Chapter One: Renewal

Karen stared out the window of her mother’s apartment on Christmas morning, looking down an empty street to view piled snow along the curbs. Mark Hamilton, her beloved, had ventured down the street minutes before, driving his parent’s car headed for a Christmas morning with his family and out of her life in the weeks to come.

Her mind was filled with thoughts about the previous 15 hours in which Mark had surprisingly re-entered her life, hugged her, kissed her and repeatedly said how much he loved her. He had told her how he was able to tell his parents that she, the lovely Karen, was a boy anatomically, and not the beautiful girl they thought she was. It had been a bold step, and Karen knew it had been difficult for him, but he had taken it. His mother, he told her, had taken the revelation fairly easily, but his father was still not sure about it.

Karen knew, too, that by expressing his love for her he may be exposing his promising future in football in jeopardy. Yet, Mark Hamilton, the freshman quarterback phenom at Iowa State, had found the courage to share his love for her. The memories of the previous hours were still fresh in her mind and there were tears in her eyes — tears of joy mixed with sadness since she wasn’t certain when she’d see him again. He was to return to football practice for the New Years Day bowl game in Florida after celebrating Christmas with his family and then back to school in Iowa.

“He’s not coming back today, honey,” her mother said, moving next to Karen and hugging her closely.

“I know, mother. But, isn’t he wonderful?”

“Yes, darling, he’s nice and so good-looking, too,” Cecily Hansson said to her daughter.

Her little brother, Sonny, age 14, entered the room and, having overheard the conversation, spoke out: “Hey, sis, he’s really cool. He showed me how to grasp the football so I can throw better passes.”

Karen looked around at her brother, who actually now stood perhaps an inch taller than she was at 18 and had already developed a broad muscular body.

“I’m glad you liked him, Sonny, ‘cause he said he liked you, too,” Karen said.

“Yeah, just wait ‘til I tell my friends that Mark Hamilton, the Iowa State star, is my big sister’s girlfriend,” he said with a grin.

Karen smiled at her brother, his body already maturing in spite of his young age into a powerful, masculine presence. She was so pleased at the change in attitude from her younger brother who had so often teased her when she was still a boy named Kenny who had long displayed a natural femininity. Now, Sonny had seemed to take pride in having a sister who was so pretty that she was able to command the attention of a bona fide football hero.

“Think you’ll even be as good on the field as Mark?” she teased her brother.

“Of course, I will,” Sonny boasted with a typical teenage swagger. “But then, sis, you only have eyes for your precious Mark.”

It was true. While she had enjoyed the kisses and caresses of her college friend Gabe for a short time, and even the lesbian advances of her hometown friend Angela, her feelings focused on Mark Hamilton, the first boy who ever showed her any attention. For six months she had thought she’d lost him, and now he had returned into her life.

That morning, as the pair had awakened in each other’s arms on a shared twin bed (their sheets entangled and scented with the sweet sourness in the aftermath of mutual ejaculations), they had had to hurry so that Mark could leave for his home 90 miles away by 9 a.m. Their love-making has yet to be consummated since Karen still has her penis and neither was interested in performing anal sex; instead they had comforted themselves with long kisses, loving caresses and sweet cuddles. In the end, they both ejaculated, almost simultaneously, before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

That night in bed, Mark confessed to being a virgin and pledged to remain that way until Karen had her operation and was equipped with a vagina. Karen also was a virgin, having never been with a girl during her years as a boy.

“You promise you won’t be teased into bed by one of those pretty Cyclone cheerleaders?” Karen asked said as they cuddled.

“Darling, you’re prettier than any of those girls,” he replied quickly. “And I’d love you even if you weren’t.”

There was no hesitation in his reply and she kissed him voraciously in response.

