by:

MacKenzie Hodge has lived a life of secrets and lies. Chief among them is his, it, or her true gender? Now faced with an important decision, Mac has to decide what kind of future they want. Fortunately for Mac, there's a whole summer to decide.

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Author's Note: Its Monday, new chapter time. First things first, there's a new pic of Mac to go with this chapter. I'll probably be using this pic from now on. The chapter will explain the change. Also I know Mac has green eyes and the girl in the pic has blue, I just loved her so much and I didn't want to mess with photo shop to change them. A couple of quick things about this chapter. First, Dr. Martin finally makes an appearance. Second, don't judge Mac's mother too harshly, you'll see what I mean.

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5.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

I wanted to punch the alarm. Pulling my pillow over my head and squeezing it tight like a comfy helmet, I tried to drown out the sound. Unfortunately, no amount of cushion could deafen the noise. My mother bought me the most annoying one. She said I had problems waking up in the morning. Me, I just liked the warmth of the covers. I would find no warmth in them today though. Groaning, I literally had the pull them off my body. Summer was arriving and with it the heat.

Sitting up, I tried hitting the alarm clock with my pillow but missed.

Putting it on the other side of the room had been Mom’s idea too. That way I would have to get up to shut it off. You know instead of hitting snooze and rolling back to sleep. She was an evil woman when she wanted to be. I’d seen that more in the past week than my whole life though.

Grunting, I slowly crawled out of bed.

The alarm shut off before I could get there. Cursing, I unplugged it from the wall instead of waiting for it to start up its cycle again. Satisfied, I made my way to the bathroom. The bathroom was smack dab in the middle of mine and Claudia’s room. Each of us had a door to access it. It was a surprisingly spacious room, with two sinks, a toilet and both a shower and bath. Claudia preferred the bathtub over the shower. I was the opposite. When we were younger, it never even occurred to me what sharing a bathroom with my little sister might be like. After I started puberty and my real gender was revealed to me, things didn’t change. Except now it didn’t smell as bad. Gone were the musky male scented deodorants and shampoo, in their place flowery fragrances and flower decals.

The decals were hers.

Walking over to the toilet, I sat to pee. I’ve always sat to pee. It was something I never really questioned until I realized I wasn’t a guy. Boys stood to pee. They had penises, that’s what they did. There were urinals in the boy’s bathroom so they could pee. Yet, I didn’t use those and always sat down. Why was that? Growing up, I thought it was perfectly normal to be a boy who sat down to pee. I convinced myself it was because my penis was too small. Puberty was a very eye-opening experience for me.

Not as eye opening as today though.

Flushing, I went to my sink to wash my hands.

The girl in the mirror was a stranger.

She was still me but I barely recognized her.

It was all my mother’s fault.

The trip to the mall had been three days ago. After shopping and eating lunch, I had really been regretting our salon appointment. I wasn’t disappointed. It was horrible. The first thing my mother asked them about was extensions. She wanted me to have nice, flowing hair. She said it would help me better adjust to being a girl. I tried to argue it and so did the stylist. I was almost in tears at one point. The stylist came to my rescue. She got me to agree to the extensions, as long as I got to approve on the length. Thinking about it now made me smirk. I couldn’t have the short mop of hair I was used too but I was able to get them to cut the hair to just past my shoulders, not quite mid-back but close. I used to have it there once. Most of the kids my age used to pick on me for it but I always thought I was Thor. Like from the movies. He had long hair like that so why couldn’t I. After I found out I was being lied too by my parents, the first thing I did was cut all the hair off. I did it myself, with a pair of scissors. I did such a chop job on it my head had to be buzzed.

Mom was furious.

I was triumphant.

I almost wanted to take Jax’s razor and shave all this shit off right now. I know it would have pissed Mom off royally. I didn’t though. It was a compromise I was willing to live with for a couple of months. That’s all it was supposed to be too, months. The extensions were to be removed before I started school in the Fall. I made that abundantly clear. I got more compromises out of the deal too. Piercings, as in plural. Two in each ear and one in my nose. Well, actually I had the one returned to my nose. I used to have my nose pierced. I did it when I was sixteen. It was supposed to make me look cool. Mom hated it. Eventually, I started to hate it too and removed it. I still had the hole though.

