Chapter Six: A Father’s Discovery

As president of Local 125 of the Airline Employees Union, Larry Collins had an office within the air terminal, where he spent 25% of his workday in time paid for by the union. There, he handled union problems from the job, conferred with stewards and members who may have grievances, discussed work place issues with his management counterparts and even handled various personal problems, such as a worker facing garnishments or alcoholism issues.

On the week before his son’s camping trip, Collins hosted his regular weekly stewards meeting, an hour-long session held to share problems and grievances. He hated these meetings, because too often they constituted ‘gripe sessions’; mercifully they were held during the last hour of the day shift as part of the labor contract with the airline. The stewards therefore kept the meetings brief hoping to end on time and head for home, the tavern or wherever.

“I got a delicate one, Larry,” commented Tracy Elton, who was the steward for the crews that cleaned and stocked the planes during lay-overs. Tracy stayed after the meeting ended, and Larry led the steward, a middle-aged, matronly woman, to his office.

“I got a member, one of the cleaners, who wants to come to work as a woman now,” Tracy began.

“Oh, and this member? He’s a guy?”

“Yes, Jimmy McCulloch. You know him? He’s the slender blonde guy with the long hair.”

Larry thought for a moment; there were 980 members in his local union, but he took pride in hoping to know all of them. His political future for re-election as president depended upon knowing his members.

“Oh, yes. I’ve worked with him. Our mechanics like him. He wants to be a woman? Here?”

“Yes, he came to me in tears yesterday,” she explained. “I had noticed he had been wearing some strange outfits to work, but didn’t say much. He’s young and you know how kids are today.”

“Yes,” Larry nodded. “But we wear uniforms here? Male and female not much different.”

“I know, but he still feels he should be able to adopt his female name, Jessica, wear the woman’s outfit and use women’s bathrooms.”

“God, is he some kind of faggot? With all the problems we got in negotiations, why do we have to deal with this?”

“Larry, don’t be too harsh on the guy . . . ah . . . girl. She explains she’s under treatment for being a transexual.”

The steward said the worker had explained to her that he had felt like a girl all of his life and that it had become painful to “pretend to be a boy or man.”

“It’s a real deal, Larry,” Tracy said. “These people can’t help themselves and many commit suicide over it.”

“I’ll check it out,” he said.

Larry Collins did check it out, even sharing the issue with his counterparts in the monthly joint bargaining council meetings where the leadership of the five unions representing workers at the Airlines met to share common causes and coordinate bargaining strategies. Trish Hendricks attended these meetings and reminded the group of the pilot whom she knew of in Iraq that committed suicide over a gender issue.

That night Larry had trouble sleeping, his mind turning over the coming concern of whether he would have to lead his union members to a strike or if he might find a way to avoid it while protecting their rights. There were no easy answers.

Then his mind turned to another problem, that of Jimmy McCulloch who wanted to become Jessica McCulloch. And that got him to wondering about his own son.

*****
“I knew we’d have to face this soon or later,” his mother said to Lawrence the afternoon after the camping trip. She found him in his room at his computer, wearing pink shorts and a lavender girl’s tee shirt with the words “Girls Rock” and looking very girlish. He was online, but only aimlessly looking at the screen, still worried about the incident during the camping trip.

“What, mom?” he asked turning his head and flicking hair out of his eyes.

“We’re going to have to tell your father.”

“About what?”

“You know damned well what,” his mother’s voice raised in anger, a rarity for her.

“I know I guess. Trish called you.”

“Yes, Miss Kendrick called me. She found you out, and she advises us to tell your dad about Heather.”

“I know, mom, and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone camping.”

“And I have been wrong to let you go and to go as a girl. I’ve been so wrong to let you be Heather. I encouraged you. I am so wrong, otherwise you could have been a boy your dad would have been proud of.”

“Mommy, mommy, I can’t be a boy. Never. Never.”

He got out of his chair and ran to his mother, engulfing himself in her arms as she stood at the doorway. He laid his head upon her shoulders, his cries growing louder and louder.

His mother held him, and she began crying as well. Lawrence felt comfort in the arms of his mother. Never had he felt so weak and fragile as he did at this moment, his puny body shuddering in sobs in the arms of his mother.

