Chapter 25 – A Shoe Drops

Dean’s accident threw me for a loop. Dad held me as I cried. “What do I do, Mom? Do I go to him?”

Mom shook her head as she read the note again. “I don’t know. They are asking a lot of us and of you. It isn’t as though you could sprout wings and fly there. And what kind of lesson would he learn from it anyway? Become a wounded puppy and the whole world will come at your beck and call. It’s insane to put this kind of pressure on you honey. Especially at your age. After all you have been through with ...” Mom stopped mid-sentence not wanting to finish it.

I looked up at her and cringed. I knew what she was about to say. Her anniversary was weighing heavily on my mind. I knew I needed to finish the sentence if only so the lovely and dear departed name was spoken out with love and didn’t become an eggshell in the discussion we were having. “Cybil.” I quivered at what I had just said voluntarily. I added, “I miss her less and less. But she is still part of me and always will be.” I stayed calm even my heart stilled ached. “How is my going to his bedside any different than when I went to her bedside?”

“Because Cybil couldn’t control her condition. Her need was palpable and immediate. Your response was genuine and timely. Dean’s need is frivolous and capricious because he is asking you to become disingenuous and foolish.” Dad interjected with a little more than a hint of anger directed at Dean.

“I would ask you to brush my hair Mom and help me work this out, but there is a part of me that thinks it would be better used on my backside so I never do something as stupid and telling a boy I care about him because I want him to feel better about himself.” I hung my head down.

Grandma firmly lifted my chin and looked me in the eye. “Pips, you are a lovely and caring person. Don’t you dare say you need to be punished for being kind! You did what your mother or I would have done in your place. You sent him away with a warm feeling in his heart. You didn’t say you would marry him or were madly in love with him. You said your time together was valuable and meaningful. More importantly, you knew by telling him “if there was a first love, he was it” it would boost his fragile confidence. That was one of the most honest and decent things I have ever seen you do. You don’t deserve to be punished like this by him.” Her words cut into my melancholy and brought bright illumination into my soul. She smiled at me and kissed me on the forehead.

“Thank you Grandma. I needed to hear that.”

I got up and went to the living room window while the adults bantered about possible solutions and ideas. Looking at the sidewalk where Sally and her mom walked the day I made the dress for her prom so joyfully, an inspiration came to my mind. I knew the right answer, or, rather, who taught me the right answer.

“Mom, Dad, Grandma, I think I need to make a phone call before we continue.”

Forty minutes later, Tommy stood with his mother in our living room having just heard all the options the adults felt would work. “Those are the options Tommy, what does my boyfriend want me to do?”

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?” Tommy asked feeling uneasy. His mother looked at him with pride though because she believed in him. So did I.

“No, I want you to guide me as the head of our partnership, not simply order me. My parents’ marriage works because they trust each other. I can do no less with you. My choice has to be to be loyal to my partner first and trust him to help guide and direct me to make the correct decision. Right or wrong, I need and want your guidance and will do whatever you decide is right because I have faith in you. Just like my Mom and Dad have faith in each other.” My Dad and Mom looked at each other and smiled. Mrs. Hinks hugged her son and whispered something in his ear.

“Okay then, grab a pen and paper. I think it is time to design and send a well crafted letter.” Tommy stated. Tommy had me write down the goals of the letter. For the next hour, we crafted and carefully reworded a letter to Dean. By the time we were done, Tommy and the others had guided me to write a simple but direct letter to Dean that was firm, loving, and hopeful without putting me into the position of having to go to Atlanta to see him. But, always, Tommy decided what was going on the paper which I knew was right and proper.

The final draft said …

My Dear Dean,

I am so saddened to hear of your accident. My prayers and wishes for your quick recovery preceded this letter and will continue after you read it. I wish I could come and see you, but I can’t. I am sure you understand why.

Trying to fit in to a new neighborhood and school is difficult and challenging. I understand. It was for me becoming a new student at Danvers where I only knew a few students I had met during the summer. I was scared too.

I hope this is a lesson to chose your friends wisely. No real friend would ever put their friend in danger in order to prove their friendship. Nor will a true friend make you feel unwelcome by asking you to do something foolish.

I know this because I learned it from you and others. In particular, your kindness to me over this last school year made it one of the best I have ever had.

Sadly, I cannot, nor can you, just settle for our past achievements. We have to move on and relearn the same lessons over again by making new friends and establishing new relationships that build our ability to grow into successful adults.

My advice is to look for someone like yourself who is kind and considerate. It will take time, but they will find you. And before you know it, you will feel a part of the neighborhood and school once again.

I hope that fate will one day allow us to see each other again. Until then, makes lots of good friends and wonderful memories of good times.

