I wake up on Sunday morning in bed with Vicki and smile as I remember ‘paying her back’ for quite some time before we settled in to sleep. I try not to move, since she is snuggled up against me and I don’t want to wake her.

I lay there and think of what I had done yesterday—the pain in my rear an absolute and very real reminder of the shots I had received. I ask myself if I made the right choice, ”Am I crazy? What am I doing?” Then I remember last night and have to believe that I did—not that it matters for three months now; the choice is made and I promised to stick to it. That promise is now not only to my Mom, but also to Sherri. I still marvel at how I so easily agreed to it—just to be with Vicki. I catch myself wondering how far I actually will go to be with her.

I look over at her perfect face and, once again, tell myself that this ‘trial’ is worth it. If I don’t like it after the three months, which is pretty much a given, I can honestly say I tried and only hope that, by then, we’re far enough along in our relationship to be OK as a ‘traditional’ couple—that Vicki will have seen that I am not like those guys that she despises… I can only hope that she was being completely honest when she said she liked me even before the ‘suit’ incident.

And then it hits…a wave of nausea… I literally slide off of the satin sheets and out of the bed. I barely make it to the toilet in time to lose what little is left in my stomach. Thankfully, by now, it is very little.

After several minutes of heaving, Vicki hands me a cold washcloth to put on my head; I had not even heard her come in. She says, “I am sorry, Love. Is it letting up? Do you feel like eating anything?”

I lick my parched lips and cringe at the thought of food. I say, “Not at the moment. I hope it passes, though. I hope ALL of this passes—quickly. This sucks! Is this really what morning sickness is like?”

Vicki giggles and says, “You’ve got me, Love! I have never been preggers…”

My stomach finally settles down and I am eating an egg-white omelet when I get a text on my phone. I feel faint and really nauseous again as I read it. Tears come to my eyes.

Vicki sees me turn really pale and asks, “What is the matter, Hon? You look like you have seen a ghost!”

My lips tremble as I say, “You remember me talking about Dan, my best, well really my only, friend that was supposed to come have supper with me on my birthday, but got sick? He wasn’t in school after that either and his Mom suggested I stay away in case it was something contagious. He is the only friend I have left in school—all of my other, older friends have drifted off to other cliques as our interests have evolved. Dan is the only one that has stuck it out with me… His…his…his Mom just texted me that he suddenly got worse—he is in the hospital…in a coma! I haven’t talked to him since before my birthday, other than a text that I had met you—and now I may never get to again!”

I can’t help it; I start crying at that… I don’t know why, I have never really been one to cry before, but it is just so overwhelming to think about.

Vicki comes over and hugs me and asks, “Should we go to the hospital? Is there anything we can do?”

I shake my head and say, “I think I need to go home. Mom will want to know; if she thinks it is a good idea, we can all go together. I am not sure if we are allowed in and I don’t want to bother Dan’s Mom, right now…”

An hour later, we are at home and Mom is heartbroken when she hears the news. She immediately calls the hospital to find out what she can, which is little, since we are not family; but she does find out that we can visit at eleven o’clock.

With all of this, I don’t even think to mention my medical ‘intervention’.

We all get exit the elevator on the third floor of the hospital at eleven and find his Mom or Dad. I introduce Vicki and then then they tell us that Dan had suddenly gotten weaker and then wouldn’t wake up anymore. They had called 911 and he was brought straight here to the hospital, unresponsive. His Mom says that they are running all kinds of tests and have no idea what it might be.

We sit with the Vogels for two hours while they are running a bunch of tests on Dan, then we leave when the Doctors want to talk to them privately. They do however promise to keep us informed.

We leave the hospital parking garage and drive to a restaurant for a late lunch. While we are sitting there, I still can’t seem to stop the flow of tears.

Mom notices and asks, “Are you alright, Gerry? I know you are concerned about Dan, but it is not like you to cry like this. Not that I care; I think it is a stupid ‘rule’ that men aren’t supposed to cry…”

I take another Kleenex that Vicki hands me from her purse and wipe my eyes; I sniffle a bit. Finally, I say, “I think it has something to do with the hormones…”

Mom looks confused. “Hormones? What are you talking about, Hon,” she asks.

