Chapter 9 – Crossing the Rubicon Together

The day I spent with Cybil was awesome. I let her brush my hair. With her off the chemo, she could sit up in bed and I could sit on the side of her bed properly now without having to shift all over the place. She brushed my hair and we talked. She loved seeing the old photo of me as a ‘girl.’ I told her about the babies that moved in next door to us and how much fun they were going to be as I began to babysit them.

“Samantha, would you like to have children?” she asked sadly.

“I would love to have them. I want a bunch of children.” I answered with a little more passion than I expected.

“Have you thought about what it would be like to be pregnant and give birth. I do. I hope I can one day. I would love to be a mommy.” I could see that she was mourning what the cancer was stealing from her.

“I afraid I won’t be able to get pregnant. I have a medical problem. But, I can adopt.” Somehow, it made sense to say I was in the same boat.

“You have a medical problem?” a concerned Cybil asked.

“Yes, it is impossible for me to get pregnant. But that is okay. I can adopt babies that someone else doesn’t want. And there are lots of those. Or, they can take something from my body and let a woman be pregnant for me.” I didn’t think about what I just said because I would have been on the floor laughing to hard if I had.

“Does it make you sad?”

“Yes, sometimes. But a good friend has been teaching me how to reach out to others and being part of their lives. When I do, I feel better.”

“You mean like me.”

I knew I couldn’t lie to her now. “Yes, exactly like you! Being your friend is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I love you Cybil.”

“I love you too.” She was happy.

“So who’s your friend, I would like to meet her.”

“My friend Doug is a boy. You already know his dad. His dad is Dr. Ryland.”

“You know Dr. Ryland! It isn’t because of your medical problem?” she said with a tinge of worry.

“Oh no, he lives across the street from me. Doug spends time with my family when Dr. Ryland is busy helping girls like you. We love having Doug around.”

“Do you think Doug will be your boyfriend one day?”

“No, we are more like family.” But, it got me to thinking about who Doug was to me. Maybe I should rethink it.

Her dad was half dozing in a corner, but he had heard enough to be touched.

“I am sorry to hear that you can’t have babies Samantha. I wish there was something we could do for you.”

“It’s okay Mr. Allen. It’s a blessing, not a curse. It is hadn’t been for my medical condition, I would never have met Cybil.” He never asked why I said that thankfully.

We giggled and played for the rest of the afternoon. She taught me how to do the Cat’s Cradle. She told me how she used to do it with her friends before she got sick.

Before I exited for the day, I asked, “Cybil is there anything you miss doing?”

“Singing. I love to sing.”

“I could bring my guitar and play for you!”

“You play guitar? Oh, that would be wonderful. Yes, please bring it!”

“What is your favorite song? “

“It is from Beauty and the Beast. I love that song about there being something that there wasn’t there before.”

I had a sleep over with Doug that night. We got to talking about the photo and my progress.

“How do you feel about finding out your Grandma hurt you?”

“Conflicted. I loved her. But, she didn’t want me to be a girl. And that part really hurts. That pain must have shut me down until you came along.”

“Yes, rejection can shut a child down. Especially one with Gender Identity disorder. This points exactly to where I suspected I would find you declaring your gender identity and also why you kept it a secret. I suspect that in helping Cybil, you have found a mechanism to help erase that pain and find your real identity.”

Doug got more serious. “The paths before you are your choice. Yes, you want to be a girl. But you also have the option to remain a boy. The things I have had you learn have given you a foundation to get more out of life. Playing music isn’t gender specific. Sewing isn’t either. Society assigns roles to men and women, but we can do those roles and not feel that we are violating our gender identity. Doing the dishes doesn’t make me want to put on a dress. Changing a tire doesn’t have to make me feel like a man either. Biology plays a role in that as a man, I will have greater strength to change a tire. But, I have here a copy of an interview with Wendy Carlos that I think may give you lots of insight as to how you feel. Read it and tell me what you think.”

It took about ten minutes. But I saw myself in her story. “Thank you Doug. This helps. Based on her success, the future really looks good for me. And I can see that I am not alone in my pain too.”

“Yes it does. It was her story that told me much of what I needed to do to help you. Some cases I read about in journals had some change their sex and want to be playboy models. They focused on the external. When they miss the mark, they fall apart and get just as depressed as before. Often times worse off than before. I want better for you. I like Wendy’s story because she just wanted to be herself, warts and all. That is because her self-worth wasn’t dependent on her ability to be just female, but on her craft and abilities as a musician as well. So, that is another reason I have had you working on becoming aware of your capacity to do things well, like sewing, cooking, ice skating, and school.”

