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A Christmas Sampler
a Christmas Anthology by Andrea DiMaggio for Alison - My Heroine |
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Jessica's Story |
Jessica sat at the end of the couch; her clothing seemed so out of place with the other girls in the group. Nina wore a corduroy dress, blue with leather trim at the collar and the sleeve cuffs, along with a fringe at the calf-lenth skirt. Connie wore a cocoa brown sweater over a cream colored cotton shift. Nancy had come from work; her blue jeans were distressed, and the blue cotton workshirt was unbuttoned, revealing a green cami. The other girls wore similar clothing; dresses and skirts and blouses. Even the jeans were pretty. Jessica looked down at herself. The non-descript blue jeans and tee shirt adorned only by a maroon work smock that had a “Shop-Rite” Logo sewn over the pocket. Her name tag read James.
Renaissance Transgender Peer Support Group...Limestone Presbyterian Church, Wilmington, Delaware...December 22, 2011
“Jessica? You seem distant tonight? Is there anything wrong?” Minnie asked.
“What…are you an idiot? She comes here every fucking meeting in her work clothes. What do you think?” Cathy looked at Minnie and laughed before shaking her head.
“Cathy…not nice!” Nina half-frowned and rapped Cathy on the arm with her magazine.
“I haven’t told Dad yet.” James shrugged his shoulders.
“I still have a need at the consignment shop, honey. I’m sure it pays as good as what you’re getting at Shop-Rite.” Connie reminded the boy of the job, not so much beause of employment as much as to remove any excuse. She wasn’t trying to make it difficult for James, but removing the issue of a job placed his fears squarely back where they belonged; on his father’s doorstep so to speak.
“Yeah.that just leaves you talkin’ with your Dad, honey.” Cathy tapped the boy on the knee.
“I know you can do it, hon…you just have to…this isn’t who you are…and he needs to know that.”
“You tell us all the time he loves you, right,” Nina spoke up in a soft, motherly tone. The boy frowned.
“But she also said he is still having a hard time….you know, with the loss of his wife.” Nancy shook her head and tried to smile at the boy but began to tear up, having lost her own wife of seventeen years only a few months before.
“He…keeps saying that if he lost me, he’d die. I can’t put him through that.” The boy put his head down and began to sob. Nina leaned closer and patted him on the back.
“You miss your Mom just as much as he does…I bet he doesn’t even know how bad it’s been for you.” At that the boy turned and buried his face in her shoulder and started to shake.
“Let it out, Jessie…it’s okay…I know, I know.” She tried to keep from sobbing herself, but Nina still cried along with the child. Not a boy, not by any stretch of her imagination at least, the child in her arms was just as much a girl as any of them, and at fifteen, the youngest as well.
The Padalino home, Wilmington, Delaware….the following afternoon….
“Hey…Jimmy, Is your father home yet?” Mrs. Thomasino called from her front porch.
“No, Mrs. T. One of the guys at the precinct is at the hospital for his first kid, so he’s working the extra shift. You want him to all you?”
“No… I’ll catch him tomorrow when you come to dinner.” Jimmy blushed. Carla Thomasino had both of them over on the occasional Sunday; she was a divorcee’ with a daughter who went to Catholic High School. Both Thomasino girls had designs on both Padalino boys, so to speak. Angelo Padalino didn’t mind the attention. It had been nearly three years since Helen’s passing, and Carla was a very attractive woman. Jimmy, on the other hand, had no interest being anyone’s boyfriend, since at fifteen, he had already determined that being a girlfriend to a girl was the best possible future for him.
As scared as he was of telling his father about his other self, he was terrified of the rejection from Gina. Almost like a pre-teen girl, he had autographed his own middle-school yearbook with his alter-ego.
Best of Luck, Luv, Jessie Padalino… Dear Gina, We had fun at camp, Hugs, Jessie. See you in High Skool, luv, Jessie…
Jessie stared at the yearbook picture; Eighth Grade Science Club, Mr. Grajewksi. She stood next to Gina when the picture was taken. Her male self looked so girly anyway, she would have been mistaken for Gina’s BGFF. She bit her lip and dropped the book to the floor. Slowly she took off her Shop-Rite Smock and placed it on her desk chair. She pulled off her sweater and tee shirt and jeans, revealing a bra and panties. Pulling back her hair, she fastened it with a rubber band in a tight pony tail.
“Daddy…Dad…Father dear…Pater…” She kidded as she looked into the mirror over her dresser. Staring back at her was a nice girl; about fifteen or so. With a little makeup she would look almost pretty. Maybe something to cover her face, which sported only a few blemishes. She sighed before reaching into her dresser to pull out what she had placed there on Saturday after she had done the laundry.
Just handling the garments brought her to tears. It was really nothing remarkable; a pair of kelly green slacks and a mint ladies shirt. There was something special about buttoning a garment backwards, she remembered as she put the clothing on. She reached into her closet and pulled out a pair of Sketchers; pink and low cut. Walking back to the mirror she tilted her head as she inspected the image.
“Hi, mom….I missed you,” she said as she waved to her reflection. She really more resembled her father, almost like a pretty younger sister of her Dad’s. But she was wearing her mother’s outfit. Jessie treasured the clothing because it really stood for who her mother was. Helen Padalino would have looked great in Angelo’s sweat pants and a tee, and the nice green outfit made Jessica identify with the pratical but pretty woman her mother was. She sighed and slapped herself in the head like she was chastising her self.
“You always cry….why do you do that?” The girl in the mirror seemed to be wondering as much as she did over the continued habit of tears invading what should have been a nice moment. It was really her and her other self’s way of both grieving and holding on, but at that moment, it just hurt and felt great at the same time.
She picked up her Mp3 player from her desk and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Putting the earbuds on, she proceded to gather the morning dishes to load in the dishwasher. The player was blaring a Tech-House mix that her uncle Tony had made for her a few weeks before. Angelo's brother Tony was a Social Studies Substitute by day and did weekend gigs as a Tech-Jockey in the city and had gotten Jessie interested in the genre’.
The girl had her back to the kitchen door, and didn’t notice the police officer step inside the kitchen behind her.
“Jimmy?” She continued to load the dishwasher, oblivious to the company. The man reached over and popped one of the ear buds out and repeated,
“Jimmy?” She turned around and saw her father standing red-faced and shaking.
“Oh..god…Dad, No..it’s not what you think.” Jimmy tried to argue the point with his dad but stopped in the middle of it. Jimmy started to shake, almost matching his father’s tremor like motion until he shuddered once, burst into tears, and ran down the hall.
A knock came at the door…
“Jimmy? Jim…let me in, we need to talk.” Angelo stood in the hallway by his son’s door, his head placed against it; he was exhausted. After a few minutes, he pulled back and started to walk down the hall when he heard the door unlock. Walking back slowly, he knocked twice on the door frame as he opened the door. Jimmy was sitting on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chin. He had on some sweatpants and a Phillie’s hoodie, which was pulled up over his head, casting a shadow on his face. Even at that, Angelo saw that the boy's face was puffy and red
“Can we talk?” His father asked softly as he approached the bed.
“I guess.” The boy turned his face away.
“I had a very hard day, Jim….I’m sorry if I got angry at you.” Angelo shook his head, and it was then that Jimmy noticed his father had been crying as well.
“You know…I was so upset just now….but I realized, I’ve been so upset about losing her…your mother… that I forgot how hard it’s been for you. That’s why you wore her clothes.”
Part of Jimmy was so afraid of what his father still might do that he was tempted to say yes, but the look on his father’s face was as welcoming and loving as he ever remembered. He took a chance and began, trying hard not to cry.
“Dad…yeah…that’s part of it…but that’s just it…it’s only part.” Angelo’s eyes widened, almost as fearful as his son as he wondered what he’d find out.
“I wear the outfit because it’s what Mommy would wear…like when we’d go to Wegmans or she’d sit in the living room on the couch…you know…with her legs curled up under her as she’d do a crossword puzzle?” His father nodded, wanting to understand.
“It’s like that, but I was like this before Mommy died. You….I’m sorry Dad…I’m…” He started to cry, but caught himself quickly.
“No…you don’t deserve this….I can’t…you need a son…I’m sorry, Dad.” The boy looked away until his father reached over and touched his cheek with his hand; as lovely a gesture as the boy ever remembered.
“Jimmy…I should be sorry. Your mother tried to tell me before….she knew…She never said anything. I think we both thought it was…wanted it to be a phase…just something you were going through. I am so sorry.” The boy tried to pull away, but his father wouldn’t have it.
“No…hear me out. I said I had a difficult day? Difficult doesn’t describe it. Me and Phil were in Big D’s between shifts…we hear this godawful crash…accident right down the street. Mom and daughter got sideswiped on a hit and run…run off the road and hit a tree…gone.” Angelo began to cry.
“She… the mom…and the girl was your age….” He sobbed.
“All I could think of…I got sick right there. Phil covered them and called it in. He must have said something because Jacki calls back and says the Sergeant is on the other end. Phil probably noticed the resemblance and Sarge gave me the rest of the shift off. Anybody else or anything else…but she looked just like your Mom…she…..oh God…I am so sorrrreeeee.” The boy pulled his father close and patted him on the back for several minutes before speaking softly.
“I promise I won’t do that ever again.” He struggled with only a little success in holding back his own tears until his father answered.
“Jimmy…no…that’s just it. I couldn’t even drive…Phil dropped me off about six blocks from here…I had to walk…you know…to get my head together. All I could think of was how much I missed your Mom and how it would kill me if I lost you…not you…Oh I don’t know how to put it. Your mom had sort of an awakening just before she died. She was always sort of close to God…you know. But she said the night before she died that I needed to remember that you were my child. She kept saying over and over, ‘Now Babe…remember’…she kept saying over and over…our child…our child. It was only when I walked in just now that I realized what she was trying to tell me.”
“I don’t understand, Dad.” The boy covered his face in shame. His father reached over awkwardly; not really knowing what would follow.
“She knew, Jimmy….” He paused and shook his head, as if he were a high school junior trying to remember his lines in a play.
“What’s her name?”
James misunderstood and said, “Gina,” while looking out the window to the next door neighbor’s house. Angelo half-smiled and his nose crinkled as he began to tear up once again.
“No…what’s her name…the girl…you….” Angelo tried to smile; he was being warm, but in that moment he felt another grief of a sort as he said farewell in a way to his son. He would struggle with that grief for many months, but at that moment in time he had gained a daughter he really knew all along; the name became the hardest part of the process after a while.
“Jessica, Dad…my name is Jessica” The girl, for that is what she truly was, shrugged her shoulders. Being a girl in her heart and mind was one thing as was the clothing and the accoutrements, but becoming who she’d always felt she was…being able finally to be accepted was too much for her.
Partly out of embarrassment as they both were still stuck somewhat in the past in their previous roles, Angelo and his daughter were left wondering just what does a father do for his daughter when she is happy and sad at the same time. In a few minutes they figured in out as the girl collapsed in her father’s arms and wept in relief.
Saturday afternoon before Christmas, the AMF Price Lanes, Wilmington...three years later...
The family laughed as the older of the two girls stepped up to the line for her second frame. She wore faded blue jeans and a dark green sleeveless blouse with the obligatory rented bi-colored shoes. She brought the ball right to her nose before walking back a few paces. She took two strides while bringing the ball back in an arc before swinging it forward quickly. The ball released with a ‘pop’ as it flew down above the lane for a few feet before making contact.
“Oooohh….I think…I think.” Her mother shouted as the ball sped down the lane, finally striking the head pin just right of center. The pins fell down in surrender as her mother shouted, ‘Strike!’
“That’s okay, Gee!,” Angelo patted his daugther Gina on the back as she stood up for her turn.
“Go get er, girl.”
“Okay…baby girl…don’t miss,” Carla shouted as daughter number two ignored her attempts at a psych job. The girl walked to the ball return and picked up her ball, a recent gift from her erstwhile step-sister and girlfriend. She stopped only long enough to kiss Jessie on the cheek before walking up to the line.
“No fraternization, there" Angelo shouted.
“You bowl your game, Dad and I’ll bowl mine, okay?” Gina called back to her father before rolling the ball down the lane sharply. Unlike Jessie’s ball, her’s was straight on and hit the head pin dead to center. But the mix flew around and by the end all but the ten pin had fallen. It teetered a bit before finally falling down.
“Strike!” Angelo cried out and rewarded his team by kissing the captain of the other team, his bride of three months.
“Hey…none of that,” Jessie laughed as her girlfriend sat down next to her on the side seats. Gina leaned closer and kissed Jessie before laughing.
“What’s that for?” Jessie asked.
“I just think this is a ‘perfect’ game, don’t you?”
Jessie kissed back before saying softly at last,
“Yep….just perfect!”
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Theresa's Story |
Theresa moved about the kitchen, singing softly to herself; the aroma of garlic and oregano and tomato filled the air.
"And the glory...the glory of the lord...."
She felt a soft hand touch her cheek, giving her a start. She turned and faced the love of her life, the young man smiling sweetly, but with eyes filled with tears. She kissed him softly on the lips, evoking a cry.
“We have to talk,” the young man said. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.
“No….” Her face twisted into a mask of tears of grief and fear as he nodded ‘yes,’ once before the two embraced.
Chicago Theological Seminary...two years later...
Theresa stood outside the student center. At twenty-seven she felt out of place, and her anxiety went far beyond first — day nervousness. She not only felt old, but she hadn’t planned to return to school, but it was more than just the academic challenge. She remembered the beginning of her journey.
St. Joseph's Hospital, Fort Wayne Indiana...
“It’s your fault…Terry…I don’t know why he did what he did, but it’s your fault…” The man stood nearly toe-to-toe with Theresa. His voice wavered a bit as he sat down, shaking his head. The woman behind him grabbed his arm from the side and shook it gently.
“Tim…Tim…let it go...It’s not her fault…you know that…you don’t mean.”
“Her? Him…let’s get that straight once and for all…not her…this isn’t a woman. My son married a freak and he died for his sin…him…he killed Andy…he killed my son.”
“Tim…cancer doesn’t…it wasn’t anybody’s fault…let it go…you have to let it go.” The woman buried her face in his back, weeping. He turned and embraced her, his eyes darting back to Theresa. She turned away.
“That’s right…you should be ashamed of yourself…Get out of my sight.”
The present day...Registration at CTS...
“Ms. Delvecchia? I see you have a BSN from Northwestern. What are your plans; you could just go for your MSN or Nurse Practitioner degree. You’re really getting into this quite late...”
“I’ve got all the time in the world, Sir.” She looked down at her left hand and sighed.
The office of Karen Krupinski, Psychologist…
“Things seem better, Theresa. You seem so much less anxious. How did you handle the weekend?” Karen smiled.
“I heard his voice…it didn’t…you were right. I was afraid I couldn’t remember, but I can still hear his voice. “ She put her head down and began to cry.
“How many years, Theresa?”
“We would have been married four years. We…we knew each other since…” She started to explain but the recollection caused her to cry harder.
“Since you were best friends...when you were little, yes, I remember, Theresa…It’s okay.”
“He called me.” She sobbed.
“Your father-in-law? That must have been hard? Your last words were so painful…his last words?”
“It was different…healing sort of…I can’t…” She shook her head. The tears still streamed down her cheeks but she was trying to smile.
“He…he said that he was sorry….that he was wrong…out of the blue…after a year.”
“Theresa? It sounds like you’re conflicted…was it a good thing that he called?”
“Yes…but…it was like I lost precious time…with my own parents…they…we had a relationship….they accepted me.”
“Why, Theresa? Tell me what was going on…why they accepted you…they did love you didn’t they.”
“Yehhhesss.” She began to sob again. She looked around and found the box of tissues and wiped her eyes and nose.
