I groan as the alarm goes off. I think I got maybe a sum-total of one hour of sleep. I tossed and turned all night long. Between being in an unfamiliar room, the somewhat uncomfortable bed, and my mind swirling around committing to ‘Angelique’, there wasn’t much sleep to be had.

I really wish I had Mom to talk to, right now. Bob is a great brother, but he is just not Mom when it comes to heart-to-heart talks. I hope this Dr. Greenwell is as good as Dr. Wellington. A psychiatrist is a poor substitute for a mother in most cases, but Dr. Wellington has been just that to me for the past couple of years.

I rub my eyes with a sigh and drag myself out of bed to drunkenly pull on my jeans and T-shirt. I put on some socks and my running shoes, then go into the little bathroom and groan at the sight of my wild hair. I haven’t had it cut since starting blockers and it reaches down my back. Right now, it’s a tangled mess and I don’t have time to wash it. I pull a brush through it the best I can and grimace as I hit multiple snags. I pull it into a loose ponytail before heading out the door and down the stairs. The air outside is hot and muggy despite the early hour and doesn’t do a thing to help wake me up as I walk the few blocks to the bakery.

I arrive at the bakery at two fifty-five and Melody opens the door for me—coffee in hand. She hands it to me and exclaims in concern, “Ange, Hon, you look like crap! Didn’t you go to bed?” I sigh and tell her about my night as I carefully sip the piping-hot coffee. By the time I’m done, about ten minutes later, the caffeine is kicking in and I’m feeling a little more awake.

Mel, as she tells me to call her, is excited that I’m officially moving forward with living as Angie. She asks as we move to the back of the bakery, “What made up your mind?” I stumble behind her with a freshly refilled mug of coffee, surprised at how big the kitchen and baking area is compared to the retail space. It’s full of stainless-steel appliances and counters and is spotless. I look around in awe and respond, “Well, to be honest—you did.”

She stops dead in her tracks and turns around. She asks in alarm, “Me? Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I was pushing you! I wasn’t.” After a pregnant pause, she inquires in concern, “Was I?”

I shake my head and try to assuage her fears, “No, Mel. Not at all! If anything, you gave me the courage to do something that I have wanted to do for a long time. I know you went through a lot because of your choices and you came out this awesome person that just goes out of her way to help a stranger. I realize we don’t know each other that well, but I’m looking forward to getting to know you better and hopefully becoming your friend in addition to becoming your employee!”

She gives me an unsure, nervous look, but nods and says, “OK. If you’re sure about this. At least you’ve talked to your doctors. I will drive you to your appointment this afternoon—it’s way too far for you to walk and getting there by public transit would be a nightmare! Now, let’s get to work! We open in less than three hours!” She hugs me and playfully pushes me towards the work area.

I don’t have time to think after that. She hands me a hairnet and helps me get my hair under it by deftly twisting it into a bun and putting a clip of some sort in it. Then she puts me to work. My main duty is loading and unloading baking sheets from the ovens while she finishes cakes and other confections. The smell of the baking bread and other goodies makes my stomach growl and I sigh as we finally get to sit down at five to eat a quick but heavenly breakfast that she prepares for us.

As we are eating, she says, “You did really well, Ange. Especially given that you didn’t sleep well last night. We’re actually about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. What do you think, so far?”

I take a small bite of my ham, egg, and cheese bagel and groan in ecstasy—I didn’t know I could be so hungry. What little energy I had when I got here has been completely sapped from me by the high-intensity workout I got keeping the ovens loaded—and Mel started an hour before me; I don’t know how she does it!

I say, “I don’t know where you get the energy! The day is just starting, but I have loved every minute of it! Well, aside from getting up before the birds.” She smiles and says, “You’ll get into a rhythm on that. So, from six to about eight is typically mostly getting coffee and bakery items at the counter. The tables don’t usually pick up until around eight. We have about thirty minutes before I open the doors. I will need to get you into something that is more in accordance with the store ‘uniform’—black bottom and white top.” She makes air quotes around uniform and continues, “Let’s see, you and I are about the same size—you are shorter than me, though. Hang on, I have some spare things in my office.”

She goes into her office and comes back out with a black skirt and a white blouse. She says, “Go into the office and see if these fit. I don’t usually wear a skirt, but luckily I have one on hand for business-type meetings. We’ll sort out the shoes after that. Now, go on! Hurry up!” She smiles to let me know she’s kidding—sort of. The store really is about to open.