The next day I got dressed as Samantha at Doug’s. I went home and loaded up the car with the guitar and went to help Mrs. Allen. I learned the hard way to watch how to not change a boy’s diaper. Mrs. Smith just laughed saying it happens to every girl, even to her, because “Us girls are used to different plumbing than boys. We aren’t expecting a fountain when we are used to a river.” Before we left to class, I quickly changed into dry clothes. I passed along to my Mom that Mrs. Smith promised me that proofs would be there soon in the mail, but that the outfits fit perfectly and looked cute on Alice and Carol and very handsome on Brian.

I arrived nearly an hour early to class. Mom had lots to do. Sitting like a proper lady outside the school room today, I looked through sheet music we had picked up for the movie, Beauty and The Beast. I remember liking the movie and crying as a little kid with my mother and my sister. My brother thought I was nuts. I cried mostly because Mom and Jane were crying and I figured I was supposed to cry also. Now I cry because it gets to me too when I see the beast transform into the prince. And I can see myself being Belle too. Belle loves books and so do I.

I got to thinking about Wendy and how being Samantha for Cybil was freeing me to explore and find the real me. The one I want to be. She was helping me answer so many questions.

Mary showed up early again. “Hi Samantha.”

“Oh hi Mary,” I was too lost in thought to pick up on her calling me by my girl name, “you don’t happen to sing do you? Cybil wants me play songs for her on my guitar.”

“You play guitar!” Came two voices, hers, and one behind me. It was Mrs. Duncan.

Mrs. Duncan came around to the other side of the table to join Mary. They both looked at other and then me. And, again in unison they said, “Let’s hear you play!”

I pulled out my guitar from its case under the table, tuned it, and played ‘Nights in White Satin’ by Justin Hayward for them. I didn’t sing it. Funny how I can prance around like a girl without feeling embarrassed and feel awkward singing. Just more pieces to a puzzle called Samantha, I guess.

I pretend to love Rick Wakeman because of my hair. But it is Justin Hayward who has my heart. So many of his lyrics talk about how I feel. I play a song he sings called ‘Forever Autumn’ every chance I get and it is the only song I will sing because it moves me. I love the imagery of the song. Anyway, what was remarkable is that my legs stayed together as I played. I played ‘Nights in White Satin’ as a girl with no hint of boy. They applauded. I nodded my head as though I had bowed.

“You are a very talented girl … I mean boy Sam. Play us something more.” Mrs. Duncan said with pride in her student.

I thought for a moment and started to play one of my favorite pieces. Mrs. Duncan smiled as she heard the opening notes of Classical Gas. Mary had never it heard before but seemed to like the playful tune. Both of them started to sing while I played “Over the Rainbow.” I applauded them when I finished.”

“Sam, I would like to hear you sing too. Is there a song or two you like to sing?”

I began the riff for “Forever Autumn” by Jeff Wayne. I could tell they liked the tune but had never heard it before. I began to sing it and they listened astonished not only by the lyrics but that I wasn’t aware of how much the lyrics applied to my life right then.

After singing a refrain, I stopped.

“Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away...”

I stopped. Collected my thoughts. I didn’t want to sing the next lyric, so I switched to another song to cheer me up.

“Here is a song I like too,” and sang out as I started to play, “In my world, it heaven when you are close to me …”

I continued to play “In My World” by Justin Hayward and ended with the chorus …

“If you knew the changes I feel that you put me through
And you do, I see in your eyes that you really do
And it's true, it happened so fast that it must be true
In my world, it's heaven on earth when you're near”

“I like your choices for music, Sam, but I am afraid I don’t recognize those songs.” I wondered if both Mary and Mrs. Duncan were considering the choices I made in music because they both seemed lost in thought. Mrs. Duncan continued, “But they are still very nice. You aren’t too bad a singer either Sam. Too bad you will lose that nice alto voice after you have after puberty. You should get some training. Maybe Mary will help you? But consider singing too when you play guitar.”

“Thank you Mrs. Duncan, that is kind of you to say. I love the songs written and song by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues. I will consider what you say about singing.” I motioned to Mary to come sit next to me. “Please, sit here next to me Mary.” I handed her the sheet music. “Please keep it visible to me while I play and you sing, okay? Perfect.” I began to play “Something That Wasn't There Before” and she began to sing beautifully to the music. One could easily hear that her voice had been trained. I would like to say I didn’t make mistakes, but I did. Mary was patient thankfully. I liked working with her. She has a tender heart like Doug’s. We tried it again and the mistakes seemed to resolve themselves. We smiled at each other feeling a sense of accomplishment.

“Oh that is lovely girls, I mean …”

“It’s okay Mrs. Duncan. It’s a complement to my acting skills. I love your singing voice Mary. Do you really think we sound that good Mrs. Duncan?”

“Oh yes! I wish I had found out weeks ago, I might have included you two in a musical sketch.”