“You WERE good for their son, weren’t you?” It was a question that was asked almost every time they met; an opportunity to face and confess the truth about herself.
“Yeeehhhssss.” She cried.
“But it’s so hard to remember…the love you and he had…and the good that came of your love? Your time together was a good thing, but you still struggle…”
“Yes.” Theresa looked at Karen and tried to smile, but her tears got in the way.
“Tim rejected you…it hurt more than anything except for Andy’s death… what hurt the most about that?”
“I had nobody to talk to…nobody to hug…nobody to love….my heart was broken and I lost the only three people in the world I cared for…I was all alone. Andy died…and I know I’ll see him again….I had prepared for him going…but mom and dad….blaming me because their son loved me…I don’t understand what happened.” Theresa looked at Karen for an answer that wouldn’t come from anyone but her in-laws.
“Why? I don’t know why…especially when they accepted you…”
“He said it was his fault…for everything.”
“What did he mean by that?” Karen suspected something but wanted Theresa to come to the conclusion herself.
“It…he said he felt he should have said something….done something…that he alone had to answer to God because….” She began to weep. Karen sat still, shaking her head. It was more than just ignorance that had fueled Theresa’s rejection.
“He….said….he raised a boy to be good….that it was his fault that his son rejected his faith…his fault.”
“So being a pastor’s son…and marrying a pastor’s….listen to me, Theresa…he felt that both of you were…”
“I think when the church threatened him…it was like he became a different person…he went from being
my …like my own father to being….”
“That’s not all, is it?” Karen knew what the answer would be.
“He stayed away…until Andy’s….I know it was fast…very fast…but that doesn’t excuse what he did…his own son… Andy didn’t do anything wrong….His dad took something so precious….so special and it’s like he took a statue…and smashed it….I don’t know if I can put the pieces together again.”
“I think you already are, Theresa…you’re doing very well and you’re getting stronger. “
“I’m so confused…I’m so angry with him…but….”
“It was good that he reached out? Even if he’s still wrong?”
“Like…maybe there’s hope…I’m so foolish for hoping…wasting my time.”
“Isn’t that what you call ‘going the extra mile?’ Extra mile, My god, Theresa…it’s like you’ve walked around the planet a few times…you’re not foolish…not at all. Your faith is what means the most to you, and you live it….that’s not foolish at all.”
“I wish he’d….It’s like losing my parents all over again…It’s like losing Andy all over again…my only tie to him…” Theresa put her head in her hands.
“I can’t tell you how strong you’ve become in the last few months…like you’re gained so much strength; you’re doing great Theresa…even only a few months ago this would have set you back…but now…and yes…you can always hope. It sounds like it’s a cautious hope…”
“I understand that I can’t change him…but I am changing myself…that’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes, Theresa…that’s a very good thing. He might come around…he might never come around, but you’re handling it well. What about Andy’s mom?”
“She writes me all the time…even e-mails,” Theresa laughed at the thought. “And she prays every day that….” She began to cry once again.
“It hurts that you’ve been separated…that she feels she can’t see you. Right? But it feels good that at least you know that….” Karen tilted her head in question.
“She loves me…like I’m still part of the family.” Theresa began to sob after that; the conflict of her mother-in-law’s love and her father-in-law’s rejection was too much. Karen shook her head again. Theresa was making great progress. To deal with grief under any circumstance was hard, but to deal with the rejection and the loss at the same time. They still had work to do, but Theresa would be okay.
Lecture Hall, CTS, the next day...
“Excuse me, Miss, is this seat saved?” The man stood in the aisle and pointed to the seat next to Theresa.
“No…but it’s under heavy conviction.” Theresa actually winced at the old joke even as the man sat down quickly. He was tall and handsome in a rugged way. His nose looked like it had been broken at one point, but the slight bend seemed to give his face character. He looked to be about forty, but his grey hair gave him an ‘older, distinguished’ look.
“Dave Armitage,“ he said softly as the professor stepped to the podium.
“Theresa Delvecchia,” she whispered.
The students slowly packed up books and notebooks and were leaving the hall as the class ended. Dave turned to Theresa and waited for a proffered hand, which he shook gently.
“Nice to meet you…” His smile was kind and he had the look of someone who had learned kindness through living the Bible as well as reading it.
“Me, too,” she said softly, wincing once again. “Is that the best you could do? Me, too?” she thought, but he just kept smiling at her.
“I’m a widower…two years last month. I pastor a church in Morton Grove, and my congregation trundled me off to school for a bit of a refresher, I suppose. I think they knew I needed a break after Tina died.” He sighed; the connection between him and his late wife remained strong.
“I lost Andy about the same time…It’s been hard, but I guess like you may know, it’s getting better every day.” She found herself staring at his eyes, almost a slate grey, but with a spark… a life she had only seen once before.
“I’m sorry,” Dave said with a sigh, as if somehow he should have known and felt her loss.
“I had a lot of support when Tina passed,” he sighed, almost as if he knew how much she had missed in her own lonely journey.
“It was hard…my parents died when I was in undergrad school; right after I got married to Andy.” At the mention of his name she felt a stab in her chest. She was surprised to look up to see this stranger with tears in his eyes; she began to write it off to his own commonality of loss until he touched her arm.
“No one to turn to and losing the love of your life…I am so sorry.” He bit his lip and looked away, once again appearing as if he felt he should have known. She tried awfully hard, but as they say, you can choose whom you will love and you can choose whom you will marry, but many times you are unable to choose with whom you fall in love.
“I….I need to get to my next class….Mister…excuse me, Pastor Armitage.” She went to pull away and felt his hand let go slowly. As she walked down the aisle to the exit, she found herself looking into Andy’s eyes once again and it brought her to a halt at the door as the tears blurred her vision.
Theresa's apartment...the following Friday evening...
“Hello…Oh…Hello Tim…what…I don’t understand?” Theresa pulled the phone away from her face and sighed.
“I understand…what? You and Betty want me…what? I can’t…what…you…you’re sorry? You said that before …forgive you? I forgave you already…I know…You couldn’t help….you could?” The tears streamed down and pooled on the notebook sitting beneath her on the desk.
“Lunch…I don’t…Betty…is that you? No…no…don’t cry.” It was amazing that in the midst of her own hurt she continued to be focused on being kind and accepting; returning love.
“Okay…tomorrow…Love….love you too, Betty.” The surprise was pleasant and painful, and Theresa sat down at the desk and cried.
Guy's Diner, the next morning...
Betty waved as Theresa was led back by the hostess. Betty stood and hugged her. As they both sat down she noticed that Betty was alone
“Oh…Hi, she almost sighed until Betty tapped her on the arm.
“Tim is parking the car…we just got here ourselves. I bet you thought…” She laughed softly but her laugh trailed off as she saw the tears in Theresa’s eyes.
“We have so much to say, honey, but for now…at least for the next few moments, just I’m sorry isn’t enough…We…well, here’s Tim...Let’s say grace and then we can talk, okay?” Tim sat down next to Theresa and smiled; the first smile he had shown to her in nearly two and a half years. It was almost painful in its lateness.
“Dear God, thank you for your provision and bless the food and the fellowship, In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.” Tim’s choice of words was odd; he never prayed for fellowship; much less with his estranged daughter-in-law. He turned to her and smiled again, but his eyes were filled with tears. He turned to Betty and nodded before speaking.
“I’m glad you were able to be with us today. I’m not good at this…I’m so used to being a Pastor….like the way I was taught was to be separate…not too involved, and I don’t remember ever learning in seminary how to be real? Like I was not so much too good, but too busy or too involved. And I can’t remember ever apologizing to anyone. I….I….mmmm…” He stammered and Betty reached over and grabbed his hand.
“I’m sorry….Theresa…I am so sorry I never came…I never….” Betty began to cry softly.
“I wouldn’t let her call you…to see you….I was so convinced I was right.” Tim shook his head. He squeezed Theresa’s hand.
“I was wrong. You were the best thing to happen to Andy. He…tried to tell me and I was so foolish and arrogant. The church was more important to me than my own son….and to what end. I ended up leaving that church anyway…and in the end I lost almost everything…” Betty squeezed his hand at the word ‘almost.’
“I lost my faith…for a time…but I lost my son…and I nearly lost something…someone so dear to me and Betty…forever? Theresa? Is there any room in your heart to forgive me? If not me…please forgive Betty…she really was put in an unwinnable situation. “ It was a tender scene…several of the other diners had turned to witness Tim’s confession. One woman in the adjacent booth began to cry.
“I never….of course you’re forgiven. You and Betty gave me the most precious gift besides my own faith. You trusted me…gave me your son. How could I not. I’ve never held it against you…it just hurt so much that you said what you said.” Theresa bit her lip and shook her head.
“I’ve never stopped loving you…never. Oh, Dad…Mom? “She said the words as if asking permission to use those endearments.
“We love you, too, Theresa…we don’t deserve your love, but we want to be family for you once again…if you can find it in your heart.”
“Find it? It never departed, Mom…I love both of you.” The three gripped each other’s hands as if to never let go.
Theresa's apartment...the Tuesday before Christmas...
“Yes…I’ve got the train ticket in my hands…my last final was this morning…yes…six this evening…yes…oh and Betty…tell Tim...tell Dad that Dave has a question he needs to talk over with him….yes…Mom...yes!!!
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Dylan's Story |
Dylan sat at the table. Eileen stared at him like he had two heads. She stood with her hand to her chin and tapped the rattail comb against her head in thought. She smiled at him and then set out to comb her brother’s hair while whistling “I Enjoy Being A Girl.” Dylan shrugged once and smiled even as the tears welled up in his eyes thinking about his first date.
The Sullivan home...Portland, Maine...three weeks before Christmas
“Honey…Oh, I’m sorry…I didn’t know you had company. Hello, I’m Eileen’s mom.” The girl in the chair smiled politely but put her head down as she noticed the woman in the doorway.
“This is Kathy Ruff’s sister Dara.”
“Nice to meet you, Dara. Honey, let Dylan know that the school called; he got the Citizenship award. And he needs to call the college about the scholarship….I’ve got to run…they want me to work on the proposal for the youth center…maybe we can get it approved before Christmas.” Margaret blew a kiss to her daughter and left.
“Jeez…that was close.” Eileen pulled the comb from her back pocket and returned to the girl’s hair.”
“This is crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking…letting you do this.” The girl put her head down and began to cry.
“Mom would have a fit if she knew…Dyl…it’s okay. I think we’ll be alright…she’s gonna be at work for the next few hours. Don’t worry.”
“I’d be really worried….the green eye shadow is a bit much, don’t you think?” A voice came from the doorway once again.
“Here…let me help.” Margaret stepped closer and took the comb from Eileen’s hand; the girl stood and gaped as her mother.
“Mommmmmmmm….” The girl in the chair seemed to transform, even though she appeared no different than only a few moments before.
“Shhhhh….” Margaret whispered as Dylan began to cry.
“Honey….didn’t you realize? You can’t hide anything from me...I'm your mother.” She turned to Eileen.
“And you….you think you could trust me enough to know I care about the two of you…more than anything. Now…I think a nice soft brown fading to a gold.” It was wonderful to hear his mother speak so warmly about something so frightening, but he started to cry harder.
“It’s okay, baby….you’ll be alright ….Oh…and by the way, you’ve got two dates this week. I called up Dr. Chelios and she recommended an endocrinologist….you’ve kept this secret long enough.”
“What’s the other date, Mom.?” Eileen looked at her mother and back at the sister that was emerging at her mother’s touch.
“Why…that would be Dara’s date with Jessie Monroe.” Margaret used her new daughter’s name as well as Eileen’s boyfriend’s kid sister’s name as well. The boy shuddered as his mother grabbed his chin, moving his face back and forth under the bedroom light.
“If you don’t stop blushing I won’t be able to tell if this is your color.” Margaret laughed and her son started to cry once again.
A few days later...B Wing, Casco Bay High School, Portland, Maine...
“Are you going to Allie’s party?” The girl almost leaned on Dylan, causing the boy to turn red.
“I…I mimmight.” He shrugged his shoulders. The girl smiled at him and looked over her shoulder at the pair of girls standing in the hallway. She pointed to the pair and said.
“You gotta date? Everybody’s gotta have a date.”
He backed away, but she leaned closer.
“I’m not sure I’m even going…I don’t have anybody to bring…I’m…I’m sorry.”
Jessie Monroe shook her head and smiled.
“It’s okay…you don’t have to have a date…I’m sure you’ll find someone there. It’s okay.” Dylan’s lab partner walked off and he sighed deeply before closing his locker and heading to class.
That evening at the Sullivan home...
“So…what did she say?” Eileen practically tackled her brother when he walked in the front door. He turned and shook his head.
“I didn’t ask her.” He put his head down as if he had done something wrong.
“You mean Dylan didn’t ask her…well, silly that makes perfect sense. It’s Dara who has a crush on her, right?” She laughed softly, but her brother kept his head down.
“You mean neither of you are going to ask her out?” She stared at him as if he actually was two different people. He felt torn in two. His visit with the endocrinologist was frustrating; her testing seemed to show him to be a normal eighteen year old boy, even if he was tall and on the slight side. To be honest, apart from the gender specific 'physical' characteristics, he could easily pass as a girl, which was a dream he only allowed himself when all of his other dreams had been pushed aside. He had wanted to play soccer and track, but never quite impressed the coaches.
“So neither of you feels…”
“No…I gotta talk with Mom’s shrink…Dr. Melbourne thinks I’m …she said I might be transgendered, but she was…she didn’t want to make a mistake…so I gotta take some tests. God, Eileen..this sucks…I thought for sure she’d say…okay..we’ll just give you some hormones and something to keep the boy from getting more…like a boy.” He put his head down again.
“I guess the doctors always wanna make sure you get the help you need.” She shook her head; barely convince of what she was saying for her own sake, much less her erstwhile sister.
“I can’t keep this up…I don’t have it in me to live a lie, and if the doctors don’t want to help?” He looked up and his eyes were red. Eileen pulled him close and hugged him.
“We’ll figure somethin’ out, kid…I promise.” She held him as he wept, wondering if she had been too hopeful for his sake; nothing she could think of could help her brother and she began to cry along with him.
The office of Dr. Kathy Petrone, Margaret Sullivan's psychiatrist...
“Now the testing Dr. Melbourne had you undergo seem to be inconclusive. I understand she wants you to have another series of bloodwork? Your personality seems to be right there between the two…boy or girl; you could go either way?” Cathy asked the boy. Like any personality testing, much of the criteria was somewhat subjective. She wanted to know more about the boy's convictions.
“But I don’t want to go ‘either way.’ I’ve felt like Dara was who I was supposed to be all along. I’m sure of that. Just as I’m sure I….”
“For someone so sure, you seem hesitant. What aren’t you sure of?” Cathy had an idea, and she wanted the boy to express it..to own his own feelings and beliefs.
“I’m….it’s not that I’m not sure…but if it’s this hard to be accepted as Dara…how hard will it be to have someone…I want to be…but what if? Is it more important to be who I am….or be with someone who I care for…Do I have to choose?” The boy put his head down, discouraged.
“Well, Dara…may I call you that?” The boy…the girl nodded; her countenance almost seemed to soften and grow demure...
“Dara…life is filled with choices…some very easy and plain to see and make. Some choices are easy to see but remain hard to make. And then some choices are not at all easy to see, and also are difficult to make. All of us must make choices. But in this case, it’s not so much whom you will be as from whom you may received acceptance. Do you understand?” Cathy tilted her head slightly and smiled.
“Not..sure…What do you think? Dr. Melbourne seems to think I’m probably just confused. That it’s more part of my…development as a man.” Dara winced at the word, ‘man’ as if it were a curse. To her it was.
