Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 1

Our state fair is a great state fair,
Don’t miss it; don’t even be late.
It’s dollars to doughnuts
That our state fair
Is the best state fair in our state!
–from State Fair, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II

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The Wilcox farm was typical of small-town American farmers. What had been a large mixed-type, with profits from grain, livestock, and dairy products, had dwindled down to primarily a specialized grain operation, with just enough livestock to feed the family with a bit for market as well. The dwindling down wasn’t due to poor management or operation; it was just the way of the world with single-family farmers. Squeezed between bankers’ reluctance to invest in small farmers, and the massive agri-businesses, with mega-farms able to field hundreds upon hundreds of combines, Frank and Marie Wilcox had actually done quite well for themselves, avoiding the trap of borrowing against the next harvest, which had proved the ruin of so many farm families.

There were several small towns scattered across the broad valley, towns that used to have distinctive flavors all their own but now seemed very much like one another. The town nearest the Wilcox farm was small but was still becoming homogenized into a copy of Everytown, USA, with a McDonald’s, of course, a small mall going up, and a Wal-Mart, with rumors of other chain stores coming in. The community was mostly white and Protestant, watched NASCAR and American Idol and thought Clint Eastwood was the Last Great American. There were very few social problems in terms of race or sexuality or politics, but there was a growing methamphetamine problem that was, sadly, all-too-typical of rural America. And every farmer anxiously watched the massive agri-business farm in the next valley, wondering when they would be swallowed up, their lands added to the giant conglomerate.

The Wilcox family was demographically typical; Dad, Mom, and two children, one of each. But there the demographic norms stopped. The ideal pattern for a farm family was to have a first-born son to help on the farm and to later inherit the farm, and a second-born daughter to help the mother with the domestic end of things. In the old days, the younger daughter would be married to the heir of a nearby farm, and the parents would work out the joining of the lands. It wasn’t a bad thing if the first-born was a girl; she wouldn’t get the farm but could babysit the younger male until he was strong enough to help his father in the fields. This was the basic pattern of life for farmers like the Wilcox family, with some exceptions in their case.

The exceptions were evident by the age of five. The first-born was Alice, a large girl at 9.3 pounds, strong and loud. Three years later Terence was born at 6.6 pounds, and the difference between them was marked by lots of crying and parental preferences. Alice had already spent three years being her father’s only child and would bully Terry, who would run to his mother and cling to her skirts. When Alice began kindergarten, Terry was able to spend all his time with his mother. There was a tremendous separation anxiety when it was Terry’s turn to start school.

There was only one school building for the elementary grades so both children went together, despite the age difference. Two curious facts occurred: Other children could sense that Terry was easily bullied by Alice; some bullied him themselves but most considered him beneath their notice. The other fact was that suddenly Alice made a turnaround and began protecting her little brother from any classmates that targeted him. Several times the Wilcox children came home and Mom made a fuss over Terry’s torn shirt while Dad was proud of Alice’s black eye.

Terry’s classmates had pretty much accepted him as a non-entity. He ate alone and read. He was bothered by not having friends, but didn’t know the first thing about making any. The problem was that he didn’t really understand the other boys in his class, and he wasn’t coordinated for sports. His father and big sister would play catch all the time, and Terry was dreadful at it. He had been given a baseball glove for his seventh birthday, and they played three-way catch …or tried to. His father actually said, “Come on; you throw like a girl!” which struck Terry as a silly statement, because Alice was throwing wonderfully and Dad even complimented how hard she threw. So Terry faked an injury and went to help his mother bake cookies.

It was Terry’s mother that he was happiest with, and he was proud to be helping her with the kitchen and housework. Alice was spending more time with her father and coming in just as dirty or oily as Dad; they’d clean up, laughing, while Terry and his mother would look at each other and roll their eyes.

The obvious difference between Alice and Terry didn’t go unnoticed by the parents; they spent many nights discussing ways to better adjust their children. Mom took Alice on girlish shopping trips for new dresses, to get her hair done, and so on. They degenerated into screaming matches. Alice would cross her arms and refuse to try anything on, and squirmed so much in the chair at the salon that the hairstylist gave up. It was an iron-clad rule that she wear dresses at Easter and Christmas, and looked so miserable that what should have been happy holidays were an ordeal. Dad took Terry out for clothes and bought him a dark blue suit and white shirt and tie; Terry stood silently as he tried things on. When they bought casual clothes, Terry would pull things from the rack only to have them put back by his father as ‘too loud’ or ‘not practical’.

This pattern continued until they were separated by middle school. Both had been good students but Alice’s grades slipped a bit, even requiring a parent-teacher conference at one point. Terry’s grades continued to be near the top of his class; he had so much time alone with his books that studying came easy. At home, both children performed the usual small farm chores before and after school. Alice was spending more time doing actual hard labor alongside Dad, something that pleased him very much. Terry did the lighter farm chores; since many hand-intensive chores had been replaced by some form of machine, a lot of his work was checking to make sure bins were full, hoppers were clear, and then pushing buttons. The rest of the time he worked alongside his mother, learning household chores. Mom told herself it was important that a man in the 21st century know how to cook and clean; she pointed to the Home Economics courses that were required for boys as well as girls in the high school, right along with Farm Management.

Middle school made further changes to Alice’s life. She was always tanned and robust and tall for a girl; she could run and play sports as fast and hard as any of the other boys, who accepted her as a peer. But one by one, the boys began changing towards her. Now she was a girl, and she had several fights with boys that had been her friends, as if beating them up would make them accept her. But the boys were looking at girls differently, and the girls were looking different, too. Most of them were sticks, straight up and down, but curves were starting, and the new bumps on their chests were fascinating to the boys. Alice had never been disgusted by the boys’ jokes, which were mostly gross, and she’d laugh as hard as they did at fart jokes. But now the boys were talking about ‘tits’ and ‘ass’ and ‘first base’ and it wasn’t baseball. Alice hated that kind of talk, but even more, she hated the talk from the girls; all she heard in the girls’ restrooms was about breasts and periods and–yuck!–which boy was cutest!

Alice’s departure into middle school left Terry alone in the elementary school, but he was safe. Years of having Alice as a protector had gotten bullies out of the habit of going after Terry, and being such a small town, there were almost no new kids added to the school system. Everybody that was their classmate stayed their classmate through the years; only in high school did several schools add children from three outlying towns. Terry ate alone and read, and there was a curious factor of a farming community: There were some ‘townies’, children whose parents owned a grocery store, or worked at Wal-Mart, but since the majority of the children worked on their family farms before and after school, Physical Education classes were an elective. It was deemed that the children expended enough physical energy during their routine days; several families had complained about their kids being exhausted performing their afternoon chores after PE classes.

So Terry never had to take a PE class. This meant that he never really learned the sports played by the other boys, and certainly never had a chance to get better at any of them. He didn’t mind; in fact, he was glad to reduce any time exposed to the other boys because he really didn’t understand what they were talking about. He didn’t know the sports terms they used, or the teams they rooted for, and the rest of the time they just talked about squashed animals on the road or told fart jokes.

Even if Terry had taken PE, however, there was one fact that was unavoidable: He was small. He was by far the shortest boy and was as short as all but the shortest of the girls. His arms and legs were thin, almost as thin as any of the girls’ rail-thin legs under their skirts; nobody could tell because he never wore shorts, although his thin arms were visible. His gestures were like his mother’s, with whom he spent the most time, as was his speech pattern in his high, light voice. Terry’s parents were called in for a parent-teacher conference, too, but unlike Alice’s, which was about her grades, Terry’s conference were about his ‘lack of socialization’. The teacher knew it would be too dangerous to come right out and say that Terry was effeminate, and it also bothered her because that wasn’t quite the right term. Terry wasn’t swishy or anything overt or flamboyant; he just wasn’t like any other boy. He worked well in groups that were formed for class projects, she told the parents, but stopped herself from saying that he worked better with the girls, almost as one of them.

There was something about Frank Wilcox that the teacher sensed that made her stay away from anything that might hint that his son was gay. And that was something else that troubled her; Terry didn’t seem gay; he wasn’t effeminate–he was feminine. Other than the fact that he wore boys’ clothing and had an ‘M’ next to his name, Terry was as feminine as most of the girls. No; that wasn’t quite right …he was no different than any of the girls. He worked well in the groups, as she’d told the parents, but many times he was giggling right alongside the girls. The teacher had even noted his hand would cover his mouth, fingers straight, as girls did. None of the children ever commented on it; they’d all grown up together and as one girl had said in passing, “That’s just Terry.” The end result of the conference was that nothing changed. Both parents were concerned and from time to time would ask Terry if he had any boys he wanted to invite over or go play with; he’d smile and shake his head and go back to his book or go back to folding the sheets or go back to stirring the cake mix.

Marie Wilcox was an excellent cook but had an absolute passion for canning. It was an economical farm skill, but some of her fondest memories were when she’d accompanied her mother to the State Fair and proudly watched as she won two blue ribbons for her preserves, and she wanted to pass on her skills to her daughter. Alice would come in and dutifully help her mother with the canning and Terry would go help his father. But as with shopping, Alice was bored and uninterested in the canning process. She was great at lifting heavy boxes of jars but it all seemed kind of trivial to her. Meanwhile, her brother would be out staring at his father in bewilderment as Dad went on about carburetors and coulters and other strange words. Both children had matured enough to not whine and complain; they were stoic in their unhappiness but dutiful at helping where they could.

But it was obvious that it wasn’t a good working situation, and by the time the kids were thirteen and ten, it had been decided that Alice wouldn’t have to do any canning; Terry was only too happy to help. However, the State Fair was nearly four hours’ drive away and impractical to commute. Frank only needed a day or two there to see what he wanted to see, but Marie needed to be there for the full week with her preserves in competition. For a few years they went as a family, the kids having fun on the midway, but even there the difference between them was obvious. Alice absolutely loved the thrill rides, grinning as she rode the roller coaster over and over again; once had been enough for Terry, who had shrieked with fear and afterwards felt queasy.

Midway games showed their differences, too; Alice loved throwing baseballs at milk bottles and shooting BB guns, while Terry liked the ring toss and fishing pole games. By the third year the family went, the division was acknowledged; Dad and Alice hit the rides while Mom and Terry toured the displays of handicrafts and household products. They’d all meet up later, walking along with snacks. Dad had a foot-long beer, Mom licked an ice cream cone, and both kids worked on cotton candy. The difference was that Alice would take large bites out of hers, while Terry held the cone and plucked bits of pink cotton candy with his fingers. Alice wound up with pink wisps on her face and in her hair; she’d be dragged into the Ladies’ by Mom, complaining that Mom should just let her cut her hair short. Meanwhile, Terry went into the Men’s restroom, his nose wrinkling at the stench, washed his hands and got out fast.

Hair became a difference by the time Terry entered the middle school as Alice was entering high school. Alice had finally convinced her mother to let her keep her hair short, parted in the middle and not reaching her collar; it was just long enough to tuck behind her ears. She often wore a baseball hat over her straight, dirty blonde hair. The school dress code allowed jeans for the girls, and other than the hated dresses for formal events, Alice wore jeans or dungarees exclusively.

Popular culture leaked into the farm community; the kids listened to country music or hard rock–nobody seemed to understand rap or hip-hop. Long-haired rock stars, as well as some country stars, were well-known and even high school kids on TV had long hair. Gradually the length of time between Terry’s haircuts grew. His hair was lighter than his sister’s and had a bit of a wave to it. He learned a lot about hair care just from listening to the girls at school; he always used conditioner–something Alice said she had no time for–and asked his mother to trim his split ends from time to time. Terry usually wore a low ponytail, like some of the other boys, keeping it together with a black elastic band.

The years passed with two notable changes. The first was that it was decided that Alice would accompany Mom to the State Fair for the entire week, since it was too far to drive. The whole family would drive up for the day, leaving the two females to stay at the Women’s Dormitory, and Terry and his father had a mostly silent drive back. During the week, Alice did the heavy lifting for Mom and other women, and rolled her eyes over the giggles and chatter of the other teenage girls in the dorm. When she could, she would haunt the midway and got to know several of the carnies.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Terry did the cooking for his father and did all the laundry at the end of the week so Mom would come home to fresh sheets. His father tried working alone the first year and despite his best efforts, the farm was too big for one man and things didn’t get done. The second year he hired a high school senior to help; they were in short supply since the boys of farm families had their own farms to attend to. Frank would take an enterprising ‘townie’, eager to earn money, although Frank would have to train him–as well as pay him–and had to train a new senior every year. Nevertheless, that was the routine for the next few years while Mom and Alice were at the fair.

At the end of the week, Terry and his father drove silently to retrieve Mom and Alice and listened to Mom telling Terry all about the other competitors and entries, chatting excitedly back and forth while Alice stayed silent, rolled her eyes, or shared looks with her father. But the third year, Mom came in second and now she was determined to continue; it was her dream to follow in her mother’s footsteps and win a blue ribbon.

The second notable change was no change at all. Frank and Marie had spent so many hours over the years discussing their children. They knew it wasn’t the normal arrangement with the daughter in the field and the boy in the house. They weren’t blind; they knew their daughter was masculine and their son was feminine …but they never came right out and said it. They never openly said that Alice was more like a boy and Terry was more like a girl. They were aware of it but just never admitted it. Instead, they accepted their children’s differences, mostly out of love and partly out of practicality. And partly out of ignorance, of course; they didn’t really discuss any possible future for their children other than working on the farm.

And they never discussed sexuality.

So things continued as they had been, as far as Frank and Marie were concerned.

But things were changing in Alice and Terry’s rooms. Alone in her room, Alice began exercising. She debated asking for a weight set but decided against it; she was afraid her mother would freak out and immediately put in her dresses. She would take stacks of books in each hand and do lifting exercises. She did squats and push-ups, and over months was gratified to see some muscular development. At the same time, she was dismayed that her body was betraying her. Around thirteen, her breasts began budding and she was disgusted–but not nearly as disgusted as when her first period occurred months later. There was no way to avoid telling Mom, who wrapped her in her arms and had tears of happiness. At first Mom mistook Alice’s tears for happiness but soon learned of her daughter’s misery every month. Fortunately, Alice’s periods were light and regular after the first few, and she had almost no pain or cramping. But the very reminder of being female distressed her, and she began exercising all the more.

Meanwhile in Terry’s room, there was a very different exercise going on. Terry had seen ballet on TV and was entranced by the grace of the dancers, and was impressed that both the male and female dancers could do splits. Terry began working on splits, even reading a book as he stretched. By the time he was eleven, Terry could do full splits. First he mastered the front split with either leg, then the side splits which he really liked, and then twisting splits within a year, where he could move from either type to the other. He studied a ballet book in the library, being too embarrassed to bring it home, and learned to pirouette. Terry had no illusions that he was going to be a dancer; he just thought that splits and pirouettes were something neat to do with one’s body. And if he was ever found out, he could reasonably point out that both males and females did them both.

While Alice’s body was growing and changing in the room next door, coming up to nearly six feet tall, Terry’s remained as it always had been. He crossed the five-foot barrier, barely. When he had a physical before entering middle school, the doctor told Mom that he was in the ‘lower percentile’ but growth spurts could happen at any time. But no growth spurt came–with one exception. Around twelve, Terry’s nipples hardened. His inquiries at the library led him to learn about ‘gynecomastia’, with the information telling him that it was not rare, it would go away, and to just live with it until it went away.

But as Terry lay under his covers at night, his fingertips lightly touching his nipples, he began wondering what if it didn’t go away? He did not have PE and didn’t go to the community pool or shower with boys so he was spared any ridicule. He was vaguely aware that Alice’s breasts were developing and that she was unhappy about it. He didn’t understand that; breasts were wonderful, so why would Alice be unhappy? It meant she was becoming a woman like Mom, and wasn’t that a fantastic thing to be? One night he wondered what it would be like if he were the girl instead of Alice, and it hit him like a lightning bolt–Alice should have been a boy, and Terry should have been a girl. How in the world had it taken him so long to see that? But, what was done was done, he thought sadly. He was a boy–he had the undeniable proof between his legs, however small it was–and he’d have to live with it.

Alice continued exercising secretly and lifting heavier and heavier loads while helping Dad, and was happy with that. She had no girls that she was friendly with but there were a couple of guys that were always good for a laugh or a pickup game of football. She wore a dress for Easter and Christmas, frowning. The family stopped going to church, because to Mom it was unthinkable to wear jeans into church, and the weekly fights with Alice about wearing a dress just wasn’t worth the agony. Alice did wear a dress to the funeral of a cousin; Terry had worn his suit and seeing the man in the coffin dressed up in a similar suit left an impression. Anytime Terry wore a suit, all he could think of was being stiff and cold like the corpse, so he didn’t mind not going to church because he didn’t have to wear the suit.

The only other time Alice had to wear a dress was her week-long misery with Mom at the State Fair. The first time she accompanied Mom, she was outraged to see other girls in the dorm wearing jeans, because her mother had only packed dresses. After that year, she wore one ‘good’ dress for the judging and awards ceremony. She loved her mother but hated the whole girly thing so much that she always looked unhappy and even odd in a dress. The rest of the time at the fair she wore jeans.

Things proceeded this way until Alice was nearly seventeen and Terry was thirteen. Alice would be starting her senior year and Terry would be moving into high school. For various reasons, Dad was having trouble lining up a high school boy to help out on the farm during the week that Alice would be gone with Mom to the State Fair. Alice had discovered a gift for machinery and Dad was relying on Alice more and more to keep the engines humming along. Meanwhile, Terry was enthusiastically helping his mother with the season’s canning, readying for the State Fair competition in August. As always, he was being fastidious with the produce in the jars, taking pains to match the exact same count of pickles, a carrot and a stick of celery in each.

“Terry, that looks marvelous! Where did you get the idea?” Mom asked.

“I saw it at last year’s fair. Remember the woman from Wisconsin, the one with the really rosy cheeks and that pretty blue and white dress?”

Mom laughed. “Oh, yes! You said she might be winning because she looked like an American flag!”

They laughed together. Then Mom said, “Oh, sweetheart; I wish you could be there with me. You’ve done such hard work and won’t be there to enjoy the fruits of your labors.”

Terry shrugged. “It’s alright. I mean, when Dad and I go back up we’ll get to see you get your blue ribbon!”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Mom laughed. “Still …you’d get so much more out of it than Alice.”

“I don’t mind Alice going,” Terry said automatically. “I understand.”

Dad came into the kitchen, washed his hands and got a pitcher of ice tea; he poured some into a thermos. “Thought I’d treat Alice to some ice tea,” he explained. He poured a single glass for himself and leaned against the sink, sipping, then set his glass down. “I heard what you said about not minding Alice going,” he frowned, looking at Terry, and then at Mom. “Alice can’t go to the fair this year. I can’t find anybody to replace her for the week. Plus she’s got the tractor apart and almost figured out the problem.”

Mom said, “But our exhibit is larger than ever this year! I’ve got to have Alice’s help; I can’t move it all by myself.”

Terry said, “Dad, I can …help you …”

All three of them knew it was a nice offer–but not doable.

Dad shook his head. “Thanks for that, Terry; I know you’re trying to help, but it’s your mother that needs the help more than me. You know, it would be better if you went instead of Alice. I’ve been thinking that, anyway, the last couple of years. After all, you did all that work, helping your mom.”

“But Terry can’t go, Frank, you know that!” Mom said. “Alice and I always stay in the Women’s Dorm; Terry can’t do that. Oh, unless you’re willing to pay for a hotel for the week?”

He shook his head. “That’s out of the question and you know it, Marie. You ought to just sneak him into the dorm with you!” He chuckled. “Oh, have you asked around any of your gal pals? One of them should be able to help you.”

“No; I already know what every one of them is doing and they don’t have the time. And before you ask, no, their daughters can’t go, either. Most of them aren’t interested. Only Terry is …” She paused, looking at Terry, and then back to Dad. “Maybe we can work something out where Alice isn’t gone as long?”

He shook his head. “Crazy growing season we’ve had, and now we’re behind on the tractor, and the fact that every boy I talked to has other work lined up. I’m sorry, Marie; Alice is staying here to work. If you can’t find a replacement, you’ll have to pass on the fair this year. Farm work pays the bills around here.”

With that, he drained his glass and set it on the counter, picked up the thermos and went back out.

Mom flopped into a kitchen chair; Terry stood next to her and put his hand on her shoulder for comfort. “I’m sorry, Mom. If I was able to do more to help Dad, you could have Alice with you.”

Mom placed her hand on Terry’s. “Thank you, dear. You’re such a sweetheart. And your father’s right; it should be you that …” She drifted off, thinking.

Terry left her and went to the sink, rinsing his father’s glass and putting it in the dishwasher. He was folding a hand towel when he felt his mother looking at him. “Uh …what?” he asked.

Slowly, Mom asked, “Terry …I think I have a solution–for both of us. I think that we …” She stood and extended a hand. “Come with me, Terry.”

Terry took her hand and they went into Alice’s room, to her closet. “Where did she put the …here it is,” Mom said, taking a blue dress from the back. She turned towards Terry, still holding the dress.

Terry’s eyes widened. “Uh …Mom? Are you thinking of …” He didn’t know how to phrase it.

“I’m thinking of a replacement for Alice for this year’s State Fair. I’m thinking of the replacement being someone who deserves to be there.” She paused. “Yes, Terry; I’m thinking of you masquerading as a girl and going to the fair with me.”

“But that would mean staying in the Women’s Dorm!” Terry cried.

“That’s right,” Mom said. “But I noticed that it wasn’t the masquerade that you objected to first, only the dorm.”

“Yes, well …but …” Terry felt he was sputtering. “That, of course …”

As gently as she could, Mom said, “Terry? I think it’s time that you and I both tell the absolute truth to each other. I know you deserve it from me, and I think I deserve it from you, too. Don’t you think so?”

Her voice had a calming effect. “Yes, Mom; I …I always tell you the truth.”

“The absolute truth, Terry,” Mom said seriously. “And the whole truth.”

“Yes, Mother,” Terry said, as he did in serious situations.

Mom sat on the edge of the bed, laying the dress to her left, and patted the right side next to her. “Come sit with me, Terry.” Once Terry did so, Mom took one of his hands. “Terry, sweetheart …I’m just going to come right out and say this. You’ve always been much more …acted more like a girl than …well, than your sister does.”

Terry nodded, eyes downcast.

“And I think sometimes, that …deep down …you feel more like a girl than your sister does?”

Terry swallowed hard and nodded.

“Tell you what; maybe I’m crazy but I think this can be something special, for both of us. If you try being a girl for me, for the fair, you’ll be able to find out …well …if it’s more than just sometimes feeling like one, you know?”

“And you can compete this year. Oh, Mom! I know you’ll win!” Terry smiled.

“Thank you, sweetheart. But think about it for a moment. Oh, you’ll say, ‘But I’m a boy!’ but let’s just set that one thought aside and look at the situation we’re in. The farm, your father needing Alice with him–and let’s face it, Alice wants to work with him–and you doing the work for my exhibit and you’ve never gotten to go for the full week. Never gotten to hear all the compliments about your hard work. And, finally, that you’re …you’ll have an opportunity to find out about yourself. Or even just have an adventure.”

Terry swallowed again. “When you say it like that, I …um …okay …” His voice got smaller and smaller.

“Sweetheart, you’re trembling!” Mom marveled, and hugged Terry tightly. “Alright. We won’t see your father and sister for another four hours. I want you to put yourself in my hands. You have to trust me, Terry.”

“I do, Mom,” Terry nodded. “Um …what do you want me to do?”

“Remember, it’s just you and me, right?” She nodded, Terry nodding along with her. “So, please take off all of your clothes.”

“My …” Terry gasped. Then, he unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them and then unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him in a baggy t-shirt and briefs.

Meanwhile, Mom had gone to the bureau and was going through the drawers. “Where did that girl put …ah!”she cried with triumph, holding a package. “And never even opened! Honestly, that girl …” She trailed off and then waved a hand. “Never mind. Works all the better for us.” She went back through another drawer and then chuckled. “Two for two!”

She came back to the bed with two unopened packages, one of bras and one of panties, in assorted colors. She looked with dismay at Terry. “Oh, Terry–I’m sorry; I meant everything off.”

“Everything?” Terry gulped.

Mom smiled. “Yes; we’re fortunate that your sister didn’t open these; they can be yours now, right from the start.”

“The start?” Terry said dumbly.

“Oh, honey; I know you’re freaked out about this, but enter into the fun of it, okay? I said ‘masquerade’ a little while ago? You know, like Halloween?” She got a feeble nod from Terry. “Alright, then. So, off with the tightie-whities.” She tried to make it sound jovial.

Terry bent over and stepped out of the briefs; Mom busied herself opening the package and handed him a pair of yellow panties, briefs actually, trying to obviously not be looking. Terry took them and quickly pulled them up and stood before his mother. They were a little baggy.

Mom started to say, “And the …” Then she frowned. She had been expecting the bulge of Terry’s genitals to be visible through the thin cotton. Instead, even allowing for the baggy panties, he presented a smooth front. “Terry …sweetheart …” she said, concerned.

“Yes, Mom?” Terry asked, automatically covering his crotch with one hand while trying to pull the bottom of his t-shirt down to cover, too.

“Sweetheart, I think I …” Mom pursed her lips. “I’ll just have to come right out and say this. I’m not seeing …” She cleared her throat and more forcefully, said, “I’m not seeing your penis.”

Terry blushed crimson and shook his head.

Mom said, “Terry …I would like you to lower your panties, please.”

Terry was reluctant, but was startled by the phrase ‘your panties’ and hooked his thumbs in the sides and pulled them down, keeping his legs together. His mother stared at his crotch.

“Mother, I can explain …” he began, and then started crying.

Without thinking, Mom took two steps and hugged him. “It’s alright, sweetie. I’m here. You’re safe.” She patted Terry until he was under control. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Terry said, “Well, when I started working on splits, I–”

Mom held up a hand. “Sorry; I think I misunderstood. Did you say splits?”

He nodded. “I saw dancers on TV a couple of years ago and I thought it was wonderful. So I started …every night before I go to bed I practice. I’ve gotten pretty good. But it hurt, you know?”

“I’ve heard that,” Mom nodded. “I never could do them, myself, but my girlfriends all told me how much it hurt to learn how to do them.” She paused.

Terry said, “Well, it hurt, yeah, but, I kept at it.”

“You mean you can do a split?” Mom asked, incredulous.

“Can I …May I pull up my …my panties?” Terry asked sheepishly.

“Yes, of course,” Mom smiled, confused.

Terry said, “I just found it was easier to …tuck myself–my …penis–back between my legs when I do ‘em. And just sort of …kept it that way. That’s why you didn’t see it.”

Mom startled at that admission but decided to try keeping things light. She tried a playfully challenging tone. “Well, then …let’s see how far down you can go.”

To her utter amazement, Terry raised both hands up in the air and slowly, gracefully, slid down into full front splits, his right leg in front. Then he twisted to center, with perfect side splits, and leaned forward until his chest was fully on the floor, arms on the floor parallel to his legs. Then he raised his head and perched his chin on his palm, with his elbow on the floor. Mom stared.

“I don’t …I’m absolutely amazed …” Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Terry, that’s fantastic! How did you …how long did you …you said two years?”

Terry nodded, pleased that he’d surprised her. “I’m not a dancer or anything; I just thought they would be neat to learn.” Gracefully, he sat up and swung his legs under him and stood.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” Mom said. “What a delightful surprise!” She frowned. “But …I’ve heard boys …well, don’t your testicles get in the way? I’ve heard that can be painful …”

Terry blushed again. “Mom, my testicles …haven’t …”

Mom understood immediately. “You mean they haven’t dropped yet?”

Terry shook his head slowly, still blushing

Mom pursed her lips. “When was …when did we see Dr. Curtis last?”

“Just before school. When I started middle school, I mean.”

She remembered now; he’d said something about Terry being in the lowest percentile for development but that things should start developing …

Apparently, they hadn’t.

Mom sighed deeply. “Well, we can talk about all that some other time.” She tried to be casual and bustling. “Well, let’s move forward. Now, I know the panties feel different from your briefs, but you’ll get used to them. And you’ll get used to this, too, but I need you to have an open mind.” She opened the package of bras and found the matching yellow and extracted it. “You see, a girl your age will already be developing, and to help things fit right, you should …” She trailed off.

Terry was staring at the bra.

Mom laughed. “Oh, Terry; it’s not going to bite you! Yes, it’s something completely new, but please, please keep an open mind and try this on for me, please? Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

Terry took the bra from her and held it out, still staring at it, his face unreadable.

Mom decided to be matter-of-fact about it. “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Just go ahead and try it on! Oh, take your t-shirt off first, silly!” She grinned to show she was teasing.

Terry slowly set the bra back on the bed, looked at his mother, and took the bottom of his t-shirt in his hands. He frowned, then sighed. In one fluid motion, he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Mom was surprised to see there was a second t-shirt underneath. Terry turned his back quickly and reached down to the bottom, but before he’d turned Mom had a glance at the front of the shirt. It was a t-shirt she’d bought for Terry five years ago at the State Fair. Even from the back she could tell it was impossibly small; the sleeves had been cut off but came up high under his arms and the t-shirt hugged like a second skin, curving in to …

Curving into his waist? And his hips were wider?

Before Mom could think about that, Terry pulled it off, leaving a red band around his tummy. He clutched the shirt to his chest and slowly turned around to face her. He was blushing furiously and something was odd with his breathing.

His mother smiled encouragingly and nodded towards the shirt. Terry seemed reluctant for some reason, but then sighed again and tossed it onto the bed.

Mom gasped, her hand to her mouth.

On Terry’s creamy smooth and hairless chest were two breasts. Small, yes; but they were round and topped with rosy nipples. They were more than mounds; they were undeniably perky …they were breasts.

Mom’s mouth worked poorly. “What did …how did you …are you …taking anything …”

Terry shook his head slowly, his eyes wide. “No, Mother. They just …grew.”

“But …but how?”

Terry shrugged. “A little after my birthday–a year ago, I mean–my …nipples got kind of hard and then …” He shrugged again.

Mom nodded slowly, her mouth dry. “Yes, I’m …familiar with the process.” She shook herself. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I looked it up at the library. It’s called gyneco …mastia, I think it’s pronounced. I looked it up,” he said again. “It was just like what Dr. Curtis said. Some guys get it and it just goes away naturally.” He paused. “And doctor visits cost, so we could save the money. I didn’t want you to freak out over nothing, when they went away.”

Mom said, “Believe it or not, I’ve heard of that. And you said it was …about a year and half ago they started?” Terry nodded. Mom looked him in the eyes. “Terry, they should be gone already, or at least smaller. And why didn’t anybody …oh, that’s right; you don’t have PE.”

“No.”

There was something in his tone, and in his stance, and Mom said softly, “You like having them, don’t you?” Before he could answer, she said, “They feel wonderful, don’t they?”

Slowly, Terry nodded.

Even more softly, Mom said, “And they’re so pretty, aren’t they?”

Terry gulped and then nodded quickly.

Something else occurred to her. As gently as she could, Mom said quietly, “And they’re like mine, aren’t they?”

It was too much for Terry; a sob escaped him and he threw himself into his mother’s arms. Mom had the disconcerting sensation of feeling her son’s breasts against hers. They hugged quietly until Terry’s sobs subsided. He’d started mumbling, “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry …”

Mom patted his back and whispered ‘Shush, it’s alright, honey’ until Terry’s cries ended.

Mom held Terry at arms’ length and then tilted her head, grinning. “I think we both want to see how that bra fits now, don’t we?”

Terry blushed and nodded quickly.

Mom picked it up and held it up for Terry to put his arms through the straps, and she fastened the clasp in front. “Your sister hates bras and especially hates the clasp in back.” She adjusted the straps and stood back, one arm across her chest and her other hand under her chin. “Amazing …” she said to herself.

“Is it …okay?” Terry asked.

“Go ahead and move your arms around, see how it feels.”

Terry did so and smiled. “Feels …um …really nice.”

He looked down; his breasts had never looked so large as they did in the yellow bra. A warm feeling washed over him.

“Oh, Mother!” he sighed happily. “They’re so pretty!”

Impulsively, Mom hugged Terry and kissed his forehead. “I know, sweetheart.” Even softer, she said, “I know …”

Her eyes stung with tears; she remembered the terrible time when Alice began developing. Mom was helpless as Alice shrieked, “I don’t want them! Make them stop! Make them go away!” And now her youngest was so pleased with her pretty breasts …his pretty breasts …

They stayed in the hug for a long time; Terry soaking up the wonderful sense of mother and Mom soaking up the wonderful sense of a graceful, feminine daughter …

…who was her son.

She made a snap decision. Holding Terry again at arm’s length, she looked into Terry’s eyes. “Your father must not know about this. Do you understand me?”

“Well, he’s gonna find out some time,” Terry said, nervously.

“Not for a good long while, if we work together. I’ve got reasons for this, Terry.”

“What about Alice?”

Mom found herself with a small grin. “I don’t think Alice’s going to have a problem with it.” On Terry’s look, she said, “Really! I think she’ll be absolutely delighted that she doesn’t have to be the only girl in the family.”

“Alice doesn’t want to be any kind of girl,” Terry said. Afraid he’d said too much, he pulled back. “I mean …”

“I know exactly what you mean. But let’s not talk about Alice. Let’s talk about …Teresa, shall we? For that’s who you would have been …and, just maybe …who you are …”

Mom could feel Terry tremble at that. “Teresa …” he breathed.

“But!” Mom held up a finger for emphasis. “Let me handle things. And you will be Terry for everyday, okay?” Terry nodded. Mom grinned. “Our little secret. Just us girls. Mother and daughter.” She kept her eyes locked on Terry’s, and to her relief, saw the gleam of happiness in Terry’s eyes as he nodded.

They separated and Mom said, “Well! Now that we know that you’ve got a pretty body, let’s cover it up with clothes, shall we?”

She’d meant it lightly and in fun, but saw Terry’s face cloud and she immediately took Terry’s chin in her hand. “Listen to me, sweetheart; listen to me very carefully. We’re going to work on two levels, okay? On one level, the everyday level with your father and sister, you are Terry-the-boy who is reluctantly helping out his mother. You don’t want to, but you’re a good boy and it’s …heavy sigh and roll your eyes …just for a week. Okay? Think you can do that?”

Terry nodded, grinning in spite of himself.

“The other level is the one where you’ve got to just jump off the cliff and trust me, okay? That level is just you and me. Just like our lives have been, with you helping me in the house with Dad and Alice working out in the fields. But inside, life goes on as it has for us. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and so on.”

“No change,” he nodded.

“No! A very, very big change,” Mom smiled and held her finger up again. “That time, that level? That will be as mother and daughter. You are my daughter, and I will talk to you and teach you and we will relate to each other as females, alright? Because I think you need that, to learn about being naturally female, and we both need to …well, rehearse our cover story, you might say, for the fair. Make sense?”

It was Dad’s catchphrase, familiar to the whole Wilcox family. It felt strange to Mom to be using it, when she was taking such an extreme chance, going out on a limb she’d never dreamed existed …but it seemed right for her child.

While she had those thoughts, Terry nodded and said, “But I’m–”

Mom held her palm up. “Sweetheart, I think you’re going to say something like, ‘But I’m a boy’ or ‘But I can’t do that, I’m not a girl’ or something.”

Terry looked at the floor and blushed and finally nodded.

“You have to stop thinking of yourself as a boy named Terence.” Mom reached out and squeezed Terry’s hand. “You are my pretty daughter Teresa. You are a girl. But for a time, you have to play this silly game with your father and sister where you pretend to be a boy that has to dress up and act like a girl. If you think of it that way, I think you’ll do better. You’ll feel better. Can you do that? Huh, sweetie? Can you be the girl that we both know …that you are …” She reached up with her other hand and smoothed some hair from Terry’s face.

With each declaration of Terry’s girlhood, she felt more confident that this was right. How, she’d think about later.

After a long pause and a hard swallow, Terry nodded.

Mom squeezed his hand and let go. “All right, then! Let’s see how you look in this dress.”

She instructed Terry how to put it on and after zipping it off, made a face. “Nope. Doesn’t do anything for you. Let’s see …” Mom went to the closet and pulled out some others. “Try this skirt and top.” Again she instructed Terry how to put them on, and stood back. “Better. What do you think?”

Terry turned to the mirror and there was a girl looking back at him, a pretty girl with breasts under a light green top and shapely but thin legs under a denim skirt. Impulsively, he reached up and removed the elastic from his hair and shook it out.

“Bend over from the waist and shake it out and then stand up straight,” Mom advised.

Terry did and Mom stared. They both did.

“God, you really are pretty!” Mom said, and her eyes sparkled with tears. Her hand impulsively reached out to smooth her daughter’s hair. Her son’s hair …

Terry hugged her again.