Take good care of yourself and get well soon,

Jackie

P. S. If ever I do find myself out that way, I will let you know. Maybe we can get together.

After it was written, addressed, and stamped, Tommy was applauded and lauded for his excellent judgment and skill as a leader. Mrs. Hinks was so very proud and looked at me with a new found respect too. I think she liked that I trusted her son so much. And, to be truthful, I liked making him look good. It was a wonderful feeling to see him in charge.

After all was said and done, I walked with Tommy out to his mom’s car where she was waiting for him. Just before we got to the car, I said, “Tommy, thank you. I am sorry I didn’t use your help to write my first letter to Dean. I should have. You did an excellent job back there.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. You’re a good man with a kind heart.” Tommy blushed and I gave him a hug. Without thinking, I stood on my toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek too.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ...”

“Don’t apologize. I think it was sweet and adorable.” He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek back. I started to tear up. He winked and said, “I promise not to fall in love with you no matter how hard you make it.” I giggled.

“Thank you. I don’t need another Dean.”

He gently let go and proceeded to get in the car, winked at me, and said,“See you in dance class in a few days.”

I waved goodbye. I felt warm inside and happy. He was my hero. He was my new ballroom dance partner too.

After dinner, Grandma took me for a walk. “I am so proud of you, Pips. You showed excellent and mature judgment today. I got to thinking. I never had a daughter, so I never had the talk that I am going to have with you. It may seem silly to you since you are a boy, but I am going to have it anyway. Is that okay?”

We ambled down the sidewalk taking in the night air. “Yes, please. I would like to hear it.”

“Good! I don’t like feminism for one reason. I refuse to cede to any man our superiority as a sex. We are the child bearers. We are the life bringers. The destiny of mankind is in our hands, so men owe us everything. Why even talk about equality.” I giggled. I knew what she was saying.

“But, as with anything, with great power comes great responsibility. I have watched over the years some girls become teenage idiots or geniuses with some in between. The difference is enormous between these two positions. The idiots are the ones who are vapid. They believe looking pretty and knowing how to dress nicely is all there is too being the best girl they can be and to hell with boys. I love Alexander Pope’s poem ‘The Rape of the Lock’ for that reason. It is a brilliant observation of those kind of girls. Then there are the ones like you who are smart and pretty, but, who get that they can hurt boys and really care about them. That is you.”

I did a little showing off. “Thank you Grandma. What did Alexander Pope say in that poem, ‘Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal’d, To maids alone and children are reveal’d.’ I like being smart and pretty.”

“I know you do.” She seemed rather pleased that I said that. “That is the teenager in you starting to come out. But, that isn’t the point I am making. Sooner or latter they converge and they start thinking alike. Somewhere, around the age of nineteen or twenty, just like with Jane now, they realize that they have to start fulfilling their lot in life as the vessels that allows humanity to sail into the future. They become wives and mothers expecting to fulfill their biological purpose. I can’t tell you how often I have looked at a teenage girl whose gaze is vacant and unguided, whether idiot or a genius, who, in a few short years, has a deeply thoughtful and very meaningful gaze as she looks first into her husbands eyes and later into her baby’s eyes. I don’t know what happens in our girl’s brain, but it does. We become transformed in a way men never will.”

“I have lamented to Mom that I don’t want to forget the wonder of doing a cartwheel. Frankly, I am afraid of becoming a teenager.”

“Oh, Honey, you can’t be afraid to go through this period of your life. This is the time of your life where you take all that playtime you had as a kid and start turning it into adult time. You said you act like you are really dating with Tommy, but really aren’t. Well, that is being like an adult, but not. Soon, you will be finding all the relationships at school becoming so important and maybe think that your parents don’t understand. You will start living out a soap opera everyday as a teenage girl. That is what happened with Dean if you think about it. It is his first teenage debacle, not his last. During the next eight years, you will have all sorts of drama, intrigue, failures, successes, and nobody gets me moments along with achievements, crushes, hearts you break and broken hearts of yours. You will have nothing important going on in your life and everything that is critically important at the same time.”

“Ugh! Do I have to?” I slouched and pouted. “It all sounds so ponderous.”

“Take heart. Cheer up. At the end of it all, you will find that you are ready for the real dramas of life.”

We stopped and I held her hand. “Grandma, do you mean like Cybil?”

“Yes, I am afraid so. One day, you will say goodbye to me and Grandpa. Then in the blink of an eye, it will be your Dad or your Mom. It seems like yesterday that I had this talk with my Mom and she died ages ago.” Grandma had a tear and a far away look in her eye.

