Late December

There’s a problem with my teenaged son, Edward. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just say it: He… well, he minces around like a fairy—sometimes you’d swear you were seeing a girl—even though I’ve spoken to him time and again about it. God knows I’ve tried over the years to bring out his manliness, but he just doesn’t seem to have any. He’s short for his age, and I’ve carried groceries that weigh more than he does. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked to him about getting a haircut, and I don’t know why, but that’s something I can’t bring myself to force him to do. Maybe it’s because he looks so much like my late wife. And if I’m honest with myself, when I was his age I had long hair too.

I’ve taken him to ballgames, and we’ve fished together…we tried bowling but that was a disaster. The ball was just too heavy for him. Look, I can tell he’s making an effort, but I can also tell his heart isn’t in it. For a while I tried harder, making him exercise, join sports teams at school—whatever I could think of, and it just didn’t work. At the least I want him to build a little muscle so he can defend himself WHEN—not if—he gets picked on. I really don’t know what to do about him.

And then a few days ago he actually told me he was a girl! Can you believe it? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given the rest of his behavior, but I really got angry at that point, and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was definitely not a girl. Girls do not have peckers in their pants! And what did he do? He cried!

He told me he didn’t like it, and would be happy if it was removed. I was having trouble believing my ears when he said that. What kind of boy wants his pecker gone? It was just beyond my understanding. I sent him to his room and sat down at the kitchen table, my head spinning. There mere thought almost made me ill.

Listen, I’ve tried hard to do the best I can as a single dad. It’s been very difficult since my wife, Marcia, got sick and died, five years ago. He was only ten then, but I knew the two of them were very close. I thought it wouldn’t be all that difficult to raise a boy, but he’s not like any other boy I have ever known. When Marcia died he just collapsed into a quivering mess and cried for weeks, and no amount of yelling at him that boys don’t cry would snap him out of it.

Today, for whatever reason, he seemed very depressed. I asked him what the problem was and he wouldn’t tell me. And then this evening we ended up in yet another argument about him manning up. I ran out of patience and I’m sorry to say I belted him one. Not too hard, since I know it would just be too easy to accidentally break him in half, and really, I don’t want to hurt him. No, I hit him just enough to make a point. Then I left for Harvey’s Bar to cool off and drown my sorrows and disappointment. I’m not a big drinker, but I like a beer now and then, just like every other guy.

When I arrived at the bar I sat in the car for a minute, trying to, I don’t know, center myself. You know, took a few deep breaths. Then, walking into the dark, slightly beery atmosphere, I noticed my old buddy, Rick, was there, alone in a booth. We don’t live that far apart, but it had been a couple of years since we’d last run into each other.

“Hey Rick! Long time no see! Mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at me bleary-eyed, and it really looked like he’d been crying. Rick crying? How drunk was he? Anyhow, he didn’t object, so I went over to the bar and got a beer and then sat down across from him.

“What’s the problem, buddy? You look terrible.”

He looked at me for a long time before answering, in a dead, unemotional voice.

“My kid killed himself.”

I was stunned. Rick’s son, Matthew, was around Eddie’s age—in fact I think the two of them are friends—and seemed like a happy enough kid, though I admit it’s been a few years since I’d seen him.

Oh! Maybe that’s why Eddie was depressed today. Well… why couldn’t he have told me that?!

“What happened?”

He swished his beer around a bit before answering. “You’re not going to believe this, Mike, but he thought he was a girl.”

That totally startled me. Oh man! What were the odds that both of us had a son with this weird problem?

Continuing, he said, “I did everything I could to persuade him that wasn’t true, but he kept on insisting. He had a girl’s name picked out for himself, and he’d even collected girls’ clothes! I told him that was unacceptable and threw them away. Finally, a couple days ago we had another argument and I, I tried to beat it out of him.”

There was a silence before he went on.

“Yesterday I went looking for him, and he wouldn’t answer. I thought he was being stubborn, but I… found him hanging by a rope from an attic rafter.” Rick paused and choked out a sob. “He…she left a suicide note saying that me not allowing her to express her true self was slowly killing her, and that she’d rather just die than continue to try and live a lie this way.”

Looking at Rick’s almost-full mug, I realized Rick wasn’t actually drunk at all; he was in real pain.

“I loved my kid, Mike, and I can’t say I understand it, but if I had it to do over again I’d let him be the girl that he thought he was,” he said, almost completely breaking down. “Now it doesn’t seem like it would be such a big deal. But I no longer have that option. I let my pigheadedness rise above my acceptance of my own child, and I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life.”

We sat there in silence, as I examined my own feelings. I felt terrible for Rick. What would I do if Eddie killed himself? I would be truly devastated. He was all I had left, and all I had left of Marcia, too. Was I more concerned about how others would see him, or was I more interested in how I thought of him? Less than a man. A fairy. What if he liked men? Would me condemning that sort of thing be worth his life?