Mom chuckled. “Well, we have the start of a wardrobe!”

Terry said, “I don’t want Alice to get freaked out by me wearing her things.”

“I’ll talk to her; it’ll be fine. Come on; you know she doesn’t want to wear any of these things; for goodness’ sake–she never even opened the packages of lingerie!”

Terry smiled in the mirror and did a pirouette with happiness. It was so nicely done that Mom asked, “Are you …do you practice that, too?”

“Uh-huh,” Terry grinned, and did another one with his hand held high over his head.

“Wow,” Mom grinned. “I know you said you’re no dancer but maybe we should get you some sort of dance lessons–”

“No, Mom; we can’t afford it,” Terry said, his jaw tight.

Mom sighed heavily. “You’re right; we can’t right now. Well, we are going to have to spend a little to get you outfitted.”

“But can’t I just rotate the things in Alice’s closet for the week?”

Mom stared at Terry for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness, no! No girl in her right mind would do that! But …” She frowned. “I just realized …do you think this is just for now? That we’re going to take everything off this afternoon and go back to Terry-the-boy in jeans and t-shirts until the week of the fair?”

“Well …yeah …aren’t we?” He frowned. “I mean …Dad …”

“No,” Mom said solemnly. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You need to practice to be a convincing girl for Fair Week–although I don’t think it will take much. But this is our time–yours and mine–to answer some questions about you and about your life. You’re going to be …” She trailed off and looked out the window to the distant fields where her husband worked. “It’s going to be a little weird at first, but you’re going to be dressed as a girl from now until Fair Week.” She paused. “At least.”

“Mom!” Terry was shocked.

“You are,” Mom said forcefully. “And I’ll handle things with your father. It’s a whole new world you’re entering–a whole new life–and we’re going to do it right.” She shrugged. “And that will mean a trip to the mall at some point. But I’ll handle that, too.” She looked around. “And that reminds me. Shoes.”

They looked in Alice’s closet; the shoes in the front were hiking boots and cross-trainers, which Alice lived in during school. But far in the back they found several pairs of girls’ shoes, including a pair of dark blue pumps with a short heel, still in the box with the soles showing they’d never been worn. Mom frowned as she took them out and handed them to Terry along with a white plastic shoehorn. To their amazement, they fit. They were stiff and new, but his foot slipped in properly. He took a few steps and Mom was amazed at how gracefully he moved. And for some reason, there was a slight sway to his hips. She wondered, Does he have that …well, feminine sway because of the heels, or did he always sway and I never really noticed?

The shoes weren’t right for around-the-house, but Terry could wear them to break them in. Even better, there was a slightly worn pair of black flats that also fit nicely. Mom judged that these shoes dated from two or three years prior when Alice was about Terry’s age now.

Oh, my God, Mom thought, they’re sisters.

Then she corrected herself. Teresa is Alice’s sister. Alice is …more of the big brother …

And that led to all sorts of new thoughts she didn’t want to get into just then.

Rooting around in the drawers, she found a sleeveless top in yellow and had Terry try it on. His shoulders curve gracefully …even his arms are delicate, Mom noted as Terry looked in the mirror. Both of them were noticing the swell of his bust under the top.

“Come on, sweetie; we’re done in here for now,” Mom said.

She went into her room and had Terry sit at her vanity, took a new hair brush and began brushing Terry’s hair.

“Maybe something like this,” Mom murmured, and found two tortoiseshell combs and twisted some hair up and to the side and fastened with the comb and then did the other side. It was a very feminine hairstyle that framed Terry’s face and obscured the unstyled mop of his hair. Only split ends had been trimmed, but he always washed and conditioned and his hair was wonderfully thick and soft. As she brushed, Mom thought of how much fun a trip to the salon together could be …unlike the screaming matches with Alice, until she’d settled on the dull cut straight across.

“Need something else, sweetie,” Mom smiled, sorted through her makeup and selected a lipstick and wiped the tip with tissue. “Ordinarily it’s not good to share your makeup with another girl, but we’ll make an exception today until you get your own.”

Terry held up a hand, looking at his mother’s eyes in the mirror. “Mom? You seem …well, absolutely sure this is going to happen.”

Mom sagged a little and set the lipstick down on the vanity top. “Yes, perhaps I am.” She sat on the edge of the vanity bench, shoulder-to-shoulder with Terry, facing the other direction. “Sweetheart, this is really your decision. Well, and one other’s, but we’ll come to that. First, though, is you. Right now, look in the mirror and tell me if you want to get to know the girl in the mirror. And don’t play any word games; we both know that that–” She pointed at the image. “–is a very pretty girl. Not a boy playing dress-up. A pretty girl.”

She paused. “Or …you can say that you never want to see her again, take everything off right now and I promise that we will never, ever do this again or even speak of it. And you go on, as you have, as Terence.”

Terry’s lips were trembling. “Not fair …” he whispered.

“What’s that, Terry?”

“Not fair!” He was openly crying now, and Mom saw him automatically reach for the box of tissues on her vanity. Alice–if she ever cried–would have wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“What’s not fair, Terry?” Mom asked gently.

He sighed, his shoulders drooping as he folded the tissue and dabbed at his eyes. “Not fair that I wasn’t born this way. Not fair that Alice wasn’t born a boy. Not fair!” He turned the damp tissue in his hands and softly said, “And not fair that you make me choose.”

“Terry, sweetheart; who else can choose? It’s your life. It’s your life! You have an idea of what life is like as Terry. You have no idea what life could be like as Teresa. All we have is the evidence in the mirror …well, and the fact that your body …your own body …seems to want to be Teresa. But you have to tell me–to tell us.”

He nodded. “You’re right,” he sniffed and dabbed one last time. “How do you want me to say it?”

“Oh, sweetie! There’s no proper form or whatever. Just …say what you truly feel.”

His lips sucked in and he frowned, thinking. He even does that prettily, Mom thought.

Another deep sigh and Terry turned to face his mother. “Mother, I want to be a girl. I think I’ve always been a girl, inside, but never …went there, if you know what I mean. Because I’m supposed to be a boy. But I don’t …I never felt like a boy. And, yes, my body’s changing …seeming to change into a girl’s, and I swear I’m not doing anything to make it happen, it just is happening …” He frowned again. “But I want to see …who I can be. Who …Teresa can be. And I do know that I want to be your daughter–God, so much!–but I’m scared.”

Mom reached out and hugged her child. “Thank you, Teresa, for that. Honest truth time; I’ve always wondered about you. I mean, let’s face it; both of my kids are kind of mixed up!” She chuckled to show she was gently teasing, and got a small, sheepish grin from Terry. Mom patted his shoulder. “I just would never …I would never force anything on you.” She chuckled ruefully to herself. “I know it might seem like I kind of …forced you upstairs here and handed you the lingerie, but …”

“You didn’t …force me …” Terry said sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you …what you wanted at first but …no force …”

“Thank you for that, sweetheart,” Mom said gratefully. “And again, thank you for telling me how you feel, and it was done beautifully. But you see what I meant that it had to come from you?”

Terry solemnly nodded.

Mom smiled sadly. “It’s only the extraordinary circumstances of today that we discovered this, both of us. And that you’ve felt like this for years. But I couldn’t do or say anything before. If you felt like a girl, you would have needed to come to me, and I don’t think you would have. You’re the type that would suffer in silence.”

“Didn’t want to cause problems …” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie; and that’s just part of what makes you so wonderful! But, don’t you see? It’s your father that made this happen today–although I’ll bet he never dreamed it in a million years!”

“Dad?”

“Sure! It was his decision that Alice can’t go to the fair, and he said–remember?–he said it would be better if you went to the fair with me. And I’d have to cancel unless I came up with something, and I just thought, you know, we could try a dress and maybe …”

She looked at the pretty girl in the mirror, knew that it was her son despite what she saw, and leaned her head on his shoulder. “But I never dreamed that you would be so pretty, or so naturally feminine–and how have I not seen that before?–and that your body ...” She found herself actually speechless at how he looked.

“I’m sorry about that,” Terry said. “I mean, hiding it from you. I just thought it would …go away, you know? The books said so.”

“I know, sweetheart, but …I think there might be something more going on here than just some temporarily mixed-up hormones. We’ll get you to Dr. Curtis–” She frowned. “Maybe somebody better. He certainly didn’t notice much last time, did he?”

Terry giggled slightly at that.

She giggles! Mom thought happily.

It was the first time Mom had definitely thought of Terry as ‘she’.

“Come on, you; final touch.” Mom reached over to her jewelry box and took out a gold chain and bracelet and had Terry put them on as Mom thought. She’ll need her ears pierced, and a trip to a salon, and we’ll have such fun shopping! I’ve got to start a list, and–oh, Lord! Is that the time already?–and Mom shook herself and said, “Terry, honey; let me brush your hair quickly and we’ve got to get started on supper.”

End of Part 1

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 2

While they prepared supper, Mom told Terry her thoughts. “I think I said it’ll be two decisions. The first was yours, and even though we both knew the answer, it had to be said.”

“Yes, it did,” Terry nodded, stirring peas. “I felt this …weight lift off me.” He frowned. “Don’t really know what it was, and I didn’t really know I was carrying it.”

Mom grinned. “You know what that weight was?” Terry shook his head. Mom’s grin warmed. “That was Terry-the-boy lifting off of you. Like a burden. Like a heavy backpack and now it’s gone. So you feel better …lighter, maybe.”

Terry nodded. “Good way to put it. I still can’t get over …well …everything!”

As if to punctuate the statement, Terry brushed some hair behind his ear with a feminine gesture and giggled.

Boys, the thought hit Mom out of nowhere. Never had that problem with Alice. But once the boys see Teresa … That would be for later–much later, she decided.

Mom explained to Terry how she wanted to handle things so that Dad would make the second decision–the one to let Terry live as a girl in preparation for the week of the fair.

“He’s going to think like you did, that you can just put a dress on for the week and that’s it. But you’ve got to trust me; I have to ease him in on this my way.”

“I know, Mom. I’ve seen you handle him. Like the time about the new washer?”

Mom grinned. “You noticed that, did you? See; that just proves you’ve always been a girl. Males are too blind to see the manipulation, but women always know.” She frowned, thinking. “Come to think of it, Alice didn’t notice; she just said, ‘Hey, you got a new washer?’”

Terry put a hand on his mother’s forearm and gave her a direct look. “Mom, what else would you expect your first-born son to say?”

Mom returned the look and then nodded. “My womb must be so screwed up …” she murmured and then laughed. “But I got a wonderful daughter out of it, so I’m happy! I think those potatoes are about ready, don’t you?”

As Mom had planned, Terry remained in the kitchen while Mom went out when she heard the back door slam.

“Wash up for supper,” Mom called out as she always did. “Maybe wear something nice?” She left it hanging and went back to the kitchen.

Dad and Alice didn’t think anything of it but complied, washing up and then changing into shirts and jeans, figuring Mom had a special dinner planned for some reason.

The table had been set when they arrived and sat. Mom came out of the swinging door and stood like a hostess.

“Frank, Alice …” Mom waited until she had their attention. “Today we discussed problems that have come up with my trip to the fair this year.” She held up a hand. “First let me say, Frank, I completely agree with you. On all counts.”

He was obviously surprised; he glanced at Alice and then smiled sadly back at Mom. “I’m sorry, honey; I know how much the fair means to you. If there was any way you could work it out, I’m for it 100%.”

Alright! Mom thought, keeping her demeanor. Thank you, Frank. Your own words will help us all, hopefully. Well, time to dive in …

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Frank. Because I said I agree with you on all counts. Farm work does come first. And you really do need Alice working with you, instead of some temporary hired hand that you have to spend time training–and then constantly look over his shoulder.”

Frank nodded. “I’m glad you understand. It’s been …kind of a lost week each year …” He wasn’t happy with having to take away Marie’s fair week–he knew how much it meant to her–but the farm came first.

Mom returned his nod. “I know, and I apologize. Because you were right; Alice should have been here with you all along.” Dad was nodding, and Mom nodded along with him. “And you were right that Terry should have gone to Fair Week with me.”

Frank’s nodding jerked slightly, sensing a trap, but Alice jumped in. “Exactly right! I mean, you know I hated it, and it wasn’t fair to Terry. He always worked so hard to help you and never got to enjoy it.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Alice,” Mom smiled warmly. “Yes, Terry has been cheated out of things, while you were miserable there.” She chuckled. “You could almost call it Un-Fair Week!”

All three of them laughed at the atrocious joke.

Then Mom calmly said to Alice, “So Terry will accompany me to the fair this year, and you can stay here with your father and get some serious work done.”

“Sounds good to me!” Alice grinned.

Frank held up a hand. “Uh …yeah, that sounds good, but what about the dorm? The Women’s Dorm? I already told you that we can’t afford a motel for the week, even if anybody had vacancies left.” He paused. “Um …has some relative I don’t know about keeled over and left you a fortune?” His laugh was forced.

“For the health of our relatives, I’m happy to say ‘no’,” Mom smiled. “And I didn’t win the lottery, either. I simply followed your advice, dear.”

“Uh …my advice?” Frank looked at Alice again.

“Yes. And so I’d like you meet your daughter and your sister.” She nodded at each of them in turn and then smiled and called out, “Teresa? Sweetie? You want to come in?”

As they had planned, Terry stepped out of the kitchen. He was blushing and his eyes shyly downcast, and he stood, ankles and knees together, with his fingers laced in front of his skirt. Frank and Alice stared.

After preparing the supper, Mom had taken Terry to her room and found a black skirt that she’d stopped wearing because it was too short. It wasn’t too short for Terry, but the waist was too large and had to be pinned.

God, she’s more petite than I am! Mom had grinned as she pinned the back.

“The denim one fits better, Mom,” Terry said.

“Yes, but the point is to show your father that you look very nice in these clothes, but that they truly don’t fit you and you need clothing of your own. And that way, we sidestep the Alice-clothes question for now.”

Terry had nodded, thinking how skillfully his mother planned on several levels.

Mom had a blouse in mind, a blue-and-white striped blouse with a broad scooped neckline and three-quarter sleeves–a length no male clothing had. Again, she had to pin things a bit in the back. Mom had allowed Terry to keep Alice’s black flats.

“Chances are she doesn’t even remember having them,” Mom had said sadly. “And your feet look so pretty in them!”

Terry had smiled and looked down. “I like how my toes look.”

“Your ankles are very nice, too,” Mom had observed, thinking again How did we miss how pretty Terry is?

And now Frank and Alice were staring at the new girl.

Frank cleared his throat. “So this is your plan? Can’t take one girl so you make another?”

“Dad …” Alice groaned in protest.

Mom said, “Yes, Frank, in a manner of speaking. This was your advice, remember?”

“What? I said to dress Terry up like a girl and take him to the fair?”

“You said to take Terry into the Women’s Dorm with me.” Mom looked at him calmly.

Alice said, “For what it’s worth? Terry looks great!” She looked at Terry. “How you holding up?”

“Good, Alice; thanks,” Terry said.

“No, I mean …” Alice frowned. “I mean …are you okay with this?”

Terry’s eyes flicked to his mother and back to Alice. He nodded. Alice frowned again. “Really okay? Because you’d have to dress like that for the whole week …” She made it sound like the most horrible fate imaginable.

“Did you consider that, Terry?” Dad asked, picking up the thought.

Terry swallowed and nodded. Mom had told him to look reluctant but game.

Dad looked at Terry closely, then at Alice and finally at Mom. “Well, then let me ask you this, Terry. Are you doing this only to please your mother?” He kept his eyes locked on Mom’s.

Terry said, “Well, you had suggested it so we sort of …tried it. And this …” He held his hands out, gesturing at himself. “…this is what we came up with. But if you are really against it, I wouldn’t, and Mom …” He looked sadly at her. “Well, I guess she won’t be able to go this year.”

“It’s alright, Terry,” Mom said gently. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, and I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Are you uncomfortable, dressed like that?” Dad asked.

Terry frowned. “No. It feels …different, of course, but …” He shrugged. “Nobody would know me and I could just sit in the booth and, you know …read or something.”

“So are you willing to do this? To dress as a girl?” Dad probed.

Terry swallowed–to appear reluctant–and looked his father in his eyes. “Yes, Dad. I am willing to dress as a girl. I’m willing to do what it takes to get the job done.”

Mom had coached him on that line; it was something that was very important to Dad.

It had the desired effect; he frowned, pursed his lips, and nodded. “Well, then …”

There was silence.

Mom said, “Well, then …what, dear?” She looked at him with a raised brow.

He nodded. “Well, then, good for you, Terry, helping your mother this way.”

“Is it alright with you, Dad?” Terry asked timidly.

Dad exhaled. “Yes. Yes, it’s alright with me.” He looked up at his wife and realized she wanted more. To everybody, he stated, “It’s alright for Terry to dress like a girl to help Mom.”

Alice said, “Done and done. So–can we eat?”

Mom and Terry turned to the kitchen.

Dad said, “Gotta say; he fits the part perfectly.”

Hearing that as he turned to go, Terry knew it wasn’t mean-spirited so much as a simple statement of fact.

But Mom stiffened. She bit back a retort; her husband could be such a macho jerk sometimes ... she felt the anger go out of her as she remembered that he didn’t know any better; he was just a man. She sighed and was about to meekly bring out the dinner but realized she wasn’t helping her child as she should.

“Frank, we have to get something straight,” she said quietly as she turned to face him.

The use of his name raised warning bells. Uncertain, Dad cleared his throat. “What’s that, Marie?”

“We’ll discuss it after dinner,” she decided. “Come on, Terry.”

Dutifully Terry followed her into the kitchen while Dad and Alice looked at each other, shrugged and sat at the table. Terry now brought out the platters and bowls that he and his mother had prepared. There was nothing unusual in that; he did it every night. The only difference was that now he was in a skirt and blouse and wearing a touch of lipstick. Dad and Alice’s eyes followed Terry around as he dished out the first plate of meat and potatoes, spooning a corn-and-peas mix into separate bowls, adding a roll to the bread plates and then brought out chilled applesauce. Finally he carried the pitcher and poured milk for all four. Mom brought out the coffee and poured for herself and Dad and then she and Terry took their seats. It did not go unnoticed that Terry swept his skirt under him as he sat.

After Grace, Dad and Alice applied themselves to their dinner, carefully not making direct eye contact with Mom or Terry. Dad mentioned the tractor progress; Alice said she needed some gasket or thing and they’d have to go into town for the part and some other sundries, if Mom wanted to make up a list. Mom nodded, and other than ‘Please pass the butter’ the conversation died.

At one point, Dad tried to revive it. “Think we got that carburetor problem licked. Al figured out the–” He drew up short at Mom’s glare.

She quietly said, “Al?”

Dad was caught and his eyes shifted to Alice and back to Mom. “Easier to shout. You know, when I need something.” He tried to be playful, pretending to shout, “Hey, Al!”

The temperature in the room dropped instantly.

Alice said, “Ma, it’s just a sort of joke between us. I don’t mind.”

Dad shot her a grateful look.

Mom turned on her. “And when did you start calling me ‘Ma’?”

Alice leaned forward. “Just now. I kinda did it as a …joke?”

Mom thought for a moment and nodded. “Alright. I understand.” There was another pause. “Please pass the rolls.”

Dinner resumed in chilly silence after that. Finally, without saying anything, Dad pushed himself back from the table and stretched and mumbled ‘Deliciousthanks’ and went into the family room. They heard the TV click on.

Alice looked at her mother and brother. “Uh ... Mom ...”

Mom just nodded with a small, sad smile. “It’s alright, Alice. Go.”

Alice shot an apologetic glance at Terry and left the room.

Terry looked at his mother sitting still, her face unreadable. To herself, she murmured, “How did I let it go so far ...” Then she shook her head and smiled at Terry. “So pretty,” she said with some sadness.

Nothing else was said; for his part, Terry had spent the dinner in a very difficult way. He was trying to act as if it was perfectly normal, and at the same time it obviously wasn’t perfectly normal to be wearing a skirt and lipstick. He hardly tasted his food; indeed, he’d hardly eaten. Now he stood and began clearing the table while his mother sat, thinking. When she finally shook herself, the table was clear. She went into the kitchen to find Terry rinsing the last plate and putting it into the dishwasher. All of the food had been put away and the kitchen was spotless. Without a word, Mom went to Terry and hugged him for a long moment. Terry returned the hug, on the edge of crying for some reason.

Mom held Terry at arm’s length. “This is what you want, isn’t it, sweetheart?” she asked gently. “Being a girl? Being my daughter?”

A lump formed in Terry’s throat but he nodded and spoke quickly, before he lost his nerve. “More than …more than anything!” He swallowed. “But ... Dad’s ...”

Mom hugged him again. “Then hold tight onto that thought, sweetheart, clutch it close to your heart, and we’ll make it happen. But first, let’s go freshen your lipstick.”

When they entered the family room, both of them had fresh lipstick, and Terry had a dusting of blush on his cheeks. Then, with a grin, Mom had given him a small spritz of her cologne. She’d winked at Terry when she’d done that. They smiled and nodded to each other and went to the others.

There was an odd little dance when they walked in. Dad and Alice had found a baseball game, which ordinarily Mom would never interrupt. On the other hand, Dad knew that Mom had a very serious talk planned and should turn off the TV.

Terry sized up the situation and quickly turned to his mother. “Oh, Mom, I wanted to show you the magazine article about last year’s prize winner at the Wyoming State Fair. Gave me some ideas.”

Gratefully, Mom nodded and they sat to the side while Dad and Alice gratefully turned back to the ball game. Terry got the magazine and sat, whispering to his mother, “I saw that it’s the top of the ninth; game’s almost over.”

Mom squeezed his hand and they shared a quiet talk about the unique display of the canning winner in the magazine.

With a triumphant cry and a high-five between Dad and Alice, anyone could tell the game was over. Dad dutifully turned off the TV and cleared his throat. “Uh …Marie? You wanted to have a talk?”

Without thinking, Terry said, “Anybody want some lemonade? Coffee?”

Mom smiled at him and said, “Thank you, sweetheart. Frank? Alice?”

Hearing her use his name again let Dad know she was still in a serious mood. He asked politely for coffee and Alice said, “Lemonade sounds good. But I’ll help get it.” She followed Terry into the kitchen.

There was an awkward moment of silence as they got the beverages together. Then Alice sighed heavily. “Terry, look, before we go into the lion’s den out there, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, Alice? I’m not being dense; I’m just not sure specifically what you wanted to know.”

“Yeah, makes sense. Okay,” Alice said, blowing out a breath. “You dressing as a girl is so you can go to the State Fair with Mom, right?”

“Right.”

“But you’re not going to …” She frowned. “You’re going to practice, right? I mean, you’re going to dress like that …be like that …until Fair Week, right?”

Terry’s eyes flicked to the family room. “Um …”

Alice chuckled. “I bet Mom’s telling him that right now. You are, aren’t you?”

Blushing, Terry nodded.

“Makes sense,” Alice said again, shrugging. “After all, it’s more than …” She trailed off. Softly, she said, “You look …really good. But you …act good, too. Have you ... did you ...” Frowning, Alice ran a hand through her short straight hair. “I’m not getting on your case or anything, okay? But have you been wearing any of my things all along? The girl things, I mean?” Even the question couldn’t hide the disgust she had for the clothes.

Terry looked at his sister with solemn eyes. “No, Alice. I never have. Mom put some on me today. First time ever. You know, just to test. She tried a dress of yours on me. It didn’t fit. But I told her that I didn’t feel right wearing your things without your knowing. I’m sorry if it bugs you, but it was what she wanted to try.”

“No, Terry, it doesn’t bug me at all and it’s cool and I mean that. It’s just that ... I’ve got to ask you this, and please, the truth? Just between you and me? Do you want to be a girl? I mean, secretly? And now, not so secretly? Like, I mean, maybe …always?”

Terry had to smile at his sister’s messed-up sentence structure, but it was a very male way of trying to speak. Then he frowned. “Alice, as God is my witness, I have never worn any female clothes before this afternoon. But, as long as I’m speaking before God, I’ve thought about being a girl. Not wishing and hoping, really, but ... come on, you should have been the first-born son! You’re so much better at it than I ever would be! And I ...”

“And you are a very good daughter, aren’t you?” Alice said gently. “And I mean that in a nice way. The nicest possible way. That whole daughter thing …You get it. The girly thing, and helping Mom in the kitchen. I don’t ... I just don’t. And you’re better at that that I am! Like when you just asked, ‘Anybody want something to drink?’–that’s just a girl thing. So, yeah, you’re right. Somehow we got switched!” She chuckled and then got serious. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what Mom wants, duh!” Terry grinned. “I’m going to try to help her at the State Fair. I guess she’ll have me practice from time to time so I’m ready for the whole week of the fair. Then it’s done.” He shrugged. “Just helping Mom.”

“I know you are–duh right backatcha!–and she might even win, Terry, but I mean ...” She narrowed her eyes. “From ‘time to time’? Yeah, right! This is more than that and I think we both know it.” She looked toward the family room. “I’ll bet that’s what she’s telling him right now. That you’ll be dressed as a girl until then.” She looked back at Terry. “But that’s not everything, is it? All of this is just for Fair Week? Back home and you’re a boy again? Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen, either.”

Terry’s mouth was dry. “And ... if it doesn’t happen, um ... how are you with that, Alice?”

To his immense relief, his sister smiled warmly. “I’m a hundred percent cool with that, Terry! I would welcome you as my little sister!” Then her face made a strange alteration and she said, “As long as I get to be your big brother! Now, come on; we’ve left them alone too long.”

They brought in the coffee and their lemonades. Pointedly, Mom and Dad became silent when they entered. After a proper settling in, Mom gave Dad one of her ‘looks’ and then took a deep breath.

“Your father and I have discussed things. I made it plain to him just how important the State Fair is to me, and he’s agreed to my plan.” She gave him a look almost daring him to disagree.

He did not. He addressed both kids. “It’s agreed, then. Terry will dress up like a girl for the fair. Your mother will train Terry so he can pass as a girl.” Dad gave Mom a sideways look. “Although if he’s discovered in the Women’s Dormitory, I don’t even want to think of the consequences …” He held the look.

“It won’t happen,” Mom said calmly, “I’m sure of it. In fact, I guarantee it.”

There was a pause; each of them knew that Mom was quite sparing with her guarantees. Terry and Alice looked at each other. Terry looked worried; Alice almost looked smug.

Dad cleared his throat. “Yes. So, uh …Terry will stay inside helping Mom. Al and I will be outside as usual.”

It seemed that an agreement had been reached on the matter of names because Mom didn’t react. In fact, she used it.

“I will admit I came down a bit hard on hearing the name ‘Al’ but …it’s fine with me if you want to use it,” she looked at Alice, who nodded but looked guilty. “And you may call me ‘Ma’ if you wish. As you said, it will be our little joke.”

Even though it was an apology of sorts–technically–it came out a bit stern.

Mom smiled at Terry and then turned back to Dad and Alice. “It’s important that we are clear on names. From this point on, our oldest child is Al and our youngest child will be known as Teresa. But we will call her Terry as we always have. I want both of you–all of us–to think Teresa when we say Terry. It’s a mental thing that will help her. And that’s the other thing: I said her. We will use feminine pronouns when we refer to Teresa. Got that?”

Terry blushed as both Dad and Alice turned to him. Dad cleared his throat again. “Makes sense. There’s that thing they do with foreign languages, um …”

“Immersion,” Alice said. “You walk in the classroom and the only language they speak is Spanish. Or French or whatever.”

“Thanks, Al,” Dad nodded. “So, yeah, immersion. So …Teresa. Yeah.”

Just the casual way he said ‘Al’ was proof that he’d been calling Alice that for some time.

“Alright, then,” Mom said firmly. “Teresa is our youngest daughter. Who doesn’t have a history of being a teenage girl. If you want, you can imagine that she lived with a distant relative in a weird religious cult and never learned about being a teenage girl. And now she’s come to live with us and it’ll be my job to teach her about being a modern girl. Make sense?”

Alice stifled a laugh at Mom using Dad’s two-word catchphrase but nodded, and Dad thought about it, like he was looking for a trick or a loophole. Then he nodded.

In an atrocious cornpone accent, Mom said, “So Al is a-workin’ the fields with Pa, and Teresa’s a-slavin’ over a hot stove with Ma. Right?”

Everybody laughed–even Terry–and then Mom got quickly serious. “I mean it. You’re going to see Terry wearing things and doing things and saying things that will seem weird for a boy, but she is not a boy. That’s the best way to think of her.”

“Makes sense,” Dad nodded. “So whenever I see him in a dress, I’m supposed to think of Teresa, not Terence.”

A quick series of looks crossed Mom’s face; she was exasperated at Dad and apologetic to Terry.

“I don’t think you grasp the situation fully, Frank,” she said.

Hearing his name made his chin come up. “I thought we got it all. You’ll put Terry in a dress but other than that nothing really changes. Al and I work outside and Terry helps you in here and does his outside chores. Same as usual. And he’ll practice and do the fair with you.” On her look, he said, “What?”

“You really think that I could ‘put Terry in a dress’, as you put it, now and then, once or twice, for a bit of ‘practice’ …and then we’d trot off to Fair Week?”

“Um …yeah …sorta …” Dad looked at her, the kids, and back to her.

“We just got done talking about ‘immersion’ and we agreed it’s the best way. What I’m proposing–no, I’m not proposing. This is what we will do.” Her tone scared the others; they all sat up a bit straighter. “It seems the situation wasn’t clear so I’m making certain all four of us are crystal clear on this point. From today on, Teresa is our daughter. She will wear only girls’ clothes and why?–because she is a girl! Terence our son will need to be perfect for Teresa our daughter to get through Fair Week. Agreed?”

She didn’t wait for a response but all three nodded. Mom had a full head of steam on. “You said it yourself, Frank; you and Al will work outside as you always do. Terry will help me inside as she always does and will do her outside chores. Make sense?”

Automatically, Dad nodded at hearing his phrase coming back at him. Then he frowned. “But is that necessary? I mean, can’t he just get up in the morning and you give him a dress to wear and …” He trailed off, seeing the storm clouds gathering on her face.

“Frank Wilcox! Do you think that that’s all there is to being female? Just wear a dress and that’s it? Tell you what! Let’s have a little experiment: I have a lovely sleeveless dress in pink chiffon that I want you to put on, right now, and you tell me that just wearing a dress will make you pass as a woman!”

Her eyes were glaring, and that alone would have cowed Dad even if the thought of wearing the pink dress hadn’t. He nodded his head slowly.

“Point taken. So, yeah, it was kind of foolish of me to think it was a once-or-twice thing. So …”

Calmly, Mom said, “So from today on, we all acknowledge that the youngest child in the Wilcox family is a girl named Teresa. And as such, she will wear all sorts of girls’ clothes and will be a girl. You may see her acting girlish, giggling, being silly. Be very clear on this: Terry is not being a sissy–she’s just being a girl, got it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dad said, glancing at Terry, who sat with his knees together and hands in his lap as his mother had taught him that day.

“Sure, Ma,” Alice said, nodding.

There was a pause. Then Alice gave her mother a searching look. “Um …Ma?”

Mom turned and looked at her.

Alice glanced at Dad. She’s embarrassed, Terry thought, as his sister cleared her throat. She’s got something really heavy she wants to say …

Then Alice frowned and Terry thought, She’s pulled back and changing what she was going to say.

Then Alice shrugged. “I’ve got a bunch of clothes that …I’ll never wear, you know? And some that …well, my sister’s welcome to ‘em all.” She paused. “Oh! But could I get some new dungarees? And a couple of work shirts? I tore up one of mine on some wire.”

Mom studied Alice for a moment. Mom knows, too, Terry thought. She knows Alice was going to say something different. Then he brightened. And Alice called me her sister!

Dad, oblivious, said, “Yeah, I could use some odds and ends, too. And we need those tractor parts.”

Mom stood. “I propose we make a family trip into town, say the day after tomorrow. Dad and Al can go get their tractor parts, and Terry and I will shop for her. Al, I want you to come to your room with us now and we can see what you’re contributing and what she’ll still need. And we’ll pick up the work clothes you want while you’re off with Dad.”

The meeting was officially over, and Alice followed Mom and Terry out of the room and they heard Dad clicking the TV back on.

As soon as they were in Alice’s room, Mom closed the door and said, “Alice–”

Alice held up a hand. “Ma? I mean, Mom? I want to say upfront that Terry and I talked in the kitchen and I’m cool with what you’re doing and she can have every single piece of girl’s clothing in here if I can get some decent jeans and shirts. I told Terry that I’m fine with her being my little sister just as long as I get to be her big brother.”

Mom frowned and nodded. “You two really got cheated, didn’t you? You’re both in the same boat. Alice, you’ve got the build and the mind and all of a big strong boy.” Alice visibly inflated with pride at the compliment. Mom went on sadly. “But you were born a girl. Terry, you have the heart and soul of a lovely girl, but you were born a boy.”

“S’okay,” Terry mumbled.

“No, it’s not okay,” Mom said. “Because you got even cheated in the physical department, too. You didn’t have a chance to be a regular boy because you weren’t built like a regular boy.”

Alice said, “But, Mom, it is okay. I mean, it would have been best if I’d been born a big strong son and Terry was my little sister, but it’s kind of correcting now, you know? I hate my body. Yeah, I finally said it. Mom, do you have any idea how miserable I am all school year? Thank God I can wear jeans at school, but all the …girly junk I have to put up with …”

That’s what she wanted to say, back in the family room, Terry thought.

Mom was stricken by the misery on Alice’s face. “Oh, Alice! I had no idea you were so unhappy! I just thought you …that you were a big farm girl, you know …”

Alice nodded. “It’s not your fault, Mom. Yeah, I look like a big farm girl, but I’m not. Ruth Samuelson’s even bigger than me; her hair’s shorter and she’s even getting biceps! But she still likes to dress pretty for the dances and has a crush on Tom Clark and even goes on and on about some guy on American Idol. That’s not me!”

Alice’s eyes sparkled with tears and she angrily wiped them, roughly swatting at her face with her forearm. “See! This damned body makes me do this!” She sniffed. “Mom, I look like a big farm girl but inside I’m your son, Al! I can’t wait to graduate and then I’m never going to …” She collapsed. “I’m sorry, Mom. This isn’t fair; it’s not about me, it’s about Terry.” Alice looked at Terry sadly, but spoke to their mother. “But, Mom, I think that …that Terry’s the same as me. He’s your son, but I believe that inside he really has a sweet girl’s heart and soul.”

Mom stared at her children, back and forth and gently shook herself. “Cards on the table, then. Alice, are you telling me that you …” It looked like she’d swallowed something difficult. “That you want to be a boy? Be a boy, not just dress and act like one?”

“Yes, Mom. Absolutely, positively. As much as I possibly can be. I pretty much already am.” She sniffed, straightened, and looked at Terry and back to Mom. “And that’s fine with me.”

“What about boys?” Mom blurted out.

“Mom?” Alice opened her mouth to say the next word and then shook her head. “Not going to happen.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Mom nodded once, uncertainly. To her surprise, Alice spun to Terry.

“Terry, Mom’s freaking out. As long as we’re getting everything out in the open tonight, might as well get it all said, like ripping off a Band-Aid. And I don’t think she knows how to say things. And you and I haven’t talked a lot lately. So …” She turned to Mom. “Mom, you raised us to be honest and so now I’m going to call you on it.”

Terry said, “Don’t hurt her, Alice. Al.”

Alice’s mouth quirked at that. “I’m your brother Al and you’re my sister Teresa. Tell me that.”

“What?” Terry was confused. “Oh! You’re my brother Al and I’m your sister Teresa? Is that what you mean?”

Alice nodded. “Absolutely. And that’s our truth. Right, Ma?”

Mom’s mouth seemed dry as she nodded and said slowly, “Right …”

Alice said, “Here’s the deal, Terry. Cards on the table like Ma said. I should have been born a boy. I am a boy except for the physical girl things on my body and I hate it and want it fixed. But I can pass as a boy–I already have–so I’m doing okay. And I like girls. I mean …romantically.” She looked at her mother. “And sexually.”

“Alice …” Mom said, helpless.

“Fact of life,” Alice shrugged. “So are we all clear on this? I want you two to consider me a boy named Al. I don’t want to ever wear a dress or makeup or anything like that again. So, please, take it all.” She waved her hand around the room. “I’ll help carry it all to Terry’s room.”

“Thank you, Alice,” Mom said.

“Thanks, Al,” Terry said at the same time.

“No problem, sis!” Alice grinned. Then she became serious. “Ma, I’m not being completely generous on this deal; I’m getting something out of it, too. I’m tired of being half-and-half. The daughter that looks like a son. The girl that’s as strong as a boy. I just want to be a boy and then a man and get on with things.” She looked at her mother, but it was different now. “And now I’m going to say some things here that I think need to be said and it’s getting late.”

