(Miri makes a promise to her son and her husband breaks his.)

In my defense I did not buy my eleven year old son a pair of panties on a whim; I had a valid and justifiable reason to go to the ladies clothing store on Seventh Street across from the courthouse and pick out one pair of pink, lacy panties. On its face that act sounds positively and blatantly outlandish, perverse and possibly criminal. No upstanding Christian mother could ever think about doing that. Contributing to the delinquency of a minor would be a mild charge, more likely it would have been forcing deviate degradation on an innocent child. Even the benevolent God the Creator would have a difficult time forgiving this sin.

Before I am convicted I should explain. After Christmas Don did not rush to initiate a discussion with Jack about his behavior. His idea was to explain the negatives (I don’t think Don saw any positives) of an eleven year old boy wearing dresses in the secluded safety of the third floor of our red brick Victorian home in Moundsville. He was certain that thoughtful reason would prevail and that Jack would see the light. ‘Sure, dad, now that makes sense. I’ll stop wearing dresses and go out for football.’ He probably predicted Jack would conclude after Don’s wisdom sank in.

So I really didn’t understand when instead of arranging for the three of us to talk, he jumped in the Cessna 180 with Dr. Benson and another guy and headed to northeastern Pennsylvania for a couple days of hunting and male primal bonding. Three of the local doctors had a cabin up there which in the winter was a hunting lodge (male enclave) and a summer refuge (family vacation cabin) in warmer months. If he was really so sure of himself and his ability to convince Jack to stop cross-dressing than why wait, and why go hunting for two or three days.

But that’s what he did and it left me with the socialite (seventeen year old Brenda), the mechanic (Mr. Fixit Tim) and the third floor cross-dressing recluse (Jack). Lucky me.

I spent Monday, the day after Christmas and the day Don abandoned his family, doing laundry, picking up all of the mess left by, well, just about everyone, and running the vacuum. Tim worked on the truck, Brenda worked on her closet and Jack, well, I could only imagine what Jack was working on up in the den of inequity.

By Tuesday I needed a break so I decided to check out the after Christmas sales in Wheeling and made all three minors get dressed for shopping. The boys both needed suits and school clothes, Brenda needed nothing and I desperately needed to get even for the hunting trip. I had by this time in my marriage perfected the art of shopping as a method to reduce anger.

I let Brenda loose in the young ladies department of Stone and Thomas but without the charge card and carefully guided Tim and Jack to the boys department being careful to avoid the area where Jack had admired the dress on the mannequin in November when he and I were there.

As we got off the elevator for the boys department we were confronted with a different mannequin, one of a boy about Jack’s age fitted with a very handsome suit, tie, complete with handkerchief peeking out from the left breast pocket. Jack didn’t want to get off the elevator and I practically had to drag him off. Fortunately Tim was there and well, Tim could be very convincing to his younger brother.

I picked out some things for both Jack and Tim, mostly for school but also to play in and gave them to a very helpful salesman. Tim was excited, at least for a fourteen year old, but Jack was just so morose. I was aware that he was at least ambivalent about clothes, boy clothes, and I didn’t get him many clothes for Christmas, just a new winter coat. But I had not taken him shopping since right before school started and it was obvious things had changed. Resistant was an understatement.

What I didn’t expect was that he would throw a fit when I picked out a new suit for him and asked him to try in on. They always had to make some adjustments and the cuffs had to be hemmed to the right length. The salesman was ready with the tape measure around his neck and a piece of chalk in his hand. Jack refused to go into the changing room to the point he was making a scene. People were staring and the salesman just walked away. Timmy tried his suit on and stood there with a smirk as the salesman got down on his knees and marked for the hem. Jack? Well, Jack was out of sight waiting by the elevator with his head down.

I had no choice. Brenda was waiting and I couldn’t force him to try the suit on. I had to buy both suits, leave the one for Tim to be hemmed and take the one for Jack with us. I would get him to try it on at home and ask Aunt Lottie to do the hemming. At the elevator I told him how embarrassed I was by the way he acted. Tim used the opportunity to chide his brother for being stubborn and ‘chicken’.

