I awoke to the smell of coffee. I put on my robe, and did my toilette. Alice was eating a bagel and reading an actual, paper newspaper.

“Mornin’, Morgan.”

“Good morning, Alice,” I returned, brushing my hair back with my hand.

“Oh, that reminds me, you were pushing your hair back all last night, so I found these for you – nothing girly – stainless steel.” She handed me a couple of hair clips.

I didn’t want hair clips, but I couldn’t be rude. “Ah, thanks.” I scurried off to put them on. They removed any doubt that I might be a boy, but as long as it was just Alice and me, what did it matter?

I poured myself some coffee and put a bagel in the toaster.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, the mattress is very comfortable.”

Just then, the back door opened and a black woman in a beige pants suit entered.

“Hi Alice … and who is this lovely child?”

“Faye, this is Morgan, my new lodger. Morgan, Faye. She’s my across-the-street neighbor.”

Faye poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Morgan, I must say what lovely hair you have.”

“Ah, thanks. That’s very kind of you. … Your suit is becoming as well.”

“That’s very sweet of you, dear. … What do you do, sweetie?”

“I have a scholarship at State this fall. I’m going to major in fine arts and hope to work in a museum or gallery. Meanwhile, I’ll start hunting for a peon job. You know, Mickey D’s or someplace like that.”

“Do you type, dear?”

“On a computer? Sure. Why?”

“I recently bought a medical practice, and old Dr. Stein never computerized his records, so there’s a ton of data to be entered. It requires attention to detail, as the lab results have to be 100% accurate. I just fired a temp who couldn’t cut it. You want to try?”

“What’s it pay?”

“Well, $12 an hour during a trial week, then $17.50 if you can hack it. … what do you think?”

“I think I could do it. I’m kind of obsessive about details. I’d like to give it a try.”

“Then get dressed. I’m leaving in ten minutes and you can come with me.”

So much for my job hunt! Even a day’s work would cover nearly a week’s rent. I changed into my newest jeans, the polo shirt I’d worn the previous night, and my beat up loafers. I finished by putting my hair into my usual low ponytail.

“Oh, Morgan, are you male?” asked Faye.

“I’m afraid I am. Does that mean you don’t want to give me a chance now?”

“No, I said I would, and I will, but you’d fit in better in your earlier hairstyle. I’m an OB-GYN, and a lot of patients prefer an all-woman office. Still, you can wear your hair as you like.”

“I guess as long as it’s only women, it’d be okay. Guys tend to give me a hard time because of my voice, features, and ah, other things – even with my hair like this. … Give me a minute and I’ll brush it out.” Five minutes later, we were humming into town in Faye’s Prius.

Her office was in a stately home on a now busy street. A lawn sign said, “Faye Matthews, M.D., OB-GYN” along with her phone number and email. Inside, I met Bobbie, her grey-haired receptionist, and Mattie, a newly minted nurse-midwife who didn’t look much older than me. She had striking green eyes, flaming red hair and an Irish lilt.

“Mattie, Morgan will be entirely your responsibility. … Morgan, do as Mattie instructs. She’s your supervisor.”

“Yes, doctor,” we both said.

I wanted to dig in, but it was only 8:45 and the office didn’t open until 9:00, so the ladies wanted to chat.

“Is this your first job, darlin’?” asked Mattie.

“Well, my first fulltime job. I worked in the school library and also did some babysitting.”

“So, yer still livin’ at home, then?”

“No, I’m an orphan. Yesterday was my 18th birthday and my first day out of foster care. I’m renting a room across the road from Faye, er, Dr. Matthews.”

“A belated happy birthday to ya, then.”

“We must take you to lunch to celebrate,” added Bobbie.

“Thank you, but you needn’t.”

“We insist!”

“That’s very kind.”

By then the phone was ringing, so Bobbie got busy. Mattie showed me what to do. I’d be working in a corner behind the reception counter. She’d check my work and answer questions when she had a chance. My first task would be to check all the data “the previous girl” had entered.

Faye hadn’t mentioned my gender in introducing me. Now, I was embarrassed to say I was a boy with feminine hair – not to mention panties. It wasn’t lying to let people believe what they wanted.

The morning was busy. I shut out distractions and focused on my work. I found seven errors by “the previous girl.” Mattie had already found four, which were to serve as a test, and was quite impressed that I’d found three more.

The office closed from noon to 1:30. Mattie and Bobbie bought me lunch at a nearby Mexican place. Bobbie left about 12:45, leaving Mattie to have a private chat with me.

“Morgan, darlin’, I’m very impressed by your maturity and work ethic, but there are a few things you need to address.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I suppose you don’t have a lot of clothes. Mightn't it be that these are your best?”

“You’re right, they are. My foster parents didn’t believe in buying a lot of clothes. So, I mostly got hand-me-downs.”

“They aren’t very professional, darlin’. You look like a tomboy – no offense intended.”

“None taken. I’m planning on buying better clothes when I get paid.”

“One other thing – it’s a wee bit personal – but even one as under endowed as you can’t come to work without a bra. It just isn’t done, darlin’. If you mother were alive, she’d be telling you the same thin’.”

