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After a severe beating by his father, Alex was left in a coma and broken. Will his memory return and what will it mean for him if it does?

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Broken!

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)

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Chapter Six
 

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ALEX
I look at the selection of ‘starter’ earrings and grimace at the queasiness starting up in my stomach from a severe case of the nerves. OK, it is an improvement over the stomach pain from the nausea caused by my past headaches—but not much. Not to say that my head is not killing me, but not enough to stop me this time. It is not that I really want my ears pierced, per se—at least not for the usual reasons. You know, as a fashion statement—it is more of a personal statement to myself; just to prove that I can do it.

I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about being seen as a pervert and the implications of that. Fact is, lots of boys get their ears pierced these days, so while some older people and bigots may still have issues with it, it will not be any big deal at school. I really have to do it to prove that I can, though. Daddy must have had that on his list of ‘gayness’ which is why the thought alone triggers a headache attack and I won’t let him win. Fact is that I do not really remember wanting them pierced before my coma—or what my reasons were then—but I do know what and why I do now and I will get it done this time!

I have also thought a lot about the ‘story’ of the ‘bet’. Something does not seem quite right about that story—like it is only part of the truth, but I cannot get anything else out of any of them because I cannot think of the right questions to ask. I will still have to think some more on that.

My reverie is broken when the salesgirl, Jodie, asks me, “Have you decided, Alex?”

I sigh and say, “I’m not sure, Jodie. JuJu, what do you think?”

We are at the mall and I am in the local Claire’s along with JuJu. Momma is at work at Butterfield’s, the main anchor department stores here at the mall, where she is the manager. She signed the release and stopped by with me to make sure Jodie knows I have her permission. She has to take care of something at the store but wants me to text her before the actual piercing takes place so she can be here—just in case.

JuJu smiles and asks, “Trust me?”

I shrug and respond, “Sure. I guess.”

She giggles and whispers with Jodie, who is preparing to punch needle-sharp posts through my earlobes. Jodie nods and pulls out two little boxes and puts on sterile gloves after making little dots on my ears with a marker. She has me look in a mirror and asks if I like the placement. I shrug. Fact is, I have no idea what the difference is—as long as they are in the lobe.

JuJu makes a suggestion for a slight change more towards the edge of my ear and says, “For small hoops.”

Jodie nods and asks me, “Are you OK with that?”

I sigh and say, “I trust you and JuJu. What do I know?”

She nods and redoes the markings. JuJu nods her approval and, again, I just shrug—but nod. I start to get my phone.

The first stud is in before I really know what happened. I cringe—not because it hurt but because it happened before I let Momma know. She was afraid I would have an episode and wanted to be here just in case. I start to say something, but Jodie is quick! The other stud is in before I know it.

I feel a little dizzy and my head pounds a little harder, but it is nowhere near a full-on attack. I look in the mirror and see little ‘diamond’ studs sparkling in the bright lights surrounding the mirror. I sit there in dread and wait for the boots. Nothing happens!

I say, “Thank you, Jodie. I was supposed to wait for Momma before you actually did the piercing, but you are fast!”

JuJu says, “Oh! I’m sorry! I should have stopped her, but I got caught up in the moment. Are you feeling OK, Alex?”

I nod and say, “Just a little lightheaded.”

Jodie smiles and says, “That is normal, Alex. A lot of girls feel that way. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now let me go through the cleaning and care you will need to do…”

My head spins a little again. She thinks I am a girl… Why do all of these people think of me that way? Was that why Daddy thought I was gay and a pervert? Did he see a girl, too?

I text Momma and then pay attention to Jodie’s instructions. She is just finishing when Momma walks in, surprised that it is over, “Alex? Are you OK? I thought you were going to let me know before Jodie started!”

JuJu pipes up, “It was my fault, Maddie! I got caught up in the excitement and didn’t tell Jodie to wait. She is really fast!”

Jodie giggles and says, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jorden! I find it best to get the job done quickly before my subjects have too much time to think about it, so that’s like on me. But Alex handled it admirably!”

