“To tell the truth when I look at you I don’t see a boy,” Jenny remarked as casually as she could. “You’re everything a mother could want in a sweet child. You never get upset when we call you Darlene. Right this minute you’re more of a girl than Della ever was.”

TWINS by Marie C., Part 18 - Leticia
by Marie C.

Darlene woke up on Della’s bed. Dimly he remembered a dream with Marlene with himself wearing his old plaid shirt and jeans. Nothing important he guessed. Strange that Jenny’s girl used to be a boy and here he was.

He pulled Della’s kelly green sun dress off the hanger, one with wide shoulder straps and a square cut bodice. It had been hanging in a far corner of the closet unnoticed til late yesterday. He decided against the corset this morning. Actually he’d been neglecting it with all the housework, learning slowly that heavy physical labor and women’s fashion aids were not always compatible.

For the first time that day he looked in the mirror and seemed surprised. “My skin is so clear this morning. I don’t remember that,” he muttered. His fingers moved lightly over a smooth chin, creamy neck and lips a darker red than he remembered. No matter how hard he tried the lip color wouldn’t rub off. The light chafing simply brought out more color. Lush fine hair tickled his shoulders while he pulled a white hair band over his head framing his face and making it seem more oval. “My hair wasn’t like that before, was it?”

“I wish I was Emma,” he daydreamed for the thousandth time twirling in front of the glass. The feeling was very strong today. “She’s so graceful.” He remembered Ana Maria again and how proud he felt about getting her away from being the third child in her family, the fate of being an older sibling in competition with her own babies. He especially liked her feeling of being a mother. Memories of nursing the boys brought a rush of pleasure and an attractive coloring to his cheeks.

Observing himself again in front of the long cheval he stood erect and resolute without thinking,, his posture by now pure habit. He was pleased with his movements which were measured, graceful and precise. At that moment there were no second thoughts about being a boy in girl’s clothes. He made an effort to see himself in a plaid shirt and jeans again but the image in his mind wouldn’t focus clearly.

“Jenny, you said your daughter used to be a boy.” They were at the breakfast table. “How did she get to be a girl? I’m a boy and I used to play basketball and football all the time with my dad. Now I’ve mostly forgotten how and think about girls’ things. That’s not normal, is it?”

Jenny replied in calculated tones sensing that this was one of Darlene’s most sensitive issues. “Well I’m not sure what happened with Della. She grew up as Daniel, played baseball and made model airplanes. When she was ten years old she started having dreams just like yours. One day I found her playing dress up with some neighbor girls and after that she asked me to buy her a dress and dolls of her own. I didn’t know what to do so I went to see a lady like your mom came to see me.”

“Later we went to a doctor in San Francisco who made some tests and gave her medicine. Della just started changing and after a year there was no boy left. That’s all I know. I would have been happy with her whatever she turned out to be.”

“Am I going to be a girl?” Darlene said eyes and mouth pensive. He thought about it and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, especially if he would be like Emma who would not leave his mind.He always returned to Emma. But wasn’t there still the business of he shouldn’t, because he’s a boy. For the first time he realized he’d been running that phrase over and over in his mind for months like one of those old phonograph records with a chipped groove. And here he was telling everyone to call him Darlene.

“To tell the truth when I look at you I don’t see a boy,” Jenny remarked as casually as she could. “You’re everything a mother could want in a sweet child. You never get upset when we call you Darlene. Right this minute you’re more of a girl than Della ever was.”

Jenny went on. “I don’t know if you’re going to change into a girl. Do you want to? If you don’t then we need to talk about it. But before we talk any more let’s go upstairs first. I want to see you in my grandmother’s dress again and fix your hair like that picture. We can talk while we’re doing that.” Jenny was smiling almost gleefully like a little girl with her doll, not something she did very often.

Darlene stood while Jenny gently removed his clothes piece by piece substituting the bloomers, button shoes, slip and lace dress. The only time he frowned was when he saw his small sex organ. Was it smaller than before? Then she combed out his hair, fluffed it into curls and pinned in the large white bow though she wasn’t successful in producing a good set of rope curls. That could take hours she now realized. “Now walk around and show me how pretty you are.”

Twirling back and forth Darlene gave a deep curtsey, his head tilted to one side. “What do you think, Jenny?”

“I think you’re better than any girl I’ve seen.” She clapped and without thinking Darlene averted his eyes.

“Was the pitch of his voice higher today?” Jenny thought. “Was last night actually having some effect? Just then Linda called from downstairs.

“Come on up. Our Darlene’s showing off.” She caught herself saying “Our Darlene.”

At the door Linda gushed “What a beautiful dress, sweetie.” She couldn’t help coming up to examine the fabric. “It must be a hundred years old, Marlene. And you look stunning. Oh, there I go again calling you Marlene.”

“It’s o.k., mom, I don’t mind.”

Jenny was momentarily surprised at his reply though after thinking about it she realized she shouldn’t be, especially after what happened the evening before. She was struggling to keep a professional distance from Darlene’s situation. But why was it so hard? Why was it nearly impossible?

“Darlene, model the dress for your mother.” He blushed and went through his little routine looking over his shoulder in the mirror, hair twisting around his shoulders like a Clairol ad.

