The newsroom of WROC-TV, Rochester, New York...

“Hey Mike…just wanted you to know that your Teens Steroid piece was really good; the graphics and production of course were superb; Dave always does a bang up job, but the questions in the interviews…pretty focused but still appealing for a half-hour Saturday news program. Management really appreciates your work.” Jack Welker smiled as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

“Dave was just great to work with; really made my job so much easier.” Mike smiled back nervously and nodded. He was cut out of the Mike Greenberg/John Clayton sportscaster mold. To say he was wiry would be granting him much more stature, and he would never look like the stereotypical sportscaster.

“Yeah…I believe I just said that, Mike. You’ve got to learn to toot your own horn, kid; most everybody does and no one but no one will go out of their way to boost you. But hell, you’re this week’s hero, so bask in your glory!”

“Thanks. I really felt good about it, and I’m glad that it worked out okay.”

“You’ll hear about most of this in a couple of days…Stu Davies is leaving to take the evening sports gig in Buffalo…and Alex is finally retiring. That health scare last year. Yeah…I know.” Jack held his hands out palms down and continued.

“He’s been sayin’ it for the last couple of years, but it’s really time, and management is sorta givin’ him a nice financial shove out the door.” Mike tilted his head and bit his lower lip.

“What I’m sayin’ is that they’re gonna offer you the weekend gig here. You’ll have to clean up a bit, but I bet that won’t be too much to ask, right? And don’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“I don’t know what to say.” Mike looked away and sighed. He really didn’t know what to say since what he already had planned on telling the station was likely going to be met with more than just a little bit of surprise.

The office of Megan Delhomme, PsyD, PhD, Therapist….Webster, New York…

“So how does that make you feel, Mike?” Megan smiled.

“It’s something I’ve dreamed about….sort of…since I was a kid.”

“You sound hesitant, Mike, what’s that about? I mean if you want the position, what’s holding you back?”

“Oh, jeez, Meg….you know very well what’s holding me back.” Mike seemed almost angry, but his tone quickly changed as he smiled.

“I know…you need me to voice my reasons; something I need to do to show that I really believe what I say. We’ve been over this before, but yeah, I’ll bite.” He looked away and sighed.

“When I came out to my family it was a mixed bag. Dad still won’t talk to me. He hasn’t said a word one way or the other in nearly six months. Mom cried for a whole week, but at least she still hugs me when I come over. Chelsea was great….” Mike paused and sighed again, this time with a smile.

“She made a joke about sharing, but it was kind of nice. I got upset…It was a very difficult thing for me to do, and she apologized for being so flippant about it. `

“What about your brother?”

“Anthony? I haven’t told him yet…I don’t know if I can.” Mike paused for a moment and frowned.

“But hell, he’s going to find out about it sooner or later anyway. I don’t know what’s keeping me from opening up?” He sought a quick answer from Megan but she turned it around.

“What do you think? How important is it for him to understand?”

“I think….” He began to mist up.

“Feelings, Mike…I know you can do this.” Megan leaned closer and nodded.

“It would kill me if he….It’s important.”

“Because?” It almost seemed cruel for Megan to insist, but it was important for Mike to understand how things worked for him; what drove his decisions.

“Are you who you say you are? Are you ‘what’ you say you are? Will you still be you even if he doesn’t agree?” He knew the answer and usually would have only nodded, but he also knew it was important to speak the truth about himself.

“Yes…I’ll be who I am no matter how my brother sees me.”

“So what will you tell the station? It’s going to be difficult no matter what; we both know that.”

“When I was about eleven or so I was watching the news on ROC…a Friday night, and they had the news anchor…and the weather gal….and Ann Montgomery…all women…I don’t think anyone had ever done that before. Montgomery ended up teaching high school video journalism, but she was a sports anchor for ESPN.“

“Sounds disappointing.” Megan half-frowned.

“No…she loves what she’s doing, but for that one short time…she was the only one on National TV, and I said to myself, I want to be just like her.”

“Nationally known, huh…that’s a tall order.” Megan laughed softly. She knew where Mike was going with it, but pressed him anyway.

“No…I wanted …I want to be just like her…. a ground-breaker.”

“You gonna change your name?” Megan teased; it wasn’t uncommon for TV celebrities…even sports and news casters…to change their names.

“No… I’m named after my Uncle Mike…my mother’s little brother….little? He was…Went to Iraq as a correspondent. Ended up stepping in front of two Iraqi kids when a suicide bomber killed a bunch of people at a bus stop in Basra…I mean…it was pretty much the safest part of the whole country.”

“So he was a hero. Why you want to keep the name? To pay tribute?” Megan smiled warmly.

“Yes…” Mike sighed

“I think if he was alive today, he might consider you a hero as well…that he might consider you brave.”

“I’m no hero…I’m not giving up my life for this…I’m just trying to live the life I have.”

“So what should I call you? Michelle? Shelly?” Megan teased once again.

“Michaela…Michaela Parente.”

“You plannin’ on goin’ to the station Halloween party on Sunday?” Cindy Wrobowski smiled and touched Mike’s arm. He shied away just a bit before pausing to consider his answer.

“Yes…and I’m going to need some help.” He turned away and Cindy held tight to his wrist and said in a hushed voice,

“No…you’re going to do it? No.” She began to giggle; her tone grew only a bit louder but almost conspiratorial.

“I’m in…you know I’d do anything for you.” She would, though Mike was the last to know it.

