Smoke Valley Ranch was a place for people to get away from things. For me, it was a place to get away from boyhood.
I’ve got to put it all down while it’s still fresh; otherwise I might forget the sequence of events, and everything moved pretty fast. Once I started the diary, it was easier, but what happened that brought me to finding the diary? I want to move forward with my life, and not dwell on the past, but it’s important to remember the past–sort it out and put it into perspective–and then move on.
Our apartment building caught fire. Some kids in one of the units had a party that got out of hand, and the whole building went up. Mom woke me up, screaming and coughing, and threw a robe at me that she’d soaked in the bathtub. We crawled along the floor, the black smoke billowing and darkening, then the lights blew out and Mom shrieked. I was behind her, so I came up and gave her a quick hug and told her to follow. I’d seen the doorway just before the lights blew, so she held onto the sash of my robe and we crawled. Suddenly, I didn’t feel the tug of the sash; it was there one moment and gone the next. I turned and headed back, shouting ‘Mom!’ just as a bright light behind me flared and I passed out.
The bright light was from the firemen kicking the door in; they got me out first and took longer to find Mom. She was in a real bad way; some burning curtains had fallen and she’d thrown herself onto me to protect me and had been badly burned in the folds of the curtains, as well as having smoke inhalation, as I did. I sat on a bench in an ambulance, breathing through an oxygen mask, while they moved her stretcher in, and we took off for the hospital.
I passed out again, either from smoke or fatigue, and it was the next day that doctors spoke with me. Mom was in Intensive Care, in the Burn Ward, and they didn’t know how she’d do. I was in pretty good shape; they praised Mom’s quick thinking and the wet bathrobe for saving me and, hopefully, us. Things got blurry for awhile; there were so many people brought in from our apartment fire that I kind of got lost in the shuffle, sitting up in a bed and worrying about my mother while I half-way watched daytime TV, eating bland food and smelling and tasting nothing but smoke.
There was some confusion about me at first, because Mom and I have different last names. Her last name is Kenyon, and mine is Jamison. She had a teaching career under her maiden name and kept it, which turned out well when my father walked out on us. However, my birth certificate had his last name, and every year we’d have to sort things out with my schools.
The other confusion about me was … well, me. I overheard one of the nurses joking that they didn’t know at first if I was a boy or a girl. It had been Mom’s old pink bathrobe, and with my small figure and long hair … well, they were confused. I get that a lot; when I was younger everybody assumed I was a girl. Even my body seemed to assume things; I was by far the smallest boy at school, even smaller than some of the girls. And there were other things about me that weren’t like a boy; my chest was getting puffy and I seemed to cry a lot lately. I used to get angry about it, but then I began wondering if maybe I was being pointed in a direction I hadn’t thought about, at least not consciously. Maybe there was something going on that was unconscious, or subconscious. Maybe my body just had a mind of its own.
The next couple of days were full of tests and mostly boredom. Either way, the days were better than the nights. I had nightmares of fire, and being trapped, and woke screaming several times. They sedated me halfway through the first night and all through the second, but I still slept very badly. After the third day, the hospital suits and I had a conference. To sum it up: Mom was not out of danger and would need a long stay in the Burn Ward; I was well enough to be discharged and they needed the bed; so I was going to be dumped on my aunt, as soon as she got there. Great, I thought, out of the fire and into the frying pan.
My Aunt Jackie was a very nice lady, younger than my mom and, to be honest, probably prettier; and she’d made what Mom called an interesting marriage, but in a good sense. Jackie’s husband Carl Boynton owned Smoke Valley Ranch, a small working ranch that they’d been turning into a sort of ‘dude ranch’. Families could come and camp or stay in a bunkhouse and experience ‘real ranch life’–or lounge around the pool, have a sunny vacation and forget the whole ranch thing.
Mom and Aunt Jackie had been raised on a ranch in Montana, and it was a wonderful life for them, but Mom had moved to the city and become a teacher; you’d never know that she had been a cowgirl of sorts. Jackie had gone to college and become a nurse, but whether it was too many nights in the Emergency Room or just life in the Big City, she wasn’t happy. It was natural for Jackie to marry someone like Carl and work on a ranch, except for one funny thing. Jackie, who according to Mom, had been a ‘girly girl’ when they were younger, now loved ranch life, too, and Carl’s ranch was doing well. The main thing is that Carl sounded like a macho jerk to me. I’d been so young when I met him that I only had a fuzzy image in my mind, but I do remember him saying something about me being ‘under the limit–oughta throw him back.’ Some sort of fishing put-down, I guess.
I’d never cared for fishing, or hunting, or most sports, for that matter. Mom and I had a pretty quiet life, at least after Dad left. I was three so I don’t really remember him, other than the smell of his after-shave. So for the last ten years, Mom and I watched old movies, read, went to the theatre, and talked about Jane Austen or Charles Dickens. Now I shuddered to think about staying at Carl’s ranch for any length of time.
They arrived with a bustle; Jackie had already been to see Mom and was still crying when she saw me. She hugged me and cried into my hair. Carl hung back, leaning against the wall.
Jackie finally pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, and said, “Of course you remember your Uncle Carl, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said with a forced smile. “Hi, Uncle Carl.”
Carl nodded and said, “Your hair’s gotten real long.”
That was pretty much the greeting I’d expected from him; but they may have had words before they came in because Jackie gave him a look that sent him out to the parking lot to wait.
“You don’t mind him, Laurence. You understand me?”
“Sure–” I started to say, but something in her tone was full of hidden meaning. “Well, I’ll mind him,” I finished lamely.
Jackie sat on the edge of my bed and took my chin in her hand. “Honey, listen to me. I know things between you and Carl are pretty much nonexistent and even then were never the best, and it’s obvious they’re never going to be right. You’re too much of …”
I never found out what I was too much of, because she trailed off and looked out the window, her eyes tearing. Instinctively, I knew what she was thinking.
“It’s okay, Aunt Jackie; she’ll be okay.”
She grinned through her tears and said, “Always could do that, you know? Know what I was thinking?” She looked down at the bed. “No, honey, I don’t think she’ll be okay. She’ll be in so much pain and even if she …”
We both teared up and hugged. After a time, and dabbing with tissue, she said. “First off, stop calling me ‘Aunt.’ Be sure to call him ‘Uncle Carl’, but you might not have that much contact with him.”
“But … you guys are still together, aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah, but I mean on the ranch. He’s got a lot of things to do, and I’ve got a lot of different things to do, and you stick with me, out of his way. Things’ll just go smoother.”
“Well, I want to help out; you know, do what I can to help pay you back for putting me up until Mom’s well.”
“There’s no paying involved; you’re family and that’s that. Look, Laurence, Larry …” using the name she had called me when I was little. “… I spoke with the doctors when I saw Evie, and I don’t know what they’ve told you, but she’s looking at eight months to a year in the Burn Ward. It takes that long to grow skin.”
My mouth hung open. “A … year …”
Jackie nodded, serious. “We have to figure on you living with us for at least a year, and maybe longer if she needs to get her strength up. And, Laurence …” she swallowed. “We also have to think about what will happen if she … if she doesn’t make it.”
I had no luggage; the hospital had to destroy the clothes I wore when they brought me in. I had an oversize set of scrubs and a white terry robe, courtesy of the hospital. No other personal belongings. My whole life–my mother’s life, too–had been lost in the flames.
We got in the car and sat for a moment, me in the back seat. Uncle Carl had his hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield. He cleared his throat. “Just so you understand … you’re family, so you’ll live with us. Don’t expect any hotel treatment; you’ll work same as anybody else.”
Jackie said, “Carl!” warningly.
But I quickly said, “Yes, sir; I understand, and I want to help out. Thank you.” I hoped I didn’t sound too sniveling.
Carl looked at me in the rear view mirror. “Just so you know.”
I nodded, and he started the car.
It took two hours to get to the ranch. We stopped for gas and to pee, and Jackie bought ice cream cones for the two of us–she said Carl didn’t like ice cream. I thought, how can someone not like ice cream?
The cone was long gone and I was dozing a bit when we pulled into the ranch. I hadn’t seen it for years, and I’d been pretty small then, so I looked with fresh eyes–but they were eyes that knew I’d probably live here for the next year.
There was a real Western-style gate, with stone pillars and an arch of twisted wood, with the name ‘Smoke Valley Ranch’ out of darker wood painted red. The road meandered down a slope and you could see the general layout of the ranch in the valley. There was a barn with a large corral, several outbuildings around it, and a riding ring. In the distance was the lake, and a swimming pool sat in front of a blockhouse that was for guests or campers, whatever they were called. Aunt Jackie pointed out an RV lot in the distance and told me about all the new building going on. And nestled in the green of the hillside was my Aunt and Uncle’s house, a whitewashed Santa Fe style rancher.
It was a nice place; the only thing that clouded it for me was the thought of my relations with my uncle … and, always, my concern about my mother.
In the car, they’d discussed clothes for me–since I had none–and Carl said I could ‘Use the grab bag for a start.’ I simply said, ‘Yes, sir.’ Aunt Jackie explained that campers at the ranch always seemed to leave clothes behind, and they went into the grab bag, almost never to be reclaimed. As she told me this, she hesitated as something occurred to her; then she smiled at me and faced forward. I had no idea what that meant, but I’d find out.
I thought that I’d be shown to a room, allowed to unpack, rest, whatever; but Carl said we should eat first, that too much work time had been lost already. Jackie whipped up sandwiches and salad instantly, so we sat in the kitchen and ate after washing at the kitchen sink. Carl took his plate to the sink, at least, before wiping his hands and saying, “Come on out for chores once you’ve got some clothes.”
I helped Jackie clean up, and then she took me to a bedroom that was decorated for a little girl. It was pale blue, with unicorns and rainbows and a white frilly bedspread. I remembered suddenly that their daughter Bethany had died of some blood disease when she was seven or eight. I’d been so wrapped up in my own unhappiness that I’d forgotten about it. Now it all came back when I saw Jackie’s distressed face.
“This was Bethany’s room,” she started, then choked back. “Duh! Of course it is. Anyway …” she gently rubbed her hand against the white enamel vanity. “Anyway, I didn’t have the strength to change it, then I didn’t have the heart … so it’s pretty much the same.”
Instinctively, I went to her and put my arms around her as she choked a sob. She nodded that she was okay and dabbed at her eyes.
“Actually, it’s a good thing, you coming here; the room should be used. We should move on …” She shook herself and smiled. “And who knows … you might like it here. As long as you need to be here …”
I just said, “She’s going to be alright; the Burn Ward is like the best in the state. And the room is fine, Aunt Jackie.” Then I chuckled and said ironically, “No, actually, I’d prefer the hospital ward.”
We laughed and she reminded me to call her Jackie when we were alone, and then told me to sit tight while she got the grab bag. She brought in a large duffel that took two hands to lift, and plopped it on the bed.
“I think we might have a problem, Larry. Carl doesn’t pay any attention to the grab bag–I’m the one that cleans up after folks leave–so he doesn’t know what’s in it.” She grinned. “And that’s the problem. You see, the ones that forget things are usually really little kids … and teenaged girls. So we might find …”
She reached into the bag and pulled out a little cloth. “ … some Barney Underoos, size extra small …”
More digging. “A Rainbow Brite kerchief.”
More. “A pink bikini top, size 34AA.”
More. “A yellow t-shirt that says, hmm … ‘99 and 44/100% Bitch’ … well, you’re a 100% cleaning rag now, bitch!” She chuckled and glanced at me guiltily.
I looked from the items to her, unsure of how much she was kidding. She dropped the things in a pile, and then upended the duffel on the floor. We sorted through the huge pile for a moment, then she excused herself to talk to Carl. I went through the pile tossing every little kid thing in one corner of the room, and every girl thing in the other, occasionally finding something that might fit and leaving it in front of me. I was staring at the results when she came back.
“Carl says just put something on; it doesn’t have to be clean because you’ll just get it dirty doing chores … what?” She had seen my face.
“You’re right; we have a problem.”
The pile in front of me contained exactly two items: a pair of jeans and camouflage boxers. I held the jeans up to me. I was small but there was no way they’d fit; they were probably for an eight-year-old. The boxers were too big for me, and had some questionable stains. Jackie looked at me and then looked at the other piles. Outside, we could hear Carl yell, “What’s taking you? Just grab something!”
“Why does he hate me so much?” I asked.
“He doesn’t hate you … well, he hates a lot of things, but he hates his routine disrupted …” She sat on the bed. “Mostly, he hates life since Bethany died. He kind of goes through the motions, but he’s not the Carl I knew. I hope that having you here might change things, but I hope it’s not too hard on you, too.”
“He’s never liked me, Jackie; he thinks I’m a sissy.” I looked down at my fingers. “And I guess I am, sorta.”
“You know, Larry, you have got to prove to him that …” she trailed off. “Aw, who am I kidding? You’re right. He’ll never be convinced because, let’s face it, you will never have a strong, rugged build. But show him you’re brave; do the hardest work you can without complaint and we’ll see what happens. As to getting you dressed …”
We turned to the girl’s pile and separated things out, finally finding a pair of cuffed jean shorts that actually fit, although tightly, and a red t-shirt that said Abercrombie on it. It had a scooped neck and capped sleeves, and was cropped to show a little bit of my tummy. I felt ridiculous and said so.
Jackie was having none of it. “Here’s how it works. We go out there and I tell Carl that we did what he said; we just grabbed stuff and nothing else fit. Heck, it’s just going to get dirty anyway, right? Then you work your butt off today. I mean it, Larry; really work hard with no talkback. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, miserably. “What about shoes?”
There had been some sandals and flip-flops in the bag, but Jackie left and came back with some low-cut Keds that were obviously for a girl or woman; they had blue stars with red outlines on a white background.
“These might fit,” Jackie said, grinning. “Although I don’t know if you’re supposed to wear ‘em or salute ‘em!” We found socklets in the pile and wearing two pairs, the Keds fit. “Now let’s go.”
It went exactly as I feared. Carl saw the two of us standing there and said, “What the hell is this?”
Jackie said, “You said to get dressed in anything. You don’t know the grab bag; only ones that ever lose anything are little kids and girls. There ain’t much in it besides this stuff. I thought it was more important to get Laurence out here so some work could get done.”
“Yeah, well …” he began, uncertainly. “But those aren’t work clothes. Weren’t there any overalls, or jeans at least?”
“Carl, you know as well as I do the campers don’t wear work clothes on vacation. And the only jeans were for real little kids and Laurence couldn’t get ‘em up past his knees.”
Carl stared. “Yeah, but he looks like a goddamned girl–”
“Excuse me?!” Jackie nailed him. “A what? Do you want to re-think that last statement?”
He seemed to shrink. “You know what I mean, Jackie. It’s just those clothes and the long hair and the whole way he looks …”
I knew what he meant, but I didn’t want this to go on. “Uncle Carl, there’s no one here to see how I’m dressed, and you got chores that need to be done, right? So I’m ready to work.”
Jackie’s squeeze on my shoulder told me I’d said exactly the right thing. Carl grunted, nodded once, and waved me over, handing me a pair of rawhide gloves that were huge on me. Jackie went back into the house while Carl began telling me what we were going to do with hay.
The rest of the day was a sweaty, painful, pitiful comedy. Carl wanted me to load hay bales on a flatbed; I couldn’t even lift them. He wanted me to hold a big steel pipe while he welded it; it was so heavy I couldn’t support it and despite everything I did, it was wiggling all around, spoiling the weld. Holding all that weight made my upper body sore; my chest really hurt. Mucking out the stalls I could do, but I couldn’t hammer nails fast enough or strong enough on a new stall, even using both hands to swing the hammer. Carl took the hammer and gave me a pail with curry brushes and that led to the best part of the day, caring for the horses. I’d always liked animals although I’d never been near horses. I was brushing one beautiful chestnut when I noticed Carl watching me.
“You got a real nice touch, Laurence. Dynamite doesn’t like anybody, usually.”
“Oh, he’s a great guy, aren’t you?” I asked the chestnut, who nuzzled me. “Just wants quality treatment, right? You bet you do!” I leaned my face against his big face.
Carl smiled for the first time. “A touch with horses is a real gift. Never knew you had it.”
“Neither did I, I guess,” I shrugged. “But at least there’s no heavy lifting involved.”
Carl actually chuckled, and said, “Oh yeah? Try to lift his hoof; check his shoe.”
I’d never done this before, but it seemed that I should look the horse in the eye and slowly lean down; I took his leg and gently nudged it. He bent it, lifting the shoe. I looked at Carl, who stared, open-mouthed.
“Damn! That was beautiful! Laurence, you’re hired. Horses and you … between what I can teach you and that gift you’ve got, the herd is in for some fine times.”
He handed me a tool and told me how to clean the shoe. I repeated with the other three legs and then Carl called it a day. We went to the house and cleaned up. After I washed, Jackie tossed me a white scrunchie to hold my hair in a ponytail, and told me to try the sandals. So that’s what I wore into the kitchen; Carl swallowed and stared at first, shook his head, and finished the cold water he was drinking.
At dinner he raved about me and Dynamite to Jackie, who beamed. He seemed to forget what I was wearing. I sat blushing, so I reined him in by telling him to tell her about the other chores. Carl acknowledged that I ‘wasn’t worth spit’ when it came to the heavier jobs, but was a whiz with the horses. Jackie smiled.
“You know, honey, I could sure use some help to get the place ready for the season. And if our reservations keep coming the way they’ve been, Laurence would be really helpful with the campers.”
That began a discussion which probably continued long into the night. All I know is we finished dinner and I helped Jackie with the dishes while Carl went to watch TV. Later we joined Carl and watched some detective show, all three of us criticizing the acting and silly story. We actually had some laughs together. I began zoning out and Jackie announced that she had to get me to bed early, so we went to ‘my’ room.
Jackie closed the door and sat on the bed next to me. “I want you to make yourself as comfortable as you can, Larry. Make this as much of your home as you can, because you will probably be here a long while.”
“I know,” I shrugged. “At least Uncle Carl’s not so mad at me anymore.”
“He’ll come around more and more as time goes on. I’m proud of the way you handled him today.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t handle him! I sucked at everything he needed me to do. Except the horses.” Something occurred to me. “You knew I’d suck, didn’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation.
She grinned and nodded once. “Pretty much. I know about the heavy, hard work that Carl does every day and I know there’s no way you could do that work, physically. That’s not a criticism, simply an acknowledgement of fact. I’m much stronger than you and I know that I couldn’t keep up with him. But work is important to Carl; it’s one of the things he defines a person’s worth by. It was important that you try, not that you succeed. That showed him what you’re made of, and that’s something else he defines life by …” She trailed off, distracted by the vanity.
I reached over and put my hand on hers and squeezed gently. “I’m so sorry about Bethany.”
She put her other hand on mine. “I know you are, sweetie. And thank you. You wouldn’t believe how much losing her hurt Carl …” She took a ragged breath. “And he’s withdrawn since then, into hard work and … well, mostly grunts.” She grinned a little. “But you did real good today, because you showed you’re not afraid of hard work–even if you suck at heavy lifting!” She nudged my shoulder with hers and chuckled.
I nodded at the truth and sighed a little myself. “Horses were nice, too. Dynamite’s a beauty.”
“Yes, he is, and you have no idea how much you impressed Carl with whatever you did out there. He sets a high value on horsemanship. And you’re off the hook now.”
“Off the hook?”
“From the heavy lifting. He knows you tried, really tried, and he knows you can’t do it. But he also knows you’re willing and able to do anything you can, especially with the horses. So now you’ll be helping me.”
She stopped there and sort of tucked her chin in, thinking.
I said, “Anything I can, Aunt Jackie.”
“Jackie, remember?” she chided gently. “You’ll be a big help, I’m sure of it, but …” She came to a decision. “But I want you to think about something.”
Then she paused, and I nodded helpfully to let her continue, but she took her time.
“I’ve known you since before you were born, and your mom’s told me a lot about you, and I’ve gotten to know you better in the last day than I have over the years. What I’m going to say might offend you, but hear me out.”
I had no idea what was coming.
“Laurence, you’re not very much of a boy, in the manly department, I mean. The life you’ve led, the things you like, the way you look physically, and … even the way the horses respond to you … it all seems as if you’d have been better off being a girl than a boy.”
I wasn’t offended; I knew exactly what she meant. “It’s okay, Jackie, I understand. There were times when I thought that things would be even better for Mom if I were a girl. Better with Mom. I mean, mother and daughter things. It was so awkward when she tried to get me in Cub Scouts …”
She grinned. “I heard about that. Two meetings, was it?”
“One campout. Scouting and me, well … not meant to happen. Anyway, I know what you mean.”
We sat in silence for a time. Then she said, “Larry, have you ever thought about … exploring? Trying things … as a girl, you know, to see how you feel?”
“I never really thought about it before, but lately I’ve been wondering why my body doesn’t develop like the other boys, and I don’t seem to think like they do–I mean about the same things–and lately just kind of wondering …” I trailed off. I had never said anything like this out loud.
Jackie took my hand. “It’s not just the grab bag We could go to town and buy you some work clothes, and we will, but think about this: right now, over the next few days, you’ve got a chance–we’ve got a chance–of getting Carl to start thinking of you as a girl and not a boy. He won’t work you so insanely hard if you were a girl, and the kind of work you can do–and it really is work that we really need done around here–well, it’s work that could be done by a boy or a girl; maybe even better by a girl. And of course, you’ll have the horses.”
“So … what? Put on a dress and flounce around?”
“Don’t be silly. Or offensive. We’ll slide into it, the way we started today with the things in the grab bag. Carl can’t argue about the clothes if they’re the only thing around, right? He wouldn’t want you wearing my clothes, and his are way too big. So it’s the grab bag. And the way you helped with the dishes … look, Larry. If you just keep going the way you’ve started today, there won’t be any need for flouncing. He’ll just begin to see you doing what he considers ‘women’s work’ and in time he’ll mentally put you in that category, and I think things will settle down.”
I thought about it, and thought some more. The funny thing was, it wasn’t unattractive. In fact, there was curiosity and maybe interest in the idea. I told her so; she hugged me and took me into the bathroom. She’d laid out some supplies and told me how to wash and moisturize my face, and to brush my hair and how to put it up for bed. I stared at her, and she just shrugged and said something like ‘Go ahead; wake up all tangled and snarled!’ so I let her gather it up loosely with her fingers and then she did a gentle braid.. Then she handed me a giant t-shirt, and told me to use it as a sleep shirt.
I put in on; it swallowed me, coming down to my knees. Looking in the full-length mirror, I had a thought that it was big enough to be a dress, which brought up some strange possibilities … Back in the bedroom, Jackie looked around and said, “Make this room yours. I mean it. Put anything up or take anything down you want.” She picked up one stuffed pony. “Except for this,” and took it, cradling it and gently stroking the mane as she left.
I looked through the closet and vanity, and found a nearly-full diary in a drawer, with a new one in a box underneath it. I felt my heart clench for the loss of Bethany, so I decided to start the new diary tomorrow.
Yes, I arrived yesterday, but this was the first full day on the ranch, so, New Diary, I’m starting things here. Whew! So much to tell …
I was awakened at six by my Aunt Jackie, who asked if I’d thought about our discussion from last night. I told her that I agreed with her; she said to trust her on how to handle things–giving me a very serious, direct look until I nodded and told her I agreed–and then I went to shower. Jackie gave me SPF 45 suntan stuff, so I rubbed that all over me after the shower. She’d laid out some things from the grab bag–I guess she’d washed everything during the night. She’d found a pair of sand-colored shortalls, like overalls that ended in shorts, and a burgundy AE tank top that was cropped so high that when I put it on and the shortalls over, you could see the skin of my waist. I freaked a little, thinking about what Uncle Carl might say, but Jackie said to trust her. She handed me a ball cap from a feed store, and showed me how to pull my hair through the back, making a ponytail. She’d also found a small pair of hiking boots with either a graceful design or logo on the outside. They fit with two pairs of socks, so I was set.
Carl had eaten so I ate quickly–yogurt, granola, some vitamin pills like the ones Mom got for me, and half a melon. I asked Jackie about it, and she said to leave the nutrition to her. I met Carl at the stables. He looked long at me, grunted, and then started to teach me about horses.
I don’t think I can ever remember everything! In the tack room, he lectured me on every little tool and name of every piece of a saddle, and said there were horse-training books in the house that I should read. He explained the check-out system for the campers, and the names and nature of all the horses. Basically, I’ll be in charge of everything that has to do with horses. Apparently they have college guys come during the summer to help with the heavy ranch work, and a ‘summer girl’ to run the camper end of things with Jackie. I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought, ‘So, since I can’t do any heavy ranch work, that means that I’ll be ‘the summer girl’ …’
Oddly enough, I didn’t mind thinking about being ‘the summer girl’ since it fit in with what Jackie had talked about.
Lunch was simple; Jackie had set out slabs of meat, cheese, bread and fixings, so we ate quickly. I sort of asked Carl if they were going to get a college guy and summer girl again this summer. He stared in the distance and said they’d probably need to. Maybe. Hmm … And then a grunt.
After lunch, Carl showed me the coolest thing: They have ATVs–these three-wheeled all-terrain vehicles, six of them, that they rent out. He showed me how to prep and start the things, and we rode around the ranch–he wanted me to get the layout in my head, and I think he also wanted to show it off. I was gushing (I hope not too much) about how great it was, and I got a friendly grunt from him. I guess in time I’ll learn what all his sounds mean.
We wound up at the bunkhouse and he took me through it, explaining as he went. Then he showed me the quarters for the summer girl … and it was a mess. There were clothes laying around, and it looked lived-in but thrown about. Carl was incredibly angry, and he pulled a cell-phone off his hip and called Jackie. I noticed a base and another phone on a shelf in the room, and I realized they were using the walkie-talkie function. So they weren’t completely shut off from the modern world!
Listening to them talk, I learned that, in a nutshell, the girl had gotten pregnant. Jackie reminded Carl of how quickly she’d taken off. Apparently she left to chase the guy responsible. Jackie said she’d discovered the mess at the end of a long day, and somehow had not gotten around to cleaning up. She said she’d be down with supplies; that calmed Carl down. He did the standard ‘can’t get good help’ and ‘kids today’ grumbles.
While we waited for Jackie, he showed me the pool and pool equipment. I actually knew more about it than he did, because I loved the pool at our apartment and had a sort-of friendship with the guy who maintained it. I said a couple of things about the chemicals and Carl’s eyebrows went up and I got a grunt. So … Carl put me in charge of the pool. He said that any college guy they hired had to be a Red Cross-certified lifeguard. I could keep the pool going and generally run things; he said he wasn’t too sure about the minimum age but I should think about getting certified, too.
Jackie arrived with the truck, boxes, bags, and cleaning stuff. Carl left us in the summer girl’s quarters and Jackie turned to me and then it got real interesting …
“I really did forget, you know, or at least wasn’t looking forward to doing it,” she said. Then she wiggled her eyebrows for some reason and grinned as she said, “But now …”
The girl had just grabbed what was important to her and left the rest. Jackie swept the toiletries into a garbage bag, then began collecting clothes while I went around the room putting objects in a box, like an old picture frame, a stuffed zebra, a subway token, and so on. Jackie told me about the girl, Miranda, who’d been a good worker until she started hanging with one of the campers; then she seemed to change overnight.
We chatted about the ranch and how I’d fit in, and she surprised me by saying that I’d be getting schooled tomorrow! School-age children in the area were visited twice a week by a tutor working a circuit, and I’d begin tomorrow. The tutor already had my school files and worked out a lesson plan that allowed plenty of time to work on the ranch. So, two full days of school (two days apart) and the rest filled with work … I didn’t know if that was good news or bad.
Jackie thought that Carl’s plans for me were a little too ambitious. She said there was no way I could be in charge of checking out ATVs, horses, and the swimming pool at the same time. I asked about the ‘college guys’, and she said we should see what I’d be best at and happiest doing–she kidded about not picking ‘mucking out the stalls’–and they’d interview guys for the rest of the jobs.
More stuff to think about …
Things took a weird direction when she found Miranda’s swimsuits; among them was a one-piece Lifeguard’s suit, red with a white cross on the chest. Jackie held it up. She wanted me to try it on, she said, because I might get certified as a lifeguard and they wouldn’t have to get another suit, which was really good quality and probably expensive.
I thought about what we’d talked about, and how I felt about things, and said ‘sure.’ Here’s the even weirder direction: I went to the bathroom to try the suit on, which fit pretty good–I guess Miranda and I were about the same size, which set my mind going in strange areas. Anyway, I came out, with my hands over my crotch because of the little bulge there, and Jackie said, ‘you know, from what I understand, you can sort of … tuck things away between your legs and it’ll fit better–dancers do it’ and I knew instantly what she meant, and I blushed. I mean, my aunt was talking about my genitals!
But … I went into the bathroom and pulled the suit down around my thighs and pulled my small penis back, but my little balls looked weird, and I remembered one time on a bicycle seat where I shifted my weight and things went very strange, and I discovered that I’d somehow rammed my testicle back up inside me. It popped out later, but maybe … I felt around and was able to slide my testicles back up into me, leaving little sacks of skin around my tiny dick, which now fit snug between my legs with the empty sacks around it. I slid the suit up and by the time I got the straps over my shoulders, I knew Aunt Jackie was right. I also knew that I should just as well keep things between my legs as they were, if I could.
I went back out to show Jackie–who stared at my crotch and grinned at me–and said I looked real good. I knew what she meant, and didn’t blush–I felt good about it, somehow. I sat on the bed next to her and looked at the box of clothes that Jackie had folded and didn’t have much to say. Well, for some reason I did say that Miranda must have been flat-chested because the suit fit me pretty tight.
Actually, I said, ‘”She must not have had much up here.”
Jackie was quiet for a moment and asked, “Would you like something up there?”
I blushed again and my mind kind of went a lot of which-ways at once and I blurted, ‘Yes!’ without thinking–and instantly I knew it was what I wanted.
Jackie looked at me and Time kind of stopped and my breathing got really shallow and I could feel my heart pounding. It was like holding your breath, right before you blow it all out; there’s this kind of quivering expectation. My aunt reached over and hugged me and said ‘we might be able to do something about that’ and ‘I love you, you know that?’ and I felt like somehow, everything had changed–maybe even more than after the fire.
I was still looking at the clothes in the box, and Jackie noticed. She rummaged around and pulled out a short denim skirt.
“Just out of curiosity …” she said, still holding it.
I didn’t hesitate; I slid the skirt up my legs, stood, and zipped it up. It just lay on my hips and Jackie said ‘Oh, my God!’ and pointed to a door mirror that was propped up against one wall. It looked like a girl was wearing this red tank top and skirt but the main thing is that curves were there and as I turned, the girl in the mirror turned, too.
We both knew what it meant but didn’t talk about it; I said something like ‘wow’ and then went back to the bathroom and put on my clothes, handing the folded suit and skirt to Jackie when I came out. I had my hand on the top and bottom of the stack and she placed her hands in the same position, and as we did it, our eyes locked and some zap of understanding went between us. I helped her move everything to the truck, and then we put on gloves and sprayed, dusted, swept and mopped until the whole room was clean and aired-out and impersonal. I thought we were going to drive straight back, but Jackie said she’d show me a different view of the lake and we bumped around this dirt road until we came onto a cliff with the whole valley spread out below. I gasped in pleasure at the vista.
Jackie surprised me. I thought she would talk about me living as a girl. Instead, she began talking about growing up with Mom. When she was younger, all Jackie could think about was leaving their ranch in Montana–she was a little boy-crazy. Mom was almost a tomboy, doing all the outside work, while Jackie stayed inside with their mother. Then Mom left for teaching college and Jackie was fully dedicated to a nursing career. She’d tended enough cuts and sprains and broken bones among their ranch hands and loved it, but she wanted a taste of the big city. She spent a few years at County General Hospital … until she met a big cowboy in the ER, getting stitches from a ‘barbed wire attack.’
She knew cowboys and most of them were fake–‘weekend cowboys.’ She also remembered how rough some of the real ones were, the ones that worked her family’s ranch. But Carl was different, and gentle, and 100% cowboy and 100% man. They started dating; she was reluctant to see his ranch, fearing she’d hate it because of her past, but began spending more and more time there until she realized that it was the life she truly loved, and the man that she truly loved. They built it into a small success, and Bethany was born, and life was great … until Bethany died.
Then Jackie began talking about her girlhood with her sister, the fun things she and Mom did and the miseries and joys they’d shared. I liked hearing the stories, but didn’t know where it was headed. Jackie finally said that all she knew was that Mom had wanted a daughter. She loved me, of course, and I didn’t doubt that, but I knew Jackie was right and I told her that. Mom and I had talked a little bit about it and I knew that she’d have been happier if I’d been born a girl. I often thought we both would have been happier.
I told Jackie all of that, and she nodded and hugged me. I decided that I’d follow her lead, but also let my own self guide the way. I told her that I was absolutely certain that something had happened to me when I wore the swimsuit and the skirt and looked in the mirror. It wasn’t the clothes as clothes, or the fact that I looked naturally like a girl; it was the fact that it felt right. Things kind of came together. Into focus. In my life; in me. There was this absolute, certain moment of ‘Of course!’ and it was like, finally, the universe made sense. I was worried about Carl, but Jackie said again to trust her, so we hugged again and drove back to the ranch house.
I went into this in detail because it set the tone for everything else that followed.
When we got back, we stored Miranda’s things and I went to wash up. I helped Jackie with dinner, wearing an apron she handed me. Again, when I served Uncle Carl–still wearing the apron–I got ‘the look’ from him, and then he’d look away. After I cleared the dinner things and we washed, the three of us sat in the kitchen over coffee and discussed things. Actually, I sat and sipped and they mostly discussed me. We worked out that I’d spend time working and getting to know the horses before the season started, and I’d learn about management from Jackie, too. I remembered Jackie telling me about her and Mom as girls, and realized that I’d be like both of them put together, working inside and outside. I didn’t mind the work, because Mom had raised me to it, but was concerned about the tutoring.
Jackie said we’d find out tomorrow, and I should get to bed earlier. I left them talking and got ready for bed. Jackie came in and asked if I wanted ice cream and a little TV; I was already in the sleep shirt but she said come on down anyway. It was real home-made stuff from a big batch that Jackie had prepared before they’d heard about Mom. It was unbelievably delicious, and I was disappointed that Jackie allowed me only one bowl.
She dished out a big bowl for Carl, and I said that when we’d stopped for ice cream on the way from the hospital, she’d told me Carl didn’t like ice cream. She grinned and said it was cones he didn't like. He loved ice cream but ‘it’s just his way to be persnickety’ about how his ice cream was served. I chuckled and told her I’d never heard ‘persnickety’ outside of a book and she just grinned and shrugged.
I sat on the couch next to her while we ate and watched a Frazier rerun. I got another look from Carl, and realized that I had my hair loose around my shoulders, my face was shiny from moisturizer, and my legs were tucked under me on the couch like I usually sat with Mom, with my knees showing under the sleep shirt. I must have looked very much like a girl, even though I hadn’t consciously tried, but I suspect that Jackie had manipulated events and my respect for her grew. She was gradually getting Carl used to seeing me in traditional feminine ways–serving his food in an apron, my long hair fixed in a variety of ways, how my bare legs looked, and so on. Smart lady!
I brushed my teeth and went to bed. And this was only my first full day!
End of Part 1
Jackie had laid out some khaki shorts, a peach camp shirt and the sandals we’d found. I think she’d found these in Miranda’s things because they fit well. I had no underpants, of course, but she’d added a pair of white cotton panties, bikini cut, and I still had things tucked so they fit very well indeed. I liked the way they looked on my hips. I liked the way I looked in them. And I liked the thought of ‘my bikini panties’ …
After breakfast, Carl left and we had an hour or so while Jackie pointed out the washer/dryer and where everything was, detergent and bleach and such. Then she took me to her office and surprised me again, because she had a serious computer, printer/copier/fax machine, filing cabinets, and so on. Of course, you dummy, I thought; the ranch was a business, and a successful one.
There was a work table that I would use with the tutor, and Jackie said I could use the computer for assignments but maybe they’d better think of getting one for me, maybe a laptop. I asked if maybe insurance money from the fire could help out and she gave a pained grin, telling me to never hold my breath waiting for insurance checks!
Jackie explained the general structure of the ranch for campers, and I was looking through their brochures when the tutor arrived. She was a short, roundish, smiling lady that I found myself liking right away. Her voice was a little high and nasal, and when she laughed she’d sometime put a hand on her wiry reddish-brown hair. I suspected that she loved to laugh but thought she had to maintain her authority. Her name was Audrey Bevins, but she said to call her Mrs. B or Miz B; everybody in the valley knew her by that name.
The very next thing she said threw me. “And what shall I call you?”
My aunt stepped in immediately, snapping her fingers and saying, “I knew there was something I was forgetting. Miz B, excuse us for a moment.”
Jackie took me into the far side of the house and told me that Miz B had been already been told that I was slowly transitioning to a girl. I was amazed and asked how she could know that already, since I was only kind of figuring it out myself in the last couple of days.
My aunt looked guilty and told me that if I was mad, be mad at her later and not let it mess up things with my tutor. I agreed, and Jackie told me that she and Mom had been ‘talking for awhile’ about letting me see if I felt better as a girl, only they had loosely planned that Mom and I were going to spend the summer on the ranch, and if I agreed, she and Jackie were going to gradually introduce me to the female side of life, together. The fire had unexpectedly rushed things, but Jackie was proceeding as they had planned.
I was stunned. Mom was in on this? I started to get angry, and just as quickly I cooled off–how could I be angry at her while she was fighting for her life? As I cooled, other things fell into place and I realized how loving both women were, and why they were doing this, and that–amazingly to myself–I wanted it to succeed. I wanted to try life as a girl!
I told Jackie I wasn’t mad, and she said we could talk later, but the tutor needed a name for me. I had nothing, which relieved her, because she and Mom had planned that already, and the answer was obvious. I would be ‘Lauren’, just dropping the ‘ce’ at the end, and informally, Laurie. Surprisingly, I liked it immensely. I’d always felt Laurence was too pretentious, and I’d never known why my parents had spelled it that way instead of Lawrence. I’d sort of figured ‘Olivier, not Arabia’ or something. Regardless of how it was spelled, I was never a ‘regular guy’ enough to be a Larry.
Hmm …Laurie.
Yes. Things were becoming more serious, and more real. More in focus.
We told Miz B that I was Laurie. Jackie explained that she hadn’t told me that the tutor would know about the transition–not the fact that it was farther along than I knew. Jackie had informed the school district about me when she arranged the schooling. There had been obstruction at first, which she figured might be the case in a small, rural school district, but learned that it was just one religious bigot. Someone else in the district contacted her and smoothed things over and handled my registration. Jackie was also told that Miz B was a perfect match, coincidentally; she had a gay brother and was open-minded.
So …school. I’d been an average student, capable of better but kind of depressed. Miz B’s enthusiasm for learning was infectious and I felt like I was coming awake in the first hour. I really liked the one-on-one relationship, but she loaded me down with homework, too. Of course, I had two days to do it before her next visit, so it wasn’t so bad. We broke for lunch, but only after Carl had eaten and gone back out. It was rather nice sitting with Jackie and Miz B, chatting and listening and learning about some of the folks in the valley. Then back to work for another two hours, and we were done. Apparently, this session was longer than normal because it was the first ‘get-to-know-me’ type; other sessions will be breakfast to lunch. After my session, Miz B would be off to an afternoon session with the twins at Morningstar, the ranch over in the next valley.
As I said goodbye to Miz B, I realized that I was looking forward to her next visit. Imagine–me looking forward to school! Then Jackie told me that I didn’t have to work with Carl for the day, but I would work the afternoons on future school days. We had two hours left before Carl came in, so we talked about this whole transition thing.
I reassured her that I was getting excited about it, but worried about Carl. Jackie again told me not to worry, as long as I followed her advice. She admitted that Carl had been told a month ago that I wanted to be a girl–actually, he’d been told that it was some kind of murky medical, chemical thing. It had to be that way; as a rugged, 100% male, he couldn’t begin to understand why a male would want to be female, but as long as it was ‘medical’, he could accept it grudgingly. Jackie said the key was to do it gradually, and after awhile, Carl would think that I’d always been a girl–it would be as if he’d just misunderstood that I was a boy.
She asked if I wanted to have some fun right now before Carl came in. I said sure and she took me to Bethany’s room–I’ve got to remember that she told me to think of it as my own bedroom!–and in the closet were some clothes that I recognized as Miranda’s. Jackie said that she’d known all along that Miranda had left her things, and already heard back that Miranda didn’t care and wasn’t coming back for them. There were some things from the grab bag as well, and Jackie said we would go into town tomorrow or the next day and get some things of my own.
The ‘fun’ she mentioned was a sundress. She looked me in the eye and said, “Go for it, girl!” and I think it was a test.
I stripped down to the panties thinking two things. First, it would be odd to strip in front of my aunt (if I was a boy) but it would be normal to strip in front of my aunt (if I was a girl). I didn’t blush …much. Jackie smiled and nodded when she saw that I was tucked, and I had this irrational urge to cross my arms across my chest, and I’d never felt that before, ever!
She handed me the sundress, which was creamy white with red cherry clusters, red piping, and red spaghetti straps. It slipped over my head, I pulled my hair out and she zipped it up.
Oh …my …God.
The transformation was shocking! It felt really, really good, and when I saw myself in the mirror, I froze. Jackie actually had a tear in her eye, and as I pulled the skirt out and twirled, she laughed, choked, and dabbed at her eyes.
If I had any doubts about trying things as a girl, that sundress put them to rest. I felt wonderful and suddenly wanted to try on everything, but knew I couldn’t just then. I asked if I could wear the dress to dinner, and was disappointed when Jackie said it would be rushing things with Carl.
“But you and I both know what a beautiful girl you will be, and will be soon,” she said gently. “How beautiful you are.”
I clung to those words.
And …why? Why did everything about becoming a girl, or ... beautiful …seem so right, so natural? My mind went into something like a thesaurus mode, coming up with synonyms. So right, natural … so normal, familiar, instinctive …
I reluctantly put on the khaki shorts and peach camp shirt, but Jackie had some tricks … for Carl, I guess. First, she had some jewelry for me in a rosewood box. She fastened a thin gold necklace on me, and I found a silver ring I liked and a neat bracelet of braided, rainbow twine. Jackie had me brush my hair; I still had the part down the middle. She hemmed and hawed and finally told me to tuck both sides behind my ears. Finally, she held up some cologne and sprayed it in the air, then told me walk through it. That way it was fainter, and I could honestly say I didn’t spray anything on me if Carl asked. Jackie was pretty devious when it came to leading him around!
We went to make dinner, and Carl gave me a look when I came in to serve him, but his look wasn’t so much serious or as threatening; it was more of an appraisal. I knew that even if he didn’t know it, he could smell my feminine cologne when I dished out his potatoes, and it probably didn’t register consciously that he could see the jewelry. I didn’t act girly, because Jackie had told me not to and because I didn’t really need to–she said I was naturally graceful enough already. Boy, did that give me a lot to think about!
Dinner was pleasant. Carl told me about the horses and I told him about the tutor. After I cleared the dishes, I went to get started on my homework while they talked over coffee. About me, I’m sure, as well as ranch business. I tuned them out and applied myself to English.
Just before ten, Carl stuck his head in the office. He wanted to know how I was doing, and was I adjusting to life on the ranch. I assured him I was, and that I felt guilty about not working for him today. He waved it off and told me that they’d decided that Jackie and I should go see Mom tomorrow. Jackie hadn’t told me that she’d talked with the doctors while I was with Miz B, and things were unchanged but she wanted to go anyway. I forgave her for not telling me as long as we could go.
Then Carl said, “Look, it’s no surprise that I’m a little uncomfortable with this whole transition thing. It’s not something that I …that I really understand.”
I said, “I know what you mean. It’s really strange to me, too, but it’s happening.”
This was the truth, but I felt a kind of internal grinning satisfaction and determination that it was happening. My answer seemed to confirm what Carl had been thinking because he nodded.
He said again, “I don’t understand it, but I know it must be real hard for you. Um …well, don’t worry about chores tomorrow, you see to Evie, okay? And I understand that Jackie’s got some shopping to do for you …well, I guess you all like that sort of thing …”
I realized with a start that he was doing what Jackie predicted; he was mentally shifting me out of the Boy group and reassigning me to the Girl group, from the Boy to the Girl side of the playing field, so to speak. I decided quickly to put him at ease but maybe advance things a little.
“Well, thanks Uncle Carl, but I don’t really need to get much of anything; I mean, the grab bag and whatever’s around is okay with me. I mean, clothes are for working and getting dirty, right?” I hedged around the fact that ‘whatever’s around’ from Miranda was all girl’s clothing.
Carl looked at the floor and said, “Well, you want to look nice, too, I guess. Um …don’t worry about it. Get what you need. We’ll get back to work day after next. Goodnight.”
Bless him! No boy would ‘want to look nice.’ He was graciously allowing me to get nice–meaning girly–clothes. I turned off the computer and went to get ready for bed. Jackie looked in and I told her about what Carl said and congratulated her. She smiled and congratulated me for my little manipulation there, and I protested that I hadn’t been manipulating him. Jackie chuckled and said that just being myself and not trying to act like a male was nudging Carl into considering me as female. She said he would come around more and more as long as we didn’t get carried away. She grinned wickedly and said she had one last trick for tonight. After I washed and moisturized, and was wearing the sleep shirt, she brushed my hair back and I thought she’d put it in another sleep braid. She twisted it up into what she called a ‘she-non’. Later I learned the word was ‘chignon’, but however it was spelled or pronounced, it was an unmistakably feminine style.
Jackie told me to go to the family room where Carl was watching TV, and then gave me more specific directions …
I did as she said. I stuck my head around the corner, my right hand on the door jamb and right leg exposed in the hallway. Instinctively, I knew it was a seductive pose, but Jackie had me doing this not for seduction but because it was a feminine pose and would register as feminine and submissive in Carl’s subconscious.
I gently called, “Uncle Carl?” When he turned his head to me, he gave a little start but no hard ‘look.’ I went on, “I just wanted to thank you for everything. I mean, putting me up, and putting up with me, and I know I’m no good at hard work for you …” Jackie had told me to say that and trail off, and to stop talking at that point.
Just as she said he would, he started up.
“That’s okay. I mean, you’re welcome, and you’re good for Jackie. The hard work …well, there’s all kinds of hard work. You’re a hard worker, I’ll give you that, and that’s more important than heavy lifting. Hell, I can get college boys can lift hay bales but they’re too dumb to put ‘em down. You’re smart and you’re helpful and you’ve been through a bad patch. And you’re family. You see to your mom and stay on top of your schoolwork, and help Jackie all you can and we’ll be fine.”
I thanked him and we said goodnight, and I marveled again at Jackie’s ability to handle Carl. Was it just him or all men? And was it just her or all women? I’d have to find these things out.
I reported back to her and she said that in just a few days she’d nudged me from nephew to niece in Carl’s mind, although he wouldn’t say it out loud or even think of it in those terms–yet. Give him time and follow her directions, she said, and he’d be calling me Laurie and girl and she and things like honey. I still thought that was a stretch, and wasn’t fully accepting that things could go that far, but found that I was excited by the idea.
Jackie said we’d leave early tomorrow; we said goodnight and I lay in the dark remembering how special the sundress had felt and wondering how everything would turn out.
The next morning I was surprised at the clothes Jackie had chosen. They were a weird mix. There were panties in a floral print, but the rest were boy’s clothes, cargo pants and an X-Men t-shirt and the hiking boots. After washing up, I was staring at the clothes when Jackie said the hospital administrators knew me as a boy, sort of, reminding me of the mix-up when I was admitted. There were folks that would think dressing a boy as a girl was child abuse and would raise all sorts of problems, so as much as I wanted to dress even more girly than I did on the ranch–I would have loved to wear the sundress!–I understood her wisdom. Besides, she said, we’ll check on my mother and then go shopping. She also told me to wear the sandals for comfort during the drive, and change into the boots at the hospital. She had some other things in a small bag for later, she said, but to hurry.
We ate quickly before Carl got up, but he came to the door to wave us off. She had already hustled me into the car, and I realized that Jackie didn’t want him to see me in boy’s clothes and revise his new thinking. I didn’t remember the drive being so hot and long. We stopped for sodas at some point, and I had my first contact with the outside world. It was a shocker. A little boy and girl were on the play-place outside, and as we passed, the boy called out, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’ There was this flash in my head and I knew the answer. ‘I’m a girl!’ I said. The little girl said to the boy, ‘See?’ and smiled at me. I smiled back, pleased. The little girl said, ‘You’re pretty!’ and I thanked her and said she was, too. The little boy shrugged and went back to playing.
While Jackie ordered for us I thought about what had just happened. If I’d said I was a boy, it would have stirred things up. Girls can wear boy clothes, and society is fine with that. But a boy in girl’s clothes …watch out! I talked with Jackie about this when we were back in the car, and she said I was exactly right, but not to worry about the hospital, just see to Mom.
As we neared the hospital, Jackie made another confession or admission. She actually said that it probably seemed like she was always hiding things from me, but sometimes it was just a matter of timing. Yesterday, while I was with the tutor, Jackie called the hospital. The docs said Mom was out of immediate danger and had regained consciousness, but the docs put her back under after explaining her condition to her. Because there was nothing we could do and she was now in for a long recovery, plus the fact we were seeing her today, Jackie didn’t tell me until now. She was right; what could I have done? I’d have wanted to see her but she’d be asleep. Hopefully she’d be awake today.
“Here’s the other thing,” Jackie said, hesitating. “There were burns all over her, including her face. She’s all bandaged up and the doctors communicate with her with a buzzer gadget she works with her hand.”
I was devastated and shocked and everything else you could think of, but Jackie was right–there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
A great ragged sob burst from me. Oh, God–my poor, poor mother!
I had dried my eyes and gotten myself together by the time we pulled into the parking lot. We didn’t get out immediately; Jackie turned to me and produced a hairbrush. She brushed my hair roughly back and made a ponytail at the base of the neck, the way long-haired boys wore their hair. I put the hiking boots on and galumphed behind Jackie, trying to walk like a boy. I did get the odd look from regular people, but the hospital staff must have Seen It All and didn’t raise an eyebrow. The doctor spoke with us before we got in and said that Mom was due to wake at any time, and might already be awake–they had so many monitors on her. We scrubbed up and put on gowns and masks and went into the Intensive Care Burn Unit and I was shocked to see my Mom–and my Mummy, so to speak ...
Because that’s what she looked like. Completely wrapped in white bandages, tubes running everywhere, in a clear plastic cylinder. Even her face was completely wrapped, eyes covered, with a tube running to her mouth and a breathing tube where her nose would be. I was staggered by her complete isolation. The doctor was explaining temperatures and epidermal layers and I wasn’t focusing on what he was saying because I was crying already. Jackie put her arm around me while she listened, and there was a little stirring from Mom and we knew she was awake.
Jackie gently called, “Evie?” and there were two soft buzzes. The doctor said one buzz for no, two for yes, three for I don’t know, and I wondered, irrelevantly, who was on first. Here’s how the ‘conversation’ went:
“Evie, it’s Jackie and Laurence.”
Buzz-buzz.
“Oh, God, honey, I can’t believe this happened to you. I love you so much, Evie, I wish it had happened to me instead of you.”
Buzz.
Jackie paused, then she understood. “Yes, I do–”
Buzz.
“–and you stop saying that!”
I felt a little chuckle deep inside because they sounded just like sisters.
Jackie’s voice softened. “I’m taking care of Laurence; he’s at the ranch with us and doing great. I’ll get out of the way and you two can talk. We’ll talk later if you can. I love you, Evie.”
A quick buzz-buzz.
My turn. “Mom?”
Buzz-buzz.
“Oh, God, Mom, I’m so sorry, I–”
Buzz.
“Mom, I know, but if only I could have been more of a help–”
Buzz.
“Okay, you win. You always do.” I said the last as lightly as I could, and got a buzz-buzz. I heard Jackie stifle a chuckle behind me.
I started to tell her about the ranch, after telling her I was okay, and Jackie tapped me on the shoulder. She leaned down close to Mom and I could hear her but the doctor was talking with a nurse by the door. I realized that was why Jackie chose this moment to interrupt.
“Evie? You remember what we talked about for Laurence this summer?”
Buzz-buzz.
“We’ve started. Is that okay with you?”
Buzz-buzz.
“I mean, everything we talked about; right?”
Buzz-buzz.
Jackie called me over and quietly said, “Tell your mother what you want to do.” She gave me a piercing, direct stare. I looked her in the eye, nodded, and leaned over.
“Mom, Aunt Jackie said the two of you had plans for me this summer.”
Buzz-buzz.
“Plans to let me live as a girl?”
Buzz-buzz.
“Did you think I wanted to be a girl?”
Buzz.
“Did you think I would want to be a girl?’
Pause. Buzz-buzz-buzz. Pause. Buzz-buzz.
“Mom …I think you were right.”
Buzz-buzz-buzz.
“Yes, Mom; I’ve had long talks with Jackie, and I want to try it. No, more than that. I know you were right. I think I would be happier as a girl.”
Buzz-buzz. Pause. Buzz-buzz.
“Mom, do I have your blessing to …to start living as a girl, if I can …as your daughter?”
Buzz-buzz. Pause. Buzz-buzz. Pause. Buzz-buzz.
“I hope that means you’re happy, Mom …”
Buzz-buzz.
“…because I might look a little different the next time you see me!”
Buzz-buzz.
The doctor called us over, and Evie whispered a couple of quick things to Mom and was rewarded with some double buzzes. I told Mom I loved her and to get better, and got a double-double buzz.
And that was it; time to go.
We were quiet as we drove to a mall food court, each with our own thoughts. When it came time to order, I thought about things; I always used to have a hamburger or pizza and a milkshake, but this time I decided on a grilled chicken salad and lemonade, and was surprised to find that it was very good. If this was the way I would be eating in the future, it wasn’t bad at all.
Jackie told me the medical things the doctor had said, which amounted to long, painful treatment as the burned skin sloughed off and the new skin grew. Mom would have numerous chemical baths during the process. Her eyelids were burned, but as far as the doctors could tell her eyeballs were okay, so she probably wouldn’t be blind–oh, thank God! Her face and lips had been protected by something and I realized it was the cold cream she used to slather on at night. Not only did it moisturize, but it saved her skin! However, everything was extra crispy so her face was wet-bandaged; that’s why she talked with the buzzer, so she wouldn’t move her facial skin–and she was being fed intravenously as well.
Poor Mom. Oh, God, poor Mom.
On to other things. I’d be at the ranch for at least six or eight months to a year. It didn’t seem so bad now that I knew Mom was not going to die, and that she’d approved of me transforming into a girl. As to that, Jackie had some ideas for after lunch.
She thought it would be a good idea to walk around the stores. I had thought we’d buy whatever and hit the road, but she said we should talk about being a girl. Of course, it was more than just clothes, but clothes were very powerful and so she asked me what type of girl I thought I might be–tomboy, girly, preppie, hippie, earth mother, rock princess, whatever. I laughed because I could think of girls I knew at school that fit each of her categories. I pointed at some girls by a fountain. Abercrombie, Hollister, American Eagle, Juicy brands and logos; camisole tops and hoodies, low-cut jeans, jean skirts, and so on. Just every day, average girl clothes.
Jackie nodded, and said, ‘What about that?’ and pointed to two Goth girls walking with torn black tops, pierced navels, black leather skirts and fishnets, black boots, and I laughed and said ‘No way!’ Jackie grinned and said, ‘Just testing!’ Then she nodded and told me her plan. Since I kind of looked like a girl anyway, with my long hair and small size, she said we could ‘tweak’ things a little and then I could shop in girls’ stores today without problem. I was unsure, but she told me to get her a refill on her Diet Coke and meet her at the fountain.
I was watching girls go by, which would be a normal thing for a boy to do, except I was studying their clothes and styles and how they walked, talked, and moved their hands. Jackie walked up and told me to follow her to the car. She threw some bags in and we drove around the mall parking lot to a gas station where she gassed up. I thought the shopping trip was over, but she had a twinkle in her eye. She parked the car on the side of the station, got the washroom key from the attendant, grabbed the bags and me, locked the car and I entered my first public Ladies’ room.
Jackie told me to take off the X-Men shirt, which I gladly did, my little nipples hardening as I shivered in the antiseptic tile and fluorescent light. For some reason that drew a raised eyebrow from her. She handed me a small padded bra and said, ‘not the nicest place to get your first bra, but every girl’s gotta have one.’ Even though it had a front clasp, I was awkward and embarrassed putting it on. Jackie adjusted things, then opened a package of stockings, rolled them up and put them in each cup. Between the padding and the stockings, I had little, tiny mounds.
Next she handed me a light blue camisole top. I pulled it over the bra, adjusted everything as she snipped off the tags, and she handed me a white hoodie that she’d just prepared. I put it on, zipped up partway, and I had to admit the overall effect looked perfectly normal. Then the moment of truth …she told me to take off the cargo pants and boots and I was really embarrassed now, standing in the floral panties. She grinned and handed me a denim skirt, which had been distressed so it looked used. As I zipped it up, I asked her how everything could fit so well. She had simply gotten the sizes from the grab bag clothes that she knew fit me. Of course!
After I put on the sandals, I felt very strange, wearing a skirt, but also surprisingly relaxed. Jackie handed me a brush and told me to undo the ponytail, bend at the waist, brush, then straighten up and brush. My hair looked huge! She took over and brushed at bit, and then parted it on the side and swept across a bit; she attached a hair clip. Finally she handed me a set of multicolored thin bracelets which I put on. I looked in the mirror and I looked like any other girl. I hugged her and she grinned.
“Of course, this is way more than you can wear on the ranch–for right now–but it’s more than enough to go shopping in. Nobody–absolutely nobody–is going to take you for anything but a cute girl. And I did it with only half-a-dozen pieces. Less, if we left out the hoodie.”
She was right. It was amazing. Then she said the magic words: ‘Now let’s shop!’
We certainly did more looking than buying; I was always conscious of spending her money, but we got some skirts and blouses and lingerie. That was the best–to get my own panties and some bras and some nighties. Also some assorted shoes, and then we headed to a Target and picked up some toiletries. I was packing everything in the car while Jackie went back in for ‘one last thing’ and then we were off.
We both agreed that Carl should see me in the cargo pants instead of the skirt, so when we stopped for gas and a pee midway through, I went into the Ladies’ room and changed. It was fun; I had my skirt and camisole top, and just asked the clerk for the bathroom key and of course he gave me the Ladies’ key–plus, he definitely checked me out and smiled. I smiled back because it was all so new and wonderful. I actually didn’t worry when I returned the key, wearing the cargos, because I knew the clerk had already seen me as a girl. To him, I was a cute girl in cargo pants. I thought about that.
Back on the road, Jackie and I talked while we drove, with her telling me more of her plans for easing Carl into having a niece. I had just started to doze off when we pulled into the ranch. It was nearly time to start dinner, but Jackie told me to put everything away while she got dinner together. Carl came in and washed, and grunted when he saw me. I had the cargo pants and blue top and hoodie, but I’d taken off the bra and Jackie’s stuffing at the gas station–we both figured that suddenly having a bust was really pushing it. Maybe Carl could see the thin straps of the cami when the hoodie moved when I reached for something. He mostly asked about Mom and we filled him in.
After cleaning up, I went to finish homework. I had another whole day before it was due, but I wanted to get it finished so I could help Carl. I thought it would be a good idea. The homework was fairly easy; just tedious and I had to fight to stay awake. I was done by ten and went to wash up. Jackie came to see me and handed me a new lacy white nightie saying, “Time for Carl to see you in your sleepwear.” The nightie floated down around my shoulders and I felt like a princess. We’d gotten a yellow chenille robe so I wrapped it around me, and followed Jackie–who was also in a robe–to the TV room. I just said goodnight and thanks for everything. Carl nodded and said goodnight, and Jackie said, ‘Goodnight, Laurie.’
That prompted a comment from Carl that I didn’t hear, but I left them quietly talking. I got into bed and thought about things. I came to a firm decision: It’ll be a struggle, but I’m going to become Laurie.
Today I wore a boy’s tank top. It was dark green and had ‘Carlos & Charlie’s, Ensenada’ across the front. It was oversized and hung on me. When I asked, Jackie said it was a ‘transition’ piece and to trust her. She grinned when she said it, so I guess she’s not bored saying it–or angered at my lack of trust. There was another pair of baggy cargo shorts with lots of pockets that were too big, so a belt cinched it all in at my waist. At least I had one thing on that was girly–my panties, which were new and yellow and mine!
Carl looked at me strangely again, but I couldn’t read the looks anymore because I got so many all the time. We ate and it was decided that I’d see to the pool area this morning. Even though it was kind of overcast, I grabbed some sunblock and we took off in the truck. Carl gave me a tool box and showed me the manuals for the equipment, and drove away. I first evaluated everything and found that the impeller was not quite right; took everything apart, lubed it, and reassembled and it was quiet and smooth. I cleaned the filters and backwashed the system; I wanted everything mechanical to be working properly (and known to me) before I began adjusting the water.
In the pool house, I stripped off the top and applied sunblock everywhere. I debated going topless but that somehow seemed too weird, so back on with the baggy top. I went out and began cleaning out the filter traps, then I started skimming and vacuuming the pool. When I was done it was very clean but I could tell the pH was off. I sampled it and made some notes, then discovered we were out of chemicals, chlorine …everything. Who the heck was in charge of the pool? Well …I guess it would be me, now.
Carl tooted the horn and I joined him for the ride up to the house for lunch. I told him we needed to shop for pool supplies; he told me to make a list, he’d add it to his order and get a delivery. He said Miranda had tried to care for the pool but it was over her head–and then he chuckled. That was the first joke I’d ever heard Carl make, so maybe he was human, after all.
I told Jackie and Carl about the pool in detail, and Carl complimented me on sizing things up quickly and on the repairs. He said he’d check them, but I knew he’d approve. Jackie said they had bigger plans for the pool this year; it had been cold last summer and the equipment always seemed to be on the fritz. I explained that it was a hassle getting a large pool up to speed, but once it was up, you just had to stay on top of the maintenance. It was a living thing that had its own ecology. You had to bring it into balance. They looked at each other and said they’d never thought of it like that, but it made perfect sense. They seemed impressed.
Carl told about some fence work he’d been doing, and Jackie talked about some bookings she’d just taken, saying that I’d have to learn their system. Carl said since tomorrow was tutor day, why not start then? I reminded him it was only a half day from now on, and then he’d have me for work, but he said as long as I ‘was dressed for inside for the tutor, no sense in changing to work clothes.’ So it was decided that I’d spend the day indoors tomorrow learning lots of things–and then Carl grinned and said that the forecast called for rain, anyway. He’d be in the barn working on things and he’d see to the horses while I was with Miz B. Fine with all of us.
I asked about the front area of the pool house; it was an area where an attendant could hand out towels. Jackie said the first year they had towels with the name of the ranch, but they all disappeared. Last season they charged per towel and there was grumbling, so they didn’t know what to do. I suggested they get industrial strength white towels, but not big–just about 3x4. They’d be functional but not worth stealing as souvenirs. But people like souvenirs, so I said, instead of the towels, what if we went online and got t-shirts printed with the ranch name and logo and sold those instead? A towel at poolside is an essential, and folks will always grumble if they have to pay for an essential like that. But free towel use and a chance to buy a cool t-shirt to take home …why not one for everyone in the family?
Carl and Jackie stared at each other and grinned, and Carl said, “I like the way she thinks!” I was startled, and I think Jackie was, too, but she glossed right over it by quickly saying, “We’ll get started on it tomorrow! Why didn’t we think of this before?” Lunch was over and we cleared everything.
Carl went out to start the truck and Jackie grabbed my arm, whispering gleefully, “Did you hear that? ‘I like the way she thinks!’ And he didn’t even notice he said it!”
I told her that she was, indeed, a genius, and I worshipped at her feet. She giggled, swatted my butt and told me to get back to work. In the truck, Carl still hadn’t noticed what he’d said, but complimented me again on thinking about the ranch, not just about my own situation. I told him, simply, that the ranch was home now and we were family and I’d do what I could. He grunted and nodded, but I could tell he was very pleased.
I worked with the horses, mucked things out–thank God for hip boots!–and later sorted things out in the tack room. There were some old chaps and parts of saddles, and I got another idea, but then Carl called that it was time to go, so I went out the back way. At the edge of the steps there was a leaky faucet on a pipe sticking straight out of the ground. It had made a big damp muddy spot, and I hated to see the water wasted.
I reached out to tighten it just as Carl yelled, “Don’t–” but that’s all I heard because the faucet head blew off and sprayed me with water. I was so surprised I lost my footing, slipped off the step and fell on my backside in the mud. Water was spraying everywhere, and I could hear Carl laughing as I scrambled around in the mud looking for the faucet head. I found it and jammed it on the pipe; the water really sprayed out now that it was under pressure. I got the thing kind of screwed on and back to the stage it was when I’d touched it. I was soaked and muddy and pissed, but had to grin at Carl, bending over laughing. I was also freaked because my nipples were sticking out a little bit and were visible against the wet shirt, which I quickly pulled away from my chest.
I knew I couldn’t ride in the truck this way, so I told Carl to meet me at the lake. I ran down and onto the dock, took off my boots, and jumped in. The surface was quite warm, but I plunged into a colder layer. I swiveled around and kicked away from my muddy swirl and swam up to the dock, pulling myself up. I’d gotten all of the mud off and I heard Carl pull up in the truck. I climbed in the back; he said I could sit on a blanket up front, but I said why get anything else wet? When we got to the house, he said he appreciated my thoughtfulness and told me to get all cleaned up for dinner. Duh! I thought.
While I showered, Jackie laid out my clothes–a green, blue and white striped top with thin straps, and a new pair of denim Capri pants, and slender white Keds. My hair was fluffed out over my shoulders, and I expected a ‘look’ from Carl, but when I came to dinner he just said, ‘You clean up real good.’ Jackie’s smile told me this was a very good sign.
At dinner, Carl told me that he had found that the faucet head was okay but the pipe had rusted and he’d have to re-thread it, but checking the tools, he found that the right size of die was broken, so he’d have to get a die and other parts just to fix the darned pipe. Since there were other things we needed, like the pool chemicals, he decided not to wait for a weekly delivery and would go into town for supplies tomorrow. It was supposed to rain, and I had the tutor and our plans for me to learn the reservation system, so it made sense.
Cleaning up after dinner, Jackie nudged me to go sit with Carl in the TV room. I curled up on the sofa, sitting on my legs, and we watched the end of a Friends rerun. Then I told him the idea that I’d had in the barn–use the old chaps and leather scraps in the tack room, get a stamping tool and key-ring maker so we could make key rings that had the ranch logo on them. You know, I said, made from genuine leather used on the ranch? Sell t-shirts at the pool and leather goods at the stables. Carl stared at me and called Jackie in and had me explain it to her, and they both were nodding and smiling. Carl told me, sheepishly, that the ranch didn’t actually have a logo. ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’ll make us one, with your approval.’ Jackie left to look up things on the internet. Carl looked at me even more approvingly …at least, I hope it was approvingly. He seemed to look at me for a long time before turning back to the TV.
I was getting up to go to bed when Jackie rejoined us and said she’d found leather-working tool suppliers and the whole thing would cost us less than a hundred bucks. I said price the key rings at five bucks a piece and after the first twenty it was gravy. Carl said I was a real asset, and said whatever the circumstances, he was glad I was at the ranch. Then he said something that almost sounded gooey:
“I know this can’t be easy for you, but you’re smart and a hard worker and most welcome with us.”
He’d said something like that before, but it had kind of felt like he’d been obligated. But the spontaneous, smiling way he said this, I knew he really meant it! I went to my bedroom and undressed, putting on my nightie and washing up. I lay in bed thinking about what Carl had meant by this ‘couldn’t be easy for me.’ He might have meant having Mom in the hospital, or having to live at the ranch, or having to transition from a boy to a girl.
If that was what he’d meant, he was wrong–it was getting easier.
End of Part 2
Miz B arrived at 9. Carl had left before we got up (Jackie said we could sleep until 7 because of the tutor) so we had a luxurious breakfast in our nightgowns and bathrobes. I took a quick shower and Jackie met me as I came out of the bathroom.
“Time to move things forward,” she said cryptically.
What she meant was, time to move Laurie forward. While I was still in my bathrobe, she sat me down and showed me a bottle of iridescent nail polish.
“Fingers and toes today,” she grinned, “and the first one’s free.”
That meant that she’d do my fingers for me, and then did my toes, instructing me on nail polish handling the whole way. I felt like I couldn’t move, because I was afraid of smudging, and she grinned again and told me that she was going to put my hair up and to pay attention. She brushed it back, then into her hand and brushed everything up, then pulled it all into a ponytail off the back top of my head, secured with a white ribbon. Then she pulled a few strands down in front of my ears to frame my face. I moved my head around and loved how the ponytail bounced. By the time she was done telling me how and why she’d done it, the polish was dry. I couldn’t take my eyes off my fingers–they didn’t appear to have any polish if you looked straight on, but the merest tilt or movement of my hands and you could see the iridescence. Very cool!
“Part of my ‘Confuse-A-Carl’ mission!” Jackie laughed.
She had me put on a pink top with a v-neck and collar and capped sleeves. It was short and could never be tucked into the denim skirt she had me put on next. Then, a pair of what she called ‘strappy sandals’ with a slight heel that showed my pretty toes. I put on my necklace and bracelet, and she sprayed me with something and said, “Every girl I knew went through a White Shoulders phase; you might as well go through yours.”
And that’s how I met Miz B, who smiled approvingly and called me ‘dear.’ We got down to it; I showed her my homework and she took me through the next subjects, then graded my homework while I worked. She was pleased and gave me an ‘A’ for the session. Of course she then gave me more homework. We’d had a short break around eleven, and she left at one.
Jackie and I had lunch, a light salad, basically; and she said I was adjusting well. I was worried about Carl walking in right now, but she said he’d be gone most of the day and besides, we had to get to work ourselves. In her office, she showed me where everything went–the flow of the paper trail–and then her computer system for reservations and taking deposits. I was a little nervous about handling money, but she said it was a pretty simple and secure system.
The whole time in her office, I sat with my knees together, and sometimes my ankles crossed. It just seemed natural to do it that way, but Jackie complimented me on how well I was doing. I liked to sneak peeks at my toes, and saw my fingernails all the time, and this little voice in my head kept saying, ‘I’m wearing nail polish. Cool!’
When we wrapped for the day, Jackie handed me a small stack of magazines that she’d picked up in the city and forgotten to give me. They included Seventeen, Teen Vogue, Girls Life, and some others. ‘For research,’ Jackie said with a smile. I took them back to my room and sat on the edge of the bed to read them. Too much time passed as I got involved in the magazines.
I was startled by a short knock and Carl sticking his head in the door. I panicked for a moment, looking left and right, and was acutely aware of the ponytail swishing around. Also, my legs sticking out from my skirt, and the pink top, and the nail polish …
Carl said, “Time for dinner,” and turned away. I was still panicky and frozen. Then Carl stuck his head back in and said, “You look fine. Just wash up and come on.”
‘I look fine’? I looked like a girl …well, that was the point, but I thought the plan was to slowly move into things. Or else Carl was just not seeing me. Maybe that was it; I just didn’t register very strongly on his senses. Dumbly, I walked to the door. Carl was still in the doorway holding it open so I had to pass by him. I was now acutely aware of the White Shoulders scent I still faintly carried. I don’t believe this is what Jackie planned, I thought.
I washed my hands, wishing I could magically wash away the nail polish, walked into the dining room and sat down quickly. Even then I was sure to tuck my skirt under me. I kept my hands in my lap; no sense waving the darned nail polish in his face. Jackie came in with a bowl and looked at both of us quickly, set the bowl down and sat herself. I felt guilty; she’d already set the table and put everything out.
We said grace and started eating, although my stomach was in knots. I kept waiting for Carl to say something about me, but it didn’t happen. I mean, he asked how ‘school’ was today, and did I get anything out of the reservation system. I chatted as lightly as I could; the only rough moment was when I held out a bowl of potatoes for him. I realized my nails were definitely right in his face. He seemed to glance at them, then thanked me and scooped out his serving.
After dinner I was reluctant to get up to help clear things. I hoped that Carl had thought the skirt was a pair of shorts and I didn’t want to flaunt them. But Carl fooled me–and Jackie–by saying, “Leave everything. Jackie, you wanna bring us three bowls of ice cream?”
Jackie said, “But …we don’t have any ice cream, Carl; we finished off the batch I made.”
He grinned and said, “You didn’t serve any frozen food tonight; otherwise you’d have seen a surprise in your freezer that I picked up in town.”
Jackie, still unsure, went to the kitchen, and after a murmur and clatter of bowls, came back with three bowls of Baskin-Robbins Gold Ribbon Chocolate. We all tucked in, with contented sighs of pleasure over the rich taste. After the third or fourth spoonful, Carl pushed back from his bowl.
“You know, you two …I’m not so think as you dumb I am.”
Jackie and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. I realized a moment later that Carl hadn’t made a mistake in the sentence; he’d said it that way to lighten the mood.
He went on. “You think I haven’t noticed that I seem to have a niece?”
Jackie and I froze; only our eyes moved to each other. Jackie put her spoon down and uncertainly said, “Honey …”
Carl smiled and waved a hand. “Relax. Look, you were kind of nudging me in that direction, that Larry is becoming Laurie. I was kind of amused by the clothing you put together, too. Then when you came back from shopping, you folded the bags like always, and I happened on them. The Macy’s Junior Department, Abercrombie & Fitch, pastel bags from the Gap, and such. Not really Jackie’s shops, and no boy’s either. So I might have thought you were trying to put something over on the world, some private game.”
He paused and looked at both of us. “But I glanced at that tutor’s records the first day–just being nosy, wondering what kind of student you were–and saw ‘Lauren’ and ‘female.’ So I knew it wasn’t a little game with you–either of you. If the county records stated it; it was fact. And that tutor obviously knows more than I do, so why don’t we drop all of the fooling around and tell me what’s what.”
Jackie launched into a beautiful and completely false story about some time ago, my doctor alerting Mom to a chemical imbalance in me, about tests that showed that I was more female than male, and about Mom and I starting to comply with that. I just nodded in the right places. Then Jackie more or less told the truth, that she and Mom had planned that I could make the transition here during the summer, with both of them guiding me, and that I would have been more obviously female by then. He would have been told before I ever arrived, but because of the fire, everything got rushed to the front and jammed up.
So, she told Carl that I was medically and legally changing to being a young girl named Lauren, Laurie to her friends and family. We should say ‘she’ and ‘her’ when speaking about me, and that this was not the case of a gay boy or transvestite or any kind of Jerry Springer material. Already my body was making the change and that it would become very obvious very soon that I was a teenaged girl.
Carl said, “I kind of figured that. Yesterday when …Laurie got soaked I saw a little bit more than she intended. Yellow panties and …well, the start of something up top.”
I blushed and looked down at my lap. I realized I was also looking straight down my chest, and there were two very small–tiny, really–bumps, no, mounds under my top. I looked up to find Jackie and Carl both looking at me. I had to say something.
“This …this isn’t anything I planned, it just …happened,” I said truthfully. “All I hope is …well, I hope you can accept me …as Lauren.”
It was the first time I’d said my new name out loud, and I got a slight thrill at hearing it.
Carl said, “I said this before, and I meant it, so I say it again: you’re family, and you’re most welcome here.”
Jackie reached out and squeezed my hand, tears in her eyes. Then she turned to Carl.
“Alright, Carl-me-love, now that everything’s out in the open, here are some rules. Facts and rules. Laurie here is our niece, and always has been. She has a lot of catching up to do; other girls get twelve or thirteen years of girlhood to get where she is, and she’s got to cram a lot of things into a short time so she’ll be presentable when the campers are around. So you’ve got to cut her some slack.”
She took a scoop of ice cream while Carl said, “Cut her some slack? What do you mean?”
“You understand she isn’t a boy masquerading as a girl, right?”
He nodded.
“It’s not a gay thing, right?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not a gay thing.”
“So don’t get all weird at the female clothing you’re going to see.”
He snorted. “Heck, I see your clothing all the time.”
She waved her hand at him. “Not the same. Look …girls growing up try out all sorts of looks, all sorts of clothes, and Laurie hasn’t had that time. She’ll be playing catch-up.”
“You just said that.”
“I want to make sure you know it. This is all new for her, too. But you’re going to be seeing–well, look at her now. A cute ponytail, pink top–I love those short sleeves on you, Laurie–the skirt, nail polish.”
“Yeah, very nice. I told her, too.”
“But there will be more, Carl. Nightgowns and makeup and cropped tops and high heels and bikinis and–”
I blanched. “I don’t know about bikinis, Aunt Jackie …”
She grinned. “I do. But in time …maybe a two-piece at first. Or a maillot …you’ve got that lovely long back.”
“I do?” I was thrilled at that, but also at the future that awaited me.
Jackie said, “You should have seen how good she looked in Miranda’s Red Cross suit.”
“Miranda left that? Good–save us having to get another one. But Laurie’s not certified.”
“I told her that; we’ll get her certified when the time comes. I know it’s fifteen but I think they’ll make an exception because …But we’re getting off track. Laurie’s going to be wearing all sorts of girly clothes, so no hassles from you–and no ogling, either.”
“Since when do I ogle thirteen-year-old girls?”
“That’s true, you don’t; but she’s going to be developing fast and won’t always be thirteen. But the point is, she’s missed her girlhood. That’s an important treasure for every girl, and Laurie never got one. So it’s possible she might get a bit … ‘little girl’ on us.”
That kind of thrilled and revolted me at the same time. “Uh …Aunt Jackie? If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather skip the ‘little girl’ part.”
That got a snort of agreement and a smiling glance from Carl, but Jackie was still on a roll.
“Look, you two; Laurie’s going to be moving differently and speaking differently because she’ll be thinking differently. And because her body’s changing on her. It’s the time when a girl becomes a young woman, only Laurie’s gone slam-bam from a boy into a pretty young woman–not that she was ever really a boy. But there will be lots of new things for all of us.”
Carl said, “I understand all that. I really do, okay? We’ve got a teenaged girl living with us …only like waking up from a long coma or something. But we do have some planning to do because of that.”
“A coma! I like that,” I said with a nod.
Jackie ignored me and said, “You mean what she’ll do here?”
Carl chuckled. Chuckled! “I have no doubt she’ll be doing a lot here. She’s got that great way with the horses, and knows more about the pool than anybody we’ve had before, and I bet she’ll probably be better at the reservations than you.”
“She already is. You should see how quickly she understood things. Showed me a shortcut, too.”
I blushed, partly because of her compliment, but also because I loved how naturally they’d taken to saying ‘she’ and ‘her’, minutes after Jackie saying they were going to have to try to use the feminine pronouns.
Carl said, “You were right; she can’t be everywhere at once. I’m going to have at least one college guy, maybe two, especially adding the extra ATVs this season. So we’ve got to plan around that. We’ll work out in time where Laurie fits in, kind of prioritize her time. But I really like and respect how she jumped right in with money-making ideas for the ranch, and she always said ‘we could do this or that’, not ‘you could.’ She said, ‘I’ll make us a logo’, too. She’s one of us.”
I hadn’t even noticed, but said quietly, “But …I consider this my home …I mean, as long as you’ll have me.”
Jackie squeezed my hand again, and Carl said, “You live here; don’t even worry about it. Later, when your mom’s better, we’ll see what you want to do. But until you decide …you live here. This is your home. Okay?” I nodded and he grinned back at me. “Well, one more spoonful and I’m about chocolated out.”
We finished our ice cream and cleared the table. I had no problem standing up in the skirt now, and before I moved any dishes I walked around the table to Carl and hugged him.
“Thank you, Uncle Carl.”
He put a hand up over my hand. I was momentarily nervous about the nail polish, and then surprised at how big and tanned his hand was next to my small white one …almost dainty. Almost …feminine. He patted my hand and said, “You’re welcome, honey.”
I was walking on air as I cleared the table and helped Jackie wash and put things away. We wiped our hands and looked at each other, then hugged each other.
“See?” she chuckled.
“Never doubted for an instant,” I lied with a smile.
She bumped my shoulder playfully and told me to get ready for bed. I changed into my nightgown and washed my face, wondering about makeup and also about bikinis …
I realized I was idly rubbing my fingers over my chest just as Jackie came in with some fresh towels. She said tomorrow she’d teach me the finer points of the washer and dryer, which would take about two minutes. But there was an industrial washer and dryer for things like pool towels, and we could work on reservations in between the horses, pool, and whatever else Carl came up with.
Shyly, I asked, “Aunt Jackie …why did Uncle Carl accept me so quickly? Do I really look that much like a girl?”
She leaned against the doorjamb. “Second question first. Yes, you do. Truth be told, you always did, and now that you’re getting older, it’s showing itself big time.”
I thought about the itchy chest and my small mounds.
Jackie said, “As to the first question …well, there is something at work that even Carl isn’t aware of. I’m swearing you to secrecy now, just between us girls?”
I was startled to hear that, then grinned and nodded.
She went on, very serious now. “Carl blames himself for Bethany’s death. It’s wrong, but it’s as simple as that. You don’t know any of this, and don’t breathe a word of it, but knowing it will put things in perspective. I had cancer.”
I was shocked and my mouth opened but I couldn’t think of anything so say. I’d known nothing about it!
“Oh, I’m fine now; they got all of it and I’m tested often and I know it’s gone. But I had to have a hysterectomy, and while I was in the hospital, Carl was home alone with Bethany when she fell ill.” Jackie began plucking a stray string on a towel. “She’d been slowing down, and the week I went in the hospital she was downright lethargic, but we both thought she was coming down with something. And that maybe she was sad because I was feeling so poorly. But I went into the hospital and she got sicker. Carl didn’t want to tell me, at first, because I couldn’t do anything about it and he didn’t want to worry me. And he was maybe unsure if she just missed her Mom. But he couldn’t wake her one morning and rushed her to the hospital. She had a rare form of leukemia that sneaks up on you–no warning signs beyond fatigue–and Bethany was always running around, and getting ready for 4H Club, and riding all the time …so we didn’t know. There was nothing we could do, and the doctors told us that even if we’d gotten her in the hospital a week earlier it would only mean that she spent one more week in the hospital before dying.”
She fell silent and I knew enough to say nothing.
“But Carl still feels that if only he’d brought her in sooner, if only he’d told me, if only …and it soured him. You couldn’t believe how unhappy that man was to be around …but now, you.”
I didn’t know what to say other than, “Me?”
“Yes, you. Laurie. A teenaged girl. Just about like Bethany would have been if she’d lived. Carl is getting a second chance; he doesn’t recognize it openly, but you are a sort of stand-in for Bethany while he heals. You must have noticed that already he’s laughing, joking …getting to be the Carl he was before she died. You’d like him. You will like him, because it’s your doing.”
“I haven’t done anything, really.”
“It’s just you, your nature. Like the way you took to horses, although who knew that would happen? But Carl sets a great deal by how horses react to people. Their reaction to you wasn’t planned, but it meant a lot to Carl. So having you around, especially now that he’s accepted you as a girl …well, like I said, he doesn’t even know–deep down–why he accepted you. But it’s like Bethany watching out for him–for all of us.”
I thought of something and was reluctant to bring it up. “Um …you said the horses’ reaction to me ‘wasn’t planned.’ How much of this was planned? Because, at the risk of offending you, when you told Carl about me tonight …well, you seemed to have a great story already in place.”
She looked down, blushing. “Caught me. Truth time. Remember what I said that first night? Your mother and I know in our heart of hearts that you should have been born a girl. We suspect you know it, too. But you wouldn’t necessarily have a chance to find out just how much …You see, when Evie started you on–oh, my God; I can tell by your face you don’t know any of this. Oh dear. Let’s sit down; my legs are giving out.”
We went into my bedroom and sat on the bed, and Jackie continued.
“Carl said when you got wet, he saw your panties when you fell–got to keep those legs together, girl!–and I think he said ‘something else up top.’ Do you know what he meant?”
“I think he meant my …well, I call ‘em ‘my mounds.’ My chest itches.”
She nodded. “Right. You’re developing. ‘Blossoming’, we used to say.”
“You mean …I’m ‘developing’ developing? I’m growing …breasts?” It was weird saying the word out loud.
She chuckled. “Well, every girl does. It’s just your time.”
“But why …how …that story you told Carl was just a story …”
“Mostly, but not entirely. Your last checkup, at twelve, the doctor did some extra tests and talked with your mom and me. Me because I used to be a nurse. So you do have a chemical imbalance due to genetics; simply put, you’re more girl than you know. It was a major discussion; went on for weeks. They have to take into consideration your emotional well-being as well as physical considerations. It’s part medical science and part intuition. Ultimately, it comes down to, ‘What is the very best outcome for this child?’ So the decision was made, and we put you on testosterone inhibitors …you know your vitamins? Do you remember when you started them?”
“Right after my birthday, I think …Oh! Right after my checkup!” It was all becoming clearer.
“We didn’t add anything to your system, you need to be clear on that. We didn’t do anything to you. But your body was already blocking androgen–part of your medical condition–and the doctors thought the best test would be to inhibit testosterone, which was down to three parts per …I just realized this might be over your head at the moment. No, that’s an insult; you’re way smarter than most kids your age. I just mean that you wouldn’t immediately understand the implications back then. It meant that, chemically, your body was trying desperately to become female, like it was genetically programmed to do. Did you ever wonder why you never developed like other boys? It’s because …you know about chromosomes, XX and XY, things like that?”
“Mostly. Well, some.”
“You tested out as XXY. Meaning that you’re nearly all female but with a pesky little bit of male in there, just enough to mess things up. As you got closer to puberty that Y seemed to be losing its hold as your body feminized; but socially, it was time for you to ‘be a man’, but that just wasn’t going to happen. But the Y might cause enough changes in your body that you’d be too masculine for a girl but too girly for a boy. In that kind of social situation, life would be hell as a boy and bearable as a girl. But if your body was diverted before that, you’d develop as a normal girl.”
She paused as I slowly turned it around in my head. A normal girl? What did that mean for me?
“Laurie …you should always have been a girl. This is not wishful thinking; it’s medical fact. Lauren was the name Evie and Mark chose for their beautiful daughter. Imagine their shock when the doctors pulled you out, looked between your legs, and stamped an ‘M’ on the birth certificate!”
“I was Lauren?” I asked, stunned.
“Since before you were born. Got that, honey?” she said gently. “You’ve always been Lauren, but they had to accommodate that birth certificate so they added the ‘C’ and ‘E’. And we all sat back to watch and wait.”
“For …”
“For any sign one way or the other, really. But by the time you were four or five, it was pretty darned obvious which way you were going. Female, of course. Yes, you wore boys’ clothes and all, but anybody spending any time at all with you knew that you were a sweet little girl.” She frowned. “But a little girl living under a cloud, having to be a boy. That’s why …” She shrugged. “You might have wondered why you hadn’t seen Carl all those years, not since you were little. It’s because you were, well, confusing to him. He’d said something about how similar you were to Bethany, and I smoothed things over by saying that he’d been spending a lot of time with her, so it was natural that he was thinking that way.”
I tasted sourness. “Uncle Carl thought I was a sissy, didn’t he?”
There was a pause and finally she nodded. “He tried to put a good face on it. Said something like, ‘Just because he’s that way at five doesn’t mean he’ll be that way at twenty-five’. And that’s true, actually, because some effeminate little boys grow up perfectly masculine and hetero.”
She gave me a Look. I nodded. “I understand. And some serious tomboys grow up to be feminine women.”
“Yes, they do. I know you understand, honey, but I wanted to be sure. So you went through those years from five on–well, from birth, really–under that dark cloud. The one that said you were a boy. And, oh, sweetheart, you missed so much!” She shook her head sadly and sighed. “And Evie would have loved it. But it was so obvious that you were meant to be a girl, that you were a girl laboring under false pretences, so to speak. And as you got older the doctors monitored your condition more closely. When you were the proper age, your doctors prescribed the inhibitor to see what your body did, and this is the tricky part. You were not informed.”
“Right, you said that,” I nodded.
“You were not informed because your case is not like the usual transgender teen. They’re aware of their gender identify conflict and are demanding blockers, inhibitors. Hormones, too. You were still seemingly unaware of the conflict; just a general unhappiness and disconnection.”
I nodded glumly and swallowed. “Except with Mom.”
“Except with your mother,” Jackie smiled and nodded. “Now, since the blockers can be discontinued with no lasting effects–usually–it was decided to start you on blockers and study your reaction. To clarify things. I said ‘usually’, because the blockers themselves don’t add anything; they delay the onset of puberty. They act as a sort of suspended animation, like pushing ‘Pause’ on your CD player. But your body was already producing estrogen in a quantity higher than normal for a boy. And rather than being merely suspended, your body began showing the effects of that estrogen. You began blossoming,” she smiled.
“So you didn’t make anything happen, just blocked the boy puberty.”
“Suspended it, yes.”
“And so what is happening to me,” I said, gesturing at my chest. “Is normal? I mean, because it’s my own estrogen?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Jackie said gently. “It’s more obvious now, of course–you really are getting cute!–but even before …before the fire, your doctors were quite pleased with your body’s reaction, and your reaction psychologically as well …so you could say that the results confirmed their diagnosis. Your body didn’t need or particularly want the androgens, and so it’s been going on its merry way, making you a pretty girl.”
“Aw, I’m not pretty–”
“Stop that, young lady. Whew! That was fun to finally say! Anyway, stop that, because nobody likes false modesty. Your body has been gradually feminizing itself in a natural process. So that’s what’s happening to your chest. You’ll get lumps under your nipples and your ‘mounds’ will get rounder and bigger and then …bikini time!” She laughed.
“I don’t know about that,” I said again. “But …but …” I had nothing to say at this point.
“I know, and you will be smashing in your bikini!” Jackie leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Go to sleep, if you can; I know this was a lot to lay on you. But it’s all for your own good. The only planning was on my part to help Carl finally get over Bethany. You are not her, and don’t try to compare yourself, because it’s an empty exercise–there’s no way to make any comparisons. The first night, I told you to make this room your own, and I meant it. I mean it even more now that the truth’s out in the open for all of us. Don’t try to be Bethany, just learn to be Lauren. I think you’ll grow to really like her!”
I got into bed; Jackie paused at the door before turning out the overhead light and saying, ‘Night, honey.’
I thought, now that was an interesting day!
I woke up feeling like nothing had changed from yesterday, then realized that everything had changed.
Jackie stuck her head in my room. “It’s raining; gonna be raining the next couple of days. How about you go work with Carl until lunchtime–I think he’s got your pool supplies. After lunch, we’ll send him off and you stay in the house; we’ve got things to do.” She turned to go, then said, “Oh, I thought you might like to wear these, but you can pretty much dress any way you want now, honey. Cat’s out of the bag, right?” She grinned and left.
She’d picked a dark blue tank, a sleeveless hoodie, and jean shorts. Hemmed, but real short. Short shorts. I put everything on and slid into the black flats she’d laid out, and really liked the way they made my feet look. And the shorts made my legs look miles long!
I tried braiding my hair and gave up, so I brushed it out and up into a ponytail again and went to breakfast. Carl was eating; I joined him and got a catch in my throat when he smiled and said, “Morning, Laurie.” The morning would be seeing to the horses and then the rest spent with my pool. He’d put the truck in their garage, so after I put on boots we drove to the barn and stayed dry.
An hour and a half later, horses happy, he drove me to the pool area. He’d given me a yellow rain slicker with a hood from the barn, so I was pretty dry when I got to the pool house. Carl had stacked all the supplies in a corner, and I went through them. I checked the water pH again, and decided to shock the pool, overloading it with chlorine. Tomorrow or the next day I could sweep and then begin balancing the pH once the rain quit. I got everything placed in a locker and the place cleaned up to my satisfaction. Carl wasn’t back for me yet, but there wasn’t much I could do at this time. Idly, I checked the showers and drains; everything was fine.
I went to the window and stared through the rain. I tried to digest Jackie’s revelations. They answered a lot of questions except for one big one–me. How did I feel about the whole thing? Turning into a girl? Or, rather …discovering that I was really a girl? It was like some fairy tale, where the stable boy discovers he’s really a prince, or a princess in this case. Or the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, The Gondoliers, that Mom loves so much, where one of the poor gondoliers is a prince. Man, I thought, Truth is stranger than fiction!
And the truth was …I was excited about becoming a girl. Not kinky excitement, like the thrill of the forbidden or …what had Carl said? ‘Trying to put one over on the world’ or something. No, it felt right. I’d never felt right before. I didn’t fit any of the categories for a boy, but as a girl, everything made sense. Maybe that’s really what it came down to–being a girl made sense.
I had so much to learn, and of those changes Jackie had talked about …the one thing she hadn’t mentioned (maybe because of Carl) was …boys. If I was a teenaged girl, then there would soon be teenaged boys involved. How did I feel about that? I thought about it and discovered that I really didn’t have any feelings one way or another. As Laurence, I never thought about boys or girls; everything about sex was distant, like something happening in Outer Mongolia–it just didn’t register for me. So now, as Laurie, if I fully, totally became Laurie (and the mental changes that Jackie talked about would seem to make that a sure thing), then I supposed I would become attracted to boys. The thought didn’t bother me, and I found that reassuring, actually.
Carl pulled up and honked; I put on the slicker and ran to the truck. When we got home, I took off the slicker and boots in the garage and cleaned them, then put on the flats. At lunch we brought each other up to date. Carl had fixed the faucet that had shot all over me, and done some more work on the new outbuildings behind the bunkhouse. I told about the status of the pool and pool house. Jackie said more reservations were coming in, and wasn’t it a good thing none of them could look out our window right now!
After lunch, Carl went back out and Jackie turned to face me.
“Okay, I know you thought we were going to work on the computer, but here’s my plan. I think you should actually move into your room. Put all your clothes away–new ones, best of grab bag and the few Miranda things worth keeping. That way we can tell what else you need to get. Get settled; move furniture around if you want. Set up the vanity the way you want it. Now, I told you already; don’t feel strange about Bethany’s things, it’s your room now. And you won’t have very much at this stage, but leave room for more stuff as you build your wardrobe. Okay?”
Okay, I said, and that’s what we did. It was true; I really didn’t have much, but I did have a lot of t-shirts, shorts, and general work clothes. I didn’t have too much else, but there were some nice clothes that we’d bought. As I put things away, sometimes rearranging things, Jackie made notes. Finally, it was as done as could be, and I actually did feel like it was more my room now.
Jackie said, “Since it’s supposed to rain for awhile, I thought maybe we should all go into the city tomorrow. Carl doesn’t know it yet, but he’s coming. We’ll see Evie first and lunch, then some shopping.”
I laughed. “That’s what we did last time!”
“I know; I’m not finished. We’ll drag Carl along for a bit, so he can get more used to the idea of you getting girls’ clothes and things–I can’t wait to see him in Claire’s!–and then we’ll cut him loose. Let him go guy shopping, which means either electronics or tools, probably. We can do more serious shopping–including finding your own fragrance. I should have figured you’d like White Shoulders–your mom does–but you might like one a little younger, kickier. Anyway, we’ll meet up, have dinner and maybe a movie; we’ll play it by ear. What do you think?”
I told her it sounded great, but …Claire’s? That was the mall store with jewelry and stuff. No, not stuff–accessories. I have to start thinking like a girl and using girl words. “I don’t think I need any jewelry, Jackie; it just seems …frivolous.”
She looked me in the eye. “Honey, we’re going to Claire’s to get your ears pierced, okay? A few sets of earrings and maybe one or two things you really can’t live without–you won’t know until you see ‘em.”
Pierced ears? I gulped. Well, yeah …
I did homework for the rest of the afternoon. Carl eventually came in, looking like a drowned rat, so dinner was delayed while he showered and changed. Jackie nudged me and suggested I change for dinner, too. I asked her to braid my hair, but instead she decided to show me how to do a chignon, and I loved it, especially when she curled strands hanging in front of my ears. I put on two new pieces, a lilac camisole with spaghetti straps and pretty lace at the neckline, and black stretch pants with a very low waist. I wore the heeled strappy sandals and actually felt pretty. I had this sudden flash of Audrey Hepburn–not that I thought I looked like her, not for an instant–but of that style of dressing, and realized that Jackie was right about finding out what kind of girl I was.
Jackie had dressed up a bit, too, so we had an almost-formal dinner. Jackie told us of our plan (I acted like I hadn’t heard it already) and it was agreed. I did voice my uncertainty about money being spent on me, but Jackie said to never mind, and Carl nodded, so I guessed it was okay as long as I didn’t go crazy.
We had the last of the Gold Ribbon ice cream while we watched television. It was Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality (which I’d already seen several times), and Carl enjoyed it once he saw it wasn’t exactly a chick flick; it had FBI agents, too. And guns and bombs! I always liked that movie, but looked at it with new eyes–girl’s eyes–especially the idea that the rather butch character Sandra played might have been a boy. Too weird; I then realized that, if I was a girl, I actually could enter a beauty pageant …and that was really too weird! So I just enjoyed watching the battle of wits between Sandra Bullock and Candace Bergen.
I got ready for bed and then thought of something to ask Carl. Without thinking, I went to the TV room, where he was watching a cop show, and asked him about a different routine for exercising the horses. He started answering while still watching the TV, and then looked at me and stopped, staring for a moment. I hadn’t planned or thought about how I looked; I just had the idea and wanted to get it settled. I realized I was in my lacy nightie with moisturizer on my face, and had that totally-naked feeling. I wrapped my arms around me. Mercifully, he went on with what he was saying, and then paused.
“You know, you might want to wear a robe any time you have something like that on.”
“Yes, I just realized it; I’m sorry. You’re right. I just had the exercise idea …”
“I understand, honey; it’s just …”
There was a long pause while he collected his thoughts.
“It’s just that it’s one thing for Jackie to say you’re turning into a girl. Seeing you in girls’ clothes was a bit hard to take at first, but makes perfect sense and you’re real pretty in them …real natural, too. But, to be honest …in that nightgown I could see more than …no, that’s not right. What I saw was that yes, you are turning into a girl. Or …are a girl, I guess. That’s what startled me–how …how far along you’ve gotten. Hell, that sounds like you’re pregnant.”
He rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation just as Jackie entered.
“A little soon for her to be pregnant, don’t you think?”
Carl and I both spoke at the same time.
“Honey, I didn’t mean …”
“Aunt Jackie, it’s okay, he …”
Then we saw the look on her face and all three of us broke out laughing. When we settled down, Jackie gave us both a lecture. Me, for wearing nighttime lingerie in front of a grown man. Him, for ogling a teen girl in nighttime lingerie. We both protested at the same time and then chuckled about it, but I went to bed wondering …how far along have I gotten?
End of Part 3
We all got up early for the trip into the city. There was a small town near to us; that’s where Carl usually got supplies, but we were going to see Mom in the hospital in the city, then on to shopping. Before I got dressed, Jackie took a measuring tape and noted down all my measurements. Oh my God, I thought; I now have ‘hips-waist-bust’ numbers! Since Carl seemed okay about my transition and I was going to show Mom how I looked now, Jackie said I should dress femininely; I put on a light blue top that had tiny appliquéd clusters of blueberries, with capped sleeves and pretty pearl buttons. I really liked the short sand-colored denim skirt she handed me; it had a white braided belt and fit snugly on my hips. My toes still had the iridescent nail polish and looked great with the strappy sandals. I brushed my hair out and Jackie gave me two clips that pinned the sides back. I swished my head; my hair looked full and feminine. She gave me a short white jacket if I needed it; I tried it on and with the collar up and sleeves pushed up, it was really cute. I sensed that Jackie made another mental note. I took the jacket off for the long drive, though.
It was a long drive, and we stopped for gas and soft drinks. It was strange to think that the cars we passed looked at us and saw a girl in the back seat. Strange, but at the same time it made me feel good. Finally we got to the hospital, and this time I walked proudly down the corridors, thinking ‘I’m a daughter going to see her mother.’ Nobody questioned that I was a girl, but I did realize that guys were checking me out. It felt creepy and good at the same time.
There were two big changes with Mom, both for the good. First of all, one eye was open and clear. The other one was still bandaged; the docs said they’d open it very soon. The second was that Mom had a writing gadget clipped to the bed, like a cross between an iPad and an Etch-a-Sketch; sort of like those things you sign for your credit card in department stores. Her left hand and arm had all the tubes running into her, but her right hand was free although the arm was still held rigid by bandages. The gadget had a stylus on a cord, and she’d write something; I realized that a monitor over her bed was the screen for viewing what she wrote, so you didn’t have to read her actual pad. You could read her comments, talk to her, and she could write a response that showed on the overhead screen. She also had places to tap on the screen for a quick Yes or No and to clear the screen. We could talk to each other!
I approached her, with my hands clasped behind my back. “Hi, Mom!”
She wrote, “Oh, my darling daughter!!”
Tears burst freely. I ran to her, but had to pull up short because I knew I couldn’t touch her. I told her I loved her so much; I hoped she wasn’t mad at me; I hoped she liked me.
She wrote, “I love you, silly!” and then underlined ‘love’ three times.
I told her about what Jackie and I had been doing, and what we had planned, and hoped it was okay with her.
She wrote several short sentences, because the screen couldn’t hold too much; putting them all together, they said, “You are so beautiful–I knew you would be! Be the girl I know you can be (she underlined ‘can’)–don’t hold back. It’s the only way you’ll find out who you truly are.” And she underlined ‘truly’.
I swallowed and said I would try my best. Mom made me cry again when she said that she wished she could be with me through all of this, and then she said that she wanted to just walk, to get up and just go some place. Since she couldn’t, I would have to do her walking and seeing and just be her stand-in as a girl in the world. I knew what she meant; I told her I loved her again.
She asked how things were with Jackie and Carl and me, and I told her they were great and getting better. She wrote that she would need to talk some business with Jackie in a moment. But first she said she had five things she wanted me to do; would I promise to do them? Jackie would explain fully. I said I would as much as I could; what were they?
This is what she wrote: “1) Wear lipstick. 2) Try pigtails. 3) Get a bikini. 4) Dance in your room. 5) Think about boys.”
The last one made me gulp, but I nodded and told her I’d try to do all five; joking, I asked did she want me to do them all at the same time?
I shouldn’t have said that; she tried to laugh and I could tell it hurt her. She quickly wrote, “Why not? I love you!! Send Jackie pls.”
I told her I loved her and went to get Jackie. I walked back in with her and called goodbye to Mom; just before the door closed I saw Jackie bend and read the gadget and say, “Yes, she’s real pretty.” That gave me a warm glow as I went to sit with Carl.
He was quiet and moody. I told him about Mom and the gadget and he looked up at the ceiling. I realized there were tears in his eyes.
He slowly said, “I can’t …handle the thought of what happened to her. She’s too good a person to have that happen to her. I think about what if it had been Jackie and I …”
All I could say was ‘yeah.’
“Listen …I need a coffee; can I get you anything?” Carl nodded to an espresso stand down the hall. I told him I was okay and he got up slowly and walked to the stand.
I realized that he might have been using the offer of coffee to establish communication–or a distraction. Either way, I should have taken him up on his offer out of politeness. I stood and followed him to the stand.
The barista had his back turned, foaming Carl’s order, and I smiled at Carl. “You know, on second thought, you’re right. Coffee would be pretty good right now.”
Carl tilted his head. “You drink coffee? Aren’t you a little young? I mean, I guess it’s not my business …”
“No; it’s okay. A lot of kids my age are drinking coffee now. The thing is to not drink too much or too strong, but a short latte would be fine. Mom and I …” I paused as the happy memory threatened my composure. “Mom and I used to share a cup together some mornings, usually Sundays.”
“Yeah, there’s something special about Sunday morning coffee.”
We were both making small talk. We didn’t really need to talk about coffee.
It was a good moment for us.
The barista turned and was a young guy with dark curly hair. He kind of looked like the genius guy on that old TV show Numbers. David something. He seemed to freeze for a second and then smiled.
“What can I get you?” His voice was nice. Pleasant, I mean.
“Um …a short latte, please,” I asked, and realized for some reason that I felt warm.
Carl looked at me over the rim of his cup, saying nothing, as the barista steamed my order. I felt strange, like I was under a microscope or something. To say something, I said, “Thank you for the coffee, Uncle Carl,” but he just nodded.
The barista handed me my coffee and said, “Thank you; please stop by again.” I know it was probably what he said to everybody, but it kind of felt like he was talking right to me. I felt a blush coming on and turned to walk back to our seats. I couldn’t help but think of Mom’s Number 5: ‘Think about boys.’
Too weird. Too …too weird.
We sat and got comfy, sipping in silence. I said, “Mm, good,” like a silly commercial. Carl nodded and was quiet for a while, studying his cup. Then he said, “You know, I’m still having a little trouble with all this.”
He didn’t mean the hospital. He didn’t mean the coffee. He meant me. All I said was, ‘yeah’ again.
He looked at me. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand what’s happening to you, or with you, or whatever the right phrasing is …but I don’t understand it at the same time.”
“Kind of where I’m at, too.”
“The main thing is …I knew some gay guys over the years, and I can see this isn’t a gay thing, so that’s not the issue. It’s …well, I don’t see how any male would want to be female, the whole …frilly thing and makeup and dolls and all …”
I knew what he meant and I saw a great opportunity. “Uncle Carl, I agree with you.”
That startled him. “You do? But …”
I had to put it in terms he could deal with. “Look, it doesn’t matter if a guy is gay or straight, you’re right–the thought of actually being female is the farthest thing from their minds.”
He turned to look at me, frowning. “I never thought of it that way. Regular guys, sure, but gay guys?” He paused. “Yeah, you’re right. They like being guys.” He nodded to himself in confirmation, but kept looking at me sideways. “So?”
I grinned. “So …doesn’t that prove to you that I’m not male? How could I want to be pretty, play with dolls, wear makeup, all that …unless I really truly was already female?”
It slowly dawned on him and I let him mull it over. “Yeah …” He held up a hand, kind of moving it a bit in the air, trying out the ideas he was grappling with. “It’s not a gay thing–hell, it’s not even a guy thing. Jackie was going on about double Xs and things, but it didn’t really …register …” He snapped back up and gave me the strangest look–like he was actually seeing me for the first time. “You’re a girl!”
I laughed. “Yes! Hel-lo!”
He was thinking about it with a kind of goofy grin and I knew something special had been achieved; he’d understood intellectually what Jackie had told him about me, but in his gut he hadn’t accepted it; he couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Now, his mind and his gut both grasped and accepted it. From this point on, I was a girl to him, plain and simple.
We’d both finished our coffee; Carl demonstrated our new relationship when he stood and reached for my cup, throwing both of them in the trash bin down the hall. There was something about the way he’d done it that kind of reminded me of chivalry–of how a gentleman treats a lady. I remembered Jackie’s description of what he was like when she first met him. I hid my smile by tidying the hem of my skirt as he sat back down.
Jackie came out right then and called him in to see Mom. I waited, thinking about the five things Mom had made me promise. I think I understood, but I would still talk with Jackie about them.
They came out about five minutes later and Jackie said ‘Let’s go to the Ladies’ room before we leave for the mall.’ Jackie told me that she and Mom had discussed insurance and things like that, and for me not to worry about what things cost when we were at the mall; it was worked out. I knew that Jackie wanted to playfully torture Uncle Carl by dragging him along as we were ‘girl’ shopping, and asked if we could cut him loose early to not prolong his suffering. She grinned wickedly and said, ‘Maybe!’ She said that when they were talking with my mother, Mom had asked Carl about his feelings about me, and Carl said, “I told her that she’s a really pretty girl and a hard worker and we’re glad to have her!”
I was so glad that Carl and I had talked before he saw Mom, and that he’d had his ‘breakthrough.’ Mom is pretty sharp and would have known instantly if he was still unsure of how to deal with me. Now I knew she’d rest easy, which was most important for her recovery.
When I told Jackie about the ‘breakthrough’, she smiled and nodded, looking happy but with a touch of sadness. I realized she was also thinking of Bethany. She and Carl will feel Bethany’s loss forever.
At the mall, Jackie directed us to Claire’s and shot me her wicked grin. I had to smile; I knew Carl would squirm in there. In the store, full of earrings, rings, necklaces, accessories, and milling, squealing teenaged girls, Jackie immediately spoke with the manager and after two painful click-pops, I had two gold stud earrings and surprised myself by how delighted I was! I kept turning my head this way and that in the mirrors, and Jackie had to drag me to get two pair of earrings, small hoops and tiny dangly things, as part of the package deal.
Carl had gone a little white when the earring gun was used, and was trying to keep out of the way of the teen girls zooming through the place. His mouth did show a trace of a smile when I was admiring my earrings and saying, “Oh, Aunt Jackie–I love them!” because it confirmed what we’d talked about for his ‘breakthrough’–because to Carl’s mind, only a girl would be gushing so delightedly over earrings. Jackie leaned over and whispered that I could tell Carl ‘it was sweet of him, but he didn’t have to stay.’ I did that, and his face lit up with relief. Jackie added that we should rendezvous at five at the fountain, and Carl took off gratefully.
Jackie said we had to hurry; I followed her as she blazed her way across the mall to a beauty salon. She’d made an appointment while I was in with Mom, and I was due for a new hairstyle! I guess the stylist knew about me, or Jackie had told her some story to explain how my hair was so obviously unstyled. I changed into a gown and got shampooed and then cut and blow-dried and I was dazzled by how little had been removed, but how femininely it had been styled. I had just enough bangs, and I guess there were layers on the side because it framed my face. The stylist had frozen my eyebrows before plucking and then went to work, and they now had a graceful arch and some definition, opening up my eyes and softening my face. They definitely weren’t boy’s eyebrows anymore!
While the stylist worked, an older woman rolled up a little cart and began working on my nails; Jackie had ordered the whole package. When she was done, my fingers and toes had a sculptured, rounded look with a soft pink glaze that also had some slight iridescence and looked wet long after it dried in her light gadget. The nails were still short enough to not get in the way when I was working, but I knew I’d wear gloves more often to protect them because I loved them so much.
They spun me around and there was Jackie, beaming, wiping a tear. I thanked her and thanked her and she said to not make a scene; it would look like I’d never been in a beauty salon before! I burst out laughing as I changed, she paid (and we bought some of the nail polish), and we left.
She said she had two stores more for me, and not to argue. The first was at the opposite end of the mall, and as we walked, I asked her about Mom’s list of five things I promised to do.
Jackie said, “Well, they all mean two things at least. First, wear lipstick. Wear it every day; but more than that, wear makeup and get used to putting it on every day. Have fun with different looks; it’s one of the joys of girlhood. Second, try pigtails. Even with your new hairstyle, you can do it. They’re just so darned cute, and will give you a hint of the fun little girl inside you, and that you never got to experience in real life. Even if you never wear ‘em in public, you’ll have that feeling to hold onto. Third, get a bikini. That’s obvious, but also I think she means get used to your body being seen as a girl’s body, and the sexiness that comes with that. And the freedom and the power. Fourth, dance in your room. Crank up the CD player–when Carl’s away, though!–and dance. Remember the song Girls Just Wanna Have Fun? That’s a good one to start with. Get used to moving your body around; girls dance a lot and never more than when they’re teenagers. Fifth …well.”
She stopped for a moment, slightly winded from walking and talking, and nodded to a group of boys coming out of an electronics store. “They’re not you, nor you them, not anymore–not ever, really. Boys are the opposite sex, with everything that the word means. If you think about them that way, it’ll be so much easier to think of yourself as a girl and not have any last hang-ups that there’s anything gay or weird or that you’re a boy trying to be a girl. And …it’s fun to think about cute boys! Put up posters of hotties, have a crush; it’s alright with her. And me. Okay?”
I said okay and as we walked, I thought about how Mom was crafty and loving at the same time. I knew the salon had been part of my crossing over, and the next stop was even more so …
I got a bra.
More than that …we went to Victoria’s Secret! Jackie said we were going to get my first bra, and maybe one or two other things, and she knew what was needed for me. We went into the changing room together and I had to keep from freaking out. I removed my top and stood there, my little mounds exposed and was surprised and delighted that my nipples visibly hardened. Jackie had grabbed some bras and had me try two on, then the third and that was the one–it was a teen Wonderbra and it actually made me look like I had more than I really did! We both knew immediately that it was the one, and when I put my top on, Jackie stopped me from buttoning it where I had it. I looked down and could see the start of cleavage. We looked at each other, grinned, and I hugged her.
In the hug, she whispered in my ear. “I got you something else you may or may not want. Got it while you were in the salon. It’s called a dance belt or gaff. I’m not sure how you have everything ‘down there’, but this might help while you try things on.”
She handed me a package with a thin, flesh-colored thong. I did turn from her when I took off my skirt and panties, and was amazed at how snug everything was when I pulled the thing on. She didn’t know that I was already tucked back and my testicles up inside me; with the gaff I was absolutely flat. I pulled my panties back up and had only the perfect smooth mound. I turned around and showed her and she smiled warmly and nodded. I pulled my skirt up and we left the booth.
We looked around and Jackie got a nightgown for herself and an ivory, shimmery camisole-tap pant combo for me. When I tried them on, the gaff prevented anything from dangling. After paying, we headed for an upscale department store.
First stop, makeup. Jackie led me to a Clinique display; on the way she whispered, “Maybe not as trendy as the more expensive stuff but much better for your skin in the long run and you can get it anywhere.” She told the older lady in the white smock that I’d been a tomboy and was only now ‘blossoming’ into a young lady. I didn’t have to fake a tomboy’s blush! The lady looked at me with a rather fond smile and said her own daughter had only recently ‘moved past her tomboy phase.’ I had a makeover, which struck me as funny because it implied that I had been made up before. I thought I looked too made up, but Jackie said it was great and we bought some items, mostly moisturizer and face prep stuff. As we passed a younger, hipper counter, Jackie said to choose a lipstick and after several tests, we settled on a pink to match my nails. I was dazzled by the choices, but Jackie said we had to move on or the makeup could suck up an hour or more.
Next stop, lingerie for basics, bras and panties, some camisoles and two nightgowns. Then to the Juniors for some more tops and skirts; we decided I had enough shorts but got some jeans and capris. And last, a wonderful sundress in yellow with red flowers, and a pretty embroidered peasant top as well. We were getting loaded with bags, but Jackie said, “Just one more stop, and it’ll be light and easy to carry.”
Swimsuits. More to the point–bikinis.
I resisted at first and had to be reminded of my promise to Number Three of ‘Mom’s Five Things.’ I also was reminded of how well Jackie had planned, because it was easy trying on suits with the gaff in place. We settled on a black one-piece that was cut low in the back, and two bikinis; one yellow and the other a blue floral print. She was right, of course; the suits weighed next to nothing, so we were able to carry everything to the car, which was right outside the doors–I was completely lost, but Jackie had known where we were at all times. We off-loaded the bags and had twenty minutes to meet Carl, so we window-shopped as we walked to the fountain. Carl was standing there with two bags, one from Eddie Bauer and one from Brookstone. He said he couldn’t believe that he’d done more shopping than we had, and we burst out laughing–wait until he got to the car!
Carl then froze, and he was staring at me. I was proud and embarrassed at the same time, and he said, “My God, you’re a knockout, Laurie! Great work, Jackie!”
Jackie said she had nothing to do with it except steer me to the places that would bring ‘me’ out. But yes, she smiled and nodded to me proudly, I was a knockout.
So it was official–I was a knockout. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, actually.
We settled on a restaurant that was attached to the mall, with black and white tile floors, and lots of wood and plants. I had a salad and chicken breast, and iced tea. I really didn’t have a problem eating like this; I hadn’t really been a cheeseburger-and-fries eater. Jackie told Carl about our shopping, glossing over it so he didn’t get bothered by the items or the expense, and he told us too much about some tools he’d seen. We had talked about maybe going to a movie, but we were tired and still had the drive back. Jackie suggested we swing by a video store and get a DVD or two, and that’s what we did after dinner. Carl got The Great Escape–‘I always wanted to own it’, he said. Jackie and I settled on The Princess Diaries. I’d seen it; she hadn’t but trusted me that she’d like it. As we drove home, I realized that since the last time I’d seen the film, my life had taken on some similarities to the girl in the movie.
It was overcast the next morning. We were all in sleepy mode, still in bathrobes, at breakfast. Carl laid out some chores for me with the horses, and I told him I wanted to start dumping chemicals in the pool for the pH, after vacuuming the chlorine shock. We also talked about the lake; there was an herbicide that could remove a lot of the algae and weeds; we’d have to clear out the dead and dying weeds but it was important to get started so the lake would be as clear as possible when the season started. Carl also reminded me to start wearing the cell phone/walkie-talkie from Miranda’s room from now on.
After breakfast, Jackie suggested I get used to wearing a bra every day–“It is your everyday life now, you know,” she said–and a scoop-necked top. She said I also had to get used to dressing ‘cute.’ Fine with me! So I wore a bra and the top she recommended, and some jeans for working with horses.
Carl drove us to the barn and I did the chores he’d listed; I was pretty fast and was able to get down to the pool before lunch. I tested the water and then hooked up the vacuum and long pole just as Carl came and honked for lunch.
While we were eating, the sun broke through the clouds, so I grabbed the blue floral bikini, a towel and some sun block, threw them in a backpack and Carl drove me to the pool. I didn’t hesitate; I went into the Ladies’ section and stripped, lathered up with sun block and put on the bikini. I wasn’t wearing the gaff, but the bottom was tight enough and I was small enough that I looked fine and felt secure.
It was weird walking out onto the pool deck in the bikini, even though nobody was there to see me. Nevertheless, I felt a bit exposed and self-conscious at first, so I decided to face it head-on. I knew Carl was gone, but I looked around and confirmed I was alone. So I walked. Sounds simple, but it’s hard to ‘just walk’, because you start to pay too much attention to parts of your body. I walked around the pool deck several times, trying different things with my hips and foot placement, to get the feeling of having a bikini on. I knew that when summer guests arrive, I will have to seem like I’ve worn bikinis all my life. I even tried ‘sashaying’, as Mom used to call it, by exaggerating things as ‘girly’ as possible. I cracked myself up and settled down and finally was able to walk as if wearing a bikini was no big deal.
I soon realized I’d need some sunglasses since the glare off the pool water was blinding. There was also now the matter of hair …I never had much body hair, and what I had was thin and sparse but there was enough that glistened in the sunlight when I looked at my legs. So I was going to have to shave my legs, and probably should do under my arms, too. For some reason there was a little buzz of anticipation thinking about shaving my legs.
I started the pump, picked up the pole and began to clean the bottom of the pool. I’ve always liked vacuuming a pool; you can’t move the vacuum head quickly because you’ll just stir things up. You want to vacuum up what had settled on the bottom. I sometimes got in a relaxed, trance-like state because it’s a slow, repetitive process. I completely forgot that I was now Laurie, a girl wearing a bikini, or having to shave my legs, or–especially–that my Mom was in horrible pain in the burn ward. I just got into the flow of the vacuum–and it was a big pool.
I stowed everything and checked the pH again and added the necessary chemicals, being careful to not get any on my exposed skin. And I had a lot of exposed skin! Then I checked all the filters and pumps; everything was working fine. Then I got the idea to check our parts inventory and discovered we’d need some spare gaskets and filters. I wrote down the part number information and then checked in with Jackie, who told me to sit tight for Carl. When I called Carl he said he’d be along in twenty minutes. I said I’d have to change and he told me not to bother if I still had a suit on, because we’d be checking the lake and I might be in for some swimming. I realized that keeping a paperback in my backpack might be a good idea.
I felt, well, kind of naked when Carl pulled up and I came out in the bikini. I had my towel over my shoulders, but he handled it very well–seeing me like this. We went down to the lake and got a skiff out of a small boathouse hidden under some trees. There was a mask and snorkel and some fins which we threw into the skiff. Carl fired up the tiny outboard, explaining things to me as he went along, and we cruised the perimeter of the lake, noting where the weeds were thickest. In the middle, I went over the side into the cool water and held onto the boat, then plunged down into the colder layers, exploring things. I came up for air two or three times, then hung on to the side while Carl moved the boat. It was fun, being dragged through the water; then he’d park and I’d go down some more and report back. We did this several times.
Basically the lake was clear, but there was one area out of the sun where weeds were thickest. When I came up the last time, I tossed the fins and gear into the boat and Carl helped me over the side. It was awkward, partly because I was acutely aware of wearing a bikini–I only wore it today because I thought I’d be alone, vacuuming the pool. I strained the water out of my hair and leaned back on my shoulders, enjoying the sun as Carl motored back.
We talked about plans for the lake. Carl was thinking of adding some small powered boats, but I pointed out the cost of fuel, gas fumes, danger of explosion, and the sheer cussedness of trying to keep them all working. I told him, “It’s my thought that if you don’t offer something, folks don’t miss it, but if you offer it and it isn’t available, or doesn’t work right, they get pissed.”
Carl said that was an excellent operating principle and we’d apply it to each area of the ranch. I asked about paddle boats, for the moms and kiddies, and he thought that would be great, also rowboats and a few canoes–nothing electric, combustible, or mechanical. I mentioned we’d have to have a supply of lifejackets as well as another Red Cross-certified lifeguard, and he complimented me on the thoroughness of my thinking. I think we’re going to have a great season if even half the plans come off.
Carl took me back to the pool house, where I showered, dried, and changed, then back to the house. On the way I said if we had a roped-off swimming area in the lake, we’d need to sink in some water lines for showers to get the lake organisms off. Carl nodded, thoughtful.
We had a spaghetti dinner; Jackie had told us not to get dressed up because we’d just get sauce all over ourselves. It felt weird, but I began to feel like I was actually a family member. I didn’t like the idea if it meant Mom wasn’t a part of it, but I held on to the idea that she’d join us when she was able. After all, she couldn’t go right back to work, and where could we live? Besides, I was growing to love the ranch.
We didn’t get too messy, but I got giggly because Carl let me have some red wine. He said I’d earned it for the diving and for the great ideas. I’d had wine before with Mom, but it was only a little bit of white. Carl gave me a good hefty glassful, and it was fantastic with the spaghetti and garlic bread. Watching TV, I got a little sleepy, too, and laid my head on Jackie’s shoulder until she gently told me to go to bed.
I washed up, including swabbing my ears–I’d been rotating the studs during the day–and curled up in my nightie after calling out goodnight. Zoned out fast, too.
The next day was a school day. Carl took off and Jackie and I had some quality time together before Miz B got there. I told her how weird it had been, wearing the bikini. She told me to get used to it, because I might live in it during the summer. She said I’d be the center of all boys’ attention, and it would be unavoidable. First, because I was like royalty, the ‘ranch girl’, like I owned the place even if it wasn’t the truth. It would make me cooler than the other girl campers. Second, because I was ‘so awfully pretty’ and I blushed. She nodded and said that boys would be something to deal with, paused and then asked how did I feel about that? I said that I hadn’t thought about it yet; I’d only been given my mom’s orders two days ago. She grinned, winked, and said I had to make up for lost time!
Miz B complimented me on how I looked–my hair, earrings, and the top and skirt I wore–and then we got down to business. I’d done the homework right, so we moved forward in several subjects. I noticed that the next batch of homework was getting tougher, but I’d do my best. Miz B left at lunchtime, and Carl came up and we talked about lake plans some more. He came close to raving about me to Jackie, about how creative and efficient my ideas had been, all along, from leather key rings to a shower for the lake swimmers. I blushed and studied my food but felt immensely grateful that I was being accepted by him.
After lunch, I worked on the computer with Jackie, and began sketching out some ideas for a logo for the t-shirts we’d sell at the pool. She let me off early, saying that I hadn’t had a moment to myself for some time …and if I felt like dancing, now would be a good time.
I knew what she meant; ‘Mom’s Five Things’ was in my mind all the time now. I sat on the porch and read some of my homework, then went to my room and cleaned things up, moving some clothes around since the shopping spree, and settling in. There was a small CD player all-in-one unit, but the CDs with it were all little girl stuff. I did find the soundtrack to the Disney movie Snow Day, so I put it on while I worked. By the third or fourth song, I was bopping a little in time, then bobbing my head and moving my hips, and was really moving by the end of the CD. I started it again right away and sang along with ‘Another Dumb Blonde’ and I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Rather than stop, I kept right on singing to the girl in the mirror, shaking my head and swinging my hips, like she was my BFF and we were having a sleepover and suddenly I knew why Mom had told me to dance. I felt free and girly and cute and all sorts of adjectives like that. It was the most …delicious feeling, happy and joyful. I felt like a girl, as simple as that.
Jackie gave me a knowing look when I came out to help with dinner, and said maybe we could pick up some CDs in town next time. I hugged her; she and Mom are almost magical in how they know about things. Well, they’re sisters, right?
We had a quiet dinner with a wonderful salad that Jackie had taught me to make. Cleaned up and watched TV and to bed around ten.
I’m a happy girl.
End of Part 4
Jackie and I had a telephone conference with the hospital about Mom’s condition. They had made the decision to put her in a sort of long-term, controlled coma while they went through a series of skin grafts that would have exhausted her and put her through a great deal of pain. By being ‘under’ she would be spared the pain, she could heal significantly faster than otherwise, and it would allow them to better monitor her vital signs. What it ultimately meant was that I would not be seeing Mom for the next several weeks to a month or more. I was very upset at the news, but Jackie calmed me down afterwards by reminding me that time would pass differently for Mom; it would be almost no time for her between our last visit and the next one–whenever that would be.
‘Doctor Jackie’ prescribed a bubble bath to relieve my mood and to give me time to think about things. I’d always taken showers and had never had a bubble bath, even as a kid. ‘Long overdue, then!’ was Jackie’s comment, and told me that she’d take care of everything, even Carl.
After dinner she disappeared for a time while Carl and I discussed the pool pump, which–even with my repairs–was looking pretty feeble and might not last the season, if the bookings continued at their current rate. Exciting conversation, but if the pump was unhappy, then I was unhappy. He delegated me to researching a replacement. Jackie came down and announced that I looked tired and might want to turn in early; I knew–and Carl knew, but was polite enough to appear ignorant–that she meant my bubble bath was ready. But we all observed the charade so Carl wouldn’t have to get involved with ‘girl things.’
I said goodnight to Carl and something neat happened. As I went past him, saying ‘goodnight’, I put my hand on his shoulder without thinking. He reached up and patted my hand and I truly felt his affection. I hugged Jackie on my way upstairs; she’d seen him pat my hand and her eyes were sparkling with tears. I undressed and wrapped my bathrobe around me and went to the bathroom and just …stared. Jackie had filled the tub with steamy bubbles, lit scented candles all around, and left a pile of things on the counter with a note on top.
The note read: ‘Dearest Lauren, it’s past time for you to discover the joys of a bubble bath. However, you have three strict orders. First, you are to spend a minimum of twenty minutes in the tub–I’ve left a small hourglass with that amount. Second, you may use the razor and cream to shave but only after the twenty minutes–and be careful around your knees! Then pull the plug, stand, and shower to rinse off. You can do your hair if you wish, but when you dry where you shaved, be sure to blot with the towel, not rub, and apply the lotion while still damp. And finally, Third: You are to relax. You are to let your mind drift, let your body go, and just explore what a glorious thing it is to be female! All my love to you, my darling niece, Jackie.’
I got teary thinking about how wonderful she was, and gratefully slipped into the hot water, inch by inch. There was some kind of oil in the water too, and I soon felt slippery as a seal. I felt, well, glorious. I remembered the hourglass after I was in and turned it over but wasn’t going to be a ‘clock watcher.’ I lay back and thought about everything that had happened, and was happening, and might happen …and I found that my hands were sliding slowly along my body and had worked their way up to my small breasts. I could feel my nipples reacting to touch for the first time, and it was a little frightening and wonderful and delightful all at the same time. Maybe this was what Jackie meant by ‘explore’, I wondered.
The hourglass had run out–probably a while ago–but I followed Jackie’s orders and stuck a leg out on the side of the tub and lathered and slowly, ever so slowly, shaved my leg. I realized that she was right; knees were tricky, but I didn’t nick myself. I did the second leg and then–even slower than with my legs, because I couldn’t see so well–I shaved under my arms. I did get a knick on the second arm; maybe I was getting over-confident, but the whole process rather reminded me of sweeping the pool. The faster you go, you just cause trouble. It was better to get a slow, even rhythm going. I unplugged the tub, stood and rinsed. I’d shampooed at the pool house so I didn’t need to do it again.
Carefully blotting and applying the lotion as Jackie recommended, I marveled at how smooth and sleek I felt all over. I realized that my clothing would feel different, and I could wear more sleeveless tops, and maybe halters someday, and bikinis, of course …and I giggled because I was obviously thinking about clothing, like any girl would. And I was right–my nightie seemed to slide over my oiled body. I blew out the candles and tidied up, almost running into Jackie as I left the bathroom.
“I was coming to see if you’d drowned,” she joked. “Oh, you cleaned up, too! I might have to keep you around!”
I hugged her. “Please do! And thank you, thank you, thank you for the wonderful bath. I never knew …well, I never knew.”
“How’d the shaving go?”
“I cut myself under my right arm, but it was worth it. Everything feels so …”
“Yeah,” she grinned. “I know what you mean. You almost want to hug yourself it feels so delicious.”
“That’s exactly right! Although I guess it might become a routine chore in time.”
“Not if you treat yourself like tonight. Spices up the occasion, doesn’t it?”
“You bet …but how long was I in there?”
“Just over an hour. That’s a good sign. Men can’t stand the time lost from …well, whatever it is they do instead of relaxing in tubs.”
We both giggled at that and I hugged her one last time for the day and went to bed.
Over the next few weeks, things settled into a simple routine–work. The season was almost upon us. Every morning we woke up, bone-tired from the day before, ate breakfast and discussed our plans for the day, prioritizing. We’d work until lunch, although sometimes Jackie made up a box lunch for Carl because he was working so far away, but she checked to make sure he actually ate the thing, too!
I had Jackie working the reservations so smoothly that my only other indoor activity was my schooling, which came to an end two weeks later. I was so sorry to see Miz B go; we hugged and got a little misty but she’d be keeping in touch with me by email. The last chunk of my schooling would be online, but they were research projects with loose deadlines that I’d send her for evaluation. The last thing she did was give me a long box containing a fine silver chain with a small Celtic medallion. She told me it was from an obscure Celtic tradition where a shaman, to become truly wise, “crossed over” and lived as a female. Having known both worlds, the shaman was truly powerful. I hugged her fiercely when she told me this, and promised to live up to the medallion.
With schooling out of the way, I spent more of my mornings at the pool and lake areas before it got too hot. Carl took most of my recommendations to heart and got me the things I’d listed and the pool machinery was purring along, pH stable, and the water was so clear it broke my heart to think of our guests peeing in it! The lake took a lot of work, and Carl produced an old Desco rig, with a large full-face mask that had air hoses going up to a small pump and generator that could fit in the boat. Weighting for neutral buoyancy, I could hover along the bottom, cutting weeds, removing debris and so on. I had gotten so used to wearing a bikini around Carl that it didn’t seem to bother either one of us, but as my breasts became a little more reactive, I learned things girls know about hiding their nipples. But mainly we worked. By the start of the third week, my weeding and the chemicals we dumped left us a pristine, post-card lake. Carl also stabilized the docks and set stanchions for roped-off areas; I did what I could in the water, stringing the ropes and such.
It was a tremendous amount of hard work, and I loved doing it, but part of me worried about developing muscles. Jackie told me that I’d get stronger, sure, but my mostly-female metabolism would keep me from becoming masculinized. I certainly didn’t want that; I loved being a girl now!
We finally got a call from the hospital that it would be a good time to see Mom. Carl was in the midst of his last big project–rebuilding a tractor engine–and really wanted to finish, so he stayed behind and Jackie and I went. I wore a light purple camisole top with spaghetti straps and a raspberry-colored bra underneath and the colors were complementary. I also had a denim skirt and strappy sandals with a low heel that Jackie said would be great for traveling so I could kick them off in the car and get comfortable. Jackie wore her usual jeans and a denim appliquéd shirt.
The two-hour drive seemed to take forever; Jackie said it was because I wanted to see Mom so badly. We did the usual stop to pee at a McDonald’s and get some ice cream. We got to the hospital eventually and were walking down a hallway when a voice called out, “Good to see you again!”
It was the barista from our earlier visit. His curly hair was a bit longer and his smile was wider. I kind of waved as we passed and said that we were on our way to visit and didn’t want to be late. He nodded and waved, and I heard a ‘mmph’ sound from Jackie.
“What?”
“‘What?’ Right back at you. A cute boy likes you and you just wave him off,” she said with an exasperated sigh.
“We’ve got to see Mom,” I said, reasonably. Did Jackie think he was cute, I wondered?
“There’s usually time to flirt. Or aren’t you interested in boys?”
“I … Jackie, I …” I was flustered and couldn’t get started. Lamely, I added, “I just want to see Mom.”
Her voice softened. “I know you do, honey, but remember Mom’s Fifth Thing.”
“Oh, I remember it alright.” How could I not? It wasn’t so much that boys were on my mind all the time; it’s that thinking about the Fifth Thing was.
“It’s okay. Right? It’s okay. You don’t have to do everything all at once. Of course, you have done all the others …”
We walked on in silence for a bit and then I asked her, “You really think he’s cute?”
Jackie actually guffawed. “It’s more important that you think he’s cute. And you do. And I do. And he is!”
A doctor and a suit came down the corridor towards us. I recognized him as one of Mom’s doctors that we’d met. The news was not good; Mom had come out of her induced coma okay but once she came into the twilight consciousness she’d started tossing around in the throes of a nightmare and had injured one of the grafts.
“We had to immediately place her back under sedation and rushed her to the Burn Ward OR to repair the graft,” Dr. Morrison said. “It was successful and she’s resting but still under.”
“Was she in pain?” I worried.
“Yes, there was some pain but I think we got her back under before it registered in her mind. Hopefully her memory will be of the nightmare and not the real-world pain that the torn graft would have caused. You understand that while she was in the induced coma there was no need for painkillers–in fact, they would be detrimental to her system.”
“But how did you know she was having a nightmare and not just in great pain?” Jackie asked with an edge to her voice.
“This is very common in burn victims; we’ve seen it many times before. Psychologically, it takes time and new sensory input–activities, memories–to distance us from trauma.” Dr. Morrison turned to me. “You had nightmares when you were with us, remember?”
I shuddered at the memories. “Yes, some of the nights that I was here. Then they stopped.”
“Actually, it was every night that you were here, as I remember,” the doctor grinned.
“And the first few weeks at the ranch,” Jackie added.
I had no memory of that. “No, I didn’t. I’d remember.”
Jackie smiled sadly. “Honey, you screamed so loud one night that Carl knocked over his beer!”
They all chuckled at the image while I stared.
Dr. Morrison said, “In your case, you had nightmares for several weeks and then they tapered off. Because you had new sensory input added daily and so the nightmares receded. And the imagery faded from your waking mind at the end, so although your mind was working through the nightmare you were spared from the memory of the previous night’s emotion.”
His voice got serious. “Time moves differently for coma patients, whether induced medically or through trauma. For your mother, all the time that has passed since she was admitted is compressed to the half-a-dozen times she’s been lucid. Consequently, in her mind, literally only half-a-dozen days have passed since the fire itself.”
My hand flew to my mouth and I heard Jackie’s sharp intake of breath. She’d been an ER nurse and so she had no experience with coma patients.
The doctor nodded. “So we knew it was a nightmare, one of several she’s had each time she’s regained consciousness. The combined exhaustion from fighting the nightmare and the combined trauma of tearing the graft and then surgery …we thought it best to allow her to sleep through until morning.”
I turned to Jackie, who was already forming a sentence when the administration lady spoke.
“I’m Marilyn Butler, with Family Relations for the hospital. We know this news is a shock to you but I can assure you that your mother and sister is doing well. However, we notified you to come today and now you can’t see her until tomorrow. My notes show that you have a bit of a journey to get here, and I’d like to give you some options. You can certainly return home this afternoon and either return tomorrow morning or at a later date …”
“Well …yeah,” Jackie said. “We don’t have much of a choice, I guess …”
“Possibly, you do. The other option is to stay in town overnight as guests of the hospital, at no expense to you. We have established relationships with several local hotels and you may stay at one of them tonight and return tomorrow morning.”
Dr. Morrison cleared his throat. “Um …we intend to awaken your mother at 8 a.m.; she should be lucid and comfortable around 10, maybe 10:30. That is, if there are no complications.”
Ms. Butler nodded. “And there is that possibility, that the decision might be made to not wake her. The hospital will authorize one night only, under the circumstances, so you take the chance that you might not be able to visit tomorrow. But that’s–” She broke off and looked at Dr. Morrison, who nodded to her. “That’s a slim chance. All the signs are excellent that the three of you will be able to get together around lunchtime.”
Jackie asked, “When do you need a decision? I’ve got to discuss this with my husband.”
“Take all the time you need; just let me know before five today,” Ms. Butler smiled and handed a business card. She’d circled a number. “Call my cell phone directly and I’ll get right on it. Oh, and you have a choice of a Ramada, Sheraton, or a Holiday Inn. No Fairmonts or Four Seasons in town, I’m afraid,” she grinned.
After thanking the two of them and watching them walk off, I looked at Jackie, who studied the card. She murmured, “You know, they really didn’t have to do that. I’m worried that this is more serious than they let on–or it could be that they’re nicer than the typical medical corporation. Certainly more than my old hospital! Hmm,” she wrinkled her forehead, then cleared it. “Well, I’m, uh …in need of coffee.”
We were walking down the hall before I realized what she meant by ‘coffee’ after we’d passed a small cafeteria. Yes, she did mean she wanted a cup of coffee–but from a certain coffee stand. I started to protest and she grinned, silent and smug. We got to the stand; the barista was steaming a customer’s milk and we got in line. Then it was Jackie’s turn.
“Hi. A tall latte, please. Maybe a little vanilla powder? Laurie, you want anything?”
I noticed that she’d said my name a bit loudly. I shook my head ‘no.’
“You sure? My treat!” she grinned, and then turned to the barista. “Guess not.”
He made her coffee, and as he handed it to her, she said, “Oh, I’ve got to go call Carl. Tell you what, I’ll spring for another, just like this one …Mark,” she said, reading his badge. “Please? Thanks!”
She grinned at me and waggled her eyebrows as she turned and went to the other side of the hall to make her call–and to watch me, no doubt.
Mark could see that it was an obvious setup and that I was uncomfortable with it. To lighten things up, as he handed me the cup, he said off-handedly, “So …come here often?”
It was such an obvious pickup line that I had to chuckle, as he did when he saw me laughing. Then I thought of the reason I was at the hospital and my humor faded. He saw that, too, and apologized.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up with a cheap line. I didn’t think about it; nobody wants to come to the hospital.”
I thought for just a moment and said, “That might not be true. I think people love going to Obstetrics to see the new babies. But thank you for the ‘cheap line.’ It’s the first laugh I’ve had in a while.”
“You’re welcome, then. And you’re right about Obstetrics; they have a section called ‘Delivery’ but I think that sounds like FedEx.”
I smiled and nodded and took a sip. Technically it was Jackie’s coffee, but I knew she’d ordered it to keep me there so I might as well drink it. I was surprised there were no customers right now; the irrational thought flashed through my head that Jackie was keeping them away so I could talk to Mark. And he really was very nice.
“I haven’t been here that often, really,” I began.
“I know. I might have missed you other times but only first saw you over a month ago.”
For some reason I felt a warmth and was afraid of blushing. I took a quick sip and nodded to cover it. “This is the first time we’ve been back. See, my mother …well, we were in a fire and she got burned very badly saving me. They’ve had her in a medically-induced coma for weeks.”
His whole demeanor changed to one of respect and sympathy. “Ah …the Burn Ward. That’s …that can be rough. They have the most incredible people there–the staff and the patients. And your mother proves she’s incredible by what she did for you.”
I nodded and smiled gratefully and felt my eyes burn. Without a word, Mark handed me a tissue from a box under the counter. I accepted it and felt Jackie at my shoulder.
“What’s going on here?” she said, half protectively and half joking.
“Nothing; it’s okay, Jackie,” I said. “I just was thinking of Mom. Mark was kind enough to praise her bravery in the fire.”
Jackie gave him a new look as she laid her purse on the counter. “Thank you for that, young man. Evie took the time to soak a robe to cover Laurie and pushed her ahead. Burning …drapes fell on her, engulfed her.” Jackie winced and shuddered. “She was …she was incredible to survive what she did; with all the pain I don’t know if I could have stayed as long as she did.” She looked at me, her eyes tear-filled. “But maybe I would have, to save my pretty girl here.”
I was deeply embarrassed and grateful and just wanted to lay down and bawl. Thank God for the tissue. Mark automatically set the box on the counter before me. For some reason that simple act of kindness made me stop thinking about myself and I sort of dried up. I took a tissue and handed it to Jackie, then took one more tissue and dabbed away at my own eyes.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “I’m okay. Yeah,” I said as I folded the tissue, “Mom is incredible.”
There was a pause and Mark cleared his throat softly. He asked, “Do you get a chance to see her often?”
“Every chance we get,” Jackie said. “Not as much as we like.”
There was a pause.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jackie kind of nodding to me at Mark. Before I could call her on it, Mark asked me, “I was wondering if you’d like to go out some time?”
I was shocked. On so many levels. Um …
“Um …thank you, but …well, we don’t live here,” was the first thing I could think of.
Jackie said, “We’re about two hours south. That’s why we don’t get here as much as we like.”
“You live around Hader? Some friends from school moved there,” Mark said.
“No, farther out. Smoke Valley Ranch,” Jackie replied.
Mark grinned. “No kidding?” He turned to me. “You live on the ranch?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded towards Jackie. “She owns it. She and my Uncle Carl.”
“Wow! That would be so cool, to live on a ranch. I’ve heard of Smoke Valley. One of my friends was there last summer. He said …” He tapered off.
“Go ahead,” Jackie urged. “We can take it.” She was grinning.
“Well, he said his parents didn’t like it so much because they didn’t think it was very luxurious. I guess they thought it was going to be some kind of resort. But my friend really dug it because it was authentic. He told me it was a genuine ranch, not some duded-up corporate fake.”
Jackie chuckled and looked at me. “Well, we certainly aren’t luxurious. Or corporate. It’s all we can do to keep the place going, Carl and me. But now we’ve got Laurie and it’s all coming together.”
I shrugged, “I’m just helping out where I can.”
“’Just helping out’?” Jackie laughed and turned to Mark. “You should see her, Mark; she single-handedly computerized our business system. Also single-handedly, she’s repaired the pool and reclaimed the lake for swimmers and you should see this girl with the horses!”
“I’d like to!” he grinned. “You really work with horses?”
I just nodded but Jackie said, “I’ve never seen anybody with a better understanding and control of them. They just take to her. She even gentled the meanest ones. And she’s had ideas to help expand the ranch, too.”
“Careful,” I joked, “You’re going to make it sound like I’m trying to make it a duded-up corporate fake.”
Mark said, “It’s strange to see you here, in the antiseptic halls and linoleum, and think of you in a barn working with horses. It’s pretty cool.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at my cup as I felt another blush threaten.
“So …I guess we wouldn’t be able to go out sometime,” Mark looked at Jackie and me and back again. “Right? I mean, with the distance and everything. And you’ve probably got a boyfriend, so I shouldn’t even ask …”
I really did blush. “No …no b-boyfriend,” I stammered.
Jackie half-snorted and spoke in a business-like tone to me, but obviously wanted Mark in on the conversation. “Well, let’s just discuss this for a moment. I spoke with Carl and although he’s not a gambler, he said he thinks the odds are good that we’ll see Evie tomorrow. He thinks we should take the hospital up on their offer.”
Turning to Mark, she explained, “They offered to put us up for the night at a hotel. They’d called us to come in today but Evie had a little setback and won’t be ready to see us until tomorrow.”
Mark nodded. “They’re very good at that for families more than an hour away. And I’m sorry to hear about the setback.”
Jackie waved a hand. “She’ll be fine, but thank you.” To me, she said, “So we have the rest of the day and all night free.” To Mark, she said, “Do you know of a good mall around here?”
I knew that she already knew all the malls by heart.
Mark said, “Valley View’s a good one. And that’s near the Sheraton and the Holiday Inn that the hospital works with. The Ramada’s actually at the Crestview Mall but the area around there isn’t doing so well, so you’d probably like Valley View.”
“Thanks,” Jackie said. Glancing at me, she looked back at Mark and said, “And what about movies? Does the Valley View have any theaters nearby?”
“There’s a multiplex right at the mall.”
Jackie’s voice got strange. “So …movies probably start around seven or so, so if we wanted to see something–anything–we should be in front of the box office around 6:30 or so?”
Mark grinned. “That would be great! I mean, that would be smart. You’d have time to check in to whichever hotel you choose and still have time for shopping. And they have the newest movies at that theater, including the new Julia Roberts one.”
I was speechless at the conniving of these two.
Jackie sensed I was about to ruin things and so she grabbed her purse and tapped my upper arm. “Come on, honey, we’ve got to catch that Family Relations lady. Thank you for the coffee, Mark, and the advice.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, “And it was a real pleasure meeting you both. I hope we can meet again soon.”
“Real soon,” Jackie grinned and waved, half-dragging me with her.
Once we were out of sight of the espresso stand, I turned to Jackie. “What, what, what was that?”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” she replied, innocently.
“You know very well what I mean. That whole …thing with Mark? You already know about that mall, and the movie theatres. You told me about Carl dragging you to a Die Hard movie there.”
She grinned. “It was a lot better than I thought. There’s just something about Bruce Willis …” She laughed. “Look, honey; Mark is a nice guy and he likes you–I can tell, even if you can’t. And you like him–and again, I can tell even if you can’t. But even if you admitted that you like him, you wouldn’t be able to go on a date because we live too far away. Because of the kindness of the hospital, we have a night to kill in town. So …I’m thinking we get the hotel squared away and go do some shopping, grab a late lunch and then back to the mall. I’d really like to treat myself to that spa they have, just a night being pampered. But since you’re not a sore, sagging, wrinkly old lady, you won’t need the spa. So, what to do, what to do …?” She tapped her finger against her lips as if thinking.
“You’re scheming,” I grinned. “You’re not sagging and wrinkly, but you are scheming!”
“No, honey, I’ve already schemed. And quite successfully, too! So we arrive 6:30ish at the theater. If I know my Mark, he’ll be there hoping that you are. If so, the two of you go to the movies, or walk around, or whatever you want to do. This old lady will go get pampered. We’ll meet up at the movie theater around 10, or whenever your movie is over, and you and I go to our free hotel. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds like a scheme,” I chuckled. “But you’re forgetting one thing: what if I don’t want to go on a date with Mark?” Truth be told, the thought terrified me. And thrilled me.
“Laurie, if you wait until you think you’re ready, you’ll never be ready. This is a golden opportunity, with the added bonus that you live too far away for anything to develop. No pressure there. And besides, there is one other thing …”
She tilted her chin down and stared at me.
“What? What?”
“Um …oh, I don’t know; let’s just call it …the fifth thing.’” Her face lit up. “Hey! We’ll call it ‘The Fifth Element’–that’s another Bruce Willis movie!”
“Oh my God …”
“Yes, omigod!” she answered in a Valley Girl squeal. She darn near cackled at that.
I just rolled my eyes.
Then her voice softened. “Look, you’ve done the other four things your mom wanted you to do, and she saved number five for last because she knew it would take the biggest leap of faith in your mindset. This way, when we see her tomorrow, even if you’re not thinking about boys–but I bet you are!–then at least you can tell her that you have gone out on a date.”
Cornered. Schemed. Connived.
Damn.
She was right.
We met with Marilyn Butler, who arranged for us to stay at the Holiday Inn Crowne Plaza, which was newer than the Sheraton and shared a parking lot with the Valley View Mall–perfect! Ms. Butler told us they’d have “Unexpected Guest” packages for us, with disposable toothbrushes and toilet items, for hospital families like us but also for airport layovers. We thanked her and checked but there was no further news about Mom.
Since Jackie already knew where the mall was, it was easy to find the hotel. We checked in and were given the little toiletry boxes, which we opened once we checked into our room. It was quite nice, and we’d have a 1 p.m. checkout the next day. Jackie sat and made a list of items she wanted to get to ‘supplement’ our Unexpected Guest boxes.
“Nightgowns?” I kidded, reading over her shoulder.
“A must-have. These supplies are the bare minimum, but it’s still thoughtful. Yes, nighties, two. Noxzema, one. What are the Neutrogena things you use at night?”
I told her my cleaner and moisturizer and asked about Carl freaking at us buying these for one night. Jackie laughed and said that we needed to stock up, anyway, and would be using the items we bought today for months to come. She was tempted to get cheap nightgowns at Wal-Mart, but decided that with the hot summer coming we should invest in good quality. She added bras and panties to the list for the same reason.
Jackie checked something in the phonebook yellow pages, grabbed her things and said ‘let’s go.’ The first stop was a western-wear store that she’d found in the phonebook. She told me that Carl had told her to get me a genuine cowgirl hat.
“He said, ‘don’t get her one of those cheap straw things you see them wear in the beer commercials’, so we’re going here to get you the real thing. After all, we are a working ranch, and your ears will burn off if you keep wearing ball caps.”
We looked at several and I got two (per Carl’s instructions). One was for everyday working around the ranch, called a ‘Shady Brady’ and I got a hat named ‘Reba’ (I love Reba McEntire) that was kind of gray felt for ‘formal’ occasions. I asked Jackie what in the world was a formal occasion at the ranch.
“I forgot that you don’t really know our season; it already seems like you’ve been there forever. Well, aside from prayer services that we provide every Sunday–oh, don’t look like that; we don’t preach. We’ve got a minister that comes over from Hader; he’s got a circuit he does for all the outlying ranches, sort of like Miz B. Some weeks it’s full, some it’s just us so he comes in for coffee. Anyway, remember that we offer one- and two-week sessions. The last night there’s a campfire and we do a little ceremony where the session families–and remember, we’ve got two categories; Session Family and Guest?”
I nodded. “That would explain some of the coding you had me do for the reservation system, but I didn’t think to ask what they meant. I just took your old handwritten pages and set them up in the software.”
“And you did a fantastic job, too. It’s taking less than half the time and problems show up right away so I can fix ‘em fast. And you didn’t get a chance to really explore the system because Carl’s got you slaving away.”
“He does not!” I protested, then realized it was just another of her teases. “Well, I have been spending most of the time outside.”
She grinned. “And doing a great job. And you will be spending most of your time outside, once the season starts. Okay; Session Families buy a package with scheduled activities added. Guests have restricted run of the place with no fixed schedules. I’d like to change that somehow, if you’ve got any ideas. I never liked the idea of folks aimlessly roaming around, and we could wind up with too many people at one place.”
“I’m thinking of problems with everyone wanting water sports, overcrowded barbecues, whatever.”
“You got that right. Almost every problem we’ve had has been from Guests, from fires to vandalism. Not the Session Families. Put your thinking cap on, girl, and come up with another of your brilliant ideas. Anyway, we have flag ceremonies–mostly lowering it nightly, but we got a bugle recording, too–and there’s an awards ceremony I started to tell you about. We give out little ribbons for Best Swimmer, Best Rider, Most Authentic Cowboy and Cowgirl, and so on. So that’s when you’ll wear your fancy Reba hat. Nice clean jeans and a pretty, embroidered cowgirl shirt. Fancy boots that we gotta get you, too. You’ll knock their eyes out!”
I blushed at that and she did a little ‘pshah!’ thing. But thoughts swirled around in me …
She tilted her head, looking at me. “You’re thinking of something; I know the signs now.”
I frowned. “The computer. And a cruise ship …” I was putting it together.
Jackie grinned. “Let it come, Laurie.” She nodded to a nearby bench and we sat.
“You’re going to hate me,” I began. “I just thought of things for the ranch, but they’re going to cost money …” I trailed off again, and then grinned. “And then again, maybe not so much.”
“Better,” she nodded. “Um, should I take notes?” Then her grin widened. “Will it be on the midterm?”
I giggled. “Yes, and you need at least a C to pass! Okay, the computer first. I know that Smoke Valley Ranch offers the real outdoors experience, but the realities of modern life means computers. Not just for us for reservations, but for guests to use. There should be–no, that’s not right.” I thought for a moment. “Right. I was going to say we could look into linking up our dish to the guest quarters so they could have Wi-Fi. I was thinking they could check on email, do any business they need to, but then I realized the kids would just want to hang out in front of the screen all day.”
Jackie nodded. “That’s one of the comments we get from folks, about why they came–that they wanted to tear the kids away from their computers and get some fresh air in ‘em.”
“A hot-spot, then. A password given to parents. No lounging area, really; just a place to check in quickly and then go ride a horse or take a swim. Maybe only a few hours a day, like 8-9 and 7-8? Coordinate with meals? Then everybody could check things daily but not hang on the computer all day. Although we should provide it for the summer crew.”
“Crew?” That got me her head tilt-thing again. “And you said ‘cruise ship’ earlier?”
I nodded. “At least two certified lifeguards, for the pool and lake. I’m still too young to be certified, darn it. Maybe combine ATV and stables with a third summer helper. You guys already said I can’t be everywhere but I’d try, but I think you’ll need at least three in place, maybe a fourth to work with Carl, just keeping up on maintenance. And the crew would be living in the bunkhouse and can’t be cut off from the computer world all summer. It’s not like a one-week vacation for them.”
She nodded her understanding. “That’s why you said ‘cruise ship’.”
“One reason, yeah; but the other is that the ranch is like a cruise ship, in that we’re self-contained. A closed environment, in a sense, like a ship–just add passengers. But that led me to thinking about the towels.”
“You really lost me on that curve!” she chuckled.
“We talked about fixing the towel problem.”
“You fixed it,” she beamed. “Darned good idea, too.”
“Um, thanks, but towels need to be laundered. I know you have that old industrial washer-dryer in the pool area, but I was thinking about the water. I read somewhere where cruise ships have three levels of water that they call fresh, gray, and black. They’ve got filters and recycling and all that. The gray is processed recycled water okay for washing decks and stuff but not for humans, and the black water is too fouled and just gets disposed. We could find out where our gray water could be used–I mean, not for the horses, but maybe for watering lawns? I’ll have to check if there’s a cheap way soapy water can be neutralized, or whatever they call it. But we’re getting into a lot of piping and maybe bigger pumps and …I’m sure the money’s just not there. But then I was thinking about …well, maybe talking with local colleges. See if they want to use the ranch for water-recycling projects in a real-world situation. They get to tinker and we’d reduce our cost. Oh, solar panels, too–”
Jackie held a hand up, laughing. “Stop, stop! Oh, God, Laurie! You’re a pure delight.” She shook her head. “All of what you said–all of it–is fantastic and so touching that you think of the ranch all the time but now, my darling niece, is not the time to discuss solar panels. Now is the time to be a teen-aged girl at the mall. Come on, Einstein!”
We left the bench and headed for a Target, where we picked up our facial supplies, and then on to the mall. Jackie headed directly for Penney’s and the lingerie section. She said it would be fun to go to Victoria’s Secret, but it wouldn’t be fun for Carl to pay for it. So although we only needed one bra and panty each for the next day, we bought a few, with me getting a racer back and a strapless–Jackie told me I was developing enough that I’d be able to wear it! And we got a few panties–and it seemed weird to buy a pair that were ‘boy cut’, although they were cute!–but what surprised me was the nightgowns. I expected classic white nighties, but Jackie got this wicked glint in her eyes and made me promise to ‘not put up a fuss.’ Reluctantly I promised, and she bought two baby doll sets, one for each of us! I blushed a bit, but she said, ‘Come on; it’s just us girls’ and I loved her all the more.
While walking back through the store we stopped and Jackie tossed me a three-pack of camisole tops in earth and fruit colors, ‘just to have’, she said.
“You know, honey, most girls have years and years of accumulating clothes in every type and in every shade. You’ve only been at this a couple of months.”
“I know,” I said, dejectedly. I hoped she didn’t think I was foolish.
She knew that I’d misunderstood her. “No, no; I think you don’t understand. It’s not that you used to be a boy; I don’t really think that way or even remember things like that. I know that you’re a girl and have always been a girl. I think of you as having had all your pretty dresses and lingerie and things burned up in the fire that hurt your mom. Make sense?”
I got choked up at her unbelievable kindness, and the fact that she thought of me as a genuine girl, and what my life might have been …
We were heading back to the car with our bags when I saw an outfit in a store window. Jackie noticed my pause and nudged me into the store. I protested and she nudged harder. I had seen a pretty white dress that I learned was called ‘eyelet.’ It was sleeveless with a scooped neck, and was both old-fashioned–almost like a Confirmation dress, the hem was just above the knees–but there was a kicky style to it, too. There was a light blue sash with it that could be a scarf or belt. I already had a pair of strappy sandals that would go with it.
Jackie said, “Oh, Laurie, that is you!” and I don’t know how she knew, and I certainly didn’t really know, either, but she was right. And I thought it would be perfect to wear to see Mom the next morning. Jackie agreed, and I tried one on in my size, and it fit perfectly, and I spun around, and I had this incredible flash of realization–this is one of the joys of girlhood! We added it to our bag collection and took everything to the car, vowing to stop shopping anymore and to go get something to eat.
We both had salads and smoothies, and Jackie joked about me having to watch my girlish figure. The remark made me smile and feel warm inside. That warmth turned to a chill when we finished and Jackie led me to the Ladies’ room. I was so nervous about ‘something happening’ in a public restroom that I was almost shaking, even though there were only a couple of women in there. I didn’t have to use the toilet, but Jackie had me wash my hands and touch up my makeup. As we left, she pulled me to her.
“You’ve got to get used to that, honey, or you’ll have an accident. I can’t be around to drag you in; you’re a pretty teenaged girl and pretty teenage girls check their makeup often. You also need to learn to consider the place a sort of sanctuary; it’s a place you can go where even the worst guy won’t follow. And, finally, once you have girlfriends, it’s where you go to gossip.”
I pretended to be shocked. “You mean, all those women don’t have shiny noses?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Now you’ve got it!” She squeezed my arm, then plucked at my sleeve. “From what I understand, no self-respecting teen girl ever has enough hoodies. Your pick; Abercrombie or Hollister?”
I knew what she meant; there was a Hollister store a few stores down so we went there. Jackie reminded me that it might be chilly in the theatre or if I was standing around, so we’d buy one and strip the tags and I’d have it with me. We tried several and settled on a white zipped-front that, of course, said ‘Hollister’ on the front. Jackie grumbled that white was hard to keep clean, and that Hollister ought to pay me for advertising their stuff when I walked around. I tucked it over my arm, next to my purse, and we headed back into the mall.
It was already a little past six and I was thinking it was time we got to the theatre. Jackie motioned toward a bench and we sat.
“Honey, I don’t think I need to give you the Birds-and-the-Bees speech, but there are a few things I should say. Your mom would be saying them but I’m elected. Um …this is going to be different from anything you’ve experienced or dreamed about or saw in movies.”
“Jackie, I sort of know that already …” I started.
“Wait, wait; I know what you’re thinking but let me say this …well, because it’s got to be said. First of all, you don’t have to do this; you don’t have to meet this boy. We can come up with any number of excuses. But if you do, understand this–you are in control. Okay? Lots of girls don’t get this and think they’ve got to do everything the boy wants. Those girls eventually are called ‘young mothers.’ Anyway, if he touches you in any way that bothers you, say ‘I’d rather you didn’t do that’ and if he does it again, just get up and walk. Ask a manager for a phone–I don’t think there are pay phones anywhere anymore–and I’ll come right there. But I don’t think it’ll come to that.”
“I don’t either; we both think he’s a good guy, right?”
She nodded. “I think he’s probably a very good guy. But better safe …and that reminds me. Here are two tens. Take ‘em and use them if you need them. You can pay your way into the theatre and that takes away some of his power. Guys are weird about power. It’s one of the two things that drive them. Anyway, you might not go to the movies.” She handed me the bills.
“You’re right; we might go to Aruba. What do you mean?”
She leaned back and sighed. “Ah …Aruba …you could do worse …”
I playfully punched her arm. “Come back to earth. Or at least the States. What do you mean, not go to the movies? What else? You mean like, just walk around?”
“That would be nice. Personally, I think it’s much better than a movie. Just chatting, getting to know the other person. And that’s the final thing. Don’t worry; you’re an extremely attractive young lady and nobody would ever have the remotest hint of anything else. None of this nonsense like with the Ladies’ room, alright? Relax and have a good time, but I want you to …how should I put this? Learn about yourself when you’re with him. You’ll find out things about yourself and how you interact with other people–and boys–that are very important. Um …that’s it. I’m out of things to say.”
Impulsively I hugged her. “Thank you, Jackie; you’re the best aunt ever!” I said.
We broke the hug; she dug in her purse and handed me a twenty as well. “At today’s prices, that first twenty could go fast and we don’t want to appear cheap. Just don’t go crazy, but bring back what you don’t use.” She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. “And now …Showtime!”
End of Part 5
“Showtime? What do you mean?”
“I mean that I chose this bench because I can see the front of the theatre and you’ve got a date waiting.” She put out a restraining hand as I got up. “Whoa, let him wait. Let’s study him for a few moments; see how he carries himself. Then you can make your grand entrance.”
I realized this was part of the ‘being in control’ part as I watched Mark. He was wearing a dark blue shirt and black slacks and looked older than he did behind the espresso stand. He looked really good.
And that caused my brain to start misfiring. Omigod! What if he’s too old for me? Or I’m too young for him? But he looked so … good!
Jackie patted my arm.
“Sweetie, you don’t have to do this. We can leave.”
“No, I …” I was torn. I turned to Jackie. “Aren’t I too young to start dating?”
“Depends. Good that you’re thinking about that, but it depends.” She nodded. “Do you know any thirteen-year-old girls that date?”
“Well, not personally, but, yeah.” I shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t really have friends I could talk about it with, but there are … Oh. I see where you’re going with this. There are girls dating at thirteen. And before you even ask, I know of girls that can’t date until they’re sixteen.”
I’d heard guys grumbling about certain girls with that restriction.
Jackie said, “It’s all a matter of maturity. When you’re ready. Some at thirteen, some at sixteen; some shouldn’t date until their twenties, they’re so immature!” She laughed at that; obviously it was about somebody she knew. “But it comes down to this. Do you want to date that boy?”
“You know I do,” I said. “And I’m terrified.”
“Terrified is normal,” she nodded again. “Of course, you’re probably doubly terrified, but just remember this, honey–nearly all girls are terrified of their first date. Otherwise they’re not really paying attention.”
I nodded, thinking it over as I looked at Mark. He looked really good. My insides did something.
“I want to date Mark,” I said.
Jackie grinned. “Okay, now it’s Showtime. And don’t worry about me. I’m off to the book store and then the spa. I’ll see you in front of the theatre at ten. Enjoy!”
And with I walked to Mark, who was trying to not be too obviously scanning the crowd. He stopped when he saw me, smiled, and walked towards me.
“Hey, I’m glad you could make it!” Then, to go along with the little sham that Jackie had set up, he said, “I mean …Hey, Laurie, what a surprise meeting you here!”
We both laughed and I said, “Yeah, but I hear the coffee’s not very good.”
He chuckled and said, “Actually, we use the same beans. But thanks.”
I looked at the marquee and the hundreds of movies that seemed to be playing. Mark asked, “What did you plan to see?”
“Actually, I didn’t plan to see anything. We thought we’d see Mom today and be back home right now. But …it didn’t work out that way. So I’m here, and you’re here, and,” I looked at the movie list, “it’s all so …I don’t know ...”
He said gently, “You don’t have to go to the movies with me.”
I realized what he meant and corrected him. “You mean, we don’t have to go to the movies.”
It took a brief moment to sink in, then he grinned hugely. “Fine with me! Um …so what should we do?”
“We could …” What were Jackie’s words? “Walk around. You know; just chatting, getting to know each other.”
This brought a smile. “That sounds great! Oh …but isn’t your aunt expecting you to be at the movies?”
And he was considerate, too! “Actually, she expects me to be in front of the theatre at ten. Other than that, well …”
He bowed slightly and held out a hand, palm up, like an usher. “In that case, would you care to lead the way?”
I led us back into the mall, and was amazed at how Jackie’s advice about ‘being in control’ really worked. I had taken the initiative and he was more than happy to follow. Actually, not follow, since he was walking next to me. I was surprised by his height; he was nearly a head taller than me. It made sense, since he was older–and a guy–but somehow his height hadn’t registered when he was at the espresso stand.
We chatted about mall preferences. Neither of us had shopping to do, so we could look at windows and people around us and make small talk. I’d realized that I’d need to find out some information from him before revealing potentially embarrassing info about myself, so I asked him where he went to school.
Fortunately, he went to school on the other side of town from where I’d lived with Mom, in a completely different school district. I’d been worried that he’d know someone or something about ‘some guy named Laurence Jamison who was in a fire’ and put two and two together. I told him my full name was Lauren Kenyon, which matched Mom’s name at the hospital if he checked. And why not? Okay, I realized that if I said it fast it kind of sounded like that place in LA, Laurel Canyon, but if I was going to be my mother’s daughter instead of my father’s son, I wanted her name. I’d have to discuss this with Jackie, and see about getting my school records changed with Miz B.
So Mark couldn’t be expected to know anything about a non-existent girl named Lauren Kenyon, a freshman at a school out of his district across town, and I felt safe. It would also explain why I wasn’t familiar with this part of the town, although I’d been to this mall before, years ago.
He was smart, funny, and kind. I found this out because he wouldn’t ridicule some of the obvious bozos–every mall had them–and we just walked along, talking about …what’s that line from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy? We talked about ‘Life, the Universe, and Everything.’ I found out that he was going to be a senior but would be doing a program for college credits and could get an AA degree before entering college. He named several schools he wanted to go to; some I’d heard of, like Stanford, and others were unknown to me.
It turned out that his uncle had been a lawyer, very successful and very stressed. After his second heart attack he quit law and followed his dream–to own an espresso stand. It was so successful that he now had three around the city and was still growing. Mark worked part-time at them and had discovered that he was interested in the world of coffee.
He asked about my college plans. I told him that everything was in limbo because of the fire and Mom, but that I had been interested in psychology in an undefined sort of way, but now with my experience on the ranch, I was thinking about the resort industry.
“Not a vet? Your aunt said you were great with horses. I thought all girls loved horses.”
“Some do,” I left it hanging, since I sort of hadn’t been a girl until recently. “And my Uncle Carl says I have a true gift. I don’t know; I guess it’s true. But it’s more than horses. The whole thing of getting the ranch prepared, thinking of what our guests would need, want, and not even know that they need or want, to have things ready for them even better than they planned …it’s really interesting. Setting up the reservation system for Aunt Jackie. Just the whole …focus of it.”
He nodded. “Sounds like you’d really do well looking into the hotel industry schools. It’s not all concierges and bellhops; they have concentrations on resort and vacation management.”
“How do you know that?”
“My mom worked in personnel at the Sheraton for a long time. My dad’s a college professor–Economics–so talk around the house kind of centered on hotels and business colleges.”
It was my turn to nod. “Then I’ll consider it a solid lead,” I grinned. “Thank you. No, I really mean it; thank you, because …well …” I fell silent. He let me walk without saying anything. Finally I said, “See, since the fire, everything’s changed. I’m not living across town with Mom–she’s a teacher, too, by the way. I’m living out in the wilds on a working dude ranch. I didn’t finish my school year with my class; I had a sort of ‘circuit tutor’ a couple of times a week, so I guess it was a form of home schooling. And from what the docs have said so far, things may stay exactly the same for the future.”
He nodded and we walked on. To lighten the mood, if I noticed him looking at something in a store window, I’d ask if he wanted to go in, and when he said no, what had caught his fancy. For instance, we passed Brookstone, the gadget store, and he momentarily hesitated. I asked him what he’d seen, and it was a $30 gadget that checked your tire pressure.
Shaking his head, Mark said, “You know, you can get one of the tire gauges for a couple of bucks.”
“Well, yeah–but this one’s digital,” I said in a breathy ‘oh-wow’ voice, egging him on.
He grinned. “Doesn’t matter. Thirty-two pounds is thirty-two pounds, whether it’s digital, analog, or whatever. The point is, you still have to get out of your car, squat down, undo the cap, and stick the gadget on the valve stem. Now, if they could eliminate all that, I might pay thirty bucks.”
I laughed and had to agree. The night was like that; we’d pass a store window of girls’ fashions, and I’d say, “What looks good to you?” He didn’t try to snow me with lines like, “Whatever you’re wearing”. Instead, he’d give his opinion. He’d do the same to me, asking which outfit I’d pick out if I could pick one. This went on as we walked and came to a mega-bookstore–this one we went in. We started finding out what we liked to read; we’d both done the Harry Potter and Dark Materials books, some of the tech thrillers and ‘urban vampire’ novels.
Then Mark surprised me. He pointed out a book he was currently reading, about South American politics. It was clustered on display with similar political titles.
“So what do you want to be when you grow up? A politician?” I joked.
He shuddered. “God, no! It’s just …well, I was always kind of interested in psychology, too, until I discovered coffee.”
“And …? What? You can’t sleep anymore?”
He chuckled. “Oddly enough, I never had a problem with caffeine. No, it’s the whole …well, the politics of coffee. See, the beans are produced by very poor people, and the profits are huge for companies that are already wealthy. The inequity has led to campaigns for ‘free market’ coffee and …I’m lecturing.”
“No, no; I’m interested.” And I was.
“Well, the thing about coffee is that it’s a few cents worth of beans infused with water. The bulk is water–which is a whole separate issue, in terms of the environment–and yet the few cents of beans are sold for three or four dollars. By me. And, of course, lots and lots of others. But the people who actually harvest the bean get screwed; they barely get pennies. So I’d like to help balance the situation.”
He went on to tell me of various proposals for this, while all the time checking that I wanted to hear it. I did, but I realized it wasn’t because I was fascinated about coffee beans, but I really liked seeing him enthusiastic and talking …and I really liked watching him. And, um …I think I guessed where things were headed.
I think he recognized it, too, because he kind of shook himself and pointed out a best seller and we were off and talking about that book and other things. Then he said he wanted to show me something and led me out of the bookstore and back into the mall. I felt differently walking with him than I had when we first were in the mall. I figured it was because I’d learned more about him. It wasn’t me walking along next to a strange guy in a mall full of strangers. It was us walking along, Mark and me, Mark and Laurie, together. Anyway, I felt …closer.
Mark led me to an area where the mall was expanding; it still smelled of paint and dry wall. There was a huge glass wall with doors at one end, with new stores on either side in various stages of preparation. Once through the doors, we were in a lovely courtyard with flagstones instead of pavement, and a non-functioning fountain in the center. There were rough-cut stone benches scattered here and there, and a quaint hut like a hunter’s cabin at one end. We headed to the cabin, and I discovered that it was going to be an espresso stand–but not just any espresso stand.
“My uncle heard about this courtyard and got in early, so they incorporated us into the design. It won’t be open for another two months or so, but it should do really well.”
It seemed that Mark’s uncle was building a mini-empire of espresso stands, and Mark was along for the ride, gladly. I was happy for him and told him so. He said he’d wanted me to see it, because the next time I came to the city to see Mom it might be in operation and he’d like me to know where to find him. I told him …I told him that I’d like to know where to find him. He gave me the goofiest grin, and I knew that he was very pleased.
I suddenly was aware of the cold and remembered that I was still carrying my new hoodie. Girls are used to juggling things while carrying a purse, but as I tried to get the hoodie on, I kind of got tangled up.
“Here, let me help you,” Mark offered to take my purse. I handed it to him and he slipped it over his right shoulder and reached out for the hoodie.
“A man who wears a purse. I don’t know whether to be impressed or freaked,” I joked.
“Just an essential fashion accessory,” he grinned and held my hoodie out.
I turned and put my arms through the sleeves and turned back. Something happened inside of me …maybe it was the moon, maybe it was the empty courtyard, maybe it was this boy …but I put my right hand on his cheek and stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick, dry kiss on his lips. Then I slipped my left hand around his arm and found the strap to my purse and slid it off his arm and onto mine and shrugged the purse onto my shoulder.
Mark had this blissful, stunned look. I said, “Thank you” and leaned up again and found my arms going around his neck and pulling him to me. I kissed him and said, “Thank you very much.” His lips felt warm and soft and wonderful and I wasn’t really thinking about anything. He put his arms around me and I felt safe and secure and very, very special. We kissed and kissed again, and I rocked back down onto my flat feet.
“Whoo!” I exhaled. “I’m going to have to start wearing heels around you!”
“Does that mean you’re going to be around me?” Mark asked gently.
That brought me to earth. “No …I mean, yes. I mean …You know what I mean. I …hope so. I live over two hours away and we only come in to see Mom when the hospital says she can see us. My aunt and uncle don’t have a lot of money for gas to taxi me back and forth, and the season’s opening and we’ve got so much to do …” I trailed off.
Mark nodded. “I understand.”
I put a hand on his arm. “No, you don’t, not fully. I like you, Mark. I really like you, and I’d like to see you as often as I can–if you want to see me.” I couldn’t believe the things coming out of my mouth.
“I do,” he grinned.
“But the logistics don’t work out right now. And we don’t know how long Mom is even going to be at the hospital or if they’ll transfer her, or what. It’s all up in the air. Everything’s up in the air.” I was saddened.
“I understand, Laurie, I really do,” he smiled gently and put an arm around me. “And I am only hoping for the best for your mom, and at the same time I hope they can put you up at the hospital or hotel more often. I’m really busy too, and I understand you wanting to make good to your aunt and uncle. They seem really nice.”
I had to chuckle. “Well, I had my doubts about Uncle Carl at first.” I frowned. “Their daughter …well, she died when she was about my age. Jackie’s delighted to have a teen girl to shop with, but Carl …I guess he didn’t want to go through the pain or the memories of having a kid around. I mean, not his own. But he’s warmed to me, I guess.”
“I’d say so, judging by the little I saw of the three of you the first time. You were like a family, easy and relaxed. And you were so pretty …” He corrected himself. “Are–you are so pretty!”
I blushed and had nothing I could say; I just looked down at the ground as we walked slowly back into the mall. It was nearly time to meet Jackie; I couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone. I had so much to think about, and as we passed through the doors, Mark took his arm away from me to hold the door open, and it just seemed so natural to hold his hand when we continued walking.
Part of my brain–a very small, diminishing part–was trying to point out that I was holding hands with a boy, but mostly I was amazed because I was holding hands with Mark. We’d just hit it off so well so quickly, but maybe it was for the best that I lived so far away.
We got to the front of the theatre before the movie let out, but Jackie was there already, sitting on a bench and sipping a small latte. She smiled to see us, and I had this momentary urge to let go of Mark’s hand, but Jackie had already seen us, so …
She’d been to the bookstore and then the spa and had only just arrived. I told her how we walked and talked, went to the same bookstore, and about the courtyard with Mark’s uncle’s new stand. Mark was very polite and thanked Jackie for allowing me to spend time with him, and turned to go, smiling at me and saying goodbye.
Jackie called out, “Not so fast. I’m going to go get the car; would you mind keeping an eye on Laurie?”
It was so obvious, and I loved her so much for it. There was no reason why we couldn’t both walk to the car, but she wanted to give us this last few minutes. She headed off to the parking lot and I turned to face Mark.
“So …”
He grinned. “So …”
We both smiled at each other and the smiles grew until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I leaned up and kissed him gently. “Thank you for a lovely evening. The first lovely evening I’ve had in a long, long …long time.”
“My pleasure and my honor. Now, about us …”
I raised an eyebrow.
Mark pulled out a pen and a business card for his espresso stand and wrote down all his personal contact information, cell phone, email address, and so on. I appreciated his thoughtfulness; he wasn’t demanding to know mine but was giving me the option of writing him first. I promised to do so as soon as we got our new web situation sorted out. This was true; we were adding a web site and had a more capable system and we’d all be getting new email addresses. I just didn’t tell Mark that I already had an address, but it had my old name–“ljamison”–and I didn’t want to explain Laurence Jamison.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jackie’s car rounding the parking lot so I hugged Mark and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as I said ‘bye’ and turned as Jackie pulled up. I got in and we waved as we pulled away.
Jackie was nice enough to not ask anything about Mark as we drove. I asked about the bags in the back; she’d found some books, including one on resort management for me. I thanked her and wondered if that was my future–and didn’t have a problem with it.
Back at the hotel, we opened our new toiletries and as I started to change for bed, Jackie said, ‘not so fast’ and tossed me a bag. Inside was a disposable razor, cream and lotion–and my new baby-doll nightie, in a light peach color. I blushed a bit but she motioned me to the bathroom for first wash, and I dutifully obeyed.
I quickly showered and shaved slowly, as I’d learned. I wanted to be extra sleek tomorrow. After drying and moisturizing, I stood in the center of the bathroom, naked, holding out the nightie. It was so …what? Feminine? Revealing? Why did I feel kind of threatened by it? I’d recently read about Nietzsche’s line, ‘What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger’ but wondered if Nietzsche ever wore a peach baby-doll nightie. Giggling at the thought, I pulled on the panties and floated the top over me. It was next to wearing nothing at all, and I saw–and felt–my nipples harden. I glanced at the mirror and was shocked to see that my small breasts were visible through the thin fabric. Was there another part, a top or something, that I’d missed? I opened the door, my arms across my chest.
Jackie bustled in past me without even looking. “Done? Good. I’ve gotta pee. Oh, find a station you like,” she waved at the TV and closed the door.
Okay …Nothing to do right now but flop on the bed and flip through channels and wait for Jackie. I found a couple of late night talk shows with some interesting guests, and there was a rerun of Sleepless in Seattle on another channel. I had no urge to check ESPN.
Jackie came out and I started to tell her about my …problem with the flimsy top but one look at Jackie and I stared. She was wearing the exact same baby-doll nightie in a melon green! I’d forgotten that she’d bought two, and then remembered that she’d said, ‘Just us girls.’ Obviously she had something planned.
Once she was settled on her bed, nodding appreciatively at Meg Ryan on the TV, she smiled. “Now that we’re ready for bed, I’ve got some choices for you. The spa gave me a masque–and enough for two–that might be fun to try, but you’ve moisturized already and I’ve put in my time at the spa. Pass on that?”
I agreed.
She did, too. “And the hospital called me just before I got to the spa. They feel confident that Evie will be ready to see us at noon. They’re waking her sooner, running tests and so on, but promised not to tire her out. So we can sleep in a bit, have breakfast, pick up some flowers, and it all should be good.”
“That’s great! And I’ll wear the eyelet dress?”
Jackie chuckled. “You are a girl, aren’t you? Of course you can, and you’ll be beautiful. So …we go right to the good stuff. How was your night with Mark?” She actually wiggled with gleeful anticipation.
“Um …good.” I wasn’t expecting this after the silence in the car.
“Excuse me? ‘Good’? That’s it? It looked way better than good, honey,” she chuckled.
I blushed and looked down at the carpet. “It was …very good. Almost too good. I …”
“What is it, dear?” Jackie was concerned.
To delay talking about how I felt, I decided to switch subjects. “Aunt Jackie, I think part of my night gown is missing.”
“Missing? You’ve got the panties, right?”
“Yes …”
“That’s all there is, then. Panties and the top.”
“But I can …see through the top.”
Jackie burst out laughing. “Yes, and you can see through mine! That’s typical of baby-dolls!”
Almost as a reflex, I looked up at her and sure enough, there were her breasts, visible through the fabric. I blushed and looked down again, which caused Jackie to laugh all the more.
“Oh, God, Laurie, if you could see your face!” She fell back on the bed, laughing, and bounced back up. “It’s part of the girly thing. We have no secrets among us, and baby-dolls can be used to seduce our fellas. It’s okay, honey; just relax.”
My face felt on fire. “I just …I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my …”
“Breasts. Or boobs. You can say it, Laurie; you’re a girl with breasts. And quite lovely ones, too, I must say. Gonna be spectacular!”
If I was embarrassed before, this almost went past the limit. What could I say? “Thank you. And …your …yours …” which caused Jackie even more laughter.
“Oh, honey,” she wiped her eyes. “Look, I never meant to freak you out. I meant for you to have a normal kind of girl experience, but I keep forgetting that it’s all so new to you. I mean, look at you! Nobody in a million years would ever think you hadn’t been born a girl.”
It was at this point that something inside me dissolved. “Jackie …I really, really like Mark. I never felt this way before, and I felt so …so …feminine with him.”
Jackie was through laughing and had a kind smile as she nodded. “I could tell. That’s why I gave you that extra few minutes.”
“Thank you. Every minute …”
“I know, honey.”
“I knew he was a nice guy; I mean we both did. And I just thought, you know; I’d just chat with him and it would qualify as Number Five, you know? But he’s smart and kind, and could have a great future …”
“That last bit sounded more like a school counselor,” she grinned. “I think the important thing is, how did you feel when you were with him.”
“I had to be clear on ‘who I am’,” I said, crooking my fingers, “so I didn’t slip something about Laurence. But that went away pretty quickly. He’s just very …comfortable for me to talk with, to be with. We’ve read a lot of the same books, and have seen the same movies, and think about things the same, but it was more than that.”
“When did you know?”
“When I kissed him,” I said in a small voice.
“He kissed you?” she gently probed.
I wanted her to understand. “No, I kissed him. I never planned it or thought about it or anything. But I just had to reach up and kiss him. I …had to! Then he kissed me …and then we were kissing.”
“Um …where was all this? Surely not in the middle of Barnes & Noble?”
I told her about the courtyard, and Mark’s plans for the coffee growers of the world. I explained about his uncle, and about my new thoughts about a future in ranch resort management. She grinned even wider and pulled a book out of the bag and it was as she said. Well, it would give me something to read on the way home …and just might be my life’s work. I thanked her.
Jackie studied her hands for a moment. “Laurie, I’m not your mom, and Evie should be saying this, but we both know why it’s me here. So. You’re a very pretty girl, but you’re a new girl, in every way. Be careful, be cautious, but never be held back because you think of Laurence. You know that old Army slogan? ‘Be all that you can be’ and that’s about all I have to say. Other than that you should love every minute of your girlhood. And don’t lose the good guys because you’re feeling weird. Promise me that; promise me that you’ll fully enjoy your girlhood?”
“I promise. And I’m glad it’s you, although I also want this talk with Mom. I want to tell her about Mark. He is a good guy, isn’t he? I want to stay in touch with him. We both know that it’s pretty …impractical. But I think he’s special, and he …”
“He thinks you’re pretty special, too.”
We talked about the impracticalities facing us, and finally flopped into bed and lights out.
We slept until nearly nine, feeling almost guilty, but Jackie reasoned it would be a long day and a long drive back to the ranch. We showered and I used some special oil for my legs that Jackie had a sample of; my legs were shiny and almost glowed. Then I dressed, and I loved how the eyelet dress fit and looked on me. Jackie just marveled at it and suggested I put together clothes for the return trip so I wouldn’t be in the dress all day. Strangely, she told me not to put on any makeup; I figured we’d freshen up at the hospital before seeing Mom. We checked out and had a small breakfast at the coffee shop near the hotel–just melon and toast–and then I noticed that Jackie had a wicked grin.
Shouting ‘Field Trip!’ she hustled me into the car and we headed back to the mall just as it was opening and she herded me to the makeup department of an upscale store and then to the Clinique chair again. As before, she whispered, “The lady we saw before was okay but I think this girl will do a better job for you. We only got your cleansing supplies before; maybe we can zero in on your look.”
The white-coated girl that came up to us was younger and hipper than the lady we’d first seen, and Jackie had her speech ready.
“My niece and I are going to meet a stodgy brother of mine at the airport, and I want her to look as grown-up as a thirteen-year-old can. I told her that she should stop sharing makeup with her girlfriends and get her own, and that Clinique is great, and she can learn how to properly apply it.”
The woman smiled graciously. “Well, you’re certainly correct on everything. And we’ve recently introduced a product line with colors and cases suitable to fashionable teens.”
She proceeded to make me up, explaining the process as she went, and I was struggling to remember everything and dealing with a little voice saying, ‘I hope Mark’s at the espresso stand and gets to see me!’ and I almost giggled, but that would have ruined the effect.
Jackie smiled approvingly at the transformation and said to the woman, “You seem to understand perfectly. Nothing too old or for the evening. Good, sensible day makeup.”
The woman said to me, “Your aunt is wise to do it this way. I don’t know what your skill level is, but if you’ve been made up by other teen girls the chances are that they put on too much, didn’t apply correctly–you see, even the order of application is important–and you would have looked like a young teenager. If the plan is to impress your uncle with your maturity, this makeup I’m applying will be very appropriate–and that dress is beautiful, by the way, and perfect for your plan.”
When she spun me to show the results, I was stunned. I’d been wearing makeup, but my efforts and even Jackie’s paled in comparison. This girl was much better than the older Clinique lady; I think it was because she was closer to my age. I looked at least eighteen, but not ‘painted.’ It was mostly smoky colors and almost a plum lipstick, but was perfect for a fashionable girl’s daywear. This time, Jackie bought the actual cosmetics, the lipstick and eyeshadow, mascara and liner. The Clinique girl was talking with Jackie about what she accentuated on my face, and I overheard her say, “And there really aren’t any negatives; she has flawless skin and wonderful bone structure.” She started talking about my ‘beautiful, liquid eyes’ as I blushed, and I thought again about seeing Mark today.
But first–I wanted to see my mother.
We arrived at the hospital and of course we walked past the espresso stand, but the barista was a girl and I felt the disappointment that Mark wouldn’t see me looking so pretty. I blushed to myself–if that’s possible–remembering his kisses, and I heard Jackie murmur, “Sorry, sweetheart.” We proceeded to Dr. Morrison’s office; he’d told Jackie the procedure in his call last night.
He thanked us for staying over and told us everything was excellent with Mom. She had come out of the induced coma clean with no confusion–or pain–and even had a bit of breakfast.
“You’ll notice a distinct improvement over the last time you were here. The torn graft was restored successfully. There is still a gauze pad over one eye but that’s mainly to protect it from infection and light; the healing is very good and she hasn’t lost any vision. She is still communicating via the speech pad but is almost ready for repair and therapy to get her talking regularly, although she really shouldn’t at this time. She’s very strong and in good spirits. I’ll take you to her right now, but please have them page me when you’re done and we’ll stop by my office on the way out.”
It was great news, but the best part of all was seeing Mom sitting up and smiling. I glanced at the doctor who smiled and nodded, and I quickly walked to Mom’s bed and had that nearly overwhelming urge to hug her but knew I shouldn’t because of grafts and pain. Dr. Morrison said, “Her right shoulder is okay,” and I put my hand on it. Mom’s one eye glistened and she croaked out, “So …be ..oo …tifoo!”
I was dissolving in tears as Dr. Morrison said, “Now, Evie, we talked about this. Use the pad, please.”
My mother gave him a fierce glare–one-half a fierce glare, of course, but fierce enough–held up one finger at him, quickly wrote something, and said to me, “I …lu—ff …you …Law …ren.” I squeezed her shoulder as she held up the pad for the doctor to see. She’d written, “Okay, I’m done talking” and we all half-sobbed and half-laughed at her. She’d rigged it so the monitor wouldn’t show her writing. Dr. Morrison grinned and said, “What did I tell you? She’s very strong! I’ll leave you now. Have me paged when you’re ready.”
“Oh, God, Mom; I’ve missed you so much!” I almost cried.
She quickly wrote on her pad, ‘Don’t cry–makeup. Who did it?’
Jackie said, “I hijacked her to the Clinique counter, Evie.”
Mom padded, ‘Good stuff. Looks great!’
“Thanks, Mom. I love you so much! I wish we could be together. Jackie’s fantastic–beyond fantastic–and Carl’s been great, too, but I want to be with you.”
Mom padded, ‘Soon. Must heal, though. Could’ve been so much worse.’
She’d underlined for emphasis. I nodded, swallowing. “Mom, if you get tired or start hurting, let us know and we’ll leave.”
She padded back, ‘Don’t you dare! I’ll never get that tired.’
Jackie and I began filling her in on what had been happening to us, and around the ranch, and asked if she had any questions for us. Mom grinned–as much as she could–and looked at Jackie, holding up five fingers and raising one eyebrow.
Jackie chuckled and held up her hand, showing all five fingers.
Mom pantomimed being startled and wrote, ‘All five, Laurie?’
I blushed and nodded. “Well, four until last night. And I really know why you told me to do those five things; I’ve learned so much about–”
She waved a hand and quickly padded, ‘Yeah-yeah-yeah. What about Last Night???’
I heard Jackie kind of stifle a laugh and I blushed. “Well, I sort of …went on a date …”
Mom quickly wrote, ‘Tell me! Tell me!’
I told her about Mark and the circumstances and she was like Jackie–she automatically knew that I’d kissed Mark. I was so embarrassed telling her, but she patted my hand and I saw a tear at the corner of her eye. I grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed as Mom wrote, ‘I love you, Sweetie. I’m so glad for you!’
Jackie added, “Did I mention she’s discovered the world of bubble baths?”
“Jackie!” I scolded.
Mom padded, ‘A must for every girl. She’s right, Laurie. Revel. Explore. Dream.’
I loved her and missed her and wanted to be reveling, exploring, and dreaming with her as my guide. Jackie was absolutely wonderful, and was my mother’s sister, but still …a girl wants her own mother.
A nurse stuck her head in and looked at me. “Lauren Jamison?”
It took me a slight moment because I’d been so careful to be ‘Laurie Kenyon’ with Mark. I nodded.
“The doctor has a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
I looked at Mom, who nodded her approval, like she knew what was going on. I looked at Jackie, who said, “Go ahead; I’m sure it won’t take long. If you have any problems come get me. I’ve got to talk boring old insurance stuff with your mom.”
I followed the nurse out to find Dr. Morrison standing with a pretty blonde doctor. Her hair was very nicely styled and I saw black stockings and black suede heels under her white smock. For some reason I liked her immediately.
Dr. Morrison said, “Lauren, this is Dr. Mahmoudi. I was going to tell you about her after you’re done talking with your mother, but she happened by my office and I wanted you two to meet.”
Dr. Mahmoudi smiled and held out her hand and I shook it as women do. I was confused on several levels. Was she involved with my mother’s care? And what was up with her name?
Apparently her skills included mind reading. She chuckled. “Don’t worry; I get that a lot. I was married to an Egyptian physician.”
I nodded, a little embarrassed. “Well, actually I was wondering what you do for Mom. I realize there’s probably lots of doctors that work with Mom that I haven’t met yet, and I want to thank all of them personally if I can.”
She smiled. “That’s a lovely thing to say. I don’t want to take up any more of your time and I know you want to get back to your mother. I’ll let Dr. Morrison explain things when you see him. It was a pleasure meeting you and please go back to your wonderful mother.”
Dr. Morrison smiled and nodded, and I smiled and nodded back at both of them and went back to Mom’s room. Jackie was sitting in a chair talking quietly with Mom, who was getting pretty darned fast on that pad. Mom saw me and waved and showed Jackie one last thing on the pad and then wiped it. Was I getting paranoid, or were there things I wasn’t supposed to know?
Dr. Mahmoudi was not the only mind reader. Obviously the sisters were, too. Jackie said, “Honey, what did the doctor want?” There was just …something about the way she said it.
I told them about meeting the other doctor and they exchanged a look. Mom wrote: ‘Laurie, I’ll let J do the talking. But everything comes from us.’ She’d really pressed down on the last word.
Jackie said, “Before I say anything, Lauren, promise me you won’t interrupt. You’re going to want to, but it’ll all become clear and take less time and be a lot less tiring for your mom if you let me tell you everything.”
Oh God, I thought; what was wrong with Mom? Was it even more serious than I thought? “I agree. It’ll be hard, but I agree.”
Jackie theatrically cleared her throat. “Okay then. First, the hospital knows about Laurence.”
I gasped slightly but clamped my mouth shut as I’d agreed. So Dr. Morrison knew I was a boy? I began blushing furiously but had to pay attention and not let my mind wildly speculate. Wait; there was that awkward period when they realized I wasn’t a girl. But I’d never met Dr. Morrison until much later, when Jackie and I came to visit Mom that first time.
“They knew anyway; we never told them,” Jackie explained, reading my thoughts. “Once they got your mother’s records from her old hospital it wasn’t even a matter of putting two and two together. When your mom was able to talk with them with the pad thing, she explained and authorized them to pull your records, too. I was also called and consulted, and we now have a relationship with this hospital where we each can speak for the other. You weren’t told because, well …you’re a minor, and there was no pressing medical need for you and the hospital to have any contact–other than visiting your mom, of course.”
She paused to sip from bottled water. Mom activated the monitor and flashed a note: ‘Relax, sweetie; it gets better.’
Jackie grinned. “She’s right. When the doctors first met you, they refused to believe that you were a boy, even pointedly asking if we were trying to pull some sort of hoax. And that was back when you first started as a girl! Remember that first visit? Even then they were certain you were a girl! Now there’s no way to convince them that you aren’t a girl, if they haven’t read the records.”
I raised my hand–ever the teacher’s daughter. Both ladies chuckled, and Jackie nodded for me to ask.
“Who knows?”
“Good question. There were a couple of nurses when you were first admitted; they thought you were a girl and were surprised you weren’t. There’s been no further contact with them and they may have forgotten you. So who knows the real truth about you? Dr. Morrison, obviously, since he’s in charge of your mother’s care. And now Dr. Mahmoudi and that’s probably it. Maybe somebody may have run across something about a son in your mother’s files, but as I said, it’s not something that would come up with you visiting your mom. They’d just chalk it up to an older son somewhere else who hasn’t shown up yet.”
I raised my hand again, and on Jackie’s nod, said, “One more thing. Who is Dr. Mahmoudi?”
“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” Jackie was surprised. “Okay, here’s the part that your mom said gets better. This hospital has a gender clinic, specializing in transgender patients. Because that’s what you are, you know, transgender. But not a patient–yet. It’s a very small and expensive clinic, but Dr. Morrison notified Dr. Mahmoudi–apparently she’d been away for some time–and that’s why you met her. Actually, you and I are going to Dr. Morrison’s office after your mom goes to sleep, and he was going to tell you about his offer and tell you about Mahmoudi but I guess they rushed things. So we’ll go find out what he wants to do.”
“I’m confused; what does this have to do with Mom?”
The sisters looked at each other. Jackie said, “Nothing, really, other than it was her records that tipped them off that you had been born male. This is a wholly separate issue and concerns only you, not your mother’s care.”
“So Mom is doing better? Dr. Mahmoudi’s not a special doctor that Mom needs?”
Mom padded, “I’m doing great! Dr. M is for you, Laurie.”
I loved seeing my new name in my mother’s writing, even if it was a little distorted by the pad.
Jackie said, “We’ll let Dr. Morrison explain, okay, honey?”
“Well …” I thought for a moment. “Let’s hear what he has to say, but right now I just want to spend time with my mother.”
Jackie smiled and nodded, and Mom’s screen showed: ‘And me with my beautiful daughter.’
That reminded me. “Mom, Jackie, I’ve been thinking about something and I want to discuss it with you. I want to change my name.”
The sisters exchanged a look; Jackie said, “Now, honey …” as Mom quickly wrote, ‘What’s wrong with it?’
I chuckled. “Nothing, no; you don’t understand. I love being Lauren, and Laurie, and will always be Lauren. I …I want to drop the Jamison and be Kenyon.” I gave my mother the warmest look I could. “I want to be Lauren Kenyon, the daughter of Eve Kenyon.”
Mom’s one eye glistened. She looked at me for a few moments and I grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the tear just as it started to roll.
Jackie sniffed. “That’s one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever heard!”
Mom padded, ‘Yes yes yes YES! Laurie I love you so much!!!’
“I love you, too, Mom,” I started to tear up.
Jackie added what was known but unsaid. “And no more connection with Mr. Jamison, thank you very much.”
I had my hand on Mom’s shoulder, trying to will as much love through my hand into her as I could. “So it’s okay? I can be Lauren Kenyon?”
Mom banged on the pad; she hadn’t cleared the ‘yeses’ she’d written. The she cleared it and I saw a grin as she wrote, ‘Absolutely, Miss Kenyon.’
That made Jackie and I laugh. Then Mom wrote, ‘J–can you start ball rolling w/hospital?’
Jackie nodded. “It’ll be something we talk about with Dr. Morrison. But you’ve got to tell …Miss Kenyon how you feel about …the plan.”
Mom wrote. ‘Good idea. Laurie, one last thing–I know what Drs. M & M are thinking. You must know that I agree with them. OK? Can’t explain now, but I–”
There was a little pinging sound and Mom glared at a machine on the wall. She frantically cleared her screen and wrote: ‘I support my beautiful daughter. OK?’
“Okay,” I said and went to touch and kiss her but she was furiously writing: ‘Damn machine timer shooting sleep meds dont want to go I love you Lauri’ and her eyelids fluttered and the stylus dropped as she instantly fell asleep.
We stared at Mom as a nurse came in and stilled the machine. She smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry, but she wouldn’t have wanted you to go and I could see by her vitals that she was tiring. It’s really for the best, and you got more time than her doctors wanted.”
Jackie and I looked at her and then at each other, stunned. Jackie said, “Well, I guess that’s the end of visiting hours …”
End of Part 6
We couldn’t really blame the nurse for making Mom sleep, so we thanked her and picked up our things and headed for Dr. Morrison’s office. His secretary called and we went in. Once seated, Jackie seized the initiative.
“Laurie has been told that you know about Laurence, so you don’t have to cover that.”
“Ah. Thank you. You know, Lauren, it’s pretty darned hard to look at you and talk with you and think anything other than that you are a happy, healthy, genetic girl. You really are remarkable.”
I blushed and said, “Thank you …I guess. I’m not really doing anything …”
“Oh, but you are. Or, hopefully, you will. Let me explain. As you may know now, we have a gender clinic here that is internationally known, largely through the graces of Dr. Mahmoudi. Her husband was one of the world’s leading surgeons in sexual reassignment procedures, and she studied and assisted and may even have surpassed him by this point.”
Jackie looked at me and then asked, “I’m sorry; I’m a little confused as to which Dr. Mahmoudi we’re talking about.”
Dr. Morrison nodded solemnly. “I understand. The doctor you met was Dr. Carlton when she went to study in Zurich with Dr. Mahmoudi. He was already quite famous in the field of gender, and she’d received her Ph.D in Gender Studies at Johns Hopkins. They fell in love and married, but she kept her name because she was already established in her field. Three years ago, Dr. Mahmoudi returned to Cairo to care for his sick mother …and was killed in a terrorist attack. Car bomb.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, how awful!” I heard Jackie’s sharp intake of breath.
“Yes. But Dr. Carlton took her married name, Mahmoudi, to carry on his research. I assure you, she is among the very finest in the world. It was quite a feat for our facility to be chosen, but truth be told, we had an inside edge. One of our local benefactors had a son who was transgender but had committed suicide because he felt hopeless. With that patron pushing aggressively, we were able to construct the clinic and bring in Dr. Mahmoudi.”
“Quite a story,” Jackie said. “Remarkable.”
“Yes, well …it may be no more remarkable than Lauren’s own story,” he smiled at me. “That a boy–any boy could become so definitely and utterly feminine at so early an age–and so unremarkably socialized as a female–well, that’s remarkable. Anyway, here’s the crux of things. Our hospital is prepared to welcome you to the gender clinic, where we will do everything possible to ease you into the rest of your life as a female, both medically and legally. ‘Legally’ just means we’ll take care of the documentation changes so you’ll have no difficulties later in life.”
“Wow!” Jackie exclaimed.
I had nothing to say at this time; I was both speechless and also waiting for ‘the other shoe to drop.’
Dr. Morrison sensed this, because he went on. “I have to do the disclaimer now. There are a number of factors contingent on my previous statements. It is possible that you may decided that your core identity is male, after all, and–”
“Excuse me, Doctor?” I raised my hand. He nodded and I said, “That’s not going to happen. I never …” I frowned. “You said ‘disclaimer’ and I guess I’ve got to do one of my own. All of my life, until recently, I thought I was male. That’s what I was told, and that’s what I had between my legs. End of story; I was male.” I shrugged. “But I never felt like the boys around me. I sure never looked like ‘em, either!”
Jackie said, “I can testify–and Laurie’s mother can independently verify this–that Laurence never presented as male–in the medical sense of ‘presented’.”
“I understand,” Dr. Morrison nodded.
Jackie said, “Not only the way Evie carried Laurence–and I’m keeping that name for the purposes of this–well, old wives’ tales or not, all signs indicated a female birth. Birth weight and presentation were well within feminine norms, but there was that penis, and there was no getting around that. No genetic tests were performed, to the best of my knowledge, and I have seen Laurence’s medical records.”
“My Aunt Jackie was a nurse,” I said. “Oh, you know that, right?”
Dr. Morrison nodded. “Go on, please.”
Jackie looked at me and back to the doctor. “I wasn’t present on a daily basis, of course. Evie and I are close but we had our own lives and husbands to deal with–Evie’s not as happily as mine,” she frowned. “Anyway, we were in phone contact frequently, and she described numerous occasions over the years of people mistaking Laurence for a girl. From pushing him in a stroller to preschool teachers and parents and so on. I said ‘numerous’ but it was pretty near consistent. The reason I feel this is important because of their insistence that Evie’s child was a girl. Evie was criticized for ‘keeping her pretty little girl’s hair so short’, so she let it go longer and then she was criticized for ‘keeping her pretty little girl in pants’. She was criticized for ‘encouraging her daughter to be a tomboy’ and on and on, over the years.”
I stared at her. “I had …no idea. They talked to Mom like that?”
Jackie snorted. “Talked? They yelled sometimes. You see, Laurie, a lot of people have their world neatly catalogued and filed. Boys over here, girls over there. Anything ambiguous bothers them. Whether it’s just the uncertainty of how to address somebody, or something deeper, they are bothered and some react with anger.”
I knew the phrase ‘or something deeper’ meant something sexual, but I said, “I had no idea that was all going on, Dr. Morrison. It kind of explains some …things in my past. Incidents, playground stuff, you know; not really important. I mean, yeah, important to explain things but not anything I can do about now, years later.”
“Is it years later, Laurie?” Jackie asked with a raised eyebrow, probing.
I frowned. “Um …yeah.”
“What about the dance class?”
The memory flooded back, making me blush.
Jackie said, gently, “Your mother told me, of course.”
I swallowed and turned to Dr. Morrison. “I, uh …” I took a deep breath. “I wanted to take a dance class. I love all of the dancing shows on TV, especially So You Think You Can Dance, and we went to this place, On Pointe, and she tried to sign me up. The problem was that you …well, there’s a tour of the place, and they’ve got the classes separated, boys and girls. Seemed odd to me, but later we found out why.”
Jackie said, “There was no indication, but it was a heavily Christian group, some fundamentalist thing. Evie chose them because they had won some awards at a competition and were in the paper and just, you know, seemed like any other dance studio.” She looked at me.
I said, “You should tell it, Aunt Jackie; I’m curious what Mom told you.”
“Okay, and I know we’re way off topic here so I’ll make it brief. Well, maybe not off topic since the topic is you, but …” She took a breath. “Keeping the names straight again, Evie and Laurence were given this tour and passed the studio with the girls, first. Laurence stopped, entranced.” She looked at me. “That’s the word Evie used, ‘entranced’. And there were girls you knew?”
I nodded. “Heather Singletary and Danielle Cartwright. They go to my school.”
Jackie said, “Evie said it was typical little girls waving and Laurence waved back and giggles and jumps and the guy doing the tour pretty much jerked Laurence away from them. Evie said you were hurt?”
I was blushing. “Um …yes. Left a mark.” I indicated my left upper arm where I’d been grabbed.
Dr. Morrison said, “I hope she filed charges?”
Jackie shook her head. “I told her to do that, too, but she just wanted it put past them. The guy dragged Laurence to the boys’ studio to watch and maybe try a dance move or two.”
“They …laughed,” Laurence said. “Called me names.” There was silence and I figured they wanted more. “You know, the usual. Faggot, fruit. Oh, and girl, like it was a bad thing.”
“That was when Evie was discovering it was a religious group that ran the studio, ‘dancing for God’ or whatever. And that’s why she didn’t press charges because it’d be too complicated with the religious angle. You see, they had assumed that Evie and Laurence were True Believers like them, and that Evie would praise the guy yanking Laurence away from the girls–if you can believe it–because they were so freaked out about boys and girls being together at that age.”
I said, “I’m not …a supporter of that; I think it’s crazy, but it’s their faith and they have a right to practice what they want. Just …not with us.”
Dr. Morrison said, “That’s far more adult and tolerant than they would be, most likely. I don’t know the group so I can’t presume to speak about them, but I still find their actions objectionable. But this occurred when?”
“Five–well, five months before the fire,” I answered.
“So just within the last year, with such an experience, you still weren’t questioning your male status?”
I frowned. “I was …getting closer. Closer to talking with Mom about it.”
“Your mom was already aware, more than aware,” Jackie said gently. “She’s known for years, and that’s why she’s had you monitored–oh, and Dr. Morrison, this needs to be said, while I think of it. To the best of my knowledge, especially my knowledge of my sister, Evie never encouraged Laurence to be feminine. Or effeminate, but he was never swishy. He was just feminine.” She looked at me. “Always. But she never dressed him like a girl, not even unisex clothes. Just jeans and t-shirts, Pendletons in winter, that sort of thing.”
I nodded but asked, “Monitored?”
Dr. Morrison said, “Your file contains several years of fluid and DNA testing, as well as the notes and speculations of …” He leaned over and flipped through my file. “Drs. Kendall, Spiegel, Jennings and Bastian.”
“Sounds like a law firm!” Jackie joked.
I frowned. “I only know two of them, Dr. Kendall and Dr. Bastian.”
“The others are specialists, an endocrinologist and Dr. Jennings is a geneticist.” He leaned back. “The point is, Lauren, that you came to us on two occasions. Well, to our facility. First, of course, was the night of that terrible fire. There was some confusion because even then, with you doing almost nothing but occupy your bed, recovering, the assumption was that you were female. Caused a bit of a shock to the nurses, I understand,” he said with a fleeting smile.
Jackie said, “They quizzed me when I first got there. They were pretty darned sure there was something fishy going on, because they were sure you were female. Never told you before!” She chuckled.
Dr. Morrison went on. “The second time was actually my first contact with you. When she could, your mother authorized the transfer of your medical records so I learned quite a lot about you. So we are actually much farther along than we would have been otherwise.”
“So, the disclaimer?” Jackie prodded. “The possibility that Laurie might want to be Laurence?”
“Not going to happen,” I said firmly.
Dr. Morrison smiled and nodded. “I’m convinced of that, but it has to be said, of course. So with that disclaimer out of the way, I stand by my original statement that we will do everything possible to ease you into the rest of your life as a female. But,” he raised a finger. “You’ve got some work to do for us.”
“I understand,” I nodded. “And I’ll do everything I can.”
“I know you will, Lauren. Well, you will be studied, of course, and a lot of it will be intense psychological testing as well as biological testing. You’ll be working directly with Dr. Mahmoudi, who is the best, as I said. Basically, we get to study a unique individual who can help us with the diagnosis and treatment of countless others, and you get your medical and legal entanglements straightened out. Because,” he lowered his voice, “they will entangle you, and very soon.”
I thanked Dr. Morrison but had a couple of questions. “I certainly understand the idea of studying me, and that you’d help me with the other problems. But can you really learn something from me that you can use with somebody else?”
Dr. Morrison nodded. “This is one of those fields where every new discovery–usually at the individual level, such as your case–answers some questions and asks many more. The field gets wider and wider–well, you’ll have time to talk with Dr. Mahmoudi about that; she’s more current on her field. But, in a nutshell, yes, we can learn from you and apply it to others.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “And it’ll make me work all the harder to help. But I have a problem; I live two hours away and we’re not made of money. With gas prices today, we can’t be going to and fro that often. And we’ve got a season to run–”
“Honey, bless you!” Jackie chuckled. “But, please; don’t worry about the season. We’ll manage; we have in the past. But now things are in much better shape going in, thanks to you.”
I smiled back, grateful, but said, “We still have lots of preparation to do, and I’ve got to work on getting the lake ready, and I want to be certain about the new pool pump–”
Dr. Morrison held up his hand. “I fully understand your situation, especially about the distance and gas and your commitment to the ranch. I believe that, to you, your priorities are your mother, then your aunt and uncle’s ranch, and yourself last. Please consider some options, though. We will be flexible around your schedule, but are also offering to have you stay with us in one of our guest suites.”
“Guest suites?” Jackie asked.
“Yes. We made that arrangement with the hotel for you for the one night. That’s the procedure for simple unplanned overnights for patients’ families, but the suites are for long-term stays. Mrs. Boynton, you are certainly welcome to join Lauren, but it’s not necessary so it wouldn’t take time from your duties at the ranch. I realize how important the preparation for the season must be. We would send a car for Lauren, who would stay for several days to perhaps a week, and then we’d return her to you. During her time here she would not only be involved at the gender clinic but also able to spend a great deal of time with her mother.”
I looked at Jackie; we both had the same thought–we hadn’t realized that it could mean more time with Mom!
Dr. Morrison gently said, “Your mother will be with us for another six to eight months before she can go home. She’ll be returning for additional grafts for the next year or so, because the burns were so extensive and, even as strong as she is, her body can only withstand just so much surgery. Even more importantly, we have to give the skin time to heal before continuing. We probably won’t be inducing coma again, so she’s going to be conscious and getting back into the day-by-day time frame. So you see, you will be as close to her as possible if you come to stay with us. Unfortunately, I can’t validate the use of guest suites to the board of directors if the hospital is not paid–somehow. Your participation in Dr. Mahmoudi’s studies will qualify.”
Jackie spoke for both of us. “I hope we don’t have to give an answer right now; I think we’ll have to discuss this on the way home.”
“Of course,” Dr. Morrison said, “But I’d like to bring in Dr. Mahmoudi for any questions. That way you’ll have more information to think about.” He pushed a button on his phone and I recognized Dr. Mahmoudi’s voice as she was asked to join us. Dr. Morrison offered us drinks and I settled on a cold bottled water from a fridge behind his desk. He commended me on my choice and had one for himself, saying, “Water. Nothing better for all of us.”
A discreet knock and Dr. Mahmoudi entered. I was interested in Jackie’s reaction, since I already had met the doctor. Jackie knew the story but was obviously surprised by how young the doctor seemed. Introductions were made, and Dr. Mahmoudi sat in a chair next to the desk. She briefly laid out her credentials, which were extremely impressive. Then she got down to business.
“Lauren, all of this may seem invasive; you’ve had time to get used to the idea of girlhood while you were isolated on the ranch, so to speak. And you’ve been remarkably successful at it. But you haven’t had too much of a chance to fully socialize as a girl.”
I nodded, trying to keep from blushing as I thought about ‘socializing’ with Mark last night …
Dr. Mahmoudi went on. “Your file is extremely interesting. And, yes, you seem shocked that I’ve read your file, or that there even is a file on you. Your mother authorized the transfer of all medical records pertaining to her child. Right now you probably feel exposed, maybe even a little bit violated, and that’s normal. You resent being kept in the dark, so let’s bring you into the light, okay?”
“Yes, please. And I’m not feeling too violated, so don’t worry about that. Dr. Morrison explained about how you got my file, and told me–what I didn’t know–that all along my doctors have been monitoring me.”
“Yes, they have. I’m a little surprised that you weren’t aware of it, but I can appreciate your mother’s concern to follow the path of least influence–the ‘wait-and-see’ school of thought,” Dr. Mahmoudi nodded. “The fact that you seemed unaware of your feminine presentation and orientation is just one more factor that makes your case so intriguing,” she smiled.
Dr. Mahmoudi began asking if I was aware of my ‘chromosomal condition.’ I told her that I understood that I was ‘XXY.’ She nodded and said it simplified things that I was aware of that. She briefed us on the positives and negatives of my situation.
All four of us immediately dispensed with any thoughts of me trying to be male, so it was simply a matter of determining my body’s endocrinological requirements and adjusting as needed. I agreed for simple tests–height, weight, blood, urine, and cheek swab–to be performed right then, so they could begin getting the info they needed. On my first full visit, I’d be put through ‘the machines’, which seemed to include MRI and CAT scanners and some others I’d never heard of. I knew these were hugely expensive tests, even with insurance, but one of the benefits of being a patient of the clinic was that the costs would be borne by the hospital. And when it came time for prescribing any hormones or medication, they’d be ‘on the house’ as part of my clinical study.
The two doctors had pretty much finished their presentation and looked at us expectantly.
“Could you please excuse us for a moment?” I asked. “Jackie, do you want to have our conference here or somewhere else? And do you want Carl’s input? God, I’m going to have to make it up to him–”
Jackie raised her hand. “Laurie, would you please stop being so darned thoughtful?” she chuckled. “In reverse order, Carl’s impressed with all the work you’re doing around the place and we can certainly spare you this time. Next, I’ve already got Carl’s input …” She grinned wickedly. “Or at least, I told him what his input was!” She laughed openly. “I’d spoken with Dr. Morrison already so I knew this was a possibility. Didn’t know about ‘guest suites’, though; I thought they’d give you a hospital room and I was already thinking of ways to make it more homey.”
Dr. Morrison said, “I assure you, Lauren will be quite comfortable in the suites; they’re comparable to the better hotel rooms in town.”
“I don’t doubt that, doctor,” Jackie smiled. “Everything about your outfit is first rate.” She glanced at Dr. Mahmoudi and back to me. “So Carl already knows about your ‘medical condition’,” she used air quotes, “and told me, ‘Whatever she needs, she gets.’ I told you that you’d completely won him over!”
I blushed at that. “So …it’s okay if I’m gone? I mean, I want to be here with Mom, but I don’t want to desert you guys.”
“Not deserting any more than your mom’s deserting us. You do have a medical condition, but more serious than your mom’s.”
“What? I don’t understand?”
Even the doctors seemed baffled.
Jackie said, “Your mom’s going to be all right. It’s a long, hard and painful road she has to walk, but maybe five years from now–” She glanced at Dr. Morrison, who frowned, shrugged and nodded. Jackie grinned back with a challenge and went on, “–within five years from now your mom is going to be right back where she was, teaching and caring for her child. She’ll have some scars, but basically her world will be right back where it was before the fire. Except for her child.”
Jackie smiled so warmly at me.
“Her child also has a long, hard and painful road to walk, only it will affect every aspect of every moment of the rest of her life. Her new life, as Lauren.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice. I saw the doctors nodding and smiling.
“That’s a very accurate–although rather stark–way of phrasing it, Mrs. Boynton,” Dr. Morrison said.
Dr. Mahmoudi said, “I agree, but I must also point out that the road will be full of discovery and joy and happiness and, I hope, peace.”
“From your lips …” Jackie nodded.
I said, “Uh …so …you and me …our conference?”
Jackie grinned. “I can speak in front of these folks if you can.” I nodded. Jackie smiled sadly, “I’m going to miss you something fierce; I’ve gotten so used to having you there that even a week is going to be lonely. But I know that the two girls I love most in the world will be getting the best medical care possible. Alright?”
“Alright,” I said, a lump in my throat.
That ‘conference’ with Jackie was a formality, really, since I already knew that Mom approved and that Jackie had been a nurse and I trusted their opinions, and I felt trust in the two doctors, so we got ready to sign the documents necessary for admittance into the clinic.
Jackie looked at me and raised an eyebrow, which could have meant anything but I knew–from our psychic connection–that it was about my name. I explained to the doctors about my desire to put Jamison behind me and to more closely cement my relationship as the daughter of my mother. I actually used that phrase, and they both understood completely. Dr. Morrison paged his secretary who brought in forms. It was explained that I would sign the release for testing today as ‘Laurence Jamison’ and that I’d sign the name-change request with that name–possibly the last time ever–and then with my new name.
I asked for a notepad and took a few moments to practice my new name, Lauren Kenyon. Laurie Kenyon. I smiled to myself. ‘Miss Lauren Kenyon’, I imagined in my mother’s voice. I couldn’t wait to hear it from her lips!
While I practiced, Dr. Mahmoudi explained that since my XXY status was rare, what they learned from my research wouldn’t directly apply to the typical transgender person–as if there were such a thing as ‘typical’, but she meant an XY male-to-female–but that medical literature on XXY was sparse and I could contribute there. The area I would be most helpful in, and which guaranteed the board of directors subsidizing me, was in the psychological area, which had not been as fully explored as the ‘physiological implications’, as the doctors phrased it.
Jackie and I would work out times that I could be spared from the ranch–with Carl’s input, of course–and we tentatively picked a day for the hospital car to pick me up. Dr. Morrison reminded me to bring books, magazines, iPod, DVDs–whatever I wanted for my ‘downtimes’–as well as clothing. Truth be told, I was excited about the whole prospect, because it meant I’d be getting my girlhood firmly on a forward track, I’d get to spend a lot more time with Mom …and I might get to spend some time with Mark.
I signed all the other documents. Then it was time for the samples. I went into a bathroom near a nurse’s station and peed in a cup–thank you, bottled water!–and came back for my blood pressure and to have my blood drawn. They used a thin spatula to scrape the inside of my cheek, snipped the tiniest bits of my hair–and now I knew why my old doctors had done that!–and a quick height and weight check and I thought that was it.
Wrong!
“Now comes the embarrassing part,” Dr. Mahmoudi said. “I’d like to perform a physical examination.”
“I figured that,” I nodded.
“You want me with you?” Jackie asked gently.
“Of course–oh, not that I don’t trust you, doctor,” I smiled at Dr. Mahmoudi. “But because this is something we’re sharing and you’re my aunt and, what the heck, you’re a nurse, too.”
“That’s right–I’ll be checking your bedside manner!” Jackie teased Dr. Mahmoudi, who chuckled.
So I was led into an exam room, I stripped, and I climbed into the stirrup chair. Jackie and Dr. Mahmoudi looked at each other.
“What?” I asked.
Dr. Mahmoudi said, “You did that rather …well. Like you’ve done it before.”
“Well, yeah,” I shrugged. “Wasn’t it right, for an exam?”
Jackie laughed. “Yes–for a gynecological exam!”
“Have you been in a stirrup chair before?” Dr. Mahmoudi asked.
“For the last two physicals I had, yes,” I nodded.
Jackie said, “You weren’t doing any sports, Laurie; why did you have physicals?”
“No, I wasn’t doing …Aunt Jackie, you’ve read my records, right?” She nodded and I frowned. “Then weren’t they just routine physicals?”
“And you were in the stirrup chair with …that would be Dr. Bastian, right?” Dr. Mahmoudi asked.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And now I’m realizing by your reactions that they weren’t typical physicals and a boy wouldn’t be in a stirrup chair?”
“Bingo,” Jackie nodded.
Dr. Mahmoudi said, “We can discuss that later, if we want. Just one question, Laurie; when you were in the chair, what did Dr. Bastian do? I mean, what areas did he examine?”
“Everything down there,” I nodded towards my crotch. “Um …penis, testicles, the …what guys call ‘the taint’.”
“Perineum,” Jackie and Dr. Mahmoudi both said at the same time.
“The perineum,” I nodded. “And my …I guess my anus?”
“Anus, yes,” Dr. Mahmoudi said. Then she grinned as she pulled on gloves. “Well, then this will be quite familiar to you!”
After being poked and prodded–occasionally painful–and photographed and then allowed to dress, we were all back in Dr. Morrison’s office, we all ‘made sure we were on the same page’, and he put it, and then Dr. Mahmoudi surprised me by giving me three things. The first was a binder with a surprisingly thick pile of papers. It fully explained her and the clinic, my condition, and the current medical evaluation of my condition in general.
“Homework!” she grinned. “You won’t be tested, but you’ll want to know this.”
The second was a diary. I told her that I already was sort of keeping a diary. She explained that she still wanted me to keep this one, and try to be as daily as possible, even if I didn’t fill in my regular diary.
“I don’t need events like ‘Today I rode a horse.’ I need–you need–to note absolutely anything physical that you experience, like ‘Today I felt bloated’ or even ‘Today I farted a lot.’”
I giggled and Jackie chuckled. “Might be from my bean casserole, not your meds!”
Dr. Mahmoudi nodded. “Seriously, as we adjust your body’s chemistry, all sorts of things might be pertinent. It would be helpful if you note your weight on a more-or-less daily basis, if your breasts were tender, if you had a headache, that sort of thing. Got it?”
“Sure. Everything physical. Mental? Psychological, I mean?”
“Yep. That’s the next thing. Moods. Not ‘Today Jackie was mean to me’,” she grinned at Jackie, “but things like ‘Today I’m feeling like nothing I do is worth anything’, or ‘Today I feel like I can take on the world.’ Oh, and this may embarrass you; I need you to write any dreams you have, and especially, your thoughts about sex. Your sex, the ‘opposite’ sex, who you’re attracted to, who you’re crushing on, who turns you off. Instead of writing ‘Tonight I went to the movies’, you might write ‘Tonight I saw a movie and I got funny feelings about one of the guys in the movie.’”
“Orlando Bloom, no doubt!” Jackie cracked.
“Oh, God, Jackie; you, too?” I laughed back at her. They’d just re-released some of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies; the commercials were all over the TV.
Dr. Mahmoudi chuckled and continued. “It could be Orlando; it could be Keira. But please be honest. Believe it or not, all of that information is pertinent because brain chemistry can affect a lot of it. And, Laurie, you have my absolute solemn vow, in front of these witnesses: Nobody will read this diary except for me. If I feel that a section is important for medical science, I will discuss the section with you and get your approval and it will be redacted. If you disapprove, I won’t use it. I want you to know that your privacy is absolutely guaranteed by me.”
“I appreciate that. I really do. I’m a little frightened about what I might write down,” I chuckled nervously.
“I understand, but one final diary rule: Never put down anything that you think I want to hear. Don’t try to second-guess your doctor; it might cause more harm than good, and you can’t know what I need to know, anyway. So, truth always. Promise?”
I promised, and she handed me the third surprise. It was a thin gold bracelet with a small flat piece that was engraved with my name, a case number and a phone number.
“This will be your ID while you’re in the program. It’s way better than those plastic bands our patients normally get, and you’ll actually get a bit of VIP treatment because of it. It lets staff know that you’re working with and for the hospital and not just a simple patient wandering around. I’m giving it to you now so you can get used to wearing it.”
“When did you have time to get it engraved?”
“We’ve got a gadget here; I did it while you were having the tests done. Quick and easy. Anyway, deal?”
“Absolutely! Deal!”
“Now, there is one thing more to discuss,” Dr. Morrison looked to Dr. Mahmoudi, who took the lead.
“Lauren, there is a procedure that I can perform that you might want to consider. I’m suggesting it because you are already so far advanced in transitioning to female.”
I looked at Jackie. Procedure? This was obviously news to her, judging from her frown.
Dr. Mahmoudi went on. “Usually this is something for somebody once they’ve been in the program for several months and cleared a lot of hurdles in terms of social adjustment. But you’re already there, as near as we’ve been able to determine, so in your circumstances I want to suggest it.”
“Go ahead. Are you talking about some kind of surgery?” I looked at my frowning aunt with uncertainty.
“No; surgery is a monumental undertaking and unless we can move some mountains along the way, legally you won’t be able to have reassignment surgery until you’re eighteen. I’m sorry, but it’s the law.”
We told her we understood and I could see that it was probably a pretty good law.
Dr. Mahmoudi seemed reassured that we weren’t pressuring her for surgery right away, and she continued. “Let me explain by putting things in perspective. When a male petitions and is accepted in the program, after evaluation there are several physical changes that should take effect and must be evaluated. First and foremost is the psychological health of the patient, so this is usually a step-by-step process.”
She took a notepad from Dr. Morrison’s desk and wrote two columns with the words Physical and Psychological at the top. Then on the side she added a vertical list with Hair, Facial, Tissue, Breasts, and Genitals.
“Many of our patients have never done anything to transition other than dressing up in female clothing in private. Others have been self-dosing on hormones, often dangerously, and have to be ‘de-toxed’, so to speak, so their system is clear. In either case, we need to start with a clean slate endocrinologically speaking–that is, in terms of any foreign substance that could interfere with future doses of pharmaceuticals. With me, so far?”
We nodded. I said, “I’ve been reading some on the internet. And by the way, Jackie was a nurse.”
Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “I didn’t know that. Well, this will be much easier. Okay, on the list ‘Hair’ is obvious, arranging for a suitable wig, and so on. ‘Facial’ relates to any outstandingly male features that might need to be later restructured–surgery that is purely elective, such as reducing an Adam’s Apple or reconstructing the chin, for instance. But it also relates to things as simple as proper makeup application and eyebrow plucking, to feminize the face. The next one, ‘Tissue’ is actually skin texture, which softens in response to hormones, and redistribution of adipose tissue–the wider hips and butt and general femininizing of the body’s contours. ‘Breasts’ is obvious; some patients have already had implants and others just stuff their bras. And finally, ‘Genitals’ which ultimately means surgery, as we discussed, but also the procedure I’m about to tell you about. Oh, and the other column, ‘Psychological’ is obvious; as the patient progresses we must evaluate each step carefully. It’s not always this order, but usually. Okay?”
Jackie said, “But we’re dealing with a chromosomal rarity, in Laurie’s case …”
Dr. Morrison said, “Exactly.”
Dr. Mahmoudi nodded and said, “That’s right. And since it is a rarity, the hospital wants to study her. But since it is chromosomal, this is you, Laurie–”
She quickly put checks in both columns, going down the list, but left the ‘Genitals’ section unchecked.
“You see? Your hair is long and, I’ve got to say, I’m jealous about how pretty it is. And you’re completely comfortable with your hair.”
“Comfortable with my hair?”
Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “Some patients desire long hair but then hide behind it. You wear yours proudly and I imagine you’re already trying different styles?”
Jackie smiled. “She’s gorgeous with a chignon or French Braid.”
“She would be,” Dr. Mahmoudi smiled warmly. “That lovely long neck. Alright. Facial …well, you have outstanding bone structure and large, expressive eyes and your lips …” She put her pen to her own lips. “Are you using a plumper, by any chance?”
“Plumper?” I looked at Jackie, confused.
Dr. Morrison said, “Some lipsticks and products have chemicals added to induce a slight swelling of the tissue …I blame Angelina Jolie, personally.”
We all chuckled politely. I shook my head. “Not that I know of. This is Clinique …” I pointed to my lips. “Jackie?”
“No plumper. She’s always had gorgeous lips. We already told you how Laurie’s mother–Laurence’s mother–had strangers complimenting her pretty daughter, and often her lovely lips. I even remember …” She trailed off, and sort of curled her own lips inwards in embarrassment. Then she shook her self. “Aw, hell. I remember seeing Laurence’s lips and thinking they were so wasted on a boy; I wanted lips like that. Imagine! I actually envied my nephew’s lips!” She laughed with her embarrassment.
“Geez, Jackie!” I laughed. “That must have weirded you out!”
Dr. Morrison said, “It really is remarkable how well-adjusted you two are. You have a wonderful relationship and you’re a wonderful family.”
I spoke first. “Thank you, Dr. Morrison. That means a lot to me …” I looked at Jackie. “Because I had two women that are fantastic role models.”
“Aw, you …” Jackie said, squeezing my hand, touched.
I said, “So, no, um …plumpers.”
Dr. Mahmoudi nodded. “Your face, I gather, has always been feminine. Mrs. Boynton, if you have access to any photographs of Laurie as a child, I would appreciate them.”
“I think what Evie had was lost in the fire. We didn’t see Laurence all that much but I’ll check when I get back home. And please call me Jackie.”
“Thank you, Jackie. I was already aware that your sister’s memorabilia was lost. So I’m assuming that other than a sensible skin care regimen–you’re already using Clinique, a good brand–your tissue, the quality of your skin, has always been within feminine norms.” Jackie nodded and Dr. Mahmoudi shook her head. “You must have suffered when you were younger.”
There was a moment of stillness in the room. She had not heard us tell Dr. Morrison about the dance studio. I put my head down. “Some. Not as much as others, I’m guessing. I learned to …keep my head down. Girls usually wouldn’t play with me because I was supposed to be a boy, but the boys wouldn’t play with me because I looked like a girl. Threw like a gir, too. And I didn’t really want to play their games, anyway. So I kept to myself and read.”
“Sweetie …” Jackie said, reaching out to squeeze my hand, this time.
Dr. Mahmoudi said gently, “We’ll be getting into your life in detail, Laurie; I want you to be prepared for that.”
I nodded. “We’ve told Dr. Morrison some, and, yes, I’ll tell you anything you want to know–” I held up a hand. “I mean, I’ll tell the truth, not what I think you want to hear.”
She smiled and nodded. “Good girl. Alright, next on the list is breasts. We’ll be evaluating in our first meeting but I think you seem psychologically accepting of having breasts.” She looked at me.
“Psychologically accepting of having …” I stared at her. “Yes, but I wish they were bigger! Or grow faster, or something!”
They all chuckled politely and Dr. Mahmoudi said, “Spoken like every teenaged girl since Eve.”
“You’re doing fine, honey,” Jackie reassured me.
I thought it was because she knew what was next on the list.
“Finally, on the list, we come to genitals,” Dr. Mahmoudi said. “Personal question time. You were, of course, naked when I examined you. When you’re dressed, you ‘tuck’, which is the common term for pulling the penis between the legs. You do that, right?” I nodded and she smiled. “I was already certain of that because of the folds in your skin, but I had to ask. And you’re comfortable that way?”
“Very. Much more so than before. Oh, and I’ve kept the testicles inside since the day they went in.”
“Yes, obviously I noticed that but it’s good to know,” Dr. Mahmoudi nodded and made a note and asked when was that date. I told her and it brought a raised eyebrow but a smile, too, as she noted it down and then looked up. “What about swimsuits?”
I looked at Jackie and shrugged. “I’ve got some cute bikinis, but it’s just been me out there, cleaning the pool equipment or diving the lake with Uncle Carl.”
“Are you concerned about your penis being discovered?”
“Yes, of course; especially with guest season coming, it’s like my greatest fear. I’m not totally worried about it because my breasts have started developing, so nobody should question my gender just to look at me, and let’s face it; how many times have strangers’ vaginas suddenly become exposed?”
The doctors looked at each other for a moment and burst out laughing. Dr. Morrison gasped, “Oh my God; she’s right!”
Dr. Mahmoudi wiped her eyes and said, “It’s going to be an absolute pleasure working with you in the program, Laurie! Oh, my; you’re right …and a little bit wrong, if the bulge of your penis can be detected in bikini bottoms or tight jeans. So …I need to ask a few very important questions, but I don’t have to hesitate since you’ve got a pretty healthy sense of humor and have been open about discussing your body.”
Dr. Morrison said, “Before you go any further, I’ve got to check on something with Sylvia and also look into that surgical suite. I’ll be back in a bit; excuse me.”
I could tell it was a polite way of removing himself from the discussion, so I was curious what Dr. Mahmoudi’s questions would be.
“Now then …if you’re embarrassed, please tell me or even just hold up a hand like they do at the dentist when it gets too painful, okay? And let’s face it; you were just naked in front of me and I’ve already seen your genitals, so this shouldn’t be too rough. I have some notes already in your file, but I need to answer these questions personally. First question is, when was the last time you had an erection?”
The question stunned me a little, but not because I was embarrassed; I’d expected something like it but hadn’t expected it to be the next question. “Um, that’s weird to answer, but not from embarrassment; it’s more like an alien question, distant past, something like that. It’s like me asking you, when was the last time you played on the jungle gym at the park? The truth is, if …ever, it’s so long ago I don’t remember …I’m sorry; I can’t be more specific. And it’s not because of embarrassment.”
She smiled. “I can tell that. Thank you for being honest, but you said, ‘if ever’ and are you forgetting what boys call ‘morning wood’, an erection when you wake up?”
“No, I’m not forgetting that, and I know that for the same reason that might answer another question of yours. I always heard boys talk about that, about ‘woodies’ and stuff, and wet dreams. They were always joking about how sexy the girls in their dreams had been, and I heard them talk about wet dreams a lot. They were always bragging and proud and I felt miserable because I’d never had either one. So no wood, no wet, and I really have no idea when the last erection was or even what it was about.”
Dr. Mahmoudi was making notes and nodding. “Is it possible that you’ve never had one?”
“I vaguely remember in the bathtub thinking, ‘isn’t it supposed to be doing something?’ because the boys all talked about it. That’s odd, I know, and I tried poking around at it but nothing happened. What age, I can’t tell you.”
“And other times?” Dr. Mahmoudi asked.
“None that I know of. I mean, over the years I heard the boys talking about hard-ons and boners and stuff and I couldn’t quite …visualize what they were talking about. One time at school I told some guys about a hard-on I’d had that morning–I really hadn’t had one–but I lied so I’d fit in, you know? They were kind of looking at me funny, and I wondered if I even used the wrong words for things …but afterward, I felt even lousier about the lie than I’d felt not having anything to talk about. So I just never talked about it again.”
I let out a whoosh of air and found that my eyes were tearing slightly. The doctor was really good; she had a tissue all ready to hand me. “Sorry,” I said. “So …I went on the internet one time, to a gay porn site–I heard the guys talking about ‘net porn’ and I’d looked at some naked girls but they …”
“Yes?” Dr. Mahmoudi asked, interested. Then she realized maybe she was moving too fast. “We can discuss this later; I hadn’t planned for us to go this far in this direction.”
“It’s okay, Dr. Mahmoudi,” I shrugged. “Today, a week from now …either way, whenever I tell you, the information’s still the same.” I looked at Jackie. “And as embarrassing as it is, I kind of want my aunt to know, too.”
“Sweetie …” Jackie smiled sadly.
I nodded once. “Okay. So I looked at naked girls and didn’t have a hard-on. I know that for sure. But they were so pretty, you know? How soft their skin looked, and how pretty their breasts were, the curves …” I shrugged. “And some of the photos had guys in them, having sex, and I thought that although some of the photos looked like it hurt, in some of them, well …it looked nice. To be cuddled, to be held like that. And something about the girls safe in the strong guy’s arms …But the weird thing was the penises.” I frowned and looked directly at Dr. Mahmoudi. “Doctor, I was freaked. Not by people having sex; I know about that, but …I think I actually gasped the first time I saw an erect penis. I thought, ‘Omigod! Is that what a hard-on looks like?”
I blushed and the women shared a look. I cleared my throat. “So I can tell you that if that was an erection–even allowing for the guys in the pictures to be …remarkable specimens–”
Jackie burst out with a guffaw. “Sorry!” She held a hand up, trying to keep herself under control.
I grinned. “So even allowing for that, I can truly say that I never had anything like that happen to my penis.”
There was a long moment, and then Dr. Mahmoudi said softly, “Thank you for sharing that, Laurie.” She nodded again and wrote quite a bit and then looked at me again. “We know you don’t have any activity in your penis, so this question is for anywhere else on your body, or your mind, okay? Do you ever become sexually aroused, and if so, what do you feel?”
The damned blushing came on and I glanced at Jackie, who was keeping her head down, studying her kneecap. She knew and I knew she knew–just like always. I cleared my throat.
“Last night. For the first time ever. I went on a date with a boy.”
Dr. Mahmoudi was startled. As delicately as she could, she said, “I’m not sure …how did you meet …well, that’s not important.”
I chuckled. “This actually is a little embarrassing–“
“No, it’s not,” Jackie said softly. “It was perfectly normal and it was lovely and you should tell her.”
I nodded three times. “Okay. I met a boy here in town when we were here before to see Mom. We …kind of clicked. Anyway, I never thought anything could happen, but then when we had to spend last night in town,” I gave Jackie a wicked grin, “my aunt kind of maneuvered him into asking me out. We–I mean, the boy and I–walked and talked and then he kissed me …”
Dr. Mahmoudi started to say something but I held up a hand and she stopped immediately with her mouth half open.
I quickly said, “No, that’s not accurate. He didn’t kiss me; he’s too polite to do that on a first date, I think. I kissed him. I just had this overwhelming urge and I stood on my toes and kissed him. Took him by surprise. Took me by surprise, too. After that …well, I’d have to say the kisses were …equally distributed.”
Another chuckle and waved hand of apology from Jackie.
“So …” I thought for a second. “I felt my breasts tingle. My nipples hardened and it was like when I get cold but not just like when they’re cold. I felt a warmth in my …well, between my navel and my crotch is probably accurate. And I felt a sort of clenching between my legs, kind of muscle tightening …kind of like when you’re trying to squeeze out the last drops of urine–but again, not just like that …” I paused and said, “And I felt really, really, really alive.”
Both women looked at me for a long moment, and I realized there was a shared female moment occurring. I dropped my eyes to the hem of my dress. Jackie reached over and placed her hand on the back of mine and gave me a reassuring squeeze.
Dr. Mahmoudi made some notes; looking up, she smiled. “What you experienced, Lauren, is a pretty fair description of a typical female sexual response. Jackie?”
Jackie nodded and said, “Sure sounds familiar to me!”
I squeezed her hand back and looked to the doctor. “So …typical for a girl, or for an XXY?”
“Smart question,” Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “Typical for a female, okay? And there are biological, genetic women who would tell you they’ve never experienced those feelings, but those feelings are pretty typical–and I’m not using the word ‘normal’ because there really isn’t a ‘normal’, just common responses. And yours weren’t typically male, they were those of a typical female. Are you okay with that?”
““More than okay!” I laughed.
Dr. Mahmoudi got pensive. “You know, Lauren …you might be better off than some of the XXY patients who’ve been studied. The majority in the medical literature were raised female from birth and their genetic anomaly was discovered when they failed to menstruate. They were often emotionally devastated to discover their chromosomal condition and never could fully feel ‘female’ again. They described the feeling that they were ‘half a woman’ or ‘no man’s land’ or things like that. Very unhappy. You, however, are the rarity that’s traveling the opposite route, and you weren’t comfortable–or at least, not un-comfortable–as a boy, but now you are grateful for any movement towards the female side of the scale.”
“That’s a good way to put it,” I said, considering. “I never felt like the tabloid headline ‘Trapped In The Wrong Body!’ but I just had a vague sense that something wasn’t right, wasn’t fitting in, just didn’t click. When I began moving to the female side, as you just said, then everything clicked. Not at first because I was embarrassed–or I guess I was worried what people would think if I acted like a sissy–but I got over that pretty quick.”
“She sure did,” Jackie grinned. “I could tell there was a pretty girly-girl waiting to be let out.”
“Interesting way to put it,” Dr. Mahmoudi noted on her pad, “and fairly accurate. So you can imagine the horror some XXY girls feel when they feel a boy waiting to be let out, so to speak.”
We were all silent for a moment thinking about those poor girls. Dr. Mahmoudi said, “My husband had a theory that a number of unexplained suicides of teenagers world-wide may have been due to the inability to cope with the cross-gender feelings. He got the cooperation of coroners in Germany to do a simple genetic test on all suicides regardless of sex, manner of death, notes left or not left–just totally anonymous with no privacy invasion, but all suicides throughout Germany within a six month period. The results were clear.”
She shook her head in amazement. “Statistically, there was a significantly higher proportion of XXY, and some XYY–so-called ‘super-males’–than in the general population. Or at least, as generally accepted in the general population. The condition is rare enough, but if it doesn’t fully manifest itself and is medically diagnosed, it could be hard to live with. We were working with the World Health Organization to try for a larger study when …when …”
Dr. Mahmoudi’s face tightened and she dropped her head. Instinctively, I grabbed a tissue box next to me and went to her, putting my hand gently on her shoulder and holding the box in front of her. She was sobbing slightly and nodded, taking a tissue and dabbing her eyes.
“Thank you …oh, God,” she gasped. “I thought I was dealing with it, but it creeps up on me and …”
“It’s alright, we understand,” I said, gently patting her shoulder.
She reached up and put her hand on mine and gave a little squeeze. “You just exhibited a typical female response to my grief,” she chuckled through her tears. “God, he would have loved to have met you!”
Jackie said, “I’m so sorry for you, doctor. I can’t imagine …”
This was the scene when Dr. Morrison returned. He looked sadly and said, “Oh, Anna, I’m so sorry. Do you want to take a break?”
She dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. “No, thanks; I’m fine. I was just saying that I deal with it and then it sneaks up on me and kicks my butt.” She sniffed again and grinned. “I was just saying how much he would have loved to have worked with Lauren.”
Dr. Morrison nodded. “Rashi would have liked that very much. The three of you …ah, damn.” He sat in his chair and had to clear his throat. Then he swiveled to address us. “Dr. Rashid Omari Mahmoudi was one of the greats. A great doctor, a great scientist, a great guy …and a great loss to the world. It’s hard to deal with it; he was taken so unexpectedly.” He looked at Dr. Mahmoudi, who was getting it together. “He was also a great friend. Let me explain something to you. I’m your mother’s doctor, but I’m also director of the Burn Ward. Normally I wouldn’t be involved in any of these discussions you’re having, but I had met Rashi eight years ago at a medical conference and we hit it off.”
His face softened with the memory. “Believe it or not, he could quote Simpsons episodes! Wonderful, wonderful guy …and so gentle and kind with his patients, and all the time his mind was in warp drive working on genetic experimentation. Oh, that sounds too science-fiction-y; he was working on gender genotypes, not genetic manipulation, to help patients emotionally and socially. I met Anna when she came to work for him–a barn-burner out of Johns Hopkins–and I was lucky enough to be at their wedding. When we got the funding for a gender clinic here, they were absolutely the board’s first choice. And that brings me full circle–as head of the Burn Ward, I sit on the Board of Directors and therefore have an active role in all aspects of the hospital as well. But it’s Dr. Mahmoudi’s baby.”
I wondered which Dr. Mahmoudi he referred to, and also if he regretted his last word because there would be no Mahmoudi baby now. Dr. Morrison sat silently–we all did–and then Dr. Mahmoudi had her pen and pad and was ready to go.
End of Part 7
Smoke Valley Ranch was a place for people to get away from things. For me, it was a place to get away from boyhood.
“So …back to today,” Dr. Mahmoudi said. “One of the most important areas for you will be socialization, integrating into everyday society as a female. You’ve pretty much done that, but on a limited basis.”
Dr. Morrison added, “There’s an additional benefit with your entry into the program. You’re in a rather isolated situation, living on the ranch. I understand that once your tourist season starts, you’ll be coming into contact with more people, but probably not for any length of time. And again, it will be under unusual circumstances, with limited interaction.”
Dr. Mahmoudi reassured me, “There’s no doubt that anybody seeing you will take you for a typical girl; that’s not the socialization that’s important for you. We’re talking about peer socialization.”
Jackie said, “Girlfriends.”
Dr. Mahmoudi nodded and Dr. Morrison said, “Right. Unfortunately, there’s no way a clinic can ‘prescribe’ girlfriends, but your time here–three to five days at a time, I would imagine–will give you a greater chance to meet other teenagers.”
I must have looked confused, because Dr. Mahmoudi chuckled and said, “Don’t worry; it’s not wall-to-wall testing, morning noon and night; you’ll have plenty of downtime. Time to spend with your mother, or go to the mall, or even do some work.”
Dr. Morrison said, “Many long-term clinicians–the term we use, although not accurate–take small jobs to combat boredom. They work as volunteers, like candy-stripers, or work in the gift shop. We had a cranial injury clinician who was a fantastic baker and created specialty goodies that we still serve in the restaurant! So there will be opportunities for meeting lots of new people, and many your age. The one thing we don’t want is for you to hide yourself in your room when you’re here. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Although being with my mom is my first priority.”
“I fully understand–but it will be subject to my medical discretion, alright? We both want her to heal as fully and quickly as possible. And I think having you here will help tremendously.”
There was a general feeling of Great Things Accomplished; a moment of silence all around. Then Dr. Mahmoudi completely took me in a new direction.
“I mentioned a procedure earlier. It’s an option that is usually considered after several months of clinical work, but I think under the circumstances we can dispense with that, with Dr. Morrison’s approval, of course.”
He looked at her and nodded.
“I have already examined your genitalia, what was visible,” Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “And extensively photographed it. There is little need for further examinations–with one exception, but I’ll have to come to that later, in sequence.”
I noticed Dr. Morrison had been about to object, and I think she saw it coming and added the exception. It seemed to satisfy him; he nodded again.
Dr. Mahmoudi said, “The areas of our concern are internal, chemical, and psychological. As I said earlier, you will undergo extensive scanning with different methods. Chemically, we will be taking samples of blood, urine, saliva, bowel and penile excretions of any kind. I know; kind of gross, huh?” She grinned.
“Well, the bowel thing, obviously,” I grinned back. “And I’ve never had any penile excretions that I know of, beyond urine. But anything can happen. And I understand you need to monitor my chemistry closely.”
“Yes; we’re very interested in your endocrine system, and I’ll be quite honest with you, Laurie–we’re going to tinker.” She grinned again. “We’re going to try different things on you; hormones, compounds, all sorts of things.”
“As long as I don’t grow hair all over, a deep voice, and start watching ESPN!” I teased.
There was general laughter–a little embarrassed from Dr. Morrison, but he went along.
Dr. Mahmoudi nodded, “Your sense of humor will be valuable to you, and to us. In fact, it’s one way we’ll be able to monitor our third area of concern, the psychological. Lots of tests–and yes, inkblots!–and you won’t believe how many questions you’ll be asked. At some point, whether from fatigue, our chemical tinkering, or other reasons, you may lose that sense of humor, and we’ll need to chart that. And we’ll work to get it back, because you really are delightful!”
They all smiled at me and it was my turn to be a little embarrassed. “I’m not …doing anything. I mean, trying to be funny or anything.”
Jackie said, “If I may step in here? Laurie, you are a naturally sunny girl. You have a–scratch that; I withdraw what I said the way I said it. From my limited contact with you over the years, and your mother’s reports to me, I’ve got to say that Laurence was not known for a sense of humor. We’ve been talking all around this so I don’t need to go into it again, but in a nutshell, Laurence was unhappy and didn’t quite know it–or at least as happy as a typical boy. We know why, of course. And since you finally relaxed and Laurie came out, there’s that delightful sense of humor Dr. Mahmoudi referred to. It’s a mark of your happiness.”
Dr. Morrison said, “I believe it’s also a mark of a fuller person. I’m no psychologist, but from all the anecdotal evidence, it seems fair to say that Lauren Kenyon is a more complete person–persona, I guess the psychologists would say–than Laurence Jamison. Quite literally, two different people. But one was closed in and unhappy and the other is cheerful and outgoing and I’ll turn the floor back to Dr. Mahmoudi.”
She grinned and nodded. “Thank you, doctor. So we’re all on the same page, now? Internal, chemical, and psychological examinations?” We all nodded in agreement and she smiled. “And little to no need to monitor the penis itself. I’ve got my photos and my examination notes from today as a reference. And because we don’t need to monitor it, even though we’ve only just met you, we have an option open that would not be available to us under the usual circumstances.”
Dr. Mahmoudi then described a ‘simple’ procedure involving placing the testicles back up inside the abdomen–but since they were already there, it wasn’t needed–then carefully tucking the penis back and using surgical glue to actually glue it to the perineum–now that I knew the word for ‘the taint’. The now-empty scrotal sacs hang on either side of the penis and are fashioned and glued in place and wind up looking like vaginal lips. The whole process was non-surgical, could be performed in a doctor’s office, was reversible and therefore could be performed on minors. The doctor had said she didn’t need to monitor my penis any further, but with one ‘exception’; the penis-monitoring exception referred to periodic examinations, when they would ‘undo’ everything, clean and examine the area, and restore the penis back up against the perineum.
“If you were to have this procedure done, Laurie, you would look like a biological girl through all of your clothes, including bikinis, and even naked–frontally, of course. We’ve had patients that had this procedure that shower with other women at their health clubs and nobody has ever detected a thing. Virtually zero chance of discovery unless you’re getting …extremely intimate with someone.”
“And that’s not going to happen for a long, long time!” Jackie cracked.
Laughs all around, and I had some questions. “Is there a possibility you won’t be able to do it? And even if you can, does it interfere with later surgery? Oh, and peeing …?”
“Peeing is not a problem. The penis is directed so the flow of urine is similar to a biological female’s. Oh, you have to sit, of course, but you probably already do. And a very good question–there have been cases where we couldn’t perform–” She raised a hand at the start of my objection. “Hold on! I know you’re worried, but those cases shouldn’t apply to you, because they were in mature adult males with fully formed genitalia. In one case, a quite large endowment; the penis exceeded the length of the perineum. But I have examined you and measured and you’re well within the successful size range, and your penis is not fully functional or anywhere near the size for a typical boy your age. Okay?” I nodded, swallowing. Dr. Mahmoudi went on crisply. “The most important factor will be the ability to urinate. Secondary is any discomfort, but that’s sorted out right away. There is also the matter of cleanliness, and we’ll teach you some hygiene precautions.”
“Wipe front to back?” Jackie grinned.
Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “Always. And it’ll be good for her to get in the habit now, before reassignment surgery. And to answer your other question, with this procedure, there’s no problem with later reassignment surgery, either. Ah, I can see that that relaxed you!” She grinned at me.
“I was …concerned. Because now that I know who I am, I don’t want to do anything that will cause problems.”
“Quite understandable. Now, have I answered your questions?” She smiled.
I felt such relief at her confidence, and nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Mahmoudi.”
She smiled and then frowned. “One thing that I don’t think will apply in your case, but it must be mentioned. The procedure uses a physician’s technique combined with surgical glue, but the glue can be dissolved with a special solvent that can be applied by the patient, although this has never happened. If there was a sudden medical emergency, for instance. If you needed it released and you were back at your ranch and in immediate distress and couldn’t make the two-hour drive. But if you could make it here, it would be better to wait.”
“God, I hope that never happens!” I said fervently.
“You and me, both,” she nodded. “But the fact that it is reversible is crucial. The prohibition or proscription on reassignment surgery for minors is specifically because it’s irreversible surgery. There are claims that it’s to allow for the minor to grow old enough to make a more mature decision, but it’s primarily the nature of the surgery. The … amputation.”
She gave me a direct look, probably to see if the word bothered me.
It didn’t. I shrugged. “That’s what it is. And like any other weird growth that doesn’t belong on my body, I have no problem amputating it and getting on with things.”
That brought a big smile. “Good girl! There are cases of minors scheduled for reassignment surgery who hesitate or cancel at the last minute. But it’s my own personal experience–remember that, this concerns my own patients–that when properly screened, and after experiencing life after the procedure, there has been no hesitation whatsoever.”
“Probably just a desire for the surgery date to be moved up,” I smiled.
Dr. Mahmoudi chuckled. “Absolutely right! As I suppose you will have the same desire!”
“Oh, I do already!” I laughed with her.
Dr. Morrison said, “The fact that the procedure can be reversed is what allows us to perform it on a minor. With parent or guardian consent, of course.”
“You have my consent,” Jackie said promptly. “You want Evie’s? Because I know she’ll consent, as well.”
Dr. Morrison smiled. “Actually, we already have it. And yours completes it. The hospital is satisfied that this is a procedure with full consent of all parties.”
That sounded great! I knitted my brow. “Let me see if I’ve got all this, in no particular order: First, I understand the how. The end result is that I could stand naked, feet apart, and anybody looking at me–girls, women, of course–would see only a normal girl’s vagina?”
Dr. Mahmoudi held up two fingers. “Two small changes. Try to avoid using ‘normal’; it’s not for political correctness–it just doesn’t apply. ‘Biological’ is better. We often say ‘GG’ meaning a ‘genetic girl’–except that you are genetically a girl–and genetically a bit male, too! That’s what makes you so interesting …not that you’re not interesting as a person, too, because you are. And even the ‘genetic girl’ term seems on its way to be replaced by an odd one, ‘cisgender’. There’s a lot of controversy …” She waved a hand. “Not important right now. Where was I? Oh, and you asked that they’d see only your ‘vagina.’ Again, I’m getting technical and nit-picky here, but I think it’s important. No woman can look at a standing woman and see her vagina. What she can see are the lips of the vulva which vary from woman to woman …and pubic hair, of course, unless it’s shaved. The vagina is hidden, tucked away and protected by the vulva.”
She grinned. “But I know the substance of your question, and the answer is that you would have the typical mound–the mons veneris–and appearance of vulval lips of a …from birth female, and no dangling penis. I just mentioned pubic hair; I know that shaving is fashionable among some girls. Even though you may have girlfriends that are bald down there, I would recommend against it, but not for sanitary reasons. Lauren, your pubic hair–what we call your ‘escutcheon’–is already within the norms for a female. So keeping your pubic hair will further your presentation as a female. Oh, you could trim, if you wish.”
Jackie leaned over and playfully said, “But no topiary, young lady!”
Everybody laughed, and then Dr. Mahmoudi went on.
“You will pretty much look like any other girl, with your feminine pubic hair and the appearance of vulval lips. Any girls looking at you would only be able to see something different if they saw you exposed and spread wide, from directly underneath, such as in a stirrup chair. And bear in mind that the female vagina varies widely in appearance, anyway. No two vaginas look the same, and some are downright odd looking, while others are textbook. Any girl familiar with other naked girls–pretty much every girl from high school age on up–will already be aware of that. Remember that looking straight ahead, full-frontal as in high school showers, you will look unremarkably like any other girl. The most important thing about this procedure is that it gives you confidence and virtually eliminates any chance of discovery.”
“Yes, thank you. Okay, I thought I was done with questions but I just thought of one that probably should have been first: Does my insurance cover this?”
Both doctors nodded. “Under the terms we present to them, insurance is not an issue while you’re in the program,” Dr. Morrison said. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” I turned and grinned at Jackie, who was smiling. “How long do I have to wait before I can get this done?”
Dr. Mahmoudi grinned back at me and turned to Jackie. “Your plan is to return to your ranch straight away? A two-hour drive?”
Jackie said, “Yes, a tad longer if we get caught in commuter traffic leaving town. And if we stop for dinner somewhere, so about three hours door-to-door if I don’t push it.”
Dr. Morrison looked at Dr. Mahmoudi. “Anna?”
“I don’t see why not. And the timing works, with a little help. Alright,” she said, facing me. “Lauren, Jackie …here’s what I propose; tell me what you think. First, you might want to visit the restaurant here in the hospital; it’s more than a cafeteria. Have a meal or a snack, but come to my office on the sixth floor, 6107, in one hour. That will give me time to have the suite prepared. I’ll use a local anesthetic, but I’d like to add something else that will make Lauren pretty well stoned for the drive home.”
“Wait a minute!” I almost shouted. “You can do it today?”
“Well …yes. I thought that’s what you wanted?”
“Yes! Absolutely! Um …Jackie?” I turned to my aunt. “Is this doable?”
She nodded. “You bet. I’ll call Carl and tell him we’ll be home …when we get there. I think this is important for you. But doctor, will she be in pain on the long drive?”
“Shouldn’t be. As I said, she’ll be pretty groggy for about two hours, which will take her about half-way through your trip, so it will probably make her perception of the drive much shorter. She’ll have been anesthetized–there’s some tugging involved in the procedure but no cutting or healing–and she’ll have pain meds for the ride home and tonight. I don’t anticipate any pain, but it’s mainly to deal with discomfort for the drive. A good night’s sleep and she’s ready for a thong!”
“A tho–!” I gasped.
Dr. Mahmoudi was having way too much fun with this. “You bet! And why not? Okay, you might not be a thong-kind ‘o gal, but certainly you can wear any bikinis with complete confidence, starting tomorrow.”
“Aunt Jackie?”
“Go for it, Laurie …only don’t wear a thong; you’ll give Carl a heart attack!” We all laughed, and Jackie went on. “One question; I think everything’s been answered but we have clothes to change into for the drive home.”
“That’s fine, but I would recommend a skirt; no shorts or jeans,” Dr. Mahmoudi said.
I nodded. “I packed a denim skirt and a tank top. Is that okay?”
“Fine. You can change before or after the meal. And by the way, the meal is just a recommendation because it’s the middle of the afternoon and you might not want to deal with a restaurant on the drive back, until everything wears off.”
Jackie and I decided to go get our things from the car and get changed; that way I couldn’t spill anything on my pretty white dress but we’d also have time to relax after the meal. It was kind of a fun adventure following Jackie into a Ladies’ Lounge in the Visitors’ Area. I’d only been in Ladies’ rooms in more public places and was surprised at the couch and the plush appointments. Jackie grinned and told me I’d get used to it.
I changed and hung up the dress and put the sandals in a bag. I made a mental inventory: I wore flip-flops, a gaff, panties, skirt, white bra and yellow camisole top, earrings, necklace and now the new ID bracelet. Some makeup and the remains of my morning cologne. Just a typical girl’s inventory. Basically, remove it all and I still felt like a girl, except for one thing–that penis between my legs. It wasn’t just not having to wear the gaff, and not being worried about something flopping out …it was more. I absolutely knew now that I wanted the penis gone, and while I was going to have to wait for full surgery for my true vagina–the vagina I should have had since birth–then so be it. At least that single reminder of boy would be gone, if this procedure was as good as Dr. Mahmoudi said.
After putting everything in the car we went to the restaurant and weren’t steered wrong–the décor was plush and the food was excellent. We both had salads but I also had a wonderful soup. We chatted a bit about Mom’s condition and some other things, and then I swirled the ice in my tea as I thought about how to begin.
“Aunt Jackie, are you okay with this?”
“Geez, so formal …Aunt she calls me,” she joked as she fished for a crouton. “Yes, honey, I’m okay with this. I’m actually not sure what ‘this’ you’re referring to–the program, the procedure, the delayed drive home, whatever–but I’m more than okay with this. All of it, I mean.”
“Thank you,” I said in a small voice. “For everything.”
“Of course,” her smile was in her voice. “You’re my favorite niece!”
“Well …” I paused dramatically. “I guess it’s time for me to get stoned.”
Her guffaw turned heads in the restaurant.
We appeared at Dr. Mahmoudi’s sixth floor office and signed a few more documents. I was taken to a small surgical suite next to her office and given a shot by a nurse. While it was taking effect, Dr. Mahmoudi came in and briefed us. I had the option of completely stripping and wearing a surgical gown, but it wasn’t necessary. It was decided I would remove my skirt and panties–and gaff, never to be worn again, I hoped–and climb up on the chair, putting my feet in the stirrups, while draped in a sheet from my waist down. Dr. Mahmoudi said I could say good-bye to my penis if I wanted to–she said some patients did–but I told her I didn’t really want to think about it, even that little bit.
I looked her in the eye and said, “You and I both know that things should have worked out differently when I was born and I never should have had the thing!” I couldn’t tell if the drugs were taking effect or not, but it needed to be said and her nod told me she agreed.
It was exhilarating being in the stirrup chair. As we’d all discovered, I’d been in them before and had never made the connection that it was an experience only women had. Maybe there was some reason why a man would be examined in a stirrup chair, but it was primarily a female experience, and that’s why I was exhilarated–because now I knew. It was a feminine world that I was entering and I welcomed it. Unlike my previous exams, this time Dr. Mahmoudi adjusted the stirrups as wide as possible, telling me to stretch my knees as wide until I could feel the limit in my crotch. She tightened the stirrups and sprayed me with something cool, then colder, and then I felt nothing below the waist.
About this time the shot really kicked in and I was afraid to say anything for fear I might slur and drool–I was that loaded. Everything was fuzzy and fine and warm and comfy. I could feel Jackie holding my hand and I think I gave idiot answers to anything she asked. I could feel a pressure tugging me this way and that, and pressure pushing in, and then I was told to pee–I understood at least that much!–and some more fiddling down below and I tried to think of ranch logos but couldn’t and kind of drifted off. Finally, I felt the stirrups loosen and my legs coaxed back together. The doctor wiggled my knees this way and that and I giggled and I tried to cover my mouth with my fingers but kind of splayed them on my chin, and then somehow I was more or less vertical and Jackie and the doctor were pulling panties up my legs, followed by my skirt.
“Aw, no fair,” I giggled. “I wanted to see my pretty va…my vulvulvul …”
“How much did you give her, doc?” Jackie joked.
“She’ll be like this for another hour or so, depending on her metabolism. You’ve got the meds if there’s any pain. But her reaction is interesting.”
“Imderessing?” I mumbled. “I’m …imderessing?”
I heard Jackie laugh as Dr. Mahmoudi said, “The fact that you said ‘pretty’ and the implications …”
At that point I lost the thread and was placed in a wheelchair and there was this whoosh of air and bodies moving past and an elevator that made my tummy funny and several guys in white kind of pushing and pulling and one was cute and then I was in the passenger seat of our car and Jackie was driving us away.
I’ve never been stoned. One Christmas, Mom shared some wine with me; it was a lonely time and just the two of us around the small tree and I got giggly. And I’d had that glass of red wine that Carl had given me. But I hadn’t had any surgeries that I remembered so I had no background with anesthesia and our dentist didn’t even use gas.
Wow.
It wasn’t a good feeling, like something I’d like to try again. Part of my mind didn’t like the loss of control and kept screaming at the other part to just shut up and sleep. But it was …clinically interesting, you could say, to be sloppy and fuzzy. Then I slept.
Maybe it was the sleep or whatever, but I was jostled awake by the movement of the car and I was clear-headed. I let out a whoosh of air and turned to Jackie, who glanced at me and smiled.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she chuckled.
“How long …where are we?”
“About an hour still to go. You’ve been sleeping for awhile; best thing for you.”
She focused on the road and there was something she didn’t tell me …
“Um …Jackie? I didn’t embarrass myself too much, did I?” I asked sheepishly.
She chuckled again. “Not unduly. But not anything I could blackmail you with.” An evil grin. “I do wish I’d had a tape recorder, though!”
“You said you couldn’t blackmail me!” I protested.
“No, no; I wanted you to listen to yourself, the things you said. They might have been …illuminating.”
I was mortified. “Oh, God; Jackie …what did I say? Can you tell me? Please?”
“You want the unvarnished truth?” She leaned over and kind of leered at me.
I realized she was only half joking. But I had to know …“Uh-huh. Warts and all.”
Keeping her eyes on the road the whole time, she said, “Well, you giggled about the guys who put you in the car. You said one of them was cute and you wouldn’t mind going out with him. Then you said you didn’t want to do that; you wanted to be true to Mark. You talked about how the kisses made you feel.”
“I told that to Dr. Mahmoudi.”
“Yes, but you went into more detail about how your breasts felt, and how you wanted him to touch them so you could feel even more. You did a whole giggling fit about how much you love having breasts–oh, this was after the guys put you in the car and we were alone–and you even said you really, really, really wanted to experience a baby sucking at them. That one surprised me; we’ve never talked about children before, you and I.”
“I’ve never even …thought about it before,” I said, amazed.
“Well, part of your mind has,” Jackie pointed out. “What was coming out under the anesthetic were things you’ve been thinking about without thinking about; things on the subconscious level that never quite broke through to your consciousness. Maybe they were being processed in dream time, but it’s more likely that part of your mind–most likely we should call it ‘the Laurence mind’–suppressed them. You were so busy dealing with the day-to-day experience of having breasts that your mind didn’t want to deal with …well, it didn’t want to deal with what you’d do with your breasts. Because you also talked about wanting to wear prettier clothes, low-cut tops and slinky dresses and how much you loved being a girl.”
She paused and glanced at me with a warm smile. “Actually, that’s the main thing that came out, and it should reassure you that even loaded on a kind of truth serum, you still love being a girl. There wasn’t any Laurence struggling to get out. You’re all girl, honey. Dr. Mahmoudi thought it was very interesting–this was just when you checked out on us. She said it was very interesting that when you got off the stirrup chair, you ‘wanted to see your pretty va…’ and then you were gone. But the doctor was impressed with your reaction. She said it was an indisputably feminine reaction, to want to see your vagina, and calling it ‘pretty’ …Oh, sweetie, I was so proud and happy for you, but you were so out of it! You tried saying something or other. And then you giggled at something, said, ‘I just wish Mom …’ and went out like a light.”
“Well, I just wish a lot of things for Mom. I wish she’d never been hurt. I wish she’d get better fast with no pain. I wish I could be with her. I love you and Carl, but … ‘I want my mommy’, I guess. And I’d especially wish that she could watch me become her daughter.”
“Oh, she is watching that, in her way. Remember the time compression from the induced comas; it’s like stop-action movies for her. She’s seen you go from ambiguous to lovely in record time.”
For some reason that made me blush. “Yeah, but I’d still like to share it with her.”
“I understand, Laurie. I wish you could, too, but I’m honored and pleased to be able to watch your development myself.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “Um …you’re welcome?”
We chuckled at the inadequacy of the remark, then Jackie asked, “How do you feel?”
I was squirming slightly in my seat. “Like I got kicked. Really. I know she said they’re be some ‘tugging’ but, wow. I feel like somebody kneed me in the nuts …”
Realizing what I’d just said, I quickly added, “As the boys say.” I giggled briefly. “And that wasn’t a drug-induced giggle–that was me even saying something boyish like that.”
Jackie nodded. “I understand, though. It’s a remark you heard around you, when you were Laurence; just the way guys talk. But let me tell you, it’s no walk in the park for girls if they get kneed down there!” She laughed. “I remember field hockey in high school …” She waved a hand. “Ancient history. Anyway, that sense of getting kicked? When your testicles basically went back up the canal from which they descended, it was probably a tight squeeze when they first went in. But there’s only so far you could get them in with your fingers. To really do it right, it had to be under anesthesia and with an interesting gadget the doctor used. Now they are …fully replaced, to use your word. Dr. Mahmoudi said they went all the way up. Your tummy okay?”
“I forget that you were a nurse sometimes; I just was thinking ‘wow, she’s psychic.’ Yes, my lower tummy feels kind of bloated and kind of punched. Well, just like I got kneed …” I looked out the window. “It’s funny to think that you can so easily disable a big strong man with a knee between the legs, while it’s not as crippling to a woman. Field hockey excepted, of course!”
“Oh, of course!” Jackie chuckled. “You’ll find there are many more ways women are stronger than men–and we don’t let them know.”
“I hope you will teach me.” Adopting a silly foreign movie accent, I said, “Please make me wise in the ways of women, oh great master.”
“Mistress–get it right!” Jackie cackled.
We both laughed and then she asked if I wanted to stop or wait until we got back to the ranch.
“I was going to ask for that. Aside from feeling slightly battered, I think I have to pee. It’s kind of hard to tell how much is me and how much is the anesthetic. And I’m kind of hungry, but I can wait. And I need to stretch, even if you don’t.”
“Oh, I do, believe me. Stretch and pee and let me ask you; are you up to sitting in a booth at a restaurant?”
“Absolutely, after a trip to the Ladies’ room.”
“And …?” She asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
I grinned. “And seeing …what I can see. Or can’t see, or …well, just looking.”
She nodded. “I’m surprised you’re not pulling your panties down right now! We’ve got an off-ramp with a Denny’s and Chevron station on it in a few miles. Hold on ‘til then and you can have your grand unveiling.”
I was already nervous with anticipation at the prospect of seeing myself, and now I was almost twitching with anticipation–or maybe I just had to pee!
Finally the ramp appeared; we gassed up first because we always keep the ranch vehicles topped off as much as possible and I knew this was the last stop before home. The gas couldn’t go in fast enough for me; I was feeling an overwhelming urge to, as Jackie put it, pull my panties down right now. Well, and to pee, too! Once the gas was paid for, we drove across the street to Denny’s. We entered and immediately went back to the restrooms. We were lucky; being the middle of the day there were few people in the restaurant and nobody in the Ladies’ room. I went to the larger handicapped stall and closed the door. Jackie went into the stall next to me. Then I thought about it and unlocked the door.
“Jackie,” I called. “My door is unlocked; if you’re interested …in …I don’t know; seeing how things turned out …or whatever.”
She called out, “Let me know when it’s okay. And thank you, honey.”
I’d thought about how I’d do this. I slowly unzipped and stepped out of my skirt and hung it on the door, leaving me with panties and nerves. I really did have to pee, so I decided I wouldn’t look until after I’d done my business. I pulled off my panties and hung them on the second hook, carefully not looking at myself, sat and peed. There was no pain, no sense of blockage, and no real difference from when I’d been peeing before, pointing my little penis back with my fingers. I didn’t have to do that anymore, and the stream went where it should, and the simple act of peeing felt like a declaration, of sorts! I knew that I’d be wiping from now on, and to wipe from front to back, even though I didn’t really have the ‘plumbing’–yet. So I wiped and of course everything felt very strange down there, primarily because of what the doctor had done with the scrotal sacs. I flushed and stood; when the toilet was done I sat back down.
This was it.
Showtime.
Wow.
It was strange on so many levels. First, because other than what she’d done with the sacs, from my angle it didn’t really look that much different from what I usually saw, since I had kept my penis tucked between my legs for months now. But it was different, because I could spread my legs. My knees were pretty much as far apart as I could go, and yet nothing dangled. I stood and walked and took some un-lady-like squats, like pulling on pantyhose, and nothing dangled! That alone tremendously boosted my confidence.
One thing I noticed was that I could spread my legs wide; I guessed that the stirrups had been set so wide that I wasn’t in danger of pulling–or ripping–apart. The doctor was smart …but then, I knew that. I experimented with rotating my hips, doing a weird sort of dance, and there was no pulling or tugging. Even though I would have looked silly to an observer, I felt totally secure!
Second, I thought about being with other girls–and I had no qualms at all about thinking ‘other’ girls, because I was already firmly a girl in my mind. I had been kind of dreading the coming tourist season, because there would be girls to hang with but I’d always have the fear of being discovered, so I knew I’d be standoffish. But now, I could probably even shower naked with other girls and feel confident.
A third thought went right from there, from meeting new girls to meeting new boys. I had a strong, deep feeling for and connection to Mark, but I knew there’d be boys at the ranch, too. If everyone was telling the truth, I was really pretty, and added to my connection with the ranch as a sort of supervisor, as Jackie had said, I would be extremely attractive to tourist boys. They would be much more aware of penises than girls would be, and again my fear of discovery would prevent me from …well, from anything. But now, I was removed from any discovery, and the thought gave me a thrill of excitement …and fear.
Until Mark, I hadn’t given any thought to sex. Not even as Laurence; it just was never on my radar. I wasn’t crazy about Jackie kind of forcing my date with Mark, but once we were together, things just kind of took their own course and I knew now that she was right to force me. I think I responded as a girl because I’d never responded as a guy. There wasn’t any little voice screaming, ‘this is wrong!’ and I just …let nature take its course. My girl nature, that is. Now, when I thought of Mark, I got emotional–and physical–feelings that let me know without any doubt that I was sexually and emotionally attracted to males.
And that didn’t bother me a bit …
There was also a weird melancholy, bittersweet kind of feeling. I had no attraction to or affection for my penis and wanted it gone, but my feeling wasn’t about any lingering male bits. It was because I should have always looked like this! I shouldn’t have had to go through all those hoops to come to this point; I should have been born a girl and everything would have been right from the start. I almost got teary thinking about what life would have been like with Mom if I’d always been her daughter; I had no doubt we’d be close and loving. Well, we still could be, once she healed, so it was my job to fully become the best daughter she could have.
I sat back down on the toilet and Jackie called out, “Honey? How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” I called. Then, “Better than fine. Um …did anyone come in?”
“No, hon; it’s just us.”
“You want to come take a look?”
“If it’s okay with you,” Jackie said politely. “I helped get you dressed but didn’t think it was proper to really examine you.”
“Then git ya seff in heah, auntie!” I joked.
She cautiously pushed the door open and looked at me, naked from the waist down and sitting on the toilet.
“Hey, lady,” she called in a silly voice, “somebody stole your clothes!”
I played along. “Yes. Bummer. Well, I’ll just have to go into the restaurant like this!”
I stood, pirouetted, sat back down on the toilet and spread my legs. Jackie’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, my God, honey …” she bobbed her head at different angles. “Oh my God …it looks …” She straightened up and said, “It looks like it should!”
I was so grateful for that, but corrected her. “It almost looks like it should–but that won’t be until after I have my surgery.”
“Yes, but …Laurie, I’ve seen a lot of vaginas–oops, fell into the trap that Dr. Mahmoudi warned us about. I’ve seen a lot of female genitalia–and a lot of vaginas–when I was a nurse, as well as …well, all through my life. I’m here to tell you that unless somebody gets really, really close and examines you–and I’m talking inches and directly underneath–they’re not going to know. From a foot away, you look like 100% natural-born girl.”
I sighed. “Right now, 90% is pretty darned good!”
“Ninety percent? Honey, you’re at the 99.9% percentile! Are you okay?”
“I’m better than okay …but it is frustrating not having a mirror.”
“I’ve got a mirror in my compact but it’s so small even I don’t use it. You’re going to have to wait until you’re home, lie on your bed with the magnifying mirror and go to town.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I mused, ribbing her. “Well. Hungry?”
I stepped into my panties–marveling at how I no longer had to squeeze my thighs together to keep myself tucked, and re-tuck afterward–pulled up my skirt, and went to the sink. I washed my hands, checked hair and makeup and we went and sat for our meal.
After assuring Jackie that I felt okay, I told her that although my lower abdomen felt full, I knew that it was from the procedure and not from food. So I had half a club sandwich and a small bowl of soup. I couldn’t help it; as we chatted my mind went through my wardrobe and thought about how I’d look in them now, and about fashions that I shied away from that were now wearable.
Jackie fished around in her salad. “You know, Laurie, one thing the doctors said might have gotten lost in all the activity. They called it ‘socialization.’ In a nutshell, girlfriends. It pains me to see that you don’t have any girlfriends, because it’s so important–and so wonderful–to have girlfriends in your life. I don’t know how you’re going to meet any, stuck out on the ranch as we are.”
“I thought about that already. I was too nervous and insecure to get close to any girls anywhere when I was …when I was living as Laurence. And since then, I was still nervous about it, but now that I’ve had my …procedure? Are we just going to call it that?”
“Well, we could give it a pet name, like we do our periods.”
“See? There’s so much I have to learn. I never knew that girls name their periods! They name their periods?”
“Sure. For code in front of men. Like, ‘My cousin called me last night,’ or ‘I think Betsy’s going to come over tomorrow or the next day.’ Men are clueless but every woman knows what you meant.”
“Please help me, Jackie. I’m going to blow it in front of other girls if I don’t have this kind of inside information.”
“It’ll be my pleasure. It’ll be fun, too! Give me a chance to relive my girlhood …but you still need a chance to meet other girls.”
“Obviously the only opportunity at the ranch will be with girl tourists. You know, they’re there for a week or two, and some will have friends with them, and some won’t and will feel all alone, and I need to know anything they would know so I don’t seem strange, and so they can relax and enjoy themselves. And then they’re gone and there’s another group coming in. So even if I do blow it somehow, raise some questions, they’ll be gone to their homes and out of my life. And if I make a really good friend, we’ll stay friends.”
Jackie nodded. “And those are the important relationships.”
“I know, but first and foremost is the relationship I want to establish with Mom. And speaking of Mom, I’ll be at the hospital for a time, in the program, and maybe I’ll make some friends there, too. That’s what the doctors said, anyway.”
Jackie nodded slowly, as if pondering a weighty issue. “Yes, very likely. And perhaps have a cup of coffee or two …”
“Jackie!” I burst out laughing. “Yes, perhaps a cup of coffee or two!”
We talked about how to schedule things between ranch and hospital, various future plans, then finished our meals, washed up and paid and got back in the car. It was silly; although I’d started getting into cars like a girl, it was a special treat this time to keep my knees together and swing into the car. I smoothed my skirt and put on my seat belt, which crossed between my breasts. I put my purse on the floor in front of me. I sat back and fluffed my hair out. Jackie looked at me with a loving smile that turned into a grin.
“All ready, girlfriend?” she cracked, trying to be hip.
It dawned on me that my life was pretty much set for the next year or more. I would prepare the ranch for tourists and I would also participate in the hospital program. I would make girlfriends and go on dates with Mark and maybe other boys. Mom would heal, slowly but surely, and I would share my life with her. At the end of season, I’d help prepare the ranch for the off season and winter, and continue my schooling with Miz B. At some point next year Mom would be able to leave the hospital. Jackie had already planned for Mom to come live with us on the ranch, but if she wanted to get a new apartment we would begin our lives together as mother and daughter. I would attend a high school and go through the experience of being ‘the new girl’, in every way possible. And I would study resort management–and maybe psychology–and go on to college somewhere, but only when Mom was fully healthy.
And I would be a girl, a happy, pretty girl, and then a woman, for the rest of my life.
“All ready, Aunt Jackie. Let’s go home,” I smiled and sighed. “I can’t wait to get my life started!”
The End