Choices

Chapter 6

I spent the 45 minutes while Jack was with the dentist just sitting in a daze in the waiting room. I thought about how I could have missed what Jack had told me; that he thought he should have been a girl. Jack was ten, almost eleven; why had I not seen this in him, even just a little? What kind of mother was I? This wasn’t something a good mother would overlook. Putting aside how utterly crazy the thought of a boy wanting to be a girl was, I went back over his life in my mind and wondered if I had caused him to feel this way.

First, I wondered about his father; wondered if Don’s cousin Jack, the wonderful man who lost his life in the war in Germany, was really my Jack’s father. As a toddler I often compared him to his ‘Uncle Jack’. There was that resemblance; delicate features, sweet eyes and long lashes. Perhaps I treated my little Jack differently because of my passion for Captain Jack Staub coupled with the guilt and grief I felt when he died, and still feel at times.

Second, I had to admit that I actually did think of Jack differently, I guess, before he went to school. I remembered saying without thinking more than a few times how he could have easily been a girl. But he was just a little tike then and I wasn’t serious. Now I wondered if I may have been serious, subconsciously, and started something in him that was now emerging.

Third, I vividly remembered Jack’s first haircut. It wasn’t unusual not to cut boys’ hair until they are four or five. My memory was clear of the day we took Jack into town the summer before he started school to cut those long nearly shoulder length curly locks. I don’t think he understood what was going to happen and when it was over he just looked so sad. I didn’t go into the barber shop with him, Don did. But I watched through the barber shop window while waiting in the car. Jack sat quietly waiting and watching. I could see a look on his face I had not seen before. Yes, he was scared but more than that he seemed so puzzled. It was like he didn’t know why he was there. He didn’t seem to understand or relate; farmers in overalls chewing tobacco; spittoons on the floor, the smell of cigarettes and cigars. When he climbed up into that huge chair with the booster seat, I noticed he was staring at something, not watching what the barber was doing or listening to the banter. He was looking straight ahead, through the mirror at the calendar on the wall above his head.

I now remembered exactly how I felt when I saw Jack staring at the calendar of the Vargas girl through that mirror. My little boy was losing his hair and was staring at a print of a young beautiful woman wearing a filmy gown with beautiful long hair cascading over her shoulder. I literally cried as the scissors began cutting and the locks fell first to his small shoulders and then to the floor. I do remember that Jack didn’t talk about getting his hair cut and thinking back on it I could see how it changed him, not only how he looked (like the boy he was) but his disposition. My sweet joyful Jack became quiet, almost guarded.

So I sat there waiting for Jack to finish with the dentist second guessing myself and what kind of parent I was. Did I do this to him; make him start thinking about how girls are? Had I sub-conscientiously passed this to him? Did he hear me say that many years ago and believe it, and now it’s coming out? Did I treat him differently? Does he think girls have it better, or get more attention? What had I done? Did I ignore him telling me earlier, as he claimed, because I wanted a girl? All I had was questions.

Then I defended myself. I could think of no time that I really acted on my thoughts about Jack being a girl-like nor did I treat him differently. I didn’t dress him different than Timmy and while maybe Brenda played dress up with him a few times so did she with Timmy a couple of times. And I was sure that since he’s been in school I’ve treated him like the boy he is.

Of course I also wondered what if he had a point that there was some mistake. I couldn’t accept that but the thought crept into my head. He was not a strong, hefty boy; not at all like Tim. He was fine boned, more like Brenda. His physical characteristics were girl-like in a way. Was he supposed to be a girl; was there some mistake made when he was in my womb? No, I concluded, Jack was a boy. I had no doubt; I was being silly thinking such thoughts.

Whatever it was I knew I had to try to fix it now, before it was too late.

I was brought out of my daze by the sound of Jack happily running to me and giving me a hug. He was in a much better mood than during the ride and talk on the way to Wheeling. I think he was glad he didn’t have any cavities.

I told him I would take him to Walgreen’s for lunch at the counter but that I needed to run in to the department store for a couple of things first. Jack loved to go with us to Wheeling and have lunch at Walgreen’s and he loved to look at the displays in the windows of the stores. It was only a couple of blocks to the best department store in Wheeling, Stone and Thomas. Jack was skipping as we went into the store and took the elevator to the second floor, women’s department. I needed a new dress for fall and as I browsed Jack paid close attention and I couldn’t help notice how interested he was. I wondered if he was just more relaxed after our talk or if he was he putting on a show for me?

