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Part 4: The Real Life Test?

Just like the previous clubs, Ben and I were enveloped by noise as soon as we walked through the door, layer upon layer of chattering noise and rhythmic noise. I had to practically shout to even rise above it, like a buoy on the water.

"Ben," I said, "you look on that side of the club and I'll search the other!"

"Gotcha!" he replied.

I asked myself, if I were a high school senior girl with a convincing fake ID in my purse, where would I go first? My "woman's intuition" guided me to a location almost as crowded as the dance floor.

The bartender greeted me with more than a friendly smile, reminding me that I was A-N-D-I-E, not the hitherto invisible A-N-D-Y.

"What can I get for you Miss?" he asked.

"Uh, nothing yet," I said. "I'm looking for someone."

The bartender nodded before he turned his attention to a bubbly blond girl. However, when he turned away, someone else turned his attention on me, a by this time, already loaded person I might add, a guy who was the epitome of the frat-boy archetype.

"Still waiting for someone, huh?" he began.

"Something like that," I said.

"You know," he said, cocking his head to the side, "you look familiar. You wouldn't happen to have a sister would you?"

"Yeah, I do," I said.

"Did you two come down to Miami together?"

I shook my head. "No, because she's back in southwest Virginia."

"You sure about that darling?" he asked.

"As sure as I am that my name is Andie," I said.

"Ohh," he said, leaning in closer. "Like Andie McDowell…And just as pretty. So is your sister."

"I told you," I said, "She's not in Miami."

"Then you must have a twin," he said.

I think the blood drained from face when he said the word "twin." Now it was my turn to lean in.

"I need you to tell me everything you remember about her," I said, my face as deadpan as my eyes.

"There's not much to tell," he said, leaning against the bar. "If you were wearing a different dress, then we could recreate the scene when she totally blew me off when I tried to buy her a drink."

"Is she still here?" I asked.

"Whoa, now wait a minute beautiful," he said. "If I tell you, what do I get in return? Huh?"

I licked my lips and forced the sexiest smile I could. Suddenly, I felt like a clone of my sister.

"I'll tell you what you'll get in return," I said. "Me not throwing a drink in your face."

"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You two are exactly alike. What, are your periods in synch or something?"

Rolling my eyes, I stood up. "You know, I'll tell you…"

After an evening of dealing with guys just like him, one after another, I was tired of being polite. Something within me broke. But before I could lay into this sexist a-hole, Ben rushed up to my side.

"I don't see her," he said. "Maybe she's in the bathroom."

I shot Mr. Frat-boy a withering glare when I spoke.

"I'm sure she is," I said, teeth clenched. "She must have needed another…tampon."

Ben's eyes were as perplexed as his cheeks were flushed.

"Let's go," I said.

"I thought you said she was…Aren't you going to check the bathroom?" he wondered.

"My feminine intuition tells me she's not in there," I said.

I rushed out of the club, fuming the whole way, and not just because I had just enjoyed a rather unpleasant initiation into girl world. Ben finally caught up to me when I reached the boardwalk. By now, I was leaning against the railing.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Ben gingerly, hands in his pockets.

I shook my head.

"Three clubs," I said. "We've been to three clubs and…zilch. I give up. My feet are tired and I give up."

"Hey," he said. "We'll find her."

"Or we'll get there just after she's left," I said dejectedly. "Or her friend has."

"I'm not sure I…"

"Never mind," I interjected. "It's not important."

"C'mon," urged Ben. "Just one more club. Even if she's not there, maybe she'll return your texts on the way."

"I don't know," I said, shifting my gaze back to the shimmering ocean.

"Here's what I know," said Ben, resting his arms next to mine. "If you don't keep on looking, you'll regret it if…that's not to say anything bad is going to happen to Christina."

"Actually," I said with a faraway look in my eyes, "I agree with you on that. I have a feeling she's just fine…with her 'new' friend."

Without even acknowledging Ben's confused and searching eyes, I abruptly turned around.

"C'mon," I said. "Let's get going before my feet convince me to change my mind." When he rushed back up to my side, wearing an eager smile, I said, "I'll tell you Ben, I wish wedges were as comfortable as they are cute. And I wish all guys were as nice as you…Whew! Being a girl is not for the faint of heart."

"Neither is being a guy sometimes," he added. "Seriously though. For example, there was this one time…"

But a female voice from to our left cut him off, a voice as high pitched as it was confused. I half expected to see a munchkin when I turned around. Instead, little Ms. Sorority girl was standing there in her little black dress among her sorority friends with their collective mouths gaping open.

