For ten years, I had been going to the same cafe for lunch. I ordered the same thing, served the same way all the time. Occasionally I had changed my routine a little and gotten something else, or eaten there on the weekend, but most times it was the same old same thing every day.

Today the cafe burned to the ground.

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I heard the sirens from work. It would be hard not to since they came right by our building about 10 AM. I was on a sales call at the time so I didn't pay any attention to the sirens, figuring that if they concerned me I would find out quick enough.

Then at 11:45, I left my office to go to lunch and found out what the sirens were about.

I couldn't believe it. My cafe, MY cafe, the one place I was comfortable eating at, was gone. Just gone in a puff of smoke.

I spent most of my lunch hour looking at the ruins of the place. I talked to the cook who escaped. He told me that some grease flared up and the back wall lit up like the high school stadium on Friday night, next thing he knew he was outside and the whole place was roaring flames climbing through the roof.

I tried to deny that it happened. I looked around for another place to eat since I was getting hungry, hoping it would be okay tomorrow. I knew in my heart that it wouldn't be.

I grabbed some fast food and scooted back to my office. Time to find a new place to eat.

It took me the rest of the week, but there was a small restaurant near work that was a lot like my old place. It had a similar menu, similar ambience, it was a small and uncluttered place, and last of all, it wasn't "trendy". Some good restaurants had been ruined by becoming popular with the Yuppie crowd. I have to admit, I fit the stereotype. But I just wanted to have a place where I could enjoy my meal in peace. I didn't want to have to pay extra for the oxygen I breath or the blacklights that illuminated the place.

It was quiet. The music was subdued, and the windows were covered by gauze curtains. This let in a lot of indirect light, making this place well lit, but not overly bright or too hot. There were honest to God tables instead of booths. Not the little two person tables mind you, but tables that four people could sit at comfortably without crowding each other. The carpets were deep and well used, but also well cared for. There wasn't a bar as such, but I could see a beer tap in the back room.

The staff was attentive without being obnoxious. I was shown to a table and left alone with the menu. When I set it down, the waitress came over and took my order. I was in first-like with this place right off the bat.

"Jessica" was her name. She was a fairly nice looking lady, about 5' 6" or so, brown and brown. Not a raving beauty, but not hard on the eyes either. Still, there was something that felt off about her. I wasn't sure, since I couldn't spot anything obvious, but it was like there was this aura of "something is not right". I found myself staring.

I gave her my order and settled into the chair to wait.

About 5 minutes later, she delivered the order with a smile. I dug in while watching her out of the corner of my eye. I tried very hard not to make it obvious that I was watching her, but I think she felt me looking at her.

That was the first of many trips to the Bluebird cafe I made. Because I like consistency, I tend to get there the same time each day and sit at the same table. If I couldn't get "my" table, I sat in her section, so that I could be served by her each time.

Jessica and I struck up several conversations, and I really got to like her a lot. I'm a bachelor so it is natural to chat with pretty girls. And despite the "oddness" aura around her, Jessica was pretty. Probably not classically beautiful, not someone that models would envy, but pretty none the less.

One evening on my way home, I stopped off and saw Jessica just as she was getting off work. I suggested at some point that if she wanted to that we could go out to see a movie or something.

To my surprise and shock, she accepted. I was ready to be told that she was seeing someone that she had to wash her hair, something like that. But, no, Jessica accepted my tentative offer of a date pretty rapidly. I was thrilled.

We made plans to meet at the Bluebird for some food and then to go to a movie on the weekend. Sunday would be the best day for her. I found I was more excited than I had been in a long time.

I must have changed clothes about a dozen times, trying for just the right look to impress her. I didn't want to be super fancy, but then I didn't want to look like a hick either. I finally settled on a nice pair of slacks, an open collared shirt and a sport coat. I figured that if her outfit mandated it I could add a tie and be even more dressed up, or shed the coat and dress down some more.

