Roy And The Road To Renee - Chapter 12 - Conclusion
By Pentatonic

[Author’s note: I’m sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. Some things came up and turned my life around, and now things are settling down.]

Friday, February 5, 2016

I had another counseling session, this time with my parents. I wanted to resolve the growing hostility they had to my dressing as a female. Naturally, my modeling was a big part of it.

After the usual bringing Dr. Devlin up to date, I said, “I get the feeling that my parents want me to totally stop dressing as a girl.”

“Is that true?” she asked my parents.

“Absolutely!” my father asserted and then added, “We think that this has gone on way too far.”

“In what way,” Dr. Devlin asked.

“He’s our son, not our daughter,” my mother answered.

“But I thought you three had worked out a deal?” Dr. Devlin asked.

“We had, but it didn’t work,” my mother said.

“What changed?”

“He’s a female model,” my father said.

“For which I am well paid,” I interjected.

“What happened is he was hired for a department store spring fashion ad campaign,” my mother said.

“What’s wrong with that? He said he was well paid.”

My mother retrieved the store ad and the Style section of the paper from her purse. “Just look at that,” she said.

“It’s a pretty picture of him in a sun dress. That can’t be all there is too it.”

“Look at what that Annette wrote about him on the runway in the fashion show. I was there, and I saw it all. I was never so embarrassed in my whole life,” my mother said.

“Why were you embarrassed? Did they announce that he was a boy and your son. Did anyone connect that he was your son?”

“No, that wasn’t it,” my mother said, “It was the way he carried on while on the runway. It was shameless, it was almost immoral. Look at the way this Annette person described it.” She handed Dr. Devlin a copy of the column.

Dr. Devlin read it and looked at me. “Did you really ‘strut your stuff’ and have sexy moves”?

“Maybe a little, but the audience loved it as well as the manager of the store.”

“How about you?” Dr. Devlin asked me, “did you like doing it?”

“I did,” I answered, “I felt so connected with the audience. I want to keep doing modeling, not only for the money, but for the pleasure it gives me.”

“Do you feel that you really are a girl inside?” Dr. Devlin asked me.

“Sometimes, maybe most of the time.”

“Well, I don’t want him to feel that he is a girl,” my father said, “inside or out. I want him to stop wearing female clothes as long as he’s living under my roof.”

“You mean you’d kick him out on the street?” Dr. Devlin asked with astonishment.

I was frightened and began to cry before my father could answer Dr. Devlin’s question. I wondered where I’d go if I was out on the street. My mother moved over to me and tried to comfort me with a hug. I pushed her away. “You don’t love me. You don’t want me to be your child.” I said between sobs. Now my mother started crying uncontrollably.

Now it was plain that everyone was upset. My father must have realized the consequences of what he had said. After a few minutes of crying filling the room, my father said, “I didn’t mean I’d kick him out in the street. I withdraw what I said.”

It is very difficult, if not impossible, to retract what has been said, and I continued to cry. My mother seemed to have recovered somewhat, and said, “Maybe we ought to go home.”

‘Home,’ I thought, where was my home? Did I still have one? Where would I go? Should I just marry Becky and the two of us find a place to live? I had some money saved for college, and we could survive if I dropped out of school and got a job. Could I continue working as a model? Alternatively, would Stephanie take me in?

By now I was curled up in a fetal position and hugging my legs. I was still crying. My mother stood up and put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Honey, let’s go home,” she said.

“Home?” I sobbed, “do I have a home?” I didn’t move. “Why don’t you and Dad go and leave me alone?”

Dr. Devlin was visibly upset at possibly having witnessed the breakdown of a family. “Roy, you shouldn’t be left alone. Go with your parents. I’m sure you will feel better in a while.”

“Okay,” I said, and stood up. My parents and I then left for home.

Amy was sitting at the kitchen table when we arrived. She took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer her, instead I went upstairs to my room. Amy followed close behind me.

Once in my room, I curled up on my bed and started to really cry. “What happened?” Amy asked. I was crying too hard to answer her. She sat on my bed and hugged me. We stayed that way for some time. Finally, I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed.

