Chapter 9: Girl Friends
Ramini’s dilemma was still preying on Karen’s mind the next morning when her alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. She knew how much the Indian girl had valued her family, her mother and her sisters; she had also expressed great love and admiration for her father, even though it was his rigid sense of tradition that dictated Ramini might face eviction from her own family.

Karen accepted Ramini’s problem as her own, almost blotting out her own continual sadness over her troubled relationship with Mark Hamilton. Now concerns about Ramini were added to the continuing visions of her beloved lying flat and contributed to the overall depression that she felt.

It was a Friday, her last day of work for the week, and she had a new appreciation of the phrase, “T.G.I.F.” Her first week of work, coupled with the tensions of her new life, had exhausted her, and a break in work felt most welcome. Starting next week, as classes would begin, she’d be working four hours in the Drama Department most afternoons, along with possible Saturday hours once the University Players season began.

Finally, stirring herself to get out of bed, she looked over to the sleeping form of Ramini, hearing the girl’s nasal rhythmical gasps and wondering how such a cute, darling girl could have such a guttural, almost unpleasant snore. Karen loved the sight of her friend, and went over to her sleeping form to pull her blanket up tight, since the room still was a bit chilly. She bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek; it was hardly more than a brush, since she didn’t want to awaken her. Karen had to ready herself for work, while Ramini had no urgent appointments that day, except to figure out her future.

*****
Karen took an hour off from her job for her regular therapy appointment with Moira at the Mary Ann Keyes Gender Clinic.

“It doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to see that something’s troubling you, dear,” Moira said as Karen settled into the chair in Moira’s office.

The office largely was occupied with lounge-style furniture, including a love seat, two side chairs, a side table and a coffee table. The only indication that it was an office, was a small desk, with a computer, a file cabinet and book shelves, tucked unobtrusively at one end of the room. Green plants and pictures of prairie flowers gave the room a warm, homey feeling.

Karen had been impressed how the therapist had come to know and understand her so completely, even though their meetings were restricted to 45 minutes several times a week; it was the woman’s ability to listen without making judgment that must have enabled Karen to open up to the therapist to tell her virtually everything on her mind.

“I’m so concerned about Mark,” Karen began. “He’s going into a depression, I think, since he fears he may never walk again, much less play football. He won’t even talk to me.”

“I understand, dear,” Moira said, after Karen had given the woman a full summary of Mark’s medical situation.

“You know, Karen,” Moira continued, “You should perhaps try to forget about Mark as a boyfriend. I know you must have been dreaming of someday being his wife, or at least his partner. Right now, he’s confused. You must give him time. You’re young and pretty.”

For the first time in their sessions, Karen was angered by Moira’s comments.

“You think I don’t know that?” Karen said, her voice rising, defiantly. “You think all I care about is my own feelings, about whether I need a hunk like him as a boyfriend?”

“Don’t you?”

“No, dammit, Moira. Maybe I do love him and want him, but I’ve known all along that might not be possible, just because I’m such a weirdo, that I’m not a real girl. No, Moira, I care about him, not me. I care about a talented, marvelous young man turning into a sour cripple with no hope in life. It would be such a waste.”

“Hmmmm,” Moira murmured, otherwise sitting silently, letting empty seconds roll by.

“Oh, Moira, I do love him, even if he’ll never walk again, but I recognize that I may never again feel his arms around me or his lips upon mine. I really care about him. I do. But I do miss him so.”

She began sobbing, a quiet slow sob, more in a gnawing sadness.

“There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there, Karen?”

Karen nodded her head. She stopped sobbing and related the plight of Ramini to the therapist.

“Her situation bothers you greatly, doesn’t it Karen?” Moira asked when Karen finished the story.

“Oh yes, Moira. She seems so defenseless. She’s not very strong.”

“Indian families are so steeped in tradition that girls like your friend face terrible turmoil,” Moira said. “Are you worried your friend . . .what’s her name? . . .”

“Ramini, which means ‘pretty woman,’ which she is.”

“Yes, Ramini. Are you worried that she might hurt herself?”

“I don’t know about that, but yes, I am. She’s so fragile, Moira.”

“You know Ramini is not your concern. She needs to find her own way.”

“But I can’t desert her,” Karen said. “I really care about her. She’s a friend. We’re girlfriends and we love to cuddle together. There’s no sex, we just like being together, enjoying our girliness together.”

Karen realized she must have portrayed a pleasured look on her face as she described she and Ramini’s relationship.

