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Edited by S.L.Hawke
Image Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows

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The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Forty-Five

Sunday breakfast before church was mandatory family time. Grandma had cooked our usual full breakfast. We all sat around the table, and Grandma had Rick say grace. I took my nasty tasting asthma medication, chased it down with grapefruit juice, and followed that with eggs and bacon to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Thank you for cooking, Grandma. It’s good.” I’d been raised to thank the cook and I was speaking the truth, even if my heart wasn’t in the words. Despite the groundings, cold shoulder and scheming to turn me back into a boy, Grandma had continued to cook and clean for Hailey and me. I think it would have been easier on me if the food sucked.

“You’re welcome.” Maybe my words had made some difference, because after taking a few more bites Grandma paused and looked at me. “Scotty, I grew up on a working farm. My father still had a job, but we grew crops and raised animals to help make the ends meet. As part of my chores I took care of a lot of young animals: calves, foals, puppies and kittens. Sometimes an animal would just be born small, the runt of the litter. Most of the time they stayed smaller than their littermates all their lives. We don’t raise cows any longer, but I've heard that farms these days give animals hormones to make them grow big. You aren’t an animal, but it’s similar. You’ve always been smaller and gentler than Rick and your father. It’s not normal for boys to grow breasts. We don’t know yet if it’s the Kline-feller’s thingie or not, but whatever it is, doctors can treat it. It is no different from your allergies. I know you’re confused right now, but you’re not getting the hormones you should. You don’t have to become a girl. We can get you the right hormones to straighten you out.”

I knew what I wanted to say to her. That I liked my developing curves, and I didn’t want them 'straightened out'. What was I? Some lumpy bit of metal that needed to be heated in a furnace, and then pounded with a hammer, until my curves were gone? However, picking another fight on Sunday morning before church wasn’t smart. So I didn’t say that, nor did I tell her just how hick her mispronunciation of Klinefelter sounded. Instead I changed the subject. “Did you tell that to Cathy’s mom? Am I going to walk into church this morning and get stoned?”

“Don’t sass me. Nobody gets stoned anymore; not even those who deserve it. I told you already, I talked to Carol. She’s knows we’re getting you help. She promised to keep your condition quiet.”

“Mrs. Miller?” asked Hailey. “What about Cathy? We haven’t heard from her. She hasn’t even called and you won’t let us call her.”

“She’s grounded just like you are and for the same reasons. Even if she wasn’t, her mother doesn’t want her around Scott until he gets his condition sorted out.” Grandma looked over to me. “You’ll be in her classroom today. Be on your best manners at church, and maybe she’ll change her mind.” Then she shifted her gaze to my brother. “Rick, I expect you to keep an eye on these two in Sunday School. I want all three of you to go straight to the sanctuary after Sunday School.”

"What?" Rick protested. "Jeez, Gran, it's bad enough you're making me go to church at all, do I really hafta hang out with the dorky little kids for an hour too?"

"Watch your language, Ricky. Although if you showed up regular, and with Hailey joining our family, there are four of you older kids now. They should really split you older ones off into a separate youth group..."

I found myself tuning them both out as they started back into the same old arguments about Rick's haphazard church attendance, letting my mind wander to other things. I don’t know which was worse: Rick being put in charge today, or having Cathy dangled in front of me, like some doggy treat that I could only have if I was a good boy. I was about to tell her I’d just skip church, but what was the point? She wouldn’t let me. Besides, even though Grandma said the rumors were under control, I wanted to see for myself. Plus, I wanted to talk to Cathy or at least slip her a note.

Chapter Forty-Six

Authors Note: Chapter Forty-Six again touches on Taylor’s religious beliefs and those of others. I feel this is appropriate to the characters, plot and setting. If this offends you, then opt out of this chapter.