She looks stunned when Vicki says, “Gerri,” She looks at me and then says, “Or should I say Deirdre(?), decided to start on female hormones and a male hormone blocker—on a trial basis for three months. My Mom administered them and it is all being fully medically supervised.”

Mom sits back shocked and says, “Well…that is certainly a commitment! Much more than I guess I expected; especially this quickly. You are sure this is what you want…Deirdre? I haven’t heard that name is quite some time…” She is reflective for a moment and her eyes glisten a bit as she says, “Such a lovely name, though.”

I wipe my tears again and say, “Yes, it is like we discussed, Mom; I am committed to seeing this…experiment through and will hold to it. This solution solves a few problems and if it doesn’t feel right in three months, then there is no harm done. Sherri has assured me of that, since it is such a short time. And, yes…I always liked great-grandmother’s name. Although, I wanted to talk to you first…” I give Vicki a pointed look.

Mom gives me her own piercing look and then just nods, “OK, Deirdre. If that is what you want…your grandmother would be proud to have someone named after her—if it is not just in jest. So, is that also who you want to be at school?”

I shake my head and say, “No, Mom! Only when I am outside of school…mostly even only at home. Anytime else, I am Gerry… Gerry with a ‘y’! And I would never disrespect great-grandmother.”

We stop the conversation long enough to order. I am self-conscious about the environment, but, thankfully, the restaurant is nearly empty since it is so late and the main lunch crowd is gone. I sigh and continue, “You…agreed…that it was a great idea to…tuck…you know… Well, that got really uncomfortable during the day at school. This is supposed to help with that. It will also let me feel what it is like to be a woman—as much as possible. I am already finding out what morning sickness is like. How did you stand it? No wonder you only had me!”

Mom giggles at that and says, “Well, that is not even the worst part of pregnancy—or the ‘gift’ of female hormones. OK, so ‘Deirdre’ is still mostly in the closet then, I guess? I am worried about the hormones, but if Sherri says they are safe, then I am OK with it, I guess. It will be an experience for you… I am just not sure that it is good to keep it all bottled up…you may have to let Deirdre out more. We will see…I can talk to Sherri at our lunch. You did tell her, right? I also assume that you will be seeing a psychiatrist?”

I numbly nod and that is really the end of the discussion—for now. Our food arrives and we get back on the topic of Dan…

The next morning, I come out of the bathroom and feel like CRAP! I had just spent the last fifteen minutes ‘worshiping the porcelain throne’. I grab some clothes, not really caring at the moment what I have picked up to wear, and get into the shower. Some Sprite and crackers later, I head to the bus stop, wearing panties, a pair of my new jeans, a sweater with a cami underneath, and a pair of my new sports shoes. By the time I was getting dressed it was too late to find anything different. The only positive is that my little guy actually is much less uncomfortable tucked away…

On the ride, I think about Vicki to take my mind off of my stomach. I am saddened that I won’t see her until Friday on our next date. She has to prepare for a bunch of tests this week and I don’t want to distract her, so we agreed to wait go out Friday night.

The bus arrives at school and I get off, still slightly nauseous. No one is really paying much attention to me as I rush into the bathroom and lose my crackers. Luckily, Mom made me bring a small pack with me and I force them down to mask the taste in my mouth and also try and settle my stomach. I make it to the nurse’s office, not because of my nausea, but because Sherri had insisted I take them a sealed letter from her.

At her request, I wait for Nurse Myers to open the letter and read it. Her eyebrows raise and she looks at me and asks, “So, you are on female hormones and male blockers? I have to say I am surprised…Deirdre, is it now?”

I groan and say, “No, at school I am Gerry and no one is supposed to know what I am doing. You are not even supposed to know about that name. I am going to have to talk to Dr. Langdon about that!” I feel tears coming on and can barely contain them.