In a fog, I go into her office and take off my shirt and jeans and slide my arms into the sleeves of the soft cotton blouse. As much as I’ve dreamed about being a girl, I’ve never really worn girl’s things. I never sneaked into Mom’s closet as a kid, or anything—and then after the accident, Bob donated her things to charity. It was hard on us both having the reminder of her around.

I marvel at the feel of the material and struggle with the small buttons that are on the wrong side. I finally get them all buttoned up and it feels like it fits—mostly. It may be a hair on the largish side. I step into the skirt with its silky lining that is refreshingly cool on my legs. I pull it up to my waste and get it clasped, then zip it up and slide it around so the zipper is in the back—not knowing what else to do with it.

Mel knocks and asks, “Is it OK to come in?” I respond nervously, “I guess!” She opens the door and takes a look at me, then giggles as she says, “Silly! The zipper goes on the side—like this.” She pulls the zipper around so that it sits on my left hip. Then she unbuttons the top two buttons of the blouse and says, “Normally, I would say one more, but that is maybe too much for you right now. Anyway, you never button them up all the way! It makes you look prudish.”

She steps back and says, “Nice!” She takes a brush and quickly brushes my hair out after removing the hairnet and undoing the bun. She only runs into a few snags and admonishes me, “Girl! You need to take better care of this gorgeous hair! Use some conditioner for heaven’s sake!” She pulls it into a tight and high ponytail and then pulls it through the hole in the back of a black baseball cap with the bakery’s pink logo on the front.

She goes to a closet and pulls out some short girly socks with pom-poms on the back and says, “We don’t have time to worry about shoes. Yours are actually pretty neutral—together with these socks, I think you’ll be OK. We’ll have to get you some dressier black safety shoes for the future, though.”

I put the socks on and then my shoes. The pom-poms stick out above the back and kind of tickle the back of my ankles as I tie my shoes. She says, “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Kim and we’ll open up. There’s already a line down the block!”

I give her a confused look and ask, “Kim?” She laughs and says, “I forgot to tell you. I do have one other helper in the front during the mornings and through lunch on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the weekends. Kim is also a college student—this past year, she’s not been available for the baking part of the business, although she is very good at it. And don’t worry—she won’t care about your ‘medical issues’ either. She wouldn’t work here if she did since my Aunt hired her—and she knew...”

With that, she pulls me out of her office, and I see a cute little Irish pixie of a girl in black pants and a white blouse. She has her coppery-red, curly hair pulled through the back of the same type ball cap as mine and a big grin on her flawless, porcelain-skinned face that reaches up to her bright, emerald-green eyes. And I thought Mel was a Goddess!

She says, “You must be our new help! Welcome! It’s about time Mel found someone that’s up to helping us pick up the slack! I’m Kim!” A wave of kinetic energy emanates from and her hits me square in the solar plexus so hard it about bowls me over. Mel laughs and says, “You’ll get used to it, Ange. And this is before she has had any coffee!”

We don’t have time for anything else the next hour and a half as we take care of the line out front. I take turns helping Mel and Kim as they show me the ropes of getting the coffee and bakery items, how to package them, and how to ring them up—as well as take things to the few customers that actually do sit down at a table.

Around seven-thirty there is a lull and Mel says, “Good work, girls! Ange, you did great! You’re a natural at this. Why don’t you and Kim take a short break before the main sit-down breakfast crowd hits.”

Kim smiles as we pick out a scone—one that I helped bake earlier this morning—and I pour us coffee. I grimace as she pollutes hers with sugar and cream. She laughs and says, “You’re a better woman than I am if you can take this stuff straight!”

I sigh and say, “About that, Kim…” And I give her the nutshell version of my story. I finish with, “So, while I feel like a girl and really want to give this a shot—I have no idea how to be a girl!” I add with a giggle, “I mean it’s not like my brother could show me!”

She takes my hand and says, “Well, you’re in good hands with Mel and me—we’ll get you girlied up in no time! You actually could have fooled me. If this is your first time in a skirt, you’re doing great. You’re even doing a decent job keeping your legs together. You just have to get used to sweeping your skirt before you sit to keep if from getting all bunched up and wrinkled. A lot of girls don’t wear dresses or skirts enough anymore to get into that habit, so it’s not a dead giveaway—but it is bad form if you don’t.”

I blush and quickly get up, sweep the skirt, and sit back down. She just smiles brightly and says, “See! Now, come with me. We have just enough time to spruce you up a bit before you learn how to waitress! Dropping those few things off at tables earlier doesn’t count!”

She takes me to the bathroom and has me sit on the toilet with the lid down. She says, “Mel has great light in here. We both take our makeup seriously!” She digs into a small bag and takes out a couple of tubes.