Karen met Mark Hamilton at a Shakespeare Summer Camp at St. Albert’s College in the previous June, where Karen (then Kenny) had been selected to play Ophelia in “Hamlet” and Mark to play the title role. Karen had been chosen in the tradition of the ancient English theater in which men played all the parts (including the females) and she had played the pretty, but troubled, teenage Ophelia so convincingly that many viewed her as a genetically born girl. To prepare for the role, under the instruction of the director (who believed in “method” style of acting), she had lived fulltime as a girl.

Surprisingly, the life of a girl seemed natural to Karen; she had never before dressed in female clothing, but her life as a boy had been miserable and lonely. With a naturally nonathletic body, slender arms and lovely legs, she learned how quickly life changed for her. Suddenly, she had friends (girlfriends, of course) and the admiring looks of boys. It had been a life-changing experience, beginning but six months before. In November, she began living fulltime as a girl, and in January would begin hormonal treatment with eventual sexual reassignment surgery.

“When I learned you were living as a girl and would be transitioning, Karen, I knew I had to be with you,” Mark said that previous night. “I knew that the pretty girl I met in summer camp was not an apparition, but the real thing.”

Karen began crying with those words, even though she knew Mark meant them sincerely.

“Why are you crying, Karen?” he asked as he cradled her in his arms.

“Oh Mark, I’ll never be a total girl, a woman. I’ll have all the parts, but I’ll never be able to give you a baby. I can never be a mother.”

She recalled how gently Mark cuddled her, how softly his hands caressed her smooth skin. She remembered how she buried her head into his hard, muscled neck and took in his manly scent.

“Darling Karen,” Mark finally said. “You can be a mother. We can adopt and be a family like everybody else.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as you could have with a real girl. You’ll never be able to look at a child and say you helped to create him or her.”

She began to sob as she pressed hard his warm, toned body, and he responded by gently caressing her head as she sobbed.

“Oh sweet Karen, I’ll have you, and that’s all that counts,” he said at last.

She rose up so that their lips could meet and they kissed a long, warm, wet kiss. It had been a magical moment. She would never forget it. But, she wondered, did he really mean it? Could his love for an incomplete woman like herself ever last? Yes, yes, yes, she told herself. He loves me and I love him. What else counts?

These thoughts raced through her head as she stood looking longingly out the window hoping unrealistically for sight of Mark Hamilton to return up the frozen street and into her arms. Alas, she’d have to wait.

*****
The day after Christmas Karen went back to her regular holiday schedule, working from 11 a.m. to about 8 p.m. at the Olympus. Even though the work was grueling and tiring at the busy family restaurant, she enjoyed it, particularly now that she was able to be identified as “Karen.” She had become a popular waitress — both with her co-workers and the customers — known for her cheerful nature and efficient work habits.

In particular, Karen loved the waitress’s uniforms, the flowing, colorful print skirts with beige-colored blouses with their scooped peasant neck style. “I feel so feminine in them,” she confessed to Lucy Alexopolus, the hostess and daughter of the owner.

“You look just darling in it, Karen. No wonder all the men give you more than a glance,” Lucy said.

Karen blushed. Though she denied the fact, it was widely felt that Karen may have been the prettiest girl on the staff; what made her even more fetching was that she offered everyone a warm, welcoming smile.

The senior waitress, an attractive but hardened woman named Sharon, had become Karen’s closest friend among the girls who worked there and acted almost as an on-the-job mother toward her. Sharon, of course, had worked with Karen before she began living as a woman and had always been impressed with the young person’s hard work and sincere demeanor. During breaks and some after-work stops at places like pizza parlors or coffee spots, Karen found out quickly that Sharon — a single mother of two — could be a valuable confidant. In addition, Sharon constantly was protective of the younger woman, pointing out which of the male customers might be the most troublesome for a pretty girl.

“Believe me, Karen, I used to be quite a looker once myself,” Sharon said. “And you’re still learning to be a girl. I’ve been through what you’re going through now, trying to fend of wandering hands and leers.”

“Sharon, the men still look at you. You’re a pretty woman,” Karen said.

“Well maybe a little bit,” Sharon said with a smile. “But mainly the old pot-bellied guys with wives look at me. Everyone else follows you around.”

