If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

"What's your name?" When you're a kid, that's all the icebreaker that you need. Kids don't think in terms of icebreakers, or pickup lines. As children we inherently understand that other people only care about us if we do, and we assume that everyone will like us.

People haven't lied to us yet and told us that we're not worth it.

"Sarah. What's yours?"

"David."

"David's not a girls name."

"That's good, because I'm a boy."

"Oh, that's alright then."

Kids don't care about gender confusion. You tell them something and they assume you know what you're talking about. The less you know about the world, the more sure you can be with anything that you think you do know.

Kids, in some respects, are better people that we are as adults. As a kid, I know I was better than I am now. Sarah was perfect as a kid.

That was the first time that I remember being called a girl. Not the last, of course, but it was the first, and I met Sarah.

I don't even remember what we did that day. I do remember complimenting her on her dress. She complemented me on my skirt. We lived close to each other, so this one time was not solitary. Mama liked how I looked in dresses or skirts. I thought it was normal. Sarah really didn't think anything of it either when we were four years old.

I didn't understand why it happened at the time, but Sarah's dad got really angry when he found out my name was David. He dragged me home and began yelling at my Mama when she admitted that she knew all about how I was dressed.

She then proceeded to rip into him calling him a bunch of names I didn't really understand, nor do I remember them now. Sarah's dad got quiet, apologized, and said that I was welcome over at his house in the future as long as I was 'properly attired.'

Mama dressed me in pants and shorts after that.

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"What's up BFF?"

I smiled at Sarah as she bounced into the room. It was our joke. I was her best friend. We'd just finished second grade, and we both looked out for each other. Somehow I was accepted by the girls and not the guys. I didn't really care. I liked them better than the boys, and if they didn't play soccer or anything like that, they did have other games.

"So, how's the leg, Big D?"

Three months before the end of school, I'd fallen off the swings.

That's not true. I'd jumped off the swings, flew twenty feet past the wood chips, and landed on the concrete berm. I'd only done that because Sarah told me that as the boy in there group I couldn't let Janet win. She landed ten feet from the swings. I may have broken my leg, but I now held the school record for jumping. I doubted it would ever be broken, especially since the yard monitors wouldn't let anyone jump off the swings anymore.

"It's fine. Take a look!" I held up my sketch book. Mama had purchased it for me, along with a pack of colored pencils.

"Wow, you're really getting better."

Since I was stuck on the benches during recess and lunch, I spent a lot of time drawing.

"You know what it is?"

"Me?"

"Yep, here, it's for you."

"I couldn't…"

"Yes, you can, BFF."

We smiled at each other. She folded up the paper and pocketed it. That was all that really struck me about that day.

This isn't really a story about Sarah. This is a story about who I was, and where I came from. Sarah was important to that because she was a friend. She was my best friend. BFF? Sure, she was my BFF, at least that's how I felt. You don't have to be a girl to have one, right, especially if your BFF is a girl?

That's what I decided, and that was how I treated her.

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"You girls really shouldn't cut through the park after dark."

"Yeah, it's dangerous. Some guy might want to take advantage."

There were chuckles from the darkness.

"Who you calling a girl, Fucktard?" For some reason, at twelve, I thought that swearing made it less likely that they'd take me for a girl. Then I just became the skinny foul-mouthed boy.

"Your girlfriend, apparently."

We kept walking, and they taunted us as we walked. Nothing came of it though and I like to think it might have been my fault. Well, at least I thought I was responsible for it.

Sarah leaned into me and said, "thank you." I just smiled at her and said, "you're welcome."

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"Mama, I'm home."

"How are ya, Sweetie."

"I want to exercise more."

"Where did this come from?"

"I'm too small, Mama."

"You'll grow eventually. Puberty will happen sooner than you think."

"Sure, but I want to grow faster…at least stronger."

"How about tennis?"

I smiled at her, thinking that would be great. I had my art, and was getting so much better at it that I was at eight years old. Unfortunately, that left me way behind the other boys in development. Tennis, at least, would allow me to get out there and do something more active.

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"You must be David."

I turned expecting someone about my mother's height. The woman I looked at was about a foot taller. I didn't understand terms like Amazon at that time, I simply thought, 'holy shit, she's tall.'

"Yeah, you're Coach Fleur?"

"Call me Beth. Everyone else does."

At thirteen, everyone seems old, but I doubt that she could have been older than nineteen or twenty. Mama had told me that she was going to the local college, so looking back it makes a certain amount of sense to me.

"Ok, Beth."

It was interesting, to say the least. Mama thought that I should wear this skirt thing over shorts, so I did. I'm not sure what Beth thought about it, but I saw her and my Mama arguing about something after my first lesson.
On my third lesson, I figured out that I was wearing a girl's outfit. By this point I had decided that Mama was drunk when she picked it out.

"Mama, this is a girl's tennis outfit."

"And it looks cute on you."

"I don't wanna be cute, Mama. I need to be big and tough if I'm going to be a man like daddy."

She snorted her vodka through her nose and it started bleeding. I got her one of the rag towels with some ice. She applied pressure and then responded to my earlier statement.

"Someday you'll realize that your father would love to look like you do now."

"But Mama…"

"You should really give this a try," she said, gesturing to my entire appearance.

"I'm done giving this a try. I'm going back to my pencils. I want to try a new technique I learned for charcoal anyway."

"What about tennis?"

"Screw tennis, Mama. I'm a boy."

I put on my headphones and turned up the noise when I heard Mama explaining that I wouldn't be needing Coach Fleur again.

I include this moment in my tale not for who Beth was at this moment in my life, but more for how my mother treated me during it. She does have a place in my later life, but that is a tale for another time.

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Heretofore, this story has been a collection of vignettes. As a painter, I find that these scenes are a better representation of much of our past that a continuous monologue. To tell a coherent story, however, we normally need more than a couple of vignettes, especially when it becomes a more complex tale.

The memories I have of my life are fragmented. What I wrote is true to the best of my recollection. What I'll tell beyond this point is not false, but is dramatized. I've taken the liberty to fill in holes in my memory with what is most likely to have happened, or will explain things I didn't know at the time, but found out later.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

This is a statement that people take so often for granted that they don't really think why it is so apropos; the present is blurry. I mean it's like were one of those legally blind people who have twenty-two hundred vision with glasses and contacts on. We never know other people's motivations until it is too late. We don't know how everything seems to fall perfectly in place.

In fact, it's lucky that any of us survive to be adults.

This is a story crafted in twenty-twenty that I understood hardly at all as I lived through it.

Sarah was in complete tears when she burst through my door. We still lived next door to each other, and even though next door was next best thing to a mile away with extensive grounds and brick walls separating our properties, we spent a lot of time going back and forth between our two houses.

I think half the time our own mothers assumed we were siblings.

"It's not fair, David."

"What's not fair?"

"Mom says that I can't be in the pageant unless one of my cousins is in it with me. You know Charlotte is ugly and Mary is too shy. They're my only cousins. I really wanted to be in the Miss Florida Outstanding Teen pageant."

"Don't you have to do a city pageant to get into that?"

"Apparently they don't require it, but it is usually something the judges look at if you're going to have a real chance at winning."

"If you're not going to win, why compete at all?"

"So that I did it. I don't want to go through my entire high school career without ever doing anything, do you?"

"We're only fifteen. We still have a lot of high school left in front of us."

"David, you're not really being supportive of your friend."

I hadn't noticed Mama sneaking into the doorway.

"Hay, Mama."

"Hi, Sarah. So, what's this about you needing someone to be with you in the competition?"

"Mom can't be there with me, so she wanted my Aunt to go to the events."

"So, she just needs someone who will be there with you?"

"Yes."

"I could do that."

"You'd do that for me, Mama?"

"Sure…but we'd have to do something with David while we're there."

"He could come with us. He has better fashion sense than I do most of the time."

"True, that he does. Maybe…no it would be silly."

I looked at her, trying not to say something, and the suspense was killing me. "What, Mama?" I said.

"Well, I doubt you'd be able to do it. I mean, why enter a contest unless you could win, right?"

"What are you talking about, Mama?"

Sarah didn't look confused, she looked a bit horrified, "No, Mama. He'd look silly up there."

"David would fit in up there and you know it, Sarah. How often is he mistaken for a girl, even now."

"Up…there…You want me to enter the contest. This is Sarah's thing."

"But it's something the two of you can share. I know how close you two are."

Sarah was close to tears. I thought it was because she thought Mama would only do it if I entered.

"Sarah, do you want me to enter?" I asked her quietly.

"You'd do that? You'd enter with me?"

I sighed, "I'll probably just be kicked out early. But if it means this much to you, I'll do it."

Her mouth opened a bit and Mama beamed at the two of us.

"That's my girls. We have so much to do to help you prepare for this thing, David. So many things."

"Mama, there are a few things I'm just not doing. The first is getting my ears pierced."

"But honey…"

"No buts. I need to be able to go to school and be taken seriously as a boy."

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "what else?"

"That you make sure it's legal for me to be entering. I don't want to ruin this for Sarah because she gets kicked out for me being there against the rules."

Mama sat there for a few minutes, not talking, and then looked at me resignedly.

"Ok, I'll figure it out. Anything else?"

" If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna."

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

Nothing happened with the pageant for a couple of weeks, and I thought that it might have all gone away, or that Sarah had second thoughts about getting me involved with it. It was an exciting time for me either way, as I was a freshman in high school. I had filled my schedule with art classes, just doing the bare minimum of other classes to fill the requirements I would need for graduation.

It worried me a bit, when I thought about the pageant, as I wasn't taking any AP classes. I'd wanted to get into the Studio-Art program that my school offered, but the Mrs. Parsons told me she'd never allowed a freshman into it.

So, I made sure to take a full load of Art course work. Well, as full as I could. Math, English, and a Science each took a spot in each of my semesters, or they did in my freshman year.

Sarah had given me the great idea to take those courses in summer school the following three summers. It wouldn't work for my first year, unless I wanted to complete two years worth of the courses in a single summer, something I was completely against.

If this makes me seem like an over achiever, let me explain it better: I love art. The time I spent unable to play at recess really opened up a world to me that was well beyond any I'd ever thought could possibly exist.

It was also something I was good at.

I had a talent for both the technical aspects as well as the composition aspects of this world.

The school I went to had an extensive art program. It likely had to do more with the amount of money that parents donated to the programs than anything else. Living in an affluent neighborhood had its perks.

We had a metals workshop, a traditional sculpture studio, five industrial sized kilns, and seventeen teachers, and one me.

I was currently in an introduction pottery class, a sculpture class, a lighting and composition class and 'advanced art skills' which is essentially a sketching class. Next year, in addition to the AP Studio-Art course I hoped to be in, I would be taking a full schedule in the art department.

Or, at least, that was The Plan.

When you're fifteen, unless someone has beaten it out of you, life is without limits, and there is literally nothing that will keep you from your dreams for the future. You plan on going to college, getting married, having 2.5 children and literally everything working in your favor.

There is no chance of failure when you're fifteen. You will be a famous artist, a rock artist, a lawyer, or whatever.

My plan was to get through high school with a minimum of fuss, get into a Bachelor of Fine Arts program in college, and afterwards I would make a living selling my art.

Such was life as a fifteen year old.

It was a Thursday after school a couple months before school got out for the summer that I first met Dr. James Funk. Yes, he was Dr. Funk. I never forgot him, or his name, for another reason, however.

He was sitting in the lounge talking with my mother when I came in.

"Is this him?" Dr. Funk said to my mother, while gesturing toward me.

"Yes. David, this is Dr. James Funk. He's in charge of the Miss America pageant in Florida."

"Hi," I said lamely.

"Why do you want to be a Miss America Outstanding Teen?"

"Truthfully, Dr. Funk, I don't."

"But..."

"Let me explain. I want to be in the pageant, but I have no aspirations of winning. My best friend, Sarah, wants to compete. She needs to have someone there with her, and because no one else is willing, it falls on Mama."

"You could always just come and not participate."

"Yes, I could hang around all those teen girls with my easel out painting. Or I could sketch in my pad. Either way would end up with security being called on me a couple of times a day."

"We could..."

"Dr. Funk, if you were me, would you voluntarily sit there doing nothing?"

"Well...I never thought about it that way. I just could never compete..."

"Are you better than the girls in the pageant?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are they less than you? Are they inferior? Would it be in some way demeaning to compete against them?"

I find myself borrowing from Bronte at this moment. Imagine if you will, dear reader, the scene I have placed before you. Seated in a well appointed lounge on the ground floor of my home are three people. My Mom is seated in a cream colored chair, a drink in her hand. I hope it's her first, but I don't know having just arrived home.

Her chair is at the head of a small coffee table.

A pretty boy or girl who seems to be no older than twelve is seated on the cream colored sofa to the woman's right. The sofa seems to be engulfing him, but he is seated primly with his knees together and pointed toward his mother. His legs are crossed at his ankles.

I never thought how my mannerisms at that point suggested anything about my presentation.

An older gentleman, by which I mean late forties I was fifteen after all, is seated on the opposite sofa, also in a cream color. He is holding a glass of what appears to be iced tea, but is not taking a drink.

Now, the youth has just taken the older gentleman to task as if the youth were the elder. What would you do, dear reader?

Dr. Funk laughed, "You would seriously wear a dress, present as a teen girl, and participate in the pageant? I don't think I could allow..."

"The rules state that at all times a contestant must, in essence, present as a lady. In their carriage, dress, and speech, they must in no way do anything that would suggest to one of the judges that they are not what they appear to be: a demure and pretty young woman."

"That's true, but..."

"If I fail to do that, won't the very contest itself weed me out? Won't I get low scores and then be disqualified from continuing forth in the pageant?"

"That's not the point."

"So, what you're saying is that I'm not equal to the ladies in the contest?"

"It is supposed to be for girls only."

"I understand your position, but I've been mistaken for a girl frequently in the past."

Dr. Funk looked angry for a moment, and then laughed again. "You know, for someone who doesn't really care about this pageant, you've certainly done a lot of homework and seem awfully passionate about it."

"Dr. Funk, let me pose a question to you. Have you ever had a friend that you would do anything in your power for, up to and including giving your life for them?"

"I have people who I care that much about. Most of them are family..."

"Then you understand how I feel about Sarah. If keeping her safe and happy means wearing a dress, then I'm wearing a dress, heels, and makeup."

Dr. Funk sat there quietly for a minute or two, looking at me with a contemplative expression on his face.

"Well, if we did let you participate, and that's a big if, then you'd have to look and act like a girl the entire time you were at any pageant venue. This includes at the hotel."

"I understand, sir."

"And you can't be doing this for publicity. If, on the off chance, you were to win, then you would have to show up for all MAO Teen events as a girl."

"May I suggest, then, that only the organizers be told? None of the judges or other girls be told who I am."

"That was actually my next requirement," he said with a smile, "if anyone discovers that you are a boy then you also agree to withdraw from competition."

I sat there quietly for a moment and then nodded my head.

"I can live with that requirement," I said.

"Now, I can't guarantee we'll let you participate, but if we did then it wouldn't be until next summer. The entire committee would have to meet on this, and we just wouldn't have time to deliberate properly before the deadline for entries has passed."

"Sarah will be really disappointed."

"Not you?"

"I need a lot more practice at acting like a girl before I would feel comfortable competing as one."

"I believe you will come to realize you need less practice than you think," Dr. Funk said with a little smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard of the term 'transgender'?"

"No..." I said, drawing out the sound.

"It is someone who is born with sexual characteristics in opposition to their gender." At my confused look he rephrased it for me, "It is someone who feels that they should be the opposite gender, in most circumstances."

"And you think..."

"That you are a pretty girl for a boy. Mrs. Lowell, we'll be in touch."

His statement confused me. How could I be a girl? I knew what I had between my legs, and that was all boy. Sure, it was small for a fifteen year old, but all of me was small. I'd just passed five foot tall at the beginning of the year.

I'd assumed that people confused me with being a girl because of my slight frame and small size. Could Dr. Funk be right? I admit now, looking back, that the fact he was a doctor, of what I was unaware, added weight to his words.

I didn't feel like a girl. I'd never felt any different. I felt...normal.

What did that prove, really? I had a friend in middle school who hadn't known he needed glasses until he did. Ok, that wasn't too clear. He made it through all the vision tests that they held in elementary school. Unless your vision is really bad those tests are worthless.

I don't think that most kids realize that they're supposed to fail an eye exam so we do what we can to succeed.

It wasn't until he was participating at an eye exam table at a health fair that he realized that he had a problem. He missed the health fair because he was out getting a real exam and fitted for glasses.

could this be the same thing? I didn't know I actually believed it was possible for me to identify as a girl, and yet my entire life I was sure I was a boy. The problem, was, how do you really know if you're a boy or a girl?

It's not like you know how anyone else thinks. It would sort of be like trying to tell what color a balloon is by touch in a dark room.

Wouldn't it?

Maybe a trial would be necessary for me to tell.

That day it took me a few hours to arrive at this conclusion. Mostly I was simply confused about what I was really feeling. I wondered if he might be right. I decided he had to be wrong. In the end I was no closer to knowing anything about myself than I was when he left.

At the end of it all, I decided that if I were allowed to participate in the pageant, then I would let it be my test of whether or not I was a girl. Mama had said something about practicing, and so had Dr. Funk, but I needed this to be a real test: was I a girl or a boy.

Of course, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had to study for every test I'd ever had in school.

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"Mama, I don't want to go to your tea party."

"It'll be fun, Donna. You'll see. You just need to give it a chance."

"But, this dress is pink," I intoned with as much horror as I was able to imbue in the word. "I don't even like pink. Do you know how bad this particular shade goes with my hair?"

Mama just smiled at me, "Which isn't that problem with your blonde wig. It looks fine on you."

I grumbled something about the wig being scratchy, which it was, and being hot, which it also was, but Mama just shushed me.

"Being a woman is a pain most of the time. I've heard you mentioning that you want to make a real trial of this."

I tugged the skirt into place because I was fighting against the inclination to adjust my bra for the tenth time since we left the house. Mama had spared no expense, and I was wearing a human hair wig, B cup gel inserts in a mastectomy bra, and a pink sleeveless sundress with a square neckline and two inch wide straps.

The problem wasn't that the clothing was uncomfortable. On the contrary, except for the wig, it was very comfortable. Sure, the weighted bra was a little weird, but all in all it was just clothing.

I realized that I'd worn skirts and dresses a number of times in the past. Like when my mother got me in that girl's tennis outfit, or the first time that I met Sarah. It was enough to make you think, though. Maybe it wasn't that I was a girl, but more the way I was being raised? Mom was the only one there with me. I didn't have any male role models in my home. Maybe I was just picking up mannerisms from Mama and Sarah because those were the people I usually hung around.

The problem was that I didn't really want to hang out with anyone else. I had friends at school, sure, but they were school friends. I just couldn't see myself hanging with them outside of school.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't consider any of them to be inferior to me in any way, and in fact was a bit jealous of a couple of the guys. They were true specimens of teen male health.

There was a sort of longing in me whenever I looked at those guys, and I assumed it was jealosy over how they looked, and my growing fear that I would never look like that.

The problem was, though, that if I rejected this outright, I didn't feel like I would ever really know what I was missing. I needed to give it a fair shake, as my dad liked to say.

To slip into a tangent, I have had contact with my father my entire life. Oh, not more often than once every six months or some, true, but we did spent time together. Two weeks in the summer and a week or two at Christmas. I'd meet this year's model, be somewhat miserable without Sarah, and go home happier than when I left. I only fail to mention him because he really didn't enter into the story.

I never mentioned anything I was going through to him, and he never asked. As far as I was aware he and Mama parted on amicable terms, and talked to each other about me. I just didn't talk to him about me.

The tea room that we went into was truly a haven of femininity. There were vases of roses on each of the white damask covered tables. The ladies, for that was what they seemed to be to my young eyes, were all dressed up in pretty sundresses just like my mother and myself. I was the youngest person there. The closest was an eighteen or nineteen year old who was...kissing...her companion.

"Mama, what sort of place is this?"

"Somewhere I've wanted to share with you for a long time. It's a place I get to be myself. I'm a lesbian, dear one."

I just stood there gaping at my mother. I couldn't believe what she was saying. How could she...

At fifteen, having been to many years of gym, I was initiated into the basics of human sexuality. Sure, I had some skewed concepts of different things, but I knew what a lesbian was.

One of the things I didn't understand was how my mom could be a lesbian. It sort of went against everything I understood about the concept.

I allowed her to lead me to a table off by itself. It had pretty yellow roses in the vase sitting on the table.

"Felicity, how nice to see you again. It's been a while. Are you here looking for anyone in particular, or just anyone at all?"

A very elegant looking woman in a pale blue dress with a floral print on it was standing at our table, smiling at Mama.

"Not actually looking. I wanted to introduce you all to my daughter."

"Is she..."

"No idea. She seems to have no preference as of yet, and she's a little too young anyway. She turns sixteen in the fall."

"Well young lady, the woman said offering me her hand, welcome to our little club. If you're ever curious about what we do behind closed doors, this is a safe place to swim, at least after you turn eighteen."

I looked at her a bit confused before my Mama translated, "She means she finds you attractive and wouldn't mind getting to know you a lot better."

Mama turned back to the other woman, about to say something, but I interjected, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but even if I were sure I were interested, I plan on saving myself for marriage."

"A woman after your own heart, eh Felicity. Well young lady, I'd be happy to date you as well. You're really pretty. But, like your Mother says, not until after you're a little older."

I smiled up at her and she walked away. The rest of the afternoon was surreal in the same sort of way. Mom introduced me to all of her friends, who all seemed to ask if she was back on the market, and they would compliment me on how pretty I was.

Somehow I'd passed in a room full of women who were looking at more than my clothing. I felt confident for the coming challenges that might await me at the pageant. Well, would await me if I actually was allowed to participate.

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

"David? No, Donna, right?"

"Hey, Sarah. You like?" I struck a pose with one hand in my hair and the other at my hip. There might have been a hip cock as well.

"You look awesome. About all that's missing are some earrings and other jewelry."

"No earrings, but other jewelry might be a good idea."

Sarah just looked at me and then busted out laughing, "You sure you're not a girl?"

"No." I said quietly. I looked at my mom and then looked at her. Sarah got the hint. "Mama, we're going to be in Donna's room for a while."

She grabbed me by the hand and practically dragged me inside. I started giggling and she couldn't help it and joined in. We turned on some Shinedown and shut the door. Sure, it's a little older, but I like it.

"What's up, girl friend?"

"Well, Dr. Funk mentioned that he thinks I might be transgender."

"Dr. Funk? Transgender?"

Somehow in the past couple of days I'd failed to tell her what the MAO Teen committee had told me. I filled her in on it all, and then offered her something that I thought she'd jump at. After all, she'd been set on being in the pageant this year.

"I'll sit out and ignore whatever scrutiny might come my way if you still want to do it this year."

"And miss out on doing this with my best friend in the world? Not on your life, Donna. Sure, I want to do the pageant. I want to be able to say I did, but if I'm doing it alone it's not really worth it. I want to have the memories to share of this time for a long life in the future. And you know, if you ever start being interested in girls…"

"Sarah…"

"Look, it's okay if you like boys. And it's even okay if you're really a girl, although I'm not sure about being a lesbian myself. What I'm trying to say is I like you. I mean I like you like you."

"Sarah, I'm flattered, I really am…"

"But I know, you're asexual. I get it. No pressure. But, if you do end up liking girls, let me have a shot?"

I kissed her on the cheek. Just a chaste little kiss, but she smiled at me like I'd given her a precious gift.

"I'll keep you in mind, Sarah," I said with a little smile.

"So, you think you might be a girl?"

"I have no fu…I mean I have no clue. What does it mean to be a girl?"

"I'd say something simple like wearing dresses and liking babies and some such, but that can't be it, right? Behaviors don't define who you are as a person."

"Yeah, since there are girls who wear pants, and dislike children. And I know men who love children."

"We're not talking about pedophiles here."

"Ew, that's gross, Sarah."

We giggled a little, but it was weak. I thought of the woman I'd met today. She was borderline creepy. Thinking back on it I sort of got a skeevy vibe off her.

"So, wearing makeup is out, since a lot of women don't."

"And there is no unity in appearance either. Long hair, short hair, and everything in between."

"The ability to have babies?" Sarah said.

"That can't be it either. Mrs. Parsons in the art department can't have children. She and her husband just adopted their third."

"Sexuality isn't any real tell, either."

We went back and forth, trying to determine what makes someone a woman, and what makes someone a man. In the end we were baffled. We were only fifteen after all. Teenagers only think that they know everything.

Eventually we stopped trying to figure it out on our own and started taking online tests. We ended up laughing at most of the results, especially on those times when Sarah scored 'more masculine' than I did. Eventually, thought, we slipped on over to Scholar.google.com and did some real research.

Our teachers had started requiring us to do research online using this, as it actually links to sites that live up to peer review, or something. It did give us a lot of information about Transgender and the whole Male/Female question while avoiding all of the porn sites I'm sure would come up in the traditional search engines if you toss any sexually charged words in them.

We came down to one single realization after that entire night.

"So, basically, if we really want to see where we are we need a psychological professional to administer a real test."

"Yes, that's it in one, Donna."

"That sucks. I'm not sure I really want to go to those lengths."

"But you saw the information. If you really are transgender, then you need some help. You and Mama can't do this on your own."

"Ok, fine. I'll talk to a specialist." I said with a little smile.

"Didn't you say the guy that came over was Dr. Funk?"

"Yeah, Dr. James Funk, although…"

"He's a psychologist."

"What?" I just about shouted.

"Yeah, see here. This is a paper written by him, 'The rising incidence of recognition of transgender children and consequences of the failure of institutional acceptance.'"

"No wonder. I guess he thinks all little boys who want to wear a dress must be transgender. It's his job after all."

"Come on, Donna. That just makes him more qualified not less to recognize the signs."

"Maybe," I said, not convinced.

"Come on," Sarah said, "let's do something fun."

<3  <3  <3
"Sarah, when you suggested we do something fun, this really isn't what I had in mind."

"You're not having any fun?" Sara said with a pout.

"Look, I may possibly be a girl, but that doesn't mean I'm girly." I said in a serious tone, and Sarah busted up.

"What?"

"Look at yourself in the mirror and say that."

I turned and really looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't even need to speak, I could see what she meant. We'd been playing with makeup for the past hour or so. No, I wasn't under her tender mercies; we were both actually putting it on and taking it off. I'd just been thinking of my face like a three dimensional canvas and using my artist's skill to apply just the lightest touches of makeup, building up like I would any shading with pencils or charcoal.

It was subtle, but it was there. And I looked...like a girly girl.

"Fine, I'll admit I'm having fun. It's like art...on my face."

"I wish I was half as good, and I've been working at it for longer."

"We've had to do 'glamour portraits' in my composition class recently. I wasn't going to let my position in the top of the class go just because I was a boy."

"Or girl..."

"Whatever," I said, but I was blushing a bit.

"Fine, do my makeup."

She cleaned her latest attempt on her face. When she was done, I went to town.

There may be some confusion at this point, especially as there is usually a disconnect in people's minds between subtle and glamour where it comes to makeup.

You're probably thinking of the photography where someone has to get made up like a clown to even appear to wear makeup. Photography improves with time, but there is nothing a camera has that the eye doesn't do better.

Painting is a lot different than photography.

Especially when you are presented with a model wearing no makeup whatsoever and told to make her look like she's wearing makeup in your painting.

It was supposed to teach us shading and color matching and a bunch of other things like that. The thing is, makeup is more than just shading and color matching. There is an artistry all it's own that defines a number of different 'looks'. Sometimes even contrasting colors are what you want.

Yes, I spent a lot of time out of school researching and sketching to try and get it all down.

Working on your own face in a mirror is tougher than I thought, at first, and it took me a while to get used to the medium; makeup doesn't flow like paint or draw like pencil; It's somewhere in-between.

After all the practical experience I'd just gotten it only took a couple of tries before I had her looking the way I expected.