She says, “I’ll explain more on the use later—and I only have time for some quick fixes for now. This is eyeliner.” She explains as she starts outlining my eyelids, “It will make you look like you have fuller eyelashes. Your eyes have a pretty almond slant to them—do you have Asian blood?”

I fight the urge to nod and keep my head still so she doesn’t mess up. I say, “My Dad was of Japanese decent—it’s partially where my black hair comes from—among other things. My mother was of Persian decent—which adds to my black hair.” She nods and says, “Well, it combined into a beautiful girl! This is lash-extending mascara—it will complete the effect. We want your eyes to pop!” She adds two heavy coats of mascara on my top and bottom lashes and exclaims, “There! That will have to do for now—but what a difference! Take a look!”

I look in the mirror and am stunned—there’s a girl looking back at me, seductively batting her long thick eyelashes. I shake my head and whisper, “I never would have guessed!” Kim just hugs me and says, “Come on, Hon! Time to get to work! You just stick with me a bit. There aren’t that many tables, but it can get quite busy. Once we get you trained on the waitressing, then you can do a stint with Mel in the kitchen. The two of us rotate out on those duties, so it will be great to have a third partner in the rotation!”

The next hour is mass chaos as we take and get orders, including grabbing baked goods from behind the counter for ‘to go’ orders. Then another hour of even more chaos as I help Mel in the kitchen making breakfast sandwiches.

Finally, about ten-thirty it dies down and we all sit down to another cup of coffee. Mel looks at me and asks, “How are you feeling, Ange?” I smile and say, “You haven’t run me off yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” Kim says, “Just wait until lunch—not to mention when classes actually start again!” Mel play slaps her on the arm and exclaims, “Kim! Are you trying to run her off?”

I laugh and groan, “Well, I’m running on pure adrenaline and caffeine, at this point. But I have to say, even though it’s crazy hard work, I can see why you two love it. Some of those customers that Kim said are regulars are a hoot!”

Mel nods and says, “Yeah, I’m trying hard to scrape together enough to buy the space next door to expand. With more space and more help, I could expand my goods beyond bread and basic confections and add to the menu. Anyway, you’re doing really great!”

She takes a careful sip of her steaming coffee and adds, “Oh, Kim, can you stay a little over today and take care of getting the dough rising for tonight? I hate to ask on such short notice, but I need to take Ange to a doctor’s appointment at four and we’ll need to leave right at three to get her there and give her time to get all the paperwork filled out.”

I’m still not used to being called ‘she’ and ‘her’. I look at Mel and say, “You really don’t have to do that, Mel…” She cuts me off, “Nonsense!”

Kim just nods and says, “Sure, no problem. I don’t have any studying to do tonight. You’re one of us now, Ange. We look out for each other. Mel may be the boss—but we’ve always been a close-knit family around here. I started working here when I was barely a teenager—of course, not officially until I was sixteen—but Auntie Annaliese took me under her wing and showed me a lot. I just haven’t been able to do the early morning shifts lately because of my school schedule, but I’m getting ready to start evening and night classes this next semester and that will allow me to pick that back up. I can come here straight from studying and still get enough rest at the end of the day.”

Mel nods and says, “Yes, right now, I need you to be able to do the early morning things, Ange. But I will need you more on Kim’s current schedule after your classes start to make up for her moving to nights. If it all works out with your schedule, we may even be able to expand hours and pick up an early dinner shift in the evenings. That could get me over the hurdle to get that space next door!”

I sit there and just stare at the two of them—I almost start crying. Finally, I can’t help it and blubber, “Thank you, both! And of course, I’ll do what I can to help, Mel. Does that mean I’m hired?”

She laughs and says, “Only if you don’t quit before the day is out! I’ll give you the paperwork to fill out later. Right now, we need to get ready for lunch. We’ll just follow the same routine as breakfast, OK?”

Kim and I both nod and I get another cup of coffee after she fixes my mascara.

Mel locks the door at three on the dot. I feel like a zombie all hyped up on caffeine, but giddy that I made it through the day. Like yesterday, the place was basically empty after about two—I must have come in right after the last customer of the day. Kim normally leaves at two, but she smiles as she goes into the back to start getting the dough ready for tonight. Something I’m told I will learn how to do in due time.

Mel smiles at me and asks, “Ready? We really should be on our way.” I look down and ask, “Like this?” She smiles and says, “Well, you don’t have too much flour on you! We’ll get you an apron on Thursday! Seriously, though, you look fine!”

