Originally published on Classic BC July 30, 2004
Just a short, slice of life kinda thing I slapped together on my PDA. Some of it is based on real life and some wishful thinking mixed with a liberal dose of artistic license.
By NiGHTs
Obviously, the characters and situations presented are fictionalized and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental unless they're public figures and then shame on them. Please feel free to post or archive with notification. Otherwise, this work should be considered copyright 2004 NiGHTs and no part should be published electronically or in printed form except for review/critical analysis, or offered for sale without consent of the author.
By 4:30 am I was starting off for my first day at work as a woman. Years of work, HRT, a little padding, and a new name tag and I was ready to go. I work in a grocery store as a Dairy Clerk and frankly the basic uniform was no different for males or females. A white button up shirt, black slacks and shoes. The only "real" differences now was that I could wear some (conservative) make-up, keep my earrings in, and had to tie my hair up instead of hiding it under a company baseball cap. I'd been swapping out clothes over the course of the last few months, and until I and my manager came out about my coming out, no one had "noticed".
Ok, they noticed by going that extra mile not to notice, y'know? How could they not notice the drawstring on my black knit carpenter pants? Before you point topside, you need to remember that I was not that big without stuffing and between wearing big shirts and tying my apron loose, the twins were not a problem hiding. Collars on the other hand. Still, it was a courtesy I appreciated, especially since some of my co-workers can get pretty crude when they put their minds to it. I think the worst I had to put up with was dealing with all the questions after I came out. "So, you love the cock?" Being among the more memorable. Well that and somebody thought buying a little girl's toy make-up kit and sticking it in my bag was funny.
I can, and did fear a lot worse.
Even as "easy" as things had been going though, I was more than a bit nervous driving into work that day. The crew was one thing, but the store was in a pretty blue-collar neighborhood. I was hoping that the shipment today would be pretty large so I could spend as little time on the floor as possible. Not only would it keep me from having to deal too much with the public immediately, but the guys could probably use the reassurance that just because I was now Jenn, that didn't mean they couldn't expect me to keep pulling my weight handling freight. Thinking about the worst that could happen on the floor today caused a sudden bout of nerves and I pulled out my "panic pack", ran upstairs and checked to make sure I looked as presentable as I could before leaving.
What's a panic pack? Just some pills. About five Welbutrin, and an equal number of Valium for emergencies in a little zip-loc baggie. My doctor prescribed them a few years back and while I hate them both, and take neither regularly, I have a scar that proves I occasionally do need them. On the plus side, I now have friends who are not afraid to point out when I'm on the downswing if I haven't noticed. My best friend Jillian made me keep some on me at all times and gave them the name, panic pack. I've happily been able to keep from using the panic pack, but have found that just having it there to finger when I feel out of sorts is a big help.
The bathroom mirror presented what it had earlier. A not completely unhandsome woman. The kind of woman who would never win a beauty contests or even get appreciative glances, but would always be welcome as other women would not see her as competition and guys wouldn't feel the need to do more than be polite. That's not self-pity or anything. I know what I look like, and accepting it made my last fears about transitioning largely evaporate. That I needed to be comfortable in my own skin, rather than have my skin be somehow "acceptable" let me come out without worrying if I was doing it for the right reasons anymore.
That being said, I hate to admit it, but I do have some vanity and when I saw a single hair that had erupted seemingly at that moment, from the bridge of my nose, I grabbed the tweezers and yanked away. Satisfied, I picked up my purse from the counter on the bathroom sink, killed the lights and started off to work humming "All Good People".
Things started going wrong early.
First, a schmoe at the convenience store dropped a full container of hazelnut creamer on my new black Sketchers. Then the cop who pulled me over to cite me for a dead headlight called in my license, which did have my new name and a representative (if not good) photo. No problem, right? I just change the lamp after work and show someone at the nearest police station. Minor hoo-ha at best.
Unfortunately the Maryland Dept of Motor Vehicles takes longer than six months to update records apparently, so I was forced to dig through my purse for my old doctor's note before the officer could be convinced I wasn't an identity thief or some such. Worse, I doubt I made things easier for the Officer, because just being stopped caused me a minor anxiety attack. I figured I must have done something to get ticketed, and although my driving record is almost spotless (I think I've averaged a ticket about once every ten years.), anything that has the potential to raise my insurance makes me shake like a leaf.