MADDIE
I sigh and say, “My meeting with the shoe department sales manager took longer than expected or I would have been here sooner. I’m glad that everything went OK.” I give Alex a pointed look as I say it. Then I look at Jodie and ask, “So, is everything done? Are we ready to pay?”

She nods and says, “Yes, I showed Alex how to take care of her ears so she should be good. I can ring you out at the register.”

I start to correct her, but she is already at the cash register and looks at Alex and asks, “That is unless you all want to look at jewelry? We have a buy-one-get-one sale going on.”

Alex shakes his head and says, “No. I think I am good with what I have.” JuJu just shakes her head, too.

I shake my head at Jodie and pay, still disturbed that she mistook Alex for a girl and he didn’t call her on it.

When we are back out in the mall and walking towards Butterfield’s I ask, “Alex, why didn’t you correct Jodie when she referred to you as a girl? I was going to and was totally surprised when you didn’t.”

He shrugs and says, “She’s not the first to make the mistake. I guess I could understand her confusion with my hair and all. You would think the way I’m dressed would discourage those thoughts, though. I mean I know that girls often dress in boys’ stuff and all, but I really still don’t get it. Stupid late puberty! Anyway, fact is, it didn’t seem worth the embarrassment—hers or mine.”

I nod and have to wonder if this is another step that Alex has taken towards healing. I will have to talk to April about it.

We walk into the store that I have been managing for the past two years and JuJu asks, “Maddie, is it OK if we go look at clothes?”

I smile and reply, “Of course. Let me know if you find anything you like and I will give you my discount, now that you know that you are practically family. Just be back at my office around lunchtime and we will go get something to eat together.”

She hugs me and enthuses, “Thanks! We will!”

I watch them head towards the escalators and the girl’s department. I think I see a look of pain and despair on Alex’s face, but I could be mistaken. I giggle and go back to my office for my meeting with the lingerie department sales manager.

JEWEL
I pull Alex to the escalator and ask him on the way to the second floor, “So, what do you think about your new studs?”

He grimaces a little and says, “Well, I’m not sure I would have chosen the sparkly diamonds as my first choice, but otherwise they are fine, I guess.”

I giggle and say, “They only sparkle like that in the special bright lights they have in the store. Under normal lights, they are much more subdued. They go awesome with your bold new look and are really nice on you. I can’t wait for you to be able to change them out for others!”

He shrugs and explains, “I just did it to prove to myself that I could. I’m not looking for them to be any sort of fashion statement. As far as I’m concerned, I could pull them right back out, right now, and be fine with the outcome!”

I giggle and say, “Well, let me make the statement for you, then. I care what you look like, even if you don’t! And don’t you dare!”

I almost fall down the escalator when he sticks his tongue out at me. It is the first time that I can remember since his coma that he has kidded with me in that way!

I smile as I look around for where to start. I have a plan and Momma begrudgingly endorsed it.

I almost literally drag him to the girl’s department and start looking through the racks of tops. I pull one out that I am not particularly fond of and ask, “So, Alex, what do you think of this? Would it look good on me?”

He shrugs and mutters, “I guess.”

I don’t let up, “’I guess’ doesn’t help me, Alex. What do you like—or not like—about it?”

He sighs and says, “Fact one, the color would wash out the color of your face, and fact two, it looks too frumpy for you. But you seem to like it, so what difference does it make what I think? Why are we even doing this?”

I put the top back on the rack and pull out a similar one in a different shade of blue that I think would go well with my blonde hair and blue eyes. I hold it up with a questioning look on my face and retort, “We are doing this because I want your opinion. Don’t worry, I will give you mine when we look for clothes for you.”

He groans and I continue, “Just because I pull any of these out doesn’t mean that I necessarily like them so don’t get hung up on that. I honestly want your opinion. Now, what do you think about this one?”