“All the world’s a stage.” I said thinking of Shakespeare’s treatise on life.

“Precisely. Life is so worth living. You can’t be afraid of enjoying and playing the parts you have been given when you are given them. Soon, you will be a teenager and will be having all the ups and downs of the teenage years. But they will prepare you for adulthood where the responsibility and the rewards are so much more rewarding. Don’t be afraid to embrace the time you are in and experience it. For example, like taking a walk with your granddaughter and telling her how much you love her and are proud of her.” I hugged her and kissed her.

“I so love being your granddaughter and I love you so much too.” I said. “I think I understand now. One day I might have this chat with my granddaughter too and tell her about my terrific grandmother.”

“Or daughter. You never know. Because, what I saw today was a great first step of you growing into a beautiful and courageous young lady.” I blushed.

As we walked, I found myself getting contemplative, “Is it really worth it Grandma?”

“Oh, yes. Every moment, bad or good. Because it is life and life is meant to be lived. You can’t live in fear of your shadow when you have the light to look forward to in life. You will have challenges. But there are worth overcoming. It is just like the letter Tommy had you write for Dean.”

I grinned. “That was nice, wasn’t it? He did a great job.”

“Yes, and I am very impressed that you trusted him to help you write it. That wasn’t a natural thing for you to do. You are used to being in charge. So am I. But, a man needs to be needed. If we flaunt our superiority over them, then we don’t give them a reason to stay, do we?”

A few days later, Dr. Lefevre came into Dr. Cramer’s room instead of Erin. It startled me, but it was nice to see her.

“Hello Samantha, I was at a conference nearby and Erin said we could have a session today. Just us.”

I was startled. I wasn’t quite comfortable with her yet. I hesitated, but said, “Sure, would you like some tea”

“No thank you. You will notice I am not using a pad. Nothing here will go down into your file. I have the luxury of being able to ignore everything you say today because I am not under the rules of the United States and those obligations I have in Canada aren’t in effect here.”

That made me feel a little better. “Okay, so what do you want to ask me? Fire away.”

“How do you feel now versus last year when you were a boy most of the time?”

“Fantastic. I don’t miss being a boy. I wake up every day and I am comfortable in my own skin. Well, almost. I can’t wait until the rest of me catches up.”

“Describe to me how you felt before.”

“I would notice things. The way a girl was dressed and how I would love to look that way. Or, dreaming of what it would be like to look that way. It was like a dull ache that never went away. A persistent longing to be someone else.”

“And now? Do you still feel it?”

“No, just on certain occasions during the day. Like when I need to go to the bathroom or go swimming. I can feel a little left out.”

“Okay, if I could wave a magic wand and you could remain as you are without question or the way you were before, which would you choose?”

“The way I am, a girl. All girl.”

“So, you are dating somehow? Tommy knows you biologically are a boy, right?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Does he suspect or know you feel that you are a girl in a boy’s body?”

“Yes. He has told me that he thinks I am really a girl, but not to tell him. He says he doesn’t mind. He just wants me to know he cares.”

“That is so nice. Do you trust him?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Okay, one last question before Erin comes in and we just chat. When you come to Canada, do you think your parents will be ready to accept you as a girl when I verify your diagnosis of being transgender?”

“I think my sister Jane and my Grandma all ready are. They will get them ready for it, yes.”

“So, it sounds like your grandmother and sister are becoming informed. Do you know their source of information?”

“No. I wish I did.”

“See if you can find out. When you do, just drop me a postcard with their name on it and your name. I will take it from there. One last thing. When you get to Canada, the rules will be slightly different than here. There is the potential of the Crown finding out about your gender issues. I will officially diagnose you now to Erin, but, you are never to mention it or talk about it outside of this office today until the end of your stay in Myers Bluff. Don’t even tell Tommy or anybody else. To talk about it would jump the gun.”

I nodded showing my understanding. Our joint session went very well. Erin and Dr. Lefevre and I outlined where I would stay, who I would stay with, how often I would see her, and certain aspects of my drug treatments. It was all wrapped up very nicely. It was decided that at the end of my 8th grade school year, I would switch to home schooling as the best course. It wasn’t ideal, but they felt it allowed me the greatest chance of success.

Debbie’s wedding was now three weeks away. Chaos was rearing its ugly head. And what happened next only made it harder.

“Wake up sleepy head.” Robert shook me. I woke up and wiped my eyes to see his face forcing a smile. I could tell he had been crying.

“Robert, what are you doing home?” I asked. “You are supposed to be in summer school.”

“Remember Coach Finklestein? He passed away. I came back briefly for the funeral.”