Nurse Myers says, “It’s OK, Hon! She has to inform us of all of this; but we have to keep it confidential—unless you are claiming full transgender status. The letter leaves that open, but it seems you don’t want to at the moment?”

I say, “No, I am just…testing the waters. I don’t want to create a big fuss—the fewer that know, the better. OK?”

She just nods and says, “Understood. I will still have to inform the principal and key staff, just in case there is any…trouble. It will go on your official file that you are transgendered, but choosing to remain in your male persona, for now. So, wuld like something for the nausea? I can tell your stomach is upset.”

She gives me some pink tablets that I take and they do help some… I am able to keep my crackers and some water down.

By the time I get to my first class, my stomach is better and I make it through class OK. As I am leaving, Jennifer, who I used to be really good friends with in grade school, pulls me to the side and says, “Gerry, I heard about Dan. That is awful! Do you have any news?”

I give her a brief update, what I know anyway and feel tears coming on as I talk about it.

She looks at me and asks, “Gerry, are you OK? What’s going on with you…?” She looks around and sees we are alone in the hallway. She quietly says, “Sitting behind you gave me a full view of your lacy panties…and cute blue butterfly. Looking at you, and knowing that…well, and the new earrings, I can see you are wearing girls’ things. When you sit down and have low-rise jeans on and your top rides up, then your waist…and what is on underneath becomes visible. Girls know this and act accordingly…they make sure only what they WANT to be visible actually is… Was it your intent to show your secrets to the world?”

I groan and say, “Jennifer, I know that we drifted apart as friends…but, PLEASE don’t spread this around… You don’t think anyone else saw…?”

She shakes her head and says, “I doubt it. It was just the angle I had sitting directly behind you. But, if you don’t want the world to know, you really need to be more careful. But you still haven’t said what this is all about…”

I look around and there is still no one close by, so I say, “It is a long story, but I am exploring my feminine side…for my new girlfriend…”

She lets out a little scream, gives me one of those jumpy-girly hugs, and asks, “You are joining us girls? That is awesome! But why the secret, then? I would love to help!”

I sigh and say, “Look, it is all just…an experiment… I don’t know that it is something that I will stick with… I…I…” I start crying…I can’t help it.

She squeezes me tighter and asks, “So, THIS is so not you. We may not have been close friends over the last years, but I still know you, Gerry McIntosh! What’s up?”

I shake my head and sniffle as I let slip, “I…i…it’s the hormones…”

She lets out another little scream and asks, “Hormones? As in estrogen? Really? That seems like a lot more than an experiment!”

I look at her in horror and say, “Shhhh! Can we please just keep this between us, Jenn? Please? I shouldn’t have said anything about that!”

She smiles with a gleam in her eye and says, “Sure, on one condition…”

I barely make it to my next class on time. I am in a panic and look around at everyone, thinking, ”They know! They are going to laugh at me!” Jennifer’s ‘condition’ had been that I had to let her put a ‘light coat’ of mascara on me. I had resisted, but I couldn’t dissuade her…she is as tenacious as ever.

No one looks—or laughs, though. I quickly sit and make sure that my sweater doesn’t ride up to show either my lace or my butterfly. I kick myself for the millionth time today for my poor choice in clothing. And, now, I can’t help notice my eyelashes—the thickness is increased just enough that I notice them every time I blink.

Thankfully, class quickly goes by and I rush to the bathroom as soon as the bell rings. I look at myself in the mirror. I can clearly see the mascara; but, even so, I can tell that no one will likely notice it, any more than my clothes, unless they are really looking for. I am still worried that I quickly getting to that point of the straw that broke the camel’s back, though—how much more can be layered on before it becomes really noticeable. I was just lucky that it was Jennifer that had noticed my last mistake… Well, I guess it was luck—thanks to her, I am now sporting another ‘layer’ of ‘straw’...

I exit the bathroom and, once again, make it to the next class just as the bell rings. And so the morning passes.

I enter the cafeteria at lunchtime and quickly move through the line. I walk to my usual table; the one where I normally sit with Dan. I sit down, alone; dreading the solitude. To my utter surprise, Jennifer sees me and comes over.