“I can’t be a boy, mother,” he said through his sobs. “I just love being a girl; I feel so good as a girl.”

“Honey, we’ll have to tell your father, you know,” she said after his sobbing subsided.

Lawrence nodded, as if in unbelief. How could they tell he father?

“I know mommy, and he’ll try to make me into a boy, I know it. I can’t mommy. I can’t be a boy; I’ll hate myself.”

She held her son, soon finding him calming down.

“Your father’s an understanding man, dear, and he’s not stupid,” she said, but Lawrence could feel that his mother did not necessarily believe the words she was saying. He did remember that his father had been fun and kind to him until his girliness had become apparent in recent years.

“Now, your father will be home in a few minutes,” she said. “Go to your room, dress in something boyish, and take all the makeup and polish off. Just stay in your room until I come get you.”

“Ok, mother,” he said, noticing the tenseness in her manner.

“I’m going to have to tell your father everything now,” she said. “And, I don’t know how he’ll take it. It’s best you stay out of sight.”

“Oh mother, I’m so sorry I brought all this on. Why couldn’t I have been a real boy, just like dad wanted? I so disappointed him.”

He got up and kissed her lightly, and she held him tightly to her for a moment, speaking softly. “No honey, I’m sure you haven’t disappointed, and he’ll appreciate you, if not now, eventually. Really, my dear. He does love you.”

*****
Lawrence put on a pair of blue jeans, a light tan polo shirt and New Balance running shoes; all very boyish stuff. He went to his computer, trying to concentrate on a game; he had found Bridge online to be a particularly fascinating game, but his anxious feelings ruined his attempts at concentration, giving it up as a fruitless effort. So, he lay on his bed, wondering how his father was reacting, wondering what was in store for him.

His mind wandered, but always into dreams of being a girl. He turned over onto his side, his right hand landing upon his slender upper left arm, and he marveled at how thin and soft it was. So girlish. He imagined Heather in a prom gown, her shoulders exposed, so white and smooth, and walking alongside Will, who was wearing a huge smile, knowing he had snagged the prettiest girl in school for his prom date.

He had tucked his penis between his thighs; it had grown hard in his musings. Yet, he wished it were gone, replaced by the nice convex curves of a girl’s crotch. He imagined the lovely ‘y’ contours of smooth white flesh, covered with light blondish hair. His imaginings grew ever more intense as his pictured himself carrying a child into full pregnancy, his ballooning belly a picture of beauty. He remembers Sally Penders, the young woman who moved in across the street, and her pregnancy. He felt a strange envy as he watched her advance toward childbirth. What indeed is more enchanting than a fully pregnant woman, whose joy at giving life radiates from her smiles?

His reverie became tearful: never, never, would he be able to carry a child, to be a mother, to be a lovely woman great with child.

What cruel joke had been played? In all ways, he was female, a girl; except, of course, he had a penis and no vagina and no hopes of ever carrying a child. He could dress pretty and look like a girl, but never would he be a total woman.

His musings had taken him away from the fear that his father was to be furious over his feminine activities; yet, as his tears began to subside, he began to wonder what was happening as his mother revealed his secret to his father. Strangely, he heard no raised voices, no shouts and no one being beaten. Still that didn’t stifle the fear that his father would be furious, not only with himself but also with his mother.

He felt terribly concerned now that he had forced his mother into a position of defending him; he loved his mother so much and he hated what that she was forced into dealing with his gender difficulties.

*****
There was a knock at the door. Three light taps, followed by the words of his mother: “Heather, Heather, may I come in?”

“Heather?” His mother said again, and Lawrence was shocked to hear his mother use the female name, particularly since she had asked him to dress as a boy.

“Come in mother,” he said finally, sitting up on the bed, rubbing his eyes with a piece of tissue.

“Have you been crying, honey?” she said, moving to sit next to him.

He shook his head in the affirmative.

She put and arm around his narrow shoulders, drawing him tightly against her, and kissing his forehead, a few strands of hair caught on her lips.

“Nothing to cry about, Heather,” she said.

“Nothing? Dad must be furious, mommy.”

“He is somewhat, dear, but I think he understands.”

“He does? He must be upset with me?”