"Ben, what are you doing here?" wondered the petite redhead. Then, with daggers in her eyes, she stared me down. "And who is…who is this?"

"Babe, this isn't what it look like," said Ben.

Now it was my turn for my mouth to gape open when I looked over and saw Ben squirming as much as he was trying to backpedal.

Ben's "babe" scoffed.

With kitten eyes, I looked at Ben and said, "I thought you said that you and her…"

The wounded girl said, "Think again, Miss…Miss…"

One of her friends interjected with a nickname of her own.

Cough! Slut. Cough!

Ben's eyes smoldered when he addressed is "ex."

"First of all Heather," he said. "She's not a slut. Her name is Alana. Second of all, we're not together. She's my cousin Christina's friend."

"Oh of course," said Heather, feigning innocence. "Like, that totally explains why you're defending her and the way you two were walking together like you were strolling down the beach. I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that you're here in Miami doing research with your professor."

Ben hung his head in shame for a few moments before speaking.

"Look," he said, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry I lied to you…about the research trip. I should have told you when it fell through. I don't know why I didn't. I…I guess I just came down here to clear my head."

The end of Ben's sentence hung in the air like the sea salt.

"Which head?" whispered one of Heather's friends.

Ben had completely forgotten I existed by the time he finally bridged the awkward gulf between he and Heather.

Heather stopped him dead in his tracks with the palm of her right hand.

"No," she declared coldly. "Not this time. I was stupid enough to let you lie to me once. I won't let you do it to me again…You know, what? Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better I break up with you here and now during spring break. Spring Break up. I was going to wait until you got back from your 'research' trip to tell you we're through. So I guess I'll go ahead and scrape the rest of our…the rest of our…whatever it was that we had, off of my shoe."

Ben opened his mouth as if to speak, but Heather cut him off as quickly as a light.

"Goodbye," she said. She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows when she favored me with a glance. "Good luck hon."

But I wasn't taking it as in stride as Heather. No, not one bit.

Ben put his hand on my shoulder when he spoke, or at least tried to.

"Alana," he said softly. "I'm…I'm really sorry that you had to witness that."

"So am I," I said weakly, tears stinging my eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"As far away from you as possible," I said, glancing over my shoulder, eyes glistening as much as the ocean.

"What about Christina?" he shouted.

I turned around and glared at his crestfallen face.

"Don't act like you all of the sudden care about her," I hissed. "You know, I've got an idea." A perverse smile momentarily kept the tears at bay. "Christina's single and apparently so are you. You two can hook up and lie to each other. And if you see Alana, tell her I said hi." I stormed off, but I still wasn't satisfied. "You know, it's guys like you that make me wish I was a lesbian!"

As I marched down the boardwalk back to my hotel, I was tired, sad, and angry, but mostly angry. I was angry I had been lied to by Ben, and probably Christina, and that scheming sister of mine. But mostly, I was angry because I had been so naïve. In that moment, I wished a certain "Britney Spears'" youtube video was my only worry.

I didn't make it even halfway back to my hotel before my phone buzzed. I reached for it and scoffed as much as Heather had scoffed when she caught Ben giving in to "restless penis syndrome."

"Seriously, she's getting back to me now?" I said.

I found the nearest bench and rested my sore little feet. I massaged them for a while before I checked the message. Turn about was fair play. If I had to wait, so did she. But my curiosity got the better of me before I loitered on the bench too long and risked having to endure another lame pickup line.

Andie, meet me at the Mexican restaurant. You know the one. There's something I need to tell you. Christina

"That's interesting," I said.

I reflected on how amazing it was with regard to how quickly Christina had come to think of me as girl, all girl, and nothing but girl. If my sister Alana was with her, and not simply a drunk frat boy's wet dream hallucination, I wondered if she would feel the same. It was time to clear the air as much as Heather had done earlier.

~o~O~o~

It was like standing in front of a mirror when the hostess led me to the table. Christina and her "friend" were as speechless as Ben had been earlier as I stood there, arms crossed and stiff as a board.

Shaking my head, I said, "You two are unbelievable." My sister Alana opened her cherry red lip-stained mouth, but I cut her off like an ungrateful heir. "Uh-uh-uh. I have half a mind to take a taxi to the airport and trade in my return ticket for an earlier departure…At least Miss Kitty wouldn't lie to me."