Taking Linda aside Jenny half-whispered “He’s been very girlish the whole time. Frankly it’s hard to see him ever growing up as a boy. By the way there’s no charge for my time. He was so helpful around the house I owe you something.” She didn’t say anything about the previous night’s events.

As they were getting ready to go Jenny asked again if she could stay a night at Linda’s house and observe Darlene a little more. Sometime next week perhaps? This time Linda agreed without hesitation.

Back home Linda stared at her nephew. “Sweetie you’ve really been taking care of your skin and hair. Did you like Jenny?”

“Oh, yes mom. I cleaned up her daughter’s room and got to look in her grandma’s trunks. That’s where I found that scrumptious dress. I wish I had one like it.”

He didn’t say anything unusual today, Linda thought, but there was a difference. Was his voice changing? Was it the inflection? Choice of words?

While she was in San Francisco she had briefly talked to a woman doctor whose name Laura got from the office files. The doctor agreed to see Kirk although she wanted to make a thorough examination before making any diagnosis. She warned Linda that nobody knew much about transgendered children. There was simply nothing in the literature except a few nonobjective accounts based on personal observation. Linda was puzzled by the word “transgendered” never having heard it before. She felt better knowing there might be other kids like Kirk, er Marlene. Darn it - Darlene!

“Oh, I saw Addie on the way back. She said she saw you at Jenny’s. She and Leticia are going to come over this afternoon. I haven’t seen her for a couple of years.” To herself she thought has it been that long? Have I lost that much time? She rubbed her temples with both hands and frowned as Darlene watched with concern.

Darlene grimaced remembering how rotten Leticia could be but agreed to the meeting however halfheartedly. “O.k., mom. She can help me in the sewing room.”

Leticia sauntered into the sewing room with a smirk on her face, stood in the center with one hip cocked and made a face like she was ready to take on anybody and everybody. She had on a hot pink halter top, tight cutoffs and sandals. Bright red lipstick and nail polish made her look like a teenage hooker. Kirk was sorting the mending as she moved closer. “My, my, what a lady you’ve turned into. I always thought you were a sissy boy. Now you’ve proved it.” She was sneering.

Darlene turned to face her this time openly angry, a new behavior for our hero(ine). “Oh, stop it, Leticia! I enjoy helping mom and really don’t care what you think. You’ve always been so gross and haven’t changed a bit.” He turned away miffed and continued snapping skirts into their hangers. Over his shoulder he added “If you want to help you can fold blouses. If you came over just to make things miserable, get the heck out.” He went back to what he was doing and ignored her.

“Well, you’ll never take Marlene’s place. She was fun and not all prissy like you are.” Leticia’s face crumpled and she began to cry. “I miss her.”

Darlene melted, turned and put his arms around Leticia. “So do I, but in lots of ways she’s still around.” He gave her a squeeze but didn’t elaborate.

“Is your voice getting higher? It sounds more like Marlene’s than it did when I saw you the other day.”

Darlene blushed prettily and put his hand to his mouth. “I don’t know. I never noticed. Well, we’re done here. Let’s go to my room.”

“You’ve got her room. And it’s still the same,” Leticia said as Darlene opened the door. More tears. “There’s Growl and Susie and her Barbie set.” She walked over to the closet. “All her dresses are here. You really are taking her place aren’t you? Let me take a good look at you,” she said wiping her eyes with both arms. Darlene found her a hankie that served to soak up a good loud honk.

Like Marlene Leticia pushed him onto the vanity bench without a word and started brushing. “Your hair is really pretty, nicer than Marlene’s, so full. Here, turn your head. Your skin is so nice. Not a like boy’s.” She looked puzzled like she couldn’t find the right words.

Darlene smiled at himself. For the first time Leticia’s words felt good. But it seemed like today everyone was talking about his skin and hair, including himself. What’s going on, he wondered?

“You don’t care when I say things like that, do you?” she went on. “Pretty soon I’m going to get mixed up and call you Marlene and you won’t mind that either.”

Leticia’s expression gradually changed from bafflement to fiendish. She had to resist hopping up and down with glee when she said “God, I love turning you into a girl. I want you to blossom and have guys follow you around and hit on you. I bet you think about it.”

Darlene averted his eyes, flustered again and remembered Eric, the handsome man at Madame’s and Ana’s Peter. Leticia kept up the pressure seeing his confusion. “I want you to meet my boy friends. You’re pretty enough. But we’ll have to get you some falsies until yours grow in. You’ll like having a real pair.” She grinned putting hands under her breasts and lifted the small mounds like White Trash Billie did.

“But I, I, I’m a.....” Darlene stammered in one of his moments of doubt.

“You’re a boy? Ha, ha ha ha. Come stand in front of the mirror.” There was Marlene without the bossy attitude. No question.

“Does that look like a boy?” Darlene looked down without comment. “So don’t bother thinking about it anymore because you’re not. Besides, I’ve got my best friend back.” She kissed him on the cheek and gave him a squeeze. He didn’t see the devilish expression on her face as she backed away.

After Leticia and Addie left Darlene lay on the bed thinking about what the girl said. Curious, he got up again and looked in the vanity mirror. His face was softer, his lips full, his eyes wide and naive-looking.

“Oh, I haven’t done my nails for awhile.” He proceeded to wipe off the old polish, push back the cuticles and shape his nails into pretty ovals. A pale pink polish came last. His fingers and toes were drying when Linda called him for dinner.