“So like your father,” Mom murmured, but nodded.

Alice turned again to Terry. “You are my little sister Teresa and I love you. Please don’t ever think you can’t be the pretty girl we all know that you are, deep inside. I think you’ve always been one, but we don’t have to talk about that now. Mom touched on this in the family room, but I’m telling you from my heart. What I’m saying is, don’t worry about being too girly. Like I said, better you than me, and you’re better at it than me, naturally.”

“You said that?” Mom asked in wonder.

Alice nodded and continued. “So you’re going to be in dresses and nightgowns and makeup and bikinis and everything and just relax and do it, okay? Don’t hold back because, ‘Oh, boys don’t do that’ or something. Because you’re not a boy, you’re a girl.”

Terry’s mother had already said much of that, but his mind stalled at the word ‘bikinis’.

Mom said, “Thank you, Alice. That was very …what?” She’d seen Alice stand straight.

Alice spoke formally. “I would hope that you will realize that immersion goes both ways. If we’re calling her Teresa, please call me Al, your son.” She paused and then said softly, “Please, Mom …”

There was a moment, a life-changing moment, between them and then Mom nodded. “Thank you, Al.”

Al nodded with her and then said, “Here’s what you’re not thinking about, I’ll bet. Terry is a girl. Terry is pretty. Therefore, boys are going to be interested in Terry. I’m betting dollars to doughnuts that Terry discovers that she’s interested in them. And that’s because she’s a girl. Boys are not the same; they’re now the opposite sex. And I’ve kind of been through that and it’s an agonizing mental thing and my gift to you, my pretty little sister, is to spare you that.” She gave Terry a fierce look. “You will be romantically and sexually interested in boys–”

“Al!” Mom barked.

Alice went on. “–and don’t hesitate. Be a good girl and listen to your mother, but it’s perfectly natural for you to be interested in boys. That’s what I’ve decided. I’m interested in girls and want a girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian; it simply means I’m a boy interested in girls and that’s natural.”

“Oh, sweetheart …” Mom said, a tear in her eye.

Alice turned to her. “Ma, that’s just the way of it. You know it’s the truth.”

Mom’s mouth opened in rebuttal and then she nodded. She looked at Terry. “We’ll …cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“There is one last thing that hasn’t been brought up and I’m going to be the one to do it. And that is …well, let me call it ‘State Fair plus one day’. I know you set this up for Dad so that in his mind, that it’s just for the fair–and I know that’s what you meant when you started–but this is Truth Time for your children. This is a chance for us–both of us, my sister and me–” Alice turned to smile at Terry, “–to become who we should have been all along. Put it this way: The day you come back from the fair, I’m not putting on a dress and heels. I’m putting on jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a sweatshirt, and going to work with Dad. So the day you come back from the fair, Terry is not cutting his hair and putting on overalls. At least let the three of us know the truth; the day after the fair, Terry will be getting herself ready for high school in September. The two of you will be go shopping for skirts and dresses for her, getting her hair done …”

Alice looked at them both. Mom and Terry had nearly identical stunned faces, mouths slightly open and eyes wide. Alice chuckled, and it was a hearty male chuckle. “Sounds weird to hear the truth, huh? But that’s what it is, and, Ma, you’ve got to deal with that. For both of us. I want to …I’m just going to tough it out; one last year won’t kill me. If I can get my diploma to read ‘Al Wilcox’, I’ll be happy. Oh, and when you’re setting things up for Terry–you know, to register as a girl and probably have to use a special bathroom–if you could do that for me, too, I’d appreciate it. God, I never want to have to go in with all the hairspray and makeup again!” She grinned. “Although I think Terry’s gonna love it!”

Mom found it difficult to speak. “You’ve …you’ve figured all of this out, already?”

“I’ve known for years what and who I am, and had all sorts of time to map battle plans. Strategies to get what I want.”

“And you want …”

Alice shrugged. “To be a man. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And it was denied me at birth and growing up, but I figure in this year I’m finishing school, turning eighteen, I can be the man I want to be. To be the farmer I want to be, here.” Alice looked out the window and said with a quiet force, “On my farm.”

“I always sort of hoped you might go to college, but …” Mom nodded. “You’ve got dirt in your blood. That’s what your grandfather said about your father, when I first brought him home to meet my parents. You, too, Al. You are a farmer.” Mom turned and smiled sadly at Terry. “And you are a farmer’s daughter.”

Alice said, “We’re pretty much where we need to be, but we’ve got one hurdle to go–Dad. He’s not going to understand–not really understand–despite his agreement downstairs. We all know that. So I will do what I can to help him come to terms with this, okay? I’ve got some ideas for how to do that when we’re alone. If you’ve got any ideas that I can help with, I’m there for you.”

Mom smiled sadly. “Thank you, Al. You make me very proud of you. Your honesty, your understanding, your willingness to accept …your sister. And I do have some ideas for Dad and might need some help. But you are …a fine son that a mother can be proud of.”

They hugged, and Terry was struck by a certain quality of maleness to Alice’s hug. It goes so deep! he thought of his sister–now his brother–and the confusion of their genders.

It began that night. After every bit of Alice’s female clothing had been moved to Terry’s room, it was pretty much obvious that Alice would need a lot of things, although she had enough for the next few days. Mom told Alice to give her a list of what she wanted. Mom knew that many clothes would be needed for Terry, and it would be easier to get Dad to approve if he knew things like Alice’s dungarees and work shirts were among the purchases.

There was one awkward moment. Alice said, “Um …Mom? I’d like some things …well, I know that I want regular boys’ underwear. I’ve tried Terry’s but they’re too small. So, uh …up a size. But I do have boobs, and this is really uncomfortable to talk about with you, because I know that you love yours and I hate mine. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but …I said I made battle plans? One of them is to save enough money to have them removed.”

“Oh!” Mom’s eyes were wide with shock. She felt like she’d been hit. She put a hand out to a bureau to steady herself.

“Figured now was the best time to tell you, seeing as how it’s Truth Time and all,” Alice said with some embarrassment. “They don’t belong there. And we both know that something that should be down there,” she pointed to her crotch, “isn’t there. But I’ll deal with that later. But my boobs …until I’ve saved up and can have the surgery, I’ve got to deal with ‘em. I’ve been reading up on it and I’ll write out the name of this company. It’s a medical supply place. They make a …well, they call it a ‘compression vest’ and it’s for guys after breast surgery.”

“Wait, wait–guys that had breast surgery?”

“Uh-huh. It’s pretty common, actually. It’s called ‘gynecomastia’. Sometimes it’s like boys in middle school that start to develop breasts because their hormones are all messed up; sometimes it’s body-builders that get what they call ‘man-boobs’. In fact, they even got a word for it: ‘moobs’! It would be the best thing you could get for me. If you can’t find one, then Champion, that makes gym clothes and stuff? A bunch of their sports bras; they’re supposed to be the tightest.”

Mom was stunned that even Alice was aware of ‘gynecomastia’ but even more shocking was how casually Alice dismissed her breasts.

“Oh, Alice,” Mom said sadly. “This is all so …” She slumped. “I know I’m going to call you Al, but it seems like this is the last mother-and-daughter talk we’ll ever have. It’s just so …sad.”

“Not really,” Alice said. “Try looking at it this way: On the same day you have your last mother-and-daughter with me, you have your first mother-and-daughter with Teresa–your real daughter. So you’ve got continuity. Or, better yet, how about this? Mom, think about it this way–you never had mother-and-daughter talks with me–ever–now, hear me out! You had mother-and-daughter talks with your son Al, who was squirming inside. And all along, your pretty daughter Teresa wasn’t getting the mother-and-daughter talks she needed, so you’ve got the future to make it up to her!”

Mom sighed, looking at her …son …and smiled sadly. “You make me so proud–and so sad–all at once.”

Alice shrugged theatrically. “What can I say? I’m a complicated guy!”

Mom had to laugh at that and left, going to Terry’s room, where he sat folding t-shirts in a pile. Mom paused at the doorway, smiling at her new daughter’s natural grace and feminine instinct to fold and put away. There were items that were obviously too large in one pile, and then everything else.

“That’s enough for tonight; we were lucky to have Al do the heavy lifting,” Mom said. “Literally,” she added in a murmur.

Terry startled a bit at how casually his mother had used the male name, but nodded. “I didn’t know where to start, so I thought I’d just …tidy up a little.”

“Tomorrow we’ll go through them, trying them on and seeing what we need. Tonight, it’s bath time for you, sweetie.”

Mom ran a special bath, the kind she herself liked, with aromatherapy beads and oils. She even lit some candles, and then told Terry to soak, just soak, and she’d be back, In the meantime, she got trash bags for the non-fitting girl clothes of Alice and the never-to-be-worn-again boy clothes of Terry. She hesitated, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She was sure she was, but she knocked gently at the bathroom door and went in, sitting on the toilet seat lid. She took a moment and looked at her …daughter, totally relaxed in the bath.

Terry was reclined in the tub; there were candles on the rim around him, the soft light gentling and smoothing the image. His long hair was up out of the water and twisted behind in a loose chignon, cradling his head. Terry’s small breasts poked through the water and even with the shimmer of the light on the water, Mom could see the feminine curve of his waist.

So amazingly pretty, Mom thought for the thousandth time that day. How could we not have seen that?

“Sweetheart? I know this is all happening really fast. It kind of has to, but I don’t want you to get caught up in something that isn’t right for you.”

“What do you mean, Momma?” Terry hadn’t meant to say it; he was so relaxed from the bath that it just slipped out.

And she caught it, of course. “Momma …I like that. Your sister never called me that …” Mom sighed. “Your sister really isn’t your sister, come to think of it. Really …never was.” Half to herself, she murmured, “Lotta changes.”

“Yes, Momma,” Terry said quietly.

After a time, Mom said, “Terry, I need to ask you something and if you don’t know the answer, it’s okay. You can say, ‘I don’t know yet’ or something, okay? But truth only, okay?” On Terry’s nod, she said, “Do you want to start living as a girl? As my daughter?”

“I thought I was. I mean, from this afternoon through Fair Week.”

“Yes, well …” She sighed again. “There’s living as a girl and then living as a girl. So let me ask you this. We should be back from the fair …about three weeks before school starts. Call it twenty-two days before school. Right?” Terry nodded. Mom said, “So what about the day after we get home from the fair? And what about day twenty-one? And twenty? As you get closer to the start of school …”

Terry felt everything close in around him; a clenching feeling like he’d never had before. “Uh …I think when we’re back …I’m supposed to …go back to normal?”

“Supposed to …” Mom frowned. “I don’t like that sense of forcing you to do something, but we’ll deal with that later. The other word bothers me.” She pressed. “Normal …what? Normal like, ‘you’re a boy named Terence’ like yesterday or normal like, ‘you’re a girl named Teresa’ like today?”

Terry studied the swirls of bathwater, his knees to his chest. In a small voice, he said, “Which do you want?”

Mom shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Not going there. This is about you, sweetheart. And don’t worry about hurting my feelings one way or the other. You won’t, okay? As long as you are a good person, my sweet child, it doesn’t matter to me if you’re a boy or a girl or an ocelot.”

Terry chuckled at that, unaware that his mother suddenly knew with full force the answer she did want. She’s my daughter! she thought fiercely.

Terry said carefully, “I don’t know what the next …month or so will hold. Um …can we wait and see?”

“Fair enough; a good answer,” said Mom, although she already knew the answer–both of their answers. “Tell you what. You’re not going to know–neither of us will–if you don’t commit. I mean, don’t hold back. Like what Alice …like your brother Al said, okay? Fully jump into being a girl up through the fair and then we’ll talk about the future, okay?”

“Okay, Momma.” Terry frowned. “Is it okay if I call you Momma?”

“Is it okay if I slip now and then and call you Teresa, even if nobody’s around?”

They exchanged a look that meant so much. The child knew what the mother wanted, and the mother knew what the child wanted. Yet neither could bring themselves to declare it. But they knew.

“Alright. I have a little job for you,” Mom said. “And two new friends to introduce.”

With that, she opened the cabinet under the sink and handed two items to Terry–a can of women’s shave gel and a pink disposable razor.

“Very slowly, very carefully,” Mom smiled. “Both legs, of course, and under your arms, even though there’s not very much there.”

The fact was that there was almost nothing there, or on Terry’s legs. He’d been dreading his first high school shower and the ridicule he was expecting. And now Mom wanted him to shave his legs …There was an odd feeling, somewhere between his heart and his chest. He realized it was overwhelming joy and excitement and at the same time, the need to damp it down. He listened as his mother instructed him how to shave, blot dry and use baby oil after he got out.

Mom left Terry to get on with it; she went to sit on Terry’s bed, just sitting. She really needed a few minutes to herself to regroup. She’d thought that she was the prime mover in things, getting Frank to agree to let Terry dress as a girl for the State Fair. Now, Alice–Al–had rotated her universe. In less than an hour he’d revealed and described a Brave New World for the Wilcox family, with an older son and younger daughter and both in high school and how was she going to convince Frank of that? But she knew that it would be incredibly difficult for him to accept a son that wanted to be a daughter. The only hope was that the difficulty would be tempered by Frank discovering he had a daughter that wanted to be a son.

God bless Alice, Mom thought. And God help her, too. Him …Al, not Alice anymore. Ever. So God bless him …

After a time, Terry came into his bedroom wearing the towel around his chest and his mother smiled and gently said, “How pretty you look, sweetie. Let’s see.”

Terry shyly moved a leg through the gap in the towel, toes pointed. Like a ballerina, Mom thought as she reached up and felt the sleekly smooth–and startlingly pretty–leg. Did he always have pretty legs and I never noticed? she asked herself, remembering him in shorts in years past. Terry also showed his underarms and proudly told her that he hadn’t cut himself once. Mom praised him.

“Almost bedtime, sweetheart.” She plucked through a stack of nightgowns. “This one, I should think,” she said, shaking out a pretty yellow shortie. “She never wore it. Al …he never wore it.” She frowned. “I never dreamed …”

“How much of a boy he is?” Terry asked gently.

Mom frowned slightly and then nodded.

“Or how much of a girl I am?”

The room was very still.

Mom’s eyes were moist when she looked up. “You are, sweetheart; you truly are,” she said breathlessly and then held up the nightie to Terry’s body. He put his fingers on the straps, holding it in place against the top of his shoulders. Mom sat back and smiled. “So pretty …” she murmured yet again. Then her voice grew stronger. “Alright. That’ll take care of you tonight. I think the matching robe …yes, there it is. Slippers …ah, there. Now, I know you brush your teeth before bed, and you will continue that, of course, but you will also start a regimen. A nightly facial cleansing regimen that will become a habit and will work wonders for you, even with your beautiful skin.”

Terry blushed at that, but dutifully removed his clothes and hesitated; he had decided that he was a daughter to his mother and so stripped down to the panties and then slid the nightgown over his head. It floated down and in some strange way he felt changed, a different person, even more than most of the day spent in a girls’ clothes, by simply putting on his nightie.

Mom took Terry in hand and led him to her sink and explained the procedure to cleanse and moisturize, making mental notes to pick up supplies for Terry. For some reason that made her think of makeup and she frowned. Alice had none and her own makeup was for an older woman and it wasn’t sanitary to share, anyway. She’d used a bit of lipstick earlier but Terry would need so much more …

And Al was right–Teresa was going to be so pretty …

When Terry was done, his hair pulled back by a headband and his skin shiny and glowing, Mom made a snap decision. “Terry, here’s what you’re going to do …”

A short time later Mom entered the family room. Dad was in his chair switching channels; Alice was sprawled on the couch, one leg over a couch arm, flipping through a Sports Illustrated. Mom was almost staggered by the natural masculinity of her eldest child. She squared her shoulders.

Mom announced, “Terry’s come to say goodnight. I’m heading to bed, too. Don’t stay up too late.”

Terry moved past his mother as Alice glanced up, eyes widening. She was stunned at first and then smiled warmly and nodded once. Terry wore a short yellow chenille robe over the yellow nightgown, his feet in matching yellow backless slippers, his face shiny and hair pulled back. He stood with one knee cocked forward, clutching his fingers in front of him, looking down at the floor and then slowly up to his father.

“Goodnight …Daddy,” he said softly, walking to his father.

Dad stared at the pretty girl before him. It was safe to say that there had never been such a pretty girl in the house before; certainly not Alice, who had been more handsome than pretty and even when younger, squirmed and fought to not wear such things.

“Daddy?” Terry asked, even more quietly.

Dad frowned and shook himself slightly. He glanced at Mom and suddenly knew what he needed to do. Alice had never been a hugger, so in a movement awkward through lack of use, Dad held up his arms. Terry flowed into them, turning sideways and sitting on his father’s lap. They hugged. Mom watched Dad’s gesture–at first a tentative hand hanging over Terry’s back–turn into a gentle and fluid pat of his new daughter. Mom was also struck by the small, delicate girl dwarfed by the large sunburned man.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Terry whispered and hugged once more, tightly. Then Terry stood and, embarrassed, gave a shy smile and a wave of two bent fingers to Alice and then walked past Mom, who murmured, “I’m coming, too, sweetheart,” while looking at Dad. Something passed between them and Mom left.

Alice turned to her father and said, “Teresa’s really pretty, isn’t she, Dad?”

“Yes …yes; she is,” he nodded slowly.

In Terry’s bedroom, Mom and her new daughter sat on the bed. Terry was excited. “It was incredible ¸ Momma! I did just what you said and he did just what you said he’d do!”

Mom smiled. “I know your father, sweetie, but …you didn’t do just what I said.”

“What did I forget? I thought I remembered everything …” His shiny face furrowed with worry.

“Hush, sweetheart,” Mom said with a gentle smile. “What I mean is, I told you what would work, but you did it, and you did it more naturally and prettier than I thought it would be. That wasn’t you performing some dance I choreographed. That was you–as his daughter–saying goodnight. As simple as that. See, he’s never had that. He never got it from Alice. And so tonight was a special night for both my daughter and her daddy.”

“Oh, Momma …” Terry’s eyes glistened as they hugged.

End of Part 2

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 3

It wasn’t until Terry finished his pirouette that he realized he’d done it. He’d wakened from a lovely sleep, stretched, and felt slinky and slippery in the nightgown. He got out of bed and the nightie fell down around his legs and he remembered they were freshly shaved and he suddenly felt so light and delicate and incredibly feminine that he spun around in a pirouette. He stopped, staring at the girl in the mirror as the nightie swirled around his thighs.

This …this was how he wanted to feel, every day of his life. He wanted to be that pretty girl in the mirror. Part of his mind registered that he was, but another part said it was just an illusion brought on by a few ounces of lace. Terry knew that he’d never had a desperate longing to be a girl; he’d sometimes thought about it in an vague ‘I wonder what it would be like’ kind of way.

But then, he knew that he’d never had a desperate longing to be a boy, either; in fact, he had no real sense of being a boy.

There were two knocks at his door and his mother poked her head through the opening. “Oh, you’re up! Morning, sweetie!”

“Morning, Momma!” Terry said so happily that Mom’s eyebrows rose.

“Well, it is a good morning, then!” she grinned. “Then I really hate to be the bearer of bad news–but we’ve got breakfast to make!”

Mom told Terry to wear the light green shirtwaist dress she’d placed in the front of the closet. He frowned. “But I tried it on yesterday; it doesn’t fit very well.”

“Yes, it was awful,” Mom nodded. “But this is psychological warfare. We can’t very well hit your father up for money for new clothes tomorrow if he sees you in nicely-fitting clothes, can we?”

Terry grinned. “Yer wicked, ye are!” he said, in an imitation of an old movie bit they both liked.

Mother and new daughter prepared breakfast as they usually did; father and new son trooped downstairs to gobble it and leave as they usually did. Dad studied Terry when he first brought out the orange juice and toast. A really baggy dress, hair back with the same two combs as yesterday. He frowned, then nodded to himself and tucked into his food.

Once ‘the men-folk’ were gone and the breakfast things were cleared, Mom and Terry went back to his room to sort out the clothing from Alice. There was a one-girl fashion show as Terry tried on Alice’s clothes. It was funny; Alice basically had two categories of clothing. The first category were things that had been sent when the grandparents were alive. There were colorful skirts and capris and some tops and a few dresses. Into this category they could also put Alice’s one ‘good’ dress, which she’d worn only once–to church for her grandparents’ funeral.

The second category consisted of what Alice wore to school. Since the dress code had relaxed two years ago, she had switched to jeans almost exclusively. But there were still some drab skirts and tops. Terry was surprised at how few and how bland they were, although they seemed brand-new; he couldn’t clearly remember ever actually seeing Alice in them. Every day for school, Alice wore jeans–usually Levis or Carhartt–tennis shoes or hiking boots, and usually a Henley top, Dickies or Carhartt.

The lingerie followed the same pattern, although thinking of ‘Alice’ and ‘lingerie’ in the same sentence was jarring. Very plain, unadorned white bras and panties, but Mom vetoed the panties for sanitary reasons even if laundered, although they did find another unopened three-pack of panties that had been shoved or fallen way in the back of Alice’s bureau. They were pastel yellow, blue, and pink, and as luck would have it, they must have been bought a few years ago and were smaller, and now fit Terry even better than the other panties.

The panties were bikini-cut, much tighter than the panties that Terry had worn yesterday and this morning. Terry was quite pleased at how they felt.

Mom came in at that moment. “What?” she asked, seeing his smile.

“Look okay?” Terry grinned, turning to her. Spontaneously, he advanced a knee and put a hand on his hip, striking a girlish pose.

Mom gasped. “You’re …” Her eyes widened and then she smiled. “Oh, Teresa! You look so pretty!”

Terry knew she was a mom and had to say things like that, but it was wonderful to hear even if it made him blush. There was a significant moment between the two of them, and then Mom nodded and brusquely said, “Alright. I’ve got something I wasn’t sure I could find.”

She produced a smallish blue box, placing it on her lap as she sat on the bed. Terry sat next to her, his knees together and hands between his thighs.

“Your sister …” Mom began, then frowned. “I know that Al is your brother now, sort of …anyway, for this to make sense I’ve got to talk about your sister Alice, okay?” Terry nodded. Mom chuckled sadly. “Back in the days when she was first becoming a tomboy …well, we’re past that. Anyway, I used some of my Paris Money to get these for her.”

Mom had dreamed of going to Paris ever since she was a little girl. She had a special savings account, separate from the family’s, that she had put little bits of money in, now and then, since she was nine, and it had grown over the years. Terry knew how important the Paris Money was to her and was respectful.

His mother carefully lifted the lid, and Terry was startled to see two flesh-colored blobs that he realized were breast forms.

Mom sat frowning at them, lips compressed. Then she said, “I’d hoped …well, Alice was slow in developing. Her bust, I mean. She was a stick, straight up and down from all angles, while her friends were becoming girls. Well, they weren’t friends as much as …just other girls.”

“Because Alice has always had guy friends,” Terry nodded. Then his eyes widened as the obvious truth became clear. “Because he was just one of the guys!”

Mom nodded sadly, lips compressed and sighed. “One of the guys …” She took a quick breath. “Well. I didn’t know that at the time. I thought she was just embarrassed to be with other girls because her body was slow to develop. And so I’d hoped …well, if she could catch up quick, sort of, with her girlfriends, she’d learn to love being a girl.” She looked at Terry and shook her head. “I know now that it just wasn’t in her. I think I knew, even then, what she told us last night, but at the time …well, I’d spent a lot for them–they’re really good quality–and didn’t want to …humiliate her. As I remember, it was something she said in passing, a week before her birthday, and I suddenly realized they would have been a terrible gift for her. I never even told her about them; we got her the baseball mitt and cleats instead.”

Terry vaguely remembered Alice’s flirtation with baseball; particularly strong was her anger at having to play soft ball. Then, at some point, baseball was just something on TV, although from time to time Dad and Alice still would ‘toss the old bean around’, as Dad called it. Usually on warm evenings while Terry and Mom sat on the porch, sipping ice tea and watching the game of catch.

Suddenly Terry had a flare of irrational anger. It was all so obvious! How in the world could the four of them not have known?

Mom must have caught a sense of his anger, because she turned and sadly smiled. “If we knew then what we know now, huh?” Terry nodded, calming. Mom’s smile warmed. “Somehow I don’t think you would be humiliated if I gave them to you.”

“Thank you, Momma, but …” Terry’s face wrinkled in confusion.

“But you don’t need ‘em,” Mom grinned. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You and I both know that, however in the world it happened, you are developing your own breasts. And you and I both think they’re pretty and they’re wonderful and we’re both happy about that, right?”

Terry struggled with the smile that was forcing its way on his face. “Yes, Momma.” He paused and the smile burst out. “Oh, yes!”

Mom hugged him, and then said, “But telling your father that will just send him around the bend, you know?”

Terry nodded. “No way he could handle it. Even I’m ...” He frowned. “Momma? I love them, but I don’t know how I have them.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve been wracking my brain for some explanation but I can’t come up with anything. We’ll have to hope that whatever specialist I can track down will find the cause.”

“But not the cure, right?” Terry blurted.

Mom smiled sadly. “Terry, I asked you last night about what happens after Fair Week. I think we both know the answer but you never said anything. I think you were …I know that you are worried that I might think less of you for some reason. And that’s just not the case! And just now, without thinking about it and censoring yourself, you said you don’t want your breasts …cured. Right?”

Reluctantly, Terry nodded. “Sorry. It just came out.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s what you want, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

Terry nodded solemnly.

“You need to say it out loud, Terry. You need to declare it.”

Shyly, Terry looked Mom in the eye. “I love my breasts. I don’t know how they came to be, but to me they’re a gift, an incredible gift, and …I want to keep them. And after the fair …I want to go on being your daughter Teresa.”

Mom hugged Terry. “I know you do, Teresa, my love! I know you do!”

Then, she surprised Terry by giggling–actually giggling!

“What are you laughing at?” Terry demanded.

Mom waved a hand, still chuckling. “Oh, I really want to see if your father and sis–’scuse me; brother notice anything. Let’s not tell them about your development and I will skin you alive if you flaunt them in their faces! I know you’re going to be proud of them–you’re just like any other girl, and I can read your face already–but just keep under the radar like we’ve done so far. If they say anything, I will produce this empty box and I promise you it’ll work out. Just don’t push things by undoing a couple of buttons and leaning over in your father’s face.”

The image was so funny that Terry put his hands over his mouth and laughed; Mom laughed with him.

Dad and Alice stomped in for lunch, laughing at something they’d heard on the radio, something about NASCAR. Their places were set, as always, and then the kitchen door swung out as Terry brought a platter of sandwiches. The two at the table stared.

Terry’s blond hair usually hung limp from a center part into a low, boy’s ponytail bound at the neck. The night before, it had been held with combs but still parted in the middle. Now it was parted on the side and swept back with a silver barrette holding it in place. He wore little silver clip-on earrings and pink lipstick. From the neck up, Terry looked absolutely nothing like a boy. And that didn’t compare with Terry from the neck down. He wore a sleeveless red-and-white gingham shirt with the tails tied across, leaving his tummy bare. Low on his hips he wore white capris.

There was a silver chain and locket around his neck, disappearing into the folds of the top–he was properly buttoned to not ‘flash’ his father–and he wore a thin gold bracelet and two gel bracelets, and two silver rings. Mom had been amazed how many odds and ends of hers fit Terry. But the jewelry wasn’t the end of it; Terry wore bright red nail polish. Even his toenails were polished, but they wouldn’t see them since he wore Mom’s white Keds without socks, his legs smooth and looking surprisingly long–for a boy only 5'3".

As Mom had instructed all morning, the point of ‘today’s lesson’, as she called it, was to look radically different but treat everything like it was an everyday occurrence, like all the previous days when Terry had brought out food.

“Milk’s nice and cold,” Terry said casually as he left the platter and returned to the kitchen. He could feel his father and brother staring at his back. In the kitchen, he and Mom fought to keep from giggling as she handed him the pitcher.

He composed a straight face and went back out and poured as Mom brought out bowls of applesauce and a bag of chips. Then Terry set the pitcher down and sat, knees together, putting his napkin on his lap.

“Oh, those are roast beef, those two are turkey, and those are the liverwurst you like, Daddy,” he said, following his mother’s directions, pointing at each with a crimson-tipped finger that couldn’t be missed. Ignoring anything else, Terry turned and picked up the bowl of potato salad and scooped two heaping mounds on their plates. Dad and Alice were still staring at him. Terry turned to Mom and dished a small bit of salad and a similar small amount for himself.

Alice snorted; she’d caught the significance of the salad sizes, as well as everything else. She knew her father was in shock and said, “Look real nice, sis.”

“Thanks, Al,” Terry beamed. He wondered if Alice noticed how his breasts looked and moved under his shirt.

“I like those earrings on you, but they’ve gotta hurt. You should get your ears pierced.”

That woke up Dad. “Pierced? Just for this fair thing? Isn’t that kind of drastic?”

Mom’s eyes narrowed at Dad but Alice shrugged and turned to her father. “Not really. Every girl her age has pierced ears; it’ll raise suspicions if she didn’t. And she’ll need time to get used to them.”

“Well, yes, we don’t want to …arouse suspicions, but …I mean, pierced ears. That’s pretty …permanent …isn’t it?”

“Naw,” Alice shrugged again, a typical boyish move. “Look at mine.” She turned her head and leaned over toward her father so he could see her ears. “If you take out the earrings, stop wearing ‘em, the holes close up. Can you even see the little hole anymore?”

Dad peered closely at Alice’s ear. “No, I …I guess not. Okay. I always thought it was permanent. Well, then, maybe you should think about that, honey.”

It was hard to tell who the ‘honey’ was directed to; Mom just nodded and Terry looked from his mother to Alice. Alice turned back to her sandwich, giving him a quick wink that only Terry could see.

The meal was over, the men back outdoors, and Mom and Terry had a cup of coffee after cleaning up. They were talking about the dinner menu; Terry would take an ever-increasing amount of responsibility for meal preparation, and was happy to do so.

Suddenly Mom burst out laughing, almost spitting out her coffee. Terry stared. Mom got herself under control and looked at Terry. “Don’t you get it? At lunch? What Alice did?”

“Um …not really. I mean, the pierced ear thing …”

That almost prompted another burst of laughter. Mom sat back, smiling. “Oh, sweetie, you have no idea! Alice said she’d help us, but I never imagined …”

“Oh, you mean getting Daddy to let me have pierced ears, once he saw how they could close up like Alice’s did?”

Mom nodded, grinning. “But you don’t get it, Terry–Alice never had pierced ears!”

“So what did she show …” Terry’s eyes widened.

Mom nodded as Terry realized. “Your brilliant sister just snowed your father big time. She showed him un-pierced ears, said, ‘You can’t see the hole!” because there never was a hole. And she did it for you, sweetheart. She did it for her little sister, so she can wear pierced earrings. And for that bit of selflessness, I’m going to have to call her your brilliant brother!”

By mutual agreement, the Wilcox family decided to forego their small local downtown and instead drove over an hour to get to a larger city with a huge mall and sprawling plazas around. The drive had been pleasant, the huge older station wagon roomy, and everybody was excited for different reasons. Terry wore a peach camp shirt of his mother’s that was just a little too big; it would be the first thing changed, Mom promised. He wore a denim skirt that miraculously had survived Alice’s ‘skirt purge’ and, also miraculously, fit quite nicely, if a bit long. He also wore the white Keds, which made his feet look small. Mom assured him that by the time they returned home, almost everything he wore would be different–and would be his.

The previous night had been similar to the one before it; Mom had told Terry it was important to ‘a man like your father’ to establish a routine and stick to it. Farmers loved routine; every day’s work was like the previous day’s and the following day’s work, with the slow turn of the seasons. That night, Mom carefully chose Terry’s dinner outfit; a purple blouse that was too big, and a long black skirt that hung below his knees. And the Keds.

Terry protested that there were things that fit better and didn’t make him feel foolish, but Mom grinned wickedly. “We’re going shopping tomorrow, right? This is our last shot at softening him up. He’s got to notice your sleeves almost falling in the food, and while your dad’s kind of conservative, even he’s going to think the skirt is a throwback to the Fifties. And we’ll just keep hammering him on the Keds, no matter how wildly wrong they are.”

“I don’t know; I liked them with the capris,” Terry said.

“And you’re 100% right about that, sweetie; they were perfect with capris. But we need to get under your dad’s consciousness, get the fact across that Alice’s stuff is too big and my clothes are too old.”

“But you’ve got–oh, yeah!” Terry grinned, understanding at last. “Okay. I’ll feel like a dork. Or the girl version–tonight I shall be a dorkette!”

That was a private joke between them, but just as Mom predicted, Dad did notice Terry’s clothes and ‘instructed’ Mom that she really should get some appropriate clothing and shoes. Mom dutifully nodded and made a note of it, trying hard not to laugh in triumph.

Later, shiny with moisturizer and hair pulled back and wearing the yellow nightie again, Terry came out and without hesitation, climbed onto Dad’s lap and said, “Goodnight, Daddy. Thank you for everything. I hope I can …do a good job for Mom.”

Then he kissed his stunned father’s cheek and climbed off and went to bed. As he passed his mother in the hall, out of sight of the family room, they high-fived each other. Mom’s instructions for Terry were working on Dad, who had sat, stunned and staring, as his pretty daughter left the room.

And now, cruising along on the way to the city, hair flying in the breeze, Terry felt happy and on the edge of something …a horizon …He thought of a poster he’d seen once that said, ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life’. That’s how he felt. He’d only just started dressing as a girl–being Teresa–but already it felt so very, very right.

But it was one thing to be dressing in his house, in front of his family, on family business–so to speak–but it was very different to be walking around a mall as a girl in front of other people. At least it was so far away nobody they knew would be there, Alice had reassured him.

But we’re there, so somebody else we know might be there, too. Statistically, anyway, Terry thought.

Suddenly a feeling came over him, out of nowhere. Well, it was prompted by thinking about maybe running into somebody they knew. Terry realized that he didn’t care! He liked being a girl, so far, anyway. He was sure now that he wanted to be a girl, and past the State Fair. Not just the day after, and the day after that …he wanted to be a girl forever. And he couldn’t keep binding down his growing breasts under little-boy t-shirts. So eventually folks would have to know about him. Why not now? And come to think of it, what the hell did it matter? He just had to hold onto the feeling of rightness; he was sure it would guide him through.

Well, that feeling of rightness and the wisdom and guidance of his mother. The family had stopped for gas and ice cream, and Mom had gotten the Ladies Room key from the clerk and gave Terry a pointed look. Startled, he grinned automatically and followed her in.

“Get used to it, sweetie. And since it’s just us two in here, two things I haven’t told you yet because they just haven’t come up. Oh, I just thought of a third. Okay, the first one is, sit to pee. Don’t do the guy thing of–”

Terry had raised his hand. “Momma? I already sit to pee,” he said calmly. He didn’t add that he had kept his penis tucked all the time for nearly two years now. By being tucked, the urine shot kind of back and down, just like a woman’s. The first time he’d tried it, he’d smiled.

The confession stalled her just a bit. “Alright then. But afterward, you wipe. Front to back. Never back to front. Good hygiene habits need to start …” She trailed off. The immensity of what it could mean in Teresa’s future was too heavy to contemplate in a gas station restroom.

Terry prompted, “Was that one or two things? And you said there was a third.”

“Oh. Forget the numbers, honey. Sit to pee. Wipe front to back. Then come out and wash your hands–always! But I know you do anyway, at home–and then touch up your hair and makeup. Well, you only have a lick of lipstick right now, but …just check things. And the last thing was just some advice. This gas station is an exception. When we get to the mall, or in restaurants or just about anywhere else on earth, there’s gonna be a line. A line of ladies of all ages waiting for the too few toilets. Don’t panic. Just act as bored as anybody else. It’s okay to chat a little. Remember, it’s an everyday, lifelong thing with women. Even a girl your age has about twelve years of standing in lines already.”

Terry couldn’t help it; he giggled at what Mom had said.

“Oh, you!” Mom grinned, slapping his shoulder playfully.

The only extra comment on restrooms came from Alice, of all people, who murmured to Terry, “Sure wish I could stand up to take a piss.” Terry’s head had snapped around in amazement, and his hand covered his mouth stifling a laugh. For some reason, this caused Alice to throw her head back and guffaw. It was strangely similar to Dad’s laugh.

Or naturally similar …Terry thought.

Mom had mapped out a battle plan for shopping, of course. First, she talked about ‘the men-folk’, also using the term ‘the guys’–it was the first time they’d heard the terms and they liked them; Dad shook his fist in the air in solidarity and Alice leaned forward and bumped it with her own. It was so masculine that Terry realized this was every bit as exciting for Alice as it was for him.