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From a distance Faith Baptist Church looked much like any old rural church in the area. It was a case where TV actually got something right: wooden walls painted a brilliant white, a basic square and a steeple on top. Unlike TV it didn’t have a bell, but it would have looked pretty on a postcard. Up close, the image still held up pretty well although the paint job was fading. It was inside that our church really showed its age. Instead of one big sanctuary narrow little corridors led to the nursery, fellowship hall and classrooms. The polished wooden floors weren’t quite even and creaked underfoot. The walls themselves weren’t quite square, and the whole building had a musty smell that made it feel as old as its mainly elderly congregation.

Others were arriving as we did. Most of them came in pairs, Grandma’s age or older, but there were a few families, singles and some younger adults mixed in. I’d been worried about the possibility of rumors despite Grandma’s assurances. I studied faces as we walked inside, half expecting them to react rudely, but we were greeted with nods, smiles and the usual well-wishes as we entered. Apparently Mrs. Andrews had kept her mouth closed. As long as I kept hidden, I should be safe. I had on four layers to hide my boobs: sports bra, white t-shirt, dress shirt, and jacket. So I felt pretty confident no one would see anything. I just had to act casual, just like a school day.

Our Sunday School room showed its age more than the rest of the building, or perhaps it merely seemed that way, largely because it was no longer age appropriate for me. One wall was full of old toys donated over the years, and most of them were too young for my age. A long and low table with small chairs better suited for elementary aged kids took up the center of the classroom. I suppose it was appropriate in a way, since there were more little kids than the rest of us put together.

As we entered, I immediately looked around for Cathy, but ended up meeting her mother’s gaze first. Mrs. Andrews didn’t look like she was happy to see me. In fact she looked liked she’d just smelled something foul, and she thought I was the source.

I buried my resentment and put on my polite face. “Good morning, Mrs. Andrews.”

Mrs. Andrews smiled back, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Scotty, so good to see you in the House of the Lord.” I could hear the capitols. “And you brought Hailey back, too. It’s good to have more young people here. You two have a seat over there.”

I knew Cathy’s mom would be trouble, but I was hoping she might be more accepting. I’d been in her home more times than I could count, I tutored Cathy in math and science, and I’d even saved her daughter from being molested. Didn’t that rate some consideration? I knew she was religious, but what had happened to ‘Jesus loves the little children’? Did he not love trans-kids? And kid was probably the right word, because I was pretty sure that I was still a child in her eyes. I’d expected this attitude, but it still bothered me. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be welcome at church? Clearly that didn't really apply to me.

At least she was being polite on the surface. I wasn’t sure if that was Grandma’s influence, or simply because she didn’t want to make a scene in front of the younger kids. Either way, I wasn’t going to start trouble, so I went over to the children's table and sat down. Cathy was already sitting at the table and I wanted to go up and hug her, but didn’t want to antagonize her mother any than I did by simply breathing.

“Good morning, Cathy.” I tried to put as much about how I really felt into it, but no matter how I tried, those three little words couldn’t say that I’d been worried sick about her.

“Good morning, Scott. Good to see you and Hailey.” Her words sounded as tense as mine, but what did they mean? I couldn’t make it out.

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that we had an audience. It was bad enough that Rick and Mrs. Andrews were watching, but we also had a half-dozen elementary kids ranging from Suzy, who was busily coloring on a piece of paper, to Paul, who would be in junior high next year. I could feel the tension, but I didn’t want to dump out a truckload of my drama in front of the younger kids. I hoped that Mrs. Andrews felt the same. As far as I knew the church didn’t pay her, but she seemed to treat being a Sunday School teacher as her career. She may not like me, but I doubted she would be openly hateful in front of the younger kids.

I tried to put my worries about Mrs. Andrews away. Things weren’t good there, but they seemed to be holding for now. There was a chair open beside Cathy, however, Hailey and I had agreed that she’d be the note passer. So I let Hailey sit beside Cathy and I sat down one seat over. I was dying to ask what had been going on with her, yet I couldn’t. This wasn’t how I’d pictured seeing Cathy again and it was intensely frustrating.