“Our 45 minutes is up,” Moira said suddenly. “Can you have Ramini contact me? I’ll try to see if we can help her. We’ve had several Indian girls come through the clinic and we have a volunteer Indian woman who is a medical student who might be able to help out.”

“We have to act fast, Moira, since next week she’s supposed to move into a boy’s dormitory. It’ll be a disaster there for her.”

“Ok, have her call me. Now,” Moira said.

Karen returned to her job, still not totally reassured that Ramini would be able to find a solution to her situation. She wondered, too, during the short walk back to her job whether her own feelings about Mark Hamilton were based more on her own fear of losing a boyfriend than on the concern she said she felt about Mark’s own future. Was she being selfish and self-centered? She wondered; if so, what kind of a girl was she?

*****
“Karen, you have adjusted surprisingly well as a young lady,” Sonja Peterson, the manager of Susan’s Place, said on Saturday morning, on the weekend before classes were to begin at the University.

“I like to think I have,” Karen replied.

She had asked Karen to step into the tiny office that Sonja maintained in what once had been a small middle bedroom on the first floor. The tall graduate student maintained a surprisingly neat office, with a desk tucked up against a wall and containing a flat screen computer, a stand-up file setup and a short stack of papers, neatly piled on one side. Atop a three drawer file cabinet, obviously rescued from some office that dumped it for a newer version, stood a trophy with a bronze statue of a female ice skater, with the words: “First Place. Midwest Speedskating Championships, 2008. West Allis, Wisconsin.” There was a large framed picture of a younger version of Sonja Peterson, ice skating in some tournament.

Karen had never before been in the office since the door had always been closed and locked; she only knew that Sonja, who was working on a doctoral dissertation, spent long hours in the room, apparently studying or reading.

She couldn’t keep her eyes from Sonja’s speedskating artifacts. “I didn’t know you were such a star, Sonja. Do you still compete?”

“Don’t have the time, Karen, but I must say I miss it, and I pop over to West Allis to the Olympic rink there when I can to take a few whirls around the ice, but my dissertation and the need to work just doesn’t leave time to practice.”

“That’s still quite an accomplishment,” Karen said. “Did you try for the Olympics ever?”

“I probably could have made it for the 2010 winter games, but blew a knee that year, and that ended that.” Karen could see that may have been a major disappointment for Sonja, as her eyes seemed to take on a sad, distant look.

“That must have been tough for you, Sonja.”

“I guess it was, dear, since I had been pointing to the 2010 games most of my life,” Sonja said. “We lived a few blocks from the West Allis rink and I got into skating when I was just a little girl. Some of my friends did figure skating, and I liked that, too, but I guess I wasn’t graceful enough. I liked the direct competition that speedskating offered. I really miss it, but that part of life is gone for me. Now, I skate for fun, and if I ever have kids I can’t wait to get them out of the ice.”

Karen nodded, recognizing that Mark Hamilton was in a similar situation.

“That’s a good lesson to learn, Sonja,” Karen said. “Life deals us all setbacks, and we must adjust and go on to new things. I’m just hoping Mark can resolve himself to that.”

Sonja smiled at the young lady sitting before her in the old-fashioned straight-backed oak kitchen chair.

“My dear Karen,” Sonja said, leaning forward and placing a gentle hand on Karen’s arm. “You can’t compare what happened to me to what your friend Mark is facing. He has far bigger hurdles to jump that I did. As I understand it he may never walk again.”

Karen felt her eyes well up in moisture. “I know, but there is hope. Still, your philosophy is so good. I’d love him to meet you sometime.”

“Well, we’ll see, dear. I’d like to meet him, if he’ll have me, but I’m not sure he’ll be in a mood for a lecture from me, either.”

Karen nodded, realizing that it might be best to let the matter rest.

“Now, for the reason I called you in here, Karen,” Sonja began. “You remember when you signed on here we told you it was not a permanent residence. Normally we like to see if we can move our girls out to another safe residence within 120 days — or four months. For you that means March 1, and that’s only about six weeks away. So I want you to begin searching for another place so you can move out by then.”

“Is my time going to be up so soon? I hadn’t really been keeping track,” she said.

“Yes, dear, I’m afraid it has. We don’t summarily kick the girls out at four months, particularly if they’re not adjusting well, but I must say you appear to be most comfortable as a girl and have been functioning well.”

“Thank you,” Karen said. “It’s been less than a year since I first began realizing that perhaps I was a girl all along.”

“You’re truly remarkable, Karen, in so many ways. I’m sure you have a promising future.”

