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Author's Note: Hi, This is the second story I've ever written. It's still incomplete. I hope you like it.

Feel free to archive or otherwise distribute, provided it (and this preamble) is unedited and no fee is charged for access. This story may not be distributed from any site that charges money, is members-only, or uses that ridiculous "adult check" thing (or any similar system).

All rights reserved by the author, who can be contacted at: [email protected] ~Becky

Image Credit: Picture purchased and licensed for use from 123RF.com Stock Photography.

The model(s) in this image is in / and are no way connected with this story nor supports nor conveys the issues and situations brought up within the story. The model(s) use is solely used for the representation of looks of the main character(s) of this particular story. ~Sephrena
 

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Chapter 13.  Saturday Morning
 
 
I woke up around nine, and showered and did my hair again, putting a little mousse in it and teasing it out. Then I put on my bra, breast inserts and panties and pulled on a dark blue tee dress Mom and I had bought. I thought about Paul, and about the evening before, and what I'd done. I kind of shocked myself, but I felt a nice buzz again as I remembered what he'd said and how he'd looked at me.

On the kitchen bench downstairs was a note from Mom, saying she'd gone to do some food shopping and would be back soon. I made myself some breakfast and was sitting next to the kitchen window, enjoying the sun streaming through it, when the doorbell rang.

Without thinking I got up and walked to the front door and opened it. In Santa Rosita you don't check who's outside before you open the door - I guess we're not very security conscious. I should definitely have checked this time, because when I opened it wide and was about to say "hi" I stopped, shocked, as the door was half-way open.

It was my Dad.

He seemed frozen, too. He was standing on the porch, a small carry-on bag under one arm and a gift-wrapped parcel under the other, and he looked like he'd just been electrocuted or something.

My first reaction was to close the door again, but I didn't move for a few moments. My face was burning, I was really embarrassed. Embarrassed didn't really begin to cover it. This was worse than when Mom had seen me at Marcia's. Dad always made such a big deal when he lived with us about me being more into macho kinds of things. My mind was doing flip flops as I tried to figure out what he was gonna think about this.

Eventually Dad croaked out "Chris?" and I opened the door the rest of the way and motioned for him to come in.

"Hi, Dad," I managed to say, and I walked back into the kitchen. He followed behind me, and put his case and parcel down. Nervously I fidgeted around the kitchen, putting some coffee on. I was aware that Dad was watching me closely.

"Is this for a joke or something?" Dad finally asked.

"Uh ...," was all I could manage. He was starting to recover from the shock, and I could see he was gonna be steamed in a few minutes, the way he always was before whenever I screwed up.

"Jesus," he said, and sat down at the kitchen table. "Your mother told me you had some problems that needed attention, but ..."

"Mom called you?" I asked. "When did she do that?"

"Stop talking like that, alright?" he said sharply. My face burned again. "She called me last Monday, and said you were having some problems and she needed to pay a therapist and some other stuff. I figured ... it's not - you're not on drugs, are you?"

"Oh, come on, Dad, gimme a break," I groaned.

He looked at me sharply when I spoke again, but it was no use him criticizing me, over the past week or so I really had forgotten how I used to talk.

"Uh, will you at least take off that dress. It's very distracting."

I sat down at the table instead, so he couldn't see my legs. From the table up the dress looked like a t-shirt, so what was the problem? Of course, I wasn't thinking about my breasts or anything else.

"Okay," he said, "I guess not. So, have you decided you're a fag? Is that it?"

"Dad, please." I wasn't sure what I wanted from him but I didn't want to walk out of the room right now and I didn't know what to say if I stayed.

"I knew your mother was gonna screw you up," he said icily. "She never did understand discipline."

"This has nothing to do with Mom," I protested.

"Oh, so she didn't say anything when you came home with your hair like that, huh?" He said sneeringly. "And I bet she thinks the dress is just ..." His voice trailed off as his eyes went to my breasts.

I started to cry, without making any noise. A teardrop just ran out of the corner of my eye and across my cheek. I wiped it away with my fingers, and then unconsciously flicked my hair back from my face. This seemed to make Dad even more exasperated, and he stood up and paced the kitchen while I tried to keep myself from crying more. He came over to me and I thought he was gonna hit me, but he straightened up as though exercising extreme self-control, and went to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

He shook his head, as though trying to shake loose some disturbing thoughts.

Then there was a knock at the kitchen door.