I guess the prospect of going out on a date for the first time in about 10 years had me feeling like a teenager again, but I was humming as I got everything ready. I was torn on the impulse to buy some candy and flowers for her as I walked to the cafe, but I didn't. Dating had changed since I was in college.

I'm not a fashion critic or very knowledgeable about girl's clothes, but I could tell she dressed nicely for the evening.

I saw her at one of the outdoor tables as I came up. She was wearing a nice short dress, it started at red on the hem and moved to light pink at her shoulders, with a high neck and no sleeves. There was this wide white belt and her shoes were a nice open toed high heel, or so I was informed later. Her hair was done up in some style that pulled it all off her neck into a bun of some sort.

In short, she took my breath away. I couldn't stop staring at her. It sounds campy as hell, but she was a vision of beauty. My beauty.

I sat down in the chair opposite her and we had a nice dinner. We talked and laughed, I shared my work with her, and she talked about her work with me. We went to a movie, and I couldn't tell you what it was with a gun to my head. I know there was a beautiful girl, a studly man, cars, explosions, crashes, angst and Jessica wound up crying. I was far too distracted by the lady with me.

That started our whirlwind romance. I was besotted with her, and I couldn't understand what a 23 year old would see in someone nearly twice her age. I just knew that she made me feel like a teen again.

I tried to always be a gentleman with her, holding her hand, the door, her bag and things like that. I didn't push my sexual need on her, and I accepted any affection she wished to share with me. Oh I was gone on her.

There were times that I so wanted to force myself on her, but I was content to wait. And it was very hard, she intoxicated me. Her smell, the gestures she made, the way she walked, all of it conspired to eventually have me on my knees in front of her with a ring box in my hand.

Yes, I proposed. I waited for that "yes" that every man waits for from the lady of his dreams. She smiled sadly and closed the box in my hand. She took it and placed it in my shirt pocket.

I was confused.

Jessica looked deeply into my eyes. "I want to accept, but I have to tell you something first, and it may mean the end of us."

She put her finger over my lips when I tried to respond and asked me not to say anything until she had finished what she had to say.

She led me to her apartment. She made me comfortable on her couch and then pulled out a photo album. She looked so sad as she turned and handed it to me.

"Before you open this album, Ben, you have to promise me that you won't hold what you find out against me. I never lied to you and I love you with all my heart." I nodded in acquiescence.

I opened the album when she released her hand. It was a life scrapbook that some parents make for their children. I opened the cover and saw "For my wonderful son, love, your Mom."

I started turning pages while Jessica sat on her coffee table across from me. Page after page of this cute boy looked back at me. First birthday, school pictures, Cub Scouts, Halloween, with a cat, hanging on a jungle gym, all looked back at me as I turned pages. I noticed the dates were in the late 80's and 90's, which would put this child at about 20 something.

I got even more confused. When the pictures ended after the Senior Prom, I really didn't know what to think.

I looked at Jessica in confusion. "I don't understand, is this your brother?"

"No," she said sadly. "That's me."

She held my eyes with hers as she said this. My mind was blank. I didn't know what to think. "What do you mean, hon?" I asked stupidly.

She sighed deeply and said, "I wasn't born Jessica Carter. I was born Jason Kenneth Carter. I am a transsexual."

My mind went into a high speed whirl. Have you ever seen a watch spring that is fully wound break and un-wind? That was my brain. All I could think of what Christine Jorgensen. I had seen "Ed Wood", I knew about "Glen or Glenda", but I didn't think any of that applied to Jessica.

I tried to imagine her as I had seen some of the porn mags, a beautiful woman, sexy, shapely with a huge penis, and I failed utterly. I just couldn't resolve the conflict between them.

Some part of me wondered if she was circumcised.

She must have seen it on my face. "Ben, it's okay. I understand." She reached out and touched my hand. Involuntarily I snatched my hand back. I saw her face fall.

"If you want to go, please do so Ben. I want you to be happy."

My mind in turmoil, I left the album and left her -- his apartment.

I must have walked for hours. I didn't see where I went or what I was doing. I had just enough instinct to not wander down any of the bad areas, but I really didn't want to meet anyone on the streets.