“I would have enjoyed that.” As I put away my guitar I continued, “Please, can you come today Mary? Cybil is … “ I started to cry and choked on the words “ … off chemo and dying.” I turned back after putting the guitar on the table and broke down sobbing into my hands as the crushing reality of losing Cybil hit me. I truly loved my friend. Mary put her arms around me. “Yes, I will.” She said with tears running down her face too.

After, I finished crying. “Oh look at me! I messed up my makeup. I can’t let her know I was crying.” I had no idea of how girl like I must have sounded, but I didn’t care.

“Don’t worry Samantha, I will help you get cleaned up before we go. Cybil won’t even notice. Trust me.” She gave me a big smile and held me. There was no hint of boy in how I reacted to her embrace either. Nor did I notice she called me by my girl name right away.

“Thank you,” as I dried my tears with a Kleenex from my purse.

Before I could say anything more, Mrs. Duncan said, “I think I am going to come inside with you today Samantha. If you have to leave, you will have someone there to rescue you. Screw school policy.”

“Thank you Mrs. Duncan. I keep trying to be brave, but it is getting to me I think.”

That days performances went quickly for the class. I lost my self in them to keep my mind off the pain. Doug did a great job of directing and coordinating us. At the end of the day, I sat dressed as Samantha once more in front of a dressing room mirror. Mary had a couple of the girls from the troop working on me. I relaxed and let them work imaging that I was in a beauty parlor getting pampered. And I was too after a fashion. They washed my face and dried it. Then they applied foundation and went to work on my face. I didn’t even think about what they were doing, I just watched my face change thinking about how much I didn’t want it to turn into a man’s. I was grateful that they tweezed my eyebrows too. I guess they forgot I was a boy. Although, I didn’t care if it made me look more girlish. They combed out my brown hair and little by little the face of a young girl took shape. By the time they were done, I looked cute and like I hadn’t shed a tear. Then they parted my hair, which felt so nice, on the side giving me a nice cascade of hair on my shoulders and no hair on my forehead. A few bobby pins in my hair to keep it in place, and it was set. It started me to thinking. My hair had grown really long over the years. I wondered if it was time for a haircut. Where would I go? Maybe? I thought of something special I would like to do with my hair. I smiled at the idea. I need to talk to Doug.

I thanked and hugged each one of the girls. They wished me luck with Cybil. I hadn’t noticed until I hugged them that they had been crying as they worked on me. What I was doing for Cybil was really touching so many around me. It helped ease the pain of have to carry the burden myself. It made me feel good to be a girl. We crowded into Mrs. Duncan’s car, Doug, Mary, and I went to the hospital and prepared to give the performance of a lifetime.

I told Mary one of my ideas on the drive over. Once there, we visited her mom briefly who made the other arrangements that went with my idea. I withheld one idea wishing to talk it over with Doug.

Cybil cried out for the whole hospital to hear, “Hi Mary, it is so good to see you. This is my Dad.”

“Nice to meet you Mary, where is Samantha? Is she not coming today?” asked her dad pensively.

“Samantha is out making arrangements with the nursing station so we can go into the common area so she and I can sing with your daughter. I so appreciate being a part of Samantha’s life. She is such an angel.” Mary said.

“Yes, I am beginning to see it myself too. She has a heart of gold.” Mr. Allen said.

“You sing Mary? I sing too!” said Cybil.

I knocked on the door and came in, “I’ve set up outside. They are coming to take Cybil out in a wheelchair.” I bent down to kiss Cybil a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Nurse Janice tells me I can make a real dress for you if you would like.”

“Oh yes, please, can we have the same dress too.”

“You bet! I love that idea. Anything for my friend.”

The nurse came in and took Cybil out to the common area where our troop did the play about a month beforehand. I hadn’t realized that so much time had passed.

Mrs. Duncan had been warned not to give my real sex away to Cybil’s dad. She came up to us. “Girls, I am ready for you. Nice to see you again Cybil. I am Mrs. Duncan. I don’t know if you remember me, but I am the girl’s teacher. I brought them here the day you met Samantha. My, you are a pretty girl.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Duncan. This is my Dad, Mr. Allen.” They shook hands.

Mr. Allen said, “Thank you for coming Mrs. Duncan. You will never know how much this means to my family. Without you, Samantha wouldn’t have come into our lives.”