“How have you been?” asked Hailey.

“Good,” replied Cathy, although she didn’t sound sincere.

I strained my ears hoping to hear more, but that’s when Mrs. Andrews decided it was time to start class. We sang the usual happy Sunday School songs. Then we had a lesson which was about Noah’s ark. I caught a lot of pointed glances from Mrs. Andrews when she talked about how the animals arrived two by two. At least, it didn’t go beyond hard looks. After that we moved on and did some bible drill where she called out verses, and we had to look them up and read them. I played along. It helped pass the time while I waited for an opening to talk with Cathy.

“Deuteronomy 22:5,” she called out.

I flipped through my bible quickly and found the passage. I raised my hand and waited for the others. As I waited I skimmed the passage. Oh she did not!

“Time’s up. Very good, class. Scotty, would you read the verse?”

I knew that she’d done this on purpose. There was no way she picked this verse at random. Instead of feeling like crying I was angry. Why did this bother her so much? She’d used to think I was good enough for her daughter. Nothing I did had affected her in any way. Why should it matter to her what I did with my life?

“Scotty? Would you read the verse?”

I read the words almost biting them off. “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.”

She smiled at me. It wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Isn’t that a great verse, Scotty?”

A lot of things flitted through my mind that I might tell her: That she was a bigoted old bat. That there were a lot of verses in the Old Testament that nobody followed but orthodox Jews. That Joan of Arc had been burned at the stake because she wore pants, and not for any of the other things she’d done. “No ma’am, I don’t think that’s a great verse.”

Her look went from smug to angry fast. “And why not? Do you doubt the word of God?”

“Do you? I’ve seen you wearing pants many times.” True she had on a dress today, because it was church, but she often wore pants at home. I’d even seen her in overalls when she was working in her garden.

Hailey burst out laughing. Cathy had her hand over her mouth and looked like she was trying not to laugh. Surprisingly, even Rick had a coughing fit. The younger kids were just puzzled. Nobody had ever said a bible verse wasn’t good before during Sunday School.

“Don’t be impertinent with me, young man. You go sit in the corner.”

Was she freaking serious? Sit in the corner? Was this kindergarten? I was about to tell her to shove it when I remembered that this woman knew my secret. I couldn’t afford to piss her off any more than I already had. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Andrews.” I got up and went to sit in the corner.

“Facing the corner, Scotty.”

Really? How old did she think I was? However, knowing the damage she could do to me, I turned and faced the corner. She started in on some babble about how all bible verses were good verses, and the bible was the Word of God. It was a good thing she couldn’t see the look on my face. I’d actually read the whole bible cover to cover and some of it was hard reading. How do you reconcile the loving god of the New Testament, with the one gloating of the suffering of evil doers in the Old Testament? Mrs. Andrews in her self-righteousness was perfectly happy to toss out scriptures condemning me, but had gotten offended when I pointed out the same verse should equally apply to her. That made her a hypocrite in my book.

I don’t know if it was being in church, but after a while I started to feel guilty. It wasn’t that I thought Mrs. Andrews was right. I didn’t believe that verses like that were divinely inspired and to be followed to the letter. However, I did believe in WWJD and one of the things that Jesus did say was turn the other cheek. That wasn’t easy, but I’d accomplished nothing by smarting off to Mrs. Andrews except to piss her off further. I didn’t like her attitude or her keeping Cathy away from me, but maybe this was a good time to practice being compliant and non-aggressive.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Cathy’s mom called an end to class. “Scotty, you can come out of the corner now.”

I turned and rose. The younger kids had taken off and it was just Mrs. Andrews and us teens now: me, Cathy, Hailey and Rick. Everyone in the room knew about me and all eyes were on me. I also knew what was expected now, an apology.

