Virginia Beach, Virginia, at the Molloy home…

"Tommy? Are you alright?" Tom's wife Paula stood at the door to the spare bedroom. She leaned against the doorway and frowned, but not at him.

"I'm sorry, Babe… I guess you just caught me off guard. I really didn't mean to laugh, but you have to admit that it's a bit weird." Paula hesitated when she noticed he had been crying.

"Really, honey. I'm so sorry." She was sorry, but her apology was lost to him as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"It's…It's okay," he sighed as he struggled to get up. Even low heels can be unwieldy to the inexperienced, and he fell back onto the bed.

"Here….let me help?" Paula's heart was in the right place, but she only meant to offer to help him off the bed. He swung his feet around and sat up, but instead of accepting her offer, he pulled the offending shoes off and threw them across the room, where they bounced off the dresser in the corner.

"Hey…don't get mad at me," she practically shouted before she backed away toward the door.

"I don't understand this, so give me some time, okay?" she shook her head once before walking out. Tom looked down at himself. Granted he was wearing light brown jeans and a light blue tee, but the jeans were Paula's, and the tee came from Kohl's, where he had also gotten the bra that pushed out his 'new' breasts. Paula's cable knit blue cardigan lay in a heap on the floor next to the bed.

His pink toenails were barely hidden by the mostly translucent taupe knee highs and would have gone splendidly with pink fingernails, but he hadn't mastered playing the spinet with extensions.

About an hour later…

"I'm going to Kroger's," Paula said as she poked her head into the room.

"Maybe the new Burmese place over at Kempsville?" He sat still and stared at her before putting his head down as he began to cry.

"Hey…no…" Her words would have seemed like a rebuke until he felt her walk close. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head before speaking.

"I read that story by your friend you forgot to close on your tablet…George and Martha?" At her words, he looked up slowly as shameful tears continued to fall off his chin.

"I'm not saying I understand it all, but after reading it, I sorta get this?" She used her hand in a broad gesture to indicate his body. By now, the mostly simple attempt at make-up had vanished between the tears and the washcloth he had retrieved from the bathroom.

"I hope you understand that I could never be exactly like Martha? I mean we're both just… well, petite?" Tom glanced between them. Never a big guy, he still was 5'6" to her 5'5". And she had always favored pretty dresses and such.

"But I…I think I could handle a Georgie in my life now and then?" He winced at what sounded like a tease, but her own tears convinced him otherwise.

"Promise me that my Tom will be around at least as much as Georgie, okay?" She kissed him on the cheek and started to walk out before hesitating at the door once again.

"I think something from that new French bistro instead?" She walked to the closet and reached in, pulling out her favorite Charcoal gray cardigan.

"Here," she said, kissing him again on the cheek.

"I'm sorry if things got chilly in here," she continued as she draped the sweater over his shoulders. She helped him to his feet and walked him down the hall to the living room.

"Here," she said, sitting him down at the spinet.

"I love when you play Rachmaninoff, but maybe a bit of Gershwin for a change?" He looked at her almost sheepishly and she leaned close.

"Like I said, honey, I'm not quite a Martha, and I'm sure as hell no Elvis Costello, but maybe tonight you can be Diana?" She kissed her husband gently on the lips before heading casually toward the door, humming a very familiar tune before walking out. Tom pulled the cardigan from his shoulders and laid it on the bench beside him before setting his hands to keyboard as he began to sing.

"S'wonderful…S'marvelous…that you should care for me…"

George and Martha by Clara has been happily and recently imported to BCTS as you already may have noted. I wrote this story around five years ago after discovering Clara's work on another site. Since then we have developed a nice online friendship that includes a love for music and a shared love for writing about the transgender experience.

S'wonderful
Words and music by
Ira and George Gershwin
as performed by Diana Krall
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdK7e-weFgg