When we got home Timmy changed clothes and headed for the garage to work on the truck and Brenda took the car to visit a friend. She was allowed to drive during the day but not yet at night. It was just Jack and me in the house and he knew I was mad. I told him to take the suit to my bedroom while I retrieved my pin cushion.

I found Jack at the turret window of my bedroom with his back toward me.

“Jack, get over here and try the suit pants on.” I ordered but he didn’t move.

“Jack, I don’t have time for this. What is with you?” I asked rhetorically. “Why did you act like that in the store?”

He didn’t answer but turned and walked over to the bed where I had laid out the suit.

I again asked Jack if he would try the suit on for me; I complained that since he didn’t try it on in the store I now had to hem the pants. He resisted. I pushed.

“Jack, I thought we had an understanding. I’m on your side. What’s wrong?” I tried again. He didn’t answer. “Just try it on, for me.”

He turned away from me and unbuttoned his shirt. He undid his pants and let them fall. I could see his face in the mirror; his back was to me. He was blushing; blushing and in tears. I didn’t notice at first but as my eyes fell lower still looking at him through the mirror I saw he was wearing a pair of Brenda’s pink panties.

That’s why he didn’t want to try the suit on in the store. I tried not to panic. My son had taken another much more problematic step on the path we could not get him off of. For so many reasons this seemed to change so much. How would I explain this to Don; Jack’s sister would be livid if she knew and his brother would likely be hostile.

Jack could see my face, and of course my reaction in the mirror also. He seemed to be searching for something. He was either hoping for acceptance or fearing anger. I tried to show neither.

“Well, go ahead. Try the pants on.” I urged him without commenting on the panties he was wearing. I badly wanted to say something, admonish him, scold him. I should have by any parenting standard but I just couldn’t.

He seemed a little relieved and turned toward me. It was so strange; my eleven year old son, standing in front of me in pink panties. I had seen him one time completely dressed as the girl he pretended to be, and even hugged him like that but this was different. He was almost naked and there was no doubt he was a boy, even though he was still so neutral like most children before they start to develop. For some reason though he didn’t seem like a boy at that moment, with his skinny frame and longer hair that desperately needed more than a trim.

The panties fit him very loosely but the little bulge clearly revealed his boyness. Jack showed no signs of developing yet, unlike his older brother who was really filling out like a young man. Jack pulled the pants on and I got down on my knees to pin the pant legs. Jack reached for me and touched my hair. It was a tender sweet gesture and my heart melted.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I love you”.

I stood up and gave him a hug. “I love you too. You know I do.” I first reassured him. “But if we are going to get through whatever this is together you’re going to have to stop saying you’re sorry. I don’t think you are.” I told him. “And somehow you’re going to have to stop surprising me. Jack, I need to know what you are doing, or thinking of doing.” I commanded.

“I’m sorry I caused a scene in the store. I’m not sorry I like girls’ things.” He announced with some conviction. That made me think of Sigmund, Freud that is, and guilt, and then about Carl Rogers and that mysterious thing Dr. Ellis called self-actualization. What did Dr. Ellis tell me? Don’t push him one way or the other. Taking him shopping was, if anything, pushing him toward what he really was, a boy who needed a new suit for Sundays.

“I thought I asked you to stay out of Brenda’s things! And I thought things were fine with the arrangement we had.” I reminded him.

“Honest, this is the only thing I’ve taken. I know it’s wrong but I can’t help it.”

“Of course you can help it.” I shot back almost harshly. “You can just stay out of other peoples things. I can’t have Brenda find out, at least not now. And if she misses those and starts asking questions we both would be in for it.” I explained trying the tactic of reason Don loved so much. “So go take them off, put on something of yours and I will wash these and put them back.”

Jack seemed to agree but was showing signs of disappointment. He stepped out of the suit pants after I pinned them and again presented his nearly naked self to me. He looked rather angelic standing there again just in those pink panties and I started to feel weak.