“No, dear. He loves you, and he’ll always love you. Your father is a good man, dear.”

“Oh mommy,” Lawrence didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

“Now, dry your tears, and we need to pretty you up, Heather, for your father. He wants to see his daughter.”

“His daughter?” Lawrence asked, not believing his ears.

“Yes, his daughter, darling. He wants to meet Heather.”

“Oh mommy,” he said, throwing himself onto her body, the two ending in a deep hug.

Chapter Seven: Heather Emerges

“Come on honey, you need to decide now what to wear,” Dorothy Collins prodded her daughter.

Heather couldn’t decide what she should wear for her father; at first, she chose a black satin dress with thin shoulder straps, a plunging neckline and short skirt line. It was her favorite, and she knew it portrayed her lovely body to great advantage.

“But I look too slutty, mommy,” she said. “Daddy will be upset.”

“I tried to tell you that,” her mother said. “But you were determined.”

It had been nearly an hour since Dorothy Collins entered the girl’s room to say that Larry Collins Sr. was willing to meet “Heather,” his new daughter. Heather had showered, using a soft, sweet smelling soap, and readied herself for her “debut” as Heather. Her mother helped her brush her long brown hair, turning it into a bob at the back, and bending a hair across her forehead in a cute bang.

Just a few minutes before her father had rapped on the door, telling the two to “hurry up,” Heather decided upon wearing a full floral, pleated skirt that went to the knees, a crá¨me-colored layered blouse with a square bodice and puffed-up short sleeves. She wore coffee-colored thigh-high hose and a pair of black flats with a strap.

“Honey, you look just adorable,” her mother said.

Looking in the mirror, Heather was not impressed. She felt the outfit a bit dowdy and ordinary, but she realized it probably would be best to dress modestly in presenting herself for the first time before her father as Heather.

Her mother sensed Heather’s disappointment, and she reassured the girl that she looked sweet and lovely and, most importantly, totally feminine.

“Really, will daddy like me like this?” Heather asked, running her hand across her forehead in a motion to brush the bangs.

“Yes, dear. He’ll see you for the lovely girl you have always been.”

*****
Even so, Heather was not so sure her father would be pleased to see his onetime son now as a very feminine young lady. She followed her mother into the den, where her father was reading the Saturday morning paper and finishing his coffee.

Heather almost bolted as they approached the den, her stomach churning with anxious concern, but her mother whispered, “He’ll love you, dear.”

“Larry,” Dorothy Collins announced. “I want you to meet Heather, your daughter.”

Heather saw her father get up from the executive’s chair he had behind his desk, an inquisitive look on his face. The girl could see no anger, just puzzlement. Suddenly, standing there just inside the room, she felt exposed, almost naked before her father who had so much wanted a strong athletic boy for a son but now had a slender, almost fragile, girl as a daughter.

“Hi Daddy,” Heather said, tentatively, her voice soft.

Her father said nothing, and Heather reddened as she felt his eyes bore in upon her. She felt like fleeing the room, running away. Her father didn’t like her, she believed at the moment.

“Larry, say something to the girl,” Heather heard her mother plead.

Yet, her father said nothing, continuing to look at Heather, his face blank of expression and showing no sign of either disgust or joy.

“For God’s sake Larry, what do you think?” Dorothy pleaded again.

Standing still as a statue, Heather was at a loss of what to do, as her father examined her with his eyes; were they critical eyes? Or eyes of acceptance?

It seemed like hours, but it may actually have been less than a minute before Larry Collins spoke:

“Come here Heather, give your father a hug and a kiss.”

As he completed the sentence, his face broke into a broad smile.

“Oh daddy,” Heather said, running into his arms.

“I’m so proud of my pretty daughter,” he whispered into her ear after their brief kiss as he held her in his strong arms.

“Really daddy?” Heather asked, as the broke off the hug.

She joined her father on the couch in the den, her mother taking the side chair. Heather folded her legs to one side, her hands in her lap, looking prim and lady-like.

“Heather,” her mother began. “Your father and I agree on one thing and that is for you to be happy and to have a good future.”

“Yes, honey,” her father added. “Your mother tells me how happy you were when you were in your girl mode. And I could see how you struggled to be the boy I thought you should be.”