I barely made it to work on time, which I hate doing. I always time leaving the house to give me a half-hour to sip some coffee, read, or write a little before starting the morning grind. And just to add insult to injury, digging for my note made me realize I'd left my panic pack on the bathroom counter. On the one hand, that was probably a good thing for once. I doubt a nervous, jittery tranny clutching a bag of pills would have gone over well with the County Mounties. On the other hand, I was charging in under pressure and wired without my security blanket.
Rushing in at 6am on the nose, I found the Night Crew Chief had neglected to "unbutton" the loading docks and rear door so I spent several minutes chasing him down while Marvin rang the bell to be let in so he could start unloading the day's milk order. By the time I got our receiving area unlocked and the security seals removed, he gave up and walked all the way 'round to the front door and came in that way. Embarrassing, but not too unusual. Even so, I hated that he'd been inconvenienced.
Marvin, is a wonder to me. The man is about 5'10" and between 250 and 300 lbs. He's got this big cheesy mustache the He looks like he'd be more at home in riding leathers on a Hog than in a reffer truck. He's just as friendly as he is imposing though and I hate it when he has to walk around the whole building. His face is so red normally that I wonder if he's not on the verge of some medical problem.
Of course Dan, who was supposed to be here at the same time as I was running late. So while Marvin was unloading about 400 cases of milk, I was rushing about the milk box rearranging and stacking cases to make room for the incoming load. What happened next was totally a rookie error.
I was trying to pull a stack of ten cases of whole milk from the back of the box. It was a tight fit, but I'd already pulled four stacks out from the same row, so I knew it was possible. I never really felt whatever snag I hit, but did feel the stack tilt and tried to compensate, but even as I eased the tower back into level, I heard a threatening *crack* and pressed myself flat in hopes of avoiding getting my skull split open.
I felt at least one case tumble down my back, followed by the clatter of plastic on cement, and the dreaded *sploosh* that was followed by an intense wetness across my butt and down the backs of my thighs. I groaned and slowly turned.
Three cases and their contents were scattered about, meaning no less than nine gallons were spreading across the floor and seeping under the surviving stacks. My help still hadn't shown, I had fresh milk pilling up on the 70 degree (F) dock, and my ears could hear the distinct sound of a second truck backing up to the number two dock. That could only be the rest of today's order from the warehouse. Four or five pallets of deli meats, cheese, butter and the like if I knew what the Monday load was usually like.
"Well," I sighed and scrambled for a floor squeegee, mop and bucket. "I did hope it'd be a large shipment today." The attempt at humor wasn't raising my spirits any more than feeling the back of my pants plastering themselves to my butt while I squeegied spilt milk into the drain at the milk box doorway.
It was almost seven when Don finally showed and I guess he got an eyeful. A ton of milk piled on the dock, a driver from the warehouse waiting to unload (Marvin was still trying to load his truck with our empty milk cases from the weekend.) and the milk box was torn completely apart as I was desperately finishing with the mop. The good part of this catastrophe being that, because my pants were black, it wasn't obvious that my ass and the backs of my legs were soaked.
"Looks you've had an interesting morning, Je-Jenn." He said a little sheepishly.
I like Dan. He's a big goof with short blond hair, an almost childishly open face and a carefree attitude to life that I envy a lot. If I were ten years younger and he was not already living with someone, I might have thought about making a play for him. All that and the fact that he remembered to give my proper name saved him from me snapping more than "You don't want to know." I was still mortified at the mess in here and involved with berating myself for clumsiness and not being fast enough to have everything the way I thought it should be.
Together we got the milk box put back together and started breaking down the pallets into stuff that was needed immediately on the floor and stuff that could be stored here in the back. Marvin let me know on his way out that he'd credited us for the milk. He winked and told me that he'd seen that defective milk case cut loose. It was a lie of course and awfully sweet. I think the burly truck driver was more thana little embarrassed when I hugged him in thanks and started crying.
I was really uncomfortable in wet pants and my new shoes smelled of hazelnuts. I was terribly embarrassed by making such a mess of my "first day" in just an hour or so. I'd worked out that I'd cost the company that was supporting me a good $30 in product and I was so busy hating myself that one little gesture was enough to break the dam and everything came pouring out.