“I am certain that I’m going to regret this but tomorrow I will get you one pair of panties at the store.” The bad mother promised. I knew immediately that I had done two things with those few words. I made one eleven year old very happy. He jumped up and down and twirled around like it was Christmas again. And I set myself up for so much grief from my husband. We certainly weren’t on the same page, nor even in the same chapter.

As I watched Jack prance nearly naked out of my bedroom with his little cute butt clad in silky pink I called to him. “You have to promise me to hide them and you have to find a way to wash them.”

“I will mommy.” He called from the hall on his way to his room.

I sat down on my bed and cried.

* * *

I do my best thinking while crying and after I laid there for such a long time sniffling, sobbing and tasting salty tears, at least five or six minutes, I had a plan, just a partial one but it was brilliant. Unfortunately my crying, and thinking, were rudely interrupted by my oldest daughter bursting unannounced into my room.

Brenda Lee Roberts was born with a major defect. She had no empathy, and still is severely lacking in that area, but even this narcissistic seventeen year old girl detected something was going on with me. It must have been the box of Kleenex beside me on the bed and the several used tissues strewn all around, not to mention the lines of mascara running from my eyes to the corners of my mouth.

“Mom, is something wrong?” She asked with a surprising amount of concern in her voice. I elected not to answer in hopes she would go away.

“Is it daddy?” She guessed. “He’s so selfish sometimes.” She brazenly accused. “He didn’t need to fly off hunting with Dr. Benson.” She concluded.

“It’s not your father.” I finally had to answer missing the opportunity to air that grievance.

“Did Tim do something?” She speculated. I wanted to tell her that she was the reason I was curled up in a ball in the middle of the afternoon instead of fixing dinner, but that never worked with Brenda.

“No, just leave me alone. I’ll be down in a minute.” I tried.

“It’s Jack, isn’t it?” She exclaimed with cocksure certainty. I tried not to react but only a sociopath could have completely ignored this. I sat up and looked into the beautiful blue eyes of this beautiful young (almost) woman, and reacted.

“Why would you say it’s Jack?” I stupidly asked.

“Mom, Jack’s such a, I don’t know, such uh, uh.” Brenda was searching for a word that I was afraid she would use. It would be a mistake for me to make suggestions so I waited. Nothing emerged.

“He’s just weird mom. He doesn’t have friends and he reads all the time.” She finally announced.

“He has friends. He plays basketball with a couple of the boys almost every week. And reading is good. You should try it.” I chided after giving a weak defense of my youngest son.

“Mom.” She said drawing out the word the way children always do. Then she asked the big one.

“And what does he do up on the third floor? Tim says he goes up there all the time. Don’t you worry about him? Is that why you’re crying?”

It was unusual for Brenda to consider anyone but herself and the fact that what Jack was doing had penetrated her thick consciousness was troubling. And Tim, well, not much went by him unnoticed and if Tim brought it up to Brenda it meant he probably knew something. Secrets are so hard to keep but there was no way that I was going to discuss Jack and his proclivity toward being sissy with his sister, the ever so prissy Brenda. I had to defend and deflect.

“Jack asked for some space since he has the smallest bedroom.” I concocted on the fly. “So I let him use that big room on the third floor to do his homework, and read. He’s a real bookworm you know.” I don’t think she was purchasing the goods.

“Well, he’s acting weird. And why are you letting his hair get so long.” I didn’t really have a defense for that one. I hadn’t ‘let’ his hair get long. Jack had just been resistant.

“It’s not that long and I’m going to make him go get it cut this week. I’ve had a lot going on.” On that note I ended the conversation by getting up and pushing her out of my room.

“Now, go make yourself useful. Set the table or something while I change and fix my face.”

