"I pulled down these scrapbooks – I always have wanted to. I’m learning about you and our family’s history. They’re pretty amazing – especially this one,” she said as she lifted a tome with a deep green cover.

“That’s your aunt’s book,” sighed Angie. “I wish you had gotten me to go through it with you so I could explain it all. How far have you gotten?”

“Far enough to know that Aunt Willow – she used to be a boy!!"

~o~O~o~

Yes indeed, this is the last part of the Weeping Willow saga. I appreciate everyone's patience and forbearance with me. I know that I included various elements that were controversial and not everyone's cup of tea (like God and religion). The Sex chapter (part 19) was nerve wracking for me because I worried it would be clumsy, stilted, tasteless or boring. (I haven't written many sex scenes, especially one that explicit). Your encouragement and input was precious and life-giving. I love you guys; thank you.

~o~O~o~

Angela Ramos Tarpley was looking for her eldest daughter. The child was supposed to be in her room working on an idea for the science fair next week, but the bedroom was empty. Her little brother and sister were off over at friend’s houses. The mother had already scoured the rest of the upstairs.

“Gwendy? Where are you??”

She heard a muffled reply from downstairs. “In the big chair room, Mom!”

Angie descended the staircase. The “big chair room” meant the den; it was full of comfy overstuffed furniture. “What are you doing, honey? Did you finish the research for your diorama?”

“Yeah, I think so,” replied an eleven-year-old girl with brown-blonde hair, dressed in jeans and a pink shirt that had FLOWER POWER outlined in white daisies. She sat on the floor surrounded by big decorated books. “I want to run my top 3 ideas by you in a minute. But I pulled down these scrapbooks – I always have wanted to. I’m learning about you and our family’s history. They’re pretty amazing – especially this one,” she said as she lifted a tome with a deep green cover.

“That’s your aunt’s book,” sighed Angie. “I wish you had gotten me to go through it with you so I could explain it all. How far have you gotten?”

“Far enough to know that Aunt Willow – she used to be a boy!! Wow – no way! She looks all girl to me – and she’s so short!”

I should have told the kids well before now, but I kept procrastinating, she mused. Well, here goes. “Okay. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you the story of an angry violent boy named Bill, the changes he went through and why. We’ll do it by going through this memory book. I’ll tell your little brother and sister when they get home. And listen close, Miss Gwendolyn Willow Tarpley: you will NOT take this and spread gossip or rumors about your aunt. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” shouted Gwendy with a sharp salute, just like her Daddy had taught her.

They thumbed through the scrapbook, starting at the beginning.

“Oooh, Mom! Aunt Willow – I mean, I guess she’s called Bill in this photo – he looks so mean, almost evil!”

“Not evil, hon; but close. And mean, angry? Definitely. Bill was no fun to live with. He would explode with rage if he didn’t get his way. He got into drugs, too.”

“And then the next page, she’s Willow – and I see her laughing! She looks relaxed, and happier. Oops, except this photo – she’s crying. Why is she crying?”

Angie stroked her daughter’s hair. “Crying was a good thing for her. As Bill, she couldn’t shed even one tear. Becoming a woman allowed her to feel and then deal with emotions. She wept so much that I nicknamed her ‘Weeping Willow’.”

“Momma!” the daughter gasped. “You made fun of her?!”

“No, no. Sometimes nicknames are out of affection. Like when we call you Gwendy-boo-boo.”

“I don’t like that; it sounds like a baby name.”

“You loved it when you were five.” Angie changed her voice to mimic Patrick the Sea Star. “You’ll always be my lil’ Gwendy-boo-boo.”

“Sooo … back to this book,” Gwendy-boo-boo said (purposely changing the subject), “Bill changed to Willow and suddenly was happy and off drugs?’

“Oh no – it wasn’t instantaneous. But it was quicker than anyone could suspect. In less than a year, she was fully into girl mode, clean and sober. No one who didn’t know her from before suspected anything about her boy past.