We continue the dance with the tops for the next hour and I pick out three I actually like. By then, Alex is more generous with his input and starting to use vocabulary that I am sure he has no idea how he gained—or actually realizes he is using. It is sort of like him flexing muscles he does not even remember he had. I can almost hear Lexi, who was as avid a clothes and shoe fashionista as his Momma, giving me advice.

We move on to skirts and other bottoms, then dresses, and finally to shoes.

Three hours later, Maddie comes into the department and says, “I thought I would find you still around here and decided to just meet you. Did you find anything nice, JuJu?”

I excitedly show her all of my assorted findings—tops, bottoms, shoes, and accessories. I gush, “I love all of this stuff and Alex has been great helping me pick it all out. Now, I just have to narrow it down to something I can afford!”

Maddie grins and says, “Well, your birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, so Happy Birthday, Hon!”

She gathers all the things and goes to a register and just rings them up. I gasp at the price of all the designer clothes and accessories—even with her substantial discount. She smiles, “Don’t worry, Love. Your Momma is splitting the cost with me, so don’t expect anything more from her.”

I giggle, “No worries! This is so awesome! Thank you, Maddie!” I give her a huge hug and grin.

She says, “Now, I don’t suppose you found anything for Alex?”

He blushes, “Well, we were here the whole time, so no… It doesn’t matter, though. I’m fine with what I have.”

Maddie says, “Nonsense! The two of you can continue this after our, now late, lunch. Let’s put these things in my office and we can go to Alex’s favorite restaurant. How does that sound? By the way, how are your ears, Hon?”

He sighs and helps carry a couple of my numerous bags as he says, “They feel fine. I’m glad I was able to go through with it without incident, but you don’t think it was a mistake, do you? I mean it was just to prove a point.”

Maddie giggles and says, “Only if you do, Sweetheart. Only if you do. But I have paid for them now, so you need to take care of the piercings and let them heal up even if you ultimately decide not to wear earrings afterwards. No one will even notice the holes if you leave them empty. Deal?”

He sighs and nods as we unload the bags in her office.

---

ALEX
“Are you sure about this, JuJu,” I ask in an incredulous tone. She has me in the boy’s department for the third time this week and we are looking at clothes that I would, at best, describe as androgynous. She has just handed me a pink shirt that is less than ‘manly’.

She says, “What don’t you like about it? Be honest—with yourself and me.”

I sigh and say, “Well… It’s pink for starters.”

She sighs and admonishes, “Boys can wear pink!”

I shake my head and say, “Sure. I mean, yes, many would think that is gay—but I think I’m past that particular bridge and have incinerated it. At least it is a demon I’m wearing down. I’m pretty sure I am not gay and don’t really care if I am. What I’m referring to is that this shade would clash with my hair.”

She blushes and mutters, “Oh…right. Well, OK, here.”

She pulls out the same t-shirt in shade of purple that would both compliment my hair and my eyes. And I cannot believe I am even thinking that—where did it come from? I wait for the boots to rain down, but other than a light tightening between my eyes, I control the demon that is my father’s unwanted legacy.

I take the shirt and examine it. The material is of good quality and it feels really soft—not as soft as some of the clothes we picked out for JuJu, but it is much softer than most of the clothes a boy would typically wear. That and the way it is cut with a ‘V’ neck puts it over the edge towards a more feminine look. To be honest, I cannot really say I hate it, but there is something that is…off…about it. I just cannot really put my finger on it.

Finally, I say, “I don’t hate it. I mean I sort of am OK with it—there is just something… Oh, put it in the pile of maybes, I guess.”

She pulls out a few more and while they are OK, they just are not anything that I am wild about. Actually, I don’t see anything around that just makes me scream, ‘I just have to have that’. That has been my problem all week and I feel like we are just wasting our time.

JuJu sighs after quizzing me on several different shirts. Then she says, “OK. I have to go to the little girl’s room. I will be right back. You keep looking!”

She is gone for several minutes and I look through the different racks without really finding anything. Not that I was expecting to, but it is not like I am on a mission to find something for me like she is. When she finally taps me on the shoulder from behind, nearly giving me a coronary, she has several things draped over her arms.

