Halloween — Final Chapter
October, 2008

Pushing the elevator button in the lobby of my building automatically reminded me of the many changes that had occurred in my life over the past five years. My wife, Karen, and I had lived for fifteen years in a red-brick colonial in Haverford before she died tragically in a car accident. Every time I entered the elevator I was reminded of how much I missed her. Giving up our home and moving into a condominium had been a simple — but ineffective - way of trying to move away from the pain in my life.

Inspecting my recently manicured fingers reminded of other changes. I smiled approvingly at their ruby-colored nails. ~There’s nothing like a manicure or shopping to pick me up after a long day.~ Having no plans, I looked forward to a light dinner before finishing the novel that I was reading for my book club.

As I exited the elevator on the fifth floor, I thought back to the first time I had dressed again as Lisa -- two months after Karen’s funeral. I had looked in the mirror at the real me -- for the first time in over twenty years. I had kept my promise to both Karen and my mother, but didn’t know what was next.

An overwhelming wave of emotions convinced me that I could never give Lisa up -- again. I spent the next few weeks searching the internet and found a completely new community that immediately opened its heart to me. The guilt I had felt years before dissolved into personal satisfaction and resolve. . .which led to. . .changes.

My wall phone rang as I approached my apartment; I quickly rifled my shoulder bag for my keys and opened the door. Despite my efforts the answering machine picked up just before I could.

“Hello, ugh, I’m not sure how to begin. . . .”

Oh My God. It’s Tommy!

“This is your son, Tom . . . and I just wanted to say hello. I don’t even know what to call you. Calling you ‘Dad’ doesn’t seem right….”

Nearly in shock, I quickly grabbed the phone. “Tommy, it’s so wonderful to hear your voice. I don’t care what you call me. You can still call me ‘Dad’ if you want to, but I legally changed my name to Lisa a few years ago. But — all that doesn’t really matter. How are you -- and how are Debbie and Michael?” I reached for a tissue and in the process spilled my purse.

“We’re doing great . . . Lisa. I guess that wasn’t too difficult. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re Lisa, and I shouldn’t be such a fool. Lisa -- Debbie is expecting again; Mikey is thrilled to have either a brother or sister.”

A new baby? I hadn’t heard. “That’s wonderful news. How old is Michael now?”

“He’s four and he’s a handful, but I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him.”

You can’t imagine your life without him. How do you think I’ve felt since you and my brothers tossed me out of your lives three years ago?

“Lisa, ma-ah. . .Dad. I’m calling, because I need to apologize to you. I got to thinking how I couldn’t stand the idea of living without Mikey . . . and I got to thinking about you and me. I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what to think -- when you told me that you were becoming a woman.”

“It was my fault. It was me.” There were a thousand things I did wrong when I came out. It was so hard on him, but I had to.

“No, it was me; I want you to hear me out. Just before Mom died she sent me a letter that I found difficult to read. It was during my last year in college and emotionally I was a wreck. She wrote that some things may change after she was gone; she wanted me to support you no matter what. Two years later when you told me about transitioning, Mom’s letter was the last thing on my mind. It wasn’t until last March when I was visiting Uncle Steve that I found out that Mom had written similar letters to both him and Uncle Bill.”

I miss them so terribly much. Neither Steven nor Billy has spoken to me since I told them.

“Mom was more explicit with both of them. I guess she didn’t think I could handle it then. She told them that you had always had gender identity issues and that she, as well as your mother, were convinced that you were a transsexual. I guess what they told me got me thinking for the first time in years. I spent the past few months researching transexualism and gender identity. I’m calling to ask you to forgive me. I’ve always loved you.” His voice, which had been catching all through the call, finally failed him. He struggled to talk again. “Debbie and I want you back in our lives. Please.”

“I don’t know what to say, Tommy.” I could barely whisper between my sobs. “I’m so happy. I’ve missed you so -- it hurt.”

“Debbie and I would love to have you join us for dinner next Friday . . . on Halloween. Can you make it?”

Could I?! “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Can you get off work early and come over about three? We’re going to take Michael out ‘trick or treating’ and we’d really like it if you could hand out candy for us. Like you did when I was a kid -- every Halloween.”