I could only blush in response.

“No need to be embarrassed. I’m proposin’ to take you to Walmart and buy you proper office clothes. You can repay me when you get flush.”

“Proper clothes?”

“Slacks, a blouse, bra and decent shoes.”

“Well, I …”

“No excuses. I insist – your dress detracts from the professionalism o’ the practice.”

“Mattie, really, I don’t need a bra. I have noting to put in it, I’m …”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, darlin’ you’re not the only flat chested girl on God’s green earth.”

“Mattie – please! Let me explain. I’m not a girl.”

She suddenly became quiet, and looked me up and down. “You want to be a boy, Morgan?”

“Well. Whether I want to or not, that’s how God made me.”

“Oh my! I’m sorry darlin’. Me and my big mouth … I thought …”

“Well, you’re not the first, and won’t be the last. I’m taken for a girl more often than not. That’s why I don’t bother to correct people – it’s pointless.”

“So, if it is not pryin’, why are you wearin’ your hair like that?”

“Well, Faye, er … Dr. Matthews came over this morning before I put it into my ponytail, and thought I was a girl. That is when she offered me the job. When she found out I was a boy, she told me her patients preferred an all-female office, and said I’d fit in better with my hair loose. I figured no one would ask.”

“Well, blend in you do, darlin’. It’s not just your hair, sweetie. You have a feminine way with you.”

“Thank you, but that’s not how bullies describe it when they beat me up.”

“Well, there are no bullies here or at the office.”

“I’m glad of that, but I’m still scared of looking more feminine that I do.”

“Still, we have the problem, darlin’. You need to dress more professionally. How about somethin’ unisex?”

“Like what?”

“Scrubs would work.”

“That sounds fine, but I don’t have a lot of money until I get paid.”

“Don’t worry Norris’s, where I shop, usually has irregulars you might afford.”

“OK, I’m in your hands.”

Norris’s was a uniform shop with everything from police to maid’s uniforms. Mattie led me to a rack of scrubs. I was taken aback to see that the tops alone were over $20.

“I don’t know if I can afford this, Mattie.”

“The irregulars are a lot cheaper.” At one end of the rack was a small selection of $12.99 sets. The only small one was “Light Thistle,” a kind of orchid. So that’s what I got. Mattie gave it to me as a birthday present – the first I could remember. On the way back, we stopped at Walmart and she added a pair of $9.99 white canvas shoes. That doesn’t sound like very much, but I thought of it as a five-meal outlay – that’s how many I’d skip to pay for the outfit. I was very grateful.

We walked back to work and I changed into my scrubs. About 2:30, Dr. Matthews was called to attend a birth. Mattie took over the check ups and drove me home at the end of the day.

Alice was concentrating on her work, but looked back to see who’d came in. When she saw me, she swiveled her chair. “You’re really cute in that. The color suits you.”

“Ah … thanks.”

“There’s mac and cheese in the fridge. The directions are on the package. Be a doll and nuke it when you come back down.”

“Sure.”

In my room, I saw how I looked for the first time. I did look cute. Orchid was “my color.” That would have been delightful if I were a girl – but I wasn’t. I changed into jeans and a tee to reaffirm my masculinity before going down.

I set the table and, when dinner was ready, called Alice. She opened a bottle of white cabernet and poured me a glass. As we ate, she asked me about my day. It was nice to have someone be interested in what I did. As we chatted, she kept refilling my glass, so I got over my usual shyness. I suppose that’s why I told her about Mattie saying I needed a bra. It just came out. She chuckled, but then gave me a reflective look.

“I think you’d look much cuter with a pair of knockers, sweetie.”

“Knockers?”

“Boobs, dear … breasts.”

“But, I’m a boy.”

“A very pretty boy.”

By then we had finished our dinner – and the cabernet. “Humor me, Morgan, I want to see how you’d look in a bra.”

“I can’t wear a bra.”

“I don’t see why not. You have a chest, don’t you? Let’s go up and see.” She grabbed my hand and gently pulled me along. When we got to my room, she rummaged through the bureau and found a lacy beige bra – an A-cup I was to learn.

“You can have this one.”

She pulled my tee over my head, threaded my arms through the bra straps, and fastened it behind me. Surprisingly, I filled the cups without padding.

“Not too tight?”

“No, but …”

“But me no buts! … Let’s see … I know.” She rummaged further and found a white knit top. It molded itself to my enhanced chest. “Take a look!” She said turning me to the mirror. “You’re beautiful!”

I saw a girl I’d like to date, but would be too shy to ask.

“Well? Don’t you look good?”

“Yes, but it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Why?”

“Because boys aren’t supposed to look ‘beautiful.’”

“But, it is all you, sweetie. Like it or not, you do look this good.”

I started crying. I didn’t know why, but it made Alice decide she’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I was just having a bit of fun.”

“I know. I’m not mad.”

She helped me out of the top and bra, and back into my tee. “I’m sorry,” she repeated as she closed the door behind her.