"There's a really good explanation for this," said Alana sheepishly.

"There sure as hell better be," I said, salvaging that stone-hard look of indifference that allowed me to survive the charade that was Andy for so long.

"Take a seat and we'll tell you," offered Christina.

"How about you tell me," I said. "Then I'll decide if I want to sit down."

Alana looked over at Christine and her pursed lips.

Alana said, "Should I or…"

"Why don't I go first," said Christina. She cleared her throat, never once making eye contact as she began. "You remember how I told you I was lucky? Well I wasn't lying. I am one of the lucky ones. But one of my friends isn't that lucky. Her cancer hasn't gone into remission; in fact, it's gotten worse, and it'll continue to get worse unless she gets the treatment she needs."

"Unfortunately," added Alana, it's an experimental treatment and it's not cheap. And it's not covered by her insurance either."

"Who is she?" I asked with softened expression.

"Her name isn't really that important," said Christina. "What is important is that you help us raise the money to pay for her treatment."

"Me?" I wondered. "I don't understand. How can I possibly help? I barely have enough money left over to pay my car insurance after paying my rent and buying my food."

"You're wrong," argued my sister, looking me square in the eyes. "There is something you can do. And from the moment Christina did your makeover, you've already started doing it."

In silence, I eased myself down in a chair at their table. My interest was certainly piqued.

"Go on," I said.

"Andie," said Alana. "I've know you've always been on the shy side."

"Until my little trip here," I remarked drolly.

"All the better," said Alana. "How would you feel about being filmed….not for a television show or anything, but for a docu-series about the lives of transwomen."

"About as thrilled as going out with Ben on a date," I said.

"Think about it Andie," chimed in Christina, with revived enthusiasm, "Now that you've come out to us, you could educate thousands, maybe even millions of people about what it's really like to be a transwoman. You and the other girls in the docu-series could leave people with a positive impression."

"She's right," said Alana. "Some people's minds have been poisoned by the Jerry Springer freak portrayal or their own religion…or both. You have the opportunity to be the antidote, to show everyone you're just like any other woman."

"Oh I bet," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm sure I could tell people all about what it's like to be a transwoman; after all, I have so much experience…wow, almost twenty-four hours," I said, glancing at my cellphone.

"I know you're afraid," said Alana. "And I also know you're angry…at me mostly. But please, for Christina's friend's sake and more importantly for your sake, think it over before you go rushing off to the airport. Here…Check out this facebook page on my smartphone."

"I see I have something in common with the director," I said. "She looks amazing. She must be fully transitioned."

I am so jealous of her!

"But she wants to show people what it's like to be in transition," said Alana.

I handed Alana back her smartphone, at which point the waiter showed up, checking up on us girls.

"Can I bring you something to drink Miss?" he asked.

I shook my head. It wasn't until after he left that I managed a weak reply.

"I need some time to think about it," I said, studying my nails.

I rose to my feet as silently as a whisper. There was only the sound of my dress rippling in the breeze.

Unlike everyone else lately, I didn't lie. I didn't rush back to the hotel room, stuff all of "my" clothes back into my cramped carryon, and then wave down a taxi. I strolled toward the empty beach, its wavy sand like a miniature version of the Sahara. It quickly became my own private Oasis.

I stood where sun-baked sand meets ocean-refreshed grains. On this coolness, I pondered the gray-area that was the gender limbo I was in. The soft approach of footsteps after what seemed, to me, like only a few minutes, broke the spell the waxing and waning ocean held over me. And I prayed they weren't Ben's…or Heather's footsteps.

I said, "Alana, I thought I told you I wanted to be alone.

"You were," she said. "For over fifteen minutes. Besides, it's not safe for a girl to be all alone on a beach this time of the night."

"At least I already learned what pricks guys can be," I said.

"Not all," remarked Alana, staring off at her own spot on the horizon.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" I asked. "I'm a big girl…transwoman. Whatever label I fall under. I would never do something like this to you Alana."

"You wouldn't have done anything period unless Christina and I had given you a kick in your complacency."

I tried to protest with outraged eyes, but Alana, arms akimbo, stared me down with the look she had learned so well from our mother.

"You know it's true," she said. "Your life would continue to consist of holing yourself up in your room and playing video games and watching TV with Miss Kitty on your lap as she licks off the potato chip crumbs from your wrinkled t-shirt."