“They look at the other girls, too. Everyone of us is pretty, and even Beatrice would be if she smiled more.” Karen referred to a pretty, but always sour-faced waitress who had become even dourer when she learned the former Kenny was now living as Karen. “You’re blaspheming God,” Beatrice had warned Karen, initially refusing to use her feminine name, due to her fundamentalist religious views.

“Yes, George likes to hire pretty girls,” Sharon said, giving out with a giggle in her reference to George Alexopolous, the Olympus owner. “That’s why he was happy to have you return as Karen.”

The holiday season was always a busy one at the Olympus, often crowded with large family groups, many ranging from invalided grandparents to toddlers. Both high chairs and special tables for the disabled were constantly full; it required supreme patience on the part of the staff to work around crawling infants, scampering three-year-olds and wheelchairs.

As usual, Karen and Beatrice were teamed up; having adjacent sections to serve in the restaurant meant they often had to help each other out if one got overwhelmed. In spite of Beatrice’s hard feelings toward her, Karen always found the girl — who had long dark hair tied in a bun, naturally dark eye lashes and brows with a near tan complexion — to be a most cooperative workmate, and the two girls worked efficiently together.

During an afternoon break on the day after Christmas, Beatrice sat down next to Karen at the picnic table in the back of the restaurant, having retrieved her purse from a small locker that the Olympus had for the staff’s personal belongings.

“Wow, we were busy this noon. Thanks, Beatrice, for your help,” Karen said.

“I know. I’m bushed, and thank you, too, for your assistance. I didn’t think I’d ever finished up with that last family group. Those kids were terrors.” Beatrice forced a smile.

“Cute little Jamie,” Karen said sarcastically, referring to a 5-year-old who seemed to terrorize the entire restaurant at times.

“If I weren’t Christian, I’d have a word for that brat,” Beatrice said, displaying a rare bit of emotion.

“It’s Ok, Beatrice. You can think it, anyway,” Karen said with a laugh.

Beatrice smiled in response and Karen was impressed with how pretty and welcoming the girl’s face could become when she smiled. She watched as Beatrice opened her purse and extracted a colorful pamphlet.

“I hope you don’t mind, Karen, but I’ve got something for you,” Beatrice said, her demeanor growing a bit serious. She handed the pamphlet to Karen; it was a three-fold pamphlet with a picture of a young man, upon which had been superimposed a ghost-like figure of a woman whose face appeared to be a direct image of the young man’s.

Karen looked at it, seeing a headline that read:

“God’s Word about Gender Switching”

“Please read this, Karen,” Beatrice said, and Karen realized that for the first time Beatrice had quit using her male name.

“Beatrice,” Karen said, framing her words carefully. “I promise I’ll read this and take it to heart, but I want you to check out information on line, too, about why this has happened to me. Would you do that, please? For me?”

“I guess, but it won’t change what God thinks about people who play around with their natural sex.”

“Beatrice, please look it over for me, Ok?”

The other girl nodded, and Karen said she’d bring some information she’d print out from the Internet that might best explain why people feel compelled to change their gender.

“It’s a deal then,” Karen said, giving the other girl a fist bump.

Beatrice smiled. The girl could be very warm and welcoming, Karen realized, if she would only loosen up and not act as if she was angry with the world.

“Beatrice,” Karen said after a few moments. “I got an idea. We’re both off tomorrow and I’d like you to come with me to visit a friend of mine.”

“Really, Karen?” the girl responded with a surprised look, as if she couldn’t believe the lovely, popular Karen would include her in something.

“Yes, I’m going to the Sunset Days Nursing Home to visit Elsa Oppenheimer, my friend and also to spend time with some of the other ladies there. Come along, I’ll be going with a couple of girlfriends from high school. We used to go there every Saturday when I was in high school to visit the home.”

“And you’d like me to come with you?”

“Sure. You seem like you’re a caring person and God likes us to serve others. Don’t you do work like that, too, through your church?”