“Let me turn it around…because if you are to enter into a contract…to put it in concrete terms. If you are to live as a woman for a period of time…the real life test we discussed; you first would have to convince me and the other doctors that you actually believe what you’re saying. Dara…it doesn’t matter if I think you’re a young woman if you don’t believe that yourself.” She shook her head no as if to deny the girl any more help. But it was important for her to make sure for herself once and for all.
“I’m a girl…I’ve always been a girl…I don’t care what the tests show…I feel like this part of me...” she pointed to her head and then her heart.
“These parts of me matter more than anything than some chemical or hormone level…like when I close my eyes and see myself….I’m sorry…when I see myself naked I look at what I am and it makes me cry…like that isn’t mine…who stole my body…what happened?’
“Other boys might say the same thing…but that doesn’t make them a woman.”
“I’m not a boy…I’m not even a girl…I lost that…being a boy for all those years when I wasn’t…having to live like this…without hope…You know something?....”
Her voice trailed off and she looked at the door; as if something waited for her outside the room.
“Does this sound crazy? I was walking in the mall over the weekend...I saw this girl...woman about twenty-five or so? She was expecting...I imagined..." Dara began to cry. She shook her head and continued.
"I’m going to go to college…I’m going to do everything I possible can to help myself be the woman I’m supposed be…even if I have to live like this….without help…I’m going to live my life as a woman…If I have to get help elsewhere…if I have to wait…okay, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life…I’m sorry…I know you have to do your job.” She was crying, but she was more frustrated than scared or sad.
“Dara…I’m convinced…and if you are this articulate with the other doctors, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble…I believe in you , and I’m relieved to see you believe in yourself.
In the end, they decided, along with her mother and Eileen's support that she would wait until after she graduated. The school guidance was quietly made aware of Dara's decision, and supported her by helping her connect with a local support group for transgendered teens. She would live; not 24/7, but assume her Dara persona after school and on weekends. Unlike the delightful stories we've all read and loved, there were no tea parties or dances or slumber parties. Dara worked as a volunteer at the womens shelter, where everyone knew her and her sister Eileen as sisters that cared. During school, she worked and studied and interacted as Dylan, though most of her friends...all of them in fact, knew about whom she was to become...or rather whom she was already. And every once and a while, Dara got to have some fun.
The Monroe home...December 22...
"Oh great...I'm glad you could make it." Jessie pulled her in quickly and shoved her toward the dining room.
"We sorta started without you, Happy Birthday." She giggled. Dara looked past her to see several friends sporting conspiratorial smiles.
She shook her head; her birthday wasn't for another two weeks.
The girl giggled once more before dragging Dara under the archway of the dining room. Jessie pointed once to the mistletoe hanging from the woodwork before drawing Dara close.
"Merry Christmas," she said whispered softly and kissed her girlfriend.
 |
for those who struggle with faith and self...
Buon Natale, miei cari amici dolce |
Julia looked out the window, hoping against hope that the car coming down the street was hers. Her contact prescription was two years old, and she had to wait until the car was almost right past the house before sighing as it drove past. She looked down at the letter in her hand,
“I’ll be at my mother’s, Cheryl.” Julia crumpled the piece of paper and wept.
The Campaniello home...Vails Gate, New York...Eleven Forty-Two P.M, Christmas Eve
She sat down at the piano but her heart wasn’t in the music. The duets she sang would be half-silent; perhaps her voice would be joined once again, but she was not hopeful. After a few moments of trying to play she closed the lid, pushed away from the piano and went into the living room. Every bit of decoration lay unopened in boxes around the room. The tree, unwatered, had already begun to shed needles on the beige carpet, leaving it looking like a forest floor. The phone rang, giving her a start. She ran to the phone and picked it up.
“Cheryl? Oh…I’m sorry..no I’m not interested.” She hung up the phone and stared at the door, feeling foolish over the desperate hope but unable to let the hope go, despite her mate’s angry frightened words of parting. “You took my husband from me, you hurt me beyond healing, and I hate you. I’ll be at my mother’s, Cheryl”
Walking over to the mantel she picked up the lone Christmas card sitting on display. She opened it and read the twin messages; one printed and pithy —
Celebrating our Savior’s birth.
— and one handwritten, trite, and painful, if well intended.
Dear Jim and Cheryl, looking forward to seeing you over the holidays. Jim…we’ll talk. Rev. Peter and Elizabeth McDaniels
“We’ll talk? More like you talk and I listen.” She looked down at herself. Was she really so evil? She nodded in agreement with the assessment as she scanned her appearance in the mirror over the mantle. Cream colored satin blouse and blue jeans. Her hair was lighter after the stress of the last two years, and it set off her features, giving her face character; albeit an appearance that made her look like Diane Keaton’s tired, sad little sister even if she had only just turned thirty.
“What do you want from me?” She said to no one in particular, but it really was a prayer. She’d gotten the counseling everyone had insisted upon, hadn’t she? She submitted as much as she could to the authority of the elders, hadn’t she? She nodded in acceptance as they stripped her of her ordination as a worship leader, didn’t she? She prayed and prayed and prayed, like a distaff Apostle Paul for the thorn of the flesh to be removed, and yet here she was. She had changed, but the changes were imperceptible from the outside.
Wasn’t she a kinder person? Didn’t she care more for others than for herself. She tried denying her calling, but it remained, irrevocable. She tried denying her nature, yet here she stood, as much herself as ever, as someone once said.
“Florence is getting more like herself everyday,” her uncle would say about her favorite if somewhat eccentric aunt. Oddly, she identified more with her Aunt Florence than her own mother. She never really identified with her father, a tired broken man who died just before she graduated high school, the victim of his own codependent excesses. And she tried to identify with her mother; in fact she tried to be just like her mother.
“You disgust me…what would your father say if he was alive?” The answer was that her father wouldn’t have said anything; instead giving his son the back of his hand in anger. No words would ever hurt more than the silence after the beatings. And her mother would stand off to the side in quiet tacit approval.
“You’re no son of mine,” she recalled her mother saying ironically. The rejection was almost a blessing, since it ushered her out of the house and into real life. A very recent but tense reconciliation would bring new rejections as her mother would continually ask her if she wasn’t worried about going to hell even as they drank their tea in their newly discovered mother to ‘daughter’ relationship.
And now the final loss; the love of her life finally getting too disappointed to tolerate her; she had married a man, after all, and it wasn’t fair to expect her to accept this old if heretofore unrevealed facet of her husband of five years. Reasonable guilt over her years of deceptive silence, however fearful and unintended gave way to feeling guilty all the time. Evil…it comes in many forms. And she tried to cast it out. But like some theologians say, you can’t cast out ‘the flesh.’ These men think themselves to be clever in their condemnation, but in a way they were right.
Julia began to tear up as she recalled the years of counseling; first to be a good husband. Quickly followed by learning to accept hardship and grief as she and Cheryl had learned they were unable to have children. The long sessions of prayer followed by others praying for healing followed by strange men and women recommended by friends of friends; casting out demons and calling down God’s angels to deliver her from ‘perverse’ spirits.
The purging; both of garment and self-concept and esteem. The nights of sleepless prayers; hands twisted; self-wrung to painful distraction. The stares of expectation; the hopeful, self-deceiving nod followed by long periods of approval and acceptance in the marital bed and breakfast. And yet, she still was desperately, hopefully in love with the wife of her youth, even as the wife of her youth rejected her own dear sweet wife in favor of a husband who never really existed.
She looked in the mirror once again, noting the freckles dotting her face; a new and suprisingly attractive feature courtesy of recently broken capillaries due to the vomiting that visited her every night. The stress of the management and ultimate fracture of her relationship with Cheryl had brought about ulcers and reflux.
And yet she smiled. She tried as hard as she could to remember any of the Scriptures that had been wielded against her perversion, and yet she could only recall one at the moment.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD,
“plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
She sat down at the piano once again, more out of a physical prayer than a need for music, although she needed her music now more than ever. Like David calling out to God, the words came slowly, almost with excruciating emotional pain. Excruciating…like a crucifixion of sorts. She prayed like David to create in her a clean heart. She wanted no part of any music that denied or compromised her faith. The words came to her like the presence of God…something of an old James Horner melody in her heart… bittersweet and speaking in notes what the words would agree with…
Do you love me? Can you speak my name?
Do you know me…know that I’m the same
I’m the one you loved forever
I’m the one that you bore
Even more…I’m your child
Can you see me? I’m the one you wed
Please remember the vows we said
I’m the one you said you’d cherish
I’m the one; won’t you see?
Can you love the real me……
Maybe someday…
Why couldn’t they see? Why couldn’t they speak her name? She closed the lid of the piano and rested
her head on her arms and began to weep. Year after year of rejection came back in waves; she had vowed only the day before not to allow the ghosts of the past steal from her present or future, but the tears were a necessary part of her cleansing; the past can never truly be past until it is faced and reckoned with.
“You’re not my son…” The accusation rang in her ears. Not a recognition of her true self as much as a bitterly disappointed condemnation.
“You took my husband from me,” the words seemed to echo; more a lament of loss and an indictment for a murder never committed. She didn’t blame Cheryl even as the words still made her weep disheartened and discouraged tears…Her shoulders convulsed as she sobbed; the pain of losing her only love…
“Jim? Jim…Ju…Julia?” A soft voice came from behind. She turned to see Cheryl standing behind her; a soft touch on the shoulder quickly followed by,
“I don’t know how to love you…I can hardly bear to face what you’ve become…what you are. But… I… still love you. I hate everything about this…I don’t understand it and it scares me… I’m sorry…but it does.” Cheryl had already been crying; her face was puffy and red and the lines in her face showed she had been unable to sleep.
“I…I’ll go change.” Julia said softly in surrender. Cheryl grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, stopping her from leaving.
“No…if I’m to love you…I need to love every part of you.”
“I don’t….what are you saying?” Julia looked at Cheryl with pleading eyes, hoping it wasn’t yet one more false start toward change. She had vowed to herself she would completely let go.
“I…I prayed all last night…I called in sick at work…and I prayed all day…” She shook her head as she fought back her own weeping.
“It’s like if I reject this part of you it would be like asking you to stop playing piano…like if you asked me to stop singing. Separating us from who we are. I'm not sure I know if I want to live with a wife…but I guess…I know I’m willing to live with a woman who was..who is my husband, if that makes any sense?”
“I don’t know what to say…I’m sorry, but I’m so scared, Cheryl…Like you’ll change your mind…I want to trust you, but I haven’t been exactly ….you have lost part of me…I’m so…I hate myself…” Julia began to sob, but her arms were lifted as Cheryl placed them around her waist.
“I might have trouble; I haven't made up my mind, but I haven’t changed my heart…I love you.” She kissed Julia on the cheek.
“But I need to know I still have a husband…inside?" She placed her hand on Julia's heart. "...that he'll always be a part of you…I can’t do this unless I have all of you, Jim…Julia?”
“Yes…” Julia nodded, but she put her head down and her shoulders seemed to lower. Cheryl grabbed her chin softly and lifted her head.
“No…I don’t understand this…need of yours, but I accept it…part of who you are...who you really are? Do not be ashamed. Do not take this gift and lessen it. I gave myself to you five years ago, and I give all of me to all of you on this day of days.” She raised her hand and wiped the tears from Julia’s face.
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to know what to say or to do, but I promise I’ll never leave you…Just promise me that you’ll never leave me, Jim…I’ll try to learn to love Julia…but never leave me, my dear sweet spouse?”
“I love you so much, Merry Christmas.” She put her head on Cheryl's shoulder and wept. Cheryl kissed her...perhaps for the very first time before finally saying,
“Merry Christmas, Julia.”
Music by James Horner
from the Motion Picture Deep Impact
words by Andrea DiMaggio
 |
Betsy's Story
He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the LORD Proverbs 18:22 |
Jimmy and Betsy stared at the letter, tears streaming down their cheeks.
The paper taunted them as they looked down at the empty crib. Jimmy turned to his wife and touched her cheek.
“It’s okay…really,” even as he remembered his father’s cruel words against his daughter-in-law while he insisted he that he loved his son. The need for a grandchild outweighed everything that Jimmy had been taught; love and kindness were set aside and his wife became shameful in his father's eyes.
The Generro home…Sparks, Nevada…
Dear Jimmy and Betsy,
It is with profound disappointment and sadness that I must inform you that your application for adoption has been declined. As we discussed in your initial interview, we held little hope that the agency would approve your application given Betsy’s physical condition. I want you to know that the committee considered all aspects of your family presentation, and concluded that you would be unable to care for an infant. Please be assured that the decision was not made lightly, and was made as objectively as possible. Best Regards, Georgette Edwards, Director, Second Chance Adoption Agency
“Nothing personal.” Betsy said it softly, with no bitterness in her voice.
“We knew it was a long shot.” Jimmy said as he hugged his wife. Another disappointment and rejection in a series of rejections that started the day they became engaged.
The home of Ed and Darien Generro…Sun Valley, Nevada…several years earlier…
“Are you crazy? Do you honestly expect me to approve of this…travesty?” Jimmy’s father was candid, if nothing else.
“Dad…I’m serious….” Jimmy put his head down; was this the best that he could do? He felt ashamed that he didn’t defend his wife with more fire or fervor, like he was explaining how much he appreciated Chocolate or Sci Fi or Baseball.
“I’m serious, too. You know how much we’ve looked forward to grandchildren. This is ridiculous and an insult to everything we’ve ever taught you…everything your Mother and I have held dear, and I will not hear of another word about it.” With that, his father turned and walked upstairs, leaving Jimmy speechless and ashamed.
That afternoon…at Betsy McMaster’s apartment….Reno, Nevada…
“He said no.” Nothing more; Jimmy’s voice was nearly emotionless. Betsy’s eyes began to tear up and she put her head down. He went to lift her chin but she pulled away.
“What did you say, Jimmy? That I’m ‘authentic.’ That’s really what he’s upset about…I’m somehow like a pod person in one of those stories you write…like the evil alien impersonating a real human? Jimmy…tell me you told him you loved me? I could bear it if I knew you at least were able to tell them that…” His silence was painful.
“She probably didn’t even bother to talk to you…it was all him, right?” She turned away and rested her head against the fridge to keep from falling. She felt dizzy.
“Bets…I’m sorry…I can’t talk to him…He doesn’t listen…” He put his hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off.
“I guess I’m not worth fighting for.” She began to cry and Jimmy once again went to comfort her.
“No, Jimmy…no…it you can’t stick up for me…this will never work…I love you, but I can’t be the only one who cares enough to try.” She turned to go and fell to the floor; red-faced with shame and sadness…and more…
At the Generro home…the following Friday…
“Dad…we have to talk.” Jimmy stood on his father’s front porch as Ed stood in the doorway; he seemed almost as put out as if he were greeting a troop of Girl Scouts selling cookies.
“WE don’t have to talk at all…YOU want to talk. But there is no need to talk, Jim…Our minds are made up, and nothing you can say will change them.
“I’m not here to change your mind, Dad. I gave up on that a long time ago. I guess I gave up on me a lot longer ago than that, Dad, but no more! I’m here to tell you that no matter what you and Mom say, I’m going to marry Betsy…I love her, and I should have said that at the beginning. She’s everything I’ve ever hoped for…everything I’ll ever need besides God….yes…” He held his hand up as Ed began to interrupt.
“No, Dad…God isn’t negotiable…You can’t tell me what I believe; only I can figure that out. And I don’t believe for one second that God rejects her…even if you do.”
“No…I mean…I don’t reject ‘her,’ if that’s what you choose to call someone like that.” Ed shook his head.