“I’m sorry for my attitude, Mrs. Andrews.” I honestly meant it. I didn’t think it was right or fair for her to single me out like that, but I was willing to let it go.

“It’s my responsibility to teach the class, Scotty. I was making a point about what the Bible says.”

Hailey moved up beside me. “You live just across the street, Mrs. Andrews. If you wanted to talk to Taylor you could have at any time during the past few days. You didn’t have to ambush her like that.”

“Her?” Mrs. Andrews turned to Hailey and hissed at her. “Scotty is a boy.”

“Hailey, it’s okay. I was out of line. Just let it go.” I appreciated her defending me, really I did, but this was not the time or the place. I turned to Mrs. Andrews. “But she’s right, if you want to talk after church maybe that would be best.”

Organ music started drifting in from the sanctuary. Mrs. Andrews looked sour. “It is almost time for the sermon. I can’t come by today. I wish I could. I’m sure Betty could use the support dealing with the two of you, but I’ve got plans. Cathy, with me.” She walked off with her shoes clacking on the old wooden floor. Cathy followed without saying a word but she did give me a sad backward glance as she hurried after her mother.

I looked at Rick who was watching me with a funny expression on his face. “I suppose you’re going to go tell Grandma?”

“Snotty, I don’t tattle.” Rick said with a puzzlingly fond tone, “Besides, what’s to tell? You got snotty, you apologized, but damn, that was a sweet smackdown. You pulled her holier-than-thou stick out of her ass and whacked her thick skull with it. I wish you’d given her a few more thumps like a piá±ata. This doesn’t mean I agree with the rest of your whatever, but that was sweet.”

Hailey looked floored at Rick’s sudden reversal, but it made sense to me. Mrs. Andrews had been less than happy with Rick for some time. He wasn’t happy being stuck in with the little kiddies and she didn’t like his attitude or his playing the field. She’d pulled the same bible drill trick on him in the past, except she’d picked out verses dealing with ‘fornication’. I gave Rick a nod. I was a girl at heart but there was enough boy left to know that Rick had just made a big step. It wasn’t an apology or approval, but maybe, just maybe, we could agree to disagree.

I felt pretty good as we took our seats near Grandma. The unexpected truce, or whatever it was, with Rick gave me hope that perhaps things would work out. I glanced over at Cathy. I hadn’t gotten to talk to her but hopefully Hailey had at least slipped her the notes. Cathy didn’t meet my gaze, but her grandparents (on her mother’s side) were looking at me with open hostility. Apparently they knew about me. Had Mrs. Andrews just told them? Or had they already known? Worse, if they knew, who else did? Or soon would...

I looked around, seeing if anyone else was hating on me, but didn’t see anyone else paying any attention to me. At least not until Reverend Miller made his entrance. He gave me a stern look. I began to worry then. Was he going to do in a big way what Mrs. Andrews did in her classroom and sermonize me from the pulpit? I had a long wait to find out, as we had to get through the musical half of the service first. We sang hymns, stood up and sat down, and prayed. All the time I felt like I was more in a court of law being judged than in a church. Finally, the sermon came.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. We were a week out from Easter and it was a Gethsemane sermon, not my will oh Lord, but yours. I still had the feeling that I was a target in the sermon, but I wasn’t obviously singled out. Still, there was a strong message that even if we don’t like or understand God’s will, we should do it anyway. Translation, even if I wanted to be a girl I should suck it up and be a boy. I got through it and was just glad to be out of there when it was finally over. It could be worse. In fact I knew it was going to get worse. Not just Cathy’s mom but her grandparents knew. How long could my secret last?

As we pulled away from the church Hailey suddenly announced, “I’m not going back to that church. That was ridiculous.”

“You’re part of our family now young lady, you’ll go to our church.”

I reached out and put my hand on Hailey’s. “It’s okay.”

She snatched her hand away. “No, Taylor, it’s not okay. That sermon was all about you. What Cathy’s mom did was over the top, but the preacher was only a little bit more subtle. He was preaching about you. He stopped barely one step short of outing you.”