She nods at a seat and asks, “Do you mind if I sit?”

My mouth full of sandwich, I simply shrug and she sits. After I swallow, I ask in worried, but quiet tone, “You haven’t said anything, right?”

She smiles and gets another of those gleams in her that I am beginning to remember all too well, and says, “No…and I won’t, as long as you let me refresh your mascara…and add a little lip gloss after lunch.”

I grimace and ask, “Why the blackmail, Jenn? What did I do to you?”

She giggles and says, “It is not blackmail, Gerry. It is just me helping you loosen up. It seems you need a little help in that department. So…want to tell me who your girlfriend is?” She smiles and takes a dainty bite of her sandwich and looks at me in anticipation.

I think back to years before, when the two of us had been much closer. She lives two houses down and the house in between is old Mrs. Marvel’s and she has no kids; as a matter of fact, we were the only kids on our block when we were in grade school. We had become friends back then, even though, even at that age, she was a true girly-girl—and I was, well, a bit of the more rambunctious type. Of course, as we aged, we ultimately joined more ‘compatible’ cliques at school and had sort of grown apart. We had only really seen each on the bus and even that changed when she turned sixteen and got her own car.

I pull myself out of my reverie, because it is clear that she is still waiting for answer. I sigh and say, “OK, I can see you haven’t changed any over the years. You’re still as tenacious as ever!” She giggles and I continue, “My girlfriend is Vicki Langdon. You probably don’t know her; she didn’t go to school here…”

She looks at me pensively and asks, “Langdon? Any relation to Sherri Langdon?”

I shake my head and ask, “What is it with girls and Dr. Langdon? Yes, she is Sherri’s daughter. She is the one that is monitoring my…medication.” I look around to make sure we are not being overheard. Thankfully, there are several empty tables between us and anyone else.

Jenn grins and winks as she says, “You go, girl! That is quite the catch. I think I may be jealous. Does she have any brothers?” She giggles.

I look at Jenn and motion for her to be quiet. Then, I have to ask, “Jenn, don’t take this the wrong way. But why are we even having this conversation? I mean it is great to talk to you again, but…?”

She sighs and says, “I don’t really know. It is just sort of like when I talked to you today that I realized again that I really missed hanging out with you. I always did…just never in a romantic way… I always felt like I could tell my deepest secrets; then, well parental and peer pressures pushed us apart. I can still hear everyone saying it is ‘not appropriate’ for a boy and a girl to be best friends… I never understood it, and I am ashamed that I gave into it. But, do you want me to leave? I…I…will keep your secret, either way… I promise.”

I take her hand and say, “I didn’t mean it that way, Jenn. I have missed our talks, too. And it is great having someone besides my Mom that I can talk to about some of this; you know, besides Vicki, of course. It is just that Vicki is so intense about this…experiment. And Mom is totally adamant that I follow through with the promise I made Vicki. It is all a bit overwhelming.”

Jennifer smiles at me and asks, “Would you like to do homework together after school?”

I laugh and say, “That would be awesome! But don’t you have, like…other groupies you would rather hang out with?”

She giggles and says, “Silly! Meet me at my car after class.”

I find Jenn’s car in the parking lot after my last class, just where she said it would be. I look at it and smile. It is the same Honda that she has had since she was sixteen, which is not surprising. Because of an unfortunate birthdate, Jennifer is among the oldest in our class and is already nineteen—so that makes the car only three years old. It was new when she got and it is a nice, basic car. It is also still in perfect condition and every bit as girly as she is. Jenn’s parents are like my Mom—well enough off, but not ‘rich’ by any means. Upper-middle class is the description most often used for families like ours. It is not likely that Jenn will be getting a new car anytime soon. I laugh to myself and think, ”At least she has one!”

I only have to wait about five minutes until I see Jennifer coming towards the parking lot surrounded by a posse of her normal crowd. They all hug in that girly way they have and then Jenn breaks off from the group and comes over to her car.

She smiles and says, “Good! You found it. Ready?” She pushes the button her little remote and unlocks the car, then opens her door.