I found myself back at the cafe. It was still open and I sat down on one of the chairs outside. My life was crashing down around me and I had to have something to hold on to.

I don't know how long it had been when I realized that I needed to talk to Jessica again, but I started going back over to her -- his apartment again. I found myself outside the familiar door and I knocked.

The door was opened and I could tell that he -- she had been crying. She had red eyes, a puffy nose and running makeup. I went into her -- his apartment without being invited. She followed behind me and blew her nose hard.

I still had a confused look on my face. "Jessica, I don't understand. You had a sex-change?"

She took a deep breath. "Not yet. I have had hormones for the last 5 years, but I haven't had the full surgery yet. I've been under the care of a psychologist and my doctor, but I haven't had the courage to get the surgery yet. And I haven't had the money either."

She seemed to deflate. I didn't know what to say. "Jessica, I've never met one of you before, so..."

She cut me off. "One of you? What, a human being, a woman, beloved or just someone that has had a really really hard time? What do you mean, 'one of you'?"

I tried to walk the statement back, but she had a mad on now. "Listen to me BUSTER, that kind of thinking has gotten people like me KILLED in the past. Even if you don't want to be with me anymore, you need to change that attitude, right now!"

She flounced over to the kitchen and poured herself a Screwdriver and made one for me too. When she -- damnit, HE, came back, the drinks were set on the coffee table and she sat in a chair near me. She, uh, he, wasn't mad anymore, just resigned.

"Ben, do you want to hear what it was like for me? Do you want to understand why I chose this, or do you just want to leave and never see me again? I won't blame you if you leave. I've gone over and over this in my brain since our third date, about how I would tell you, but if it's too much, I won't hate you if you leave, I’m use to people leaving the real me. They only want the pretend." The bitterness and pain in her voice was a shock.

I took a sip of the drink. "Tell me please? I want to understand."

She sighed and took a large sip of her drink. "Okay.

"When I was born, I was seen as the odd boy. No matter who was speaking, I would always hear that I was odd, but no one could say just why I was odd. I didn't think about it much, I just knew that I was me. I didn't see anything wrong with what I did. I liked everyone, the boys in my play groups, and the girls in Kindergarten. I played freeze tag and hopscotch. I actually liked playing house with the girls, and I think I was good at it too.

"Then came First Grade. I figured it would be the same as Kindergarten and Preschool, where I played with kids and we did things together. But I found out that was when society decides to force children into the gender roles they will have for the rest of their lives.

"I wasn't allowed to play House anymore unless I did a lot of protesting. I couldn't enjoy hopscotch or jump rope; I could only like Tag and running games like football or baseball. I had to enjoy getting sweaty and grimy when all I wanted to do was to sit for a while in the shade with a book and think.

"Then we come to clothes too. Unisex dress for children is a good thing, until the gender roles get defined. I couldn't have jeans with butterflies on them, I had to have spider man underoos. Couldn't wear zip up knee boots any longer, had to want overalls.

"I tried to fit in, I really did. I tried to do the things the boys were doing, picking on girls and so on. I thought frogs were gross, I liked snakes, but I also wanted to look at flowers. I was a mix up.

"I tried Scouting, Dad thought it would cure me. But when I refused to participate in the panty raid of the Girl Scouts next door at camp, I got labeled as a pansy.

"It was like I was doing something wrong the whole time. Everyone seemed to know what was happening except me, and they seemed to go out of their way to make sure that I didn't have a clue.

"Then puberty hit. Well, I should say that puberty hit for everyone else. It didn't for me. I was called a 'late bloomer'. That meant that sometime between 14 years old and death, I might go into puberty with no warning. I grew hair in my crotch, I grew it in my underarms. I checked daily to see if I would grow hair on my face, but I never did. I kept that skin that people kill for and it never got messed up by even one pimple.

"I didn't flounce around or talk with a lisp, but because I liked hanging out with the girls and talking about what they were interested in, I got labeled 'sissy' by all the people around me. Kids in middle and high school can be so cruel.