She looked into the mirror and her eyes grew wide, "I'm...beautiful."

I turned her to look at me and looked her directly in the eyes, "You've always been beautiful, Sarah."

The smile slowly faded and she shook her head, "I'm pretty. I know I am, but I've never been beautiful. I wanted to be in the pageant so I could feel beautiful."

"So, does that mean..."

"That we're not doing the pageant? Of course not, silly boy. Now we have more reason than ever."

"We do?" I said with a questioning look on my face.

"Yes, because, girl friend, we're going to win this thing," she said with on of the most evil grins I'd ever seen on her face. The red lipstick only seemed to make it that much worse.

I resigned myself with a sigh and then nodded my head, "Okay."

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We were giggling at the bar counter in the kitchen when Mama came in.

"My, don't you ladies look lovely."

"Mama!" I said, but Sarah just said, "Thank you."

"Donna, if you wanted to be taken for a boy, I would suggest changing and taking off the makeup."

I sat there stunned for a moment. I was still in the sundress from earlier, and now that I thought of it I could feel the makeup still on my face. I'd even forgotten all about the bra with its inserts.

"We were just..."

"Playing with makeup? Yes, I see that."

"It's not David's fault, Mama. I wanted to have some fun with some makeup and he went along."

"No, it's alright, Sarah. I willingly did it. Mama, am I feminine?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Did you know Dr. Funk was a psychologist who specializes in gender stuff?"

"I did know he was a psychologist, but how do you know?"

"Well, we were researching transgender..ism? and we found his name on an article about it."

"What do you think, Mama. Do you think that David is more boy or girl?"

"I really don't know."

"Thanks, Mama, that really helps me a lot," I responded as sarcastically as I could.

"I'm sorry, honey, but it's the best answer I have for you. I'd love to have a daughter just as much as I love to have a son. Although right now you look a lot more like my daughter than my son."

I just glared at her.

"I'm sorry," she said laughing, "but when you look like that I can't help it."

I glared harder at her when Sarah looked at me and started giggling as well.

"You do look silly like that, David."

I just silently left and went to the bathroom to completely clean off all the makeup. Then I put on some jeans and a tee-shirt and went back downstairs.

The rest of the day was a little strained, but I did my best to push through.

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Doing a year's worth of core classes in three months is time consuming. Not as time consuming as actually going to classes, as I was able to go at my own pace, but it took a lot of the time I'd normally have spent painting or swimming with Sarah or just hanging out like I normally did during the summer.

Before I really knew it, I was starting school again, and this time I really had a heavy course load. AP Studio-Art was like a college course. Most of the coursework had to be finished outside of class. That meant that once I got home, I really started to do my work on the class.

Sarah would hang out in my room and talk to me as I worked. She got the opportunity to be my model a lot that year. While I worked, I really started listening to how she talked and what she talked about. I was studying for the next summer, if that ever actually came to anything. We occasionally talked about the pageant, but I never dressed up again.

Two days before Christmas Dr. Funk visited us again.

"So, David, are you still interested in being in the pageant?"

"Sarah is, so yes, I would like to be in it with her."

"We've finally finished deliberating. I fought long and hard for you. I know you don't consider yourself transgender, but you would be perfect to represent those who are..."

"I thought you didn't want anyone to know."

"That's part of the test. If people don't know, and can't tell, then we should be able to allow transgender teens into the contest."

"That's what you really want, isn't it Dr. Funk? To open up the contest..."

"I want us to let any girl compete in the contest. Right now, there are a lot of people who feel that it is only a place for 'normal heterosexual girls'. This isn't some institution of dictating who is or is not really a girl. We need to be inclusive."

"Oh...and you want me to fight this battle for you?"

"Yes, I do. Only if you feel up to it. I want you to try your best..."

"You mean they actually said yes?"

"Yes, they did. Donna Lowell is officially the first applicant for next year's MAO Teen pageant."

There was this feeling in me that had to escape and I just squealed a little bit.

"I'll not be a judge, but I'll be there at the pageant to keep an eye on you. I hope to see you and your friend in July."

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Sarah and I were standing in the halls talking about the pageant the next week at school. Sarah'd been out of town visiting family so we really hadn't had an opportunity before this.

"What am I going to do for a talent? All I know how to do well is painting. I can't cram that into two minutes."

"You can always sing..."

"No, no way. I'm not going to sing. You know I sound like..."

"A girl? I don't think that will be a problem, David."

I heard a deep voice behind me, "Hey, Faggot, you talking about entering some talent contest as a girl?"

"Hey, Brad, is that a proposition or an observation?"

I was glaring at him. Brad was the resident small minded bully at our school. Generally speaking he never entered the Art department so I could avoid him. I think he was afraid of the 'gay' rubbing off on him.

"What did you say to me?"

"I asked if you were propositioning me or merely making an observation."

"What does prop..."

I almost laughed in his face right there, as it was I was struggling not to smile.

"What he was asking, Brad, is if you were asking him out on a date, or just acknowledging that he was something."

"I never..."

"Well, then you'll excuse me if I tell you that I'm not gay. Sorry to disappoint you." I patted him on the arm as I walked by. Sarah giggled and walked in the other direction.

I heard his yell behind me and was turning to see what was up now when I felt him crash into me. My head hit the concrete wall and I saw stars for a moment before everything went black. I heard someone screaming for a moment or two and then that went away as well.

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

Something was taped to my hand, and there was a tube laid across my face. I slowly opened my eyes and took in a dimly lit room.

"What?"

"Oh, thank god. Nurse! He's finally woken up. You had us so worried."

"What happened?"

"You were knocked out."

"I don't..."

"Brad Jones at school tackled you," Sarah said from the other side of the bed.

"You screamed."

She colored a bit and Mama jumped in, "and apparently jumped on his back and started pounding on him."

"Well, it kept him from doing anything else before a teacher arrived with security."

"How long?"

"Only a couple of hours, but you had us really scared," Mama said.

"Could you two go to the same side of the bed? This tennis back and forth thing is making my head hurt."

Sarah was crying with a smile on her face, and made a short laugh sound. She moved over next to Mama.

"So, now that I'm up..." but I didn't get to finish before a man entered the room.

"My name is Dr. Lovelace. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts a little,"

He proceeded to check me out, from head to toe, verifying if I had all my parts and that none of them were injured.

"Mrs. Lowell, David seems to be healthy, if a bit under-developed for his age. I'd like you to see a specialist so that we can start him into puberty."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

The doctor turned toward me with kind eyes. "Your body for some reason isn't developing. Usually we take a wait and see attitude with these things, but you're sixteen. Something should have started before this, but nothing has, so I'm referring you to an endocrinologist, a Dr. Alfred Harrison. He's someone who can see what's going on with your hormones."

"Is that why I'm not interested in anyone...I mean sexually?"

"It is a good possibility."

We thanked the doctor and he left. I got dressed while Mama and Sara went to get my paperwork taken care of.

I wondered a bit if that might not be the reason I was so confused. I mean, men got more masculine as they went through puberty, right? So, without the 'man' hormones, maybe I just didn't know how to act like a man.

But...if I was really a girl, wouldn't I need girl hormones instead? What if they didn't change attitude, but only made me an adult of whatever gender I took. In certain regards I began to think about hormones as being this magic bullet that would solve all my problems in one fell swoop.

That added a problem to my life. The thing is that the more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Sometimes I was sure, I was a girl. Sometimes I was sure of exactly the opposite. I'd do something and say: that was a very girly thought/action. Then I'd make a comment and think, that was a guy thing to say.

Round and round in circles I went, never doing more than catching glimpses of my tail and I rushed faster and faster. You see, that's really what I felt like at the time, that I was a dog chasing my own tail.

We made an appointment with the endocrinologist for the following week.

That week, I was frantic, and it translated itself into my art. My brush strokes got jagged and the colors were a contrast of lights and darks with hardly anything in between.

I was a wreck when we finally met with my endocrinologist.

"I don't want to be an adult yet," I said as soon as he came into the room.

He chuckled at me and smiled a very nice smile in my direction, "Someone is wound up. Mostly I need to test your blood right now, but where did that come from?"

"This is to put me through puberty, right? But what if it's the wrong puberty?"

I spent the next half an hour explaining my fears to him, and telling him about what I'd found online. He was professional, calm, and collected the entire time. He asked probing questions, and in the end he sat there for a moment, quietly.

"Well, I have a colleague I'd like for you to see. He refers a number of people my way. I figure it's about time I returned the favor. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it."

He handed me a piece of paper and I began laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I already know Dr. Funk. He's the one who fought for me to be in...something..." I blushed red as I wasn't sure I should be telling anyone I was in the MAO Teen pageant yet.

"Well, then I guess it's not a referral after all."

"Oh, no, it is, just we weren't seeing each other in his professional aspect. Well in his other professional aspect we were."

"Well, whatever, let me know his reaction next time you see him."

Dr. Harris had a nurse take my blood and then mom and I went home. I set the card with Dr. Funk's name on it on my desk. I hadn't told Mama about it yet, but if I was going to make an appointment, I would have to.

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For some reason I felt vaguely uncomfortable sitting in the well appointed room. It wasn't the color scheme, which was a nice dusky rose. It wasn't the chairs, which were cloth and metal and quite comfortable.

No, I think it was the fact I was the boy in the room. Because of where I was, I knew that some, or all, of these people had started out where I was. They'd just made their choice...if it was really a choice at all.

Like most waiting rooms I'd ever been in there were a mix of magazines for men, women, and children. I just sketched on my pad.

Eventually I was called back and went in to see the good Doctor.

"David, I have to say I was surprised to see you on my appointments for today."

"Hello, Dr. Funk. Dr. Harris, my endocrinologist referred me."

Dr. Funk chuckled a bit and then smiled at me, "So, how can I help you today?"

Once again I went through everything that I'd been thinking about. I mentioned that I blamed him, although I said it with a smile.

We talked about what it really means to be male or female, since that's what I wanted. After we were done speaking he took me to a small room off by itself where a computer was located.

"I want you to take a test for me. Try to be as honest as possible on all the answers. This is to help me understand where you are. It's not supposed to define you, and I will only be using this as a guide for future treatment."

"You mean you don't want me to try to 'man up' in any of my answers?"

"Usually I'm afraid of my patients doing the exact opposite, but yes, that's an adequate explanation. I'll go over your responses when we meet next time."

I took my time, and answered the questions to the best of my ability. When I was done I logged out of the computer, like it told me to, and went home.

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I'd become a bit infamous at school as the kid that Brad knocked out. Sarah and I spent time practicing our respective talents in front of each other and our parents; she was doing and interpretive dace. In general, I was happier that I'd ever been at any time in my life.

I bounced in with a smile to my next appointment with Dr. Funk.

"You seem chipper," he said with a smile of his own.

"I am. I'm having a lot of fun with Sarah preparing for the pageant."

"That's great to hear. So, let's talk about your test results before we go onto anything else."

It included a lot of technicalities, which I probably forgot as soon as I walked out the door, but the short answer is that I scored deep in girl territory.

"Before you make any assumptions on that, let me explain a couple of things. Just because you are female in your attitudes and through processes doesn't automatically make you female."

"Huh?"

"Being a woman is more than how you think, which is something I have to explain to my clients. All it really means is you would have an easier time transitioning that some other people I talk to."

"Then why give me the test if it can't tell me I'm supposed to be a girl?"

"Do you think you're a girl?"

"I don't know, that's the problem," I began to cry. Everything was supposed to be answered here. He was supposed to tell me I was a girl and then everything would be fine.

"Would you like living as a girl?"

I opened my mouth to make another sudden response, and then stopped and really thought about it. "How would that be different from what I'm doing now?"

"I don't think I've ever had a client ask me that question, and it's a very mature question to ask. Usually, they have some idea of what they're missing out on, or that they think they're missing out on, that drives them to this."

"Well, I guess I couldn't do the pageant without presenting as a girl."

"I thought you were doing that just for your friend?"

I blushed, "I might be enjoying myself while preparing for it."

"Being a woman, especially a transgender woman, can be hard. It's not some sort of magic solution to all your problems."

"Isn't your job..."

"My job is to help those that literally can't live without transitioning. Is that you, do you think?"

I shook my head at him and grinned

"Then, leave it for now. Do the pageant. See where you are after and we'll pick up there."

I thanked him, and we scheduled to meet again in August.

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I flatly refused to wear any shaper garments, so that required that we get dresses that fit my shape, not some imaginary shape that they wanted me to conform to. I eschewed even the bra and inserts, although I would be wearing camis or training bras with all my outfits.

I even had a reason I could give anyone who asked which had the added benefit of being true, Delayed Puberty.

For some reason, my body just had not started producing hormones of any sort...well no estrogen or testosterone at any rate. So, while I continued to grow at my slow rate, I wasn't developing.

My dress was very pretty. The neckline de-emphasized my broader-than-my-hips shoulders and the flounces at my hips over-emphasized them. It went to knee length. I had a pair of cute modest heels that I wore with it.

It was, I think, my favorite outfit that I got the opportunity to wear for the pageant. We had another, similar, dress for the final night, if I made it through the preliminaries, but I just didn't quite like it as much.

My song was perfect, if I do say so myself, and I made sure to alter it just a bit every time I performed it to keep it from getting stale.

In short, I was as ready as I would ever be, and in fact I was getting more excited as the day approached. I'd say that we were there before I knew it, but I'd be lying. I'd taken to marking a calendar after school let out. My studies suffered a little bit to begin with, but then I really pushed forward and got everything done before we had to leave for the venue.

I had three days of nothing to do and I almost killed Sarah with my nervous behavior. We ended up doing a lot of jogging, in our athletic outfits for the pageant of course, and I realized that running wasn't all that bad if you have someone to do it with.

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The morning of registration mom shook me awake. "Donna, honey, time to get up."

I started awake. I'd thought I would never fall asleep the night before, but here it was four in the morning and we were on our way. I was wearing a cute pair of girl's shorts over all of my foundation garments. My male anatomy was so small that I hardly had to do anything with it to hide it away.

There were no pinks in my outfit. I refused to be a 'typical girl' at all during the pageant. I would be judged on my own merits, and not on any sort of 'girl code' that someone came up with. Sure, I'd be girl me, but I'd still be me.

One thing had come from my last meeting with Dr. Funk: I felt confident in just being myself out there on stage. I'd scored like a girl, so I might as well go out there and see if everyone else agreed.

I never imagined that there would be this many young women who would be participating in the event. Having three days of preliminary events should have been a clue, especially with them running from eight am to seven pm.

We found our places in line, which was separated by last name, and got signed in. There were some really pretty girls here, and I began to get really nervous. Could I really do this? Could I compete without artifice on a level playing ground with these...goddesses?

With the signing process completed I stood off to the side waiting for Sarah to get done. A couple of girls came up to me.

"Hi, I'm Tara, and this is Tasha, we saw you looking a little lost. Since you're about our age..."

I looked over at the two girls. They looked to be thirteen or so. I smiled nicely at them and said, "I'm sixteen."

"What...but..."

"I have a condition called delayed puberty."

"That sucks. You're really brave to participate. I thought it was cool that they let people my age try, but some of the girls in my class are already...well developed. Like Ashley over there."

I looked at the girl she was referencing. Yes, she had a lot to be proud of.

"Well, I'm here to represent myself in the best way I possibly can." I said with a little grin.

"Like I said, brave." Tasha just nodded in agreement.

"Thanks," I said again, a couple of tears coming to my eyes, "that means a lot to me."

We chatted for a few moments before Sarah came over and I introduced everyone.

"She's your friend? You're even braver than I thought."

I just laughed and Sarah looked confused. We all explained it over the top of each other and devolved into giggles when Sarah looked even more confused. I gestured for Tara to speak and we got through it this time and she understood. We went out to Mama and she drove us to the hotel.

We met back up at the venue at noon for the welcome address and the introduction to the judges. The welcome address was a little long winded, in my opinion, but then they got to the panel of judges. At the time I remembered those names as if they were the most important people in the world. They did hold my future in their hands, or so I thought. How much five days can change your outlook on such things.

There was a dinner that night only notable for how unnoteworthy it really was. No one noticed I was a boy. We just all talked and gossiped and I felt comfortable as a part of the group.

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

The next day I got to sleep in, well at least compared to the day before. I was up shortly before eight and downstairs. While there were the normal offerings of a continental breakfast, all the other girls were digging into a piece of fruit or two.

For a moment or two, I seriously considered being a complete rebel, but I settled for something healthy, if a little different. I grabbed a container of yogurt and one of the individual boxes of granola. Sure, I knew that I needed to fit in with the girls, and that I shouldn't be drawing attention to myself, but I wasn't going to make the stretch to one o'clock on a couple of pieces of fruit and all the water I could drink.

I noticed a couple of the other girls go for the granola as soon as I took a seat, and hid a smile as Sarah joined me.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Morning, Sarah."

"what has you in such a good mood?"

"I seem to have started a trend," I said, gesturing with my granola filled bowl of yogurt.

"That looks really good," Sarah said as she got up and headed back toward the buffet table. I just laughed.

"Wow, girl, you have a really pretty laugh," Tara said as she sat down, yogurt in hand. I just smiled at her. Tasha sat down next to her.

"Yeah, It's pretty," she said. She had a pretty think accent, and it took me a moment to understand what she said.

"And you called me brave yesterday, Tara."

Both girls laughed and I let out a loud peal of laughter that caused everyone in the room to turn and look at me. I blushed and tried to hide.

"They're just jealous, Donna. you have nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said, your laugh is really pretty. Like a bell or something."

"Wow, I never thought about it that way," Sarah said while sitting down, "it is really pretty. Probably your best feature."

I blushed more at that, and the others just laughed.

We had a lot of work to do today, and none of us wanted to be late, so we all got on the busses waiting for us and got a ride over to the local high school where the actual pageant would be held.

You don't get a sense of how many people are in a crowd with you until all of them are trying to get into a single small space. The auditorium we were shuffling into could easily hold the more than three hundred girls that would be participating in this pageant, but that didn't hold true for the foyer in front of the auditorium. We chatted and smiled and laughed as we slowly made our way in. Sure, some of the girls seemed to be stuck up, but that didn't bother me much. I wasn't here to please anyone other than Sarah, and maybe myself.

We sat down and waited for all the girls to get in. The houselights came up to full and Andrea, on of the judges, stepped out to center stage.

"Ladies, we don't have a lot of time today for what we're going to do. We'll be separating you out into three groups shortly, but I want all of your to pay attention all the way through, so we're waiting to do the separation 'til after.

"Group one will be participating in the first preliminary night. We understand that means you'll have less time to prepare the stage numbers, but we're okay with that. You're not judged on the stage numbers, and you've all had enough time to practice the other aspects of the pageant.

"Group two will be helping with staging for group one. Consider this as practice for the job of being Miss Florida Teen. Group three will get the opportunity, should they like, to fill out the audience. We expect your behavior to be exemplary at all times you are not participating.

"Anyone causing a disruption will not be judged harshly for their behavior, but they will not be allowed to continue further in the pageant."

There were some sounds of shock, and one or two of outrage, but I guess they'd not read the judging guidelines that carefully.

I just smiled at Sarah. We were finally here.

"Night two will be group two on stage, group three staging, and group one in the audience. Same rules and guidelines apply to everyone on this night."

"Night three will be group three on stage, group one staging, and group two in the audience. I know you'll all work your hardest this week. Today and tomorrow will be spent practicing the staging events. If you make it to the final night, then we'll try to have you in a similar place to where you are on your preliminary night, but if we can't then we know you'll do your best to learn your new position in the group numbers.

"One last thing. You will all be practicing every morning with your groups. This includes group one. We want all of you to be as ready as possible for the final night, which will have the largest audience of any of the nights this week.

"Your performance up there will be a reflection on yourself and the other girls as well as our organization. We want all of you to leave here feeling like the ladies we know you are."

The statement didn't phase me at all at the time. I was wearing some light makeup; I had my longish bleached blonde hair pulled into a hair band. My nails were painted with an iridescent white polish that made them glitter like opals.

I was, for this week at least, a lady, and I loved it being acknowledged. Next week would tend to itself. This week I was Donna.

"To make this as fair as possible on everyone, we'll be separating you by last names. A through F are group two, G through M are group one, and everyone else are group three."

I looked with dismay at Sarah, since she would be in group two but she just smiled at me, "Don't worry, Donna. I'll get to be back stage with you, and you'll get to watch me on stage."

I relaxed then, and smiled. Sarah was fine with it, so I should be as well. Tara and Tasha would be with me, anyway, so I would at least have a familiar face.

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I groaned as I flopped on the bed. Sarah just gave out a weak giggle. I was really glad for the granola by lunch time, and even wished I'd eaten more. None of the girls turned down the subs that they'd provided for lunch.

Not that they were foot long meatball subs from Subway or something. It's just that we'd expended so much energy. Who knew that standing around in heels on a simulation stage in the hot sun all day could take that much out of you. Well, not just standing: Walking on, walking off, introductory wave, goodbye wave, and smile until your face aches.

Then we really got down to business.

There was separating us out into 5-6 person groups for the fitness routine, which was something of a mix between dance, a short workout, and a cheerleading routing. It was a lot of fun, but took a lot more out of you than you'd think it would watching it, especially after doing it for the eighteenth time of the day.

After that we did basic staging for the rest of the evening, including our personal interview and stage question, two completely different items. We'd already been scored on our academic achievements, so that was locked in.

I groaned into the mattress. My legs hurt. My back hurt. My face hurt. I just plain hurt all over. Turning my head to look her way, I could tell that Sarah felt the same, but she was smiling, and I had to join in. "Still happy to be here, then, Sarah?"

"More than ever. I want to win, David."

"I know. If I were judging, I think I'd have already crowned you."

"But there are so many talented girls here," she said with a little frown.

"And you're one of them."

"so are you, David. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

I smiled at her.

"I'm going in to get a shower...or maybe soak in the tub. I'm so sore."

"Those shoes sucked, didn't they?"

"My feet are fine," I said, "It's my calves that hated it."

She just nodded in sympathy. I soaked in the tub for about an hour and then got out for Sarah to do the same. Yes, there were bubbles and I loved the feel of my skin when I got out.

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I must have been asleep before Sarah got out of the tub as I don't remember her climbing into bed with me. I woke up in her arms, though, and started. I slipped out as carefully as I could and got dressed for the morning.

I wasn't the only one loading up on carbs this morning. Sure, usually you want to avoid them, but that is only when you are sitting around in school all day. Then a salad or a piece of fruit will tide you over.

With all the activity we were up to it was no surprise when they wanted more than just a piece of fruit.

Ok, so saying they 'loaded up' might be a little exaggeration. Two pieces of fruit, a yogurt and a couple of spoonfuls of granola isn't loading up in the football player sense.

Today was a lot like the previous day, but more so. Now that we'd been taught our places it was a matter of refinement, and just getting everything to seem natural and normal onstage.

Sarah and I collapsed into bed again after a giggle fest. We'd taken better care of ourselves today, and it showed.

We could hear the other girls more active in the hall as well.

"Want to go join in?"

I sat there for a few moments. It would be part of the experience, but I could easily, I thought, be outed in a moment of inattention.

Seeing me vacillating between yeas and no, Sarah grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hall. I slipped the card key into the pocket of my drawstring pajama pants and went out into the hall with her.

It was a madhouse. There were giggling girls running to and fro all over the hall, visiting each other's rooms. It was obvious that a lot of the girls knew each other from other pageants they'd been a part of. They didn't let us feel left out, though.

I'd imagined that this would be like the fantasies I'd always seen about pageants. Sure, some of the girls had their noses in the air, but most of us were pretty down to earth. I was sure that would change the moment that we were out there on stage and working on winning the crown, but right now? They were just normal girls.

There were a couple of pillow fights, none of which I started, I promise. There were some water fights, which got the girls involved in trouble, not me or Sarah. All in all, I think it was a stress relieve before the performances starting tomorrow. I truly hoped I would be ready for it when it came.

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As we'd have to be out there performing on stage that evening, my group had a light day of it. Specifically we were doing a dress rehearsal. An everyday/dressy outfit for the interview, a fancy dress for the onstage question, a dress for the introduction, an exercise outfit for the fitness routine, costume for the talent, and a final dress for the processional at the end. Well, the dress was really for the award ceremony at the end, but we used it for a recessional on the preliminary night.

Six changes of clothing, and no privacy to change in. I was glad I'd said no to the padding by the fifth time through. We didn't go through full length, just in out change wait in out change and so on.

The more female flesh I saw, the less it fazed me. It was nothing much to me at the beginning, and by the end it was just there. Something that they had and I didn't, and yes, I was a bit jealous some of the time. The rest of the time I was actually glad of my figure. It meant that I could get into, and out of, my different outfits a lot faster than they could. I didn't have to worry about putting on or removing bras that wouldn't fit with this or that outfit.

During the dress it got me roped in to makeup touchups when the girls realized how good I was. It was fun, too, making all those other girls so beautiful, getting their features to really pop.

By that night I'd earned a nickname: The Artist.

It's not that there weren't any other artistic girls there, but more that I was in a 'whole other league' or so Tara said.

Before I knew it, and before I even knew what was going on, we were sitting in the chairs getting our hair done for the introduction. I could hear the susurration of the audience, and then the music started. That was our thirty second call. I pulled off the shield from my gown and went to get into line. I grabbed the shield another girl had forgotten was there, and then we plastered on our smiles and moved out on stage.

"...Donna Lowell!" The announcer said. I missed him mentioning my town and high school. I waved to the audience and went, carefully in the three inch heals, to my place on the risers at the back of the stage.

We did our dance, and then we were making our way off stage, with waves and smiles, and then it was time for the talent competition.

While the first girl got ready, I could hear the emcee on stage talking about what it meant to her to be a MAO Teen. I didn't really pay attention, as I needed to get ready.

"Breathe, Donna."

"Hey, Sarah. So, how'd I do?"

She giggled, "About the same as everyone else."

I was wearing a sequined dress for my performance. It reminded me of some of the outfits that Lady Gaga wore on stage, but was a lot more normal and modest. It fit my personality a lot better as well.

I stood in the wings watching as the other girls performed. "Hey, you're Donna right?"

I turned to respond and my breath caught in my throat. The boy standing there was cute. No, I didn't feel any sort of 'zing' or something, just he was really cute. I liked his smile, and I think that I could easily have spent hours trying to draw it just right.

"Donna?"

"Oh, sorry. Yes, Donna, that's me...and I'm a complete dork right now."

"Lot's of the seventh graders get like this, there's nothing to worry..."

"Except I'm a Junior this year."

"Smart and pretty then."

I blushed at the pretty comment, "No, I'm pretty average. I'm sixteen, even though I don't look it."

"Um..."

"Delayed puberty. They're taking a wait and see attitude right now."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry?"

"Don't be. Sure, I'd love to have the curves and breasts the other girls do, but I make up for it in attitude and personality."

He laughed at that. His dimples were even better than his smile.

"So, personality, huh, what makes you so special?"

I looked left and right in a conspiratorial manner, "Don't tell anyone," I said quietly, in almost a whisper, "but I'm and artist."

"an artist, huh? Maybe I could see some of your work sometime."

"Tomorrow night I'm in the audience, so maybe..."

"Come and spent time back here with me..." He stopped as if listening to the headset and then said, "Go for Steven."

He waited a few moments before he said anything else, "No, the goose feathers are in the white sack next to the London flyout...No, London, the one with the fog, not the one with sunshine and white clay buildings, that one is Cairo...No problem," he turned back to me and said, "so, where were we?"

"You're a tech geek at this school?"

"Yep, I am." he said with a pose that made me giggle and got some shushing sounds from some of the other girls. I smiled and Steven grinned back at me.

"So, come back here tomorrow night," he said. I say Sarah coming to get me.

"Donna, you need to go, you're onstage in three more acts and they want to get your mic fitted."

"See you later?" Steven called to my retreating back and I just laughed.

"Oh my god, Donna. You were flirting with him."

