move me fully off medication for a time. I was crushed, destroyed, wiped out! I could tell even Aunt Margaret was bummed. Dr. Janssen reminded me that we’d talked about this possibility, and reluctantly we agreed with her. She said I could still dress as I pleased, and we scheduled an appointment for two weeks later.

The next two weeks were very strange. After a few days things seemed ‘flatter’ to me; colors were washed out–although maybe it was the haze around the lake; smells were ‘off’–although maybe the lack of breeze had something to do with it, and I just felt cranky. And I had my first fight with Cindy. I still have no idea what set it off; I think it was something in a magazine. The next thing I knew we were going at it about me being a ‘little princess’ and ‘playacting’ and ‘she didn’t appreciate how good she had it’ and all sorts of stuff. She dragged in Eric; I dragged in her lack of boys, and it was just awful. The worst part of it is, almost everything Cindy said was dead-on right. I was acting like a little princess, and a cranky one at that. Even Bonnie steered clear of me. My aunt just looked at me with sad eyes and shook her head. Uncle Jack and Chuck, of course, didn’t seem to notice, although after one exchange between Cindy and me, Chuck made a ‘rowr’ cat-fight sound at us. However, through it all, I never once felt like going back to being a boy or dressing like one. And I followed my doctor’s advice and carefully wrote down everything as exactly as I could, without trying to color anything one way or the other.

At the follow-up with Dr. Janssen, which was a long one, she asked to meet privately with my aunt as well as with me, as well as the usual examination and test. We went home without speaking about it, just more depressed than ever. But the next day Dr. Janssen called and spoke with Aunt Margaret, who turned and looked at me with a growing smile. It turned out that I’d passed the final–and painful–hurdle, and Dr. Janssen had just called in a prescription for full-strength female hormones and I was going to proceed! Dr. Janssen had had a long talk with my parents in Europe–I had no idea how often they talked–and everyone was in agreement that, simply put, I had no business being a boy; it was extremely doubtful that it even could have been corrected years ago, and now at last it would be. ‘Corrected’ in the sense that I was a girl. There were all these new acronyms: HRT was hormone replacement therapy and that was what I was going into right now–even though the doctor said they weren’t really replacing but supplementing and adjusting. RLT was real-life test and that was what I was living right now; and the big one was SRS, sex reassignment surgery, which was where I was headed, God willing, as soon as I turned eighteen. I was overjoyed; if I knew how to do hand springs I would’ve done them!

It took a couple of days on the new prescription but very quickly things got back to normal and ever more so. Cindy and I patched things up with many hugs, a box of tissues and a massive cry together; Bonnie and I sat down at her computer to do a long interview; we four girls–me, Cindy, Aunt Margaret, and Bonnie–did a marathon shopping day and helped fill out my wardrobe, and life was good.

Chapter 27: Dorothy and Eric

Things were not so good with Larry. There’d been complications and his condition was constantly changing from stable to serious and once it was critical. This was a sobering reality to my happiness. The only upside was I got to spend more time with Dorothy.

We were sitting in the cafeteria, at our usual table, when Dorothy asked me about a sleepover.

“C’mon, Sue, it’ll be great! Your aunt usually comes in on Fridays–and that’s my early shift–so next Friday, pack a bag and hang out until I’m off shift. We’ll go the movies then crash at my place. My parents should be out of town, so we’ll sleep late, do some shopping and I’ll drive you back home. Sound okay?”

It sounded great. Dorothy only knew me as a girl; I don’t think she was aware of my ‘other’ visits to the hospital, to see Dr. Janssen. As long as she didn’t see me naked, I just might get away with it, and I so wanted her to like me and treat me just like any other girl.

“Sounds fantastic, Dorothy!” I said with a big smile. “Just let me check with my aunt.”

Later, on the drive home, my aunt thought about it and decided that she’d use my sleepover as an excuse for the whole family–minus me–to talk and try to hash some things out. She said they were so busy not talking about Larry that they’d wound up in suspended animation, yet there were things they had to discuss. She’d been wanting to do it but would have had to ask me to leave, spend time next door, get lost for awhile, whatever …she just felt it was awkward and although Cindy might be jealous that she didn’t get a sleepover, she’d understand when Aunt Margaret told her the reason for my absence and the talk. Then she raised a topic that I hadn’t considered.

