Becoming Karen - Book 1: 'To Be or Not To Be'
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Chapter 1 — Just One of the Girls
The summer camp catalogue identified the course as “Number 40: Dramatizing Shakespeare,” and described it as a seminar for advanced English students. The entire seminar would be devoted to staging a Shakespearean play, from beginning casting and scripting to a final performance at the end of the six-week camp period, the catalogue said.
Kenny Hansson ran his long slender fingers down the page of the catalogue, resting on the listing and realized the course was tailor-made for him as a great way to spend his time at the St. Albert’s College Summer Theater Camp. “I can’t imagine there’s much homework in this course,” he told his roommate Mark Hamilton.
“Yeah, you don’t want a course with lots of work during the camp,” Mark agreed. He was a husky lad who became Kenny’s roommate by the luck of the draw; they had nothing in common, since Kenny had rather refined tastes running from ballet to clothes designing while Mark fashioned himself as a “macho” hero performing Chuck Norris type roles.
St. Albert’s once was an all-girls academy but became co-educational in the 1960s. Girls still outnumbered boys by a 2 to 1 margin on the campus, and that was true of the summer camp as well. But the camp had gained a significantly high reputation in theater circles, having a number of successful actors and stage managers running through its summer camp program for high school students. Mark prided himself on his physical strength, quite in contrast to Kenny, whose slender body almost could be described as dainty.
Yet, the two students seemed to mesh. “It must be a case of opposites attracting each other,” Kenny said one night after the two had been together for a week. They rarely did anything together, but seemed congenial whenever they were together in the room.
“I bench-pressed 350 pounds today,” Mark announced one day in late June.
“350 pounds, my god. I don’t think I could do 50,” Kenny said laughing.
“So what, Kenny. You’re going to be an English teacher or an actor. You don’t need to have muscles.”
Since Kenny hated sports and most physical activity, he took Mark’s comment without comment. His roommate was correct in his observation.
The campus was located atop the bluffs overlooking the cool, blue waters of Lake Michigan in the community of Havenwood, and its greatest strength was in the beauty of its campus with its tree-lined walks, broad green lawns and colonial style buildings of red brick and white trim. Much of the campus was located along the shores of a river that led into the lake; for about a mile the bluffs along the lake had eroded to leave an area of sandy dunes that had been turned into a popular swimming area within a pocket county park. Scholastically, it had gained renown in English Education and Business Management, while its drama program was beginning to blossom, due to the school’s placement about halfway between Chicago and Milwaukee — both cities loaded with professional and amateur theater groups.
Sessions for “Dramatizing Shakespeare” began on Monday a day after the campers arrived. It was mid-June, and the grounds were a lush green, still in their fresh emergence from spring. Kenny found sights and scents of the flowers that decorated the grounds exhilarating as he walked into Hodgson Hall, a century old building that housed the English and Drama Departments.
Kenny was a little early and was the third student to enter the seminar room. He nodded to Sally Winston, a wisp of a girl whom he had known from camp in a previous summer at St. Albert’s, and to Mary Lindstrom, who came to the college as a junior and who Kenny barely knew. Within three minutes, all 12 chairs in the seminar room were filled, and Kenny noted that there were only three other boys, including his roommate Mark. There was a buzz as the students chatted among themselves as they awaited the teacher.
Kenny sat next to Sally, one of the few girls he had befriended during his early time at St. Albert’s. They shared some gossip about several of the other girls that the two of them had been hanging around with, giggling a bit. Kenny hadn’t dated any of the girls, but found himself often in their company during the camp, joining them for coffee or tea occasionally at the Full Cup — a coffee house that catered to students. At other times, he often found himself among the same group of girls, usually as the only male in the group, but he seemed to fit in perfectly.
“Where are you going to college?” Sally asked. Like Kenny, she too had graduated high school that year, and both were approaching their 18th Birthday.
“Me?” he said. “Guess I’ll just go to a area tech school for my first two years, maybe transfer to college after that.”
“Oh, that should work, I guess,” she said, unenthusiastically.
“My grades were at the top, actually, but I have to work, too,” he said. “Mom’s pretty stretched now on money.”
“That’s right, Kenny,” she said, apologetically. “I forgot your mom’s a widow.”
“And she’s got to care for Sonny, my little brother, too,” he said.
“Where you going?”
“It looks like Minnesota,” she said.
“Cool.”
“Wish you could join me,” she said, her smile an openly flirtatious one.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Stanton McIver, who whisked into the room, in a dramatic fashion, his long scarf flowing in the breeze that followed his light footsteps. The professor was a hit at the camp, having been a Broadway actor, where as a young man he starred in “Tea and Sympathy.”
“Hello, my thespians,” he thundered in his affected voice.
“This is going to be an exciting camp, I can tell,” he began. “But only if you all do your part. Now let’s introduce ourselves.”
Kenny watched closely as each student rose from his or her seat to tell their name, any credits they had in the theater. He listened particularly closely as one boy introduced him, a slender boy with a smooth, almost girlish face. The boy’s long brown hair was curled, as if he’d had a permanent, and he wore a shirt with vertical ruffles. Kenny had been fascinated whenever he’d seen this boy on campus, the boy’s mannerisms seeming very feminine, and wondered who the boy was.
Even as he arose, his movements took on a dainty quality and he flicked strands of his hair from his face with a light flick of his hand.
“I’m James Bailey, and this is my first year here,” he began, his voice sounding in a high register. “I’ve acted in both high school and community theater in the Pittsburgh area, and I’ve done some backstage work, too, particularly in costuming.”
Kenny watched as the boy sat down, crossing his legs, just as he’d notice the girls do. As if on cue, Kenny flicked his long brown hair from his face, using almost the same dainty movement as the other boy. Kenny realized, too, that his own legs were crossed in the same fashion. As Kenny watched the other boy, a feeling of embarrassment flooded his mind, as he wondered: Did he, too, look as openly girlish as this lovely boy from Pittsburgh?
*****
He awakened from a deep sleep to the muffled grunts of his roommate doing his morning pushups, hearing the count moving . . . “73, 74, 75” in a steady rhythm, continuing on.
“Oh hi, Mark,” Kenny said in a sleep-thickened voice. “What time is it?”
“79, 80 . . . ah . . . er . . . about 6:15 . . . 82, 83 . . . I tried not to wake you . . . 86, 87 . . . sorry, mate.”
“That’s OK, I gotta get up anyway,” Kenny said, laying his head back down for a last minute of rest before getting up.
When Kenny’s eyes cleared of his sleep, he watched his friend who was shirtless continuing his routine to hit “100,” intrigued by the rippling muscles of the boy’s back, the burgeoning biceps. He saw the tendons of his glistening back — moist with perspiration — move almost in an easy cadence, a body so firm and sweet to watch. Kenny suddenly felt a longing to run a hand along Mark’s firm, hard back and it was soon followed by a strange sensation: he wanted to be held by the strong other boy, to be hugged and protected.
His thoughts began racing, and just as quickly as this desire to be in the other boy’s arms came, it was replaced by a sobering thought: I am not interested in a boy for reasons of sex, which were abhorrent to his whole upbringing.
Mark had won the attention of many of the girls in the summer school. Moving into a conversation of a half dozen girls at the Full Cup, the campus coffee shop, he heard the new girl in the class, Mary Lindstrom, a solidly built tall girl with flowing blonde hair, exclaim: “Have you seen that Mark Hamilton? What a hunk!”
“He’s the only real man in this class this summer,” said one of the other girls.
“Why is it so many guys in this program are fags?” said another. Kenny recognized her as Carla Benson, a talkative girl who seemed to be ready to offer opinions on just about anything. She was a tall girl with a milky complexion and short-cropped blonde hair, reminding Kenny a bit of Meg Ryan, the actress.
“I don’t think they’re gay, they’re just not real men,” Mary responded. As she finished the statement, she noticed Kenny had appeared at their table and obviously had heard much of the conversation. She grew red in the face.
“Oh hi, Kenny, sit down,” she said, adding quickly, “We were just talking about whether it’ll be warm enough for us to swim at the beach Saturday.”
Kenny, who had also blushed in overhearing the girls’ talking, found an empty chair, putting his cup of scented tea down in front of him. Hoping not to offend the girls, he said coolly, “No I don’t think so, Mary. Lake Michigan doesn’t get warm enough to swim in until mid-July at least.”
“Would you join us girls if we went to the beach Saturday, Kenny?” said Carla, who had made the “fag” comment.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Well we can at least sunbathe on the beach,” Carla offered. “Let’s plan on it, girls. And Kenny you’re welcome, too. It’s not too far to walk.”
As he watched Mark complete his pushups, followed by some mean stretches, Kenny reflected to that coffee shop conversation: Why are the boys in theater apparently gay, “fags,” as Carla said? Aren’t they real men?
He continued to be awed by the flowing muscles of Mark’s back and his thick firm legs, wondering about his own slender, soft, smooth body, so totally void of such outward appearances of strength and muscle. He had always been inept in sports and in gym classes in his high school, just barely getting by; yet, he had been told many times by his sister and mother that he was a “handsome boy” that some girl some day would find appealing. Such a girl and time had yet to come; his times with girls seemed to be merely as “friends,” with only two highly unsatisfactory “dates” through his years in high school. Why couldn’t he have been as strong and masculine as Mark and so many other boys in school? Oh, how he hated disrobing and changing clothes for gym class, showering in the nude and exposing his puny frame to these other stronger boys. No wonder he was not good “date” material.
“OK if I shower first?” Mark asked. “We can go to breakfast at 7. OK?”
“Sure, Mark,” he said, smiling at his roommate. Kenny truly liked this muscular boy who was so unlike him. He feared his attraction to Mark was more than mere admiration for the boy’s remarkable body; he felt a desire to touch the boy and feel the motion of his tendons beneath his smooth skin. How would he feel being engulfed in the arms of the strong boy and to feel his own soft sweet body being caressed by the other’s large firm hands? He had never felt this way about another boy.
*****
Saturday class sessions ended at 11 a.m., giving the camp-goers a free afternoon. With nothing better to do for the day, Kenny agreed to go with the girls to the beach. Mark would be gone for the rest of the day, having been collected by his father for a drive to Milwaukee to attend a Milwaukee Brewers baseball game.
It was an unusually warm day for late June in Wisconsin. Missing were the usual cool breezes from the lake that kept St. Albert’s cool in the summer and a bit warmer than inland areas in the winter. Instead a gentle breeze came from the west, growing hot while moving across the warm fields of grain, much of the harvest going to feed the herds of cows that dotted the countryside. The sun was blistering. Kenny wore a pair of swimming trunks which reached nearly to his knees and a long sleeve shirt.
“Why the long sleeves, Kenny?” inquired Carla as Kenny joined the four girls.
“Need to protect against the sun,” he said. It was only a partial truth, since the main reason was he hoped not to take off his shirt to expose his sorry-looking body. And the long-sleeved shirt just gave him more comfort from the watchful eyes of the girls.
As the reached the beach, they could see it was already filling up, with a mixture of families with children, teenagers and a few couples of young adults. They laid down three blankets, lying down in a row, the four girls and Kenny, taking up the end spot, next to Carla.
“Can you help me put this suntan lotion on, Kenny?” Carla asked, just before settling down on the blanket.
The boy nodded and Carla give him the bottle of lotion, took off the pink terrycloth beach jacket she was wearing, and plopped face down on the blanket exposing her already tanned back. Kenny squirted a generous supply of lotion into one of his palms and turned to apply it on the girl before him. He was astonished by how firm and hard her back was, feeling the strength of her back as he massaged the lotion onto her skin, rubbing it around her shoulders and down her arms, also muscular.
“Do my legs, too, would you Kenny?” Carla said.
He found her thighs also sinuous as well as her calf; her fair skin was already well-tanned, and she finally glistened with the applied lotion in the bright sun.
“Thanks, honey,” Carla said when he finished, turning over and sitting up. “Now let me do you, Kenny. Take off that shirt. I can tell you must be a white as an Eskimo in winter.”
“Aww, you don’t have to,” Kenny protested.
“Come on you need some sun, doesn’t he girls?” she said, now addressing the others.
They all cheered in with an agreement and before the boy could respond Carla reached over, grabbed the bottom of the shirt and lifted it up, forcing the boy to raise his hands so that she could remove the shirt. Kenny grew red in embarrassment, so ashamed to be baring his puny body to the girls and a whole beach full of spectators.
Kenny quickly folded his arms over his chest, as if he was a girl covering her breasts; in his case, he felt he was merely covering his body from the prying eyes of others.
“Now lay down on your tummy, Kenny,” Carla ordered. And, obediently, he did as commanded.
Her hands were strong and kneaded the lotion onto his skin and he had the sensation that he was so fragile and weak under the strength of her hands. She massaged the backs of his thighs, her fingers caressing his soft flesh, so different from the sinews of her strong legs.
“Kenny has the prettiest legs,” he heard Mary Lindstrom’s voice exclaim as Carla applied the lotion.
“I wish I had his legs,” Carla said, adding in a voice aimed at Kenny, “You got legs like a girl, Kenny; they could win a beauty contest.”
The boy took the remark as a compliment. It had not been said with any malice, he thought, but with true admiration. It was not the first time he had been told he had pretty legs, or legs like a girl, but more often it had been said in derision. But, he was a boy, not a girl, and he should be more like a boy and play sports and be rough and tumble and his legs should be rippling in muscle, as his roommate’s legs were. Strangely, Kenny smiled at Carla’s comments and he began blushing. He blushed so easily. Wasn’t that evidence of his femininity?
Kenny looked over at his companions; all the girls had turned and were lying on their stomachs, soaking in the warm afternoon sun, made more brilliant by the reflection of sun rays off the sparkling blue waters of Lake Michigan. He turned over as well, letting the sub bake on his back, hoping he’d not fall asleep and end up getting badly burnt by the sun.
The girls were all quiet, just content to let the sun come down, their backs occasionally cooled by a waft of soft wind from the lake. No one talked and Kenny was about to doze off when he felt his body cool suddenly, realizing that someone was standing over him, casting a shadow across his back.
“Hey girls, you all sleeping?” said the voice.
Startled by the voice, Kenny raised his head to look, realizing the voice was that of Jimmie Bailey, the slender boy that was in the Shakespeare class.
“Oh it’s you Kenny,” Bailey said. “I just thought . . . oh, never mind.”
“Hi Jimmie, the girls invited me to join them on the beach. It’s too cold to swim, but it’s great for sun-bathing.”
“Can I join you? I saw the girls from the class here and thought I’d join them. I didn’t know you were with them.”
Kenny realized then that he, laying prone next to four girls on the beach and with his long hair and slender body that he must have looked just like another of the girls. The thought gave him a strange, almost comfortable feeling.
“Hi Jimmie,” said Carla, who was aroused by the talking and looked up. Soon the other three, too, were aroused and looked up
“Let’s scrunch up together girls, so we can make room for Jimmie,” Carla said.
The five of them, Kenny and the four girls, moved more closely together, freeing up a narrow space at the end, next to Kenny, for the newcomer.
Kenny watched Jimmie closely, his rather dainty style of walk shown as his sandaled feet gingerly stepped across the hot sand to join them on the blankets. His longish hair and slenderness, too, portrayed a lovely body, Kenny felt. The four girls and Kenny moved closer together, their bodies so close that he could sense the heat emanating from Carla’s tanned, muscled torso. Soon he was joined by Jimmie, whose legs touched his own as he settled into space.
The six youthful bodies, all face down on the blankets, produced symmetry of white flesh, legs and backs exposed to the bright June sun. One would assume there were six girls soaking up the sun at a cursory glance, judging from the contour of the bodies. Of course, two of those girlish forms were really two boys, Kenny and Jimmie.
The symmetry was broken soon as Carla turned over, and sat up, announcing to the group, “I need you all to tell me: who has the prettiest legs here. It’s not me, that much I know.”
“No you don’t,” agreed Mary Benson, the tallish Meg Ryan-looking girl. “Nor do I, my legs are too knobby.”
Kenny, recalling the earlier conversation about the supposed beauty of his own legs, continued to lay face down on the blanket, hoping the conversation would die. He looked over at Jimmie, who looked back at him, also still lying face down, and said quietly: “Ignore them, Jimmie.”
But it was impossible to ignore Carla and Mary, both talking louder and louder, and soon being joined by the other two girls.
“That’s easy,” Mary Benson said. “Jimmie’s got the prettiest legs.”
“No, it’s Kenny,” Carla insisted.
The debate continued with all four girls, sometimes talking at once, joining in, and finally taking a vote.
“It’s a tie,” Carla announced. “Two and two. Well one thing is certain these two girls, Jimmie and Kenny have the prettiest legs. None of us girls can match ‘em.”
