Understanding Rachel Part 7

Tanya took a deep breath, and then let it out.

Thanks to some suggestions from her friend Rachel, and counseling she was now getting, she felt she was making real strides in dealing with being raped, and the anxiety it caused relating to transitioning to being a woman.

To make things better, she had seen a doctor, and had an appointment soon to get a cat scan, the first step in the process to see how much surgery she would actually need to be the person she knew she was inside, however much she sometimes protested against it.

In short, she felt like things were going great, but there was one hang-up.

Her friend Rachel.

She’d tried phoning several times to share her good news, but hadnt been able to get a hold of the girl.

Worse, no one else had heard from her in almost a week either - no posts online, no entries in her blog, just silence.

For someone as prolific and compulsive about posting as Rachel, this was not a good sign.

Tanya dialed the number again, and just before the answering machine would have kicked in she heard the voice of an older woman, Rachel’s mother, saying “Hello.”

“Hi. Its Tanya. Is Rachel around?”

“My son is upstairs crying instead of taking care of business.” The older woman’s voice was tight with anger being barely kept in check.

“Crying? What happened?”

“”Her daughter found out about trying to be a girl. She found my son’s dress, and freaked, and has asked her mother to not make her come here any more. Thanks to my son playing dress-up, I’ve lost my granddaughter.”

“Oh no! Please, let me talk to Rachel.”

“I only took this call so you wouldnt keep calling back. Thanks to you and her other so-called friends my son tried to live in a fantasy-land where he was a girl, instead of growing up and taking charge of his life.”

“I thought you were okay with her.”

“I know, I encouraged this nonsense too, because it made my son happy. But I should have seen this coming. Just calling himself a girl wasnt enough. Nothing would be enough. Now, please dont call here anymore. My son needs people who will encourage him to act like the man he is, and not play games any more.”

With that, the old woman hung up the phone, leaving Tanya listening to the dial tone.

“Oh Rachel...” She cried.

She pressed the off button on the phone, and then pulled a number out of her phone book. She began to dial, saying to herself, “Well, this is an emergency ....”

“I hope this works.”