This story has no sex in it.

It was Christmas Eve. I sat in the cafe in Cambridge waiting for my father. I felt sick to my stomach. Christmas is the time for forgiving, isn't it? Every instinct told me to run. This would only end in tears. I had played the scene out in my head, I knew how it was going to play out. He would see me, and then think I was playing a sick joke on him. Then the yelling would start. he would call me a queer, a sick pervert then disown me.

Why was I putting myself through this? I peered through the misted window. The condensation allowed me a limited view of the street through the tracks of the drips as they pooled on the sill. I stared down at my cup. I would need another soon. I looked at myself in the mirror on the wall opposite my table. Not bad I thought. Not 100% convincing, but I was giving out enough signals not to be misgendered.

I had a white bobble hat on, with my earrings and my blond fringe showing just below the band. My puffy black coat covered my pink jumper and my padded out bra. I had been on hormones for a few months now. It had taken over 18 months to get the doctor to agree to prescribe them. I laugh inside when people seem to think you just woke up one morning and decided you were a woman. If only. My breast development was almost nonexistent. I had a long black skirt and flat winter boots on. They called me miss when I ordered my coffee, so I suppose I passed. Little things like that made my life bearable.
.
I pondered how I had ended up here. I had dreamed and yearned to be a girl all my life. There was nothing I could do about it until I had my own digs at uni. I was like a kid in a sweet shop. The only time I dressed as a guy was when attending lectures or working my part-time job in the local pub. After a few years of this, I knew I couldn't live a lie anymore. I was a woman. That's how I was going to live my life. I had no illusions. It would be hard. I attended my interviews for jobs with fashion designers as a female. My name Leigh is unisex, they only realized I was trans when they saw my passport the day I started. The personnel manager just said "Oh". They are used to trans and gay people in the fashion industry.

I had visited my mother when I knew my father was away on business. She told me she always suspected I was gay, but never would have believed I was a crossdresser. I carefully explained the difference. She told me she loved me whatever I was. She made sure the neighbors weren't around when I left though. She insisted I tell my father. The truth is she didn't want to deal with the fallout. I had wanted to meet on "neutral ground". This is why I chose this little "greasy spoon" cafe in Cambridge.

Growing up, he was a thoughtful but sullen man .A good provider, I never wanted for anything. He always seemed resentful of something.. He always seemed to push me into doing "manly" pursuits. He made me play football, had me join a boxing club and practice Karate. I remember when I was young and got a library book out about a princess, he took it off me and changed it for one about a train. I made a Wendy house out of cardboard boxes once. When I got back from school I saw he had remade it into a fort. No, he stifled any girlish tendencies I had. Often he was short-tempered with me. He never smacked me, but I was still a little afraid of him. It was like he was always on the verge of an angry outburst.

It had to be done though. He was late. It was 2PM., he should have been here at half an hour ago. I made up my mind, one more coffee then I'd give up. Just as I returned with my latte he walked through the door. He scanned the cafe looking for me. I was tempted to look away and let him think I had never turned up. Then in a second of anger, I thought this is my bloody life, not his. He can go to hell if he doesn't like it.

"I'm over here Dad!"

Then looked straight at me and blinked. He looked past me and saw I was alone.

"Leigh? Is that you?"

The colour drained from his face as he stumbled towards my table.

"Yes Dad, this is who I am now."

He almost collapsed in the chair opposite me. I saw tears of anger well up in his eyes, or was it disappointment? He just stared at me slack-jawed.

Here it comes, I thought. The names and the shouting. This is why I chose a public place. I was prepared to fight back. I was going to scream.

"This is me now! Get over it!" Then, I would walk out with my head held high.

"Leigh you're.... you're beautiful."

I was stunned. I felt faint. He wasn't angry. This didn't make sense.

"You're not mad?"

"Oh God no. I am so happy for you. Be who you want to be. I think it's wonderful."

"All my life you pushed me to be manly though Dad. How can you be OK with me now?"

He choked out his words. I saw he was close to breaking down.

"Please keep this a secret Leigh. Promise to never tell a living soul what I'm about to tell you."

I was so happy at that moment I would have promised anything. I was expecting a huge row, now this?

"Anything you want Dad."

"I'm the same as you, Leigh. I always wanted to be a woman. My father tried to beat it out of me. When I grew up it wasn't an option. Trans people weren't even called trans. They were perverts and sickos. I spent my life stuffing this part of me down. I manned up and met your mum. The urge was almost too much in my thirties, but then you came along and I couldn't let you or mum down, so I stuffed down deeper inside me.But it doesn't go away. It never goes away."

"Oh my God. Dad."

The tears were flowing and we were attracting glances from the other customers.

"Let us go sit in your car, Dad."

We walked through the drizzle to the multistory car park and sat inside his car.

"I'm so sorry Leigh. I saw myself in you. I tried to steer you away from anything girly. I didn't want you growing up resentful and bitter like me. I should have realized, you can't change who you are."

"I really thought you would hate me, Dad. This is just... it's just..."

"I know, it must be a shock for you, but I'm so glad that one of us gets to be who she really is. I'm so proud of my beautiful daughter."

I blubbed uncontrollably. I never thought I'd hear this in a million years. He had called me his daughter.

I dried my eyes. I loved him so much. I could see what he had sacrificed to bring me up and give me a stable home.

"Dad, it's not too late. You can still be the woman you should be. I can help you."

"Thank you, Leigh, but what would happen to mum? I couldn't put her through that. It would ruin her life."

He was right. She would never live it down. She would never forgive him, or even me.

I hugged him tight. I didn't want to let him go. When at last I released him I said.

"OK, but how about this, when it starts to get on top of you, come to my my flat and let the woman inside out for a few hours. I'll make up a reason to ask you to come around. Mum needn't know a thing."

"Really Leigh? You would do that for me?"

"Of course Dad. I owe you a lot more than that.".

Perhaps Christmas could be more about forgiveness and peace on earth. Perhaps for my father it could be the start of a new beginning, a reward for a life of sacrifice.