The plan was complicated by two contrasting elements. The stores for the guys were spread out, in three parts of the city sort of near the mall. The tractor parts store was a good distance away. But the items they wanted to pick up were relatively bulky. The stores for ‘us gals’, Mom said in balance–and everybody liked the new definitions–were all concentrated at the mall and a Wal-Mart on a plaza across the mall’s parking lot. But they would be having bags, too, but light and bulky–and a lot of them.

So the plan was that they would go to the tractor parts store first, to make sure they had what they’d come for. The gals would wait; Mom said they’d see if there was something nearby where they could wait for an hour while the guys got their parts. Then they’d take the guys to the next store–Mom made a joke about shopping for ‘manly machines’, said in her deepest gruff voice that brought laughs all around–which was not far from the mall and drop them off. The guys would shop at leisure and then walk to the next place, which was even closer to the mall. Eventually they’d hit the mall itself, but Mom said that she would park the car in front of the Sears store. They both had keys so Mom would lock up and Dad would use his key so they could put any additional purchases in the car and head into the mall. The agreement was to meet at the Olive Garden restaurant at seven.

“Why so late?” Dad asked. “That’ll put us on the road like nine-ish, at least.”

“We should be home before eleven; we’re not sightseeing, honey. Everybody’ll be tired, the kids will probably sleep. One quick fill-up and no other stops. Even if it’s closer to midnight, we’ll have gotten a lot done. Besides, when was the last time this family had a nice evening out, with someone waiting on us for a change?”

She linked arms with Terry at that, who blushed but felt pride at the solidarity with his mother. But Dad understood and just nodded. Alice, as usual, helped out. “Come on, Dad. The alternative is to tag along while the gals shop.”

“Heaven forbid!” Dad said goofily, waving his hands.

Everyone laughed and it was settled. Terry watched his mother; he’d already learned to respect her powers of manipulation, and she obviously wanted a very long day with her new daughter.

They sat for a moment, watching the guys go into the John Deere store. Mom sighed. Terry had to ask.

Mom frowned. “Just thinking how topsy-turvy everything is. Watching my …son go in there with his father …” She tilted her head. “And sitting here with my pretty girl …” She waved a hand around in the air. “Just …topsy-turvy.”

Terry reached over and squeezed his mother’s hand. “I love you, Momma. And if there’s anything I can do–”

“You are doing it, sweetheart. You’re being …you.” Mom squeezed Terry’s hand back. “Come on.”

As they’d neared the store, Mom had noticed a Target nearby and now went there. It was time for toiletries, she said; they should be about the same as Wal-Mart and would save time. They got a cart, and Terry pushed it, so swept along with Mom’s enthusiasm and mini-lectures–on why this cleanser was better than that cleanser and no need for that masque; you could make one at home in the kitchen and so on–that it wasn’t until they were in line to check out that he realized that he’d been in the store the whole time, in front of everybody, completely dressed as a girl! He turned to stare at Mom, who somehow realized what had happened and they both laughed and any last fear and nervousness just dropped away from him.

They had returned to the John Deere store not five minutes before Dad and Alice came out with a long box, some smaller boxes and some bags. They loaded up the car and drove to the second store, restated their plans, and they got out; Alice even gave the traditional two thumps of the car’s hood to signal they were good.

”Such a dude!” Terry murmured.

Mom heard him and laughed.

Mom drove quickly to the mall, parking at the Sears lot as planned and then half-dragging Terry along, mumbling something about ‘Didn’t realize it was so late’. She checked the mall directory and took off, towing Terry in her wake, and then, to Terry’s surprise, whisked him right into a salon.

“Sorry I’m late! The interstate …” She waved a hand. “Wilcox?”

The receptionist smiled and said the stylist was running a little over so it was fine. They sat in the waiting area; Terry hadn’t even had a chance to ask Mom what was going on before she spun on him, leaning so only he could hear.

“Terry, sweetie, listen hard and fast. I called around yesterday and made this appointment. You’re going to be here a long time. I don’t have time to tell you everything they’re going to do to you, but you have to trust me on this. Whatever they want to do, let them. Alright? It’s already been cleared and approved by me. They wouldn’t do anything extra or crazy or anything because they know what I wanted and that’s what they’ll be paid to do. Okay?”

“Um …yes, but they …” Terry was getting freaked at the thought of them finding out the truth about him.

“Shush, shush!” Mom raised a finger and Terry was instantly silent. “You are a very pretty girl. It would be natural for them to wonder how such a pretty girl hasn’t been in a salon before. I told them that you are my niece, got that? Don’t call me Mom. Call me Marie or Aunt Marie. Got that?” Dumbly, Terry nodded. “My sister–your mother, right?–had a very conservative husband who thought women should be in long dresses, no makeup …you know, one of those religious cult things. Oh, your last name is Franklin, if you wondered. My maiden name, remember? I told them that I’ve got you for a time while they divorce and with my sister’s blessing, you’re having what they’re going to do today. Just be a timid, scared girl with that in mind and you’re home free. It is going to take some time and all I can tell you is–”

“Ms. Wilcox? Tanya is ready for you,” the receptionist called.

“Thank you! Just one sec!” Mom called out and spun back to Terry. “All I can tell you is relax, sweetie, okay, please? This could be one of the most fantastic experiences of your life. Just go with it. I’ve got some boring shopping to do while you’re in here, like things for Alice. The fun shopping you and I will do once you’re out. But you’re gonna be amazed at what you look like and how you feel and I just know you’re gonna love it!” She stood, and Terry followed her to meet the coffee-skinned stylist who smiled warmly.

“Terry, is it?”

Terry nodded. “Teresa, actually,” he said timidly.

Tanya looked at Mom and back to Terry. “Your mother told me of your situation.”

“My …father, you mean?” Terry asked, not having to act nervous, because he was. Tanya nodded, and Terry nodded. “He’s …he was pretty strict.” For some reason, he turned to his mother and said, “Aunt Marie? I’m kind of scared, but Ma and you say it’s okay …”

My God she’s a good little actress! Mom thought proudly as she gently stroked the back of Terry’s hair and then leaned down to hug Terry.

Tanya made a compassionate face as Mom said, “There, there, sweetheart; this is how you start your new lives together. And, oh, Teresa; you’ll feel wonderful!”

Tanya nodded. “That’s my job, Teresa. Would you like to come with me? I’ll take special care of her, Ms. Wilcox. Natalie will call you,” she said, nodding to the receptionist.

Mom left the salon, worried but hopeful, and then hurried out to the car and consulted her notes. She knew she had several hours before Terry was done, and she had to get the car back to Sears before the guys showed up at the mall. She followed the directions given over the phone yesterday and soon found herself before a blandly beige building. Entering, she was startled by the wide variety of crutches, canes, wheelchairs, and other things on display in the lobby. She asked for Brenda, whom she’d spoken with the day before, who turned out to be a short, round, cheerful redhead. Brenda had three different compression vests for Mom to choose. Then she took a chance on Brenda’s character and told her exactly what the case was–a girl with medium-sized breasts who wished to be a boy. To her relief, Brenda didn’t judge, but took two of the boxes back into the stacks and reappeared with another. She explained that she’d known of similar cases and these two seemed to be preferred. One was a little stiffer and one was a little more comfortable. Due to the circumstances of Alice’s need, and the rarity of visits into town, Brenda handwrote an extension to the return policy. If Mom wanted to return one or both, she could do it on a later visit up to ninety days.

Next, Mom drove to the Wal-Mart near the mall. First order of business, Alice’s shopping list. Fortunately, Alice wasn’t picky about sizes but Mom had measured her and noted the sizes of the clothes she had that she liked, and consulting her notes, in half an hour she had a shopping cart full of Levis and Carhartt, Dickies, Arrow, Pendleton and other things. Boy things, definitely. She paid and carted it out to the car, loaded up and then went on a trip for basics for Terry. She had her notes there, too, and was lucky enough for a sale on teen lingerie, allowing her to stock up on bras, camisoles and panties. She got some cute tops that struck her fancy and some simple skirts that she knew would work. Leggings, tights, stockings, and then the accessories of brushes, combs, and a variety of things to later put in the cheap purse she’d found, a black hobo bag. She also found basic makeup kits all preassembled in tiny briefcase-like cases. Not for the first time, she envied the girls of today, wishing she’d had something like that in her youth. She picked up one, and found another case that was devoted to nail polish and nail care items. She double-checked her list and reasoned that she had pretty much everything that didn’t require Terry to try on for size. And she was worried about the car being too full when Dad saw it!

There was a parking place two spots from where she’d been before. She left a note for the guys on the dashboard–a trick she and Dad used–to swing by the Olive Garden at six, just in case ‘the gals’ got done sooner; if they didn’t show up, then they’d meet at seven as planned. She hurried into the mall. At the salon, Natalie told her that everything was being done, and that ‘she sure is a sweetheart!’. Mom was struck by the genuine way she’d said that and asked why; Natalie shrugged.

“Maybe it’s being from a farm–oh, I don’t mean that in a bad way! It’s just that usually we get so many city girls here who all think they’re from Sex and the City or something.” She grinned.

Mom had no idea what that meant but it sounded like a movie or a book or something that everybody knew so she just nodded.

Natalie went on, “But your Teresa is just so sweet. A really, really nice girl. That religious thing …they didn’t …beat her, did they?”

Beat her? Oh! My cover story! Mom had to bite her tongue to keep from smiling. She leaned forward and quietly said, “You know, I have my suspicions!”

Natalie, wide-eyed, nodded.

Mom nodded slowly with her. “The main thing is …you’re right, Natalie; she is a sweet girl, and I just had to help her! And it was only once she was safe with me that my sister could …you know, take the steps to divorce the creep.”

“But why …I mean, I know people fall in love with all sorts of people, but …why did she marry the guy?”

“He changed,” Mom shrugged. “I thought he was a nice guy, too. Worked as a baker but was studying to be a minister. Seemed like, you know, a really nice guy.”

Natalie said, “I bet he got weird when he got his church, didn’t he?”

Mom thought, What movie is going on in Natalie’s head? but she just nodded. “You’re pretty sharp, Natalie. That’s almost exactly right.”

Natalie sat back, satisfied and a little proud she’d ‘figured it out’. Mom busied herself in her purse to keep from laughing. Then Natalie said, “Let me check how much longer.” She slid off her stool and went in back, returning with an apologetic look. “Another hour to an hour-and-a-half, I’m afraid. The extensions take time, you know.”

“Oh, I know!” Mom said, like she was familiar with extensions. She really had only heard about them from a friend once; there had been some lines about them on TV and she’d finally looked them up on the internet.

They weren’t cheap, because Mom had done her research and they were using what was called European handmade wefts; but then this whole salon visit was expensive, at least for a mall in a town in the Farm Belt, she thought. But she was using her Paris Money, so it didn’t cause a burden on the family finances. And she was almost certain that the results would be worth every penny.

Mom had at least an hour to kill and used it to check the mall directory, looking for the dancewear store. The map also showed a large bookstore nearby. She’d remembered her ignorance over Natalie’s ‘Sex and the City’ remark. She found the dancewear store and after discreetly asking the older, peroxided woman, sure enough, there was a tray with ‘dance belts’, like tiny bikini bottoms or thongs. Mom asked about swimming, realizing only too late it was a dead giveaway that the belt wasn’t for a male ballet dancer. She’d had such a good experience with Brenda that she’d gotten careless.

The woman gave a patronizing smirk and pulled a second tray of what she was calling ‘gaffs’. She was shockingly honest about how ‘the guy’s balls should go up in his tummy and tuck his cock back’, as if she dared Mom to blush or stammer. Mom looked her right in the eye, fully aware that her own child had already tucked everything, and using Paris Money, bought four, the tiniest, two in flesh and two in an almost invisible mesh.

Shaking the unpleasant woman from her mind, she headed for the bookstore and looked for a reasonably young, hip-looking clerk, a short girl with choppy dark hair and heavy black eye makeup. A piercing winked at her eyebrow.

“Excuse me, I’m finding myself stuck with a fifteen-year-old for the summer and don’t have a clue what girls her age are reading these days. Can you help me?”

The clerk–with the surprisingly gentle name of Amy–was a little uncertain at first, asking questions and wondering why the girl hadn’t read the Traveling Pants books or the Twilight series, and Mom trotted out the ‘religious conservative father now being divorced’ story and it worked like a charm. She’d told Amy that ‘Becky’ would be entering public high school this fall, and Amy smiled and nodded. Mom was piled up with Twilight, Traveling Pants, Gossip Girl books and a pile of magazines, including Seventeen, which was very different from what Mom remembered as a girl. She noticed that girls were still worried about the size of their boobs and period cramps, but then there were some pretty racy things about boys. That brought home Alice’s prediction, that Terry would like boys–and boys would like Terry. Well, Mom thought, we cross that bridge when we come to it …

After dumping the substantial load of books and magazines in the car–squeezing them under the John Deere things–Mom went back to the salon and waved at Natalie and then paid for the services, using the check card in her special ‘Paris Money’ account. Even knowing beforehand, she was still stunned at the price. But telling herself it would be worth it, she sat, picking up a Cosmopolitan from the stack and was amazed and amused and a little embarrassed at how sexually explicit it was. Things were certainly different for her daughter now …and then she remembered that her daughter was her son but really her daughter, unlike her son who was her daughter but now, really, her son …and then she chuckled, thinking, These magazines have nothing on the Wilcox family for weirdness!

Every so often a salon gets it right. They get the right stylist with the right customer with the right kind of hair, the right kind of attitude, a number of things fall into place …

Such it was that day, as Tanya very proudly led Terry out to see his mother. Two other stylists and a nail girl followed; they’d all gotten along so well, once Terry’s nerves settled. They’d been chatting and giggling as they walked and Tanya smiled warmly at Mom.

“Ms. Wilcox? It gives me great pleasure to present to you, your niece Teresa,” and she stepped aside.

Mom actually gasped and her hand flew to her chest. Terry was gorgeous! But …but …gorgeous wasn’t the plan; the plan had been to make him feel comfortably female and look good enough to pass unquestioned as a girl. But he looked not only like a girl, but an extremely attractive one. Mom’s first thought was how beautiful her daughter was; the second thought was Oh, God; how am I going to get this past Frank?

Terry took two tentative steps towards Mom and then flung himself into her arms. Mom had the presence of mind to lean down to his ear and whisper, “Aunt Marie; Aunt Marie.” Aloud, she said, “Oh, sweetie, if only your momma could see you right now!”

“I love it, Aunt Marie! And Tanya, and Ruth, and Emiko, and Hazel …” Terry turned to the smiling salon staff. “They’re all so great! Thank you, thank you!” And he hugged Mom tighter.

“Thank you,” Mom said tearfully to the staff. Tanya had her hands to her nose and mouth, blinking back tears.

Tanya sniffed, smiled and said, “We’ll leave the two of you alone; I know how it must be an emotional moment for you both. And let me say, Teresa, we’d love to have you back here any time–”

“In six to eight weeks!” the one called Hazel called out, grinning.

Tanya chuckled. “That’s to work on the extensions, allowing for hair growth. But it has been a true pleasure spending the afternoon with you, Teresa. Ms. Wilcox, you take good care of your niece there, and I hope everything works out for her and her momma.”

With that, the staff turned and left. Even Natalie seemed occupied, giving Mom and Terry some space. Still, Mom kept her voice low. “Do you really like it?”

“Oh, God, yes! How did you do this? How did you know what to tell them to do to me?”

“Well, some of it I knew, but I did my research and like I said, I made a lot of calls while you were doing laundry yesterday.”

“I love-love-love it! All of it! Thank you!” Terry said, squeezing his mother’s hand. He looked around and whispered, “And Momma? I don’t ever want to be a boy again!”

End of Part 3

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 4

One part of Alice’s prediction came true just twenty feet from the salon. Boys would be interested in Terry. Boys and men, too, which Mom hadn’t even considered. Her new daughter radiated, giving off waves of happiness along with the visual beauty. The males noticed, tuned to Terry like radar. Some women, too; Mom saw the flash of jealousy or envy in some of them.

Fortunately, at this point Terry was oblivious to it, as he excitedly told Mom everything that had happened in the salon. They would also see themselves in reflective surfaces and Terry would look, stunned, still not believing he was looking at himself in the mirror.

The combination of modest extensions and hair brightening had given Terry a full, lustrous head of vibrant blonde hair that now reached past his shoulder blades. Mom didn’t want it any longer or it would become a burden in everyday work. Terry’s hair was long enough to easily go up in a full ponytail or down in a braid–or even pigtails!–and was undeniably feminine and quite beautiful. The salon had done a masterful job of matching hair color and then brightening both; it was impossible to tell that it wasn’t all Terry’s hair, even up close. Mom figured it would take about two years’ worth of growth to reach that length from Terry’s collar-length ‘before’ hair. Mom wanted there to be no doubt that Terry’s was a girl’s head of hair and not a wig or fall to worry about.

Terry’s eyebrows had been waxed and were thin delicate arches, so gracefully feminine, that opened up his face and made his eyes seem larger. The makeup was perfect in color match and in application, and the salon makeup girl had given Mom a sheet with the recommended shades and brands. Mom decided to pick up one of each at Dillard’s for special times, and let Terry run wild experimenting with the makeup kit Mom had found at Wal-Mart.

The nails had been a problem; not the toes but the fingers. Terry needed short nails as all farm girls did, and Mom had stood fast over persuasions to get acrylic extensions. Fortunately Terry’s nails were in good condition and he didn’t bite them, so the salon had some magic strengthener that they applied, coat after coat, not lengthening but hardening his nails. Terry said the nail girl had joked that it was ‘industrial strength’ and Terry had said ‘that’s what you need on a farm’, although the girl did her best with her files to gently shape the nails. Finally, they’d added coats of a soft rose and sealer and Terry’s nails were still short but now beautifully shaped, making his fingers look longer and more delicate.

Finally, his ears had been pierced and gold studs shone through his hair, and Terry excitedly pulled his now-thick hair back to show off his new earrings to his mother. He was nearly skipping with pleasure.

Terry was giggling as he told Mom about the pain of the eyebrow waxing when he broke off, frozen. For the first time, he’d noticed what Mom had seen right away–the effect he was having on males. Two older teen boys had walked out of a store, glanced down the mall and then did a double-take when they saw Terry. They nudged each other and were grinning, kind of inflating themselves …and one walked right into a pillar. It was hilarious and painful to see and Mom thought, Terry did that from fifty feet away, in an oversized camp shirt and skirt and Keds, for God’s sake!

Mom steered Terry into the very next store, one that sold games. Terry was puzzled at the choice and Mom frowned, thinking quickly. She waved off a clerk with ‘Just browsing!’ and put her head close to Terry’s, as if they were studying a game display.

“That was independent proof that you are a very pretty girl now, Terry,” Mom said. “Well, you were already very pretty, but after the salon …wow.” She shook her head in awe.

“I feel kind of pretty, Momma. And those boys–”

“Those boys saw a gorgeous girl and got silly!” Mom nodded quickly. “Get used to it but don’t get used to it, okay? I pulled you in here to tell you that you’re going to have that affect on boys. And men, which bothers me a little. Oh, I’m not bothered that I have such a pretty daughter, but you have no experience in this! Girls usually have ten or fifteen years of dealing with male attention before they are as pretty as you are, and you’re just going from zero to a hundred in nothing flat. You know what I mean?”

Terry nodded, solemnly. “It’s nothing I did …”

Mom smiled sadly and hugged Terry. “I know that, sweetheart. It’s all part of growing up a pretty girl, and you’ve just got to do it all at once. Just ignore the stares. Don’t be stuck-up; just go on about your business. If you see them smile at you, smile politely and look back at whatever you were doing. I just don’t know what your father’s going to think …”

“Do you think he won’t like it?” Automatically, Terry’s fingers flew to his hair.

Mom chuckled at the instinctively feminine gesture. “No, sweetie; he’s going to love it.” She paused. “After we scrape him off the floor!”

They giggled and went back into the mall and began their shopping. After a quick trip to the makeup counter at Dillard’s where the clerk filled the list the salon had given, Mom returned to her routing plan. Taking into account what she’d already bought at Wal-Mart, she’d decided most of what they needed could be found in Younkers. Terry was understandably nervous going into the Juniors department, but after no reactions from anybody, and seeing the pretty girl looking back at him from mirrors, he relaxed. He tried on skirts and tops and they found several, as well as several jeans. Mom was concerned about the ‘low-rise’ styles that were so low-cut as to hang several inches below Terry’s navel. Which, to Mom’s surprise, she’d never really noticed before and was a rather cute ‘innie’. It was as if the doctors somehow knew that fifteen years later, this boy baby would need a cute belly button for low-rise jeans and crop tops …

Terry was in seventh heaven; this was all so far beyond any scale of anything he’d ever dreamed of. And at some point–he didn’t feel it when it happened but only that it had happened–he felt that he’d crossed some absolute line. He wasn’t thinking and feeling like a boy pretending to be a girl–he felt like a girl out with her mother. The feeling couldn’t last–even thinking about standing before his father made him shudder with embarrassment and nerves–but while he was alone with Mom shopping, it really felt like mother-and-daughter. And it was a very good feeling that he wanted, always.

Mom felt something change in Terry’s demeanor and suspected that he was feeling girlhood; she smiled with sad happiness or happy sadness. Wait; the French had a word for it, if she could remember …tristesse, was that it? A sort of melancholy or bittersweet feeling. She welcomed her beautiful daughter but was losing her wonderful son. Well, she thought, so be it.

The Younkers shoe department was crowded but they were helped by an older woman, to Mom’s relief. She didn’t want to creep out Terry by telling him about the male shoe clerks looking up skirts! There was a sale on flats, and Mom just gritted her teeth financially and went for it. Terry got his own white Keds; flats in white, black, and brown; sandals in the same colors; and black Mary Janes with a small heel. That led Mom to asking for black pumps with at least a two inch heel. Terry was nervous but went along with it, gamely trying on several pairs. Fortunately, in the time they were buying flats, he’d seen several girls his age wobbling on high heels so he wasn’t as self-conscious. But he never expected Mom to buy him a pair of shiny black three-and-a-half-inch heels! Mom smiled enigmatically and just murmured something like, ‘You never know when you’ll need ‘em!’ They also bought a very nice purse, picked out by Terry himself, a butter-soft brown hobo bag, and they transferred the items from the Wal-Mart purse.

Everyday underwear had been taken care of by Wal-Mart earlier, but in the Younkers Juniors lingerie department they bought some better quality bras, panties, and a variety of nighties, which had Terry on the verge of blushing until he got control of himself. Mom had gone into a different section and found the Champion sports bras Alice had wanted and got several in the ‘Max MCR’ designation. Mom had sadly chuckled to herself about the irony, buying bust-enhancing, pretty bras for her son and bust-reducing, masculinizing bras for her daughter.

Which made her think of a special treat. They had quite a few bags to get to the car, including the heavy bags with shoes–Mom saw the note was gone which meant the guys were in the mall–and then Mom grinned wickedly and took Terry to Victoria’s Secret. She could feel Terry shake a little as he realized where they were going.

Mom leaned down and quietly said, “I figured that you’re already experienced at buying lingerie now, so I’d treat you to some fun stuff and this is girl time, okay? Dad is not going to know.”

“How’s he not going to know? He’ll see the bills and–”

Just before the doorway, Mom steered them to a bench. Sitting closely, heads down, Mom said, “Sweetheart, two things need to be said. They’re both about the same thing but two different ways. Before I say anything, I want you to get all your protesting out of the way.”

“Protesting? Momma, I’m not protesting–”

“I mean the things nice people say. Like ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have!’ or ‘Oh, you spent too much!’ or ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept this!’. Those sorts of things.”

Terry giggled at Mom’s impersonations. In a dull, monotone voice, like a robot, he said, “Oh, Mother, you shouldn’t have …you spent too much …I couldn’t possibly accept this …Protesting sequence over.”

Mom laughed out loud and swatted Terry’s shoulder. “Silly! God, I love you so much, Teresa!”

She had meant it completely lovingly, and without subtext, but Terry frowned. “More than Terence?”

Mom froze, realizing how important–how crucial–this point was. And somehow, she also realized, in that instant, what had to be said and done, like Alice had said about ripping off the band-aid quickly.

She calmly answered, “Yes.”

Terry spun to her, eyes wide with shock.“Yes?” Mom nodded. Terry blurted, “What?”

“Yes, I love Teresa more than Terence. Much more.”

Terry was speechless and seemed ready to dissolve in tears.

“Want to know why?” Mom said, calmly.

“Because you’re a woman and you’d rather have a daughter,” Terry said, as if it were a fact. He seemed angry, betrayed.

Mom didn’t let the emotions get the better of her. Still calmly, she said, “Actually, that’s not true. The thing that all women want daughters. Maybe fifty-fifty. Some are afraid of boys; some will tell you they only know about being girls; some want to give their child the girlhood they’d never had …lots of reasons. Just as many will tell you they know how mean and cruel girls can be; or they had a perfectly fine girlhood, thank you very much, and want to see what boyhood is like; or that they want to try to raise better males for the future.” She shrugged. “And a lot of other reasons. But don’t you think for a moment that I’m driven by any of those thoughts. Because when I said that I love Teresa much more than I love Terence, it’s not about me–it’s about you.”

“About me?” Terry was surprised and the anger dissolved in the wake of his mother’s calmness and the point she’d made. “How is it about me?”

Mom tilted her head as she asked, “Do you remember when Alice was trying to learn guitar?”

Terry snorted, remembering. That had lasted about a month! They’d borrowed a guitar from somewhere and Alice had tried, with a book and two whole lessons, but finally after declaring she’d taken her last lesson, set the guitar in a corner of the family room and didn’t go near it again. Several days later, Terry had tentatively picked up the guitar and looked at the book. He fiddled for a bit, and later that night after dinner, he’d shown the two chords he’d learned and as he strummed them, Dad told him to keep going between the chords and began singing a silly song he called ‘A Horse With No Name’. Mom sang along, too, so it wasn’t a made-up song, and it was a very happy family moment until suddenly Alice exploded off the couch and nearly growling with rage and frustration, cried that it was her guitar and to keep his paws off it and she took it and marched into her room, slamming the door. It was one of the few very painful family memories Terry had.

Oh yes, he remembered when Alice was trying to learn guitar!

Mom had watched the emotions play on his face as he recalled the time and then said, “You were pretty good. You should have been one for music lessons and not Alice; it just wasn’t in her. But after that business with the guitar, it would have been too painful for her to watch you learn, so you never got music lessons.” Mom shook her head and sighed. “She’d only wanted to play guitar because she was looking for some way of being accepted by the kids at school. It’s been …brutally hard for Alice. Being Alice. And, to my sorrow, I never really knew how deeply she was hurting …”

“She’s strong,” Terry said. “I don’t mean just, you know, lifting stuff. She’s …stronger.”

“Because she knows who she is, now. She knows her future. Which,” Mom sighed again, “is as a boy named Al. It’s going to be tough, but, yeah, you’re right–she’s stronger now.” She frowned. “I wonder …”

Terry gave her time.

Mom pursed her lips. “I wonder if, all along, it was …it was Al’s strength. Inside. That kept Alice going, I mean.”

There was a moment as they both thought about Alice, and Al.

Then Mom gave Terry a quick hug. “Which brings me to you. Your question and my answer. Yes, I love Teresa more than Terence, and I’ll tell you why.”

“Was wondering,” Terry pretended to grumble.

Mom chuckled and then kissed the top of Terry’s head. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so much. Okay. The guitar–”

“Again with the guitar?” Terry said playfully.

“Again with the guitar,” Mom placidly nodded and continued. “How many strings on a guitar?”

“Six.”

“You picked out those chords pretty easily.”

Terry shrugged. “Well, the book showed me, and it’s kind of funny how the same note is on different strings, high and low, and sometimes you can change the chord by moving just one finger down just one little …those bar things …”

“Frets, I think they’re called. The metal ridges. My point is, you figured out how to make music–I mean, Dad started singing right away, remember?”

Terry chuckled at the memory. “Silly song about a horse.”

“Huge hit, believe it or not,” Mom laughed. “Anyway, six strings, you said. So let’s just say that three strings are missing. Broken or something. Three strings on the guitar. Could you play those pretty chords that made us want to sing along?”

“Well …no, of course, because the chord needs certain notes to even be a chord. Well, there’s some duplication, I suppose you could sort of do some of the chords.”

“But not all of the chords, or sounding as nice?”

Terry shook his head. “Nope. Pretty tough. It would never sound as good as all six strings. That’s the point. That’s what makes it a guitar. Wait a minute–a ukulele has, um, four strings I think.”

“Does it sound as nice as a guitar? Does it play the same variety of music, from Bach to Led Zeppelin?”

Terry laughed at the thought of that. “No! It’s a ukulele. That’s why it sounds the way it does, and the songs on it–all the Hawaiian ones–all sound like it.”

“But it’s no guitar?”

“No, it’s no guitar.”

“Sweetheart, I absolutely believe, in my heart of hearts, that Terence was a three-stringed guitar. There was something missing in him. Not just being short and …delicate.” She watched him closely but he didn’t protest. He was going to, then nodded.

Mom smiled sadly. “Terence was a guitar with only half of his strings. So, in your own words, you could sort of do some of the chords. Becoming Teresa–whatever the reason or cause behind it, State Fair or not–becoming Teresa added the missing strings. It was like a barely-playable guitar suddenly became able to make beautiful music. All six strings are right where they’re supposed to be. Teresa is Terence–plus what was missing from Terence. I really, truly believe that. The complete musical instrument. You.” Mom gently gave one quick shake to Terry with her hug. “You are my whole child, male and female together, Terry and Terry. Put them together and what do you get? Teresa, my daughter. So of course I love Teresa more than Terence, because she’s the whole person–the whole person.” She smiled as the thought came to her. “There’s more to love.”

Terry sniffed. “God, Mom, do …” He sniffed again. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do. Absolutely. Absolutely! And I think your father knows, too, deep down. So far down that he hasn’t reached it yet, but he will, he will. Because it’s the truth. Your sis–darn, I’ve got to get used to this!–your brother already knows. Al might have known even before me, because like he told us, he’s been struggling with this for years. So that leaves you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I don’t think it’s too early or too late. I think it’s time that you declare, out loud to me, if you want to be a boy or a girl.”

“I told you already–”

“It’s one thing to think and say in the safety of our home. Now, after the salon, you’ve seen what your life could be like in the real world. With that …additional information, it’s time for you to declare, once and for all.”

Terry nodded, and then frowned. “But Dad–”

“It’s not about him. It’s about you.”

“Well, school–”

“Not about it–about you.”

Terry looked at the store in front of them, the huge posters in the Victoria’s Secret window. He sighed. “Momma, you see that?”

Mom looked at the giant photo of the model in a pink bra and nodded.

Terry sighed again. “I don’t care if this has only been a few days. I don’t care if it was just to help you with the fair. I look at that poster and I think–I know–that I want that bra for my own breasts. I want to put on a pretty bra and all the rest of my clothes every day and I want to make myself pretty for myself and for my family. I want to cook and do things to help them and I want to be able to laugh and cry and giggle and dance and …” His voice got ragged. “And I want to get married and have babies and raise my own and that will never happen and it’s only for the fair and I don’t know what I’m going to do ...” He burst into sobs.

Mom instantly handed him tissue from her purse. “Blot, don’t rub. There, attagirl.” She gently rubbed Terry’s back. After a moment, she said, “Still didn’t answer me. Yes, you did, but I said declare it. You sort of did when you came out of the salon, but you might have been swept away by how pretty you were.”

Terry nodded, folding the tissue and dabbing, folding and dabbing. Mom thought, How naturally she does girl things! Even Al would just jam the tissue against his eye and rub. Or use his sleeve.

Finally, under control, Terry said, “Sorry. Momma, I said I never want to be a boy again. I think what you said about the guitar means that I was never really a boy, ever. I don’t know if that means I shouldn’t feel bad about it or what. Makes me feel like I let Dad down.”

“Just hush about that; we’ll come to that later. Remember, this is about you.”

Terry sniffed and dabbed and nodded. Then he sniffed a final time and folded the tissue into his hand and cleared his throat.

“Momma …Mother …I’m declaring to you that I want to live every day and every night for the rest of my life as a girl. As a girl and then as a woman. On the drive in–I didn’t tell you this–but on the drive into town, I started thinking about …motherhood. About babies, and how I couldn’t have any, and about how wonderful you are, and how much I wanted to be a mother like you, and I had to stop thinking about it. It was just too …overwhelming. I guess it all just sort of …came out of me just now.” He sniffed. “But I am desperately afraid that I’m going to have to go back to being a boy, and it would be the worst thing possible. I can’t even …” He shook, a quick full-body tremble, and quieted. “Anyway, sorry; I’m taking too long. So I declare: I want to be a girl. I want to be your daughter. And Daddy’s. Always. Until the day I die.”

Mom hugged her and kissed her head again. “Thank you, Teresa. And I knew it, you were right, and we just look forward from now on, okay? Now, there’s a Ladies’ over there; let’s get you fixed up and then watch out, world!”

There had been a line, of course, but Terry handled it well, coming out of the stall later and washing and touching up. Both he and Mom noticed that other women were looking at Terry, smiling or with envy. Then they finally went into Victoria’s Secret and Mom bought both of them some lacy, sexy lingerie, blushing and giggling and promising each other not to tell Dad.

While standing in line in the restroom, Mom had explained what she’d been about to say when she’d gotten sidetracked by Terry asking if she loved Teresa more than Terence. The topic was money, specifically her Paris Money. They’d already played around with not allowing protests, back on the bench, and in the confines of the restroom line, Terry kept his head close as Mom whispered that she had the money and seeing what it could do for her daughter was more important to her–and more fun–than seeing the Eiffel Tower. Terry had tried to protest but it withered under Mom’s glare. Then he nodded and hugged her and understood. The same Paris Money bank card that paid for the salon would pay for Victoria’s Secret so the family didn’t pay and Dad didn’t know–but Mom told Terry to never underestimate the powerful feeling of secretly wearing sexy lingerie under everyday clothes!

There were two relatively quick stops after that; the first was a swimwear boutique. Terry tried to protest but Mom overrode and Terry obeyed, accepting Mom’s statement that everybody–and every body–looks gross under store lighting. Mom made Terry try several things on and settled on a maillot in blue and green swashes, and a pink bikini. It was really hard for Terry to even try it on, but Mom insisted. And then she enjoyed Terry’s furious blush when he looked in the mirror and saw the pretty, curvy girl in the bikini–it was a blush of embarrassment but also of pride.

The last stop was Claire’s, where Mom said that Terry had fifteen minutes to grab whatever jewelry and accessories he wanted. “Don’t worry about anything except ‘Do I like it?’ and ‘Does it fit?’, okay?” Mom grinned.

Terry grinned back. “O-kay, you asked for it!” he giggled, and then attacked the store, trying a variety of bracelets and rings and holding up earrings and necklaces against his face and grabbing some scarves and even a pair of Forties-style sunglasses that were so cute on him that, watching from one wall of the store, Mom had to laugh.

A last trip to the car to unload prompted Terry to innocently ask, “Should we just get a U-Haul?”

Mom laughed. “Thank God we have this big old station wagon. Can you imagine if we’d taken Dad’s truck?”

It was a club cab so all four could fit, but the bags would have been in the truck bed, exposed to thieves. Still, it was a very crowded car. And, Mom thought wistfully, a much lighter bank account …

They had already discussed what Terry would wear, so they pulled out just those bags they needed and went to the Sears Juniors department. Mom explained to the clerk that she would be buying these shoes for Terry, they were perfect, but then she’d like Terry to use the fitting room to get completely dressed for meeting ‘the men-folk’ for dinner. The clerk understood perfectly, and Mom was paying for the girls’ work boots that they’d decided on for Terry’s outdoor farm work; they were a lighter brown leather with some pretty pink-and-yellow embroidery and came with pink-and-yellow laces as well as dark brown laces.

Meanwhile, Terry disappeared into the fitting room and emerged and Mom’s heart almost stopped. She thought of the two boys stumbling when they saw Terry, and that had only been in a camp shirt and baggy skirt. Terry’s hair and makeup were perfect, of course, as were his nails, from the salon. But you could see his toenail polish now, his toes so pretty in the white strappy sandals with a small heel. His legs were sleek and shiny–some glossy cream the salon had rubbed in–and he wore a dress that was short and kicky but not too short for Dad. It was white with yellow splashes on it, with a gentle flare to the skirt. It was belted with a thin white belt and the scooped neckline was feminine yet demure. It came with a short white bolero jacket with sleeves to the elbows. The gold studs winked at his ears, and he proudly wore a gold necklace, bracelets and rings.

