CHERISHING MARY
By
Anne Gray
I wrote this one very quickly after watching the evening news and I think it has a different twist. I hope it is as kindly received as my first contribution.
Anne
CHERISHING MARY!
By
Anne Gray
“To love and to cherish,
As long as we both shall live?
I do.”
Life wasn’t fair, in fact sometimes it was downright hard to handle.
Mary and I had been married for just on thirty years and now I was looking at closets full of her clothes wondering what I would do without her.
At fifty-two I was alone because a stupid bastard had decided to drive home from a bar with a load on and T-boned Mary’s car. She never knew what hit her.
My tears had been shed until I thought none were left. The marriage had been productive but not with children; we were both too career orientated agreeing early that kids were not on the agenda. Naturally, that had upset both sets of parents but they were no longer around. After the funeral our circle of friends paid their condolences and went on with their own lives.
Between us Mary and I built a very profitable business but I lost interest without her. The negotiations for selling it had just wrapped up and I signed the contract a week ago. The proceeds, and the very large insurance settlement, meant there was more than enough money to keep me comfortable until I joined her again.
We had done everything together and shared everything. Well except for one thing I had never told my love. Why would I put my marriage in jeopardy for something locked away since she came into my life?
The two of us matched in more ways than one. I was just an inch or so taller except when she wore heels but I didn’t mind that she could look down at me. We were life partners and could give a damn about convention. The love we had was palpable.
After meeting and falling in love at university Mary and I married when we were both twenty-two. On the proverbial shoestring I gradually got a business idea off the ground and a year later Mary took over the selling part while I handled installations.
It got a bit rough at times but then things took off and by the time we were in our thirties Mary and I would arrive at the office each morning holding hands as husband and wife. After seven or eight hours as business partners, she guiding the large sales force and me supervising the crews, we left again the same way.
Early on we decided to fight the stress of developing the business by staying in good shape and joining a health club. One hour each weekday morning was spent there; consequently, even at fifty-two, there had been no middle age spread for either of us and our ideal weight was within a few pounds of each other.
Now, as I fingered the soft fabric of one of her dresses, I wondered how I could live with only memories. I had to keep part of Mary with me or lose my sanity.
Later that week I was again in one of the closets drinking in the oh so familiar scent of my wife. I had just finished a shower and padded, naked, back to the master bedroom to get dressed. I guess the subconscious took over and I found myself surrounded by her clothes.
Without even thinking I lifted one of Mary’s skirts off the rack and stepped into it. After sliding the silk lined tweed up to my waist I closed the back zip and fastened the button.
It was thirty-three years since I had last worn a skirt. That one was badly made and the wrong size, the result of a furtive grab at a thrift store. It looked so ridiculous I ended up purging everything in my collection. A few weeks later I met Mary.
This one was much nicer!
I hung it back up, grabbed my robe, and went down to the living room for a long think about what had just happened.
The experiments with cross dressing in my teens were something I could never really explain. I wasn’t gay but female clothes held some sort of attraction for me and felt right when I wore them. Balancing that was the fear of being found out. I had kept to my bedroom and the thought of going out dressed in public just never entered my head.
In the age before computers it was natural for me to think I was the only one to have such unnatural urges. After throwing out my meager collection, then meeting Mary, life became so busy and full of activity I was able to push that part of me into a tiny pocket in back of my head, there it had stayed, until now.
It was the early hours of the morning before I finally dragged myself up to bed to try and shut down my churning brain.
A few days later I just said the hell with it letting my business experience take over by making a ‘for and against’ list. That led to a ‘what needs to happen’ list and finally, after two weeks of research on the net, a ‘how to do it’ list.
The first item on each list was the same. Was it possible for Michael to pass as female?
Now was the time to find out then either work down the final list or shred them all.
First came a shave, including my sideburns, the rest of my very sparse blonde body hair could wait until after a decision was made. Then a shower before I stood beside our king sized bed where everything was laid out. Having watched Mary get dressed so often I called on those memories rather than the amateur fumblings of three decades ago.