“I’d love too.” I laughed thinking about all my past Halloweens. “Can I bring anything for dinner? A salad or something?”

“No, we have everything taken care of.”

“But, I can drive over tonight. Why wait?” I can’t believe this is really happening.

“Oh, we’ve already got everything set up. -- I don’t want this to be a problem. Uhmmmm - both Uncle Steve and Uncle Bill are coming on Halloween, with their wives.”

Billy and Steven? “Are you sure you want to do this?” None of them has spoken to me in years.

“They want to get together. After I researched transexualism, I called a family meeting and told them everything that I learned. They had their problems, at first, understanding it -- but then I invited a gender therapist to another meeting with all of us. She really helped -- everyone is looking forward to getting together, although not without some anxiety. I’m sorry change is so difficult to accept, but we all want you back in our lives. We really do.”

He’s so much like his mother. “Oh, Tommy, I’m speechless.” I never dared dream that anything like this would ever happen. “I love you so much.”

***

“Lisa, why don’t you and Mary watch for ‘trick or treaters’ while I start getting our dinner prepared. Tommy and Debbie should be back with Michael in about an hour. I don’t think Steve or Billy will move from the TV until the dinner is on the table…unless they need a beer, of course.”

“That’s a perfect plan, Sarah,” I replied, smiling. “I love answering the door on Halloween.”

So far the evening had turned about even better than my heightened expectations. Tommy’s work on researching transexualism and the earlier meeting with the gender therapist had definitely opened the door for our family dinner. Unlike other Halloweens, I deliberately underdressed for the occasion. Wearing black dress slacks with a gold cashmere cardigan and shell, I wore black flats to take attention away from my height. After the initial awkward re-introductions, we all seemed to fit back into familiar patterns until Debbie asked if I’d like to help her in the kitchen. Sarah immediately joined us and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sense of shared female intimacy while we chatted and prepared dinner.

When Tommy and Debbie finally returned we all sat down for dinner after watching Mikey show all of his candy. Immediately after saying a prayer of thanks the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get that,” I laughed, “Everyone begin; I’ll be right back.”

Opening the door I saw a young mother with what I thought was her daughter of about eight years old dressed as Cinderella, “Now aren’t you beautiful. What is your name?”

“I’m David.”

“And who are you dressed as, David?

“I’m Cinderella.” He grinned and attempted a curtsy.

I laughed quietly. “Well, you’re the prettiest Cinderella I’ve ever seen. What treat would you like?” I smiled holding up a bowl half-filled with candy bars. “We have M&M’s, Kit-Kats, and Skittles.”

“Thank you . . . and Trick or Treat,” he said with an enormous smile while grabbing a Kit-Kat bar.

While he was turning away his mother quickly came forward and whispered, “God Bless you! I don’t think he’ll ever forget you and your kindness.”

“Don’t be silly,” I smiled, “I remember a little boy who was almost as pretty as David trick or treating as Snow White on Halloween.” Seeing that she was looking at me without understanding, I continued. “I was that little boy. Here, let me give you my card. If you ever need to talk to anyone about gender issues and your son -- please give me a call. I’ve become somewhat of an expert.”

Her face opened to me. “I’d love to. How about tomorrow? I’ve been looking for answers; I don’t know where to turn.”

“Don’t worry, dear. All your son needs is your love and the love of his family -- and everything will work out. Just call me tomorrow; we can meet at Starbucks.”

She nodded, and then slowly walked away smiling broadly. I quietly closed the door and turned around . . . only to be surprised by Steven who had been standing behind me -- with tears rolling down his cheeks.

He’s still the vulnerable one.

“I can’t believe how kind and gentle you are,” he said, wiping away his tears. “I don’t know anyone who would have been so kind. No, actually I do. Do you know how much you remind me of Mom? You’re just as beautiful and sensitive. I’m sorry I didn’t understand that until right now.”

I closed my eyes and told my wife and Mom everything was going to be okay.

The End

****

Once again, I would like to thank Angela Rasch for her help in editing this entire story. Her comments were both insightful and educational. I hope I will continue to learn from them as I continue writing.