Beatrice nodded. “Sure, I’ve working at our food pantry sometimes and I helped distribute Thanksgiving baskets to the poor.”

“And you’ll love these old ladies. They can be so much fun. I play Scrabble with Elsa and she’s in her 90s and she sometimes beats me easily. She can be a crafty, old player.”

There was a giggle from Beatrice. “I’d like that, only I’m no good at Scrabble.”

“That’s Ok, there’s a Mrs. Eisenstein who loves backgammon and is always looking for players.”

Suddenly the look on the other girl’s face grew alarmed.

“What’s wrong, Beatrice?”

“Ah . . . nothing . . . but are all the people there Jewish?”

Oh my, Karen thought. This girl has serious problems with being terribly sheltered in her attitudes. She must have been raised in an anti-Semitic tradition.

“Does that bother you, Beatrice?”

“No, I’m not prejudiced,” she said, defensively.

“Well, then you’ll join us, dear,” Karen said, seeking to challenge the girl without a direct confrontation. She knew that if she could get Beatrice to join them, she’d be charmed by several of the old ladies there and would likely soon forget about them being Jews.

“Yes, of course,” Beatrice said, but Karen could sense a wariness in her response.

“Ok, we’ll pick you up at 1 p.m. tomorrow, and I’ll bring along my information then.”

Beatrice nodded: “And you’ll read what I gave you, right?”

George Alexopolous poked his head. “Get going, girls. The tables are filling up.”

Karen gave Beatrice a hug and the other girl stiffened initially before hugging back and whispering in Karen’s ear: “Thank you, Karen.”

*****
“Was Beatrice preaching again?” Sharon asked as she and Karen left work that night and settled into a booth at a pizza place where Sharon would have a beer and Karen a soft drink.

“Trying to, but I didn’t argue with her,” Karen said.

“That’s wise. I’ve been avoiding getting into conversations with her just because of that.”

Sharon, the senior waitress at the Olympus, and Karen had developed a sisterly friendship, even though Sharon, a single mother of two, was 15 years older.

“She could actually be a beautiful woman if she’d smile a bit more,” Karen said. “But I got her to loosen up today and I think she’ll join me and a couple of other girls when we visit the nursing home.”

“Did she like the idea?”

“Oh yes, ‘til she realized most of the ladies there were Jewish, but then I shamed her into coming anyway. She might learn something.”

Sharon laughed. “I doubt it, but then you always seem to be the ultimate optimist.”

“Why not?”

“I hope you’re right, Karen, but it seems I’ve had too many hard knocks to always be so hopeful.”

“By the way, how are you and your boyfriend doing?” Karen asked.

Sharon smiled. “Good, dear. Really good. Stanley’s such a fine man, I just don’t think I’m good enough for him. He’s such a smart guy. You know, he teaches English at the technical school, and what am I, nothing but a broken-down old waitress?”

Karen frowned at her friend: “You’re wrong on all counts, Sharon. You’re not broken-down, although I admit you may feel tired sometimes. Who wouldn’t with your schedule? And, besides you’re as smart a woman as any, probably smarter than his first wife.”

“Well, Stanley always says I am, but I usually think it’s just his Irish blarney coming out when he feels horny.”

“ Nuts. He’s a sweet man and he means it, Sharon.”

“Enough about me,” Sharon said. “How’s your love life doing? Heard from your Mark?”

“Every night,” Karen said, smiling. “Either he calls or he emails me or texts me. Depends on the team’s practice schedule, which is getting pretty intense.”

“Sounds like it’s for real between you two then?”

“At least for now, unless he gets lured away by some sweet young thing in Iowa.”

“Now it’s my turn to be optimistic, Karen,” Sharon said. “You’re likely the prettiest and sweetest girl he’ll ever have, even if he is a football hero.”