She says, “Come on! To the dressing room. I have an idea.”

She pulls me to the dressing room, pushes me into a stall, closes the door, and says, “Take off your pants and shirt!”

I sigh and do as she commands. Then she says, “I want you to put these on without looking closely at them or looking in the mirror until you come out. OK? Promise?”

I sigh and say, “Sure. Whatever. If it will get you off my back about this.”

She hands me a shirt. I try not to pay any attention to it. It is very similar to the purple one she had picked out before, but it feels much nicer. I pull it over my head and like how it feels. Then she hands me a pair of jeans that are an emerald green in color, and I start to pull them on. They are skinny jeans and would have looked really dorky on me before I lost weight. Since I am nearly down to my goal, I go ahead and squeeze into them. I am pleasantly surprised that they have a lot of stretch and are really soft, too.

She asks, “OK, ready?”

In spite of the nice feeling of the clothing, I am still not totally enamored. I sigh again and open the door. She smiles as she sees me and says, “OK. Turn around and tell me what you like and what you don’t.”

I take a deep breath and turn around to look in the full-length mirror. I honestly am pleasantly surprised at the look, but disappointed at the same time. I say, “Well, it doesn’t look terrible, I guess.” I see the crestfallen look on her face and continue, “It’s much better than I was expecting and while I didn’t try on the first things you found, I’m sure these are better looking. So, fact one, I like the soft fabrics and the stretchy feel of the jeans. It all feels really nice on my sensitive skin, which I guess is the result of the skin regimen you and Joyce talked me into going along with. Fact two, the look is on the feminine side, but not so bad, I guess. That doesn’t bother me, really—we already talked about what some would consider ‘gay’ and that I don’t care. Fact three, I like the colors. They are bold, but they complement each other and don’t clash with my hair. They actually complement my eyes and I can’t believe I’m telling you that. Fact four, the overall look is very nice—it just isn’t…me—and before you ask, no, I don’t know what is. It’s like I have something buried deep down in me that knows what I want but it won’t tell me.”

Her eyes start glistening and she says, “It’s OK, Alex. I think I get it. But could we get these for you anyway? I think you look really hot in them!”

I half-laugh, half giggle and say, “Well, OK, then. If I’m hot!” I wiggle my eyebrows and turn back to the dressing room to take them off. That is when I notice they are girl’s clothes. I start to get mad at her but realize it does not really matter. I am standing here in them, knowingly, and not having an attack. That in and of itself is reason enough to buy them!

I come out of the dressing room and admonish her, “Sneaky! Why girl’s clothes? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

She giggles and says, “No, I was sure you would. I don’t know. It was just what you were describing you liked and disliked all week first led me to the androgynous boys’ stuff and then to well…those.”

I look pointedly at her and I ask, “JuJu, did I wear girls’ clothes before my coma—is that why Daddy hit me?”

She screws up her face and sighs, “Well, yes, you might have worn girls’ things when you were practicing in the shoes. It sort of made sense, don’t you agree. I’m sorry if you hate me!”

I give her a hug and say, “I could never hate you, JuJu. Oh! Wait! You’re going to be my sister, so I guess I can’t promise that! I mean don’t I have to hate you then?” I give her an impish grin and wink.

She hits me on the arm and I text Momma that I have some purchases.

MADDIE
I am surprised at the clothes I pay for but know that JuJu had a strong hand in the choice. I don’t mind. It seems that Alex is really OK with them. I drop JuJu off at their house and stop by the local Chinese place for takeout for Alex and me on the way home. After we finally get to bed, it does not take me long to fall asleep, but I am just as quickly awakened by Alex crying out in his sleep.

I rush to Alex’s room. He is still crying out and it is louder than usual, but it has a different tone to it. I peek through the door and he sits up in that moment with a mortified gasp.

I quietly enter the room, so I don’t startle him and whisper, “Are you OK, Hon? Were you having a nightmare?”

