Variants Past

Author’s note: As most of my long-time readers know, at the age of seven I was taken to a child psychologist who was supposed to help me process the grief of losing my father to suicide. Instead of helping me, however, he used me sexually for the next two years, leaving me with scars I live with to this day. But maybe, in some other universe, things went quite differently.....

We came into the nondescript office, and my mother took me toward the receptionist desk.

“Ah Misses Bellion. This is ... Todd, is it?” The receptionist said.

“Yes, this is my son. We’re here to see Dr. Smith.” my mother said.

“Oh my. Didn’t you hear? Dr. Smith has been ... let go. Dr. Adams is taking all of his clients now.”

“I didn’t know. They told me Dr. Smith was the best.”

“Well, dont worry. Dr. Adams will do very well, trust me.”

“Okay. As long as he can help my child. He’s just not bouncing back from losing his dad.”

“Well, just one moment. I’ll tell Dr. Adam’s you’re here.”

She pressed a button, and said into her phone, “Your next appointment is here.”

A moment later, she hung up the phone, and said, “He said you could go right in.”

My mother led me inside, and spoke in quiet whispers to the doctor, who seemed like a very young man for such a role. Shortly, she turned to me, and said, “Be a good boy, and tell the doctor everything, and do what he tells you.”

After she said this, she left, and I was alone with the doctor.

“Come sit down over here, Todd.” He told me, and so I sat on a couch, feeling very nervous.

He went to a chair, and brought it so it was close to the couch. Then he said, “Please try and relax, and tell me what’s been going on for you.”

I looked at him, and decided to trust him with the secret.

“Somethings really wrong with me. I... I dont think I’m really a boy.”

“What do you think you are?”

“I ... I think I’m a girl.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, at school they make me play with the boys, but ... I dont GET them. They... don’t make any sense to me.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, a while ago I was looking at a picture of my mom as a young girl. I thought she was so pretty, and all I wanted was to grow up to be a pretty as her. Why would a boy think like that?”

We talked for a long while, and eventually our time was up, and my mom came back.

She and the doctor had a whispered conversation, and then my mom came to take me home.

We were driving home, when she said, “Have I... have I ever told you what you would’ve been called if you’d been born a girl?”

“I dont think so.”

“I wanted to call you Collen. Your dad wanted to call you Dorothy.”

“Dorothy, huh. Its a nice name. But why are you telling me now.”

“We’ll ... talk about it when we get home.”

“Okay.” I said.

She looked at me funny, and then focused on her driving.

“Dorothy Colleen Bellion. Its not a bad name.” I said.

“No,” She said, “Its not a bad name at all.”

I caught her looking at me funny again, but then she smiled, and said, “In fact, I could get used to it.”

“Me too.” I whispered, and soon we were home.

And without knowing it, I had taken the first step on my journey to being a girl.