Now that I thought it through, I always knew he didn’t like to do all those manly things I made him do. He was trying to do them because of his love for me. And how did I repay that love? By trying to force him into my idea of what a man should be. Self-disgust suddenly overwhelmed me.

Then a feeling rose up in me that I would try and be a better man—a better father than that. I didn’t want to lose my son… or my daughter, if that’s who she really was. So right then and there I made a New Year’s resolution to accept my child, whoever he or she was.

Once that resolution was made I found that I actually felt much better. I turned my attention back to Rick and tried to give what solace I could, but I could see he was really suffering, and I’m not sure I was reaching him. Guilt is such a heavy load. I really didn’t think he needed to hear about my own problems right now. And I don’t think he was there to drink as much as to have a place to be alone with his sorrows. I got up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m truly sorry about Matthew, Rick, and I wish I knew what to say. I feel like I need to go check on Eddie now.”

He nodded to me and went back to sipping his beer.

I don’t know why, but I felt a real urgency to get home to show my daughter that I would be there for her. If Eddie needed to be a girl, I would let him or her know I would help however I could.

During the drive I tried to think of ways I could show my support, and it was difficult to do. I had no sisters, and I had no experience raising a girl. “Marcia!! I really need you now!” I said out loud. She would have known what to do to help Eddie. “Why’d you have to die?” I was tearing up. Me, the big manly man!

As I pulled into the drive I was surprised no lights were on. Eddie hadn’t said anything about going out. Maybe he was in the den watching TV. I could never get him to turn on the light while he was doing that.

Entering the house I turned on a couple lights. It was almost uncannily silent inside. I started to look for him. Nope, not in the den. He must be upstairs in his bedroom. Climbing the stairs I saw his door was closed. I knocked gently. No answer. I hoped he wasn’t still mad at me.

“Eddie?”

No answer.

I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. I opened the door, but it was too dark to see anything. Flipping on the light I saw a good-looking girl in a blue dress lying on his bed, very pale and still as a statue. Stepping closer to the bed, I started to speak. “Who are…” and the words died on my lips as I realized the girl was Eddie. My eyes flashed to the nightstand, where there was a glass and an empty prescription bottle of pills.

“NO!!!” I yelled.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 as I felt for a pulse.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My, um, daughter seems like a possible suicide,” I spit out rapidly. “She took a bunch of pills and is very pale. There’s only a faint pulse. I need help RIGHT NOW!”

“I show your location as 837 Oak boulevard, sir. An ambulance is on the way. Please put the victim on her side. Do you know what the pills were?”

I snatched the pill bottle from the nightstand.

“It says amitriptyline.” Where the hell could he have gotten that? The part of the label that says who it had been prescribed for had been torn off.

“Should I try and make her vomit?”

“No sir, that could cause problems with her airway. Just wait for the ambulance.”

There was still hope, but I was frantic, not knowing what I could do to help, other than making sure he—dammit—she was breathing, and rolling her onto her side. Once I did that I ran downstairs, trying not to trip and break my neck. I flung open the front door and then ran back upstairs. What was taking the ambulance so long??

There was a folded note next to her on the bed, addressed to “Mr. Miller.” That almost hit me harder than finding her—that my own kid didn’t feel she could call me Dad anymore. God, it was like being punched in the stomach. I sat on the bed with him—her, and read the note.

“Mr. Miller,
I can no longer live with your rules about my gender. I’m not sure what sort of person would put their own happiness above that of their child’s, but I don’t think a loving father would.

Eva Miller”

Tears came to my eyes as I was reading this. I had no idea things were this bad. And who was this girlfriend, Madeline? Eddie never brought any girls home.

Wait! She was dead. Could this possibly be Rick’s son/daughter, Matthew?

God, I had so much to make up for!

At last I could hear the siren, and it was close.

In no time the EMTs had made it inside. I called to them, “Upstairs! Hurry!!” And they rushed up and got right to work on… Eva, my daughter.

They shooed me out of the way, and stabilized her.

I rode in the ambulance with her, and it was nightmarish and clinical at the same time. It was bright inside, there were all kinds of medical machinery, and she just lay there, with one of the EMTs monitoring her.

Things happened in a hurry at the hospital. They took her away and a nurse pulled me over to a desk, where I had to give all the medical information and insurance info. I wanted to be there at Eva’s side!

And when she finally woke up, I was there by her bedside, holding her hand. When her eyes opened she looked straight ahead, blankly, then a look of extreme disappointment and pain replaced the blank expression. She must have realized she was still among the living.

“Eva, honey, you frightened me to death. I couldn’t take it if I had lost you. Please, never try that again.”

Her eyes slowly moved over to me, and it finally registered that I had used her name. A slow smile spread over her face. Tears started down her cheeks as she said, “Oh Daddy!”

The End.