One thing she had never needed to do was hide any equipment between her legs but I solved that problem with a panty girdle I’d found in the bottom of a drawer. Dark pantyhose covered the fact my legs were not shaved and then I picked up the bra.
Feeling a bit like a smart ass I had done up the small hooks and now slipped my arms through the straps pulling it down over my head to settle in place. The old standby, rolled up socks, went in the cups then the silk slip followed the bra down over my head.
After that I pulled on a long sleeved high necked sweater and, since it had started this whole thought process, the tweed skirt. Not only did everything seem to fit but it gave off the lingering scent of Mary. I think, even after dry cleaning, that would remain.
So far so good but I avoided looking in a mirror and would until everything was in place. The tweed jacket of the suit had four buttons down the front that pulled it in to fit around my waist.
The wig was not the colour of Mary’s hair; she had worn it to a company staff party a few years ago. But it was in her pageboy style and I settled it, by feel, on my head.
Using one of her small compact mirrors to apply some lipstick I nearly broke down and stopped to collect myself. I had last tasted that lipstick when I kissed her goodbye for the final time.
I didn’t bother with any other makeup. In the first place I wasn’t sure how to apply it and, in the second place, if everything else didn’t work, it wouldn’t help.
Shoes were a problem because my feet were a bit bigger than Mary’s but I managed to squeeze into a pair of black pumps with a two inch heel.
Now it was what they call the moment of truth.
The image in the full length mirror scared me because, as I turned back and forth looking at it, the female in the mirror matched my actions. True, the skirt was a bit baggy at the back and a pinch tight at the waist but the rest reflected a fifty year old, well dressed woman wearing Mary’s clothes.
I collapsed on the bed and cried. Cried for what I had lost and cried for what I had just found.
Chapter 2 —
A few days later I was flying across the country to San Francisco. As a businessman, after making a decision, I always moved deliberately to attain the desired result. Now I was going to work my way down the ‘how to do it’ list.
After checking in my hotel I phoned to confirm the appointment with the owner of a boutique called ‘Crossroads’. The Internet was an amazing resource and this place was highly recommended among the west coast transgender and transvestite community.
There were equally capable facilities close to home but, with what I had in mind, the fewer local contacts the better.
Clearing my wallet of any identification, I slipped a roll of bills in my pocket then walked the four or five blocks to the meeting with the owner, Gloria. She, or he I never did find out, was close to my age, which made things only slightly less embarrassing despite every effort to put me at ease.
Once in a private office my question was straightforward.
“I want to be able to pass occasionally as a women in my own age range. Can you help me do that and teach me what I need to know to carry it off? I don’t wish to attract attention, in fact, that is the last thing I want. This is to achieve the personal ability to satisfy a very real need.”
Gloria’s reaction was to remind me that I had agreed to pay for a one hour private consultation but, with my permission and at no additional cost, she would like to have one of her staff join us. I agreed and she left for a few moments returning with a man who was easily ten years younger than us.
“This is Tony and he is an expert, among other things, where hair is concerned. Please strip to your underpants and let him examine you.”
Fifteen minutes later he spoke for the first time.
“I would not recommend electrolysis for your beard; it could take at least a year of weekly treatments and I don’t think it necessary to go through that. It is quite light so starting with a close shave and a couple of tips we can provide, there is no reason why you should be concerned for periods over twelve hours or more before it would need attention.”
“Your body hair is no problem at all. Any readily available product, such as Nair, will work well. Just make sure you use a skin soother afterwards to avoid irritation. I must suggest, with respect, that at your age, you do not try shaving anything except your face. I can adjust your current haircut to be completely acceptable for a male yet one that, under a properly fitted wig, will be completely hidden.”
With that he left and Gloria spent the last of the hour not only assuring me I could pass but talking of breast forms, foundation garments and gaffs.
I paid for that hour and booked longer sessions for each of the next three days. That was the ultimate learning experience and I left with a new haircut and a great respect for their professionalism.
I flew home with a suitcase full of supplies, a seriously depleted roll of bills, and a direct e-mail address for Gloria who had agreed to reply to any problems or questions I ran into.
