Carlie has sissy predispositions, but overcomes difficulties with love, courage and increasing self-awareness. In this chapter, Carlie learns what he is not.

Carlie

X. A New Hope

I was angry and feeling sorry for myself — I didn’t know if I’d ever find the right person. Maybe Dr. Jane was right — maybe I’d given up any chance of finding a mate when I decided to follow my dream of being a mother. Maybe my whole life was a waste. Mommy saw my dark mood, but knew I just had to work through it as I’d worked through my father’s death.

My break up with Shar might of have been the end of it, but a couple of days later I was eating lunch alone when Cindi sat next to me. This time she was in an adorable cap sleeve aqua tween dress with a bow-accented waist and a butterfly applique. She still wore her MJs but with turned down bobby socks. Her hair was loose, held back on one side by a barrette matching the butterfly on her dress. Unlike Monday, she wore a modest sweater bra.

“Hi, Carlie.”

“Hi, Cindi.”

“I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to break you and Shar up. I’m really sorry about that. She said you’d like it … if we all played together.”

“I guess she didn’t understand me. I’m a one-girl guy or girl or whatever I am, and Shar thinks it’s a game.”

“I know, Shar told me. I really admire that. There aren’t very many one-girl whatevers at this school.” (She smiled to show me she was not making fun of me.) “I’d like to get to know you better.”

“I’m not fast, Cindi. If you want fast, you’d be better off with Shar.”

“I’m not looking for fast Carlie. Been there, done that. I want to spend time and get to know you.”

“I’m not too good company just now.”

“That’s OK, I’d just like a walk. The leaves are beautiful and we don’t need to talk. Do you want to come?”

There was more depth to Cindi than I’d imagined, so I said OK. We walked along the river looking at the fall color and not saying much. After a while, she took my hand, but not in the little girl way she had on Monday.

Cindi wasn’t looking for fast. We just went for walks or movies, or talked over lunch. We’d talk, not in long intent conversations, but in bits and pieces that, like the dots of color in a Seurat painting, combined to paint our lives. Over weeks she asked about my family, how I became feminine and my goals in life. She was interested in all my friends from Liz and Sandy though Judy, Jason, Shane and Mommy. I asked about her life in return.

The little dots of light had an earnest tone that can’t be summarized, but the over all picture can be. Her parents are surgeons and were too busy to spend much time with her. Like Victorians, they hired nurses and au pairs to raise her. She was presented to them, prissily dressed, every day at 5:30 to spend an hour before they prepared for dinner. Like any child, she wanted and needed more affection. When she was old enough to have a say, she dressed in the way she thought most endearing — as a cute little girl.

Eventually she was shipped off to boarding school. The staff was nice enough professionally, but the only real affection to be had was from the other girls. She was attractive to girls who wanted to treat her as a child — well as a child in some ways, but as a plaything in others. When Shar showed an interest in her, she fell into the same pattern with her.

Shar lead her to think of me as a quasi-male version the efficient nannies who cared for her as a child. Her little girl behavior had squeezed a few reluctant drops of affection out of them, and maybe it would with me. Shar said that I wanted to be with a girl as a boy. While Shar wasn’t interested, Cindi didn’t know if she was or not, and wanted to find out. So, in her mind, I’d be a safe test object to see if she liked boys.

Cindi knew the effect her braless breasts and sexy legs had. So, she was set back by my refusal to play because I loved Shar and not her. It shattered her view of people as pawns in a game where winning meant affection and sexual relief.

Much of her story was reluctantly told. Her parents inattention not only hurt, but made her feel unlovable. Her boarding school experiences made her feel weak and needy — worse, she feared I’d reject her as a lesbian slut. She only told me when I sat holding her hands on a dark park bench. After she finished she was shaking. I hugged her to me and told her I loved her. She loved me too.

After such emotional intimacy, you’d think physical intimacy would follow. Yet, despite her experience, Cindi was reluctant to do more than hold my hand, or give me a hug or peck on the cheek. She feared that I’d think she wanted to use me. I, of course, had never made the first move with anyone. I still wondered what kind of love Cindi had for me. Maybe it was the kind Judy and I had. So, our relationship stalled as we each waited for the other to make a move. Again, mommy came to my aid.

Mommy had been afraid I’d be hurt again when I told her that Cindi wanted to know me better. So, each night as she bushed my hair, she asked about us. Finally, she said, “Carlie, I know you think you’re feminine and passive, but that won’t do with Cindi.”

“What do you mean?”

“Deep down you’re strong, dear. Cindi has been so emotionally beat up, she’s never had a chance to realize how strong she can be. I know you’ve imagined yourself as a mother and wife, and assumed your mate would husband you. But, that’s not you. You need to husband Cindi. That does not mean you can’t be a mother, because sometimes mothers are the strong ones in their relationships. So, you need to take charge, and not let things drift.”

What mommy said ran against my whole self-image. Still, I knew she was right. Mother had been the power with my dad. She’d let him think he was in charge, but mother and I, even at 7, knew he wasn’t. When dad and I lived alone, I’d come to be the leader. I admired Sandy and looked to her as a model for motherhood, and she was as strong as anyone. So, mommy was right, I was feminine, but that didn’t mean that I was weak.

I’d been passive with Jason and Shar, and neither relationship had worked out. Cindi needed me to be strong, and I could be for her.