“No, Dad…it’s who she is…she’s the finest woman I’ve ever know other than Mom and Aunt Helen. She’s not just ‘someone like that,” Dad. She’s person with wants and hopes and wishes and dreams, and she makes me whole. Please don’t patronize her…you sound just like Granddaddy when he’d talk about the the guys that worked in his store…” Ed went to plead his case once again and Jimmy held his hand up.
“No…Would you have done this with Carmen when we were engaged?” Jimmy mentioned his late fiancé’, reminding his father that he had been perfectly willing to accept a girl from Argentina into his family.
“It’s no different, Dad. You and I are so much alike. We both struggle with standing up for what is right, but no more. If you can’t accept Betsy for who she is, that’s on you, and it will be your loss and Mom’s as well if you choose to reject her, because I’m going to marry her, no matter what!”
“You can’t…you just can’t….” Jimmy’s mother Darien called from over Ed’s shoulder. She wasn’t talking to Jimmy, but began to hug her husband tightly.
“He’s our son…she’s the woman he loves…I can’t stand this, Ed…you don’t have the right to decide who he marries…because none of us has the right to choose who someone will love. She’s a good girl, Ed…no matter how she started out. You hated Carmen…she was too different.”
“That’s not fair, Dar…and you know it. I just want what’s best for my son…Is that so wrong?”
“It is when you try to decide for him. He’s a big boy…he’s a man, Ed, and she’s a beautiful woman. To overcome what she has…and still be such a giving person? Come on, Ed….let it go…if you do this..if you reject her…you’ll push our only child…our….onnnnly child….” Darien began to sob; her chance at being a grandparent might come to as painful a conclusion as being a parent had when their only other child, their daughter Sylvia, had died in a horrific car accident with her husband and two girls only two years before.
“I….don’t care who or even what Betsy is…she’s going to be our daughter-in-law….my daughter….no matter what you say.” She struggled to speak even as she sobbed.
“If you push Betsy away….you push Jimmy away? I….I’ll never forgive you!” Darien held her husband tightly even as her words threatened to push him away.
“I don’t know…what to say.” He went to turn around and she held him tighter, turning her face away.
“I can’t look at you right now, Ed…I’m too angry…I’mmm sooooo sorrreee. Jimmmy…Jim….don’t let him push you apart….for …for all of our sakes.” With that she pushed away from Ed’s back and stepped onto the porch, embracing her son.
“I mean it, Ed….please don’t do this to him….please…” She put her head on her son’s shoulder and wept while her husband stood in the doorway, silent.
Spanish Springs High School…Sparks, Nevada…a few years later…
“Mrs. Generro? You have a visitor. “ The voice came over the intercom; immediate but pleasant, which seemed to indicate something good was about to happen. A few minutes later, Betsy sat in the conference room of the Guidance department while her father-in-law sat across from her.
“We need to talk,” Ed spoke with almost the same urgency as his son had spoken months before. His face was drawn and tired, as if he hadn’t had any sleep. And while it would have made sense that the redness in his eyes were from being tired, but he looked worn-out because he had been struggling with his conscience.
“Yes, Ed…we do.” Almost a whisper, it would almost have served him right if Betsy said “I told you so,” but her tone was conciliatory and welcoming.
“I need to apologize to you.” As if he had forgotten to invite her to a party or send her a birthday card, his own tone seemed almost disinterested. She smiled at him warmly nonetheless. The same person who brought such joy to his son…the same woman who blessed everyone she knew? How could she respond otherwise? Her warmth was overwhelming, and Ed began to tear up.
“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve my hatred….more than that, you deserve my thanks…After Carmen died, I…we worried if Jimmy would ever come out of his depression. I am so sorry for selling you so short. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you to forgive me…I am so sorry.”
“Ed…I forgave you a long time ago…I know…I was so hurt for a while, but after what I’ve been through…It’s okay.” She pointed with a glance at her body, limited by the beginnings of dysautonomic mitochondrial myopathy; an adult onset form of muscular dystrophy.
“No…it’s not okay at all…not for me….I was more than just wrong, Betsy. I was cruel and not at all like what I’ve pretended to be. I need to hear you say it…I need to know that you know that it was wrong but that you still accept me…even if I didn’t accept you.”
“Ed…I forgive you…from the bottom of my heart. Can you grant me forgiveness…I was so angry at you and Darien….yes…because she wanted to accept me even if you didn’t…. and she never responded to my letters. Even my e-mails.” Betsy bit her lip, not at the rejection, but at her own response.
“I was so bitter for so long that I stopped reaching out, and for that I am ashamed.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. I persuaded her to change her e-mail address…too much junk, and she never saw your letters. It’s my fault.”
“Now you’re making excuses for my behavior. Please tell me you forgive me?” Ed stood up suddenly and walked over and leaned closer to Betsy.
“Oh…of course. A young woman and an old man…we certainly are a pair.” His tears began to flow as he hugged her.
“I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll have Darien give you a call. Okay?” He said as he stood up and walked to the doorway. She nodded and he was gone. Betsy took a moment to compose herself before returning to her office for her one pm appointment. She wheeled her way through the rush of kids in the office suite; all to the accompaniment of, ‘Hey Mrs. Gee!’ and ‘Mrs. Gee…don’t forget about our time this afternoon!” and ‘Yo, Mrs. Generro, Happy Birthday!’
A few weeks later…
“Honey…can you come here for a moment?” Betsy called from the kitchen. Jimmy clicked on ‘save’ and walked out of his office and down the hall.
“I got a call from Georgette…now hear me out, okay?” Jimmy sat down at the table next to his wife and nodded with a smile.
“For you, sweetheart, anything.”
“She remembered…she never forgot actually how much it hurt last year…well…there’s this girl…she’s almost fifteen…PDD, you know?”
“UMMM…Pervasive…”
“Pervasive Developmental Disorder…she’s what the folks in the office call ‘sorta autistic;' same spectrum as Asperger's." Betsy said with a shrug as if to say, "understand?" Jimmy nodded.
“Anyway…she was being fostered by a couple who have since had some health issues…they can’t take care of her. She has some minor behavioral problems that the school she goes to has been really helping with…but now with nowhere to go?”
“Yes!” Jimmy laughed softly and shook his head.
“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say, and what are you laughing about.”
“You want to see if we can help her with foster care.” He laughed again.
“And? What’s so funny?”
“I learned a long time ago that I can’t argue with you once your mind is made up, and the smile on your face told me everything I needed to know. Yes…call Georgette and get the information…Oh…wait… what am I thinking…you already got the info from her.”
“If we want, I can call Kathleen Fischer at The Adoption Exchange to arrange for foster care…and get this…” Betsy started to tear up….
“Her…her name is Hope.”
The following year…Christmas Week...
“Mom…I did my homework….can I watch the Hannah Montana Christmas show?” Hope sat at the kitchen table, her books spread out in a seemingly messy pile. Kids at the higher functioning end of the autistic spectrum often have a system of their own that appears disorganized to us linear thinkers. Betsy smiled and nodded. Hannah Montana might be ‘too young' for most teenage girls, but Hope’s emotional development was a bit delayed, even at nearly eighteen, and the show was her favorite. Time enough for teen-aged hand wringing and dating and such, but for now, it was a relief that she had found her niche’ in the family.
“Mom…why does Grandpa wear a wig?” Hope laughed at the image, which got Betsy laughing as well.
“Some men wear what they call a toupee’ you know….like that Hair Club commercial you find so funny. You didn’t ask him, did you?”
“Nope…Mrs. Collins reminded us it’s not…polite…not polite to ask adults personal questions unless they are inviting…yeah …inviting them, you know?” Betsy nodded.
“Can I ask you a couple of questions?” Hope said as she walked into the living room.
“Sure…just give me time to answer each one…like we’ve been rehearsing, okay?
“Okay…Do you ….are you ever going to be….do you want to?”
“Am I ever going to have children? No honey…I can’t…She was tempted to use her ‘public excuse,” but she and Hope already had discussed Betsy’s ‘beginning.”
“Girls who are born without the right body can’t have children, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be blessed with beautiful children, right?” Hope blushed.
“Oh, Mom…you and Dad picked me…you loved me…”
“Yes we did, honey…and we do….very much.”
“Did you ever think about…do you ever wonder?” Hope pointed to Betsy’s stomach.
“A lot…it hurts, but not because we’re not happy…your Dad and I are very happy, but I do wish I could…any woman who can’t bear children…even happy mothers like me…we all feel that.”
“Do you ever get angry about …you know…the other thing?”
“I did at first…I wondered why God wouldn't take it away, but I guess …I know it’s because things happen to everybody…and it’s what we do with what we are given…” Betsy gasped as she took a breath from her ventilator.
“You’re not going to get any better, are you.” The girl began to tear up.
“No, honey, I’m not…but I think God really has a kind heart toward me. I'm doing so much better than anyone could have hoped for, and I'm not giving up.” She looked down at her body, growing more tired as the disease was taking its toll. But she looked up at the girl sitting by her side and smiled, the tears flowing freely.
“Whatya mean, Mom?” The girl tilted her head slightly while smiling, even though her own face was wet with tears.
“Well, like your Dad says, honey? No matter what we go through?" Her face beamed with joy as she noticed Jimmy walk into the kitchen, home from work. He stepped next to Hope and kissed her on the cheek before hugging Betsy.
"I know, Mom...No matter what happens, we’ll always have Hope!” She giggled and kissed her mother before running off to the family room to watch her program.
"Have I told you how much I love you?" Jimmy said as he nuzzled his wife's ear.
"Yes, but you may repeat yourself if you like."
"I love you."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitochondrial_disease
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mattie_Stepanek
http://www.adoptex.org/site/PageServer?pagename=locations_nv...
 |
Lydia's Story
|
The girl ran around the track, passing her two teammates and the four girls from the other team. She was almost ten meters in front of the next fastest girl and looked sure to win when she suddenly pulled up lame and fell to the track. She used her arms to push herself up just in time to see her rival from Highland Springs cross the finish line to win the race. She stifled a cry as she remembered the words her father said to her the night before…
"Let them win!"
Freeman Polar Bear Track and Field Meet, Douglas Freeman High School, Richmond, Virginia…December 15…
The trainer worked on Lydia’s calf as the other girls stood in front of the bench, shielding her. Carly Van Ossen, Lydia’s best friend was standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders.
“Hey…It’s okay. Sweets…we’ll get em in the 1500, kay?” She smiled at Lydia who winced; obviously in a great deal of pain. She was not going to give the Freeman Crowd the satisfaction of crying. Losing to Liz Wentworth of Highland Springs was hard enough but to lose at the biggest meet of the season in the capital city of Virginia? Carly noticed the tears beginning to form in her friend’s eyes and she stepped in front of Lydia and handed her a towel, which she draped over her head.
“Fuck em, Lydia! We got yer back.” Or more correctly in this case, her front. Her season was effectively interrupted by the pulled calf muscle; at least that’s what the doctor diagnosed. In the end, the meet was a fair success for the Lady Wildcats, who took first in three of the races, but failing to place any of their other runners, and winning their only field event as Mariah Washington took second place in the shot put.
That evening at the La Donna home...
“You do like I ask?” Her father snapped at her as she walked in the front door.
What the Hell?... she thought, “He doesn’t have to know...why make a crappy day worse.
“Yeah, Dad…just like you said.” She went to the fridge and got out a bottle of green tea.
“You should just quit…it ain’t right, kid….you got an advantage.” He put his newspaper down and shook his head.
“What…I’m five-five and I weigh one-twenty two…some advantage. You just can’t stand me…” He ignored the second part of her statement.
“I don’t know what the hell you expect. I get transferred from Boston to East fucking Jabib here and I unpack and not only don’t I have cable, but my son magically disappears to be replaced by you!” He practically spat it out.
“It wasn’t like you didn’t have a clue…I’ve been going to a specialist since we moved here..or maybe you don’t want to have a clue.” She turned away and walked to the kitchen door and looked out the window.
“It’s snowing…Mommy always loved the snow.” She sighed, fighting back tears.
“She didn’t have to shovel the damn stuff, and what do you mean I don’t have a clue.” He was upset but his anger seemed overtaken by sadness.
“I was going to Dr. Candelli before we moved, Dad…You knew this was going to happen. Why can’t you accept that this is who I am? Damn it Daddy…”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Lou!” He stood up and walked to the door, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Dad….please…use my name.” She turned and her face had grown red with embarrassment.
“I am using your name…Jeez…what the hell do you expect. Your mom dies and leaves me with an empty bed and a kid who doesn’t know what the hell he is…I wish she was here.” He went to put his hand on her shoulder but she pulled away.
“I wish she was here, too! I hate you.” She ran to her room and slammed the door. A few minutes later she heard a knock at the door.
“Can I come in?” Cal leaned against the door frame and sighed. He pushed the door open and walked to the bed. Lydia turned away and sighed heavily.
“I don’t understand why you turned your back on me and everything we taught you.” He shook his head, and the girl could almost see his expression even though her eyes were fixed on her mother’s picture on her nightstand.
“Daddy…why do you hate me?” The girl sobbed. Cal sat down on the bed and placed his hand on her back, causing her to shudder.
“Louie….I’m sorry…I’m no good at this. What you are…it makes no sense to me.”
“What I am, Dad? What I am? I’m your daughter…I tried to tell you and Mommy years ago...when I was in Middle School…you just didn’t listen…Mommy did, but even with her on my side, it was more important what your friends said. I’m so glad we moved…” She bit her tongue, but the sobs grew stronger.
“I know it’s been hard on you…it’s been hard on me…but you have to see it my way…I lost your mom...I don’t want to lose you.”
“Hard on you…haaaarrrdddd on yyyoouuuu?” She buried her face in her pillow and shrugged off his touch. He may have lost a wife, but she felt like she lost both her mother and her father.
Deer Run High School, Glen Allen, Virginia...Science Wing...
“Hey, Lydia…wait up.” Mark Nelson called from behind her in the hallway and quickly caught up.
“I heard you won’t be running this week.” He put his hand on her arm and she pulled away.
“Yeah…the doctor thinks I’ve got to rest…may even get an MRI…it’s not healing.” She wanted to explain, but there was so much to say…everything that she needed to tell him, but her face gave nothing away, and her secrets remained safe.
“Shit…that sucks big time.” He sounded more than just disappointed; there was a coldness in his voice as if her inability to run made less worthy of his attention. She stopped and looked down at herself and felt the same shudder like a few days before.
Henrico Orthopedic Center...the office of Dr. Anita Childress...
“I’m sorry, Lydia…there’s more than just a hairline fracture. You have an osteoid osteoma…a tumor on your fibula…one of the two bones in the lower leg. We can treat the tumor…”
“Tumor?” Lydia grimaced at the thought. Her mother had died from ovarian cancer and she was understandably shocked and scared. Cal sat next to her and placed his hand on her wrist. She pulled away.
“It’s very treatable, Lydia, and it’s benign…the tumor will grow but isn’t harmful to the rest of the body but it will weaken the bone. The tumor is killed from the inside out by inserting a radio-frequency electrode. You should be back to walking soon, but I’m afraid your season is over.” Dr. Childress shook her head in sympathy.
“Wow, I’m glad it’s so easy…that’s great.” Cal smiled at Dr. Childress and then at Lydia, who looked at her father through frustrated tears.
“I bet you’re really glad about it…now I can’t compete…I won’t be taking anything away from real girls, right?” She pulled her arm away as he tried to touch her wrist once again.
“Mr. La Donna? Is that right? You told Lydia that?” Dr. Childress asked.
“It’s not fair that he takes a spot on the roster.” Cal betrayed his bias.
“This is your daughter we’re talking about!”
“My daughter? Were you there when he was an all-star pitcher? Did you watch him play football in middle school? Were you there when his mother died? No…Don’t tell me about anything. I lost my wife…I don’t want to lose my son?” His tone was more sad than angry, but Dr. Childress didn’t hold back.