"I was not."

"Yes...you were. And you are a bit of a natural at it, aren't you. You had him eating out of your hand."

"No...I couldn't...I mean he...I...no."

"Yes, girl friend. You have a crush, and you were flirting...with a guy."

She just grinned at me and I blushed and looked at the floor. She squeezed my arm slightly and whispered in my ear, "he's really cute, just be careful, okay?"

That statement felt like her giving me permission, and my mood lightened. It was fun to talk to Steven, for the short time I did, and I wouldn't mind doing it again.

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

Backstage was dim compared to the spots showing on stage. I was nervous standing there waiting to go out. Sarah stood next to me, holding my hand. I took a deep breath and nodded to the sound guy just before I strode out onstage.

As soon as the music started I smiled. When I got to my cue I opened my mouth and sand the opening words of "Born this Way". There had been some concern about them allowing it, but apparently our initial worries were groundless. When it got done there wasn't a sound from the auditorium. As if the finally realized where they were, the stunned silence broke into applause and a standing ovation. I gave another blinding smile and said, "My name is Donna Lowell and that was my talent." and then walked off stage.

Sarah grabbed me into a hug and the two of us squealed, quietly, as the next girl in line went out on stage.

"That was awesome," Sarah said breathlessly.

"You really think so?"

"I know so. I've never heard you sing like that. It seems love agrees with you."

"Sarah!" I said, shocked.

"Well, looks like someone else wants to congratulate you." She said with a sad little smile. I kissed her on the cheek. I whispered in her ear, "I love you too, Sarah."

I left her looking a little stunned and walked over to Steven, "Hey," I said with a smile.

"Wow, you're amazing. If that's a little glimpse of this personality and attitude you mentioned, then yeah, I have to agree. A guy couldn't go wrong with someone like you."

The rest of the night went by in a blur of on-stage off-stage and talking to Sarah and Steven.

I spent about equal time with each of them as Sarah was my assigned assistant for the night. Then we were getting into our clothing for the processional and the night was over.

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We were back outside the next day, but I didn't mind. I'd given it my all the night before, and I was happy to have done so. Unfortunately, though, it had finally gotten real for some of the girls, and the claws came out.

My name began to feature in a number of the rumors that were going around, some of which accused me of being a lesbian, others claimed that I was sleeping with half of the male tech staff between sets. The dichotomy made me laugh, especially since it could almost be true for me. I really didn't know where I would fall, yet, on the whole sexual spectrum.

All I really knew was that I didn't want to lose Sarah as a friend.

The other rumors were more welcome, if less understandable. Apparently someone had seen the current score tally, and I was in the top ten for the night. Some rumors had me in the top position.

They were only planning on taking ten girls from each night to the final night, so that would mean I had made it through to the next round. I kept thinking that it was some cruel joke, since none of the other names, as far as I knew, was being whispered around.

I did my best to ignore all the whispers that day, and made it through to the evening without much other trouble. Before heading down to the auditorium that night, I grabbed my sketch book from my room. I figured it would be the best I could do on short notice.

I slipped into the bustle of the pre-show setup looking for Steven. Finally, I found him with an older boy who looked a lot like him. Something about the older boy really creeped me out, but I pushed it aside and plastered one of the smiles I'd been practicing this week onto my face.

"Greg, this is the girl I was talking about," Steven said as I walked up.

"Isn't she a little young?" Greg asked.

"I'm sixteen," I said a little indignant.

"Late bloomer, bro. She has an awesome voice, though."

"I'm a pretty good artist," I said, gesturing with my sketch book.

"Can I see that?" Steven said.

"Sure." I said with a genuine smile.

"By the way," Steven said as he began looking at my sketches, "this big lump is my brother."

"Yep, catch you later, bro. Too much estrogen."

"I should probably go as well...I'm supposed to be out there in the audience."

"Wait," Steven said grabbing my hand.

"There's an empty page in here. Draw me?"

"I couldn't..."

"Sure you can," he said with a blinding smile, "you're really good."

I blushed, my thoughts from the day before coming back to me with force. I slid the pencil out, took my pad gingerly from him, and began sketching. Time went away as I really got into it. I love art, and it gave me an opportunity to really study his face without looking creepy doing it.

Time got away from me as I continued to sketch him, trying to get everything just right. I did each part in pieces over a couple of pages, and then I sketched one finished picture.

As I was showing Steven, I realized that they were cleaning up already, and Sarah was sitting off to one side with an amused expression on her face. "This one has to go to bed. Say goodnight, Donna."

"Night," I said with a smile as I reached for my pad.

"Could I keep this picture?"

"Of course not," I said with a smile, "I need something to remember you by."

"Well, I could always keep it and then you could use me to remember me by," he said with a huge grin.

"Not tonight she doesn't, loverboy," Sarah said pushing me toward the exit.

We started laughing as we walked out of the auditorium. A bus was waiting with a bunch of impatient girls. We got in and seated ourselves as quickly as we could, giggling the entire time.

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The next day was more of the new routine. I didn't get much time to spend with Steven that night as I had a prima donna who had me running the entire night. As I was coming back once I heard her speaking to the girl with the makeup table next to hers.

"That's her?"

"Yep, that is the infamous Donna. Not sure I believe half the rumors though; she's too...sweet."

"I think its jealousy. I saw her talent on Monday."

"So did I. If it wasn't for the pacing differences I'd almost assume it was a lip synch."

"And she's an artist as well. And she always has perfect makeup. And her clothing is custom fit. There's no way that rail thin body can wear something off the rack."

"Not unless she was wearing little girl outfits anyway."

They both giggled at that.

"So, you think she'll win then? I heard a couple of the other girls thinking so."

"She has a good chance, that's why I've been running her ragged. Hopefully she'll get so run down that she'll just quit."

I walked in at this moment with her third bottle of water for the evening, "Don't expect me to break anytime soon," I said with a smile that had teeth in it, "I'm a lot tougher than I look, and I know how to be a real bitch when I need to."

There was menace in my voice when I said it, and both girls got a little pale. I have no idea where that came from, but it felt good to get a little of my own back.

"Anything else I can get you right now," I asked, going back to my sweetness and light that I'd been showing previous to this tonight.

They both shook their heads, their faces slack. I laughed and walked away to get myself something to drink. I was decidedly tired and needed a moment of break anyway.

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They held the busses that night and told us to meet them in the auditorium.

"We've had a wonderful week so far," the judge from the first morning said, "and we've got just one more night to go."

"We're going to read off your names, in no particular order. These names are those that will be participating in the final night's pageant. If your name is not read, then we thank you for your participation this year. You are all talented girls, but there really can only be one person to receive the crown. The thirty names I'll be reading are just those that have to wait a little longer before they are disappointed."

Man, that was harsh, but I appreciated the way she did it. I think it was an attempt to deflate a few egos. It's a good possibility that they'd heard about the rumors going around.

Sarah was in the first ten names read, and we hugged and squealed. I was bouncing in my seat just as much as she was. As the names went by, and my name wasn't called, I kept trying to keep it together. I didn't really want to win anyway, did I?

I knew already I was a special person, and I didn't need a crown to tell me so.

By the time that the twenty fourth name was called, I was pretty sure that I wasn't in the top thirty and would be going home.

"Donna Lowell."

It's not like it was a big loss, I mean I'd only done this for Sarah anyway...

"Donna, you're in! You're participating with me tomorrow."

"I'm in? I'm in!" We squealed and bounced and hugged as the last names were called. We were pretty loud and a couple of people around us told us to be quiet. I think even the judge onstage was smiling at our antics. It was the first smile I'd seen out of her the entire time that we'd been here.

They got to the end of the list, and we rose to leave.

"Anyone whose name wasn't called can see me after this for a moment. We need thirty volunteers to help out backstage. We'll take the first thirty people to talk to me. Everyone else, again, thanks for coming."

We had a hard time getting to sleep that night, but eventually Mama forced us to quiet down. Once we finally wound down we were asleep before we knew it.

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We practiced in the auditorium all day the next day. It was really different with the introduction of only thirty girls and not the hundred of the other three nights. It really started to sink in that this was happening.

I was a contestant in the Miss America's Outstanding Teen pageant. I was taken by a girl by all of my peers. I'd spent a couple of nights this week flirting with a cute boy. I'd thought a boy was cute.

We did all of the changes and so on, but with only thirty of us, we actually practiced the routines and processionals and so on.

When practice was done we only had one more night and it would be over. This test, for good or ill, would be complete and this entire experience would be nothing more than a memory.

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The introductions had gone off without a hitch. It was so fast compared to Tuesday. It really brought home to me that less than ten percent of us were still in competition. I had to hurry off stage because my talent was scheduled for first.

I was standing, nervous to go on again, watching the spots on stage. Steven came up to me, "You ready."

I shook my head slightly no. I must have really looked frightened. He grabbed me by the shoulders and planted a kiss firmly on my lips.

"For luck," he said.

Somehow I glided out on stage, the music started, and I sang. I don't remember anything of that performance except for the smile that just wouldn't leave my face, and the fact that I didn't feel like my feet were in touch with the ground.

The applause was explosive and immediate. I bounced off the stage with the same smile I'd entered it. Sarah was there and we hugged and bounced and smiled. Our sqeals were very quiet.

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I strode with confidence out onto the stage. I had my onstage question in my pretty dress, the fitness routine, and then it was the waiting for the judges to come to a decision on who had won.

I stood behind the podium and smiled out at the audience as my name was announced, along with my high school.

"Donna, what is it like living as a transgender woman?"

I hoped that they didn't see the fear in my eyes because I'm sure my smile didn't slip.

"Could you repeat the question please?"

"Oh, I meant to say: What difficulties do you think face those people living as transgender women today?"

It wasn't much better, but at least I wasn't about to tell everyone I was a guy.

"I think that's difficult for me to answer, as I really don't know many transgender individuals, or at least I don't think I do."

I waited for a moment for the laughter to die down before I continued.

"I would imagine that as public awareness increases it becomes easier for all of us to live as we were meant to be. In the past women had a hard time living in a society that treated them as individuals to be coddled and protected from a world that was too harsh for them.

"Whether we're white, black, purple, gay, transgender, or anything else we should be treated as people first. Who we are is more important that what we are, thank you."

There was clapping from the audience, but I'm sure some of the other girls got a much better response. I smiled and waved to the audience and walked off the opposite way to the one I'd come in on.

If this is going to work, then perhaps you should call me Donna.

My Fitness routine was done, but I had no time to rest since I'd been the last one. We hurried to get into our evening gowns again. We were going out on stage so that they could tell us who the top five were. I was seriously considering not going out on stage. I figured that I was done as there was no way I was in the top five.

I really hoped that Sarah was in, though. We talked quietly waiting to be called to line up. Then we were onstage and our names were being read off.

"Sarah Davenport."

She was called first, and I smiled as she stepped forward onto the raised circle at the front of the stage.

"Amanda Petersen."

The prima donna from last night was called forward.

"Angie Thomas."

A pretty thirteen year old bounced and waved her way to the center of the stage with the other two girls.

"Janessa Olawie"

And then there were four. I was getting ready to move off with the other twenty four would not be going on when they called, "Donna Lowell."

I'm sure my smile was wooden as I walked out to stand with the other four young women. We smiled at the audience and waved. Then we walked off while the judges voted.

We rushed over to our tables and our assistants helped us to get undressed. I'd done this a number of times, and Tara had helped me all evening. I never thought there might be a problem. I was smiling and talking with Steven when I felt a sudden draft. Somehow Tara had snagged my underwear and exposed me to the entire room. I tried to cover up, but by the look on Steven's face it was too late.

"Steven," I called out, but he was already turning away from me and walking away.

I was fighting back tears as Tara helped me back into my dress and I went to find tonight's emcee.

"I have to leave the competition," I said.

"They are about to announce the winner. Can't you wait a little longer?"

"I have to quit. I'm sorry. Tell the judges please?"

I ran out of the auditorium and found a quiet place to let everything out. I sobbed and wailed. I really didn't care about the pageant, but I did as well. I was in the top five out of over three hundred girls. I had made it so far.

I had kissed a boy.

Eventually Sarah came to find me, "I won," she said.

"Congratulations," I tried to sound happy for her, but it came out a little sullen and I cried at that. I wanted to be happy for my friend but, "he saw me naked. He knows I'm a boy."

"Shh. It's alright."

"How can it be alright? How will it ever be alright again?"

Her answer was to kiss me. It was a nice kiss. I could taste her lipstick and my own tears. I'm sure I looked a mess with my makeup all over my face.

"Is he still inside? I have to tell him, explain to him..."

"That may not be a good idea, David."

"Please?"

She helped me up and we went around to the back entrance to the auditorium. There was a big shadow there. As we got closer I recognized the shadow as Greg.

"It's the little faggot. How you like wearing a dress you fucking queer?"

"Leave her alone," Sarah said.

"What her, I only see you and the queer over here. Do you realize what you did to my brother you little gay piece of trash? Do you?

"He has to fight against the stereotypes every day. Half the school already thought he was gay. Now? Now they'll have ammunition thanks to you, you little shit."

I was crying again, "I never meant..."

"Well, since you want to be a girl so badly, let's fix it before my brother's life is ruined even more."

I saw the gleam of a long knife in the sparse lighting. Even in Florida in the summer it is dark at midnight. I was frozen, staring from Greg to the knife and back again.

"Leave her alone," Sarah said as she leapt at Greg.

"Stop, Sarah," I tried to grab her arm, but she'd already charged. I watched helplessly as they fought over the knife. I shouted something, trying to attract attention, but it was too late.

Sarah made a quiet grunting noise and crumpled on the pavement. Greg turned and ran away, but I didn't care about Greg.

I dialed 911 on my phone, but I couldn't wait for the operator. I slid under her body. the blood pooling on the grey silk was an image that I'd never forget. I put my small hands to the wound and tried to apply pressure.

"Don't leave me, Sarah."

She put her hand to the side of my face, "I love you, David. I would have been a lesbian for you, I think."

"Don't talk like that. You're going to be ok. You'ill be okay."

"I preferred you as a boy though."

"Sarah! Don't leave me."

"Promise me...promise you'll be true to yourself? Promise?"

"Sarah..."

"Promise me!"

"Ok, Sarah. Just hold on, please."

"Be happy, David. I love..."

Her eyes glazed over and her hand fell to her side.

"Sarah?..Sarah!"

I wanted to cry then, but I had no more tears. I was empty and I just sat there, holding onto her stomach, trying to stop something that was already over. The paramedics when they arrived pulled me away from her body and Mama wrapped me in her arms.

I sat there in the car looking at my bloodstained dress and hands, trying not to think about anything.

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We had her funeral the first week in August. I wore a new suit. All of my girl clothing was in a box in the attic, I'd tried to throw it away, but Mama saved it. I was too devastated to do stop her.

I'd buzzed all of my hair off. I still thought I looked like a girl. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I heard her voice saying she preferred me as a boy. She preferred me as a boy, and a boy is what I would be.

She was my best friend in the world. I did a pageant for her. I got her killed. If I'd never been there, she would be Miss Florida's Outstanding Teen. She'd be on her way to the national pageant next week, not on her way to a grave in a too green cemetery under a cerulean blue sky.

The grass should have been dead. It would have fit my mood. A long time ago, I read the book The Bridge to Terabithia. I never understood what the main character felt at the end until that moment. Even more than him, this was my fault. This wasn't just survivor's guilt. She was protecting me.

They lowered her into the ground on that hot sunny day. The dirt closed over her, and again I whispered, "I'm a boy. I'm your boy, Sarah."

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I sat there staring at Dr. Funk. I didn't know why I'd kept my appointment with him, but I did.

"This wasn't your fault, David."

"Then whose was it?" I screamed, "Mama's? She was the one who forced me to go. Sarah's? She jumped on that god damned psychopath."

"It was Greg's fault if anyone is to blame."

"If I hadn't been there, she would be alive."

"You can't know that. Maybe something else would have set him off?"

"It was me pretending to be something I wasn't. I caused this. Me, me, me!" I pounded myself on my chest as I continued to scream.

I whispered to myself, "If I hadn't been a girl, if I didn't freeze, she would still be alive."

"You would have won, you know? Before you were withdrawn from the ballot? You had an almost perfect score. 45 out of a possible 50 points."

"She deserved to win." I said even more quietly. Tears streaming down my face.

"Tara admits she was put up to it by one of the other girls, Amanda I think. She's been banned from the competition, even though she was first runner up and the crown passed to her."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The committee wants to offer this to you, Donna. They want you to represent Florida at the competition as an openly Transgender contestant."

For just a second, I saw a different future for me than the one I was on. I saw parties and girls in dresses. I saw singing on stage and starting hormones. I saw myself happy and whole and healthy.

But Sarah would not be there with me. She was in the ground and try as I might I couldn't wish myself anywhere but there in her place. I didn't deserve to be happy. Dying would be too easy for me. I would live in misery.

"Sorry, Dr. Funk, but my name is David, and I'm a man."

My name is David, and I am a woman.

It's just nine words or eleven syllables or twenty four letters and two punctuation marks. It takes less than ten seconds to say…and it's a statement that changed my life.

Many will be familiar with the vignette entitled 'A night at the club.' It is a tiny piece of a life. As stated in 'Rent' there are 525,600 minutes in a year. From the moment I stepped out onto the dance floor until we closed out the night was approximately 340 minutes, or just short of six hours.

It is such an insignificant period of time when compared with a year, let alone when compared with a life, and yet it was likely the most significant moment in my life up to that point.

Let me rephrase that: Life is a collection of insignificant moments of significance.

I'm not a wordsmith. I am a painter. At least I considered myself a painter. I painted my way through high school, and threw away a scholarship because I wouldn't leave my room for painting. Before I lost my place in the dorms I completed fifty-four full sized paintings and a couple of hundred postcard sized ones.

None of which sold.

I guess my style just didn't seem to touch people.

My paintings are filled with what I see: I paint parks and busy streets. I paint old warehouses and empty vistas. In all of my paintings, I add that little bit of fantasy: an elf peeking out from behind a tree, a unicorn's shadow on the water, a dragon passing in front of the moon.

Apparently the pseudo realism didn't appeal to a wide audience.

In every one of my paintings there was a woman in a simple dress. She had flaming red hair. That you could always see. Sometimes, when she was closer to the canvas you could tell she had these intense green eyes. It might have been from the colors of her makeup, but they seemed to scream at you until you paid attention. Yes, I studied makeup in my attempts to create more realistic images, not that I really knew how to apply it at that point. I just knew what it should look like.

Her smile invited you to get to know her.

And she was the reason every one of my girlfriends left me.

Not that I ever actually had a girlfriend in anything more than the hoping sense.

I tried to use my paintings as sort of an icebreaker, you know, look at the poor tortured artist, eking out a living on the harsh streets of LA. Two problems with that: painting pictures of elves and fairies and unicorns doesn't fit with the tortured artist persona, and I didn't live in LA.

Well, I would show the paintings to them, they'd light up at the unicorns, but then they'd see her. With her in every painting that I did, there was no way to miss her. They'd friend-zone me, and that would be that. No dates, no kissing, nada.

Before we go on, let me explain something. I wasn't trying to get a girlfriend to fill some sexual need or anything like that. I was looking for a girlfriend for validation. You know how it is; people seem to be more real when they're in a relationship, an intimate relationship. I wanted that reality.

The problem is that anytime they saw that woman in my painting, they assumed that I already had a girlfriend, one that I was pining over, and they weren't going to be 'the rebound girlfriend.'

In a way, they were right. I'd somehow created an image of myself as a woman and injected it into all of my paintings. My therapist told me he thought that was probably my subconscious mind trying to tell me something.

Personally, it seems more like a self portrait provided in every painting. Of course we can both be right.

At the time of my fateful night on the town I was twenty four, and I'd recently finished a degree in architecture. If I couldn't be the artist I wanted, then at least I could eat. And there is art to be found in buildings, especially those that are uniquely made.

That and I still added myself and a fantasy creature or two in my perspective drawings. I even designed a building that looked like a sleeping dragon when seen from the correct angle.

I was also lying to my doctor about my age.

You see, an eighteen-year old with delayed puberty is an oddity, sure, but not quite something that is of serious concern.

A twenty-four year old with delayed puberty is a lot more troubling.

For a reason that will I'm sure be obvious to everyone, but was a mystery to me at the time, I didn't want them to prescribe male hormones to me. I knew, in the back of my mind, that for me to be a functioning member of society, read sexually active, I needed to go through puberty. But I didn't want all of the changes associated with being a male.

I thought that made me androgynous. I thought that it was ok to stay that way.

So, about once a year, I would change doctors, tell them I didn't remember who my previous doctor was, and fill out a new patient information form with updated dates on everything.

My doctors would x-ray my bones as part of diagnosis. One good thing about delayed puberty is that my bones, at the very least, suggested I was much younger than my twenty-four years.

My body kept growing, at a slower pace than others of my age, so while I was short, I wasn't miniscule. The most recent doctor that I'd been to weighed me in at 121 lbs and measured me as 5'6" tall. It was time for a change in more than just my medical history.

The morning after the club I awoke with a start. I sat up on the couch, bleary eyed, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was having a dream about being naked in the club. Only I had breasts and no penis. When I first realized it, I felt a surge of joy flow through me…then I realized that there were other people there. James approached me, pinning me to the wall. I knew what was going to happen next, and it terrified me. That was when I woke up.

Looking around my apartment, I thought for a moment that I'd dreamt up the whole thing. Even though I had red hair and green eyes, there is no way that I could possibly look like the woman in my paintings. Their cloth covered shapes mocked me from every available surface. I felt the sorrow at this thought, and realized that even if my entire night at the club was a dream, it was a prophetic one.

I got up and took a shower, dried off, and then walked naked into my room.

I was looking for something to wear in my closet when I heard a sound behind me. Letting out a quiet eek of surprise, I covered myself as best I could and turned to see what, or who, was behind me.

Collette was just climbing out from beneath my mountainous comforter, her hair sticking out in all directions from a night of sleep without removing any of her hair products.

"Hey, David. Sleep well?"

My entire body was red with embarrassment, and I just nodded.

"We all agreed you were a girl last night, so no need to cover up on my account."

I dropped the arm from around my chest, but only to move it to my crotch.

"But, I have…"

"A penis? So, these days there are lots of girls with deformities like that."

I gave her a weak smile and went to get on some underwear. I wore bikini briefs at the time, and quickly slipped a pair on. For those of you who haven't seen them, they are a lot like a woman's bikini cut panty, even lacking the iconic 'pocket' in the front. With all the elastic, and the type of material used, they fit me better than any other underwear I'd tried. They also just felt right to me.

"You wear panties?"

"No, they're bikini briefs."

"Look like panties to me, and where..?" She said this last while looking at my crotch.

"Huh? Oh, I'm not really very big. Not that it worries me much."

"You sure you're not a girl…physically I mean?"

I dropped my shorts enough for her to see and then quickly pulled them back up.

"You know, you look like a really tall eleven-year old when you're naked."

I just blushed and continued to get dressed. I had to make an appearance at the office today, so I went with a nice charcoal suit with a cream colored dress shirt. It had a narrow lapel and I left it unbuttoned at the bottom. I wore the shirt with a narrow tie that had a descending pattern of triangles. It was in a gold tone.

Then I opened my closet and I heard a double gasp from my bed. Apparently Angie had woken up as well. Angie and Collette lived on the other side of the city, and I offered them a place to sleep. Neither of them had to work today.

"You have more shoes than I do, girl." She said.

I smiled at that. I had a nice pair of men's dress shoes in a charcoal that I'd purchased for the suit, and I slipped them on after grabbing a pair of thin socks.

"Those look almost like knee-highs," Collette said again.

"Are you both going to keep commenting about the feminine nature of my wardrobe or just accept that you were both right?"

"Nah," Angie said, "this is about you kicking yourself to the couch. We wouldn't have minded you being up here with us."

I blushed again.

"Nothing sexual, you goof. Angie and I love men, and from your reaction to James last night you do too."

I hopped up on the bed between them. "So, I could just lie down here between the two of you?"

They laughed at me and pushed me out of bed.

"You missed your chance last night, hon."

I laughed and climbed out of the bed.

"Well, enjoy yourselves," I said.

My day at the office was un-noteworthy; I worked up a new proposal for the Bryant building. This would be the fifth time I'd submitted a proposal to them. I had to come up with a new perspective drawing every time, including a mock up floor-plan.

Nothing that I created so far had interested them at all for the piece of property that they were looking at.

I was distracted and just doodling on the large sheet for the perspective view. While I drew, I thought about the events of the night before. A tree seemed to sprout out of nowhere. Then another. I drew a reflective window behind the tree that doubled the perspective. A walk meandering through the trees. A couple of hills to bound the walk. Then it seemed that the entrance needed to be an overhand, loosely evoking a castle gate.

I continued with the theme of a modern castle as I continued. Around the building, I made a hedge moat, filled with flowers instead of spikes. The penultimate floor I put in a complete wrap around reflective window. The top floor evoked crenellations by having evenly spaced vertical windows. But it wasn't the top floor. I added a tower to the left hand side of the drawing and then a central keep that extended above the front wall.

I was just putting on the finishing touches when Gary, my boss, rushed in.

"Good, I see you're ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"Bryant is here to see our next offering. They've said this is the last one that they'll wait for. After this they're going with Hartman, Weiss, and Studebaker."

Before I could even begin to voice a protest he grabbed the poster board and ran out of the room. I followed after him trying to get him to hear that I'd never meant for this to go before the Bryant Foods team, but it was too late.

He walked into the conference room like a force of nature. A feeling I'd assumed was awe filled me as he took charge of the room and brought the attention of the suits to my work.

It was more than that, and for the first time in the years since I'd started working here I allowed myself to really examine what I was feeling. I liked the way that he filled out his tailored slacks. I loved how broad his shoulders were, and the way his suit seemed to strain as he moved.

Somehow, even without the hormones to drive it, I realize that I'd been lusting after my boss. I blushed when he turned toward me and asked for me to answer the client's questions.

They didn't have that many questions.

"So, Miss Lowell, you think that this is what we need?" I smiled at him calling me 'Miss'. It was something that happened a lot, and something I would have been bothered by before today. Today I took it as a bit of validation to who I was.

"Frankly, at this point, Mr. Bryant, I don't give a damn what your company needs. I've drawn up five different buildings for you that for one reason or another you rejected. This one was too tall, that one was too short. They're not people, Mr. Bryant.

"If, after this, you feel the need to go to a sweatshop without any soul like Hartman, Weis, and Studebaker, then by all means, go there. I'm sure they'll be happy to give you another cookie-cutter, none-of-a-kind, mortar and steel eyesore like the current building that you're trying to get out of.

"This building is a castle. If you can't see that I weep for you."

And then I walked out.

I was crying in my office, trying my best to keep it together long enough to get all of my personal effects together so I'd be ready when Gary came to fire me. I knew how important this client was, and I'd likely just pissed them off. I had no idea what got into me, but I'd lit into them.

No, that's not right. I knew exactly what got into me. They were the face of every gallery and private buyer that had rejected my art for the last eight years. I'd taken my frustration at being an artist without a voice out on them.

"David, what's wrong with you?" Gary said from the doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just came out. I'll understand if you want me to leave."

"Leave? That's one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen. And then you're eye adjusts and you see it sitting there, a fantasy castle in the middle of the skyline."

I looked up at him, my tears drying on my face. "What?"

"They love it. Apparently Mr. Bryant played a lot of D&D in high school. He loves the idea of being a modern-day king. Go and fix…I mean wash your face and we'll talk to them together."

"Fix what, Gary?"

"Sorry, but you really…never mind. I wouldn't want you to think I was harassing you."

"Were you going to tell me to fix my makeup?"

"I…um…well…" He was bright red as he stammered out an almost response.

"Would there be a problem if I were wearing makeup?"

"You're a guy."

"Really?" I said with a slight smirk. "And you would tell any 'guy' to go fix his makeup?"

"Well, you're male."