Kenny and Jimmie continued to lay on their stomachs, looking at each other. Kenny grew red with humiliation and noticed Jimmie smiling back at him. “You like this?” he asked Jimmie in a whisper.
“Why not? What’s wrong with having pretty legs?”
“Well, we’re guys.”
Suddenly, Kenny felt a pair of hands gently touching his ankles and begin a slow, steady march up his calves and onto the soft inner part of his lower thighs. It was a strangely exciting feeling.
“What’s going on?” he said, turning over and sitting up, casting the hands of Mary aside.
The girl was taken aback, responding to Kenny defensively, “I didn’t think you’d mind, Kenny. Your legs feel so smooth and soft. I just had to touch them.”
“You can feel mine,” Jimmie said, having also turned over and sat up.
Kenny looked at the other boy. Was he out of his mind?
Mary, however, backed off, apparently realizing this display on a public beach could be a problem, since there occasionally sheriff’s deputies patrolling the area.
“That’s enough, I guess I shouldn’t have started this,” Carla said. “Let’s go put our feet in the water and see how cold it is.”
“Go ahead without me,” Jimmie said. “I think I’ll just sit here.”
“Me too,” Kenny said.
“Come on, you two sissies, afraid of a little cold water?” chided Carla.
“No, but you go,” Kenny said.
The two boys sat watching the girls proceed to the water, gently putting a toe in and quickly removing the foot, exclaiming with laughter how cold it was. Eventually they all ventured into the water to about ankle depth, and all along the lakeshore others were doing the same thing, the cold, frigid water the only respite from the burning sun. Swimming in the Great Lakes, particularly on the western shores, was always problematic since the waters didn’t even reach the high sixties in temperatures until August, except on rare occasions when winds from the East propelled warmer surface waters toward the shore.
“I think we do have prettiest legs,” Jimmie said.
“You bragging about that?”
“Why not? I love to see mine in hose and heels,” the boy said matter-of-factly.
“You what?” Kenny said.
“Don’t you ever put on your mom’s or sister’s stuff, Kenny?”
“Me? Never.”
“You should, Kenny, you’d look so cute as a girl.”
Kenny looked at his companion, realizing the boy moved so much like a girl, expressing himself with hand motions and using voice inflections that exaggerated various vowels.
“Haven’t you ever put on girl’s stuff, Kenny?” the boy asked.
“Well, no.”
“Really? Not even once.”
“Ah, once, I guess,” Kenny said. “At Halloween. My cousin had me wear a communion dress for a party.”
“Cool, how did you look?”
“Pretty good I guess. Everyone thought I really was a girl. I was only 12 then. I never did it again.”
“You should, ‘cause I think you’d make a pretty girl, even more than me, since you’re softer looking.”
“Why would I do that?”
Jimmie smiled and reach over and took Kenny’s hand, “Because I think you really want to do it.”
“No I don’t,” Kenny insisted.
“Well, I won’t argue, but I think you do.”
“Not.”
The girls were beginning to return to the blankets and the conversation ended. Kenny’s head was reeling as he wondered. Was Jimmie correct? Why wouldn’t he want to wear a dress and look pretty and be like a girl? Why not, indeed?
*****
The girls were giggling among themselves and several of them appeared to have impish grins on their faces as they approached the two boys, who quickly silenced their own conversation.
They all gathered around Kenny and Jimmie, squatting or sitting Indian-style encircling the boys.
“We think you two should join our girls’ club,” Mary announced.
“What girls’ club?” Kenny said.
“The club we just formed, calling ourselves the Bard’s Girls,” Carla added, giggling. “It’ll be a special club only for girls and with all special privileges.”
“Like what?” Jimmie asked.
“That’s a secret,” Mary said and the girls all laughed.
“Get off this,” Kenny said.
“No really, you two would easily be sweet girls, we can see that, Kenny,” Carla said.
“All we gotta do to start is give you girl’s names,” Mary said.
“Forget it,” Kenny said. “I think I’ll go back to the campus.”
“No you won’t,” Carla said, placing a firm hand on his leg, to hold him from rising.
“Come on, Carla, this is silly. We’re boys.”
“Not that I can see, Kenny. You’re both so pretty.”
“But . . .”
Jimmie reached over and grabbed Kenny’s shoulders. “Let’s have some fun, Kenny. Let’s see what they plan. Let’s stick it out.”
Kenny looked at the boy, whose eyes seemed to express a strong desire to stay.
“Ok, but I think this is nuts.”
“I can be called Jamie,” Jimmie announced, encouraging the situation to move forward.
“What shall we call the other girl?” Mary said. “Kenny can’t be a girl’s name.”
“Hmmm, what would you like, Kenny?” Carla asked him.
“You choose.”
“How about Kerry,” suggested one of the girls.
Kenny made a face at the suggestion and Carla seemed to agree, saying, “Let’s think of another . . .oh, how about Karen?”
“Yeah, Karen’s kinda cute,” said Jimmie, turning to Kenny and saying, “How do you like Karen?”
“That’s Ok, I guess,” he replied.
“Then Karen and Jamie it is,” announced Carla to the group. “We will hold an initiation for all the Bards Girls Sunday night in my room. All of us here today will take the oath of membership then.”
“What’ll we wear for the ceremony, Carla?” asked Mary.
“We’ll all have to wear dresses, as close to pink in color as we can,” Carla said, beginning to giggle.
“Will light purple do?” one of the other girls asked. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Fine as long as it’s close to pink,” Carla ruled, acting like a dictator. No one disagreed.
“But we won’t have to wear dresses, Carla, since we don’t have any,” Kenny said.
“Yes you will, and Mary and I will make sure you two are properly attired.”
“No way,” Kenny protested.
“You have to, Karen. Otherwise you can’t be a Bards Girl and we’ll exclude you from our privileges.”
“Come on Karen,” Jimmie said. “This is all in fun. Let’s see how pretty we can be.”
“What’s with you, Jimmie?” Kenny argued.
“Awww, let’s do it, Karen,” the other boy said, still using Kenny’s new girl’s name. “Let’s have some fun with this.”
Reluctantly, Kenny nodded his approval, and the girls soon all clapped, yelling out loud, “We’re the Bard’s Girls,” attracting the attention of others on the beach, who likely wondered about what all the fuss was. As he worried about what he was getting himself roped into doing, Kenny felt a sensation growing within that signified great anticipation over how cute and pretty he would truly be dressed for the first time in his life as a girl.
'To Be Or Not to Be' -- Part 2
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Chapter 2 — The Charade
“Haven’t you ever wanted to put on a dress or a skirt, Kenny?” Jimmie said later that afternoon when the group returned to the dorm. The two boys had stopped in Jimmie’s room, with the girls splitting off to plan how and when they’d dressed the boys up.
“No why would I?”
“Never even thought about it? You must have, Kenny. Admit it. You almost look like a girl now.”
Kenny blushed. The fact was he thought about often, almost every night as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep. He always passed it off as an absurd idea; he was a boy and boys just didn’t wear girl’s stuff. It probably was a sin, maybe even a mortal sin in the eyes of the Church. He was raised in a strict Catholic family, with the fear that an all-knowing God would not approve and condemn him to some fiery hell. Even to have such a thought was dangerous.
“I bet you dressed at least once, Kenny,” Jimmie pressed on.
“Well, I guess. Once. I put on mom’s skirt one day just see how I looked,” he finally confessed.
“How did you look?”
“I took it off right away,” Kenny said quickly.
“I bet you looked hot. You got great legs.”
Kenny smiled.
“See,” Jimmie said. “This’ll be fun.”
Kenny looked at the slender boy next to him. He felt certain that the other boy would look really nice as a girl; Jimmie had the same delicate features as he did, though might have had a more bony and hard appearance. Kenny often noticed how soft his body looked, occasionally even picturing himself as a teenage girl.
“Have you ever dressed, Jimmie?”
“Oh yes, all the time, or whenever I can,” the boy admitted without hesitation.
Kenny was surprised, not so much that the other boy had dressed often as a girl, but that he admitted it so readily and with such directness. He could never see that he would ever admit to putting on girl’s clothes. Now that he was agreeing to try it out for an adventurous scheme, he wished intensely that his action would remain discreet.
*****
The two boys ventured over to Mary Lindstrom’s room after their evening dinner in the college cafeteria, where they were to be outfitted by the Bard’s girls and apparently to be accepted as one of them.
“We made bets on whether you two had the guts to show up,” commented Sally Winston, who was a tiny, petite, dark-haired girl with a swarthy complexion and a perpetual pout that somehow made her attractive.
“And I lost,” Emily Wald said. She was about Kenny’s height and slender, small-boned and quite pretty.
“Sally’s about your size, Jimmie, or should I say, Jamie,” Carla said. “So she brought over some of her things.”
“I’m about the same size as Karen,” announced Emily. “I got something here I think you’ll just adore, Karen.”
As Emily began referring to him as Karen, Kenny began to wonder if all this was such a good idea. The girls seemed to have too much fun in this game of “dress-up,” and it could only lead to terrible humiliation, he felt.
“I don’t know about doing this, now,” he protested. “I think I’ll go.”
He turned to leave the room, but Emily grabbed his arm, holding him firmly. Her grip was strong and Kenny felt pain in his arm, as it twisted a bit in his desire to wrest free. He realized he was not strong enough to break her grasp, and he collapsed onto one of the beds, defeated by this slender girl.
“Come on, Karen,” Emily said. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“Oh you didn’t,” he replied gamely. “I just am not sure I wanna go through this. It could be . . . ah . . . well, sort of embarrassing.”
Carla came over, sat down next to him, grabbing one of his hands, holding it gently in one hand and reaching over to lightly brush his long hair with her other hand. It was a friendly, warm action and Kenny looked up at her, finally offering a weak smile.
“That’s better, honey,” she said, leaning over and planting a sisterly kiss on his lips.
“Look what I brought over for you, Karen,” Emily said, holding up what appeared to be a summer dress in white gauzy material and blue trim and highlights.
“She’ll be so pretty in that, dress, Emily,” Mary said.
“Oh, and, Karen, that dress will go perfect with your sweet complexion and blue eyes,” Mary said.
Kenny looked at the dress before him; it was a great choice and suddenly he felt eager to put it on and parade in front of a mirror to see how he’d look. In his dreams, he had often pictured himself as a dainty lovely young lady, and now it was about to happen — at least for one night.
Sally, who had gathered some outfits for Jimmie, took him down to her room to change, while Kenny stayed with the other three girls, using Carla’s bathroom to change out of his boy’s clothes and into a pair of peach-colored satin panties. He was embarrassed to walk into the room with the three girls wearing only the panties, leaving his soft, smooth hairless body exposed.
“She has such a nice body,” Mary said upon seeing Kenny. “I should be so lucky.”
“Me too, I’m such a cow in comparison,” Carla answered.
“I borrowed one of Sally’s bras, since she’s a bit smaller than me around the chest, so that should fit you well, Karen,” Emily said.
She held up a simple, white bra with padding, inside of which had been pinned some wads of cloth to create breasts.
“Why Karen, you already have some cute little breasts,” commented Mary, reaching over to touch the one of the small mounds of flesh that had formed on his chest. Where some boys had developed strong chests, his looked more like that of a 12-year-old girl, just developing into being a young lady.
Kenny blushed, his embarrassment growing.
The bra hooked in place, the girls now lowered the dress on over his head, pulling it down and fastening narrow straps over his shoulders, leaving them and his arms exposed. The dress ended at about mid-thigh; it had a straight bodice, leaving his shoulders and upper body totally exposed. Several layers of ruffles, all trimmed in blue, fell down from his modest breasts, giving way to a white belt that gathered at the waist, with the dress flowing in pleats to accentuate the hips.
“Let me see how I look,” he asked, realizing he was now showing strong eagerness to view himself as a girl.
“Not yet, Karen,” Carla said. “We need to fix your hair.”
After much brushing, the strategic placement of some barrettes and the development of bangs, they were done. Emily produced also a pair of white pumps with short heels.
“Won’t I wear stockings?” he asked.
“No, it’s summertime, girls don’t usually wear stockings in summer,” Emily said.
They applied some lipstick and gloss, a bit of mascara and some eyeliner, but kept the application modest. “You don’t wanna look like a whore,” Emily said.
When they were done, the three girls applauded. “She’s a real beauty,” said Mary.
“But she looks 12 years old,” commented Carla.
“No she doesn’t,” argued Mary.
“Let me see,” Kenny begged.
They finally did let him look in the mirror. He stood shocked at the sight that greeted him from the mirror surface. Suddenly he remembered a phrase his grandma often used when seeing a pretty girl, “She’s cute as a button.” He had to admit the girl in the mirror certainly was “cute as a button.”
*****
“Who’s the prettiest of these two?” Mary asked the other girls once Jimmie returned. He wore a yellow, sleeveless print sundress with pastel greens and blue flowers. The dress hung straight and ended just at the top of his thighs, exposing shapely legs. He wore flats on his feet and shuffled along like a teen girl, using tiny, quick steps.
“Jamie’s just the tiniest thing, isn’t she?” Carla said.
The boy giggled and in a coy movement brought his hand up to his mouth in mock shock.
“But I think Karen makes a more striking girl of the two,” Emily said, obviously defending her handiwork in feminizing Kenny.
Kenny blushed, still not used to the attention he was getting now that he was a girl. Jimmie, it was obvious, loved the attention, probably because he had been acted outwardly so girlishly most of his life.
“She’s so cute when she blushes,” Carla said referring to Kenny. “I just don’t know which is the prettier; they’re both very lovely girls.”
“Let’s walk around the campus, maybe stop at the Full Cup, and see if anyone guesses who these girls are,” Mary said.
“Yeah, the Full Cup should be busy tonight, like most Saturday nights,” Carla said. “We can just say Jamie and Karen are visiting for the weekend if anyone asks.”
Kenny shook his head and said loudly, “No.”
“No, what?” Carla said.
“I’m not going out like this,” he said. “Somebody’s bound to notice.”
“Notice what? That you’re a boy? No way, Karen,” it was Carla responding.
“You’re more girly than I am,” Mary said. “And you, too, Jamie.”
“Yes, Karen, let’s do it,” Jimmie said. “Why not? It’ll be fun.”
*****
There was still plenty of daylight left, since it was the summer solstice and the sunset was just after 9 p.m. The six girls walked around the St. Albert’s campus, giggling, sometimes skipping and generally acting up. They deliberately walked toward the sports complex, where a summer basketball camp was in full session; hundreds of teen boys lounged around the steps to the sports dormitory, and sent catcalls and whistles toward the girls as they walked by.
Kenny blushed when he heard some boy yell out, “I want the blondie. She’s hot.” Since he had the blondest hair of the group, he was obviously the target of the remark.
“Look at the tiny one,” said another, referring without question to Jimmie.
“See you two girls really bring out the horny boys,” Mary said.
“We should be jealous, none of them talk about us real girls,” Carla said.
“Ah they’re still high school boys,” Sally said with a giggle. “What do they know about older women?”
The six girls, of course, all beginning their first or second year of college, were only a year or two older than the boys.
The Full Cup — a known student hangout and coffee shop — was nearly full, but just as the six Bard’s Girls entered a table near the entrance open up, and Carla quickly claimed it, commandeering an extra chair from an adjoining table. Their entrance attracted lots of looks, mainly from the boys in the room; there was a general rumble of conversation in the room, somewhat drowning out the folksinger whose voice and guitar riffs was coming through the shop’s sound system.
Kenny wanted to crawl under a table, but realized he and the other five were being examined by several sets of young male eyes; he wasn’t used to such scrutiny, since he usually tried to melt into the background, always afraid to attract attention for what he felt was a sorry, looking body. Carla and Mary — still quite attractive in spite of their tall and husky size — always drew attention, but now it seemed the two newest girls — Karen and Jamie — were being sized up.
Could anyone tell the two were boys underneath their feminine appearance, Kenny worried? The girls all said no one would give it a thought, that both were so clearly feminine. Kenny wasn’t sure.
Carla and Kenny went up first to place their order, leaving the others to hold the table; they’d order when the two returned. They stood in line awaiting the barista so they could place their order, when Kenny saw the front door open and felt a shudder as he saw that his roommate, Mark, had entered with another boy, a tallish boy, obviously from the basketball camp.
Kenny shuffled himself so that he could use Carla to shield himself from the eyes of Mark.
“What’s going on Karen?” Carla asked, wondering about his strange behavior.
“Mark just came in,” he whispered.
“So what,” she said.
“God he’s my roomie, he’ll know me. Oh this is awful.”