We all sat in a circle of chairs and one wheelchair. I began to play while Mary and Cybil sang her favorite song. I noticed a piano and said I could play it by ear and was much better at it. So we quickly rearranged things. The group started to call out tunes and I would play it as best I could. Those who could would sing all sorts of Disney tunes. Soon, all sorts of patients came to the area to join in. By the end of twenty minutes, there was laughter and joyful sounds that did my heart good. And quite a nice sized audience. Cybil was clearly enjoying the performance too. Mrs. Allen came into the area and was surprised to find her daughter there but I could tell was crying and smiling at the same time. The joy on Mr. and Mrs. Allen’s face was transparent as they looked at their girl. The gift I was giving them was beyond mere words. About that time, my Mom came in to see what was going on. I saw her and smiled at her. She came over to sit next to me on the piano bench. She even began to sing some of the tunes she knew. I could tell she was so proud of me. Even Doug showed up and enjoyed the impromptu concert.

Everyone sat and chatted away in the common area after the mini-concert. It was Mr. Allen’s first chance in a while to have adult talk. After Cybil was taken to her room, the nurse came back and said that she was out like a light.

I turned to Mrs. Allen and said, “Can we go in and take some quick dress measurements?”

So, the two of us quietly took measurements. Mrs. Allen took the measurements directly and I wrote them down. To Mrs. Allen’s surprise, I took the measuring tape and took measurements of Cybil’s head and the distance from the top of her head down to her neck.

“Why are you doing that?” she whispered to me.

“You’ll see.” I winked at her. I had an idea he wanted to share with Doug. I knew that Doug would be the kind of person to find the answer.

After a quick trip to the fabric store for supplies on the way home, we had a nice family dinner.

“Doug, can you find out something for me?” I said.

“What do you want to know?”

“How much of my hair will I have to cut to make a wig for Cybil?”

Jane, Mom, and Dad gasped. They knew how much I loved my hair.

“It’s down past my shoulder blades now. I think I can cut it and still have a lot of hair. What do you all think?”

Jane was the first, “I love the idea. Cybil will be so happy.” She began to silently cry.

Everyone was smiles and tears.

“This is really beyond your talents Sam, but I love the idea and it is the sweetest thing I have ever heard.” Said Mom. “I want to find a professional who can style your hair afterwards too while Doug will help you find someone to make the wig.”

Doug went home to talk to his dad who knew someone who could help in the area. He made a phone call that night and then crossed the street to give me the good news around 10:30. He will be here early tomorrow morning.

Doug found me all dressed up making the outfit. “Why are you in the dress already?” he whispered. I was breaking protocol by not being Sam.

“I am afraid of the next door neighbor coming to the door and finding Samuel, not Samantha. Mom and Dad know that is why I am dressed as Samantha at the moment.”

“Makes sense as long as you aren’t pushing it. The wigmaker will see what you need to do to make a wig for Cybil. But he feels from my description of your hair that you will have a lot left. I have explained that she is not expected to live long and this is an errand of mercy. He was very willing to help and drop what he was doing to come here. I could hear him crying on the other side of the phone when I told him what you were doing.”

“Bless you Doug.” I said. “Thank you for making my life worth living.” I meant it.

The next morning, Doug ushered in the wig maker when he came. I gave Mr. Richardson, the wigmaker, the measurements I had taken off of Cybil. He measured my hair which fell to past my shoulder blades almost to the small of my back. He said he could do it by noontime and I would still look like a pretty girl after he cut mine. He then bunched it up hair into a pony tail and cut it at about where my shoulders met the bottom of my neck. I still looked like a girl, but my hair was halved. He took the hair he cut off of me and started to weave it into the skull cap he had set up on a table. I was amazed at how fast he was working. He was clearly a man possessed who knew what was at stake. Dad came in to see what I was doing. He smiled and said how proud he was that I would put others before myself. After a few hours, I would have a lovely wig.

Mom came in from an early morning visit to the salon and said, “I have an appointment for you at the salon, they know what you are doing and want to help. I got a picture here for the wig maker of how they are going to make you look so as he does the wig, your hairstyle will and the wig will roughly be the same.”

It was my first trip to a salon. Over the next two hours, I was primped, pampered, and turned into a beautiful young lady. I walked out of the salon with Mom feeling gorgeous, except for my outfit. That was still at home.

When we got back, we found the wig maker almost done. I went upstairs and put on the dress I made the night before. I put on perfume and a few accessories my mom had given me. Two beautiful clip on ear rings later, I was almost ready. I grabbed my purse, checked it, and ran downstairs with a spring in my step.

Downstairs, Mom zipped up my dress for Cybil. I found the wig was ready. The wigmaker gave me a wig cap and briefly taught me how to put it on Cybil using a foam head he had. And then had me practice putting it on and then the wig. I hugged the wigmaker and thanked him. He was a little teary eyed. The hairstyle he did was close to that of mine. We boxed it up and put Cybil’s dress in a small garment bag. We then piled into the car and headed to the hospital. When we got there, Mr. and Mrs. Allen were waiting for us. Mom must have contacted the hospital. I came in the room and said, “Hello Cybil.” She opened her eyes and said, “Hi best friend.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What did you do to your hair? I loved your long hair. But it looks very nice. And your nails, they are so pretty. I love your dress too.”