I got up and answered it. It was Marcia. "Hi Jenny," she began before I could stop her. I realized she couldn't see my Dad next to the sink. Marcia appeared momentarily puzzled that I didn't immediately invite her in, but seeing the expression on my face she probably figured I was pissed with her about Becky. "I'm really sorry about last night," she went on. I was about to interrupt her, but she said "I hope everything was okay with Paul, Becky wouldn't tell him or anything ..." At that point my Dad must have come into Marcia's view, because her voice trailed off and she looked at me questioningly.

Eventually I managed to squeak out a few words. "Uh, Marcia, thanks, but this isn't a really good time right now."

"Uh, Okay," she said. "Call me later on, okay? Hello, Mr. Miller."

Dad just nodded to her and she left and I closed the door again. "So the whole neighborhood knows about you carrying on like this," Dad said. "Jenny," he added with heavy sarcasm.

I couldn't bear it anymore and I burst into tears and ran from the room up to my bedroom. I lay on the bed with my face in the pillow and sobbed. He was right, I was ridiculous.

I heard Mom come home, and the two of them talking. Dad was raising his voice a lot, and I could hear words like "fag" and "queer" coming from the kitchen. Mom's voice was quieter but from her tone I knew she was upset, too.

I rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. I should just chop all my hair off and quit wearing dresses and go back to being a guy right now, I thought. Dad was right. Then I thought of how great things had been in the past week or so, how it seemed like Jenny was popular in a way Chris never was, and I wondered how I could go back to being a little runt that everyone picked on or ignored. I wondered how I could explain it to Paul.

Which was worse, my father's abuse or hurting Paul? I hardly ever saw my father any more.

Mom and Dad were quieter now. I could still hear them talking downstairs, but more reasonably. Eventually I heard my Dad calling me. He was calling Chris, of course.

Hesitantly I got up from the bed.

Should I put on a pair of jeans? I wondered.

He called again and I decided it was best to just go downstairs as I was and face the music again.

Mom smiled at me weakly when I entered the kitchen. She had obviously been crying. Dad looked me up and down again before he spoke.

"Your mother and I have been talking," he said. "She tells me she took you to see a doctor." I nodded. Was he doubting her? "What did the doctor say to you?" he asked.

"Not much. Just a lot of questions, really."

"Your Mom says she told her that you were maybe more girl than boy, whatever that means - is that what she told you?"

I was momentarily confused. Did he mean the Doctor or Mom? Neither had told me that.

I shook my head.

"Sounds as though she's smart enough not to force anything onto you, then," said Dad. "So this is all your doing."

"I guess so," I said, looking at Mom. "It started off just as a bit of fun..." I saw from his face that 'fun' was clearly the wrong word to use in front of Dad in this context. "I dunno, Dad ..."

"Well, I want you to get a second opinion. Jesus, look at you ..."

We talked for a half-hour or so and Dad began to soften. As he did so I became less self-conscious. He eventually agreed with my mother that, yes, I was attractive, then caught himself and said "Of course, I'm not saying I agree with any of this." We agreed that I would go to another Doctor, and that he was happy to pay whatever it took to figure out what was wrong with me. "Damned Shrinks," he said, "I know they'll bleed the life out of me."

I helped Mom make lunch and the three of us ate in relative silence. I discovered that Dad had come west for the weekend because he'd been worried by Mom's call asking for money for Doctors for me. Mom had always been too proud to ask him for money before, she figured I was his obligation and he should have been aware of that without being told. He hadn't been terribly good about sending money, or about calling. In fact the two of them barely spoke once he moved to New York and started a new company there. So he was surprised when she called. All she had told him was that I needed to see a doctor. That got him worried so he decided to fly out to see for himself what was wrong with me.

After lunch, he asked me whether I could get changed into a pair of jeans instead of the dress. I decided to try to appease him, and went upstairs to change. But I made sure I tucked myself back carefully so as not to have any bulge at the front, and I chose a scoop-necked t-shirt to go over the jeans. I left my bra and 'breasts' on, then checked my hair and fixed the runs in my mascara and went back downstairs. Mom winked at me when I re-entered the kitchen. Dad still looked unhappy, but seemed to accept the jeans as some sort of a compromise.

I cleaned up the plates from lunch while Mom and Dad talked, in a more civilized fashion, in the living room. It felt weird to have him in the house again. The whole atmosphere of the place was different. I glanced in a few times, to see if they wanted coffee or anything. Dad seemed surprised by my attentiveness. Actually I was just kind of dealing with the novelty of having him around again.

Eventually I told them I was gonna go see Marcia. I think Dad was gonna protest about me going out dressed like I was, but then changed his mind and sank back wearily in his chair. I checked my hair again and went next door.
 