I lost track of Jack for a moment and out of the corner of my eye noticed that he had wandered over to the girls department. I watched him for a few moments. He didn’t touch anything but looked at the rack of dresses for girls his age. He then focused on a girl’s dress on a manikin. It was a cute dress in an off red with a pattern of little black squares and ovals. It was a yoked dress with a full gathered skirt and a white lace collar, short sleeves and button back closing. The manikin was fitted with white lace socks and Mary Jane strapped shoes. It was a cute dress and I found myself admiring it. Jack just seemed so transfixed. Part of me wanted to ask him what he thought; part of me wanted let him see it up close, touch the dress or… I pushed that thought out of my mind. My heart was pounding, I felt flushed. I knew I had to get him out of there before I did something I would regret or someone noticed. Maybe I was the problem.

We both had soup and a sandwich at Walgreen’s and I treated Jack with a Coke. He didn’t say anything but I felt he wanted to.

On the way back to the car I couldn’t help but feel like I was not handling this well. I shouldn’t have taken him into the store. I should have kept him out of the girls department. Boys don’t belong there anyway or want to be there. But I should have known better after our talk and what I knew Jack had been doing. I felt so guilty. On the drive back to Moundsville, I tried to continue talking with Jack.

“Jack, I’m still trying to understand and I need to so I can help you. I saw you looking at the dress on the manikin. What were you thinking? I don’t get it. Do you feel like you should have been born a girl, or do you feel like you are a girl? Why are you so interested in this?”

“Both I guess. Mom, you’re asking too many questions.” Typical, I thought, our children hate being questioned.

“But you seem ok as a boy. You play with other boys. You like basketball. You just read a book about the Battle of Britain.” I stated without asking. I felt like I was arguing with myself, not Jack.

“Yes, but I know girls who like basketball and read books that aren’t girl books. And I also read Nancy Drew. But they get to wear dresses to school and have long hair.” He made it sound so great to be a girl. If only he knew how girls and women were hardly entitled and that it is often more of a burden than wonderful. I knew I should pull back and not react. But I did, of course.

“What? You want to wear a dress to school?” Jack’s hair was already longer than it had been since he started school and the thought of my Jack going out the door in a dress with shaggy hair now almost covering his ears terrified me. I had given him the 75 cents to go get a haircut but he came back and told me the shop was closed. The next Saturday I sent him back and this time he came back and said it was too crowded. I hadn’t pushed it again, yet.

“Mom, I know I can’t do that. But I want to and I …” he didn’t finish. There were a few moments of silence before I asked: “You what?”

“I have.” He said trying not to divulge whatever it was that I just knew I didn’t want to know.

“What have you, Jack?” I asked and waited for what I dreaded.

“I’ve worn a dress, mom.” Then he just let so much out I couldn’t believe it. We really hadn’t talked about the details of what he had been doing before. I wanted him to talk and he did. I guess he had been thinking about what to say in the dentist office and he was feeling at ease with me knowing more. I knew he had taken my and Brenda’s personal things and I guessed he had been into Brenda’s dresses on the third floor, but I wasn’t ready for the full confession he now gave me.

“I’ve always dreamed about being a girl.” He began tentatively with his head down not looking at me but with serious determination to open up. I had succeeded in gaining his trust. “When I was little I loved the dolls Brenda had and played with them a lot. When I started school I felt I should be with the girls not the boys and a teacher yelled at me ‘cause I got in the girls line. When we moved to the house in town I started doing things. Mom, I’m sorry. I took your things, and some of Brenda’s. I go up to the third floor and put a dress on sometimes, but they don’t fit well. I like to look into the big mirror up there and pretend I’m going to school or a dance. And I almost always sleep in the slip I have hidden. I sneak it into bed after the lights are off and put it on.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Jack was talking and I wanted to know everything, but wished I could just go back and not know any of this. I put my hand on his shoulder to let him know I was not upset. I was upset but I couldn’t let him know. He continued.

“And last year when you let me spend the night at Joanie’s, well, uh we played dress up. We both put on dresses and played make believe. We didn’t do anything bad. It was just fun, mom.” Now he was looking at me and into my eyes.

I wanted to ask where Hilda was during all of this but didn’t. Joanie’s parents were good friends of ours. John was our doctor and they lived in a big house in town while we lived on the farm and Hilda was a wonderful mother. As kids Jack and Joanie played together a lot when the parents socialized and Joanie liked to visit the farm. She had stayed over on the farm several times and Jack loved showing her how to gather eggs and feed his cow. So I never thought it was a problem for an eight or nine year boy to spend the night at the home of a playmate, a girl, when Hilda asked me. I sent him off with his boy pajamas and didn’t think anything of it. Why would any mother worry about that? They both were just so young and innocent. There was more.

