My name is David, and I am a woman.

My mother.

She was a being of exacting…not, I must resist. Too many Bronte and Austen novels before writing will give you a decidedly stodgy air to your writing.

Mama is a force of nature. She is not someone that you can forget easily, nor dismiss readily. If she'd wanted to be, she could easily have been Miss Universe as a girl. Even now I think that she could easily have won a Mrs. Universe pageant.

And it's not just her looks, as those are almost an afterthought at a pageant. I should know, Mama made me enter one when I was sixteen.

It is a quality of personality that has the ability to enrapture the judges, wrap them around your little finger, and the entire time give them the impression that you are in all things their servant.

Demure with a hint of Dominatrix and a dash of Devastating, given sixteen to eighteen years to simmer. That's what you really need to win. Mama has it. She had it as a teen.

She just doesn't want it.

What she wants, well, that is something you have to ask Mama.

"Let me get a look at you, girl. Ears pierced. Feminine haircut. You really should consider going blonde."

"Mama, I love my red hair."

"And I know how you think it goes well with your eyes. Be thankful your father never gave you his freckles."

"Daddy never did anything to deserve that tone, Mama."

Mama's look of annoyance at me was enough to remind me of what she saw as ample reason for her waspishness. Well, ample reason for her. Neither my father nor myself showed her the veneration that she felt was her due at home. Dad showed it by going out for a newer model every year or so. I think he was currently on his eighth wife.

Up until today, I displayed it by adamantly refusing to show up en femme

"Mama, before you say anything else about my appearance, I want to lay some ground rules for my visit. First, you do not mention an 'I told you so' of any sort, including mentioning that you're so glad I finally 'came around.'

I looked at her sternly until she solemnly nodded, "Second, there will be no mention of my beginning hormone therapy."

"But, Donna…"

"I mean it, and that is third: My name is David. I never liked the name Donna. You will forget it forever. I took the middle name Louise, since I knew you would pester me until I picked a girl's name."

"Isn't that a bit of an 'old lady' name? Your Great-Aunt was called Louise, dear."

"And she was the only one of my female relations who actually stood up for me being David as long as I needed to. I think she realized more than any of you that a Shaw can't be lead to water, nor can she be pushed. She'll go to the water in her own damn time and then swim there naked, flaunting all convention."

Mama smirked at me, but nodded and didn't say anything else. I could tell that a question was threatening to burst forth from her lips, as there was a bit of a quiver there, but she was determined not to chase me away. Well, not chase me away again.

I sighed, but then I relented and I squealed a little bit, "I got a hormone shot on Friday."

She hugged me and bounced a little, squealing herself. She pulled back and held me at arm's length.

"No padding? David…"

"Mama, I'm doing this my way. I've done it yours, and we know how that turned out. I'm going to do it mine this time."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I wouldn't allow her a word in edgewise.

"Drop it Mama, I'm here. Isn't that good enough for you?"

"Well, fine. I'll have Orson bring in your bags while I find out what you've been up to the past six years."

<3  <3  <3
I sat there with a cocktail in my hand, watching as my mother indulged in the greater of her two vices. Well, the greater of her two loves, or so it always seemed to me. It's not that I felt lesser than her vice, but that I never felt she listened to me.

You can only say no so many times before you realize you need to save your breath, and pick your battles.

"Mama, do you ever regret what you did?"

"What do you mean, dear?" She asked as she looked into her own drink. It was her third. I'd still not touched my first.

"Mama, you're an alcoholic. You decided that my natural feminine inclinations meant I wanted to be a girl, and you forced the issue."

"But, dear, look at you," she said, gesturing with her drink. She didn't even notice that some of the drink sloshed, "You are a girl."

"Mama, I know how I feel, but let me tell you how other people will see it. Not everyone, sure, but some people. I'm either a gay man trying to seduce unsuspecting men into sleeping with me, or worse I'm a tranny-freak."

"How is being Transgender worse than being gay?"