“But, Sonja. Where can I go?”

Sonja reached into a file drawer and pulled out a two-page, stapled document and handed it to Karen. “Here’s a list of potential places that we feel may be safe for you. I’ve highlighted three or four that have been particularly friendly places for the girls.”

Karen looked at the list, but the names and addresses meant nothing to her. She had been happy at Susan’s Place, particularly since the girls themselves were friendly and could share so much of their life’s experiences with each other.

“You might want to check with Daphne to see where she’s going to room, dear. She’s supposed to be leaving by February 1st. And, you know Ramini’s situation, and perhaps you two can work something out together. I know you two get along well. Even though she can’t pay anymore, we’re going to let her stay free for February, but in March she has to go too.”

Karen felt like her whole world suddenly was pulled out from under her. She vowed she’d not begin to cry; she wanted to show how strong she was.

“I hate to do this to you, Karen,” Sonja said. “I’ve so enjoyed you as both a companion and resident. But, there’s quite a demand for our services by other girls just like you, and we have only so much funding to provide rooms.”

“Thank you, Sonja. I totally understand. I’ve loved it here, and particularly since I’ve met other girls and you, of course. I’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

Karen smiled, trying to show a confidence that she didn’t quite feel at the moment.

*****

Dear Mark,

I’m just dying to tell you about Sonja, our house manager here at Susan’s place. I didn’t know it before, but she’s a big speedskating star, and would have been on the US Olympic team in 2010 but she blew out a knee just before the Games. She can’t compete anymore, and she misses it so much.

But, she’s deeply into her doctoral dissertation and she runs the House here, too, and is so sweet and nice. I’d love to have you meet her.

Anyway, I was told I have to move from Susan’s Place. It seems that I have adjusted quite easily into being a girl. That must seem funny to you, since I think you always thought I was a girl. Didn’t you? (Giggle)

Maybe I’ll try to find a place with Ramini, my current roomie. Her dad wants her to live as a boy, but she really can’t. She’s so dainty and cute.

I’d love to hear from you. Bye bye.

Karen

(Lipstick kiss mark placed at the bottom of the note.)

*****
“Your skin has become so soft and smooth, Karen,” Angela said, as her hands slowly caressed her friend. The two were nestled together in Angela’s bed.

The girls had dropped their clothes in a frenzy of sexual excitement as they entered Angela’s room in the residence she shared with several other girls off campus. Both were down to their panties as they tumbled together on the bed, Karen’s slender, dainty body cradled into the sinewy, muscular arms of her friend. Both girls had hardly any breasts at all, but Karen’s nipples had hardened and hurt as her friend cupped them, fondling the teats.

“Those hormones seem to be working on you, dear,” Angela said.

The two lay in a spoon embrace, Angela behind Karen, her hands moving on the breasts as she gently kissed her friend’s neck. Both girls were panting heavily, both emitting occasional gasps and grunts. The musky odor of sweat fought with scent from Karen’s sweet-smelling perfumed body.

“That was heavenly, Karen,” Angela said, as the two nestled together after their frantic sexual encounter. “You always were the best girl I ever had in bed, dear.”

They kissed for a while and then repeated the sexual activity twice more, each time Angela’s orgasm reaching noisy crescendos, before the two collapsed into each other’s arms. Karen, for her part, found great comfort with Angela, finding the other girl’s admiration for her total girly body and actions as totally satisfying.

Karen wound up in Angela’s bed on that Saturday night — the same day she had been informed that she’d have to leave Susan’s Place — after receiving a text message from Angela that she had returned to the campus and would like to meet her that night. The two met for pizza and then returned to the house, which Karen knew from the previous semester housed six girls. Many appeared to be lesbians, Karen had thought from previous visits.

The two girls showered together after their sexual encounter, and then settled in the kitchen to share a bottle of light white wine; even though both were under 21, several of the older girls purchased wine and beer for the house, and shared it with the younger girls.

“Doreen’s moved out of here, and the bitch is with her new friend, an ugly old slut,” Angela said, as they settled down at the kitchen table.

“Oh, you getting another girl to take the room?”

“Not yet,” Angela said, smiling. “You interested?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Angela, but I do have to move by March First,” she said. “But I’m trying to get a place to share with Ramini who also has to move out by then.”

“Really? Doreen had the biggest room here. It could be a double,” she said.

Angela knew about Ramini, but had yet to meet her.

