CHAPTER 50 -- Moving On

I spent the next week wrapping my head around what had happened. I realized that whatever Eric and I had had going was dead. Stone-cold dead. I might have been able to get over what he did Saturday. I could imagine finding out was a shock and he didn't handle it well. It was his "I don't know if I'm okay with it" that killed it for me. He wasn't in shock any more. But he still honestly thought it was up to him to decide whether I had a right to exist or something. I couldn't stand that. It was too much like West High. I'd never be able to forget it or forgive him, any more than I'd ever be able to forgive Tom Prescott. I'd practice being civil, but we'd never be closer than strangers.

"You should have dumped him long ago," Doris advised me.

Doris had finished her college applications and had more time on her hands, so we were hanging out more. She seemed a lot less stressed out than last fall. I'd told her all about me and Eric.

"Back when he wouldn't let you show him how to fondle you. That was a bad sign already. He was showing you that he cared more about his pride than how you felt. You should have told him about being trans right at the beginning. If he's not going to accept it, better to know right away so you don't waste any more time with him."

"You're right, I guess. But I was tired of telling everyone the freak show of my life. And I wanted him. Maybe I still do, even though now I could never stand to be with him. At the time, it seemed worth it. And it felt nice. At least, when I wasn't having to train him how to treat me. I liked having him want me. I liked having him hold me. I really liked the fucking while it was happening. Before he flipped out."

"Sounds like we need to introduce you to a better class of fuck-buddy. You need to get laid by someone who isn't a jerk."

We were hanging out in her living room, kind of draped over each other. It looked like Doris had gotten over her embarrassment about her parents knowing she was making love. I mean, we weren't exactly doing foreplay on the couch, but we were being pretty affectionate. My hair was down past my shoulders and she was making braids in the hair that she could reach from the front. There was a fire in the fireplace and her parents were sitting around reading. Sometimes they'd look up at us and they'd have a sort of "aw, aren't they cute!" smile. We'd all had some wine and I was feeling pretty mellow. I wondered if she'd go for the idea of me spending the night. I wondered if there was any way we could spend the night together at my aunt and uncle's. It would mean admitting to them that I was, well, fucking. I was pretty sure that they knew it was happening, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about it out loud with them. But they had told me they were relieved I wasn't going out with Eric and they mentioned Doris and Dennis as people they felt better about, so they probably knew about everything. If I waited until they "caught" me at it the way Doris got caught before talking about it, I wouldn't just feel embarrassed, I'd feel stupid.

"You know, maybe it's time for you to stop hiding your head in the sand."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You've been trying to pretend you've always been a girl. But you haven't. Maybe you should try talking with some other boy-turned-girl people. Maybe you would get more comfortable with your -- history."

"You mean go to some trans group down at the LGB-whatever center?"

"Yeah, something like that. It doesn't have to be that, but I can't think of anything else offhand. Oh, by the way, it's getting late. Do you want to stay here tonight?" She leaned over close to me and whispered, in a stage whisper and like it was really naughty: "in my bed with me." I giggled and nodded. I think it was the wine, I felt like giggling about everything.

I'd talked about it with Dr. Gordon, too. I'd told her the whole sorry story. Anyway, she'd asked me how I was feeling.

"Hurt. Really hurt. I mean, he acted like he loved me. And I kind of loved him, too. And to have him suddenly act like I'd betrayed him or something. I mean, I couldn't help being what I am. I wasn't doing it to hurt him. I wasn't doing anything at all, it got done to me!" I was sobbing.

"Of course you were hurt. That was very hurtful. And unfair." She gave me a few minutes -- and some tissues -- to settle down. "I'm more concerned about whether it hurt your sense of yourself as a person. Do you feel like you aren't worth as much?"

"Well, I feel like I blew it by not telling him right away. From now on, I'm not going to go out or even be friends with someone who doesn't know I used to be a boy. If they're going to reject me, I want them to do it before I have a chance to care about them."

"When I first started seeing you, you kept saying you felt abnormal, like a freak. I wondered if this might have made you feel like you were abnormal, or weren't really a girl."

"No, this didn't make me feel that way. I mean, I know I'm different from the other girls because I used to be a boy and they didn't. But I don't feel like being different that way makes me all that different from the girls who are different in some other way. I guess it helps that pretty much everyone knows about my past and they still think I'm a normal girl. Like, Doris thinks it's interesting that I used to be a boy, but it's interesting the way it would be interesting if I'd lived in England.

"I guess that's why I didn't really think about saying what I did to Eric. I'd gotten used to everyone knowing about me being a boy until not too long ago and nobody caring. That's why it hurt so much, what Eric did. Since I left West High, nobody'd ever treated me like that. And right after I'd opened myself up to him like that. You know, when I make love with someone, it's like I take down all of my protection. It's like my soul is naked. I can't imagine doing it any other way."

"It's that way for most women, I think. And many men, too."

The next Youth Group, Eric wasn't there. I asked Amy about it.

"He said he didn't want to come. He's -- well, he's being a real jerk about you being trans and all. Says he doesn't --" She looked at me: "do you really want to hear this?" she said dubiously. I nodded. She sighed. "He says he doesn't want to be around queers. Says we had the choice between a normal guy and a -- pervert -- and we chose the pervert." She added, "I slapped him." "I mean, what can you do about it?" she continued. "Wave your magic wand and turn back into a boy?"

"Isn't he your friend?" I asked.

"Was. I could be okay with it, sort of, if he just didn't like you. But he's being such a bigot about it. I won't be friends with bigots."

Youth group started, so we didn't talk any more about it. I kind of wanted to think of him as a total jerk. But I couldn't help thinking how, even when he was so mad at me that night, he still worried enough about me that he drove all over the place to find me. He's a jerk, but he did save my life. I shouldn't have blown him off like I did at the end of the last youth group.

The whole youth group, I felt bad about it. I felt like I'd been unfair to him. And I had not only driven him away from me, I'd screwed things up between Amy and him. I had trouble focussing on what was going on and I didn't have the heart to sing.

When it was over, I went over to Reverend Jen. "Amy says Eric won't come any more because I'm here. And she won't be friends with him any more because of how he's acting. I feel like it's my fault. I don't want him to feel like he can't come. I don't want him and Amy not talking to each other because of me. It was me, I don't know, me surprising him with my being trans and all that made him so mad and upset. Maybe I should leave so he can come."

"Melanie, it's not your fault. You have every right to be here and so does he. You're not keeping him away, he is. If he's upset by finding out something about you at an inopportune moment, he can talk about it. If he's bothered by being around someone who is trans, he can talk about it and work through it. He's choosing to run away instead. As for Amy, you didn't make her do anything, that was her decision. If that's anyone's fault, it's Eric's. I can't tell you what to do, but I think you should stay."

"I still feel bad about it."

"That's because you care about him as a person. It speaks well of you. But you can't work through his anger for him. He has to do that. Now, go home, your ride's here. If you need to talk some more, give me a call."

I didn't have a chance to bring up him saving my life and how I wished I hadn't just blown him off the last time I saw him.

A couple of days later, I wrote a letter apologizing for blowing him off and saying I was grateful that he'd driven around looking for me and saved me from freezing to death. I even said I was sad not to see him at youth group. A week later, it came back -- unopened. He'd scribbled "return to sender" and slapped another stamp on it, just to be sure, I guess.