“I’m sorry about looking at the dress in the store.” He continued. “Are you mad? I look all the time in the Sears’ catalog but that’s not the same. I wish I had that dress, mom.” He quickly added, “Not to wear to school.” He looked over at me to see my reaction and gave me an impish smile. I never thought of Jack as being manipulative, Brenda was, but not Jack. I had the sense he was working me over. I said nothing. He went on.

“I mean, just for the third floor. Just so I can pretend.” He tried as some kind of justification.

“Jack, we can’t do that.” Now I was clearly defensive. “First, I can’t afford it. It’s not practical. Second, how could I explain it to your dad? And third…” I reached for the real reason. “It’s not good for you. This thing you’re doing, and this fixation isn’t good. I’ve told you that. I think we have to find a way for you to stop this and getting you a dress would be in the wrong direction. Maybe you need to go out for the basketball team. Get more involved with other boys. Discover the wonders of being a boy.” My agitation was showing but I just felt I had let this get out of hand and that I had to bring this boy back to reality.

“You don’t need to be spending your time on the third floor in a dress pretending to be what you are not, and never will be.” I said harshly.

I was giving it everything I had but Jack just gave me a look of exasperation. I couldn’t believe I was trying to justify not buying my son a dress. I wasn’t sure I was succeeding. He sighed and turned away mumbling something.

“What?” I asked more calmly.

“Nothing.” He resisted.

“You said something. Don’t lock up on me, Jack.” I commanded.

He turned back to me. “You said you were on my side. You wanted me to talk and I told you everything. Ok I can’t have the dress but now you want to tell me what to do”.

I was definitely losing so I waived the white flag. I had to make a concession or lose him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t make you go out for basketball unless you want to. It might be fun but it’s your choice. Let’s go back and focus on what is going on with you and I promise I will be fair. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Jack had given me more information than I had imagined. I had hoped that my conversation with Jack would be the end of this; that I could reason with him and he would take my openness and trust and change his behavior. I presumed that I could control this but Jack revealed so much more than I had imagined. I almost regretted reaching out to him and I didn’t know where to go from here. I had to end this conversation hopefully on a positive note; we were almost home. But I didn’t want to lose Jack’s trust. I was up to my neck in this now.

“Ok, I hear you Jack. I’m glad you have told me and no, I’m not mad. Just worried. I haven’t heard of any of this before. I didn’t have any brothers so I don’t know if this is just something that some boys go through or what. I do love you and my biggest concern is to protect you. I will try to find some answers for you and try to make things better. For now we need to keep this between you and me.”

“Don’t worry mom.” It seemed like he didn’t want confrontation and was happy to have someone who knew what I felt and still loved him. “I love you mom,” he added. Now I was starting to cry. I thought about Elaine Rogers and how she loved her problem child. I turned my face away so he couldn’t see my eyes tear up and composed myself. I think he was really relieved that he told me all about this and that I listened. I could tell he wanted to say something else.

“What is it Jack?”

“Mom, if I save my own money can I get the dress?”

“Jack!” I yelled. I looked over at him and he was smiling. He had me. We both laughed and I saw in that moment how fun Jack could be, and how cute he was, as a boy.

Then he said. “Seriously, Mom, can I go back to the third floor some, again”.

“Oh, Jack. I think that should be on hold until I figure this out. Can’t you just not do this and give me some time.”

“Mom, when I do it I feel so good and no one knows. I’m not hurting anyone.”

“Jack, I just can’t see how it is good for you. I know you say no one is getting hurt but someone could. And I’m just afraid that if you continue to do this it will get worse and you’ll be spending too much time doing something that you will eventually have to stop. It just doesn’t feel right for me to say yes.”

I was on a rollercoaster and I could tell I was putting Jack through my own ups and downs. One minute I think it’s innocent and will pass, and the next I know it could upset his whole life, and mine too. Jack started to pout and then his eyes started to tear up.

I just couldn’t forbid him to stop whatever it was that seemed to make him so happy. So I went with, “I’ll tell you what. I won’t say yes, or no. Just make sure you’re really careful and that you don’t mess anything up. Stay out of your sister’s room and don’t take anything of hers. She would have a cow. Your homework must be done and your room cleaned up. If you abide by that I’ll not say anything and will keep an eye out for you.”

What was I doing? First, I have thoughts my son should have been a girl and now I am turning a blind eye to this crazy behavior. Maybe I was the problem. I guess I was now deeply involved and didn’t have a clue how I would solve this. But Jack was elated.

“Thanks Mom. You’re the best”.

“Or the worst, Jack. I just don’t know which.” I told him we were going to need to talk again as I pulled into our driveway.

But we didn’t, not for awhile. It was easier not to talk and I just hoped it all went away. I literally shut down and put my head firmly several inches into the sand.