Now it was back.

A tiny silver ring.

It was the only thing I liked about my face right now.

They shaped my brows too, into nice feminine arches.

I looked ridiculous.

I almost had them pierce one of those too but Mom put her foot down.

Sighing, I splashed some water on my face.

“You should have fought harder,” I said softly to myself.

As usual, though, I let Mom steamroll right over the top of me and get what she wanted. Typical coward move. After the extensions and the cut, we had mani-pedis too. I won’t openly admit it but I liked that part. I didn’t like the body waxing. Especially down at the bikini line, not fun at all. If the government ever needed new Torturers, I knew where they could find some. They gave me a full makeover too, makeup and all that crap. My own living hell. I nearly ran out of the place when it was time to go. When we got home, Jax tried complimenting me until he saw how upset it made me. While I locked myself in my room to cry, my parents fought over it. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard him shout at her like that.

Claudia slept with me that night.

They were gone now.

They left for their vacation yesterday morning.

The fighting had stopped by then but they left miserable.

“Just as well,” I said once again to myself.

The girl in the mirror responded the same.

I sighed. This was going to be me for the next six to eight weeks. That’s how long the extensions were able to stay in for. Mom went all out. They were actual human hair and surprisingly close to my original hair color. It wasn’t quite right so there were some highlights done. I know I said I didn’t like this whole girl makeover and part of that was true but it wasn’t all bad. I mean it was my idea after all. The problem was that my mother didn’t stop and ask me what I wanted to do. She just went wild with it and turned me into the type of daughter she wanted me to be. The type of girl staring back at me from the mirror.

Sighing, I finished washing my hands and face then brushed my teeth.

I went through the typical morning routine every morning.

Stripping, I stepped into the shower.

I usually took a hot shower in the morning but with summer right around the corner and the temperature rising, I took a nice cold one. It helped wake me up too. Thankfully I only stayed in for about fifteen minutes or so, enough to wash my body and my brand new hair. Long hair was a pain in the ass to take care of. All the washing and brushing and other care. It was the other reason I cut off all my hair. I hated taking care of it. Personally, I think Mom gave me these extensions out of spite. Ok so not really. Mom was a bit old fashioned when it came to the type of person she thought a girl should be. Long hair, pretty face, nice clothes. Not exactly me. Well not exactly the Me I was before she gave me this makeover.

I hated her.

Not Mom.

The girl I’d become.

Leaving the bathroom, I quickly put together an outfit for today. Ugh. When did I start calling them “outfits”? Trying to ignore my new terminology, I grabbed a fresh pair of undies, a new shirt and a comfortable pair of jeans. All of them very female. As much as I hated the whole hair and face makeover, I didn’t really mind the clothes. Clothes were clothes. They didn’t make you a different person wearing them. It was all about how you presented yourself in them. I could still wear these and get away with being “me”. Sure it would take a little extra work and my old hoodie but I think I could pull it off.

I dressed slowly.

I decided to try one of Mom’s new bras.

I’m not going to lie, it was really comfortable.

Not that I was going to tell her that of course.

It also made me feel like a woman.

Queue Shania Twain.

Seriously though, it was the right blend of feminine and manageable. My breasts filled the cups properly and it didn’t pinch on the sides. The sports bras pinched. They were restricting too. Looking down, I saw breasts too. My old bras tended to flatten them against my chest a bit too much. They provided the proper support of course but they were meant to be worn for athletic things. Wearing an actual bra that fit and was designed for support, it was a new experience for me. It scared me how much I loved it. This was something of my mother’s, one of her victories. I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it. I wanted to rebel against it. She wasn’t here anymore to force me to play along with her “Build a Daughter” construction kit. I could do what I wanted, dress how I wanted and yet here I was putting on the clothes she bought me---the clothes I hated---and I was actually enjoying them.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I grabbed at the bra, trying to pull it violently from my body.