“If you don’t change you’ll lose your daughter…your only child. Can you live with that?” She shook her head as she noticed the girl had buried her face in her hands, sobbing.
“I’m going to get another opinion.” Cal stood up and tried once more to touch his daughter’s arm. She offered no resistance but continue to sob.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She resisted a career-long urge to give him that second opinion, but she just nodded her head.
“I’ll have the office forward the results of the MRI to your primary physician.” Cal turned to leave but Lydia remained seated.
“Lou…Come on.” He snapped. She raised her head and Cal saw her face; she had the same look that she had when her mother died…the same look he had as well. He walked out of Dr. Childress’ office.
“Lydia? Do you want me to call anyone?”
“C….Carly?” The girl gasped. She slowly reached into her coat and pulled out her cell phone. Dr. Childress look up the pre-set and spoke.
“Hi…This is Anita Childress…I’m Lydia’s Orthopedic doctor. She needs a ride and she asked for you. Yes….yes…she’s ready…maybe she can spend some time with you…yes…Yes…she does need her best friend…okay..Thanks.” Dr. Childress clicked off and smiled at the girl, but her head was down and she was weeping once again.
“I had a good friend in med school who went through the same thing, sweetie. It’s not easy, but you’ve got friends….and me and your other doctors. We’ll get through this, okay?”
The La Donna home...eleven-thirty that night...
“You want me to come to the door with you?” Carly turned around and said as her mother pulled the car up to the curb.
“No…I…I’m going right to bed…He’s probably asleep anyway.” She got out of the car and leaned close to the driver’s side door. Mrs. Van Ossen got out and hugged Lydia.
“Give me a call…okay?” Lydia nodded and limped up to the front door and waved before going in.
“Lou…can you come here?” Cal called from the living room. She was tempted to walk back to her bedroom but thought better of it; it was likely he’d just follow her back and it was probably better to deal with him now.
“What?” She tried not to snap at him, but her frustration and sadness were too much to overcome.
“Lou…let’s not argue…I need to talk to you.” His voice didn’t seem at all angry; in fact, he sounded almost kind. It was then that she noticed the picture he was holding; the portrait of the family they had taken just before things got too much for Connie to go out. Cal lifted his head and she saw that he was crying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand…but I had some time to think…and pray.” She heard the word ‘pray’ and winced; she didn’t need him preaching at her on top of everything else.
“Children, do what your parents tell you. This is only right. "Honor your father and mother" is the first commandment that has a promise attached to it, namely, "so you will live well and have a long life."
“Dad…please…please.” Lydia began to cry. She sat down on the couch and buried her face in a bolster pillow. Cal got up and walked over and sat down. He went to put his hand on her shoulder but pulled back; speaking softly instead,
“Fathers, don't exasperate your children by coming down hard on them. Take them by the hand and lead them in the way of the Master.” He leaned closer and said softly,
“That doesn’t just mean don’t yell. It means I should have been listening to you all along. I’ve been so damned busy trying to have my own way I didn’t realized how wrong I was. I got that second opinion...I called Pastor Davis and we had a long talk. I’m sorry for hurting you, Lou…really. I missed your Mom so much…I was afraid of losing you…and all I did was push you away.” He managed to finish speaking before beginning to sob.
A few minutes later he felt a soft touch on his arm. He turned around and found Lydia smiling at him.
“Do you mean it Dad? If you don’t mean it? I couldn’t bear it…it would be just like when Mommy died.”
“I don’t know what to say…I can’t promise I’ll feel good about this, ‘cause I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t support you…I guess what I’m saying is I’ll try my hardest to feel better, since I have to believe in you…the way you see yourself. It’s not my life to live…I think your Mom would have said that to me, and it’s true. I might slip up now and then…okay…you’ve got to help me on this…go easy on me?” He half-smiled before continuing.
“I won’t make any excuses and I promise I will listen to you from now on; okay. Can you forgive me, Lou?” He realized that he once again had used her ‘old’ name.
“Okay…?”
“Okay, Dad!” She touched his arm and shook it softly; they had never kissed before, and it was going to come with a bit of difficulty and change, but it would come...just not then. He shot her a wave and she waved back.
"You know who you look like?" Cal said.
"Mom!" She beamed.
"No...not so much." She frowned until he said,
"You favor my side of the family...you know your great aunt Rosanna?" He smiled.
"Aunt Rosanna who used to be an actress...Rosanna...Po...Pode..."
"Podesta...what a looker...yeah...maybe a bit skinnier than her...but yeah..." She smiled at the complement and turned to go before hearing,
"Lydia?"
"Yee...yehhhss?" It was too much and too wonderful as she began to cry, the first time since her mother's death that she had cried for joy as he said finally,
"Good night."
"Good night, Dad."
Christmas week...the food court at the Virgina Center Commons Mall...
“Are you okay?” Carly asked.
“No…” She looked down at the soft cast on her leg and shook her head, but the smile indicated otherwise.
"Dr. Childress says I'll be able to run in the Spring...I won't miss the season. And guess what?" Carly looked at her in anticipation.
“He kissed me...finally…Car.”
“Your Dad kissed you? That's great” Carly asked, shocked.
“Oh, Hell no…still high fives and waves…no…me and Stevie…your brother Stevie…he knows.”
“He knows you’re....?”
“Yep…”
"And he kissed you?"
“Way fucking cool, girlfriend!”
“Yep..Way cool.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rossana_Podest%C3%A0
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< Jeanette's Story
|
Shari couldn’t believe it. She walked down the hall, excited that the girls in her gym class had actually invited her to a party. She walked into chem class just in time to see two of her classmates standing by the window with their backs to her. She sat down and was still smiling when the girls turned to her and laughed, pointing at her and saying,
“Gotcha!” They laughed again and several of the kids in class joined in. Her face became warm and her eyes filled with tears before her teacher stood up and clapped her hands hard to get their attention.
“Before we get into polymers, I want to talk to you about something important...about myself….”
Kelly Walsh High School, Casper, Wyoming…December 18…
Jeanette Applegate looked over the pile of test papers sitting on her desk. She sighed, wondering how to reach the clique of kids in her last class of the day. They were all successful enough academically, but the six girls, three in particular, seemed to always pick on Shari. She had seen this kind of bullying before, but she also had strong hope that the girls could be reached.
“I can’t believe you actually believed we’d want you to come to my party,” Theresa Falcone said as Shari put her head down on her desk and cried. This was enough to get all of the girls suspensions for bullying, but that would only get them out of school, and likely would do nothing to change their hearts. She blew out a breath and took the second biggest gamble of her life.
“Class…everyone take your seats. Please take your seats. Before we get into polymers, I want to talk to you about something important about myself….” She walked around the desk and sat down in a chair in front of the class. Her reputation as the most popular teacher in school was going to be put to a real and important test, and not for her own sake. She hoped that playing on her popularity would reach the girls…and the rest of her students as well; either way, the risk was worth taking.
“When I was just a little kid, the one thing I can remember that still remains important today is that kindness is a commodity that you can never have enough of and something that you should never keep to yourself. I had to learn that through a lot of trial and error, and not because I didn’t know how to be kind, but I never trusted anyone enough to receive it.
"I was never a big kid…some of the neighborhood boys picked on me a lot; almost every day when I was little, but it got worse in middle school. My brother Tommy sort of went along. I thought it was bad when the other kids would tease, but when my brother started in, it was like the world was wrong… something just didn’t make sense. I mean…” Jeanette paused for effect, knowing she would get a reaction.
“I mean, after all, brothers should stick together. I expected the boys in my class to tease me, but my own brother?” She paused again as nearly every student stared at her. She waited a moment and the desired effect became apparent.
“Mrs. Applegate?”
“Yes, Theresa?”
“I don’t understand…you were just talking about yourself and then all of a sudden you started talking about your brothers…I don’t get it.”
“Why…there’s nothing to get. There were just the two of us...Tommy and me.” She smiled at the memory; Tommy and she had made peace nearly immediately, but that was further along in her story. Theresa looked almost hurt; as if she had misheard Jeanette.
“My mother and father have two children, Thomas Carter and Jeanette Carter Applegate.” She almost felt like giggling at the implication; it was as if you could see the clockwork wheels turning in Theresa’s head. She raised her hand as Jeanette stood up. It was the first time all year that she had been thoughtful enough not to blurt out an answer or a funny remark.
“Mrs. Applegate…you said all brothers should stick together. What do you mean by that?” Theresa was joined in her question as several kids started to nod in agreement.
“Yeah…I mean what the fuck,” Vicki Canfield yelled from the back of the room, earning a mock glare from Jeanette.
“Sorry…I mean…what do you mean, Mrs. A?” Vicki quickly apologized.
“What I mean is that my parents had two sons.” Jeanette replied without comment; thus adding to the students’ confusion. Several of the kids tilted their heads, almost in unison.
“But you’re a girl!” Timmy Delvecchio shouted, prompting Naomi Fine to turn around.
“Woman, you moron!” She shook her head and turned to see Jeanette stifle a laugh.
“Yes, Naomi, that I am.” The class grew quiet, almost silent for a moment until Vicki Canfield spoke from the back of the class once again; this time without shouting but clear enough through the quiet.
“What the fuck…she’s a guy!”
“No she’s not…she’s a girl,” Timmy said but quickly added, “Sorry…She’s a woman!”
Marie Lopez, usually quiet and shy, raised her hand and waved for Jeanette’s attention.
“Mrs. Applegate? Can I take a guess?” She blushed as the class began to laugh. Jeanette raised her hands to quiet the students and spoke.
“Well, Marie, this isn’t a quiz, but yes, you can guess.” Despite her shy nature and minimal participation, Marie was one of her best students.
“This is like a riddle or a logic problem, right? You said your parents had two sons and no other kids…and you’re a woman, right?” Jeanette nodded.
“So….is it because you used to be a boy?” She put her head down a bit, as if she expected Jeanette to throw something at her.
“Ewwww…that’s disgusting.” A voice came from somewhere in the class, but it was followed by Naomi Fine speaking up once again.
“Hey…That’s mean…who died and made you Goddess?”
“Yeah, I mean…she doesn’t look like a guy…she looks pretty good!” Pete Barone shouted, but turned beet red when he realized just what he said.”
“Why, thank you Pete, but that’s not the point, is it?” Jeanette laughed. So far things weren’t too bad, and they were about to get better.
“It shouldn’t make any difference what she looks like.” Shari spoke up. It was the first time all year that she had spoken in class…any class. She looked around; expecting her usual tormentors to shout her down, but her chief nemesis spoke.
“No…it shouldn’t.” Epiphanies don’t often happen with such spontaneity and ease, but Theresa’s conscience had been primed way before that day. Her cousin Jeff had borne the brunt of cruel taunting within their family for being gay. She felt entirely justified along with her siblings and Jeff’s brother in teasing him. The guilt lay beneath the surface of Theresa’s conscience, waiting for an opportunity to convict her.
“No…it shouldn’t…it does…a lot.” She looked at Shari, and while she wasn’t ready to ask for forgiveness or to apologize just yet, Shari smiled at her anyway.
“Why do you think that is?” Jeanette asked, but it was more of a question for the whole class.
“My uncle says that gays will all go to hell.” Nancy Klimek said, almost with a self-congratulatory tone.
“Since we all do stuff that’s wrong sometimes…maybe we should all go to hell.” Timmy said and the class laughed, but he shook his head and raised his voice.
“I’m not fucking kidding, okay? I’m serious…who decides? Who says what’s right?”
“And what’s wrong with Mrs. Applegate…she’s the best teacher in school!”
“Should that make a difference?” Jeanette asked.
“No! But it does.” Theresa spoke up again. “If…if my cousin was a friggin’ rock star or something like that….but he was just a kid….you know…and….” The floodgates broke and she began to cry; hard.
“It does…I’m glad that a lot of people believed in me when others didn’t. There are a lot of kids who grow up without anybody believing in them, right?”
“My dad told me he loved me,” Cynthia Spagnola said quietly. “Mom left but he told me he’s not going anywhere.”
“My dad says I’m stupid,” Kerri Melchior said. “I’m not stupid, Mrs. Applegate….Am I?” The girl shook her head.
“There isn’t a single kid here who isn’t smart….no…Kerri…you aren’t stupid at all. None of you are.” Maybe it was the season, but the same welcoming spirit and joy for life and encouraging heart that had nurtured their minds had surely nurtured their souls as well. Theresa felt a tap on her shoulder as Nancy Klimek shook her head…
“I’m sorry…my uncle is a jerk and I shouldn’t have said that…okay?” Theresa frowned but nodded yes.
“I was never very good at anything. I wasn’t really bad at anything, either. Sort of average, As long as I could remember, I felt like I didn’t fit in with the boys my age; like I got along better with girls. I spent a lot of time crying, thinking there was something wrong with me.” Nancy looked up as Jeanette stepped closer to Theresa and Nancy. Instead of saying anything she pointed to Nancy’s face.
“What?” Nancy cringed.
“You wear glasses because your eyes don’t work the way they’re supposed to, right?” Jeannette pointed to Ben Patel and Alice Chang so Nancy wouldn’t feel singled out.
“My granddad wears a hearing aid.” Billy Kapusta shouted from the back of the class.
“Well…just like that…”
“Your insides don’t match your outsides…” Naomi said proudly.
“Exactly…eventually we got it all sorted out and I started going to a few great doctors who knew what I needed. I took a lot of teasing from the same kids who gave me hell…it was much worse, but my Mom and Dad stood by me when they figured I was the same child they already loved.” She sighed.
“But you’re married…What does your husband say?”
“He says he loves me.” She smiled and Linda Garner sighed and smiled in return.
“What I’m trying to say…and I know from firsthand experience how much teasing hurts…is that everybody deserves respect, right?” Most of the class nodded; some reluctantly, others enthusiastically. Carrie Belasco and Misty Jeffers, the two girls in on the joke with Theresa, just laughed. The period bell rang and the kids began to walk out.
“Theresa…Are you going to be okay?” Shari said; her voice soft and welcoming.
“Yeah…I guess so…yes…Th...thanks.” Theresa got up and walked out of the class, leaving the girl standing by her desk.
“She’ll come around…she’s already started. Don’t worry, Shari.” Jeanette said as she pushed the chair back in the corner.
“I know. Mrs. Applegate…?” Shari said as she reached the classroom door. Jeanette turned.
“Thanks.” The girl waved and walked out.
“You’re welcome,” Jeanette said, but her words were lost as the girl disappeared quickly down the hallway. She turned to see a solitary figure sitting quietly in the middle row of the class.
“Danny? Is there something you need to speak to me about?” Jeanette asked, but she already knew the answer as the boy nodded silently. He had the same look on his face that another boy wore nearly fifteen years before.
“Mrs. Applegate? Can we talk?”
 |
Callie's Story
|
Callie almost skipped down the hallway; she had finally convinced Coach Chen, and would be a starting guard that evening. She turned a corner and found a group of kids pointing to a girl who was sitting awkwardly on the hall floor. She noticed that the girl was crying and the kids around her teased and taunted as she struggled to get up. Callie reached down and helped the girl to her feet. She was shorter than Callie, and dressed in Near-Goth. The kids continued to laugh until Callie smiled once before kissing the girl and hugging her. She turned to the crowd and said,
“Mess with her, and you mess with me!”
Seymour High School, Seymour, Connecticut...
“Hey, Callie…got a minute?” Bobby Chen, coach of Seymour’s Girl’s Basketball team, called the girl into the P.E. office.
“Sure, Coach,” she said eagerly. She had been trying to convince Coach Chen that she was worthy of being the team’s starting point guard. That their two starters both had come down with the flu didn’t hurt her chances, but there was always the idea of starting Melissa Callahan, the scorekeeper.