“Come over to my place on Saturday…I know just the thing.” She laughed but then looked at Mike’s face, which appeared more than just nervous.

“You’re….I …” She put her hand to her face and stroked her cheek before finishing….okay, honey…I guess it’s time, huh?”

That Sunday, the Strathallan Hotel Banquet Room, Rochester, New York…

“Wow, Cindy…where did you get the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders outfit?” Danny Artale teased. He already knew she had been a cheerleader for the Cowboys as a single mom before going back to school for her journalism degree. And of course, it made little difference to Danny since he was gay anyway, but it was a joke they enjoyed sharing. Standing next to her was a fairly athletic if somewhat boyish woman in a Team Norway Soccer outfit. She likely resembled many of the girls most people consider tomboys, but her face was bright and attractive.

“I don’t know you, do I?” Jack asked the girl as he stood next to the pair. Jack wore his usual expensive suit and over-moussed hair politician outfit. The girl smiled politely before nodding and and replied,

"Jeg vet ikke; kjenner du meg?" before walking away, leaving Jack more than puzzled. Cindy quickly followed her and they stood close to each other, huddled by the punchbowl.

“I’m telling you…it’s that new forward that the Flash just got from Washington…”

“I think it’s that girl on the dancing show, but she’s sorta plain looking….maybe her sister?”

By the end of the night folks were too tired or too disinterested apart from Jack, and they just stopped guessing about the new girl at the station. Jack walked back to the two girls, who by now were standing near the exit ready to leave.

“Are you sure I don’t know you?” He said, and the soccer player smiled politely before saying in a nice alto voice,

“I don’t know, Jack, do you?” Mike smiled and began to laugh, which got Jack laughing nervously.

“Jeez, Mike…what the fuck. You look just like…well I wouldn’t say pretty….’handsome?’ ‘Striking?’”

“Cindy’s really good with makeup, and I do resemble my cousin Inge Fiske...it's her uniform... but when you look, you really do see me, right?”

“Yeah…sure…you…” Jack was confused. While Mike might not look like the most attractive woman he’d ever met, he still looked fair; not gorgeous but more like your best friend’s ‘cute’ sister; yes...very striking as they used to say.

“Good night, Jack, I’ll see you tomorrow…” Mike trailed off as Jack walked away. He stopped about ten feet away from the two and turned around.

“OH…hell, I forgot to tell you…big day tomorrow…that surprise from management? Be on your toes, kid!”

The following afternoon at WROC….

Jack walked out of his office, shaking his head. He was confused and frustrated, and just a bit angry as he turned and looked down the hall toward the executive board room.

“Fuck.” There really wasn’t much to be said. To say that Mike’s interview didn’t go well would be the understatement of the millennium. Of course, Jack had been convinced that Mike had the job sewn up; no one else on staff was remotely qualified for the weekend gig, but today’s events had changed the entire landscape of the sports department. He walked into the boardroom and found Mike sitting alone at the table; the executives had long abandoned the room to gather for a hastily called lunch-time meeting to determine how to proceed.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Mike! What the fuck were you thinking? I know it’s Halloween and all, but I fucking told you that your interview was today, didn’t I? What the fuck. I suppose you think this is funny?” Jack was nearly shouting at that point, and even with the door closed, the entire newsroom could hear his rant.

“No, Jack…this isn’t funny at all. It’s my life, and it’s the only way I knew to be the person I am for the job.” He used his hand in a gesture to point to himself.

While he wasn’t wearing a woman’s soccer uniform like the previous night, he still appeared much different than the sportscaster the station manager had expected would show up for the interview. His hair was neatly trimmed in a very attractive cut just as the evening before, but his ears were adorned with gold cross studs, which matched the cross around his neck. Instead of his usual gray tweed sports coat, he wore a nice maroon blazer over a pale cream shirt. The blazer was a match to the slacks he wore, which complemented his shoes. Black pumps with a two inch heel.

“You look pretty decent, but that’s beside the point, Mike. Even if it’s Halloween, you had to know they wanted to see you looking professional? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That’s just it, Jack. This is professional…for me. This is who I am, and what I am becoming. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the guy you know doesn’t really exist; this is the person you hired, not him.”

“Oh, dear god in heaven, what the fuck are you talking about?” Jack plopped down in the large chair at the head of the table and shook his head.

“Just this. Mike Parente no longer exists. In order to be who I need to be, I have to live like this for a year so that I can get cleared for surgery. I’ve been trying to get the courage to tell you, but I was too scared. So Cindy and I came up with this plan. When no one seemed too uncomfortable last night I realized it was now or never.”

“Whatya mean, Mike? You wouldn’t go through with it? That you’d have come to work today dressed like your old self?”

“No, Jack…I mean that I wouldn’t have come to work at all. I’d have had to turn in my resignation, since I can’t live that lie anymore. I have to live as who I am…And that’s the other thing…My name isn’t Mike, it’s Michaela. I’m sorry.” The old had been indeed replaced; a man’s image no longer sat before him as the woman began to tear up only slightly; an inner strength Jack had never noticed before came out as the woman said once again,

“My name is Michaela.”

“I bet….Listen…I’m sorry I have to say this, but the big wigs had a meeting at lunchtime.” Jack frowned as if he was telling a child that their dog had died.

“What do you mean?” The woman bowed her head slightly, already fairly sure of what Jack would say.

“Damn it Mike...I mean…Michaela Parente? You’re fired.”

Next: Michaela's Chance