The nurse came in and opened the blinds.

“I have made a dress for you just like the one I am wearing, but I have a surprise first. Please sit up in bed and close your eyes.”

I put the wig cap on Cybil’s head as I had been taught. I looked down and saw that Mrs. Allen had already done Cybil’s nails, so she at least must have been tipped off. By whom I wondered? Then I pulled the wig out of the box and put it on Cybil and adjusted it as Mr. Richardson had shown me. Then I held a large mirror in front of Cybil.

“Open your eyes Cybil and look into the mirror.” I said.

Cybil opened her eyes. They grew wide as saucers as she saw she had hair. But not just any hair. It was like “Samantha’s hair.”

She looked up at me and then back at the mirror. “We look like sisters!”

“I would love to be your sister!” I kissed her on the cheek.”

Mr. Allen looked at me, “Is that your hair in the wig?” I nodded yes. I have never seen a man’s man cry before, but he started to cry. Mrs. Allen looked at him and smiled. She had kept the secret between us girls. He sat back down so his little girl didn’t see him cry. He looked at me and smiled the most genuine smile I had seen all day. He mouthed the words ‘Thank you.’ I beamed a smile back to him and mouthed the words ‘You’re Welcome.’

“Would you like to put on your dress now?” I said to Cybil.

“Oh yes!”

“Well, you know, I need a surprise too. So, your mom and the nurse are going to put you in the dress I made for us that is like the one I am wearing. And when they are done, you will come out to the common area where I will enjoy the surprise of seeing you in it for the first time. And then we will have something to eat like we were going out on the town. Okay?”

“Oh, yes. I am going to look pretty just like you Samantha!” I blushed and smiled.

“She’s right Samantha. Cute and pretty.” said Mr. Allen.

I walked out of the room basking in the glow of them thinking I was pretty. I would have loved to dress Cybil myself, but Mrs. Allen would appropriately see it as wrong. I made my way to where Mr. Allen, her Mom, Jane, and Doug were sitting. I was happy to see my Dad arrive a few minutes later too. He must have driven over after we had left. I gave him a hug and he kissed his little princess. He was so proud of me. I could feel it. “I love my pretty and special girl.” Dad said.

After a few minutes that seemed like an hour. Mrs. Allen wheeled Cybil out in her new dress and wig. I oohed and awed over how pretty she looked and said what a nice surprise to see her in the same dress as I had on. She giggled and laughed like we were girlfriends going out on the town who had just run into each other out on the town. Cybil looked so beautiful and everyone came over to complement her on her hair and dress. She felt like a million bucks.

We gathered at a table they had set up for us and Cybil was wheeled up to it. We had a nice lunch. And we talked about small stuff. Cybil felt so important sitting next to me. So did I.

She looked up at me and said, “I like us looking like sisters. You are the best sister I ever had.”

I leaned over and kissed my sister on the cheek. “I love being your sister Cybil!”

At the end, I said, “Cybil, would you like visit a special place in the hospital that I bet you would love to see?”

“What is that?”

“The baby nursery.”

“Oh yes, thank you. I would love to see it.”

All of us wheeled the young girl down to the window of the nursery. They had a ramp there set up so her chair was as tall as the bottom of the window. Cybil looked into the nursery and saw the babies in their incubators. She spent a pleasant unrushed time staring at all the babies commenting on all the babies and how small they looked.

After a while giving her a chance to soak it in, I told her, “I have another special surprise for you Cybil, come with us.”

Then we went down a corridor and Nurse Janice directed us into a room with a woman looking at a black and white television screen and holding an object in her had hand on a pregnant woman’s belly that was glistening with a clear fluid.

“Hi Cybil. My name is Valerie, the pregnant woman said. I was told you wanted to know what it was like to be pregnant. I have a baby in my tummy and I want you to see what it looks like in there.”

Cybil was wide eyed and watched the television as the technician described to her what she was seeing.

“Can I feel your tummy Valerie?”

“Of course you can, but let the technician clean up my tummy and you can see what my tummy feels like.”

The technician cleaned up her stomach and Valerie moved into a special chair where Cybil could come up and feel her tummy.

She placed her small hands on Valerie’s big belly. “I felt the baby move Mommy! I felt the baby move! Did you feel it Valerie?”

“Yes I did. It was wonderful. I love being pregnant. I enjoy the feeling of life growing in me.”

“What are going to name your baby?”

“I am going to name her Sarah for her first name and she will inherit my last name of Taylor. But I haven’t chosen a middle name yet. Would you help me chose a middle name for my baby, Cybil?”