I remembered talking to Coach Finklestein once or twice while I went to Canterbury about football. He was a pleasant man and was excited that I was there and hoped I would be like Robert. He was a devout Jew. He was a cantor and was as well known for his singing as his coaching. One of the reasons he never yelled at the students was that he wanted to protect his voice. That meant that when he corrected you, the softer his voice, the more he was yelling at you.

Robert loved the man. It was Coach Finklestein that got him to love football and, frankly, want to be a coach. His passion to do your best was infectious and joyful. He taught his player to hit hard and hug just as hard afterwards.

I could remember walking past his office in the hallways and hearing the most delicious music coming from it. Much of it was in Hebrew and very different from pop music. He noticed that I preferred his music to football, so he stopped talking to me about joining the team rather quickly. We enjoyed talking about classical music and how much he enjoyed playing the violin. I talked to him about learning piano and guitar.

One day, after I had finished making some alterations for Mrs. Duncan, I came out into the auditorium to find him working with the janitor on setting up for a sporting event. I came over and found him playing the piano. He asked me to sit down and play and he would sing.

He then asked me, “What songs do you know?”

“Mostly Moody Blues.”

“Hmm, that won’t do. How about a Leonard Cohen song?”

“Leonard who?”

Coach Finklestein pulled out some sheet music and put it on the piano.

“Can you read music?”

“Yes sir.” I played the music slowly so I could get a feel for it. It was a song called Hallelujah. It took me a couple of moments, but I found it an easy and slow piece to play.

“You ready, Samuel?”

“For what?”

“You play and I will sing.”

For the next few minutes I played and he sang. I began to cry as the words touched me. But I didn’t miss a note. At the end, Coach Finklestein handed me a tissue.

“Samuel, I guess football isn’t for you, is it?”

“No, I am not like Robert.” I hung my head down feeling that I had somehow had disappointed him.

“That is so okay Samuel.” Coach Finklestein beamed making me feel special. He insisted with an enthusiastic tone, “You have a different calling than football. There was a great man in the bible called Samuel who was a great prophet in Israel. I will give you the advice that was given to him.”

“What is that sir?”

“Listen to what God is calling you to do. Just listen to Him and he will direct your path to where you talents are calling you.”

“I do like music.” I said looking at the piano keys not wanting to look in his eyes. “I love classical music in particular.”

“You play nicely. Ever try singing too?”

I looked back up at him. “Oh no. I don’t think I could do that.”

“The two often go hand in hand. I know, because I am a cantor for my Synagogue, Beth Shalom. I play the piano there and sing worship songs for the congregation. I bet you would be good at playing and singing. Think about it.” His words were warm and understanding.

“I will. Thank you for understanding.” I started to tear up a little. I could tell he saw it and didn’t pull the man up routine on me that Robert might have.

Coach Finklestein patted me on the shoulder and left to go back working with the janitor. That was about the last time I saw him. I could see why Robert loved him so much. Even though I wasn’t a football player, he still cared about who I was and was meant to be. I wasn’t a winning record. I was a record of Coach Finklestein’s wins with students. I never got a chance to thank him.

I started to tear up looking at Robert’s pained face. “Oh, Robert, not Coach Finklestein! He was such a lovely and kind man!”

“I know Pips.” He began to cry. I have hardly ever seen my brother cry. I swung my feet out of bed and just hugged my brother. We held each other for what seemed like the longest time. Through my tears, I told him the story about Coach Finklestein and the piano.

Mom came in and saw us holding each other. I saw her smile.

“Come on Robert. There is a phone call for you about Coach Finklestein.” Robert quickly left the room. I heard as they left, “I made a nice breakfast for you. It will lift your spirits. How is Juliette?”

I got dressed slowly, I put on a nice dress, did my makeup, and went downstairs. Robert was talking to Dad about the funeral.

“Because he was Jewish, they must have a quick funeral. They have asked as many of his students to come and participate as possible.” Robert looked at me. “Pips, would you mind playing and singing at his funeral?”

“Umm, no. But what would I be singing?”

“Hallelujah. That was the Rabbi on the phone. I told him a little about what you said. Not the prophet bit about Samuel. I told him that he just had sung the song for some one in my family and that she went on to help her school win third place last year in a choir competition.”

Robert being proud of my performance in the choir was so nice to hear. And the look in his eyes as he said I helped was a joy to behold.

Mom interrupted with concern in her voice, “But then her secret will be out!”

Robert grinned and said, “Nope. I told him her name was Jackie Zimmer Miller and that she is my cousin.”

Dad looked at me, “It is up to you, Pips.”

“Okay, I will do it. I never got a chance to thank him for being so kind to me.”