I would have pulled it clean off if my phone didn’t beep.

Shit.

Reaching across the bed to my nightstand, I found my cell where I left it last night.

I groaned when I saw it.

Another message from Tess.

WANT 2 HANG 2 DAY.

Cursing, I dropped my phone on the bed. Ever since rescuing her from Brian, the girl had been trying nonstop to get my attention. You had to admire her determination. I was apparently her new conquest. Or rather, her attempt at a conquest because so far she had conquested nothing. And that’s how it was going to continue to be. Before puberty, girls were girls. I didn’t hate them or like them. They were just there. They wore dresses, braids in their hair and could be annoying. They were mysteries to me too. Boys my age started to like them, started to say “that one is cute” or “man I’d like to date her”. Things that meant something to me but things I didn’t feel. I was confused. Girls confused me even more. Then I found out I was one too. I was floored. I started to think of girls differently then. They were still mysterious but suddenly the mystery became something else.

Did I like them too?

I found that out when I turned thirteen.

His name was Jason.

And yes, I had a crush on him.

I tried to hide it though, tried to ignore it. I decided to shut myself off from it. To shut myself off from dating anyone. I pretended though. I started to use the words the guys used. I started to refer to girls in a certain way and pretended to like this one or that one in a sexual way. It was a lie though. It was all part of the masquerade too. It worked too well though. I might have let slip to Tess once that I thought Tara was really cute. She was but not in a sexual way. I wasn’t the least bit attracted to Tara or any other girl for that matter. Which I think is where my problem started.

Tess.

I should have let her think I was gay like everyone else.

I thought she thought I was.

Even with my “cute Tara” comment.

The last few days though---through our texting---I found out that she not only didn’t think I was gay but that she was attracted to me. She’d been attracted to me for some time now. I was sweet and sensitive and not afraid to share my feelings. Everything a stable girl was truly looking for in a prospective mate. There was only just one small problem: I wasn’t a boy. Definitely not the boy that Tess thought I was. Out of all my years pretending to be a boy, I never once thought what might happen if a girl actually fell in love with me. Now I was here and I didn’t know what to do about it. I’ll admit it, I was scared. Tess was one of the big reasons I decided to take the plunge and be myself this summer.
Brian was the other reason.

I think I was finally sick and tired of being a guy.

Maybe.

I didn’t know.

That’s what my doctor was there for.

Smiling, I picked up my cell, remembering.

Today was Friday.

SORRY TESS, I typed, CAN’T TODAY. HAVE APPT.

Her reply was quick: K with a frowny face.

I shut off my phone after that, sighed and tossed it on my bed.

This was getting very complicated.

Hopefully, Dr. Martin would be able to help.

“Well, good morning, Miss,” said Henry as I walked on the bus.

I sighed.

“Morning, Henry.”

I dropped into my usual seat, surprising the older bus driver. He stared at me for a few moments, trying to process.

Henry knew the truth about me. I decided long ago not to keep that secret from him. He was a good man and didn’t judge. The fact that he had a daughter of his own helped. He was like a surrogate father and grandfather rolled into one. Kind and supportive and a good listener. Like I said before, we talked. Not only about him and his problems. He knew all mine too. I think it was par the course for the profession. Cab drivers, bartenders, priests and bus drivers. People, I think told them everything. Henry was not just great at telling stories, he was good at hearing them too. When I told him about my true gender, he didn’t even blink. He didn’t treat me any different either.

“Mac?” he asked, I sighed and nodded. He smiled. “This is a different look for you.”

“It was my Mom’s idea.”

I quickly filled him in as we drove.

Dr. Martin’s office was quite a few blocks from our home so we had the time.