"Actually, if you must know, it's easier to be transgender in my opinion. As a gay man, you're always going to be seen as a gay man. It's something that everyone will have to know, especially after you get into a relationship."

"And…"

"Being transgender is so much easier. Sure, you're transitioning for a little while and then pre-op for a little while. After that though, after all your surgeries are done, then you're just a woman. Even if you're a masculine looking woman, there is no evidence left for them to see anything. I've met genetic women who look more masculine that I do. That has been the case my entire life.

"No one ever thought they were men. Sure, I wondered, but that was my background. For most people it's just not something that occurs to them. I think that's the reason that people hate TG community so much. We defy their reality, and their preconceptions. They see a woman, who they then find out was born a guy. The guy's feel betrayed like it was some guy trying to seduce them into being gay. The women feel like it's some guy trying to take liberties with them. They don't stop to think that these two things are at odds, and they never realize that both can't be true.

"The problem is that when fear get's involved, it has not recourse to logic. Fear feeds itself and builds on itself. In the end it is nothing but fear. Fear of nothing.

"But without any sort of evidence, the evidence that the process itself destroys, they are left with their thoughts that what they see is a masculine woman, but that is all you are."

My mother took a sip of her drink, thinking about what she wanted to say, and then sat forward, "You have to tell someone. If you don't tell a partner and they find out later…"

"There is that danger. And it is a question. Do you tell your partner? When do you tell your partner? Or, do you find someone who will stay with you through your transition? Then, you have to hope that they will still be with you when you are complete."

"If they…"

"No Mama, it'd not that easy. Human sexuality is really difficult to quantify, though people try. Many of their attempts neglect so many aspects of what it is that defines arousal. I've never heard a theory that includes Pyromania or other similar psychologies. Those are a part of human sexuality, even if it is a part that most consider to be unacceptable.

"Those people that are truly aroused by me during my transition, are they excited by how I look or who I am? How I look will change. If they are only with me for how I look…"

"But a really mature person will…"

"Love who I am, and not who I look like? Sure, a story will tell you it happens all too often. If the narrative is to be believed, Jane Eyre proves that they have considered it a worthwhile goal for almost two hundred years."

"Jane Eyre?"

"An ugly man marries a plain woman who is beneath his station. It's not even as though the man had no other options…or opportunities."

"You mean Mr. Rochester?"

"Yes, I do." I sat there twirling my drink, watching the liquid swirl around the glass. I looked at Mama, for once not drinking the alcohol in her hand. "Mama…can I? Can I trust someone who has trouble with who I am now?"

"Now we get to the core of your reason for coming home?"

"Mama," I say with a little smile.

"Who is he, or she? I don't care really…"

"You know I never really cared for girls in that way. I tried. Oh you know how I tried…but another girl has never made me feel…like a man does."

"You're a girl, that's fine…isn't it?"

"Mama, as far as I was concerned I was a Presentation-Matching Non-Transitioning Transgender Heterosexual. I thought that I just needed to find the right woman."

"So, you were wrong?"

"Yes, Mama. The reason I'm here is because I was wrong. Before I really stopped to think about it, before a girl friend showed me who I really was, I was afraid I was gay."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay."

"Then how come you never date, Mama? How come you got married even?"

She blushed at me and tried to take a gulp from the glass. Without her noticing, she'd dumped it on her floor.

"Mama, you've got a serious problem."

"This is only my third drink."

"It's ten in the morning, Mama."

"We're not talking about me right now."

I gave her a look, arching my brow. I let it drop. "Mama, I'm a Presentation-Irrelevant Female Heterosexual."

"So, you're saying you're a woman even when dressed as a man?"

"Everything I've said today and that's all you latch onto?"

"Honey…"

"Yes, Mama. I realize that you're happy about the direction that my life is going in."

"Honey, let me talk. I only want you to be happy. You're not the only one who changed in the last six years. When you left it almost killed me, David."

"Mama…"

"It really did, David. You were only eighteen, baby. You were so angry when you left. You didn't bring any luggage with you."

"All of the clothing I had was girl's clothing, Mama."

