Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1867

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1867
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
-Dormouse-001.jpg

I soaked his sweater in a bucket with Vanish one of these enzyme things which takes out stains, it also contains hydrogen peroxide–yeah the same stuff used to bleach hair–it fizzes in contact with organic material releasing oxygen. They measure the strength of it by the volumes of oxygen it gives off. It’s also used as an antiseptic.

While Simon was making me a cuppa–well I did soak his sweater and will wash it out tomorrow, so it’s a quid pro quo–I went back to my study and replied to Eric Chalmers’ email.

Dear Mr Chalmers,

I’m not sure how you found my email address, but thank you for your note. I accept your apologies believing them to be sincere, and I might well look you up the next time I’m in Bristol.

Life is full of surprises, I know mine has been.

Thanks for writing,

Catherine Cameron nee Watts.

I pressed send and looked at the time–it was ten o’clock on a Friday evening and I was feeling quite tired. Simon was watching the telly, but I was too tired to even think about what he was doing, I did remember he’d forgotten to make the tea, but I was now past that. I kissed him and went off to bed.

I was standing with Murray in assembly facing hundreds of kids. “Lady Cameron has kindly consented to come and talk to all about how she had a sex change. So if you think life might be easier as a woman, she’s the one to see.”

Suddenly I was standing in front of all these schoolkids, girls and boys and they were laughing and joking to themselves and pointing at me. I was terrified. A boy stood up and it went quiet. “You’re a woman now are you?” I mumbled an affirmative and he nodded, “Show us your ovaries then.” The whole hall erupted in laughter and I felt the tears run down my face. I’d been humiliated by a twelve year old?

I wanted to run, to get away but my feet were stuck to the floor, they just wouldn’t or couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried to make them.

More abuse was shouted at me and I was openly crying, the tears running down my face in torrents, my makeup I suspected was like a panda.

A whistle blew and everyone went quiet and to my astonishment in walked Messrs Raymond and Chalmers. “All right you ’orrible lot be quiet and let the poor woman speak.” They positioned themselves in front of me, I was up on the stage and they were standing on the floor facing the pupils.

I pulled a tissue from my suit pocket and dried my eyes, making them look even more stupid I suspect. I thanked the headmaster and staff for inviting me to come back and present prizes and for the opportunity to address the school.

“It’s a long time since I was here, and things have changed since then. They now have a co-educational system, in my day I was the only girl here.” That brought more laughter, and I was able to tell them to get a good education because it stood them in good stead for the rest of their lives. I invited questions–it was a mistake.

“Did you really have your doodah cut off?” More riotous laughter.

“You’re really pretty,” said a girl and I thanked her, “for a boy.” The laughter continued despite the best efforts of Chalmers and Raymond to control it.

I finally left and went back to my car and howled.

I was still howling when Simon shook me, “Cathy, whatever’s the matter?”

“They made fun of me,” I wailed.

“Who did?”

“The schoolkids.”

“What schoolkids?”

I opened an eye and realised I was in bed with Simon. “Eh? How did I get here?” I asked no one in particular.

“You came up to bed early, remember?”

“Did I? Oh yeah–I must have had a bad dream, sorry, did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry, I was only sleeping.”

“I dreamt I was back at my old school and the kids started laughing at me and asking stupid questions about changing gender.”

“Ah, a consequence of your encounter earlier?”

“Probably, only Raymond and Chalmers were trying to help me.”

“Sounds like you’ve still got issues about school, why don’t you go and see your shrink?”

“I thought I’d worked through most of those.”

“Well perhaps these are new ones triggered by the encounter with those two teachers yesterday.”

“I guess they must be, can’t think of any other reason.”

“Why don’t you sell your parent’s house–then you wouldn’t have to go back there?”

Would you sell your parent’s house?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well then.”

“Cathy, they’re still living in it.”

“So?” I asked and then found myself blushing.

He switched on his bedside light, “Wanna cuppa?”

“Will I get one this time?”

“You got one last time, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“I remember putting the kettle on...oh well,” he got out of bed and pulled on his pyjama bottoms, slipped his feet into his slippers and went off to remedy his earlier oversight.

I lay there thinking I must be going mad, much of the dream had gone now but I did recall that boy shouting at me to show him my ovaries. It was my worst nightmare, it proved I was a fake, an ersatz woman–I had no ovaries, nor womb. I felt the tears start again and Simon came in with the tray and two mugs of tea.

“What’s the matter?”

“That dream, I just realised the boy who shouted the rude question at me was me?”

“Hang on, how could you be in two places at once?”

“It was a dream,” I said wiping my face in a tissue, “anything could happen.”

“So it would appear, but if anything could happen, how come you couldn’t dream up the bits you’re missing and pretend to show him. I mean, how could he see your ovaries anyway?”

“It’s a term of abuse, usually from men who are transphobic.”

“I see. Can’t you ask to see their brains and then whack ’em on the head with a felling axe?”

“I think that might be somewhat illegal.”

“So is making prejudicial statements about transgender people.”

“Is it?”

“It is in this house, and in our banks and in many other large concerns. I’d have thought schools would fall into the same category.”

“I know the university does, it has an equal opportunities policy relating to both students and staff.”

“Yeah, Tom told me yonks ago.”

“How did that come up?”

“I can’t remember, we must have been talking about you, seeing as Trish is too young to go to uni.”

“Julie isn’t.”

“She’s hardly academic, is she?”

“I think she could be, and Phoebe certainly is.”

“Phoebe isn’t transgender, is she?”

“No, of course not–why ask that?”

“Well if I remember correctly we were talking about the equal ops policy at the university for transgender students.”

“Were we?” I felt totally brain fuddled.

“Yes, so drink your tea and go to sleep and think about nice things.”

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