He sighs and says, “No, Momma. Well, I guess that depends on your definition of a nightmare. If Daddy were dreaming it, I guess it would be.”

Two things hit me at that moment. One, he seems to be remembering the dream and two, he called his father ‘Daddy’ again. I have noticed that he has been slipping into that subconsciously more and more of late. It is what Lexi would call her father—when he was not around. It is never something that Alex called his father.

I prod gently, “Can you tell me about it?”

He looks at me and is plainly visible in the light of the full moon shining through the window. He is silent for a minute and seems to be thinking. Then he exclaims in surprise, “I actually can! I remember the dream, but I have no idea what it means. I was in a dress and heels whirling to music and just having fun dancing with JuJu. And she was calling me Lexi. I guess it must have something to do with her admitting that she tricked me into learning to walk in heels before and then buying those clothes today and that I used Lexi as a nickname when I was practicing in the heels for whatever reason. I have no idea where the dress came from—but it felt so right. Daddy was nowhere to be seen and I had no negative reactions to the dream that I can remember.”

Then he whispers, “But, I can remember the parts with the dress. What does all of this mean, Momma?”

I tell myself to not do it. I tell myself again. I tell myself one more time before I pull him into a hug and give in. I simply say, “Wait here, Love. I think it’s time.”

I quickly go to my closet before I change my mind and pull out one of Lexi’s favorite dresses. It is the one she was wearing on that fateful night and I had it cleaned and repaired. I am pretty sure it will now fit her again. I also grab her favorite heels—the ones that are actually in her size—I don’t think her feet have grown. I have kept them both in my closet as a remembrance of happier times and that we are lucky to be alive. The rest of her clothes and things are stored away in the attic to avoid questions.

I take the dress and heels into Alex’s room and inquire, “Did the dress look anything like this?”

He gasps and wonders, “That’s the one, Momma. How did you know?”

I cry and take a moment to gather myself before I respond, “I just had a hunch. Would you like to try it on just for kicks?”

He gives me a funny look but then bites his lower lip and nods—almost imperceptibly.

He takes off the oversized t-shirt he sleeps in and I help him slip into the dress and zip up the back. Then he slips into the shoes and gasps. I am afraid he is having an attack, but he gushes, “Momma! This feels so…right! I don’t understand?”

I sigh and explain, “You would wear that dress a lot when you were in those heels. You would practice for hours in them. When you were in that mode, you always wanted to be called ‘Lexi’.”

He shakes his head and sits down on the bed. I notice he sweeps the dress without even thinking—or noticing. He automatically tucks his feet under him just like a girl—like Lexi—and looks at me forlornly. He says, “I still don’t understand, Momma.”

I cry more and respond, “That’s all I can say, Love. You must remember the rest on your own. You’re welcome to wear the dress or the shoes—or both—anytime you want. Or any other dress, clothes, or shoes, for that matter. I—we all—will call you Lexi if you want. It’s up to you, Love. You have to decide if it is what you want—and why. Before you ask—yes, you were wearing a dress when your bastard father attacked you.” I leave out that it was this dress. I continue, “You wound up in a coma because I couldn’t protect you. I wound up with a broken arm and a broken eye socket, but nothing like what he did to you. I’m so sorry, Sweetie. I should have protected you!”

I break down in sobs and she falls into my arms and cries with me. She…he says, “I’m sorry you were hurt because of me, Momma. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t feel gay. I don’t feel like I should feel ashamed of myself.”

I stroke her…his beautiful, soft hair and exclaim, “Nonsense, Alex! You did absolutely nothing wrong! It’s not your fault that your father is a bigoted bastard! It’s not your fault!”

He giggles and says, “Don’t you mean, Lexi, Momma? I’m in a dress after all!”

I squeeze her tightly and say in a serious tone, “I will call you whatever you like, Love. But don’t have me do it unless you mean it, OK? It’s not a game.”

He slowly nods and muses, “OK, Momma. Let me think about it. I wish I could sleep in this dress, though, it feels so…familiar and comfortable.”