"I'm sorry for that. So, your man."

"He's not mine, Mama. He's my boss, or I should say former boss."

"He fired you?"

"What? No, Mama. I switched to working with a different partner in the firm."

"You're a lawyer?" she said with a skeptical air.

"Architect, Mama. I decided to use my art for something useful."

"Oh, so you finally gave that up, did you?"

"Nope." I left it at that, but I did allow a smug little grin to appear on my features. "Mama, can we talk about Gary some other time?"

"No, hon. I don't think we can. He is, after all, the reason you came home. I want to get this out of the way so that maybe we can get to reconnecting."

"I'm not wearing any dresses while I'm here, Mama."

"Fine, but you keep changing the subject. What, you really like this guy?"

I blushed, hotly. I could feel the heat over my entire body. "Mama!"

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. He doesn't like you…no, not that. You could handle that. Remember…"

"Not him again, Mama."

"Fine, I'll not mention him…for right now. He likes you…but he doesn't like you"

"Mama, it's not that simple. I think he likes the idea of me as a woman, but whenever he realizes I'm not, I think it freaks him out a bit."

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry," She moved over to the couch next to me and just hugged me. I wanted to pull away from her. I wanted to blame her for everything that happened to me. When I tried to push her away, she just held on tighter. My tears began to fall then, and the sobs took me.

"There, there, honey."

<3  <3  <3
The house was usually empty. Mama had Orson, her personal assistant, gofer, butler, and whatever. He lived in the gatehouse with his wife and two children.

Marie cleaned house once or twice a week. Julia cooked. And Mama just did her best not to feel lost in the big old place. Even if she didn't want sex with him, she did love my father in my own way. When he left her, it killed a little something in her.

That didn't give her the right…

But I needed to get over the past and move on to the future. For better or for worse, I was now who I was. Being a woman wasn't a choice. I was finally able to admit to myself that all her actions had done was prepare me to be able to make an informed choice.

She hadn't been the one who forced me to paint myself into all of my early works. That had been all me. Would I ever forgive her?

I didn't consider whether or not I could forgive her. That wasn't even a question. I had it in me to forgive her. I'd done it in the past. Would I forgive her was a much more interesting, much more difficult, question.

My clothing included a nice one piece bathing suit. It was a deep purple color that shimmered in a red on the edges. The wrap was in a shear black. I only wore it to hide what little might be visible down below.

With my coloration it was pointless for me to get sun, so I went down to the pool to use it for its intended purpose. I went down to swim. After applying three liberal doses of sunscreen I went for a swim.

That lasted long enough for me to get pleasantly tired. After that, I dried off and went into the solarium. I slipped on a tee shirt over my suit and went to work.

The solarium was my usual place to paint. I set up my easel and canvas and began to mix my paints. I decided to do something I'd only done subconsciously before. I was going to be painting a self portrait.

I began with a landscape. I couldn't imagine myself in an empty place, a black room, or a swirling nothing like some other artists I'd seen. Men are so much enamored of themselves.

I began with a gentle pasture. A couple of tall whip-shaped trees framed the rough form I'd put into the center of the scene. Then it was a matter of filling in the details: an emerald dress with a flirty hem, long red hair blowing in the wind, a smile ever so much as enigmatic as Lisa's, a cock of the hip, or in other words everything necessary to paint me as I truly felt, in my heart, that I was.

"Honey, that's so beautiful."

Mama?"

"You never told me you were this good."

"Mama, I really tried to show you, but you never looked. You never saw what I could do. You wanted me to follow in your footsteps. Join society like we were still in the early nineteen hundreds, not the next century over."

"Honey…"

"Mama, no. Not so soon. I need some time still to think about all of this." I said as I gestured to myself, encompassing my appearance and dress.

Orson came to tell us that dinner would be ready soon. I left my canvas out to dry and went in to get changed. While I might have simply stayed as I was if this was my house, Mama had different ideas as to what was 'suitable' for dinner attire, and a swim suit wasn't.