“I don’t really see anything wrong with a sleepover, honey. There’s a difference in your ages–you’re three years apart, and those are three big years–but you’re pretty mature already and you two seem to have hit it off well. And I know you’re going to be …discreet. But something occurred to me. Have you thought about telling Dorothy about yourself? Now, I know you want her to like you as a real girl, but just think about this: If, somehow, she finds out your, uh, original gender, she might freak out. Worse, you might lose her as a friend forever. If you don’t tell her, you won’t be able to relax around her, because you’ll always be sort of hiding, and wondering, ‘does she know?’ So it’s your choice.”

I thought long and hard about it, and finally decided that the true test of my girlhood would be whether Dorothy noticed anything wrong or not. Technically, I suppose I’d be lying by not telling her, and I’d have to out-and-out lie about things like my period if the subject came up, but I reasoned that Dorothy liked me, and that should be good enough. So I decided not to tell her, and just keep my fingers (and legs?) crossed.

The next Friday, after checking on Larry–he’d stabilized, thank goodness–and saying goodbye to Aunt Margaret, I sat in the cafeteria reading a Seventeen, waiting for Dorothy’s shift to end. Suddenly I noticed a shadow near my table and looked up into the deep blue eyes of Eric. I was speechless.

He motioned to the chair. “Is this seat taken?”

I shook my head, no.

“My name’s Eric. I’ve noticed you in here a lot. Do you work at the hospital?”

That made me laugh, which broke me out of my daze. “No, I’m waiting for a friend who works here. And my cousin’s in ICU upstairs. I mean, as a patient.”

“Oh, yeah; your friend is Dorothy, right?”

I nodded again. I was acutely conscious that I was not dressed the way I wanted to be …to meet Eric. I was just waiting for Dorothy, so I had on cutoffs with a rolled-up hem and a sleeveless green top. I had almost no makeup, just a little lipgloss, and my hair was loosely pulled back by a scrunchie. I wanted to rewind the moment, run home and change, and start up again.

“My dad said she’s a very good ‘Striper. I’ve never really met her, but my buddy likes her.”

There was an awkward moment; I didn’t really know where to go from here, so I realized that I hadn’t given him my name.

“Oh! I’m Susan,” I said, holding out my hand. He shook it, and was it my imagination or did he hold on just a little bit longer than necessary?

We released hands and there was another ‘moment’, then he asked, “Uh, could I get you another ...what are you drinking?”

“Just Diet Coke.”

“I’ll get you another one. Although you certainly aren’t drinking it for the ‘Diet’ part.”

He stood up and walked to the cafeteria line as I realized that he’d just complimented me! I’d never played the flirting game, and so I didn’t immediately recognize boys’ ‘lines’, or know the difference between a line and genuine compliment. Whew! This was going to be interesting!

While Eric waited in line, Dorothy came in and sat down across from me.

“Almost done; I’m technically off shift but I just want to finish some paperwork.”

I felt like grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Yes. I’ve heard you’re a great ‘Striper.”

“Who said that?” she asked, confused.

“Oh ...Eric’s dad.”

“Eric’s dad? How did you–did you talk to him?” Then she realized. “Did you talk to him? Eric?”

I nodded, Cheshire grin fully in place.

“Way cool, girl! When did you–”

She broke off because Eric reappeared at our table with my Coke and a drink for him. Dorothy’s mouth closed and she, too, began to grin.

He was suave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Dorothy, right? Would you like a Diet Coke?” He offered her his, with the straw still wrapped in paper.

She smiled. “No, but thanks! I was just telling Sue I’ve got to finish up some paperwork, and we’ll be out of here. She’s coming over tonight.”

Dorothy stood, and her smile suddenly got bigger. Oh, oh, what’s she got up her sleeve? I wondered, as she continued.

“We’re going to the Cineplex tonight. At seven. Then we’ll just hang out together. So I’d better get clocked out! See you in fifteen minutes, Sue!” Dorothy smiled at me and headed back into the hospital.

I may have been ignorant in the ways of flirting, but I knew she’d just told a cute boy where and when we’d be tonight. I wanted to chase after her, but nothing would have gotten me off that chair just then. Eric sat where Dorothy had, opened his straw and began drinking. I did the same, after thanking him for the Coke. We got to talking, and I told him my background–partly fictitious, of course–and found out a little about him. What I heard I liked a lot. I especially liked the next part.

“Susan–or Sue? Which do you prefer?”

“Either one is okay. You decide.” I smiled at him. Was I getting better at this, or what?

“Well, you’re a very poised lady.”

I was?

“And I think the more formal suits you. Okay, what I wanted to ask you, Susan, is if you’d like to get together sometime. You know, no pressure or anything, but I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, even this little bit right now, and I’d like to do it again. So, maybe grab a bite, or go skating, or go for a walk ...”