 

 
Chapter 14.  Saturday Afternoon
 
 
Marcia was home by herself again. Rob was out with Tanya. Marcia didn't say where her parents were and I didn't ask. As soon as I got inside the door she was being ultra-apologetic again, first about Becky the night before, and then about putting me in it with my Dad. I told her not to worry about the second thing because I had a feeling the worst was over. But I was still upset at her about telling Becky.

"I'm really, really sorry. It's just ... she's like, one of my best friends, and she was asking how we met. I guess I'm not a really good liar," Marcia said.

"Seemed to be okay last Saturday," I said wryly, then regretted it. It wasn't really Marcia's fault. I mean, I was the one who'd chosen to go on living like this. I said as much to Marcia and we were both quiet for a moment.

"Kind of a surprise, huh?" said Marcia.

"Yeah," I smiled. "Who knew?"

Marcia hesitated, then smiled too. "Well, actually," she said, "I kind of had an idea ..."

I rolled my eyes. "That's what my Mom said," I groaned. "How come everyone else has this figured out except me?"

"And your Dad," Marcia said, and smiled.

"Yeah." I grinned back. It was kind of funny, the way he'd looked when I opened the door.

We went into the living room and put on some music. When we got to a song we liked we put it on really loud and danced around the room, then played another and another until we fell back exhausted. Marcia flopped onto the couch next to me. After a moment when she'd regained her breath she leaned across and kissed me, lightly, on the cheek. "Everything will be okay," she said. "Becky's calmed down and I told her I would like *totally* kill her if she said anything. She won't. Actually she told me she liked you the first time she met you, she just got weirded out last night. Maybe it was the dope or something."

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and dancing and listening to some old sad songs. We had a kind of competition to see who could find the saddest song in Marcia's collection, which took a long time because she had an amazing amount of CDs.

Eventually I noticed it was getting kind of late, and I figured I should get home. Marcia told me there was a party on later that night but I decided that getting dressed up to go out would probably really weird my Dad out, so I passed. I wondered what Paul was doing tonight. I hadn't asked him last night. Maybe he was gonna go to the party too. No, he'd ask me if he was -- I was sure of that, especially after last night.

When I got home things seemed much brighter. The first thing I heard when I came through the door was my Mom laughing, which was wonderful. I always loved her laugh, it was very musical and sweet.

As I entered the living room I could see that they were having a good time. Dad even smiled at me, for the first time since he'd seen me that morning. Mom asked how Marcia was doing and how the dinner had gone, and I told them how terrific the food and wine had been. Dad frowned when I mentioned the wine, but Mom said "Tom, she's fifteen now, it's no big deal. You know it could be worse." I guess it was concern about drugs or something, but Dad seemed to not pick up on the fact that Mom had referred to me as 'she'. Mom hurried to skate over it anyway, and said "Your father has asked us both to dinner tonight. If you don't have any plans, that is."

I was about to say that I was hoping maybe Paul would call when I thought better of it. "Cool," I said instead. "I'm gonna have a shower first if that's okay." I went upstairs and was beginning to undress when there was a knock at the bathroom door.

It was Mom. "I just wanted to say you needn't do your father any special favours," she said. I looked at her a little blankly, and she smiled and continued. "I think this has actually been quite good for him, to have to think about his responsibilities and about you. So please try not to take it too hard if he's difficult."

"It's okay, Mom. Seems kind of weird to have him back in the house, huh?."

She smiled and agreed. "Especially weird in the circumstances, really."

Mom left and I showered and put on some moisturizer. I wrapped a towel around myself and went back to my room, and then lay on the bed for a few minutes thinking before getting up and beginning to do my hair. Then Mom called up to say Paul was on the 'phone. I wrapped myself up again and ran downstairs to take the call. Dad gave me a funny look as I rushed to the phone, but I pretended to ignore him.

Paul was really sweet. He started to tell me how much he'd enjoyed last night, which sent me blushing furiously. I wasn't sure whether Dad was listening in from the living room, so I didn't know what to say except some lame stuff. "I had a great time, too." I told him my Dad was in town and I couldn't talk a lot because we were headed out to dinner soon. We talked for a while, a long while actually, and when I hung up I noticed I'd been on the phone for at least 45 minutes. I felt a little blissed out from the conversation, and ambled through the living room on the way back to my room to get dressed.

Dad gave me one of those funny looks again.
 