"So what?" I hissed. "It was my choice. Okay? It was my choice."

"So why did you choose to be miserable?" asked my sister in a voice as soft as silk.

"Why do you think?" I said. "Because it was uncomplicated. Was I unhappy? Yes. Were things easier…sort of…I guess."

"But aren't things easier now, now that you're able to be yourself?" she asked.

I was as silent as the stars shining above, as silent as God had always been in my life up until now.

"I want to show you something Andie," she said.

Alana slowly unzipped her purse. She reached in with her perfectly manicured pink nails and pulled out something rather unremarkable.

"What is that?" I asked. "Your plane ticket?"

Alana shook her head as gently as an evening Miami breeze.

"I snatched the folded sheet of dingy white computer paper from her outstretched hand. I couldn't even get past the first few sentences before tears dampened the paper.

"Where did you get this? Where?" I snapped.

"After you disappeared," she said, head bowed like a guilty child. "You know, the incident mom and dad never ever talk about."

"Jesus," I said. "Five years later and I'm still hearing about it. First, the video of me doing my best Brittany Spears imitation and now this. Let me ask you something. Is there anything in my room you haven't gone through? Do I have any privacy?"

"Privacy is for the living," said Alana. "When you disappeared, we didn't hear from you for almost a week, a week Andy. We thought you were dead. Mom and Dad kept waiting for a police officer to come knocking and tell them they had to come down to identify your body. Mom and dad didn't sleep for days. Neither did I."

"I'm sorry," I cried. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry I just started driving and wound up all the way in California. It was stupid, I know. But that didn't give you the right to go through my computer."

"You should be grateful I did," said Alana. "I found that note you wrote before mom and dad did, and deleted it."

"But not before you printed it out," I said.

Alana's eyes took on a faraway look before she broke an uncomfortable silence.

"Before I read the note, I always suspected," she said. "I always knew you were different than all of my friends' brothers. The note just confirmed it. But I had no idea how much trying to be a boy was hurting you, how much being what everyone expected you to be was tearing you up inside. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to be in so much pain for so long." She wiped away a tear.

"If you knew how much I was hurting, then why didn't you say something earlier?" I asked in weary tone. "Why?"

"Because I had no right to try and drag you kicking and screaming out of the closet," she said. "I knew you had to decide when the time was right."

"Or have someone decide it for me," I said, arms crossed. "Tell me something Alana, do you think mom and dad suspect, you know, that they really have a daughter instead of a son?"

"Hmmm," mused Alana. "If anything, I think they think you're gay."

"Gay?" I whined.

"Think about it," said Alana. "I mean, when was the last time you brought a girl home?"

"What about senior year, at Prom?" I said.

Alana chuckled.

"That went well," she said, rolling her eyes.

"How would you know?" I said, in indignant tone.

"Duh, I was there, remember?" she said, crossing her tanned arms. "She was practically throwing herself at you; in fact, later on she confided in me that you could barely stand to kiss her on the cheek…It's actually kind of funny. She thought she was cursed to be a gay magnet."

"I don't think mom and dad would think it was that funny," I said.

"It's okay to like guys," said Alana matter-of-factly. "Lord knows I have over the years. And it's okay to be transgender."

"Too bad everyone doesn't feel the same way," I said.

I eased my way down onto the sand which sparkled in the moonlight, and gazed off into the distance at a passing ship.

Alana sat down next to me and gently grasped my soft hand. She spoke to me as gently as the waves were lapping the shore.

"Mom and dad love you just like I do," said Alana. "They'll come around."

"After dad recovers from his stroke from the shock," I joked.

"From what I've learned from all of the support group sites, fathers typically have a more difficult time accepting their new daughter." She smiled before saying, "But I hear sisters have an easier time with it, twin sisters at least." She gave me a wink.

Alana's words and her embrace were as reassuring to my troubled mind as the waves and gentle breeze were comforting. The smile she coaxed out of me was as warm as hers.

"I love you Alana," I said.

I love you too sis," she replied. "By the way, have you decided on a name yet?"

"Maybe you can help me with that," I said. "I'll need one for the documentary."

"Well," she began. "For the time being, come on A-N-D-I-E. The night is still young. Let's make this girl's night out one to remember!"

We got up and walked hand-in-hand back to the gleaming strip. It was like a switch had been flipped in my troubled mind. All of the sudden, I felt truly alive for the first time in my life. I was as unburdened as a little child building a sand castle on the beach.