Part 6

The setting felt all too familiar. Late summer had brought a nearly unbearable heat wave to our growing suburban area. Forced into shorts, until it passed, my bare legs stuck to the leather of the office bench. The stiff beige carpet made a rather dense scraping sound, not unlike sandpaper, when I shuffled my low top Converses over the surface. It brought back memories of that horrid gray carpet in Rajan's office.

My mother sat next to me. Her leg bounced impatiently, as the papers clenched in her hands rustled atop her knee. I felt a little sorry she had to wear pantyhose on such a wretched day. She had come straight from work, with no chance to change out of her skirt and heels. We had rushed here right after I got out of school, so we wouldn't miss our appointment.

With one bare leg draped over the other, I glanced around the office. It was still a little warm, even inside. Like the air conditioning decided to take a break from running all day. Everyone tried to look busy, despite the temperature, but they all seemed so tired. All I felt like doing was going home and falling into my new bed. However, I knew we had to be here. It was something that simply had to be done.

A young woman walked out from a side door, and went straight to the receptionist. She seemed so vibrant and sophisticated. Her deep auburn hair was drawn back into a ponytail. Thin glasses framed her rich brown eyes. The satin blouse she wore looked like a pearl white cream upon her body, giving stark contrast to her loose black business pants. She turned to face the lobby, looking expectantly out at the small group present.

"Bailey?"

I raised my hand. The young woman smiled and waved me to come join her. My mother stood up next to me, and I quickly gathered myself to follow her. I watched as the woman shook my mother's hand; greeting her verbally. Then she turned to me, thrusting a meticulously manicured hand out toward mine. As I took her hand, I noticed it was smooth as silk, and her fingernails were painted a dark red color.

"Doctor Lori Reese," the woman said, as she finished our handshake. "Would you please follow me to my office?" She led us down a hallway, and into a somewhat spacious office. "Did you have any trouble finding us?"

"No, not at all," my mother said. "I'm hoping Doctor Betts faxed over everything."

Dr. Reese looked back over her shoulder as she held the door. "He sent over Bailey's record, and some of his notes." She smiled. "But I'd like to go over a few things, if that's okay?"

"That's fine," my mother said, as she moved to the desk.

I joined my mother, and together we took seats on one side of Doctor Reese's desk. Immediately I noticed the area rug covering most of the floor. Apparently Doctor Reese couldn't stand the boring carpet either. Her office had a nice view of one of the parks downtown. Which was good, as I tended to distract myself by looking outside during sessions with Doctor Betts.

"So…" Dr. Reese closed the door, and hurried over to her chair. "I understand you're seeking assistance with continuing your daughter's treatment?"

"Yes," my mother said. "I'm not sure what medical records you have…"

"Well, let's see," Dr. Reese said, as she flipped open a file. "I usually like to talk to the client first, but you mentioned having troubles." She studied it for a moment, as my mother recounted a few of our horror stories with doctors. "I see…" she finally said, as she glanced up at me. "So you're transitioning?"

"Yes," I said, affirming it with a nod. "I started over a year ago."

Doctor Reese glanced at the file. "And you identify as female…" She looked back up at me. "You've been living as a girl for an entire year?"

"Since last summer," I said.

"So there's no problem there," Dr. Reese said. "I don't understand why they would deny you after an entire year of treatment." She seemed absorbed in the file now. "It says here you received treatments the year prior to beginning your transition as well?"

My mother leaned forward. "Bailey went through an ordeal with a… less reputable doctor," she said, with slight disdain. "He lied about what was being administered."

Doctor Reese looked up at her; seemingly surprised. "May I ask what was being administered?"

My mother took a deep breath. "At the time, we thought Bailey was receiving a low dose of testosterone for what had been diagnosed as hypogonadism. However, we learned later that the doctor in question had been administering hormone blockers. As well as experimenting with other drugs, while trying to prevent Bailey's puberty. This all led to her developing a tumor, and an eventual forced orchiectomy."

"Which afterwards I decided to begin transitioning," I said.

"My goodness," Dr. Reese said, as she sat back in her chair. "I don't have all of that here in the file, but it does mention prior gender dysphoria." She cupped her hands over her mouth, and looked down at the desk. "That's horrible what happened to you."