Our house was so full of memories I didn’t have the heart to sell it and yet could not have a female be seen going in and out without drawing unwelcome attention. This would be Michael’s home; my plan called for another and I decided on a condo’ apartment with a private entrance.
First though I had to practice and get comfortable with what had been learned on my trip. That could be done without leaving the house.
Tony had worked a little bit of magic with my eyebrows. Since I wore glasses but my female persona would wear contacts he had shaped them to look natural in either situation. The frame of the glasses covered up the slight feminine curve while I was Michael.
One of the things Gloria had insisted I buy was a pair of properly fitted shoes in my own size; they had two and a half inch heels and I was to begin wearing them immediately around the house. At the start thirty minutes was all I could handle but, gradually, worked up to longer periods without much discomfort.
For the first week or so I never even looked at Mary’s clothes. I wore the shoes and practiced the makeup techniques Gloria had shown me including wearing one of the wigs Tony fitted for me. The first few times I almost gave up because the look was nowhere close to what they achieved at the boutique.
“What am I doing wrong” was the gist of the message I e-mailed to Gloria with a head shot of my latest attempt?
The reply was concise. “Lighten up, you’re being too heavy handed!”
It worked and, with continued practice, I began to like what I saw in the mirror.
All of a sudden the makeup softened my features and blended into itself without leaving harsh contrasts in colour. Even the tiny wrinkles at the corners of my eyes were hardly noticeable. Eyebrow pencil darkened the arched blonde hairs to the same shade as the wig. That, along with a minimal amount of eye shadow and carefully applied lipstick in a muted shade of red, made my face undeniably feminine.
Pulling off the wig I cleaned my face; tomorrow would see the next item on the checklist scratched off. I didn’t need to check, it read:
Full dress rehearsal!
There was only one thought in my head the next day — Mary, please help me.
The body hair was gone without any problems, I had bathed using scented crystals and now, with the gaff and panties in place, was ready to get dressed.
Gloria had supplied and fitted the basic foundation garment. It was a one piece combination long line girdle and bra. There was a minimal amount of padding at the buttocks. I slipped my arms through the shoulder straps and then started to close the front zipper. Taking a deep breath I pulled it up past my waist to the top of the closure between the bra cups.
The tension only took about two inches off my waist but, as Gloria said, with the enhanced measurements around my chest and rear end, that was all that was needed. I popped in the breast forms, settling them in the cups the way I had been shown, then closed the satin flap to hide the zipper with several tiny hook and eye fastenings.
Very carefully I rolled the nylons up my legs and fastened the garters pulling them taut. I had practiced that before but could notice an almost sensual effect now the leg hair had gone. The satin slip literally slid over my head and in place with the bottom hem about four inches above my knees.
At this point I pulled on one of Mary’s silk kimonos and walked over to the dressing table. If this continued I would have to go out in public because I only had the one pair of shoes and not even slippers that fit, except Michael’s.
As I painted my fingernails it amazed me again how feminine such a simple thing made my hands look. When they were dry I worked at it until my makeup gave just the look I wanted then fitted the wig that was in Mary’s colour and combed it in place.
The pale green, long sleeved blouse buttoned in front and had a high collar with ruffles around the neck. More ruffles covered the buttons and were trimmed in dark green piping. The knee length A-line skirt was the same dark green and I tucked in the blouse then fastened the two inch wide belt snugly around my waist.
Slipping into the black pumps I added large button clip-on earrings that matched the skirt. Piercing my ears was not a decision I was ready to make yet. Eventually I might have to make another visit to Gloria for that and advice on how to handle the problem of my voice. Mary’s watch went on my left wrist and I took a hard look at the image in the full length mirror.
True, it was not Mary, but it was definitely a well dressed female who, if I passed her outside would not raise any questions in my mind.
I made a pot of tea and carried the tray though to the home theatre, setting it down on the side table next to Mary’s easy chair.
One of our favorite movies was already loaded and I made myself comfortable in the chair, even remembering to smooth my skirt as I sat down.
Slowly I removed the wedding band from my left hand and moved it over to my right. Mary’s rings slid on in its place. I dimmed the lights and thumbed the start button for the movie.