*****
“That boy Aaron called today,” Karen’s mother told her when she returned home.

Cecelia Hansson was seated in her favorite overstuffed chair, reading a novel. Even though she needed glasses to drive and work around the kitchen, she removed them while reading and it made Karen wonder if maybe she faced that fate as she grew older. She hadn’t even had time to remove her puffy, insulated coat and wool knit cap when her mother made the announcement.

“Oh, what did he want, mom?”

“He didn’t say, but I told him you might not be home ‘til after 10,” Cecelia replied. “Did you stop off somewhere with Sharon?”

“Yes, mom. She’s really become such a good friend. You’ll have to meet her.”

“I did once, dear. Remember, when I stopped by with a couple of the girls for lunch one day. You introduced her, dear.”

“Yes, of course.”

Her mother looked at her closely. “She’s such a hard-looking woman, dear, I hope she’s not going to get you buried into her kind of life style.”

“Mother, you don’t know her,” Karen said sharply. “She’s smart as a whip. She’s just been dealt some unfair cards in life, and she’s working hard to overcome them. Besides, she’s a good mother, and she has helped me a lot. I owe much, mother.”

“I’m sorry, Karen, but I just don’t want you to spend the rest of your life working as a waitress like Sharon,” Cecelia Hansson responded.

“Oh, mother, you don’t know her. She’s almost got her associate’s degree in accounting at the tech school, but frankly she makes good money waitressing and she’s good at it.”

Her mother abruptly turned her attention back to her book; it was the newest novel by Danielle Steele, not exactly challenging literature.

“What did you tell Aaron, mom?”

“To call tomorrow morning, dear, since I knew you’d be going to the nursing home,” her mother said. “Oh yes, Angela called and said she’d pick you up just before one o’clock.”

“Thanks mom,” Karen said, walking over to kiss her mother “good night.”

*****
Even before taking off her waitress outfit, Karen sat down at her laptop to check email messages. She hadn’t heard from Mark all day; usually he would send a brief text message several times a day, but there had been not one. Karen told herself that Mark must have been busy at football practice (the game was but four days off) and she knew his family had arrived in Florida for the game. He must be under terrible time pressures, she told herself. Yet, there was lingering fear that one of the many campus beauties who had followed the team from Ames, Iowa, might have weaved their charms and drawn his attention.

There were some 100 incoming messages awaiting her that night, but only one of them was worth looking at. It was from Angela:

Darling, looking forward to seeing u again. D and I had great fun skiing but we had a little fight, so I came home early.

If u want, let’s do something together, just u and I, after our visit to the nh. Luv to spend time with u. cya. Hugs and kisses, Angela.

Karen let out a gasp upon reading her message. Did Angela, who was a year ahead of her at the college and was her one true girlfriend in high school, want to rekindle their own personal lesbian affair? The thought of being in the arms of the muscular and tall Angela excited Karen; she remembered how the nipples on her breasts grew hard with the other girl’s caresses. She remembered how much Angela desired her — not as the boy she was originally, but as a soft, feminine girl. And she loved being Angela’s object of affection; although the other’s possessive and controlling nature scared Karen.

“I can’t go back to Angela again,” she told herself. Yet, she knew she now felt a longing to be nestled next to her, both totally naked. It made her tiny penis grow hard.

As she readied herself for bed, her mind raced between Angela and her renewed interest in Karen to Mark and his failure to contact with her that day and Aaron whose purpose in making a phone call to her was a mystery.

A girl’s life can be so complicated, she realized.

*****
She was still lounging around in her light pink flannel pajamas, robe and fluffy slippers and her hair still tied up when Aaron called the next morning. She was in the kitchen with her mother, sharing waffles, and Cecelia Hansson took the call, holding the phone with the mouthpiece covered.

“It’s Aaron, honey,” she said.

“Oh mother, I look like hell now,” she said without thinking.

Her mother laughed out loud and said: “Just like a girl.”

“Mother!”

“That’s all right, I was covering the mouthpiece,” she said, still laughing.