“He’ll never figure it out, Karen,” she said. “Don’t worry about it, and it’s time to order. The barista wants your order.”
Kenny wasn’t so sure Mark wouldn’t figure out the truth, but, faced with the barista waiting for his order, he went ahead and ordered a skinny vanilla latté, which he felt was really the kind of drink a pretty girl would order.
“Oh my God,” Kenny mumbled to Carla as they returned to the table with drinks. “Mark’s at the next table, next to where we’re sitting.”
“Trust me, he’ll never know, Karen,” she reassured him. “Be your sweet girly self, dear. Remember you’re my cousin from Milwaukee, just visiting for the weekend.”
“Hi Carla,” Mark said, as the two sat down. It turned out that Kenny, as Karen, found himself sitting almost butt-to-butt with Mark in the crowded coffee shop.
Carla leaned over in front of Kenny to reply.
“Hey Mark, who’s your friend?”
“Oh that’s my little brother, Jeremy,” the boy said with a smile, since the “little brother” towered over Mark by about six inches. “He’s still in high school and he’s here for the basketball camp. Dad just dropped us off from the Brewers game in Milwaukee today.”
Kenny tried to ignore the conversation going on in front of his face, but Mark then added, ‘Who’s this pretty girl with you?”
“That’s my cousin, Karen,” she said, smiling. “She’s just visiting for the weekend.”
“Nice meeting, you Karen,” Mark said smiling.
Kenny merely smiled back, saying nothing, afraid his voice — even though it had definite feminine characteristics — might give him away to his roommate.
“And who’s the other new girl with you?” Mark asked.
‘Oh that’s Jamie, a friend of Karen’s who came along.”
“Hi Jamie,” Mark said.
Jamie responded with an outlandish, overly feminine wave, exclaiming , “Hi there, honey, aren’t you a darling?”
Kenny wanted to slap his friend for such overtly demonstrative replies, but he realized Jamie loved being flamboyant and sometimes “over the top.” Yet, such demonstrations might draw attention and possibly expose the charade, since Mark is in the same class as both of them.
*****
Mark, however, seemed more attentive to Karen than to the more colorful Jamie, moving his chair and positioning it so that their legs almost touched. So determined to be as totally feminine as possible, Kenny sat with his hands in his lap, reaching up only to take his latté to take short sips. He looked down at his hands seeking to ignore Mark’s obvious interest in him, studying his own hands realizing how slender and smooth they were and how narrow and dainty his wrists were.
“Hope you’re enjoying you visit this weekend?” Mark questioned, aiming directly at Kenny.
“Yes, Carla’s been very nice to me,” Kenny replied, his voice soft and tentative. He did not look at Mark, but kept his head down.
“You in college there in Milwaukee?” he pressed.
“Home for the summer,” Kenny mumbled, keeping his answer curt, hoping the boy would leave.
“You in college?”
“Madison,” Kenny said, which was true. He was to start his freshman year at the University of Wisconsin’s main campus in fall.
“What you studying?”
“Boys and beer.”
“Oh,” Mark said triumphantly. “She has a sense of humor, too.”
Kenny turned to Carla, who sat silently during this exchange, pleading in a whisper. “Tell him to go away.”
“No, deal with it, girl,” she said softly, quickly adding out loud in a voice aimed at Mark. “Oh, Mark, she’s in pre-Arabic studies, but I think she’s got boys studying her.”
“Wow,” Mark said. “A brainy one and so pretty, too. Bet she’s got plenty of boys after her.”
Kenny scowled, wanting to kick Carla under the table. Arabic studies! He had trouble keeping track of who were the Sunnis and who were the Shiites.
“Come on, Karen, lighten up and talk to me,” Mark continued.
Kenny found it difficult not to smile at how hard Mark was trying to hit on him; he wondered what would happen should the boy tumble onto the fact that the lovely girl next to him was his own roommate. The results might not be so funny, a thought that sobered Kenny, realizing how close he might be to disaster.
“Thank you,” Kenny finally said. “You seem nice, but I got a boy friend.” It was a lie, of course, but somehow he had to get rid of Mark before he understood the truth.
Mark didn’t answer at first, looked more closely at Kenny, who could feel his gaze. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” the boy asked. “There’s something familiar about you.”
Kenny merely shook his head “no.”
“I must have. I’m sure I have. You waitress or something in Madison. I get there for Badger games.”
“No, we’ve never met,” Kenny said.
“I think we have. I’ll remember it soon, I’m sure.”
It was Mark’s younger brother who came to the rescue. “Come on, Mark, can’t you see she’s not interested?”
“I think she is, Jeremy. Look at her, I think she’s going to smile. Really.” Mark was adamant.
“Come on, let’s get out of here, Mark,” the younger boy repeated.
Mark found a pen in his pocket, grabbed a cocktail napkin, scribbled something on it and handed the napkin to Carla. “If she changes her mind, either you or she can call me,” he instructed Carla. “I’d love to talk with her some more.”
Carla nodded, and the two boys got up and readied themselves to leave. Before going, he tapped Kenny on the shoulder, saying, “Stay as pretty as you are, dear. Bye.”
Kenny let out a sigh of relief as the two left the Full Cup. All eyes were on Kenny as they walked out, and Kenny realized he was blushing profusively.
“Did you see that?” Mary Lindstrom asked. “He only had eyes for Karen.”
“And he dismissed all the real girls,” Carla added. “What does that say for us?”
“It’s our own fault,” Sally said. “We made these two so pretty.”
“No, Sally,” Emily said. “Those two were pretty to start with. I think Karen is more of a girl than most of us.”
Kenny grew flushed as they talked, still holding his head down, eyeing his hands at rest on his barren thighs, envisioning himself now as a complete young woman, soft, comely and so enticing for eager boys.
*****
Kenny tried to avoid returning to his room as long as possible that night, hoping Mark might be sound asleep if he stayed out late enough. Then, he wouldn’t have to confront the boy who had admired him so effusively as he masqueraded as Karen. He hung around with Carla as long as he could, changing back into his boy clothes.
“Have I got rid of all the makeup on my face?” he asked Carla.
“I think so,” she replied, “But I think you’re face looks smoother than before, and you can’t help seeing how we trimmed your brows a bit.”
He more closely in the mirror, wondering if his face still exposed its feminine traits, creamy skin and overall generally lovely complexion. He smiled, realizing he truly had a beautiful face; and his hair, which the girls had set a bit with conditioner, still held it curls, adding to the impression. He had showered, too, hoping to remove the scent of the sweet smelling soaps and lotions, as well as the light shot of perfume that the girls had put on him. Despite all his efforts, he thought he could still smell a whiff of the flowery scent from his body, but he hoped it was so faint no one else would notice.
“You should pass now to be acceptable on the boy’s floor,” Carla said, laughing.
“But will Mark notice anything?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. You were so totally convincing, Karen.”
“You better not slip and call me that around anyone else now,” he said. “I went along with your play-acting just for fun, but enough’s enough.”
“Awww, you loved it,” she said.
He blushed. Must he always blush so quickly?
*****
It was after 10 o’clock when Kenny returned to his room, far too early for his roommate to be sleeping, but Kenny couldn’t delay the return any longer. To his relief, the room was dark when he opened the door and his roomie was gone. He went quickly to the bathroom, examining himself again to assure that he had removed all traces of Karen. Satisfied, he returned to the room, put on a CD featuring legendary jazz pianist Oscar Peterson and lay down on his back on his bed, his hands folded behind his head.
His mind drifted into his role as Karen earlier in the day, reflecting how comfortable he felt with the other girls, how in effect both he and Jamie had become one of them, giggling alternately with some serious moments of reflections on the dreams that young ladies might have. He had to admit he felt so content in the role as Karen, and when Mark and his brother met them at the Full Cup, he had felt so fearful, yet excited and pleased that he attracted so much praise for his beauty and femininity.
“Am I not really a girl?” he asked himself. A silent question, to be sure, but it reverberated in his head like the rap of a forge hammer.
His reverie was interrupted as Mark entered the room, exclaiming: “Hey Kenny, how’s it hanging?”
“Hi Mark, you see a good ball game today?” he asked, more to make conversation than to care about the answer. He never did understand the fascination most guys seemed to feel about following the Brewers or any other baseball team.
“Oh, they won, Gallardo pitched a three-hitter, and Braun hit a homer,” Mark said. “It was exciting.”
“Good,” Kenny replied. “Do you want me to turn off the CD?”
“Oh I’m getting use to that jazz stuff. You can keep it on, and I kinda like this guy on the piano.”
“You mean Oscar Peterson? He’s the best.”
“Never heard of him, but then I bet you never heard of Fielder either.”
“Oh I heard the name, but don’t know anything about him,” Kenny admitted.
“Seems we both got lots to learn,” Mark said, removing his shirt, exposing his muscled body.
Mark left the room, obviously going to the bathroom, and Kenny’s thoughts turned to relive his day as Karen. It had gone smoothly, and no one obviously suspected his charade. His mind raced to Mark and how the boy had hit upon him as the most fetching and attractive girl at the table. Soon, his daydreaming had him nestled in the arms of a naked boy named Mark, his soft body wrapped in the hard, sinewy body of this gentle, sweet boy. Oh yes, Mark was so sweet and gentle, in spite of his obvious physical strength. How marvelous it would be to be kissing this boy, to feel his hot breath upon his neck and his hands caressing his smooth skin!
“Oh I met this really hot girl, too,” Mark said as he entered the room.
The boy wore only a pair of boxer briefs, and Kenny looked at him, marveling at his exquisite male frame.
“Oh?” Kenny responded simply, hoping his roommate wouldn’t notice how flushed his face had become.
“She was kinda shy, but so pretty,” he went on. “She’s a cousin of Carla’s, from Milwaukee. But she wouldn’t give me her number, but I told Carla to work on her, and maybe she’d relent someday. And I live in Milwaukee and maybe I could see her sometime.”
“Oh, what’s her name?”
“Kind of an ordinary name. Karen.”
“Oh that’s a pretty name,” Kenny replied. “Maybe a bit out of fashion now.”
“Doesn’t matter what her name is. She was so hot.”
“You must be in love.”
Mark laughed. “Well, it’s too early for that. For all I know she’s going to be a nun, but my brother Jeremy had to drag me out of the Full Cup.”
“Maybe she’ll show up again sometime.”
Mark sat down at his desk, pulling out a copy of the script for Hamlet and began to study it a bit. He had been planning to audition for the lead part and had trouble memorizing some of the longer soliloquies. Kenny pulled out his copy of the same script, ostensibly to read for the part of Laertes, but his mind wandered, reliving the moments — as he had done a few minutes earlier — of Mark’s unsuccessful flirtation with Karen.
“What’s that smell, Kenny?” Mark said suddenly.
“What smell?”
“Like perfume.”
Mark got up from his chair and wandered over toward Kenny. He sniffed the air.
“It’s stronger here,” he said. “Is that you? Are you wearing perfume, or what?”
“Me?” Kenny said, feigning innocence.
“Well, it’s not me. And, you know what. It smells like the same scent that girl had on.”
“Something’s wrong with your nose, Mark,” Kenny said.
“No, I know what I smell,” he said, bending down over Kenny, looking closely into Kenny’s face, his eyes then following down to Kenny’s legs, which lay naked, since he also wore boxer briefs.
Kenny looked at his roommate’s face, now showing great puzzlement, afraid of what the boy might be thinking and that if he suspected the truth he wondered what Mark might do to him.
“You’re that girl,” Mark said suddenly. “You’re Karen.”
“No I’m not,” Kenny said, turning onto his side, his back to Mark.
“You don’t fool me,” Mark said, and with his hand gripping Kenny’s shoulder pulled him into a sitting position. “Oh my God yes, look at your legs, just like Karen’s. And your eyes, I’ve never seen a girl with such sparkling eyes and yours are just like hers. You’re Karen, I know it.”
“No,” Kenny said, suddenly beginning to cry, his sobs growing and his body shaking, as he was not sure as to what lies ahead.
Soon Mark sat on the bed and put his arm around Kenny, firmly but gently drawing the sobbing boy next to him, patting his shoulder with affection. Kenny’s sobs for a few minutes seemed to rise with intensity, but soon subsided as he settled into the firm hold of the other boy.
Mark then did an unexpected move, taking Kenny’s head, gently raising it and kissing Kenny’s lips. It was a brief kiss, but so tender that Kenny melted back into the other’s arms, finding comfort in the loving embrace of the other boy.
“Oh Mark, you don’t think I’m a pervie or something like that?”
“No, dear, I know it sounds weird, but I’m so happy Karen is real.”
“But she’s not real, Mark. She was just an afternoon lark, cooked up by Carla and the other girls. One of the girls there was Jimmie, you know. They talked us into joining their club, called the ‘Bard’s Girls’ and we just kinda went along with the gag.”
“Oh the noisy one,” Mark said, with a laugh.
“Yes, her. I mean him.”
“Let me ask you something,” Mark began. “Do you want to be a girl? Are you like transgendered?”
“I don’t think so,” Kenny said, thinking. “This was the first time I ever dressed so fully. The girls insisted Jimmie and I dress up for them. When I was little, I did wear my sister’s stuff sometimes, but just around the house. Nothing serious.”
Mark released Kenny from his hold and stood up.
“Well, I like you as Kenny, my roommie, but I have to admit I think I liked Karen more. I’d like to see more of her.”
“Mark, are you sure? We’re not gay, are we?” Kenny said.
“No dear, when you were Karen, I was looking at you as only a girl,” he said. “And now, I still feel you’re like a girl. So how can we be gay?”
Kenny nodded. He had nothing against gays and didn’t think he liked boys, but every so often he dreamed he was a girl and it then he felt the need to be hugged and kissed by a boy like Mark. As Karen, he realized his dreams likely would be answered.
'To Be Or Not to Be' -- Part 3
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Chapter 3 — The Play’s the Thing
“Now my would-be thespians,” Stanton McIver said in his overly accented voice, “It’s time to start choosing our parts for ‘Hamlet.’”
The 15 class members looked at one another. It was the first day of the third week of the class, and they knew this day would be coming when they’d be chosen to play certain roles in the production. Some of them had already set their eyes upon certain parts.
Secretly, Kenny wondered if he’d not be a perfect choice for Hamlet, since he always considered Hamlet to be a rather confused and indecisive person; he toyed with the idea that he’d play him as a bit effeminate. In McIver’s sometimes over-the-top flaming mannerisms, he figured the professor might even agree with Kenny’s assessment of Hamlet. Then again, might not even the more flamboyant Jimmie not fulfill the role even more fittingly?
Suddenly, Kenny had a crazy thought: why not play Ophelia? Didn’t everyone say he made a perfect-looking girl? Even his voice carried feminine characteristics, and with a little coaching, he was sure he’d make a believable young lady. He almost laughed out loud as the thought entered his mind. How ridiculous!
“First of all,” McIver began, “We’ll not worry about gender in this play, since we’ve got 15 actors and only three of you are male. As we all know, in Shakespeare’s time, there were no women actors, with men taking the stage in the female parts. Many of you young ladies will be playing male roles, and I can see some of the young men in here might easily play female roles. What is critical now is who will do the best in each role.”
He paused and seemed to look directly at Kenny. He then continued:
“Now I have passed out several small pieces of paper to each of you, and I want you to write on the blue piece the part you think you would be best able to play. Don’t be shy. If you think you could be a good Hamlet, write it down. Also, put your name on the paper so I know who you are. All I do is to ask you to be realistic in what you think your capabilities are.”
He paused again.
“Then on the yellow piece of paper, write down the name of the persons in this class who you think might make the best Hamlet and the best Ophelia. Again, don’t worry about the sexes.”
“Can we confer among ourselves?” Mary Lindstrom asked.
“No way,” McIver replied. “I want you to do it privately and honestly. Give me your real feelings now. This is not a popularity contest, girls and boys. You’ve got ten minutes, and no talking among you. And you should not sign the yellow slip, since I want you to make your choices anonymously so you can be honest and fair. Understand?”
“May I ask another question?” asked Carla.
“Of course.”
“Why are you concerned only with Hamlet and Ophelia?” she asked. “Ophelia really doesn’t have as big a part as . . . ah . . . ah . . . say, Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother.”
“Very good question, Carla,” the professor began. “Because, dear actors, we’re not going to attempt to do the entire play. It’s far too long, and since we are inviting many high school students to see it, we want to give the story a twist that should interest them. That means we’ll concentrate on the broken love affair of Hamlet and Ophelia.”
“That’s cool,” Carla said.
“And also students, I’ll be narrating a story line for the audience as we go along. We want to show the audience just how exciting a Shakespeare play can be.”
“I suppose the boys from the basketball camp will be there?” Carla asked.