“I wasn’t trying to hide her secret from you. She doesn’t keep it a secret; if anyone asks her, she is truthful with it. But she’s been Willow for the better part of thirteen years, and we feel that this is who she really is, who she was always meant to be. We don’t bring up Angry Bill because – well – he no longer exists.”

Gwendy turned the page. “Hey. There’s an article from the paper in here – the picture, that’s Father Wilson from church! What’s that got to do with my aunt?”

“The Father writes an occasional article for the religion section of the El Paso Times. This one – well, why don’t we read it out loud together?”

~o~O~o~

Religious or Spiritual? By Father Joseph Wilson.

I have been a deeply religious man for all of my adult life. Teaching and spreading my religion has been my calling, my purpose for existing. It was what God wanted me to do.

Or so I thought.

See, I have learned something. It is possible to be religious without being spiritual. Spirituality implies a humility, a change in heart, and a living, active relationship with God. With other people too, since we are all made in the image of God.

Without spirituality, religion degenerates into rules, judgemental attitudes, rejection of others due to their “defects” while brushing our own sins under the rug.

I did not know it, but somewhere along the line I had become an aspiritual, hyper-religious hypocrite. I am quite sure that had I continued, I would have missed heaven. But thank God, the Lord intervened with a jolt that woke me up to the reality of my situation. He used another human being to do this.

You are wondering what person it was. A regional overseer? One of the church’s elder statesmen? A saintly evangelist? No. Not even close.

The Lord sent me a teenage girl. One with a past of violence and drug use, although she’d been clean and sober for weeks before she started attending. Oh and one more thing: she was transgendered. A male-to-female transgender teen, who wore fancy Sunday dresses to services.

I tried to straighten her out. I warned her that though I would not reject her attendance, I could not say the same for our members. She was a pain in the neck, this one. She continued to attend, without protest or threats or civil disobedience or rude behavior. A smile and cheerful attitude were always in her ensemble. Her outfits were sufficiently chaste – so much so that some of our other teen girl members started dressing more appropriately for church. Less cleavage and lower hemlines, if you catch my drift.

This trans-girl also became a lifeline for a young child in our congregation who was experiencing feelings of gender distress. Her friendship likely averted a possible suicidal attempt by him.

Soon I saw: the transgender teen was doing more of God’s work than I was. That was the jolt. I was flabbergasted. Jesus’ warnings to religious hypocrites now shook me to my core as I read the books of the Gospel.

So I fell on my face and repented, right there on the floor of my office in Chula Vista Episcopal. I asked God for forgiveness, a new heart, a new mission, and courage to carry it out.

Now our congregation has three food banks spread throughout the poorer sections of El Paso, and the fourth is scheduled to open next month – across the border, in Juarez, Mexico. Our homeless shelter has recently expanded to a capacity of 80, and we hope to add more space soon. Doctor Curtis is in the second year of his work at the free clinic we co-opened with him in the central south of the city. And our congregants love to volunteer for these endeavors; they feel like the Lord is finally using them for real good. And of course, He is.

So I thank God for my second chance. For transforming Chula Vista Episcopal. And for using a person (who many rejected as an outcast), a child, to humble me from a proud arrogant religious Pharisee into a living, breathing minister of true spirituality. She has given me permission to print her name.

Thank you, Willow.

~o~O~o~

“Wow,” Gwendy sniffed. “Aunt Willow did all that? Now I’M the one weeping!”

“Me too, Baby,” whispered Angela as she dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Hey, do you remember the big birthday party we threw for her last year?”

“No, Mom – remember, I had to go with our city team to the regional soccer playoffs? I was so disappointed that I had to miss her celebration. We lost the stupid soccer game, too.”

“Have you ever seen the video of your Dad’s speech to Aunt Willow and Uncle Bernard? He gave it at that party. No? Well, let’s pull it down from the cloud and get it on the TV!”

~o~O~o~

On the television screen.

A tall, slightly pudgy man in a tux stood up on a stage in front of a microphone. Before him was a dance floor surrounded by tables where a crowd of well-dressed people sat. Behind him a band prepped for their gig.

“Hello, is this thing on? Sorry, folks. I knew it was on. It’s just tradition for speeches to start with those five words. I’m Sam Tarpley, owner of Tarpley Auto Repair Centers, your co-organizer and emcee for tonight’s festivities. I’d like to thank William Eiken and his orthodontic practice for co-sponsoring this event. Thank all of you here, too, for coming. And finally I’d like to thank the lush who spilled me with Merlot wine over twelve years ago.

“Because of the lush, I met Willow. Through Willow, I met her sister, who became my wife and mother of my children. I also met Willow’s then-fiance, now husband; Bernard is the Master Automotive Technician for my car repair empire. Just four years ago, I hired Willow away from her job at a liquor company to become our Director of Franchisee Operations – in that time she has directed our expansion to 124 shops spread over eleven states.”

“I’ve never been so happy and prosperous. And my sister-in-law has had a hand in almost all of it. Yet there is a glaring deficiency in her history: Willow has never had a party held in her honor!

“Now, most of that is her fault. She hates big productions about herself. She didn’t even want much of a wedding – at her wish, she and Bern were married by the Justice of the Peace. But seeing as it’s both her birthday and her wedding anniversary – they got hitched the day she turned 17 – we feel she’s long overdue for a high class blowout.

“So with that in mind, I welcome you to the formal ‘Birth-iversary’ of Willow, and Bernard! There is food, and music, and dancing, and nonalcoholic drinks – both Willow and Bernard are long term tee-totalers, so if you have to have some booze today, get it after you leave the party.

“You’ll be hearing more from me later; I now give the floor to my in-laws, William and Gwen Eiken!”

~o~O~o~

Little Gwendy turned to her mother. “Yay! I didn't know Grandma and Grandpa spoke there!”

“They look good, don’t they? Let’s be quiet – Mom didn’t speak into the microphone very loudly …”

~o~O~o~

“I’ll speak first, since I’m the cause of this party,” said Gwen Eiken. “I complained that I didn’t get to have a formal wedding with my middle child; I felt cheated! Yes, I know that this is supposed to be about Willow, not my own wants. But I must admit I’m enjoying this; it’s still not a wedding ceremony, but I feel it’s at least like a wedding reception. I can live with that.”

William then spoke. “Lots of people who have met Willow tell us how blessed we are to have had such a pleasant, professional, hard-working child to raise. Well, we are super blessed now – but we sure didn’t feel that way during her mid-teens! She made life H-E-double hockey sticks for us for a few years, and I’m pretty sure she felt the same way; home was almost like a war zone. I began to despair for her future. Then she had a turnaround, brought about by a caring doctor and good friends, substance abuse recovery, and – I believe – God. She ought to write a book about it. Willow, we are so proud of who you are, who you‘ve become, and what you’ve had to go through to get to this station in life.”

“We’re so, so proud of you," Gwen added. "You make us so happy! And we continue to pray and wish the best in life for you.”

Sam Tarpley took the mike again after the Eikens stepped down. “The birthday part of this celebration is all for Willow, but the anniversary part involves her husband, also. Bernard Andujar is one of the best human beings I’ve had the honor of knowing. When it comes to cars, he is a genius – a Mozart of the motor. He loves all aspects of car care, but he shines brightest when given a tough problem to solve, one that multiple other mechanics have failed at. With him as the chief “car whisperer” – that’s my fave name for him – my shops have developed a reputation for excellence, the place you go to when things absolutely have to be done right.

“He’s developed many others under him, and our model now is for each shop to have a head mechanic trained by Bern; then twice a week they hold videochats and run any “stumpers” by him. He and I also host a radio call-in show about car repair where people tell him their engine troubles and he diagnoses them over the phone. Last I checked, he has an over 97% accuracy rate (per the feedback we get). The show is called – what else? – The Car Whisperer. It’s on from 9 – 10 AM on Saturdays, and we just got a contract to be aired regionally. So without further ado, everyone – here’s Bernard Andujar!”