"I'm going to a doctor's appointment this afternoon. We can discuss this when I get back. I'll meet you in the conference room."

I spent the next hour or so describing the vision I had for the building. It was only when we were shaking hands and walking out of the conference room that I realized that there was something missing from the picture: there was no girl with flaming red hair and green eyes anywhere to be seen. It would seem she'd finally escaped the canvas and was walking around the real world.

<3  <3  <3
I sat nervously in the waiting room at the clinic where I normally saw my specialist. I had a piece of paper that I'd written my real medical history on, and I was prepared to provide it as soon as I was called back.

A nurse came and got me, weighed, measured and cuffed me. Then I was sitting waiting in the exam room.

It was only after I'd been sitting there for a couple of minutes that I realized I'd crossed my legs like a girl at the knee instead of resting an ankle on my knee like a guy. Unlike other times I'd noticed it I didn't adjust my posture, I just smiled.

Finally the doctor came in and I rose and took his offered hand.

"I'm glad you could squeeze me in today."

"It was nothing for my favorite patient. I wanted to see you soon anyway. What can I do for you today, David."

"Well, I hope you still consider me your favorite patient after what I have to tell you. These are the doctors I've been seeing previous to you over the past nine years."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not really eighteen. I'm twenty-four."

Doctor Ralstein sat down and stared at the paper in his hand. "Really…well…we need to get some additional tests run and we need to get you on hormones as soon as possible."

"Here's the thing…I'm a woman."

He looked at me for a moment, and then he just grinned at me, "you are, aren't you."

I just nodded with a grin of my own.

"Well, I can't just take your word for it, of course, but we can start you on estrogen for now. I have your blood work for last time, but I want to get some for today so I can adjust dosages as necessary. Now, if you don't mind young lady, I'll get a nurse in here and we can get you a shot."

The shot hurt, but I felt a glow fill me when it was over. I knew it wasn't the hormones, but more a sort of self reinforcement that this is what I wanted.

They took my blood and scheduled me for an MRI the following week. I had a spring in my step and a sway in my walk as I left his office.

<3  <3  <3
The office was in an out of the way corner of an office park. The door tinkled when I went through it and I looked up. There were a number of bells hung in front of the door by a bit of rough twine. The front desk was empty.

The room that I'd entered had two soft looking leather chairs. The smell of leather filled the room and seemed to have a soothing effect on me. There was a door off to the side of the desk, and that was it. I waited for a moment or two and then went and sank into one of the chairs.

I fidgeted a bit before I found a comfortable position and simply sat there for a minute or two before the door opened. Two women walked out and hugged briefly before the younger said, "We'll schedule an appointment for you for the same time next week. I think we're making wonderful progress. Consider seeing a speech therapist as well. You'll feel a lot better about how you interact with people if you do."

"I'll try," said the older woman. She had a husky voice. I took a second look and realized that it wasn't a woman at all, but a man. Immediately I became embarrassed at my thought. Physically I was also a man. I wasn't one to judge on this.

The older woman left and I rose.

"May I help you?"

"Dr. Ralstein sent me."

"You're David Klein?"

"That's me," I said with a grin.

"I'm Hilary Emmersen. Would you come on back with me?"

We spoke for a while and I told her everything that I knew, suspected, or dreamed. It included everything from the club the night before, my interaction with the girls this morning, and even a description of my closet.

"So, David, are you trying to convince me or yourself that you're a girl."

"Um…what?"

"Obviously you've got some deep seated issued with your masculinity, but who are you trying to convince here. Me? Probably should have come in a dress then. I might have believed you then."

"No, Ms. Emmersen. I'm not here to convince anyone. I am a woman. At age twenty-four, I've been a legal adult for the past three years. I would appreciate you treating me like one. As for the other? I thought you'd like to hear the reason I was here. If that's not the case…" I said as I stood up to leave.

"My, you've got fire in you, haven't you?"

"My mother was Irish. I think it's the Shaw blood in me."

She smirked at me for a moment before she just began laughing.

"Harold was right; I think I'm going to like you."

We just smiled for a moment and then she outlined where we would be going from here. What did I sign myself up for?

My name is David, and I am a woman.

"I'll have to WHAT!?"

"No need to yell, David."

"Why can't I just stay me? I'm comfortable as I am."

"Let me rephrase it. Presenting as a woman isn't as much about dress as who you are showing to the world. Right now you look a little androgynous. Not very, but a little."

"But…"

"Let me finish, David. You look androgynous, but you act feminine. They see your hair, and your clothing and assume you are a tom-boy, or a butch lesbian, or something along those lines."

I colored a bit, but decided to say nothing.

"I'd personally just be happy if you got a more feminine haircut. If you wanted to start wearing women's clothing…"

"I don't want to wear dresses."

"Am I wearing a dress?"

I looked again at the pant-suit she was wearing, and I had to shake my head. The cut of it screamed female to me. There was nothing masculine about her clothing. The neck and collar of the blouse also said women's wear to me.

"Make minor changes. That's all I'm asking. Blouse instead of button shirt. Pant suit instead of Men's suit. You simply need to make minor changes that feel right to you. Maybe wear a pair of panties instead of boxers or…"

I turned bright red at her mention of underwear.

"Something I should know?"

"I wear bikinis. Men's bikini briefs I mean."

"Well, try out a couple of different women's briefs then. See if there are any that you like better."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Most people in your situation that I know like to talk about these things."

"It embarrasses me, ok?"

"Sorry to hear that. I'll try not to talk about it then. Just be aware that I wear those pieces of clothing as well."

"Well, would you be comfortable talking about menstruation as well with a complete stranger?" I said trying to get something that might make her uncomfortable.

"It's guys who have a problem talking about that stuff, mostly because they haven't been taught to understand it."

I blinked a couple of times as I processed it. "I never really thought of it that way. It is a natural part of life. "My dad always left the room as soon as my mom started talking about it. Usually with her sister or the like."

"At least you called it menstruation and not 'on the rag' or period or any of the other euphemisms that are associated with it."

"I figure that as an adult I might as well call a penis a penis and a vagina a vagina. They are the proper terms after all."

Ms. Emmersen just smiled at me, so I smiled back.

"I know this is an adjustment to everything you are used to. Think about it. Come to a decision. The real life test we talked about is so you can be sure before you make any really drastic changes to your body, like surgery."

"To remove my penis?"

"Or facial feminizing surgery, or any of a number of other elective surgeries that some of my clients want."

I thought about it for a moment and Ms. Emmersen just let me.

"Well, I'll have to see later whether I want it or not. I mean, this morning I was so sure that I was a woman, but now…it just seems like so much work."

"Don't let me put you off with what I'm telling you. If you feel that this is who you are, then do it for you, and do as much, or as little, as you really want. Don't let someone else's idea of femininity dictate who you should be. If you are seen as a woman, and accepted as a woman, and you tell people you are a woman, then you're fine."

I took a couple of calming breaths, and then a couple more, and then I smiled.

She hugged me like she had her previous client, and I hugged her back. I'm not sure if I'll ever get into that side of being a woman, but it was pleasant in a comforting sort of way.

<3  <3  <3 I didn't have a lot of time if I was going to get back to work before Gary left for the day, so I stopped in at a salon to get through with one thing I thought that I needed.

Ok, it's not that I needed it, but that I wanted it. I had a fairly masculine haircut, and I wanted to remove that from the equation of how people saw me.

"Can I help you…sir?"

I smiled at the woman behind the counter.

"I know I don't have much hair to work with, but I was wondering if you could give me something more feminine that my current mop. A pixie cut, or something similar perhaps?"

She did a double take, and then smiled.

"And I suppose you want your ears pierced as well?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. Do you think it would help?"

"Honey, in those clothes? It couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, I know, I really need to sort my wardrobe. My therapist suggests I get a nice pant-suit."

She smiled at me and gestured for me to follow her into the back. She started with washing my hair, and then turned me around to face her. A pensive look came over her features as she looked over the remains of the last cut I'd gotten nearly three weeks ago.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You already have," I said with a smirk.

"I meant a personal one."

"Sure."

"Are you a guy?"

"Can't you tell? Sorry, that's rude of me. You want the long answer, or the short one?"

"Well, we have time, so give me the long one while I work on a style for you."

So, once again, and this time with a therapist of a different nature, I went through my story. Talking through it for the second time today I began to get into a certain rhythm. I guess it's like anything else; the more you practice, the easier it becomes. The further I got into the story, the more relaxed that the stylist became.

"Well, I have to agree with the girls from the club. You really are a woman. In answer to your earlier question, yes you should get your ears pierced. Most women do these days. It wouldn't need to be anything fancy. Maybe a pair of gold studs?"

I considered the question for a moment and then shrugged my shoulders.

"Why not? That sounds like it will work."

"And it will really counteract the suit, although it sort of says more androgynous than male anyway."

"You think so?"

"I know so, hon. It's the color combinations. Guys tend to be more boring in how they coordinate. Even your metro-sexuals. I don't think I've ever seen one with a pair of shoes that matched their suit."

"There must be some, since I didn't special order these. I take your point on it, thought. Usually they just go with black or brown. Boring. And then pair a suit with a white shirt…you know how it is."

"You better believe it."

We continued in this vein of gentle banter and I realized that I would definitely be visiting with her again later. Whether or not she was the best in the city didn't matter to me. She was the best for me, and that was all that was important on the matter.

She stabbed a couple of gold posts through my ears after finishing up with my hair, and I was amazed at the difference to my appearance in the mirror. This morning, when looking at myself and preparing to go out, I'd still been able to squint my eyes and see the boy. Now, with just a feminine haircut and a pair of earrings, I'd slipped over the androgyny line directly into the path of the 'girl' bus. Well, it would do for now, and I grinned at my reflection.

"I don't even know your name," I said to the woman as we went to the front to settle accounts.

"Gina. And yours?"

"David…but I was thinking of adding a more feminine middle name like Anne or Louise."

"Why not change your first name?"

"I've spent twenty four years getting used to it. Wouldn't want to have to spend twenty four more breaking in another."

"Go with Louise then."

I looked at her questioningly.

"I think that Luanne and Joanne are silly enough without creating a David-Anne to go with them."

"And then we'd get Mike-Anne and Steve-Anne, where would it stop? "

She laughed at that and waved as I left.

<3  <3  <3
I was nervous. Really nervous. Like actually sweaty palms, heart palpitations, and cold sweats nervous. Since this morning when I'd realized that I was into my boss, or is that I'd like him into me, something had changed in our dynamic.

He wouldn't have noticed, I'm sure, but I did. That made this next conversation difficult, because he was about to realize that something had changed, and I hoped he recognized it as for the better.

"Gary, you got a moment,"

"Sure, Da…vid?" His eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung open after he finished speaking.

"Well, that's done. Thanks."

"Wait right there Mist…missy. You're not getting off that easily."

I hope my eyes flashed at him when I responded. "Isn't that a little condescending?"

"You can't just come in here dressed like a woman and expect me to let it go without some explanation."

"Um, Gary? I'm wearing exactly what I had on this morning."

"Now I need an explanation and a drink. I'm about ready to call it a day. Would you care to join me?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, Gary."

"Why not?"

"Would you ask a subordinate female out for a drink?"

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, finally he shut it with a snap. "No, I wouldn't. Is that what this is about? You're trying to tell me you're female? How could I have never noticed before?"

"Because I'm physically male, and was doing my best to try and present that image. Not your fault. Blame me." I said this last with what I hoped was a winning smile.

"So…you're, what is the term, transitioning?"

It was my turn to look shocked. "Come again?"

"As a boss in the twenty-first century, I've had to go to a lot of training seminars, among them how to properly treat transgendered individuals in the work place. Although, now you mention it, your clothing does look masculine…I just didn't notice it with how you looked."

"That distracting, huh?"

"You know I shouldn't answer that, since I am your boss, but since you are fishing for compliments I'll give you one this once. Yes, you look pretty."

I felt a full body blush coming on at that, and smiled like a lunatic.

"I'll let HR know what's going on then. I'll see you here Monday?"

I just nodded and he slipped out the door past me.

<3  <3  <3
With all that had gone on today, it completely slipped my mind that I had house guests, or more specifically it didn't occur to me they would still be here.

"Love the haircut…and are those earrings?"

"Hey, Angie. Hey, Collette. You two still here then?"

"We want to go shopping with you, remember?"

Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember talking about that with them, but I didn't realize they were staying with me until we went.

"Don't you guys have work?"

They looked at each other and laughed.

"Angie is rich, I mean really wealthy."

"And Colette is a mooch."

"Am not…I just enjoy helping you to spend all that moola."

The two girls began to laugh, and I just stared at them open mouthed.

"What?" they both said, trying to look at me innocently.

"You're halos are held up by your horns, ladies. I don't think the innocent look works for you."

We all broke down in a fit of giggles at that point. "Seriously though," I said when we started to calm down, "Angie is wealthy and does nothing, and supports Collette in doing nothing as well?"

"When you put it that way, you make us sound like a couple of lazy slobs."

"No, not really. I make you sound like landed ladies from the height of the British Empire. Haven't either of you seen Downton Abbey?"

They both looked at me, this time they had open mouths.

"What?" I said. Only I really was confused. I wasn't just trying to wind them up for the fun of it.

"Um…that's kind of a romantic drama."

"And I can't be a romantic? We've already established I'm a woman, so I have the prerogative to have liked feminine things."

The both smiled at me, "David, you're nothing like we expected. We expected to be teaching you everything about being feminine this weekend. Only, you already have great fashion sense, even if it is focused on male fashion. You are very sexy on the dance floor…"

"Sexy?" I said, heat rising off my body. I put my face in my hands and hid from the others.

"Hell yeah, girl. Without you we'd never have gotten an invite to the VIP section," Collette said.

"Yeah. You move like liquid sex on the dance floor," Angie continued.

"Ang…"

"Dae….actually I like that. I'm calling you Dae from now on. Sort of a mix of Di and Fae in my mind."

Collette looked at her friend with a smile teasing across her lips. "I like it too. Dae. Makes it feel like a girl's name, even if it isn't."

"I like David."

"And you're still David. You just got your first girlfriend's nickname, Dae."

"Kinda like Dorris Day, isn't it?"

"If either of you start calling me Dorrie I'm out of here."

We all giggled at that. "Ladies, you distracted me. You should get a job of some sort."

"And miss out on this? No way are we missing out on your first shopping trip en femme."

With a smile on my face, and a spring in my step, I linked arms with both young women, "then let's go to it, shall we?"

<3  <3  <3
The kaleidoscope of feels, scents, and colors that encompasses a marathon shopping trip are something that must be beheld, and not described. From boutiques to major shopping centers, high end to budget, and one end of the city to the other we trekked in a manner hitherto unseen outside of epic fantasies the likes of which to make a Jordan or Eddings drool.

If there had been treks up steep mountain paths with sheer drops amidst icy winds, I wouldn't have been surprised. If we had delved the deepest caverns of the earth, we would have come back with less treasure than we did in that single night and it didn't end at sundown, as I was sure it would have to.

Angie had friends who opened their doors, even when we arrived at some of the stores well after midnight, and proceeded to help outfit us.

I admit it freely, that I am a bit of what used to be called a clothes horse…no, I demure, I am a clothes horse. I love clothing. I love satins and brocades. I love cotton and silk. I love the smell of leather and the feel of velvet. And before you ask, no, I don't get sexually aroused by clothing.

There is nothing in this world like a well cut suit, or a slinky dress. The way they fit your body to absolute perfection, hiding every flaw and accentuating your virtues. The wrong clothes do the exact opposite.

Hollywood knows this. Watch an 'Ugly Girl' Rom-Com if you don't believe me. She's all that, Strictly Ballroom and Never Been Kissed are good examples of this. While not a romantic comedy, The Princess Diaries has some of the same things.

You go from someone in ill fitting, unflattering, simply un suited clothing to someone wearing clothing that is perfectly suited to their body type. Now, I've never worn anything that was unsuited to my body, simply unsuited to my gender.

Some of the things we purchased were in a style that fit Angie's personality, but she would never have been able to pull off. I bought it because you always need a modest outfit or twelve. And a lot of them would work when I wanted to work it at work.

Let me say one thing here and now: You don't need to be naked to be sexy. And it's not about titillation either. Usually, the closer you get to that line of outright nudity the trashier your clothing gets, not the sexier.

Note, I say usually. A bikini in a cut and color that really flatters your body is damn sexy. It covers hardly anything.

However, with a truly gorgeous dress that totally covers every inch of skin you can also be damn sexy. There's a reason that there is lingerie that is, in essence, a maxi dress.

I'm sure that the knowledge that there is nothing on underneath heightens the appeal.

But that's the point, isn't it? Who but you will know that you are nude under that floor length gown, and what makes you feel sexier than being a little naughty. On top of that, who's to say that you can't tell your significant other just how naughty you're being.

The sun was coming up over the mountain of purchases that resided in the front of the last store that we'd visited before night really had to be called morning.

My feet, calves, back, and a hundred other places ached from the walking, stretching, twisting, and everything else that you have to do to try on as many outfits as we had in the past ten hours.

"I still think you should reconsider," Colette said to me from her place next to me on the floor. I just giggled at her.

"What? You want to make me a C before I've even experienced an A?"

Somewhere in the middle of the night the other two had tried to convince me to get falsies.

"I think you'd look good with a C cup breast."

"Only one?" I said dead pan.

Collette began giggling , and Angie picked up the argument.

"I think these dresses would look better with something filling them out a bit."

"I fill them quite enough. And the ones that are a little big on top, we just get them taken in a bit. A dart here or there is all it should take. Then, we remove the stitching when I grow a pair."

The girls giggled at my obvious reversal of the common male taunt.

"I want to come to this naturally. I'm not trying to lie to anyone."

"Lot's of G girls wear falsies," Colette said.

"Did either of you?"

At their refusal to look me in the eye, something made easier by our sitting side by side on the ground, I continued.

"Let me go through that phase. I'll never get to be an eleven year old girl. Blossoming naturally is the closest I will ever get. Please?"

I got hugs from both women, and I really appreciated it from these two, more than from my therapist earlier. I considered these girls to be friends, and I think that made the difference.

We gathered up our purchases, hired three taxies, one couldn't hold everything we'd purchased, and made our way back to my apartment.

Contrary to what I would have liked, knowing that the wrinkles would set in more if we waited, we piled the bags, boxes, and so forth in the living room, pausing only to grab nightwear.

Colette had purchased a cotton sleep shirt. Angie went with a full body satin nightgown. She really took modest to a whole other level. Me? I got a pair of silk pajamas in a purple so light it could almost be called a dark pink.

I was moving to lie down on the couch again when the girls linked arms with me and dragged me to the deep comfort of my bed.

I giggled along with them as they dropped into the bed on either side of me and pulled my thick comforter over us.

As I drifted of to sleep, a thought came to me about my past: This was a woman's bed, and always had been. It was comfort incarnate. I teared up a bit when I realized this, and I had to thank the woman I'd always been inside for providing this comfort for me in what was sure to be a difficult road ahead.

The last thought I had before I fell asleep was: damn, they got me to buy dresses. Now I'd have to wear them at least once.

My name is David, and I am a woman.

It was early the next morning, and I was looking at myself in the mirror. The person in the reflection was me, and at the same time it wasn't. That's not right. No, the image was me unleashed.

The smile that lit up my image's face was reflected in my own. Somewhere inside I realized that this is who I was meant to be. If it was only me and my image who ever knew it, that would be enough. My smile became warmer and inviting. For the first time, I think I truly saw what others had gotten glimpses of in the past.

That night in the club, that defining moment, James had seen it and thought it meant I wanted to have sex. No, not that I wanted to have sex, but that I wanted to have sex with him.

It's funny how people can be so right, and yet completely wrong at the same time. Standing there looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I thought about that kiss he'd given me at the end of the night. I knew that it wasn't James I was in love with, but the idea of being wanted so completely by another human being. I knew enough about James to realize that I didn't like him as a person.

Romance novels aside, I knew that a real and lasting relationship required understanding and acceptance of who the other person was. Sure, hating a person can lead to great makeout sessions and even greater sex, or so I've read, but at the end of the night, when dawn comes in through the window, you have to like the person in bed with you, and more than that, you have to like who you are with them.

I still wanted passion, and sparks, and a kiss that would curl my toes and make me weak in the knees. I just wanted it with someone I could respect.

I sat down to do my business and then got in the shower, my mind refusing to get sucked into the mundane nature of my task at hand.

Love.

What is it anyway? Is it just chemicals like some doctors would have us believe? Was it expectation built up by all the trashy romance novels we read as little girls? I snorted at myself before I took my inner monologue to task. Even if other people thought me a boy, I knew that I'd never been one of them. So, when I was a teen, reading the novels that made my heart beat faster and made me want someone to sweep me off my feet, I'd never been looking for the titillation. I wanted the love that masqueraded all too often as cheap sex.

And I wanted my very own Mr. Darcey.

No, he's not part of the tawdry romance set, but that's even more of a reason to root for him. You like Lizzy because she is you, but you root for Mr. Darcey because he's the protagonist, even more than the narrator.

I was in a very happy, and feminine, place when I got out of the shower. I quickly set my hair to its pixie best, made sure my earrings looked good, and went out of my bathroom wearing a smile…and my robe.

I stopped, stunned, with what I saw.

"What are you doing?"

I was on the verge of tears. They had no right, no right at all, to take the coverings off my paintings. They would see my shame and laugh. No one got to see my paintings, and I liked it that way. They couldn't see my soul poured onto canvas.

"Are you in every one of your paintings?"

I swept in and pulled the grey velvet coverings back over my pieces.

"Get out." I said in a barely controlled whisper.

"But they're good," Angie said at the same time that Collette breathed, "Why would you want to hide these?"

I was still furious, still wanting to claw and hit and bite, and maybe hiss and spit a little, but I was also shocked so completely that I became a statue. I was frozen. My mind failed to engage.

They liked my…paintings?

"Nobody likes my paintings." I said, quietly. A tear welled in my eye, and I blinked, trying to make it go away.

They guided me to my couch and sat with me while I tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry.

While Angie held me, Collette took out each piece, one by one, and arranged them so that they could all be seen. I slowly began to calm as I looked carefully at my images again. Trying to see what they saw in them.

The words of the people I'd shown them to in the past just kept pushing to the forefront.

There's too much blurring in the foreground. Are we supposed to feel half blind, or just farsighted?

What's with the elf? I like the landscape except for her. Also, I don't get the girl sitting by the rock on the lake. Is this supposed to be the girl from Brave?

I like how you depicted the moon, but the shadow seems a little cheesy.

Why is there a Knight on a warhorse riding down 5th boulevard?

Why…

How…

What…

It all boiled down to one thing, they didn't get what I was doing, and, according to them, no one ever would.

"I love your makeup in that image. How did you get the effect just right of looking through her? She's seeing through her reflection in a window, right?"

"I mixed a bit of both colors together, the one for the main scene, and the one for the reflection. I did the reflection after finishing the main scene."

"You make it sound so simple," Collette said with a little bit of awe.

"It is simple, I'll show you."

I sat the two of them on the couch, and spent the next hour or so painting. I sketched them in quickly, so they wouldn't have to sit there watching the back of my easel. Then I went to town on the paints. The room around them came together without much thought. I'd seen it day in and day out for the last two years. Then I blocked in their rough outlines, adding more detail as I went. I looked into their faces as I went, to make sure I got the shapes and colors right.

Then I added the gnome standing on Angie's shoulder, playing with her hair. He was a traditional gnome, with the red pointy had and the blue jacket. His white beard was accidentally tucked into his left boot.

After I finished him, I sat there staring at Collette, wondering what she would need to fit the fantasy image. I smiled, and went a lot more subtle here. I added some faint, almost subliminal, lines to her face. I widened her pupils just slightly vertically with a bit of a point there.

"What did you do to my face? I look so…predatory…and yet myself at the same time. It's a bit scary."

"I made you a cat."

"Oh my god, you did. Look, Angie, I'm a cat."

"All I got was a gnome on my shoulder."

"I'll let you two fight over who keeps it."

I went into the bathroom and cleaned out my brushes. I looked at my face and smiled. That was my first real painting without me in it. I guess that is because I was on this side of the canvas.

I had an almost surreal Through the Looking Glass moment. Only I was always Alice. I'd just trapped my soul away in another realm.

"We've decided you keep the painting. That gives us an excuse to visit more often."

We hugged a bit, Angie kissed me on the cheek, and we said our goodbyes. Apparently it was already past noon, and the two were more than ready to make their way back out into the world. For a moment, I wondered if there might be something going on between the two, but I quickly dismissed it. Even if there were, it wasn't my place to speculate. They hadn't tried anything with me during the time we'd been together, and I would have just politely declined if they had. It had worked with my gay roomie in college after all.

<3  <3  <3
I was still in my white terrycloth bathrobe, nursing yet another cup of steaming tea in a mug that would have been happier with coffee strong and black, when the door rang. Wondering who it could be, I pulled the robe about me and tied the belt, hoping that I was fully covered.

"Who is it?" I asked sweetly with visions of granny running through my head. No, not my grandmother. I mean the famous one, you know, get's eaten by a wolf, red riding hood and a handsome woodsman save her?

And not the one from…you know what? Never mind. You've had enough of my daydreams and thoughts, for a little while at least.

With no response forthcoming, assuring me it wasn't the police here to wrongly arrest me for a murder I didn't commit, I looked through the peep hole.

The person there shocked me to thoroughly that I forgot how I was dressed or much of anything else.

"Gary…" I began as soon as the door was open.

"Good, you're here. Sorry for popping bye unannounced, but as you aren't answering your phone, and it's urgent, I thought I'd come over…what are these?"

I was too shocked to blush, and too angry and his not even noticing me to care. Wait, that's not right. Sure, I like Gary, and he's a good guy, but I wasn't sure I was ready for an oh so clichéd office romance, even if I wasn't the cliché demoiselle.

"Those are mine, and I'll thank you to get back to the matter at hand." I was imperious. I was the empress of my castle, and he couldn't…

"They're very good."

That knocked me completely onto the back foot, and I did blush. "Thanks," I said, brushing a non-existent lock of hair behind my ear. "So, you wanted to see me?" There was entirely too much invitation in that question, and I regretted it, but it seemed to do the trick, since for the first time since entering my apartment Gary noticed what I was wearing. The way he was looking at me made my blush hotter and I put a hand up to hold the front of the robe closed, even though I had no cleavage worth showing off…yet.

"Oh, sorry for barging in. I need you dressed and ready to go five minutes ago."

"Go where?"

He looked at me for a moment like I'd lost my mind, and then he remembered the chain of events that brought him here, a chain that I was as yet clueless to.

"Start getting ready, and I'll tell you all about it."

I snorted at this, seeing his preconceptions war with his eyes. "So, I'll go put on a little black cocktail dress and you'll watch me?"

It was his turn to blush and I laughed at him. A number of the girls I'd dated unsuccessfully in the past said that I had a musical laugh. They meant it as an insult at the time, but I appreciated it now.

"Something business appropriate and conservative please," he said as I disappeared into my room and shut the door.

A very small part of me was disappointed at not being able to shock him with one of the dresses. That would have to wait until another time the bigger part of me said. One of the outfits that we'd picked up was a really nice women's pant-suit in a light grey. It wasn't the charcoal of my previous suit, but I think it matched my coloring better. A pale green shirt, which tone I could tell you, but it doesn't matter for the course of this narrative, with a ruffled collar hid my lack of curves on top.

Actually, it was more that it hinted at something that wasn't there. The gold went with the whole thing. I'd be without makeup, again, but I couldn't worry about that since it was my own damn fault for staying in all day.

While I got dressed, Gary related the following:
While Mr. Henry Bryant, PhD, loved the new building, the rest of his team thought I was rude and that they should go with a different architect. Gary had explained that I was the only one who knew anything about the building that I'd created, and that without me they'd be out of luck with our firm.

