AllSports Medicine, West Caldwell, New Jersey....

Several months had gone by, and the relationship between Jeremy and Dagmara had changed slowly. At first, the girl only referred to him as Marta while she gave him a massage. But over time, she encouraged him to take small steps toward becoming more of the woman inside that he had hidden so long. Getting professional help was easy. The first challenge was probably the hardest, because it entailed more than just a confession, but had also required a lot of soul searching as Jeremy wondered just how he would explain who the woman was that his mother had never met.

“She is important to you more than any other…Trudno bÄ™dzie, tak?”

Jeremy knew a little bit of Polish. His father was of Swedish descent, a Minnesota transplant when he came to New Jersey to practice medicine. His mother was a nurse who had lived in Warsaw until she was fifteen, and she used the phrase many time; a single mother making a living for her family always found things difficult. His father had died in Gulf War I when he was seven, and his mother worked two jobs to support him and his sister Inge.

“I think she will be more understanding that you can know. I have a feeling about this, Marta.” Dagmara had not called him by his male name for quite some time, and she had been instrumental in Marta's development by encouraging him to seek support. He had been going to a therapist in Livingston, and had found a support group not too far from his home. His mother already knew he was getting help, but up till then, he had not mentioned why he was in therapy.

“I will come with you if you like?” She smiled and Jeremy smiled back; a half-grin that indicated that he was considering her offer.

“No…I am serious. I would like to accompany you when you go, unless you would rather I not.” She had been growing closer to him; their relationship had blurred and had spilled over into his private life. Although some might consider it unprofessional, he told himself it was alright, since she wasn’t exactly a medical practitioner. And while it was only a supportive friendship, it still left her employment in jeopardy, since any time spent with a client outside of the practice was grounds for dismissal.

“No, Dziewczynka,” he said, more like an older brother or a parent than a friend. She was a little girl in comparison to him. She was a girl in comparison to him, even though she had done her best to affirm Marta.

“You can’t take the chance.”

“There is nothing to worry about. I will be alright. Let me help. I would love to meet your family.” She smiled as she began to work his back.

“Relax and let your worries go, dear friend. Think about it. If you don’t wish for me to meet your family, I will understand. I just want you to know you’re not alone.” She used her knuckle to work out a knot just under his shoulder blade and he sighed deeply. It was already a daunting thought to tell his mother. To bring a friend home… a girl, in fact, to meet both his mother and his sister would be met with delightful suspicion and expectation.

He felt compelled to tell both of them now about his gender issues; his therapist had encouraged him only days before that it might be helpful to speak to his family when she felt ready, but so soon? And what would they say if she shared with them what she really wanted to say…especially to her sister. It was frightening to deal with so much. He knew all the medical and psychological implications of going further in his journey to womanhood; as a nurse himself, he was informed enough. But he had no wherewithal regarding emotions.

“You’re getting tense, Marta. Just let go, okay?”

She nodded reflexively, her chin rubbing against the table, but she remained anxious throughout the session as the thought of talking about himself…..herself scared her. And talking about what was going on inside made little sense to her, but felt right even if it was painful as hell. And it certainly didn’t help that her heart was confused enough about herself without having love mixed into the equation. And even more so that the object of her affection was kneading her right shoulder at that moment.

“I’ll think about it, Dziewczynkal,” she said once again, wishing that she had the courage to say something less familial.

When something dies
Or comes to life
When water shines in yellow light
When something moves
Inside a tree
I wish you saw things just like me

The Isaaksen Home, Essex Fells, New Jersey...a few days later...

“You are ready, Marta?” The girl sat in the passenger seat of the car; her hand resting on Marta’s arm. It might have been Jeremy who was preparing to open up to his mother and sister about the most important secret he had ever kept, but it would be Marta that spoke, regardless of their response. Dagmara leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek, sending a chill up his back.

“Na szczęściel,” she said with a soft laugh. He turned away briefly before turning back and smiling awkwardly; he’d need more than just luck to get through the evening without breaking down or worse.

“You’ll do fine, Przyjaciá³Å‚kÄ…,” she said with another laugh; speaking more to him as a girl pal.

“With you along, I know I’ll be able at least to begin to speak. Where we go from there is anybody’s guess.”

A moment later he walked through the front door and hugged his mother, who was just wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. His sister Inge stood behind her and beamed when she noticed Dagmara standing in the doorway. She walked quickly to the girl and hugged her.

“Hi, you must be Dagmara. I’m Inge, Jeremy’s sister. This is my mother Denuta,” the woman ushered the girl to her mother who greeted her with a hug as well.

“I’m glad to meet you.” The words, so simple, seemed to take on much greater meaning as she nodded and Inge nodded in return.

“None of that, Mom. Dagmara is a friend.” He was careful not to use ‘just’ as a modifier. She was much more than a friend in so many ways, and to say otherwise would be not only an insult but a lie, and tonight was all about the truth.

They sat in the kitchen as Denuta poured coffee and set a plate of pastries on the table.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so before you speak, you need to know that nothing you can say to me will ever change the way I feel about you, and I know Inge feels the same way.” Inge nodded at her mother’s words.

“Mom….I’ve….” Jeremy began to choke up; knowing since he was only ten that things were different, he had held his peace for so long. What would his mother think of him? Even after she had reassured him, he still feared rejection. Growing up in the shadow of grief over his father’s death had left him unsure and insecure, and his other self was shameful; a dreadful thing for a boy and now a man to tell his mother. Dagmara put her hand on his arm. The look on her face gave him only a little strength and he turned away.

“You can do this.” She said it in such a loving way, but her presence made it more difficult because too many things were going on at the same time. He had barely enough strength to confess his affliction, much less tell her how he felt…how she felt. It had all become so confusing.