“Jack’s already set the table.” She revealed just as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Before he left Don assured me that he would be back early afternoon on Wednesday. He showed me the weather report, the one that promised clear but cold for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Knowing Don however, I suspect he planned for the weather to be unpredictable and sure enough John Benson’s wife, Hilda, called Wednesday morning to report that Northeast Pennsylvania was getting heavy snow generated from the cold wind blowing across Lake Erie. John had managed to get to the General Store a mile down from the hunting lodge and make a phone call. The main message; they didn’t know when they could get out. Maybe in a day or two, or by next week, January 1956, or perhaps 1957. She didn’t say that but it was my facetious thought. Hilda did say John was in an unusually good mood for being snowed in with three other men, no shower, no indoor plumbing, wood burning fireplace for heat. I will never understand the attraction that men have for the rugged outdoors, nor for the likely strong stinky smell of men holed up together eating beans and fresh kill, telling jokes (think misogyny), trading war stories and drinking. Actually I can relate to the drinking part.

The plan I came up with while crying just before I was interrupted by Brenda was to meet Don at the little Glendale airport, really just a grass field next to the Ohio River, and reveal that his son wore his daughter’s panties on the shopping trip to Wheeling, while he was somewhere in the wild armed with a 30-30 and a flask. I would pretend to be distraught and confess that in a weak moment I promised to buy him a pair of his own but that I had, not yet, kept my promise. I envisioned that my revelation would incite him to use several four letter words and that he would be in a more receptive mood to take a more prominent role in dealing with Jack, e.g., have that little talk he agreed to. I was confident I could convince him to let me keep my promise to buy a pair of panties for Jack but allowed I might have to resort to flashing a glimpse of my own to the returning hunter.

But when he didn’t show up on Wednesday or Thursday I resigned myself to the fact that I, as the mother, would have to make a decision. On Friday I kept my I promise and walked the three blocks to the store on Seventh Street.

I rarely shopped at Valley Fashions, a locally owned establishment bringing the latest plain and tacky apparel for women and girls to Moundsville. But it was close and I was on a mission. If Don was going to hide from his obligation to our troubled son then I was going to do what I had to do. I saw my mission as keeping the peace and containing the damage. A pair of panties for my son was a small price to keep this from getting out to Brenda or God forbid, Jack’s friends.

Valley Fashions carried a full line of women’s and girl’s clothes and lingerie and they did a brisk business. The women of Moundsville, other than the wives of the doctors and lawyers, all shopped there. I nervously entered and just browsed for a while, picking out some socks for Brenda. I casually made my way to the back of the store where there was a healthy display of lingerie, not lingerie as would first come to mind but more basic, cotton pointy white bras and cotton panties. Fortunately they did have a small rack of more frilly things and I sorted through the rack of lacy silky panties. I panicked about size. Brenda’s panties that Jack wore were way too big. I guessed at a size four, then six, then back to four. I picked out pink, of course and opted for the one with a lace front. Brenda would be jealous. If she ever knew.

I casually made my way to the checkout counter, one pair of socks and one pair of panties. I not only felt conspicuous but also so silly. Who goes to the store for socks and panties? If I didn’t feel so nervous I would have laughed at myself.

“Oh, Mrs. Roberts. Haven’t seen you in so long.” Tilly, the owner, said with dripping sarcasm. “Miriam isn’t it?” I knew Matilda Hodges well. We went to high school together but weren’t friends. Still on the few times I did shop at Valley we always chided each other. In high school she had a crush on Don and since then resented me for landing him in college. I could have told her that the way to find a good husband was to get an education.

“Yes, hi Tilly. You have such a lovely store.” I noted with complimentary sarcasm. “I just picked up a couple of sacks from the feed store. Thought I would make a dress but now that I see what you have I might not need them.” I added with a smirk. She changed the subject.

“How are the girls?” She asked watching for my reaction. “Two girls and a boy, right?” She pushed. Now I wondered if she just really couldn’t remember that it was the other way around, or if in our small provincial town people were talking about Jack.

“Uh, two boys, Tilly. They’re all fine. Brenda will be in college next year.” Tilly didn’t say anything else and I felt best to drop it. I needed to finish my mission and get home.

“Did you see the matching bra?” She then asked catching me by surprise. “The panties are half price if you buy them together.” She looked at me suspiciously. I had to admit my visit to Valley Fashions was unusual and what I was buying even more so. I hesitated much too long but then tried to recover.

