Chapter 5 - The Houseguest

Paula the elder
"Nice place you got here," I commented.

"It will do. You know how much we get paid for sitting around and watching TV all night."

"And knitting. Don't forget the knitting."

"At least I'll have a warm scarf by winter if I get tossed out of this place."

"Why would you leave?"

"Money, of course. Call it a recession or a depression or whatever you like, It's harder to keep the place without roommates than I thought. I think you'll understand why I don't want to have a roommate."

"I can guess. You're already sharing with Titia, if I remember the name rightly."

"You're quick on the uptake, partner."

"Just a trained observer of a security guard, partner. By the way, who's going to use my spare bedroom - Titus or Titia?"

"You're kidding!"

"About what? If you like wearing bras so much who am I to stop you? It's just us chickens for the next few days."

"Unless your daughter uses her key again."

"So what? She's already seen you in your nightgown."

"Her nightgown, I beg to remind you."

"And did she scream and call the cops?"

"No. Actually, she seemed amused."

"That girl grew up right, if I do say so myself. Kind of makes up for the mistakes I made with her mother. Colleen couldn't handle anything out of the ordinary, it just screwed her up and she paid the price for it. I'll tell you sometime, but not now. Seriously, If you want Titia to stay with me I don't mind."

"I don't know what to say."

"Try 'yes' or 'no'. We haven't got time to mess around with maybe. Look, I'll even hook your bra for you until you can do it for yourself. After all, I unhooked it last night."

"Are you sure you're for real? I think I just fell down a rabbit hole or something when I got clobbered last night. This has to be a truly fantastical dream."

"Take a look at that uniform you're wearing. If it's all a dream where did that grease on the pants come from. For that matter, those new buttons on the shirt don't match the official ones. It's as real as it gets. By the way, did you and Paula decide to go on a date together?"

"Jesus! For an old lady your mind jumps like the rabbit that dug the hole I've fallen into."

"Don't change the subject. You taking her out?"

"Do I have any choice? The two of you are overwhelming."

"Score one for Granny The Matchmaker! Just call me Yente."

"Yente?"

"What do they teach kids these days? Haven't you ever seen Fiddler On The Roof?"

"When I was a kid."

"And you're not a kid now?"

"Well, I did get hired as your partner."

"Depends on your point of view, I suppose. At my age anyone under thirty is still a kid. Anyway, she was the matchmaker for the village in the movie. Not a very good matchmaker, but she tried."

"So do you."

"Darn right! Oh, before I forget, here's your bra." I dug it out of my purse and handed it to Titus. "I suppose you have something besides this training model for Titia to wear?"

"You're a nosey old woman, partner."

"And you didn't answer the question."

"Yes, I do."

"Then go pack it up and whatever else Titia needs for the next few days and let's get going. Maybe you should change here so you don't have to wear that uniform."

"Alright, you nosey old lady, give me half an hour to get ready. Oh crap! That won't work with this busted wing."

"I told you I'd help. I birthed three kids, so you haven't got anything I haven't seen before. Well, I have to admit I've never seen whatever you use to fill your bras, but pick out an outfit and put on some panties, then I'll help you finish and do your hair and makeup. Better choose some flats, you don't want to bust up the other arm if you fall."

"You're just so positive I could scream."

"You going to get dressed or stand here arguing?"

"I'm ready, partner."

"Not bad, this might work."

"It does work, and quite well. I've been Titia whenever Titus isn't required for quite a few years now. Almost never have to worry about being read these days, Titia is the real part of me."

"You go out all by your lonesome?"

"Mostly. I do go to some crossdressing groups on occasion, but mostly I go out by myself - and as myself. I guess you can figure out why I don't have a girlfriend."

"Like you said, I'm quick on the uptake. Hold your arm out while I slip this on."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

"Not you, me. Just moving the arm hurts."

"I bet. There, one side on, now the other arm."

"That one's no problem. I feel like a kid with Mommy dressing me."

"Just think of yourself as one more daughter. I've had lots of practice. I'm surprised, I would have thought you'd go in for frilly bras."

"I do, but I have to have the forms glued on to use them. I can't believe I'm telling you what kind of bra I prefer."

"See, girl talk already. So what do you do next?"

"The boxes on the dresser. Those are my forms."

"Can you do it yourself?"

"I think so, one at a time."

"I hate to say this, but those things remind me of a cheesy horror movie where some nutcase starts slicing off body parts."

"Just the image to help me feel more feminine. Thanks, partner!"

"Think nothing of it. They really do look natural, don't they?"

"I hope so. It took a long time to save up for a good pair."

"Sure beats stuffing a bra with tissues like I did when I was a kid."

"Did you really do that?"

"You bet your ass!"

"I could use a little more ass before I start betting on it."

"You must be a woman, never satisfied with your body."

"I got a bit shortchanged in some strategic spots."

"Well, if they make fake breasts then someone's got to have invented fake asses."

"Of course, but I only use them if I want to go out somewhere fancy. I look more feminine but I feel like Charlie Brown stuffed into his winter coat when I do."

"Beauty always did come at a price."

"It's taken me several years just for the electrolysis, but at least I don't have to shave my face any more."

"Which accounts for your baby face. You're answering all kinds of questions I was too polite to ask."

"You'd be surprised at how many people aren't that polite."

"I wouldn't bet on it. Remember I had a daughter that killed herself with drugs - people will ask any damn fool thing that crosses their minds, believe me."