I'd brought the dresses that Angie had purchased for me, and while looking for something to wear I laid them out on the bed. They were both pretty. I stopped trying to organize an outfit and instead looked at those dresses. Each one flattered my shape, even flat and angular as I thought it was. They were designed with my body shape in mind.

Even if most of the marathon shopping spree was a blur, I could remember seeing myself in a few of the dresses, and thinking that I looked good in them.

Sure, I'd told my mother not to expect me in any dresses while I was here, but would it really be a crime to appear in something so suited to me as these were?

My phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. My finger hovered over the decline for a moment or two...but then I thought better of it. I wasn't trying to avoid him in any way, after all. I quickly slid my finger over the green phone icon and accepted his call.

"Where are you, David?" No preamble, no how are you, just the blunt question.

"Nice to talk to you too, Gary. I'm at home."

"No, you're not. I'm here and knocking, and there's no answer. I also know what your phone sounds like, and I didn't hear that either."

"It could be on silent," I began, but decided to put him out of his misery, "I meant that I went home to my mother's."

"Why'd you do something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's because I haven't talked to her in six years and figured that now was as good a time as any to reconnect."

"No, what's the real reason?"

"Do you think so little of me that you'd actually think I'd lie about something like this?"

"I think the world of you. That's not what I meant. Why now? You've had six years to reconnect in."

"Oh," I said and blushed a bit. What was wrong with me? "I think you know why."

"Was it something I said?"

"Was I ever actually this clueless while I was pretending to be a man? I put myself out there and you ignored me."

"I'm sorry. I needed time to think, and then I thought I'd see you on Monday, so I took Sunday to think about it as well. I really didn't imagine you would run away from me."

"I'm not..."

"Now you are lying."

I said nothing for a moment or two as I just sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. It just took me by surprise. And I'm flattered by your offer."

"…but you don't want to date me."

"Slow down a moment, David. Please. You are a very...vivacious person. I've always noticed this about you. You seem to take what life gives you and turn it to your favor."

"I'm not all that special."

"Yes, you are. And the real question isn't in whether or not I could date you. I'd love to date a woman as intelligent and artistic as you. We have a fair amount in common, and dating would allow me to see if there's anything between us."

"But you don't see me as a woman."

"That's not the problem. The problem is that all weekend, I've been seeing you as two people: the David I've known for almost a year, who while effeminate I took to be a guy, and the David you've shown me over the past couple of days, who is a woman. I just can't reconcile the two people into one person in my mind."

"I'm the same person I've always been."

"Not really helping," he said in a strained voice, and I just laughed.

"I think you should do that more often?"

"Do what?"

"Laugh. No one who heard that could possibly mistake you for a guy."

I blushed and said nothing, suddenly very self conscious. The silence stretched for a bit and then Gary broke it.

"So, where is home?"

"Florida."

"I was hoping you'd say somewhere local. That's a long way."

"Yeah, I mean it's not like you're the boss or anything and could come out here if you really wanted."

The line went dead, and I thought for a moment I'd lost him, and then in a strained voice he said, "Did you just ask me to meet your parents?"

"Um..." I blushed with my entire body.

"I'd have to have your address if I were doing something like that."

I gave him my address, wondering what in the world I was doing. There was no way that this was actually a good idea. Not inviting Gary would have been the best option, but once I'd half joked the offer, and then he suggested he'd take me up on it, I was stuck. I wasn't going to take the active role in this relationship, especially with how my earlier attempt blew up in my face. Gary could do all the heavy lifting if he really wanted to be with me.

"So that you know, Mama is the only one here with me."

"Your father off somewhere then?"

"With his new wife, I assume. We get the announcements every year or so, but neither mom nor I have ever participated in his serial-matrimony."

"You make him sound like a murderer."

"Only of the institution. We're about to have dinner and I need to get changed."

"Are you saying you're naked?"

I blushed crimson again, "No!" I said, loudly, "I'm in a swim suit. I've really got to go."

"I'll see you soon then, David."

"See you."

Well, I guess it was time to let Mama know just who was coming to dinner.