Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn's Debutante Ball

Part Two of Three:

Vanishing My Own Shadow

My mother's maiden name, that to say the name she had before she had married my father had been Pandora Josephine Hamilton, now from the odd bits and pieces of information I've gathered from my mother, who has never really told me a lot about her family. Nor of her childhood for that matter, anyway according to her, her family belonged to the so-called “Aristocracy” of Jackson. My mother had been the second daughter born to Josephine Elizabeth Lee Hamilton and George Alexander Hamilton, and by a twist of fate had been the middle child. And from birth she had been something of a wild card.

Another fine bit of information I knew, was my mother had been reared from birth till the age fourteen in the fine traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church and her family had taken a dim view of her taking up the study of the occult, they had also taken a dim view of her flunking out university and attending a trade school to learn the art of hairdressing. And they had also taken an even dimmer view of her marrying my father, a man who they considered well below her social standing. All of these things I thought, they could overlook. Indeed her mother had just heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head as my mother did each and every one of these things. But the straw that broke the horse's back was me coming out of the egg one dark, stormy night a few days before Halloween.

Now, the Hamilton family like most of the older, more wealthier Mississippian families stood firmly with the Republican Party. I think it kind of went with the teaching of the Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church. Both of those two groups of people hated people like me. Now, when I cracked out of the egg, my mom's so-called “Christian” family thought she would surely do what any good Eastern Orthodox Catholic mother would do. That is the first thing she would have done if she found her son wearing her newly brought sundress.

That to say, the first thing she would have done was slapped the ever loving shit out of me, and then marched out to the old willow tree and forced me to cut a switch, she would have then snatched the switch from my hand and then started thrashing the hell out of me with it. Once I was sobbing and crying she would have then told my dad, who would have taken off his big, broad leather work belt and  started beating me with it, right across my backside, this would have beaten the “Devil” out of me. Once the “Devil” had been  safely beaten out of me, she would finally give me a “Proper Haircut” that to say shaved bald or given a classic buzz cut. Once all that had been done, it would be off to some private Catholic boarding school that might have been located in the heart of the Smoky Mountains.

Possible one of the many hidden Jesuit run boot camps. One of those old fashion type schools where the monks were still allowed to beat the tar out of you. But instead of packing all my shit into a suitcase and sending me off to some Eastern Orthodox Catholic run Conversion Therapy Camp. Where I might have been given a good old fashioned ice-pick lobotomy, because you know many good, faithful Eastern Orthodox Catholic priests and many God fearing, Trump supporting, American Flag loving Republicans still see that as a magic cure-all for both homosexuality and transgenderism. 

And if that failed to “Cure” me.  The good doctors could always fall back on the always classic Electro Shock Therapy. Because why not? According the priest of my grandmothers church I was mentally unstable and also to rub salt in a open, bleeding flesh wound my mother also abusing me by letting 'dress-up' and 'play pretend',

All of these thoughts swirled through my head as I stepped out of the shower. It was just twelve o'clock, well twelve o' one by the clock in the hallway. So it was officially the afternoon. Now the event was not going to start till five this evening. But I felt it would take me a good five or so hours to get ready.

Once I reached my bedroom. I turned my ceiling fan and took a deep breath as I breathed in the cool air and I allowed the pink bath towel that I'd wrapped around my body to drop on the wooden floor. I had thought my Gender dysphoria was rough and from time to time he came back to sink its claws into my heart. But that was pocket change when I compared it to this bout of Imposter syndrome that I was going through. I felt like I'd been lying to myself for the last three years. When I looked into my floor length bedroom mirror I did not see a healthy, intellectual woman, who had pulled herself up the ladder of success by her own shoe strings. Who had refused to let life bowl her over.

Nope, instead I saw once more that scared little boy of thirteen, leaning once more over the old, rusting railing of Rebecca Road Bridge. I felt I was once more peering down into the currents of that dark swirling water, that violent rushing water, if the fall had not killed me, then I'm sure the roaring, rushing water would have forced me under and carried me away. Carried me straight into the main channel of the Big Black River where I'm sure a monster size catfish would have swallowed what remained of my lifeless body. 

“NO!” I shouted as I stood up and turned briefly away from the mirror. I then decided to roll the dice and turn to face my own reflection, and by and large my own self doubts. I had to do this, it was now or never.

“Listen.” I started. “I'm not that scared thirteen  year old anymore! I'm Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn! Daughter of Pandora Josephine Whitethorn and Rowan Willow Whitethorn!” I shouted toward my own reflection. “I'm one of the best cheerleaders at Benton Academy! I've somehow maintained a solid 'B' average so far! Despite my moms fucked up family saying I'll flunk out after my Freshman year! I'd successfully educated myself!” I shouted again to my own reflection.

And maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me, but my own reflection or the reflection in the mirror flinched. I'd known I'd not flinched. “I've battled bullies, who hate me because of who I am! I've battled the supernatural and won! And I'm going to make something of my life! I'm going to make something of myself!” I shouted a bit louder. My choice echoed and seemed to fill the small confines of my room.

And again I think my mind might have been playing tricks on me, because once more the reflection seemed to flinch. And oddly enough it seemed to be withdrawing, edging toward the border of the mirror. It seemed the more I shouted, the more it seemed to flinch, and the lesser it held on me seemed to be. And the more I felt myself returning to normal. Well, as normal as possible for a teenager, who also happens to transgender, and a witch to boot. 

“So!” I shouted once more more. “Stop fucking with me! And just leave me the fuck alone! Like go back to whatever shadow world you live in!” 

A moment later, my dad, still smelling of grease, oil, and looked tired as ever, popped his head into my room. I also noticed a look of sheer terror had been sketched into his face. And his normally suntanned face looked as pale as a sheet and white as flour. His brown eyes were as wide as saucer plates. And his fingernails, still caked with dirt, mud and grease, seemed to doing their best to dig their way through one side of my wooden door to the other.

“Everything okay here?” He asked as he peered toward me. I'm sure he was a little frightened and maybe a little concerned. And I'm sure above all else he was confused and maybe a tad bit afraid, My dad was not used to sudden and often violent outbursts of raw teenage emotions.

“I'm fine..” I paused and because I wanted to add a dramatic effect I added. “Daddy,” to the end of my sentence. I was not aware that at the time I was standing naked as the day I was born in the middle of my bedroom.  And I mean naked, I was hiding nothing, not my breast or the pumping problem that still needed to be corrected or will be corrected as soon as I turned eighteen.

“That wonderful princess.” He said, his eyes still as wide as saucer plates and he still looked like he had just shaken hands with the devil himself. “I just got off work and I was heading to the shower. When I heard you screaming at the top of your lungs I thought I should come in and check on you.” He seemed to be shuttering a little.

“I'm fine daddy.” I said smiling the sweetest smile I could muster. “Just one of those random, often violent outburst of teenage emotions. Nothing to worry about.” I said smiling, extra sweetly.

Dad nodded his head and popped his head back into the hallway. And smiling to myself decided it was time to start getting ready. Soon, and I mean very soon I was going to set this town ablaze. Because tonight was my night. Tonight was the night, tonight was really the first night of my life. The last three years, I'd really been nothing but a wet clay pot in the kindle.