“Is her daddy okay with her naming the baby Valerie?” asked Mrs. Allen.

“Oh yes, he told me to tell Cybil he wants her to give the baby a good middle name.”

“Oh yes, my favorite name in the whole world is my best friend’s name, my sister’s name, Samantha. I chose Samantha!” Cybil was clearly excited and happy.

I fought back tears. Everyone did. I lost the battle for a moment. I smiled at Cybil approvingly. “Thank you Cybil.”

Valerie said, “Thank you Cybil. What a pretty name. I will name my baby will be Sarah Samantha Taylor. “

“When are you going to have your baby?”

“She is due on September 21st.”

“Oh, I hope to see her.”

“I hope you do too.”

Before we left and while Valerie and Cybil were talking, I walked over to the lady standing in the doorway watching us and said, “I am so grateful for you and Mary helping me do this. You have a wonderful daughter. And thank you very much too for all you have done too in making sure it happened.”

She said, “Mary really admires you Samantha. She says you really are a special girl. And I wouldn’t have missed this for all the tea in China.”

“I admire Mary too. She is someone I know I can trust.”

I returned to be with Cybil. As we walked back to her room, Cybil said to me, “You must be sad that you will never be able to have a baby in your tummy because of your medical condition.”

My mother looked at me with a very amused expression on her face.

“That’s okay Cybil. I have recently discovered I really love babies. I think I am going to grow up to be a baby doctor. That way I can help those who can give birth to babies have healthy babies. And then I can watch those babies grow up.”

Cybil said, “You will make a good doctor, I just know it. And those babies you are going to care for will teach you how to be a caring doctor too.”

Mrs. Allen looked at me enjoying the conversation we were having much the same way my mother was and said, “I think she is right. You have a great deal of compassion for people, particularly women. Those are qualities that will serve you well.”

A couple of weeks later, class had ended. After daily visits to Cybil and seeing her fade away, I got a knock on the door at 11:00 in the evening. It was the knock I was dreading. It was Dr. Ryland who said, “Get dressed Samantha and come with me to the hospital.”

My Mom got dressed and went with me. I dressed quickly. Mom fixed me up so I would be more than passable for Mr. Allen. But, I noticed that wasn’t hard to do. We both headed out the door with Dr. Ryland. We arrived at the hospital and I was thankful for his parking space being so close to the hospital door.

We rushed up to ICU where Cybil was. She was in terrible pain, but was trying to be strong for her parents who were at her bedside. I could see her life force ebbing away. I came in and held her hand.

“Hi Cybil. I’m here.”

She weakly said to me, “I’m sorry, I think it is my time to go. I am going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too. You are the best friend I have ever had. And I love being your sister.” I fought back tears.

“Take care of my mommy and daddy, please. They are going to miss me most of all.”

“I will.”

She looked at her mom and dad and then me and then up to the ceiling struggling to gasp out her final words. She turned to them and said, “Mommy … Daddy, I love you so much.” Her words faded at the end. Her eyes closed for the last time.

After Cybil closed her eyes, she died ten minutes later at 12:23 am, on August 10th, at the age of six years old. Seven days shy of her 7th birthday. After she passed away, before we left the hospital, her mom turned to me and said crying, “Will you and Mary sing at her funeral. There isn’t going to be very many people, but I would love you all to come. She didn’t get a chance to make …” she broke down and cried ”… many friends.”

“Yes, we will come and yes, I will ask Mary to sing while I play. I know she will say yes. Should I wear our special dress?”

“No. I want you to go out and get a really nice dress for yourself. Don’t you dare wear one you made. You need a reward for all your kindness. Pamela, will you spoil her please? Get her a special dress for the …” She had to fight back her tears. “ … funeral. I thank you for making Cybil’s dress. I want to bury her in it and I want it to be your special gift for the whole world to see when we last see her. But I want for you to know what it is like to have someone take of you like you took care of my little girl. Thank you so much Samantha Miller! You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met next to my little girl.”

“Can I put my special dress in with her before she is laid to rest.” I implored.

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

It occurred to me on the way home. Mrs. Allen treated me as a girl and didn’t ask me to be a boy.

I slept fitfully when we got home. I was numb. My mother didn’t say much to me the next morning. She hugged me and let me cry. I dressed up like Samantha as she told me. Mom then took me out to a really nice dress store. She helped me buy a really beautiful dress and nice shoes for the funeral. She bought me stockings too that matched. We cried off and on the whole time hardly talking. She wouldn’t let me do the alterations. I was to be spoiled. Afterwards, she took me to have my ears pierced and we bought a nice set of ear rings. And a new purse to go with my dress.

Then she took me to a nice place for lunch. She held me when I cried. “Thank you Mommy. I love you!”