Saturday, February 6, 2016

I hadn’t eaten anything the night before, and after a restless night I was hungry. It was very early when I made my way to the kitchen to fix myself some breakfast. Amy must have heard me, and came into the kitchen and sat next to me. She put her arm around me, and asked, “What happened? I asked Mom and Dad, but they wouldn’t tell me. Whatever it was, it had to be bad, because both of them were really upset.”

“It looked like Dad wanted to kick me out of the house.” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I cross dress.”

“I thought that issue was resolved,” she said.

“So did I, but Mom was really ticked off about the fashion show, and Dad wanted me to stop dressing. He said he didn’t want me dressing under his roof. Dr. Devlin asked him if he’d kick me out, but before he could answer, everything went bad.”

“Are you going to stop dressing?” she asked.

“I guess I’ll have to, or face the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“Find a place to live or someone who would take me in until I graduate.”

“If you stopped dressing you couldn’t do any modeling, could you?”

“That’s about it. I really need the money if I hope to go to college.”

I had finished my breakfast, so I stood up and said. “I’m going upstairs and get dressed, as Roy. Then I’m going out all day. I really don’t want to see Mom and Dad right now.”

“You’re not going to do something stupid are you?” Amy asked with a bit of fear in her voice. “You’re my only sister, or brother as the case may be, and I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Nothing stupid.” I reassured her. I just need time to sort out my thoughts.”

After kicking around all Saturday, I went home and immediately went to bed. When I was in bed, my mother knocked on my bedroom door. “May I come in, Honey?”

“I’d rather that you and Dad just leave me alone,” I answered.

“But your father and I am worried about you,” she said.

“I’ll be okay. Just leave me alone.”

“But you didn’t have anything to eat,” she added.

“I’m not hungry. I just want to be alone.”

“Amy’s worried about you. Will you talk with her?”

“Okay,” I answered.

It was not long before Amy came to my room. She sat on the bed and rubbed her hand on my shoulder. “Mom and Dad are really worried about you, and Mom is upset with Dad. Dad appears to be very sorry about what happened at counseling. By the way, Dr. Devlin called. She seems to be worried about you, Mom and Dad. Won’t you come downstairs and least talk with the folks a bit?”

“Not today, maybe tommorow.” I said.

“You know, feeling sorry about yourself doesn’t do anyone any good. Promise me you’ll talk to them first thing tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, I promise.”

Sunday, February 7, 2016

So on Sunday morning the whole family sat down around the kitchen table. My dad spoke first. “Roy, I’m really sorry what I said on Friday. It just came out, I wasn’t thinking. I want you to know that your mother and I love you deeply, and we would never kick you out of the house, no matter what you decide to wear.” He decided to lighten things up a bit, and said, “I looked at those pictures, and you looked really pretty, stunning in fact.”

This caused me to smile, and I said, “Thanks Dad.”

Then it was my mother’s turn. “I’m sorry I was upset with you. I now realize you were doing what you were hired to do. You were acting a part, and I might add doing it well. Your dad and I love you deeply, and regret upsetting you.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you and Dad,” I responded.

We all stood up and had a group hug. My mother must have believed that the issue was resolved, because she decided to change the subject. “Have you talked with Becky recently?” Valentine’s Day is only a week away. Are the two of you going anywhere for it?”

“I asked her, but she doesn’t feel up to it, so I’ll probably just spend time with her. She wants to work ahead on her school work, so she won’t fall too far behind when the baby comes.”

“The baby is due in about a month, right?” my dad asked.

“Yeah, the due date is March 18th.”

“Has Becky or her family heard anything from the father?” Dad asked.

“Not a word.”

“Is she taking Lamaze classes? Amy asked.

“She couldn’t get into a class until one that starts this week, so there is a good chance that she’ll have the baby before the classes are completed, but something is better than nothing,” I answered.

“Does she have a partner for the class, since the father is not in the picture?” Amy asked.

“Yeah, and guess who,” I answered.