I sigh and say, “I’ve never gone out in a skirt before.” She laughs and says, “You’ve never dressed in a skirt before! Are you seriously worried about it after waitressing in it all day, today? No one pointed or laughed at you, now did they?”

I suddenly get weak in the knees as it hits me like a ton of bricks that I had done just that. I shake my head and feebly say, “Let’s go before I think about it anymore!”

She takes me out back where there is private parking and we get into her very nice BMW. She smiles sadly at my appreciative look and says, “Another thing Auntie Annaliese left me…” I silently nod and we get in. I close the door and get a quick lesson on how I should have gotten in so that the world won’t see my panties—in this case, my men’s white briefs.

Forty minutes of grueling traffic later, we pull into a parking lot at a medical office building and Mel goes in with me. I find Dr. Francine Ohara’s office on the directory and we go to the third floor. I sign in and fill out all the paperwork, then am called in at exactly four.

Dr. Ohara smiles when she sees me and says, “So, you’re Gina’s favor? I’m glad to meet you, Angelique, is it?” I nod timidly and say, “Angie, for short. Gina said to give you a hug?” She giggles and opens her arms wide.

After our hug, I ask curiously, “Favor?” She nods and says, “Gina and I were roomies in college. I owe her a great many things from those days and when she asked me to take you on as a favor, there was no question. Now, if I understand it correctly, you have decided to start hormones after four years of indecision on blockers?”

I blush and say, “Well, the four years on blockers is accurate. I would have started hormones a lot sooner but was honestly scared of the potential fallout—and with my parents being killed a couple of years ago, I had a lot of other—baggage—to deal with.”

She gives me a sympathetic and pensive look and responds, “I’m sorry to hear that, Angie. The time on the blockers is not that unusual, in and of itself. It is somewhat unusual to be on them that long without at least living part-time as a girl—or better yet, full-time. The indecision is what bothers me. So tell me, what do you mean by fallout? The medical fallout? I mean, there are always potential dangers…”

I shake my head and say, “No… Societal.” She gives me a hard look, “Parents? Gina indicated that they are—or, I guess I should say, were—onboard and OK with this. She said you have a brother. Is he the problem?”

I shake my head and say, “Well, like I said my parents passed away, but they were always OK with it. So is my brother. I just mean with the current political and societal…anger…towards…us—you know…”

She smiles and says, “’Transgendered’ is not a dirty word, Hon. Don’t let anyone tell you differently! I don’t guess Gina told you. Before I went to college—or we were roomies—I wasn’t Francine. I was Franklin. I transitioned as a teen and I’m not ashamed to openly admit that I’m a T-girl!”

She winks and giggles at my surprised look. I never would have guessed!

After she lets it all sink in, she continues, “So, what changed your mind? Gina wasn’t completely sure. Is your psychiatrist onboard? She said you were going to talk to her?” I nod and say, “I have an appointment with a Dr. Victoria Greenwell on Friday. Dr. Wellington back in Omaha set it up for me. Dr. Wellington is onboard after we talked yesterday.”

I quickly outline my chance meeting and discussion with Mel from yesterday and she says with a surprised and pensive look on her face, “Well, that explains a lot. I know it’s scary—trust me! That being said, I have to know for sure if you are ready.”

I sigh and say, “Mentally, I am sure I want to try this. But I don’t know how I would pay for it—I told Gina that.” She smiles and replies, “And didn’t she tell you it would work out? I take on a few special cases for free—to help out our battered community. In this case, since Gina referred you, you’re extra special.”

She pauses for a minute as she studies me, then says, “OK, Hon. I know you say you’re ready and Gina has sent me your medical records which raise no physiological flags. I’m willing to start you on hormones based on your long medical history. I’m still a little worried that this is now moving too quickly, though. So, I will go ahead and give you your first dose. I’m not willing to move forward long-term until Dr. Greenwell assures me that she is convinced, though. Now, bend over. I’m afraid this will sting a bit.”

Before I know it, she jabs me twice. After I stand back up and rub my butt, she says, “So, a couple of things. First, you really need to get some proper panties—those things you have on are so uncomfortable! Trust me—you’ll never look back after you put on your first pair of real panties! Well, after you get used to the wedgies that thongs give you, that is. But the look is so worth it!”

She winks with a giggle, then continues, “Second, I went ahead and gave you another dose of blocker a little ahead of schedule. It won’t hurt, but it will get both shots synchronized now, so you won’t have to come in any more than necessary. Since you just had blood drawn, we won’t do that again until your next visit.”