As the melody of the theme song filled the room I clasped my hands together in my lap so the rings were touching and whispered,
“Stay with me Mary and be part of me. Make it bearable for me - as time goes by!”
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CHERISHING MARY.
By
Anne Gray
Chapter 2
The movie was over, the tea was cold and I was almost content. Mary was here, but she wasn’t. I knew my love could never return but during the last couple of hours I had felt as close to her as if she was sitting with me.
There were no more tears to be shed. I had found a way to bring her close to me again. There was no rational explanation but none was needed. If dressing in her clothes could bolster my memories and ease my hurt then so be it.
Leaving the part cup of cold tea I poured myself a stiff drink and sat down again. It was no more than a few seconds after settling back in the chair when I realized I had smoothed my skirt under me without thinking.
There was no way what happened this evening, the almost agonizing beauty of what had happened in my head and in my heart, would survive if I tried to call on it everyday. That was just common sense. Just as anything good becomes diluted when overworked I had to find a happy medium or lose what I had just found.
Finishing the drink I went back upstairs and stripped off everything including the makeup. A quick shower and my hand hovered over the drawer with my pajamas then reached instead for one of Mary’s nightgowns.
Climbing into bed I was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of loneliness; there were still tears left.
God, I couldn’t do this by myself. I had to pull myself together. I had to talk to someone.
Gloria?
Four days later, after a series of e-mails, I flew west again.
I had booked a three hour evening session with the owner of ‘Crossroads’ and asked her to recommend a quiet place where we could have dinner. There had been some surprise at that request but, by early evening, we had settled into a booth and made small talk while ordering drinks and our meals.
She, I had given up wondering and just accepted her as female, wrapped both hands around the cocktail glass and raised an eyebrow as she looked at me. The unasked question was obvious and I started talking.
Pausing only while our meals were served and eating just as an excuse to gather my thoughts, I told her the whole story.
Gloria was silent through dessert and so deeply in thought that I held my own tongue.
“Michael, this is beyond me. I am very, very good at what I do but I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist. I want to help you but what you describe is, to me, a completely new reason for someone crossdressing.”
“Many of the clients I treat have, for obvious reasons, the need for medical advice and treatment. I have a colleague who is not just a medical doctor but also a councilor to the TS/TV community. Thank you for trusting me enough to reveal what is going on; now trust me again and go to see this doctor. If you don’t Michael what is happening could become a mishandled obsession or a crutch that will ruin the 20 or 25 plus years you have yet to live. Please!’
I knew I needed help and agreed.
Gloria pulled out a cell phone and walked away from the table only to return in a few minutes.
“I explained that I had a client with a unique problem who does not live in this part of the country; he has agreed to see you tomorrow morning.” She wrote down a name and address.
Without any feelings of embarrassment I repeated my story to the doctor and he listened, without comment, for the best part of thirty minutes. It was quiet for a few minutes then he spoke.
“Michael, I understand you do not live near here, is that correct?”
“Yes”
“I need to know where you do live and I’ll explain why. I am just one of several dozen in the medical profession who have set up a loose association to look after the needs of our transgender and transvestite community across the country. What you have told me is not something that can be resolved, or helped, without an in depth look at what is going on with you. I would like to refer you to someone within our network who you can meet with on a regular basis.”
He saw my hesitation.
“Michael — you are forgetting something in your need for keeping this private. I, and anyone I refer you to, are bound by professional doctor patient ethics; your secret is safe with us. You just have to trust us!”
I told him where I lived and he consulted a Rolodex then smiled and said I was in luck.
“If anyone can sort out what you need to do and how to handle it then Dr. West is the one with the experience and knowledge to help.”
Dr. West was a woman who, I guessed, had at least a couple of years on me. She spent our first fifteen minutes outlining her credentials and putting me at ease. Then Lianne, as I was asked to call her, settled back in her chair and asked me what was going on.
For the third time I outlined the happenings of the last few months that led up to my feelings of being swamped and overwhelmed.