 

 
Chapter 11.  Saturday Evening
 
 
I took my time getting ready. Not that I planned to get dressed up too much. I didn't want to give my Dad too much to handle and anyway there aren't that many dressy places to go in Santa Rosita -- but because I still had a nice buzz from talking to Paul and it kind of felt right to go slowly and take care of myself.

I had been sitting downstairs in that towel talking to Paul for ages, and my hair had started to dry kind of funny, so I put some of my Mom's styling gel in it and dried it around a round brush I had seen her use. It came out with a lot more body than when I usually did it.

Hair could be a pain, I decided. Part of me missed just being able to let it hang unstyled, the way I used to do. Women's hair definitely needed a lot more maintenance.

I did my makeup, keeping it very simple with just a hint of eyeliner and blusher and a pale lipstick. From my wardrobe I retrieved a black silk blouse Megan had given me and matched it with a deep red skirt of Marcia's, along with some black lycra pantyhose and a low-heeled pair of black pumps. The small black purse Marcia had given me on my first night out as Jenny almost completed the outfit, but there was something else.

Maybe it was mean, but I couldn't resist. I found the sapphire earrings my Dad had given Mom and wore those, too. They were a little much for this outfit, but I guess in spite of my nervousness with him I wanted to make a point with my Dad.

I didn't really know how I felt about Dad. Part of me was still pretty pissed at him, for leaving Mom and Me, even if Mom did seem kind of happier afterwards. He never sent money, he never called, he never took an interest in anything I did even when we lived together. He never seemed to care at all about me, except when I let him down by not being the kind of son he wanted. So on the one hand I wanted to be angry at him, for abandoning us, and on the other hand I felt like indifference was a better attitude, since it seemed to match his. Then, on the other hand, he had come back because he was concerned after Mom had called him. That was kind of odd since he'd never cared before. And now he mostly seemed to be keeping things under control. This was not like the old Dad I knew, who used to flip out whenever I failed at something masculine. I mean, he hadn't exactly been overjoyed to see me, but he hadn't completely wigged out, either.

And then, on the other hand, he had sent Mom some money earlier in the week. I just didn't know what to think. And I'd run out of hands ages ago.

I went downstairs with some trepidation. Was I pushing things too far? Maybe I should have worn a pair of jeans.

As I walked into the living room Mom smiled, and Dad choked on his drink, spluttering Scotch everywhere.

"You look very nice," Mom said. "Doesn't she, Tom?"

My father was wiping the scotch from his clothing. "Uh, yes..." He looked over at Mom. "I still don't approve of all this, but..." he turned back to me "I must say, you do carry it off well."

Mom smiled. "Well, you look like you need to get changed again before we can go out"

My father excused himself and went to put on some clothes that didn't reek of Scotch. My Mom came over and gave me a gentle hug. "Good for you," she said. "I was worried you were going to try to go back, just to please him."

"Mom, I'm beginning to think I wouldn't know how to go back, even if I wanted to."
 

 
Dad drove Mom's car. It was strange. Here I was, part of the nuclear family thing again. We still had the old Dodge we'd had before Dad left, so having him driving, Mom in the passenger seat and me in the back was like some kind of time warp. I felt like I was twelve or something. Except when I was twelve I never rode around in a skirt and heels.

At the restaurant my Dad held the door open for me. I didn't realize until I'd walked through how odd that was, though of course he also held it open for Mom. The maitre'd seated us at a table right in the middle of the restaurant, which was pretty full, I guess since it was a Saturday night and all. Most of the other tables were filled with people in their thirties and forties, since the prices were out of the range of younger people.

The waiter approached and Dad looked over at me. "Ah, do you want a drink?"

Like alcohol? Wow, this was pretty radical for Dad. "No thanks, I'll just have a glass of wine with dinner," I said. "You and Mom get whatever you want." He ordered drinks for the two of them and a water for me.

I was kind of nervous. I had pretty much gotten used to people my own age accepting me as Jenny, but all these people were older, and I guess, I dunno, maybe I just thought older people should be smarter or something. I was sure they were gonna just see some boy in a skirt or something.

I ended up ordering pretty light, like Mom, not because I was trying to do anything like a girl, but because I was on edge. But by the time the food arrived, Dad had me kind of relaxed. For the first time, he almost treated me like an adult. The three of us talked about all manner of things, and thankfully none of those things were related to me in a skirt. But I realized Dad was actually pretty charming, in his own way. He told us a little bit about his business in New York, and he made me laugh a few times with some self-deprecating remarks about life in the big city. It was good. All my memories of Dad were of him being such a hard-ass, never funny or able to laugh at himself. Tonight, he seemed like a different guy. I wondered to myself if this was the guy Mom had fallen in love with, and I'd just seen the asshole side of him all my life.