“Yes, daddy, I feel so much more natural as a girl. I really do. I don’t know why.”

“I know honey,” her father said.

Larry Collins then apologized for the cruelty he had shown to her when she was Lawrence, blaming himself for not recognizing what was so obvious.

“But, I am angry at both you and your mother for one thing,” Larry Collins said, his voice gaining an authoritative tone, which he could so easily develop.

“What Larry?”

“For lying to me all this time. Both of you.”

“We were afraid of how you’d react, Larry, and she was trying so hard to be the boy you had wanted her to be.”

“Yes, daddy, I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Heather said.

“Well, I wasn’t acting too nice during that time, was I?” her father said.

Heather and her mother let his comment pass, recalling how angry he would become in the days when he spent many hours at the Fly Inn, coming home full of beer and anger. In the last year or so, his union responsibilities had grown, as did the change in his personal habits; he rarely drank and was more even tempered.

Heather was puzzled now: what had prompted her father to accept her as his daughter so easily?

She didn’t get an answer to that question right away; instead, she was told she could continue to dress as Heather at home and in visits with her girl friends. Otherwise, she was to continue to be Lawrence Jr. outside the house.

“It’s not so easy for you to become Heather right away,” her mother explained.

“Yes, dear, we need to get you to a specialist to determine your situation, whether you truly are a girl in your mind and being,” her father said. “Then, if that is true, then we need to begin deciding how to make you into that girl physically.”

“I am a girl, daddy, I am. Nobody needs to examine me.”

“I’m afraid they do, because on your birth certificate, you’re Lawrence Jr., a boy, and that’s how you’ll return to school in the fall.”

“Oh daddy, I can’t go to school as a boy.”

“Well, that’s why we need to see a doctor,” her father said. “I’ve looked into this stuff before.”

“Oh?” Heather asked, looking puzzled. “You’ve looked into transgendered people?”

“Yes, dear,” her mother interjected. “Your father found out he has to defend a member of his union who is changing his gender from male to female.”

“And as union representative,” her father explained, “I had to defend his right to begin appearing at work as a woman.”

“Oh, did you like doing that?”

“Not at first,” her father admitted. “I thought he was just a fag and I was kind of disgusted by the whole event, but I had to represent him, or her.”

“Yes, Heather,” her mother added. “Then he talked with the woman, learned how difficult and cruel her life had been as a male. And, he studied up on transgendered stuff and realized it’s a real thing.”

“In fact,” Larry Collins Sr. added. “After handling that case, I began to look at you in a different way, and wondered whether you, my dear daughter, might indeed also be transgendered.”

“Oh daddy,” Heather said, leaning over to kiss him again. “You’re the bestest daddy in the world.”

*****
Heather’s birthday — she was turning 14 — came on the second Tuesday in August, the 10th, and her parents decided it was time for her to have a birthday party.

“It’ll be your first birthday as Heather, my dear,” her mother said. “And we’d like you to invite anybody you want.”

“I know mommy,” she said. The party was still 14 days away, and Heather had been living mainly as a girl for about a month. Her best girl friends, Stacy, Wendy and Althea, knew of the change, but no one else. Around the house now, Heather was always dressed and treated as girl, although sometimes her father slipped, calling her Lawrence, or using the pronoun “he.”

In most ventures out of the house, she still dressed as a boy, the exceptions being when she was going on visits or mall trips with her girl friends. No one, it had become obvious, would ever mistake Heather was anything but a girl, a feminine, dainty girl. And that’s how her friends accepted her.

Heather was completely overwhelmed by her father’s acceptance; in fact, he told her he wanted her to be wearing dresses, not slacks or shorts, when he arrived home for supper.

“I like seeing my pretty daughter,” he told her.

He hugged her every night when he got home, kissing her gently on her forehead, seeming to be proud of her femininity.

Heather loved these moments, and waited in anticipation for her father’s arrival every night, planning his suppers carefully and tastefully, always finding something different and unique. In her mind, Heather felt she was a young housewife, and her father was her husband, a newly married young man who adored her

Yet, her father’s time with her was short-lived each night; after the supper, he retreated to his den where she could hear him on the phone, often arguing but always showing patience with his callers. Some nights he left the house for a union meeting. His union work was becoming overwhelming, and he told Heather that the brief time her spent with her at supper was the best part of his day.

“Daddy,” she told him one night. “Maybe you can take me golfing sometime.”

“Oh darling, I’d like that,” he said. “And I won’t you expect to hit the ball hard, either.”

She giggled: “And I can use women’s clubs?”

“Yes, dear, and you can use the women’s tees, too.”

Heather smiled at that, as she put the chicken cacciatore on the table. Heather really did want to do things with her father now, even golf, where the experience before had been so horrid. As a girl now she was not expected to power hit the ball; she knew her father would be pleased to bring his lovely daughter out to the course, proud of her singular beauty which would be apparent in the cute golf outfit she’d wear.

“Oh daddy, that would be so much fun, and I promise I won’t slow you down,” she said.

“When this strike business is over, honey, I promise I’ll take you golfing, and I’ll be glad to have you hit like a girl.”

*****
“You must wear something special for the birthday party,” her mother said, on the weekend before the event.

Shopping at a popular girls clothing store which offered bargain prices that Saturday, they found a stretchy knit halter dress that featured a knot front with padded cups, empire waist and braided back detail. It would go to mid-thigh, and the deep V-neck exposed the sweet white flesh of Heather’s back and front.

Her mother frowned at first. “It shows so much skin, darling,” she said.

“It looks so cute on your daughter,” the sales clerk, a college-age girl, said. “That’s what all the girls are wearing these days, ma’am.”

“I know, but she’s only going to be 14 next week, and that’s so . . . ah . . . revealing. I don’t want any boys around so soon,” Dorothy Collins said.

“Mom!” Heather said, exasperated with her mother’s stated concerns.

“Oh ma’am, I understand your worries. But, your daughter has a lovely figure, and this dress looks so sweet on her,” the clerk continued. “This is a modest dress, compared to some.”

They finally chose the dress, though Dorothy Collins was still not convinced it was modest enough and that her pretty daughter was still naíve about the stuff of life and how her attractive body would lure boys and men.

*****
Except for her father, Heather’s 14th birthday party was an all-girl event. It was held at a popular restaurant, Chocolate Heaven, which was favored for its sweets and exotic sandwiches. It was a spot that mainly attracted women and girls.

The group included Stacy, Wendy and Althea, all in dresses with their hair fixed; along with Heather, the four were in stockings and heels.

“What pretty young ladies we have here,” said the hostess as she led the group of six to their reserved table near the rear of the restaurant.

Seeing four teenaged girls dressed so classy was a rarity in the current day, and they drew plenty of looks and comments as they wound their way behind the hostess. Heather never felt so self-assured as she did now, realizing that she was a pretty girl, and that she could walk proudly. It was such a change from the past when, as Lawrence, she would shuffle along, hoping no one would notice her.

To Heather’s great pleasure, she noticed how proudly her father led her, taking her hand in his as they followed the hostess. He presented Heather with the seat at the head of the table, pulling out the chair for his daughter, who daintily sat down, smoothing the dress as she sat.

“This lovely lady must be the birthday girl,” the waitress said, as she approached the table and introduced herself as Tiffany, “your server.”

“Yes, this is Heather,” her father said.

“And how old are you, miss?”

“Fourteen,” Heather said, her face reddening.

“Well, you’re a pretty young miss,” the waitress said.

As the birthday dinner progressed, it soon became a cascade of giggles, conspiratorial whispers between the girls and “oohs” and “aahs.” As the birthday cake was served, the restaurant staff gathered about the table to sing “Happy Birthday, Dear Heather,” joined in by many in the restaurant. When it was over, everyone applauded, and Heather sat pleased with the attention, and feeling a bit overwhelmed and not sure how to respond.

“Stand up, honey, and curtsey for the song,” her mother whispered.

Her father, sitting beside her, got up to pull the chair out, making it easier for her to stand, and she responded with a with a dainty curtsey to the restaurant patrons, receiving even more applause. Out of her eye, Heather noticed the smile on her father’s face. She hoped it was a smile that signified his pride in his new daughter. She had never felt her father could ever be proud of “him”, but now as his daughter, she had finally found acceptance, she hoped.