My grandmother glanced back at us, or more specifically at Hailey. “If you felt God talking to you Hailey, maybe you should listen. The reverend didn’t single out my grandson.” She kept driving.

“Please, can we all just stop fighting?” Maybe I was wrong. I didn’t think so during the sermon, but if I was causing all this fighting maybe I should just learn to live with being a boy. What would I do if Julie left because of me?

Thankfully we lived less than five minutes from the church, so the car ride was over before tempers could flare any more. I rushed inside and changed out of my Sunday clothes into something more comfortable: blue jeans, T-shirt and a real bra. That was the one concession I had left from Grandma. I got to wear a bra which made me look like a tomboy. I was expecting Hailey to join me but Grandma drafted her to help with Sunday lunch. That spoke volumes. Sunday lunch was women’s work at our house. Julie and Hailey had both helped Grandma. I wondered what was being discussed, but I was grounded... and knew only too well that I would not be permitted were I to try to help in the kitchen.

Somewhere out there my dad and Julie were driving home from Galveston. In a few hours I’d have to tell them everything, and there was no turning aside or going back. If I didn’t do it, then Grandma would. What would Dad say? What about Julie? Welcome back from your honeymoon, I want to be a girl. Yeah, right. That ought to go over real well. Not.

Chapter Forty-Eight

I think that afternoon of waiting for my dad and Julie to return was the longest afternoon of my life. Hailey stayed with me the whole time. We debated on my look for a long time. Would it be better to go full-out Taylor? On the plus side, I’d look like a girl, but on the minus side it would slap them in the face with it hard. At the other extreme, I could go all wrapped up in Scotty mode and try to tell them first. That might be an easier way to break it to them, but it ran the risk of Grandma getting in the first punch and framing things her way. I’d asked her to let me tell them, and she’d half-way agreed as long as I didn’t drag my feet too much. I don’t think there actually was any good way to tell them. The only advice I remembered about coming out had been to do it in a public restaurant. That way they were less likely to make a scene. There was no way that was going to happen and with the internet shut down I couldn’t do more research.

In the end we decided to compromise. I’d go in Scotty clothes with a bra and a tight cotton T-shirt, then cover up with a windbreaker I could take off easily. That would let me meet them mostly in drab, but when the time was right I could quickly unwrap and reveal the real me. Boy’s clothes with my breasts showing had worked with Grandma, more or less, although I hoped this time around there would be a little less drama. I did try to skew things to appeal to Dad as much as possible. I was wearing my old little league shirt from last summer. It was good for my color, emerald green, but it had shrunk and I had grown. It was now tight on me and made my breasts very obvious. I thought that with Dad the sport-look couldn’t hurt, and just might help. Since I was going incognito, we decided against makeup and to leave my hair in its usual state of disarray. It wasn’t an easy call. I wanted those little touches that made me look more like a girl, but they didn’t fit the plan.

After we had my appearance set, there wasn’t much to do except wait and wait and wait. We talked about Cathy, and wondered how she was doing. Hailey had passed her the notes, and we both agreed that she was acting for her mother’s sake. There had been enough real glances that we both were sure she hadn’t gone over to the dark side. We talked about Rick, and if the moment in church had been an important first step or just a onetime thing. Mostly we talked about our parents getting home. For better or worse, my life would soon change.

I wasn’t at all sure how Dad would react. I knew it would likely be bad, but Grandma was so awful and so was Rick. There was a big part of me that wanted him to welcome me as his little girl and make all the bad stuff go away. Yet, I had no idea if he would ever accept me.