Mom seemed to be really enjoying herself, too. She had been really withdrawn in the last few years she and Dad had been together, but tonight she seemed to enjoy his company, too, and she joined in the conversation with a few quiet witty remarks of her own.

The food was okay but not great, but the evening flew by and I don't think any of us noticed especially. After dinner had finished Mom said to me "I'm just going to powder my nose," and I took this as the signal it was and got up to go with her. Dad seemed to go a little white at that, but then I think he realized how few alternatives were available and left.

I was getting kind of used to going to the ladies room, and a part of me wondered to myself why I'd adapted so quickly.

On the way back from the ladies room we had to pass by the door to the kitchen, and as I walked behind Mom I glanced inside. Steve, Paul's friend, was hulling strawberries at one of the benches. As I stood in the doorway he glanced up, and smiled

"Hey, Jenny! I didn't know you were here! How are you?" he said, walking toward me and wiping his hands on a cloth.

"Pretty good, I guess." Mom had stopped a few feet further down the passage and was looking at me inquiringly. "how about you?"

"Great. Working." He gestured at the kitchen.

I looked inside. There was a kid I thought I recognized from school loading dishes into a large industrial dishwasher, but no-one else. "Did you cook tonight?"

"Of course!" Steve laughed, and then shook his head. "No, I'm only the lowly kitchen hand. Ken's the chef, he's just taking a short break."

I saw him flick his eyes over to my Mom. "Oh! Steve, this is my Mom, Katherine Miller. Mom, this is Steve." I realized I didn't know his last name.

"Steve Bradley, Ma'am," he said, smiling at her. "Nice to meet you."

"Steve's a friend of Paul's," I said. Apparently satisfied now that she knew who Steve was and where he fitted in my life, Mom smiled and excused herself to return to the table with Dad.

"Family outing," I said to Steve as she left.

"I wish I'd known you guys were here, I would have gotten Ken to do something special for you," Steve said.

I didn't want to say I thought the food had been kind of ordinary. "'S okay," I said. "We enjoyed ourselves anyway." I wondered what else to say. I was conscious that Steve was looking at me in a more, well, intense way than he had last week. "So, you work here a lot?" I asked, kind of lamely.

"Just weekends," he said. "Hey, I get off in a little while. Wanna head over to The Dugout and catch some music?"

I thought about the possible responses to that. One, you're the friend of the guy I'm dating. Two, The Dugout is a bar and I'm like way underage. Three, I'm out for the evening with my parents. Without thinking, I led with One. "Well, Steve, I think maybe Paul might..."

"Oh, he'll probably be there tonight, too."

Try Three. "My Dad gets kind of over-protective, though. He doesn't even approve of me dating, much."

'He doesn't approve of me dating boys, that is,' I thought.

"Okay. Yeah, I guess my Dad's like that with my sister," Steve said.

"Thanks for asking, though," I said.

We talked for a few more minutes about the approaching holidays, and what we were gonna do. I wasn't sure whether to continue the charade of being from out of town, so I left things unspecific. I was kind of unnerved by all the attention Steve was giving me. It wasn't right, for a guy to hit on his friend's girl, was it? I had thought Steve was kind of cool, but now ...

Eventually I said goodbye and went back to the table, where Dad had just finished signing his credit card slip. I sat down, and he said to me quietly "So, does the entire town know?" Then he launched into a tirade about how all of this was unnatural and just plain weird.

Uh huh. Dad's good mood seemed to have evaporated while I was talking to Steve. Oh well... at least it was a quiet tirade, since I guess Dad was afraid someone else in the restaurant would overhear.

"Apart from anything else, you know, this is dishonest," he said, looking more at my Mom than me. "That boy she's -- he's seeing -- what's going on there?"

"I think it's better you don't think about that one, Tom," Mom said quietly.

Dad ranted a few minutes longer, and then it was time to go.

Mom gave me a sympathetic look as we stood to go.

"But don't worry Mom, I met him in a restaurant," I sang quietly to myself as we were walking out.

"What's that?" Dad said sharply.

"Just a song, Dad. Liz Phair. You wouldn't know it."

He grunted. I noticed that despite his ranting earlier he still couldn't help himself, and he held the door for me as well as Mom.

It got a lot worse when he didn't have to worry about people overhearing him...
 
 

 
To Be Continued...