“I didn’t notice. I’ll take a look.” I went back to the display and found the matching bras next to the panties. I couldn’t, wouldn’t give Jack a bra too. That would be beyond just keeping my promise; that would add abetting to the charges against me. But I did need to reduce the suspicion the nosey Tilly obviously had. I picked out the matching bra, size 32A, and took it the counter. Tilly clearly noticed the size of the panties and the bra and looked at me, waiting. She knew they could not be for my seventeen year old daughter. I needed an explanation.

“Oh, my friend in Pittsburgh has a daughter turning twelve. I always get her something girly for her birthday. Hard to believe she is growing up so fast.” I invented.

“That they do, especially girls.” She answered as I paid and she put all three items in a small paper bag. I really didn’t think Tilly suspected for an instant that I was buying panties and a bra for my son but as I quickly left the store I worried. It just seemed to me that everyone knew or at least suspected. I hated that feeling but feared it would be with me for a very long time.

On the walk back home my imagination went crazy. As I passed Jake, one of the local Moundsville police officers, he spoke to me and I had thoughts of being forced to open the bag I was carrying, and questioned about the contents.

“You don’t have a daughter these would fit.” The cop would state. My imagination had me sitting in a small stark room with a bright light shining in my face. “You bought the panties and bra for your son, didn’t you, Mrs. Roberts?”

“No.” I protested trying to be indignant.

“Tell the truth or you’ll never see your children again.” The imaginary detective threatened. “Does your husband know?” He added.

“Leave him out of it. Yes, I did it. I bought Jack the panties but you have to believe me; I wasn’t going to give him the bra.” I confessed. “Don doesn’t know. Jack likes to wear dresses and he didn’t have any panties of his own and I didn’t think one pair would hurt him.” I imagined I would say illogically.

As I rounded the corner of Fifth and Tomlinson and started up the steps to our home I laughed at myself and my wild imagination. I questioned my own sanity, and remembered that Dr. Ellis counseled me to work on my guilt. Yes, my imagination, or perhaps my conscience, weighed heavily on me. I guessed that I was having similar feelings, guilt and self-doubt, that Jack had every time he went to the third floor, alone and in secret and innocently put on a dress. I couldn’t explain why Jack did what he did, or felt what he felt. I only knew that he did and that it was for all intents and purposes not malicious, or perverted or deviate.

As I opened my front door and saw Jack waiting for me with an excited look I vowed to do my best never to make him feel bad about himself, and to do whatever I could to protect his innocence from a world that would treat him so harshly for just trying to be who he thought he was.

* * *

Before I gave Jack the panties, carefully concealing the matching bra from him, I gave him a lecture. I had crossed a line, not just about buying him panties, but by vowing to be his protector. I went from worried and frantic mom desperately looking for a fix, to a loving co-conspirator, accepting and understanding. I still thought Dr. Ellis could help ease the upcoming transition from boy to man without doing severe damage, but somewhere in the back of my mind I could see trouble, lots of trouble, and I had to be the one person in my son’s life to accept him no matter what.

In taking on that role, however, I had to become his reality check. I had known for some time, even if I did not admit it, that Jack’s life would be different, complicated. Being his protector also meant keeping him in check and convincing him to face the facts no one could change. Yes, he could think he was not a boy, or lament that he should have been born a girl, but if I was to accept his feelings I had to help him accept what nature was about to do.

I told him that, holding the panties in front of him in the privacy of his bedroom where I guided him when I got home from Valley Fashions. I also told him about Dr. Ellis and that his father and I had talked and were on the same page, but added that Don would probably challenge him. I explained that the three of us would need to talk and eventually go see Dr. Ellis.

Jack didn’t say much. He seemed to understand and when I told him that under no circumstances could he wear the panties I was holding out of the house, he readily agreed. He was so sweet and agreeable, sitting on his bed with his legs tucked under him like a girl, that I was so tempted to give him the matching bra. I didn’t, knowing I had enough to explain to my man when he got home from his adventure.

Curiously Jack didn’t immediately head for the third floor after I left his room. He came down stairs a few minutes later, wearing the panties under his jeans I suspect, and asked me if he could help me clean up the breakfast dishes.