“I love you too, Honey! Just let it out.” I fell into her embrace and cried.

“Do you think I will look beautiful in the new dress for Cybil?”

“Oh yes, Samantha! You are a very beautiful girl, inside and out.”

Cybil’s funeral was the next Saturday. Before the funeral, my mom took me to the beauty salon and they made me look very nice. They did my nails. And then my makeup. I felt so very pretty. We arrived at her church where they had a piano waiting for me. Mary was there too.

“You look lovely Samantha!” Mary said with a smile.

“Thank you Mary. I love your dress too. You are gorgeous in that color. I love your fashion sense and have admired it since the first time we met. I wish I had it.” She was about to say ‘thank you for the complement’ and then looked at me for a second as if she wanted to ask me something else instead.

It was an open casket service. Cybil looked beautiful laid out in her coffin. She was in the dress I made for her and had the wig on with my hair. She was made up and had ear rings and lipstick on. They used mascara on her and her eyes were made up too. Still, I was sad seeing them closed. She held a red rose in her hands in honor of Belle. I went up and kissed her on the forehead for the last time. She felt ice cold. I whispered to her, “I love being your sister.”

As I walked away from her, I gave the funeral director my version of the dress neatly folded to be buried with her. In the pocket of the dress, I place a note that said, “To Cybil, My forever best girlfriend. I will miss you. All my Love, your sister, Samantha.”

Even though she had a very short life, she did have friends there from her church, her family, and her neighbors. They numbered about seventy. There were others including Nurse Janice. Jane came too. The numbers swelled when Mrs. Duncan and the whole Shakespearian class came into the funeral including Doug. I was glad the class had ended. I didn’t think I could stand not being dressed as Samantha in it. In all, over one hundred people attended the funeral. I could tell that the Allens were surprised by the turnout. It made them feel better. The minister was surprised that so many people came. He gave a fitting eulogy for such a short life. A huge picture of her smiling in the dress I made with my hair was there including a smaller group photo of me and the rest of us at lunch in the common area.

I played the piano, which thankfully was in tune, and Mary sang Cybil’s favorite song from Beauty and the Beast. And then I played Amazing Grace which Mary sang beautifully. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when she finished Amazing Grace.

I then got up and went to a chair next to a stand next to a stand with my guitar. I picked up the guitar.

The song I was to sing would be the hardest one I ever had to sing. But, I needed to sing it to Cybil for everyone to hear. I positioned my chair so I was facing towards her in her casket but still open to the people. I found the courage in Samantha to share my heart for her. I began to sing “Remember Me, my friend” by Justin Hayward and John Lodge.

“You don't need to ask me
If I'll be your friend, I am, I am
You don't need to ask me
If I'm sure my friend, I am…”

I finished. I put my guitar in its place, and then began to sob. My Dad came up and guided me back to my seat. I held onto him for dear life for fear I would collapse. He led to my Mom and buried my face in her shoulder.

The minister got up and said some prayers. It gave me time to collect myself. Then, he announced that her friends and family will be sharing some stories about Cybil.

Valerie got up and shared her story about Cybil, her baby, and then said she was going to be proud to name her child Sarah Samantha Taylor because Cybil chose the name. Mary got up and shared about doing make up with Cybil and singing with her.

I got up next and spoke from my heart to everyone and the Allens. “Cybil greatly enriched my life. When I first met her, I knew she was someone special. And when the chance to become her friend came up, I grabbed it. My parents were worried because I got badly depressed after my grandfather passed away. But Cybil gave me a gift. She taught me to face death and enjoy every day for what it can give you. To hold onto hope even when it seems fleeting. And, in the midst of trials, to think of those who love us first. Her last words were ones of concern for her parents. I am and always will be praying for you and be there for you as much as a little girl can be for two of the nicest, kindest, and most wonderful parents I have seen in my short life. Cybil was truly blessed to have had you as parents Mr. and Mrs. Allen. She will never be forgotten by me or those whose lives whom she has touched. Thank you and Bless you.”

Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Allen got up and thanked everyone for coming. They turned to me and Mary and said, “And a big thank you to two angels who made the last few months of my daughter’s life worth living. We love you so very much for what you did for her and for us. You have given us so many happy memories of her last days. She wasn’t alone thanks to you.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house after those words. I know mine weren’t.

We all went to the cemetery. She was buried in the kid’s section and we could see fresh flowers on so many graves. I wondered if the Allens would be visiting her for years to come too. I just couldn’t imagine losing a child so young.

I was so numb; I could hardly remember the reception. I know Mary held me a few times as I sobbed. She knew I was a boy, but once again she held me like a girlfriend. I sobbed like the girl I was. I do remember that Tom Hinks came up to me. Instead of teasing me, he walked over and hugged me.