A sturdy man with a mop of hair and stubbled face took to the stage. “Hey, thanks. Thanks everyone, for coming. Willow and I really appreciate it. Umm …” he started to appear uncomfortable. Sam took a step towards him and whispered in his ear; Bern’s face lit up with relief. “Oh yeah – thanks to my Mom and Dad; to the Eikens, and Sam, and Angie. Thanks to Mal for protecting Willow at school. And thank you to my hot, wonderful wife – Willow. You’re amazing, babe. … “ – he paused again. “Ah, sorry … public speaking really isn’t my bag, unless I’m talking about cars.”

“Okay, let’s talk cars then,” interjected Sam. “What brand of catalytic converters are used in the 1950’s El Camino models?”

“Dude, none of those models had catalytic converters. If you’re going to challenge me, at least try.”

“And there we have it, the real Bernard Andujar everyone!” grinned Sam. “You know it’s him when he says ‘dude’ like an ‘80’s California surfer! You may sit down, sir, because we have one more guest of honor – your wife.

“Willow Andujar is a force of nature. It’s rare to see someone so driven and talented, yet humble. This unique combination of gifts enables her to do things other business managers – heck, even other people of any type – can only wish for.

“How did we grow the radio show and franchises so rapidly? Again – Willow. She acts as Bern’s manager, and has the vision to guide our growth. She takes other people’s dreams and makes them reality; that’s her gift. No one can network and build business relationships like she can.

“Yet I feel her most impressive quality is a personal one: she knows herself. Her strengths, her weaknesses, and especially her limits. If she even starts to feel anger, she’ll deal with it – even up to the point of dropping what she’s doing and stepping away for a while. She works extremely hard, but when she needs to stop, she’ll do so. I’ve learned to respect her limits and not push her past them; in return, I get a partner and friend who is worth her weight in diamonds. Willow – will you come up here and say a few words?”

~o~O~o~

“Ooooh,” gasped Gwendy. “Aunt Willow kills it in that dress!”

“Yes, she’s a knockout. That’s called an off-the-shoulder red sweetheart gown; that slit that goes up to her hip really shows off her leg,” her mother replied.

“Mom – is she crying?? Why?”

~o~O~o~

“Hello and … th-thank you all,” said the short woman with flowing brown locks at the microphone. She put her hand up to dab at her eyes. “Knew this’d happen,” she faltered. She took another long moment to wipe her tears.

“Now all you guys know … why I don’t like to be the focus of big events. I can’t turn off the waterworks! My sister Angie dubbed me Weeping Willow years ago, and I sure live up to that name – especially with things like this,” she said motioning to all of the ballroom. She turned to the side, wiping her eyes again as she softly cried. Eventually she regained some composure.

“Seeing everyone here just reminds me of where I came from, and how far I’ve come. This is supposed to be the part of the speech where I tell everyone never to give up, to chase your dreams, grab your destiny by force and achieve your victory. Like it was all up to you and you alone, right?

“But the truth is – although my effort and hard work was essential to my future – none of it would have ever happened without the help, grace, perseverance and gifts of many, many good family and friends. Momma – you bore the biggest brunt of my rebelliousness, as you were the one who had to stay with me during the day for those two years as I homeschooled. Anyone else would have given up on me; but you hung around and loved me in spite of me giving you hate.

“Poppa – I will never forget the day your love broke through my crusty heart and started me weeping for the first time in years. *SNIFF* I still do, every time I think of it! Angie – you are a great sister and friend; you decided to stay so even after I put your life in danger that night where we met Ric – er, you-know-who. Mal, thank you for protecting me at school; and thanks for the forgiveness after the cookie prank.”

~o~O~o~

“I heard about what she did to Uncle Mal,” laughed Gwendy. “Still, that was mean!”