I continue to rub my butt, wondering what I just did now that it has actually happened. She makes a good point about how fast this went. Friday’s discussion will be interesting, I’m sure. I look at her and worry, “Are you sure about this, Dr. Ohara? I mean I don’t know that I’m comfortable with not paying—short-term, or not.”

She smiles and gives me a hug, then says, “First, my special cases call me Frankie. And if you’re able later, then you’re more than welcome to help sponsor a special case yourself. If you change your mind—no harm, no foul. To be honest, you’re benefitting from a former very special case who wanted to be a sponsor herself. There are reasons for that, but I can’t divulge those.”

I nod resolutely and promise, “You can count on it, Frankie!”

I give her another hug and go out front to make my next appointment, then Mel drives us back to the bakery. It takes us over an hour at this time of day and she lets me quietly contemplate my situation for several minutes before asking, “How do you feel, Ange?”

I sigh and say, “To be honest, conflicted.” She nods and muses, “Well, a little internal conflict and confusion is good for you—it keeps you from doing stupid things. As long as it doesn’t paralyze you. Conflicted, or not—how do you feel?”

I look at her and grin, “Like a ton of bricks has been lifted from my shoulders! Right or wrong, for better or worse, Angie is here for the foreseeable future—unless Dr. Greenwell throws a monkey wrench into the works. For now, it feels…good! I’m terrified, though. I don’t know the first thing about how to be a girl—no matter how much I feel like one. And I’m still a little worried about how quickly this all went—even though, I am pretty sure it is what I want!”

She reaches over and gives my hand a comforting squeeze before concentrating back on the traffic.

When we get back to the bakery, we go inside and first check on Kim. She is nearly done and tells us to go on and leave her alone so that we don’t mess her up. Mel just laughs and takes me out front where she has me finish filling out my already approved application. She winks as she lets me know that I easily passed the quick background check that her friend at the police department ran on me for her earlier today.

I giggle at that and she just says, “The application is just a formality, but we have to do it for the funders. Now, I have two options for you. One, I can either pay you twenty dollars an hour, like I do Kim. You’ll work about twenty to thirty hours during the week and as much as you can on the weekends. Between the three of us, we should have the weekends easily covered. We are closed on Wednesdays, so that will be your official day off—together with what we can work out for the weekends.”

She lets that sink in, then continues, “Or, the other option…” She pauses and then gets up and urges, “Come with me, Hon!”

Completely overtaken with curiosity, I follow her to the back and up a set of stairs I hadn’t paid attention to before. She unlocks a door at the top and we enter the most awesome industrial-sized studio apartment that you can imagine. It has all the wonderful coffee and baked good smells emanating from the bakery below packaged into it, and the light coming in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows across the wide-open space is to die for. It’s basically an industrial loft that spans the entire bakery below.

It’s also an artist’s wet dream.

She smiles at the dreamy look on my face and says, “Welcome to ‘The Loft’. This was Auntie Annaliese’s apartment. She made it clear in her will that only someone working at the bakery—or at least very closely associated with it—should live in it. That is, if I chose not to. And she stipulated that it should be someone worthy of the space. Someone that would really appreciate it. I think that person is you. If you agree, I could pay you fifteen an hour and you could stay in ‘The Loft’, as Auntie lovingly called it, for nothing extra—utilities included. It would actually be doing me a huge favor to have someone here on the property.”

I sit down on the nearest chair and cry. The hormones can’t be working that fast, right? I do the mental math as I blow my nose into the tissue she hands me and exclaim, “Mel, you could get four or five times that in rent! That alone could help get you that space next door.”

She shakes her head and retorts, “No, Ange. I will honor my Auntie’s wishes. Besides, it enters straight into the shop, so I don’t want just anyone in here. And not too many people would appreciate the smells or understand the noises going late into the night—or starting early in the morning. Seriously, you may need to get good ear plugs!”

She giggles and asks, “So, is that a yes on the loft?” I dreamily nod, still looking around and taking it all in with tears streaming down my face.

It’s a pale pink, huge industrial—yet purely feminine—paradise and I absolutely don’t feel remotely worthy of the space. I can only give her a hug and blubber about how wonderful it is. She fixes my mascara—again—using her own supplies, admonishing me that she’s going to get me waterproof makeup if I keep this up.

Then she leaves me in stunned silence to explore while she goes to get the contract to finalize the deal. Of course, I will have to get Bob to sign it, since I’m not eighteen…yet—but she already indicated that an e-signature is easy.

I’m ready for him to sign in blood if that’s what it takes—I hope Bob has been getting his iron if it does come to that!

I just giggle maniacally at the thought as I wait for her to come back up.