“Melissa declined,” Bobby Chen laughed and pointed to the scorebook on his desk. Melissa was five-three and weighed about one-twelve soaking wet, but her whole family loved basketball and her older sister Moira had started at center, of all things, three years ago before leaving for UConn.
“I promise I won’t let you down.” She ran out of the office and headed toward her Calculus class. As she turned the corner onto the Math wing, she noticed there was a group of kids; about twelve or thirteen by a quick count, blocking the hall. They were laughing and pointing at the middle of the hallway, where she noticed a girl struggling in vain to get up. The girl was nearly a foot shorter than Callie’s six-foot frame; slight and wearing ‘near’ Goth; a long black dress and black boots, but her hair was red and her makeup was subdued.
“Goth and a fucking faggot, too. What a freak!” A boy pointed at the girl and started to almost cackle. Most of the other kids joined in while the rest of the crowd walked away since the ‘show’ was over.’
“Shut up, Craig!” Callie punched a locker for effect and to get Craig’s attention.
“What…you gonna make me? Craig wasn’t so much misogynistic as much as he really never cared for anyone but himself. Nevertheless, Callie took it as a personal insult and yelled back.
“Yeah...you fuck! Mess with her….” Callie stopped and looked at the frightened girl. She’d never met the girl…she was a girl, wasn’t she? But she wanted to show solidarity and display her lack of respect for the morons and homophobes in the crowd. She stepped closer and kissed the girl before turning again to the crowd.
“Mess with her and you mess with me.”
“Hey, Callie…I didn’t know you went that way! Why don’t you come back from the dark side?” Billy Nichols shouted from the back of the crowd.
“Don’t be such an ass, Nichols!” Bonnie Van Camp shouted.
“I mean it…leave her alone.” She turned and held the girl’s hands (the girl?) in front of her.
“Let me know if anyone tries anything. Okay?” She felt good about herself, as if she’d rescued a puppy. The girl stared at her before shaking her head and walking away with her head down.
“Man….what the fuck?” Callie walked away as the rest of the crowd broke up. A hand tapped her on the back and she turned to find her best friend, Sheri Policastro.
“He probably doesn’t swing the way we do, girl!” Sheri pointed to the small figure down the hallway. You probably embarrassed him.
“Him?” Callie shook her head.
“Yeah…that’s Kevin McMonagle.”
“Craig’s brother?”
“Twin brother…yeah…pretty fucking crazy, huh?” Sheri smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“Yeah…crazy.” The two walked down the hall and entered their Calculus class. Just before closing the door behind her, Callie looked down the hall one last time, wondering what had just happened.
The Seymour High School gym, that evening...
“Starting Point Guard for the Lady Wildcats, Callie O’Hara.” The overhead blared. After the game, it would be remembered by the O’Hara household as the highlight in an otherwise unremarkable performance, both by the Lady Wildcats in general and Callie in particular. She scored once on a free throw and had three assists as Seymour went down to defeat to Wilby, 42 — 39.
“You did your best, honey…” Her mother tossled her hair and patted her on the back in consolation. With Svetlana and Tanisha returning tomorrow, Callie’s brief moment in the sun would soon be over, or so she thought. As they reached the gym exit, a voice from the bleachers yelled.
“Hey…O’Hara…still kissing boys?” Craig McMonagle pointed at her and poked his friends to make sure they didn’t miss his clever point.
“You kissed a boy?” Her mother almost said deadpan. She actually had to struggle to keep from laughing, but her delivery was sufficiently ironic, since she was well aware and certainly approved of her daughter’s orientation.
The next morning at the O'Hara kitchen...
“I didn’t know she was a boy, Mom,” Callie protested.
“Well…alright…so long as you didn’t know.” She failed this time and began to smile.
“You know what I mean…besides…I was only trying to help.”
“Let me get this straight. You told me that this kid is Craig’s brother?” Callie nodded; everyone in school and most of the parents knew about Craig from his history of idiotic and foolish behavior.
“And kissing a boy dressed as a …how’d you put it….Goth-Lite? A kid who is already embarrassed sitting on his ass in the middle of the hallway…and this was suppose to help…how?” Her mother teased.
“Callie…you probably did no harm, but it wasn’t designed to help him, was it. You wanted to make a point and he was a convenient object lesson. Honey…I know being a lesbian isn’t an easy path at all, but you’ve at least got to think about how someone might feel before you go drag them into your crusade, right?” She wasn’t so much scolding her daughter as coaxing her to recognize that her act wasn’t entirely altruistic.
“It’s okay…just another opportunity to be kind and apologetic, sweetie.” Dave O’Hara kissed his daughter on the top of the head as he sat down at the table. “Got a lot to do if you want to catch up to me, sweets.” He chuckled and Bridget smiled at him before continuing.
“Your father has made an art out of apologies, dear. You should ask him for some pointers. Judging by the way your friends and nemeses act, they could call an assembly and your father could hold a Mea Culpa clinic for the students.” She paused as Dave nodded in agreement.
“It says somewhere that we should keep short accounts, Cal…don’t you think you should call that child or maybe see them at school and apologize. We may ask for help and welcome it when it’s offered, hon, but you know that child was given no choice in joining your crusade, right?”
“Well...it’s not like he’s a real girl?” Callie immediately regretted her words; not just because of the correction she knew was sure to follow, but somehow it occurred to her she might actually be wrong.
“Well, you’ll never know that unless you talk to her.” Bridget smiled and sipped her coffee. “I suppose you should just accept her word for it, Callie. If she’s presenting herself as a girl, shouldn’t you accept that? Your Aunt Rita wasn’t always your Aunt, you recall.”
“But Mom…this is a kid who’s just walking around the hallways in school in some sort of costume… it’s not like she’s really trying to be a girl.”
“This coming from a girl who insists she doesn’t want to be defined by anyone or anything.” Dave half-frowned.
“Oh…yeah.” Callie was almost sheepish, but really felt very strongly about what her father had just said.
“Either way, I think it would be the right thing to do to reach out to this child, no matter what the results might be.” Bridget grabbed her daughter’s arm and squeezed it firmly, indicating the ‘this is not a suggestion’ rule.
“But Mom…what if she just….”
“Rejects you…doesn’t forgive you? Doesn’t act the way you think she should? Isn’t how this started? Dave interrupted.
“It’s like the old story of the Coast Guard ship that was out in the middle of a hurricane. A newbie goes to the Captain and says, ‘We have to turn back…the storm is getting worse, and besides, nobody could last in a storm like this. We have to turn back.’” Callie stared at her father; she always enjoyed his wisdom, especially when he told stories.
“The Captain smiles at the newbie and says, ‘Son…we’re not paid to come back…just to go out.’”
“I sorta get what you’re sayin, Dad…we’re supposed to do the right thing…no matter what?” Callie dipped her head just a bit, as if she were looking for a blessing.
“Yep, sweetie. God doesn’t call us to succeed…just to obey…we don’t love folks with the idea that they must love us in return. It’s nice when they do, but even if they don’t, we and they are better for it. Call her or seen in school, okay?”
“Okay.” Callie kissed her father on the cheek and grabbed her backpack off the kitchen counter as her mother grabbed the car keys.
“Working from home today, honey?” Bridget asked as she headed toward the door to the garage.
“Nope…taking a vacation day to catch up here.” He smiled as a broad grin crossed his wife’s face.
“Well, maybe we could ‘catch-up’ together?” She walked back to the kitchen table and gave Dave a more-than-let’s-get-some-work-done kiss. Callie stood in the kitchen archway.
“Jeez, guys...get a room.”
“I believe we have, Callie. I believe we have.” Bridget said as they walked out.
A short while later at school...
“Hey…” It occurred to Callie as she walked up to the girl that she didn’t even know how to address her.
“I have a name.” The tone wasn’t dismissive; rather it was almost sad, like the word ‘hey’ was part of her everyday life.
“Sorry. What’s your name?” Callie put her head down slightly in embarrassment.
“Fiona,” the girl said, her face red and her tone almost apologetic.
“Listen….I’m really sorry about the other day. You’ve got to understand…” The girl’s face turned sad and Callie shook her head.
“I’m sorry…you don’t have to listen or understand or anything. I wanted to prove a point and I hurt you…like those jerks have hurt me all along. You…didn’t deserve that. I took…I dragged you into that and I guess…I know it must have made things worse.” Callie cringed as she saw the tears well up in the girl’s eyes, confirming her fears.
“After you left….my brother came up to me and started pushing me…not hard, but it hurt.” The girl’s sadness and frustration came spilling out like a badly made pitcher.
“I…I mean…isn’t he…shouldn’t….Fuck…I can’t talk anymore.” The girl went to turn and Callie grabbed her arm. She wanted to be a comfort, but her gesture was just another way the girl felt she had no control over.
“Let me go.” She pulled away and Callie released her arm. She shook her head once as the tears flowed before running down the hall and around the corner.
At the P.E. office a while later...
“Hey…Callie…do you think you can start tonight? Tanisha has an interview at UConn today and she won’t be back in time if at all.” Coach Chen smiled. Callie wasn’t the most talented sub on the bench, but she was the hardest worker; an asset she inherited from her parents.
“Sure…I’ll do my best.” Callie always did her best and then some. Partly as a compensation for the teasing she had been taking since middle school, but also because of the support and encouragement she received from her parents.
That evening at the Woodland Regional High School gym, Beacon Falls, Connecticut...
“And that’s it…the Seymour Lady Wildcats squeak by with a 52-51 thriller over our own Lady Hawks. Leading all scorers with 12 points…starting point guard Tanisha Coolidge.” The speaker was almost annoying as Bridget and Dave made their way to courtside. Callie didn’t start after all, as Tanisha’s interview had been canceled. She did get a lot of time on the court and had seven assists and a steal.
“Hey, sweets…nice game.” Her dad hugged her and rubbed her back. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Maybe you’ll start soon, but you do more with what little time you get than anyone out there,” Bridget said to her daughter with a smile. Dave nodded before continuing.
“I’ve got to run to work quick, hon. You and your Mom should go out for Pizza or to the diner, okay. She’s going to give me a ride and she’ll be back in about a half hour; just in time for you to get a shower and changed, okay?” He kissed her before they went to leave. Callie stood and watched them walk out the exit before she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“You got a minute?” A boy stood in front of her. His face looked familiar and his voice sounded like someone she thought she knew.
“Yeah…I’ll be happy to sign an autograph, but you’ll probably have to pay someone to take it off your hands.”
“It’s me…Fiona.”
“Oh…gee…this is what you look like?” Callie asked and the boy put his head down, but he spoke.
“No….this is what my family thinks I should look like.”
“Oh…I’m sorry…gee….that must suck.”
“My brother said he’d beat my...er…well, you know.” The boy’s voice was quiet and he seemed almost…he was exactly like the girl she had met the day before, but without the clothes.
“Your brother is a moron…I’m sorry, but it’s not fair.” The crusader in her rose up and it was like she surveyed the crowd, looking for a challenge.
“No...It’s not…but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He looked away, almost like he was seeking strength for the rejection he feared.
“Would you…” He faltered as his eyes filled with tears. He put his head down but continued.
“I mean…well…you…you’re the only one here…nobody else. When you said…” The boy couldn’t continue. Callie was shocked when he embraced her, weeping into her already wet tee shirt. As odd as it felt, it still felt right, and she kissed the boy on his ear and whispered, not to hide but to make sure he heard her over the crowd noise.
"I already am your friend, Fiona, okay?"
She patted him on the back and looked around, hoping no one would notice, again more for his sake than hers. Sadly she was disappointed as a voice came from behind.
“Hey…you! Dyke…leave my brother alone.” Craig McMonagle shouted; he sounded like a hyena as he laughed. He put his hand on Callie’s shoulder and spun her around.
“Leave her alone, Craig.” Callie spoke up, intentionally using the ‘wrong’ pronoun, but not as the crusader, but because she realized that the person in her arms actually was a girl.
“Fuck You, O’Hara!” Craig reached in and tried to pry her arms off of Fiona. He would have quickly succeeded but for the very large hands that slapped down on his shoulders and forced him to sit on the bench behind him.
“Excuse me, kid. I don’t know your name, but lay one more hand on my daughter and I will personally see that you experience traction up close and personal.” Dave O’Hara said calmly.
“Oh, Dad…” Callie looked at her father with grateful but confused eyes.
“Jerry called me on the cell just as I got to the parking lot. The client agreed to some changes, and we’ll just rework tomorrow when we get in instead.” He turned and faced Craig and tilted his head. Callie's mom stepped next to the sitting boy and actually wagged her finger at him.
“I know your parents raised you better than this. Your Mom and I go way back, Craig, and you can bet I’ll be talking to them both about your behavior,” Bridget said as she turned and looked at the forlorn figure still clinging to her daughter.
“And you must be the mystery girl. Well, sweetie, why don’t you come to dinner with us? You have a cell?” The girl nodded. “Call your parents and let them know we’ll be at Indochine for dinner. You ever have Vietnamese or Thai…” The girl shook her head no.
“You’re in for a treat. Come on…” Bridget tilted her head in question.
“Fiona.” The girl said as she wiped her face with her hoodie sleeve.
“Pleased to meet you, Fiona.” Dave said as he put his arm around Callie’s shoulder.
“Like I said, I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her on top of her head. She looked up and something in his eyes reminded her of the security of her family and she began to cry; probably for the first time for someone else.
“What’s wrong, sweets?” He whispered as the crowd continued to exit around them.
“I don’t know, Dad…it’s like something just changed in me…but it’s good.”
“Yes it is.”
Epilogue
Waterbury Republican-American, December 16, 2015
The UConn Lady Huskies beat Villanova 78 to 64 last night at the Rock Arena in Newark, New Jersey, to solidify their lead in the Big East. Tanisha Coolidge led all scorers with nineteen points; Calleigh O’Hara provided a spark off the bench in the second half with eleven points and six steals along with seven assists.
Christmas Eve, the following year...
“How are you…you okay?” Callie asked the girl as she combed out her hair. The girl turned around and smiled.
“Great now that you’re here.”
“This time last year, I was in Newark for the Christmas Tournament, but that was then but this is now and my second semester at Columbia Med doesn’t start until late January, so this works out perfectly.
“I told Anthony all about you…He’s glad that I’ve got such a dear friend.” Fiona choked up at the word ‘friend.’
“He’s a great guy, but he’s getting a great girl, Fi.” Sheri Policastro-O'Hara spoke up from over in the corner. “And I know you and he will be as happy as Callie and me.” She smiled at her partner who nodded and grinned. Callie pulled back and looked at her handiwork.
“You surprised me. I never dreamed I’d see you in a wedding dress,” Callie laughed. Fiona knew her friend well enough to know what she said wasn’t meant to mock her.
“Why…didn’t you think I’d ever get married?” Fiona said with a mock frown.
“No, silly…I just never, ever pictured you wearing white.”
A moment later the women began to laugh almost hysterically as Fiona stood and pulled up her wedding gown, revealing black fishnets and Doc Marten boots.
"I guess you can take the boy out of the Goth, but you can't take the Goth out of the girl!" Callie said as she hugged her friend.
"Merry Christmas, Fi, Merry Christmas!"
 |
Alan's Story
|
“I see you’re in boy-mode today.” Phyllis smiled warmly; it wasn’t an indictment, merely an observation.
“My mom keeps complaining…like why don’t you have any friends; if you weren’t so stubborn. Can’t you just do that at home,” the boy sighed. “It’s like she thinks it’s a hobby like my old Pokemon cards. Why doesn’t she understand?”
The home office of Phyllis Angstrom, LPC and EEC Neurobiofeedback Therapist
“So how are you today, Allie?” Phyllis Angstrom didn’t waste time with the girl; she seemed to be primed each time to gush like a well spring.