“Or go to the movies?” I asked with a twinkle. “You might be surprised to hear this, but I’m going to the movies this very night.”

“No!” He appeared shocked.

“Yes! Amazing coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely amazing. And you know what’s even more amazing, if such a thing is possible?”

“Dare I ask?”

“Dare away. My friend and I happen to be going to the movies this very same night.”

“No!”

“Yes! And you know the most amazing thing?”

“Even more amazing than the last two amazing things?”

“Even more so. My friend has a crush on your friend.”

“Well, perhaps we should chaperone them.”

“Perhaps. Yes, a splendid idea. Shall we say sevenish?”

“Sevenish it is!”

I reached out and we theatrically shook hands, but this time there was no mistaking it–we didn’t let go at all, and we just let our hands rest on the table while we looked in each other’s eyes.

Still holding my hand, and dropping the cute talk we’d been using, Eric said, “And the most amazing thing is this: I think my friend’s friend has a crush on your friend’s friend.”

As convoluted as the sentence was, I knew what he meant.

“And I think she does, too.”

Whoa! I thought, too far too fast, pull back! I released Eric’s hand and chuckled as I broke eye contact.

“At least, she might have the start of one.” I busied myself with my Coke.

He leaned back and smiled. “I think your friend’s back. Maybe ...” he trailed off as he stood. “Maybe we’ll meet again. Somewhere, sometime.” He smiled at me again and walked away as Dorothy came over.

“Oh man, oh man! You two were really goin’ at it! What are you, thirteen going on twenty-four?” she laughed.

“No, I just ...we just ...” I searched for a response but got momentarily sidetracked by how good ‘we’ had sounded. “We were just talking. And goofing around a little.” I couldn’t believe the things I’d said; they’d just …come out.

“Some goofing! Did he get the hint about the movies tonight?”

“Oh, I think he got the hint.” I didn’t tell her that I’d pretty much invited him, too. “He said he’s got a friend that likes you.”

“Ooo, did he mention a name or bank account?” She laughed as I shook my head no. “I hope it’s ...” she got serious. “I hope it’s Mike. I saw him here with Eric once. I hope it’s Mike.”

She grew uncharacteristically quiet for a bit, then she brightened as she stood up. “Well, we won’t find out here in the cafeteria! C’mon, we is outta heah, girl!”

Chapter 28: Getting Ready For the Night

On the drive to Dorothy’s house–she’d just turned sixteen and gotten her license–I wailed about how I was dressed when I talked with Eric. Dorothy just laughed.

“That proves it’s real, silly! Think about it–any guy will come on to you if you’re all dolled up, but if you’re just dressed everyday-casual, and they come on to you, it must be serious! This is a good thing that you’re dressed this way. Relax!”

I mumbled something or other, but felt better.

“Look, Sue, I bet you just packed casual stuff and jammies, right?”

I nodded.

“Okay, don’t worry about tonight. I’ve got some things that’ll knock Eric’s eyes out! You’ll have to fight him off–but I actually think he’s a gentleman, so maybe you’ll have to encourage him!”

When I had asked Aunt Margaret about this sleep over, the only question was about telling Dorothy about me. It was going to be ‘Just Us Girls’. Now, there was a huge new factor in the equation–how did I feel about boys, and especially Eric? I realized that it only strengthened my decision to not tell Dorothy about me. First of all, I reasoned, if Cindy and I went out with boys, I think she’d be watching me to see how I did, and how they reacted to me. Secondly, I know I’d be constantly checking myself in front of Cindy, going ‘is this too weird?’ the whole time. And, come to think of it, she’d be going ‘this is too weird!’ and would mess up her chances with Mike, if he was the guy that showed up. A third reason was that any ignorance I showed about how to conduct myself could be attributed to being three years younger and new at dealing with boys.

I felt firmer in my decision to not tell Dorothy, and to truly see how well I functioned not only on a girl-to-girl basis, but also around …boys. Dorothy just knew me as a girl, and so she knew that, naturally, I’d be interested in boys, and I could find out–naturally–how I really felt about them. I’d had that dream about Eric kissing me, and I knew that deep down I wanted that dream to be real. So I decided to just relax–as much as possible–and see how things went.

When we got to Dorothy’s house, her folks were just leaving. It was a good opportunity for me to meet new people as a girl, and I seemed to do okay. We told them about an early movie or maybe a run to Blockbuster, and they seemed satisfied, telling Dorothy they’d be back tomorrow evening. We got some Cokes from the kitchen and immediately bent down to study the movie section of the newspaper. Dorothy said we wanted to be prepared for any eventuality, and knowing what was playing where could give us some options. I knew that the main purpose of the evening now was to meet Eric and his friend at seven; everything else would follow.