Besides the absurdity of her own comment, Karen was wary of the call, worrying about how she’d respond to whatever it was Aaron might want to say. She took the phone, looked at it a moment, and then spoke into it: “Hello.”

At first no one said anything, so she said again, “Hello. Is that you Aaron?”

“Ah . . . yes . . . ah . . . how are you?” came the stammering voice of Aaron. He hadn’t lost his shyness, it was obvious.

“I’m fine, Aaron, just a bit tired from a busy day at work yesterday. And how are you?” She realized that she’d have to carry on the conversation, since Aaron seemed to have reverted to his hesitant, halting ways.

“Oh, Ok, and I just wondered what you’re doing these days,” he said, the words beginning to come more freely.

“Oh, Aaron, just working almost every day. What did you have in mind?”

She realized he’d have to be coaxed into getting into the reason for his call, so she thought she’d get right to the point.

“Well, Karen, I wasn’t very nice to you the last time I talked to you,” he began.

“You were all right,” she said. “After all, I shocked you when I told you I was born as a boy. I understand, Aaron.”

“It was a shock, but I like you, Karen,” he said. “I’ve never met a . . . ah . . . ah . . . girl who I could talk to so easily like you. Or even another boy.”

Karen smiled. “I enjoyed our short time together, Aaron. You’re a very nice boy.”

At that point, Karen’s mother, apparently wishing to give her daughter privacy, got up and left the kitchen.

“Thank you, Karen, and I wondered . . . ah . . . ah . . . whether I could see you while you’re home on vacation. Maybe for coffee or a movie or something, or what are you doing News Years Eve?”

The last words came rushing out of the boy’s mouth, as if he had rehearsed these lines over and over before placing the call. Karen wondered if Aaron, even though he was a year older and in his second year of college, had ever before asked a girl out on a date.

“That’s nice of you, Aaron, and I’d like to see you, but the truth is I’m very busy this week,” she said, trying to be gentle and kind. She felt she’d truly like to spend time with Aaron, but the truth was she was busy.

“Not even for an hour or so, Karen?” the said, pleading his case.

“Aaron, I really am tied up,” she began. “I’m off today, but I’m spending the afternoon visiting a nursing home with some of my girlfriends. We began doing this as a project in high school, and I made some nice friends among the old ladies out there, and I promised I’d do something with my best friend, Angela, tonight. Then I’m working everyday, except New Year’s Day, until I go back the following Monday.”

“Oh. I guess you are busy.”

“Really, plus I need to spend some time on a paper I’m writing.”

“Karen, I’d like to talk with you . . . ah . . . you know . . . about your gender situation,” Aaron said. “I’ve been doing research and I think I understand. I still don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Nor I.”

“Maybe New Year’s Day we can do something?”

“I’m not sure, since I’ll be working late on New Year’s Eve, like ‘til 2 in the morning, and I’ll be tired, and then I want to watch a bowl game on New Year’s Day.”

“You like football? Really?”

“No not really, but my boyfriend is playing in one of the games,” she said. “It starts about one o’clock.”

“Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Karen said, her voice becoming hesitant. She still wasn’t sure she could call Mark her boyfriend, but the truth was that Mark seemed to act like a boyfriend. Yet, it had been more than a day-and-one-half since he’d contacted her.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” the boy said, his voice betraying his disappointment.

Karen was suddenly hit with remorse over causing this kind, gentle boy such obvious pain.

“But maybe we can still get together, Aaron,” she volunteered.

It was finally agreed that the two would have dinner together on New Year’s Day night.

“How about Angelo’s?” Aaron suggested.

“Oh, that’s so expensive, Aaron,” she said.

“Not for a pretty girl like you, Karen. I want to treat you,” he said.

“No we should go ‘dutch,’” she said.

“Really, I insist,” the boy said. “I promise I won’t demand anything from you. Just a nice evening out with conversation between the two of us.”

Karen agreed. She looked forward to spending time with Aaron, since he was interesting. Also, she liked the idea of putting on a nice dress for the occasion. That appealed to her.