Finally the crunch of gravel and the honking of a horn announced their arrival. The wait had been killing me, but I felt like I was walking to my execution as I followed everyone outside. I tried to hang back from the others so I wasn’t so obvious. I couldn’t help but think of ‘The Wizard of Oz’. Dad and Julie had been in Technicolor land, on their honeymoon cruise all happy and smiles and rainbows. It was even a perfect day: the sun was shining and the sky was blue with just a few white puffy clouds in it, the grass was turning green and flowers were blooming. Yet they were coming home now to us, actually to me. There were no smiles, or rainbows, among the four of us waiting for them. We were the cold and bitter black-and-white of reality. I felt so guilty that I was going to take their happiness and smash it into pieces. I clung to Hailey’s hand and waited for the inevitable moment when Dad and Julie spotted that there was something different about me.

Grandma looked at me with distaste. “What’s with the windbreaker? I can still tell you have breasts. Shouldn’t you have them hidden until you break the news?”

“I’m hoping they won’t notice first thing, Grandma.” Was it a mistake? Maybe it was. I didn’t know, but it was too late to change now. I squeezed Hailey’s hand and watched as Dad’s truck pulled to a stop.

Dad jumped out of his truck waving excitedly. “Hey everyone! We’re home! Rick, Scotty, grab our bags. I’ve got the bride.”

He ran around to the passenger side where Julie had removed her seat belt, but was waiting with an excited smile and dancing eyes. He opened the door and reached in and scooped her up, taking her into his arms. I suddenly realized what he was doing. He was carrying the bride over the threshold! I’d forgotten about that tradition. While Rick raced for the luggage, I hurriedly held the door for them. They looked so happy.

Dad paused in the doorway. “Ready, Mrs. Miller?”

“Oh yes!” She was smiling up at him with a look that was pure love. The kind they only try to capture in Hollywood when the couple kiss at the end of the movie. Dad maneuvered her carefully through the doorway.

Despite my nerves I couldn’t help but smile at their antics while I closed the front door on them and went out to help Rick with the luggage. As I passed Grandma I stopped and begged. “Let them have a few minutes, please. I’ll tell them. Just not yet, please?”

Grandma stared at me. “If you think what you are doing is so wrong that you can’t tell your father, then why are you doing it?”

Rick walked past us with some luggage while I struggled with her question. I didn’t have a good answer. Hailey stepped up and got between us. “Do you even see how much you’re hurting Taylor doing this to her? It’s not her fault.”

“Maybe it isn’t entirely his fault, Hailey. You’ve greatly encouraged this, but it is his decision. If he isn’t ready for the consequences then maybe that is a sign that it is a bad decision.”

Rick came back out the front door. “Are we gonna unload the truck or just stare at each other?”

“I’ll help.” As I walked to the car I started crying. How was I going to manage this? Rick grabbed two suitcases and I got the last one, closing the truck's door. I walked back toward my house with Grandma watching me with her arms crossed intimidatingly. I wasn’t going to win this, not with her poisoning the conversation. I followed Rick into Dad’s bedroom where he set down the two suitcases he was carrying.

Dad and Julie were kissing, but they stopped and Dad stared at me. “Scotty? Why the long face? I thought you and Hailey would be happy about this, and what’s with the jacket?”

“I am. I’m very happy for you and Julie. I’m thrilled to have Hailey as a sister.” That just made me cry more because I was ruining it.

“Then what’s wrong?” asked Julie. Her voice was soft and gentle as a feather, the voice used by moms everywhere to calm upset children.

Rick snickered. “Go on Scotty, tell them.”

“I think I’d better show you both. Just try to stay calm.” I unsnapped the buttons on my windbreaker and tossed it aside. I was very much aware of how obvious my breasts were with the bra and shirt I had on. With Grandma I’d flaunted them. Now I almost wanted to hide them, but they were my most convincing argument.

My father looked angry. “Oh. My. God. Scotty why are you wearing a bra and what did you stuff it with?”

I’d practiced this with Hailey enough, but even so I the words felt stuck. “I’m wearing a bra because I have b-breasts. I’m okay with them, because I’m not really a boy. I’m really a, a girl inside and my name is Taylor.” I’d stumbled through the words, but I’d finally told my father and that was a huge relief.