“That’s an idea,” Karen said. “Ramini’s being cut off by her family, and has no money for a room, unless she goes back to living as a boy and lives in the boys’ dorm.”

“Dear, that’s awful.”

“Yes, she’ll get really hassled back in a boys’ dorm. She’s even more fragile and dainty than I am. Those guys will literally emasculate her.”

That night, after Angela drove Karen back to Susan’s Place, Karen mulled over Angela’s proposal; the rent was affordable and the room was indeed big enough for two persons, even though it might be a little tight. Yet, she and Ramini had become compatible roommates and could probably handle the coziness of the place. She looked over at the tiny figure of Ramini, sleeping soundly in the bed across the room, wondering if living in the house with Angela and her five other large and muscular girls would be safe for Ramini; she was so weak and helpless. Then, too, she continued to wonder about her own sexual orientation, which seemed to welcome the embraces of both men and women.

*****
“Hey girlfriend.” Karen was jolted out of her reverie as she sat in the large classroom for the start of the second semester of Sociology 101, awaiting the arrival of Professor Emery Prowesczy (pronounced “Pro-vish”).

“Oh, Jenny,” Karen said, looking up to see her friend from the last semester.

“Must have been dreaming about some boy, I bet,” Jenny said, sitting down in the empty seat next to Karen.

Karen nodded. Jenny was correct; she had been wondering about Mark, musing about the fact that the boy was languishing in a rehab center in Milwaukee rather than beginning classes at Iowa State in Ames. She was so worried that the boy would become discouraged and depressed, even though Mark’s mother, Patti, who had been in almost daily e-mail correspondence with Karen indicated Mark was in “good spirits” and “eager to do more rehab.” Sadly, she still was awaiting a reply from Mark to her daily hand-written letters that she had mailed to him. Mark’s mother urged her to stay patient.

“Where’s Kevin?” Karen asked her friend.

“Oh, he’s around somewhere. I don’t know and don’t care.”

Karen looked at Jenny Hanready, and marveled at how this plain girl with a pale white freckled face and loosely flowing, somewhat unruly light brown hair could always look so fetching. Perhaps it was her bright blue eyes and a smile that formed cute crinkles about the eyes that brightened her look.

“You don’t care? What happened?”

“Damn men. You can’t trust ‘em,” she said.

Jenny’s face soured a bit and explained: “He stood me up on New Years’ Eve. The bastard. I think his old girlfriend from high school got her slutty hooks onto him over the holidays. And she’s a damned whore. He was too weak to resist her.”

“Jenny, I’m sorry. I never would have thought that of Kevin. He seemed so nice and so close to you,” Karen said, keeping her voice low so that the students who filled in the seats around the two could not hear them. She placed a gentle hand on Jenny’s arm.

“We were, Karen, but he always wanted sex with me, and I kept saying no,” Jenny said. “Do you think I should have gone to bed with him?”

“Not unless you wanted to, Jenny.”

The other girl’s eyes began to moisten and Karen could see she was about to cry.

“Perhaps if had let him fuck me he’d still be with me,” Jenny said.

“He might be, but he wouldn’t have been worth it in the long run, Jenny. If he was going to dump you for a girl who’s an easy lay now, who knows how long he’d have been loyal to you? You’re a special girl, Jenny, and he doesn’t know what he lost. Darling, he’s not worthy of you.”

“Oh Karen, you’re such a good friend. I love you, dear.”

Jenny put her hand over Karen’s, the two girls enjoying a moment of quiet sisterhood.

“But what about you, Karen? I’ve been so selfish thinking of my self.”

Just then a loud applause broke out among the students; it had become traditional at the University that students cheered Professor Prowesczy, whose lectures had become legendary on campus. They were filled with humor and graphic descriptions as well as remarks that bordered on being iconoclastic, shocking the mainly freshmen students, many of whom came from smaller communities throughout the state where such ideas were thought to be weird or even ungodly.

“We’ll talk later, Ok Jenny?” Karen whispered to her friend, as they joined in the applause.

*****
It turned out that because of class schedules, the usual morning get-together by the gaggle of girls — all friends of Jenny’s — would not be possible this semester; both Karen and Jenny had classes immediately after the morning Sociology lecture. They agreed to meet for lunch.

“You look lovely,” Jenny said as the two carried their lunches — purchased at the student union’s lunch counter — to an out-of-the-way alcove just off the hallway. There was one table in the alcove with three chairs.

“Thanks, Jenny. I’m on hormones now, and testosterone blockers. It’s irrevocable; I’ll be a girl forever now.”