I smile and nod and we get in. Eight minutes later, she is parked in our driveway, but so that she won’t block Mom if and when she comes home and Jenn is still here.

We go inside and Jenn smiles and says, “This brings back memories! I haven’t been in here in…”

I finish, “About five years… Would you like a drink? You still like Diet Coke?”

She giggles and nods and we go into the kitchen and unload our stuff onto the table. I get us two diets and we sit and just chill for a couple of minutes, letting the caffeine work its magic. Then Jenn, ever the practical one, insists we finish our homework before we talk.

Together, we quickly knock out the homework—helping each other along the way. I laugh when we are done in about fifty minutes—a likely hour or two quicker than if I had been doing it alone. I say, “I could get used to this!”

She giggles and nods, then says, “Tomorrow at my house! Now, spill… I want the WHOLE story!”

I sigh and get us two new diets and we go into the living room to sit. Before I can start, though, she digs into her purse and says, “While you are spilling, I am going to make good on your promise to let me finish your makeup ‘after lunch’. I never got to at school…”

I blush and decide to just let it go for now. I resign myself to whatever and she busies herself with mascara and pencils and little brushes… I give her the short, but accurate version of how I got where I am.

She is done messing with my face, well my eyes and lips, well before I am finished and sits there paying rapt attention. When I am done, she simply asks, “So, you don’t really want to be a girl? You are simply doing this to be with Vicki? Don’t you think that is, well…shallow—even selfish?”

I laugh and say, “Wow! You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

She is serious and says, “That is what GOOD friends are for. You are taking HORMONES for goodness’ sake! I can’t believe that is what Vicki wants—if that is not what YOU want. From what you are saying, she likes you for you…this…other….is just a bonus. So, why do it? You really DO have a lot to learn about girls; if she is only doing this because of what you are lying to her about, then she is not worth it—no matter HOW beautiful she is on the outside. And I don’t believe that is what she is about…”

I flash a bit of anger and say, “Look, Jenn. I appreciate your honesty and all, but…” And I feel tears coming on…I can’t seem to get a hold of my emotions. I fight hard and keep the tears from flowing and say, “Damned hormones!” We both laugh and the tension is gone…

I sigh and say, “Look. I did not enter into this because I want to be a girl—and, yes, it may have been for all the wrong reasons. But, I did enter into it voluntarily. After my ‘heart-to-heart’ with Mom, I can also say with good conscious that I intend to give the next three months an honest effort. You yourself just said that I have a lot to learn about girls, so this is my chance. I have no idea where I will come out after that time; it is HIGHLY unlikely that I will magically want to be a girl. But, I can say that I have already noticed some of the perks…the clothes feel amazing!”

She picks up a throw-pillow and smacks my arm with it. She says, “You are such a shallow jerk!” But she says it with enough of a smile that I know she is kidding—mostly. Then she adds, “Well, since you are all about learning more about being one of us, I am going to start treating you like one of us, too! Don’t worry, I understand your true motives—as does your Mother, I suspect. Poor Vicki is the one that will suffer if this all goes wrong. I want you to be honest with me, though, at the end of the day. I am not a shrink—I am sure Dr. Langdon will ensure you are hooked up with one; and somehow I get the feeling you will not be telling the whole truth to them… So, I will try and help you understand the things that you will likely tell everyone else you love, but you secretly hate, or just don’t get… I can also help coach and mentor you in some things. In case you haven’t noticed, I am all about being a girl!” She giggles and gets another of those gleams in her eye as she says, “In return, I get to keep pushing the envelope at school with you. Deal?”

I feel a little dizzy—this just got a whole lot more complicated. But, I realize she is right… I think, ”I DO need someone that I can be completely honest with—I just hope that I really CAN trust her.” Finally, I just nod and say, “Deal…I guess; but, do we have to do the school thing? Really?”

At that moment, the door to the garage opens and Mom enters the kitchen. I hear her call out, “Deirdre, do we have company?”

Jennifer gets a wicked gleam in her eye and asks, “Deirdre?”