"I dated, but girls didn't want to go out with me for some reason. I wasn't attracted to boys either. I had no clue what the hell was happening. It was like I was an alien and everyone knew it but no one knew what to do about it.

"The turning point for me was the book 'Little Big Man'. I was reading it for pleasure and there was a concept in there of a 'hemani', a man who wears girl's clothes and does women's work. He was also gay, but that wasn't me. But the rest seemed to fit.

"I was relieved to find out that there were others like me. So I researched that concept, a lot. I found the Native Americans had terms for gays, lesbians and transgendered, and they were respected members of the community in some tribes, becoming the Medicine Men because of their 'two-spirit' ways which put them more in touch with the Spirits. I felt like I had found the answer to everything.

"I started researching transgenderism and I found out what a hard road it is for most. There were not only the stories of Christine Jorgensen and others like her, but stories like Matthew Shepard had me really stop and think about this concept when applied to me. I realized that one night, walking home from work, I could be attacked by drunken kids and tied to a fence and beaten with rocks. It became very personal."

She had finished her drink, and I finished off mine. This was a very painful tale to hear, and I knew that she was glossing over a lot of it.

I tried to understand how she felt during this time. I remember what it was like being shot at in Desert Storm and the fear that I could really die. It was very vivid and clear, and I still had nightmares sometimes. But at least I had the luxury of knowing that when I left the combat area, I wouldn't be in danger anymore. She had to be aware all the time.

Jessica sat there for a while staring at the ice in her glass. I picked them up and went to refill both glasses for us. When I came back in, she had looked up.

"I knew that if I didn't do something, I would lose my mind. That Prom picture you saw? The last in the book? That is the last one of me as a boy. I got caught by her mother trying on her Prom dress when I slept over that night.

"It wasn't a pretty scene. I lost everything that night. I lost my girlfriend, I lost respect from the people in my life, and suddenly I was a 'fag' at school. My parents found out and things got even worse. I was lectured just about every day. I would go to school and endure the ostracism of my classmates, and then I got to come home and deal with the lectures from my parents.

"They never yelled. They never got mad, they just talked at me so long every day. ‘God made you a man, abomination, damnation, going to hell. And more’ At 16, it's very hard to deal with.

"Finally I had enough. I graduated from 11th grade and I ran away. I didn't take much with me, just what I could lay my hands on. I found a pawn shop and sold just about everything I had so I could get some folding cash and then I took a bus as far as the money would take me. I wound up here.

"In retrospect, I was incredibly lucky. I could have ended up hooking, on drugs, and getting beaten by johns for being a freak. I could have wound up dead or with AIDS or any number of other things. But I was lucky and found myself in a halfway house for runaways. They didn't pressure, but they did get me the help I needed. I got counselors to talk to, people to understand and start interacting with. I got to a doctor and finally got the hormones I needed to mature into what I wanted to be. I graduated high school and found a job. My mother found me and sent me that album, the only thing I have of my childhood. I was cut off by my father. He told me that he had a son, not a daughter, and that he would pray for his SON to return to him one day.

"I've been saving money for the last 5 years to try to get a sex change some day. The hormones let me grow breasts and develop into the woman I should have if things had gone right. I felt whole and complete again. I was happy.

"Ben, these last couple months have been the best times of my life. I've dreaded telling you all this, knowing you would probably do exactly what you did. Look at me like I was a freak, pull away like I was contagious and leave. I've been happier than I have been in too many years to count. I love you, as I've told you many times. I want to be your wife and I DO say Yes to you. I had to tell you so you didn't get surprised on our wedding night."

She fell silent again. With a gulp she finished off another screwdriver and I just sat there thinking. I sat for about ten minutes or so, and I could see tears trickling down her cheeks as she silently wept.

Finally, I shook my head. "Jessica, the offer is still open. I love you and I want to marry you. Please be my wife."

She threw herself into my arms and cried for happiness.