“Oh yes,” McIver said, with a smile. “That means we’ll need a particularly fetching girl play Ophelia.”
Kenny looked over at Mark, surprised to see his roommate had developed an impish grin; Mark nodded at Kenny and smiled a bit broadly, causing Kenny to wonder what was on the boy’s mind at the moment.
Finally, Kenny wrote on the blue paper, “Hamlet,” adding his name as the part he thought he could play.
On the yellow sheet, he wrote “Hamlet to be played by Mark” and “Ophelia to be played by Jimmie.”
He folded both sheets, and looked again at Mark, who again grinned conspiratorially back at him. Kenny still couldn’t figure out what was on Mark’s mind.
Professor McIver collected the sheets of paper from the students and he announced that he’d look at the papers, consider the recommendations of all the students and then make his own conclusions as to who would play what part. “I’ll look at the slips over the lunch hour and announced his decisions at the start of the afternoon session,” he said. The rest of the morning was spent with each student taking a turn at reading the famed “To Be or Not to Be” speech, with each presentation followed by an analysis of the performance.
*****
Wisconsin’s fields, trees and foliage turn a lush green in June, fueled by the cool spring rains of the climate, and this year was no exception. Stepping out from the school building at the lunch break, Kenny couldn’t help but be swept into the sparkle of the bright blue sky, the glimpses of the lake through the trees and the unexpected warmth of the day.
Mark joined him in the walk to the cafeteria for lunch.
“I just love this time of the year,” Kenny said. “It’s so incredibly pretty here.”
“You love beautiful things, don’t you?” Mark said, placing a hand on Kenny’s bare forearm as they walked.
“I guess,” Kenny replied, suddenly feeling a tinge of excitement as he felt the other’s hand, so light and gentle on his skin.
“It’s only natural for you, Karen,” Mark said softly, using his girl’s name. “You’re such a beautiful thing yourself.”
“Quiet, Mark. Don’t use that name here. Somebody’ll hear you.”
“Well, it’s true. I thought you were so pretty the other day so I suggested you could be Ophelia.”
“You what? Oh no, Mark. You’re teasing me now.”
“Why not? Men played the female parts in Shakespeare’s time and you’re just so pretty. You’d be perfect for the part.”
“I don’t know, Mark,” Kenny said, realizing that everything Mark said was true. Besides, hadn’t he secretly thought about playing the role, too?
“And I think Carla and Mary suggested you, too.”
“Oh my God,” Kenny said, his thoughts racing, picturing himself as a copy of the fragile beauty of Jean Simmons in the 1948 movie version of Hamlet. He saw himself wearing the diaphanous white frock that Simmons wore when she drowned near the play’s climax. He had seen the film dozens of time and had several times envisioned himself as Ophelia, a fact he never told anyone about.
“You’ll be perfect for the part, Karen,” Mark said, whispering the name this time.
Kenny blushed and then smiled at his companion, wanting badly to reach over and smother him with kisses. He didn’t do it, of course, since they were in the middle of campus with throngs of students wandering about. The thought warmed his heart and made this magnificent June day even more heavenly beautiful.
*****
At the cafeteria table, Mark and Kenny were joined by Mary and Carla and the four talked openly about how the parts should be cast. There was no question that Mark, as the only openly masculine boy in the class, should be Hamlet, although Carla wondered whether such a “hunk” could adequately portray the sometimes diffident and indecisive Hamlet.
“I think Mark can portray that weakness of character,” Mary said. “In fact, he’s perfect since Hamlet was renowned as a warrior. So you need a masculine guy, who can also be reflective and melancholy. It’ll take a good acting job to pull it off, and I think Mark can.”
“Yes, yes,” Carla added, enthusiastically.
Carla said she’d like to be Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother. “I wanna be sinister,” Carla said.
“That’ll be easy for you,” Mary said with a laugh.
Carla gave her friend a sharp, but playful jab in the arm.
Mary said she’d like to play Polonius, the pompous, old courtier who played a major role. They all agreed she’d do fine in the part.
“How about Kenny?” asked Mark.
“Oh that’s easy,” Carla said. “Ophelia.”
“Yes,” echoed Mary.
“I knew Karen would be perfect for the part when we first dressed her up for the beach,” Carla said.
“I couldn’t,” Kenny protested, though his protest seemed weak.
Kenny felt tense as the afternoon class session opened, half wishing he’d get a male part so that he’d be spared the attention of playing a female part.
“Let’s not keep you all waiting about my choices for the parts,” Professor McIver said. “First of all let me say this. You are all excellent actors and just because you may not be chosen for a certain part does not mean I value your skill any the less. Some of you will be disappointed and you’ll have to learn to live with that disappointment. Remember, it comes with the profession. You’ll have more disappointments than triumphs, but believe me the triumphs and the joy of participating in a successful performance in whatever part so makes up for the disappointments.
“Finally, I want you to know that I will not — that is no, n-o-t — tolerate anyone coming to me to say that they want a certain part. The only discussion I’ll have about this is any of you feel you are incapable of handling the part. Then I might consider changing your role, but you have to have a sound reason that will convince me to change my mind. Understood?”
The students replied almost in unison with a “yes.”
Kenny’s stomach began to growl and he felt light-headed, worried that he’d be named Ophelia and might face ridicule for the part. Alternately, he knew he desperately wanted the part. Why was life so confusing?
*****
“Let’s take care of the Hamlet part first,” Professor McIver said. “I don’t think there’s much debate about this assignment. All of you — except one person — said the part should be played by Mark. So Mark, you’ve got the part, and I know you can do it justice.”
The class applauded the selection, and Jimmie, sitting next to Kenny, whispered: “I wonder why no one named you or me.” He giggled in an exaggerated girlish manner. Kenny smiled and looked over to Mark, feeling the urge to run over and throw his arms around the boy.
The professor continued down, listing his choices for the parts. Mary was to play Polonius; Carla to play Gertrude, the mother of Hamlet, and Jimmie would be Laertes. Kenny’s name was yet to be called, and there was no mention of who’d play Ophelia.
“What’s he got in mind for you, I wonder?” Jimmie said to Kenny in a hushed voice.
Kenny’s stomach was in knots, as he waited for what he knew was coming; hadn’t everyone said he’d be a natural for the part?
“Now for other key role in this play, that of Ophelia,” Professor McIver began. “Again, all of you, except one, named this person to play the part.”
Kenny waited, holding his breath, for him to continue, but realized the professor was looking directly at him, as were the others in the classroom.
“In the traditions of the ancient theatre,” McIver began in a stentorian voice, “You all chose Kenny to be Ophelia, and I must say you all noticed something in our fair Kenny that told you he’ll make a lovely and beautiful Ophelia. And I agree. Kenny, you’ll be the doomed damsel in our little play.”
There was enthusiastic applause; Mark rose from his seat and several others followed with Jimmie rising and leaning over to give Kenny a flamboyant kiss on his cheek. Kenny sat, growing red-faced and finally stood offering a pronounced curtsey that brought even more applause. It was obvious he was a popular choice.
“So we’re going to be lovers,” Mark said to Kenny as the class ended and they walked back to their room.
“Sort of weird, isn’t it?” Kenny responded.
“Not to me, and I hope not really to you.”
Kenny was taken aback by this comment, which sounded like this masculine friend was looking forward to a relationship as lovers. Could he mean that Mark longed for such an affair, even though he, Kenny, was a boy, although a quite girlish boy?
“I find myself so attracted to you, Karen,” Mark said. The pair had stopped along the pathway which wound through a small wooded area. “You’re really so pretty and I’ve been dreaming about this for sometime.”
The boy took Kenny’s hands, engulfing Kenny’s slender soft hands into his large strong grip, and he drew Kenny forward, kissing him on the lips, and holding the kiss there. Kenny felt his penis grow hard, and he let himself fall into the other’s arms.
“Oops, someone’s coming,” Mark said, quickly releasing Kenny. The two continued to the room.
*****
Professor McIver told the actors that since time was short they’d have to begin to “act” their roles even outside of class or rehearsals.
“That means you ladies who have male parts will have to observe and pickup the mannerisms of men, and that’s something you must try to do 24/7,” he said the next day. “And Kenny, you should consider acting girlishly continually and I might even advise beginning to wear more female clothes so that you get comfortable with dresses and skirts.”
As the students had been told many times by the professor, actors had to become consumed into the roles they were playing, even if it meant affecting their daily lives. Kenny had looked up McIver’s background on the internet and learned he had been at the famed Actor’s Studio and was taught in the method acting style.
Carla, who was sitting next to him in class, leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, Karen, I think we can outfit you and make you a pretty Ophelia.”
Kenny grew noticeably red in the face, feeling embarrassed at the attention he was getting, apparently due to his obvious natural femininity. Did everyone think he was some kind of weirdo or sissified boy? As he thought about it, the idea grew on him more and more and he began to realize that the female life was so natural for him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mark, sitting two rows away, seemed to signal to him, and Kenny took a quick glance. Did Mark just wink at him, he wondered? Yes, that’s what he did, accompanied by an impish smile.
At the lunch break, Mark and Kenny found a picnic table just outside the cafeteria; the college had set up an outdoor dining area that was used on pleasant days. The two boys carried their trays out, hurrying to claim the table before others; Mark quickly placed his tray on the table, and looked to Kenny.
“Here, let me help you,” he said softly, taking Kenny’s tray and placing it next his so that they’d sit next to each other.
To Kenny’s surprise, the other boy took his hand and helped him step over the bench in order to sit down, and Kenny realized Mark was treating him as he’d treat a girl friend.
“What are you doing?” Kenny asked, worried that others might be seeing this action and mark them as a homosexual couple.
“Just being a gentleman,” Mark replied.
“But, everyone’ll be looking . . . “
“Of course, but how else is a man to treat his woman? Remember, we’re lovers in a play.”
Kenny accepted the other’s gentle support and daintily stepped over the bench seat and found his place. Mark moved in right next to him, and soon the other places on the picnic table were occupied by others from the class, including all four girls who had accompanied Kenny to the beach on the previous Saturday.
“We’re all going to help you dress,” Carla announced as they settled into their lunches. “Both Emily and Sally will bring outfits to my room for you to wear and we’ll see that we can outfit you.”
“When do you want to do that?” Kenny asked.
“Right after class, so she can be dressed as Karen for dinner time,” Carla said.
“Boy I’d like to be there,” Mark said, “And see my love get even prettier.”
“No way,” Mary said sharply. “Only after we’re done can you see her.”
“Yeah, think of it like a wedding when the groom can’t see the bride until she walks down the aisle,” Sally chimed in.
“Oh I can’t wait,” Emily said. “I got just the outfit for her. She’ll look so stunning.”
Kenny was unused to getting such attention and wasn’t sure he enjoyed it.
“This is turning into a class project,” he said.
They all laughed, and Kenny felt a hand gently touch and caress his inner thigh, realizing that Mark was already feeling that he was sitting next to a pretty girl. Kenny wondered whether he should brush the other’s hand away, but suddenly felt warm and excited by the massaging fingers. He welcomed the touch. Wasn’t that the way a girl should feel?
*****
The four girls almost came to blows as they discussed what outfit would make Kenny the prettiest of girls.
Sally wanted Kenny to wear a yellow summer mini-dress with spaghetti straps that showed a lot of skin. She held it up against Kenny and announced: “Look how stunning it will be for her.”
“Oh my God no,” protested Emily. “That’s too . . .ah . . . provocative. It’s almost sinful, Sally.”
“Oh pooh,” Sally said. “You’re such a prude. You must realize that Karen has such lovely legs and they’re worth showing off.”
“They’ll also show her panties,” Sally argued.
“We got time. Let her try it on and we’ll see what we think,” Carla suggested.
Kenny listened as they argued, but found the idea of wearing such a revealing dress so exciting; most boys who would wear such a dress would just look ridiculous, he thought, but he knew how dainty and feminine his own body was. Maybe he should show it off.
“Don’t I have a say in all this?” he finally asked, as they continued to argue. “Let me try it on.”
He retreated to the bathroom, where he took off all of his clothes and put on a strap with a sanitary napkin to capture his penis, followed by a crá¨me-colored layered panty. Totally nude, except for the panty, he emerged from the bathroom.
“Such a lovely body,” Emily said.
“I’d kill for that body,” Carla said, whose own physique was larger and wider than Kenny’s.
“She has a cute butt, too, and even little girl breasts,” Sally said.
“Awww, come on,” Kenny protested. “Let’s get on with it.”
They fitted him with a bra that matched his panties, filling it was breast forms brought by Sally, herself a girl with tiny, almost adolescent breasts. “These’ll give you a nice b-cup size, Karen, which is big enough for a petite girl like you,” she said.
He blushed, realizing that all four of the girls were calling him Karen and referring to “her” and “she.” It was as if he ceased to be a boy in their presence. He had been so ashamed to take off his shirt in public — and particularly in gym locker rooms — because of his unmuscular frame, but for some reason he felt totally comfortable in being nearly nude in front of a bunch of girls. It was as if he fitted in as being one of them. He liked the idea.
The yellow dress fit him perfectly, and they all were excited at how he looked.
“Isn’t she luscious?” Carla said.
“Yeah, she’ll have every boy on campus lusting after her,” Sally said.
“Maybe it’s too hot for her,” Emily said. “Won’t that make her look sluttish?”
“What do you think, Karen?” Carla asked.
Examining himself in the mirror, he felt his own penis hardening within its restricted pouch. The girl Karen was indeed hot and seductive in the dress.
“I love it, but maybe it reveals too much,” he said. “But let’s call Mark over and see what he thinks. He can’t wait to see me.”
“Really? That’s so sweet,” Carla said. “I’ll call his cell.”
*****
“You’re a true princess, Karen,” Mark said, standing back and looking at the lovely girl in front of him.
Kenny, by now feeling totally feminine in the light, flowing dress, turned this way and that, flailing his skinny, soft arms with his skirt rising up his thighs in a most provocative manner. He flicked his hair gently and touched the sparkling clip-on earrings that dangled.
The four girls, by now proud of their creation, applauded, followed by some giggles.
Mark crossed the room and quickly captured Kenny in his arms, and drew the lovely girl firmly but gently close, placing a soft, lovely kiss on his lips. Kenny felt weak and grew limp in the strong boy’s arms, welcoming his caresses on his smooth skin.
“That’s enough now, Mark,” Carla warned. “You don’t want to ruin her lipstick or dress.”
“Isn’t she a dream?” Mark said, released Kenny from his grasp. “I need to show you off, Karen. All the guys’ll be so jealous of me.”
Kenny smiled at the prospect of being paraded before a bunch of testosterone-motivated boys; he truly felt he was now the epitome of girlhood. There was a lingering fear that someone might detect a bit of the old Kenny within the appearance of loveliness that he felt he presented and he’d get outed. Yet, being with Mark, easily one of the most athletic boys in the summer camp, he felt safe.
“No, you’ll not show her off, Mark,” Mary interrupted. “She’s our for tonight. We created her and we need to show her off.”
“Aww, come on!” Mark said. “She needs a escort. Let me be her escort tonight.”
“You mean come along with all us girls?” Carla asked.
“If it has to be, yes,” Mark said.
Quickly turning toward Kenny, he said: “Karen, dear, would you join me tonight. I’d like to take you out to that Summer Festival on the Lakefront and show you off.”
Kenny was troubled now. He owed so much to the four girls who had accepted him and created him into a lovely young girl, and making him so suitable to play Ophelia, that he didn’t want to disappoint them; yet, he yearned to walk into the festival arm-in-arm with a strong young man like Mark.
“Oh no you won’t, Mark,” Carla said. “We dressed her up because we’re going to have a girls’ night out. She’s coming with us.”
“But, wouldn’t she rather be with me?”
“Maybe, Mark, but you’ll have your time with her,” Carla said. “We dressed her, and we’re all going to Pizza Alley but it’s girl’s only.”
“She should change into something less sexy, I think,” Mark said.
“Crap, Mark,” it was Sally talking now. “We’re all dressed about the same. What makes her different?”
“Well, she’ll get hit on.”
“We’ll protect her,” Carla said.
“Why can’t I join you?” Mark pleaded.
Carla looked at her girl friends, finally agreeing. “Ok, come along, Mark. It’ll be fun.”
Karen shrugged, realizing her evening was planned for her.
(To Be Continued)
'To Be Or Not to Be' -- Part 4
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Chapter 4 — Karen Comes Alive
Karen put on flats for the evening, but stayed in the same dress after considerable debate over whether it was too fancy for the Festival; they all agreed that she looked stunning in the dress, and it would be a shame to change. To ward off the evening chill that usually came in from the cool waters of the lake, Sally found a light blue sweater with bunnies embroidered on the front that Karen carried on her arm.