Once again he sat and listened. We made about six stops along the way, he only stopped my talking briefly to let new passengers on or current ones off. We started talking about my new look but it devolved into my life over the last week or so since I’d seen him. Ok, so one week and a day. School let out on Wednesday last week and today was the first of June. Wow, had everything only happened in a week? Let’s see I told him about Tess and the playlist, my lesson with the children, my fight with Brian. Henry had a slight, satisfied smile on his face during that story. I don’t think there was a single person in the city who had any love for the Ross family. Tess was the only one I knew and now that was over. Though I don’t think she ever loved him.

“That’s quite the decision.”

I shrugged. “I sorta fell into it. I knew it was getting there, its something I’ve been doing over the summer for the last few years or so.”
“But only sparingly, right?” he asked, I nodded. ‘This is quite a big step up from that. You sure you’re ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”

He smiled then gave me a pensive look. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Of course!”

"I think you should be your own person, kiddo,” he said seriously. “Not this person your mother is attempting to turn you in to. You love your mother and want to do right by her, I get that but you can’t just let her tell you what to do and how to act, it's not right.”

“I know.”

“Remember what your Shakespeare said, To Thine Own Self Be True.”

Wow, Henry quoting Hamlet.

Never thought I’d see the day.

We shared a laugh.

The bus finally came to my stop. I got up and gave him a hug, surprising both of us I think. I’d never actually hugged him before. Henry had a big smile on his face as I stepped off, so I knew I didn’t overstep my bounds. I waved and watched as the bus disappeared into the morning traffic. I waited until it was around the corner before turning and walking into the giant building that was Dr. Martin’s office.

Ok so the whole building wasn’t hers, that would be ridiculous. Her office was just in it. Along with several other doctors and professionals. The whole block was devoted to them I think. The streets were lined with tall glass buildings on either side, each no smaller than five stories. The current one I was stepping into had six, Dr. Martin’s office was on the third floor.

Besides school and the Gym, it was practically my second home. In fact, for a while, I probably spent more time here than in school. Well, at least it felt like that sometimes. I only came about once or twice a month now but in the beginning, I was here at least three times a week. I mean after finding out you were a girl when you thought you were a boy, it takes its toll. There were some pretty rough patches along the way. Not just the whole hair cutting thing. Rebellion was one thing but when you were on suicide watch for nearly a month, yeah it wasn’t anything to smile about. Just thinking about it now made me want to cry. It also made me feel weak. I’m not saying suicide was weak, I’m just saying that I was ashamed of myself to think that I ever thought about ending my life.

After it was determined I no longer wanted to kill myself, Dr. Martin made me go to a support group. It was one for transgender teens. I knew I didn’t really fit into that category but she thought if I was with children in similar circumstances as my own, it might help open my eyes. It did. I really felt for those people. I felt kindred with them in a way. All my life I thought I was a boy, I lived like a boy, was treated like a boy, thought I was going to be one the rest of my life. Then I found out it was a lie. Ok so not a lie really, a non-truth. The group helped put things into perspective for me. I met people who were struggling with their gender and identity like me but unlike me, they were in the wrong bodies.

Ok so maybe like me?

I still went to group when I could just not as frequent as before. It was usually held on Saturdays and I spent most of those in the Gym. I still participated in the online aspect of it though. We had a forum and I tried to stay up to date on there as much as I could. I made some decent friends there. People I could talk too and turn too if I needed help or comfort. Just not people I saw every day. Not without trying though. It was my choice though. I could be my true self with them and yet I was scared. Even now I was scared.

What if I liked it too much?

What if Ken went away for good?

The scariest thought of all though: What if Ken going away wasn’t such a bad thing?

I kept those thoughts in my head as I walked through the building’s lavish lobby into the elevator. I rode to the third floor, my mind flooded with questions. When the elevator stopped, those were replaced with butterflies. This was after all the first time I’d been truly out like this. I mean after Mom’s makeover. After the clothes shopping and salon, I was bound and determined to stay in the house. It was all so different and embarrassing and scary. Then my parents were fighting. I was actually a bit happy that they left. I hated feeling like that. Someone shouldn’t feel glad when their family isn’t around. Especially when said family goes off on a vacation without them. Sure it was my choice but I was a bit sad by the whole thing too. A bit angry too that they went off all feeling so miserable.