When I finished she clasped her hands under her chin and just looked at me for a few moments.
“Michael, I’m not going to pull any punches, that would not do either of us any good. I am going to pose to you a very difficult question to think about before our next session.”
“You stopped cross dressing when you met Mary because you thought that if she found out you would lose her. Now she is gone and you have started dressing again. I’m sorry, Michael, but this is very critical to any progress we might make. Are you now exploring dressing again because Mary is gone and you can’t chase her away now or does it really help you to hold on to a part of her? You have to be brutally honest with yourself. Think about it and I will see you next week.”
Over the next few days I tore myself apart. The thinking behind Dr. West’s question was obvious. Was I using Mary’s loss as an excuse to start cross dressing again?
After five days of sleepless nights, half eaten meals and, maybe, too much to drink I again found myself leaning against the door of the walk-in closet. Staring at the hangers of clothes, the shoe racks along the floor and a few hats and purses on the shelf I closed my eyes and again tried to sort out my thoughts.
“I was thinking of my wife Dr. West. The happiness we had together, the almost scary way we could finish each other’s sentences or know what the other was thinking. The clothes were secondary but they are a means to an end. That end is staying connected with my love of the last thirty years — Mary. Does that answer your question?"
“Yes Michael, it does and well done. You know that question had to be answered first. Now for the next one, how far do you want to take the cross dressing? Are we talking full time perhaps where Michael disappears? You need to give me some parameters so I know what we are working towards. It might seem that I am making you do all the work but until I know your goals I can’t plan a course of action.”
“No, not full time or any where close to it. It’s hard to explain but I think I can almost feed off getting close to Mary to support me, as Michael, while I try to pull my life back together. I do want to be able to pass in public because I don’t want to be housebound when I’m dressed. What about one or two days every other week?”
“That’s hardly practical or feasible Michael. I’ve met very few in the TV community who can turn everything on and off like a light switch. The occasional professional impersonator might manage but I don’t think it is an option for you.”
You want to be able to ‘go public’ but not from your house so what did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking of buying a condo with a private entrance. I could move what was needed there from the house and set it up as a lease to my ‘sister’ who travels a great deal”
“I suggest you go ahead and find something suitable but that you lease it to maybe a distant cousin, not a sister. Once that is in place then perhaps plan on eventually spending one week a month dressed. But first I’m going to suggest, at the very least, you spend one complete month en femme until you feel comfortable. You have to find and develop your female character and get so used to it that it becomes second nature.”
“You’re going to need help to continue developing that feminine persona. Believe me it’s not just the clothes and makeup and, Michael, it is not something you can do by yourself.”
We knew I could not keep flying to the west coast so, after asking my permission, Lianne made a call to Gloria and flipped on the speakerphone so that we could have a three way conversation. I stayed out of things while she explained the situation. Gloria asked me few questions and confirmed what Dr. West had told her before she asked for a few days to think about our request.
Lianne suggested we call her again in a week when the next session was scheduled.
The next week was a busy one as I contacted agents setting the hunt for a condominium in motion. Entering Lianne’s office for our weekly session I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Gloria standing beside the doctor.
“Please come in and close the door Michael then I’ll explain. Gloria called me three days ago with an idea to help you and solve a problem she has. It’s a bit complicated so I asked her to fly in for this session and explain it to you herself. I hope you don’t think I have violated your trust.”
I walked over to the coffee tray thinking hard. “I consider Gloria a friend, even though I’ve only known her for a short time and she knows my story so no I am not upset. What’s the idea Gloria?”
“Thank you Michael. Like you I had someone close to me involved in a car accident several months ago. Unlike you it did not result in their death but is tragic none-the-less. Nancy has worked with me since I opened Crossroads as a makeup and hairdressing expert and became as close to me as a sister. She lost both her legs above the knee.”
The room was very quiet, as Gloria seemed to collect herself and then continued.
“The case is before the courts and her lawyers have already turned down a very large out of court settlement; they expect the final decision will be in the millions. That, however, will take time and Nancy needs desperately to occupy herself to take her mind off things a little bit.”