“Mom just won’t listen.” She shook her head and folded her arms.
“Didn’t we just go over this last session, Allie?”
“Yes…but… I know I can’t change her, but it’s getting to the point where I can’t even be myself at home, despite her promises.”
“What about your stepfather?” Nita probed and poked with Allie, more so than most of the teens she’d worked with because she not only had insight, but she displayed a tenacity and a willingness to work hard in therapy; her development demonstrated insight beyond most teens.
“She won’t take the chance. He’s always screaming about something being wrong, and it’s like I can’t even be myself anywhere.” She put her head down and started crying.
“Okay, what’s going on right now…things don’t seem any worse than usual. Why the tears?”
“Why?” She lifted her head and darted her gaze down at her body, as if to indicate an answer.
“I see you’re in boy mode today.” She wasn’t criticizing; it was merely an observation.
“You’ve always got time before and after our sessions to change, but you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie today. What’s that about?” The girl picked up the stuffed toy cat next to her and held it close to her body in an attempt to comfort herself. Allie was starved for physical affection, having a mother and step father who were polar opposites. Tom Czerzik was an angry man who often yelled at the girl for no apparent reason, and frequently yelled at her because she didn’t act like the ‘man’ she was.
Nita Czerzik, on the other hand, was cold and nearly numb emotionally; perhaps the effect of two failed marriages and a live in de facto husband and step-father to her child. She found herself withholding affection to Tom, and her disappointment just flowed like a glacier into her relationship with her son.
Neither had hugged the girl in four years. It amazed Phyllis that the girl actually was able to cope; not just to function, but deal well on a day to day basis with rejection. She smiled warmly at the girl.
“I’ve tried, Phyllis…I sent her a card for her birthday…you know…the ones on the internet..with music and pictures. I signed it ‘To a great Mom from a loving daughter’ and her response was ‘Thank you, Alan…you’re a good boy.’ A good boy? She didn’t even read the bottom or if she did she ignored it.”
“That’s very sad, isn’t it, Allie?” The girl choked back a sob.
“It’s like she doesn’t see you…she looks at you but sees someone else.” Phyllis looked purposely at the boy clothes.
“So maybe if you wear jeans and a hoodie, at least she might see her son?” The girl nearly pouted as she began to cry.
“If you can’t be noticed as you, maybe they’ll notice you as the person they think you are, right?” She nodded and Phyllis continued.
“How does that help Allie? You’ve come here the last three times in boy mode…your mother has dropped you off every time, right?” Allie nodded again, trying to stop crying.
“And has she noticed you…do you get any more attention than if you wear your own clothes?” Phyllis was sure of the answer, but she had to challenge the girl’s thinking; it was counterproductive and codependent at its core.
“No…I don’t know why I even bothered.” She looked at herself again and scowled.
“I’m so stupid.”
“No, Allie, you’re a very bright girl who just wants her family to care. And you did what you did because you’re desperate and feel what?” Phyllis felt like she was leading the girl, but Allie had actually used the word Phyllis was looking for in a breakthrough the previous week.
“She looks at me like I’m still a little kid…like if I only get older I’ll grow out of it, like Pokemon or Gamecube.” She shook her head.
“I feel helpless…like I can’t do anything to satisfy them…like I’m…” She paused and looked at Phyllis.
“What do you feel like, Allie? What does that make you feel like.”
“Like no matter what I do it’ll never get any better.” She was teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff, but she alone had the lifeline at hand. She grabbed it when Phyllis asked,
“So…what do you take away from that, Allie? What does that mean to you?”
“It’s just hopeless.” She shook her head at the thought. “If…If things don’t get better when I try to be what they want…..” Phyllis tried hard not to, but if she had a mirror at that moment she expected she would have seen herself getting very excited.
“I should just be who I want to be.”
“I think that’s a very good idea, Allie.”
“Phyllis?”
“Yes, Allie?” The girl looked as somber as she had ever seen since she had started to come for therapy.
“How much time do I have?” The girl looked at her empty wrist; her watch, a nice girl’s Seiko, sat on her nightstand, unused.
“Oh, gosh…we’ve hardly talked at all.” Phyllis fibbed, but her two o’clock appointment had canceled.
“Oh…okay.” The girl’s voice trailed off. Her face had the look of someone who really wanted to ask permission for something even though she felt she didn’t deserve it. Phyllis cut through Allie’s emotional red tape.
“You left your back pack here last week, you know, just before the snowstorm. It’s in the den, and I’m sure you can find something? Go ahead, we’ve got plenty of time.”
About fifteen minutes later the girl came back. She wore a green jumper over a red tee along with dark brown tights and brown suede flats. Her ponytail sported a new barrette and her face sported a nice smile.
“Phyllis…I opened my bag and I found this,” She pointed to her body in a broad gesture and then began to cry. Phyllis was glad that the girl hadn’t the time to put on her makeup.
“Just think of it as an early Christmas present, Allie. You’re nearly sixteen, and I think it’s time you allowed yourself out. I don’t think it’s healthy to keep this bottled up and my supervisor agrees. You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything, but I think it would be helpful it you asked your parents to come with you next month, sort of a good way to start the new year. You can wear that if you feel safe when we get together.
“You mean I can keep this?” The girl blushed and cried at the same time.
“I’d like you to consider this a tool for therapy rather than a gift. I can help you better if you feel free to talk, not as Alan, but as Allie, and I think this will help you confront your parents, okay?”
“Okay, Phyllis…I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.”
“The look on your face is thanks enough.” She smiled and the girl smiled back.
“And Allie?” Phyllis asked. The girl had sat down at the computer desk for her biofeedback training.
“Yes?”
“Merry Christmas!”
 |
Cheryl's Story
|
Cheryl put her head down on the desk. She had been working for six hours, trying to hone her ‘final’ draft one last time. The computer screen bathed the room in an eerie glow.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Her mother called. She looked up and read the time off the computer clock. Six-fifty-four.
“Yeah...I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She sat up and gazed at the document once more.
What it Means to Be a Girl, by Nathaniel Krupinski....
She highlighted the last paragraph and hit backspace, sending her conclusion into the ether.
“Nate…come on, your dinner is getting cold.”
The Laska home, London, Ontario…
“Mom…have you seen my gray hoodie?” Nate asked as he walked into the dining room. The look on his mother’s face seemed oddly upset, considering he’d only asked about laundry.
“Yes…it’s hanging on the back of one of the stools over there.” She pointed to the pass through where the breakfast bar was. The hoodie was draped over a stool, just like she said. He walked over and grabbed it before sitting down at the dining room table next to his sister Jane.
“Janey…would you mind. I’ve got some things I need to discuss with Nate, and you’ve already finished, okay?” Donna Laska said before turning to face her son. Her expression had softened somewhat but there was still an urgency in her tone, like something serious…maybe even dire…had happened.
“Sure, Mom. Nate…It’s okay.” She smiled a strange smile before getting up. She walked into the kitchen with her plate and he heard her walking upstairs. Turning to face his mother, he found her shaking her head, and her expression had changed once again; this time she looked a bit sad and even worried.
“Mom…what’s wrong?” Nate asked as he picked at the food on his plate; he wasn’t hungry to begin with and he was more interested in what she had to say.
“Honey…you know you can come to me with anything. Right?” He nodded and she held out a small wrinkled pharmacy bag which looked all too familiar to him.
“Why did you have this in your shirt? It fell out when I moved it off the counter.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, but her tone was calm and seemed almost soothing.
“Honey…this prescription is over six years old,” she said, producing the roundell of birth control pills; her prescription. “You’re taking an awful risk with this honey…please…I know you didn’t mean to…at least I hope you didn’t, but you took these, and you could end up in a lot of trouble.
“Mom…it’s not like you think.” Fear began to grip his heart as the truth was being wrenched from its safe hiding place.
“Nate…I know what this is all about.” He began to cry as the fear and the shame overwhelmed him. She had to know, but he was so afraid to tell her. She put her hand on his from across the table and smiled warmly; another odd reaction.
“You’re not as secretive as you think you are, honey. I know why you’ve got these pills.” He thought about lying, but she didn’t deserve that; she had raised both him and Janey by herself after their dad left them, and she had been, as they say, both mother and father to them. Whatever he was, he wasn’t going to be ungrateful or cruel. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head and smiled again.
“Nate…you’re sixteen and you don’t have a girlfriend…at least you don’t have a girlfriend like this…” She pointed to the pills.
"I know you care about Sara…I’d wondered about you two, but I know you’re not doing anything.” She reached down and pulled something out of her purse, which she had hidden under her chair. She handed it to him. A flash drive. A very familiar-looking flash drive.
“Mom… can explain.” He started but she smiled at him and he noticed her eyes had grown moist with tears.
“Honey…I thought this was my flashdrive from work…you really should get ones that aren’t identical to mine if you want privacy. What it means to be a girl...What did you write this for?” She smiled again and her look was as welcoming and forgiving and safe as he could remember.
“I…It’s a blog...I was…” He looked at the flash drive in his hands and burst into tears. Something about the safety of her tone removed the need for secrecy and the shame and guilt flowed out along with the relief.
“I read it…My name is Cheryl…that’s a very pretty name, honey. How long have you known?” That would have been his first question, but she beat him to it, and in a way that surprised him. Not ‘how long have you felt this way,’ or ‘how long have you been dressing in Janey’s clothes, but’ how long have you known?”
“Sssss….” He sobbed. She got up and went to the kitchen. Returning quickly, she handed him a bottle of Dasani which he drank eagerly while she squeezed his shoulder.
“Shhh….take your time…I’m not going anywhere,” she said, referring to something he had said in his writing.
“I hope she doesn’t leave me…I know she loves me and would never abandon me, but I am so afraid she’d leave me emotionally; like I’d stop being her child.”
“I…I didn’t want to tell you…..ssssinncceee Ddddadddy left….” He put his head down on the table and sobbed.
“I think we need to see a few people, honey…so we can get this all sorted out.” She lifted his face with both hands and kissed him on the lips softly like she used to when he and Janey were little.
“I am only sorry that you were so afraid I’d leave you. I love you, honey…that will never change, but I understand after your father left why you might worry.”
“It was my fault, mom….he found me in Janey’s room one day…oh mom…he beat me…not hard…he only hit me twice, and it didn’t hardly hurt…” Nate had become used to minimizing his pain; his father had done more than hit him…he had rejected him as well.
“But he hurt you, honey. And he left you feeling like it was your fault…” Donna had never spoken ill of their father but Nate needed to know.
“He had a girlfriend…he left with her and moved out of the province. I don’t even know where he is; I tried to find out, honey…I really did.” It was Donna’s turn to climb on the guilt carousel; her price of admission was her failure to prevent her husband from cheating and abandoning his two precious children.
“Mom! Stop it!” Donna turned to see Janey standing in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes were filled with tears, but they weren’t sad.
“He left because he was selfish and irresponsible, and we talked about all of that when we saw Dr. Jansen, right?” She walked over and hugged her mother, almost forcefully as if to wrench the guilt from her.
“I…I know…you’re right….he hurt me so bad for so long.”
“He hurt you and me and Nate and it’s his fault, not ours.” If Donna was welcoming and conciliatory, Janey was ‘take charge’ and direct.
“We’re gonna get through this just like we got through everything else, okay. You’re the best mother anyone could ever hope for; I am confident that you can raise another daughter, even if it is a challenge, mom.” She walked around to where Nate sat.
“Hi…my name is Janey, but you already know that. What’s your name?” Nate looked up at her in embarrassment.
“No sister of mine is going to be ashamed of who she is…ever, okay.” She was crying; mostly out of frustration, but some from relief as she saw that her feelings about her sibling…feelings she had kept to herself for nearly six years…were true.
“What’s your name, sis?” She still was crying, but she had grown calmer and her voice almost echoed the quiet welcoming tone of her mother.
“Ssshhhh…Cheryl?” Nate practically sobbed.
“Hmmm…just a second.” She ran to the bookshelf in the living room and quickly returned, leafing through a paperback.
“Cheryl…from the French…’Darling,’” She read as she stepped next to her brother once again.
“It suits you…and Nate…not Nathaniel, but Nate…how about Natalia…like the lady on CSI:Miami… ’New Birth!’” She smiled at the figure before her and then turned to her mother.
“Well…let’s just think about things…nothing has been decided yet, okay?”
"Oooo...oh...kay." Both siblings looked disappointed until they saw the smile on their mother's face and knew...everything had been decided.
Sociology Class...London South Collegiate Institute, London, Ontario…the following year…
The class came to order as the teacher smiled and used her hand in a broad gesture.
“Kids…I’d like to introduce you to our new students. Rose Armetta is a transfer from Sarnia; her family just moved here this past August.” And then the teacher pointed to the student in the front row who was wearing a hoodie…a pink hoodie.
“And here is a new student you already know...This is Cheryl…Cheryl Laska.”
 |
Kevin's Story
|
Kevin walked into the church, down the side aisle and slid into the confessional. The dividing panel slid open and he heard the tired sigh on the other side.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” he said quickly, almost gasping for air. “It’s been a week since my last confession.”
Another heavy sigh, almost as if his voice weighed down the man.
“I dressed in my mom’s clothes….” His voice trailed off. Even then, he was sinning. He had walked from his home; fourteen short blocks. A few blocks of his neighborhood and then store fronts and fast food restaurants and an empty lot. And all the while he thought…every moment from leaving his house, about how mother would feel if she knew her son was doomed to hell for being a girl.
In an ambulance on the way to Dayton Children's Hospital
“Fuck, we’re losing him…come on, kid…don’t give up….”
“Clear….” The sound of the defibrillator drowned out the siren for only a moment.
“Shit, that was close….” The woman sighed deeply “What makes a kid do something like this? He’s barely fourteen.”
“I’m just glad he’s stable…let it go at that, Tina, unless you plan on taking up social work on top of everything else.”
Dayton Children's Hospital...the following morning...
Kevin had his head turned to face the wall. His mother sat on the side next to the curtain, holding a plastic bowl of soup.
“Come on, honey…you’ve got to eat something. I know it’s uncomfortable, but Dr. Singh is going to be in this afternoon.” She looked at Kevin’s wrists and smiled, as if her comment would make the pain go away. The gauze chafed against the wounds beneath the dressing, but the real pain lay, not beneath the gauze, but beneath the surface of his soul.
“Well, you gave us quite a scare, Kevin,” the tall man at the door said. Kevin turned and faced him and forced, if not a smile, then at least no frown.
“You know you’re very important to me, son.” The word tore against his heart like a sharp piece of metal against concrete; both for the painfully real sincerity and its inevitable hopelessness. He closed his eyes, imagining the offensive blade had been restored to his hand; another final opportunity to do something right in his life.
“Now why the tears, son? You’ll be out of here soon enough.“ The words were sincere even if they were deluded and selfish beyond evil.
“See…I told you it will get better…Isn’t that right, Father Stephen?” Kevin’s mother was glad for help with her boy; he’d been troubled lately with sad twisted perverted thoughts, and it was good to have someone to turn to.
“Right enough, Mrs. Wilde. We’ll have the lad back home and back at the rectory helping out soon enough.
Twelve years later...at the practice of Tina Andrucci, Licensed Clinical Social Worker
“What’s troubling you, Katy…you seem to be distracted today."
“Oh, nothing, Tina. I think it was just something I saw on the news this morning…about the…”
“The scandal in Boston? Yes, I saw that, too. A lifetime ago, and yet it probably hurts almost as much as it did when you were hurt.
‘”Tina? How can I be sure…I mean…It’s too late…” she smiled as she pointed to herself. She wasn’t lamenting so much as asking for a clarification; something many of us do who have similar issues.