I giggle. In for a penny, in for a pound. I say, “Hang on, Hon!”

I go to my room and grab a nightgown like she used to sleep in. I take it in to her and do not know where it will lead, but it feels like a step in the right direction. If Lexi is no longer meant to be, then maybe this will help Alex find himself. If not, maybe it will help Lexi find herself. Either way, it seems like my child has taken a big step forward.

I ask, “Would you like to put this on and come sleep with me?”

He hugs me and whispers, “Yes, Momma. I would really like that.”

---

APRIL
“You did what and he did what,” I exclaim in complete and total frustration. My look is one of total annihilation.

“Shhhh,” she admonishes me, “you’ll wake him up!”

I am sitting in the kitchen with Mads drinking coffee. She called me over at six this morning and Alex is still asleep in her bed. I just got the whole story of what happened last night.

I sigh and ask, “And what about the plan to let him work this out himself?”

She says, “I didn’t divulge anything he hadn’t already figured out on his own.”

I give her a jaundiced eye and top it off with a ‘look’.

She says exasperated, “What? He dreamt about that exact dress and heels and remembered it! I thought that deserved a reward. Maybe it will encourage more good dreams and memories.”

I sigh and reluctantly relent, “OK. That makes a demented sort of sense. But…”

“Good morning, April! You’re here early! Is JuJu here, too,” Alex asks as he stumbles into the kitchen in the same nightgown I had seen Lexi wear at sleepovers with Juju a hundred times—or at least it is a close semblance of that nightgown. I have to literally bite my tongue to not let out a gasp.

I shake my head, check to see if my tongue is bleeding, and say, “She’s still asleep and I’m sorry if we woke you up, Love. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

She shakes her head. Damn! He shakes his head and yawns, “I’m awake now. Momma, can I have some coffee? Please?”

Maddie giggles, but gives me a dark look that screams, ‘I told you so’! She says, “OK, Love. A little, sure. Then I want you to tell April about your dream. Deal?”

He nods and Mads makes him a cup of coffee that is more a café-au-lait consisting of about one quarter milk. Of course, her coffee is several times stronger than most ‘normal’ humans’, so, that is still quite strong. I watch Lex…Alex take a sip and barely grimace or shiver. Color me surprised! I have to drink her coffee with at least half milk and loads of sugar.

He takes another slow sip and looks at me with an appreciative smile. His eyes are getting brighter as the strong dose of caffeine kicks in and he explains, “I had this dream with JuJu in it last night. I was in a dress and heels and we were having a really fun time just dancing and goofing around. I was really happy and felt completely at peace. Something then happened in my dream after that, that I don’t remember, but it woke me up. Momma says I was wearing a dress when Daddy attacked me, so I figure something like that must have happened in my dream to wake me up. I just don’t remember it. Fact is, I prefer remembering the good parts of the dream and forgetting the bad ones—even if the good parts totally make no sense to me.”

He blows gently on his coffee and all I can see is a beautiful young girl in front of me. She…he continues after taking another sip, “Momma went to her room and brought out the exact dress that I was wearing in my dream, along with the heels. I tried them on and it felt like I was finally home after a long trip. Only, I realized that it isn’t home, because I still don’t know where home is.” She screws up her…his face and asks, “Does that make sense?”

Suddenly, I feel like going and getting some strong Irish Cream to put in my coffee. I nod slowly and say, “I think so, Alex. What else do you remember? What else do you feel?”

She…he sighs and says, “I feel like I want to wear the dress again—with all the trappings… A bra, panties, maybe stockings… Am I crazy, April? Is that why Daddy beat me?”

My heart melts all over again. We had this very same discussion nearly two years ago when Lexi was more fully asserting herself in Alex’s life. I pull him into a tight hug and say, “No, Love, you are not crazy. Confused? Yes. But not like your father wants you to think. There are many reasons that you might want to wear a dress and there are a lot of people, including men, who do. We can explore what those reasons may be later. OK? Your father wants you to believe you are pathologically confused—that you need a ‘treatment’ to rid you of your ‘sickness’. He is the one that is sick.”