“My idea is that I will pay for Nancy to fly here if you will agree to arrange a place for her to live and provide a small weekly salary to tide her over. In return she will tutor you until you are completely comfortable passing in public.”
Dozens of questions tumbled around in my head. I looked at Lianne and she just nodded slightly.
“Have you talked to Nancy about this idea?”
“No, but I think she will agree. She’s going stir crazy confined to the wheelchair.”
“How old is she and is she married?”
“She’s in her mid forties and was divorced ten years ago.”
“She doesn’t have any ‘hang ups’ about cross dressers?”
“I told you she’s been with me at Crossroads for years.”
“Why is she still in a wheelchair and not fitted with prosthesis’s?”
“It’s an insurance thing. They are waiting for the court decision. It will force them to pay but, in the meantime, they are playing their usual delay at every turn game.”
I thought I heard a muttered ‘bastards’.
“Dr West?”
‘If I didn’t think the idea had merit I would not have invited Gloria to join us today Michael.”
“OK Gloria. Talk to Nancy and let me know immediately if she agrees because I’ll have to change my condo search for something that is wheelchair accessible. After that we need to get down to the details.”
Several very hectic weeks later I had purchased, not a condo, but a fairly secluded bungalow and arranged for a contractor to install the necessary ramps and grab bars. A couple of the inside doorways were widened and I bought some basic furniture. I also took out a short term lease on an SUV equipped with a chair lift
During this time I dressed one or two evenings each week and felt revitalized as I gradually emerged from what Dr. West had told me was an almost dangerous case of depression. The weekly sessions continued as she helped me understand what was going on inside my skull.
Finally, I moved most of Mary’s clothes to the bungalow and stocked in some groceries. Two days later Gloria arrived with Nancy.
She was a lovely pixie who had short hair that was an almost white blonde with a fringe that fell across her forehead drawing attention to the most amazing pair of blue eyes. There was sadness in those eyes, understandably, but they held mine firmly as we shook hands.
“Hello Michael I hear that we can maybe help each other; I hope so.”
I took them on a tour of the house and made some notes as they suggested things that were needed. Things like a dressing table with makeup mirrors and a full-length mirror that could be mounted on one of the doors. In the kitchen Nancy asked for a microwave because, when I was not around, the stove would not be practical for her to use.
After a couple of hours of chatting and discussing our plans Nancy glanced at Gloria and said, “I am quite comfortable with Michael and the set up here and I’m sure we will get along. If he feels the same way then let’s do it.”
Gloria looked at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
“I agree with Nancy so why don’t you head home and let us get to work.”
After she had left I took Nancy’s suitcases to her room and then went to a local second hand furniture store and arranged for them to deliver the dresser and mirror. The microwave and other things on the list went in my SUV and I headed back to make dinner.
As far as the other house I had arranged for a maid service to go in once a week while I was supposedly on a month long cruise. They would look after any problems and the security service would check it regularly.
Nancy and I had a quiet dinner and, although she handled the wheelchair easily enough, she promised to call me if she needed help with anything.
“Michael, in the morning we will start so please come to breakfast dressed as you think is appropriate and we will take it from there.”
I was up early and spent over an hour getting my makeup and hair done. Over the one piece body shaper I put on a slip that nearly reached my knees and then a crisp white high necked blouse and a rust coloured skirt and black pumps. Feeling a little bit proud of my efforts I followed the smell of coffee and said good morning to Nancy.
“I have a couple of questions. What do I call you is one? And the second is when was the last time you saw a woman making breakfast dressed like that and wearing 3” heels?”
I just sat down and stared at her then sipped on the coffee she slid in front of me.
“The secret to dressing, and being passable, is to look natural and as if you belong in any given situation. You are dressed for the office but you are in a kitchen. I want you to go and take off all the makeup except for the eyebrow pencil and a touch of lipstick. Then find something to wear that fits what I have just said.”
Wearing a simple sweater, a pair of slacks and flats I came back to finish my coffee.
“How about Marie? Your wife is a silent partner in this right? You are not attempting to bring her back by trying to be her so Mary is not an option. You are trying to explore your feminine side because it brings you closer to her memory; am I correct?”