“Dad, the funeral is tomorrow at the synagogue. The Rabbi would like to see us today and go over the service. He wants the eulogy to be students talking about how Coach Finklestein has made a difference. Finding out that I will be a coach is a plus. And Rabbi Cohen likes the fact that he encouraged a young girl to sing and she went on to help her school win third place too.”

At the funeral, I was asked to get up during the eulogy. Rabbi Cohen asked me, “Why do you sing now, young lady?” He handed me a microphone. I looked at him as I spoke.

“Coach Finklestein stopped me one day after I made some alterations for the school’s drama department and asked me to play a song with him. He told me that I should try singing. Well, that summer I did. And this last year, I participated at my school’s choir competition and they won third place. The best any school in our district has ever done.”

Rabbi Cohen continued, “Would you please play the song you played for Coach Finklestein and sing it for him?”

“Yes sir.” I started to play for him. But all I could see was my holding Cybil’s hand. As I sang the song, tears streamed down my face. The pain from losing her was ebbing away. The gift she gave me of her love and joy at being my friend filled my heart. I sang for her. I sang for Coach Finklestein. I don’t know why, but as I was crying, I was celebrating their lives and how they changed me for the better.

After I was done, there were a lot of sniffles from the congregation. I could tell that I touched his wife and kids.

“That was beautiful Jackie!” said Rabbi Cohen. “Can you tell me what you would say to Coach Finklestein if he were to listen to you play again.”

I blew my nose and dabbed away tears. “I would say thank you for taking a brief moment out of your day to show me that following my talents helps others. Without his encouragement, I might never have started to try singing. Without his encouragement, I might never have been a friend to a precious girl dying of cancer when she needed me most. Without his encouragement, I might never have been brave enough to become who I am today. I owe him so much.”

Rabbi Cohen turned to the congregation and said, “A small part of Coach Finklestein’s living Mitzpah is here in this room and around our community. We will never know how many lives he touched. We only have this little glimpse of his good works in a beautiful and talented girl whom he coached in life with his words of encouragement just as he did for hundreds of boys over thirty years of coaching football.”

On the drive home, Robert turned to me and commented, “You did well, Pips. You are turning into a beautiful young lady. I am sorry I have to drop you off and head back to school. I love you.”

I leaned up against him as he drove me home. “I love you too, Robert.” I could tell he saw me as a young lady and had no problem in accepting me as anything else but a young lady. In fact, the way he said it, I could tell he didn’t want Samuel to return any more than I did.

After he dropped me off, I entered our home. I began to realize that I needed to grow up now. In front of me were going to be the toughest months of my young life.

It was time to say goodbye to Doug, Debbie, and Jane. It was time for me to move on from my work with the police.

I wandered into the kitchen and began to help Mom and Grandma prepare dinner.

A little later, Connie came over to help me try on a new flapper outfit she had found for me that made me look more curvy. We went upstairs.

I stepped out of my dress and was in just bra and panties. Connie giggled at how much like a girl I looked.

“I can see the line of the breast forms. Why don’t you take off your bra. I have a sports bra here that will give you a better fit for the dress since you can’t wear a camisole with it.”

As I took off my bra, my right breast form fell off. Connie picked it up and then stared at my chest. It was clear that I was beginning to bud and my aerola was changing. It was protruding, darker, and much larger than what a boy should have.

I turned red. I didn’t know what to say. At that moment, Jane, who had heard what happened from the hallway, came in.

“Let’s get that glued back on Samantha.”

While she made small talk with Connie about the new outfit as she glued back on my appliance, I could see that Connie was slowly putting two and two together.

After Connie left the room, Connie said without making eye contact with me, “I think we need to to convince the girls at Canterbury that you are a girl so they don’t associate you with Samuel.”

She stopped for a moment as if she was going to say something to me. She looked at me. Concern and worry was in her eyes. She shook her head for a moment and then continued, “I was going to suggest that you do a couple of songs at the prep rally. And, I would also suggest that you do an exit that any girl would love to have.”

I silently nodded not knowing what to say. I was afraid she might ask the question that hung in the air about what she just saw.

“I was thinking you should exit using the last dance from Dirty Dancing.” She looked away for a moment. “What do you think?”

It bothered me that she couldn’t keep eye contact with me. I meekly replied, “Yes, I would like that.”

“Good. I have to go now. My mom’s waiting for me out front now.”

I walked her to the front door to say goodbye. She stopped, closed her eyes, and said, “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“I understand.” I began to tear up. She glanced at me as if I confirmed her worst suspicions. She tried to smile but I could read the confused emotions in her face.

The door closed and Connie was gone.

I ran upstairs, buried my head in a pillow, and cried myself to sleep.

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner