by The Rev. Anam Chara
When you’re a minister, everyone looks to you and your family for moral leadership. Because they attribute moral leadership to clergy, they expect it from you, and also your family, whether you and your family can provide it or not.
I am both a minister and an educator, an associate professor of theology at a small college and seminary while also serving as Vicar of St. Andrew’s Anglican Church. Having grown up in a small fundamentalist church, I had been ordained an Episcopal priest but left the denomination when it ordained an openly gay bishop. I could not reconcile this with the teachings of Holy Scripture and the Holy Tradition of the Church. As a result, I had a fight with my own bishop and then resigned as rector of a large Episcopal parish in New York City. But since I had become somewhat of a hero to other conservatives who had left the denomination, I was offered a teaching position at the seminary and the vicarate of this small mission in the American Midwest.
This was a big change for my family as well as myself. Fortunately, my wife, Keiko, has always been in high demand, since she is a superb pediatric nurse. She had no trouble finding work when we relocated here. My teaching position pays well enough and I receive a small but adequate stipend as vicar, so given these sources of income, together with my wife’s salary, we are quite financially fit as a family. And thanks to a good real estate broker, we got a nice deal on our old place in New York. Because the Anglican diocese received the mission’s old vicarage in the legal settlement over the schism, we reside there rent-free now, although the house needs a whole lot of work. This arrangement has been an act of Providence for us, though, because our older daughter, Akiko, 16, is approaching college age and our real estate deal has solved that financing problem with more than enough funds to spare. We also have a younger daughter, Mitsumi, 7, and two sons, Michael, 13, and Gabriel, 11. They’re wonderful kids, the perfect family for a traditional Midwestern preacher and his wife.
Or so we thought.
The truth about raising children is that there’s a very close relationship between intelligence and their tendency to engage in mischief. Once they take their first steps, almost immediately they begin to make the connection between walking and getting into trouble. Keiko likes to remind me that it’s because children have almost an unlimited capacity for exploration that they can get into these situations. Their little minds are always getting bigger as they take in the world around them, seeking to learn the relationships between everything and everything else. They begin to notice the obvious sequences of cause and effect, the more abstract ones of antecedent and consequence, and the more dubious relationships of perception and reality. But perhaps the most important are the relationships between how they feel about what they do for, to, and with one another.
Most of the trouble that our kids get into are the usual antics that parents typically experience as theirs grow up, but every now and then they do something at the remote frontiers of acceptable behavior, like the time Akiko let a couple of her friends talk her into spending the day skinny-dipping with them. The idea of such an extreme exercise of personal liberty in the Great Outdoors easily seduced my daughter who had thus far grown up in the world’s largest megalopolis, a densely populated expanse of steel and concrete skyscrapers.
Little did she know, Akiko’s adventure at the lake that day would begin a time when such acts of simple mischief and youthful self-discovery would transform into an extended conflict for our family. All of us would encounter a rapidly changing world challenging our beliefs and ideas about right and wrong, sacred and profane, male and female, child and adult. We would rethink those beliefs and face a hard empirical test of a more abstract theology. We would also experience much in the way of tears and laughter, joy and sorrow. But I must relate, also, that while it all seemed a nightmare for Keiko and myself at the time, we smile a lot when recounting it now.
It would have been well enough if that had remained Akiko’s and her friends’ secret, but it didn’t. Like other teen girls, they had their various sleepovers. Akiko even hosted a few of her own at the vicarage. Yet neither Keiko nor I suspected what happened at their Friday night sleepovers, since they took great care to avoid discovery. However, their secrecy proved no match for her brother Michael’s somewhat greater curiosity, capacity for even more creative mischief, and newly raging hormones.
At 13 years, Michael was just beginning seriously to appreciate the opposite sex. This happens in every boy’s life (and in every girl’s as well), and it was no surprise to either Keiko or myself that a preacher’s kids have the same hormones as any other teen-agers. Moreover, its timing had coincided with our relocation to the Midwest, so we had figured that he was taking advantage of the move to recreate himself. But we had not expected the extent to which Michael would achieve that.
Keiko later would tell me that in retrospect there were signs of this deeper secret when Michael was much younger, but she had no reason to suspect anything then. Young siblings develop their own interpersonal dynamics growing up, and their world of play constitutes for them a reality often far removed from what their parents perceive them doing. Apparently, Akiko had engaged her brother in games of dress-up when they were both still of pre-school age. She apparently got a thrill from dressing him up like a girl and he had his very first taste of silk and lace at her urging. All she now remembers about it is that, “He looked so cute in my dresses and maryjanes!” and that, “Dressing dolls up was not as much fun as dressing my brother up!”
Akiko also nicknamed her brother “Mikki.” We had thought for a long time that was what he wanted to be called, instead of “Mike.” Later, we learned that she had given the name to his feminine alter-ego, her “Secret Sister” that Keiko had at first believed to be our daughter’s invisible friend.
What I had difficulty believing was that within our son, our beloved son, Michael, grew the spirit of a vivacious young woman. Mikki would both threaten and support Michael. He would eventually answer her call to give up his masculine self and stay with another broken and frightened young woman whom he would come to love most deeply. Michael would sacrifice the man that he could have been to become the woman Mikki, who he needed to be not only for his own sake, but for another’s well-being, too.
However, this would not be without consequences. Our daughter, Akiko, attempting to help her brother, would misjudge herself to have hurt him and his chance to become a husband and father. This would wound her deeply in her own conscience and her most difficult lesson to learn would be that of self-forgiveness.
Somehow, through all this, our family would hold together even as it seemed to come apart. We would need to redefine the very idea of family. We had to take to heart what St. Paul wrote in his First Epistle to the Corinthians 13:13: “But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (ASV)
The Rev. Dr. Edward MacDonald
Vicar of St. Andrew’s Mission
© 2010 by Anam Chara
The Hallowe’en before we left New York, Akiko and Michael begged to go to a party with their friends. But since they both were scheduled as the acolytes for that evening, they had to be at church for the Vigil on the Eve of All Saints’ Day. So, they agreed to get there right after the party and also, to arrive in time to change out of their costumes, if they were inappropriate for church or might not fit under their vestments. Our acolytes would wear simple floor-length black cassocks with white, lace-trimmed cottas reaching not quite to the waist. Most kids growing up in Catholic, Anglican, or Episcopal churches have worn such vestments. This was a big deal for us, because Keiko’s face always lights up whenever she sees any of our children vested “in choir.” It simply delights her as a mother.
Since Akiko identifies so strongly with her mother and dreams of following her into nursing, she already had volunteered as a candy-striper at my wife’s hospital. But she did not wish to wear her traditional red-and-white jumper as a costume, since for her, it is actually a work uniform. So, Keiko let her borrow one of her white nurse dresses with a pair of white work shoes for the party. And Akiko was no less striking than she was cute wearing it, although she does not quite resemble her mother. Her classic Eurasian features testify as much to my own Scots-Irish ancestry as to her mother’s Japanese heritage.
But genetics is a funny thing and Michael’s face looks entirely like his mother’s with a cute nose and prominent epicanthic folds in his eyes, very Asian, although he definitely inherited wavier hair from my curlier, dark brown locks instead of Keiko’s straight, jet black hair. And for a boy he is short and likely to remain so, since both Keiko and I are below average height. But he hopes that he may yet match Akiko’s growth. In any case, his appearance most definitely favors his mother.
We were not ready for the game that Akiko and Michael were about to play for Hallowe’en. He had planned to wear a rather elaborate space soldier’s uniform modeled after a recent science fiction movie, but it would not fit under his cassock and taking it off would be a major operation. So he was disappointed, but was keen on keeping his appointment as an acolyte. Then Akiko came up with the idea of another costume for her brother. And being a very curious fellow, Michael is always looking for another new adventure to try. So with a little work they managed to put a good one over on me!
Our usual protocol before a service was that I would meet with the acolytes and other servers in the vestry for prayer. Then we would immediately join the choristers to process into the nave. But for the Eve of All Saints, I would need to take extra time to verify that the Intercessor had the correct and complete list of names of the Faithfully Departed who would be remembered that night. In such cases, I would ask Ron MacPhail, our Verger and Master of Ceremonies to lead prayer for the acolytes and other servers, so I did not actually meet with Akiko and Michael before we began.
During any service, I always try to identify Keiko and the children wherever they might be. Keiko usually sits somewhere along the outer perimeter of the nave, so she can make an unobtrusive exit quicky, if needed, since she is often on call at the hospital. The kids then sit with her, unless they are either serving as acolytes or choristers or seated with friends. But Keiko was not on call, so she sat in a forward pew near the aisle with Gabriel and Mitsumi, still in their Hallowe’en costumes. At a glance I had noticed Akiko serving as one of the acolytes illuminating the Gospel as she often does on one side of me, with Michael on the other. But I could not seem to find Michael among them. There was another teenaged Asian girl serving opposite Akiko instead. I did not recognize her and she might be a new acolyte whom I had not met, perhaps willing to stand in for Michael. In any case, she certainly knew what she was doing. Likely the Verger had my son serving elsewhere and this new girl was willing and able to fill his shoes.
Yet, he might have been serving in another capacity where he would not be immediately visible to me. Sometimes the Master of Ceremonies must switch assigned duties among the acolytes if someone does not show up as scheduled, or is otherwise not able to do an assigned task. Michael and Akiko were both adept at all the various operations going on both up front and in the vestry; Gabriel was just learning them, while Mitsumi’s participation was still limited to the children’s choir and the Christmas pageant.
The service proceeded without any difficulties. The Vigil for the Eve of All Saints Day at our church has always been a very moving service, and sometimes highly emotional, as parishioners remember their departed loved ones. The Vigil began about ten o’clock that evening and every effort was made to time it so that Holy Communion took place at midnight.
As they would begin so late, vigils were possible only because of a very dedicated cadré of older teenaged girls and selfless women willing to staff our nursery and playroom for pre-school children. These younger kids mostly would fall asleep by the conclusion of a vigil. And after Hallowe’en, parents would be claiming their grumpy, sleepy-eyed princesses with folded butterfly wings and tiaras cocked to the side, carrying fatigued warriors with little scabbards dangling from their belts. Of course, mothers and fathers had picked up all the dropped wands, swords, shields and horned and winged helmets.
Well, I had not seen Michael during the Vigil, so I asked the Verger if he had seen him. He said that he had not. I was beginning seriously to be concerned that something was not as it should be. Then I followed up by asking Ron if there were any unexpected duties that might need Michael elsewhere during the Vigil. When Ron said that the only reassignment had been due to Michael’s absence, my anxiety level began to increase. Then Ron remarked that the new girl, Mikki, seemed quite competent, so he asked her to take his place. Wondering if she knew to sign in, he leafed through a few pages of his clipboard and, nonetheless, noted that Michael had signed in. He showed it to me and I carefully verified it. It was indeed Michael’s own signature. He had come to church as promised. But where could he have been? Something was amiss.
Maybe, though, he might be assisting in the organ loft or even at the sound and lighting console. He knew how to operate it and he would take over if there were no one else there to run things. Indeed, it could be hard to know if he were irresponsible on the one hand, or perhaps too responsible on the other.
I needed to return to the vestry anyway, so I went as quickly as I could hoping that I might find him there as usual, putting away his vestments. Then I saw Akiko in a nurse’s dress, while her new friend wore a candy-striper’s uniform, white hose, and red patent leather maryjanes, her hair in a ponytail secured by a large white bow.
“Dad, this is Mikki.”
I smiled anxiously but politely to her as I had to raise the question to my daughter. “Excuse me, Mikki,” I begged, turning to face Akiko. “Have you seen your brother anywhere in church tonight?”
Then she broke into one of her fits of giggles while a voice behind me answered, “I’m here, Dad.” I spun around seeing only Mikki there, but Akiko giggled louder and sillier.
“So, Dad, whatcha think?” he asked, but speaking as Mikki. He (or she?) smiled, briefly holding up the hem of his jumper and subtly bending his crossed legs to offer a quick, half-curtsey. “How do I look?”
“What?” I wondered aloud, quite stunned by what was unfolding before me. My son seemed at once both embarassed and emboldened. Despite his darker complexion, he seemed to blush just as would a teen-age girl his age, and yet, his wide-eyed stare had forced me to acknowledge that he had achieved his objective to take me completely by surprised.
Then Akiko’s giggling became fully squealing laughter as Michael joined her in a warm sisterly hug. I could no longer resist and relaxed into a good affirming chuckle of my own. I went to hug them both, myself, acknowledging that they had succeeded in pulling a good one over on Dad. And as guys like to do, I was also about to reward him with a playful swat across the back of the head, but when the big white bow on his high-up ponytail inadvertently caught my open hand, cushioning him from the blow, the giggles and guffaws redoubled once more.
“Son, you’re as cute a girl as your sister!” I said, trying to divert some of my own embarassment.
“Of course,” Akiko interjected. “I wouldn’t have him look anything less wearing my clothes! But I must say that Michael was an especially willing and able participant. I had quite a few old dresses, shoes and other things that fit him. I used to dress him up when we were younger, so I suggested we try it again. We spent a few hours getting him ready. Quite an effective makeover, don’t you think?
“It fooled me,” I admitted. “At first I thought that maybe she was one of your new girlfriends. He really looks like a girl!”
A moment later Keiko came by the vestry with an exhausted Space-Captain Gabriel and a very sleepy Princess Mitsumi. After a double take, my wife stared right at our son, her mouth agape, and her eyes opened more widely than I had seen in quite some time. She seemed to hold a facial expression equinanimously between shocked disbelief and amused delight.
“Michael,” Keiko asked, “is that you?”
“Right now she’s Mikki,” Akiko told her mother, giggling yet again.
“You’re so very pretty. Oh, I can’t believe it. Did you do this all yourself?”
“Oh no, Mom!” he answered. “It was Akiko’s idea, but we both did it together. My planned Hallowe’en costume was too bulky to fit under a cassock, so she suggested it. I didn’t want to do it at first, but she promised me that she’d make me really look like a girl, so that no one could tell it was me. There were no problems getting my vestments on over it. And it was a lot of fun dressing up like this.”
Keiko hugged him. “It’s so nice to have a third daughter, even if it’s only for tonight.”
Akiko giggled yet again. “Well, not just tonight, Mom,” she began. “Mikki has promised to wear whatever I choose for her all weekend. I kind of like her and didn’t want her to leave right after tonight.”
At that point, Michael—or Mikki—blushed even more deeply than before. “Oh! I forgot about that.”
“Son, did your sister snooker you into some kind of silly challenge again?” I inquired of him.
“Yeah. She bet me that if she gave me a makeover, you wouldn’t recognize me. And you didn’t. Good goin’, Dad!”
“No you don’t, Michael! Don’t try to pass responsibility for your new misadventure off to me. How many times have I warned you about making bets with your sister?” I chuckled. “She always wins.”
“I know,” he moaned resignedly. “Oh, how I know!”
As they were very sleepy, our younger children had not yet entered the conversation, but this event was strange enough to interest an exhausted Mitsumi. “So, Mommy,” she asked, “is Mikki going to be another sister, now?”
“No,” Keiko answered. “It was just for Hallowe’en and it seems the rest of the weekend.”
“Too bad!” Mitsumi rejoined. “He’s such a pretty girl! I might want my new sister to stay!”
So far, only one remained who had not yet offered an opinion on his older brother’s costume. “Whadya think, Gabe?” I asked.
“Please, don’t let my friends see ’im,” Gabriel pleaded. “I just don’t want ’em to think my big brother’s a sissy.”
“You’re not man enough to dress up like a girl, Gabe!”
“And just how does dressing up like a girl make anyone a man?” Gabriel retorted at his older brother.
“Well, a man does whatever he has to do,” Michael responded, “to get the job done.”
“And what job was this for?” his little brother counter-attacked.
Brothers will always spar with one other. But since Keiko and I didn’t care for physical violence, we insisted that any hand-to-hand conflict remain in their sensei’s dojo. So, Michael and Gabriel sparred verbally most of the time. And they were both good at it, with Gabriel being especially so, since he had to rise to his older brother’s larger vocabulary and higher conceptual level.
“I promised Dad that I wouldn’t miss my turn at acolyte but my space soldier costume wouldn’t fit under my cassock, so Akiko suggested this. And it worked. Dad didn’t even recognize me.”
“Which is why,” Akiko inserted, “he’ll be dressing like a girl all weekend. He’s a good brother who’s agreed to honor his promise to his sister.”
The smile on Michael’s face began to mutate into a grimace when she reminded him yet again of his fate for the weekend.
“Gotcha, Bro!” Gabriel announced, as a stream from his water pistol splashed Michael in the face. Then out of nowhere, a red vinyl purse at the end of a long matching shoulder strap suddenly swung over top of Gabriel and down onto his space soldier’s helmet as he tried unsuccessfully to dodge it.
“Even in a dress I can fight better than you!” Michael teased his brother.
“Boys!” I raised my voice. “Not in the Lord’s house!”
“Sorry, Dad,” Gabriel ’fessed up. “I went first. My fault.”
“No, Dad,” Michael replied. “I didn’t have to hit ’im back. He was just teasing and I got angry.”
Inside, I was both laughing at and relieved by their impromptu little comedy. Gabriel’s quick-witted jet of water in the face and Michael’s precision-timed response, swinging his purse in a perfectly aimed arc at his brother’s helmet, were classic farce. But both my sons had immediately taken responsibility for their acts of mischief.
“That’s all right! No harm, no foul!” I announced. I tried to hold as stern a countenance as possible. I didn’t want them to know how much fun that this was for me. Their creativity was no less appreciated by myself than was their repentance.
“Can we go home, now?” whined an especially sleepy Mitsumi.
“Listen up, everyone,” I announced. “We’re all too tired. Let’s stay here at the rectory tonight. It will be easier than all of us trying to get home at this hour.” It would likely be past two o’clock before we all were asleep in bed if we drove home. We used to live at the rectory and still kept the pantry stocked and ready just for such an occasion. Keiko knew we might sleep over and had asked Akiko to pack overnight bags for everyone.
When I knew that we’d be staying in the rectory for the night, I kindled and stoked the fire in the salon. Yes, we had a home in the suburbs for our own, but Keiko and I still liked the romance of the Victorian era rectory and the cozy salon with its fireplace. There aren’t that many perks in being a preacher’s wife, but the times that we spent together in that room were golden. It was, if I daresay, magical for us.
Spread out around the hearth were, two armchairs, each with an ottoman, a sofa, and a loveseat, all in the same matching style of upholstery.
On the loveseat, Akiko sat next to Michael while Mitsumi had lain cuddled across both her brother’s and sister’s laps, all three still in costume and asleep. Akiko’s hand rested softly on her little sister’s forehead and Michael’s arm was around his big sister’s shoulders.
Gabriel had his digital camera there with him, quietly preserving the scene.
I felt Keiko’s left hand on my right shoulder. My right hand found its shelf-like place to rest on her right hip.
“Mikki, I packed you a nightie with a matching panty,” as Akiko whispered in a giggle to her brother. “The set is in hot pink. I do hope you like the color!”
“You mean I have to sleep like a girl, too?” he asked, whining.
“All weekend. And I think you’re very brave for going through with it.”
Michael smiled. “Okay, Sis. Just remember, that I’m only doing this ’cause your my sister and I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
Smiling back, Akiko kissed her embarassed brother’s blushing cheek. “I know. And I appreciate it.”
Keiko was looking at one of Gabriel’s photographs from the previous evening. She handed it to me. “Our son makes such a pretty daughter, don’t you think?” she asked, her voice slightly subdued. A tear decorated her cheek as she smiled.
It was a photo of Akiko and Mikki letting their very sleepy sister Mitsumi lay across them on the loveseat. It touched me as surely as it had my wife. It spoke volumes about all our children, including Gabriel, not seen in the picture, because he had composed and captured the scene. This showed a very precocious photographic talent in our younger son.
“This is a photo to treasure. This may be the first photo made by all four of our kids, Honey,” I told her.
“But Gabriel’s not there,” Keiko objected, looking at me quizzically.
“He’s on the other side of the camera.” I replied.
“You mean that Gabriel composed and captured this scene?” Keiko inquired. “This level of composition is well beyond the skill of a normal boy his age.”
“Imagine our two boys… one a fashion photographer, the other his fashion model!” I chuckled. Playfully, my wife grabbed a throw pillow from the end of the sofa and hit me over the head with it as she giggled.
“Seriously,” I said, “we need to get Gabriel a teacher for photography.”
“Yes,” she answered. “He may have my grandfather’s eye for the camera. He was a very good photographer, you know!”
I looked at the photograph again. Everything in that picture, before and behind the camera showed the different ways our children had learned to love one another.
“Wake up, Mikki! Wake up!” Akiko gently shook her brother-newly-become-sister. “Time to get ready! Big day ahead!”
“Mm!” Michael thought and rolled over, caressing himself. “Wanna stay in bed. Mm! Feels good.”
Akiko grinned and giggled at her brother. She knew. Yes, she understood exactly what he was feeling. Michael was not rolling over in bed due to laziness. The way he had caressed himself signaled what she had thought might happen. Her brother had been seduced by one night of sleeping in lingérie. Putting satin sheets on his bed had also helped indulge Michael’s newly found girlish desires, a very nice touch, of which Akiko was quite proud.
“I know, Bro, but ya gotta get up!” she reiterated her wake-up call. “Rise and shine! Gotta put on your face and do your hair.”
“Uh?” Michael groaned. “Do I gotta?”
“Ya gotta! Time for a shower and all that,” Akiko confirmed as the sun slowly dawned in her brother’s mind. “I know you don’t wanna take your nightie off. You’ll always want to wear one to bed, now.”
“It’s not fair!” complained Michael—or now, Mikki. “Do girls’ undies always feel like this?”
Akiko just smiled.
“So, what’s all this called anyway?” Michael inquired.
“This general category of girls’ wear is lingérie. It includes underwear, sleepwear, and similar things that just make us feel pretty,” Akiko told him. “Your top is a camisole, also called a “cami,” and the bottoms are tap pants.
“Why does it feel this good?” he asked his sister.
“Because it’s all made of satin,” she explained. “I know just how you feel waking up, ’coz I feel the same way when I do.”
So Akiko smiled at herself. Christmas shopping for Michael just became so much easier.
Michael watched his sister intently as she finished applying the various cosmetics to his face. He could appreciate the focused expression on her face as she studied his, carefully choosing now the proper brush, then the correct stroke. It was the same look that Akiko had when doing homework or studying for a test. He then understood that she made the same effort getting dressed, making her face up, and styling her hair that she did to achieve academically.
“So that’s why you and your smart girlfriends always look so pretty,” Michael concluded aloud.
“Well, thanks!” Akiko beamed, but then dropping her voice added, “I think. Whatcha mean?”
“You’re as serious putting on makeup as you are doing your lessons,” her brother said. “You want an ‘A’ for turning me into a girl, don’t ya? Who’s grading?”
“Myself to start with,” she began. “Then there’s Mitsumi and Mom. And my girlfriends—the smart ones. And then the boys you run into—”
“Boys?”
“Yes. They’re the most important test. If they can’t tell you’re a boy, then I pass. If any hit on you, that’s extra credit!”
“Hit on me?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re cute and hot. If I were a lesbian I’d date you—except that you’re my brother!”
She turned him around to face the mirror again. He was speechless as his mouth dropped open.
“I’d date me, too!” Michael remarked in astonishment. “You do good work, Sis. You’ve fooled me and I know I’m a boy!”
“Thanks, Mikki!” Akiko offered him, giggling.
Michael—or rather Mikki—suddenly believed that he—or she—could really be hit on by a boy. He’d need to be careful.
“I’m still nervous about doing this, though.”
“That’s okay, Mikki. Relax and let yourself enjoy being a girl today. Our world is a little different from yours. Watch me and my girlfriends. Do what we do. Walk like us and talk like us and soon enough, you’ll be one of us! You look like any other pretty girl, so it’s only how you act that can give you away, now.”
“Now you tell me!”
“Oh ease up, Mikki! You’re my sister today,” Akiko assured him. “We gotta look out for each other.”
With that, they went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.
Gabriel carefully examined the images on the computer in the church office. He was mostly pleased with the photographs he had made of Akiko, Michael, and Mitsumi the night before. Their colorful costumes had been fun to work with. But he was especially proud of the photos of his siblings in the church salon.
When they had gathered in the salon they were all tired. Gabriel too had been fighting sleep. Nonetheless, when his little sister’s royal blue princess gown, his brother in the red and white jumper, and Akiko’s Red Cross nurse’s cap came together, he went to work. He caught the red, white, and blue flag of the Episcopal Church behind the loveseat at one angle and the Stars and Stripes in the background at another.
He was surprised, himself, at how interesting the photos looked when he had downloaded them. Indeed, he could barely remember taking the photos. He did recall, however, the complementing juxtaposition of colors and motifs that converged to form the pictures. Of course, Gabriel did not know at the time that he had made such creative judgements and perceived so many technical details of composition at the time. But in his own way, since he knew that he had a unique scene in front of him, he aimed the camera, framed the field of view, and took the shot.
He had printed out one photo for his mother, showing Mitsumi laying across Michael’s and Akiko’s laps. She had cried when she saw it. Although he didn’t think it was as good as his other photos of his siblings, his mother's reaction told him that she saw something more in it than he did. For some reason he felt uncomfortable about asking her, but she had always said that he could come to her about anything on his mind. Besides, that was the only way he could learn why that photo got such a strong response from her.
Maybe he should show his mother some of the other photos, too. He was trying to put a photo essay together for his art class. He had taken over a hundred photos just on Hallowe’en, and he still had time to do more. Then there were all the ones he had taken since Miss Martel had given them the assignment. He had hundreds of photos to choose from. But they had to tell a story.
But should he include the shots of his brother wearing the candy-striper uniform? If so, then how. They were some of his best work, but how would Michael feel? Gabriel himself felt uneasy about showing pictures of his brother dressed up like a girl, even if it were just a Hallowe’en costume. After all, he could get teased, too, if everyone thought of Michael as a sissy. He needed to ask his mother and his brother. He should probably ask everyone whose photos he took if it were all right to use their pictures.
Then he remembered that Michael had gone by the name “Mikki” in costume. It might help if he used that name instead of “Michael” or “Mike.” He certainly did look like a girl when he was in costume and in the photographs. No one would think that she was a boy! Gabriel smiled to himself as he made a few notes. He closed the three-ring binder that he used as a photo album, took it and his camera, then went to breakfast.
Stunned, Keiko covered her mouth with her hands as Akiko and Mikki entered the dining room.
“Do I have three daughters now?” she wondered aloud, not even aware that she had verbalized her thought for all to hear.
“Just for the weekend, Mom,” Michael answered, twirling around so that his mother could see the full effect. But since he was unaccustomed to high heels, he nearly stumbled. Fortunately, Akiko caught him before he either fell or injured himself.
“Well, I’m glad Mikki is still here for the weekend,” said Mitsumi. “I wish she could stay longer.”
“Really?” Akiko asked her for confirmation.
“Why can’t she?” Mitsumi asked. “I think she’s sweet!”
“Because your brother only promised to become a girl for the weekend,” Keiko told her youngest daughter. “Come Monday, ‘Mikki’ has to become ‘Michael’ again.”
“But I can still wish for it, can’t I?” Mitsumi pressed the issue. “I like having another sister. Then maybe we can dress Gabe up, too. Then we’d all be sisters!”
“Sorry, Sis, but I don’t wanna play,” Gabe responded to what he’d overheard just as he entered the dining room. “I can’t imagine any reason that I’d ever dress up like a girl.”
“I’m not surprised by that,” Mikki quipped. “You’re not man enough to do it!”
Keiko decided to intervene before her sons’ verbal sparring escalated. Usually, she’d let them continue until they had fully explored an exchange of wit. Most often, it would end with something humorous, with both Michael and Gabriel laughing themselves into a healthy truce. But she had a reason clearly in mind.
“Mikki, quiet down!” Keiko sternly addressed her older son. “That’s the kind of behavior that can get ‘Michael’ found out. A young lady needs to tease her brother more gently than that. Besides girls tease more to show affection than to compete with others.”
Actually, Keiko was amused that Michael, en femme to the hilt, had the effrontery to tease his more aggressive brother about manliness. This experiment of Akiko’s might already be helping Michael’s confidence.
After pausing a moment, everyone took their a seat at the table for breakfast. It had been set with the family’s usual choice of breakfast foods for everyone: grape, orange, and grapefruit juices; a very large platter of scrambled eggs with cheese and breakfast potatoes; whole wheat buttered toast and English muffins with a variety of jams; an array of jams, jellies, fruit preserves, and marmalades; and a pot of freshly brewed tea. [As a family, we preferred tea to coffee, mostly for cultural reasons.]
“Mikki, are you excited about spending your first full day as a girl?” Keiko asked her son-become-daughter.
“I’m not sure if I’m excited or just nervous,” Mikki answered, “but I’m kinda psyched up for it now.”
“Well, you’re very brave to spend the weekend as a girl,” their mother remarked.
“Mom, I think we’re going to have all kinds o’ fun today,” Akiko predicted. “I’ve already called my friends and they’re anxious to meet my new ‘sister.’ We’ll go shopping, then have lunch, see a movie, and maybe hang out at someone’s place after dinner.”
“That’s busy enough,” their mother observed. “Whose home do you think you’ll hang out at?”
“We don’t know yet, Mom,” Akiko admitted. “It depends on who all shows up and who has the biggest house. I’d like to invite them here, if it’s all right with you?”
“I’m sure you could get together here in the dining room or maybe in the parlor,” Keiko suggested.
“The parlor would be best if they wanna come here,” Akiko concluded with a sparkle in her eye. It’s more comfortable than in here. The dining table would really be in the way unless we only play board games. That won’t be what we’ll prob’ly do.”
Mitsumi then asked, “Could I have my friends over, too?”
“As big as the rectory is, I think you could,” their mother answered. “How many did you want to invite?”
“Just Sally and Lisa—and maybe Stephanie, if she wants to come,” Mitsumi answered.
“Akiko, how many more than you and Mikki?” Keiko asked.
“Jenny and ’Becca are certain, and Susan is a very likely third. There’s an outside chance that Lori might come, so that would be at least two and up to four besides Mikki and me.”
Gabriel wanted to get involved so he asked, “Mom, would it be okay for me to take some photos of them?”
“That’s really their choice, Gabe,” his mother told him. “It’s okay with me if you get their permission. And you must stop anytime they say so. Okay?”
“That’s fair,” Gabriel replied. “Could I get a few shots of Mikki?”
“Not just now, but maybe after breakfast,” Keiko suggested. “Mikki, how do you feel about that?” Are you willing to be photographed today?”
Mikki looked to Akiko, who nodded. Mitsumi also nodded, smiling. Gabriel’s face was pleading in hopeful expectation as well.
“What would you do with the pictures?” Mikki asked Gabriel. “Yesterday you said you didn’t want anyone knowing that I wore a dress for Hallowe’en. Are you going to keep them safe?”
“Well, Mom will want a few for the occasion, I’m sure,” explained Gabriel. His mother nodded slowly, grinning. “And I’m doing a photo essay for my project in art class.”
“For art class?” Mikki asked indignantly. “You want to display them?”
“You’re an interesting subject, Bro,” Gabriel answered. “It might be embarassing, but you do make a cute girl!”
Akiko and Mitsumi giggled.
“Mom, is that fair? He wants to take my picture even though he said he’s embarassed of me!” Mikki fumed. Akiko and Mitsumi were still giggling. Even their mother was smiling. It wasn’t the best behavior, but Mikki had expressed her near-tantrum in a very girlish style.
“Gabe, Mikki is right,” their mother said. “If you want to take her picture, then you need to be nicer to her.”
“Her? But she’s my brother!” objected Gabriel.
Keiko had to think a moment before fielding her son’s obvious objection.
“Gabe, while Michael is dressed as Mikki, she is your sister,” their mother explained. “You need to think of him as her, instead. This is like an experiment that she and Akiko are doing. And the truth, son, is that you might learn something if you tried doing it, yourself.”
Gabriel’s face turned ashen white, while Mitsumi, Akiko, and yes, Mikki, all giggled.
“See!” Mitsumi piped up. “You can be a girl, too! Please, Gabe!”
Gabriel bolted from the table and ran, feeling outnumbered. Whenever they would have these boy versus girl arguments, they had always been more evenly pitched. But now his brother had joined the opposing faction. Yet what Gabriel most resented was that his brother had become a pretty girl. Mikki did not look like a boy who had just thrown on a dress. Akiko had made his brother into an attractive girl. He looked really good as Mikki. He looked right. That’s why he wanted to use him—her—as a subject. Gabriel needed Mikki. He loved his brother and he liked Mikki, too. But he didn’t like Michael being Mikki.
I bumped into Gabe as I was coming into the dining room for breakfast. He looked frightened. As I heard giggling coming from inside, I had to wonder, what was up?
Keiko kissed me on arriving to breakfast. Then I noticed three “daughters” seated at the table. Mikki was there, keeping the promise that Michael had made for his bet with Akiko.
“Son, I see that you’re going through with it,” I remarked, smiling at Michael. “You’re a brave man.”
My two other more accustomed daughters giggled at my remark.
“Thanks, Dad, I think?” Mikki acknowledged. “I made a promise and I’m keeping it. And I’ve learned not to let Akiko sucker me into any more bets.”
“Dad, we’ve heard that before,” Akiko reminded her father. “And look at him—sorry—at her, now!”
“Yeah, Sis!” Mikki interjected. “Be more careful with the pronouns. I’ll be the one who pays if you mess up!”
“Well, Mikki,” Akiko replied, giggling, “you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
“Dad, I don’t think that’s quite fair, do you?” Mikki looked to me for a judgement. “It’s all on me if she blows it!”
“Akiko, Mikki does have a point,” I told my oldest daughter. “But off-hand, I can’t think of a mechanism to balance things if you let slip that Mikki’s your brother, unless you’re willing to release him from paying his wager, that is. Maybe your mom has an idea?”
I looked over at Keiko and she spoke up, “No, I think that Michael needs to remain as Mikki for the weekend. It’s a unique opportunity for him to learn about girls. For our son to experience a couple days as a girl will be a very positive lesson. I also think that he’s willing, since he’s already dressed up as her. Am I right, Mikki?”
“I promised Akiko that I’d do it, so I’m committed to being a girl for the weekend,” Mikki confirmed. “Besides, if I know my sister like I think I do, when Mom asked her to pack for us to stay here, she didn’t put a thread of my own clothes in my bag. Did you, Sis?”
She held her lips tightly closed, although I perceived a very slight raising of the corners of her mouth, as if Akiko couldn’t entirely suppress the grin. The blushing of her face functioned well as a truth indicator.
“Akiko, did you pack only girl’s clothing for your brother?” Keiko asked in disbelief. What would you have done if you had lost the bet? What would Michael have done?”
“Yeah, Sis,” Mikki asked, “what would you have done if I had won?”
“Mom, Dad,” Akiko began, “have you ever known Michael to win one of our bets?”
Keiko just shook her head while I chuckled and Mitsumi giggled.
“No. Never,” my wife conceded. “But still, how would you have dealt with it?”
“I would have very nicely asked my brother to dress up as Mikki again. And after yesterday, I know he would have.”
“But s’pose he acted like Gabe and got scared?” Mitsumi asked, entering the discussion. “Or even really mad?”
“Is that why he was running out when I came in?” I asked.
“Hai!” Keiko responded. “Mitsumi had expressed her wish that Gabe would dress up, too.”
“That way, we all could be sisters,” explained our youngest. “I was hoping he would. But I didn’t mean to tease him.”
“Honey,” my wife addressed me, “I had also suggested that it might be a good experience for Gabe, but for some reason, I think it really frightened him.”
“I’ll talk to him, then,” I volunteered to Keiko before redirecting the discussion back to its earlier topic. “So Akiko, what would you have done if your brother hadn’t gone along with your plan?”
“I had money with me so I could run down to the thrift shop and buy him a pair of jeans and a shirt,” Akiko answered. “But I still think that Michael would have gone along with it, wouldn’t he, Mikki?”
“Yesterday I had a good time being Mikki, both at the Hallowe’en party and at the Vigil,” confessed Michael. “Sis could have easily convinced me to continue, because I didn’t have anything special planned today. If I hadn’t dressed up like this, the day might have been a real drag.”
Keiko and I both laughed at that one, while Akiko groaned. Both our boys each had an impeccable sense of comic timing, and as Mikki, our son managed to make such an obvious cliché sound fresh and novel. Akiko had maintained a wry grin as she was about to swat Mikki in the back of the head, but stopped when she remembered all the work she had done styling her brother’s hair in a French braid.
“What’s so funny?” inquired a very bewildered Mitsumi.
“Honey, do you know what drag means?” Keiko asked her daughter.
“It means to pull something across the ground or the floor,” Mitsumi defined very simply, “or it can mean that something is boring and takes too long. Isn’t that what Mikki meant?”
“Well, yes,” Keiko began, “but it’s also used for a boy dressing up like a girl. That’s being in drag.”
“So there’s a word for it, then?” Mitsumi mused, trying to understand the meaning. “Can I say my brother’s cute in drag?”
“You most certainly can,” confirmed Akiko, “since it’s true! Mikki is quite pretty.”
“Thank you, ladies,” Mikki offered, acknowledging graciously her sisters’ support. “Mom, Dad, Akiko promised that this will be fun for me and she suggested that I enjoy it. Believe it or not, I think I’m looking forward to going out like this.”
Keiko then put another question as I continued with breakfast.
“So Mikki—or maybe this question is really for Michael—I’m not certain—but how comfortable are the clothes for you?—I mean their physical comfort for you?” she asked.
“Except for the shoes, they feel great!” Mikki answered. “The feeling’s very different—strange to be honest—but very nice, especially the underwear. The shoes are a definite challenge, though. I wore Akiko’s maryjanes yesterday and they were fine, but I just don’t get these heels!”
“Now you’re learning some of what we girls put up with to look pretty,” Akiko explained. “But in pantyhose and those pumps, your legs look great! And the pleated skirt shows them off really nice, too.”
“Seriously, Mikki,” Keiko advised, “your prettier than many girls your age, if not most. And Akiko, you’ve done well dressing her in good taste.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she acknowleged. “I wanted Mikki’s look to be fun and a little flirty, but still tasteful. She’ll prob’ly turn a few heads today, won’t you, Mikki?”
Mikki definitely blushed at that. Thinking back to the previous night, though, I recalled how I failed to recognize Michael in his feminine guise. Mikki had stood next to me, illuminating the Gospel with her candle while I read it. I had thought that she were just another of Akiko’s friends that I had yet to meet. And even looking right at him—or her—I saw a young teenage girl who had resembled Keiko at the same age, but not Michael. Then, when there was some confusion about where he was, he had been standing behind me, beside me, or even right in front of me. But never once did I suspect that Mikki was actually my son. This was not only because Akiko had costumed him and made him up so well, but also because Mikki was so attractive. She did not appear in the least to look like a boy in a dress. Instead, Mikki looked like any other cute teenage girl who was learning successfully how to groom herself for best effect. But taken out of the dress and cosmetics, Michael would still look like any other teenage boy.
Mitsumi piped up again. “Is she wearing a bra, too?” she asked, giggling. I was not surprised that Keiko giggled, too, at our youngest daughter’s naively innocent, yet impertinent question. But it did surprise me when Mikki joined in with his—her—own fit of the giggles.
“I let him choose one of my old training bras,” Akiko replied to Mitsumi’s question. “It was a nice satiny one in a very pretty blue with a matching panty.”
“I thought training bras are always white,” Mitsumi remarked. “Why blue? Is it Mikki’s favorite color?”
“Training bras can be any color,” Akiko informed her little sister. “But white is easily the most popular color for any kind of bra.”
“As for the color,” Mikki interjected her reply, “I wanted a blue bra because I’m a boy!”
Akiko giggled yet again as Mitsumi squealed in delight. Keiko and I laughed the hardest we had in a while.
I had been impressed at how easily Michael had accepted his sisters’ teasing. But now as Mikki, he was even teasing himself. This, too, was unexpected and I felt a small surge of fatherly pride. Here was my son dressed as a girl, but never had I been so sure of his growing maturity—and yes, manliness—as I was just then. Michael puts on a skirt and a blouse, pantyhose, and high heels—and he becomes a man! All this was just a little too perplexing for me to discuss at breakfast.
“We need to return to an earlier question, everyone,” I announced. “It’s not fair that the burden of this exercise fall entirely on Mikki if Akiko lets slip the secret, which she might easily do using the wrong name or prononun. Any ideas on how Akiko should compensate for such a slip-up?”
“She could pick up my chores for a week,” suggested Mikki.
“Too long,” protested Akiko. “You’re only dressing up for a weekend.”
“Yes, but for me the outcome’s much worse than you might think if the guys find out,” Mikki pressed her case.
“Mikki’s right,” Keiko pronounced her verdict. “Akiko, Michael’s assuming most, if not all, of the risk in spending the weekend as a girl. If the guys find out he’s gone out in drag, the embarassment he’d likely face would be much worse than any you’ve had before.”
“I haven’t really thought much about that,” admitted Akiko. “Is it that bad for a boy dressing up as a girl?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I confirmed, not yet wanting to tell her just how bad it could get. Too much was already in play, so this would not be the best moment to disabuse her innocence. “For a boy to do anything that his friends or other guys would think of as feminine or ‘sissy’ might have longer term results than a girl would expect. That’s why you need to appreciate your brother’s courage in paying off his bet to you this way.”
Akiko looked to her mother, as if hoping for dissent, but Keiko simply nodded, concurring with my explanation. As a father, I couldn’t count how often I had been blessed to have a pediatric nurse for my wife and the mother of my children. Keiko had not only the love for her family that a wife and mother must, but also the detached, objective mind of a scientist. She’s one of the few people in the world whose heart and head could—and would—constantly work in synch. That added to the touch of her delicately skilled hands made her the ideal nurse.
“How ’bout picking up my chores for three days, then?” Mikki adjusted her negotiating position. “Say, for a weekend including the Friday?”
“That would be fair,” Akiko conceded.
“It sounds like you two have reached your own agreement on it,” I observed. “What do you think, Keiko?”
“They’ve just shown a knack for fairness and compromise of their own. Even if could think of a better agreement, I’d still prefer to let their own stand. To me it seems fair and honest, but even more important they negotiated it themselves.”
Akiko and Mikki exchanged grins. They seemed to be competing for some citizenship award. This were likely a unique set of circumstances for the family, and certainly Akiko, Mikki, and even in her own way, Mitsumi were sensing and taking advantage of the situation. For some reason, this had been lost on Gabriel, so perhaps he needed some help or advice. I noticed that he had left his digital camera and his three-ring photo album on the table. I had to fight the urge to browse through the album or the memory card in his camera. But I wanted to respect his privacy. Besides, these items were a clue to another topic of discussion.
“Why did Gabriel have his camera and photo album at the table?” I wondered aloud.
Mitsumi spoke up first. “Gabe wants to take pictures of Mikki, Akiko, and their friends for his art project. He would have to display these in his art class. But he also said yesterday that he did not want his friends to find out Michael dressed up like a girl for Hallowe’en. I don’t think Mikki thought it made sense.”
Clearly, it was Mitsumi’s turn to shine. I was surprised by how succinct and lucid her statement was. Then, I wondered if it were so accurate as it was simple. So I addressed everyone else for confirmation. “Is what Mitsumi said the gist of what happened?”
All nodded.
“Anything to add, anyone?” I asked.
“Gabe ran out when I asked him to dress up with Mikki,” added Mitsumi. “I just thought it would be fun for all of us to be sisters today.”
“And as I mentioned earlier,” Keiko continued with her own detail, “that was in the context of what I had said just before, that it might be a learning experience for him. I don’t think he was angry—he was scared—and confused, I think. Maybe one of us should talk to him?”
Of course, Keiko had meant for herself or me to talk with Gabriel. We did not expect our little girl to be quite so vocal in resolving our issue with our younger son. But she was apparently taking responsibility that Gabriel had misunderstood what she had said.
“I can talk to him, Mom!” Mitsumi responded. “He thought I was teasing him, but I wasn’t. I really did want him to dress up like Mikki, so we could all be like sisters.”
Apparently, Mitsumi felt some guilt that expressing her desire had been the occasion for Gabriel’s flight. She did want to see both her brothers dressed as girls because, knowing my daughter, she really believed that it would make them happy as well as herself. And in her own little world, her reasoning was logical indeed. It just did not mesh well with her brother Gabriel’s world.
“Mitsumi, I’ll talk to him,” Keiko told her, “and if I think it will help, I’ll ask you to talk to him, too. But please, I need you to understand that this is not your fault. You simply told us your wish and that’s okay. If Gabe is upset about what you like, then he must deal with it, himself. What you wish for is your choice. You have that right!”
“But he seemed so upset. Why is he so scared of dressing up like a girl?” Mitsumi pressed for an explanation.
At that moment, Mikki spoke up. “Most boys are afraid of dressing up like girls. Gabe getting upset when you said you’d like him to is normal, really. Even though I’m doing it, I’m still a little scared.”
“Then how can you do it if you’re still afraid?” Mitsumi continued to press the discussion.
“That’s courage,” I said. “Sometimes we need to do things even when we’re afraid. Those who do it are brave or courageous. Sometimes courage is needed for silly things, like your brother deciding to dress like a young woman for a weekend. But it can also be for serious things, like the President signing a law that voters don’t like. It can even be for dangerous things, like charging into battle, or rescuing someone from a fire.”
“Is that why you said Mikki was brave?” she asked me.
“Yes, it is,” I said. “If his friends see him, they might not be nice to him. Or they might. He won’t know until after he’s done it. That’s why he’s still a little scared. Is that right Mikki?”
“That’s pretty much it,” Mikki confirmed. “If I knew that nothing could go wrong, then this would be much easier. But then, I might have problems doing it.”
“Then why are you doing it? You don’t have to,” added Mitsumi.
“Well, in a way, I do have to. I promised Akiko that I would if I lost a bet,” Mikki explained. “Keeping my word is very important.”
“Keeping his promise is very important to Michael and to me, too,” Akiko confirmed. “But this promise is really all for fun. I had fun dressing him up to become Mikki, and I hope he’ll have just as much fun going out to be Mikki. Even I’m scared that something might go wrong, but we won’t have fun unless we go and do it.”
“What bothers me about it all,” mused Mikki, “is why does it have to be such a big deal? They’re just clothes!”
“Yes, it’s not so big a deal,” I agreed with Mikki, “but you did admit to having some fear over it.”
“Yes,” she conceded, “but perhaps I made too big a deal of it, myself.”
The kids were really competing with each other today in citizenship. Now they’re admitting their own mistakes. Why is my son Michael in drag such a catalyst for virtue? I had not expected this, but I’d take it. Yet it was not just Michael’s behavior that got this discussion rolling, but Gabriel’s as well.
By that time, we had mostly finished breakfast, except that Gabriel’s was still on his plate, his scrambled eggs and toast now cold, and his grape juice untouched.
I turned to my wife. “Honey, I’ll send Gabriel back to take a few photos,” I said to her quietly. “After what you showed me earlier, I think we want him taking our pictures for family moments like this, even when he’s upset.”
Keiko smiled at me, then gently lowered her eyes in that distinctly Japanese manner that had won my heart so many years ago when we were teenagers ourselves. “I will talk to him later about this,” she said. “I need to hear exactly how he feels about all this. And Mitsumi seems to be afraid that she hurt him and may need to heal things up. It’s also possible that something else may be bothering him. If so, I need to find that out, too.”
“Okay,” I said to Keiko. “I’ll be in my study working on tomorrow’s sermon if you should need me for anything else. I will also offer to talk with Gabriel after you and Mitsumi have.”
With that, Keiko and I kissed, then I went to find Gabriel. He would most likely be in his old room on the second floor of the rectory, so I climbed the staircase. Surely enough, he was sitting on his bed, brooding.
“Hey there, son!” I greeted him. “We missed you at breakfast.”
“Oh! Really?” he challenged my statement. “I thought that only girls or women were welcome today. Did they let you eat?”
“Gabriel, it’s not that bad and you know it!” I said to him firmly. “Your mom wants to talk with you about it and so does Mitsumi. She didn’t mean to tease or upset you. But listen to her and let her explain her thinking to you. You don’t have to agree with her, but what you’re upset over may not be what you think. So, you do need to listen to her before making any judgements.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Gabriel apologized to me. “I really got scared. It seemed like I was the only guy in there and like they wanted to turn me into a girl, too. Why’s Michael doing this, anyway?”
“Son, it’s not that big a deal. And if you want to know that, ask your brother—or Mikki,” I said. “By the way after we saw the photo that you printed out for your mom this morning, we’re making you the family photographer. That was a brilliant picture you took of your sisters—and brother. We think you have a real talent with photography and your mother and I agree that we need to find you a good teacher. You should have a chance to explore it and develop it more. But for now, get back to the dining room. Your camera is still there and waiting for you to make it sing!”
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, cracking the first smile I’d seen on his face today. “I’ll be right down. I feel better, now.”
“I’ll be in my study most of the day,” I assured him. “So if you want to talk, look there first. And you can always talk to your mom or me when anything bothers you. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” he agreed as he started back downstairs, smiling with the usual spring in his step.
“Mom, would you warm up my breakfast for me?” asked Gabriel. “I’m sorry I let it get cold.”
Keiko smiled inwardly at her son’s request. Usually, she would not reheat breakfast, since her policy was that the family should eat together. However, the morning’s circumstances were unique. Besides, after returning, Gabriel did not even hint that he might be hungry, but he had gone right to work, acceding to their demand for an impromptu modeling session. Even Mikki, who at first had been wary of being photographed had quickly proven more photogenic than Michael had ever been. Indeed, she liked the camera and it loved her, especially with Gabriel wielding it.
“I’ll cook you a fresh omelette,” Keiko offered, “then we’ll talk.”
Since Gabriel’s “sisters” had all finished their breakfast, their mother addressed them. “Girls, I need to talk with Gabe alone. Mikki, you and Akiko should get going to meet up with your friends. Mitsumi, go call yours and invite them for later, okay?”
So Akiko and Mikki left together, while Mitsumi skipped her way out of the dining room. Keiko motioned for her son to come into the kitchen, so he brought his grape juice and cold plate with him as his mother cleared the remnants of breakfast from the dining room.
Gabriel sat down at the kitchen table.
“Mushroom and cheese omelette, Gabe?” Keiko asked her son as she turned on a burner and placed an omelette pan on the heat.
“That would be really nice, thank you,” he said pouring fresh milk on new corn flakes. “I’m guessing you wanna talk about what happened earlier?” Gabriel shoveled a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth.
“Mm-hmm,” she answered, tossing some butter into the pan. “Did the suggestion that you might learn something if you dressed up like a girl upset you?”
Gabriel did not want to admit that he was indeed frightened at the idea. But he also knew that if he did not answer the question truthfully, the discussion would go nowhere and his Mom could not help. Besides, he guessed that she already knew the truth about how he felt anyway. She was just too good at reading her kids for him to get away with anything.
“It’s not something that I wanna do,” he admitted as he continued eating his cornflakes. “I felt like the only boy here. Michael’s just so into being ‘Mikki’ that I didn’t think he’d back me up. I’m happy being a boy. I don’t wanna pretend to be a girl and I can’t believe my brother does. But that’s how I feel. I’m sorry if that upsets anyone, but that’s how I feel.”
“That’s all right, Gabe,” she assured him as she put some grated cheese into a small bowl. “Do you also remember that I said that you never need to apologize for how you feel. Your feelings are your own and you have the right to feel however you feel, although you must act on them responsibly.”
“That’s why I left the table,” Gabriel confessed. “I didn’t know what to think about it all and I was afraid that I might say something and hurt someone. And I was afraid that you might make me do it or that Mikki or someone might argue me into it.”
“Into what?” Keiko asked for clarification, although she knew exactly what he meant. She proceeded to slice some mushrooms and dropped them in the bowl with the cheese.
“Dressing up!” Gabriel answered, very nearly finished the cornflakes.
“Dressing up how?” she insisted as she cracked three eggs into a small mixing bowl and whisked them, adding a small amount of milk.
“Dressing up like a girl!” Gabriel raised his voice in fear and frustration. “Are you happy, now? You made me say it!”
Quickly, Keiko poured the mixture of milk and beaten eggs into the omelette pan. “You know why I do it, too, don’t you?”
“You made me say it as a way of making me face it,” explained Gabriel, almost as if a recitation. “I’m afraid of dressing up like a girl or being made to dress up like a girl.”
“Why?” asked his mother, tending the cooking omelette.
“Because if I did my friends and classmates might find out and start rumors and make fun of me and call me ugly names.”
“What else?” she continued to press his issues as she poured the grated Swiss chese and mushrooms into the cooking omelette. “Why are you really afraid of dressing up like a girl?”
“Because Michael is doing it,” he answered, but in a much quieter, very subdued tone. He had finished his cornflakes.
“And why does Michael dressing up like a girl make you afraid?” Keiko pressed her son even further as she folded the omelette she was still cooking for him. “Why?”
“Dammit, Mom!” cried Gabriel, his tears starting to flow. “He likes it! He likes dressing up and acting like a girl and being ‘Mikki’!”
“And how does that frighten you?” Keiko continued as she flipped the omelette in the pan.
“Because he’s my brother and we’re a lot alike,” he explained. “If he likes it that much then I might like it, too. And then I’d keep doing it and sooner or later, someone would find out, and then it would all get really complicated.”
He sighed as his mother slid the omelette onto a plate next to hot, fresh breakfast potatoes. “Wait a moment, now,” she said quietly. “When you make an omelette correctly, it continues to cook for a few moments even after it leaves the pan.”
Gabriel felt his mother’s arm embrace him around the shoulder. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, more tears bursting forth, “and not just for the omelette. I didn’t even know what I was really afraid of. How did you know?”
“Well, I didn’t,” she admitted. “Not exactly, anyway. But I knew that you needed me to push you, and if I pushed, then you’d tell me. And you did. So, now I know why you’re so upset about this. More important, you know why, too.”
“Mom, most of my classmates already think I’m a nerd. It comes with being a preacher’s kid,” he complained. “I just don’t wanna give ’m any more reasons to call me a ‘queer’ or a ‘sissy.’ ”
“Gabe, even if you did dress up like a girl, that wouldn’t mean you were gay,” she tried to reassure her son. “In fact most crossdressers are not gay and most gays do not crossdress.”
“No? Try telling the rest of the world that!”
Her son did have a point there. She knew the statistics, but Gabriel would have to navigate adolescence among peers who most likely did not care if they were ignorant of such facts or who would not dare contravene their peers otherwise. Moreover, she understood adolescent thinking well enough to know that a kid trying to make the same rational argument would likely earn such a label just for making the point. Thinking back to the peer pressure of her own adolescence, she understood that her son’s fears were, in his own context, quite rational.
“How do you know your brother likes dressing up?” Keiko asked him, placing a twin set of little salt and pepper mills on the table as he sampled a first bite of the omelette.
Gabriel picked up the small pepper mill and ground some fresh pepper onto his omelette. “Every time Michael’s ever had to get a photo taken, he’s always complained to me about it. Even when ‘Mikki’ thought that I’d be taking pictures today, he-or-she was not happy about it. But did you see how Mikki was acting while I took his-or-her photos? Mikki was modeling, I think. Michael’s never liked being photographed before, but Mikki was unhappy when we quit! So he seems different now.”
Keiko was uncertain how to respond, mainly because Gabriel had noticed the same aspects of Michael’s behavior as Mikki that she had. During the brief after-breakfast photo shoot, her normally shy and introverted son Michael had become her energetic, dynamic, and extroverted new daughter ‘Mikki.’ That Gabriel had observed the same behavior as she, did not surprise Keiko, although she certainly had not expected him to draw the same conclusion about Michael versus Mikki that she had. Apparently, Gabriel’s intellect was mature enough for him to understand the logic of his brother’s social and emotional change on becoming Mikki. But he also understood that the same sequence of cause and effect that gave rise to Michael’s behavior as Mikki might apply to him as well. Moreover, Gabriel had been able to extend this reasoning beyond the immediate situation to conclude logically how it might affect him well enough to be disturbed by it.
“Yes, Michael does seem to be enjoying this a little too much,” Gabriel’s mother agreed. “But that might be because it’s only for the weekend. He’ll become himself again Monday morning.”
“I hope so,” Gabriel mused. “But somehow I think that his world changed today. Maybe mine did, too.”
“How’s the omelette?” Gabriel’s mother asked him, sensing a need to redirect the conversation.
“It’s quite good, Mom,” he said, taking another bite of it.
“I think that Mitsumi was wishing that her world would change, today, in that very direction,” Keiko summarized her thoughts. “She was also hoping you’d join in it with her.”
“I know,” Gabriel confessed, “but I just couldn’t enter her world the way that she wanted me to.”
“She does want to talk to you, I think,” his mother advised. “Would that be okay with you? She may think that she hurt you.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk with her, if she wants. But she didn’t hurt my feelings or anything like that. She only mentioned something that I was already upset about. I can’t expect her to know it because until you dragged it out of me, I didn’t even know it. No, none of this was her fault,” Gabriel confirmed. “But I’m still not wearing a dress, though. I just can’t do that.”
Keiko smiled at how her son had applied reason to help maintain his younger sister’s innocence, at least in his own mind. Of all her children, Gabriel was the most like herself in that he was always trying trying to reconcile logical thought with his own depth of feeling. He had joined his head and heart to work together instinctively. Little wonder to her that he was so good with a digital camera.
“Not even to get more pictures for your art project?” Keiko asked her son.
“What?”
“Mikki and Akiko suggested it while you were out of the room,” his mother informed him. “As the price for their continued participation in your photo essay, they may ask you to undergo a makeover. Before you decide anything, remember that you need not only their consent, but also their cooperation even to get any more pictures of them.”
“Mom, this whole thing has really gotten out of hand!” complained Gabriel. “My photo essay is not just for fun. It’s for my art project. I’ll be getting a grade for it.”
“Hmm? I understand what you mean. But they do have the right to refuse to participate, so they can insist on whatever conditions they wish if you want them to be your models. Besides, if Akiko, her four girlfriends, and your brother newly converted to girlhood, all decide they wish to make you over, you might not be able to stop them.”
“Oh?” Gabriel worried audibly. “I hadn’t thought about that. But I really need to get the photos this weekend, so I can be putting them together next week.”
“When’s your project due?”
“A week from Monday.”
“As I understand it, you have a few options,” Keiko began exploring. “You could try negotiating something else with Mikki, Akiko, and friends, although if you fail to change their minds, they will give you that makeover, whether you want it or not.”
“You would let them?” Gabriel asked.
“Even if I forbid Mikki and Akiko to participate, I have no such authority over their friends,” reasoned his mother. “Besides, if they decide that is their price for getting their photos, you may have no choice but to pay it.”
“What else?”
“You could preëmpt any makeover by deciding to dress up yourself. They wouldn’t be expecting that,” Keiko suggested. “I could help choose something for you to wear and even help you get dressed and made up. And Mitsumi would be absolutely thrilled to help you. But I know you’re not interested in that.”
“No, I’m not. To me that’s not even an option.”
“It is an option, even if you dislike it or think it unsuitable. In that case, it becomes an option that you have rejected.”
“I need something else,” begged Gabriel. “I’m not going in drag to get my art project.”
“This is New York, Gabriel,” Keiko reminded her son. “There must be a million stories out there, one of them waiting to become the topic for your photo essay. You could go out looking for one.”
Gabriel considered that option more seriously. His mother was suggesting that he could avoid the Giggling Girls Gang by scouting for a new project. Also, Mom was telling him subtly that if he were still at home when they arrive, he would be forced into drag for that evening.
“I was really wanting to get more photos of Michael and Mikki,” he admitted. “It’s disappointing to get as far as I have with a project and not be able to finish.”
“Son, we don’t always get everything that we want in life. But again, you already know that,” Keiko reminded him. “Mikki and your sisters would all love to see you be a girl for this evening. And I’ll admit that I’m curious to see how you’d look as a daughter. But we’re not going to get our way because you’re not comfortable with doing it, whatever the reason. We have to respect your decision. Likewise, you must respect Mikki’s privacy. The price for her appearing in your photo essay is for you to become a girl tonight and to let Akiko and her friends make you over. Since you won’t pay her price, she won’t sell you the right to use her pictures. It looks like no one gets what they want here.”
“You wanna see me dressed up, too?” Gabriel asked his mother, surprised by her revelation.
Keiko smiled at her son. “Of course, I do!” she confessed. “I’d love to see if you’d be as cute a girl as your brother and sisters are. But it’s not so important to me that I’d try to force you to do it or punish you for not doing it. And even though I’d like to see you as a daughter, as a mother, I’m just as curious to see what other kind of photo essay you might do.”
“So, it’s really okay with you if I don’t wanna dress like a girl?” he asked his mother, the desperation fading from his voice.
“It’s okay by me, Gabe,” she confirmed. “I don’t expect my sons always to do the same things. Akiko and Mitsumi are very different. You and Michael also have always been different, even when you do things together. I want you to feel that it’s okay to be yourself.”
Keiko had managed to talk her son out of his immediate stress over the current situation. She would no more force Gabriel to dress up than she would forbid Michael from doing so.
“When you said that I might learn from it, I felt like you were going to push me into it.”
“I understand that, now, and I’m sorry for not thinking it through earlier,” his mother apologized. “I was too concerned that you have the same permission to explore girlhood as your brother. But instead, you also needed to know that you have permission not to explore it as well. You weren’t upset, really, by what Mitsumi said, but by what I said. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right, Mom,” he confirmed for her. “It seemed like everyone wanted me to be a girl today. I felt—well—outnumbered.”
“That sounds like a good description of what you were going through,” she agreed. “I had not thought of the context before saying what I did.”
Gabriel smiled back at his mother and nodded slightly, as he ate the last bite of the omelette.
“Speaking of context, take a look at these,” Gabriel said, opening his three-ring binder and pushing it toward her.
Keiko studied several photographs that her son had put inside protective cellophane pages after printing them on glossy paper. A picture of her three “daughters” with flags in the background drew her attention. She noticed how he had worked the colors and motifs together with their costumes and the flags in the church salon. There were a number of such photos, some with very obvious blendings of motifs and color, yet others done very, very subtly. She could discern in her son’s photos and eye for carefully chosen detail and experimentation with quite a range of angles and various backgrounds, framing the same subjects different ways. She thought back to her grandfather’s photography and what he had taught her about the camera and how to use it. And he had also taught Keiko about context in photography. She had not yet had a chance to share her grandfather’s art with Gabriel, but she wouldn’t likely need to. Such artistry was clearly evident in her son’s photography. Instead of teaching him these principles, she was using them already to understand his artwork.
“You have my grandfather’s eye for photography. And you have great instincts about how to use the camera,” Keiko told her son. “The photo of Mikki and your sisters that you printed for me this morning had your father and me discussing your obvious talent.”
“Oh?”
“Gabe, if you really like photography, we should find you a teacher. These pictures all look like they were taken by an older, more mature photographer. You have a natural talent with the camera that your father and I both wish to encourage. Of course, that’s still up to you.”
“I had fun taking pictures at the Hallowe’en and after church yesterday,” he admitted. “But why did you cry when I gave you that picture this morning?”
“Son, remember that we girls like to cry when we’re happy, not just when we’re sad.”
“So you cried because the photo made you happy?”
“Hai! You took the most loving photograph that I’ve seen, and I’ve seen many. Your father said it was a picture of all of our children.”
“But I’m not in it because I took it.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but you’re father noted that you were simply behind the camera instead of in front of it.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”
“You showed how much you love your brother and sisters in that picture as surely as if you were hugging them in the photo yourself,” Keiko explained to Gabriel. “You framed that scene to embrace them and you snapped the shutter as if to kiss them. That’s why I cried over the photograph.”
“Well, I don’t think I thought about all that when I took the photo.”
Keiko smiled at her son. “You didn’t have to,” she assured him. “It was already in your heart.”
“I guess that’s why they call it a ’loveseat’?” he mused. “Huh, Mom?”
She stepped right next to Gabriel’s chair and dropped to one knee. Keiko kissed her son delicately on the cheek. As if on cue, his tears began to flow once again. Then in what might be described as a moment of expected surprise, Gabriel reached around and hugged his mother.
It was a strong hug.
A manly hug.
“That’s okay, Gabe,” she said as his tears continued streaming lightly and gracefully. “A healthy boy always has just the right amount of girl that he needs inside himself.”
Gabriel sat back in the old armchair as he toyed with the various lens and other settings on his digital camera. Thus he could experiment with focus and lighting. He had completely blurred the focus then turned the camera toward the parlor door. A blurry figure unexpectedly entered the fuzzy field of view. He focused the lens until he saw a clear image of his sister, Mitsumi, strikingly mature yet somewhat comic pose.
Mitsumi had changed clothes since breakfast. Now she wore a delicate white turtleneck and a pleated gray twill miniskirt. She wore white stockings that extended a short distance above her knees, not quite teasing the hemline of her skirt, and a pair of supple, black ballet slippers with just single straps across their insteps. Over her turtle neck she wore a beautiful turquoise satin blouse, worn unbuttoned, and a gold chain with her cross and a matching bracelet. Her long, black hair she had pulled up and back into a classic ponytail, tied off with with a very large satin hairbow in royal blue, prominently displayed. She had applied just a bit of lipgloss and some eye makeup.
The overall effect of her clothing was quite sophisticated but the oversized hairbow and ballet shoes purposefully kept the look girlish enough for her own age instead of appearing too mature. The turquoise blouse over the white turtleneck was a very nice touch; Gabriel had a favorite turquoise flannel shirt that he often wore over a turtleneck in winter.
Her pose was a the same combination of sophistication and whimsy as her clothes. Mitsumi stood arms akimbo with her fists on her hips, cocking her head to the right, her eyes looking up to to her left, with her ponytail swinging as she struck the pose. The she bent her left leg at the knee at enough of an angle to fan the pleats of her skirt, and daintily stood her foot on tiptoe, taking advantage of the soft leather of her ballet slippers to stretch her foot into a beautiful curve, as if standing en pointe.
Gabriel awarded his sister’s careful modeling with the just as carefully composed use of his camera. He had risen from his seat and followed Mitsumi about the room, taking studied photographs of her each pose. Many standing, others sitting, yet a few on a sofa in a semi-reclining posture. Her facial expressions were great fun, ranging from whimsically cute to mockingly intense, just short of seriously brooding. That, after all, was Gabriel’s own look.
“Sis, you certainly enjoy modeling for me, don’t you? Gabriel remarked. “I have to say you’re doing a nice job.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” she said. “You know why I’m doing this, right?”
“Well, given the theme of the day,” he began, “you’re making one all-out attempt to entice me to wear a dress—”
“Or a skirt,” Mitsumi added. “I’m hoping that you’ll see how much fun I’m having and give in.”
“You’re making a valiant effort, Sis, “he conceded, “but I’m not giving in.”
“Too bad, but if you don’t wanna join in, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy all the fun for myself!”
Gabriel simply continued taking pictures of his little sister, quite impressed with how she portrayed various roles to the camera. Indeed, he wondered where his sister, four years younger than he, was getting her ideas. Her poses seemed fresh, as did her expressions. He would have expected more of Akiko’s influence.