“Yes and Marie would work because most of my identification is just with my initial M.”
“Marie it is then. Now one other thing before breakfast; I don’t think it is a good idea for you to always be wearing Mary’s clothes. For those special moments just between the two of you they are fine but day to day would diminish the effect.”
It only took a few moments for me to see that Nancy was right and I said so.
“Fine then go and find Michael and we’ll visit the department store in town. Gloria gave me your measurements so I know Marie’s sizes. Just help me around and I’ll pick out a basic wardrobe for her and then we will come back here and start again. Do I need to worry about a budget?”
I told her that, within reason, money was not a problem and then went to change.
The lift worked very well and once I had her chair locked in place she arranged her long skirt to drape down to the empty footrest.
It was four hours later, one of which had been spent enjoying a lunch in the store’s restaurant, when I helped her back in the house and unloaded an armful of packages. Another hour was spent moving Mary’s clothes into a spare room and taking off labels and tags before putting our purchases away.
“Now, pick out something suitable for a women making supper and say goodbye to Michael for a while.”
For the next five days Nancy never let up and we didn’t leave the house. One hour each morning I helped her through a set of exercises she had to do. Then I stayed close by the closed bathroom door in case she got in trouble bathing away the sweat.
She had me change clothes two or three times a day and do my makeup to match what I was wearing. Nancy would set out a situation or scenario such as lunch at a nice restaurant then spend ten or fifteen minutes critiquing me. Anytime we took a rest she handed me a magazine or a book to read out loud and practice a more feminine voice.
She was positive and supportive and, with the makeup, she always showed me my mistakes and how to match it to the outfit and situation. Very occasionally I got to wear flats but usually it was heels of varying heights and Nancy kept up a constant stream of advice until I could adjust my posture and steps almost automatically.
I must admit I was very glad that the stairs to the basement had a solid handrail because for a while she had me going up and down them in high heels.
“You will not always be faced with nice flat floors Marie” was her practical reasoning.
It was around one o’clock the next morning when I woke up trying to place the sounds I was hearing and, grabbing a dressing gown, went out in the hallway. The sounds were coming from Nancy’s bedroom and as I pushed open the door there was enough light for me to see her face down under the covers with a pillow wrapped around her head; she was trying to muffle the heartbreaking sobs that I heard.
I moved to stand beside the bed for a moment unsure what to do then it was obvious what was needed.
I sat on the side of the bed, pulled away the pillow and gathered her into my arms.
“Let it go Nancy, let it out. I’m here and my shoulder is all yours.”
For a moment she tried to pull away and I was afraid that she would be angry I had invaded her privacy, but then she just went limp and the sobs seemed to tear themselves from her throat. I just held her firmly but gently in my arms.
Gradually she calmed down and I got a facecloth and towel from the bathroom to wipe her face. Holding her again I stayed quiet and felt some of the tension leave her body.
It was barely a whisper. “It was watching you practice in those high heels today and I realized I would never wear them again; it all just caught up with me. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, you had me worried that’s why I came in your room; I’ll get back to my own unless you’d like a cup of tea or something.”
“No nothing but thank you Michael for being so caring.”
The next morning nothing was said but she gave me a light kiss on the cheek when I sat down with our coffee.
“Marie, you are doing very well so far but I don’t think you would be happy just yet going public. Am I right?”
There was no doubt that I had made a great deal of progress with Nancy’s guidance but, besides the obvious fear of going out for the first time, I knew she was reading me correctly. I just nodded.
“Well then I hope you don’t mind that we will be having a visitor this morning. No don’t look so scared; what day is it?”
I had to think.
“Oh God. Dr. West.”
It was her turn to nod.
“Are you all right having your weekly session with her here as Marie? I can call and change the plans if it is a problem.”
Lianne complimented me on my dress and makeup and we spent most of the session strolling in the garden. I told her what had happened the night before and was surprised at her reaction.
“Two hurt and lonely people comforting each other, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Do you think Mary would object?”
Did I?
“Mary was a very loving and compassionate person and she would not see anything wrong with what happened.”
