Note to readers. Edited by Patricia Marie Allen
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?
 

When Steve left it dawned to me he wasn’t surprised I was told to be a girl. Kinda it was ok. Kinda it may happen to any boy. And happens from time to time. As if some of our friends have gone through this and who cares.

There was something behind this girl stuff.

Have I missed something?

Mom and dad say they don’t know Alice. Nonsense! They know and they knew all the time. Spencers are our neighbors. How can it be otherwise?

Mom says she doesn’t remember Steve’s name. Nonsense! We have been together since kindergarten. Our mothers are friends. Or were? They worked then in the same ward and planed their shifts so that mom could babysit Steve and Brie or Steve’s mom could babysit Tiff and me.

Dad says he doesn’t know about me doing make-up. Mom has bought me a make-up starter kit for my classes last year. Don’t they talk to each other?

I wrote questions on a sheet of paper. It sounded to me like some conspiracy.

I’ll give those questions to dad. Will he answer or will he dodge?

There is the saying – the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I made croutons and thick cauliflower garlic stew, dad’s favorite.

He had called saying he may be late. And he was late. It was already ten-twenty when he got home. I warmed stew and croutons and we sat to eat at the kitchen table.

When we finished and dad was about to leave for the night, I slipped him a sheet with questions.

“Can’t it wait till the morning?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, “tomorrow you’ll leave early again.”

He quickly scanned the questions and sighed.

“Guilty,” he said.

He sat down, sighed again, and scratched his elbows. He did it when he was nervous.

“You are like Kevin. He’s really a cousin of some sort, but we’ve always called him an uncle.” he said.

Yes, there was uncle Kevin. But I didn’t understand how I was like him.

“How?” I asked.

“Let say, it was an evident problem for more than a year. You always were a perfect student and overall a good kid. The problem was you were… And you still are sending feminine vibes into the universe. Like if you are a girl pretending to be a boy. In this, you resemble your uncle Kevin. When he was your age he was like you. Kinda a girl disguised as a boy. His mom was progressive and she encouraged him to visit the shrink. Take some tests and evaluations, then maybe blockers and HRT. He refused. Then puberty hit at seventeen. It’s with all boys in our family the same. He became like I – tall square hairy bass. He was a senior when his mom, my aunt found him hanging in the barn. She was in time to rescue him. The next time he tried to cut his veins when in college. He was saved by his dorm roommate. Now he is the most miserable person in the whole family. Despite his perfect education and talent in technical writing. No family, no social life, no smile since he was a kid.”

“I’m not like him,” I complained.

“I know,” dad said. “You are worse. You are in denial.”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t want to argue with you,” dad said. “You never took an opportunity to try Tiff’s girly stuff. You never applied the make-up on yourself though you had all possible excuses and possibilities. And knowledge. You never did your hair though it’s longer than most your girl friends have it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Only that I’m a boy,” I retorted.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But let face the facts – you do what no man will do even if paid. Like gluing falsies to try the dress. I can’t believe there is no other girl in your pack of Alice’s complexion. Or participating in make-up, hairdo, or fashion class projects. Yes, you got additional credits. The same credits you could get for shop projects. As an extracurricular activity, your choice was like other girls’ – sitting little kids at preschool.”

“As I say, it doesn’t prove…”

“I know. Every single fact doesn’t prove anything. But all these facts in one place are the proof. You did everything the same as uncle Kevin. As if you were reading his diary, if there was such.”

“I didn’t…”

“I know. He burnt his diary years ago. But now you are comfortable with what you have. The same as Kevin all those years ago. For you, it’s like balancing over a thin line. Now it’s ok. You are feminine on the inside and not masculine on the outside. You want it like it is now. Like tomboy. No obligations. No waves raised. But then puberty will come. It will. It always comes. And that thin line you are balancing on now will become a blade. Razorblade. That blade will cut you in half.”

“So what do you offer?”

“No obligation from you. Just try to be a girl for summer. Not for school. No shrinks, no pills, no shots. If you are lucky and you are like I and other men in our family, you have a year.”

“Are those falsies, glue, and Alice’s dress, all this, the part of the conspiracy?”

“No,” he replied. “It was a coincidence. We knew you were friends. But we didn’t know she’s a senior. And we didn’t know about her class project. It was the chance we couldn’t miss. The chance to make you a girl for summer.”

We stayed in silence for a while. I didn’t know what to say. Then dad sighed.

“Ok,” I said.

“Do you agree?” dad asked.

“Yeah, I do,” I replied. What I didn’t say, was that I had my boy’s bits glued already. Maybe I’ll survive.