*****
“I love all the gifts I got,” Heather said, still excited after opening them.

“Thanks, Althea,” she said wrapping her thin arms about her sinewy friend. “How did you know I wanted a jewelry chest so badly? And so full of stones, too.”

“Oh Heather, all girls like such things,” Althea said.

Wendy gave her a scarf set, three satiny scarves that Heather could wrap about her neck, use as a shawl and head covering.

“The scarves are so girlish, Wendy,” Heather said, kissing her friend, who held her tightly for an embarrassing moment.

“Glad you like them, I felt they were so much like you,” Wendy replied, finally letting go.

“And, Stacy, this DVD of ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ I love it so. I’ve never seen this version.”

“It’s the first version, done in 1940 with Greer Garson as Elizabeth,” Stacy said. “I know you’ll love it.”

“Oh thank you, Stacy,” Heather said, hugging and kissing her, too. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“I think as you grow a bit older, Heather, you’ll look just like Greer Garson, so warm and friendly and feminine,” Stacy said.

“But who plays Mary?” Heather asked.

“Forget Mary,” Stacy said. “You’re so pretty, Heather, you should be either Jane or Elizabeth.”

Stacy pointed to the cover of the DVD, showing the actress in a bare-shouldered gown, her white skin exuding warmth and femininity.

“You’d look so sweet in a gown like that Heather, better than Althea, Stacy or me,” commented Wendy.

Heather blushed, knowing that Wendy spoke the truth; both Althea and Wendy had sinewy arms and shoulders of athletes, and Stacy’s upper body, though fleshy, showed strength. Heather realized how naturally feminine she was.

*****
To Heather, it was the most marvelous night in her young life. Her father hugged her as the party ended, and Heather’s heart leaped for joy: Larry Collins whispered in her ear: “I love you, daughter.”

Epilogue

For Heather, her life was only beginning. She indeed would begin attending high school as a girl, particularly after a psychiatrist added evidence to the fact that she was female with some male bodily issues that were to be handled through medication and some surgery, both gender-related and cosmetic.

Much more challenging in her teen years would be her relationships with her friends and classmates. Heather found Wendy’s clinging affection for her to be both exciting and wonderful, but also troubling. How would she handle Wendy’s advances?

She wished to maintain close to Stacy in hope that the two would be lifetime girl friends, ready to share each other’s joys and frustrations. Would that continue?

And Will? How would he feel once he learns that Heather, the girl he found so lovely, was really a boy when he held her in his arms in the swimming pool? Would he be angry?

And what about all the students in the big-city high school? How would they treat this girl who was, anatomically, still a boy?

Her father talked with her on the evening after her first visit with the psychiatrist when it became apparent that Heather’s best option in life was to transition to becoming a female.

“Honey,” her father said, “I checked with the school administration and they have a special high school now for kids like you.”

“I know, daddy,” Heather said. “It’s the Harvey Milk School of Excellence.”

“You can go there, dear. It might be easier for you.”

Heather thought for a moment. She had known about it, and even considered it briefly, knowing that there was a real possibility of being harassed and possibly hurt in an attack at her regular high school.

“Oh daddy, I’m just like all the other girls. Really I am. And I wanna be just an ordinary girl, with lots of girl friends and maybe even a boy friend.”

Heather blushed as she said “boy friend,” her mind going to a vision of Will.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes, daddy, I am. I’m just one of the girls daddy.”

Lawrence Collins Sr. smiled: “Oh Heather, my darling daughter. You’re really much more than ‘one of the girls.’ You’re my special daughter.”

“Oh daddy,” Heather said, moving to hug her father. “I love you so much.”

“And, I love you, Heather.”

They hugged each other for a moment; it was a sweet father-daughter hug.

When they broke, Lawrence Collins Sr. began to laugh.

“What’s so funny, daddy?”

Her father ended his laugh, and said:

“I was just thinking. I guess I don’t need the ‘senior’ at the end of my name any more.”

“Oh, daddy,” Heather said quickly. “Does that make you sad?”

“It does, a little bit, since I loved Lawrence Jr., but what father wouldn’t want such a lovely girl as a daughter.”