Halloween — Chapter 6
October 31, 1986

Leaving work at noon proved to be easy. The bank that I worked at expected business to slow down in the afternoon with families preparing for Halloween. Several employees with young children were also given the afternoon off.

I had to remind myself to slow down while driving to my mother’s house. The adrenalin my body pumped had made my foot heavy. It had been six years since I had been dressed as Lisa; I was bursting with anticipation. My mother had called the second week of September when she had learned that her breast cancer had returned and asked if she could spend Halloween with my family. Knowing that I had been extremely open with my wife, Karen, about my struggles with gender identity, she also asked if she could bring a witch’s costume and help me dress for her one last time.

Karen had never really seen me dressed as a woman. Her mental picture of me as a witch must have been entertaining because she quickly agreed. She knew that the return of the cancer was not a good sign and how important Mother was to our family. Karen’s eyes reflected her sorrow.

As I drove toward Mother’s house I couldn’t help but reflect on my last evening out as Lisa in 1980 and the two other ‘girls’ in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It seemed like yesterday -- especially the shock I felt when I learned that Johns Hopkins was no longer performing sex reassignment surgery. Despite being devastated, I forced myself to enjoy the evening, but I resolved that night to purge Lisa for good.

When my mother learned of my decision the next day, she was both supportive and anxious. She immediately told me that my identity as Lisa would not go away and could only be suppressed. I didn’t believe her, because I thought I could control my emotions and could walk away from that part of me. When she insisted that I ship all of Lisa’s clothes, shoes, wigs, and breast forms to her, I agreed, but only to make her happy.

I knocked on her door. She had known me better than I had when she forced me to send my clothes to her six years ago.

“Hi, Mom,” I said opening the door myself. “Where are you?” I called into the quiet house.

“Hi, Honey, I’m down in the basement. Can you help me with a few things?”

“Mom, I don’t want you carrying anything. I’ll be right down,” I yelled, as I quickly went downstairs.

She gave me a knowing grin. “I am so happy that I saved your things. Look, I washed all of your lingerie today -- and your wigs and breast forms look brand new. Can you carry that box upstairs because I want to show you your costume which I’ve stored in the closet?”

Following her upstairs my heart pounded in anticipation of seeing the outfit she had selected for me. Expecting to see something that the Wicked Witch of the West would wear I was surprised and delighted when she pulled out black and pink, peasant-top mini-dress with matching black lace petticoat.

“What do you think, Honey? It’s a size 10 which I think will be perfect; your black high heels that I saved will go perfect with it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Mom. It’s beautiful. The neckline is a little risqué but I love the petticoat. I thought you would want me to wear some old, ugly, witch’s costume -- not a pretty dress. Karen asked if I was going to paint my skin green and walk stooped over.”

“Who says you have to be an ‘ugly’ witch? The store I bought this in sold only sexy, adult costumes. Knowing Karen, she’ll be amazed when I’m through with you.”

I’m not sure if “amazed” will describe how she’ll feel.

“We should hurry, Honey. I bought you Nair. We have a lot to do before Karen brings Tommy home at three thirty.”

“Mom, I don’t know about the Nair. I’m not sure Karen is expecting. . . .”

She smiled like I had just told her Santa probably wouldn’t bring me everything I wanted. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ve already talked to Karen. Your hair will grow back.”

“Ok, Mom, let me help you into the car, and then I’ll come back for everything and lock the door.”

One hour later, I sat at my wife’s vanity in my lingerie and pantyhose while my mother finished my nails. She had carefully applied nail extensions and was painting them a deep wine red when she asked, “Honey, have you missed being Lisa?”

“That’s a difficult question, Mom, because I am really happy being married to Karen and you know how much joy you get in being a parent. I know we had Tommy pretty quickly after we got married, but he has brought so much into our lives. At the same time, this gender thing never leaves my mind. It’s there every single day; I don’t think it will ever go away. I just felt natural being Lisa; I’ve really been looking forward to today. So, I guess the answer is ‘Yes’ -- I have missed being Lisa.”

“For so many years I thought you were just indulging me when you let you dress you up for Halloween. Now I think we are ‘indulging’ each other. Now you’re just letting me have some fun because you’re worried I won’t make it to next Halloween.”

“Mom, you’re going to be okay and. . . .”

“Enough of that! As I was saying, I’m just indulging what I believe is your need to be Lisa. Now that I’m finished doing your nails I want you to keep your hands away from me while I work on your face.”

“Mom, are you sure this isn’t too much for you? I could do my makeup when my nails dry.”

“Not a chance, Honey. Wait until you see the results when I’m finished.”

Thirty minutes later, Mom zipped my dress from behind while I waited anxiously to see the results of her makeover. “Honey, you can’t look in the mirror until I put on your wig. Here, why don’t you slip on your heels, while I adjust and brush out your wig? Perfect! Let’s go over to the full-length mirror and look at how beautiful you turned out.”

Looking in the mirror, a deep joy flooded my entire being. “I can’t believe it, Mom! You’re right; I don’t know if I’d call myself beautiful, but I do think I look pretty good. I forgot how much I like looking at myself as Lisa. It feels like I’m looking at the ‘real’ me.”

“Honey, that’s why I’m here tonight,” Mother smiled as she reached out and tightly held me with tears falling down her cheeks, “Lisa is the ‘real’ you. Now let’s decide on your jewelry. I think this necklace will look great with the dress. It’s too bad your ears have closed, but I brought a few clip-ons that should work. I think I hear Karen pulling into the driveway. Why don’t you spray yourself with a little perfume and grab your witch’s hat and broom and meet me downstairs? I can’t wait to see Karen’s surprise when she sees you.”