“That’s so good to hear, and you look so happy, dear. I can tell it by just looking at you. I always thought you were a girl, anyway. Remember, I told you that when we first met in Professor Pro’s class.”

Just then a short, slender girl approached the table, carrying a lunch tray.

“Oh Tricia, wanna join us?” Jenny said.

Tricia was one of the girls who made up the morning coffee group in the Student Union; she could have been a lovely girl, except for her pock-marked face. Karen had always liked the girl, who said little, but when she did usually made great sense. She was bright and intelligent, and Karen felt certain that as she aged she’d become successful and likely a most striking woman.

“If I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all, we’re glad to see you, Trish,” Karen said, making room on the table for Tricia’s food tray.

The three girls giggled over the winter garb of many of the students they saw entering the Union; because of the below-zero cold, there were few girls that exhibited any form of high fashion. Most were bundled up in parkas, heavy slacks and boots, many with wool caps or varying sizes and color.

“Staying warm is a premium up here,” Jenny observed.

It was for Tricia to bring up Mark Hamilton. She turned to Karen and asked: “Was that your friend, Mark, who got hurt in that bowl game on New Years Day?”

Karen nodded.

Jenny looked at her, astonished. “What’s this all about? Your Mark was hurt, Karen?”

“Yes, Jenny and pretty badly, too,” Karen said.

“I understand he’s still in a hospital somewhere,” Tricia said. “I was watching the game with my dad and my brothers; it was awful when they pulled him off in an ambulance. I thought of you immediately, Karen.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t know, Karen,” Jenny said. “I don’t follow football at all. I’m so sorry Karen, and here I was prattling on about Kevin.”

Karen told the others about Mark’s visit to her on Christmas Eve and about how they were expecting to have a continuing relationship; she left out any mention of sleeping with him that night, feeling that they would consider it weird, since she still had her boy’s sexual organs.

“It sounds like love, dear,” Jenny said.

“It is, but he won’t see me now,” Karen said. “He says I’ll just be wasting my life with a cripple, but I really love him so much.”

“That is so tragic, Karen,” Tricia said.

Both girls seemed shocked by Karen’s narrative; they basically were left speechless, and Karen felt the need to bring up other matters. There was no need for the girls to have to share her grief; they both had their own lives to lead. She knew Tricia was probably starved for male companionship, while Jenny obviously had her own drama with Kevin.

“By the way, have either of you seen Tracy or Beverly?” Karen asked, referring to two other girls who had made up the morning coffee group.

“I saw Beverly,” Tricia said. “She’s in my dorm and was wondering if maybe most of us are free about 3 in the afternoon. That might be a good time to get together several days a week.”

“Ok by me,” Jenny said.

“I have to be at work at 4 p.m., but I think I could make it most days for a while,” Karen said. “What about Tracy?”

Jenny reddened. “I don’t know whether I should tell this,” she said.

“What?” both Karen and Tricia said at the same time.

“Well, I guess it’ll come out sooner or later,” Jenny said. “She called me between Christmas and New Years to say she’s not coming back this semester.”

“Not coming back? She’s a smart girl? Why?” Karen asked.

“Well she’s getting married in April.”

“That was sudden, who to?” Tricia asked.

“Remember Gabe?” Jenny said.

“Oh my God,” Karen shrieked. “Him?”

“Yes your old boyfriend, Karen,” Jenny said.

“That was quick,” Tricia said.

“Well, she’s pregnant and both her family and Gabe’s are church-going Catholics and she has no choice in the matter,” Jenny said. “I don’t think she’s happy about it, either.”

“The poor girl,” Tricia said.

Karen nodded. Yes, indeed, it was unfortunate for Tracy, whose whole future might be changed for the worst, thanks to her time with Gabe; Karen even felt responsible, since it was she who introduced the two. Both were seemingly amateurs at having love affairs, and thus may have blundered into a situation that would affect the rest of their lives. It was ironic; Karen felt that at least that was one fate that she might never have to face.

“I know, it’s probably tough on both of them to suddenly have a baby to support, but you know, isn’t having a baby the most wonderful thing in the world?” Karen said, her face breaking into a smile.

Both Jenny and Tricia nodded; as much as both were looking forward to careers — with babies only a distant thought in their minds — they too suddenly saw images of carrying newborn infants in their arms.

For some time, Karen had dreamed that she was a complete woman capable of providing babies and children for a loving partner. Often she had imagined giving birth to strong, handsome children as the wife of Mark Hamilton. A dream never to be realized!