“To turn back? I hardly think you’d want to do that, dear. You’ve been a girl your whole life. It may be that your gender made you a target, even if your gender wasn’t apparent to you. Either way, you were a girl even if your form didn’t match who you were inside. Understand?” Katy looked at her and nodded. It still remained unsettled in her mind, even if it were settled entirely in her heart. Even her mother questioned her every time they got together.
“You’re a bright young woman, and you’re a blessing as well. Keep that in mind next week, no matter what happens. I’m so glad you’re doing so well; you’ve come a long way and you should be proud.
"I don't know abut that...is it partly my fault? Did I ask for this?" She began to cry, a habit that was slow to leave even as the repair to her soul was taking time as well.
"He'd like you to think that...that he had no choice. You were a child, Katy...a child who should have been treasured. I'm not really good at this, but I remember from Sunday School when I was little....Better a man should have never been born than to hurt one of these....children....no, Katy...it wasn't your fault at all. Remember that when you go in there next week, okay?
"Okay."
In the hallway outside the Grand Jury Courtroom, Montgomery County Common Pleas Court, Dayton, Ohio...the following Tuesday... December 17...
“Are you sure you want to do this, Kathryn? We have enough already without you having to speak.” The woman looked at the prosecuting attorney and smiled.
“It’s something I have to do, Jacqui…I’m not so foolish as to hold a press conference. My understanding is that the Grand Jury Testimony is sealed, so I won’t be putting myself out there. And that’s really the point. If it was public, my presence would do nothing but delegitimize the whole thing in the eyes of a lot of people…just one more freak adding to the freak show, you know. This way I can finally tell my story without jeopardizing the many stories of everybody else.”
“Kathryn…Katy…It’s not fair that you should have to hide.” Jacquie frowned and placed her hand on Kathryn’s arm.
“I’m not worried. I’m living my life the way I had always believed God wanted for me, and if I don’t get my fifteen minutes of fame? All the better for the rest of us, yes?’ Kathryn had tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t upset at all.
“I’m very proud of you, Kathryn,” the voice spoke from the doorway.
“Hello, Father Pat…I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugged a small shrug and began to cry ever so softly.
“You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Katy…I would be remiss as your pastor if I didn’t stand with you.”
“But Father…you’re going to be putting yourself in….won’t this make?”
“I served two tours in Iraq in the first Gulf War, and I have a steel rod in my leg to show for it. The ones who would be upset with me…frankly I don’t care. I’ve got to answer to God for this, even if they don’t want to. You’re a child of God who was hurt…deeply. And you still are a child of God, no matter what anyone says.” He sat down on the bench next to her and did something that one might have expected from her.
“May our God go with you in this, dear one, and may justice be served. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.” He smiled and kissed her wedding band. As he turned to face the door of the courtroom the tall man standing by the door walked over and held his hand out.
"Oh, Hi Jimmy...Don't worry...she's going to be alright. Your bride is made of what they used to call 'sterner stuff!" He patted the young man's wrist before shaking it.
“I’m sorry, Father Pat. I lost track. Thanks for coming and thank you for praying. I know Katy wouldn’t have gotten through this without you and Jacquie here.” He leaned over and helped Kathryn to her feet.
“I love you, Katy…we’ll all be in there with you, okay? You’ll do just fine.” He kissed her once as the bailiff opened the door and waved her in.
 |
Tony's Story
|
The CD player blared loudly...
"Let it snow...let it snow...let it snow."
“Have you been at my clothes again?” Liz said as she looked in her drawers.
“No, Mom,” the boy stated plainly as he stepped back from his mother's doorway.
“Well, it’s okay, Tony…just be done before your father gets home, okay?
The d'Artale home, Magnolia Chase Apartments, Virgina Beach, Virginia, December 19...
There's a place out there for us,
more than just a prayer or anything you've ever dreamed of.
So if you feel like giving up cause you don't fit in down here,
fear is crashing in, close your eyes and take my hand.
Carla d’Artale sat down on the couch next to her son. It was a long week after a long month after a very long two years. Tony d’Artale looked almost frightened, wondering just what his mother wanted to discuss. His father, Tony Sr., an F-18 Hornet pilot stationed at NAS Oceania in Virgina Beach, had been killed ironically in an auto accident on Virginia Beach Boulevard on the way home one evening. His RlO (Radio Intercept Officer), Chris Davidson, and Carla had fallen together and in love after reacquainting at a bereavement support group at a church in Norfolk. Chris had lost his wife two years earlier to cancer.
“Tony…I’m serious…It’s okay to wear my clothes, but if your father finds out?” Carla wasn’t at all angry but she remained nervous. Tony’s step-dad was hard to read. Carla had only been widowed a year when she and Chris began their whirlwind courtship, and Tony Jr. had really been almost lost in the shuffle. Carla had meant to take her time, but Chris was such a great guy and she was so sad and lonely.
“Mom…I love Chris…he’s so much like Dad….and Dad loved me. I wish…” The boy ran to his mother and fell into her arms. At fifteen, he felt so frightened and alone. After his father’s death they had moved back to Virginia Beach for support, since both sets of grandparents lived in Virginia. But leaving North Carolina meant leaving his only friends. He could only hope that he’d be able to make friends in his new school.
“Honey…he loves you like you were his own son.” She smiled, but her smile quickly turned to a frown when she realized just what she had said.
“But will he love me like I was his own daughter? Mom…I’m so scared.” Anthony James d’Artale was on the verge of dying, and he hoped that his resurrection would be welcomed, since he really wanted his new father’s love, even if it was for Antoinette Amelia d'Artale
We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe.
It's written in the stars that shine above,
a world where you and I belong, where faith and love will keep us strong,
exactly who we are is just enough
there's a place for us, there's a place for us.
“Tony…How’s my man?” Chris threw his jacket over the chair in the dining room and walked into the kitchen. He really wanted to show Tony that he could be a good father. Falling in love can be a dicey thing when your true love has already lived a lifetime with another, treasured love. And to be a father at thirty when your new bride is seven years older and has a fifteen year old son? He could only hope that he could be half the man Tony Sr. was; not just as a father and husband, but also a provider and an example to his new son. What he didn’t know about being a father could fill a building. What he didn’t know about his new child could fill a stadium. But what he had in his heart was big enough to fill Wisconsin, as they say.
When the water meets the sky,
where your heart is free and hope comes back to life,
when these broken hands are whole again,
well will find what we've been waiting for,
we were made for so much more
“Chris…we need to talk. Before we go any further I have a confession. I am so sorry for not telling you sooner. I guess I was afraid that if I told you, you’d walk away, you know?”
“Carla…there is nothing at all that you could tell me that would upset me at this point. I’ve told you as much as I can remember to tell, but I also know that you have a past…a beautiful past.”
“Chris…yes…Tony and I had a great life together….but that’s not what I need to tell you.
“Believe me, honey. I’ll try to understand. I might not get it right, but it won’t be for lack of trying. Just tell me and we’ll deal with it.
We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe.
It's written in the stars that shine above,
a world where you and I belong, where faith and love will keep us strong,
exactly who we are is just enough,
there's a place for us, there's a place for us
Tony lay in his bed, holding his comforter ironically like a teddy bear. He literally looked upward and prayed for his mother. He could almost bear rejection as a son if he knew Chris would accept his mother; she deserved to be happy after losing her true love. He tried not to cry; he wanted to stay focused on prayer, believing that if God could move mountains he’d certainly be able to move a man’s heart.
So hold on, now hold on,
there's a place for us
“I think there’s something you ought to know yourself before we go any further. I think what I have to say may be right in line with what’s on your heart. Can you let me speak first?” Chris smiled and Carla breathed out a big sigh. She wanted to believe things would work out, but after the last few years her faith had taken a real buffeting and her heart was more fearful than she could ever remember.
So hold on, now hold on,
there's a place for us
“First, understand that I took a vow when we married; that you could be just the best thing…the best person to ever, ever grace my life? I love you, and I want you to know I took that vow as serious and as sacred as anything in my life.” He smiled and pulled her in for a quick hug.
“But you have to understand that knowing Tony Sr. even before we ever met? Pretty big shoes to fill, okay? Tony and I shared more than a flightdeck. We shared as much as two friends can share. He was not only a great pilot but a great guy and my mentor. We prayed together and talked together. And that he trusted me? What a privilege and honor. I would never have dreamed that I’d be in this place.”
So hold on, now hold on,
there's a place for us
As the night wore on, Tony knew that his mother and his new father had to be talking about him. A strange and wondrous thing happened; not at all magical in the enchanged sense, but magical nonetheless. For the first time in his life…for the first time in her life, Toni felt that things would be okay.
We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe.
It's written in the stars that shine above,
a world where you and I belong, where faith and love will keep us strong,
exactly who we are is just enough,
there's a place for us, there's a place for us
“Carla…Tony was like a brother to me. Not only did he hear everything I had to say…everything on my heart? But he trusted me with everything as well. I know about Antoinette."
When the water meets the sky,
where your heart is free and hope comes back to life,
when these broken hands are whole again,
well will find what we've been waiting for,
we were made for so much more
A knock came at the door. Toni lifted her head…perhaps the first time she had ever felt herself without fear; filled with wonder as her parents entered her bedroom
“Honey…Chris and I have something we need to tell you.” Carla walked over to the bed and sat down. The child in the bed still wore boy’s pajamas, but it made no difference to Carla and Chris.
“Toni?” She turned and her face grew sad as she heard the familiar sound of her own name…that name…until Chris continued.
“Honey…I know…Antoinette Amelia…I married your mother and she made me the happiest man on earth. I can’t take your Dad’s place, but I want to try to be a part of his daughter’s life…Okay?” He smiled and grasped her hand, bringing it together with Carla’s as the family came together for the first time.
We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe.
It's written in the stars that shine above,
a world where you and I belong, where faith and love will keep us strong,
exactly who we are is just enough,
there's a place for us, there's a place for us
There's a Place for Us
From the Motion Picture
Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Words and Music by
Carrie Underwood, David Hodges
and Hillary Lindsey
As performed by Carrie Underwood
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aB9ueVfyZ1M
 |
Cindy's Story
|
Cindy walked down the aisle of the supermarket. It was fairly crowded for a Tuesday afternoon; Soccer Moms trying to get weekly provisions while the kids were still in school. She passed a stroller at the end of the aisle, nearly running into the baby’s mother as she stared at the smiling infant. She excused herself and quickly walked to the small ladies room. Locking the door, she stood at the sink and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her stomach was flat; in the right context she’d be the envy of nearly every woman in the store. But that day she looked down and could only see lack. She thought again of the baby in the stroller before covering her face as she wept.
Bartell Drug Store, Tacoma, Washington...
“How are you today?” The pharmacist smiled as she looked back at the order bins.
“Hi, Ginnie...Okay…still fighting what everybody else is, I suppose.” She forced a smile as the girl retrieved a bag with her meds.
“Hey…this is me…what’s really going on?” The girl said quietly as she leaned closer to the counter. Cindy shrugged.
“Haven’t heard yet, huh?”
She had heard. The look on her face told the girl everything she needed to know.
“I’m trying to be content in all circumstances, but it’s really hard, you know?”
“Gosh, Cindy, how do you do it?” The girl arched her right eyebrow and tilted her head; almost like Diane Sawyer…the only thing missing was the sympathetic head shake.
“I guess….no…I know it’s my faith.” She frowned and tears came to her eyes; she felt like she was letting God down by being human and disappointed.
“You know it’s okay to cry…doesn’t it say somewhere that “Jesus wept?” Ginnie was as close to a friend as one’s pharmacy clerk can get. She actually showed more sympathy than Cindy’s own sister, who continued to lecture her on that “foolishness,” as her sister put it. That Nan didn’t accept her gender identification added to the tension between her and Cindy, which was compounded by the fact that apart from her sister and her doctors and the adoption agency, no one knew.
“You should just find yourself a nice girl and get married and forget all that foolishness.”
Nan wasn’t so far from the truth. The fact remained that while Cindy had not even begun a belated real life test, it didn’t change the fact that Cindy still remained attracted to women; her orientation was settled at birth even if her gender was still in a state of unwanted flux. So to try to adopt in the midst of her personal segue was problematic at best.
“Did you think about what we discussed at Bible Study?” Cindy looked at the girl and smiled. There was something oddly appealing about Ginnie. The thought of dating the girl was tempting; she certainly was a nice woman even if she was a bit…eccentric. She made Abby from NCIS seem positively conservative; a bit quirky and only ‘mostly’ odd as Miracle Max might say.
“Jimmy is having the party on Saturday instead of Sunday since they’re planning on watching the Seahawks game Sunday night. You are welcome to come, okay?”
“I don’t know…” Her eyes teared up once again.
“For what it’s worth, dear…I think you’d make an absolutely great Mom!” Ginnie finished the transaction and stepped around the counter.
“C’mere…let me hug you…I need a hug.” She pulled Cindy in for a tight embrace and kissed her on the cheek.
“Saturday at six…bring something to drink if you like, okay?” Cindy nodded once and quickly left the store. The girl waited until the door closed behind her friend before allowing herself the luxury of her own tears.
The Mayfield family home, Tacoma, Washington...that Saturday...
“Hey…glad you could make it.” Ginnie hugged Cindy and led her to the big family room where the party was being held.
“Happy Birthday, hon.” She felt Ginnie’s grip on her arm moving her through the guests to greet her parents.
“I’m really thankful for the invitation,” she smiled as Ginnie’s Mom and Dad stepped closer.
“We’re glad you could make it,” her mother said with a smile.
“I’m going to get something from the kitchen; come on, okay?” Ginnie said, grabbing Cindy’s arm once again, walking quickly out of the room
“I have so much to be thankful for, but I think the thing I’m most grateful for is your friendship. You’ve been so kind and encouraging to me….” Cindy felt her face getting warm, and her nostrils flared.
“Oh, gosh…here I go again.” She was almost apologetic as her eyes began to fill with tears.
“I don’t know what’s going on…I’m in a pretty good mood…I gave the whole adoption thing to God in prayer, and yet here I am…crying…I’m so sorry…you don’t deserve this…on your birthday especially.
“Especially on my birthday…” The girl was a bit eccentric, as I noted, but Cindy wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next.
“Happy Birthday to me…” She giggled before pulling Cindy in for a kiss. Not a sisterly kiss…not a kiss from a churchmate or a trusted friend or acquaintance, but an honest to goodness real live romantic on the lips kiss. The girl was still giggling even as their mouths met, and the sensation sent a shock through Cindy; almost like shuddering after a chill.
“Nooo….I can’t….” She protested even as she gave into the younger girl’s advance.
“Pretty please…it’s my birthday…” She continued to laugh, but the tone grew softer and more serious, like the kind of laugh that calms the worst of fears.
“Ohhhh.” The woman began to sob. Ginnie pulled her into an even tighter embrace as she whispered in her ear,
“It’s okay…I know…” Cindy’s eyes grew wide in surprise even as the sobbing continued.
“And I love you just the same…always have…ever since I first met you…you know? You and my brother used to hang around and play PS2 all the time when I was a kid….”
“But….”
“And I love you even more…now…just the way you are…or will be…it’s okay.” She smiled and laughed again, this time even softer and with a bit more of a breathiness to it.
“You and me…okay?”
"Yehhhhes"
Christmas eve…the following year…the Mayfield-Nelson home...
They embraced…two oddly matched dears so greatly in love. Wife to wife to quote someone somewhere. Cindy looked at Ginnie with loving eyes, grateful beyond anything she could have imagined. In the end, the appeal wasn’t so much about giving birth, although in another world in another time maybe that might have been possible. But being a mother was something that she was born for… designed for, in fact. She looked over at the attractive woman beside her; beautiful in being ‘great with child,’ as they say. And both women were glowing.