Even the clerk gasped. “The men-folk are in for a treat!” she teased.

“Yes, they are,” Mom smiled, feeling on the verge of tears. “Yes, they are.”

It wasn’t a treat …so much as a shock. A four-way shock. Mom and Terry walked to the Olive Garden at 6:55 from one end of the mall as Dad and Alice approached from the other. They were thirty feet apart when they saw each other and stopped in place. It was like an old Wild West gunfight, with each group staring at the other.

Mom was fully aware that Dad and Alice would be staring at the beautiful blonde girl next to her, trying to reconcile that vision with little brother Terence. But Mom and Terry were also staring at the big guy next to Dad. It was Alice–now fully Al–with her head shaved into a buzz cut. She wore new Levis and a baggie hoodie. But there was no trace of a girl.

The opposite was true on the other side. Dad and Al stared, wondering, Is that my son? and Is that my brother? But Alice made the leap first. No, that’s my sister! and waved and let out a yell.

“Whoo-hoo!” she hollered, grinning. “Look at us!”

Terry didn’t think of a response; he acted immediately and waved back. “Hey, big bro! Gonna need a lot of sunblock!”

Alice let out a laugh and bounded the distance up to Mom and Terry, stopped dead in her tracks, glanced once at Mom and then swooped in to hug her new ‘little sister’.

“God, you look hot!”

“Put me down!” Terry giggled, frantically holding onto the hem of his dress.

Alice immediately did that and turned to her father, who was walking slowly to the three. “Hey, Dad, check her out!”

Dad was looking at Mom who just shrugged and nodded. When he reached her, he said, “Terry, you look …you look darned good.”

Shyly, Terry said, “Thank you, Daddy.” He did a tiny curtsy.

“Look at you, look at you, look at you,” Alice said, walking around Terry in a circle. “Cleaned her up quite nicely, Ma.”

“Um …thank you, Al,” Mom said, just as stunned as Dad was to see their two children.

Alice teased, “I can’t believe you guys left anything in the stores! We saw all the bags in the car. That’s okay! I can just ride home on top of the car!”

To everyone’s surprise, Terry reached out and grabbed the front of Alice’s hoodie and began pulling the larger body away from their parents. Shocked, Alice dumbly followed until they were twenty feet away.

Dad said to Mom, “What do you suppose that’s about? Oh-oh,” he said, nodding at the pair. “I know what that means!”

Terry had turned to face Alice and had his arms crossed under his breasts.

Mom chuckled and said, “I think Al is in for it now!”

“Just like her mother!” Dad said without thinking, chuckling, and turned to Mom, surprised at what he’d said so easily. “And just as pretty.”

“Flatterer!” Mom said, nudging Dad with her shoulder. She was pleased. Then she tilted her head. “What do you think is going on?”

“Looks like Big Brother is getting ‘what-for’ from Little Sister,” Dad chuckled. Then he grew serious. “I can’t believe that’s Terry.”

“Teresa,” Mom nodded. “Our daughter. Oh, Frank; I just wanted her to feel good about herself, to have confidence that she could pass as a girl. I had no idea that …well, like Al said, that she’d clean up so nicely. And the folks at the salon loved her; she seems to be charming everyone she’s met.”

“Yeah, I’ve been kind of having the same thing with Al. You know, when guys talk about male bonding and stuff, they get kind of weird about it. Uncomfortable. But that’s what’s been happening. Marie, it’s incredible! He’s …he’s a guy! There’s no girl there anywhere. Well, except for …”

“Her boobs. Sounds better than saying his boobs, but I guess that’s what they are. He told me about a kind of vest and I got a couple, that should flatten everything. But what’s up with shaving his head? I mean, he’s pretty near bald.”

Dad nodded. “What he wanted. He didn’t want a salon or even one of those unisex places. On the way over we saw an old-fashioned three-chair barbershop. And that’s what he wanted. And I don’t think the barber had a clue. About …you know. Uh …Marie …this might not be the best time to say this, right before dinner, but …Al wants ‘em removed.”

Mom sighed. “I know …”

“Must be hard for you; I mean, women are …” He grinned. “…sorta attached to their breasts, you know?”

“Lousy joke, Frank,” Mom said with a tiny smile. “But we are. So that should prove to you that Al is not a woman.”

“Oh, I’m pretty darned sure of that.” He chuckled, nodding.

“Are you, Frank? Only ‘pretty darned sure’? Because if we’re talking any surgery–and this is major surgery–we all better be one-hundred-and-one percent absolutely certain.”

“Marie …” Dad said softly. “After the last six hours with my son, I’m a hundred-and-one percent certain. And I think he’s a hundred-and-ten percent certain!”

“Good,” Mom nodded. “Now that you’ve accepted surgery for your son, maybe you’ll accept the same for your daughter.”

“But Alice already …” His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said sheepishly.

“Our daughter has been very open with me, and she wants to be rid of the fleshy thing between her legs.”

“She said that?” Dad was too stunned to check pronouns.

Mom didn’t answer directly. “I’ve heard that boys are sorta attached to their penis …” Dad rolled his eyes, and Mom poked his shoulder gently. “Which should prove to us that Teresa is not a boy.”

“Touché ,” Dad nodded.

“No, checkmate’s more like it. They’re coming back.”

Alice appeared sheepish walking alongside Terry. When they reached their parents, Alice cleared her throat. “I’m apologizing for going all macho.”

“Macho?” Dad asked.

“When I joked about riding on the roof?” Alice said with embarrassment. “Terry called me on it. She said I wasn’t a jerk before, why become a jerk just because I got a buzz cut! And …she’s right,” he said reluctantly. Then there was the start of a grin.“And I told her that she was a sweet little sister before; she shouldn’t turn into a nagging little sister just ’cause she turned blonde.”

“I was always blonde,” Terry said. Her arms were crossing again.

“Whoa, whoa!” Dad chuckled, holding his hands up. “On behalf of your mother and myself, may I say to the big brother and little sister, don’t try to be everything at once. This is new for all of us, and we’ll have to scootch around and make allowances until we’re all comfortable with the way things are now, okay?” Both kids nodded. “Okay. Let’s eat and hit the road.” He turned towards the restaurant.

“No!” Mom called, stopping them all with the single word. They turned to look at her. She said, “We are not going to ‘eat and hit the road’. We are going to have a lovely–and quite rare–family dinner in a nice restaurant. Only when we are done, will we get in our car and head home.”

“If there’s room,” Alice snickered as they began towards the restaurant.

Terry innocently replied, “We could throw out that box from John Deere and make room!” Playfully, he swatted Alice’s shoulder.

“Ooh, don’t break a nail!” Alice teased, rubbing her shoulder.

Behind them, their parents laughed.

The next two weeks settled into the old familiar pattern–familiar as much as it could be with children who’d switched genders. Terry and his mother got up and made a big breakfast; Terry set the table while Mom woke up ‘the boys’, the new term alongside ‘the men-folk’. Terry served and they ate, and every morning Dad had to grapple with his son wearing girls’ clothing, makeup and jewelry. It was one thing to be ‘gussied up’ for dinner, but the daily reality of Terry’s new life really made an impression on Dad with the everyday clothing, as Mom had known it would.

The shopping expedition had not been all about pretty dresses and a salon; they had found girls’ work clothes, too. On one hand, Terry spent some of his day in jeans and a shirt, just as a boy wore, but in his case the jeans hugged his hips and had some pretty embroidery and Terry wore a camisole under his shirt, which was lighter and had colors that were pretty and feminine. Sleeves and necklines were feminine, as well. The first morning after the trip to town, Terry wore denim capris and a pink-and-green shirt open over a white camisole with lace edging. His hair was up in a ponytail and he wore a bit of lipgloss and blusher, a gold necklace and ear studs, and black flats. It shook Dad at first; over the next few weeks the impact lessened. And every day Alice came down in jeans and work shirts, full of energy and ignored anything strange about how his new sister was dressed.

Dad and Alice would head out to work after a ‘thanks’ and Terry usually cleaned up and prepared a slop bucket if the need arose, while Mom started one of her chores. On the back porch, Terry would put on high rubber boots and gloves, and then carry the slop bucket to the pigs and toss it. Later he’d wash it out with a hose and toss that. The feeding mechanism for the pigs and cattle was ridiculously simple; the physical task was walking through the cows and attaching or detaching the milking equipment. Terry checked the levels of everything–food, water–and the milk and eggs collected. This had been his job for almost three years; even during the school year he would check the stock and then go to school.

One of the most enjoyable jobs Terry had was to take the little ATV, a sort of three-wheeled minibike, and ride along the boundaries of the family farm. Due to the size of the farm and the odd rise and fall of the land, there were pasture fences that weren’t easily visible. There was a set of tools and spools of wire in a case on the ATV, and periodically Terry would usually take a ride around the perimeter. The second day back from the mall, for instance, he found a wire had snapped and found some cattle rubbing themselves against the posts–a sure-fire clue the fence would be down soon. Terry shooed them off with the ATV and its little horn, and then got out the gloves and tools and repaired the gap in the wire. It took more dexterity than strength, and the ATV’s supplies included a splicing jig and a ‘come-along’, a sort of pulley-and-winch, that made tightening the wire as easy as cranking a lever, ratcheting the wire ends closer together.

Terry would come in from his outdoor chores and have a quick shower and work indoors the rest of the day. Since he was genuinely interested in cooking, Mom announced she would be teaching Terry to get to the point where Terry would prepare all breakfasts, lunches and many dinners. And, there was the canning and the other preparations for the fair. Indoors, he was happy with a denim skirt, cami or tank top, and flip-flops. His father would still look at him oddly, as Terry dished up the meal he’d made, but Dad was gradually getting used to it.

But a series of events happened–small in themselves but ultimately life-changing events–even amidst those two weeks of routine.

The first event was caused by a pencil.

Once Dad saw Terry looking so pretty at the mall, he had a lot of questions, but everyone was so tired when they got home that Mom waited until the next morning to answer the questions.

That morning, Terry wore denim short-shorts and a lime green blouse. Following Mom’s directions, he wore two of his little-boy t-shirts under the blouse, which flattened his breasts to the point where they were pretty much undetectable.

Terry had filled the plates with bacon and eggs and toast, and then sat at the table quietly with his hands clasped in front of him. Mom came up behind Terry, gently stroked the back of his hair, and then went to stand behind her chair, her hands on its back. She had their attention.

“Alright. We all had a fabulous time at the mall yesterday and I think the world changed for all four of us.” She paused for a moment and got a nod from Dad; then she addressed him and Alice. “Dad had some questions and I think I’ll just clear them up right now. First of all, I paid for Terry’s salon visit out of my own savings; no family money was used. Everything I asked them to do–and it was I that made the arrangements–was to make Terry feel more comfortable in her new life. And I’d have to say it was successful.”

The way she said it was almost daring them to agree. Dad got the hint and nodded, joined by Al. Terry smiled his thanks. Mom smiled at them all in turn and then began her carefully-planned presentation.

“The salon gave Terry extensions. That means real hair woven in with her own hair. We’ll go back to the salon just before Fair Week for a touch up, the two of us.” Dad shrugged, and she went on. “As Dad suggested, we got Terry’s ears pierced.”

“Wait a minute! I didn’t suggest it; I just agreed to let it happen.”

Al said, “No, Dad, remember? We discussed how it would be suspicious if her ears weren’t pierced, and you told Mom she should really think about having Terry’s ears pierced.”

“I did?” Dad asked, stopping chewing. “I remember about not being suspicious …well, if I said it, I said it. So you did it.”

Terry said, “Yes, Daddy. And don’t they look pretty?” He pulled his hair back and showed off his gold studs.

“Very pretty, honey,” Dad nodded. He didn’t even notice what he’d called Terry.

Al winked at Mom, who went onto her next stage.

“The most important thing is to allow Terry to fit in with other girls her age, right?” Again, she challenged them to agree and got genuine nods right away. “So I gave her these,” she said as reached to the table behind her for the blue box. She turned back to them, paused and then opened the box to show the breast forms.

“Ooh!” Dad made a face. “Too much information!”

“Geez, Ma; we’re eating!” Alice said, grinning so they knew she was kidding.

Mom said, “Obviously, Terry’s not wearing these.” She put them back in the box and closed the lid and handed the box to Terry, who got up, came to her with a hug, took the box and left the room.

When he had left, Mom said, “I can speak openly about this because–and I’m using the proper name for this discussion–because Alice …” She nodded to her. “…is familiar with the subject, so this is pretty much for you, Frank.” She had his attention. “Yesterday you noticed that Terry had a bosom. And you’ll see it from now on. So nobody should be wondering or making any comments. Girls her age have a bust. Terry has a bust now. Not only would she look odd if she didn’t have a bust, her clothes wouldn’t fit right. So …any questions?”

There were no questions; Dad and Alice just nodded, wiped their mouths and headed outside, passing Terry as he came back in to pick up their plates. His bust was now quite visible; Dad gave him a tight smile, moving his eyes from Terry’s bust to his eyes, and Alice winked on the way out.

The issue of Terry’s bust seemed to be settled, but then the first event occurred the next evening.

Alice was sitting at the kitchen table working on rebuilding a fishing reel. Terry was also at the table, copying a recipe from a magazine. He set the pencil down and closed the magazine and took it out to the family room, coming back in with another. As he started to sit again, the pencil rolled off the table and onto the floor. Terry leaned over and picked it up. He straightened up and found that Alice had bent to pick it up for him as well. Terry found himself looking directly into Alice’s widened eyes.

They straightened up slowly and Alice looked at Terry a moment and then startled him by shouting, “Ma?”

Mom entered the kitchen with a finger holding a place in a book. Dad was rooting around in the garage so the timing was right.

“What is it?” Mom asked.

Alice said, “I could be very wrong, but I think you might have wasted your money on those breast forms you showed us.”

Terry gasped involuntarily.

Mom brusquely said, “My room. Now.”

The three trooped in; Terry found he was walking with his arms across himself. Mom shut the door and turned to face her eldest.

“What’s this about, Alice?”

It was instructive that she used the feminine name, which made sense if they were talking about breasts.

“Terry grabbed a pencil that fell off the table and her blouse kind of opened when she reached and …” Alice shrugged. “I know a boob when I see one. So, can you let me in on what’s going on?”

Mom fretted and looked at Terry, who came to a decision.

He stood and unbuttoned his blouse and undid the front clasp of his bra. The cups fell away, revealing his breasts.

“Whoa,” Alice gasped. “Um …” He made a funny smile. “Those aren’t exactly supposed to be there, are they?”

To everyone’s surprise, Terry answered quickly and forcefully. “Yes, they are. They are mine. And I love…”

But he couldn’t keep it going. He started to crumble, trembling.

“Get yourself back together, sweetheart,” Mom gently advised, nodding towards his bra.

Terry re-did the clasp and settled his breasts in place and began buttoning his blouse.

Mom asked, “Do you want to tell it, or do you want me?”

Terry said, “I’ll tell. Because it kind of concerns both Terrys, so to speak.” He finished the buttoning and sat, his hands clasped between his knees. “Al …um …”

“Call me Alice if it’s easier,” came the gentle response.

Terry nodded. “Yeah, it does, actually. Alice, first I want to say that I never took anything, nothing at all, no pill or drug or anything. About a year-and-a-half ago, my nipples budded and I got mounds and …” He shrugged. “My breasts developed. I looked it up in the library and it’s called ‘gyne–”

“Gynecomastia,” Alice provided. “And maybe you thought it was just a temporary thing? Like, until your hormones settled down?”

Terry nodded, looking almost guilty.

“Makes sense,” Alice nodded as well. “Because you …you really weren’t dreaming of being a girl before all this, were you?”

“No,” Terry agreed. “But I never felt like a boy. I didn’t feel like a girl, either, but maybe I just didn’t know what a girl felt like, inside.”

Alice looked sheepish. “Yeah, guess I fell down on the role model end of that.”

“It’s working itself out,” Mom said gently. “For both of you.”

Alice looked at her gratefully. “Thanks, Ma.”

Terry said, “But like I said, they’re mine and I love them and I know you don’t like having boobs because you’re a guy, but I’m not and I’m never gonna be a guy.”

“And they suit you,” Alice smiled. “They’re quite pretty, you know. And I’ve seen lots, in the showers at school.”

Mom murmured, “My poor Alice …what you’ve gone through.”

Alice said, “Thanks. Uh …look, your secret is safe for now.” She held up her hands. “I’m not saying that as blackmail or anything. I promise you I will not tell Dad or anybody else. But I said ‘for now’; just as I noticed them, sooner or later Dad’s got to get a glimpse of your skin there and …he’ll know.”

Mom said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You’re right, but …hopefully he’ll have had enough time to accept his new daughter that it won’t be so …startling.”

Al laughed.“’Startling’ doesn’t even begin to cover what he’ll look like the first time he sees you in a bikini!”

The second event occurred a few days later. Alice was nasty. Usually cheerful and optimistic, she was snapping and growling at breakfast and worse at lunch. After a snide comment and sneer, Mom set down her silverware and calmly plucked her daughter’s sleeve. Chastened, Alice followed her out of the room.

“What do you suppose that’s all about?” Dad asked Terry.

“Daddy, think about it,” Terry said, just this side of rolling his eyes.

Dad stared at his youngest, thinking. And he noticed how …pretty Terry was; the hair, eyebrows, and nail polish were all girly, and it was a pretty yellow shirtwaist dress. But there was something more …it was the complete absence of any sense of a boy. She’s a girl, he thought; my God; she is a girl! But that reminded him that his eldest, strong and happy to be doing rough work, was also a girl …

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “Time of the month. I forgot.”

“Al doesn’t want any reminder that he was Alice, you know?” Terry said. “But every month he gets reminded.” Quietly, he added, “It must be terrible for him.”

Struck by Terry’s compassion, Dad looked at his youngest child with a warm, sad smile.

In Alice’s bedroom, Al the big strong guy was in tears. “Can’t we make it stop? Is there any way?”

Mom sighed. “I’m sorry; not unless …” She bit her lip.

“What? What?” Alice asked, tears out of place on her increasingly tanned and weathered face.

Mom sat next to Alice. “Have you done any …research on yourself? What you and Terry are going through?”

“Just to know that I can have my boobs surgically removed. So weird; my little brother loves his boobs and his big sister wants hers off.”

Mom said gently, “Terry isn’t your little brother, and you are her big brother. And, as much as I have trouble saying it–as a woman, I mean–I understand you looking into …surgery. Have you looked at anything further?”

“No. Any research beyond that, I haven’t had time, really.”

“Haven’t taken the time, truth be told,” Mom corrected. “Well, I have, and there are some …options, but partly it’s a matter of waiting for your birthday.”

“Why? Like a special treat or …oh, yeah; I’ll be eighteen.”

“Legally you can do whatever you want–whatever you need to–to your body once you’re eighteen. Even at seventeen, it’s much trickier. But I’ll look into it for you. So strange …” She shook her head. “We thought you would marry and give us grandchildren early, and our young son would carry on the family name.”

“Mom,” Alice said slowly. “I haven’t talked with you about this, but I can carry on the family name. And I can give you grandchildren, maybe. Adopt, I guess. Look, I’m sorry that I’m causing problems; I hate my periods but they’ve never given me any trouble like this one.”

Mom nodded.

A trace of the old cheerful Alice was there. “Besides, I’m supposed to be tough, right?” Alice grinned. “So let’s forget about me. I’ll handle it. But, Ma, you have your hands full with my sister. She looks great, but how’s her head?”

Mom sighed. “To tell you the truth, she shocks me. I can’t imagine what life would be like for her if we hadn’t stumbled on Teresa. Because it’s all right there. Everything comes so naturally to her. I mean, did you see her tuck her hair behind her ears even a month ago? And now? So dainty, so graceful.”

Although I’m pretty certain those graceful gestures were always there, Mom thought. We just never noticed. We catalogued Terry as a boy and overlooked all the signs that he so clearly wasn’t a boy …

Alice was frowning. “Gonna be real tough on her in school. It’s not fair, but I’ll probably skate on the deal. A big farm girl that’s butch? No big deal. But a farm boy as pretty and dainty as Terry?” She shook her head. “Remember I was asking about ‘the fair and a day’? Like, Teresa supposedly goes away?”

“The original plan,” Mom nodded ruefully. “Unthinkable, now.”

“No kidding! Teresa’s never going away!” Alice laughed. “She’s too real! You could dress her up–” The laughter stopped. “Ma, I just said ‘a pretty and dainty farm boy’ but that’s not going to happen. Not any way I can see.”

Mom shook her head. “I can’t see it, either. I don’t know how, but Terry’s …Teresa, I mean …She’s going to have to attend school–”

Oh, my God! She’s going to have to go to school as a girl, now! I never fully grasped that, Mom thought, stunned. That means …oh, Lord; that means people have to be told, school records have to be changed; what will the other kids think–Teresa could be hurt! And …and I still have to get it past Frank …

Her mouth was dry as she murmured, still in shock, “Teresa’s going to have to go to school as a girl …”

“Absolutely right,” Alice nodded slowly. “Because she is a girl.” Then it was Alice’s turn to sigh. “You know, if we were city folks, it’d be easy to find another school district. Heck; it’d be easy to just move to where nobody knew you had a son. But we can’t leave the farm, and we only got the one school.”

Mom grinned. “Which you might not graduate from if you keep saying things like ‘we only got the one school’!”

End of Part 4

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 5

The next small-but-life-changing event took place early the next week. Mom was at the kitchen window and in the distance could see the approaching car of her friend Betsy Swinton. There was happiness at her friend’s visit, but tinged with worry; she realized Betsy would be the first family friend to see the new Terry.

But Terry was out doing chores, and once Betsy was settled, the first thing she wanted to talk about was Alice.

“Did I see a new guy helping Frank? Kind of looked like Alice but couldn’t be …”

Mom took a breath. “It was.”

Betsy frowned. “It looked like her hair was …well …”

“She got a buzz cut,” Mom said.

“Well, she was always …I mean, we’ve talked about her, Marie,” Betsy said with compassion. “Has she finally come out as a lesbian?”

Mom chuckled sadly. “If it were only that simple.”

“Simple? Well, I suppose so, come to think of it. It’s gotten so commonplace now. To come out, I mean.”

Betsy’s uncle was gay; she had loved him dearly but he was older and had a terrible struggle growing up gay in a small rural community, before leaving for Chicago. The family didn’t have any contact with him and never allowed any of his letters to reach Betsy. Mom knew that Betsy still missed him, regardless of his sexuality. She sighed deeply.

“Betsy, you’re going to find out eventually so I’ll tell you right now. It seems that my children are transgender.”

“You mean Alice thinks she’s a boy?”

“I mean that Alice is a boy, in her identity, her sense of self. It’s only her body that says ‘female’. And she wants her breasts removed.”

Betsy gasped and a hand flew reflexively to cover her own breasts. “No!” She shuddered. “I can’t imagine …”

“Nor can I, Betsy,” Mom said gently. “But isn’t that sort of the real test? No woman … ‘in her right mind’, people always say …no woman would want her breasts removed. But a man would. As Alice says, ‘They just don’t belong there’. And I have to agree with his way of thinking.”

“His way of thinking,” Betsy said, biting her lip and staring at her teacup. Then she nodded slowly. “I get it. I really do. It makes so much more sense for Alice than your everyday, garden-variety lesbian. Well, good for her–him. Um …he’s not Alice, is he?”

“No. Frank’s taken to calling him ‘Al’ and he likes it.”

Betsy nodded. “And he’s a big help. Is he …” She waved a hand. “What about grandkids?”

Mom said slowly, her eyes on Betsy’s so she understood the reality of what Mom was saying, “If Al finds the right girl and they can adopt. He’s male, masculine. He’s attracted to girls. But not as a lesbian–”

Betsy held up a hand. “Marie? I said I get it, and I do. You just do a little mental …flip thing, and everything falls into place.”

“I hope you do ‘got it’, Betsy, because …it doesn’t stop with Alice.”

“What, you’re not …” She frowned, confused. “How could Terry want to be male? He already is, and it’s–oh, God! You said ‘children’, didn’t you?”

Mom nodded slowly. “I must have had one messed-up womb. Twice.”

“You’re saying that Terry wants to be a girl?”

Mom shook her head. “No; I’m saying that Terry is a girl. She’s …” Mom broke off because she heard the kitchen back door close. Loudly, she said, “In here, Terry!” She grinned. “Brace yourself, Betsy; you’re about to meet my daughter Teresa.”

“He’s wearing dresses, now?” Betsy asked. “Actually, I’ll bet he looks–” She froze, staring.

That morning, Mom had given Terry a halter top she didn’t wear anymore. Red with white polka dots and kind of retro, it had looked great on Terry. It was old-fashioned enough to cover Terry’s breasts but left the shoulders and tummy bare. Mom had already wondered how she never noticed before how nicely sloped Terry’s shoulders were, and once again she wondered how in the world did they ever miss that curvy waist and cute tummy? Terry had decided against the skirt he was going to wear and instead wore cutoff jean short-shorts with the ends rolled up high. His sleek legs seemed to go on forever. His hair was up in a bouncy ponytail and he wore his usual blush and lipgloss and his white Keds. He wore minimal gold jewelry but had moved to gold hoop earrings.

And this was the cute girl that Betsy was staring at.

“Hi, Miz Swinton,” Terry smiled, a little shyly.

“Oh …my …God …” Betsy said; Mom thought of a character on Friends that always said that. Betsy gasped again and said, “Let me get a look at you, Terry.” She glanced at Mom, who nodded.

“It’s Terry, short for Teresa,” Mom said proudly. “My daughter.”

Betsy did a little ‘turn-around’ movement with her fingers, and Terry obediently did a slow pirouette. Even that was graceful. Betsy shook her head. “Incredible. Even more than Alice …Al, I mean. Come on, Terry; join us.”

“Yes, ma’am. But can I give you a refill on what you’re drinking?”

“Huh? Oh, lemonade.”

“Be right back.”

Terry went into the kitchen and came back out with the pitcher of lemonade and an empty glass. He set it down on a coaster and poured a refill for Betsy and Mom and then one for himself and pulled out another coaster for the pitcher.

“To changing for the better,” Betsy impulsively toasted.

All three clinked and drank. Then Betsy surprised the Wilcoxes.

“Always knew those chickens would come home to roost.”

Even for farmers, the cliché was confusing. “Pardon me? Mom asked.

Betsy finished her drink and smacked her lips. “Great lemonade.”

“Here, I’ll freshen you,” Terry said, taking Betsy’s glass to the pitcher.

“She’s a natural homemaker,” Betsy said. “And I say that meaning the highest praise possible. Any lunkhead can drive a tractor. But to keep a home running? Clean, do laundry, feed the family, and bake a cake? That takes a real woman.” Betsy saluted Terry with her glass and then sipped.

“And she is,” Mom said, beaming.

“Thanks, Momma,” Terry blushed.

Mom said, “Betsy …what did you say about chickens?”

Betsy pursed her lips. “The Mackenzie silo? About fifteen years ago?”

Mom frowned and shook her head. “It …burned, right? Is that the one? In the dead of winter?”

“That’s the one.” There was a pause, then she tilted her head and said slowly, “Do you remember Karen Rasmussen?”

“Oh, the poor thing,” Mom said, nodding sadly.

Terry said, “Wait; I think I remember …didn’t she …kill herself about four years ago?”

“Yes,” Betsy said solemnly. “Like the Turlington boy.”

“I don’t know him,” Mom said.

“Over in Duvall. I only know because of my sister, lives there. He was like Karen.”

Mom set her glass down. “Elizabeth Swinton, you tell me right now what it is you’re going on about! Are you talking about suicides?”

Betsy held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Marie; I truly am. I thought you’d …I thought maybe you had some idea …” She looked at Mom and then Terry, frowning.

Mom, worried, looked at Terry.

Terry felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the two women and thought he had to say something although he wasn’t certain what. Nothing came to him, so he asked, “Would you like something to eat, Miz Swinton? We still have some peach cobbler …”

“Such a sweet girl …” Shockingly, Betsy gulped and a tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s alright, honey. Thank you, though. Oh, God!” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I guess I’ve got to be the one …”

Mom gently said, “Betsy, I’m sorry I snapped at you. You can tell us or don’t; but I don’t want you upset.”

“No, no; it’s just …” Betsy smiled sadly at Terry. “So pretty,” she murmured, in an eerie echo of Mom’s own comments. “Uh, I’ll pass on the cobbler, thanks, sweetie. Alright,” she sighed. “You remember I was working for the Farm Bureau until Paul got hurt?”

“Yes. You loved that job,” Mom smiled with shared memories.

“I’ll tell you this in my own way; don’t interrupt because I think everything will be answered in due time. If you think of something to ask, just remember it and ask me at the end.”

Mom grinned. “Ladies and gentleman, please hold your questions until after the presentation.”

“Something like that,” Betsy shot her a look with a trace of their old joking, and then frowned. “The Mackenzie farm was our county’s biggest success story. Most of us are at least third or fourth generation farmers but the Mackenzies came out of nowhere and bought the Stalling farm when Art got dementia …”

“Alzheimer’s, now,” Mom explained to Terry, who nodded. “Sorry,” she said to Betsy.

Betsy just nodded. “So the Mackenzies moved in and two, three seasons down the line began having bumper crops. I mean, just absolutely incredible harvests. Same soil, same weather as everybody else. We sat up and took notice–the Bureau, I mean. I’m not going into the whole back-and-forth and the investigations and accusations and everything.”

Mom said, “I remember Frank going on about it when–sorry, again!” She mimed locking her lips.

“No more from the Peanut Gallery,” Betsy said with a wink. “But, yeah, every farmer suddenly felt inadequate. They tried to figure out what was working so well for the Mackenzies. And things even got a little ugly when the Mackenzie crops affected local prices.” She paused. “But that didn’t stop the locals from buying from the Mackenzies, did they?” She fixed Mom with a look.

Mom frowned. “Oh, I can answer that?” Betsy nodded, and Mom said, “Well, yes, the prices were lower so it just made sense, and we were supporting a local farm …even though,” she turned to Terry with an apologetic look, “even though we knew we were hurting our own farm’s crop prices.”

“Not so much as rumor had it, actually,” Betsy said. “So don’t beat yourself up about it. It made sense to spend less on produce, but there was so much bad blood about it that a lot of families …most, actually, didn’t buy Mackenzie produce just out of spite.”

“I feel like a traitor, now,” Mom said sheepishly.

Betsy patted her. “Don’t, honey. You weren’t mean-spirited or scared and it really didn’t affect overall prices. We ran the numbers, so rest easy on that. But rumors get a little crazy …” She paused again, frowning. “I bought from them myself. And they had such huge harvests that they sold in the co-op in Stanwood and Ames.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Duvall families would shop in Ames.”

“Yep,” Betsy nodded. She sighed. “I wonder if I should wait and tell Frank and Alice …”

Mom looked at Terry, then back to her friend. “Betsy, tell us and we’ll decide.”

Betsy grinned. “The men-folk can’t handle it, huh? Not like us strong women,” she winked at Terry.

“Sweetie? You okay?” Mom asked, frowning at Terry, who had a stricken look.

“I’m guessing …something in the Mackenzie crops,” Terry said. “You said fifteen years ago or so …how long before they found out?”

Betsy gave her an appraising look. “Very smart girl. Four years.”

Mom said, “Wait; I’m missing something here. Betsy …”

“Your daughter’s already figured it out and I’ll fill in the details quickly. Turned out that the Mackenzies were no more real than Tinkerbelle. They were employees of AGM. Even back then they were the biggest agri-business around. Oh, I suppose the Mackenzies were married, probably; but they were running a pilot program to test some growth hormones and new hybrids they were developing. In the fallout, everything was hushed up because supposedly the Mackenzie farm was the first and only testing station. That’s actually what the internal documents called their farm–a ‘testing station’. They had to subpoena the documents when it was all shaking out.”

“What was shaking out?” Mom asked, worried now.

Terry said, “The growth hormones, or the hybrids, or both …I’m guessing …” His face lit up. “Pregnant women? Or nursing?”

Betsy said slowly, “Marie, I think your daughter has a bright future in epidemiology.”

“Epi …what?” Mom said.

“Study of a community’s health, illnesses, and the factors that affect both. Tracking down a virus to the first case, for instance, or discovering that one well is making everybody sick,” Terry said. “I read a book about that last year, about the 1800s in London.”

“Very smart girl,” Betsy said. “And, Terry, may I speak plainly? You have all the makings of a fine farm woman, but you may have so much more to offer. I’m just saying …” She looked at Mom, who was still frowning.

“Betsy, I …” Mom shrugged. “Maybe I’m just slow, and trying to reconcile with what I remember, but …are you saying that whatever was making the Mackenzies farm so successful was …” Her eyes started to widen.

“See? You’re not slow, Marie,” Betsy said gently. “The Mackenzie …stuff, let’s call it, to cover everything from grain to produce to dairy. The Mackenzie stuff was grown with chemicals that tested okay in the lab. And didn’t seem to have any effect on men and women who ate or drank Mackenzie stuff. So AGM cleared it for testing. But children under ten …there were all sorts of weird things going on. I won’t go into it, but it raised a public health issue, and thanks to epidemiologists,” Betsy nodded and smiled at Terry, “the source was found to be the Mackenzie farm. The company shut down their ‘testing station’ and quietly paid off the families of the children affected. You might remember a lot of families moving out around ten years ago; everybody said it was the economy but a lot of it was fallout from Mackenzie stuff.”

Mom said, “So they caught them, and bought everyone off, and it’s a dead issue …right?”

Betsy looked at Mom sadly. “Your daughter saw right to the heart of it. It was affecting the under-ten children because they’re still growing; they were easily and quickly affected and you know how the schools all have the kids get physicals each year for sports? That’s how they found out. But it was the pregnant women, or those with newborns who were breastfeeding, that are the second wave.”

“Second wave like how?” Mom asked.

“When they went into puberty, they …” Betsy frowned. “Terry, this is very important. No embarrassment, now. How long have you felt like you were a girl?”

Terry looked at Mom before answering. “Miz Swinton, it wasn’t until this month when Momma came up with the …”

“Go ahead; tell her. She knows I’m crazy, anyway,” Mom grinned.

“As a fox,” Betsy said. “Your mom came up with …what?”

Quickly, Terry sketched out the plan to impersonate a girl for the State Fair, and how it had taken on a life of its own. He finished up with, “But I can tell you that I’ve always been this way. I mean …domestic, I guess you could say. It was partly because of my size and lack of strength, but also, I just …felt better helping with the cooking and everything.”

Betsy nodded. “Because of your feminine nature. You weren’t like those poor folks on Springer on TV, screaming about being trapped in the wrong body. You just got up and made breakfast and dusted and canned and helped your mother.”

“Well …sure,” Terry said, shrugging. “I mean, it just made sense and I enjoyed doing it.”

“Same as Alice is out hefting huge bales of hay and taking tractors apart,” Betsy said.

“Exactly,” Mom said. “But I think you knew about this, Betsy …”

“Not knew about it. I knew about the families that have been affected after they announced that …well, they’ve been affected. Karen Rasmussen and the Turlington boy killed themselves for exactly the same reason–or both sides of the same reason. See, this didn’t make the news for the general public because the families wanted it hushed up, but I was still kind of in the loop, you know? Because I’d been involved in the original Mackenzie investigation.”

She paused. Terry and Mom sat quietly as Betsy gathered herself.

When she began, her voice was slow and quiet.

“The sad truth is, Karen hated being a girl; I don’t know if the family knew it or not. You might remember her mother is quite well-endowed; when Karen began developing early she was in misery. It was all in her diary at the inquest. Anyway, she …” Betsy sighed and looked at Mom and Terry, bit her lip, and then said, “Karen got all worked up in an emotional state and …took a carving knife to herself. I can’t imagine the physical agony as well as the emotional …but she cut off her own breast. She was cutting the other one when the shock and loss of blood stopped her and she was dead when the family came home. From a PTA meeting, sad to say.”

Mom’s hand was to her mouth; Terry was wiping tears with a tissue that he folded. Betsy noticed that, too.

“The Turlington boy didn’t keep a diary but he left a note. They found him in the barn; he’d hung himself. He was wearing his sister’s dress. The note said he couldn’t live as he wanted but he could die as he wanted–as a girl.”

Mom reached an arm around Terry, who huddled next to her. “Those poor, poor children …”

Betsy was nodding slowly and sadly. “Second wave fallout from AGM. Both families bought Mackenzie produce when the mothers were pregnant.” Betsy paused. “As did you, Marie.” The pause lengthened. “I don’t know about the other families, but I know that you have a very stable, loving family environment. I know Frank can seem all bluff and gruff but he’s a really good guy. He knew his youngest son wasn’t like other boys and didn’t give any hassle about Terry helping you inside. And he wasn’t stuck in some macho world where girls can’t play; he’s perfectly fine with his big, healthy daughter working alongside him.”