The rest of Mr. Bryant's team thought I was rude and wanted an apology for my behavior at the meeting. Gary replied it wasn't going to happen. Mr. Bryant called back fifteen minutes later saying that they'd already gotten the exact type of building design that Ms. Lowell had suggested they would with the rival company.

He begged Gary to consider trying to get me to apologize since he didn't want to be in another 'soulless excuse of a blight on the skyline,' as Mr. Bryant put it, like the one they were currently in, one that had been originally drafted by Hartman, Weis, and Studebaker.

Gary said he'd talk to the board and try to explain, but Mr. Bryant said it was more than that. They were working on trying to prove his incompetence, and using his 'desire to feel young again by making a hot young artists wet for him,' as a reason to put forth a vote for a new chairman of the board. He would still be CEO, but then, without the control of the board he was afraid of that going away soon as well.

"He actually said that?" I said, stepping out as I adjusted my earrings, making sure that the backs were firmly in place. Still just the gold studs, but I liked them for the time being. Even if I didn't have the hair for it, they made me think of myself as a bit of a Buttercup. Well, I thought my face was better looking than Robin Wright, but it doesn't matter one way or the other. It is my story, my perceptions, and I liked my gold stud earrings.

The whole situation had me a little worked up to say the least.

Gary just stood there staring at me.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing, just…nothing. He was, as far as I could tell, quoting something one of them told him directly."

"So, they think me a bit of fluff with weird ideas and my head in the clouds."

"So, they think of you as a girly artiste with weird ideas and her head in the clouds."

"Ooh…" I said glaring off into the distance. "I hope you brought the Bartinelli building and Camelot."

"You mean The Donovan/Sollace building?"

"I can call that pile Camelot if I like."

"Sure you can, but it only re-iterates the whole 'weird ideas' thing. Yes, I bought those as well as Asgard."

"Huh?"

"I thought the renovation to the Oceanic Museum and Research Institute was very Nordic."

"That was the way they wanted it," I began, but at his steady glare I amended, "well, okay, so it was mostly their ideas with a few tweaks here and there."

"That mural was more than a 'tweak here or there.'"

I remembered the mural he was talking about. I'd put a Valkyrie or two over a stormy sea with humpback whales coming up to say hello.

"And seing your work in the other room, I know who painted that mural now. A mental health week my ass."

I blushed bright red at the memory of taking off a week to make sure the mural had been painted perfectly right.

I went to the front room and looked at my paintings sitting there. On a whim, I grabbed one of the larger paintings.

"What's that for?"

"My answer to them demanding an apology for being asses. They can only take my building if a piece of my art hangs in the foyer."

"David…"

"No, Gary. I'm no shrinking violet that they can push around, and I'll not be accused of being some prostitute with an esoteric array of talents."

"They did…."

"They suggested that I would whore myself out for the firm to get them to pick the building, Gary, so yes, they did."

"Shit…I never thought…"

I put a hand to his face, resting it on his cheek, "No, you didn't and that's just one of the reasons I love you. So, are we going, or what?" Then I turned and went out the door, leaving him to carry the 5x7 painting out the door.

At the time, I'd thrown it out there without thinking about it, and he accepted it the same way. It wasn't until I got into the car and watched him trying to figure out how to get the painting in that I realized what I'd said. I just hope it didn't change everything.

I ran back up to the apartment and grabbed my largest tube and then ran down to him on the street. I pulled out the knife I always carried for just such an occasion and popped all the staples off the back of the frame. After that I carefully rolled the painting, loosely, and slid it into the carrier tube. It was a tight fit, as the canvas was almost five and a half feet when off the frame. The tube was five and a half feet exactly.

We got it in, and then into the car. We'd said nothing more than the necessary to get the canvas taken care of, and as soon as we were on our way the silence lay heavy upon us, or at least heavily upon me.

What in the hell were you thinking, girl. was the gist of my inner monologue for the first couple of minutes.

"Would you like me to put on some music?"

I nodded and smiled weakly, as I castigated myself even more.

He turned on the music, and I realized it was a bad idea the moment the first song played.

Love gained, love lost, love won, love denied, love accepted, unrequited love, sex is love, dancing is love, love, love, love, and more love. Have you ever realized how much of our music is about love?

It's like the human animal has this preoccupation with procreation and the furthering of the species.

Oh, wait, that's right…

We both reached for the off switch at the same time after he tried a number of stations to the same result. I pulled my hand away as if it were burned and he made an apologetic noise or two. I have never been more uncomfortable due to my own mistakes in my life before or after that moment.

"I shouldn't have…" I began before Gary interrupted me.

"Did you mean it?"

"Before that moment, I would have said that I didn't. Sometimes, though, you can say something that you don't realize has more meaning than it does. I meant it, when I began to say it, in an offhand manner. You know, joking between friends? You know when someone says, sarcastically, 'that's what I love about you, how sarcastic you are.'

"But the moment I started speaking, and the way I touched you, I realized that it wasn't just a joke. It was something I meant. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"Well, we'll get through this meeting, but I'm moving you to Watson's team on Monday. He's forever trying to poach you anyway."

"Is this because I'm male?"

"Huh? What!? No." he said looking truly shocked.

"It's because you are an attractive, if dense, female coworker, and if you said that sort of thing accidentally once…well…next time might not be an accident." There was a note of…something…that I didn't want to think about in his voice. It wasn't disgust. That I knew to well. It almost seemed like…he wanted me to tell him I love him again.

That was it. There was a note of hope in his voice.

"Let me be clear with you, Gary. I'm not in any way trying to force who I am. I am, and will remain, David."

He looked a bit confused, but I continued, "What I told you yesterday is also true. I am a woman. I'm a heterosexual woman. Not active mind you, but I like men." I said this last looking at him pointedly. I think he got the picture.

"So…"

"I have a long road ahead of me before I really look physically female."

"You look…"

"I mean before I have breasts, and a lot longer before I have a vagina."

He turned bright red, and I let the silence sit for a little while as he continued to drive toward our destination.

"I still have a penis, Gary, not that I've ever used it for anything other than peeing."

"Not even..?" and he made a somewhat crude gesture. I'd opened the door, but I still blushed.

"Not even that." I said, "Never had the urge."

I realized I might be giving him mixed signals, so I tried again, "What I mean to say is…"

"What you mean to say is you're a woman, which means you're complicated. I'd be lucky to understand you if you were talking about a subject I had some knowledge in, like architecture, but when it comes to all this emotional and physical changes and so on, I'm as clueless as the next guy, and glad to be so."

"But…"

"As I said before, you're attractive."

The silence this time was charged, and I listened to everything not being said. At the end of it, the drive, I was so distracted that I didn't even realize we were stopped until my door was opening and Gary was offering me his hand.

"Let's go knock 'em dead."

My name is David, and I am a woman.

There are few things in this world, in my opinion, that make one feel more feminine than being offered a hand out of a car. I think that's why so many feminists dislike it. Feminism is a non sequitur, by which I refer to its roots in logical argument and not literary device.

It is assumed that what they do is for femininity, when actually it is a misguided attempt to take masculinity on themselves by another name.

I'm not at all saying that their actions are wrong, just their philosophy. Without them, I would never be able to be the woman that I am, but taken to the absolute extreme I wouldn't be able to be the woman that I am.

As stated, they are a non sequitur. And there is the literary device.

But at that moment, sitting in a decidedly feminine pant-suit, none of that came to mind. All that I saw was a man who had just called me attractive offering his assistance, should I deign to take it.

That's the thing about true chivalry, there's always a choice.

I took his offer, and felt the strength with which he helped me to rise. When I was out of his car he reached past me to grab the carrying tube. I grabbed the blueprints from the trunk and the two of us went into the building.

"I can see why they wanted a new building, although the atrium is nice."

"They love the atrium."

"I may have to take inspiration from it then," I said with a little grin."

We rode to the top floor of the building. The elevator let out onto a large open space with a conference table in the center of it. The rest of the floor was taken up with conversation nooks around coffee tables with leather furniture, or at least good imitation fake leather furniture.

I popped the top on the tube that Gary had carried for me. Carefully I lay the canvas onto the table and with a twitch unfurled it for the board members to see.

"It's simple. I apologize for being blunt, which I was, and you apologize for calling me a whore by hanging this painting in your new lobby."

One of the men on the other side of the table had the decency to blush, while another just blustered.

"We don't have to take this from a mere slip…"

"Careful what you say next, Reggie," My Bryant said.

"Hank, we're not going to sit here and…"

"Take abuse from little ole me? You already know that all lines into our office are recorded. We make all of our clients aware of that."

Reggie went pale.

"And before you think it, no, this isn't about blackmail. I wouldn't stoop to your level. I apologize for questioning your masculinity by being brash and brassy in the previous meeting."

"If you think we'll hang this rag…" Reggie began as he reached for my canvas. I reached out to stop him before he could damage it. My heart stopped and the bottom fell out of my stomach. I was in that moment right before the rollercoaster passes the point of no return: a breathless moment before catastrophe.

"If you destroy that painting, you'll buy it," Gary said quietly

"A no name artist like Ms. Lowell here? Her work isn't worth fifty dollars."

"Here 'art' is displayed all over town, you've just never seen her signature on it. I think you'll all recognize the buildings I'm about to show you."

He tossed a blueprint onto the table next to my painting, "Bartinelli," the attribution block was next to them.

Another blueprint joined the first, "Donovan/Solace"

And finally a third landed on the table, "The Edgar Hamilton Dolphin wing to the Oceanic Museum and Research Institute."

They looked at him expectantly for a moment before one of the men at the table said, "These are the buildings that convinced us that you were the firm we wanted to design our building. What does this have to do with her?"

"What is the architect's name on each of these?"

"David Lowell, and?" Reggie said with a sneer.

"Hi, I believe that we were never properly introduced," I said offering Reggie my hand, "David Louise Lowell, architect."

He just stared at my hand as if it were a viper ready to strike.

"While this painting has never sold, that doesn't mean that her art is worthless. That is her mural in the Edgar Hamilton wing, and her design in the wing itself. She designed those two buildings, and they follow a lot of her standard aesthetics."

By this point I was blushing at this unaccustomed praise.

"The Hamilton wing is worth close to three million dollars on open market. The other two are approximately ten million a piece. Now, as this is just a single painting, and not a free standing sculpture, we can't expect it to be worth that much, but if you mar it in any way, rest assured that it will cost you ten thousand times what you just offered for it."

Mr. Bryant slid a rectangle of paper across the table.

"You're going to have to find another piece to hang in our building. I want this one for my home."

I picked up the paper, and realized it was more than its constituent components. Like my works of art on the table, it wasn't just ink and wood pulp. I thought for a moment I was seeing things. I'd never held a check in my hands with that many zeroes on it.

"Mr. Bryant," I began.

"Hush, girl. I like it. I would pay twice that and feel like I was cheating you. But that was the price that Gary named, so that is the price I will pay, and gladly."

"But it's just…"

Gary closed my hand on the check, and whispered in my ear, "Say 'thank you' and let's get out of here."

"Thank you," I said with a goofy grin on my face, and Gary guided me back to the elevator.

<3  <3  <3
I sat there staring at the piece of paper in my hand. It wasn’t really a piece of paper. It was a promise like all checks. I’d held checks before, who hasn’t. Some of them were small and insignificant. Checks I’d written almost invariable fell into that category. Usually I used my debit card any more, but I still remembered writing checks.

This check was neither small nor insignificant. It was a big bad ball of serious.

“What are you going to do?”

“What should I do? I can’t cash it…”

“Of course you cash it. What I meant was, are you coming in to work on Monday?”

“Um…” I was shocked speechless. Sure, I got a fair wage for my time, but I hadn’t thought of my wage in comparison to this check sitting there in my hands.

Depending on how I spent it, especially if I didn’t change my standard of living, I would be able to get by on this single check for five to seven years, and that’s only if I assumed I was paying for my medications and such out of pocket.

I could disappear from the world, figuratively speaking, and then just reappear as David Louise, complete female. No mess with work. And I could paint.

A friend of mine from before I went to college told me that the hardest painting for an artist to sell was the first. After that, you are not just an artist, you are a commercial artist. If that was true, then I had finally leapt that first hurdle.

I could become a commercial success as an artist. I might never sell another painting for this much…but I would sell. I could get gallery space. I could…

I looked over at Gary. He was focusing on the road in front of us, giving me time to think. If I did that, it is likely that Gary and I would drift apart. Would I mind? Was it something I could live with? Did we have to drift apart if I let him know I wanted his attention?

Did I want his attention?

Was this any more than James on a different level? I knew Gary well, at least in the work environment. He was unmarried, handsome, and a great boss. But was he a great lover? Not really thinking along the lines of how he was in a physical sense, but all the rest. What was he like as a man? Would he be there when I was sick or run for the hills?

Would he hold my hair for me when I was vomiting at three in the morning?

I realized then that I had a lot more questions than answers. The real question, though, was one that I already had an answer for; I was willing to take all the time it took to find out for myself the answers to all of those questions about Gary.

That answered at least one of my other questions as well. This wasn’t like James. I was willing to fight for Gary, if that is what it took, because I really wanted to have Gary in my life.

“If I quit, would you still come around? Or will I need to stay working in order for you to recognize my existence.”

“David…”

“Gary…” I said with a little smirk.

“Is that an invitation?”

“I would like for you to date me.” I said with more than a smirk.

“What are you saying?”

“Society tells the male of the species that they are supposed to be the active ones in the whole courtship thing. I’m not trying to deny you that,” I was with a grin, “All I’m saying is that if you want to, and with no pressure from me, ask me out on a date, then I would give such a request all due consideration and would likely say yes.”

Gary got a thoughtful expression on his face, but was silent for the rest of the drive to my apartment. I sat for a minute or two waiting for Gary to once again offer that declaration of femininity that had been given so effortlessly before, but he made no move to either talk to me or move around the car to let me out.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” I said as I exited his vehicle, doing my best to hold it together until I got inside. I might have begun crying a bit, but the wracking sobs really didn’t hit me until I was safe in my home where none but me would see me.

I shut the door behind me and slid down it, leaning against it while holding my knees to my chest and just crying. I didn’t even really know why I was crying.

As I cried and thought of the anguish that his actions caused, it occurred to me why. I’d put myself out there, vulnerable, with the assumption that he would support me. I thought he actually liked me. The problem was that there wasn’t enough there for someone like him.

I might have been feminine enough for him to accept as a woman, but I wasn’t woman enough for him to date. Well, Mr. Gary Carson, I’m not going to put on some costume for you just so you can feel comfortable about me.

A small voice in my head spoke up at that moment, suggesting that it might not be enough for any man to accept…well, any heterosexual male. And that is what I wanted. I wanted a guy who would see me for the woman I was, not the man I seemed to be, and no man would ever see me as woman enough, because right in that moment I knew I’d never be enough.

I wept tears for all of the women in the world, of which I was one, who would never get the opportunity of child birth. No matter the rhetoric, it made us less. Yes, we are still women, but there is something to be said about the propagation of the species. There is a reason that our female hearts ache to hold, and nurture, a child. There is always adoption, I know that. Even if I someday get the opportunity to adopt, there will always be a hole beneath my breast where a child was supposed to grow.

In those moments, while still sobbing, I cursed whatever fate made me who I was. I cursed a god so cruel to give me this desire to be myself, these feminine traits, and yet denied me what every fruitful natural born woman takes for granted.

I am only responsible for the choices I make, not the person I am. There is too much that goes into making a person for any one individual to be entirely to blame. Is my soul female? Does it matter in the least when my heart aches to be?

<3  <3  <3
When I awoke in the morning, the sun was shining in my eyes adding to the headache I felt for lying on the hardwood floor in front of my entry door. My earring had somehow gouged a shallow, but bloody, path in my right shoulder. I felt my ear, glad that the pain was just from it being pulled strangely and not completely ripped out.

As I got up, slowly because of the pain in my side, a piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. Somewhere in my grief over the death of love, I’d forgotten all about the check. I seriously considered tearing in into little pieces for a moment or two, but a half million dollars is a lot of money to just toss aside.

Thinking more on Gary's words I decided it was time to take him up on the offer he did make, since there would not be an offer he didn't. I wouldn't be quitting, but I would be taking some time off. I needed to get away from the city, and I could now do it without any guilt.

I called Watson and talked to him for a few minutes, explaining my vision for the Bryant building. He'd do a mockup for me before I came back. I gave him a phone number where I could be reached, then I wished him well and said good bye.

<3  <3  <3
I walked into the bank and looked around. I was so nervous that I'm sure I was making the guards nervous as well. They knew me, though, so I think that even me acting nervous wasn't a big tell.

"Hey, David. New look."

I smiled at the bank manager as I walked up to a teller, "Hey, Steve, I may need your help over here."

"Really," he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I finally sold a painting. "

"Well, I do have to sign for anything over ten thousand that we process, but you know that from last year's bonus, don't you."

"Yep, I know. Do you have any other policies for bigger sums?"

"Sure, but nothing the size of what I'm sure you brought in here."

I'd gotten to the teller at this point. I had the back of the check face up on the counter and signed it. Then I slid the check across the counter with a grin.

"Don't be too sure of that."

I watched with glee as both their eyes grew large and could barely suppress a giggle.

"Um…Steve…do we have a special policy for a check this big?"

"We cash it, Hannah. It's drawn at our bank."

I looked at the check, and for the first time I realized that I banked at the same institution as Mr. Bryant. With only a couple of keystrokes my account more than tripled in size. To be more accurate, since I was finally even thinking about how much I'd just added to my account, I had almost five times my previous savings. I usually tried to be frugal.

"This was for a painting?"

"Yep," I said with a grin.

"Then good luck selling more paintings."

I waved goodbye to the two of them and headed out to my car. I still had three hours to get to the airport, as I'd actually expected more of a hassle getting the check added to my account. I pulled into the long term lot near my home, picked up my ticket, and went out to the street. A limo was pulling over just as I arrived.

"David? David Lowell."

"David Louise Lowell," I said offering my hand, palm down. The chauffer took it lightly in his massive grip.

"I'm sorry. You must have been teased a lot as a kid."

I laughed by bell like laugh and shook my head, "I'm not. I actually picked it myself."

"You transgender people? You look entirely too feminine in my opinion."

"I was born David."

"Um…"

"Don't worry. I just started my transition this weekend. You don't have to…"

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said. It was none of my business, and I've royally stuck my foot in it now. If you want a new driver…"

"Why would I want that. You're cute, and to tell the truth, I like that you called me feminine."

He opened the door for me and helped me into the back. I slid my way in and he shut the door and we were on our way. Yeah, usually I was fairly frugal. Right now, with selling my first painting, I wanted to be a lot less frugal.

I relaxed in the back of that limo, wondering if I would ever get used to luxury like this. I also wondered if I really wanted to. Frugality becomes a habit given enough time.

We arrived at the airport too soon and I checked my bags. I didn't even have a carryon. I knew that when I started wearing makeup it would have to change, but until then…

I stood in line moving forward without a thought to what might happen.

"Step out of line, miss."

I still had a couple of hours before my flight, so I wasn't too worried about missing anything.

"No luggage?"

"I checked it all. Figured I didn't need the hassle of getting you to check it out."

"Your ID?"

I gave it to them.

"This isn't your ID, miss."

"Yes it is. I'm David Lowell."

"They do sorta look the same, but the hairstyle is different." Said a heavy set woman looking at my license.

"And you're telling me you never change your hairstyle?"

"It says here you're male."

"I can show you if you like."

The two women looking at me had the decency to blush.

"That won't be necessary." The both said, almost simultaneously.

I simply smiled and took back my wallet. There was no way that I was giving up a wallet until I had to. Even if it was a very tight fit getting it into the pocket of the shorts I was wearing.

I figured that I might as well show off my hairless legs for as long as that stayed true. Well, hairless isn't exactly true, but the fine blonde peach fuzz wasn't worth the trouble of shaving yet and it gave my legs a lustrous sheen I'd have been hard pressed to duplicate.

They waved me through after making a show of checking out my shoes, a nice pair of ballet flats in gold lame, before waving me through.

They made a couple of comments about me being gay, but I brushed them aside. I wasn't flamboyant in any way whatsoever. I was simply me.

<3  <3  <3
First class is sort of a letdown. You build it up in your mind from the movies and TV shows that define it as luxury incarnate. Not counting the legroom and really comphy chairs, there wasn't much difference from one class to another

My back hurt, my head ached, and I just needed some time to unwind.

I hired a cab out front of the airport and told him an address that I knew by heart. The cabby Just drove off after loading my bags into the back. The sights passed me by with hardly a notice. I was too focused on where I was going, and who I would meet there.

While the cabby unpacked the bags I walked up to the door and knocked. "David?"

"Hey, Mama."

My name is David, and I am a woman.

My mother.

She was a being of exacting…not, I must resist. Too many Bronte and Austen novels before writing will give you a decidedly stodgy air to your writing.

Mama is a force of nature. She is not someone that you can forget easily, nor dismiss readily. If she'd wanted to be, she could easily have been Miss Universe as a girl. Even now I think that she could easily have won a Mrs. Universe pageant.

And it's not just her looks, as those are almost an afterthought at a pageant. I should know, Mama made me enter one when I was sixteen.

It is a quality of personality that has the ability to enrapture the judges, wrap them around your little finger, and the entire time give them the impression that you are in all things their servant.

Demure with a hint of Dominatrix and a dash of Devastating, given sixteen to eighteen years to simmer. That's what you really need to win. Mama has it. She had it as a teen.

She just doesn't want it.

What she wants, well, that is something you have to ask Mama.

"Let me get a look at you, girl. Ears pierced. Feminine haircut. You really should consider going blonde."

"Mama, I love my red hair."

"And I know how you think it goes well with your eyes. Be thankful your father never gave you his freckles."

"Daddy never did anything to deserve that tone, Mama."

Mama's look of annoyance at me was enough to remind me of what she saw as ample reason for her waspishness. Well, ample reason for her. Neither my father nor myself showed her the veneration that she felt was her due at home. Dad showed it by going out for a newer model every year or so. I think he was currently on his eighth wife.

Up until today, I displayed it by adamantly refusing to show up en femme

"Mama, before you say anything else about my appearance, I want to lay some ground rules for my visit. First, you do not mention an 'I told you so' of any sort, including mentioning that you're so glad I finally 'came around.'

I looked at her sternly until she solemnly nodded, "Second, there will be no mention of my beginning hormone therapy."

"But, Donna…"

"I mean it, and that is third: My name is David. I never liked the name Donna. You will forget it forever. I took the middle name Louise, since I knew you would pester me until I picked a girl's name."

"Isn't that a bit of an 'old lady' name? Your Great-Aunt was called Louise, dear."

"And she was the only one of my female relations who actually stood up for me being David as long as I needed to. I think she realized more than any of you that a Shaw can't be lead to water, nor can she be pushed. She'll go to the water in her own damn time and then swim there naked, flaunting all convention."

Mama smirked at me, but nodded and didn't say anything else. I could tell that a question was threatening to burst forth from her lips, as there was a bit of a quiver there, but she was determined not to chase me away. Well, not chase me away again.

I sighed, but then I relented and I squealed a little bit, "I got a hormone shot on Friday."

She hugged me and bounced a little, squealing herself. She pulled back and held me at arm's length.

"No padding? David…"

"Mama, I'm doing this my way. I've done it yours, and we know how that turned out. I'm going to do it mine this time."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I wouldn't allow her a word in edgewise.

"Drop it Mama, I'm here. Isn't that good enough for you?"

"Well, fine. I'll have Orson bring in your bags while I find out what you've been up to the past six years."

<3  <3  <3
I sat there with a cocktail in my hand, watching as my mother indulged in the greater of her two vices. Well, the greater of her two loves, or so it always seemed to me. It's not that I felt lesser than her vice, but that I never felt she listened to me.

You can only say no so many times before you realize you need to save your breath, and pick your battles.

"Mama, do you ever regret what you did?"

"What do you mean, dear?" She asked as she looked into her own drink. It was her third. I'd still not touched my first.

"Mama, you're an alcoholic. You decided that my natural feminine inclinations meant I wanted to be a girl, and you forced the issue."

"But, dear, look at you," she said, gesturing with her drink. She didn't even notice that some of the drink sloshed, "You are a girl."

"Mama, I know how I feel, but let me tell you how other people will see it. Not everyone, sure, but some people. I'm either a gay man trying to seduce unsuspecting men into sleeping with me, or worse I'm a tranny-freak."

"How is being Transgender worse than being gay?"

"Actually, if you must know, it's easier to be transgender in my opinion. As a gay man, you're always going to be seen as a gay man. It's something that everyone will have to know, especially after you get into a relationship."

"And…"

"Being transgender is so much easier. Sure, you're transitioning for a little while and then pre-op for a little while. After that though, after all your surgeries are done, then you're just a woman. Even if you're a masculine looking woman, there is no evidence left for them to see anything. I've met genetic women who look more masculine that I do. That has been the case my entire life.

"No one ever thought they were men. Sure, I wondered, but that was my background. For most people it's just not something that occurs to them. I think that's the reason that people hate TG community so much. We defy their reality, and their preconceptions. They see a woman, who they then find out was born a guy. The guy's feel betrayed like it was some guy trying to seduce them into being gay. The women feel like it's some guy trying to take liberties with them. They don't stop to think that these two things are at odds, and they never realize that both can't be true.

"The problem is that when fear get's involved, it has not recourse to logic. Fear feeds itself and builds on itself. In the end it is nothing but fear. Fear of nothing.

"But without any sort of evidence, the evidence that the process itself destroys, they are left with their thoughts that what they see is a masculine woman, but that is all you are."

My mother took a sip of her drink, thinking about what she wanted to say, and then sat forward, "You have to tell someone. If you don't tell a partner and they find out later…"

"There is that danger. And it is a question. Do you tell your partner? When do you tell your partner? Or, do you find someone who will stay with you through your transition? Then, you have to hope that they will still be with you when you are complete."

"If they…"

"No Mama, it'd not that easy. Human sexuality is really difficult to quantify, though people try. Many of their attempts neglect so many aspects of what it is that defines arousal. I've never heard a theory that includes Pyromania or other similar psychologies. Those are a part of human sexuality, even if it is a part that most consider to be unacceptable.

"Those people that are truly aroused by me during my transition, are they excited by how I look or who I am? How I look will change. If they are only with me for how I look…"

"But a really mature person will…"

"Love who I am, and not who I look like? Sure, a story will tell you it happens all too often. If the narrative is to be believed, Jane Eyre proves that they have considered it a worthwhile goal for almost two hundred years."

"Jane Eyre?"

"An ugly man marries a plain woman who is beneath his station. It's not even as though the man had no other options…or opportunities."

"You mean Mr. Rochester?"

"Yes, I do." I sat there twirling my drink, watching the liquid swirl around the glass. I looked at Mama, for once not drinking the alcohol in her hand. "Mama…can I? Can I trust someone who has trouble with who I am now?"

"Now we get to the core of your reason for coming home?"

"Mama," I say with a little smile.

"Who is he, or she? I don't care really…"

"You know I never really cared for girls in that way. I tried. Oh you know how I tried…but another girl has never made me feel…like a man does."

"You're a girl, that's fine…isn't it?"

"Mama, as far as I was concerned I was a Presentation-Matching Non-Transitioning Transgender Heterosexual. I thought that I just needed to find the right woman."

"So, you were wrong?"

"Yes, Mama. The reason I'm here is because I was wrong. Before I really stopped to think about it, before a girl friend showed me who I really was, I was afraid I was gay."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay."

"Then how come you never date, Mama? How come you got married even?"

She blushed at me and tried to take a gulp from the glass. Without her noticing, she'd dumped it on her floor.

"Mama, you've got a serious problem."

"This is only my third drink."

"It's ten in the morning, Mama."

"We're not talking about me right now."

I gave her a look, arching my brow. I let it drop. "Mama, I'm a Presentation-Irrelevant Female Heterosexual."

"So, you're saying you're a woman even when dressed as a man?"

"Everything I've said today and that's all you latch onto?"

"Honey…"

"Yes, Mama. I realize that you're happy about the direction that my life is going in."

"Honey, let me talk. I only want you to be happy. You're not the only one who changed in the last six years. When you left it almost killed me, David."

"Mama…"

"It really did, David. You were only eighteen, baby. You were so angry when you left. You didn't bring any luggage with you."

"All of the clothing I had was girl's clothing, Mama."

"I'm sorry for that. So, your man."

"He's not mine, Mama. He's my boss, or I should say former boss."

"He fired you?"

"What? No, Mama. I switched to working with a different partner in the firm."

"You're a lawyer?" she said with a skeptical air.

"Architect, Mama. I decided to use my art for something useful."

"Oh, so you finally gave that up, did you?"

"Nope." I left it at that, but I did allow a smug little grin to appear on my features. "Mama, can we talk about Gary some other time?"

"No, hon. I don't think we can. He is, after all, the reason you came home. I want to get this out of the way so that maybe we can get to reconnecting."

"I'm not wearing any dresses while I'm here, Mama."

"Fine, but you keep changing the subject. What, you really like this guy?"

I blushed, hotly. I could feel the heat over my entire body. "Mama!"

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. He doesn't like you…no, not that. You could handle that. Remember…"

"Not him again, Mama."

"Fine, I'll not mention him…for right now. He likes you…but he doesn't like you"

"Mama, it's not that simple. I think he likes the idea of me as a woman, but whenever he realizes I'm not, I think it freaks him out a bit."

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry," She moved over to the couch next to me and just hugged me. I wanted to pull away from her. I wanted to blame her for everything that happened to me. When I tried to push her away, she just held on tighter. My tears began to fall then, and the sobs took me.

"There, there, honey."

<3  <3  <3
The house was usually empty. Mama had Orson, her personal assistant, gofer, butler, and whatever. He lived in the gatehouse with his wife and two children.

Marie cleaned house once or twice a week. Julia cooked. And Mama just did her best not to feel lost in the big old place. Even if she didn't want sex with him, she did love my father in my own way. When he left her, it killed a little something in her.

That didn't give her the right…

But I needed to get over the past and move on to the future. For better or for worse, I was now who I was. Being a woman wasn't a choice. I was finally able to admit to myself that all her actions had done was prepare me to be able to make an informed choice.

She hadn't been the one who forced me to paint myself into all of my early works. That had been all me. Would I ever forgive her?

I didn't consider whether or not I could forgive her. That wasn't even a question. I had it in me to forgive her. I'd done it in the past. Would I forgive her was a much more interesting, much more difficult, question.

My clothing included a nice one piece bathing suit. It was a deep purple color that shimmered in a red on the edges. The wrap was in a shear black. I only wore it to hide what little might be visible down below.

With my coloration it was pointless for me to get sun, so I went down to the pool to use it for its intended purpose. I went down to swim. After applying three liberal doses of sunscreen I went for a swim.

That lasted long enough for me to get pleasantly tired. After that, I dried off and went into the solarium. I slipped on a tee shirt over my suit and went to work.

The solarium was my usual place to paint. I set up my easel and canvas and began to mix my paints. I decided to do something I'd only done subconsciously before. I was going to be painting a self portrait.

I began with a landscape. I couldn't imagine myself in an empty place, a black room, or a swirling nothing like some other artists I'd seen. Men are so much enamored of themselves.

I began with a gentle pasture. A couple of tall whip-shaped trees framed the rough form I'd put into the center of the scene. Then it was a matter of filling in the details: an emerald dress with a flirty hem, long red hair blowing in the wind, a smile ever so much as enigmatic as Lisa's, a cock of the hip, or in other words everything necessary to paint me as I truly felt, in my heart, that I was.

"Honey, that's so beautiful."

Mama?"

"You never told me you were this good."

"Mama, I really tried to show you, but you never looked. You never saw what I could do. You wanted me to follow in your footsteps. Join society like we were still in the early nineteen hundreds, not the next century over."

"Honey…"

"Mama, no. Not so soon. I need some time still to think about all of this." I said as I gestured to myself, encompassing my appearance and dress.

Orson came to tell us that dinner would be ready soon. I left my canvas out to dry and went in to get changed. While I might have simply stayed as I was if this was my house, Mama had different ideas as to what was 'suitable' for dinner attire, and a swim suit wasn't.

I'd brought the dresses that Angie had purchased for me, and while looking for something to wear I laid them out on the bed. They were both pretty. I stopped trying to organize an outfit and instead looked at those dresses. Each one flattered my shape, even flat and angular as I thought it was. They were designed with my body shape in mind.

Even if most of the marathon shopping spree was a blur, I could remember seeing myself in a few of the dresses, and thinking that I looked good in them.

Sure, I'd told my mother not to expect me in any dresses while I was here, but would it really be a crime to appear in something so suited to me as these were?

My phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. My finger hovered over the decline for a moment or two...but then I thought better of it. I wasn't trying to avoid him in any way, after all. I quickly slid my finger over the green phone icon and accepted his call.

"Where are you, David?" No preamble, no how are you, just the blunt question.

"Nice to talk to you too, Gary. I'm at home."

"No, you're not. I'm here and knocking, and there's no answer. I also know what your phone sounds like, and I didn't hear that either."

"It could be on silent," I began, but decided to put him out of his misery, "I meant that I went home to my mother's."

"Why'd you do something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's because I haven't talked to her in six years and figured that now was as good a time as any to reconnect."

"No, what's the real reason?"

"Do you think so little of me that you'd actually think I'd lie about something like this?"

"I think the world of you. That's not what I meant. Why now? You've had six years to reconnect in."

"Oh," I said and blushed a bit. What was wrong with me? "I think you know why."

"Was it something I said?"

"Was I ever actually this clueless while I was pretending to be a man? I put myself out there and you ignored me."

"I'm sorry. I needed time to think, and then I thought I'd see you on Monday, so I took Sunday to think about it as well. I really didn't imagine you would run away from me."

"I'm not..."

"Now you are lying."

I said nothing for a moment or two as I just sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. It just took me by surprise. And I'm flattered by your offer."

"…but you don't want to date me."

"Slow down a moment, David. Please. You are a very...vivacious person. I've always noticed this about you. You seem to take what life gives you and turn it to your favor."

"I'm not all that special."

"Yes, you are. And the real question isn't in whether or not I could date you. I'd love to date a woman as intelligent and artistic as you. We have a fair amount in common, and dating would allow me to see if there's anything between us."

"But you don't see me as a woman."

"That's not the problem. The problem is that all weekend, I've been seeing you as two people: the David I've known for almost a year, who while effeminate I took to be a guy, and the David you've shown me over the past couple of days, who is a woman. I just can't reconcile the two people into one person in my mind."

"I'm the same person I've always been."

"Not really helping," he said in a strained voice, and I just laughed.

"I think you should do that more often?"

"Do what?"

"Laugh. No one who heard that could possibly mistake you for a guy."

I blushed and said nothing, suddenly very self conscious. The silence stretched for a bit and then Gary broke it.

"So, where is home?"

"Florida."

"I was hoping you'd say somewhere local. That's a long way."

"Yeah, I mean it's not like you're the boss or anything and could come out here if you really wanted."

The line went dead, and I thought for a moment I'd lost him, and then in a strained voice he said, "Did you just ask me to meet your parents?"

"Um..." I blushed with my entire body.

"I'd have to have your address if I were doing something like that."

I gave him my address, wondering what in the world I was doing. There was no way that this was actually a good idea. Not inviting Gary would have been the best option, but once I'd half joked the offer, and then he suggested he'd take me up on it, I was stuck. I wasn't going to take the active role in this relationship, especially with how my earlier attempt blew up in my face. Gary could do all the heavy lifting if he really wanted to be with me.

"So that you know, Mama is the only one here with me."

"Your father off somewhere then?"

"With his new wife, I assume. We get the announcements every year or so, but neither mom nor I have ever participated in his serial-matrimony."

"You make him sound like a murderer."

"Only of the institution. We're about to have dinner and I need to get changed."

"Are you saying you're naked?"

I blushed crimson again, "No!" I said, loudly, "I'm in a swim suit. I've really got to go."

"I'll see you soon then, David."

"See you."

Well, I guess it was time to let Mama know just who was coming to dinner.

My name is David, and I am a woman.

Dinner impressed me, not for what was there, but for what wasn't. When I'd been growing up, Mama had opened two bottles of wine before dinner, and drunk one or two more after. There was no wine at the table, and just a carafe of water. I half expected it to be vodka or another equally transparent alcoholic beverage.

"Mama, I know this is a bit insensitive, but I don't see any wine on the table."

She smiled at me sadly, "Honey, I've spent a lot of time today thinking about the mistakes I've made in my life. I used to drink for the enjoyment of it. Everything seemed a little better, more fun, more bright, after a drink or two."

"Mama."

"Damn it, David. It's my turn to finish. What I'm saying is that losing your father ruined me. I was sure that I could keep him interested, even if I never was. He was a man, right? Just thinks about sex, wants nothing to do with a real, meaningful relationship?"

"You don't have to do this, Mama."

"Yes, I do. My mother told me I would never be happy as a lesbian. What she meant was, she would never be happy if her friends knew I was a lesbian. She figured I would get married and then have a string of lovers, living in a loveless marriage while my husband did the same."

I just sat there quietly. I knew of friends of my mother's who lived in relationships like that.

"Your father was that sort of man, don't get me wrong, but he and I had one thing in common…"

"You both like petite blondes?"

"Besides the obvious, dear one. We both believe in marriage, and the vows we took. More specifically, and strangely enough for me, we believe that sex and marriage are inseparable."

"Um…what?"

"I know, as someone who is not allowed to marry anyone who I could truly have a deep relationship with, I should just go with it, but I can't."

"I never thought you were religious."

"It has to do with human nature. Making love, whether for procreation or not, should be something with a meaning behind it. You should do it with a truly committed partner, someone who shares your beliefs. It is about baring your soul to them, and them doing the same.

"Marriage is just society's way of acknowledging that bond between two individuals that no man is supposed to sunder."

"But dad…"

"Your father has certain…proclivities that I thought would make him a perfect lover. I doubt that any of his paramours can handle it when they find out that he looks better in their clothing that they do."

"Mom!" I said, shocked at what she was suggesting.

"Yes, honey. Your dad loves to dress up to the nines for a night on the town."

"How am I just hearing about this?"

"Would you really have believed me before?"

"Only if you were sober, which I assume you are right now?"

"Not a drop since this morning. I figure that alcohol is a small price to pay if it means having you in my life again."

"I never asked…"

"No, you didn't ask me to stop today, you just pointed out I was drinking again. Like usual. You're right, you know. Beth told me the same thing, and you know how I ruined that."

I looked at her for a few moments, thinking how best to ask the question I had on my mind. The direct approach usually works, "Who's beth?"

"Don't you know Beth? Elizabeth Fleur? You have to know who she is."

"Why is that, Mama."

"She was your tennis coach after all."

"My..." In the back of my mind, I remembered one of the failed attempts I'd made at finding a non-art hobby. I'd only taken three lessons, and that when I was thirteen. I didn't even remember my coach's name.

"Mama, I don't even remember her."

"Oh, well, I became friends with her. After you left, and I really tried to crawl into a bottle, she was there for me. She wanted me to quit drinking, much like you."

"Why don't you invite her over?"

"I haven't spoken to her in a year. I was drunk and I kissed her."

"Why would that…"

"Because she's not a lesbian." Mama was on the verge of tears. "She pushed me off and drove me home and told me to sober up. I was so embarrassed and confused that I refused to respond to her texts or calls. I thought she liked me…you know…as more than a friend."

"Mama, did she know how you felt about sex?"

"Of course. But I figured…"

"That someone who really cared about you would take advantage of you while you were wasted? That they'd essentially rape you, just because you planted a drunken kiss on them?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then she just closed it and looked away.

"I've been making some stupid mistakes in my life, haven't I?"

"Yes, Mama. You have."

"I get no sympathy, do I?"

"You get what you deserve. Give Beth a call."

While Mama went and got her phone, I sat thinking about how strange my life is. I'd fully intended to tell mama about Gary, and that he was coming over, but I'd allowed myself to be sidetracked. I'd found out my mom had been pursuing a woman for years, someone who stuck by her through a lot of the crap she'd had going in while I was a teen, and then just let her go.

My love life might be a big tangled mess, but I didn't have to let my Mama's be the same.

Mama got off the phone. She had a strange, almost wistful, smile on her face.

"Mama?"

"She said she wanted to come over to talk to me. Wanted it to be in person. I think I might have ruined anything I might ever have had with her, but at least she wants to tell me in person."

"When's she coming over?"

"Right now, actually."

If Gary actually left as soon as we hung up, got on a flight in the minimum time that TSA would allow, and had basically no luggage, I had almost four hours until he could possibly arrive. That would mean I had to help Mama resolve her love life, or simply console her after Beth left, and somehow tell her that Gary would be here and for her to be on her best behavior all before ten o'clock.

Somehow, I thought that Gary had the easier time of it.

<3  <3  <3
I went to answer the door when it rang fifteen minutes later. Mama was in the lounge, hyperventilating. The woman, who I assumed was Beth, was dressed in a severe business suit, that somehow made her look even more feminine than if she were wearing a dress of any sort.

"Who are you?" she asked. Before I could even formulate a response she continued, "No matter. I have something to say to your girlfriend. She called me. I'm not sneaking around behind anyone's back, especially not some flighty little teenager like you."

"I don't think you understand…"

She looked at me with a slight cock of an eyebrow, "Honey, I've been where you are now. Hell, I've been you. So let me in to see Felicity, and then I'll get out of both of your hair."

This woman was a force of nature. She was also a bit dense, but if Mama liked her, then who was I to judge. I really hoped it hadn't been the booze talking in the past, but if Mama really was going to make a clean start of it, then I had to let her make her own decisions.

"Felicity!" Beth called out as I led her to the Lounge. "Wasn't it a little cruel to have your slip of a girlfriend try to do your dirty work?"

Mama looked at me, standing behind Beth in the door way, I just shrugged and put my hand over my mouth. Mama laughed.

"Beth…"

"No, don't try to explain. I thought I would come over here and tell you my side of events from when you just left me. I thought there might be something between us. I loved you, damn it."

"Loved…"

"Well, I guess me being so angry at seeing you with a teenager, I mean is she even legal?"

"I'm twenty-four."

"Tell me another one, sister."

I handed her my driver's license. She looked at it, with a smile that suddenly fled from her face. She looked at me, and then at the picture again, and then at me. She went pale and I barely helped her to a chair before she collapsed.

"Oh, my…David Lowell. Your David…and I suggested…and I called him a…"

"Well, you were right about me being a Woman, not about being a teen."

"But it says here…and the name David…didn't you go as Donna?"

"Mama liked the name, I never did. Let me leave so the two of you…"

"No, honey. Stay here please. Beth, you had something to tell me?"

"No, I should go. I've made a fool of myself."

"Any more than I did when I kissed you?"

"You would have hated me in the morning. I couldn't have stopped at just kissing you."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to. And I could never hate you. I would have had another reason to hate myself, but I would never have hated you."

"You might have begun to resent me, and that's worse."

Mama got up and went over and sat on Beth's lap. I've never thought of my mother as a small woman, but Beth made her look petite. "Beth, I would never resent you. I could never…"

I'm not sure who started the kiss, but both of them participated. It wasn't a kiss full of passion, although I'm sure that both of them were capable of it. It also wasn't the sort of kiss you give a sibling or passing acquaintance.

It was a kiss that makes your heart swell and a feeling of contentment well up inside. It was like sunshine through the clouds or a beautiful vista in the mist.

It was a glade filled with wildflowers deep in the midst of a dark forest.

And it was my mom, so I really didn't want to be there while it was happening. I felt, suddenly, as if I were intruding on something pure and gigantic and deep and, above all else, private.

I got up to leave and tripped over the rug, bumping the coffee table. If I hadn't I'm sure they would have continued to this very day. Or at least I like to think so. It was a very 'aw' worthy moment.

"David, don't go. I really would like you to meet Beth."

"There's time for that later," I said, looking toward the door.

"Felicity…maybe we shouldn't. It's like I said before; I know you. I want this relationship to work, and for that I need to respect your feelings and beliefs."

"But, your feelings are just as important."

Beth cupped Mama's face, and Mama pressed into it like a cat, rubbing against her hand. "I can wait, Felicity. Everything that's worth having in this world is worth waiting for. You've taught me that. Before I met you I hadn't had a single relationship that lasted more than a few months. I ruined them by rushing into the physical aspects before really getting to know the other person and accepting them for who they are.

"I've been with you for eleven years now…"

"We haven't…"

"Yes, we have. You haven't dated anyone else I know of, and I haven't dated anyone else period."

"I haven't…"

Beth just smiled at Mama and put her thumb across Mama's lips. "It's okay, Felicity. I wasn't questioning your fidelity." Mama smiled into the thumb. She opened her mouth to take a bite of it, or something, and Beth pulled it away.

"Mama?"

"Yes, David?" Mama said in a dreamy, far away voice.

A thought had occurred to me, listening to Beth describe the fidelity with which the two of them approached their relationship. "Is it some legal binding that's important or that you witness to yourselves and your friends publicly that you are together and one of heart, mind, and soul?"

"The latter, I guess, but they come together as one and the same, don't they?"

I smiled at the two of them. It wouldn't be a perfect answer, especially not in Florida, but it would be an answer.

"Mama, what if you had a ceremony, but not a legal one."

"I'm not doing anything illegal, David."

"Wait, Felicity, I think your son has a point…"

"Daughter," my mom and I said at the same time. I laughed, and she just smiled.

"Regardless, your daughter has a point. We could gather with friends and family in a place of our choosing. We could write our vows. We wouldn't even need anyone to officiate. We would bind ourselves together with something more powerful than the law."

"And what is that?" Mama said, gazing in wonder into the eyes of her love.

"Our own word. I know you're a truthful person, and I hope you know the same about me."

"Beth, there's something I have to do first, before I could commit to you fully and without reservations."

"What's that?" Beth looked a little worried.

"Will you help me get sober?"

The look of complete shock on Beth's face probably matched my own. Mama had, in the past, tried to stop drinking, for a day or two. She's always said that it was something she could, and would, do on her own.

For her to actually ask for help made me think that she might actually be willing to really work at it this time.

"No, Felicity. I won't."

"Beth?" Mama looked at the woman in a panic.

"I will, however, help you find a support group. I won't become your taskmaster before I become your wife."

"Beth?" Mama said, looking at the other woman in wonder.

"Felicity Jane Lowell, will you marry me?"

I began to cry as I watched Mama just nod at her fiancée. They kissed again, but this time it was a lot uncomfortable. I walked out of the room, quietly this time, and left them to their own devices.

I felt the familiar ache in my chest. I'd never had anyone who cared about me the way that Mama and Beth cared about each other. Gary was a really nice guy…

Shit, Gary. He was going to be here in no less than…two and a half hours…and Mama still didn't know he was coming. I walked to the door way to the room, without peeking in. I could hear soft sounds, and a moan or two, coming from within.

Blushing to the tips of my toes, I decided to go to the other side of the house…and put on my headphones…and listed to some loud music or something.

The music didn't help.

Sure, it shut out the world, but it didn't shut off my mind. For the first time in a while, I began to fantasize. These were more than the simple, happy, fantasies I had as a teen. These involved Gary slowly undressing me, kissing me…I could feel my heart begin to race a little.

I got up and got into the shower and turned it on cold. What was wrong with me?

Shivering, I got out of the shower and dried off. I lay down on my bed, still shivering, and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

<3  <3  <3
"David…"

A voice from a dream was calling to me. Without opening my eyes, wanting to stay asleep for as long as I could, I languidly lifted my arms up in front of me. They wrapped around the neck of the person who was there and I just smiled.

"David…"

I felt arms move around my back. This was the best dream I'd ever had. I felt my heart race, and a goofy grin appeared on my face.

"Hi." I mumbled, still wanting to stay with the dream. I could deal with being awake later. Right now a guy was holding me.

"Dav…"

I leaned up and kissed my dream…only to finally realize that there really was a guy holding me and I was now kissing him. I opened up my eyes in shock just as Gary started kissing me back. I put my hands against his chest, with the intent of pushing him away, but in the time that I took to move my arms that short distance I melted. It felt as if all of the muscles in my body just relaxed, and he was holding me against him.

The kiss lasted until the sun burnt out and all the stars faded away. It was a mere moment.

It changed everything.

I finally woke to what I was doing, really awakened. I gently pushed Gary back and he lay me back down on the bed, only then releasing my lips from their prison of flesh.

"Gary?"

"Your Mom let me in. I hope that's ok?"

"Tell him it's fine, sweetie."

"Mama!" I said with an incredulous tone. She had a goofy smile on her face, matched by the one on Beth's. The both stood there, arms around each other.

Since the decision to be the woman I was, I'd spent a lot of time blushing. This was by far the worst, as I think even my hair blushed this time. I hid my face in my hands. It also did a good job of hiding my smile. I wanted to squeal. I wanted to laugh.

Gary kissed me.

I'd never been kissed like that in my entire life. It was as if I finally came to life the moment his lips touched mine.

"David, are you naked?"

Ok, my blush, somehow, got worse. I felt like I had a literal sunburn.

"Ok, Valentino. Let my daughter get dressed while the two of us have a little chat."

Mama left me there, but Beth stayed behind.

"Your Mama is looking out for your virtue. I figure you need someone to talk to about this?" She made a gesture in the direction that Gary had escaped into.

"Oh my, god. Now I know why Sleeping Beauty woke up, and it has nothing to do with love." I fanned myself with a hand. My body still felt like it was burning up, and I only now really admitted to myself that it was only partially with embarrassment.

"He's kinda good looking, isn't he?"

"Beth…I though…"

"Doesn't mean I can't recognize when a guy is hot. I mean you recognize a beautiful woman, don't you?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"Well, alright then. So…he kissed you?"

"And I kissed him back. I thought my heart was going to explode."

"At least nothing else did," she said looking down.

"Beth! Not that it really could. No puberty, remember."

"So, you doing something about that? It's really not healthy."

"I am doing something, finally. I got a hormone shot on Friday."

"Won't that interfere? You know, with you becoming the woman you are inside?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I mean I got a shot of Estrogen."

"Good for you. So, I wanted to talk to you, seriously for a moment. About your mom and me."

"I'm perfectly fine…"

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. No, I wanted to know if you really think it would work…I mean be a good idea."

"You've been together for eleven years, and you're asking that now?"

"Well, yes, we've been exclusive for eleven years, but she never told you about me until now. That worries me."

I sighed, and looked at Beth sadly. "You both really need each other. Don't let me come between you again."

"What?"

"I blamed my Mom's sexuality for her trying to force me to be a girl."

"What…but you are…"

"Yes, but I wouldn't be forced into it, no one should. I thought she was upset at Dad…"

"Who is a transvestite…"

"I know that…now. Then, I thought she was so angry at 'that man' for leaving her that she would do anything to erase the masculinity from our home. That she'd just come out to all her friends only made it worse."

"You have to realize…"

"This isn't about me for the moment. It's about what I did, yes, but it's about you too."

"How?"

"I told mom, when I was sixteen, that I didn't believe her. That she couldn't be a lesbian because I was proof she could love a man. I told her…I told her some pretty awful things. The short of it is that I was planning a truly hateful thing if she ever brought a woman home, or if I ever found out she'd been on a date." I was sobbing by the time that I got to the end. I knew that she would hate me.

I didn't expect her to wrap me in her arms.

"Sweetie…shh. It's okay. I personally thought she went too far with the pageant. That's what caused the problem?"

I shook my head, "No, it's not. Someday, maybe I'll tell you the story, but it's what happened after the pageant that caused the problem."

She looked at me with a questioning look, but I just shook my head.

"It's a really long story."

"When you're ready," she said.

I took a deep breath…and got out of bed to get dressed. I threw on a pair of panties and then a sky-blue silk sheath dress. Since Gary was on the table of discussion, I might as well put on something that made me look more feminine.

I sat down in a chair opposite Beth and I thought for a moment.

"Take your time," she said with a smile.

So, I told her the story.

My name is David, and I am a woman.

- - - Spoiler Warning - - -
The following pages include some mild to moderate spoilers for the ongoing story Call me Donna. You have been warned. :)
I finished telling my story and sat there looking at Beth. Somewhere in the past eight years some of the raw emotion had gone away without my even realizing it. At the time, it was the end of my life. Everything revolved around those few days that marked a change in the seasons of who I was and who I thought I would become.

"Did you ever regret your decision?"

Of all the questions that I'd expected to hear, that was the one furthest from the realm of my thoughts.

"Eventually. But by then I thought it was too late to go back and actually transition."

"No, not that one. The decision to participate in the pageant."

I sat there and thought for a while. Shortly after the pageant, I'd blamed my being in it for everything that came after. I blamed it for the fallout. Did I regret being in it?

"It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Sarah and I were truly alive for those days. To actually regret participating would be to regret Sarah being my friend. No, I don't regret that decision."

"What about your other decision, baby. Do regret what you told me? Are you even sorry? I didn't hear that as part of your story." My mother stood in the doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts. The anger in her voice was clear to me, as were the tears in her eyes. I'd had the control of our relationship for so long that I never realized that same control was eating away at Mama.

"Mama..." I began, but she turned and walked away.

"It would be a good idea to go after her, you know?"

I followed Mama to her room. She'd collapsed on the bed and was crying. "Mama?"

"Go away, David."

I sat down next to her and just put my hand on her back. She tried to shrug it away, but I just sat there. "I'm sorry, Mama. I was wrong."

"It doesn't fix things."

"No, it doesn't, but I know more than most that some things can't be fixed. You have to recognize that they're broken and move on."

"Like you did all those years ago?"

"No, Like I am now, Mama. Can you please forgive me?"

"I missed out on your college graduation."

"Both of them, I know."

"Both?" she said.

"Yeah, I graduated with a liberal-arts degree first. Then, since I still hadn't sold a single painting, and didn't want the jobs on offer, I became an architect."

"My baby the architect. So, have you helped on any big buildings yet?"

"She's designed a few, actually, that have been built."

"Gary..."

"I'm proud of you, David. I want the world to know it as well."

"Gary...I'm"

"A very special woman? Yes, I know."

"But I'm..."

"A beautiful and talented artist? Yes, I know."

I blushed. "Stop that. Let me finish, please?"

"I know what you're going to say, and I don't care."

"I can't have children. It will be at least a year, maybe longer before I will be a complete and legal woman."

"You are a woman now, David."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but there was nothing else to say. He actually seemed to be accepting me as I was, faults and all. Could I do any less for him?

Not that I recognized any faults in him, but it was early in our relationship. I'm sure that they'd come to my attention later.

Looking over at Mama, who was smiling sadly at me, I was reminded of something, something that was as important to me as it was to her.

"You do realize I'm not having sex with you unless we are married."

It was his turn to blush, and Mama laughed.

"That's the same thing your mother told me."

"Mama!"

"Well, I know my own daughter, at least I should."

"Mama, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for even suggesting that I would..."

"It's okay. I understand why you did. It was a terrible time for you, and I wasn't making it any better."

"I know, Mama. forgive me?"

She said nothing as she gathered me into her arms and just hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, trying to make up for the years I'd denied her my touch, my love, my presence.

"I think you should give Dr. Funk a call."

Dr. James Funk had been my psychologist for a short period. He'd also been the chairman of the Miss Florida's Outstanding Teen committee when I'd participated in that pageant.

"Why..."

"Because he calls every year on the twentieth of July, hoping that you've gotten in contact with me. I'd just gotten off the phone with him when you knocked on the door."

Somehow, subconsciously, I must have come here this week because of the date. During the summer memories of home and loss always seemed to be stronger, and so I usually tried to throw myself into work, but here I was, at home days after the anniversary.

"Are you going to visit Sarah while you're here?"

A tear or two fell as I sat there overwhelmed by the memories of what happened.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"But Mama..."

"Even if it just makes you feel better, then it's a good thing to do."

"I think I'd rather call Dr. Funk. Do you know what it's about?"

"They held your crown for you, you know?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, they did."

"That's unreal."

"Crown? What crown?"

"Miss Florida's Outstanding Teen, of course." Mama said with a touch of pride.

"Mama..."

"You won a beauty pageant?"

I blushed, smiled, and just nodded.

"You don't seem the type," Gary said.

"What, because I'm not tall blonde and busty?"

"No, because you're not self-centered, stuck up, and bitchy."

I blushed, but there was a smile on my face. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went to get my cell phone.

I'd been with the same carrier since I was a teen, which meant that even if I'd changed phones, I still had my contact lists. For some reason I'd never deleted any of the old ones either. I sat for a moment looking at Sarah's number before scrolling through until I found Dr. Funk's number.

It rang a few times and then he picked up, "Hello?"

"You sound older than I remember."

"Who is this?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't really remember me. This is David Lowell."

"David...so you decided to stay a man?"

"Not exactly," I say with a laugh. "I go by David Louise Lowell now."

"That is an interesting choice. Might I ask why?"

"I think you know. We did talk about the incident after all, and I told you everything she said to me."

He sighed, "Well, I was hoping that you would have gotten back to me sooner."

"I wasn't going to be some poster child for transgender issues, doctor."

"I know that. An old man can dream, can't he? It would have been so good for all the other girls going through something similar."

"What can I do now?"

"Really? you want to help?"

"I want to make up for lost opportunities in some way."

"Well, we could always use another judge at the event this year."

"But, the twentieth..."

"It is actually next week, the twenty eighth through the thirty first."

"Wow...that...but only a judge?"

"We can add another judge, Donna...David, hard at this late date to do much else."

While I loved my vacation, I didn't know how my work would take it. I still had stuff I needed to do. Could I really take this much time off...

"I need to talk to my boss make sure I can stay down here that long."

"We'll hold the spot for you. I still have your crown."

"I thought the crown was owned by the pageant."

"They are, and they're not cheap. The pageant committee decided to hold yours for you, for life."

I began to cry, "I still don't feel like I deserve it. Sarah..."

"Would have been happy for you, and you know it. She just didn't know."

I sighed and tried to stop my tears.

"I want to participate again, in any way I can. I'll make it work."

"Good to hear. I'd also like to meet and talk with you at some point."

"I think I'll find the time. Thank you, Dr. Funk."

"Call me James. I think you've earned that right, if anyone has."

I smiled and hung up. I felt arms around me and just leaned into Gary. He whispered something to me, but it was the fact that he was here more than anything else that comforted me.

<3  <3  <3 I took a deep breath before I spoke, "Mama...why did you make me a blonde for the pageant?"

"Honey?"

"It's something that has always bothered me. I know that you think blondes are sexy..."

"Oh, my darling girl...no. It had nothing to do with that. I'm blonde. I just wanted people to see you were my daughter. That flaming red hair makes it difficult sometimes. With you as a blonde it was so much easier to see."

"Oh..."

"Was that part of the reason you...why you were so hateful after?"

I nodded, tears coming to my eyes, "I was afraid of what it meant when you took me to tea. I was afraid of your friends, and the innuendo that went on. I know it wasn't really obvious most of the time I was there, but after, I felt like I'd been forced to participate somewhere I never should have been."

"I'm so sorry I ever let you feel that way, baby."

"How could I have done anything differently? Sarah was depending on me, you were so happy preening in front of the other mothers."

"I did not preen."

"Really, and it wasn't you who said, and I quote, 'my daughter is the one who sang the Lady Gaga song'?"

She blushed while I laughed.

Gary kissed me full on the lips and I melted for a moment before I pushed him away, "What was that for?" I said with a little smile.

"Trying to positively reinforce you laughing. I love to hear your laugh, and figure if I reward you every time you do..."

I laughed again, which earned me another kiss. I let him continue this one, or I should better say I kissed him back. When we finished I punched him in the arm.

"What was that for?"

"Making me laugh just so you could kiss me."

He laughed at that, and I was sorely tempted to kiss him, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. Unfortunately, I thought he'd enjoy it too much.

"You two are sickeningly cute together, you know that," my mother said.

"Go find your fiancée and leave me to my own devices, Mama."

"Just so long as your devices remain fully clothed..."

"Mama!" I said blushing while Gary laughed.

"Gary...how long do you think I could take off work?"

"Why not just work from here?"

I blinked a couple of times and then smiled, "Why don't I just work from here. Gary, you're a genius."

"Yes, I am. I decided to date you, didn't I?"

"Nope, you didn't."

"Um..."

"You've never asked me on a date."

"Oh...well...Would you have dinner with me tonight?"

"No."

"No?"

"If I have to prompt you..."

"David, would you please go to dinner with me tonight? I would love to go out somewhere with you so that the entire world can see the lovely young woman I'm dating."

"So, this is about you, is it?"

"What I mean is...never mind. You've got the whole feminine logic thing down."

"What do you mean..." but I never finished the thought. He kissed me. It seemed that the other kisses he'd given me before this were simply warm-ups. This was the olympic main event and my mind simply shut down.

When he pulled away and eternity later I was left with my mind still completely knocked from the tracks.

"You were saying?"

"What was I saying...tonight at seven then?"

He just laughed and nodded at me so I grinned back up at him.

"You should have to register that as a lethal weapon?"

"What?"

"That grin of yours. It's deadly."

I just smiled wider at him. He went in for another kiss and I ducked my head away. "I think you've reached your quota for the day."

"Can I buy more?"

"We'll see after dinner." I said with another smile and slipped away.

<3  <3  <3 Dinner was special, but not for any of the reasons that I would have thought. There were a million little things that screamed 'female' at me as I made my way through it. He helped me out of the rental car, of course, but he also put his hand at the small of my back as we walked in.

It wasn't as if he were guiding me. More it was that he wanted to make sure I was still there with him. He stepped ahead of me as we reached the door and opened it for me. My heart leapt in my chest watching him standing there watching me.

That moment lasted just that, a moment, but the night was filled with them. I was seeing the world with new eyes. Yes, I recognize that I've been a woman for a long time, but I never recognized it, and now, recognizing it, being on a date, being the woman on a date...it just all settled on me.

I felt newborn into a world that welcomed me as a part of it.

The night ended all too soon. I didn't even remember what I'd eaten, or how it tasted, by the time we got back out to the car. Frankly, it didn't matter. The conversation had been food enough and his eyes gazing into mine were drink.

On the way home, I was silent, trying to sort through my feelings. I liked spending time with him, and kissing was fun, but was I rushing into this? I'd only really started noticing boys for the first time last week...well since I was sixteen.

Still, I was basically going through puberty for the first time, even though I was twenty-four. So, I was ten years behind the curb, but could this just be hormones? They were running through my system now from the shot I'd gotten on Friday.

So, I could easily be at the mercy of those hormones now like any teenager. I liked Gary...but was it enough to just like him? He'd been my boss, and even if he passed me on to another, I still felt a bit of that boss-subordinate back and forth between us. I'd definitely need time to get over that.

Did I really want to take the time?

Gary seemed to want to be with me, but how much of that was the taboo nature of it? I looked like a pre-teen girl. I really did, if I were being honest. Sure, I could add makeup to make me look older, more sophisticated, and unlike a teen who did it, I was just telling the truth.

Physically I was older, and I was at least a little more sophisticated.

At the same time I was less sophisticated. I'd fallen into the trap of flirting without even knowing it as a teen. I wasn't that teen girl anymore, but with the intervening time filled with trying to be a man...where did it really leave me?

It was weird going into the same house with him after the date. It gave an added sense of intimacy I wasn't ready for. I gave him a peck on the lips and then locked myself in my room.

<3  <3  <3
The next morning I went in to breakfasy to find Gary laughing with Beth and Mama. Beth was sitting right next to Mama, almost in her lap, and there was the pressure for me to do the same with Gary. No, I don't mean any sort of overt pressure, more it was just socially expected based on what was happening in the room when I arrived.

"Hey, David. Morning, sunshine."

I shuddered at his unknowing reference to an earlier time.

"Gary, this isn't working."

"What..?"

"This," I said gesturing between the two of us. "This is the first real romantic relationship I've had. I'm not ready for the forced intimacy I feel going on with you living at my mother's house with me."

I took a deep breath before I continued, "I like you, Gary. I'd like to get to know you better a lot more. If it's a money thing, not saying you're poor, I can pay for you to stay somewhere else. You are here for me after all, at least I hope you are, but I can't..."

"David, it's okay. I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I could tell how uncomfortable you were last night and I already packed. I was just waiting for you to get up before telling you."

A small, wondering smile came to my face and I just looked at him with glistening eyes, "You were?"

"Yes. I don't want to force this. If it works, then it should be wonderful. It should make you as happy and comfortable as you deserve to be. If it doesn't work...well, that's why I put you with my partner as opposed to being your boss anymore."

"I don't understand."

"You are one of the best architects I've ever seen."

I shook my head. I was blushing at the compliment, but I couldn't possibly be that good.

"Stop. I know how you feel, but you are. You put a piece of yourself in every building you design. these buildings are your children, David. You are there through all of the birthing pains, making sure that the building goes up according to your inner vision."

"I'm not...a mother?"

"Yes, you really are. There's a reason your buildings don't look like everyone else's."

I blushed, lost in thought about the building's that I'd helped to create. Gary came over and kissed me on the cheek.

"We'll get together in the next day or two, ok? Call your boss, I'm sure you can work from here."

I nodded mechanically, just looking into Gary's eyes. Beth and Mama laughed softly as Gary walked out the door. "You've got it bad," Beth said with a little giggle at the end.

"What?"

"You like Gary. I mean really like him."

I blushed and nodded.

"Well just be careful," Mama said

"I am being careful. I asked him to move out, didn't I."

"What your mother means, is this is your first. While the first is always exciting and takes your breath away."

"In other words, dearest one, not everyone will be with their first forever. There's a reason it's call the first and not only."

"But...it could happen..."

"Yes, baby, it could. Just remember that we're always here for you when this falls apart."

I opened my mouth with a quick retort, but my resolution not to be a teenager about all of this came back to me from the night before. Something else came back to me as well. I went back to my room and got ready for the day. I grabbed a light pair of pants and a loose blouse and put them on.

Once that was done, I set to my makeup with a passion. Sure, it would be a light daytime makeup, but it would be makeup, and I made sure to make it an adult's makeup and not that of a child. The woman looking out at me from the mirror was sophisticated and pretty. I wouldn't go so far as to call myself beautiful, especially with my very youthful features. I could see, though, that I was attractive, at least with the makeup taking away the androgyny I always saw there.

I was lucky. My features could have been those of a boy or girl easily enough. That was where my haircut and clothing came in. I'm sure my mannerisms didn't hurt at all either. I'd always passed too easily as a girl, especially during the pageant when I'd been a teen.

None of which mattered now.

I was starting a new life as a new girl. I was finally going through the puberty I'd denied myself all these years, and finally, finally, I would be the woman I had dreamed I would become while I was trying to become Miss Florida's Teen.

I left my room. Today really was a new day.

My name is David, and I am a woman.

- - - Spoiler Warning - - -
The following pages include major spoilers for Call me Donna. It's suggested that you read the last chapter of that before reading this.
The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky. The grass was just as green as I remembered it to be. The trees were taller, but just as healthy. From horror movies I'd seen in the past, I always expected either moss covered trees that had a sickly cast to their leaves making them appear almost white. That or dead trees. you also expected the grass to be patchy and lots of dirt showing through.

Not the well ordered and manicured lawns of the cemetery where I currently walked.

When I'd been here the last time, the headstone wasn't here. Sarah would have loved it, I think. I know, as a teen you never think of death, but her sense of fashion would have appreciated the rose colored stone sitting in the too green grass.

'Friend, Sister, Daughter. She touched the lives of those around her for good.'

The words were hard to read through my tears. She'd been my Best Friend. She still was.

"Hey, Sarah. I screwed things up pretty badly. I was so hurt by your leaving me that I pushed away the other people who only wanted to help.

"It's been a while. I know. I never write, I never call. You would be justified in thinking I didn't think about you anymore. I thought about you all the time. I tried to find a girl like you, someone who would love me for being me, but it never worked. Guess none of them were lesbians either."

I smiled sadly down at her stone. I thought of all the time we'd spent together. I met her when I was four years old. She died when we were sixteen.

"I wanted them to leave you as the winner of the pageant. I withdrew my name after all. Guess you knew that already."

A feeling that was at odds with my sorrow began to build in me and I had to let it out. I screamed at the sky and fell to my knees in front of the headstone, "You left me! I begged you to stay. I loved you and you refused to stay with me. What could I have done more? Everyone leaves me. My daddy left me. You left me. Every girl I thought I could actually be in a relationship with..."

"Why am I so unlovable?"

I sat there and cried, my anger gone again. She couldn't feel my anger, or at least she shouldn't. It was my fault anyway that she was dead.

"Are you alright, dear?"

I looked up at the woman standing over me. Her smile reminded me so much of another that I'd never see again, "M..Mom?"

Her smile faded for a moment and then recognition dawned on her, "David?"

<3  <3  <3
I sat in her kitchen with a cup of tea in my hands. The heat of the day didn't require it, but I felt comfort in the warm ceramic.

"So, it's been a while." She said softly. I just nodded. I tried to smile, but the guilt over what had happened was still fresh for me, even eight years later.

"You haven't transitioned; I think that's the word, yet?"

"No, Mom. I haven't yet."

"Why not. Did you know how proud Sarah was of you? Living your life the way you wanted to?"

"She was...proud of me?"

"Yes. We talked about you a lot. You know she talked to me every day while you were at the pageant?"

"Yeah. I remember the marathon calls she made."

"Well, I think she wanted you to win."

"How do you know?"

"Because she stopped talking about winning herself, and she talked about how poised and sure of yourself you were. She thought you were the best of them up there, and really exemplified who you were all supposed to be as young women."

"She never told me..."

"She wouldn't, and you know that."

I just nodded.

"So, what have you been up to?"

Just like that, it was as if the last eight years had never happened. I didn't expect Sarah to come bouncing through the door, but I felt the love that this other woman felt for me.

"Sarah's Dad..."

"Will answer to me if he acts anything like he did last time you were dressed properly in my house," she said with a little smile. "Actually, he misses his other daughter as well."

"His..."

"You, David. He may not have shown it, but he cared for you. We both still do. It hurt him when you moved and never tried to contact either one of us."

"I was hurting too much."

"We know, dear. We know. You really loved Sarah, and when she died..."

"It broke a part of me."

She just nodded and I smiled at her.

"I think that it's finally beginning to heal though," I said. "You mind if I go fix my makeup? All this crying..."

"Go, dear. You look prettier without the big black circles around your eyes,"

I barked a short little laugh and went to take care of business.

<3  <3  <3
Computers and the internet have changed the world so much more than we realize. Blueprints only exist in paper format for customer meetings. In reality all buildings and wiring and everything else are created in the digital space that our computers live in. They reside there, grow and change there. Their lives exist in the surreal, even though they are plans for the real.

Mr. Watson was more than happy for me to be working remotely. Mostly, I think, it was the fact I was now working for him, and so all of the clients who wanted what I could provide would be his clients.

there were a number of unflattering terms I could apply to my employment, but the truth was that I really did enjoy it. It was a great place to work, I got to put art into life and I got paid for it.

While taking a break from the work I went into our storage space in the attic. All of my clothing was still there; although I'm sure none of it would really fit any more. I took it down to my room anyway.

The first box I unpacked was simply labeled pageant. There were my six outfits, all packed in plastic. I pulled out my gown and just stared at it. It was more beautiful than I remembered. It was my stage question dress.

I held it up to my body, and while the length was shorter than it had been before, it still looked like it might fit.

It was too fancy to really wear to any of the functions I'd be going to, however, and it was so far out of date. As I was pulling the grey silk dress out, a book fell onto the floor. I set the dress aside and picked up the book.

My breath caught at what I saw. It was my sketch book, the one I'd taken to the pageant with me. Page after page of girls in dresses greeted me as I flipped through it. The sets, the judges, everything was in there. Sarah looked so happy the way I'd drawn her. Eventually I ran into pictures of a boy. The name 'Steven' immediately came to mind.

Seeing him again, I felt my heart race. My breath grew shorter. He was really handsome, and my memory didn't do him any justice.

What happened to him, I wondered? Did he finally get married and have children? He deserved it, no matter what his brother had done. He deserved to have been happy the past eight years.

The silk dress was likely ruined, having sat in my attic with bloodstains on it for 8 years, but even so I didn't want to throw it out. It was the dress that I'd worn at the end.

While I was thinking about it I grabbed my phone and gave Gary a call.

"Hey, David. How are you? It is so weird to me calling you by a boy's name when you're really a girl."

"Get over it," I said with a laugh, "So, how would you like to come to some events with me next week."

"Events?"

"Yep, you know all evening affairs. Lots of costumes. Stage effects."

"You mean like a play?"

"Something like that, although their usually called pageants."

"Um..."

"Well, I'm going to be a judge there. So, if you want to spend some time with me..."

"I might spend an evening or two out there. Where is it?"

It was only as I was reading the address off to him that I realized I would be heading back to the same school where I'd participated so many years ago. He agreed to meet me there on one evening or another and we disconnected from each other.

The rest of the day I had a bit of a smile on my face. Gary, at the very least, would be spending time doing something I wanted to do, something I knew he wasn't interested in. It gave me a certain feeling of power over our relationship that I hadn't yet felt. It was a heady feeling.

<3  <3  <3
I sat in my rental in the parking lot of the school, afraid to get out. I shouldn't have been. I'd been here before, and I'd been accepted as they saw me, but I was still that same person, at least physically.

I took my courage in my hands and opened the door. I was wearing a pair of three inch heels, and I loved the sound they made as I walked up to the stage door. The blood stain was worn off the walk, but I still looked where it had been. The door was locked, of course, so I knocked on it. I didn't want to walk al the way around to the front entrance.

I waited for a couple of minutes before someone came to the door, "We're working on something in here at the moment," the guy in the headset said.

"I know, Miss Florida's...Steven?"

It had taken me a moment to realize it, but it was Steven. The years had changed him, and I doubt I would have recognized him if I hadn't spent so much time recently looking at the sketch I'd made when I was sixteen.

"Do I...Donna? Is that really you?"

"You remember me?"

"Kinda hard to forget, considering..."

"Considering what?"

"I actually work with the MAO Teen organization. They actually use the video of your on stage question to show the new girls how it's supposed to look."

"No..."

"Yep. Once or twice a year I get to see you on that big screen in front of the stage."

there was a certain gleam in his eye as he said it, a gleam I'd never seen in another person when talking to me.

"Why would you want to see me?"

"Well, because, for me at least, you were the one that got away."

"I was..."

"Yes. You were my regret. The person I always asked, 'what if,' about."

"But, you knew what I was...what I am."

"And in most of my fantasies you'd had time to transition, but yes, I knew. I know. Doesn't matter to me, Donna."

"I go by David now."

The look of sadness that came over his features was instant and sudden, I jumped in because I realized I'd given him the wrong impression.

"I meant to say David Louise. I didn't want to give up my old name because I never want to forget what made me the person I am today."

"Oh," he said with a pause, and then the light bulb moment happened and he gave me the biggest grin I'd ever seen. "Oh! Well, in that case," he said making a significant glance at my left hand.

"No, I'm not married or engaged."

"I was sure a beauty like you would have been snatched up long ago."

"Nope. I've been spending the last eight years, unsuccessfully mind you, living as a man. Although my former boss did follow me out here," I said blushing a bit.

"Well, he'll just have to get in line, since I have a prior claim."

"I'm not some prize to be won." I said with a little venom in my voice.

"Oh, yes you are, you're the best type of prize, a woman who knows her mind and only is won when she wants to be. I recognize that. However, there's just something I'm not going to do."

"What's that?"

"Call you 'David'. I'll give you your pick, though. I'm either calling you Dee or Louise."

"Call me Dee then."

"You know I'll be thinking it still stands for Donna, right?"

I blushed, but nodded with a smiled.

"Well, Dee, what can I do for you?"

"I'm judging."

"Oh, yeah. David Lowell. I saw your name on the list."

"So, you want to let me in? My shoes are melting into the pavement."

My statement had the effect that I'd intended when I said it. Steven looked down at my shoes, and then checked me out as he slowly worked his way back to my head. I appreciated the dress skirt I'd chosen for today instead of the pants I'd briefly considered when his eyes paused on my legs and behind.

When he finally made his way back up to my face I was smiling at him, "Like what you see?"

He blushed and chocked a bit and stepped aside to let me walk through the door. Impulsively I kissed him on the cheek as I passed by. "Thanks," I said.

"What was that for?"

"Being here and being yourself."

As a sort of an afterthough I looked at him over my shoulder as I walked away. I needed to check his left hand for rings as well. There were none.

It was only after I'd walked out to the front of the theater that I realized how flirty our exchange really was.

I'd never had anything like this with Gary. Sure, we'd kissed some, but ours was more of an adult relationship. No combustion, just a nice slow burn.

With Steven on the other hand it was fun and flirty and exciting.

Gary made me feel like a woman and feminine and desired.

Steven made me feel like a little girl, but in a good way. Not like he looked down on me, but he made me feel young and alive. He made me feel like I was in love.

Not that I didn't like to be with Gary, and I wasn't sure who I really wanted more, but Steven really did make me feel like I was in love.

<3  <3  <3
I was talking to the other judges when a younger girl walked up to me. She stood there, a little nervously, looking at me with really wide eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Donna Lowell?"

"Yes, I'm Dee Lowell," I said with a smile.

"You really inspired me. When I found out that you won the Miss florida's pageant your year, I wanted to be just like you. My dad said it was impossible, but my mom supports me so I'm here."

"What's your name, honey,"

"Travis," she said quietly, "but I entered as Sarah."

Tears threatened, but I just smiled at the girl, "My best friend's name is Sarah," I said.

"Really?"

I just nodded. "She entered the pageant with me."

"Was she pretty?"

"she was beautiful inside and out. So, you have big shoes to fill. Think you're up to it?"

She just nodded and then ran back to her friends. They held hands and squeeled and looked in my direction, so I waved at them. They giggled and went back to their practice for this evening's preliminary.

"Why did you treat him like that?" one of the other judges said quietly to me.

"Really? You're asking me that?"

"Who are you?"

Just then someone from the stage said, "Quiet please, we wanted to show you a little film. this should help you tonight if you keep it in mind. I know all of you have practiced every possible question that you think you could get. This should show you how best to react if you get the wrong question."

The screen came down, and I saw displayed on the screen 'Donna Lowell' in big flowing letters. Beneath that it said Miss Florida's Outstanding Teen and the year I'd won.

I watched myself walk across the stage. It was a surreal experience. I'd remembered doing it, but I didn't remember being so poised or so...confident.

I stood there at the podium. My smile was radiant and my makeup was impeccable. The dress was perfect for my figure, and added to my look of sophistication. Then they asked that first question, and I could remember the sinking feeling in my stomach, but the woman on the screen never faultered. She asked for them to repeat the question.

And that answer.

Where had I ever gotten so smart. That couldn't be me, but it was. I remembered being there. I remembered that question. I now realized why I hadn't received the applause I'd heard for some of the other girls. The audience was stunned and didn't know how to respond.

After the short film was over I turned back to the woman who had been questioning me.

"Does that answer your question?"

"so, you were a former Miss Florida..."

"Lacey, she's..."

"No, don't worry about it. Lacey here is small minded and doesn't want to believe what her heart is telling her." Turning back to Lacey I gave her a pitying smile, "I am transgender, Lacey, just like Sarah over there."

Her mouth opened and closed but no sounds came out.

"I think you broke her mind," the token man on the panel said to me, "Keith Manson," he said offering me his hand.

I shook it and smiled at him.

"Welcome to the judge's table, Dee. If you thought there was drama back stage, you haven't seen anything yet."

My name is David, and I am a woman.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to look at who was behind me.

"Hey, David."

"Hello, Gary." I made a face at him as I said this.

"What's wrong?"

"People started calling me Dee here, and I kind of like it."

"I can do that, then, Dee."

There was something in the way that he said my name that sent shivers down my spine. I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around I saw Steven who hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"You ready?"

"Who's this," Gary asked.

Steven really looked at Gary for the first time. Gary was glaring back at him.

"Boys, no fighting. Gary, this is Steven, an old dear friend. Steven, this is Gary..."

"Her boyfriend." Gary said.

I turned and glared at Gary. "I'm not your girlfriend, Gary. We've been on one date."

"But I thought..."

"Gary, I like you. I like Steven too."

"But which one do you like," Steven said from behind me.

"Neither of you, if you're both going act like little boys."

"We're men, Dee. We're incapable of acting any other way," Steven said.

Gary snorted at him, but didn't try to contradict him.

"Gary, I love that you stopped by, but Steven is taking me to lunch. I'm free for dinner though. I just need to be back here by about six forty five."

"Ok, Dee. I'll pick you up later," He gave me a kiss on the cheek, never seeming to move his eyes from glaring at Steven.

I sighed as he walked away.

"So, that was your boss?"

"Former boss."

"He's good looking. Wears expensive clothing, too."

"Well, he is a partner in an architecture firm."

"He seems to be perfect if you go for the whole handsome and rich sort of thing."

"Money's not an issue for me, Steven."

"All women like to be treated like royalty."

"If I wanted that then I wouldn't need anyone."

He looked at me a little questioningly.

"I'm rich, Steven. I don't need some guy to give me money."

"Oh."

"No, I don't think you understand. Steven, I want someone who sees me as a woman, who loves me in spite of my faults, and who wants to be with me because of who I am, not what they get out of it."

"Well, you've always been a girl in my dreams...hell, you are the girl of my dreams. Give me some time to really get to know you and I'll see what I can do about all the rest."

For some reason tears came to my eyes and I had to blink them away. "That's all I can ask," I said a little choked up.

Lunch was a fast food salad that we ate on the grass outside the auditorium. There were none of the candles or other diners like my date with Gary. There wasn't being seated or helped from the car or any of the other things that made be feel so feminine, but Steven paid attention to what I said, and there was a lot of laughter.

I loved the way that Steven listened to me when I spoke. I paid him the same complement, and listened to him talk about his family. He never mentioned his brother Greg, for which I was thankful, but he talked about all of the other members, and I found myself wanting to get to know all of them better.

"So, how did the date stack up?" he said as he was walking me back inside.

"Not bad...until you tried to compare yourself to someone else," I said with a little frown.

"Dee, this is killing me. Can't you just choose one of us and let him date you until you decide one way or the other? I know you're comparing the two of us in your own mind."

"More like contrasting you two than comparing."

"Still, this is so hard..."

"I kept the sketch I made of you."

His mouth dropped open and then a small smile touched his lips, "really?"

I just nodded at him, "It was at my mother's house, but I kept it. I spent a couple of hours looking at it last week, wondering if you'd found someone who could love you the way...you deserve."

"That's not what you were going to say. Tell me what you were going to say."

"The way I love you, okay?" I said blushing furiously. "But I can't love you. I don't know you. You're just the boy who paid attention to me when I was a gawky teen. You kissed me for luck. You really looked at my sketches. And I tried my hardest to forget about you because I felt guilty every time I did."

"Why?"

"Because Sarah seemed to be pushing be toward you, and I know it was killing her inside to do it."

"I'm missing something here."

"Sarah was in love with me, the boy me. She's why I tried to be a man. I thought...I thought..."

He took me in his arms and just held me. "You thought that you'd betrayed your friendship by being with me, and that if you could just be a man that you'd somehow feel forgiven by her."

I just nodded into his chest and began to cry. He didn't say anything to me. He held me in his strong arms, comforting me by his presence more than any word he could say would have.