I exited the elevator, finding myself numbly walking into the waiting room.

I wandered over to the large sectional in the middle of the room, dropping down on one of the comfy leather sofas. I picked up a back issue of Teen Vogue from the little table, trying to hide behind the magazine. I felt like the room was staring at me, though the only one currently present was the receptionist, Clara. Taking a quick peek, I nearly bolted. She was staring. Not in a bad way though. She was confused. I liked Clara a lot. She was a former patient of the doctor’s. She was also the one who ran our support group now. It always boggled my mind that such a gorgeous woman had been born a boy. She was inspired by the group too. She was in her second year of college now, studying psychology. She wanted to help people like her.

She continued to stare at me until I think it finally clicked.

I saw the look of recognition on her face.

“Mac?”

“Hey Clara,” I said sheepishly.

She was still staring.

“You look...” she said, standing up and walking around the desk. She walked over to me. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or...”

“It's a great wow,” she said, smiling big. “Your hair looks great and I love the clothes.” She did give me a concerned look though. “I just didn’t think you were ready to go this far yet.”

“I wasn’t but something happened and well...”

A buzz from Clara’s intercom interrupted me.

Clara looked at her desk. “That’s the Doc, she probably wants to see you now. If you want to talk afterward, I’ll be here.”

I smiled, stood up and gave her a hug.

Apparently, I’m hugging everyone these days.

We pulled away then I slowly made my way toward Dr. Martin’s office. Only pausing for a moment to gently knock on the door. I heard her muffled “enter” before stepping inside.

It was a pretty spacious office with a great view. The windows were large and let in a lot of light, bathing the room in a warm and inviting glow. It helped that the decor was earthy and happy, a blend of soothing colors and comfy pillows. The chairs weren’t half bad either. The rest of the room was very modern: metal shelves, a glass top desk. There were also several modern art prints on the wall. The best feature had to be the large fish tank. We used to have fish at home but I’m horrible with pets and they all died. Claudia had a hamster---Mr. Pudge---but I never really cared for them. Claudia wanted to get a cat too until Mom told her it would probably try and eat the hamster.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello MacKenzie,” said the doctor. “I’ll be right with you, I need to finish up this email.”

She was sitting at her desk, head buried in her computer.

I dropped into the large leather chair in front of her.

I was nervous today.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been nervous in her office.

Save maybe the first time.

I was a scared eleven-year-old back then. I just found out I was lied too by my parents and my whole life was a sham. I was sick of doctors at that point too. My first shrink---Dr. Paul---didn’t really work out so well. He was pretty old school in his way of thinking. He felt the best way for me to embrace my newfound girlhood was to be thrown right into it. He was pretty brutal about it. He told me I was lying to myself and that I was ridiculous to think I could still be a boy. Suffice to say, we only went to one session with him. The last I heard he wasn’t even practicing anymore. Well when you call one of your patients an “idiot”, it doesn’t really go over too well with their parents.

I was terrified Dr. Martin would be the same.

When I met her though, my fears evaporated.

She was a kind, caring woman. She didn’t call me an idiot and she told me that everything was going to be ok. That was the first thing she said to me, “everything is going to be ok”. It was too. Eventually. A small part of me envied that little eleven-year-old. Life had been more simple back then. My body was still changing and being a boy was much easier. Hiding my girlhood had been really easy. As I grew, it got harder and harder. It was so much work these days that more than once I questioned if it was even worth it.

The Doc finally looked up.

She shared Clara’s expression.

Dr. Martin was always a pretty stoic woman. Not that she was cold and emotionless, she just didn’t express herself much. Maybe a gentle smile or a warm squeeze of the hand. A professional. The type of professional behavior you expect from a middle-aged, successful psychiatrist. Not the type of look I currently saw her giving me.

Shock.

“MacKenzie,” she said surprised then quickly regained some composure before speaking again. “You look lovely.”

The way she said “lovely” though, I could read between the lines.

She was asking me if I thought I was “lovely” too.