“Oh, he deserved it honey,” chuckled Angie as she paused the video. “And he got his revenge a year later, sending her a plate of brownies that were labeled as being from me. Mal made them, though.”

“Oh no! Were they full of lax … er …”

“Laxatives? No. They were real homemade brownies, made with flour and bittersweet chocolate. Nothing bad added. No sugar or other sweeteners added either. The yuckiest, most bitter things you ever tasted.” She pressed PLAY again.

~o~O~o~

“Bernard … where do I begin? Your love and friendship saved my life, literally. You’re patient, uplifting, and loving; you hold me accountable when I need it, and stay silent and strong when I need that. When I need you to talk, you have just the right word. I am so lucky, so blessed to be your girl, your friend, your wife.

“Sam – our meeting was a divine appointment. Both our lives got better from that point on! Thank you for being so good to my hubby and my sister, too. Julia; you are a rock for me, one I’ve leaned on many times.

“Dr. Estrada … I don’t know if you can hear me from heaven, but I miss you. You were awesome, and so patient and forgiving. We lost you too early. I know I’m supposed to focus on love … but I really hate cancer.

“Many more have helped me in big and small ways – for each and every one of you, I won’t forget your kindness.

“Now to all of those I just spoke of: from the very bottom of my heart, thank you all so so much!” She sputtered the last words quickly out before bursting into more tears and being helped off the stage.

~o~O~o~

“That was so cool to see, Mom. When Aunt Willow cries it makes me cry.”

“I don’t tear up quite as often as she, but I did today watching this with you.”

“Mom, I only have one question. Nobody there talked about Auntie being a boy when she was younger. Did everyone there already know? Or are we keeping that a secret?”

“Honey – what do you see your Aunt as, a boy or a girl?”

“A girl, all the way! Or really, I guess she’s a woman – she’s too old to be a girl.”

“Hush your mouth, daughter! I’m a woman, but a girl also, and I plan on being girly right up until I die at age 101. But back to Willow. Just like you, all of her family and friends see her as a woman. Not a ‘special’ or ‘handicapped’ or ‘freakish’ or even ‘trans’ woman – but as a woman. Who she was born as is really the furthest thing from our minds. So we don’t feel it’s necessary to bring up the ‘trans’ subject when we talk about her.

“Yet, we don’t hide it either. So if someone else brings it up or asks about it, we just acknowledge it and move on. We don’t dwell on it, just like we don’t dwell on her being Episcopalian, or half-latino, or brown-eyed. It’s a fact that has very little to do with her day-to-day life. That’s how she wants it, and that’s how we treat it. Does that make sense?”

“Yup!”

“And that’s how I expect you to treat that subject, both with her and with others, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” said the young girl with a nod and another salute.

The doorbell rang.

“I got it!” yelled Gwendy, running to the front. She looked through the nearby window to see who it was, then grabbed the doorknob and flung it open.

“Aunt Willow! You won’t believe this – me and Mom spent all afternoon talking about you! Come in! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today? What’s in the bag? Are you going to stay for supper or - ”

“Time out, little niece!” Willow laughed and turned to Angie. “I know the perfect career for her – one of those salespeople on the cable shopping network! Those guys have to talk all of the time!” Then she squatted slightly, bringing her face to Gwendy’s level. “I’m here to fulfill a promise. I told you that I’d teach you how to make my famous chocolate chip cookies, and I brought all the ingredients to do it.”

“OMG! Right now?”

“Yes. Your mom knew I’d be coming. Go get us some aprons and I’ll meet you in the kitchen!”

“Wheee!” screamed the girl as she sped off.

Angie and Willow watched her run.

“She knows that you’re trans. She got into the scrapbooks, so I told her. I’ll be telling my other 2 when they get home from their friends.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Didn’t faze her one bit. She’s a strong, loving girl. Just like you and I.”

“Thank you God. I love you, Angie. And I love Gwendy … so, so much.” *SNIFF*

Angie produced a tissue and a smile. “Come here, Weeping Willow.”

~o~O~o~

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