I started to feel nervous. This is usually how it began with the other doctors that turned down our case. My mother would lay it all out there, and the doctor would begin to backpedal away from us. From the corner of my eye, I could tell my mother was starting to get nervous as well. She started to open her mouth, right as Doctor Reese looked up at me. She gave me a melancholy smile, and then looked over at my mother.

"Well, I don't see any problem continuing the estradiol," Dr. Reese said. "Are you having any problems with the patches?" she asked me directly.

"Just some slight skin irritation," I said, shifting nervously. "It goes away though. And they can be annoying sometimes. I'd prefer to go back to the sublingual pills."

"Well," she said, looking down at the file again. "You can discuss that with your doctor."

"I actually don't have a doctor," I said. "That's been part of my problem."

"Everyone we talk to wants to start the whole cycle over," my mother said. "Or they won't take her because of the past issues."

"Well I admit your case is quite unique to others I have experienced," Dr. Reese said. "However, I would consider it a health risk if Bailey didn't continue with an estrogen regimen. Because of the orchiectomy…"

My mother shifted uncomfortably, as if she had been the one to lose testicles. I imagine she had a hard time thinking about what had happened as well. She probably wanted to do the same thing to Tom, if the truth were told. Only with less ceremony, and more blood. I shook the thoughts of a psychotic mother from my head.

"I have no problem writing a letter for you though," Dr. Reese said.

"That's… wonderful news," my mother said. "Do you have any recommendations on who we should see?"

"Your general practitioner should be adequate. But if you'd like an endocrinologist, I can give you a few names," Dr. Reese said. "Is coming downtown a problem for you?"

"Well, I'd prefer closer to home," my mother said. "But if someone downtown is better suited, then that's fine."

Doctor Reese nodded her head, as she jotted notes down on my file. "Bailey," she said. "Do you have a preference on which gender?"

I straightened in my chair. "I'd feel more comfortable with a female doctor," I said. "If that's possible."

"It's certainly possible," Dr. Reese said, smiling. "I'd highly recommend Doctor Potter," she said, as she continued write. "She's very qualified in this area." She handed a piece of paper over to my mother. "Here's her information. Hopefully that helps."

"You have no idea how much you have helped us already," my mother said.

"That's what I'm here for," Dr. Reese said. "I've worked with quite a few others going through transition." She turned to look at me. "I understand everyone has their own circumstances, but they usually have one thing in common, and that's finding acceptance. That's hard enough to find, without constant roadblocks in your way." She focused on my mother again. "And it's always good to have a supportive member of the family through this time in your life."

"Is there anything else you need from us?" my mother asked.

"Actually," Dr. Reese said. "I have a few questions." She looked at me. "Are you wanting to continue therapy?"

I glanced over at my mother, then back to Doctor Reese. "I thought that was a requirement," I said.

"Well, since you've been living as your declared gender for over a year," Dr. Reese said, "you only need me to sign off on you." She gave me a serious look. "However, I would recommend continuing therapy."

"I think it's a good idea that she does," my mother said, patting my arm.

I looked up at her. "Really?"

"I learned a long time ago that my children won't tell me everything that goes on in their lives," my mother said. "So it would be comforting if you're at least talking to someone about those things."

After giving my mother a puzzled look, I turned back to face Doctor Reese. "I guess I'll continue therapy then," I said, adding a small shrug.

"Don't misunderstand," Dr. Reese said. "You could also join a support group. I don't want you to feel you have to continue."

"No," I said. "I want to. I think it might be good."

"Okay," Dr. Reese said, with a pleasant smile. "Would you like to see me for therapy? Or did you want to meet with someone else?"

"I'd like to meet with you," I said.

"In that case…" Doctor Reese turned back to my mother. "Seeing as how Bailey is a minor, do I have your consent to meet with her privately?"

"Yes, of course," my mother said.

"We can arrange some family sessions as well," Dr. Reese said. "If that's something that interests you."

My mother sat and thought about it for a moment. "We'll see about that," she finally said. "If anything just to see how Bailey's progressing."