“He is a good man …” Mom said, sniffing. Terry squeezed her hand.

Betsy looked at the two, the mother and daughter and made her decision.“I don’t work for the Bureau anymore but the Mackenzie case had so much impact, such long term impact, that I’m going to have to call Fred and let him know about your children. I’d like you to be there, or …” Her voice softened. “However you want to handle it.”

Mom nodded slowly. “I guess we have to. We owe it to other families that might be affected and too scared to do or say anything about it.”

Terry nodded solemnly. “We have to. Especially after that poor boy, and Karen Rasmussen.”

“That was kind of hushed up; the exact nature of her …cutting wasn’t mentioned. Everybody just assumed she’d cut her wrists and bled to death. Her diary wasn’t mentioned. I only mentioned it to you because your family is affected, Marie. Your children have the gender issues they do because of AGM. You are entitled to compensation, but that’s for lawyers to deal with. I’m concerned about the health of your children. Your handsome son out there,” Betsy nodded out the window, and then smiled at Terry, “and your pretty daughter.”

After that things changed dramatically. Betsy had stayed for dinner; Dad and Alice came in from work and everyone had a pleasant dinner while a whirlwind of thoughts went on in the minds of Mom and Terry. After dinner, they sat with coffee and Betsy patiently explained about the AGM and Mackenzie connection. Dad had trouble connecting the dots but Alice let out a huge whoop of laughter and even did a little dance–but a very butch dance–and swept up Terry in her strong arms.

“We’re not freaks, Terry! Well, we are, but not because we’re the freaks!” Alice laughed over and over.

Dad said, “Marie, can you make sense of that?”

Mom nodded and chuckled as Alice flopped onto the couch with her arm around Terry. Mom smiled at the big brother and little sister. “It’s quite plain, dear. Our children are freaks but not of their own making.”

“But why would they want to be freaks at all?” Dad asked, puzzled.

Alice laughed. “Dad, we don’t want to be freaks but it’s a fact of life that we are freaks, just like it’s a fact of life that you have brown hair. You could have been born blond, but you weren’t. Same with Mom’s blue eyes. She might look and dress and act entirely differently if she’d had green eyes. But she didn’t have any control over blue eyes any more than you had control over brown hair. Anymore than we had any control over being born freaks,” Alice squeezed Terry’s shoulder and Terry put his hand over Alice’s.

Terry said, “Daddy, we know who we are, Al and me. Now we know why.”

Betsy said, “Frank, it’s important that you realize this for three reasons. First and most important, so you can love your children without thinking they were playing any games or anything like that. It’s not a choice; it was done to them. In a way, they were poisoned. You know how the Ickes boy was born retarded? And they found out the well water his momma had drunk from was contaminated? Being retarded wasn’t his fault, right?”

“Well, sure,” Frank said. “Everybody knows that.”

Mom said forcefully, “Our children were poisoned, Frank. The way they are is not their doing. Oh, the great help Al is to you in the fields, and Terry is in here with me, and how wonderful they are–for that sort of thing, we can take the blame!” Mom laughed.

Terry got up and stood next to Dad, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.“Daddy?” he said quietly. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Betsy harrumphed. “A very sweet daughter you have there, Frank. Treasure her. Now for the second reason you need to wrap your head around this AGM mess. This is a small community. Everybody knows everybody. But people being people, everybody’s gonna think the worst or the weirdest when they see that Alice became Al and Terence became Teresa. It’s not pleasant to think that of people we know, but it’s the truth.”

“You mean people ridiculing our children,” Mom said tightly.

“Exactly,” Betsy said. “So once everybody knows that AGM poisoned your kids, and knows about the other poor kids killing themselves–and who knows how many others might be affected that nobody knows about yet–then that takes the pressure off the Wilcox kids. And the third reason is that AGM has some of the deepest pockets in the world. You work this right, they will compensate you properly.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far–” Frank said.

Mom burst out. “Yes, we do! We’re fortunate that our children aren’t birth-deformed or dead, suicides because they couldn’t handle what had been done to them, but damn it! Something was done to them and the only way to get a big corporation like AGM to stop hurting other families is to make them pay.”

“And to let the world know,” Betsy nodded.

“Hell, yeah; I’m in!” Alice nodded enthusiastically. “You, sis?”

Terry nodded. Quietly, he said, “Daddy, think of other kids, hiding in their rooms, afraid to tell the truth about …about what their bodies are doing to them. Scared to death of being punished or whipped or …” She gasped. “And think of Karen and that poor Turlington boy, their agony …” Her voice broke. “We’ve got to let other families know. If it means that …everyone will know about me, it’s worth it. I’m in.”

“Brave, sweet girl,” Betsy smiled.

Al said, “That’s my sis!”

Mom nodded, her eyes tearing at her children.

Frank sighed and said, “So what do we do?”

It was Betsy that had tipped over the first domino in the next chain of events, by informing the Wilcox family of what had happened to them. She tipped the second domino by filing a report with the Farm Bureau as a former member; and the next domino fell when she made a call to a reporter she knew. After that, the dominoes fell one-by-one.

The month of June was hectic as the Wilcox family was interviewed over and over by everybody from a single gentleman from the Farm Bureau to five representatives of the Department of Agriculture, and from the local radio station to CNN. Other families stepped forward, one after another, who had been too ashamed of the gender confusion of their children. Three other teen suicides were reevaluated and judged to be because of gender issues brought on by Mackenzie produce while they were still in the womb.

After that, there was general but grudging acceptance by the community. The second week after the news came out, Mom declared that the family was going to attend church again, both to thank God for ‘sorting things out’, but also to announce to the public that they were a united family and proud of their place in the community.

Dad wore a dark blue suit and Alice wore a dark brown one, newly purchased. Broad shouldered, already tanned through the buzz cut, Alice looked every inch an eighteen-year-old boy named Al. She even got involved in a light game of throwing a football around with three other guys before the service.

Mom wore a dark green suit and ivory blouse, very Jackie Kennedy. Terry wore a dark blue dress with tiny white dots, white turned-back cuffs at the short sleeves, and with white lapels around the neckline. His bust was girlish and his skin was creamy smooth, and he wore blue tights on his long legs with white pumps. His hair was pulled back on both sides and cascaded past his shoulders, and he wore tastefully modest makeup. Alice had joked that all Terry needed were short white gloves and he’d ‘look like something out of the 1940s’, and Terry was quite pleased.

There was an uncomfortable moment as the family walked from the car to the church. Mom had taken the initiative and called the pastor so he, at least, stood by the church door smiling at them. Other families stared, younger children pointed, and here and there a gasp could be heard. Mom had already told her children to ignore everything and to conduct themselves respectfully.

Once in their pew, they could feel the eyes on them but busied themselves with handing out hymnals among themselves. The service started and the pastor’s sermon was about Tolerance, with a touch about the mysteries of God. At the end, the family filed out and shook his hand and made their way toward their car when two shouts came out from different directions.

The first was from the boys Alice had been with earlier. “Hey, Al! Dude! You free for a game of touch later?”

Alice excused herself from the family to trot over to the clump of boys. Anybody seeing her from a distance would see a teenage boy. Alice immediately was joking with them and acting like any other guy–just a guy named Al.

The other shout was directed towards Terry. It was from Melanie Phillips, a girl in Terry’s class. It wasn’t actually a shout; “Um, Terry?” she called out tentatively and then froze up. The girl with her was shaking Melanie’s arm viciously.

Terry and Mom locked eyes for a moment, and then Terry went over to Melanie and the other girl. He knew her first name was Heather and in his school but hadn’t had any contact with her.

Melanie was a cheerful, freckled girl with russet hair, brown with some red in it. She had a very cute figure, even in a plain blue church dress.

Melanie said, “Hi, Terry! I like your dress.”

Heather, the other girl snickered, a hand at her mouth. She was shorter, with dirty blonde hair and a cream shirtwaist dress.

Terry glanced at her and then to Melanie. “Thank you, Melanie. I just got it from Charlotte Russe. Momma ordered for me.”

“I love them!” Melanie smiled. “I never bought online, but there’s a store at that new mall in the city. We should maybe go there and–”

“I cannot believe you!” Heather spat out at Melanie. She pointed at Terry. “That’s a boy!”

Melanie said, “Maybe once he was. Maybe …never. But didn’t you hear the reverend? We should–”

“We shouldn’t waste time talking to a freak!”

Terry breathed deeply, a calming trick he’d been learning from his mother. “I’m sorry; I’ve seen you at school but we don’t have any classes together. I’m Teresa Wilcox. You’re Heather …I’m sorry; I don’t know your last name …” He left it hanging.

“That’s fine with me!” the girl declared, self-righteously.

“Heather, be cool,” Melanie said, rolling her eyes.

“What, you’re all pumped up full of God right now so it’s okay to hang with a freak?”

Melanie flinched; she opened her mouth to speak but Terry cut her off.

“You’re right, Heather, I am a freak. I thought everybody knew that?”

He’d said this calmly and matter-of-factly.

“Everybody knows it!” Heather sneered.

Terry nodded. “Good. Then you know I am a freak. Didn’t want to be; didn’t ask for it and sure didn’t choose it. But you heard about the Mackenzie farm, right?”

Heather sneered unattractively. “My father says that’s just a cover-up for …” She was obviously quoting and searching for the words she’d heard. “A cover-up for sexual depravity!” She nodded, pleased she’d got it right.

Terry took another deep breath. “Sex doesn’t enter into it. Oh, wait; you’re a girl. Are you having sex all the time?”

“What? No! And that’s got nothing to do with anything!”

“Just wanted to make sure that being female doesn’t mean having sex all the time.”

“No, of course not! You’re sick!”

“For asking for clarification?”

“Heather, please …” Melanie tried.

Terry said, “Melanie, it’s okay. I understand her confusion. Um …Heather, there’s no sexual stuff involved. Let’s forget about sex for a second. Let me ask you this; did you ask to be born a girl?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, did you ask to be a boy and lost out or something?”

“What? That’s ridiculous! I didn’t have any choice. Nobody gets a choice. I was just born.”

“Me, too. And I didn’t get a choice about hair color or eye color or being born into a rich New York family or an African tribe. And I didn’t get a choice about being born looking sort of male but mostly female, and having a girl’s brain. Mind. Soul.” At the last, Terry glanced at the church. “It was done to me–and to others–by a secret experiment run by AGM. Food from the Mackenzie farm affected a bunch of us, until they were caught. It’s not a cover-up or a conspiracy or trying to hide sexual weirdness. It was in all the papers, on TV, and so on. A bunch of us–not just my brother and me–a bunch of kids all got poisoned by food from the Mackenzie farm. It killed some of them.” Terry held his arms up. “And this is how I was affected.” His dress fluttered in the wind

Heather’s forehead creased with thought. She was obviously torn between the nonsense her father had told her, and the good sense that Terry had spoken–as well as the sheer reality of the girl in front of her. “I don’t …know …”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Well, if you don’t know, how about just dropping the whole thing?”

Heather frowned and then nodded. “Yeah. But I gotta go, anyway. See you, Mel. Um …Terry,” she nodded and left.

Terry said, “Melanie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss off your friend.”

Melanie shrugged. “She’s not …I’m not back-stabbing or anything, but she’s not really a friend. Driscoll, by the way; Heather Driscoll. We have one class together and don’t even talk then, really. She’s got a long-term boyfriend, so we never really hung out. But aside from that stupid stuff her dad told her, she seems okay. It’s just that she’s the only other girl my age at church. Until now!” She grinned.

Terry blushed and couldn’t think of what to say.

Melanie said, “Maybe we could, you know …do something sometime?”

“Uh …yeah, that’d be nice,” Terry stammered.

“What are you doing later today? Chores?”

“No. Make Sunday supper with Mom later, like usual,” Terry shrugged.

“Wanna come over to my place? Just, you know, hang out?” Melanie smiled, tilting her head.

“Um …let me check with Mom. But that sounds really …nice,” Terry blushed again.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Terry asked, flustered.

Melanie nodded towards the church. “She’s right over there with the pastor. Go ask.”

Terry flopped back on the couch, next to Melanie. They looked at each other, then at the bags at their feet, and then both broke out in giggles.

Mom came in with lemonade. “My goodness! Did you girls leave anything in the stores?”

“Nope, Miz Wilcox!” Melanie laughed. “They’re bare as a bone.”

Terry laughed with her. “At least in sixes and eights!”

To everyone’s initial surprise–and nodding agreement, once they thought about it for a moment–Terry and Melanie had become instant best girlfriends. Terry learned so much more about being a girl by being around Melanie than he ever could just being with his mother. And Melanie had introduced Terry to other girls and Terry blossomed further. There had been a realignment in the little community of young teen girls; the sudden appearance of Terry in their midst caused new groups to form. Terry and girls like Heather became included in the tight groups of friends. Most were farm girls rather than townies and so had chores to do first, but they got together every chance they could.

In three-and-foursomes the girls attacked the tiny local mall, the McDonald’s, and the county park, where they strolled in short-shorts or miniskirts and tiny camis and giggled shyly at boys. There had even been sleepovers, and it was a mark of Terry’s physical development as well as his social development that he was included. Even Heather had decided that, however it had happened–and whether her father believed it or not–Terry Wilcox was a girl.

And then there was a midsummer dance. There was enough of a Scandinavian heritage in the area that they just referred to it all as ‘Midsummer’. It was a day-long social event for the community and outlying farms, with not one but several dances taking place in various barns. There was a square dance, a rock-and-roll band, and a teen disco; all were as alcohol-free as they could make it, with chaperones for the teens.

Terry and Melanie and several other girls were at Carlie Thompson’s house, excitedly planning Midsummer, and Terry was talking and giggling about the dance and what they’d all wear right along with the others. But then the talk swerved to boys.

“God, I hope Tom Carroll asks me!” Julie Logan blurted.

“He will, Jules; he will!” Melanie squealed.

“But what if he doesn’t?”

Terry said, “I saw him checking you out at Swenson’s. He likes you!”

Julie pouted. “He was probably checking you out, Terry!”

Terry stammered, “No! Uh …He was looking at you, Julie!”

Carlie giggled. “Knowing Tom, he was checking out both of you! He’s just a boy, after all.”

The girls nodded and giggled knowingly, but Terry was uneasy.

Carlie said, “Okay, so Julie wants Tom. Mel, you still hoping for Dan?”

Melanie sighed.“I’m not sure if he’s going to be here that week; something about football camp.”

“But if he is here, she’ll be all over him!” Heather teased.

Melanie blushed and then nodded and they all exploded in giggles again.

Claudia Jennings ticked off on her fingers, “So Julie and Tom, Mel and Dan if he’s around, I’ve already got Jay, and Heather’s still with Chuck–”

“What’s wrong with Chuck?” Heather asked defensively.

Melanie said, “Nothing; just that you two have been going together since kindergarten!”

“Nuh-uh!” Heather protested, but smiling.

Julie said, “Terry? Who do you want to go to the dance with?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to Terry. He felt trapped. Blushing, he waved a hand. “I don’t really know any–”

“What?” Carlie laughed. “Come on, Tere! You’ve known ‘em all since kindergarten, too!”

“Well …yeah …but not …” Terry frowned. “Not like I am now …”

“Why should that make any difference?” Heather asked.

Julie said, “No; I get it. It does make a difference. All those years that Terry’s been in school with us …well, you know it’s just different for boys, how they relate to each other, from how it is with us girls.”

“I’m not sure boys actually do relate to anything,” Carlie said, giggling.

“Duh. Football!” Claudia rolled her eyes.

Julie continued on. “So all I’m saying is that how Terry …uh …”

Melanie shrugged. “Just say ‘Terence’ and ‘Teresa’. Her family has to do that when they talk about then-and-now.”

Terry nodded and smiled warmly at his closest friend.

Carlie said, “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. My big brother is a total jerk with his buds, but when he’s with Ashley, he’s like a totally different guy.”

Julie nodded. “So how the guys knew Terence, and how Terence …interacted with the guys, is very different than how the guys interact with Teresa.”

“Boobs,” Claudia said.

“Huh?” the girls asked.

“Boobs,” Claudia nodded. “Remember? A few years ago, when we got our boobs? We talked about this. All the boys treated us differently.”

Carlie said, “I remember. And I was pissed because I was so slow and you were all flaunting yours!”

“Did not!” Julie said.

“Maybe a little,” Heather grinned.

They giggled. “Maybe a lot!” Julie said, and they exploded in giggles again.

Later, the topic got back onto boys, only now the girls were united, considering different pairings for Terry, who was very uncomfortable and at the same time deliriously happy to be considered one of the girls.

Something else was happening; as the girls suggested names and discussed attributes of the various boys, Terry felt a push toward one name or another, a sense of interest.

Melanie knew Terry so well now that she noticed, too. When the girls broke up and headed home, the two girlfriends walked along and Melanie said, “Terry? We’ve never really talked about boys before. I was kind of waiting for you to bring it up.”

Terry nodded. “I know, Mel. I was …I’m …” He sighed. “I don’t know …”

“I kind of do,” Melanie said gently. “I think you felt something when we talked about Steve Hampton and Derek Sommersby. Um …didn’t you?”

Terry looked at his closest friend and smiled sheepishly. A single giggle blurted out, then … “Yes!”

“I knew it!” Melanie laughed. “Teresa Wilcox, I can read you like a book!”

“It’s nothing; I just–”

Melanie stepped in front of Terry and took his two hands. “Stop that right now, Tere, okay? Between us, okay? You don’t have to do any kind of …disclaimer or anything. You’re a girl. You like boys. It’s as simple as that!”

Terry rolled his eyes. “God, I wish, Mel. But it’s not as simple as that.”

Melanie made a face. “I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about feeling. I’m talking about attraction. Romance. Love. You are a girl and you feel like a girl toward boys. That’s as simple as that.”

Blushing, Terry nodded.

Melanie said gently, “And about sex? I mean, you know …sex? I was born a girl and I’m not having sex until I’m at least eighteen or nineteen and maybe not even until I’m married. That’s just the way I am. We’re a lot alike–it’s why we’re friends–and I think that you’re the same way. Come on, babe; we’ve talked about husbands and babies and starting our families.”

“Well …yeah, but that’s just …future stuff, you know?”

“And so is that kind of sex! And from what your folks and you talk about, you’ll have that operation when you’re eighteen and see? You’ll be right where I am–we’ll just be two eighteen-year-old virgin girls.” She grinned.

“I never …thought about it like that,” Terry said with some wonder.

Melanie giggled. “But just because I don’t want to have sex until then doesn’t mean I don’t think about it now!”

Terry giggled with her.

Then Melanie got serious. “But all the other fun stuff? Kissing, touching, hugging …feeling …I’m definitely interested in that stuff right now!”

Terry smiled, blushing.

“And you are, too, Tere!” Melanie said, shaking his hands. “Okay, right here in front of God and me, tell me the truth. You’re interested in being with a boy that you like, having him hold your hand and hug you and kiss you …and you kiss him back?” She tilted her head. “Well?”

Terry’s face was crimson as he nodded. “I …I kind of find myself thinking about it …”

Melanie dropped Terry’s hands and hugged him, laughing. “Oh, babe! We all find ourselves thinking about it!”

End of Part 5

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 6

But things did not go smoothly at the midsummer dance. There was a pleasant time spent wandering around during the day; the town’s park was festive with balloons and streamers and activities, mostly for young children. Among the fire department’s display of their new truck and water cannon, the 4-H Petting Zoo, and the Boy Scouts’ climbing wall, clusters of girls and clusters of boys were passing, pausing, chatting, and moving on.

Terry walked with Melanie and Julie, meeting up with Carlie, Heather, and Claudia and then with Mary Ann, Sue and Diana, and then splitting off into other groups, reforming in combinations. At one point Terry saw Al with four other boys that he didn’t know the names of; they were three years older, after all. But Terry certainly knew the names of the boys that were his own age; even if he didn’t, the other girls talked about them nonstop.

Two girls wore sundresses, but for the most part the girls all wore variations of camisoles, tank tops, capris, shorts, and denim skirts. The chances were that every girl probably had something already in her closet that every other girl wore; it was a rather funny mix-and-match, but that was life in a small town. Terry wore a lime-green camisole with a raspberry bra and white shorts and sandals. He wore silver jewelry and plum nail polish, a gift from Melanie, whose tank was red and wore khaki shorts and flip-flops.

Then the girls disappeared from the park; they all went to their various homes to get ready for the dance. It was already arranged that Terry would have a sleepover at Melanie’s house. As always with teen girls, even though Mom had chosen a lovely blue dress for the dance, the girls raided Melanie’s closet. There was some more mix-and-match fun and a lot of giggles and finally they settled on their wardrobe, even after a week of discussing choices.

Melanie wore a rainbow-sequined tube top and impossibly tight shiny black pants, almost leggings, with black strappy heels. Terry teased that she looked like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease and Melanie grinned back and nodded.

“That’s the plan! I’ve heard boys talk about her. It’s like, what, forty years later or something, and they still get off on Sandy!” She handed Terry a silver-sparkly halter top. “And this is for you. No bra.”

“Uh …”

“No bra!” Melanie said, forcefully. Then she softened. “Babe, I know that look is not you, but this is a really important dance. This will be the dance where you show the boys–and any doubting girls–that you’re all girl!”

Terry said, “Why don’t I just go topless, then?”

Melanie pretended to consider it. “Hmm …possible …”

“You’re such a goof!” Terry laughed, playfully slapping his friend’s shoulder.

“No, you ah!” Melanie responded; it was their own private joke about Boston accents.

In the end, Terry reluctantly agreed to the halter top–as long as Melanie also provided a black lace shawl–and a black skirt, smoky stockings, and heels. Ever since that first mall visit when Mom had bought him three-and-a-half-inch heels, he had been practicing at home.

But he’d never danced in them.

Melanie’s big brother Dave raised an eyebrow when the girls came downstairs to go; he was driving them and just grinned at his sister. “Hook much?” he teased.

“Forget it, stud; you can’t afford us,” Melanie tossed back breathlessly, flipping her hair back.

Terry’s hair was back with a silver alligator clip but Melanie had styled it so one large wing of hair constantly flopped in front of his face. He had to flip it back with a finger, a move choreographed and described as ‘so sexy!’ by Melanie, whose hair was tumbling in russet curls.

The girls were not alone in their extreme dressing; Dave’s eyes nearly fell out of his head when he pulled up to the barn with the teen disco.

“Is that Claudia Jennings?” he gasped, looking at the girl in a tube top and miniskirt, her lipstick shiny crimson.

“Yep,” Melanie grinned.

“God, I remember when she was …” Dave cleared his throat. “Mom says I’m picking you up at eleven. Don’t make me wait.”

Melanie said, “Why not? You could look at Claudia some more!” She giggled and slid out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride, Dave,” Terry said as he got out.

“You’re welcome, Terry,” Dave grinned. “Nice to know my sister knows somebody with manners!”

“It’s not Claudia’s manners you’re looking at!” Melanie teased.

“Mel, cool it,” Terry laughed. “Give the guy a break.”

“You’re right,” Melanie said, contritely, but so Dave could hear. “I shouldn’t tease him about Claudia. It’s just a good thing he didn’t see Carlie!” She giggled and swirled away.

Terry grinned apologetically at Dave and followed his friend. Behind him, Dave sputtered, “Carlie Thompson? What about her?”

“See?” Melanie said when Terry caught up with her. “Boys only think about one thing.”

“Like we’re not?” Terry shot back, and they both giggled.

They entered, mingled, and of course found themselves in a large cluster of girls. Somebody had done their best to turn the barn into an urban-hip warehouse with decorations and lighting, with day-glo graffiti spray-painted on plywood sheets, but there was still the muted whiff of hay and manure. But the music was loud and fresh and kids were already dancing.

“Come on, you guys!” Carlie said, dragging Melanie and Heather and Terry onto the dance floor.

Terry had begun dancing, as a girl, at first alone at home with Mom’s urging, and then with Melanie, bouncing around her bedroom with CDs blasting. This was the first public dancing he’d done but it didn’t matter; they were all having fun so quickly that he forgot to be self-conscious. For one thing, he could relax about being braless. Heather wore a white halter top; her rather large breasts threatened to flop out the sides, and her white spandex pants were so tight that ‘you could read the date off a quarter’, as Al had once remarked. Carlie was dazzling; her jet-black straight hair had some blue in it and almost seemed to glow. She wore a black lace top with one shoulder bare; she’d applied something to her skin so it shimmered in the lights. Carlie’s pants were remarkable; they were camouflaged capris, basically, very tight, but cut so low that a black thong was visible–the ‘whale’s tail’ that Al had also spoken of once.

I can’t believe how much weird stuff boys come up with about us, Terry thought.

Carlie also wore black strappy heels as did Melanie and Terry. Got to find out what that shimmery stuff is, Terry thought, realizing for the first time that he coveted another girl’s makeup.

Finally, boys stopped drooling and got brave enough to ask the girls to dance, one-by-one. Terry found himself nodding yes to a boy whose name he didn’t know; he thought it was Sam. Now there was a swirling mass of Terry and his three girlfriends and four boys dancing, joined by still others.

They took a break, thanked the boys–Heather with a hug–and headed to the girls’ area of the barn, fanning themselves and laughing. There was a large punch bowl with a stern adult policing it; the girls scooped up punch and then stood, talking about boys, about what other girls were wearing, and about boys.

A slow song started.

“Here it comes,” Carlie said.

“What?” Terry asked.

Heather said, “Here’s where we find out who’s serious.”

Melanie explained, “Fast dances don’t mean anything. It’s when the guy has to walk up and ask the girl to slow dance, that’s the serious part.”

The boy Heather had danced with and hugged walked right up to her; she grinned and went to the dance floor with him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Geez, Heather,” Carlie snickered. “Shove ‘em right in his face, why don’t ya?”

Melanie and Terry, joined by Julie, giggled.

“What about Chuck?” Terry asked. “I thought they were, like, forever.”

“Forever until one of them is out of town,” Julie shrugged, without any spite.

Melanie said, “Maybe it’s how they’ve lasted so long.”

“Maybe it’s just whoever’s convenient,” Carlie said. “Oh! I didn’t mean–”

“Naw, you’re right, probably,” Melanie said.

Terry asked, “So she’s tight with Chuck, but like this is okay?” He watched Heather and the boy dance. “And Chuck’s like this with other girls?”

“From what I’ve heard,” Carlie nodded.

Julie shrugged. “Not what I’d do, or want my fella to do, but seems to work for them.”

Terry was learning so much, and the ever-fluid relations of girls was still so new to him. I’ve got to have a long talk with Al about this when I get home, he thought. Even though he didn’t participate, he grew up in a girl’s world.

A good-looking tall boy broke from the pack of boys and headed towards them.

Melanie nudged Terry. “Showtime,” she said softly.

“Huh?”

“Derek Sommersby? Remember?”

Terry nodded, his eyes down, his breathing tight.

“What about Derek?” Julie asked.

“Jules, he’s cool, right?” Melanie asked quickly.

“Well, yeah. He was in my English class. Pretty smart, too. Why?”

“Because Tere is crushing on him and it looks like he feels the same way, too.”

“Mel!” Terry whispered fiercely.

“Go, girl!” Julie whispered just as the boy reached them.

He smiled at the three of them but looked at Terry. “Um …Teresa? Would you like to dance?”

Without thinking about how nervous he was, almost floating on autopilot at the sight of Derek’s smile, Terry smiled back. “I would love to, Derek.”

They went on the floor and Derek assumed the classic position; Terry grasped Derek’s outstretched hand and put his other hand on Derek’s shoulder and felt Derek’s hand slide around his back. They began a rather formal, stiff box-step. Terry glanced around at the other couples; some were in similar positions and some were closer. Derek was looking somewhere near the top of her head.

“Derek? It’s okay to look at me,” Terry said, wondering why Derek had asked him to dance when he was so formal with him and not even looking at him.

“I’m sorry, I …” Derek frowned. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but …it’s the way my mom taught me.”

Feeling relief that it wasn’t because Derek was creeped out by him, Terry smiled. “It’s okay; Daddy taught me this way, too.”

It was true; Mom had insisted on it as soon as Terry announced that his girlfriends wanted him to go to the midsummer dance. It had been awkward at first for Dad, but he’d relaxed and when the lesson was over, Mom knew that another barrier had fallen between father and new-daughter.

Just then the DJ said, “Everybody’s having such a great time, and that song was kinda short, so here’s another for y’all, an Eighties classic.” The familiar sound of Foreigner’s Waiting For A Girl Like You filled the barn.

Terry made a decision, or maybe not a decision so much as allowed the next level to happen naturally.

Because of the music volume, he leaned up to Derek. “Well, this is the way our parents taught us, but maybe we should try something ourselves, huh?”

He slipped his hand out of Derek’s and moved both hands to clasp around Derek’s neck. Derek’s hands moved to Terry’s waist. They could each feel the other relax and they smiled at each other as they moved in sync. Terry put a little extra sway in his hips; it wasn’t to tease as much as it was pleasurable to feel the music and to feel Derek holding him. He sighed with happiness. The moment was perfect.

“I really like dancing with you, Teresa,” Derek said.

“I like dancing with you, Derek,” Terry smiled. “You can call me Terry if you want. Or Teresa.” He stretched his shoulders happily and realized it was thrusting his breasts up. Embarrassed slightly, he leaned his head against Derek’s chest. “Thank you for asking me to dance,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for saying yes!”

Terry chuckled and pulled back to look at Derek’s smile and happily smiled back at him.

The moment was perfect–too perfect.

And then some guy shouted from the pack of boys.

“Always knew you were a faggot, Sommersby!”

Derek stiffened, as did many other couples.

Terry did, as well, but quickly said, “You’re not, Derek. He’s just looking for trouble. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Derek looked at Terry sadly. “Yeah, I do. God, I’m sorry, Terry.” He broke the hold and escorted Terry back to his girlfriends.

“Derek, you don’t have to do this,” Terry pleaded, as Melanie and Julie put their arms around him.

“Yeah, I do,” Derek said, looking brave but trapped. “And he insulted you. That can’t stand.”

Terry stared as Derek turned and walked to the pack of boys.

Melanie whispered, “Omigod, he’s really into you, Terry!”

“Did he say, ‘That can’t stand?’ What a guy!” Julie said. “Keeper, girlfriend!”

“But he’s gonna fight!” Terry said desperately. “He’s gonna get hurt, and it’s all because of me!”

“You were right, Mel,” Julie said, as Melanie nodded.

“Right about what?” Terry asked.

Melanie stalled, but Julie said gently, “Melanie said she could tell it was real between you and Derek.”

Terry felt a flood of warmth at the same time as he felt a chill of fear.

Although Terence had never really participated in the world of boys, he had observed it and was aware of its codes and conduct, just as Alice was aware of the girls’ world around her. Terry could almost choreograph what was about to happen, and wondered: If he could, why couldn’t the chaperones? He looked around and the punchbowl policeman was still there but no others seemed to be around.

The pack of boys filtered to both sides, leaving the loudmouth and two friends in the middle. Terry could see Derek walk up to him and they spoke; the music was still going but the DJ, at least, had the good sense to end the slow song abruptly and slam into a popular rock number. Some of the kids watching the confrontation started dancing instead, but a sizeable number were still fascinated, waiting for fists to fly.

“I’m going over there,” Terry said.

“Teresa! No!” Melanie cried, grabbing Terry’s hand.

“This is what they do,” Julie shrugged. “The usual fight.”

“This is my fault and it’s not like the usual fight because I’m not like the usual girl.” He looked at Melanie. “Please, Mel?”

Reluctantly, Mel nodded and let go. “I love you, Terry. Be careful?” she pleaded.

Terry smiled weakly at her and then began walking to the confrontation. People parted in front of him like he was Moses or something. I wonder if I should swagger like a boy or sway like a girl? he thought, and realized it was too late; he had a natural girlish grace and couldn’t change his stride now.

As he came up, he heard Derek saying, “–just apologize to her and we’ll …” Derek broke off, seeing the guys look past him at Terry. He turned and seemed about to say something.

Terry didn’t recognize the boys and didn’t know who the loudmouth was but looked at the most likely guy and said, “Was it you that called Derek a faggot?”

It was so direct that it startled everyone. They’d probably been sure Terry would say something like ‘Don’t hurt him!’ but never expected the confrontational start.

The guy looked at Terry up and down, leering almost, then at Derek, and then back to her. “Yeah, it was me.”

“Well, you were mistaken,” Terry said calmly. “And you should apologize.”

The first sentence threw them but the second revved up the loudmouth.

“Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.” He crossed his arms theatrically. His buddies tried to look tough.

Terry said, “This is actually fairly simple. If Derek was a faggot, it would be because he was dancing with a boy. Am I a boy?”

Suddenly Melanie’s wisdom about going braless paid off. All three boys’ eyes–and many others’–flew right to Terry’s quite-obvious breasts. They rose and fell as he breathed, and his nipples were just a bit visible. It had the effect of seriously weakening the guy’s argument, but he rallied.

“We all know what you are,” he sneered.

“What am I?” Terry asked, putting his hands on his hips, one high heel thrust forward.

Derek said, “Teresa, you don’t have to–”

“Derek? I do,” Terry said sadly, echoing Derek’s words. He gave Derek a quick smile to show he was okay. To the group of boys, he said, “After all, it seems to be an important question to some of the boys here.”

“You’re a dude looks like a lady,” the loudmouth sang in a rotten attempt at sounding like Aerosmith.

“Nope. Not a dude,” Terry said calmly.

“Yeah, you are. Everybody knows it!”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘everybody’ you’re talking about, but everybody I know knows I’m a girl.” He paused just enough to let the guy start to say something but spoke over him, “But let’s just say for the sake of argument that I am a boy. Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Okay. Then …fight me.”

“What?” The guy’s mouth was actually open.

“Teresa!” Derek gasped.

Terry stayed focused on the loudmouth. “Come on. You obviously like to fight …boys, I guess. So you think I’m a boy–you’re wrong, but you think it–so come on. Fight me.”

The boy had not expected this. He glanced around at the guys and without thinking, sneered, “I’m not fighting a faggot!”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Terry said quickly.

“No! It’s not …it’s like fighting a chick!”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Terry said again, just as fast.

“No! It’s …” The guy shook his head. “I don’t fight chicks or faggots.”

“But you didn’t call me a faggot. You said it to Derek. Who is, by the way, taller and stronger than you. That might be why you’re not fighting. But you never called me a faggot. You called me a dude. Are you saying you don’t fight dudes?” Terry tilted his head. “Tell me; who do you fight? Or do you just shout crap from far away in a corner?”

Terry could feel the temperature of the boys around them change. There was this …distancing from the loudmouth. Even his two buddies looked like they wished they were elsewhere.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” the loudmouth said stubbornly.

“Because I’m a chick?”

“Yeah–no!” he responded, caught off guard. “You’re a faggot dude.”

“Well, I think we all can see how you really feel about ‘faggot dudes’ by what’s been growing in your pants,” Terry said, pointing with his polished nail, as every boy gasped and stared immediately at the erection in the loudmouth’s pants. Terry had noticed it starting when he’d walked up and thrust his high-heeled sandal forward.

Terry pressed forward. He hated the things he was going to say but knew the dynamics of the boys required it. He waved a finger. “So this is what it comes down to. Forget about any apologies and stick to …hard facts.” Some boys snickered, as Terry knew they would. “Either I’m a boy and you’re getting a hard-on looking at me, which makes you the faggot. Or I’m a girl and you’re just being a regular guy. Which is it?”

The loudmouth was smart enough to realize how he had to play it. Grudgingly, he said, “You’re a girl.”

Terry flashed on a major idea; it was triggered by something in the tone of the guy’s response but also something …physical in the loudmouth’s demeanor when Terry had approached him, and when he’d raised the finger. It was almost a …flinch? Terry tried to remember something he’d read long ago about bullies, about dominance. He decided to risk it.

Terry kept the foot thrust forward, his hands on his hips. “Yes. I’m a girl. Say it,” Terry said.

“You’re a girl,” the boy responded, nodding.

“Am I pretty? You must think so, because you’ve got a woodie just from looking at me.”

The boy frowned. There were some laughs from the other boys.

“Say it,” Terry said, almost snapping the first word.

“You’re a pretty girl,” the boy said in a rush, automatically.

Unbelievable! Terry thought, but said, “So since we’ve established that I’m a pretty girl, then when Derek was dancing with me …” He let it hang. “Tell us,” he ordered.