“Honey?” Inge reached over and put her hand on his arm…on top of Dagmara’s hand.

“We all care about you very much.” She looked in Dagmara’s eyes and caught something she hadn’t noticed at first. Nodding at the girl, she continued.

“We’re glad for you, honey.” She smiled at him and turned to Denuta who nodded and smiled.

“I’m glad to know that my boy has found someone special.” She said haltingly, her voice fading as she stifled a sob.

“No…no…you don’t understand…that’s not it at all.” Even as he said the words, he regretted them. But Dagmara looked at him and shook her head no, not to disagree, but to reassure him that it did not bother her. She smiled at Inge and Denuta and spoke.

“We have something to tell you, and it isn’t easy. But I know this is a family filled with love. If I may?” She looked at Jeremy for permission, but didn’t wait for an answer and continued.

“Your son is my friend, and I hope I am his, so forgive me if I presume, okay?” By now, Jeremy was almost bent over, his head turned to one side as he shook slightly. She squeezed his hand and went on.

“You know he is getting therapy, yes?” The two nodded.

“He is what they call gender dysphoric. What that means is.”

“OH…I know what that means, young lady.” It almost sounded like a rebuke, but Denuta shook her head in apology, surprising the others as she spoke.

“I’m sorry…I’ve had such a problem with names lately. Dagmar?”

“Dagmara,” the girl said cautiously.

“Yes, Dagmara. I know what gender dysphoric means…I am a nurse, you know.” Again, what could have sounded like a rebuke was softened by her smile.

“I’ve wondered about my child for a while now. I can’t even say why I felt this way; we never talked about it, and I’m such a bad mother for not asking.” She shook her head at her own words; her tears demonstrating just how strongly she felt.

“But we’re here, now! And we’re here for you, honey.” She reached over and place her hand on Jeremy’s other wrist.

“And of course, I’m confident that even if it is a surprise, Dr. Isaaksen here understands completely,” she said, patting Inge on the arm, grinning proudly as only a mother with two physicians for children might. Inge smiled and nodded.

“While I am clueless when it comes to you, honey, and I am sorry for that, I know that it can’t have been easy for you to open up to us.” She looked at Dagmara and smiled again.

“And to have such a good friend to stand with you? You know we love you, but you couldn’t have known how we’d react. You must have been so scared.”

“I’m….it’s been so hard. I’ve tried to hide for so long, and now that I know…how much time have I lost…. Mommy…I’m so sorry that I never told you.” It was so odd to see the change as Jeremy seemed to fade into Marta like a special effect in a movie, but his countenance softened into hers as Marta came out literally to her sister and mother.

“Kocham ciÄ™ moje dziecko.” Denuta said, her voice breaking. Marta put her head down.

“We’ll always support you. How…what’s your therapist say, honey? Is that helping at all?” Denuta wasn’t doubting the process; she just wanted to know if her child was getting the help he…she needed.

“Yes…and I’m going to a support group in Morristown. But….I wouldn’t be sitting here.” Marta stammered, partly out of the still unfamiliar position of telling her family about herself, but also out of embarrassment and even a feeling of inadequacy.

“If it weren’t for Dagmara….she’s been so …” Marta began to shake again. There was nothing to cause her to fear other than old ideas and habits that still were slowly but surely fading away.

“I have known your daughter for months now, and I am glad to be counted among her friends.” A simple statement, truthful to be sure, but entirely disappointing to Marta because of what is didn’t say.

“What she has needed for a long time is a chance to be herself, and now she had found that chance, and I have been happy to help.” With that, she began to get up from the table.

“I think I should leave you three to get acquainted, yes?” Marta went to speak, but the girl smiled and shook her head, putting her finger to her lips.

“No….it’s okay….I will see you on Friday, okay?” She leaned closer and gave Marta a very sisterly kiss; friendly and kind and altogether hopeless and disappointing.

A few days later...

“It went well…now I have….it’s good to know I have support going forward,” Marta said as she settled onto the table.

“And of course, there’s you.” Dagmara said nothing, and the quiet was deafening until she spoke.

“I am sorry, Marta, but I am going to be leaving this practice soon.” Dagmara frowned only a little, but her disappointment was nothing like the woman who lay on the table awaiting the ministering hands. She rose slightly as if to turn to get off the table, but the girl placed her hand on Marta’s shoulder, pushing her gently back down.

“It will remain the same for us, yes?” She leaned closer and whispered in the woman’s ear.

“You will be okay….I am going to take some time to visit my parents in Krakow and then I will be returning here, but not to work. I am going to get married.”

“What….” Marta turned around on the table and faced the girl, almost in a panic until the girl smiled, her grin almost silly and playful.

“That is, if you’ll have me?”

“If I’ll……” Marta turned away as if to question what she had just heard. She turned back to see that Dagmara’s grin had turned into a broad smile, her eyes welling with tears. She nodded and spoke softly, almost in a sing-song weeping combination,

“Marta, bÄ™dzie wam pojÄ…Å‚by mnie?” She tilted her head slightly to one side. Marta’s Polish still left a bit to be desired, but her eyes widened in both recognition and tentative joy.

“Marry?” She stammered and Dagmara said simply but beautifully,

“Tak, Ty możesz być moja żona.” She nodded enthusiastically and drew close and kissed Marta.

“Wife? Yes…oh yes….”

What if we had one second to be?
Just like the other what would we see?
What if you knew exactly what you are to me?
Would you be terribly surprised?
To see who I am in my actual size
A second is short, but more then enough
You would feel loved, you would feel loved
You would feel loved, you would feel loved
You would feel loved, you would feel loved

Next: Michaela’s Tale

One Second
Words and Music and
Performed by
Sarah Bettens
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Bettens