I was in the kitchen listening to the radio (note to younger people: Radios are what people listened to before cassette tapes, which were before CD players, which were before you could stream music on your phone) when my wife came in, swaying to the music of a song called Before You.

"I love this song, it's basically my life story." She said.

I had to admit that I didn't know the lyrics.

"Well, let me help you with that." She replied, smiling.

She pulled up the lyrics on her phone, and once I saw them, I had to admit she was correct, even if indirect praise made me blush as I remembered.

* * * * * *

Jeremiah was a friend of mine, even if he wasnt a bullfrog. (Note to the reader: you younger people will need to look that up because you have probably never heard it, and you older types will need to look it up because you have forgotten it. Either way, when you get back, I will have an umbrella waiting so you can throw tomatoes at me.)

We actually met in kindergarten.

As someone who was already becoming a weirdo, I recognized in Jerry something similar, a need to march to a different drummer. So we bonded over being different, even though we were also different from each other.

I had just kind of figured out that Jerrys difference was when his parents pulled him out of public school and sent him to military school - that Jerry was really a girl in her heart and soul.

I managed to survive high school and actually found a way to make my weirdness work for me, and was doing well for myself when I met Jerry again.

She was living on the streets, and I just happened to see her as I was about to drive by.

I pulled over, and ran to her. She smiled at me, and said, “Jack? Is it really you?“

I nodded, and helped her up, and asked, “can I take you somewhere?“

“I have nowhere to go,“ she replied.

“Then come to my place, at least for now.“ I said.

She nodded, and I steered her into the passenger seat of my car, and then I got in, and drove back to my house.

A bit later, she was wearing a jersey of mine that fit her like a short dress, and was eating a bowl of soup I had heated up for her while bundled in a blanket;

She shared with me some of what happened to her at the military school, and because some gentle people may read this, I will forgo some of the details.

Suffice to say that instead of driving the girl out of her, it made her hate being a boy even more.

Finally, when the opportunity arose, she escaped the military school, and had been living on her wits on the streets since.

Unfortunately, living on her wits included having to take some of the lessons she was taught by the boys at the military school to make money, to the point when I saw her, she was seriously considering ending her life.

I was still digesting that when she told me why she had mentioned what she had been doing, in case I wanted to be rewarded by my saving her today.

I told her I needed to repair the guilt I had felt for not fighting for her back in high school, so if I could get her on her feet, that would be the only reward I wanted.

She looked like she didnt believe me, so I went to my room, and pulled out a few items that nobody up until that moment knew about.

“What are those?“ She asked.

“The reason why I am still single“ I responded.

“I dont understand. These are dresses!“ She said.

“Yep. My dresses.“

“Jack, are you telling me you are trans, like me?“

“No, dear. I like being a guy. I just like the way this stuff feels. But that is one reason why I felt so guilty about not saving you. I knew it could have been me instead, since some people can't tell the difference between a trans woman and a crossdresser, not that there should be anything wrong with being either.“

I could tell she was still a little skittish, so I got her some blankets, and let her sleep on the couch, and the next morning I put on one of my dresses, told my boss I had a family emergency, and made her breakfast.

When she woke, after a morning trip to the bathroom, she sat at my dinner table looking in awe at the omlet I had made.

“It smells wonderful! Who taught you how to cook?” she asked.

“My mom” I replied, “She told me women love a man who knows how to cook for himself. Didn't work for me, but that was probably because of the crossdressing”

“Speaking of dressing,” She said, “do you have a girl name that I should call you by when you're dressed like that?”

“No,” I replied, “Mostly because I don't feel like a different person when I crossdress. I am still me, still Jack, just wearing prettier clothes. But since you brought up names, do you still go by Jerri, just with an I?”

“Not since I escaped the military school.” She replied, “I have been going by Deborah, who like Jeremiah, was a prophet in the Bible”

“I remember reading the song of Deborah in church back in the day.”

She grinned, and said, “Of course you do.”

* * * * *

Over the next while, Deborah came to trust me, and then even to love me, despite my feminine side (or maybe because of it).

So as we reread the lyrics of the song Before you, she sang one of the lines, “And now I think I'll get through life as a girl.”

And hopefully without letting my ego get the best of me, I have to agree.

End.