“So he’s not a faggot,” the boy said. “I was …I was mistaken …”

Terry smiled and said to the group of boys, “Mistakes can happen. No …hard feelings, huh, guys?”

The boys either nodded or snickered. Terry turned to Derek, but he didn’t move and his face was unreadable.

Terry felt his inner strength crumbling. His lips trembled and his eyes stung. He turned and worked hard at maintaining what he hoped looked like a casual walk back to his staring girlfriends, who clustered around. He suddenly broke down in a sob as Melanie and Julie hugged him and quickly walked him out of the barn.

Terry was still dabbing his eyes, standing by a parked car with Melanie, when Derek came out of the barn. He saw the two of them and threw his head back in a sigh.

“Geez, what’s with him?” Melanie asked.

“I robbed him of his fight,” Terry nodded.

“He should be glad!”

“No; it’s not the way guys work. They …” Terry sighed and shook his head. Then he looked at his best friend. “Love you, Mel,” he smiled and then walked toward Derek.

“Derek? Can I say something?” Terry asked softly.

“I don’t know; you can be kind of scary when you’re talking,” Derek said with a small smile.

Terry took that as a good sign but knew he had work to do.

“Let me say upfront that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” It was asked without any anger, just surprise.

“I butted into the middle of things. You were handling it just fine, I know, but I couldn’t just let you be my knight in shining armor. You said it was about him insulting me, and I just thought that …I was the problem. And you shouldn’t have to hassle with my problem.”

“It’s not your problem,” Derek said evenly. “It’s his.”

“Well, yeah, but he’s got a problem with my problem. And it kind of …it just pissed me off, you know? He had no right to yell at you. If he’s got a problem, he should have yelled at me.”

“Well, you were right. He has no problem yelling,” Derek grinned.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to get caught in it. And I got pissed off, like I said. And I realized that the whole thing …the whole night, the whole summer, my whole life …was coming down to what they think of me. What everybody thinks. I know what I think, what I know; I’m a girl and always have been. But if it didn’t get settled, they’d make my life hell and also my family and my friends …” He looked at Derek with wide eyes.

Derek nodded. “You’re probably right, there.”

“So I just took the bull by the horns, so to speak.”

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “Man! You sure did! It was creepy. Creepy cool but …creepy how you …like, ordered him around.”

“I know!” Terry giggled, covering his mouth.“Believe me, Derek; I’ve never, ever done anything like that before. But standing there, I saw little …flashes of something from the guy, the way he moved, and I suddenly remembered an article I’d read that bullies are usually bullied at home. And that bullies often are most afraid of being found out, that they’re scared, and that bullies often have a secret desire to be bossed around, to be dominated. It’s really perverse; they bully people hoping to find the one person that will bully them. So I just thought …why not try it?”

Derek laughed. “It was amazing. You probably could have gotten him to roll over and play dead. He was totally under your control.” Derek’s handsome face did something. “I kind of know the feeling,” he added softly.

Terry’s heart fluttered but he kept himself together. “I really, really wasn’t trying to take the fight away from you; I know you could take the guy. But you didn’t need to and it really wouldn’t have solved things for me. Or for you.”

Derek nodded. “I can see that. Now, I mean. I was pissed at you at first, and then I thought, ‘Wait a minute; why am I pissed at her?’ and I began thinking about it. You’re right.” He nodded again, and then chuckled. “But when you pointed at his pants …”

Terry blushed and his hands flew to his mouth. “Omigod, I know! I can’t believe I did that! But it was so obvious to me; I mean, there the thing was, and the argument sort of made itself, you know? And all I really had to do was point it out.”

Derek seemed embarrassed about something.

Oh, God! He’s getting hard thinking about me! Terry realized. It made him feel very powerful and yet very feminine. And very happy.

“Derek, I just wanted to say I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did,” Terry said. “You’re a really great guy and I loved dancing with you and …I just wanted to say that.” He turned to go back to Melanie.

“Teresa? Terry?” Derek said. “Uh …I really enjoyed dancing with you and …I’d like to do some more of it, if you’re agreeable.”

“I don’t think …”

“Dance with him, Terry!” Melanie shouted.

“Mel!” Terry spun at her.

“Go on! You know you want to!” Melanie grinned.

Derek was scratching the back of his head. “This is kind of awkward …”

“Melanie, we are not going to dance!” Terry declared, and then turned to Derek and said softly, “Because maybe we just want to walk …?”

Derek smiled and held out his hand. Terry ran a step to take Derek’s hand in both of his and squeezed it.

“See you, Melanie,” Derek called over his shoulder, grinning.

“Back by eleven, Tere! Or Dave’ll be pissed!” Melanie shouted.

“Got it!” Terry called out, hearing Melanie respond with a whoop and a giggle.

That was the true turning point, at least as far as the younger crowd was concerned. Teresa Wilcox was a girl and was going steady–or ‘pert near’–with Derek Sommersby after a killer confrontation with a Duvall boy at the midsummer dance. End of story.

All summer, though, Betsy’s dominoes continued to fall. A week after she’d told the family about their genetic inheritance from AGM, she’d reappeared at the farm with an attorney, Steven Gianni. He was a Big Name in environmental cases against corporations, and had agreed to offer his firm’s services to the Wilcox family, completely on a contingency basis. As similar cases were being discovered, he was adding to his client list so his terms were quite reasonable–a class action suit was sure to be more powerful, as well as with the media already sniffing around–and Steve was sure it would be enough pressure to induce action from AGM.

But to everyone’s surprise, AGM did not repeat their actions of the past, when they had denied culpability and quietly paid off families for their silence. In fact, AGM had been expecting–most likely, dreading–cases of exposure to Mackenzie produce when the children reached puberty–the ‘second wave’, as it was generally called now. AGM’s own scientists had warned the company to be prepared, and the emotional climate towards corporations had also changed over the last decade-and-a-half.

Before, corporations had been assumed to be paragons of virtue, working for the benefit of American citizens while making a sensible profit. It was assumed they would never resort to illegal, unethical or downright immoral practices. Any such cases that cropped up from time to time were assumed to be due to an unfortunate misunderstanding or due to an individual criminal within the company. It was easier to buy silence from those who knew better. Now, some corporations were widely known to be rapacious profit machines without any consideration for the benefit or even the safety of the American citizens, and were fueled by obscenely huge profits. Cases of poisonings, contaminations, dumping of sub-standard pharmaceuticals and worse were common knowledge.

AGM, already under fire for everything from contamination, illegal experimentation, and price fixing, was facing a Congressional inquiry and class action suits on several fronts. It was the corporate reasoning that America depended on the food AGM provided; therefore nothing must threaten their massive agri-business; their mega-farms must be preserved.

In a move that was welcomed by all–although with suspicion–AGM held a press conference and performed a major public mea culpa. They pointed to the benefits of their research and deplored the ‘unfortunate, unforeseeable side-effects’ of the testing of ‘decades past’, and also pointed out the safeguards they’d instituted to make sure it never happened again. They even trotted out ‘Mr. Mackenzie’, who turned out to be an AGM scientist named Paul Ferguson, who tearfully apologized for anyone hurt in their efforts to bring more abundant healthy food to America. The only cloud on that horizon was when an investigative journalist turned up the fact that the alleged ‘Mrs. Mackenzie’, a researcher named Sarah Woodbridge, had committed suicide five years before, leaving a note that said she couldn’t live with the terrible lies and hurtful things she’d done to innocent people under AGM’s orders.

Consequently, AGM made it plain to Steve Gianni and other lawyers that they were not going to fight; there was no need for a court battle and ensuing, prolonged media coverage, and they publically pledged to ‘provide every assistance, medical and financial, within reason’ to all the affected families.

Meanwhile, the Wilcox family spent the Fourth of July watching fireworks at the county park and the next day Mom drove Alice and Terry to the big city hospital. Both children were taken separately and began a day-long series of tests. Mom spent a less-than-happy day shopping for odds and ends at the mall, worry for her children keeping her almost itchy with nerves. Dad had stayed on the farm to work but had a wish-list of parts he and Alice wanted from the John Deere and Napa stores. At the end of the day, Mom was told that Alice could return home but they’d like to keep Terry for one more day. After a nervous and tearful farewell with Terry, mother and new-son drove home.

Alice told her that she’d had all the fluids checked, plus DNA swabs and hair samples. She’d had a very complete gynecological exam, which she made plain was absolute torture. She’d had an MRI and some other scans, and in between each session she met with different groups of psychologists and psychiatrists. She’d looked at inkblots and photographs and even had her brain mapped with electrodes while they asked more questions. Then there had been yet another gynecological exam.

“Then they said they were finished, and it wasn’t even four. I spent the last hour sitting in the waiting room, trying to find something decent to read while I waited for you,” Alice reported. “Finally found a two-year old Popular Mechanics,” she chuckled. “What is it with waiting rooms? Don’t they keep up their subscriptions?”

“Do you think that even then they were observing you, maybe?” Mom asked.

“I never thought of that,” Alice frowned. “Probably. I mean, they were thorough. Twice in the stirrups …man, I hope I never have to do that again.”

“I know how humiliating it is, Alice. I haven’t met a woman yet that liked it–”

“It’s not that–”

“Wait; I’m not done! Nobody likes the stirrup chair but I was going to say that I know how extra painful it must be for you to endure that. I don’t know how you can avoid it, though. So you’ll just have to …‘man up in the stir-rup’!” she grinned.

“Yeah, I know,” Alice said, watching the darkening countryside go past. “But I …I’m worried about Terry.”

“Me, too,” Mom said quietly.

“I saw her at one point; she was being wheeled out of–”

Mom snapped her head to Alice. “Wheeled? Like strapped down? Or on a stretcher or what’s that thing called–”

“Ma, calm down. It’s called a gurney. But I meant in wheelchairs. That’s how they moved us around, both of us. Pretty fast, too. She was being wheeled out, I was being wheeled in.”

“Okay, then,” Mom said, calming. “So, how did she look?”

“Scared…and embarrassed,” Alice said quietly. “She tried to be brave. She joked and said, ‘Piece of cake, bro!’ but her eyes …” Alice tapped her hand on her leg several times. “I never …I never really understood how this is for her. I mean, I said that it would be easier for a big farm girl to pass as a boy, but this isn’t about passing. It’s about …”

They drove on in silence while Alice formulated her thoughts, still tapping her leg. Just like her father, Mom thought. She prefers thinking her statements through rather than just letting the words come out. And the tapping thing ...Frank does that when he’s angry, wound up.

Finally, Alice said, “It’s like this. There’s the society thing that Terry feels way more than me. As screwy as it is, it’s much easier for people to accept a girl wanting to be a boy. After all, it’s a man’s world, right? And that word ‘tomboy’ that I always heard …it was a polite and acceptable word. You know, Mom, even when it wasn’t about me. You’d be in a store and overhear someone say, ‘How’s your granddaughter?’ and the other one says, ‘Oh, she’s going through her tomboy phase; I can’t get her into a dress’ and the first one says, ‘Well, she’ll grow out of it. I remember mine’ and so on and so on.”

Mom nodded, chuckling. “That’s pretty much word-for-word. You’re right.”

“But now flip it; think about it for a boy that wants to be a girl. ‘How’s your grandson?’ ‘Oh, he’s fine. Going through his sissy phase. Can’t get him out of his dresses’.”

Mom laughed out loud. “I never thought of it in such simple terms! You’re right!”

The tapping was back. “Ma, the doctors and all were really polite with me, all professional and friendly, but I’m the tomboy, so it’s acceptable. I got the feeling, just from looking at the ones with Terry, that maybe some of them thought she was a sissy, or a freak, or …” Alice’s jaw tightened. “They shouldn’t treat her that way. She deserves better. I wanted to get up, grab her wheelchair and push her the hell out of there, away from all of that.”

“You’re such a good big brother!” Mom smiled. “Protective of your little sister. I love you so much for that, Al.”

Alice looked uncomfortable but said, “Well, thanks, but …I know the tests have to be done. And I know that Terry’s way more complicated than me. It’s just the thought of her being there, all alone, overnight.”

“I bought her some books and magazines today, and she’s got those, plus there’s some DVD thing they have in her room,” Mom said, then frowned. “But I worry about her, too, and I’m calling her the moment we get home. But don’t feel slighted; I’m sure you’re every bit as complicated as Terry; they probably just took you first and got your things together faster.”

“No, Ma; they told me she was more complicated.”

“Because …” Mom had no idea.

“Towards the end, they were winding up their time with me. They said the analysis of everything would be done overnight. One of the doctors–I guess he was trying to reassure me–said something about how I should relax; my case was pretty simple. ‘Not like your brother’s,’ he said. See, Ma? Even then, that doctor, smiling at me, insulted my sister!”

Mom noticed that Alice had curled a fist in anger. “I’m sure he was just trying to calm you, and …he wasn’t involved with Terry.”

“But that was just it; what I said just now. He had no problem smiling at the tomboy and sounding kind of …sneering at the sissy.”

“I get your point,” Mom said, feeling anger herself.

“Anyway, I asked him what he meant about me being simpler and he started to tell me but another one took over; she’d worked with Terry in the morning.”

“So there was some crossover of doctors.”

“Oh, yeah. And the corporate guys, too–”

“Corporate guys?” Mom’s head snapped around again.

“Steve explained it to us, remember? Before we signed everything?”

“Well, that they’d have access to the data …”

“I think when I said ‘corporate guys’ you thought of dark suits hovering in the background. No, these were doctors; they were right there in the thick of it. The way it was explained to me was that part of the agreement with AGM is that they be actively involved in helping us. Part of that new strategy Steve said they were doing, to help with their damage control. But they’re paying for everything so I didn’t mind. And the doctors from the hospital itself seemed pretty much okay with the corporate guys. Only way you could tell ‘em apart was the embroidery on their white coats.”

“Embroidery?”

“No, not … needlepoint or something,” Alice laughed. “The docs all have their names embroidered–you know, stitched–on their lab coats. But some had the hospital name and some had the corporate logo. That’s what I meant about telling them apart.”

Mom nodded, understanding.“So what about you being simpler than Terry?”

“Well, they don’t know for sure–although I think they already knew a lot more than they were letting us think–but it’s two things. You know we all start out half-female, right? I mean, as eggs?”

“Yes, dear; I had heard a thing or two about that!” Mom chuckled.

“They’d speak in a mix of medical jargon and regular talk and analogies. Basically, we all start out half-female with the X chromosome. Every egg. Then the male’s sperm fertilizes and things start developing pretty much the same for boys or girls for most of the pregnancy. Things form, I mean; hands, a nose, things that just make a human being, male or female not entering into it. Then things start making female or male parts whether the sperm had an X or a Y, so things might become ovaries or might become testicles. Like if there’s a Y in the father’s sperm, at some point things switch and hands stay hands but ovaries become testicles.”

“We both know it’s even more complicated than that but I understand,” Mom said.

“I know you do; I’m just setting it up the way they told me while it’s fresh. So besides the physical stuff, there’s chemical stuff going on, brain chemistry and such. What we call ‘the wiring’ is really chemicals in the brain.”

Alice was silent for a time and Mom let her think.

“I’m going to switch to the other thing that’s different between Terry and me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about but nobody’s really addressed it yet, as far as I know. Exposure. When we were all discussing this whole thing with Steve, you and Dad remembered that you started buying from the Mackenzies sometime during the pregnancy. I mean, with me.”

Mom nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was my second trimester, maybe the very start of the third; the dates seem to line up with the information Betsy came up with. About when they began offering their produce on the market.”

Alice nodded. “Exposure, then. See, I was barreling along to be a proper little girl for half or most of your pregnancy. Then you started eating the Mackenzie stuff, and it took awhile to take effect, so it was only in the middle or even the last stages that I was affected. That’s why I have a full set of female organs, and grew up to have periods, breasts, and so on, because I was mostly done as a female, so to speak. In the womb, I mean. But the Mackenzie stuff affected my brain chemistry, not just wiring me to think like a male, but also my pituitary and adrenal and other glands–basically messed up my …” Alice frowned.

Mom let her think..

Alice continued. “No, I’m not going to say ‘messed up’, because I like being a guy. The Mackenzie stuff rewired me as a male, but so late in pregnancy that I didn’t look male, although it’s my endo …enda …”

“Endocrine?”

“That’s the one. My endocrine system was most affected, for growth and thought patterns. It’s why I’m so big and strong and think like a guy. My Mackenzie brain sent out the commands to my body to start making a boy, to build stronger bones and make muscles and stuff. Girls’ bodies don’t get those commands. Metabolism, too; that’s different.”

Mom nodded, taking it all in. “And Terry was exposed more.”

Alice laughed sadly. “I’ll say! Mom, I’ve gotta say this up front: It was not your fault, okay? Nobody knew, so don’t blame yourself. But this is the major difference between Terry and me. You started eating Mackenzie stuff when you were already pregnant with me. But you were already eating Mackenzie stuff all the way through your pregnancy with Terry. Plus, your system had three years of eating it in between us!”

Mom’s eyes widened and she gasped. “I never thought of that! But–they said it had no affect on adults!”

“No affect on the adults themselves, but, Ma …you were saturated with the stuff–three years’ worth!–so your system, your womb and everything, was already affected. Face it, Ma; you were Mackenzie soup! And then you dropped Terry into it.”

“I didn’t drop Terry into …” Mom sagged. “I get your analogy. I can’t tell you how …devastated and …and angry …”

“And betrayed,” Alice nodded. “So, Ma, here’s the point with Terry. The doctor explaining me to me? She said embryonic development–for our cases–could be thought of as a railroad track. The train is growth; it chugs along in a straight line on the tracks and if it’s the XX Express–she even smiled when she called it that–then the tracks continue in a straight line. When the Y chromosome fires up, it’s like a switch that routes the train onto a different track, and that’s the male track. Both tracks reach the same destination–birth.”

“Makes sense, in a rudimentary kind of way. I think the Y chromosome is more active than that; I mean, right from the very start.”

Alice turned to face Mom with some excitement. “Yeah! I know, but …think about the XX Express with me. I was going along that straight line because there was no Y chromosome. They’re running more tests tonight but they did tell me I’m definitely XX.”

“Wait a minute–if you’re XX, where did you get a Y …” Her eyes widened. “Mackenzie?”

Alice nodded enthusiastically. “It’s not your genes and it’s not Dad’s genes. Both of you guys did your job the right way. And I didn’t get a biological Y chromosome–not through Dad’s sperm, I mean. The effects of a Y chromosome …that’s what the Mackenzie stuff added!”

“You mean the Mackenzie produce caused …” Mom began nodding. “Y chromosome effects, the chemistry and so on?”

“Right! That’s what’s so mind-blowing about it all! Everybody’s been figuring you’re either XX or XY. Or those …I don’t know what you call ‘em, but the rare ones with like XXX or XYY?” She laughed. “Although triple-X sounds like–”

“I know very well what it sounds like, young man!” Mom said sternly, even as part of her noticed how easily she’d said ‘young man’.

Trying to get past the chastising, Alice quickly said, “But it’s not the chromosomes themselves! That’s the incredible thing about the Mackenzie stuff. In a way, whatever the side-effect does mimics the effects of the …” She trailed off, staring. “Yeah! Of course!”

“Of course what?” Mom asked.

“Ma, they never said this, but I just said ‘side-effects’ and I told you that it was like the effects of the Y chromosome, without changing the chromosome itself, right?”

Mom thought over all they’d said and then nodded.

Alice said, “It’s all about the effects, Ma! They’re not side-effects! They’re not …by-products of the contamination; they’re the whole reason for the Mackenzie stuff to begin with! Look, Ma; I’m big and strong. And isn’t that what you want with your crops? Higher yield? Hardiness? Your livestock, too? Big and strong?” Mom nodded and Alice continued, swept along. “AGM probably designed their stuff to do things like that, and so it affected me and–hey-whaddya-know–I’m big and strong! Makes sense, right?”

Mom nodded. “It makes perfect sense when you explain–”

“Oh, God!” Alice gasped, eyes widened. “You’d want big and strong livestock but your breeding stock, you’d want …well, however livestock gets domestic. More fertile, more …mothery, if there’s such a word.”

“I’m sure there isn’t,” Mom chuckled and then froze as Alice’s words sank in. “Terry? Terry?”

Alice nodded solemnly. “We got hit both ways.”

They looked at each other in silence, stunned.

Alice recovered first, clearing his throat. “So that’s why I’m simple. I was an XX embryo happily on her way to being Daddy’s Little Girl and the Mackenzie stuff suddenly said, ‘Let’s just make her big and strong’ and it also meant developing like a male and that’s why I’m the way I am.”

“I see! It is pretty simple–and an outrage!” Mom took a deep breath. “But I understand. And did they say anything they can do for you? For Terry?”

Alice frowned and looked out the window. “Naw. I’m wired this way; it’s cellular. But we did talk about the options. For me. Well, not options. Operations.”

“I know you want your breasts removed,” Mom said gently.

“Right. That’s first and foremost. That’s one operation. The second is …you’re not going to like this and I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand that I have to do it. The second operation is a hysterectomy. No more female plumbing, no more periods, no menopause. Also, without the estrogen in my system, I’ll develop even more like a regular guy. On one hand it sounds like a win-win, but I asked about …well …” Alice looked down at her hands. “Mom, they can remove some eggs from me first; freeze ‘em. I could have my own biological baby …with my wife, I mean …” Her forehead creased with the future possibilities and complications.

Mom had noticed that Alice had called her ‘Mom’ and knew this may be the last female conversation she would ever have with her first-born child. Softly and gently, she said, “I think that’s a wise decision. I understand completely, the hysterectomy, but saving your eggs …I had no idea they could do that and I think it’s wonderful that you consider it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Alice said softly.

Mom knew with that final word, their mother-and-daughter moment was done. From now on, it would be about her son. They drove on in silence for a time, and then Mom said, “That’s two. What’s the third operation?”

“They can make a penis, or an almost-penis, that will look like the real thing.” Alice laughed. “I can even write my name with my pee!”

Mom laughed with her. “What is it with guys and their fascination with writing with their pee?”

“Marking our territory, maybe? Anyway, they said there’s an …inflation gadget that would mean I could get erect and I could …” Alice frowned. “Don’t want to freak you out, Ma.”

Mom laughed again. “Way too late for that!”

“Okay, then,” Alice chuckled. “I can have normal sexual relations with a girl. My wife, of course!”

“Oh, of course!” Mom teased back.

“No ejaculation, like I said, but …they said I could combine my eggs with hers and we could have a sperm donor and we could have a child …” Alice sighed. “All in the future.”

“Yes, honey, but now you have a future,” Mom reassured.

“Yeah. It’s complicated …but it’s mine,” Alice declared with some pride.

After a time, Mom said, “So Terry is more complicated?”

End of Part 6

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 7

The next day they all found out just how complicated Terry was. The three Wilcoxes drove up early; when they arrived Terry had just taken a shower and Mom had brought a change of clothes. Then, Dad and Alice sat in the room while Mom brushed Terry’s hair and added some makeup and jewelry. Finally they left the room and went to the nurses’ station, as agreed, and then were led to a conference room and supplied with water and coffee.

Doctors and suits filed in. Mom noticed they either stared at Terry and Alice–but more at Terry–or they sort of averted their eyes. She wondered which doctor was the one that Alice had overheard making snide remarks; Alice must have read her mind because she leaned over and murmured, “Second from the left, thinning hair. That’s the jerk.” Mom could feel Dad tense up; she put her hand on his leg to calm him.

The conference ran pretty smoothly, considering how many were involved. Test results were in, consultations had been concluded, and now was the time for information and then decisions. Mom knew that it was because of AGM’s involvement that things moved so quickly, but she grudgingly accepted this deal with the devil if it would help her children.

It was rather startling that there was no beating about the bush, no safe words like ‘alleged’ or ‘possible’. It was stated right up front: AGM had run an experiment, initially thought to be completely safe and even beneficial, that had unforeseen long-term effects on the population, and was now making amends to those affected. As Betsy had said weeks ago, the Wilcox children and others were poisoned in the womb. The only thing that could be said in AGM’s defense was that their experimental substances had cleared extensive testing ….it was just that nobody ever tested on pregnant women; to do so was unethical. It left a gaping hole in evaluating the true nature of new drugs and chemicals.

The chemicals tested were designed to give each type of produce a better survival rate, and to increase the growth rate and yield. ‘More bang for the farmer’s buck’ was the way somebody said with a chuckle. The problem of the pregnancies was not discovered in the first year, of course; Betsy had mentioned that the effects had first been noticed in children under ten during their yearly school physicals–in very mild forms, but still noticeable by pediatricians because of the relatively small, close community. Primarily the effects had been societal, with aggressive tomboys and a much-higher-than-average percentage of sissies. There had been enough masculinized females and feminized males whose blood and urine showed unusual chemical traces that doctors had compared notes and the investigation began.

The reason there had not been a wider knowledge of the contamination was due to embarrassment and fear of ridicule, so the affected families had not compared notes. Some were paid off by AGM but some had moved out of the area, in disgrace, before the true cause was discovered. What happened to those children and families was anybody’s guess; there had been an effort to track them down. AGM probably hoped they’d caught everybody affected. But the Mackenzie produce was big, abundant, and cheap, and word had spread and there was no information on how many families were affected long-term but it had to be dozens. Thanks to Betsy’s contacts with the Farm Bureau–and the media contacts she’d called–the Wilcox family were the first to come forward although others had in the meantime, the first of the ‘second wave’, the contaminated pregnancies.

The general explanation was that the chemicals, collectively, either simulated naturally-occurring hormones or artificially stimulated the embryo to begin manufacturing hormones and enzymes that hadn’t been contributed by the parents’ genes and weren’t part of a natural development.

They began by discussing Alice, both because she was first-born and least affected. There was a recap of the ‘train track’ analogy, and then Dr. Benson, the woman who had spoken with Alice, continued.

“Alice is genetically female. XX. If the embryonic development had not been interfered with, she might have been a typical female, well within statistical norms for height, weight, and so on. And she would, most likely, have been a happy, heterosexual girl.” She looked at Alice. “I’m sorry, Al; I know you don’t like hearing this, but you probably would have been into Barbies and wearing pretty dresses.”

“Not necessarily, but I get your point, Dr. Benson,” Alice nodded. “Is there any indication that I would be this size? I mean, if I was unaffected and still playing with Barbies and all that?”

“We can’t say for sure, but your family has average growth statistics on both sides for several generations, based on the information your parents provided. You might have been the odd girl that becomes a professional basketball player, but in comparison to females in your family, I’d say you’d have been 5'5" or so.” Her eyes went to Terry and back to Alice.

“But you were affected, and it’s pretty clear how. Your MRI shows complete female genitalia and internal organs; your menstruation is within norms although I understand your last two have been difficult. Breast development was normal. But skeletal and muscular growth was stimulated, and your metabolism is much closer to a male’s. You eat like a guy and put on muscles like a guy.” She grinned.

“But with boobs and periods,” Alice said, watching the doctors shift uncomfortably. “And my mind?”

Another doctor spoke up. “As we discussed with you yesterday, it’s not completely proven but there is a substantial body of evidence that transgender individuals have brain chemistry similar or identical to the brain chemistry of their identified sex. That means–”

“We actually understand what it means, doctor, thank you,” Mom said.

Dad spoke up for the first time. “So you’re saying Alice and Terry are transgender? Transsexuals?”

The doctor held his hands up, palms out. “Yes and no and no and I know that that’s an aggravating answer but don’t bite my head off until I explain. First of all, leave Terry out of things for now; we’re just discussing Alice. Each of your children has similar causes but also very different circumstances.”

“Right. Sorry. Go on,” Dad nodded, but anybody could tell he was still miffed.

“If we posit for a moment that an individual possessing opposite-gender identity is by our definition transgender, then Alice falls within those guidelines. It’s entirely possible that if Mrs. Wilcox had never ingested Mackenzie produce, that Alice might be transgender. Now, Mr. Wilcox, I can see you getting a full head of steam going. Hear me out: If the only thing that indicated opposite-gender identity was Alice’s thoughts and feelings, that would have been a valid statement. But we know Mrs. Wilcox was exposed, we know that Alice’s development and growth and brain chemistry is not within norms for the Wilcox family, and we know absolutely that Terry was affected. Therefore, it renders any other suppositions moot. Compounds from AGM corrupted the gestation of Alice and Terry.”

One of the doctors said, “Could we not use the word ‘corrupted’ and instead just say ‘affected’?”

Alice leaned over to Mom and whispered, “He’s gotta be an AGM guy.” Mom nodded.

The first doctor said, “Corrupted, affected, altered, interfered with …semantic terms aside, we are talking about AGM accepting culpability?”

The doctors had a stare-down and the second doctor nodded and held his hands up and then crossed them over his chest.

Mom cleared her throat. “Okay. That’s what was done to her; what’s to be done for her?” To Alice, she murmured, “Sorry about ‘her’.”

“S’okay, Mom; I get it,” Alice whispered back.

The doctors then laid out the same three operations that Alice had talked about, and with her approaching her eighteenth birthday, it ‘rendered moot’–the doctors seemed to love that phrase–any problems with Alice obtaining the surgeries.

Dr. Benson said, “The only questions, really, are do you want them done one, two, three, or in combination; and when do you want to start?”

“How about all of them, and this afternoon?” Alice chuckled, to general laughter.

The discussion switched abruptly to Terry.

“Alice and Terry have a fundamental similarity in the root cause,” Dr. Benson said, “But from then on, it’s wildly different.”

The AGM doctor said, “I’m not comfortable with the word ‘wildly’.”

One of the silver-haired doctors, obviously from the hospital, said, “Again with semantics. Don’t like ‘wildly’? How about ‘hugely’? Or ‘staggeringly’? Or ’catastrophically’ different?”

Dr. Benson actually put her hand on her colleague’s arm at that point. “I withdraw the term ‘wildly’. How about ‘vastly’ different?”

AGM nodded acceptance.

Dr. Benson began again. “As to the vast difference, it’s due to two factors. First, Alice was exposed at some point in the second or third trimester. Since there’s no research data, we don’t know exactly what the time frame was from Mrs. Wilcox’s initial ingestion of Mackenzie produce to the time it crossed the placental barrier. However, Terry’s embryo was steeped in a womb and placenta saturated with Mackenzie chemicals.”

Mom cleared her throat. “Plus the fact that I’d been eating Mackenzie produce, grains, dairy, and beef, for three full years before conception and pregnancy.” She smiled at Alice, who nodded grimly.

The doctors, some of them anyway, obviously hadn’t taken that into account, which made Mom all the prouder of Alice’s insight. There were some raised eyebrows and hushed mini-conferences.

Dr. Benson said, “That’s an area that hasn’t been …explored; our main focus was on the chemicals crossing the placental barrier. But three years’ ingestion …” She nodded. “A factor that has to be examined.”

The AGM doctor nodded. “If I may? Our research has shown another factor that …wasn’t taken into account in earlier studies. You understand that this is all terra incognita for researchers …”

There was general nodding and a sense of ‘Enough disclaimers; just get on with it’ around the room.

AGM cleared his throat and said, “Recent studies have shown that different compounds affected different plants and animals …uh …differently.”

There were some snickers.

“I’m just trying to keep this on an even footing,” he snapped. “We’re all hunting around in the dark with a penlight and one eye closed, so …bear with me.”

The silver-haired doctor nodded and said, “Our apologies. You understand …”

Apparently, the AGM doctor did, because he calmed, nodded and continued. “I’ve read the original protocols for the compounds, and in addition to Mrs. Wilcox’ three years of ingestion, I don’t believe anyone else has taken into account …the variety of compounds. The compounds were designed for the specific produce or animals. With dairy, the concern was high yield. With grains, hardiness. With livestock, disease resistance, yield, growth …” He shrugged. “It’s pretty basic, if you think about it. You want more eggs per chicken. You want stronger, bigger crops. You want more meat on your cattle, more milk from your cows. And so on. And all of them more disease-resistant. So the compounds were …custom-tailored, if you will for each. The problem was …or is …” He frowned and trailed off.

Mom beamed at Alice. My brilliant son figured it out before all these fancy doctors!

Dr. Benson said, “May I? The problem was that Mrs. Wilcox did not ingest just beef or just dairy. Most likely she ingested all of the items that the Mackenzie farm marketed. It stands to reason, due to the abundance and low price. And at different stages of the pregnancy she may have ingested more of one kind than another. Not that she depended entirely on Mackenzie produce; her own farm’s produce and store-bought products were also elements of her diet during pregnancy. And, finally, the new factor that she brought up, that she had three years of Mackenzie produce in her system between her two pregnancies.”

Even knowing it wasn’t her fault, the sting was still felt. Mom said, in a small voice. “I know it’s not my fault, but I feel so …responsible.”

Dad squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault, honey. It made sense at the time and nobody knew.”

The AGM doctor pounced. “Exactly! Nobody knew!”

The silver-haired doctor said tiredly, “We’ve been through all of that; my concern is our patients.”

One of the doctors who had been silent, a thin, curly-haired fellow, spoke up. “Hear, hear. I would like to get us moving in a different direction and away from the blaming and evasion. I would like to focus on our patients, too. We’ve discussed Alice, and stated that the case with Terry is …vastly different. I would like to pose this question to Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox, regarding Terry: Other than the birth certificate, based on the delivering doctor’s statement, what would indicate the gender of your child?”

The silver-haired doctor said, “A little unorthodox–”

“But a valid point,” Dr. Benson said quietly. “I think I see where he’s going.”

Dad said, “You mean, forgetting the fact that Marie gave birth to a son?” He sounded almost confrontational.

The doctor nodded placidly. “That’s exactly what I mean. Forgetting the piece of paper and the statement of the doctor, what made you think you had a boy?”

Dad frowned and looked at Mom. “I don’t know …maybe the fact that he had a penis?” He seemed to throw that in the doctor’s face.

The doctor was unruffled. “Yes, yes; it was the same penis that led the delivering doctor to make a diagnosis of male.”

“Diagnosis?” Mom asked, looked at Dad and then the doctor.

Several of the doctors looked uncomfortable. Dr. Benson said, “You must understand it’s a medical term only; we diagnose an illness from how the patient presents symptoms; the symptoms are a form of evidence, if you will. A fever, sore throat, and so on. Or an accident, and we can see a bone projecting from the forearm, we can make a diagnosis of a compound fracture. Strictly speaking, the dictionary definition is ‘to recognize from signs and symptoms’. From the evidence of a visible penis at birth, a diagnosis of male is made. From the absence of a penis and the presence of a vagina, a diagnosis of female is made.”

“Oh. Well …” Mom looked at Dad. “We understand.”

Dad nodded, too. “So your question is …forgetting the birth certificate and what the doctor said …and his penis …how did we know–”

Mom said, “His words were ‘What made us think Terry was a boy?’”

“Right,” Dad nodded. “Well, he …”

There was silence. It was strange to watch Dad’s face work, as if he was trying different scenarios. He was remembering Terry growing up. Seeing him skipping with a chicken feed bucket. Hearing him making little cooing sounds to newborn farm animals. Seeing him curled up on the couch, his legs tucked under him, his head resting on Mom’s shoulder. Hearing his giggle at something on TV, covering his mouth with his fingertips. Tucking hair behind his ears with his fingertips, too. Or happily tying his apron to start cooking …

There had to be something that proved Terry was a boy …

The silence grew.

The doctor that posed the question said, “We can set that aside for the moment.”

Dad sputtered, “Is this a trick? Because of course he’s a boy–was a boy–until Marie put him in a dress and put boobs on him!”

Mom gasped and there was a startled reaction to his declaration from everyone in the room. And then to everyone’s surprise, Alice exclaimed, “Hey, everybody? Um …we’re all supposed to be here for this, but nobody said anything about breaks and I’ve got to take a leak really bad. How about we all take five? I know I’ll feel better!”

There was a general agreement for a fifteen-minute break and everybody filed out of the conference room, heading in several directions. The Wilcox family stood and, surprisingly, Alice didn’t rush off to the restroom. Instead, she looked down the corridor, checked a door, checked another, and motioned the family in. Bewildered, the other three followed her into the empty room, a small meeting room with a large whiteboard and projector around the desk.

Alice turned and leaned against the door. Dad started to say, “Thought you had to take a–”

Alice held a hand up. “Ma, we forgot something.” She looked at Terry. “Terry? This is going to be embarrassing, maybe, but you’ve got to take off your top and show Dad.”

Mom gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my God! Of course! I completely …” She turned to Dad. “Frank! You don’t know!”

“That’s why he said what he said back there,” Alice nodded.

Mom smiled. “And you jumped in with asking for a break …” She shook her head in admiration. “You are so smart, Al; you make me proud.”

Dad sputtered, “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Mom said to Terry, “Sweetheart, your brother’s right. You know why. And you’ll have to tell him.” She turned to Dad. “Frank? Terry is not wearing the breast forms.”