To provide a cover story, it was decided that she would be Karen Dawson, a cousin of Sally’s from Chicago. Mark’s story would be that he became enamored at first sight with Karen when she appeared on the campus to meet Sally for a visit. Thus, it was that the six of them, five girls (including Karen) and Mark, decided to go to the Festival.
As they entered, Mark took Karen’s hand, and soon the two were separated by a few feet from the four girls. There were three band stages at the Festival, one that featured older style cover bands, another that headed into heavy metal and funk, and a final smaller one that booked a mixture of jazz, blues and folk groups.
“We’re going to hear Third Dimension,” Mary announced, referring to a covers band.
“Where you going?” Carla boomed, speaking loud over the crowd noise. “I don’t know where you two love birds will find love songs.”
Karen blushed, but she hadn’t realized how easily she had taken to being escorted by Mark, to feel her hand so tiny and soft, it seemed, in the firm but gentle grasp of the handsome boy at her side. The two hadn’t spoken of it, but they seemed to melt together as if one. Karen could be sure when Mark took her hand, it had been so natural a movement.
“I guess we’ll stay with you guys,” Mark announced, suddenly stopping and turning to Karen, with a questioning look in his eyes. “That’s if it’s OK with you honey?”
The six settled onto the boards that constituted the seats set up for the Festival, near the back of the huge gathering, but still seated close enough to hear the music from the stage.
“What d’ya want, honey?” Mark whispered gently into her ear.
“Just something diet, Mark,” Karen said, giving the boy a shy, sweet smile.
Mark stood up, addressing the others, announcing that he was going for drinks and asking if any of the others wanted anything. They all stated their preferences.
“You can’t carry them all, Mark,” Mary said. “Let me go along and help you.”
“Oh I can go with him,” Karen said.
“No, honey, you sit and relax here. Mary can help me,” he replied.
Mark leaned over and gave Karen a brief, but affectionate kiss on her cheek.
Karen shivered slightly with the touch of his lips, and a wave of excitement rushed throughout her body. The kiss was brief, but loaded with meaning. Could a girl ever feel happier?
Karen’s reaction must have shown; she knew she must have grown red in the face and Mark’s kiss had attracted the attention of many of the strangers sitting near the group. Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw a group of college-age boys ogle the four girls, accompanied by the pointing of fingers, nods of the heads and conspiratorial smiles. The night was still warm, and Karen hadn’t put on the wrap she had brought, as she sat her pretty shoulders and slender arms exposed. She sat primly, her hands in her lap and her shapely legs crossed.
One thing Karen had come to recognize: Among the five girls, she was easily the prettiest, and she was embarrassed by the thought. She had always been so shy, afraid to show herself for others to judge: her body was so slight and unmuscular that she was ashamed to show it. Now, that same body was the subject of admiration. And, she liked the idea.
Sally, who was sitting next to Karen, leaned over and said: “What is it with you two?”
“What do ya’ mean?”
“We’re just practicing our roles as lovers for the play,” Karen said.
“You could fool us, Karen. There was real feeling in that kiss. I could sense it.”
“Oh Mark’s just a good actor is all.”
“Well then so are you, Karen,” Sally said.
Karen couldn’t help herself; she broke out in a smile, and she knew it was more than “acting” that went into Mark’s kiss and her reaction. Was there really love developing?
Emily leaned into the conversation, and said, “You’ve really become quite a convincing girl, Karen. In fact, I think you’re the girliest girl among us, right Sally?”
“Oh easily, she is also the prettiest,” Sally said. “It must come natural to her.”
“And we’re all getting jealous,” Emily added. “Those boys over there. They’re not looking at any of us, just her.”
Karen sat there, looking ahead, not replying. She suddenly realized: Yes, being a girl was indeed so natural and easy. Was she not always a girl, and never realized it? She loved the idea of being soft and dainty, of having the attention of boys and of having a lovely, curvy figure. Her reverie was interrupted with the return of Mark and Mary with the drinks, along with Jimmie, the other young man from their acting class.
“Look who we found all alone by the drink stand,” Mary announced.
Karen looked up to see Jimmie, smiling in his effeminate way, standing before her. A sudden shot of fear engulfed her: certainly he might detect her real identity.
Sally, sensing the situation, quickly stood up, and said to Jimmie: “This is Karen. She’s my cousin from Chicago.”
Karen and Jimmie nodded. Momentarily, the boy looked questioningly at Karen, as if he must have recognized, then, nodding and mumbling, “Nice to meet you,” turned away and took a seat in between Emily and Sally.
Mark sat next to Karen, handed her a soda and gave her another quick kiss. This one was no less electrifying than the earlier kiss and Karen shuddered with excitement. At the same time, Mark’s left hand caressed her slender arm, gently kneading the soft flesh, making the girl realize just how tender she was. Karen’s excitement grew.
How wonderful it felt to be a girl! Why couldn’t it be forever?
*****
“I bought you a present, Karen,” Mark said when hey returned to the room together.
“You did?” she said, enjoying her role now as a girl.
Mark opened a dresser drawer and removed a white box, tied artfully with a pink ribbon and a bow. There was a scent of lilac that seemed to emanate from the box, as he handed it to Karen.
“That’s for me?” she blushed as she took the box.
“Who else is so pretty? Of course it’s for you? I even wrapped it myself.”
“Oh Mark, you’re such a darling,” Karen said, playing the role to its maximum.
“Well, open it, Karen.”
Karen felt so flattered that she held the box in her lap for a long moment, gently caressing the bow with one hand.
“I hate to open it, Mark. You did such a pretty job tying it up.”
“God, you’re such a girl,” he said, smiling. “Just open it up.”
Karen carefully removed the ribbon, so as not to ruin it, her slender, pretty fingers moving gently. Finally, the ribbon removed, she carefully placed it on her bed, and she could see Mark’s anticipation was growing, eager to see this pretty girl open her gift.
Finally, she opened up the box, and slowly moved aside the white tissue paper, reaching in and removing a peach colored frock, full of ruffles and lace. She lifted it up, held it by two thin straps and smiled.
“Oh Mark, it’s lovely. For me?”
“For you,” he said. “I couldn’t have such a pretty girl in those ugly old PJs.”
Karen stood up, holding the nightie before her by the straps. She moved to the mirror and looked at it and a bright smile burst across her face.
“I can’t wait to try it on,” she said.
“Well go now,” he said in a commanding tone. “Take your shower and pretty yourself up and then come out and show me how you look. I can hardly wait.”
Karen looked at her friend, who was now standing next to her, several inches taller. She stood up on her toes, lifting one leg off the floor and put her arms around Mark, and kissed him.
“You’re so sweet, Mark,” she said, feeling very much a girl.
*****
Karen was eager to get showered and ready for Mark to be received warmly in his strong arms, but she also wanted to look soft, warm and sensuous for him. She donned a faintly scented body lotion, rubbing it all over, looking at herself in the mirror and marveling at how naturally feminine her body was. She detected some growth of beard on her face, even though she had shaved only that morning, and worried that it might chaff Mark in their hugs and kisses, she shaved again. It was a reminder again that she had been born a boy, and a momentary realization that when this acting charade was over she would no longer be Karen, but Kenny again, a pathetic example of boy soon to be a young man.
She puzzled over this dilemma as she shaved, examining her slender shoulders and thin arms that were so convincingly female.
“I’ll enjoy being Karen while I can,” she thought, looking into the mirror. “My oh my, I do look pretty, don’t I? I should have been a girl.”
As she mused, she realized her penis had grown hard and she was beginning to feel tense. She had a desire to play with it, to milk it into action, but quickly stifled the thought. She concentrated on completing her shave, and readying herself for Mark. The activity softened the offending member, silently cursing that she still had these male characteristics that somehow intruded upon her girlhood.
She was surprised when she returned to the room, wearing satin peach-colored panties, adorned with a light blue lace, under her new nightgown. She had let her hair flow freely and loose about her head, giving her a carefree appearance that belied her own tension at wondering how she would act being with a young man and being his lover. She was naíve about so much.
What surprised her was that Mark also had showered and shaved (he must have used another boy’s shower) and stood before her scented with a musky, fresh smell of male cologne. He wore a skimpy pair of shorts and a light nightshirt, unbuttoned that hung carelessly off his broad shoulders and exposed the muscular chest and flat, firm stomach. His thighs were hard and he looked warm and inviting.
“Oh Karen,” the boy said upon seeing her. He stood there gawking at her.
Karen didn’t know what to say. What a hunk! That came to her mind quickly, just picking up on what she heard her girl friends say often upon seeing a particularly sexy young man. She realized she was thinking like a girl.
“I love how you look,” the boy said. “So casual, and natural. What a girl!”
Karen blushed and rushed to him, reaching to hug him, while rising on her toes to kiss him. He tasted delicious and she felt herself suddenly engulfed into his body, smothered by his manliness. She smelled the cologne and with it his lovely male odor. She felt so weak and fragile in his arms, imagining that he could crush her without much effort.
His hands explored her body, moving under the nightgown and into her panties, carefully avoiding his tiny, but now hardened penis. Karen panted heavily, moaning softly as his caresses became more insistent. Soon they were on her bed, legs intertwined as they hugged and kissed, their lips exploring each other’s body, their bodies soon glistening with sweat as their embraces grew more intense.
Suddenly, Mark eased up on his caresses and moved away from Karen. She could hear his panting and heavy breathing and saw he had found a small towel that he must have had at the ready. He placed the towel over his crotch, letting out a big sigh and relaxing.
“You masturbated,” Karen said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly, as if trying to catch his thoughts. “I couldn’t help it. You’re just so . . . so . . . ah . . . sexy, I guess. What else can I say?”
“Oh Mark, I know. This is so weird.”
“You know you’re really all girl, darling,” he said. He had turned to lay on his back, and Karen was on her side, looking at him. (“What a hunk,” she thought again.)
“But I’m not, Mark,” she said, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
“You are to me,” he said.
“That’s sweet to hear,” Karen said, realizing how ridiculous it was. She was only “play-acting” as a girl and the play would be ending in 10 days. Then it would be back to being Kenny.
“You know, Karen,” Mark began, hesitating a bit. “I’ve never been with a girl like this before. I’m a virgin.”
“You can’t be right,” she protested. “You’re such a hunk (‘there’s that word again’) and I would have imagined you’d have girls every night of the week.”
“You’re cute,” he said. “But I’ve always been kind of afraid to be with a girl like this. Maybe I’m gay or something.”
“You didn’t act like that with me,” she said. “I only felt you were on me as if I were a girl.”
“I was.”
The two stopped a reflected for a while, Karen laying back on the bed, both looking into the ceiling. She imagined they made a lovely couple: a “hunk” and her pretty girl friend. It brought a smile to her face.
“I’m a virgin, too,” she said after a few moments. “In fact, Kenny never had a date. He was always so shy. Besides, who’d want to go out with him.”
“Well I know plenty of boys who’d wanna go out with Karen,” he said. “But they’ll have to beat me up first.”
She leaned over to kiss him; he responded and the two embraced quietly, content to lay together in each other’s arms, as the lovers they were.
*****
Karen awoke as the first morning light entered the room, brightening the room. She felt content and relaxed and soon the scent of her partner filled her senses, a slightly sour, but sweet scent, reflecting as she remembered an evening of sheer bliss. Never had she been so happy.
Mark snored lightly and regularly, and Karen found it just an adorable noise. She realized she had a leg linked with his leg and one of her arms was draped over his shoulder. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, trying not to awaken him. She needn’t have worried since he was in a deep sleep. Was this what married life was like, she wondered? To have a man close to her, and such a man, so strong and masculine, yet gentle and sweet and considerate.
She began imagining awakening each morning to such feelings, to getting up to make him a hearty breakfast and maybe even his lunch to take to work. She enjoyed the thought of laundering his clothes, of taking his underwear out of the hamper and smelling his masculine odors before placing them in the washer. She pictured herself ironing his clothes, her hair up in curlers while wearing an apron. Preparing his dinner and prettying herself up for his arrival home from work to receive his ravenous kisses. Is that what life has in store for her?
Karen wondered what it would be like to bear his children, to grow large with a child in her belly and then to give birth. Oh what a wonder!
Then she began to cry, sobbing softly so as not to disturb him. A profound sadness came over her. She could never bear a child; it’s against all science known to man. She was, alas, not a woman, not even a pretty girl. She was a boy! Karen quietly turned away from her lover.
*****
Karen decided that for the next ten days she’d enjoy being a girl. It may be the last time in her life that she could live such a role. Her strange behavior of being a boy acting as a girl could easily be explained since it was for an acting spot in a play that would be performed once in public on the night before graduation from the summer program. She was pleased to have been chosen for the part of Ophelia and began to believe in her own mind that she was the ideal girl to play the part of such a fragile, vulnerable young lady.
She took Professor McIver’s advice literally: she would live the part of Ophelia in the last ten days of the camp, dressing always as a girl, using primarily clothes from Sally along with some accessories from Mary and Carla. Karen had purchased a few sets of panties, two bras (size A) and three camisoles, along with several pairs of pantyhose and thigh highs.
Mary and Sally suggested to Karen that the trio should do some clothes shopping to fill out Karen’s closet, a trip that was proposed to happen after classes on Monday.
Karen was excited by the prospect of playing such a major role, but was fearful, too. It would be the first time her mother and younger brother — who would drive to the camp for the performance — would see her as a girl. She wanted to be totally believable in the role, and that would mean she’d have to erase any sign of masculinity from the performance. How shocked would his mother be? And, almost as worrying, was how mean and nasty would his brother be?
Many thoughts raced through Karen’s mind as she dressed for class that day, her memories of being a girl in the arms of her lover and the ecstasy of those sweet embraces coupled with the reality that she was after all boy with a mother and a brother who would hardly see her for what she was beginning to feel she really was.
Since the day was to be warm, maybe as high as 90, Karen chose to wear a pair of navy blue shorts that hardly reached mid-thigh and a light violet-colored tee-shirt. Underneath she wore a bra, to which she had inserted small foam pad to form tiny breasts, and panties. She wore white sandals and no stockings. She tied her hair into a high ponytail, fixed with light blue ribbons. In the mirror, she wondered: Do I look too young, like a middle school girl instead of the college age freshman she was?
“Aren’t you the cute one!” exclaimed Mark as she left the bathroom.
Karen couldn’t help but blush, since she felt that she did indeed look “cute.”
“But don’t I look too young in this, Mark?” she asked, giving a quick turn so that he could see her from all sides.
“Maybe, but you look too good to change, like real ‘jail-bait,’” he said with a smile.
“I could change,” she hastened.
“No way, besides we’ll be late for breakfast. Let’s just go. You look fine.”
The four girls, Carla, Mary, Sally and Emily, had already staked out a table in the cafeteria when Mark and Karen arrived. Jimmie had also found a seat at an adjoining table, and was saving the seats, Karen realized, for she and Mark. A pang of guilt and fear raced through her mind, realizing that just the night before she had been introduced to Jimmie as “Karen Dawson,” Sally’s cousin from Chicago.
Sure enough, Jimmie had a strange look on his face as the pair joined him after saying “hi” to the four girls. Karen felt everyone in the cafeteria was looking at her as she carried her tray of fruit and yogurt and coffee to the table.
Jimmie caught on right away.
“Damn,” Jimmie said in his high, overly feminine tone. “Aren’t you the cute one? And such a performance last night, too? A ‘cousin,’ eh?”
“I’m sorry, Jimmie, we didn’t know what to say when you showed up,” Karen said.
“Besides that was Sally’s idea,” Mark interjected.
“Well, you look adorable, dear,” Jimmie said. “I’ll be honored to be with you. Sit down both of you.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Jimmie dear,” Karen said, sitting next to him on the bench.
Conversation stalled for a few minutes while the three of them ate their breakfast, before Jimmie broke the silence.
“You really had me fooled, Kenny.”
“Darling, I’m Karen,” she said playing along.
“Of course, Karen, I so wanted that part, dear, and you stole it from me,” Jimmie said.
“No she won it fair and square,” Mark interjected.
“I thought I be a better girl,” Jimmie said. “But I have to admit you’re pretty convincing.”
“She’s more than convincing,” Mark said emphatically. “She’s all female. Well, nearly all.”
They all three laughed. Karen still wondered whether Jimmie was truly satisfied and might try something to sabotage her role. She felt his effusive gushing went over the top and may have been masking his true feelings of hurt and betrayal, feelings that could result in disaster.
*****
“Well, I see we have lost a classmate,” Professor Stanton McIver said as he opened the class. The windows were wide open but the slight breeze hardly did much to allieviate the stifling heat from the classroom. Since the school was located next to Lake Michigan and its usually cool waters helped to cool the buildings, only a few were air-conditioned. McIver like all of the class was in shorts and a tee shirt.
“Mr. Hansson has left us and I see Miss Hansson has joined us,” he said. “Would our new class member rise and introduce herself.”
Karen rose from her seat, gave a slight curtsey, and began:
“Good morning, I’m taking Mr. Hansson’s place. I’m Karen Hansson and I’m pleased to join the class and only hope I am worthy of the trust that Professor McIver has placed in me. I promise to be the best Ophelia I can be.”
Karen curtsied again, and as clapping filled the room, she sat down.
“I’m pleased to see Miss Hansson has understood an actor’s challenge,” McIver continued. “She has realized that she must be Ophelia for the next ten days, and that means she must be in the role 24/7. I applaud you Miss Hansson and to those others of you in this room who also have realized that they must ‘live’ a part in order to play it. Now let’s get to work.”
As class recessed for a break, Jimmie walked by Karen, whispering in her ear, “bitch.” He was gone before she could respond.
*****
“I’m feel bad about Jimmie,” Karen confessed to Carla, as the two sat on a bench during the lunch break.
Carla and Karen left their other friends, who stayed in the air-conditioned cafeteria, and went out into the hot summer heat for a “breath of fresh air,” in Carla’s word, persuading Karen to join her. Carla had noticed Karen’s mood changed after the first class and wondered whether it had anything to do with Jimmie’s comment. At first Karen demurred, saying it was nothing until finally admitting that Jimmie had called her a “bitch.”
“I’m not a bitch, Carla,” Karen said.
“No, you’re not, Karen,” Carla said, taking the other girl’s hand in hers. “You’re the sweetest, most generous person I know, honey.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”
“Really, you are. How could anyone call you a bitch? You gained the part fair and square and if Jimmie doesn’t like it, he can lump it. Everyone thinks you’re perfect for the part. Did you hear the applause you got from the class?”
“That was so nice of everyone,” Karen nodded. “But Jimmie wanted it so bad. I don’t want him to hate me.”
“You’re foolish to think that way, Karen. If you’re going into the theater, you know most people don’t get picked at auditions and fail and fail and fail until finally clicking,” Carla said.
“Do you think he’ll try to hurt me in some way? He’s stronger than I am, I think.”
Carla laughed and said, “We’re all stronger than you are!”
Karen blushed. It was true, she realized, that she had always been so inadequate in sports or anything having to do with muscular strength.
“But don’t worry, Karen,” Carla continued. “You have lots of friends. We’ll look after you.”
That afternoon, Professor McIver announced that several parts would have understudies, adding that he didn’t think they’d be needed, but that it would make for reality and add to the student’s experiences. The one that shocked Karen was the word that Jimmie would understudy the part of Ophelia, meaning that he would be in all the rehearsals, watching Karen as she acted the part.
As the professor made the announcement, Karen looked in Jimmie’s direction, catching his eye and smiling in a friendly way, even though she was fearful of his appointment as understudy. The response she got from the effeminate boy shocked her further: his smile in return seemed to say: “I’ll get you yet.”
Was she right in giving the boy an evil intent through his smile only? Or was she right? She had always been taught to try to be friendly and open with everyone, since she firmly believed most people wanted to be kind and generous in response. In this case, however, she felt a pang of fear about what she saw in Jimmie’s look.
As Mark and she readied themselves for bed that night, she again wearing the lovely nightgown and he in his bikini briefs, she told him of her fears. They cuddled together on Karen’s bunk, which had already seemed to gain a feminine scent, since she had showered with a soft, caressing soap and applied a sweet smelling body lotion. They both lay on their sides, facing each other, trying intently not to escalate into a full-fledged groping and kissing session as they had the previous night. “We need to be professional about this,” Mark had said, and Karen agreed that to get too involved could lead to awful consequences in the future. Back in the minds of both of them, of course, was the fact the Karen was to revert to Kenny after the play, and that there could no longer be a Mark-Karen love relationship.
“That fag!” Mark said, upon hearing about the situation with Jimmie.
“Mark, don’t use that term,” Karen scolded. “You know better.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to get hurt, even by him.”
“Maybe he would have made a better Ophelia,” Karen ventured.
“Don’t be silly, my dear. He’s so over the top in his acting. You are so natural and so fitting of the part, too. Really, you are.”
He leaned over a kissed her gently on the forward, and she began crying, and moving her body tightly against his to receive his comforting hug. They fell asleep in each other’s arms again that night.
'To Be Or Not to Be' -- Part 5
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Chapter 5 — A Tense Situation
Karen thought often in the recent days about her mother, living in Manitowoc, an industrial and port city about 80 miles north of Milwaukee and over 100 miles from St. Albert’s where the summer camp was being held. She, her younger brother, Sonny (baptismal name was Samuel) and her mother lived in a row house on one of the working class neighborhoods. Karen’s father had deserted the family shortly after Sonny’s birth, and was never heard from again.
Her mother struggled to raise the two youngsters, going to nursing school over a six-year period while she worked, leaving the two children with their grandmother. Now, finally, Karen’s mother had found a modicum of prosperity with a regular shift assignment at a Manitowoc hospital, even to help Karen attend the University of Wisconsin. In spite of having no father in the household, Karen felt the family was very close and loving. When she became depressed over her lack of friends, she always knew her mother was around to hug and comfort her. How she hated to become a disappointment to her mother!
Karen called her mother the next day, and her mother was overjoyed to hear from her, but scolded her for not calling more often.
“Oh, mother, we’re so busy up here,” she explained. “It’s hard to find time to call, and I had to borrow one of the girl’s cell phones to call you.”
“It’s OK, darling, but you know your mother cares about you. Now, tell me about the play.”
“Oh mother,” Karen said, growing excited now, and her voice showing its nervousness by rising into a higher register. “It’s going good, and I did get the part of one of the principals.”
“Good, dear. You’re doing ‘Hamlet,’ right?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Don’t tell me you’re Hamlet?” she asked.
Karen giggled. “No, mother. I’m . . . ah . . . ah . . . Ophelia.”
“You’re who? Ophelia? That’s a girl, isn’t it?”
Karen laughed briefly, realizing her mother, who never went to college and — while a smart women in her own right — was unschooled about many things, and may not be aware that Shakespeare used only men as actors in his own plays, even in female parts.
“Well . . . ah . . . ah . . . yes, but as I think I told you in our last call, we’re replicating the old theater of Shakespeare’s time and men played all the parts, even the girl parts.”
The phone went silent for a few moments, and Karen broke the stillness, asking: “You still there, mother?”
“Yes, honey, I am, but I’m just absorbing this in my mind. Your brother will be mortified, I think, when he hears this.”
“Oh, mother, maybe he doesn’t need to know about this,” Karen pleaded.
“How’s he not to know? He’s coming to see the play with me. You know that, dear.”
“I guess, but he’ll just laugh and tease me, I know it. He already makes fun of me ‘cause I’m no good at sports, you know.”
“I’ll talk to him, honey, and prepare him for this,” her mother said. “Now, let me ask you something.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Is this something you really want to do?”
Karen thought for a minute, but she knew the answer right away in her heart. She wanted to be in the play, and she definitely wanted to play Ophelia. Then, she realized, too, that she also desired to be female — a girl — forever.
“Yes, mother, I really want to be in the play and it’ll be fun to play Ophelia.”
“Ok then, honey,” his mother said. “Go for it and as they say, ‘break a leg.’”
“Thanks, mother. I love you.”
“I love you, too, dear.”
“I better go now, mother.”
“Yes, I suppose so; it was so good to hear from you. And, you know you sound so different today on the phone. Every so often I got the distinct feeling that you sounded like a girl, or a young lady.”
Karen giggled audibly.
“What’s so funny, Kenny?” her mother asked, the use of her male name sounding shockingly foreign to her.
“Mother, it’s called ‘method acting,’ which is what Professor McIver is teaching us here. It means we must cultivate a part and actually ‘live in the part’ 24/7 in the rehearsal time leading up to the play. I’m just trying to sound female, that’s all.”
“Well, dear, I think you’re succeeding, but I hope it doesn’t stick with you after the play. I want my son back.”
“Bye mother,” Karen said.
“Ok honey, you be a good boy . . . or should I say good girl?”
“For now, mother, good girl,” Karen said, laughing.
His mother joined in the laughter, and the two ended the call, though Karen felt her mother’s laughter was a bit forced.
Karen breathed a sigh of relief. She was seated on her bed alone in her room, just before resuming afternoon classes, pondering over her mother’s closing comments that she “wants her son back.” She had been so invested in playing the girl’s role since learning of her being named to play Ophelia that she felt she had become indeed female. She loved the feeling; it came so natural to her, and she was so comfortable in the role. Was she not really a girl after all? Was it merely as joke of nature that gave her the physical parts of a boy?
*****
In the meantime, Mark had become consumed with the role of Hamlet and was forever practicing his lines, often working with Karen who would read the parts of the other characters during his recitations.
“You’re lucky, Karen,” he said as they practiced the lines in one of the vacant studios at the college’s music building. “Ophelia has so few lines to say.”
“I know, Mark, but that gives me more time to help you and be with you,” she said, her voice taking on a flirting tone.
“Now don’t distract me or I’ll have to ask Jimmie to read with me,” he said.
“No way. I’ll gouge his eyes out if he even tries it,” she said, giggling.
“Well let’s get started, I need to try that ‘To be or not to be’ soliloquy,” he said. “I’m not happy with it. I have to sound more wimpy I think.”
Karen nodded and added: “Just try it slower, maybe softer, but you’ll need to project your voice at the same time. That’s so hard.”
“You’re such a good helpmate, Karen,” he said smiling.
They spent the time before dinner hour on his lines. It helped Karen, too, since she was beginning to realize, as Professor McIver said in class, that the best actors were also the best listeners. “You have to hear and understand what the other actor is saying so that you can respond more naturally,” he had counseled.
“You know we’re just like an old married couple,” Mark said as the night of the play neared. “Like the great acting team of Lynn Fontanne and Alfred Lunt.”
“I love that image, Mark,” she said, giving him a light kiss on his cheek.
*****
As understudy, Jimmie was also fitted for Ophelia’s outfits; it turned out that he could wear the exact same sizes as Karen. That fact rankled Karen, who had grown to distrust the boy. She looked on with disdain, as she gave over her costume for the fitting, while she donned a pair of shorts and a tank top.
“You still look sexy as hell,” Mark whispered to her as they sat in the wings of the college’s Canterbury Hall auditorium watching Jimmie participate in the run-through for understudies. Their friend, Emily, was understudying Hamlet, which seemed weird, since she was short and diminutive. Fortunately, Jimmie was no taller, so the difference wasn’t noticeable and Emily did a really credible job at portraying the Danish prince.
“Look at her prance about,” Karen said, as they watched Jimmie, who had difficulty in holding back on his overly effeminate actions.
Mark smiled. “Now let’s not be catty!”
Karen blushed. She hated herself when she acted like that, with jealousy. In truth, Jimmie did a passable job as Ophelia, and Karen knew he could easily replace her should she be unable to go on.
“Well, you better hope I don’t get sick or something, or else you’ll have to kiss him, Mark,” she said.
“Hmmmm, that’s all the more reason to protect you, Karen,” Mark said with a smile.
*****
“I love you all,” Karen said exuberantly one evening as she and her four girl friends were gathered in Carla and Mary’s room.
She was totally sincere with her comments. She was totally accepted by all four of them as one of them. No longer was she an oddity, a weird creature, or even a sissy boy. She was a girl and they talked to her as a sister and she responded back, so happy with their company.
It was just two nights before the production would be on stage. As was typical with the summer camp, the community was invited, as were many parents and relatives of the acting company, if they were located within a day’s driving distance. Even so, some parents made cross country trips to see the show and on the following day (graduation) to pick their young gentlemen and ladies up for the return home.
Thus, there was already a tension in the air as the girls gathered, basically beginning to hash out the six-week session. Much of the time was spent discussing the boys the girls might have met; since Mark, Jimmie and Kenny (now Karen) were the only boys among the 12 girls, there wasn’t much to choose from. With Mark obviously becoming the boy friend of Karen, that only left Jimmie, who made no secret of being gay.
“Thank God for the basketball camp or we’d have no men to moon over,” said Mary.
“Yeah, how is it going with that tall blonde boy from Minneapolis?” queried Carla.
“He’s nice, but kinda naíve,” Mary said. “We did have coffee together one day in town, but I think he’s scared of girls.”
Sally giggled. “Maybe he’s just scared of you,” she said, teasing.
“Well, he’s so into basketball, that’s all he talked about. He said both Minnesota and Wisconsin are recruiting him, as well as Gonzaga.”
“So much for jocks,” Emily said. “And we made Karen here so pretty she stole the only man around.”
“Yeah, we’re jealous,” Sally echoed.
Karen reddened. “I really didn’t want that to happen, really. I just thank you all for making me who I am.”
“No, I think you naturally are a girl, Karen,” Carla said. “You just exude femininity. You didn’t need our makeup and clothes to make it come true.”
“I love you all so much,” Karen repeated.
Soon the conversation turned to Jimmie, and his implied threat to Karen.
“Has he done anything to hurt you, Karen?” Mary asked.
“Not yet, or not that I know of,” Karen answered. “I know he did a really good job doing the understudy role the other day.”
“Yeah, he really toned down his faggoty ways,” Mary said. “I didn’t think he could do it.”
“I see he’s been hanging around Janet and Alyssia a lot,” Carla said.
“Those two won’t talk to me,” Karen said. “They were the only ones who were not happy that I got the Ophelia role.”
“Maybe they’re cooking something up yet,” Carla ventured.
“There’s not much time left,” Mary said.
“Well, be careful Karen. I don’t trust him or those two hags he’s hanging around with,” Carla said.
The girls finished by brushing each other’s hair and giggling a bit more about boys. Karen enjoyed the chatter, but didn’t say much, content to muse over how sweet it was to be held by Mark, wondering what they’d do tonight when she returned to their room.
*****
The performance was to be on Friday night, with a simple graduation ceremony scheduled for 11 a.m. on Saturday, so scheduled to permit students to make plane connections or to get home (if driving) before dark that day.
There had been stories in the area newspapers in the days leading up to the event, carrying quotes by Professor McIver that this year’s cast promises to put on the “most exciting and compelling Hamlet” in the 12 years of the summer camp shows he presided over. Even Channel 11, from the nearby major city, came to interview McIver and show snippets from the dress rehearsal, concentrating on the “lovely Ophelia,” played by Kenny Hansson.
The dress rehearsal itself seemed to be full of false starts, accompanied by screaming and yelling from Professor McIver, as the play’s director. Yet, there had been electric scenes between Mark and Karen, as Hamlet and Ophelia, as well as some superb performances by Carla as Polonius and Mary as Gertrude. Karen thought both of the girls gave boffo performances, totally professional in their presentation.
Karen, however, floundered a few times, seeming to pause as if to catch her thoughts; she noticed it, but no one else seemed to. She was told by Professor McIver to constantly think about being a confused young lady and one who was infatuated with Hamlet. It wasn’t hard for her to follow his direction, since she indeed was a confused young lady, as well as being infatuated with Hamlet as played by her real life love, Mark.
Afterwards, belying his loud outbursts during the rehearsal, Professor McIver stood up and applauded the acting group. “You’ll do marvelously tomorrow night,” he said. “I’m proud of you all. Just don’t forget my little hints that I gave you and you’ll do fine.”
The dress rehearsal didn’t end until 10 p.m. and the cast was tired from the long day of work. Karen and Mark returned to their room and prepared for bed, too tired to do much more than take quick showers and get ready for bed.
In spite of her fatigue, Karen was tense and had trouble getting to sleep, worrying about flubbing her lines in the performance, and even more concerned about the reactions of her mother and brother, who would see her for the first time dressed as a girl. The fact that she had become such a convincing girl both pleased her and frightened her. How could she ever return to a boy’s life again?
“Mark,” she whispered after the two had turned off the lights and retired to their own bunks. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes. Can’t you sleep either?”
“No honey. Can I join you? I need to feel your arms around me.”
“Oh yes, I’d love that, but I thought we pledged not to get in bed together.”
“I know,” she said in a weak, soft voice. “But I need you. Let me snuggle up to you.”
“No,” he said. “Let me come and join you. I prefer the scent of your sheets, ‘cause they smell so much of you.”
Karen giggled, and soon the two were together, her tender slender body nestled tightly against his, looking into his face that was slightly illuminated by the campus lights from outside.
“Mark, I love you so,” she said.
“Oh Karen, I’ve never loved anyone as much, too.”
“Is this for real?”
“For now, my sweet girl, it’s for real,” he said.
“I wish it was forever,” she said.
“Me too, but let’s enjoy it now.”
“Can’t it be forever, Mark?”
“I wished it could, but Saturday we’ll separate and go our different ways, never to see each other.”
“We can still communicate, honey,” she said. “The Internet, the phone and mail.”
“It won’t be the same, since you’ll be Kenny again, and I’m in love with Karen.”
“I am Karen,” she said. But she knew it was over on Saturday; Karen would no longer exist. She began to cry.
He drew her more closely to him, and she buried her head onto his hard chest, and he gently patted her as her body began shaking slowly as she cried. He held her more tightly, letting her cry and soon his caresses brought comfort to her. She felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. The two soon fell asleep.
*****
Professor McIver told the cast to sleep in Friday morning; he got the cafeteria to schedule a brunch for them at 11 a.m., following a 10 a.m. “call,” in which he finished blocking out the stage and going over a few rough spots from the dress rehearsal.
He also scheduled a supper in the cafeteria for 5 p.m. for the cast, and said there would be room for parents or other guests, but he needed an indication of the numbers that would attend so that the food could be ready. Karen said her mother and brother could not be there in time for dinner, since her mother had to work and they promised to snack on the way to the school.
“Your guests will be able to eat as much as they like, but since you’re all going to be on stage, please don’t eat much,” Professor McIver said. “Just take enough to give yourself some energy and rid your hunger pangs. Ok?”
After the play, a reception was scheduled for the President’s Lounge for the cast and their guests.
The afternoon was free, he announced, although several of the girls, including Karen and Mary, were scheduled to visit a hair salon in town to get their hair fixed for the performance.
One thing bothered Karen; in the morning rehearsal, she saw Jimmie being fitted for a female wig, similar in the style that would match how Karen was to have her hair fixed. “What’s that for?” she asked Carla.
“Oh Jimmie convinced McIver that he needed to be fully prepared in case something would happen to you,” Carla said.
“What’s going to happen? I feel fine.”
“I heard Jimmie whining to McIver that he needed the wig, and since they had some wigs in the theater department I guess McIver said to go ahead and fit him. What a fag?”
Karen thought for a minute. “This is serious, Carla. I think he’s planning something.”
“Like what it’s just a few hours before the show.”
“I know, but . . .” Karen let the words fade away.
“Just watch your step, Karen,” Carla said. “Now let’s go get brunch.”
*****
The trip to the salon took Karen’s mind off the pre-play jitters she was having. She cursed herself for agreeing to be Ophelia, and wished she had only a minor part. “I’ll never do this again,” she muttered to herself several times that afternoon. “I’ll fail so badly on stage tonight,” she said, quickly countering that with a thought that said: “No I won’t, I’ll be a big hit.”
Mark tried to comfort her several times, but truth be told, he too was jittery, asking: “Do all actors go through this?”
“I’m told the good ones do, Mark.”
“Well the way we feel, we’ll be terrific.”
The two laughed, easing the tension for a while. They had entered the cafeteria for the scheduled late afternoon light meal for the student cast. As they entered, the other students stood up and applauded, hooting and whistling and clapping their hands.
Karen, taken aback, froze in her tracks, grabbing Mark’s hand to stop him from walking. He leaned over and whispered: “They’re cheering us, we better bow or something.”
Karen recovered her composure, and gave a long, sweet curtsey, while Mark, taking the cue, bowed. There was even more applause that followed. Professor McIver approached them leading them to a spot at his cafeteria table. He silenced the students finally, stating:
“Actors, now that our lead cast is here, we can all commence having our light supper.”
“It feels more like our last supper,” cracked Carla.
Nervous laughter broke out.
“Good,” Professor McIver said. “You should all be a bit tense. That’s only natural. Just eat lightly and I’m sure you’ll be rewarded with a great feast at the cast party afterward.”
At that moment, Karen saw Jimmie enter, apologizing for being late. He swished in, making what appeared to Karen to be a purposeful “late entrance” so as to be noticed. Flamboyant as usual, he was dressed in what appeared to be a light blouse with ruffles and girlish shorts, with ballet slippers. He had pink barrettes in his longish light brown hair. As he sashayed past Karen to a spot at an adjoining table, she swore she caught a whiff of perfume.
“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Mark whispered to Karen. “I hope he doesn’t think he’s still going to be Ophelia.”
“I feel like gouging his eyes out with my fingernails,” Karen said, drawing a light chuckle from Mark.
That the actors were nervous was obvious, for there was little conversation going on, each student toying with the supper of greens and cheeses and lunch meat and occupied with their own private terrors about the stage performance to begin in just about two hours. Meanwhile, several of the actors were joined by family members, who seemed to be as tense about the play as their actor children.
A young male student entered the cafeteria, in an obvious rush, and looked about the room, and finally settled his gaze upon Professor McIver. Karen watched as he rushed over to the professor, handed him a note and whispered something. She heard the professor say: “I’ll take care of it. Tell the dean I’ll send him right over.”
The professor motioned to Karen to leave the table and join him in the hall. “I have to tell you something privately.”
“Can Mark come to?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said.
The two followed the professor to the hallway and he said that the dean of the summer school program needed to see Kenny Hansson immediately, and that it was serious.
“My mother?” Karen asked spontaneously.
“He just said it was serious and Mark you can go. I know you two have become close friends. Do you know where the dean’s office is?”
Mark nodded and assured the professor that he’d get Karen over to the dean’s office immediately.
Karen felt a new tension, replacing the stage fright that had consumed her for the last several hours. Had something happened to her mother or her brother? Had there been a tragedy? Or, did the school think it was wrong to cast a boy to play Ophelia, that it had offended the area church people? What was so serious? She grabbed Mark’s hand, holding it even more tightly; he responded by placing his other hand on her arm, and gently massaging it, hoping to calm down her fears. She loved this man so much.
Only Mark’s presence provided any comfort, and Karen held more tightly onto the young man’s hand as they entered the administration, uncertain of what the nature of the important meeting with the dean.
The dean of summer school, Father Warren Fielding, was a Roman Catholic priest, who also was dressed casually reflecting the warmth of the day. He was a tall, graying man of about 50 and he wore light jogger’s pants and a green tee-shirt that proclaimed “Property of the Green Bay Packers.” Karen felt this man was out-of-place for a college dean; shouldn’t he be in a dark suit and string tie?
“Sit down both of you,” he ordered. The man also seemed tense and nervous.
Addressing Mark, he began: “Kenny, I have some bad news for you. I’m glad you brought your girl friend along. Is she you’re girl friend and do you want her here?”
Mark didn’t answer, too astounded to know what to say.
“I’m Kenny Hansson, father,” Karen finally said. “I’m acting like a girl just for this play. You know Professor McIver teaches the ‘method’ and we’re supposed to be in the role, even in our time off-stage.” She realized she was tripping over the words, so tense was she; she even recognized how high her voice had become, due as much to the fear she now carried within herself.
“Oh my, you fooled me my dear. You are a mighty fine actor, I must say.”
“Thank you sir, but Mark is my roommate here and we’ve become good friends. I’d like him to stay.”
It took Father Fielding a moment to regain his composure.
“Look dear,” he began, his tone seeming to indicate he was addressing a young lady. “There’s no easy way to say this, but we’ve just heard from the Racine County sheriff’s department that your mother and a young lad were injured in a traffic accident on I-94 and have been rushed to a Racine hospital.”
“What?” Karen sat dumbfounded.
“That’s all we know,” Father Fielding said. “But the call was taken by my office secretary just a few minutes ago and she said the deputy urged them to keep you close to the phone that he’d call back with details.”
“How badly hurt were they?” Mark said, taking a matter-of-the-fact tone of voice.
“I’m sorry the deputy didn’t say, but it must have been bad enough for them to require hospital care.”
Karen finally broke down and began sobbing, and Father Fielding nodded to Mark, adding, “It’s Ok if you want to hug her, young man.”
Mark got up and squeezed into the chair next to Karen, hugging her gently, stroking the hair on her head.
“Can I help you in anyway, dear?” Father Fielding said, having already seemed to accept the young person seated before him as a girl.
Karen felt comforted in Mark’s arms, and her sobs soon ended. She sensed his manly body odor as she laid her head against his chest, realizing the two of them soon had to ready themselves for the play; they both needed showers and a makeup session. Yes, what about the play? The play must go on!
After a few minutes, Professor McIver entered the room, having been briefed on the situation by Father Fielding in the hallway.
The professor kneeled before her, taking her hands in his. “Karen, you supposed to wait here for a call; it sounds as if they may want you to go up to Racine to see your mother and brother, and Father Fielding said he’d be glad to drive you there.”
“But the play . . .” Karen began.
“The play be damned,” McIver said. “Your family comes first, honey.”
“But who’ll be Ophelia?”
“Your understudy, Jimmie. He’s perfectly adequate.”
“But he’s so flamboyant,” Karen protested.
“I know, but he’ll be Ok for the night,” the professor assured her. “And Mark you better get yourself ready for the play, since I’m not sure your understudy can handle the part yet.”
Mark protested that Karen needed him (which she did!), but she responded that he should do the play. Father Fielding would help her if she needed anything. Mark finally agreed, arising, kissing Karen warmly and giving her a long hug before leaving with Professor McIver. She began to sob again, as he left the room. She felt so alone, but she knew it was the right thing to do.
'To Be Or Not to Be' -- Part 6
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Chapter 6 — The Curtain Call
Twenty minutes later, there still had been no return call from the Racine County sheriff’s department, and Father Fielding called the department directly, inquiring if they knew anything new.
Yes, the department told him, there had been a serious accident on I-94 and three people had been conveyed to Racine St. Luke’s Hospital. No, he couldn’t verify the names, but when Father Fielding asked if they were named “Hansson,” he said, “No, they were all either Hispanic or African-American, father, and none by the name of ‘Hansson.’”
“Really, but we had a call from your department.”
“No, I would have been the one who called, and it wasn’t me, father. I’m sorry.”
When the dean hung up, he said to Karen: “That’s odd. They said there was an accident on I-94, but the injured probably weren’t your mother or brother.”
“What? Why would they have called?” Karen asked.
“Who knows? Let me call my assistant in. She got the call, and she’s still here.”
Ms. Landingham was a tall, somber looking woman with short grey hair. She walked erect and purposefully into the office.
“Grace,” Father Fielding began, his voice soft and gently. “That call from Racine? Did it sound authentic to you?”
“I thought so,” she said. “He said his name was Deputy Wills and reported the accident in a very official manner. He was courteous and direct. Then he hung up after telling me to keep Mr. Hansson in your office for a return call.”
“Hmmm, did anything else strike you about the call, Grace?”
The woman thought for a moment and then said: “Yes, there was one thing. His voice was . . . ah . . . how should I say it? . . . well, it was effeminate, which I thought was weird for a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Effeminate? That is odd,” the priest said. “Thanks, Grace. You may leave now. And have a good weekend dear. I think it’ll be another hot one.”
“Thank you father,” she said. “I’ll be at mass Sunday with mother.”
“Bless you dear.”
“She’s a very loyal person and really very sweet,” the priest said to Karen after the assistant left. “Some people think she’d an old sourpuss, but even she cried a bit when she got the call earlier.”
Karen was silent, wondering whether to say anything. That the voice sounded “effeminate” seemed to indicate the caller might have been Jimmie. Was the whole thing a hoax, perpetrated by Jimmie just to play a part in a summer camp play? Even Jimmie wouldn’t do such a cruel thing.
“Well, I guess we better wait it out a bit,” the priest said finally. “Could I get you anything, dear?”
“Maybe just a diet coke, father.”
Father Fielding left the room, and while he was gone, she got up and began looking out the window. Her mind wandered as she looked out upon a lovely green, wooded campus. The rains in early June had been heavy, followed by unusual heat and everything had blossomed into lush, warm colors, which sparkled against a totally blue sky. Karen loved this time of the year: no wonder so many brides chose June for their wedding dates! She dreamed of a lovely June wedding, maybe at this same campus, presided over by Father Fielding with the groom being Mark Hamilton, of course. And she’d be Mrs. Mark Hamilton. It was an intoxicating feeling.
“Karen, you’re the most beautiful bride we’ve ever seen in the college chapel,” she dreamed hearing Father Fielding say at the ceremony.
As lovely thoughts filled her head, momentarily erasing the pain of what may be serious injury to her mother and brother (or even death), she continued to gaze out upon the campus. Cars were beginning to arrive and park at the auditorium lot in the distance.
She looked at the Father Fielding’s desk clock, which read 6:04, nearly an hour since she was summoned from her supper to the dean’s office. She realized that Jimmie right now would be in makeup, and soon would be wearing the same outfit she was supposed to wear that night. He would go on in her place, and he would be kissing Mark on stage, not herself. The thought depressed her.
A golden-colored car approached the school lot, appearing uncertain where to go. Karen looked closely at it. It was a Caliber, the same make and color as her mother’s car; there weren’t too many Calibers on the roads, especially of that gold color. Could that be her mother’s car? There appeared to be two people in the car, which soon found its way into the parking lot.
“It’s mother and Sonny,” she exclaimed outloud, using her 15-year-old brother’s name.
She bounded out of the room, bumping into Father Fielding, carrying two cans of Coke; he stopped her flight.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I think my mother and brother just drove in. They’re alive.”
“Hold on a minute,” he said. “I just talked with Professor McIver. We’re sure the call was a hoax and he still wants you to go on and play Ophelia. There’s time if you hurry. Describe your mother’s car to me and I’ll greet them and tell them the play may start a bit late, but that you’re going on and will be a star.”
“But, how do you know it’s a hoax, and maybe that car isn’t my mom’s but just looks like it?”
“Because when I told McIver that the caller was effeminate, he immediately felt it might have been your understudy, Jimmie.”
“Really?”
“Yes, dear, and when he confronted Jimmie, the boy eventually broke down and said he worked so hard to be Ophelia, he just felt the part should be his. The professor suspended Jimmie from the play and your friend Sally will portray Laertes. Now hurry, you need to get made up and costumed. I’ll look forward to seeing you, and I’m sure your mother and brother will be proud.”
Karen shook her head. “My mom might, but not my little brother. He’ll be shocked.”
“Go now Karen, and break a leg.”
*****
Karen rushed over to the auditorium, and as she approached the dressing rooms in the back of the thater, she heard the loud sobs coming from the room she had been assigned. She knew it must have been Jimmie lamenting that he was being denied the part he had worked so hard for.
“But I looked so pretty in the dress,” he wailed.
“Now finish up here, now,” came the insistent voice of Professor McIver. “You’re done in my class and the sooner you get off this campus the better.”
“But my mom and dad came all the way from Pittsburgh to see me,” he complained, obviously speaking through tears.
“You should have thought of that before pulling this cruel hoax. How could you do such a thing? Karen doesn’t deserve that.”
Karen stood outside the door, hearing this scene, almost beginning to feel sorry for Jimmie. He had worked hard to the part, Karen knew, and really was quite credible as Ophelia. It must be devastating for him, she thought.
Without thinking, she barged into the room, screaming, “Professor, professor, let him stay and play Laertes. Jimmie did work hard for the part. And his parents are here.”
Professor McIver looked at her incredulously.
“Are you serious, Karen?” he said. “After what he did to you. Putting you through all this pain and uncertainty.”
“Yes, professor. Jimmie shouldn’t have played this trick, but don’t deprive him now.”
“You’re sure Karen?” Professor McIver persisted.
“Sure, I am,” Karen said, her expression totally serious. “Besides, I’m not sure Sally knows all the Laertes lines anyway.”
“I can coach her from the wings,” he said. “My inclination is to throw Jimmie out right now.”
Jimmie’s sobbing grew louder. Karen thought he looked terribly pathetic, but wasn’t quite sure if he wasn’t play-acting a bit. He was also so over-the-top in his demeanor.
“Now get up, Jimmie,” Karen said, suddenly taking command of the situation. The boy’s whining sobs were beginning to get on Karen’s nerves; she had been the aggrieved party here and yet she was playing a forgiveness role.
The boy got up, and accepted Karen’s hugs, blubbering lines that sounded like an apology. Finally Karen said, “Jimmie, just get out of my outfit. I need to get dressed. And you need to become Laertes.”
“Oh Kenny,” Jimmie gushed, “You’re so sweet. I love you.”
“Remember, I’m Karen,” she said. “Now hurry.”
Jimmie’s sobbing stopped almost instantly, reinforcing Karen’s belief that the boy was merely play-acting and may not have been as apologetic for his actions as he pretended to be. Was she a fool for her easy forgiveness of his action? Probably, but she knew she rarely could hold a grudge. Mark had noticed the trait, teasing her that she was more a “lover than a fighter.”
*****
She loved the Ophelia costume they had found in the theater’s costume room. It was a full-length gown, with a cloth-belted waist from which flowed folds of light diaphanous cream colored material. The upper part included elbow-length sleeves of lace material and a halter design across the bosom, with a high neckline trimmed in lace.
“It makes me feel so much like a lady,” she said to the young high school girl who was helping her dress. The theater department had incorporated a summer camp program for high schoolers into the program.
“Oh Miss Karen,” the girl said. “You look so dainty and fragile in this outfit.”
“Thank you, honey. That’s how I’m supposed to look, dainty and fragile.”
The girl helped her brush her hair so that the blonde tresses flowed freely as she walked or turned her head. When the costuming was completed, Karen walked about, viewing herself in the full-length mirror.
“Are you really a boy?” the girl asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I can’t believe it, Miss Karen. You’re really so beautiful and, if you don’t mind me saying so, so feminine.”
“Underneath all this,” Karen replied. “I’m a boy, but right now I feel I really must be a girl.”
“Well, if my boy friend saw you, I think he’d fall in love. Even when you were dressed only in your undies you looked more like a girl,” the teenager said.
Karen blushed, and then gave the girl a quick kiss. “You’re a sweetheart, honey, and don’t worry, I already have a boy friend.”
Just then, the door burst open. It was Professor McIver.
“Good, you’re all set, and we’re only five minutes late,” he said.
“I’m coming then.”
“Break a leg Miss Karen,” the high school girl said.
*****
Though the part of Ophelia does not involve many scenes of the play, it is a difficult part, since Ophelia must be a love-struck teenage girl who slowly becomes crazed, depressed and ultimately suicidal. Karen had viewed the films as various great actresses — like Vivien Leigh and Jean Simmons -- had played the part, but still felt she had to express the role with her own feelings.
To be sure, she had her own depressions. She felt she was a girl; yet, she still had the body parts of a boy. And she often cried at night over this dichotomy. She was so confused. And she was lovestruck, as Ophelia was with Hamlet, whom had seemingly rejected her. Karen was love struck with Mark, the muscular boy with whom she had shared her bed but in reality could never truly become her lover.
She had indeed become Ophelia, young and tender, sweet and vulnerable, crazed and suicidal. And all of that came out on stage that night in the auditorium. It became so easy, too, she discovered as the play progressed because her partner, Mark, portrayed his part so terribly believably. She began thinking Mark’s growing disdain for her (in his part as Hamlet) was real, and it did indeed crazed her, helping her to put great feeling into her scenes.
Karen lost herself in her role, creating a tension that communicated itself to the audience that appeared to sit in rapt attention through the critical scenes. Even in the end, Karen as Ophelia could only be seen as a tragic symbol of feminine vulnerability.
The curtain went down to enthusiastic applause, and, of course, with a standing ovation. It was only as Karen was taking her bows that she finally saw her mother, smiling broadly from a 5th row seat, and her brother scowling from a seat next to her. She saw her mother blow her a kiss, and Karen ran off the stage beginning to cry. She was brought on for a second set of bows.
“You took their breath away, honey,” Professor McIver whispered in her ear as he ushered her out to the second bow. “You played that part with as much feeling as I’ve ever seen any actress play it.”
Tears ran down her face in the bow, which she cut short, by running to the wings and bringing Mark out to share the bows with her. After all, Karen realized, it was his firm acting that helped her be so realistic in the part. It was at this point one of the high school boy actors who had served the cast rushed out with a bouquet of flowers, handing them to Karen. She took them, holding them proudly to her breast, as she curtsied and tears of joy began to run down her face. Mark bowed to more applause, and then on impulse, Karen grabbed Mark and kissed him firmly and meaningfully on the lips. He accepted the kiss with passion and hugged her, partially crushing the flowers. Truth be told they held the kiss and hug longer than was warranted, but the audience loved it. Karen and Mark charged off the stage hand-in-hand, and the curtain went down for a final time, the applause finally ending. It had been a triumphant night for a lovely girl and her strong young lover.
*****
Since they were unable to meet before the performance, Karen was both anxious and fearful about meeting her mother and Sonny, her brother. They had never before seen her in female outfits, or made up as a girl. She wondered if she should return to her boy mode to greet them, but in fact she had no boy clothes handy; they were all back in the dormitory room. All she had to wear were the girly shorts, sandals, camisole and light wrap that she had on when she was summoned to the dean’s office.
“Well, that will have to do,” she told herself.
Karen shared the dressing room with several other girls and they were all hurrying to leave to greet their own families. Mark told her in the wings at one point that his parents and brother were there and were eager to meet Karen, since he had let out that he had grown fond of the girl. “Why don’t you and your mom and brother join us afterward at the reception?” he asked.
“I’ll see what mom wants to do,” she answered. Then realizing that Mark wanted her to remain as Karen. “You want me as Karen?”
“Yes, but don’t let on that we’re roommates or that you’re supposed to be a boy,” he said.
“What did you tell them?”
“They think we’re an item, a boy-girl thing.”
“Oh my God,” was Karen’s only reaction.
*****
She finally found her mother and brother on the steps of the auditorium, enjoying the coolness of a summer night in Wisconsin. There, all of the families of the cast members lingered before heading for the reception.
“Mother,” Karen said. “Here I am.”
Before her mother could say anything, Karen rushed up and hugged her, giving her a kiss; she tried to do the same to her brother, but her shied away as if it would be distasteful.
“Kenny?” his mother queried.
“Yes, but call me Karen for tonight.”
“What happened to my son? I thought you dressed up only for the play.”
“Well, I did, but Professor McIver wanted us to really live our parts for the weeks we were here, and since I had a girl’s role, I had to dress and be like a girl.”
Her mother shook her head, finally muttering, “The play’s over. Why not go back to being Kenny?”
“I always thought I had a fag brother,” Sonny said. “Now I know it.”
“Don’t say that word, Sonny,” their mother said. “That’s not nice and Kenny’s no fag.”
“Yeah, what’s with you anyway?” Sonny continued, looking at Karen. “You really do look like a girl now. God what will Brian and my friends say?” Sonny was referring to one of his roughneck friends.
“Don’t worry about that, Sonny,” their mother said. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I must say if I had a daughter, I’d sure want her to be as pretty as this girl standing before me.”
Just then, Jimmie and his parents came up, and Jimmie introduced them, saying, “Karen played that part with such passion, and she will always remain in my thoughts. She’s most special. I love her.”
The two families exchanged pleasantries, with Jimmie’s father commenting about Karen, “You were exceptional, my dear young lady. I wished Jimmie could have a girl friend like you.”
“Oh dad,” Jimmie protested. “Karen has a boy friend.”
Jimmie’s dad addressed Karen’s mother, “I wish Jimmie would find an interest in girls.”
“Come on, dad,” Jimmie said.
With that they turned to leave, but Jimmie spoke softly to Karen, “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, Karen. I didn’t know I could be so cruel. Thank you for forgiving me. I shall never forget it.”
“The incident is forgotten, Jimmie, but if you try, I know you can be a sweet and generous person,” Karen said, giving him a parting kiss on the cheek.
*****
Mark waved at Karen and her family as they entered the reception. He was seated at a round table with his family and it was obvious they were saving three seats at the table for Karen and her mother and brother.
“For some reason, Mark hasn’t told his family that I’m a boy, so don’t say anything,” Karen told her mother and brother as they approached the table.
“That’s sick,” said Sonny. “What are you? His girl friend?”
“Sort of,” Karen said.
“Sort of? What’s that mean?” Her mother seemed perplexed.
Karen didn’t have to answer, since Mark directed the family to the table, holding a spot next to his own for Karen, giving her a hug and kiss as she came near.
“Yucky,” said Sonny aloud.
“Yeh, yucky,” agreed a boy about Sonny’s middle school age sitting at the table. It was obviously Mark’s younger brother.
Mark held the chair in a gentlemanly fashion as Karen sat down.
“This is Karen and her mom and brother,” he announced to his family.
Greetings were exchanged all around. Mr. Hamilton was a burly man who had once worked in Milwaukee’s breweries and since had become a successful tavern owner and restaurateur. He had the same athletic body that Mark had, although he had developed a bit of a belly; his mother was a tallish blonde woman who maintained a curvy figure in spite of being a bit overweight.
“So this is the lovely lady we’ve been hearing about?” Mark’s father said.
Karen nodded in acceptance.
“You did a remarkable performance, young lady,” his mother said. “I felt tears coming to my eyes in the suicide scene.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton,” Karen said. “But lots of the credit should go to Mark for helping to bring the emotion out of me.”
“No dear, you did it all yourself, Karen,” Mark protested.
Karen looked over to see her brother whispering something conspiratorially to Mark’s younger brother. They both seemed to have a sour look on their faces. Karen’s mother noticed the same and suggested the two boys go off and find something to eat and drink. “It’s good they’re about the same age,” she said as they were gone.
“Yeah, we had to drag Billy to join us tonight, thinking he’d be bored,” Mrs. Hamilton said.
“I thought I’d be bored, too,” Mr. Hamilton said. “But I found the way they presented the play to make it so exciting and understandable.”
“Your daughter, Mrs. Hansson, was just terrific,” Mark’s mother said.
Cecelia Hansson smiled, nodded her head, and said, “Yes . . . ah . . . she was.”
It seemed to Karen that her mother struggled with the answer, as if the pronoun “she” was foreign to her lips.
“Is she going to study acting in college, Mrs. Hansson?” the other woman said.
“Call me Ceci, please,” Karen’s mother replied. “I’m not sure what Ke - - - Karen is going to finish up in; she’s got a partial scholarship and will just begin in liberal studies, I guess. How about your Mark?”
“Oh mother,” Karen interrupted. “You know I’m interested in teaching English or theater.”
“Yes, dear, but I also knew you had an interest in economics, and just think of all the money on Wall Street.”
“Mother,” Karen argued. “I am interested in economics, but not to work on Wall Street. I feel economics should be used to help ordinary people and the poor.”
“Oh dear, you’re such an idealist.”
“I think that’s commendable, Karen, either teaching or working for the poor,” Mrs. Hamilton said.
“As far as Mark,” the woman continued. “You’ve got a football scholarship awaiting at Iowa State, right, Mark?”
“Football,” Karen exploded, turning toward Mark. “You never told me about that!”
It was true, Karen had remarked upon Mark’s muscular body when the first met, and had asked then if he played football. All the boy had said then was, “I play a little. It’s not much.”
“I told you I played football,” he said.
“Not that you’re so good you’ve got a scholarship,” Karen said, showing a hurt expression. “And, you’re going to Iowa State. That’s a million miles away.”
“No it’s not,” Mark said. “It’s in Ames, about six hours from Milwaukee.”
“But still so far,” Karen said.
Mark’s father had been watching this exchange. Karen felt terribly uneasy under his gaze; it wasn’t that he suspected that Karen may not be the girl she appears. It was something, as if he disapproved of Mark having a girl friend, and perhaps even being in the summer camp.
“He’s going to play football, miss,” Mark’s father said. “And he’ll have no time for girl friends hundreds of miles away, no matter how cute they are.”
“Clarence, that’s enough,” Mark’s mother interceded.
“I didn’t like the idea of this acting business anyway,” the father said. “Just a bunch of fairies and fags.”
“Clarence! Stop it, you’re embarrassing us all.”
“Dad,” Mark said, raising his voice. “I know it’ll be all football at Ames, but I also love acting. You saw the way the audience liked it. Why can’t I do both?”
“Because it’ll distract you, son. If you’re going to be an All-American tight end, you’re going to have to work.”
“Dad, I’m not All-American material,” Mark said, with a hint of tears showing in his eye.
“You could be if you concentrated more on football, and less on this girly stuff, you could be. You got all the tools.”
“Now Clarence,” his wife said again. “I must really apologize Mrs. Hansson, Karen and your brother. Clarence doesn’t mean all this, he just wants the best for Mark.”
Mark’s father stood up and announced. “I’m going out for a smoke.” With that he left abruptly.
*****
As the evening wore on, Mark and Karen finally separated from the group, moving out onto a terrace where an already full moon had blanketed the mainly darkened campus. The pair sat on a stone balustrade, and Karen desperately wanted Mark to hold her hand, look into her eyes and tell her of his everlasting love. Yet, he sat strangely silent, almost preoccupied and as if he didn’t know she was seated next to him.
“What’s wrong, darling? Something’s bothering you,” she queried.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, refusing to look her into her eyes.
He shifted his body so that he no longer was facing her. Karen knew something was wrong.
“You were so marvelous tonight, Mark. You should be so happy.”
“Thank you,” he said flatly. “You were a real hit, too.”
“But what’s worrying you?”
“I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. We better get back inside.”
“Why? Our brothers seem to be having a great time and our parents are lingering over coffee.”
“Let’s just go back inside,” he said, arising but failing to take her hand and assist her down from their perch.
“Stop, Mark. Tell me what you’re thinking. This is our last night here,” she demanded.
“Stop nagging me. I’m going in with or without you.” His voice was stern, almost angry.
“Mark,” she yelled. “Stop now! I know what’s bothering you. You haven’t told your parents the truth about me, have you?” Karen asked.
He stopped in his tracks, looking back at her, saying: “Keep your voice down.”
“They’ll have to find out eventually. Didn’t they see the program? It lists Ophelia as being played by Kenny Hansson.”
Mark looked sheepish. “Oh that. I just told them it was a typo in the program.”
Karen was shocked. “Why did you do that? Didn’t they know that we were doing only what Shakespeare did in his time and sometimes boys played girl parts?”
“Oh it just happened.”
“Just happened? It’s a lie.”
Mark was silent for a moment, trying to change the subject by suggesting they go back to the food table for seconds in desserts. Karen refused to move.
Finally Mark explained. “Well it happened this way? Mom asked me if I had made any good friends at camp, and I told her yes and that it was the person who played Ophelia. She just assumed it would be a girl, I guess.”
“You could have set her straight.”
“Then they saw this lovely girl on stage and afterward my mother noticed how affectionate we were in taking our bows and said it looked like I had a girl friend. How could I tell them you’re a boy?”
“But what happens now?” Karen asked. “I’ll have to change into my boy stuff after tonight. And I’ll be Kenny again.”
At that moment, it dawned on her. Mark was planning never to see her again; they would return to their homes, Mark to Milwaukee and football and Karen to Manitowoc. They would be separated by about 80 miles and soon would be even further apart, as Mark would choose Iowa State and football, while she’d be at the University of Wisconsin. No doubt, they would lose touch with each other. As a football hero, he’d have lots of pretty girls.
Mark just treated her as a six-week fascination; certainly he didn’t view Karen as a real girl and a real lover. She was nothing but an oddity, a strange freak of nature. She began to cry, realizing that her days as Karen were ending … the happiest days of her life would be a memory and would live inside her like a Shakespearean tragedy. Also ending would be laying in the warm comfort of Mark’s strong, loving arms, of feeling his muscular chest beating as she laid her head upon it and of being a soft, sweet defenseless girl.
“I have to go now,” Mark said abruptly. “My parents are leaving and I have to say good bye. Maybe I’ll see you back in the room.”
“Oh Mark don’t leave me.”
Mark said nothing. He turned, said not a word more, and walked off to meet his parents. She stood with tears in her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t even see Mark at the graduation ceremony, since his parents had to get back to Milwaukee.
She remembered the passion Mark had put into the famed “To be or not to be . . .” soliloquy, and how she had remained on stage during that scene in Act III, Scene 1, seated in adoring affection for the handsome young man. And then she recalled how convincingly Mark played what follows in the play: Hamlet’s cruel rejection of Ophelia’s love. Hamlet has blamed Ophelia’s beauty for undercutting “honesty,”
HAMLET. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
OPHELIA. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
HAMLET. You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.
OPHELIA. I was the more deceived.
HAMLET. Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?
Mark had played Hamlet to show outright cruelty, something she never thought he had the capability of showing. He had always been so kind and sweet. Was that the real Mark showing? She had tried to act out Ophelia’s depression at this rejection, and according to everyone she had succeeded.
“Get thee to a nunnery!” Such haunting words, such heartless utterances, such finality.
She had performed Ophelia’s depressed and crazed state on stage; she had drowned herself in despair in Shakespeare’s play. Karen knew how Ophelia could bring herself to pass into peaceful oblivion. Her Hamlet was gone! Karen wondered, was hers to be the fate of the crazed beauty Ophelia, or would her Hamlet once again welcome her into his arms?