Dad looked at Julie and she looked back and shrugged. He turned to me. “You’re not making any sense. Why do you have on a stuffed bra? Are you gay?”

“Dad! I’m not gay. I’m transgendered. I’ve got a girl’s mind in a boy’s body. Well, not quite a boy’s body. I really have breasts. Grandma found out and took me to Doc Buford. I’ve got a medical condition, well probably three of them: Gynecomastia – which means I’m growing breasts. Transgendered – like I said, I have a girl’s mind in a boy’s body, and probably also Klinefelter’s Syndrome – which means I’m XXY.”

“You’ve seen Doc Buford, and those are real?” asked Dad.

“Oh, they’re real!” Rick replied before I could. “As for the rest, he’s messed up in the head. He thinks he wants to be a girl. He wants a sex change.”

Hailey, who I hadn’t even seen join us, butted in after Rick. “That’s because Taylor is a girl, and she isn’t asking for a sex change yet. She just wants respect and to see a therapist.”

Grandma jumped into the conversation with both feet. “What he needs is hormones. We get him on the right drugs, and he’ll straighten out!”

Dad held up his hands. “Everyone, please. Clear the room. I want to talk to Scott right now. Everyone else go.” He was clearly frustrated, but as soon as he said it he softened his tone. “Jules, you can stay if you like.”

Julie shook her head. “I think you need to have this conversation with your son. I’ll talk with Hailey. You take all the time you need. Then we’ll talk.”

“Good. Everyone else out!” Dad made shooing gestures with his hands.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Suddenly I was all alone with my father. I was very much aware that I was on his turf, as Dad’s bedroom is his man cave. One wall has his guns and even a stuffed deer head on it. However, the room wasn’t as bad as his physical presence. Although Dad no longer plays football, he is a big man, and he still works out. He has always been larger than life to me. Usually that is a comforting presence, but now I felt like I was in the shadow of a mighty mountain.

Surprisingly the mountain lowered itself. Dad sat down on his bed and patted the mattress. “Sit down and tell me about it. When did this start? You’re not just gay?”

I took a seat beside him, but not too close. “I’m not gay at all. I might be a lesbian; I’m not really sure about that.” I eyed him carefully. He seemed more stunned than angry, but he was hard to read. Dad was a salesman after all. Still, he seemed to be giving me a chance. “It started some time ago. Back in January I noticed that my boobs were growing. I hid them from everyone and hoped they’d go away, but as time passed I realized I liked them. I liked the way I was growing and developing. I want it to continue. I want to be a girl.”

“Scott, you know that you’re a boy. You can’t ever be a girl.”

“Please Dad, call me Taylor. And yes, I can be a girl. It happens every day. As Rick put it, a sex change... although it’s usually called SRS today, Sex Reassignment Surgery.” For a moment I thought about going on to mention some of the other names for that procedure that I had seen used occasionally online, then decided against confusing the issue. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go that far yet, but that also was so not a good point to bring up right now. “However, it starts with HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy, and for whatever reason I’m already partway there. I want to continue growing like I am now. I want female hormones, not male hormones.”

“What did Doc Buford say? I’m not following all of this.”

“He said that I probably have Klinefelter’s Syndrome, which means I have XXY chromosomes.”

“I remember XX is female, XY is male, so this XXY means you’re halfway between?”

I would have loved to say yes to that. It would be so much easier, but the truth wasn’t that simple. “Not really. It does give a reason for me growing breasts and some other things, but look beyond that. What matters to me is that I’m a girl.”

Eventually he spoke. “So what about Cathy? I thought she was your girlfriend.”

This wasn’t in the roleplays. So what to say? I decided on honesty. “I’m not sure anymore. She’s trying to be understanding, but I’m not sure if she can accept me as a girl.”