“What? Of course she is! I can see ‘em …” He broke off.

Terry was taking off his camisole top, his fingers trembling. “Daddy, about a year and a half ago, my breasts began budding. You know? Where the, uh …nipples harden and then the mound starts, underneath them?”

Dad just stared at Terry in his bra.

Terry swallowed. “I went to the library and there’s this condition that affects a percentage of boys. Normal boys, I mean. It’s called ‘gynecomastia’, and it means that, for a time, a boy grows little boobs. Not just the fat boys, either. It’s because of all the hormones that teenagers have, all sloshing around at once; sometimes it causes the start of breast development in boys. It goes away when their system stabilizes, in months, usually.”

Dad frowned. Then he said, slowly, “I remember …Pat Clark when I was growing up. Got kind of …little boobs. And we kidded him and he never went swimming anymore, and then, one day, there was Pat at the lake with no boobs.”

Terry said, “Exactly. I thought they’d go away. I wasn’t taking any pills or anything. They were just there and …” He shrugged.

Dad turned to Mom. “You showed us the breast things, the forms …”

“I lied,” Mom said. “Sorry to say it, sorry to have to do it, but we thought that you would be so shocked by the truth, and it was all so new to us, that I made the decision to show the breast forms to …kind of soften things for you, make them easier to accept. Frank, what Terry showed me …they weren’t little temporary boobs; they were obviously female and they were obviously still growing and she–”

“Wait a minute!” Dad frowned at her and then turned to Terry. “You said a year-and-a-half ago? And she says they were growing and …” He shook his head as if it could negate things. “But nobody saw anything.”

Mom put up a calming hand.“She was embarrassed and she knew that a trip to the doctor’s would cost money we couldn’t spare–so thoughtful!–and she truly thought they’d go away by themselves, like she’d read about. So to save money and embarrassment all around, she wore a couple of extra-small t-shirts to kind of bind them down. But you have to understand, Frank, that she wasn’t trying to lie, only to spare us any worry until they went away–but they didn’t go away; they were still growing.”

“Because it wasn’t a boy with gynecomastia,” Alice explained calmly. “It was a girl developing her breasts.”

“A year …and a half …” Dad said, still dazed.

Mom said, “I only discovered them that first day, when you suggested she dress up as a girl. Seems silly to say that now, but that’s when I found out. I’d already bought …” She looked at Alice. “Sorry, Al; I don’t think you know this. I’d bought the breast forms years ago to help out Alice when she was slow to develop. I thought she’d stop being a tomboy and start liking being a girl if she had breasts like other girls.”

“It’s okay, Ma; I understand,” Alice said, and then grinned. “Wouldn’t have worked, anyway!”

Mom grinned back weakly. “Well, we know that now. So I was faced with a dilemma. I discovered my son not only made a naturally pretty girl but his body was a girl’s, and nobody knew why. But I knew it would have been just too, too bizarre for us all to handle. Even I was absolutely floored when I saw them. So I did a little misdirection, like a magician does. I made Terry bind down her breasts with her little t-shirts so you saw her flat-chested. I waved around the breast forms that had been in the back of my closet for years. She took the box and left us, if you remember. She didn’t put them in; she just undressed, removed the t-shirts and let her own breasts fill her bra.”

Dad was stunned. “So from Day One, all the …um …” He waved his hand around his chest. “Has been …that’s all been Terry?”

“Yes,” Mom said. “I’m sorry that we deceived you, but I hope you can see why we kind of had to.”

“I’m sorry, too, Daddy,” Terry said, his eyes downcast.

Dad frowned and looked at Alice. “Did you know?”

Alice nodded guiltily. “Not at first. But then I saw ‘em.”

“The breast forms?” Dad asked, confused.

“No, Daddy,” Terry said, unclasping his bra. “I had to bend over and Alice saw through my blouse. These.”

Shyly, Terry pulled the cups away from his breasts, swallowing and breathing shallow with nerves.

Dad stared. And stared.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Mom quietly and gently said.

Terry clasped his bra back in place and quickly and smoothly adjusted his breasts back in the cups. “I was …I was getting pretty desperate because they weren’t going away. At first …” Then the nerves fell away somehow. He looked his father in the eyes. “And I’m so glad they didn’t!”

Mom said, “Do you understand how brilliant your son is?”

Dad’s eyes swiveled to Terry.

Mom barked, “Your son Al! Do you understand, Frank? Back with the doctors, there? Al realized that we had forgotten to tell you about Terry’s breast development before this conference. So he faked having to ‘take a leak’ so we could update you–and really, Al; couldn’t you have come up with something a little nicer?”

Alice shrugged, grinning. “Worked, didn’t it?” She turned to her father. “Dad, I saw Terry’s breast in her bra when she leaned over to pick something off the floor; she wasn’t flaunting it or hanging out or anything. But I’ve seen enough breasts to know that it wasn’t a breast form. That’s how I found out. We weren’t trying to fool you–”

“I guess I was,” Mom said with shame.

“Well, like you said, Ma, it was all so new and Dad was already kind of freaking out that his son was in a dress.”

“I wasn’t freaking out!”

“Daddy, you were freaking out,” Terry grinned, and Dad finally nodded agreement.

Mom said, “It was just going to be for a week or so, as you got more used to …the new Terry.”

Terry went to his father. “Daddy? Can you not blame Mom? We never thought any of this would get to this point. It was just …” He frowned. “They’re part of me. I can tell you, I’m not a boy that grew breasts; I feel like a girl whose breasts came in right on time. Can you …accept that?”

All of them watched Dad, who put all the pieces together and then nodded. Sheepishly, he tugged on an earlobe. “So I guess I …I guess I sounded pretty foolish back there, in the conference room.”

“It’s probably all forgotten, thanks to Al’s quick thinking,” Mom beamed. “But now you know, and I suggest we all …uh … ‘take a leak’ and get back in there!”

As she passed Alice, she playfully swatted her on the butt.

Dad’s outburst did seem forgotten when the meeting resumed. It was agreed that the railroad track switch analogy was more or less acceptable for explaining Alice’s situation, but Dr. Benson was chuckling as she said, “Now I’d like you all to do a little experiment. For the Wilcox family, do you see the flagpole?”

There was an American flag on a stand in the corner behind the doctors. The Wilcoxes nodded.

Dr. Benson said, “For the doctors on this side of the room, do you see the far corner by the window?” There was a general nodding. “Anybody left handed?”

The silver-haired doctor was the only one.

Dr. Benson grinned, “Everybody close your left eye–Tom, probably close your right eye–and now everyone, raise your right index finger and place it over the object, over the flagpole or in line with the corner.”

She demonstrated and everyone’s hands went up. The Wilcox family had their fingers aligned over the flagpole.

“Got it covered? Okay. Now, switch eyes. Close your right and open the left. Tom, the opposite. What happens?”

“It moved!” Mom said.

“Right-eye dominance,” Dad said.

“What?” Mom said, turning to him.

Dad shrugged. “Learned it in the Army. For sighting down a rifle.”

“Yes, Mr. Wilcox. Right-eye dominance–or left-eye for southpaws like Tom. We can also say that the right eye is dominant. Now everybody open both eyes, keeping your finger in place.”

“Double image,” Alice commented.

“Right. Okay, everyone relax,” Dr. Benson said. A smile was twitching her lips. “Ladies and gentleman, I give you Terry Wilcox!”

“Huh?” Terry gasped as everybody looked at him.

“Can we all grasp that the perception of the finger over the object changes depending on which eye is open and which is closed?” There were general nods. Dr. Benson said, “Terry was exposed to a variety of chemicals over the entire period of gestation. As stated, some chemicals were for growth, some were for hardiness, some were for dairy, some for livestock, and so on. Obviously, if Mrs. Wilcox ate eggs for breakfast and a steak at dinner, she was ingesting different quantities and varieties of AGM chemicals.”

The last two words seemed to pain the AGM doctor, but he nodded, however reluctantly.

“And over the nine months, there were most likely periods where Mrs. Wilcox ate more dairy than grains, or more produce than meat, and so on.” She looked around the room. “All of which means that, since we know that the placental barrier was breached, the fetus was exposed to chemical A, then chemical B, then maybe a lot of chemicals C, D, and E, then a few weeks of chemical A, then chemical F, and so on. Agreed?”

“Alphabet soup,” Alice said, grinning at Terry.

“Like the finger and dominant eye demonstration,” Dr. Benson said, to cover the chuckles from Alice’s overheard comment, “they had the effect of keeping the finger aligned or knocked sideways. And that took place as the fetus continued to develop. The same chemicals that had no effect in the first trimester may have had a great effect in the third. Agreed?”

There were general nods, but she was mainly concerned that the Wilcox family understood; they did.

“And at some point–we can only guess–chemical stimulation prompted the altered internal organs of the fetus. And the external alteration resembled a penis.”

“Resembled?” Dad frowned. “It was a penis–is a penis–because he’s a boy! Was a boy!”

“Stop tying yourself in knots, Frank,” Mom said soothingly, rubbing his arm.

“Resembled,” Dr. Benson said firmly. “You know, it’s become fairly standard these days to perform DNA tests on newborns. Those tests probably weren’t available when either of you were born,” she said, looking at Alice and Terry.

She stopped talking, and nobody else seemed ready to take up the slack. Dr. Benson was studying the Wilcox parents. Finally, she said, “Earlier, I said that Alice and Terry have a fundamental similarity. It’s not just that they were exposed to AGM compounds.” She looked at Mom, and then zeroed in on Dad.

“As I said, DNA testing at birth wasn’t around, but we can certainly do it now and have. You understand that DNA genotypes can’t be faked? That your DNA is unique to you from embryo until death?”

“Yes, of course,” Dad said.

Dr. Benson looked at him but spoke to the room. “Alice is XX. Female. And we have agreed that, in fact–I stress those words, ‘in fact’–Alice should be regarded as transgender physically as well as psychologically.”

There were general nods. Alice just shrugged.

Dr. Benson smiled at Alice and then spoke to the others. “And as such, we should no longer refer to Alice as female or use feminine pronouns when addressing this individual. With the Wilcox family’s understanding, I strongly urge that we all address the eldest Wilcox child as Al, a male, and use masculine pronouns.”

“Sounds good to me,” Al shrugged, but everyone could see his smile.

Dad nodded. “Makes sense.” He reached over and gently punched Al’s shoulder.

Mom nodded. Terry beamed at his brother.

The doctors all seemed to accept it; yes, yes, go on, they seemed to say.

Dr. Benson knew she still had the floor and her nod ended the discussion about Al. Her mouth twitched for some reason and laced her fingers before her. She looked around the room and had their attention and cleared her throat.

“Now, remember that I said that the siblings have a fundamental similarity? Terry is also XX. She is female.”

All four Wilcoxes–and several doctors–shouted, “What?”

Dad was loudest. “Terry’s a girl?”

Mom said, “Of course she’s a girl, Frank!”

“I’m a girl? Really?” Terry gasped.

“Told you!” laughed Al.

It took several minutes for the uproar to die down.

The doctors took great care and some time to explain, as well as using diagrams on a white board, but it came down to the fact that both Wilcox children were girls, born genetically female. Both had been masculinized by AGM’s Mackenzie produce, but in different ways. Al was genetically and anatomically female, internally and externally, but with masculine growth, metabolism, and brain chemistry. The amount of brain masculinization was actually measurable by the brain scans as well as the psychological studies.

Terry’s case was, as hinted by Dr. Benson, similar but opposite. Terry was genetically female but had external genitalia that resembled a boy’s penis. It was really a distended clitoris and fused urethra; except for urine flow, it was non-functional–Terry had never had an erection–but at birth would have presented as a typical penis, upon which the diagnosis of ‘male’ was made.

It was internally that was vastly different. There were all these specialized terms thrown about: Wolffian structures, Mullerian ducts, anti-Mullerian hormones, and more. The doctors took pains to make sure the Wilcox family understood each element; it was all so new–and some of the doctors reminded them of those boring high school biology lectures–that Dad was getting restless. Mom noticed his arms crossing and jaw tightening and was worried about him. When he was just about to explode, Mom took action.

“Doctors, I would like to pose a question to you all. What is the proper planting, fertilization, and crop rotation schedule for a farm of twenty four hundred acres in this state?”

That stopped them cold! They harrumphed and looked at each other uneasily; only Dr. Benson had a grin; she nodded at Mom. Mom returned the nod and then turned to Dad. “Frank? You want to tell them?”

Dad then took two minutes to give a concise and precise enumeration of the facts.

Mom finished up with, “Just so everybody knows that we all have our areas of specialty and our areas of ignorance.”

It cleared the air in the room and Dad was immensely satisfied; Terry marveled again at how skillful Mom was with people. Things lightened considerably when the AGM doctor surprised everybody by showing a sense of humor; he began describing embryonic development in terms of ‘Brad’ or ‘Angelina’, to laughter all around. But it did make things much easier and the other doctors picked it up. One of them stopped using the black dry-erase marker on the white board and used a blue marker for ‘Brad’ and a red one for ‘Angelina’–pink wasn’t available and would be too hard to see.

The startling facts continued to be revealed.

Terry’s testicles had never descended because they weren’t testicles. In normal development of a Y-fertilized fetus, what could be the ovaries would ‘morph’–everybody chuckled at the use of the popular, non-medical term–into testicles. In Terry’s case, the ovaries remained as ovaries. However, the uterus seemed to be pretty much nonexistent. Most shocking, perhaps, was that it was the firm belief that the ovaries contained eggs, and that they were being released down Fallopian tubes and into the abdomen. In other words, Terry was partially menstruating but without a uterus. Without a uterus, there was no blood involved to discharge; the released eggs were treated as foreign substances and absorbed and dissolved.

Everyone was stunned when that was revealed.

One doctor, silent so far, cleared her throat. “It must be pointed out to the Wilcox family that only Al is producing eggs and can be considered fertile, as she–he–possesses a uterus. It is …his stated goal to have a total hysterectomy performed, and he also mentioned the possibility that his eggs could be removed and frozen, prior to the hysterectomy.” There was general nodding, and she pressed on. “I would like to point out that Terry also is producing eggs.”

There were thoughtful frowns all around; then a single person laughed–Al.

All heads turned to her and she grinned.“Hey, it’s really simple. Just give her mine!”

“Your what?” Mom asked.

“My uterus, Ma!” Al was almost choking with laughter. “I don’t want the thing, and she’s the one that wants babies!”

Mom chuckled politely at the silliness, and Dad said, “Al! Don’t be joking about things like that!”

But Terry saw that all of the doctors looking at them with laser eyes. There was a tension in the room.

Finally, Dr. Benson cleared her throat. “That …is something to consider …”

“What?” three Wilcoxes shouted. Al looked smug.

“That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” Terry said in the silent room.

“Smart girl,” Dr. Benson grinned.

Dad looked at Terry and the grinning Al and then at the doctors. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

The silver-haired doctor then launched into a speech about how the next advance in surgery involved uterine transplants. Doctors in England had announced they were close to a transplant back in 2009, although they hadn’t quite come through with a success yet. To be blunt, these doctors were excited at the possibility of being the first in the world to successfully transplant a working uterus. They had already taken tissue samples from Al and Terry in the wave of tests they’d performed; it was a match. They were sisters and transplantation was theoretically possible. It was obvious that AGM felt they could generate a great deal of good press by backing the attempt. It all boiled down to …the Wilcox family.

Al seemed to be in the driver’s seat, after his flippant remark had uncovered the truth. He made an announcement.

“Everybody? Mom, Dad? I am formally declaring that I want a full hysterectomy. It’ll probably be past my birthday when all of this comes down, so I’m making the decision as an adult. And I would like to donate my uterus to my sister Teresa, if she’s interested.”

Mom said, “That’s a …gracious offer, honey, but we really have to discuss it–”

Al shook his head. “Sorry to interrupt, Ma, but discuss it? Not really. I’ll be an adult when it happens and it’s mine to donate so there’s no discussion about that. And I don’t think there’s really any discussion that Terry wants to be a mother to her babies, is there, sis?”

Al and Terry locked eyes. Terry nodded. “Absolutely. I want to be a mother.”

Al spun back to his parents. “You and Dad have to give approval for any surgery that Terry gets, but we know she’s going to have surgery anyway.”

“We do?” Dad asked.

Mom nodded. “Yes, Frank; to remove that piece of flesh that was mistaken for a penis.”

Al jumped in. “You’ve gotta get it straight, Dad; it’s not a penis. It never was a penis. They are not taking off his penis. It’s like she had …a sort of third leg or something, growing out of her hip. Everybody laughed at her and her clothes didn’t fit right…you wouldn’t hesitate to remove that thing, would you? After all, it was just useless flesh. Would you freak out about them taking it off?”

“Of course not,” Dad said, almost indignant.

“That’s just the same as with Terry. Useless flesh that defined her wrong,” Al said with some force.

Terry loved Al very much just then.

Dad frowned, considered, and nodded. “Makes sense.”

The family knew what that phrase meant.

Al turned to Terry. “So how about it, sis? If these good doctors can make my big strong uterus fit in your tiny little body, wanna go for it?”

Terry felt weightless and smiled warmly at Al–now and forever her brother–and said breathlessly, “Absolutely, Al! Oh, God, yes!”

After everybody calmed down from the stunning turn of events, there was a discussion and then a general agreement that the surgeries would proceed. Since Terry was already female, her surgery would not be considered sexual reassignment surgery and therefore the requirement that she be at least eighteen was, once more, moot. Still, the anticipated recovery time was four to six weeks for either a hysterectomy or SRS, so there was a scheduling problem. School would start in September. Plus, the Wilcox family had to deal with losing the labor of the children, in the kitchen and in the fields, during any surgeries and recovery. And Terry reminded everyone about the State Fair.

Mom said, “Sweetheart, that’s the least of our problems. I don’t mind missing it this year; you and Al are much more important to me.”

Terry shook her head. “No, Momma; it’s not fair that you lose out on what you want to do.” She turned to the doctors and said, “My mother is going to win a blue ribbon this year.”

“Terry!” Mom laughed. “Don’t count your chickens!”

“Not counting chickens,” Terry shook her head. “I just know that you’re going to win.”

A sad smile crossed Mom’s face. “I’ve already won a bigger prize than I could ever hope for–my children’s happiness.”

Dad was frowning, trying to sort through how he could cope on the farm with just him and Mom, when the AGM doctor stepped out of the room. He came back in later and harrumphed.

“I’d like to offer the Wilcox family the services of AGM. I just alerted the home office of your situation …” He looked around the room. “Both of the approval for the surgeries, and your pressing needs.” Back to the Wilcox family, he said, “I’ve been assured that AGM will send a team of fully capable, professional farm workers to assist you for the duration of Al’s surgery and recovery.”

“A team of farm workers …” Dad frowned, more with confusion. “It’s just Al and me doing just fine.”

Mom knew there could be negative connotation with the words ‘a team of farm workers’ and said, “One or two men would be fine. I can certainly handle the cooking and cleaning for them; I’ve been doing it for a family of four.”

The AGM guy said, “We don’t want any hardship for you, and you will be wanting to spend as much time as possible with your children in the hospital.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that!” She blushed and turned to the kids. “I’m so sorry!”

Al chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ma; we get it. The farm comes first.” He looked at his father, who nodded.

“Family comes first!” Mom said fiercely. Even Dad nodded.

“Mrs. Wilcox?” the AGM doctor said gently. “I agree completely. Please understand that your family is our priority too, and–”

One of the doctors snickered.

The AGM doctor’s shoulders drooped. “Okay, shoot the messenger? Listen, I’m an endocrinologist; I’m not a suit and I’m not …” He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just want to say to the Wilcox family–personally, not as an employee of AGM–that I am very sorry that your family has had to suffer. I will do everything in my power to make things right for you. We also …” He looked around the room. “All of us, collectively, have the chance to make medical history, sure, but most importantly to help thousands of women, maybe more. If we can successfully transplant a uterus, then, combined with new research we could …” He sighed deeply. “My mother died of uterine cancer. If we get to the point where we can remove a uterus and remove the cancer–maybe replace with new growth from stem cells–and replace or transplanta healthy uterus …” He swallowed.

There was silence in the room. The silver-haired doctor cleared his throat. “The implications are staggering. And I, for one, would like to apologize for any …discomfort our professional relationship might have caused.”

Their eyes met and the AGM doctor nodded. “Thank you for that. Okay, um …” He cleared his own throat. “Wilcoxes, pure and simple, AGM will foot the bill for operation of your farm. An arrangement will be made to assist Mrs. Wilcox win her blue ribbon. The reason for the ‘hurry up’ is that both of children could be healed enough to start their school year in September.”

Terry gasped and squeezed Al’s hand. He patted her little hand and held tight as he said, “As long as the farm’s taken care of, to Dad’s approval, I’m ready this afternoon.”

There were chuckles, but Terry said, “That goes for me, too. My mother’s got to get to the fair.” She turned to Mom. “For both of us.”

Mom’s eyes shone as she said, “I should inform the doctors that my daughter …my wonderful, lovely daughter Teresa …did most of the work.”

“Did not,” Terry grumbled, blushing.

“Did too!” Mom grinned. “And she came up with new ways to display …” She shook her head. “Oh, sweetie, you should be there!”

“Next year, Momma,” Terry smiled.

“I know, honey. And this is so important to you.”

“To Al, too, Momma,” Terry said, putting her other hand over Al’s big one.

Arrangements were made; Dad and Mom each spoke at length with AGM representatives in New York and workers were dispatched, arriving at the farm the next day in a large motor home with a small car attached. There were two men and a woman; a husband and wife and her brother. They usually worked in different farming crews but were delighted to be all together. Dad walked the men through the fields as Mom spoke with the woman, a cheerful redhead who casually mentioned, while chatting with Mom, that she was barren. Mom thought instantly of the medical possibilities with uterine transplants and it strengthened her resolve that the Wilcox family was contributing something to the world.

Al and Terry gathered their things for a long hospital stay and felt like third wheels. Al walked the fields with his Dad, reminding him of things as they discussed the needs of the farm with the AGM guys, and later gave his approval of the two guys. Terry puttered with making sure the canned jars were ready and carefully packaged for transport. The redhead seemed nice; the explanation given to the workers was that both children had a congenital condition and that doctors were going to attempt something to help them both. She shrugged and talked about her sister’s bone-marrow transplant, and wasn’t it a wonder what the doctors were coming up with these days?

The next day, three boys drove up in a pickup and wondered why Al had missed a football game; and the four of them roared off for some sort of mischief.

“Probably gonna get him drunk,” Dad chuckled.

“Frank! Do you think that’s …” Mom cried, shocked, and then shrugged. She had to adjust to the fact that she had a teenage son now.

Melanie came over and the girls chattered along happily; when Melanie heard the news, she was jumping up and down.

“I knew it! I knew it!” she laughed. “You are a girl! I knew it!”

Terry was laughing with her, delightedly and sadly, thinking of so much of her life that had been lost; she should have been growing up a girl alongside her best girlfriend Melanie.

Julie stopped by as well, alerted by Melanie, and the three walked down the road and watched the group in the fields.

“I can’t believe how big Al is!” Melanie said.

“Al,” Terry said. “His name is Al now.” Then she giggled. “You know, we’ve never decided what Al is short for! Alan, maybe?”

“Albert?” Julie giggled.

“Aladdin?” Melanie guffawed.

Julie shaded her eyes, watching the men in the distance. “Still …he is kind of hot …”

“Jules! That’s my brother!” Terry cried, shocked.

“Hey, I’m not saying I’m gonna …” Julie waved a hand. “Look, I know he lived as a girl named Al and all that, but …you can’t tell, because he’s family and you’re too close to him. But just looking at him out over in the field there …he is kind of hot!” She grinned. “And the other guy, with the bandanna, too.”

“Yuck! Too old!” Melanie giggled.

“Yeah, probably, but six-pack abs, definitely …” Julie made an appreciative whistle.

Terry realized she was now fully a member of this strange new world where girls talked openly about sexual things and feelings about boys. Which, of course, made her think of Derek.

“Derek’s hot, too,” Melanie said, reading her friend’s mind.

“You know me too well. Now I’ll have to kill you,” Terry tossed back.

All three then burst in giggles.

But Terry called Derek that night, to tell him that she was going to be gone for the rest of the summer. He asked if he could see her before she left; she told him they were leaving early the next morning.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the Wilcox door. Derek had his brother drive him over and apologized to Dad but asked if he could speak with his daughter for ten minutes. Dad was startled for a moment, and then nodded.

“Take fifteen,” he grinned. “Terry!” he shouted. “Someone to see you!”

Terry came down in a pink camisole and tiered denim skirt and gave a little gasp when she saw Derek.

“It’s late and we have to leave early, but you can spare ten or fifteen minutes to say goodbye,” Dad said.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Terry said, impulsively kissing his cheek.

After they left, Mom said quietly, “It’s not so difficult now, is it?”

“What? Oh, having a daughter? Or knowing that she’s a girl?”

“Well, both; but knowing that she’s interested in boys. And that boy is definitely interested in her!” Mom chuckled. “I know it’s been tremendously difficult for you, honey, and you’ve been wonderful, no matter how hard things got. When you thought that Terry was boy that felt like a girl, you did a great job dealing with it, but …dating …” She shook her head. “I don’t think that would sit well. But now that we know she’s a girl …” She sighed deeply with happiness. “It’s not so hard now, is it?”

Dad smiled and sat next to Mom on the couch. “No, it’s not, but there’s …” He looked up at the ceiling. “Usually, fathers of daughters have time to come to terms with their daughter dating. I never had that with Alice–with Al–because …he never …” He shrugged sadly. “Poor guy. Anyway, I never had to deal with boys. And suddenly Terry is so pretty and cute and boys want to …” He shook his head. “Just tough to tell how much of what I feel is what the father of a daughter usually feels, and how much is because of Terry’s unique situation.”

“It’s all evening out now, correcting,” Mom said calmly. “We have a hard three months and after that we get on with our lives.”

“Three months? They said it should be four to six weeks.”

“Surgery and recovery, yes. Both Al and Terry have some new friends who accept them, thank God, but there’s going to be a tough first month in school. I figure by Homecoming, mid-October or so, things will be running smoothly.” She chuckled. “As smoothly as things can be with a senior boy and a pretty freshman girl!”

Other than a minor infection after Al’s mastectomy, the many and various operations went very smoothly. The actual uterine transplant was triple-tiered with doctors and even a film crew, to document the event but also as a learning tool for future transplants.

Since Al was very strong, the doctors felt comfortable performing every procedure for him in a round-robin of surgeries. The trick was dovetailing the hysterectomy in sync with Terry being opened up to receive the organs.

All together, Al had a double mastectomy and a full hysterectomy, standard female operations. With a bit of nudging from the Wilcox lawyer–and Al playing a bit of hardball to get what he wanted–AGM agreed to pay for phalloplasty, the construction of a penis for Al. It was quite an expensive procedure, and they had a legal hoop to jump through; he wasn’t quite eighteen and it could be considered sexual reassignment surgery. But as they’d discussed in the conference room, if AGM was responsible for the alteration to Al’s embryo, it threw all normal protocols out the window. They still had the awkward fact that Al was genetically an XX female, but managed to declare him male and the surgery as ‘re-construction of a malformed penis at birth’.

The upshot was that a deliriously happy Al woke –after being unconscious nearly two days–to discover that he had a flat, rugged manly chest–“Pecs!” he yelled. “Not boobs!”–and a penis. Al would never have a period again, plus the fact that with his female plumbing gone, he would not have estrogen coursing through him. It would take a few months of adjustment before settling on his proper hormone balance–a regular male’s testosterone and androgen balance. The last bit of Alice was gone–along with her eggs, which had been removed before the hysterectomy, to be frozen and possibly used when Al was married and starting his family.

Three weeks after the surgeries, Al was put through his paces. He began physiotherapy to build up pectoral muscles and account for his changed body mass. One of the finest plastic surgeons had been present during the mastectomy and Al’s chest was cosmetically unremarkable from any other rugged male’s; once the testosterone kicked in, he’d begin to grow chest hair and the surgery would be completely unnoticeable. They even had him spend time on a tanning bed to even out his skin tone so he could go shirtless–a long-held dream of Alice’s, now possible as Al.

At the same time, he was instructed in how to use the pump that could create an erection. He certainly would never be able to spontaneously have an erection, but he grinned that he knew how embarrassing that was for buddies of his; he would be spared that. He also joked that he’d never need Viagra! His only serious comment on all of this was to his sister. He told Terry that he hoped he could find a girl as sweet and strong as Terry and their mother; one that would understand his past and accept him as the man he was.

Terry listened and nodded and hugged her brother, adding only, “Yeah, but she has to have dirt in her blood, too!”

Terry’s surgeries were more complex and yet simpler. There were no transgender legal hoops; as far as everyone was concerned, she was a female that was having a birth defect corrected. But any work in that area was secondary to the uterine transplant. Rotations of surgical teams worked on her for eleven hours after the actual transplant took place. Some specialists stood by observing and would spring into action for five minutes of delicate work and then return to the viewing gallery. Some of the older doctors joked that it was like their days as interns–sleeping on available cots and beds and being roused back into service.

To put it bluntly, Terry’s insides were a mess. The human body has a fantastic ability to heal itself; but its adaptability is even more astonishing. Where things didn’t work, other parts sprang into action. Where things worked, they provided support so other, compromised systems could adapt.

One doctor said, “It’s like your body is supposed to have A, B, C, and then D. A goes to B and B goes to C and so on. But your body was missing B, which should have caused everything to fail. But your body figured out how to get to C without the bridge of B; your body figured out how to get to D which shouldn’t have worked at all without B, but your body manufactured sort of ...Q to tie them all together.”

“What can I say? I’m alphabet soup,” Terry had commented, using Al’s joke.

It was speculated that the pliant, adaptive nature of the AGM chemicals played their part while embryonic; if they hadn’t, there was every chance that Terry might have been born dead, died in infancy, or at least have spent the first few critical days of her life undergoing surgeries. It was also speculated that if her body had not adapted and still retained a uterus, it was also possible that when she had her first period–an internal event that seemed to have occurred over a year previously–she might have ruptured and bled to death internally.

The plain truth was that the surgical teams had to install a uterus and hook up the Fallopian tubes, using grafts to construct or patch as needed. What had been referred to as Terry’s ‘penis’–really just an extended urethra and tissue–was skinned and inverted to serve as vaginal walls, a standard technique in sexual reassignment surgery. However, the doctors discovered what would have been Terry’s vagina, somewhat atrophied. The decision was made to monitor for twenty-four hours once they’d reinstituted blood flow. A plastic surgeon worked to give Terry perfectly normal external labial lips and external vagina, with no scars whatsoever–he’d worked from inside out, reversed and then set in place.

They kept Terry in an induced coma for thirty-six hours to monitor the work so far and then continue. They found that the vaginal walls–from Terry’s birth–were restoring with the new blood, and went ahead attaching the vagina to the uterus and then generally ‘tidying up’, as one doctor put it. Terry was closed up and monitored for another eight hours before being brought out of her coma.

After that it was a matter of pain suppression. Terry did remember coming out of the darkness and seeing Mom’s happy face, then seeing Mom and a surprisingly tanned Al, then Melanie and Julie, and then Dad and Mom. She was shocked to discover those flashes had occurred over a three-week period! Finally, it was her turn for agony with the physiotherapist.

And then it was time to go home. She was able to move slowly through the house, helping Mom with small chores. She’d missed the State Fair, of course; Mom had been given a very nice agronomy major named Dinah, who helped Mom with setting up and manning the booth, while the woman from AGM took care of the household for the week. Al wasn’t 100% yet but helped where he could, mostly driving. The two AGM workers were a huge benefit to Dad; having an extra set of hands allowed him to take on some extra projects he’d wanted to do. Al had a little bit of resentment at being seemingly replaced, but Terry calmed him. The two children grew even closer, if possible; often each of them was the only person the other could confide in.

The transplant hit the world news. Caution had been taken to protect the identities of the Wilcox family; all of the paperwork that stated the children’s new, proper genders was taken care of and quietly sealed by court order. Nevertheless, it was inevitable that the event would leak, and great care was taken to control the spin. Therefore, the reports came out of New York and to most people the uterine transplant seemed to be something performed in an unnamed Manhattan hospital. A tiny percentage of the medical community knew a bit different, but Al and Teresa were still referred to as ‘Patient XA and Patient XB’ and information about the actual hospital location and doctors involved was purposefully obscured.

The British doctors involved in earlier transplant attempts were incensed that they’d been beaten to it; after a discussion with the Wilcox family it was agreed to open up a few more details about their history. The British were mollified a bit when they understood the chemically-induced alterations of the embryos, and the sister-to-sister nature of the transplant. Still, they clung to the hope that they might eventually beat the Americans on a uterine transplant between non-family strangers, though!

Both Al and Terry started school; despite the anonymous nature of the medical news, all of their classmates were aware that something had happened. Alice was already a known ‘butch’ girl, who was now breast-less. It was assumed that ‘she’ was binding them down and nobody seemed to care. Al was exempt from PE as he was still undergoing physiotherapy and although he had the usual group of male buddies, he didn’t date.

“All the cute girls know me as a girl,” he shrugged to Terry, and then grinned. “Got to find me a stranger …”

Terry’s case was different, of course. There was some stigma at first, of being ‘a boy that was pretending to be a girl’. Then that became ‘a boy that became a girl’ and finally became ‘a girl that was thought to be a boy’ and that, oddly enough, was okay. Terry and Al often talked about how screwed-up people were about the sexes; they felt it spoke to the true inequality that it was okay to go from A to B but somehow perverse to go from B to A. But Melanie and Julie and the others all spread the news that Terry Wilcox was a girl, from birth, XX and everything, so there.

Or almost everything …until the first week of October. Terry was in Biology, learning about gametes and suddenly felt a cramp that almost doubled her over. September had been so blissfully free of problems that she’d almost forgotten the doctors’ advice. She thought she could wait until lunchtime to hit the girls’ restroom but by then she was already being rushed to ER. And at that point, it got silly, because the Emergency staff didn’t know anything about her, and she came in and was diagnosed …as a fifteen-year-old girl having a period. Doctors and administrators were yelling at each other until Dr. Benson arrived, thank goodness, and pulled everybody in for a conference and then there was a weird sort of pride among the ER staff that they got to be part of history–the first successful uterine transplant.

Because Terry was menstruating.

Everything was working as it should; eggs had been released down the Fallopian tubes to her new uterus; the eggs had embedded themselves and in the absence of viable sperm, had sloughed off and the resultant mix flowed down her vagina and out and there was a lot of blood but it was all as it should be.

Terry went home, had a hot bath, and cried and cried and was also ecstatic.

Mom, of course, gave her the Birds and the Bees lecture from a girl’s perspective.

By Christmas, everything had evened out for both kids. Al was doing well in school for the first time–because he could concentrate on his studies and not sit in misery, thinking about the life he wished he led–and had started dating Susan, a girl he met at a McDonald’s in Duvall when he’d driven over to pick up some truck parts. Anyone looking at the two of them could tell that the Duvall girl adored her big strong farmer.

Meanwhile, Terry was doing as well as ever in school, even with a steady boyfriend in Derek. Anyone looking at the two of them could tell that the Sommersby boy adored his pretty girlfriend–and that she adored him right back.

All through the painful surgeries and recovery, Terry used a piece of advice given her by one of the nurses–go to a ‘happy place’, a place or time or event that brought her much happiness, and revisit that spot to ease the pain.

For Terry, it was that night of the midsummer dance, after the non-fight, when Derek came out to see Terry and Melanie talking. Terry had taken Derek’s hand and they had walked down the road, away from the barn with the disco. They walked out towards the fields, and the farther away they got from the lights of the barn, the stars burst overhead. At some point with no discussion, they stopped walking and faced each other, holding fingertips. Terry could feel her heart beating and her breathing felt shallow. Derek leaned down and his lips were so soft, so gentle, and they kissed and their lips fit and she opened her mouth to receive his tongue and teased him with hers and it was the greatest kiss in the history of the world.

And that was Terry’s happy place.

The family sat for a professional portrait; there was some stubble on Al’s cheeks that he refused to shave off. Mom would have made him shave for the photo but she knew how very proud he was of his new body and its ability to grow hair, so she let it go. He wore a dark green Pendleton and jeans; Dad wore a sport coat over a white turtleneck and khaki slacks. Mom wore a dark green shirtwaist dress and the gentle smile of a woman at peace with her world. Terry wore a white cami under a light pink fuzzy sweater, and a dark pink skirt. Her hair was back in silver barrettes and her smile was that of a girl that knew that miracles can happen.

They put the family photo on the mantel over the fireplace–right next to the three blue ribbons that Mom had won at the State Fair.

The End