As Mom made her way slowly down the stairs, I continued staring in the mirror thinking about all those evenings I went to bed dreaming about waking up as a girl. I would have given anything to be the girl I was now looking at; no one except my mother truly understood who I was. Shaking myself out of my day dream, I sprayed on a little Chanel # 5 before putting my lipstick and powder in a black clutch with a shoulder strap. After putting on my witch’s hat, I grabbed the broom, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs. I could hear Mom talking in the family room.

“Is that my wonderful grandchild?”

“Hi! Grandma,” Tommy yelled.

“Hello, Mother,” Karen said. “Let me help you into a chair.”

I waited at the bottom of the stairs -- afraid to show myself.

“Let me see your costume and give me a kiss, Tommy,” Mother said. “You’ll never be too old to kiss your Grandma.”

“I’m Spider-man, Grandma. Did you make Daddy a witch? Mommy said you did.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy. Wait until you see what she looks like.”

Not knowing the reception I’d receive from both Tommy and Karen, I slowly walked into the family room -- moving naturally in my heels, as if I wore them every day.

“That lady is pretty!” Tommy blurted.

“That lady is your dad,” Mother said. “She’s just dressed like a witch.”

From the look on Karen’s face I can tell she’s not amused.

“Hi, Tommy, do you like my costume?”

“You’re pretty, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” I smiled, anxiously looking over at Karen, “What do you think, Honey?”

“I don’t know what to say, John,” Karen hissed, “Can I have a word with you upstairs?”

“Sure, dear, I’ll meet you in our bedroom.”

Upstairs, Karen, obviously shaking, quickly got to the point, “What are you and your mother thinking? Look at you. Did you shave your entire body? When your mother discussed this dressing-up thing with me I thought she was planning on something funny, like an old witch. I don’t know if you heard her but she refers to you with female pronouns. How do you think I feel? You’re prettier than most women we know; my God, you’re probably prettier that me.”

“I’m sorry, Karen,” I replied uncertain where to begin to respond to everything she had said. “I did shave my whole body. I don’t want to blame my mother, but she thought you’d understand. It grows back quickly -- and we thought I’d look silly with hair all over. I won’t ever shave it again, I promise.”

“I still can’t get over you. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Your son even called you ‘pretty’. I don’t remember if he’s ever called me pretty. And look at your heels; they have to be at least three inches and you walk perfectly in them like you wear them every day. Did your Mother take you out to get a manicure? Even your nails are perfect. What am I to think?”

“I’m. . . . It’s going to be. . . . Mother said. . . . “Seeing the pain and confusion on her face and the tears gently falling on her cheeks, I quickly tried to hug her.

“No, don’t you touch me.” She moved a step away from me and stood with her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed a warning to me to keep my distance. “You even have my perfume on.” She stopped for a moment and collected herself. “I need to be by myself.”

“Karen, we need to talk.”

She shook her head.

I can’t leave it like this. “I’ve always been honest with you. Before we were married I told you about my gender issues. I never lied to you, and more importantly, I haven’t been dressed like this since well before I met you. When I married you I promised to love and honor you forever. I gave up dressing because I wanted to be with you and to have a family. Getting dressed today was Mom’s idea.”

Wiping away her tears, Karen turned and looked into my eyes. “I never knew how serious your dressing as a girl was. I thought it had been a lark. But looking at how you look. . . . It’s hard for me to look at you like this -- how natural you walk and gesture with your hands. This isn’t a game; it’s a real serious issue for you, isn’t it?”

Should I deny it? Is our marriage at stake? I nodded. “I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t a problem.” Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. “But I understood what I was doing when I gave it up and fell in love with you. I wanted to have a life together; a family together. I’ll take everything off right now if that’s what you want,” I whispered and slowly started to take off my wig.

She stopped me by grabbing my arm. “No, Honey, That’s not what I want. Please hold me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just never really knew. I don’t want to ruin everything for your mother. Not with her feeling so poorly and . . . . Now, there, let me hold you. By the way, your wig frames your face beautifully.”

Is she serious? “Thank you. What do you want me to do?”

“Let me fix your makeup because we promised your Mother that we’d have fun tonight. Tommy expects me to take him out ‘trick or treating’ but we have to make sure he doesn’t get confused about your dressing. Can you act a little less girly around him, like easing up on the female gestures? Your Mother wants to help you hand out the candy so let’s not disappoint her. But, do you really mean it when you say that you don’t need to get dressed as a girl anymore?”

“I really mean it, Honey. I love you so much and I’d do anything for you. I haven’t dressed in six years -- and I promise I won’t again.”

***

Later in the afternoon after Karen and Tommy left to ‘trick or treat’ I told my Mother about my conversation with Karen.

“I’m sorry that I caused you both so much trouble, dear. I just wanted to let you be Lisa again. I think it is more important than you realize. But now that you’ve promised Karen that you won’t, I want you to promise me that you will keep your word to Karen. Come over here and let me hold your hands. Your hands are so feminine; I love the color of your nails. You truly look beautiful, Honey. I want you to know that I still think of you as my daughter and always will but I want to hear your promise, because I love Karen and Tommy, too.”

“I promise that I will never dress as Lisa again, Mom. You know I love my family; I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.”

“Lisa, as women we are taught from an early age to sacrifice everything for our families and the sacrifice you are making truly makes you a woman forever in my mind.”

I haven’t dressed as Lisa for six years, but can I really give it up for the rest of my life? What happens if something changes? Well, I don’t even want to think about that.

***

I would like to thank Angela Rasch for her editing help.