With Dr. Martin, everything she said seemed to be a question even if she wasn’t asking one.

It was a Shrink thing.

“It was Mom’s idea.”

As soon as I said that, I saw her frown.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So I did. I told her everything just like with Henry earlier. Unlike with Henry though, I told her how I felt about things. Every part of the story I inserted my feelings into the mix as well. Just like she wanted. It stopped her from asking me about them. The Doc played stoic again but I kept seeing the cracks in her armor whenever I mentioned my mother. To say my mother and Dr. Martin didn’t get along was an understatement. Both were professional when dealing with me but they had different opinions on how it should be handled. Mom was a person who liked things her way. She saw something and the way it should be, according to her. Dr. Martin was a different kind of person. She was of the opinion of allowing a person to decide what they wanted and if something was right, it should be because they thought it was so. Of course, the something I refer too is “Me”. I think if it was up to Mom, I would be her daughter 24/7. I am. Clothes don’t make the gender. Long hair and makeup don’t make the gender. I knew that so why couldn’t my mother.

And why was I so afraid to tell her that?

When I finished telling the Doc everything, she was frowning.

I sighed. “You’re angry.”

“I’m neither angry or happy,” she said, taking both sides. “I’m concerned.”

Dr. Martin was a pretty woman but not Mom pretty. Whereas Mom was a natural knock out, who stayed trim and fit to fight off the ravages of age, Dr. Martin was more practical. Still a healthy woman, she was an avid tennis player after all. There were quite a few trophies on her shelves. She was just the kind of woman who didn’t go out of her way to make herself look pretty. She wore her graying hair in a sensible bob, her glasses sensible, her suit crisp and neat. She wore minimum makeup and yet she was still very feminine as well. She was a different kind of woman from my mother. Why couldn't my mother let me be a different kind of woman too?

“You think I should have told her No?”

“What do you think?”

There she goes again. Typical Shrink Talk.

I shrugged. “I know I should and it's not like I don’t like this” I said, grabbing my hair. “It's just, she didn’t ask me if I wanted it. She wasn’t even willing to listen to my opinion on it, just like usual. She decided what was best for me and made me do it.”

Dr. Martin sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Your mother and I have talked about this at great length. She’s a complicated woman. I’m not really at liberty to discuss our private conversations but I will tell you this, she believes she’s doing the right thing for you.”

“You mean the right thing for her,” I said, getting angry.

"Is that how you truly feel?"

I shrugged.

“And what about the right thing for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you made a very interesting first step this week. It was a very brave thing to do. Just like you stepping in to help your friend but its only the first step. You need to ask yourself if it's the proper one to take, if you should take further ones or should you take a step back?”

“You think I’m moving too fast?”

“Do you?”

I shrugged again.

I looked around the room, looking for the mirror I knew was in the corner. She used to make me stand in front of that mirror when I was little. It was supposed to help my self-confidence. Back then I was too stubborn to even admit I was a girl. Even when I saw the evidence staring back at me in the mirror. So every session she would make me stand in front of the mirror, telling me what I saw. Not what I wanted to see but what I actually saw there. It wasn’t her forcing me to admit my gender, it was her helping me try to see what only I could see. It took some time but I finally started to see the girl. She was there, hiding in the boy I always thought I was. She’d always been there, waiting in the shadows. The boy was there too, just not physically. It was the way I stood and the way I acted. As the years went on and the image in the mirror started to change with me, the girl started to make herself known more and more.

The boy was fading.

Perhaps he was never there.

Dr. Martin followed my eyes. “You want to do the Mirror Exercise?”

She stood up, stepping around the desk. Sighing, I stood up too.

I followed her over to the mirror, the click of her heels leading the way.

It was one of those tall, full body mirrors. My mother kept trying to buy me one for my bedroom but I had no need for it.

I felt like an idiot.

“I’m too old for this,” I said with a laugh.

“No one is too old to look into a mirror,” she said with a laugh of her own.

I noticed with amusement that she herself was not, in fact, standing in front of the mirror with me.

Physician, Heal Thy Self.

