Wittering Dung beetles (aka Bike) Part 580 by Angharad

I left Dr Rose feeling a little easier in my mind about my care of Trish, he seemed to think it was very acceptable. I wasn’t at all sure what I thought about his colleague, Dr Edwards, as I was sure he had an ambivalence towards her himself. Still, a few more days and I’d find out what she was like.

We hastened up to the prem baby unit, and I hoped a chance to feed Puddin’. Stella was up there when we arrived, she was expressing milk and grumbling, her breasts were significantly larger since the birth and she didn’t like it because none of her clothes would fit.

She was being worked on by one of the nurses, the nice one, who was trying to convince her that breast feeding was good for her and her baby. I don’t think Stella sounded too convinced. It made me feel sad, but then I suppose I should feel grateful for what I’ve got given my route to womanhood and motherhood.

She was happy that Trish and I should feed Puddin, and by positioning a chair alongside the incubator, Trish was able to give Puddin’ some of her milk. Trish was so excited, and I thought it ironic that she seemed to be a more natural mother than Stella was.

Once again, I held Puddin’s finger, or she held mine and Trish indicated she could see the blue energy, which was more than I could. After it, Puddin seemed to yawn and sleep. She was slightly larger and seemed to gaining weight very slowly. The dark hair she’d had on her head, however, seemed to be coming out and her skin was peeling a bit as well. Most of her feeding was done by a tube which went via her nose into her tummy, but she was suckling the bottle a bit more efficiently.

When the nurse saw me touching the baby, she gave me a knowing look and smiled. Stella seemed oblivious of all of this and prattled on about how the baby was responding to her care.

Stella had some news for us as well, she was coming home in a day or two. Puddin’ would have to stay until she’d made up body weight which they felt made her resilient enough to survive in the outside world. At the moment, she was still too little.

I asked about the skin peeling and was told it was reasonably common, I wondered if it was like snakes or insects who moult their skins to grow. In insects they call it ecdysis. See an education is never wasted, all you have to do now is work out how to fit it into everyday conversation.

We stayed for a further half an hour and then walked back to the ward with Stella. She was now wearing her ordinary clothes, except they were loose tops and of course a nursing bra. She hated it all and asked why I hadn’t taken the chance to breast feed when she’d offered. I didn’t answer her question, I did enough for her already.

I took her dirty laundry and a list of things she wanted me to bring in for her. In some ways, I was pleased she’d be home soon, although I expected her to lounge about, exhausted after feeding Puddin’.

“You are not to tell anyone that you saw the blue light again, or that you helped feed Puddin’, if you do, I won’t let you feed her again. Understood?” I said to Trish as we walked back to the car.

“Yes, Mummy,” she said beaming, knowing that Mima would be jealous if ever she found out.

Back home and the drudgery continued, washing for the invalids, and cooking for the residents, with Trish who laid the table and helped me get the meal. Mima was fast asleep with Simon on the couch–apparently, they’d taken Kiki for a walk and tired themselves out.

Tom was in his study working on his computer, as soon as he knew I’d try and stop him, he locked the door. I could hear him chuckling, or maybe cackling the other side of it. I did think to switch off the mains electric to the house, but then I’d mess up the dinner.

Because of the late start, I did bacon and egg with sausages and tomatoes, mushrooms and fried bread. When Simon did wake up, just before I dished up, he was pleased to see the meal I’d cooked, it was one of his favourites.

“Next time, do some hash browns, will ya?”

“I prefer to call it fried potato and we need some previously boiled and mashed spud to do that; as you currently eat any leftovers before I can use them, it might be difficult.”

“You can get frozen hash browns,” he informed me.

“I know, I just prefer to use home produced food, the commercial stuff has too much salt in it.” Then I thought about the way Tom used to sprinkle salt on everything except his sweets. They say the Scots eat too much of it, and explains why anyone living to fifty in Glasgow is unusual. So much for porridge being good for you.

After the meal, Mima, who’d got her second wind, wanted to play with the makeup sets, so Trish happily assisted her. Then it was bed time, after steam cleaning their faces, and Tom read them a story while Simon and I chatted.

“Did you see your post?”

“What? As in mail?”

“Yep, something with a Do not bend sticker on it.”

“I’m not expecting any photos, am I?”

“You’re asking me?” He had a look of horror on his face.

“No, I was thinking out loud.” I went out to the hall and there on the side table, were a few items of mail. The one was larger than the others and had the warning about bending it clearly displayed. I looked at the sender’s address, it was from the GRP.

With excited fingers, I carefully pulled up the flap, inside was a light blue certificate, I was finally female. I whooped and Simon came dashing out to see what was happening.

I was dancing around the lounge. “What the hell is going on?” he asked curtly.

“I’m female.”

“Yeah, we know that, tell me something new.”

“No, I’m female.”

“You said.”

“Really female.”

“Damn, and there’s me thinking it was real all along.”

“No, Simon, look.” I shoved the certificate in front of him.

He read it, and then gave me an enormous hug. “Congratulations, female,” he said then kissed me. “When do you get your new birth certificate?”

“They’re going to write to me to ask what I want written on it, you know, what I want to register as my name.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m nearly there, complete.”

“No, you silly moo, it means I can ask you something again.”

“If it’s for a cuppa, it’s your turn to make it,” I replied tired of waiting on him.

“No, you silly cow, can I ask you again, will you marry me?”

“Do I have to?”

“No.” The look on his face was pure dejection.

“So it’s my choice then?”

“Wasn’t it always?”

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“You gonna reject me?”

“I could do, couldn’t I?”

“Well don’t prolong the agony, get on and say no, if you’re going to.”

“No…”

“Oh well, that’s it then. I thought you were going off me, now you’ve got your kids, you don’t want me. I’ll pack my stuff and leave.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I’m not going to reject you, and no, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Cathy, stop pissing me about, are we getting married or not?”

“Yes, we are and I am delighted to become your wife.”

“Shit! I suppose I’d better tell Dad and Monica.”

“Tell them what?” asked Tom as he came down from his story session.

“To get ready to organise a wedding.”

Tom looked at me and then at Simon, then back to me. “What is going on?”

“I’m officially female, my gender recognition thingy has come back.” I handed him the certificate.

“Oh, Cathy, I’m so pleased for you, this calls for a bottle of champagne, and I have one in the cellar. He hugged me and kissed me, then went off to get the bottle.

“That piece of paper doesn’t change anything you know?” said Simon.

“Yes it does, my birth certificate and my legal status…”

“No it doesn’t, all it does is make it acceptable to government what you’ve done to your body. In my eyes, you’ve always been female, and a beautiful one at that, and one that I fell in love with almost at first sight. I still love you.”

I felt the tears well up and run down my face. “Oh, Si, you say the sweetest things.” I said hugging him and kissing him.

“So why are you crying then?” I shook my head, unable to speak. He looked at me and said, “Bloody women, I’ll never understand them.”