“Thanks for teaching me about the value of friendship Samantha.” He held me for a moment and slowly rubbed my back with a tender stroke when Mr. Allen walked up and thanked him for coming. He went on to thank the other students for coming. His holding me cut through the fog of my grief. I realized that it was something I wanted to experience again. I became aware of a longing to be in a boys arm that was growing somewhere in the back of my mind.

After the reception, on the drive home, Mom said, “Because of you, Samantha, Cybil will not be forgotten.” She hugged me as we went inside. I stayed dressed as Samantha on the couch feeling lost. I sat with my hands in my lap, legs closed, and a box of Kleenex at my side. Mrs. Smith came over with her babies plus some take out Chinese and we all cried and laughed. Mrs. Smith may talk too much, but the take out and her company was what was we needed. She showed us the photo proofs of her babies and how beautiful the girls were and how handsome Brian was in their outfits. It made me feel so good in the midst of that pain to know there were other lives I could touch as Samantha.

Saying goodbye to Cybil was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my short life. Even harder than saying goodbye to Grandpa or telling Doug my dark secret. But, even with all the pain, I felt that I had tackled a demon that vexed me. In the midst of it all, I found courage as Samantha I never had as Samuel. And I knew that I knew that my journey to become Samantha a certitude and worth it.

Mrs. Allen never told her husband the truth about me. She called me before school started to tell me she was pregnant. And then, sometime in December she called again to tell me that it was going to be a girl. And they were going to name her Samantha Mary Allen.

So, now I will have two babies named after me and I am just starting life.

The next Saturday, just before the start of seventh grade, when Samantha was with Doug for a day, we had a discussion about Cybil and how I was feeling. Then we talked about where we needed to take this.
“Samantha,” Doug said, “I think we need to talk about when you start Hormone Replacement Therapy and when you are going to get Sex Reassignment Surgery.”
I smiled and said, “Doug, do you really think I am ready? Tell me what I have to do and I will do it. I have to be Samantha full time. It really hurts not to be her.”

“Yes I do think you are ready. Normal medical protocol is for you to wear women’s clothes and live every day for a year before an okay is given, but we can’t do that exactly. The way you carried yourself this summer plus last summer and ignored all the taunts of the boys in the troop plus at school and how you acted with Cybil shows me that you can handle being a girl 24/7 365 days of the year. Plus, the experiences you had as Jackie Miller prove to me that you are ready.”

Doug’s sense of humor kicked in though, “My only concern is that I am worried about a leap year though.”

I giggled. “I’m not sure how I would handle Sadie Hawkins Day either.”

“Yup,” Doug chortled, “it could tank your transition. But seriously. This next stage is going to be very crucial. I have a means of allowing you to get SRS surgery when you are fifteen during the summer, for it to be paid for, and for your parents to accept what has happened to you believing it to have been an accidental transformation.”

“But, to go down this road, I need you to think about it and decide whether you will be a boy from here on out or a girl.”

Doug went on to say, “Mrs. Smith is out of town for a week. So, starting tomorrow, I want you to not dress up as a girl. Dress neutral. Neither boy or girl. I want you to go over a question every day and discuss them with me each night during a sleep over. And I want you to carefully consider what your future will be like as Samuel or Samantha.”

Doug held me and said, “Next Saturday, you will be allowed to be Samantha again, and we will sit down and decide together what is best for you. Okay?”

True to his word, every day, I would sit down and write an essay to answer the question Doug posed for the day, go over and talk to him, and then go to bed.

On day one, he asked the question, “What does it mean to be a boy?” Day two was “What does it mean to me to lose having the ability to father children?” Day three was “Are you willing to lose your family and friends by becoming a girl?” Day four was “What does it mean to be a girl?” And the final question was, “How do I feel about becoming dependent on hormones for the rest of my life and not being able to have children unless I adopt?”

Saturday came Doug and I sat down. Doug said to me that he was happy with my answers. He said that I knew what I was getting myself into and what I would be facing for the rest of my life.

“There will be those who don’t accept you. There may be lonely days. But it is clear to me that you aren’t the girl anymore who came downstairs to reveal to me who she was. You have grown and matured beyond your gender identity into a mature woman inside. It is time to make it a reality on the outside.”
These were astonishing words of wisdom from a thirteen-year-old boy whom I could tell was entering puberty. His face was already filled with acne.

Doug looked me in the eye, smiled, and said, “If I do this right. No, if we do this right your mom and dad will accept you. Your family will accept you. And your friends at school will accept you.”

I was eleven. According to his timeline, Doug was going to have me be a girl on the outside in three years. And I had no idea how he was going to do it. But I felt confident, it will happen.

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner (revised March 2017)