“Now tell me,” she said after a moment. “What do you see?”

I rolled my eyes. “Me.”

I said it without even thinking about it. I mean what else were you supposed to see in the mirror other than yourself?

“Are you sure?”

I rolled my eyes again.

Ok, I’ll play her game.

The girl in the mirror was me. She had my face, my pale skin, my green eyes, my white blonde hair…Oh. I saw it. The hair wasn’t really mine was it? It was similar, had a similar hue but it was extensions now. It covered my shoulders, almost to the small of my back. A lot longer than I wanted. My eyes were still the same but my brows made them look different, bigger maybe? I absently reached up to touch my face, noticing how much a change the shaped brows made. When I did, I noticed my nails. There was a clear coat on them and they were oval shaped now, well manicured. I had a notorious habit of biting my nails. My mother hated it. The nails on my fingers were clean and cared for, no sign of my fidgety biting.

Lowering my hands, I noticed my clothes next.

I took off my hoodie, dropping it to the floor. As soon as I did, I saw something else. Whereas the shirt was fairly unisex, the jeans weren’t. I usually bought all my clothes in the Men’s department. My shirts were usually baggy, my pants sagged. They made me feel comfortable. Now though, I could see a shape. The shirt hugged my torso, accentuating my bust. It was still small but not as squashed. It was a shape I saw most girls have. Breasts. Mine were usually well hidden. Here they were now. Looking further down, I noticed hips too. Girlish ones, not hidden by baggy pants. On display for the world to see in pants that were form fitting and I’m ashamed to admit, very comfortable. I really wanted nothing to do with clothes like this. They were girl clothes. They were things I didn’t want to wear. Because they made me look like a….

I gasped.

“So now tell me what you see?”

“A girl,” I said softly.

She nodded. “The question you now need to ask yourself, is she the girl you want to be or do you think you can be the girl you were before?”

I didn’t know.

I told her as much.

“I’m not sure what I want" I confessed.

“That’s good, that’s progress. Before you were very adamant about being Ken, do you remember?”

Oh, I remembered.

“This is the reason I wanted you to try being a girl a little bit every summer, I wanted you to get a feel for it. It's not a scary thing. Neither is wanting to be a boy. You can be either or you can be neither. There are many different kinds of people in the world. The important thing is that you be yourself and not let anyone else tell you who you are.”

I laughed. “That’s what Henry said.”

“He’s a very smart man.”

I didn’t disagree.

“Now how about we go over to the couches and discuss some other things.”

I followed her over to the two couches in the other corner of the room. Like I said, it was a pretty spacious office. Together the two of us spent the rest of my hour session discussing different things. I won’t bore you with all the details but suffice to say I came to some conclusions of my own. One, I was getting my hair cut shorter. Two, I was going to shop for myself from now on. Three, I wasn’t going to let my mother dictate my life for me. Ok so three was probably going to take a while and a lot of courage but I hoped to get there eventually.

And four, I really needed to stop dodging Tess's calls.

When my hour was up, Dr. Martin followed me out into the waiting room.

“There is one more thing,” she said, her hand on the small of my back. “I want you to have fun this summer, Mac. Try new things, don’t stay cooped up in the house the whole time.”

“I think I can do that.”

She smiled. “Then you can come back here and tell me all about it. How about right before school in August?”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

She gave me a hug before asking for her next patient.

I watched a girl a little younger than me follow her into the office. She looked scared in her bright yellow summer dress. I gave her a gentle smile, she gave me a scared one. I watched her until the office door closed. Poor kid, I hope she’s ok.

Hell, I hoped I was going to be ok too.

“You all right?” asked Clara as she came up behind me.

I nodded. “Just realized some things.”

“Good session then?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“You, still want to have that talk, I’m about to go on break?”

I looked at her.

I really looked at her. She was happy. She was practically glowing. As much as I wanted to say yes I knew I couldn’t. I had some things I wanted to do today. Things I needed to do.

“Raincheck?”

“Sure.”

I wanted to feel that happy too.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF