Chapters 7-9 of 9

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Monica Rose
Special thanks to Barbie Lee and Amanda Lynn.

 

 

 

7. Attending secret spy school. Emergency crash-test. Halloween and sauerkraut.

October started with the return of summer. Not real summer but Indian summer this time. Turning back to a summer wardrobe and more time in the open air. It was a sign of really cold and rainy autumn coming next. It was the last time to prepare for winter and all possible cold weather-related obstructions. Cleo had reminded me to buy warm things for Minde and me.

I had gathered some home remedies like unprocessed honey, aloe tree, raspberry preserve, and garlic. I could get everything when needed in the store or the Farmer's market. But I preferred to have it at hand. To be sure I had everything I possibly would need in winter. I had made a list in my recipe notebook still at home. My mom approved it. That’s Minde’s mom and my grandmother but you understand what I mean. In the same recipe book, I had some basic mom’s recipes. I wasn’t that good in the kitchen. I knew very basic things. Anything else I did according to the recipe book.

Our neighbor, Melanie, had introduced me to local American cuisine and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t say about more sophisticated meals but neither bacon nor burgers were on my tasty list. For breakfast, I served oatmeal or buckwheat porridge instead of bacon, sausages, pancakes, and eggs. All those mentioned above I did sometimes too but separately. For school lunch, I preferred a homemade meal. It usually was some kind of salad or cooked onions with ketchup.

One day Minde, with Stan, got home when I was slicing onions for cooking.

“What will you do with such monstrous amount?” Stan asked.

“It’s not so much. It shrinks while cooking. It tastes good with ketchup. When cold it tastes even better. You’ll see. I take it to the school.”

“Is it your Home Economic homework?”

“No, it’s my lunch. I don’t like school food.”

“Yeah, in public schools, food is never good, but in your school…” Stan wondered. “Does it taste bad?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to it.” I replied. “You mentioned public school… Isn’t my school public?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Is it a secret spy school?”

“Why secret? Ah, you mean not public then… No, it’s not a public but private school.”

“If it’s private then Minde has to pay for it?”

“Not this way,” Stan tried to explain. “It was incorporated in Minde’s contract. Like the house, your education, health insurance, Minde’s salary, and settlement expenses.”

I tried to visualize what Stan had said.

“Why do we need health insurance?” I was curious about it. I knew there was this kind of insurance. At home, it served as payment for injury in addition to paid inability leave.

“To pay the doctor.”

“Why? Doesn’t the government pay them?”

“No. Your insurance pays. If you have no insurance then you pay.”

Hm-m…

 

 

After the month in the school, one thing was resolved at last. I didn’t pass cheerleader tryouts. I was good at gymnastics. But boys’ gymnastics are more static while girls do it dynamically. I could do wide and long splits but not in the jump. Maybe later but not now. I continued gym classes with other girls and it was much more fun.

I had no practice after school and eventually I had more time for myself. I needed more time in the florist shop. My job was to prepare pot plants for winter sleep. Some plants don’t like to spend winter in the greenhouse. They need the rest like people.

Another important thing I had to do was to wash the windows. It would be stupid to wash them in winter. The next time the weather will be good maybe only in April. And it was very wise of me to do it now. The same day I finished cleaning windows, disaster struck.

The first snow fell. It wasn’t much but it was October and nobody expected it. Minde’s car didn’t start up when he tried to go home. Stan’s car started but his wheels still had summer rubber. They both ended in the ditch. They were not injured. Stan’s car gently slid to the side ditch and they waited here almost three hours to be rescued. There was mayhem on the roads and they weren’t the only ones in distress.

When Stan brought Minde home he wanted a cup of tea and was about to leave. I didn’t let him go. They both were exhausted. They looked more like icicles rather than humans. I prepared bubble baths for them on the second floor and in the guests’ bathroom. When they were washing cold from their bodies, I made a bed for Stan in the guests’ bedroom.

They both were in their beds. I served them mugs with hot sweet raspberry tea. To every mug, I added two shots of warmed-up rum. They were asleep instantly.

I left the door of their rooms open and kept vigil in the living room. Meanwhile, I was reading magazines I’d bought at Claude Mom’s yard sale. At one in the morning, Minde started to stir. I found him soaked in sweat. He changed into a new pajama set and I changed bedclothes. The same I repeated with Stan half an hour later. Now it was time for me to go to bed.

The next morning sun was shining again. The temperature was fifty-five and rising and there was no trace of the snow. I called the school and said I had a family emergency. They called back immediately and wanted to speak with Minde. I replied he will call back when available.

Minde and Stan woke up at ten. As they were refreshing themselves, I changed their bedclothes again and prepared them sweet raspberry tea. This time without rum. Minde called the school office and Stan called the lab. I ushered them to bed and they fell asleep.

I expected them to wake up at one or two. I had almost three hours. I went to Melanie and fortunately found her at home. She drove me to the Farmers’ Marked where I got a chicken. You can get chicken in the grocery store. But in the store, they are kinda not very real. They taste good when seasoned but… Well, they are white, like pale white. What I got was yellow. Because schmaltz is yellow, you know…

On our way back we stopped at the pharmacy and I got Aspirin. I wasn’t sure I would need it but just in case I did.

At eleven I was at home and started the brew. First, I separated the meat from bones and skin. The meat I saved for later. Bones and skins were what I needed. Two uncut carrots and two uncut onion bulbs, some bay leaves, and a pinch of black pepper and salt. When it came to a boiling point I turned fire to the most low level. A dark scum appeared and I removed it carefully.

I had time to start laundry. Stan and Minde were wearing the last pairs of clean pajamas and I had no clean bedclothes left.

They woke up at two-thirty. I insisted that they take a shower. I changed bedclothes and gave them freshly washed and pressed pajamas. Then they had a mug of hot stew each, then another mug, and moved to the living room to watch some TV.

I made chicken cutlets from the remaining meat with mashed potatoes. We had dinner at six. Then another three hours watching TV and I sent them to bed after serving a mug of sweet raspberry tea with one shot of rum. This time they didn’t wake up during the night.

The next morning, they woke up without an alarm clock and left for the lab after breakfast. I guess I’ve passed the emergency crash test.

 

 

The next thing was Halloween. Nobody explained to me what it was and why they all were so happy. I understood that little kids got a lot of sweets. And I mean a huge amount of something unhealthy that moms usually hold under the lock. Melanie had warned me to keep some sweets at home. To treat kids if and when they will come to our home. All kids I knew were meandering through the neighborhood from one house to another hunting for sweets.

Most homes were decorated. I helped to decorate the florist shop. I did a pumpkin lantern and put a tea candle in it. Good, it was kept outside. It smelled so bad. The same pumpkin I made and placed at our home. Maybe our house wasn’t decorated so much as others on our street. There were some without any decoration. I assumed my decoration was enough for someone who didn’t know what was going on.

That evening I could live at the entrance door. Almost every five minutes there was a knock at the door with kids asking for trick or treat. There were kids from school I did know. A lot of younger kids were coming. Some of them had the company of older ones. Others were alone.

Some time around nine, the stream of kids stopped. Minde and Stan were celebrating with their friends who knows where. They didn’t say where and Minde didn’t tell me when he would be home. I planned to read a little and go to bed.

Not this time.

I saw a car trying to get into our driveway. It succeeded on the third attempt. Anyway, it was parked diagonally. Then two bodies fell out of the car.

Those two were Minde and Stan. Minde was drunk as a fiddler. Stan was a little better. He had to drive cause he couldn’t walk.

Stan said something but I didn’t understand. After the fifth try, I found out at last that Stan drove Minde home. Otherwise, Minde would get in trouble.

They both were in trouble now. That trouble was me.

One and a half years ago, I was visiting my cousins. It was a farm in the northern rural part of the country. There I witnessed for the first time in my life a drunk man coming home. I was two years younger then and it wasn’t my family. It was an uncle who was drunk as a lord and it was the third time I had seen him. Now I had the very same situation here at our home and was about to deal with it. The same way my aunt had dealt.

I ordered them to undress and get into the same double-size bed in the guests’ bedroom. I didn’t want any of them climbing the stair when they barely managed to stand square.

They didn’t protest. On the other hand, they didn’t manage to get out of their clothes without falling. That didn’t mean they were like mannequins. They were twirling trying to keep themselves upright. And they both were trying to say something very important non-stop.

How I hate that drunken slur!

I had them in bed at last. They prattled something before falling asleep. It was time for me to go to bed too.

In the morning I found them still in bed. There was a mess in the kitchen and hallway. The bathroom was the worst. How could it be I didn’t hear them at night. Someone had puked and didn’t aim at the toilet. Then the same or another had stepped in that puddle and tracked the trace over all the bathroom and kitchen. At Minde’s side of the bed, there was a puddle on the floor. Bedclothes were a mess. Add to this the most terrible stench.

I was desperate and furious at the same time. It was Monday but I couldn’t leave for school. I called the school office again. And again, they called immediately back. I told them Minde will call them when he will be available.

I cleaned the kitchen, bathroom, hallway, and the floor in the guests’ bedroom. The stench lessened but was still present. I went to wake them up. They didn’t react at first. Later, they started stirring and grunting. After I had them out of bed I ushered them into the bathroom to shower and to do their business. I used the opportunity to change bedclothes and put them with their underwear into the washing machine.

I had a pail of sauerkraut from Farmers’ market. I took some and pressed a juice from it with my hands. I wasn’t as strong as my dad, sorry my grandfather, was but I managed to get two mugs of that juice. For the unaccustomed, the juice stinks. I could agree its smell was rather special. But I knew from a handful of witnesses back at home the sauerkraut juice was the first remedy for a hangover.

Minde and Stan were out of the bathroom. They looked a little more like humans. They still had a stinking breath. Good, they had changed underwear and washed the stench out from their skin and hair.

I gave them mugs with sauerkraut juice. Minde accepted his mug readily. He had maybe some practice.

Stan instead turned up his nose.

“I’ll puke again,” he said groggily the drunken slur still present in his talk.

“Drink!” I ordered without getting into an explanation.

He tried a sip of it, then another one, and then gulped it all down.

“That was good,” Stan admitted. “May I have more?”

“Later,” I promised. “Call the lab now and say you’ll not come today.”

“Why not? We are ready to go, aren’t we Minde?” he turned to Minde.

“You will NOT! Don’t complain, especially when you are guilty and you know it,” I objected. “Your breath stinks of the alcohol, that’s coursing your veins, there is still not enough blood.”

“Ok, let it be as you say,” Stan said.

Then I turned to Minde, “Call my school and say them we have a routine family emergency.”

“Huh? Ah… Ok.”

Then he called the school. His speech wasn’t easy to perceive. He talked with a terrible accent. The slur could be written off to the fact English wasn’t his native language. I hoped school staff didn’t understand he was drunk.

 

 

8. Hangover. Nothing to wear. I was thinking. Thanksgiving.

The next few days went like a blur. My mood was down and I could call it my very first hangover. I wasn’t drunk ever but witnessing those two nearest to me falling so low was worse than intoxication.

I started thinking what happens if…

First of all, if they were to get in a car accident and would be lost. I would be lost too. I couldn’t take care of myself. Speaking about my bits glued down there. Without the doctor’s help, it would develop into gangrene and… Sigh…

Then I wouldn’t have the money to come back to my homeland. Even if I called mom and dad… Sorry, grandmother and grandfather, you know what I mean… So if I called them they wouldn’t come to help me cause they don’t have enough money.

Another thing to think about. Minde made me when he was unconscious drunk. Good, it all ended well. I’ve read in those magazines I’d bought at a yard sale that in America things are a little bit different. If not to say they are completely different.

Back to more pleasant things. The weather was as warm as in September. Maybe a couple of degrees colder but warm anyway. Except for that one-day snow outbreak, the autumn was warm. When the weather is good the mood isn’t depressed. The world was in brighter colors though trees were without leaves.

Minde was coming home alone now. Stan didn’t visit us often. Usually, it was once a week. So there was nothing new. Minde behaved as if nothing had happened. I didn’t want to escalate the last incident. We talked only about school and home. He usually didn’t talk about his job. Maybe I wouldn’t understand or maybe he was such a person.

“At the beginning of December, I will be going to Japan for a week with Stan,” he announced on Wednesday. “Our flight is booked on the sixth day. It will be Monday.”

“Is it a kind of vacation?” I wondered.

“No. It’s pure business. We are about to sign a contract with NEC.”

“Oh, I know, they make monitors,” I said.

“Not only. Storage solutions. And even much more.”

“So Stan and you are important persons in your lab…”

“We are technicians. The real VIP is Stan’s father. He’s already spent two months in Japan. He’ll come back home for a week and then we’ll go together.”

“Stan never said a word about his parents. Have you met them?”

“Only his dad,” Minde said. “But his mom has invited us both for Thanksgiving.”

“What giving?”

“Thanksgiving. Pure American thing to thank for what they have,” Minde tried to explain. “I don’t know really. It’s what I’ve read in the encyclopedia at work.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t start it! You are such a girl…”

“It wasn’t my idea for that matter,” I snapped back angrily. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the solution. What day it is by the way?”

“It has to be the fourth Thursday. November twenty-fifth this year.”

 

 

I needed help. I got to know that Thanksgiving was not a regular holiday. I couldn’t come to Stan’s mom just wearing jeans. I needed something special. Something that would be acceptable to my mom. Minde and Stan were the same age, I guessed. Their moms had to be of the same age too. Our mom’s age was fifty-five. I could ask Melanie, Sandra’s mom. But I didn’t trust her taste. Melanie was like Sandra – everything short and tight with a lot of skin showing.

It was Thursday, my day at the florist store. My boss, Polly, seemed to be a similar age to mom’s maybe a bit younger.

“I’m invited to Thanksgiving,” I started, “it’s my first Thanksgiving. I don’t know what to wear. Would you please give me some suggestions?”

“And who’s inviting you, sweetie?”

“That’s my father's friend’s mom.”

“I see…” she said. “I would set for something conservative, maybe a long skirt in earth tones. Add matching turtleneck and ankle boots.”

“Thank you. I’ll see what they have in the mall.”

“I don’t expect anybody will come today. Let’s go to the mall now. We’ll browse through the racks together,” Polly offered.

She locked the store and drove me in her car to the mall. I thought we’ll start looking for the skirt. But she rather guided me to the racks with sweaters. She opted for a cable knit tan-colored one. I tried it. She starred at me with her eyes squinted and then announced, “Not your color. It doesn’t match your complexion.”

I tried then chocolate brown and it was even worse. Then she found greenish-brown, what Polly called olive. I liked it and it looked good. Though there was nothing green in my complexion. My eyes are grayish brown.

The turtleneck was close-fitting but not tight. I was wearing a bra but its outline wasn’t visible through the sweater. Anyway, the padded bra was creating an illusion of my real tits.

The top wasn’t finished yet. Polly said I needed some enhancer. I didn’t know what it was. We moved to a section with scarves. No. The scarf wasn’t what I needed. Then shawls maybe? Not even a shawl. So kerchief maybe? She said maybe. I tried to help her to find what was good for but I was unsuccessful.

“Your taste is so much tomboyish that you could be mistaken for a boy,” she said.

“Then maybe I have to dress like a tomboy or even a boy and be myself?” I suggested.

“Will not work,” Polly retorted. “You would look like a girl in her brother’s clothes.”

At least I’d tried to be more boyish.

Polly’s choice was a kerchief with a kind of army camouflage pattern. Kind of. But more subtle. I had to admit it looked good.

Were we ready to buy a skirt yet? At last. I expected to go to the kids' store cause I was still below five feet.

“Kids’ are for kids,” Polly said, “you are mature enough not to be messing with lavender unicorns and little ponies.”

I didn’t complain.

We had spent already more than an hour in the mall and I expected another hour to be spent looking for a skirt. Quite unexpectedly Polly found it in less than five minutes. It was a long tiered skirt in brownish-green. The linen was with lacy trim and it was visible. It added some charm.

“It looks extremely girly,” I complained. “Can’t we find something without linen?”

“You’ll need a slip then,” Polly said.

I knew what slip was. Some super girly super lacy super silky garment. I never understood why women wore it under other clothes.

“Why?”

“Skirt’s material isn’t slippery and every move will ride it up.”

I wasn’t ready for the slip. Let it be some visible linen then.

The boots were not a problem to find because Polly knew exactly what I needed. I got light brown boots to the middle of my calf with a low heel. The heel wasn’t spiky and I managed to walk in boots without wobbling. On the sides of the boots, there was embossing. Their top was unusual.

“They are cowboy boots,” Polly explained. “They go with anything of soft leather.”

“What anything?”

“Bracelets, belt, pendants, bags.”

“Oh, I need a shoulder bag cause the skirt has no pockets,” I said.

“Oh, my cute tomboy… You need a purse,” Polly replied.

Purse then. Later a narrow belt of matching light brown soft leather and a set of leather bracelets.

 

 

I was thinking… No! It sounds so wrong! It sounds as if I’m not thinking usually and did it only on some special occasions. So let's say, I’m thinking constantly. This time was special thinking. So I was thinking that Thanksgiving is a day including a lot of eating. I found this in Encyclopedia.

Melanie had confirmed it. She asked if we had somewhere to spend Thanksgiving. I said we were already invited. She said wives bring some dishes to the host. So the hostess doesn’t need to make everything by herself.

I was kind of the wife of our home. No matter that I wasn’t. I was in the eyes of everyone. Eventually, I had to bring something to Stan’s mom. The question was what. I had to ask Stan. But he wasn’t coming. The weekend went by without him. I was worried. Was he ok? Maybe he had some other plans. Or was he avoiding me because of the last incident when Minde and he were drunk? Maybe I had treated him badly. Or maybe he had a girlfriend now. I didn’t know. I couldn’t ask him cause I didn’t have his number.

“Is Stan ok?” I brought myself to ask Minde after the weekend not seeing Stan.

“Why he is. Why are you asking?”

“I haven’t seen him in more than a week.”

“My car is at last repaired and I don’t need a ride,” Minde replied.

“I have some questions.”

“’Bout what?”

“About Thanksgiving. Do I need to bring something with me? Like cake or something?”

“I guess no, but I’ll ask.”

Minde was always short-spoken with me. It didn’t seem he was angry or something. I was worried more about Stan distancing from us. Or maybe just me.

The next day Minde delivered the message from Stan don’t worry about anything.

 

 

I was working now two days a week at Polly’s place. Almost all the potted plants were arranged for winter sleep in the garage and the basement. The main job was various flower compositions for this and that. Like funerals and weddings or more simple but more frequent flower bouquets.

Then it dawned to me that I could bring flowers to Stan’s mom. All women like flowers.

“Polly, would it be ok to bring flowers for Thanksgiving?” I asked my boss.

“If you don’t bring some food… Or do you?”

“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I’ve asked if I have to bring something and the answer’s not to worry about anything. I feel sorta empty-handed bringing nothing with us.”

“Roses are too much ceremonial. My choice would be gerberas daisies. They stand well and they look good. I guess your friend’s mother will be glad to get such a bouquet.”

“And his father?” I suddenly thought that flowers go for mom. Stan’s dad remains without our attention.

“I would be opting for some liquor,” Polly said.

“What would be good?”

“Scotch, Amaretto, Cognac…”

Cognac was the only word I knew. I knew that it was considered exquisite. But nobody will sell it to me. I’d tried to buy rum and didn’t get it.

“Would you be so kind to buy me good cognac, maybe in a gift box?”

“And your father?” Polly wondered.

“Sigh… My father is the real mad scientist. I will be happy for him not to be home late from his lab on Thursday.”

“Be warned that cognac is something expensive.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve bought black matured rum,” I replied.

“Rum? What do you need rum for?”

“To add to hot raspberry tea,” I said but I saw Polly didn’t understand anyway. “It’s a remedy against cold and flu.”

“Really? Does it work?”

“Yes, sure it does. I’ve healed my father three weeks ago.”

“Oh… Yes, I remember. You skipped a day then.”

 

 

Thursday came. I went through Minde’s clothes and underwear and socks. Once I had caught him wearing holey socks. Another time it was his shirt with buttons torn off.

“I don’t button them up,” he excused.

This time I double-checked everything. The socks and underwear were new. Pants pressed, shirt and coat with all buttons, shoes clean and not smelly.

Minde called a cab and we left before dark. Forty minutes later we were at our destination.

“Shit…” Minde muttered under his nose.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve left my wallet at home. I don’t have money.”

“Take this,” I handed him my wallet from my purse. “Don’t forget to tip the driver.”

As we exited the car, he handed the wallet back to me. I gave him the cognac in a cardboard box.

The door opened before we knocked at it. We were ushered inside. Then usual mayhem followed. Hugs, handshakes, compliments, introductions. Stan was here too and at his side was a young woman.

“Meet my sister Shelby,” Stan introduced us. Shelby was one of those women who were more beautiful than others. I didn’t know how they managed to do it but they just managed to be such.

“I was afraid Minde, that you would be late or you would forget something,” Stan’s father Malcolm said. “But I was wrong. Who could guess – Coeur de Cognac! You are so thoughtful indeed.”

“I have to admit it’s all my daughter’s deed,” Minde replied stressing the word daughter.

I felt my cheeks burn. Adults chuckled at my confusion.

Then there was the dinner part. After the grace, various dishes were served. Some were edible some not very. Maybe those dishes were tasty but I wasn’t used to eating American food. I was stuffed full. Then the turkey was served and I had to find some spare space in my stomach for it.

After turkey, there was a short break. Men went to another room leaving the workspace for us women. I wasn’t a great help. Just collecting dirty plates and putting them into a dishwasher. Then Shelby and I set the table for desserts.

There was a short while after the table was set and before men were back. I took the time to look around. A lot of family pictures were on all walls. I counted four kids in one. Most pictures were of kids growing up. I recognized Stan on some of them. Another boy looked somewhat familiar but I couldn’t be sure. There was Shelby and another boy, the oldest one of the four.

“We’ll go through family albums after the dinner,” Stan’s mom offered. “Would you like to see the photos, honey?”

“Oh… Yes, Madame, please.” I knew Americans used ma’am but it wasn’t enough reverent for my liking.

“Call me Debbie dear,” Stan’s mom asked.

So we went through family albums. Not all. Only two this time. I got to know Stanley was one of three boys.

Another boy who looked familiar was the older Stan’s brother Graham. He was now the leading abdominal surgeon in the Maternity hospital in Providence. That was the same doctor who messed with my bits. Did they all know I was really a boy? If they knew they didn’t show.

Shelby was the only girl. She was younger than Stan and she was single. Stan’s mom sighed many times about it. The oldest of all the kids was Kieran and he lived with his family in Boston. He was a professor at MIT. Whatever it was.

 

 

9. Uncertainties. Sweet sixteen and consequences.

Thanksgiving with Stan’s parents was kind of a milestone in my life. Not only my life in America. My whole life.

I was a boy masquerading as a girl before. I hated everything girly – bra, pantyhose, skirt. This time I liked what I was wearing. Even though it was a skirt and pantyhose and bra. I liked it when I was complimented. By everyone. Even by the cab driver.

I needed to talk to somebody. Anybody. Minde… No, not Minde. We were much closer when I thought he was my brother. He was my father. I probably had some expectations. But Minde was the same. He never was caring. Yes, he was shy. But he was egocentric too. I had tried to talk to him. It was the same as talking to the fridge.

I wanted to talk with mom. That’s with Minde’s mom. But she was like MY mom. But she was so far away. We could talk by phone. But there was a time difference and there was a price high enough even for us. It always ended in a couple of minutes saying just the most basic things.

Stan. He was doing so much already for Minde and me. He was the only one who knew and cared.

Mom was asking me to be the best girl possible. It didn't mean I had to be the best anti-boy. I had to be the best person. That included not complaining too much, not making waves. The same I wasn’t supposed to do as a boy.

How to make others believe I was really a boy not complaining and doing everything I was expected to do?

The only difference at school was the home economics classinstead of the shop class. I liked what I learned. It was useful. How to patch, sew, repair, crochet. I had everything five years ago. This time it was more in-depth learning and practice and some projects to do.

Some girls complained about bras and pantyhose. I wouldn’t stand out as somebody special complaining about them. I started liking them now the way I was wearing them for Thanksgiving though I still hated school uniforms.

Was I turning gay?

 

 

Minde and Stan went to Japan with Stan’s father Malcolm. They were about to sign a contract with NEC. Which was several million dollars worth. Then Minde would be able to pay his debt for the house and my tuition to Kingstown Labs.

They said they wouldbe back two days before Christmas. I was going to be left alone for sixteen days.

I was alone at home. There was still Melanie and Sandra. And my friends at school. So I wasn’t so really alone.

I was busy all these days. Home, the presents, Christmas tree, decorations.

The 23rd of December came and I was still alone. I thought maybe the plane was delayed or something. The next day I was still alone.

It was Christmas Eve. A very important day. Traditionally it was even more important than Christmas. Christmas Eve dinner was very special. I made everything and was waiting at the table. I had set for four. Minde, Stan, me and someone who might come. It was a part of tradition to have one addition place at table ready.

The tree was decorated and presents were under the tree. The house was decorated. Not so much like some houses in the neighborhood but it looked festively.

I waited for them and they didn't show. Finally, it was midnight.

Then I went to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I thought of all possible scenarios of what could happen. If there was some accident it should be on news.

I went downstairs back to the living room and turned the TV on. There were only some old movies, concerts, or shows. No news. At last, there was some news but nothing special happened – no disaster, no accident, no blizzard or something.

Minde was back on the third day after Christmas. He came home with Stan. They behaved as if nothing was wrong with them coming back almost a week later than planned.

 

 

I was angry. No, I was furious. I was tempted to cry out loud at them. But I didn’t want to demean myself. Or look like a drama queen.

My birthday was getting close. It’s on Sylvester day, but they just called it New Years Eve here. Only mom and dad remembered it was my birthday. Minde and friends never. Such a day. Everyone was busy prepping for the New Year. I never blamed them.

This year, Stan remembered and he offered to celebrate it a day before. I was okay not doing it. But he said the sixteenth birthday was crucial. It was called Sweet Sixteen. Girls were allowed to date afterward. Like it was of use for me.

I was setting the table and Stan was helping. Minde was out to buy some wine.

“You could have senta telegram at least,” I started. “I was fearful something bad had happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan wondered.

“About your coming home one week later,” I said calmly.

“Didn’t Minde call you?”

“Never.”

“I talked with my mom every day and Minde had assured me he too was calling you every day.”

“He never called,” I repeated.

“Shit…”

“And Stan, don’t say anything to Minde,” I asked.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to make a scene. And anyway, he wouldn’t understand. Minde is just like that.”

“Yeah… I’ve noticed, Minde doesn’t like to change,” Stan agreed with me.

 

 

I was sixteen now officially. I could drive the car. I needed a license, but it was a possibility. Another great or maybe not so great thing was that I could become an emancipated young adult. That was if something happened to Minde, I wouldn’t be taken to an orphanage. I thought it was great.

Minde just shrugged when Stan presented him with this possibility. At least he wasn’t against it. Stan arranged everything. Like my lawyer, court, the date.

I didn’t understand much because the language was even worse than everyday English. I had to say, “Yes, your honor,” when the lawyer nodded or “No, your honor,” when he shook his head.

I got my very own plastic card where some emergency money was deposited. I could have another card for everyday use, but I preferred cash.

All this my becoming independent thing coincided with another announcement of Minde’s leaving. This time he, Stan, and Stan’s father, Malcolm, went to Houston. That’s in America. Not near but in America anyway. I thought I could call them myself if something happened.

“You can’t,” Stan refuted my idea of calling them. “It’s a military place where we are going. Those people are kinda paranoid about security. But you’ll be sure we’ll be okay for the four weeks we will be gone. No worries this time.”

Who was I to complain? No worries, then no worries. Another four weeks at home alone. Not the first time. Not worrying about Minde, the time will pass more pleasantly. Probably. I hoped.

 

 

It was March. The weather was warmer and warmer every day. The spring here came earlier than in my hometown. Before Minde and Stan left, I had another visit to Stan’s brother. He’s thedoctor in Providence. And he managed my boy bits to look more like of agirl.

“Good thing that it’s not a surgery I perform here,” Graham, the doc, sighed, “or otherwise I’d need your father here.”

“Not anymore,” Stan said, “she’s an emancipated youth now.”

“She?... Tellme again why do you want to be a girl?” the doc asked.

“I don’t want,” I replied, “I am.”

“Hmm…”

“Believe me,” Stan offered, “she is.”

As if it was my choice.

 

 

At school, other tryouts for cheerleaders and pep squads were arranged. The teachers said it was an evaluation. They wanted to know which girls pass.

There were four of us. We were evaluated in September but didn’t pass. The same routine again. Jump, toe touch, high kick, split. And attitude. By this, they meant how the butt and chest were wiggled. I couldn’t force myself to do this. Everyone said I was a tomboy.

I didn’t pass. I wasn’t disappointed. On the contrary, I was happy I had more free time. I needed it in theflorist shop. Spring was coming. My boss Polly and I had a job to do. Like planting flowers in the flowerbeds in the backyard and at the driveway.

I was planting flowers from their pots into flowerbeds when some discomfort in my groin started. It was first just like discomfort. It didn’t feel as painful.

I washed thoroughly with a stream of hot water. If there was some dirt, I had removed it. But the discomfort didn’t go away.

I remembered I felt something during tryouts a few days ago when I plopped on the floor performing the split. It felt then like some sprain. But it always was some tension doing splits.

The discomfort continued to the next day. It wasn’t a great deal of pain, just an annoying inconvenience.

The day passed with that inconvenience not getting better or worse. Then when I was sitting in class, I felt a sudden twinge in my groin. The pain subsided but I felt a twinge again and it was much stronger.

I probably winced visibly. The teacher noticed me behaving funny and sent me to the nurse.

The nurse had my panties pulled down and… Yes, there was blood. It shouldn't have been there. The nurse didn’t know this though. She gave me a pad and Midol. Midol didn’t help much. Or it was too early for a result. I was gasping in pain with every twinge.

The nurse accompanied me to the principal’s office.

“The girl has an excruciating period,” she said to VP pointing at me.

“I’ll call her parents,” VP offered while turning to look through the files.

“There is nobody to call,” I said, “my father is in Houston for a month.”

“And where is your mommy?” she inquired.

“I have no mother.”

“I can’t let you go by foot.”

“Call a cab. I’ll pay.”

She made a call. Meanwhile, my friend Sean had brought my backpack from the classroom.

The trip home took less than ten minutes. That compared to thirty minutes by bus. The cab driver gave me his card. He said it would be cheaper to call direct and not through the dispatch service.

At home, the pain subsided and the twinges didn’t come back. I guess I dozed on the couch in the living room.

I woke up because the pain was back. Not the same pain. This time it was tearing me in parts. Like there was a knife stabbed in my groin and the knife was being twisted.

There was no way I could live with the pain. I needed a doctor. Urgently ! But it had to be Stan’s brother, Graham. I assumed any other doctor might cause a handful of problems for Stan and Minde.

I didn’t know how to reach him though. My doctor. I knew he was in Providence. What hospital? What address? What phone number? I had three phone numbers – Melanie’s, mom and dad’s at home, and Minde’s lab.

It was already six by the time I was ready to call. Only Minde and Stan would be there at this time of day. But they weren’t at the lab. I couldn’t call them in Houston.

How to reach Graham?

Stan’s mom! I had to get to Stan’s mom. I didn’t know her phone number or address but I knew how to get there.

I called the number on the card I’d got from the cab driver. After some meandering, we got to the familiar house.

It was already dark when I rang the doorbell. Nobody answered and the door was locked. I tried the backdoor and it was locked too. I came back to the front door and sat down on the stair step. I couldn’t stand and I couldn’t walk. I had no strength to fight. I guess I passed out.

When I woke up, I was on the couch and Stan’s mom was sitting at my side.

“Graham…” I whispered.

“On his way already,” the older woman replied stroking my hand.

 

 

I didn’t remember much. Only separate pictures of something happening and like it was happening to someone else.

When I woke up, at last, I found Stan and his mom at my side. Minde came in an hour later. Stan’s mom had managed to call them in some miraculous way.

The doctor came into the room a couple of minutes after Minde.

“You had a terrible abscess,” Graham, the doctor, started to explain. “The skin of your scrotum was bruised. It festered into a serious infection. The skin ruptured but only a few drops of blood came out. Another part was locked behind skin folds. The abscess intensified. And… Well… When I got you here there was not much left of your testicles and penis. Seeing you are taking estrogen…”

“I’m not,” I interrupted him.

“Your blood test shows you are,” the doc objected.

“I saw you taking some pills at home,” Stan intervened. “What they are.”

“Vitamins and anti-baby pills.”

“Anti-baby pills? You got from another doc who was sure you were a girl?” Graham asked.

“Err… Yes,” I confirmed.

“How long?”

“Since July. I don’t remember what day it was exactly.”

“Day isn’t of great importance,” the doc said. ”Anti-baby pills as you call them are estrogen. You have been taking it for eight months already. No wonder your estrogen level is high.”

“So what about this estrogen level?” Minde asked.

“It convinced me Crystal was transitioning,” the doc said.

“Like from being a boy to being a girl?” Stan asked.

“Exactly. After the conversation with you the other day, I was sure you felt you were a girl really.”

“So what then?” I asked.

“Your boys’ bits were irreparable and for you were transitioning, as I saw it, so I performed a vaginoplasty of the tissue material that was left.”

“Say it in English please,” Minde asked.

“Crystal now has a vagina instead of a penis.”

“So I was right,” Minde said.

“What do you mean?” I inquired.

“He means you are a real girl from now on,” Stan said.

“A girl? Hmm… Maybe it’s to the best?” I wondered.

So now I was a girl like millions of other girls around the world. My life was special only for me. There was no more a story to tell.