“Then, Marie, think of this, if it had been you who died would you have wanted or expected Mary to live the rest of her life without human companionship? Don’t answer that now; let it simmer for a while. Nancy thinks you are doing really well and I wonder if you would aim at coming to my office next week as Marie for your official ‘coming out’?”
Nancy seemed to step up the pace of the lessons getting critical to a point where I started to have second thoughts. I had somehow believed that learning to be Marie would help me relax as I came to terms with why I was doing it but Nancy was picking me apart at every turn.
After three days the tension was getting unbearable and I was losing all the confidence I had gained. At lunch that day she kept up the constant stream of comments.
“You had breakfast this morning Marie so why are you shoveling food in as if you were starving. That’s hardly ladylike.”
I just looked at her trying to see if maybe she was joking; she wasn’t. I slammed down my knife and fork and left the table. Fifteen minutes later after a quick shower Michael was back and I headed for the front door of the house.
“Chickening out Marie?”
“No. I’m going out to probably get drunk while I try to figure out where the supportive teacher I was growing very fond of went and where the bitch came from who has replaced her.”
I had enough commonsense, despite my anger, to know diving into a bottle would not solve anything so two hours afterwards I was still nursing the large scotch I had ordered.
What had happened? Everything seemed to have been going along smoothly. Nancy and I had developed a great relationship being supportive of each other when it just seemed to fall apart. My cell phone buzzing broke into my thoughts.
“Michael, it’s Gloria. I’ve just spent a long time on the phone with Nancy and she is really upset.”
“So am I Gloria, so am I; I have no idea why she’s acting like she is.”
“I do Michael and I’m going to interfere because, while I like you, I love Nancy and you are both hurting. She’s scared Michael.”
“But I have never give her any reason to fear me, or Marie for that matter. I’ve treated her with the respect she deserves and, honestly if you must know, I was getting very comfortable with her around.”
“That’s what has scared her Michael. She’s feeling the same way. She told me she likes both Michael and Marie and that you were so gentle with her no matter how you were dressed. I’ll quote her ‘a cross dresser and a cripple what could that lead to. I know I hurt him but I had to push him away because I don’t think I can stand to be hurt anymore.’ Do you understand Michael?”
I downed the rest of my drink.
“Let me see if I can sort things out Gloria; I’ll stay in touch.”
She seemed so small huddled down in her wheelchair when I came into the living room.
“I’ve talked to Gloria.”
“Oh, when is she coming for me?”
I knelt down beside her chair.
“Nancy, I’m only going to be a cross dresser maybe five percent of the time but during that time I want to be very good at it. The rest of the time I’ll be Michael. You are not a cripple. You have your brain and the ability to use it. You have your beauty, your sensitivity and gentleness. That to me does not define a cripple. Now, I have three questions for you. What would you like Marie to wear while she makes our dinner? Would you help her with her makeup? Will you make sure she is ready to visit Dr. West next week?”
The light came back in her eyes.
“I have question for you Michael. Can we have a nice stiff drink together before we start again?”
We did.
Marie ‘came out’ beautifully even if I do say so myself. Full of confidence in a navy blue power suit, 3” chunky heels, hair and makeup just so, even the voice she used to announce herself to the receptionist was just a touch husky.
Michael moved back to his home and Marie visited Nancy for just a week or so each month but Michael visited a bit more often. Then, two months later, Nancy announced it was time for her to return to the west coast and they went out for dinner.
“Nancy. The first time I dressed I asked Mary to help make life bearable for me and I believe she has. Everything that happened after that led up to me meeting you. It is just too much of a coincidence not to have been meant to happen.”
I’d like to tell you that Nancy agreed!
I’d like to tell you that we got married and lived happily as Michael and Nancy.
I’d like to tell you that, every once in a while, Marie comes to visit but just for fun.
And I can because that’s what did happen!
Oh, and at our wedding, I saw Gloria and Lianne giving each other a big high five.
We had been set up!
The End!
With thanks to Kristinals who helped me ‘close the loop’ and get the story finished after going around in circles for weeks.