“They’ll think you’re the father,” my mother commented.

“Let them,” I said, “It doesn’t bother me.” I thought that it wouldn’t happen if I showed up as Renee for the classes. However, this was the wrong time to bring that up.

“How about her school work after she has baby?” my father asked.

“It’s already arranged. I’ll pick up the assignments from the school and bring them back when she does them,” I answered.

“How about tests?” Amy asked.

“I’m not sure, but I imagine they have figured it out. After all, Becky’s not the first girl to get pregnant while in high school.”

We discussed babies for a while. Then my mother suggested that I bring Becky over to visit, which I did. Becky’s mother came along with Becky and the three of them talked ‘baby’ for the rest of the morning.

During lunch I said that Becky and I were going shopping for baby things. That was not exactly how it worked. Both Becky’s mother and my mother invited themselves to be part of the excursion.

My dad found this humorous. “You’re on your own. You’ve got three females to deal with. I expect that your job will be to carry the purchases.

When we got to the mall, there was one fly in the ointment. At the department store, my picture as Renee the model was plastered all over the place. Thankfully, no one mentioned it.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

At the first Lamaze class, everyone assumed that I was the father. I could live with that, since I never expected to see any of our classmates after the baby was born. Mrs. Maynard, the Lamaze instructor, made a point of getting acquainted with all of the participants. “You’re Becky Jones,” right?” she asked. Without waiting for a reply, she consulted her class list, and continued, “and you’re Roy Evans?”

“And you’re the father?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m just a friend.”

“Then where is the father, and why isn’t he here?”

“We’re not married, and he denies paternity,” Becky said.

“Oh.” was all Mrs. Maynard said.

There was a lot of information provided at the class, including what Becky could expect in the near future, all the way through the actual childbirth.

During the class, Becky squeezed my hand and said, “I wish Renee was here.”

“Yeah, but too many people recognize Renee,” I replied, “You’re supposed to be the center of attention, not me.”

“You’re so sweet,” Becky said with a smile.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

It was about 4:00 when Joe called. “I’ve got a problem.” he stated.

“And what might that be?”

“Sue.” He said, and then added,” She’s ticked off at me, and wants to break our date.”

“Why?”

“She claims that I’m seeing someone else.”

“Are you?” I asked.

“No, except for you.”

“Oh great,” I said sarcastically, “so now I get to be ‘the other woman’ when I’m not even a woman.”

“If she won’t go out with me, maybe you would, as Renee?”

“What, did you take extra ‘stupid pills’ this morning? If Renee went out with you, it surely will get back to Sue, in which case she will dump you.”

“So what can I do?”

“Act contrite and swear that there is no other woman. A dozen roses wouldn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I’ll try that. Thanks,” he said and ended the call.

With one problem solved, another one manifested itself. Amy came barging into my room wearing only a bra and panties. “I need your help!” she declared, and then explained, “I’ve got a hot date tonight, and I’ve got nothing to wear!”

“Let me guess,” I said, “the fashion police pulled a raid and confiscated all of you clothes?”

“Very funny,” she said sarcastically, and then walked over to my closet. “Where is that dress you wore for the nightclub photo shoot?”

“I think that Mom thinks that it is too immodest,” I suggested.

She ignored what I said, and started pawing through my closet until she found what she was looking for, and took it out of the closet. “Thanks,” she said as she breezed out of my room.

A half hour later the door to my room was still wide open and I heard my mother’s voice loudly saying, “Amy, that dress is too revealing. I don’t want my daughter to look like a street walker.”

“But it’s okay if your son does?” Amy loudly declared. I shut the door to my room so I didn’t have to hear the rest of their conversation, but what I had heard made me smile.

I didn’t have any wardrobe issues that evening. I was dressed as Roy, and I was going over to visit Becky at her home. Being close to eight months pregnant, Becky didn’t want to go out.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

I had signed up for a full day working at the shop, and after a shower I put in my corset and red hose. I followed that with a red skirt and blouse combination and went downstairs to have some breakfast before I left for work.

Both of my parents were sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. After a few minutes, my father said, “Disgusting!”

I had an idea what had caused his statement, and decided to say nothing. My mother was not so restrained. “What is it dear?” she asked.

“Look at these ads.” he said as he handed my mother a section of the paper. While he did this I caught a glance of two ads; one for the nightclub and the other for the department store. Both contained my picture.

“Oh my,” she said as she handed the paper back to my father. She then turned to look at me with a very displeased expression on her face.

“I thought we were done with this nonsense,” my father said.

I felt that I had to say something. “My modeling contract allows them to use my image for print ads for a year, provided they pay the agency and me for each use. Think money.”

“Even if they pay you, I still don’t like it,” he responded.

I finished my breakfast in silence and went back to my room to put on my makeup and do my hair.

When I arrived at the store, the first thing I noticed was that someone had cut the nightclub ad out of the paper and stuck it on a piece of cardboard which said, ‘The dress in this ad was purchased here,’ and also said, ‘The model is our own Renee.’

Ms. Shay came over to me before I even had a chance to hang up my coat. “Mrs. Bates wants you to call her,” she said, “She has some modeling jobs for you. I told her that they were okay with me.” When I took off my coat, Ms. Shay looked at me with a smile. “I like your outfit; very appropriate for Valentine’s Day.”

I called Mrs. Bates. “Coffrey’s department is putting together its on line catalog and wants you to be one of their models. How does that sound?”

“I’ll have to check it out with Ms. Shay,” I answered.

“I already did, and she said it’s okay with her.”

The store was not busy, so in mid-afternoon I left to spend the rest of the day with Becky.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Nothing happened on Becky’s due date, or the next two days. Becky and I were sitting next to each other in history class when I heard her gasp. “Are you Okay?” I asked her.

“It’s starting,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“What do you think it is?” she said retorically. “I just had a contraction.”

A few minutes later, she grabbed her purse and ran from the classroom. All of this did not escape the notice of Mr. Bryce, the teacher. “Would someone tell me what’s going on? If it’s more important than the history lesson, maybe you’d like to share it with the whole class,” he said with a sneer. He didn’t have a clue.

“She just had a contraction,” I said. I knew all about this from what I had learned in Lamaze class.

“A contract what?”

“A contraction,” I said.

“So?” With this most of the girls started to snicker at Mr. Bryce’s ignorance.

“She’s having a baby!” I announced.

“What? Having a Baby? Here? Now?” he stammered, with fear written all over his face.

“I hope not here,” I reassured him, and added. “And from what I learned in Lamaze class, not right now, but soon.

“Why did she run out of class?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe her water broke. I’m only guessing.”

“What are we supposed to do?” he asked.

“Get her to her doctor or maybe the hospital,” I suggested, “or failing those, at least have the school nurse see her.”

A few minutes Becky came back into the classroom, and sat next to me. “My water broke,” she whispered to me.

“Yeah, I figured it might be that.” I said, “What do you want to do? Go home? See your Doctor? Go to the hospital? See the school nurse?”

She glanced around the room and noticed the curiousity and concern on everyone’s faces. She smiled, with a wicked smile, and said, with all of the fake innocence she could muster, “I’ll stay here for a bit. I just can’t stand the suspense. I just have to know if the Missouri Compromise was successful,” referring to the history class topic of the day. Everyone, except Mr. Bryce, laughed loudly.

When Mr. Bryce regained some control over the class and his own composure, he said, “Miss Jones, maybe you should see the school nurse. She can sign you out from school and you can go wherever you need to go. Is there anyone who can pick you up?”

“Roy gave me a ride to school and he is my Lamaze coach, so maybe he could take me to the nurse and then home or whatever,” she said.

Mr/ Bryce was visibly relieved that the problem was in someone else’s hands, and wrote notes to see the school nurse. As we were getting ready to go to the nurse, I picked up my backpack and Becky’s books. When she saw me doing this, she declared, “I’m not an invalid, I can darn well carry my own books. After all I’ve been carrying this for quite a while,” and she patted her belly.

As Mr. Bryce handed us our notes, he said, “You’d better get along,” like he thought the baby would pop out in the next thirty seconds and start asking searching question about the Missouri Compromise and other events leading to the American Civil War.

As we passed a girl’s washroom on the way to the nurse’s office, Becky stopped me, and said, I’m glad I’ve got some pads with me. I’ve been carrying them with me for the last few weeks. I’m beginning to squish and I want to change my pad.”

She handed me her books, and said, “Here, make yourself useful while I visit the restroom.”

She paused for a moment, and then said with a smile, “Too bad you’re not Renee today. If you were, you could go in and help me.”

When we arrived at the school nurse’s office there were a number of students in the room, no doubt trying to convince the nurse that they really were sick in order to avoid taking a test scheduled for the next period.

The school nurse was an older woman with a stern visage, having dealt with malingerers for many years. She looked at Becky and me with a frown. “And what’s your flimsy excuse for being here?”

I handed her the notes from Mr. Bryce and said, “She’s started contractions and her water broke.”

“And what makes you an obstetrician?” she said scathingly, “Can’t she talk for herself?”

“I can,” Becky said, “and Roy is correct. We’ve been going to Lamaze classes together.”

The stern look on the nurse’s face diappeared. ‘How often are your contractions, Honey?”

“I just had one and . . . .” Becky said and gave a sound of pain.

“Another one?” said the nurse. Becky could only nod her head.

“I gave Becky a ride to school,” I said, and then added, “Becky’s mom’s car blew a brake line, and she can’t pick her up, so I’ll be the one to take her home and wherever the Doctor directs us to go.”

“I’m not supposed to release a student to another student, but this is kind of an emergency,” the nurse said, and added, “I presume that you’re the father?”

“No,” I answered.

“They all say that,” she commented. “Well a DNA test will resolve that issue,” she concluded, and signed us out of school.

While in my car on the way to her house. Becky called her mother and explained what was going on.

Becky’s contractions were coming more often and were more severe. The Doctor said that we should go to the hospital directly after picking up Becky’s mom. Upon arrival, Becky was examined, and it was determined that while she wouldn’t give birth right away, it was best to keep her until she was ready to deliver.

A nurse entered the room. “Will you have anyone with you in the delivery room?” she asked.

“I have a list,” Becky answered, and handed it to the nurse.

Becky turned to me and said, “I put you name on the list as ‘a friend.’ along with Renee’s name. Too bad Renee can’t make it.”

The nurse turned to me and asked, “And you’re the father?”

“No, but I am her Lamaze coach and partner,’ I said, “the father won’t be here at all.”

The delivery was, well, a delivery, with lots of blood and stuff. At one point, during a painful push, Becky yelled, “I hate you Chad!”

“Who’s Chad?” the nurse asked.

“The father,” I answered.

The nurse nodded her head knowingly and smiled.

In the end, Becky delivered a beautiful and healthy baby boy. I even got a chance to hold him and coo baby sounds to him.

“Too bad he’s not the father,” the nurse commented, “He looks like he’ll make a wonderful daddy one day.”

Becky’s mother responded. “He will. I only wish that he was the father.”

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

At school the next morning, everyone had heard about the events of the past day, and crowded around me for ‘details.’

“What did you name the baby?” was the main question. I had an answer prepared.

“Since Becky’s first contraction began in history class when we discussing the Missouri Compromise, I suggested that Becky name him ‘Missouri Compromise Jones.’ However, she said that people would shorten his first name to ‘Miss’ as a nickname, and people would call him ‘Miss Jones.’ Becky rejected my suggestion as causing too much gender confusion, so in the end Becky reversed the father’s first and middle names, so his name is Robert Chadworth Bereston.

“Were you in the delivery room?” was a common question.

“Yes, after all I was her Lamaze coach.”

“Was it gross?” a girl wanted to know.

“Not really.” I answered,” the miracle of birth can’t be considered to be gross.”

After school I went to the hospital to visit Becky and admire the baby. During my visit, Becky said, “I was hoping that Renee would visit me and the baby. You know that both you and Renee are on the approved visitor list.”

Becky’s mom heard this. She knew of the problems my parents had with Renee. “Becky would really like to see Renee,” she said to me, and she laid out a plan that I would go to the Jones’ house, change into Renee, visit Becky and little Robert, and return to the Jones’ house to change back to Roy.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

I instituted the plan laid out by Becky’s mother, and Renee went to visit Becky and the baby. It should have been simple, but that is not what happened. Although my name was on the approved list, one of the girls at the nurse’s station recognized me as the model. “Oh my,” she delcared, aren’t you that famous model for Coffrey’s Department Store?” I had to admit that I was, but added. “I don’t consider myself to be famous.” This drew a crowd of hospital staff. One of them referred to the list and noted that there was a Roy Evens and a Renee Evans on the list.

“A boy named Roy Evans visited yesterday,” an aide said. “Are you related to him?” she asked.

“Distantly,” I answered. Well, ‘distantly’ is hardly a precise word, and I didn’t consider it too be too much of a lie, since there was a distance; the distance between a training bra and a ‘C’ cup. I felt that being sociable was proper and they peppered me with questions and comments until a supervisor saved me when she ordered my adoring group to get back to work.

Becky was very happy to see me as Renee, and, frankly, I was happy to be Renee, even for a short time.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Graduation. At last. It turned out that Becky returned to classes by mid-April. I had brought her class assignments to her each day and returned the completed class work the next day. She hadn’t missed anything and her grades were excellent. Becky’s parents and the baby attended the graduation, and the baby was the center of a lot of attention.

Naturally my parents and Amy were there. I was dressed in a suit, as Roy.

Shortly before graduation DNA tests were performed which proved that Chad was indeed the father of little Robert.

There was talk about a wedding. It appeared that Chad’s mother wasn’t going to be denied her grandson.

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Becky and Chad were married on the Sunday of the July 4th weekend. It was a small wedding, and took place in the town where Chad lived. Only the parents of the bride and groom were there, along with close relatives and friends, about thirty people in all. Sue was the maid of honor, and nothing would do but to have Renee as the only bride’s maid. Since I was standing up for the wedding, my parents were invited. Joe was there as Sue’s boyfriend.

Me being Renee the whole weekend caused a lot of problems with my parents. It was only by the intervention of Becky and her mother, that they grudgingly agreed to attend with me as Renee. Becky’s clinching argument was that once she was married, she and I would be separated by distance.

I was fortunate in that I had done modeling of bridal fashions and I had a lovely pink dress with a chiffon overlay over the skirt and lace on the top. It was strapless but came with a short jacket to cover the top. Becky and her mother thought it looked ‘devine.’ My parents grudgingly said it was ‘okay.’

And then there was Joe. Even though he was with Sue, he made it plain that he would like to do things to me. While Sue and I shared a hotel room, Joe had a single room. Sue unwittingly came to my ‘rescue’ when she whispered to me that she would not use our hotel room both nights. My problem was that I didn’t want to be ‘rescued.’

The wedding reception was held in the church recreation hall, and a DJ provided the music. Since I was dressed as Renee, Joe insisted that I dance with him. I enjoyed dancing with him, even if he whispered lewd suggestions to me and had his hand on my behind some of the time. In fact I really enjoyed my weekend as Renee, and was able to dance with the best man and the groom’s man.

Perhaps it was all of the fun I had that on that weekend that I decided that I really wanted to be a girl. After all, I had, in the past, contemplated marrying Becky, but now that she was married, that was no longer possible.

Friday, September 2, 2016

I had previously told my parents of my decision to become a girl. I had enrolled in college as Renee. While my parents were very unhappy with my decision, they didn’t try to stop me.

I had a session with my counselor, where I confirmed my decision. I had started hormone replacement therapy and my counselor told me that I would have to live as a female before anything permanent could be done. I accepted that and announced that my year real life experience would start on the day after Labor day. Only time would tell how that would work out.

I decided to update the essay which had started me on the road to womanhood, with today being the final entry into Roy’s journal.