Obviously, Mitsumi had picked up a few moves from her older sister (and maybe from her brother?), but most of what his little sister did came from somewhere else. Nonetheless, her moves, her poses, her expressions all seemed somehow familiar, although not so much in the look as in the feel.
As they continued their spontaneous modeling session, Gabriel himself was nonplussed by how easily he had begun to anticipate Mitsumi’s changing faces and poses. It felt almost as if they were his own.
He stopped.
As if?
They were his own!
“Mom! Please, come here! Now!” Gabriel yelled.
Mitsumi broke into a fit of giggles.
Keiko quickly came into the parlor. “What’s so urgent?” she asked him. Gabriel had been the one who yelled and she had recognized his voice.
“Sis, you have to show Mom what you we’re doing,” he declared. “Show her the pose you struck just before she came in.”
In a strange exercise of turnabout as fair play, Mitsumi blushed. Anxiously, she assumed the pose, but her face stayed silent.
“Mitsumi, that’s not enough,” I insisted. “Show Mom the facial expressions. I can show Mom the photos anyway.”
His sister slowly complied with his demands. As she did, Keiko covered her mouth with a hand and began to laugh. Mitsumi simply giggled.
“Son, she’s so got you down!” Gabriel’s mother told him, still laughing. “She has every nuance down cold!”
“Do I really look like that?” Gabriel wondered aloud.
“Mm-hmm,” his mother confirmed. Mitsumi just nodded, smiling mischievously. Standing next to her son, Keiko reached around his shoulder to give him a sideways hug. “I wondered what you’d look like as a daughter. But I hadn’t thought about how a daughter would look as you!”
“She’s put a lot of effort into trying to change my mind,” I acknowledged. “But I’m still not dressing up like a girl.”
“Well then, you need to talk to her,” Keiko told her son.
Keiko left them quietly in the parlor. Gabe knew that he had to talk to Mitsumi for her to accept his decision. This would not be comfortable for him because he had to talk about crossdressing, which he had discovered was a topic that embarassed him, and he had to let his sister down, which was always difficult for any reason.
Since Mitsumi was seated on the left end of the sofa, Gabriel sat on the right, then scooted closer to his sister.
“Sis, that was quite a show that you put on just now,” Gabriel said. “You’ve got some talent going for you.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” she acknowledged his compliment. “Do you think I could be a fashion model when I’m a grown-up?”
“Hmm?” her brother mused. “Maybe, although I think you’d be an even better actress. You might get bored with the fashion model’s lifestyle too fast.”
“Oh!” Mitsumi answered in surprise, “I never thought about that.”
“You see, a model would not have done what you just did,” Gabe explained. “You tried to show me what I’d look like as a girl. That was very creative and it was a lot of fun to watch, even if it was a little embarassing for me.”
“But you’re still not going to dress up for us, are you?”
“No, I’m not. It’s not something I can do for you,” he said. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. I can’t be who I’m not.”
“Mom always tells us to be ourself,” Mitsumi concurred with her brother. “Dad says it, too.”
“If I dressed up like a girl, then I wouldn’t be myself,” Gabriel told her. “Would you really want that?”
Mitsumi looked him in the eye and then looked away. “I just wanted you to be in my world today,” she replied quietly. “I hope you’re not mad at me, are you?”
“No. Not mad, but I was afraid.” he assured her. “And I’m happy because you wanted to include me in your world. It’s not your fault, not at all, that I can’t do it.”
“Well, I just like being a girl,” she affirmed, “and I hoped that you might like to be one, too.”
“Much obliged, Sis. That’s mighty kind of you,” he thanked her in his Western accent. Then he continued, “Didn’t-ch’ever think maybe I’m perfec’ly happy bein’ a boy?”
“How could anyone be happy as a boy?” Mitsumi inquired of Gabriel. “Now tell me how, really?”
“When we grow up, we gidda look at the prettiest gals!”
Mitsumi broke out in giggles at her brother’s silly imitation of a cowboy. Then she wrapped her arms around him in a very strong embrace, kissing him on the cheek. He could but return the hug.
“Well, partner,” Mitsumi said, exaggerating her brother’s Western accent, “then it’s best you git a-goin’ before the Powder Puff Posse rides in at sundown. They vowed that if you’re not outta town when they come back, they’re gonna put-choo in a frilly pink chiffon number and four-inch heels to make you go out for dinner with ’em! So Gabe, I guess I’d better help ya saddle up!”
“We really gotta git-choo into a proper cowgirl’s outfit, Sis!” Gabriel endorsed her role, smiling. “Would-ja like ’at?”
“I think I’d like ’at, Gabe,” she said, continuing her Western role.
“We’ll hafta git-choo one, then fer sure,” he confirmed.
It had been a crazy weekend for our family. Gabriel gently cradled his digital camera and set it down on the end table beside the armchair. He began looking at the pictures from the Hallowe’en party and All Saints’ Vigil in his binder. He noticed a big white satin hairbow also on the end table. It was the one that Michael had worn yesterday at the party and at church. Gabriel knew that his own life had changed that weekend. So had his brother’s.
He had his own momentos for the events of the weekend. Michael, or Mikki, would also need his, or her, own.
And Gabriel knew that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
©2010-2011, 2018 by Anam Chara
That very same All Saints’ Eve when I first met my son in his guise as a girl, an event significant to his life and ours happened halfway across the country, in Timberline Falls, a sleepy, small town in central Wisconsin. The event was a strange and brutal case of sexual assault.
In the course of more than twenty years of ministry, I have encountered quite a few souls who had been involved in sexual assaults, not only survivors but also perpetrators, as well as not a few members of law enforcement, most coming to me years, or even decades, later to seek counseling. A few of those cases had happened even before I was born. But in others, my assistance was requested almost immediately following the assault. Twice, the victims reported it to me first. They felt better going to the police after talking with me. But I don’t know whether that were because they trusted clergy more, or police less.
The most freightening cases of sexual assault, though, were not those in which I had assisted the survivors directly, but the few which my wife, Keiko, brought to my attention. She has aided rape victims in the emergency room as well as helped authorities to prepare a “rape kit” after an assault had been reported. Why were these cases so frightening? Because my wife is a pediatric nurse.
So as a man of the cloth, I am no stranger to the anguish and suffering that follows in the wake of this heinous sin and barbaric crime. And this experience has taught me, sadly, that every sexual assault is unique, and if in no other way, then it is unique to its victim. Therefore, I dislike characterizing any such case as “strangest” or “most brutal” or by any other superlatives. Yet the facts of the assaults in this case were so beyond belief that they would continue to stand out even if my son had not started a relationship with one of the survivors.
This was such a sordid case that I cannot write about it, myself, save in the abstract, as I have above. Instead I will include the following report from a local newspaper of the community in which these assaults occurred.
”•
The Timberline Falls
Courier-JournalTwo Charged in Double Rape
TIMBERLINE FALLS, WI, Nov 2 — Police arrested Charles Gilbert Roland, 47, of East Timber Valley, and a juvenile male as an accomplice, on various charges including aggravated sexual assault and kidnapping after a Halloween party yesterday. They are accused of raping two local female residents, one of whom is also a minor. Police arrested the suspects at the victims’ residence.
Sergeant Sigfried Hauser of the Timberline Falls Police said that neighbors had called 911 when they heard screaming from the victims’ house. Police arrived in answer to the 911 call and encountered resistance from Roland. Sgt. Hauser also said that Roland had threatened to kill all three hostages, including his alleged accomplice, and himself.
Chief of Police Douglas de l’Arpenteur called for a negotiator and a special weapons and tactics (SWAT) team from the Wisconsin State Police to assist in resolving the hostage situation. The standoff began sometime after midnight and continued until sunrise yesterday. The SWAT team stormed the residence when the glare of the morning sun apparently confused the fatigued Roland and he dropped his handgun.
According to the police report, both victims claimed that Roland had required them each to disrobe at gunpoint. They also said that he then proceeded to assault the adult victim. Next, they alleged that he held the gun to the head of the juvenile suspect and compelled him to assault the younger victim. She said that the juvenile had cried and asked her to forgive him.
Both victims have brought charges against Roland and the juvenile male. The alleged minor accomplice has also asked to bring his own charges against Roland.
Sgt. Hauser made both arrests himself.
The Courier-Journal does not name victims of sexual assaults without their prior written consent. Also, the Courier-Journal does not name minors accused of crimes unless and until convicted on such charges in an open hearing before a court of law.
”•
Two important facts were not stated in the newspapers report:
First, that one victim, identified only as a minor, was the daughter of the other.
Next, that the juvenile accomplice was Charles Roland’s own son.
After he had raped the first woman, Roland had forced his own son, at gunpoint, to rape her daughter. He claimed–
To hell with what he claimed! I cannot bear to repeat it. Suffice it to say that many, including Keiko and myself, now dwell in a feeling of such rage that our spiritual wellness suffers both person by person and as a community. And Keiko, myself, and our children had not even heard of Timberline Falls when it happened. We still resided in New York then.
When Keiko and I were to consider relocating to central Wisconsin shortly after the events of that weekend, we never imagined Timberline Falls to be anything but an idyllic, small midwestern town, maybe depicted a while ago in a painting by Norman Rockwell. As much as we loved New York, we had always worried about the safety of our kids there. Perhaps we were too eager to seize a dream?
Such violence of which I had read was not supposed to exist in an idyllic community like Timberline Falls. That's what we were supposed to escape by moving there. Or we had hoped that we might. When we did relocate to the town, this unhappy situation was already established, and we entered into it unaware of any recent local history.
That was what my son Michael found when we arrived. For he would meet and befriend the frightened, injured daughter of that wounded mother and, to both our joy and sorrow, do acts in compassion and show facts of love that shone more brightly and spoke far more eloquently than all my sermons ever preached on the topic.