"Sure," Dr. Reese said, as she made a note in my file. She slid a piece of paper across the desk to my mother. "This is just a standard consent form. If you agree to it, then please sign here, and initial there."

The room grew silent for several minutes. My mother read through the form quietly. Doctor Reese busied herself, organizing papers on her desk. I glanced out the window. The sun had begun to set, and beautiful pinks and purples streaked across the late afternoon sky. Eventually my mother signed the form and slid it back across the desk.

"Are there any other questions?" Dr. Reese asked.

"I can't think of anything at the moment," my mother said.

"Well if you think of any, feel free to ask the receptionist, or myself," Dr. Reese said, standing up from her chair. "I'll take you back to the lobby Mrs. Taylor." She strolled over to the door.

My mother stood. "Please call me Susan."

I started to join them, but Doctor Reese turned back to us. "I'd like to spend a few minutes with Bailey if you don't mind waiting?"

"Not at all," my mother said, strolling through the door.

"I'll be back in a few," Dr. Reese said to me. "You can have a seat on the sofa back there."

Doctor Reese disappeared through the office door. She had actually caught me a little off guard. Thinking this would be a simple meet and greet, I didn't really prepare myself to have a private chat with her. I also didn't expect her to be so young and pretty. As I made my way over to the sofa, I started to have reservations about my decision to see her for sessions. She could be too distracting.

When I first had my surgery over a year ago, the doctor had run through a list of side effects I would possibly see. One of them he mentioned was a decrease in libido. I didn't even know what that meant, and had to ask for a more detailed explanation. After he explained it, I took it to understand I probably wouldn't feel like having sex. Which at the time wasn't exactly on the forefront of my mind, but did worry me for later.

What the doctor failed to tell me, is that not everyone experienced those side effects the same way. If I had to be honest with myself, I actually thought about sex more than I had. Not that I'd become a wanking pervert in the park, or an adult star later in life, but that I became more and more curious about something that someone told me I might never feel like having. Sometimes I would get unusual peaks in intensity, that would diminish over time.

Since I started using patches over the summer, the curiosity maintained a healthy average. I assumed it had something to do with the amount of estrogen in me. Most of the time I would experience a serene, reflective state of mind; where I would admire beauty in an abstract sense. Sometimes I felt aroused. I still felt attraction to pretty women, and recently a few guys. Not only that, but my feelings for certain… aspects of people did not dwindle.

Doctor Reese strolled back into the office. She closed the door behind her, and collected my file from her desk. After grabbing a pen and pad of paper, she headed toward the area where I sat. My eyes were suddenly drawn to her shoes; a pair of strappy sandals that wrapped around her feet in too many directions to count. Her toenails were as meticulously groomed as her fingernails, and shared the same dark red polish.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, as she took a seat.

"I…" My gaze finally managed to work it's way up to see the quizzical expression across her face. "I was admiring your nail polish," I managed to get out, before sporting a mild blush.

"Oh…" She looked down for a moment. "Thank you. I thought you were looking at the floor, like you were sad, or something."

As she settled in her chair, I couldn't help but think of that being the worst impression I'd ever made. She probably thought I was a freak now. I just sat there and stared at her feet as she walked. Though I had developed a slight fetish, I wasn't as into feet as someone like Nathan Riley. He actually went out of his way to stare, and sometimes innocently touch feet when he could. I tended to mindlessly daydream at times, causing me to gaze in admiration.

Ironically, in this instance, I was more intrigued with the polish and the sandals, than her actual feet. Nail polish and shoes seemed to be my growing weakness. Quickly I tried to regain some kind of composure. However, for my current predicament, that meant staring at the window until she settled in her chair. I didn't want to be caught gawking at any of her other features.

"You seem distracted," Dr. Reese said. "Are you uncomfortable being here?"

"Hmm…" I turned to face her now. "No. I'm sorry. Maybe a little bit."

"Is it too cold in here?"

"No," I said. "If anything it's too warm. I just didn't expect…" I looked at her nervously.

"Would you be more comfortable with another therapist?" she asked. "Perhaps a male therapist?"

