CHAPTER 6 -- Thanksgiving.

Every year, at Thanksgiving, we get together with my dad's sister and her family for dinner. This year, it was at our place. My mom put the turkey in to bake and a little while later, Aunt Edith, Uncle Boris, and my cousin Teresa showed up with salad and deserts. Aunt Edith and my mom would then work together to make the rest of the meal.

My brothers had been making fun of me all day and they didn't stop when my Aunt and her family came in. "Hey, Martina," Pete would say to me, "got a boyfriend, yet?" Biff chimed in, on cue: "would that make him -- I mean her -- gay?" Then Biff would mince across the living room. "Don't you think she looks cute?" We'd done a little of this sort of thing to Teresa, which used to get her so mad she would punch us. Then Dad would tell us to be nice to her, which would quiet us down for a while. Dad wasn't saying anything to them at all now. And while they were doing this, my breasts were killing me under the ace bandages and my crotch was driving me crazy.

My aunt and uncle just stood in the entrance to the living room and stared as my brothers teased me. I remember my aunt having this appalled look on her face. Then she turned to my dad and said, "Claude, aren't you going to do something?" He just stood there. Then she got him to go into the front hall, and a few minutes later, he stormed into the living room and started yelling at my brothers.

"How can you do this to your own brother? You should be supporting him." They looked stunned. "How's he getting treated at school?" They just stared. He looked at me.

"Like they were doing to me now," I said. "Sometimes worse. I stopped going to gym, it was so bad."

He looked at Biff. "Is it true?" Biff nodded. "You should be defending your brother. Haven't you heard, 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother'? I'm very, very disappointed in you. In both of you." It didn't make much sense to me, either. Pete wasn't even at my school, so how could he defend me?

Both of them got really quiet, and after a few minutes, they politely excused themselves and went downstairs to the TV room. Aunt Edith and Mom went into the kitchen. That left Uncle Boris and Dad in the living room in the upholstered chairs talking about work and cars and Dad trying to sue the hospital and Teresa and me on the couch, saying nothing.

"Want to go upstairs and hang out in my room?" I asked. She nodded, and we quietly snuck out of the living room. I don't know if my dad even noticed. I showed her my CD collection and asked if there was anything she'd like to hear. She kept looking at me like she was trying to figure me out. She picked out a CD and I put it on. She sat on the floor with her arms around her knees and I sat on the bed. She was wearing a simple shirt dress which wouldn't have actually hid what she had on underneath, except she was sitting so I couldn't. I suddenly wondered: is this intentional? Has she learned exactly how to sit so no one can see? Was this something I needed to learn?

"You know, Martin, you're a lot nicer to me than you usually are."

"Making fun of you isn't any fun now, now that I know what it's like to be on the receiving end. I'm sorry now that I was so mean to you in the past. That was really shitty of me. Also, it's nice to be around someone who isn't picking on me. My own age, I mean."

"Is it that bad? Don't you have any friends?"

"I used to have some guys who would talk with me about stuff, like music or motorcycles or what we'd do when we got out of West Hell -- that's our name for West High. But they're afraid to be seen around me now."

"Martin?" She looked straight at me. "I'd be willing to talk to you. I'd even try to help. I think I could get my parents to help, too. I know you're going through Hell right now. Just -- well, just don't be mean to me any more, okay?"

"I promise," I said, with as serious an expression as I could manage. "I really appreciate you being willing to talk to me. The worst part of all this is that I don't have anyone to talk to." I told her about the shrink. "And Dad and Mom just don't want to think about what's happening to me, so there's no point in talking to them."

We listened to another CD, just rocking and grooving on it. When it was over, I said, "you know, there's something you might be able to help with, but it might be a little embarrassing."

"For me? Or for you?"

"Both, maybe. You see, my body's turning into a female body, and there's lots of stuff I don't know about it. I can't talk to my mom about it. I figure, your mom must have helped you when you were growing up and getting, uh, you know."

"Breasts? Menstruation? Sex?"

I blushed a little. "Yeah, that kind of stuff."

"Maybe I'm not so easy to embarrass as you think. How far along is your, ah, transformation?"

"Pretty far. I have breasts and my crotch looks like what those medical web sites show for a woman's crotch. I've been squashing my breasts with lots of ace bandages, but it hurts like hell. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Do you mind showing me? I won't make fun of you."

I was afraid I was going to get really embarrassed. At least I didn't have to worry about getting a hard-on. I pretended it was another one of those physical exams and took my shirt off, then the ace bandages. If she'd smiled or giggled, I don't know what I'd have done, but she kept a serious expression and looked carefully at my chest.

"They look like full-sized breasts all right. A little bruised -- I don't think the ace bandages are doing them any good. I'll ask my mom, but I think you're going to have to get used to the idea that you'll need a bra."

"Oh, great. That's all the guys at school need, to see me in a bra."

"There might be a way to make it less obvious." She didn't sound too hopeful, though. "Anyway, do you want to come by this weekend? I'll check with my parents if it's okay, but we're not doing anything."

Mom called us to dinner then. Teresa helped me wrap my breasts up before we went down. We spent dinner mostly talking about neutral subjects, like sports, or how we were doing in school, but every now and then Uncle Boris or Aunt Edith would ask about my condition or what I was enduring in school. Nothing too personal, and always in a way that I could avoid going into more detail than I wanted to. I had a feeling they were listening to every word I said and maybe some I wasn't saying. They also asked my parents things, but whenever it was about me, the questions just slid right off like they were made of Teflon. I was mostly enjoying being able to eat without my brothers persecuting me.

After dinner, I followed Aunt Edith, Teresa, and my mom into the kitchen to help with the cleaning up. The other guys went into the living room. Aunt Edith gave me a questioning look.

"If I'm here, Pete and Biff won't be tempted to pick on me." She went back to scraping plates.

"Hey, Mom?" Teresa said. "Can Martin come over this weekend?"

"Certainly. Not Friday, we have some chores to get done and your dad has to work that day. But Saturday would be fine."

"When?" I asked.

"All day, if you want. We get up by 8:00; if you're there then, we could feed you breakfast. We go to bed arond 10:00. P.m.," she added.

"I don't think I could get anyone to drive me over that early."

"If you have trouble getting a ride, one of us could fetch you."

"That's really nice of you, but I'll try to get my mom or dad to drive me."

By the time we finished cleaning up and dividing up the left-overs, it was dark. We all sat around in the living room for a while making small talk, and then my aunt and uncle and Teresa left.