I looked up into his face inches away from my own. I closed my eyes. It was all the invitation he needed. That kiss was like an explosion. My breath escaped me in a gasp and it just deepened from there. I'd thought, before that moment, that it was only an expression that something could take your breath away.

When he finally stopped kissing me I was left gasping for air. The smile on my face just would not go away. I was wobbly on my feet, so Steven put an arm around me and guided me inside to my seat. I sank bonelessly into my chair.

"Wow, girl, you look just like you had sex," Lacey said to me. I just shook my head.

"What happened?"

"He kissed me."

"He just..."

I nodded looking over at her with a grin, "Yep." I said making a popping sound with my lips on the p.

"You must not have been..."

"You kissed Steven, didn't you?"

I looked over at the other woman at the table. Wendy, I think her name was.

"Yes..." I said a little unsure.

She just nodded. "I went to school with him. He dated a lot of girls. Never went beyond some kissing from what I hear. Was always talking about this Donna girl who...Oh, my god. You and he..."

"I met him at the pageant, yes. He worked tech for it."

"Did you..."

"No, nothing like that. It was innocent flirting...and I did spend about five hours sketching him once."

"You are a contradiction, Dee." Lacey said.

"Excuse me?"

"One moment you are as worldly as the next gal, but then, suddenly you're all innocence and light. How do you do it?"

"Eight years of denying myself."

"I don't understand." Lacey said.

So, I spent the next little while retelling the story of Sarah, the pageant, and briefly what I'd done afterward.

"Well, that's part of the reason that I dislike people like you, when the going get's tough you can just stop being a woman."

I glared at Lacey. "Really? you think this has been easy for me? You think trying to be a guy was the easy option for me?"

"Well...I guess so, yeah."

"How easy would it be for you to act like a guy? To ask girls out on dates? To be treated to the vulgarity so common among men in this day and age? To feel the girl inside dying a little every time that your colleague tells a dirty joke, knowing that you're 'one of them' another 'one of the guys'?"

"I..."

"To listen to them demean and objectify women? When you try to get them to accept that women are people with feelings, they ridicule you, demean you?"

She'd begun to color a bit and was looking away from me.

"It isn't easy to try to be a man, Lacey."

"but you were born..."

"A woman with a plumbing problem."

"Is that all you think it is?"

"I've never used it for anything else," I said with a little smirk. She blushed.

"Look, Lacey, I didn't mean to be so harsh about this, but I have enough difficulty with this without having someone question my motives."

"I see that...now. I'm sorry. I never really thought about it that way before. I just thought..."

"I was some gay guy trying to make it easier to get with and seduce men?"

she nodded weakly at me.

"Sexually speaking, it's a completely different animal. If you want to go out for drinks some time, I'll discuss it with you, but talking about sexuality here," I gestured at the auditorium, "feels a little skeevy."

Lacey laughed at me, and I joined in with her a moment or two later.

"See, you can even sound innocent talking about sex. I like you Dee. Sorry for my behavior earlier. I'll try to change my attitude."

"Don't change on my account."

"what?"

"If you want to do it for yourself, then great, I'll support you. Don't change how you see the world for me or anyone else. I can't handle the responsibility."

I grinned at her.

She barked a laugh and then smiled back, "You're wicked. You really are. Innocent my ass. I take everything I'd said back. Your innocence is a front to drag us all in, then when we're unawares you strike."

"What can I say? I'm a woman."

There was some more laughter at that and we got back to the work of judging these young women. Sure, the ballots didn't include any of their time backstage, or practicing or anything else, but when we got to the end, the final five, it was a lot more subjective. Their actions now, while they thought they weren't being watched, all went into our judgement of who we wanted. I know that if Sarah made it to the finals, I would definitely consider her for top honors above her peers.

<3  <3  <3
Gary took me to eat at an upscale restaurant about thirty minutes from the school. Again he helped me from the car and escorted me into the restaurant, but instead of feeling secure, I felt irritated for some reason. I'm sure I wasn't a good dining companion and I tried to smile through it, but this irritation took me completely by surprise.

Was it Gary I was irritated with or something else?

I really hoped it was something else, because I wanted to take my time in choosing logically between these two fine men. I didn't want my emotions having an undue influence on.

Yes, let me point out here that with time and distance I realize how naive that thought was, but at the time, I really thought it could work out. I'd spent twenty-four years being logical without a lot of hormones to get in the way. I'd pushed my emotions to the side, and just made decisions.

I love hormones, I really do, because they take a simple choice of pros and cons and turn it into a wonderfully enjoyable ride.

I smiled and held his hand, the entire time just feeling like I was going to explode. I hoped that the poise I'd shown on stage during my question, but from his expression, I could tell I was failing.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Gary, I'm just not feeling a hundred percent. I'm irritated and uncomfortable in my own skin."

"Oh...well...in that case, let's get some chocolate cake."

"Chocolate...what are you up to, Gary?"

"My mom always used to get a big slice of chocolate cake when...once a month."

"I can't, I mean I don't..."

"Look, you have the hormones, so who's to tell how you feel? It makes sense to me."

"But I don't..."

"Mood swings happen, Dee. Just eat your cake."

It took more than just eating the cake, but I did start to feel better. I really didn't think that I was having a period, or anything really like it. The cake was a nice thought, though, and I realized why I was irritated.

Gary was a good guy, but he was…entitled? No, not exactly right, but he was…forceful? Not exactly it either. He was confident, and a little cocky. He was masculine, but not over sexed in any way.

The more I thought about it the less sure I was of what exactly had irritated me. All I knew was that there was something about the way Gary acted toward me that made me uncomfortable, and that discomfort translated into irritation.

I only had half my mind on our conversation as I thought. He had an easy smile. It lit up his face, and made him look a lot younger than he was. That was a concern, though: how old was Gary? He was old enough to be a partner at the firm. I knew he joined the firm fifteen years ago.

Minimum that put him thirty five years old. That was eleven years older than me. Steven was, at most, two years older than me, and could easily be the same age I was.

Did that matter?

He helped me from my seat and escorted me to the car. I got in and we drove back to the school in silence.

The problem with any relationship I might have with Gary is that it was based in an inequality: Boss-Subordinate. With him being at least eleven years older than me, and more likely thirteen to fifteen years older, that added another inequality. Sure, as we both got older, that would matter a lot less, and if I was over thirty considering dating him…

But I wasn't. I was a twenty-four year old who was physically a thirteen year old. I was young with rampaging hormones. Sure, I'd asked for rampaging hormones, but I still had them.

Gary was ready for a serious relationship. Was I ready? Was I ready for one with him?"

He wanted an adult relationship, but I had to admit, that for all that taking me out to a restaurant made me feel like a woman, I'd preferred the easy conversation, stolen fries, and general relaxed atmosphere of my date with Steven earlier.

How funny is life? If I'd never come to the pageant, I would never have met Steven again. We wouldn't have reconnected. I would be looking at my relationship with Gary as if it were the best thing in the world for me.

The thing is, I had come back to the pageant, and Steven did things for me that Gary couldn't even touch.

No, not that he couldn't, because I knew Gary to have a great sense of fun and adventure, but that he just didn't want to do those things with me, and that is why I was irritated.

Gary irritated me because he didn't want to compete against Steven for me. He wanted me to assume he was the winner by default.

I let him kiss me when he dropped me off, but it was a cold kiss without any of the earlier passion we'd both shared.

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There weren't as many girls this year as there were the year I did the pageant, but there were still a number of girls to get through on preliminary night. There were about thirty girls each night that we would be paring down to an even thirty for the final night. Also, something I hadn't know when I went through this, it didn't matter which night that you participated on, the top thirty scores when through, even if all of them were from the same night.

It was a lot more fair than the method I thought they used.

Knowing how the girls felt on the other side of the stage, I had a hard time on most of them giving them poor scores. Some, though, were easier.

Like the leggy blond who fell flat on her face walking up to the podium. Yes, I felt sorry for her, and I was worried she might have hurt herself, but it was easy to follow the guidelines and mark her down for that.

Or the girl who simply couldn't sing, but was singing for her talent. I had more trouble feeling sorry for her than myself. My ears hurt when she finished. I just marked her with low scores on that one. There wasn't even a twitch of conscious doing it either.

You're supposed to pick a talent that shows who you are as a person. Something you are good at and is feminine. That was none of the above.

Don't get me wrong. There were the girls on the other end of the spectrum as well. Like the brunette cheerleader who simply killed her fitness routine.

Oh, I forgot, we got to look at the girl's academic records as part of the judging. This is a scholarship competition after all. The other five judges were actually in academia…by which I mean we had a couple of teachers, a principal, and a coach. Since I was more of an 'honorary guest judge' than was normal for the pageant, I didn't actually get to judge the academic portion. Since none of the girls got a score from me, it didn't affect the outcome.

So, we got to see their extracurricular activities, and when I saw 'cheerleader' I simply had to watch her through the pageant. I expected snob, stuck-up, and all the other things that stereotypically follow them.

Should have known that she would be intelligent with a 4.0 and three AP courses, but hey, even intelligent people are blind to the truth sometimes. Look at me. I denied I was a woman for eight years.

By the end of it there was no question that the cheerleader did well, but some of the others surprised me. Even with the poor scores in talent, the tone deaf singer was still in the top ten, for the night at least. We'd see where everything went on the other nights.

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I wanted to follow the girls over to their hotel, and see if things were just as crazy for them as they were for me. Unfortunately, I knew that time of my life was over. I wasn't going to get that chance again. Sure, there was a little vicarious thrill being a judge for the competition, but it wasn't the same, nor would it be.

Instead of following the girls, I slipped into the back of the theater looking for Steven. I wasn't sure why, but I just wanted to see him. Maybe today was a fluke, and we really didn't mesh as well as I thought.

Maybe I was just scared of what I could have with Gary, and was making too much of something small. Whatever it was, I had to see this through, and really give both men a chance.

"…I'm saying is that she needs someone who has their act together. She's had too much heartbreak already to have to deal with this."

"Don't you think I know that? My brother is on death row because of what he did. He deserves it, sure, but I know what she needs. I was there, something you can't say the same about."

"Maybe you're just too close to the situation. We've had a working relationship for almost three years now, first as an intern, then as an employee."

"Oh, so you're saying you had her as your intern? Don't you just take the cake."

I followed the sound of angry voices. If either of those men thought I would appreciate them fighting over me, then they had another think coming.

"No, I didn't think of her that way until recently."

"Well, I've always thought of her that way. You're just a damn tranny chaser is what…"

I came around the corner in enough time to see Gary throw a punch at Steven. My heart went into my throat. Part of me wanted to see him fight back. Part of me was terrified he would.

Steven just stood there, his hands at his sides, and looked at Gary, "Do you feel better now?"

Gary pulled back to swing again so I yelled out his name. He turned to look at me, "What do you two think you're doing?"

They both had the decency to look ashamed. Gary started speaking, "It's not what it looks like, Dee."

"Really? It looks like the two men I care about most in this world are getting into a knock-down drag-out fight." Neither of them would look at me.

"Gary, go home."

"I was headed to my hotel anyway."

"No, I mean go back to the city. I can't be around you right now."

"He…"

"I heard what he said, but I also saw what you did. I can't be around that, Gary. If that's who you are, then I won't be around you. I'll see you when I get back home in about a week."

"Dee…"

"No, Gary. Just go, please? I don't want to fight you on this." Tears were beginning to stream down my face. Gary took a step toward me, but when I flinched away, he muttered something and stomped out.

I wasn't looking at Steven, so when he came up behind me and put his arms around me, I tried to pull away. He just held onto me tighter, giving me the comfort I needed, but didn't particularly want from him at the moment.

"I'm still mad at you," I said, relaxing and letting him hold me.

"I know," he said, "but there are some things more important than anger, and you're one of them. I'm sorry for my actions today."

"All your actions?"

"Just the ones where Gary was concerned. Our date is without a doubt the best thing I've ever been a part of."

I colored a bit and snuggled into him…right up until I remembered I was supposed to be angry at him.

"Stop that," I said.

"Stop what?" he said with a grin.

"Making me forget that I'd mad with you."

"Was I doing that?"

"You know you were."

He turned me around in his arms and looked at me in the eyes, "Dee, I love you. It's my job to make sure you're not angry with me." He kissed me gently, but thoroughly. When my knees gave out he supported me.

I glared at him as soon as I had my breathing under control.

"That doesn't fix anything, you know. You still fought with Gary."

He took a deep breath, still looking me in the eyes.

"I love you, Dee. I will abide by any decision you make. You need to know, however, that you can't have both of us. IT's tearing all three of us apart. If you need space to make a decision, then I'll live with that, but you do need to decide.

"If you want him, then I'll make myself scarce. If you pick me, I'm following you to the ends of the earth."

He kissed me again, a gentle peck on the lips this time, and turned around to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I'm giving you space to make a decision. See you tomorrow?"

I just nodded as he walked away. How can someone leave and yet feel right there at the same moment?

My name is David, and I am a woman.

I can feel the silk of the dress as it flows through my fingers. The light grey color seems to shimmer in the light. I feel the way my breasts are supported by the bodice, and look down.

They're real.

The dress hugs my curves to the waist where it flairs out into a full skirt to the floor. I've seen this dress before, but I just can't place it. I walk over to a floor length mirror and stare at myself, I can't help it. My hair is a flaming fall of red below my shoulders. I almost cry just at that.

I'm beautiful. For the first time I see what everyone else always claims. A woman walks up behind me. Her dress is a vision of lace and pearls and silk, all in white.

"Are you going to hog the mirror all morning, Donna?"

"Of course not, Sarah. You look so beautiful."

"We both look beautiful, Matron of Honor."

Everything seems wrong, and something in my mind is screaming at me. My happiness at seeing Sarah overrides my sense of the wrongness.

"I still can't believe I got married first," I say with a little smile.

"Well, you two were dating for long enough. Sometimes his brother still scares me though."

"Whose brother?"

"You know, Steven. He is so angry at you, you know."

I see something begin to grow on her stomach. It's a splash of color on the white fabric.

"Sarah, is there something wrong?"

She tries to speak, but no words come out. The red is covering her dress and dripping from the wound. I can see the tear in the cloth. No, it's a cut. Sarah collapses to the floor and I'm holding her.

She puts a finger to my lips to keep me from talking.

"There you are, Dee. It was so hard to reach you."

My mind is awhirl. I don't understand what is happening, but this feels so real: this memory of a place.

"You know Steven's not the right one for you, right?"

"You are?"

I hear her laugh again, and I have to smile, "No, Dee. We were never meant to be. I'm sorry I caused so many problems for you for so long. I should never have said those things."

"Don't try to talk," I say when her arm falls to her side.

"Be the woman you were meant to be, Dee."

"But Sarah..."

"No, you were meant to be a woman, Dee. Everyone can see it. Don't let me stop you from that."

"But I loved you."

"I know, you did. And I didn't realize until the very end that it wasn't romantic, those feelings I felt for you. You're my sister, Dee."

"But..."

"No more buts, even if yours is quite pretty. I have to leave soon."

"Stay with me."

"I can't. Please, forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For my cruel words. I should never have told you I preferred you as a boy. It wasn't true."

This time she closes her eyes as she dies.

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I woke up with tears in my eyes and running down my face. I've never remembered my dreams, maybe an impression here or there, but nothing concrete or whole.

This dream has stuck with me, however, and has just as much relevance as the real memory of her death. I don't believe in visitations from the other side. Could this have been one? Sure, but it could also have been my subconscious mind working through issues that I'd held for a long time.

Either way, I woke up knowing that I'd been beating myself up about something I had no control over.

I didn't kill Sarah. Greg did.

The problem was that Greg was Steven's brother. There would always be a question in my mind over whether or not Steven loved me enough to forget his brother. I was an only child, so I was at a disadvantage to know how siblings related to one another. Personally, I don't think that I'd ever be able to forget Sarah, the closest thing to a sister I knew.

If I couldn't forget Sarah, how much harder would it be for Steven?

I dried my tears and got ready for the day. I took special care on my makeup and clothing, as I wanted to be stunning. I wanted to feel good about myself, as I was going to cut ties with someone who made me happy, knowing that eventually he would break my heart.

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"Could I speak to you for a moment, Steven?"

"Sure," he said with a smile that almost melted my heart.

I think my lack of returning smile told him something might be up, but I began before he could ask what it was.

"The boy I loved, Steven, had not a thing wrong with him. He was charming and handsome. He was perfect, like a sketch in my book; unchanging and perfect."

"I'm not that boy anymore," Steven said, a little coldly, a little hurt, and a lot confused.

"I know you're not. That's what I'm trying to say. We're not who we were so long ago. I was never Donna."

"I don't understand."

"I know. It's hard for me to explain, so let me try. I was never Donna."

"Sure you were. You entered the pageant as Donna Lowell."

"You met a girl you called Donna, but she never existed. She was actually a boy who was doing a pageant with his girlfriend, because she couldn't do it otherwise. That the boy was really a girl inside has nothing to do with whether or not he thought of himself as a boy."

"You flirted with me."

"I seem to remember a mutual flirting society at the time."

"That's not the point, Donna," he said getting angry.

"You're not gay, Steven."

"What?" he said, shocked.

"That's why you cling to my being Donna back then. You want to convince yourself you're not gay. Do you look at me and see a man or a woman, be honest."

"A woman."

"And do I kiss like a man or a woman?"

He colored, a lot, but answered me, "A woman."

"So, I am a woman, that's all you need to know. If you're attracted to me now, then I don't think you're gay. Maybe bi, but..."

He laughed at me and I smiled at him.

"I'm not Donna, Steven. I never was. I've always been myself. I'm David Louise Lowell, Steven."

"I know all this."

"Then call me David and then kiss me."

A look of revulsion crossed over his features for just a moment, but it was all I really needed.

"You can't really handle a relationship, and I won't be in a relationship so you can prove something to yourself."

"But Donna..."

"My name is David, Steven," I said with as much venom as I could muster, "and I am a woman. I don't need you to prove that to anyone."

"David, please..."

"I'm sorry, Steven. I've made my decision."

"So, that's it then, you're running back to Gary?"

I began to laugh, "Of course not."

"I thought..."

"He's my boss. There are a whole other mess of reasons why that would never work."

"David...Dee...please..."

"Find love, Steven. Don't let your brother rule your life. If you want to be with a man, then do that for yourself. If you find a woman who makes you really happy, then be with her. I think I really did love you, once, but I just can't know."

He began to cry a bit, so I gave him a kiss and a hug and walked away. I made it to the bathroom before I broke down myself.

It's amazing how many emotions that tears can convey. For most, they represent grief, even though there are so many shades of the emotion that are conveyed with those tears.

They can represent a joy so powerful that it just can't be contained and spills out.

There are tears of laughter, where our mirth just can't take it and explodes forth on everyone around us, being infectious it feeds, and fuels, the mirth of those around us.

There are tears of anger.

These tears were none of those. They were relief. I hadn't realized until that very moment how much I was afraid of being in a relationship with Steven. I loved the idea of being in a relationship, but there was that small doubt in the back of my mind, that small fear, that Steven was exactly like his brother.

I finished my little jag, fixed up my makeup, and went out to the judges' table for the second day of the pageant.

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As you might remember, if you paid attention to such things, Sarah did indeed win. Having been there myself, I know she was the best one there, and knowing that there was a decidedly anti-TG judge at the beginning of the contest...

Sarah was a beauty up there in her crown.

I'm glad she got this opportunity. Even without Sarah, my Sarah, I know it changed my life for the better.

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So much had changed since the last time I sat here in the waiting room, and so much had remained the same. Even with my new female hormones coursing through my body, I was still very much flat as a board. I'd just have to give them time.

When I eventually got back to talk to Dr. Funk, I was relieved that the waiting would be over. It was time to close this chapter on my life.

"Don...David, how nice to see you."

"I'm not staying long, Dr. Funk. I just wanted to let you know that you should lose your medical license. Please don't contact me or my mother again."

"David...please. Be reasonable."

"No, James. I won't 'be reasonable'. I've realized that you are as much to blame for the events as Greg ever was. You are culpable for that question I had to answer. You created a situation where I was despised. Did I really win, or did you manufacture a win for me?"

He was silent and looked anywhere but at me.

"That was all the answer I needed. Did you ever consider what that competition might do to me?"

"Look at you; you're beautiful and successful..."

"I'm twenty four and I look like I'm thirteen because I couldn't go through puberty."

"That's not my fault."

"Really? Because I thought it was because I knew I needed female hormones but couldn't bring myself to have them because of the fact my best friend was dead."

"I didn't kill her."

"Would she be dead if you hadn't done what you did do?"

"I don't know," he said very quietly.

"And that's why you should never have tried to manage the event like you did. The other girls deserved better than that. I deserved better than that. I've already reported you to the ethics board for the state of Florida. Just thought I'd let you know."

"You can't do this to me," he said, suddenly angry.

I just stood and looked down at him, still seated in his oversized chair. "I already have."

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I felt empowered by all of the interactions I'd had so far in Florida. I was getting some of my own back. I'd come down here ready for anything, but I'd let old behaviors and patterns knock me from my path.

It was good for me, to return here, to close these chapters in my life.

I gave my notice to my new boss, who was sad to see me go. I did, however, agree to finish the Bryant building for them. It would be my last sculpture in glass and steel, so I made the most of it.

It's beautiful if you ask me.

There were two messages waiting for me on my phone when I turned it back on while waiting at the luggage carousel in the airport.

The first was Steven asking for a date. The second was Mr. Bryant, saying there was a problem with his painting.

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Mr. Bryant's home reminded me of Mama's, at least in size. The landscaping was more...friendly to children. It wasn't the art piece my mother kept around her own property.

I walked up to the door and knocked. I truly didn't expect Mr. Bryant to answer the door, but he was the one who did.

"David, come in."

"Call me Dee, if it's more comfortable for you."

"Ok, then, Dee. Welcome to my abode. Let me show you what I was talking about."

He led me into a large open room. My painting filled one of the walls. There was some muted lighting on it, and it felt almost as if this were a museum setting and not someone's home.

"I don't see..."

"Look around. Take in the entire space."

"I see a lot of blank walls, Mr. Bryant."

"Exactly."

"Exactly?"

"Yes, I want more pieces. To balance out this lovely one. So, just let me know which gallery you normally use..."

I blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry," I said looking back at him, "but I'm not currently shown in any galleries. None of them wanted my art."

"Well, you just haven't talked to the right owner, then. Here, let me get you an introduction with Brian, a good friend of mine."

Mr. Bryant pulled out his phone and dialed a number, "Hello, Brian? Yes, the woman I was telling you about? Apparently we can't find her gallery because she doesn't have one."

He stood there listening for a moment and then handed me the phone, "It's for you."

"Hello? I'm not looking for charity."

"Good, because I'm not offering any. Bring a sample of your work to my gallery tomorrow. If I don't like it, then you're no worse off than you are now."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"Look, I like the picture at Henry's house. If the rest of your work measures up...just bring it by tomorrow, okay?"

"Ok. See you tomorrow."

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I sat in my living room looking at my paintings, trying to decide which I would take with me tomorrow. It beat trying to banish the butterflies in my stomach that were anticipating Gary coming through the door.

I'd seriously considered wearing a negligee, but figured that it wasn't quite the image I wanted to project. So, I wore my sexiest, slinkiest dress. No shoes. My pixie-cut hair was easy to arrange.

I wore some dangle earrings and the best makeup I could.

I calmed my emotions, again, and tried to decide which of the paintings I would take with me tomorrow. I had eight I was thinking best displayed my skill with brush and paint.

The knock on the door finally came, and I opened it to a very well groomed Gary.

"Come on in," I said with a smile.

"You look..."

"How do I look, Gary? Really? Do you see David when you look at me?"

"I see a sexy woman in a dress."

"Really? So, if I stripped naked right here, right now, would you have sex with me?"

"What's this about, Dee?"

"It's about perception, Gary, and you never answered my question."

"I know you don't really want..."

"That wasn't the question. Do I arouse you?"

"That's not fair, Dee."

"Really? If I'm sexy in this, then it should be exactly the point."

"I want..."

"The taboo of it all? A man in a dress?"

I undid the straps. I unzipped the dress; thankfully the zip was on the side. I stood there, naked before him. Finally, I saw the bulge begin to form in his pants.

"Gary, I'm a woman. I'm not your perfect beard."

"What are you talking about?"

"I may look like a guy right now, to you, but I'm not. I'll begin to grow breasts. My hips might widen. I'll likely get curves. This body that excites you now is temporary."

"You don't have to..."

"I'm not a man, Gary. I have to do this for myself. Please understand."

He walked over, put his arms around me, and kissed me. "I like you, David. I really like you."

"I think it's time that you left."

"But David..."

"Goodbye, Gary."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with something that would make me change my mind. I turned my back on him and got dressed in that slinky dress again. I heard the door open and close and only then was I really able to relax.

How did I know that Gary was gay? It was the little things, I think. Nothing really came to me forcefully until I realized that he dressed in the same types of clothing that I had when pretending to be a guy. He has great fashion sense. Also, I remembered seeing him passing glances with the waiter, a really good looking guy, on our first date.

Little things that build up into a picture that I didn't want to see with my conscious mind.

I liked Steven and Gary, but they weren't for me. Eventually, someday, I hoped to be in a place where I could be in a relationship and be ready for it, but for now, I needed some girl time.

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I carefully removed the tube from my backseat and walked into the gallery. I was wearing some skinny jeans and an oversized sweater, flats, of course. There was no way I was dressing up to impress this guy. I'd had my fair share of rejection in the past. I had money to live frugally on, which I could easily do. This, selling my art, was something that I didn't need to do, so I didn't care if I succeeded or not.

Brian was a sweetheart. Gay as they come, mores the pity. I would have liked to go on a few dates with him, nothing serious, but I really wanted to get some experience with some no strings attached dating.

He looked at my paintings and booked my first showing in three weeks.

"These are good, Dee, what's more, they're fun and unique. I especially like this one. Where's the redhead in this one?"

"She was painting it."

He looked again at the redhead that appeared in most of my paintings, and then looked carefully at me, "Wow...you really are the one in all these pictures. Well, I guess that we'll call these your early period, and the ones without the woman your late period."

"You make me sound like a master."

"For the prices you'll be commanding, people will expect it."

"That one painting..."

"Just sets a bar. Sure, I don't expect all of them to sell for that much, but I figure we could easily mark these as sixty to a hundred."

"You mean between sixty and one hundred thousand don't you?"

"Of course."

Each painting I sold would be worth a year of work as an architect.

"You're kidding. You have to be..."

"No, I'm not. Sometimes, you just have to sell one before people realize you're worth it. Most Gallery owners are risk averse. I am myself. However, with at least two purchased works of art out there, that puts you in a whole other category to all the hopefuls that come through my door."

I just looked at him and smiled, "Ok, then, see you in two weeks."

"See what you can do about getting more into your 'after the lady' period. Just one and people will think it a fluke."

I nodded my head and walked out the door.

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Life is weird. My living room was a much different place with all of my paintings down at the gallery. No, I hadn't had a showing yet, but I was looking forward to it. Feverishly painting as many things as I could think of, but looking forward to it.

"Tell me again how the picture disappeared?" Angie said from her place next to me on the couch.

"It is in my gallery showing."

"But, I wanted to see it again..."

"And you will, I've bought it from myself."

We were watching a movie on my new TV. Yes, I'd purchased one. If I were going to have friends over, I needed something to entertain them with. I didn't see myself as having a future as a stripper.

It was nice. All four of the girls from the club were there with me. We were watching sappy movies, by which I mean chick flicks, and enjoying the hell out of it. We were five single women, and we were content to be.

At least I was.

The future might change that for any one of us, but I was living the life I wanted to, finally. We'd be piling into my bed later, to sleep. Even if it was a king, it was a tight fit with the five of us. We only did it rarely and usually only when we'd drunk too much to safely drive home.

Like tonight.

We were celebrating my impending showing. We were celebrating Colette getting out of a really bad relationship. Mostly, we were just celebrating.

It felt really good to be the woman that I knew I was meant to be.