I shook my head. "I'm comfortable with a female therapist," I said. "My last therapist was female, but…"

"She wasn't as young?"

"She wasn't as pretty," I blurted out. "And I don't know why I said that."

"Oh…" Doctor Reese smiled. She perhaps even blushed while setting her pad down on her lap. "Bailey… The last thing we want here is to have you feel uncomfortable." She tilted her head and gave me a sincere look. "If you're not comfortable meeting with me, we can arrange --"

"No," I said. "I mean, it's fine." I took a deep breath to relax myself. "I'm just a little nervous, Doctor Reese."

"Call me Lori," she said. Then she smiled. "And it's Cherry Crush."

I looked at her with slight confusion. "What is?"

"The nail polish," she said, holding up her hand with her nails facing me. She winked at me, pulling her hand away to gather her notepad. "Are you absolutely sure you can handle being in a session with me? I don't want anything to hinder the process."

"I'll be okay," I said. "It's out in the open now, but I can set it aside."

"Okay," Dr. Reese said, as she gave me a pleasant smile. "How has your summer been?"

"My summer…" My gaze drifted off to the side. "It's actually been a little crazy with the move."

"How so?" Lori asked.

"Well for starters," I said, "My mom let me have my brother's old room. It's basically the entire basement. So I found that surprising. I figured she would want me upstairs, and as close as possible."

"Perhaps she's giving you space to grow," Lori said. "Both figuratively and literally." She studied me for a moment. "What's your room like? Did you change it at all?"

I closed my eyes and recounted the picture it in my mind. Not even a week prior to meeting Lori, had we finished my new room. The walls had been painted a soft seafoam green. There were shelves for books, and a desk, both painted white to accent the walls. Being almost twice the size of my former room, I had been given a queen-sized bed, and a larger dresser. Along the top of the dresser were assorted containers filled with nail polish, makeup and other beauty products. It felt like my own place within my home.

"What happened to your old room?" Lori asked, dragging my focus back to the small office.

"My mother is going to convert it into an office," I said. "She said she can do some of her work from home that way."

"How do you feel about that?"

I shrugged. "It's just a room," I said.

"There's no feelings associated with your old room?" Lori asked.

"I mean, it's a little strange not using it," I said, "but for the past year I've been sleeping in my cousin's former room. So it's like I haven't had it for a year anyway."

"I see," Lori said, making a note in her pad.

"What are you writing?" I asked.

Lori looked up at me with puzzled smile. "Did your last therapist tell you what they scribbled about you?"

"Well no," I said, "but that's an odd thing to make a note about."

"If you must know…" Lori said, still holding her bemused smile. "It's a positive observation." She leaned forward, putting her wrists on her knee. "Bailey, for this to work, you have to trust me. I understand that might be hard, given your past associations. But do believe me when I say that I've only got your best interests in mind." She flashed me a half smile. "Will you give me a chance?"

A small sigh passed over my lips. "Well… I haven't left yet," I said, quietly.

"I'm glad," Lori said, leaning back in her chair. "There's so many questions I'd like to ask you about the past two years."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Specifically?" Lori asked, rhetorically. "How are you coping with not having your stepfather in your life?"

"Tom can rot in prison," I said, without hesitation. "I'm doing just fine without him."

"Are you finding it hard not having a father figure around?"

I laughed slightly. "I wouldn't consider Tom a father figure," I said. "William was a far better father than Tom."

"William?"

"My aunt's husband."

"I see," Lori said, jotting again in her notepad. "Still… William is in another state now. It could be hard --"

"My mother and I will be fine," I said, rather defensively. "Can we talk about something else?"

Lori looked up at me. "We can talk about whatever you'd like," she said. "I'm simply trying to understand your past. If I've offended you with my questions, then I apologize."

"No… I'm sorry," I said. "I just… can't stand talking about him."

Lori scribbled another note. "I understand," she said. "Would you be willing to work on that?"

"What?" I asked. "Talking about Tom?"

"Yes," Lori said. "I detect some unresolved issues with him."

"I guess," I said.

"Okay," Lori said calmly. "I imagine things were quite different away from home."

"We had some fun times," I said, smiling as I recollected the last year.

"We?" Lori asked.

"My cousin, and some of her friends," I said.

In less than a minute, Lori had me talking about my adventures in Nebraska. At least, whatever you could call adventures there. Mostly it would be a trip to the lake, camping, or running around in the country. Honestly, it was like taking a vacation; getting out of suburbia and into nature. Either way, Lori had taken my mind completely off of Tom for the past several minutes.

"Who's Paul?" Lori asked, abruptly.

"Huh?"

"You keep mentioning Paul," she said. "Did you two have a special relationship?"

"Oh… I guess so," I said. "Paul was like my Nathan Riley, back in Nebraska."

"Nathan Riley?"

"Sorry," I said. "I keep forgetting this is all new information to you."

"Well…" Lori looked down at my file. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some notes from your old therapist. But I'd like to start fresh and hear everything from you."

"Okay," I said, straightening myself. "So… Nathan Riley lives down the street from me. He's technically the first one that knew I was… different."

"He knew you wanted to transition?" Lori asked.

"Well, at the time I didn't know what I wanted," I said. "But Nathan understood I was… looking, I guess?"

"And Paul knew this too?" Lori asked.

I sighed, looking out the window. "Actually, Paul never knew I was born male," I said. "Nathan does."

"So you're saying Paul shared some aspects of Nathan, but never knew you were transitioning?"

"Yes," I said. "Was it wrong not to tell him?"

"Bailey," Lori said, catching my attention. "I'm not here to assign blame." She looked up at me. "How do you feel? Do you think it was wrong?"

I sat for a long moment, reflecting on what Doctor Reese had asked. "I thought about it a lot," I finally said. "I still think about it. I keep wondering if our relationship would have changed. Worse… Better… All of that." A sigh passed over my lips. "Would things have stayed the same?"

"In my experience, not everyone has to know everything about you," Lori said. "But sometimes when secrets are revealed, you learn who your true friends are. Sometimes it changes nothing. Sometimes it changes everything. It's harder when the person is close to you. You feel like you have to tell them everything, even if it hurts."

"Exactly," I said. "I don't know how many times I went back and forth between telling him, and not telling him. Then I decided, if I move away… it wouldn't matter." I laughed inwardly. "Ironically, I'm right back in the same position with a new friend."

"Who would that be?"

"Amber," I said. "She moved in across the street over the summer. At first I thought she was a little annoying, but she really grew on me."

Lori nodded. "But you haven't told her?"

"No," I said. "Should I?" I asked, looking up at her expectantly.

"That is a question only you can answer," Lori said. "Let me pose a few questions for you though." She leaned forward. "Will telling her result in any harm to you, or anyone else? Do you find Amber to be an understanding individual? Would telling her make you feel more comfortable in your relationship with her?"

"Do you want me to answer those?" I asked.

"I want you to ponder those questions, until we see each other again," Lori said. "I like to set goals. Things for us to work on together. I'd like you to work on what you might say to people like Amber, if you absolutely had to." She slowly rose from her chair. "We'll have more time to talk about it next time. It was nice meeting you, Bailey."

"Thank you," I said, standing to join her. "It was nice to meet you too."

Doctor Reese strolled over to the door. She ushered me out into the hallway, and followed me up to the receptionist's desk. My mother saw us exit, and joined us shortly after.

"It was nice meeting you, Susan," Lori said. "I'd like to meet with Bailey at least once a month, for the time being." She nodded to the receptionist. "Linda can set that up for you." Finally she turned to me. "Bailey, it was nice to meet you as well. I hope you have a terrific first year of high school, and I will see you soon. Okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you, Lori," I said.

"Be safe," Lori said to both of us. "Oh, and if you want to stay out of rush hour for awhile, there is a nice little restaurant on the corner here."

"Thank you," my mother said. "Take care."

Doctor Reese nodded, and then retreated back down the hallway. We turned our attention over to setting up my therapy schedule. Linda, the receptionist, was just as polite as Lori had been. I had a good feeling about this place, and even felt a little guilty at snapping at Lori over Tom. Maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn't quite done dealing with Tom after all.

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To Be Continued...