"I think my father would rather I had overdosed and died rather than have me live as my real self. Someday I'm going to be able to do that full time, but that takes more money than I have."

"Doesn't anything worth doing? Why do you think this great-grandma went back to work?"

"You mean you aren't wandering around in dark alleys all night for the fun of it?"

"As if! You certainly have good taste in clothes."

"I think if I step into this dress I can get my arm in it without moving it too much."

"Put your feet in it and I'll pull it up."

"Let's try it. A little more to the left… My arm's in, slide it up a bit… now the other arm… wait, it's caught… there, now the rest of the way."

"It worked. Let me zip you up. Josh was always good for dress zipping. I don't dress up so much now that he's gone."

"I'm so sorry. He must have been something special."

"He was, he was…"

"Thank you, Paula. I never expected you to do something like this."

"I have a pretty big bump of curiosity, girl. Doesn't seem right to call you 'partner' right now."

"Not exactly a guard uniform, is it?"

"Socks and sneakers with a dress?"

"Not really high fashion, but I don't think I could cope with pantyhose right now. Velcro is your friend when you have a dislocated shoulder. Can we put the sling back on now, it's really starting to ache?"

"The latest in fashion accessories for the modern woman, and paid for by worker's comp. What more can a girl ask?"

"Makeup. Unlike you real girls, I have to have some makeup on my face to help with the illusion."

"Is it really an illusion, Titia?"

"Inside me, no. But until I save a bucketful of money an illusion it shall remain. The company medical plan is just barely adequate for bandages and some generic pills; sex change operations are not on the approved list."

"I just hope I don't get sick before I'm old enough for medicare."

"Unless some goddam politician steals the money before you get there."

"You got that right, but let's not talk politics. Right now you don't really need any blusher. Does your face always get red like that when you get excited?"

"Yeah, and believe me it was bad growing up when all anyone had to do was rag on me to get me to turn red. It took a long time to learn to ignore them. You get to be real good at hiding yourself, sometimes even from yourself."

"I'm glad you aren't hiding from me. Even your voice changes when you let your real self out."

"Thanks, it's taken a lot of work."

"Speaking of work, let's get that makeup on and we can go out for a bite before we go home. I just hope I don't get confused working without a mirror."

"Home? It's been a long time since I could really call any place home."

"My daughters are always welcome in my home, and you just got adopted. Sit and let me make you a painted lady."

I was, shall we say, bemused by the time we left the diner at almost midnight. You'd think that after having 'spent the night' with Titus for several months I'd know him pretty well. (C'mon people - I'm old enough to be his grandmother and besides - there are no beds in the security office!) I guess I did know Titus pretty well as a work mate, but the person sitting across the table from me most certainly wasn't Titus, a shy young man eking out a living as a security guard. She was Titia and, despite the odd name, she soon became a relaxed and happy young woman who had just found a new friend. The difference was remarkable.

There's a camaraderie that develops between those of us who live our lives inverted from the rest of the world. We are odd ducks and know it, maybe we're even a bit proud of it. Killing time between watch rounds Titus and I had discussed many things - politics, religion, children and grandchildren (OK that was mostly my part of the conversation), sports, the latest news, you name it. What we hadn't touched on much was his background. I knew he was estranged from his family, but that's about it. Now I knew why.

I realized that over all those months I was only talking to a shadow grafted on to her real personality. The young woman across the table, clearly frustrated at having to use the wrong hand to feed herself, was vivid and alive despite her frustrations. As two women we made a connection quite impossible before, the conflicted man was gone and the suppressed woman was almost gleeful to expand into the world outside her apartment with someone to talk to.

In the years since Titus had left home (actually, she may have been thrown out, she wasn't all that clear about it) Titia had slowly become more than a yearning in Titus' mind. Despite the need for frugality, Titia found a wardrobe in the thrift shops. Once she could appear outwardly as the woman she felt inside, it was only a matter of time before the closet door, and the one to the apartment, were flung open and Titia eased into the world. But even as Titia became comfortable cruising the shops or watching a movie, she kept aloof from the rest of humanity. There was always that fear that someone would only see that sham of manhood and not the reality of femininity, then start screaming and heap humiliation on her curly red head.

There were a few safe places; she had attended the local Science Fiction convention several times. Women there were still the oddballs among that larger group of oddballs, but the people there were accepting, if a little crazy. Libraries were another safe space, and being able to curl up with a book in public was a treat she allowed herself every so often. Once Titia was able to move freely and anonymously in the larger world, the stress of her dual life fell away, yet she never was able to form a bond with anyone for fear of being caught out. It was a lonely life.

Then the Sasquatch had torn the veil from her true self in front of my very eyes and circumstances had granted me the privilege of being Titia's first friend. I suspected the intervention of Mr Murphy once again, but this time he seemed to be bent on doing some good.

We had been occupying the booth in the diner long after we had finished eating, so we eventually headed back to my place, where we settled down with our knitting and just nattered away the time until the sun rose. A hen session with Titia was subtly different than a bull session with Titus, but we still enjoyed each other's company.

When the sun finally showed itself and our yawns became more frequent, we adjourned to our bedrooms to sleep the sleep of the just. I offered to help her undress, but Titia told me she usually slept wearing a bra so that she could have her breasts, however artificial they were. Now I knew she was nuts, but it's her life to live. I simply unzipped the back zipper of her dress and bid her good night.