“But you still like her then?”

I shrugged. “Cathy is my best friend, but I’m not sure I ever liked her like that. Cathy was far more into the boyfriend/girlfriend thing than I ever was. We never got past kissing and I never wanted to go further than that.”

“So you’re saying that you’re gay then?”

Really? Back to the gay thing again? “No Dad, it’s not about my sexuality. I like girls better than guys, but I like them as friends. I don’t like boys much at all. I don’t have much of a sex drive at all.” I started to explain to him that I probably had low testosterone, and that hormone powered most of the sex drive. However, I didn’t want to give him ammo for dosing me with male hormones.

“So what is it that you want?” He had his salesman face back in place, all smiles and impossible to read.

“It boils down to one thing. I’ve realized that I’m a girl inside and I want my outside to match my inside.”

“You mean you want a sex change. I don’t think my insurance will pay for that. Besides you’re way too young to be deciding on things like this. You’re still a kid. Scotty, this is just a phase.”

“A phase?! It’s not just a phase and SRS is way down the line. I just want HRT, hormone replacement therapy, so I can continue to go through female puberty – and I want a therapist.” Which was getting the horse ahead of the cart since I needed a therapist to sign off on HRT, but... not a good plan to confuse the issue, or at least not even worse than it already was.

“Just HRT and therapy? And to be treated like a girl? You’re asking an awful lot, Sco... umm, Taylor. That sounds like a lot of money. I’m not sure my insurance will pay for it. We may not be able to afford it.”

“Oh, but you were able to afford a cruise to Mexico?” I knew that was snarky, but really I was talking about my fundamental core gender identity and he was quibbling about money?

“I got them off eBay at a very good price, another couple cancelled at the last minute. I paid half of what they were worth — not that it is any of your business.”

“So if we could afford it, you would allow me?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked rattled and Dad rarely looked that way. “I just pointed out that what you are talking about sounds very expensive. A sex change is also irreversible. I don’t think you’re really understand what you’re asking for. You know what they do in a sex change? I've heard they chop off your balls and dick and make some kind of hole. That won’t make you a girl.”

I stood up which let me look down at him. “You’re right! It doesn’t make me a girl because I already am a girl. All it will do is make my body match my mind.”

Dad stood up looking angry. “Where did this come from? Taylor, I’ll listen to what Doc Buford has to say, but this being a girl business needs to stop. I’ll talk to him, and we’ll figure out how to straighten you out. If they can give you girl hormones, then they can give you steroids or something to help you fill out right and bulk up. We can fix this!”

“NO! I don’t want to be fixed! Testosterone won’t fix me. It will ruin any chance I have at developing a normal female body. I’ll grow in places I shouldn’t. Right now, I have a chance to grow up looking like any other girl.” I was losing this. It was all falling apart. “Please, let me see a therapist, a good one who knows about gender disorders, not some closed-minded fraud. I’m sure a good therapist will tell you that I’m transgendered and I need HRT.”

“No. No way. No how. Not now. Not ever.” Dad seemed to grow both in stature and anger. “I’m not sending you to some self-indulgent head-shrinker who will tell encourage you to do just as you please, and damn your obligations to your family and everyone else. I’m not letting some quack sign off on your selfishness.” Surprisingly he pulled in his anger and softened his tone. “Taylor, I know things have been hard on you at school. I know you’ve had bully problems, and that you haven’t bulked up. Now we know there are medical reasons. We can fix them. Becoming a girl isn’t the solution, it’s running away. You can’t run from your troubles. You have to face them. That’s what being a man is about.”

No therapy, just plain flat out no. Instead, testosterone shots and be a man – my worst-case scenario come to life. “No! I won’t do it because I’m not a man! I’m not even a boy. I’m a girl.” I backed away from him. “If you’re not going to help me, just leave me alone!” I broke for the door, stumbled through it, and slammed it behind me.

 

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To Be Continued...