“Forewarned is forearmed, or something like that. Or four-armed is foreplay ...I don’t know,” she waved away her little joke. “Let’s go exploring and see what we can find for you tonight.”

I followed Dorothy into her room and she began moving through her well-stocked closet, flipping clothes hangers past her, stopping momentarily to consider an outfit, and flipping on. She mentioned that before she was a Candy Striper, she worked at a boutique at the mall and used her employee discount liberally. Now, since she was working at the hospital and still living at home–and continuing a good relationship with her old boutique–she’d been able to build a sizable trendy wardrobe. I realized with a start that I’d never seen her in anything other than her uniform.

She must have read my mind, because she pulled out several outfits, laid them on the bed, sat down and began removing her uniform.

“From Candy Striper to Candy Stripper ...” she said with a chuckle.

I had to laugh, too, and it covered my sudden embarrassment at seeing her in her underwear, which consisted of white cotton stuff an old lady would wear. A very large bra, high briefs, and white opaque stockings, which she removed and rubbed the red marks on her tummy.

“Ah, God, I think I live for this moment from the very beginning of each shift.”

She unhooked the back of her bra and dropped it on the floor. She spun on her butt and flopped out full-length on the bed. I didn’t think staring was in order, but I couldn’t help notice she had surprisingly full breasts that had been strapped down under the regulation bra. She rubbed the red marks under her breasts, sat up, grabbed her glass and took a big swig of Coke, replaced the glass and flopped down again.

“Do me a favor and turn the fan on over there, will you? I forgot. Ah ...” she relaxed further as the first wave of cool air hit her. “I forgot to tell you about my little ritual here. I’ve just got to get out of that nurse-y crap.”

I started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” She sat up on her elbows.

“Just when you said ‘nurse-y crap’ I was thinking ‘I didn’t know she wore old lady undies’.”

She drew herself up haughtily. “We old ladies never refer to them as ‘undies’. They are our ‘underthings’!”

I played along. “And in polite society–” I pronounced it ‘societah’, “–a proper lady refers to them–if at all–as ‘unmentionables’.”

Dorothy whooped with laughter. “Oh, Jesus, you’re right! Whew! Thank God we live now, right?”

She sat up fully and spun on her butt again, stripped off the briefs–I quickly looked down to study the outfits on the bed–and grabbed all her white ‘unmentionables’ and stuffed them in a hamper.

“Shower. Fast one,” she said and disappeared into her bathroom. I heard the water start and so I started to actually check out the outfits, which were pretty skimpy and ultra-feminine. I got up and studied some of the outfits in her closet; not really snooping but just looking for alternatives, but it felt too personal so I picked up a Teen Vogue she had on her night stand.

Dorothy came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, grabbed some lingerie from a drawer and disappeared back into the bathroom. She came back out much later after using the blow dryer, in a light blue lingerie set that looked like Victoria’s Secret. With her hair fluffed out from the dryer and skimpy lingerie, she sure didn’t look like a Candy Striper anymore!

“Damn period,” she muttered. “Shit! Just when I might meet a new guy!”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you look great,” I said. I’d learned from my aunt and Cindy that women felt especially vulnerable about their looks when they had a period.

“Thanks, Sue. Shit, shit, shit. Oh well, can’t be helped.” She seemed to throw off the bad mood quickly and reasonably; that was one of the things I liked about her.

“I mean it, Dorothy. You look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Or maybe you look like Candy, the Stripper.”

She genuinely laughed at this–after all, it was her own joke.

“What about you, Sue, don’t you feel like crud when it’s your period?”

Here it was, I thought, time to lie. Or maybe there was a way to slip sideways with the truth ...

“Actually, I’ve found that there are plenty of days when I don’t have a period–and I still feel like crud!”

Fortunately, she whooped with laughter. “Yeah, and then there’s that one day–the one day where you’re slim and your hair looks great and your skin’s clear and you feel fantastic–and that’s the day you don’t meet a living soul!”

“Yeah, I know; you’ll be in your foxiest dress or skimpiest bikini and nobody but your family around!” Sure, like that happened to me all the time …but Dorothy was nodding enthusiastically.

“That’s the day! Shit! Why is life like that?”

And so we passed the subject of my periods, and I didn’t really have to lie. We got down to the serious business of choosing clothes.

End of Part 10