He looks so much like Lexi that I want to break down and tell her the truth straight away! I get why Maddie cracked as much as she did last night. I have to stay strong, though, and forcibly pull myself together.

He says, “Momma said it was alright to wear the dress, or any dress, for that matter. I’m not sure I can, though. I’m not sure it’s right…”

I put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze. I say firmly, “Look at me, Alexander Jorden! If you feel right in a dress, then you are right in a dress! Do me a favor. Go put on that dress and the shoes and come in here. If you do that, look me in the eye, and honestly tell me that it is not right for you then we will put the dress away and never mention it again. Deal?”

He hesitates, but finally gets up without a word and goes into his mother’s room.

Maddie gives me a look and admonishes me, “And you were chastising me?”

I sigh, “I know. I’m sorry. I see why you wavered.”

A few minutes later, Alex…Lexi comes in, walking as gracefully in those heels as ever. I nearly drop my cup of coffee, but simply nod and say, “Sit down, Alex, and tell me how you feel.”

She gracefully sits after sweeping her dress under her, then crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap—just like Lexi would always do. It is obvious she does it without thinking. She says, “Well, as long as I’m dressed like this, I think you should call me Lexi. Momma made me promise that I wouldn’t ask that lightly and I’m not. Fact is, I don’t feel like a ‘guy in a dress’. I’m not sure how I feel—other than…so right…and just as wrong. So, I can’t say that it doesn’t feel right to be in the dress. But I still don’t know that it is right that I feel this way.”

I take a sip of the fresh coffee that Mads has just poured and curse as I burn my tongue. I nurse it for a second and say, “OK, Lexi. Let’s take it one step at a time. Pretend for a moment that you don’t have those doubts. Just go with that inner feeling that it feels right and ignore the crap that your father has tried to beat into you. If you focus on your innermost desire, what would you like to do right now?”

She closes her eyes and silently thinks for several minutes. She keeps them closed and whispers in a barely audible voice, “I would put on pretty underwear and get made up. I would paint my nails and let my hair down. I would sing and dance in the flowers. I would never dress like a boy again.”

He shudders and tears stream down his face as he opens his eyes and moans, “But I can’t. It…it…it isn’t right…”

He quietly gets up and graciously walks into Maddie’s room where he takes off the dress, carefully hangs it in the closet, and places the shoes with the others. He comes back in and sits at the table in his boy’s clothes and does not mention the dress again. The haunted look in his eyes does not fade, though.

MADDIE
My heart breaks when I see my child sitting there with a painfully haunted look in his eye. I am not sure whether I am once again to blame for this. Should I have left it alone last night and not mentioned the dress? Was he just not ready? I cannot believe so. I have to believe that he will continue to process this and will wake up from this never-ending nightmare. He may wake up and legitimately not want anything to do with Lexi, but based on what he just said, I do not think so.

As promised, neither April nor I mention the dress again. It tears at me and I know deep down it is tearing at Alex, but he will have to come to grips with it on his own—or ask for help. I truly believe that after a couple of days of thinking about it, something will give. I just hope it will give gracefully.

ALEX
My heart feels like it is going to rip apart. I have no idea why that dress is calling to me in that way. I don’t believe that Daddy was right in anything and especially not in his bigoted beliefs. But I also know that there is not something right about me, Alex, wanting to wear that dress—or any other one for that matter. And those shoes… They are like a sweet Siren’s song luring me under her spell. There is something not right with me—Alex—wanting that. If I really were Lexi, then maybe, but I am not. I can pretend that I am, to make it feel right to wear the dress and shoes, but it is a lie. I hear a strangely familiar voice, I think it is some friend of Daddy’s, say, “Lexi does not exist."

I do my best to fight the tears, but one escapes and rolls down my cheek in spite of my efforts. I wipe it off and ignore the pain in my head.