"Jennifer," Marvin asked while trying to ease me off him. "What'cha bawlin' 'bout girl?"
I sniffled and bit and saw Dan concentrating on pushing a cart full of product out onto the floor through blurry eyes. I could hear the warehouse driver buttoning up his truck. Marvin was holding me at arm's length and looking both a bit concerned and a little embarrassed. I thought about it a bit and began to giggle through my tears. As Marvin's ruddy face began showing even more concerned, my giggle became a full throated laugh.
The Deli Manager had come into the back room now. I suspect Dan had told her that I was having a breakdown or something. My laughter was finally dying down as she handed me a paper towel asked much the same question as Marvin.
I dabbed at my eyes and giggled again as I tried to tell her, "Oh nothing much Chris." I gasped. "Just crying over spilt milk, I suppose."
You know, despite the damp pants and smelly shoes, it became a pretty good day about then.
By NiGHTs
(Based on a Story and Title suggestion made by Tyrone Slothrop)
I saw her walk in just before group started. Maybe in her mid-twenties; scared and tentative, ready to bolt for the door at the first hint of characters from the movie, The Birdcage. I smiled to myself in approval. Whoever she was, she had potential. Not too tall, good hair and frame. A better form than I could ever hope to have. She even carried herself well for all the obvious tension she was under. Assuming she was serious, she could be great, whether she was a transsexual or cross-dresser. Nature had "blessed" her with androgynous looks and despite her lack of training and nervousness; in another setting the only looks she might draw would be to wonder briefly what gender she actually was. Here no questions were allowed unless permission was given.
Tight, form fitting levis contrasted a hugely over-sized tee shirt sporting characters from the anime Haibane-Renmei, tucked into the waist band. Between the two, the new girl had managed to effectively show off very trim legs, while covering whatever might be lacking in the bust area. The high, tailored waist band of the jeans even managed to lend the impression of hips. I silently applauded her taste in anime and hoped that she was used to sitting in something that tight while tucked. Terry was speaking tonight and those sometimes ran long. Even in the Sketchers she was wearing, standing through the whole meeting could get tiring and I hoped she'd stick for the after-meeting social. The group's anime fans were few in number, I being the only one, and if she became a regular member of the group, I might have company for the next convention.
All that flitted through my mind as I finished topping off my coffee, and made my way to the circle of chairs when Becca's hand fell on my shoulder from behind and I realized what else a new girl would mean.
"Okay Sarah, you passed on being a big sister the last two times." She said with what sounded like a knowing smile. Her left hand joined the right to ease the stiffness that had overtaken me. "You said yourself that you can't hide in crowds forever and that your Counselor wanted to hear that you were over this hump before conferring with your Endo on your status, right?" There wasn't much more she could do without making a scene and even I knew I was overreacting. I closed my eyes and found the image my counselor and I had worked out. I was five again and sitting under an old tree at the top of a hill overlooking Aunt Vera's strawberry patch. The spring day warm, but also cool with a slight breeze here under the shade of the old oak. The world smelled of dewy grass and the promise of new life. I sighed feeling some of the tension release and opened my eyes.
"Alright Becca, get Sally to start things up and I'll do my duty." I willed myself to the doorway where the new girl was hovering, still uncertain. Becca walked with me a few paces. "Did I look that nervous the first time?" I asked. Before she dropped back to let me get on with it, she a chuckle escaped her lips.
"You were worse. Alternating between bubbly happiness and complete lock-up. Mary thought you should have chosen Sybil as your name." The memory of Mary made me smile. Her grandmotherly presence was one I'd sorely missed since returning to the support group's sessions I sent a silent prayer that she'd found peace in the hereafter.
Suppressing an urge to check my face, knowing that barring massive instant cosmetic surgery it wouldn't help and if seen would only feed into the new girl's fears, I fitted a #3 smile ('Warm and reassuring'. Just the thing to let customers know you're genuinely happy they elbowed you aside, instead of asking for one of the cartons of OJ you were loading on the shelf) and approached the new girl.
"H'lo, I'm Sarah Reese. I couldn't help noticing your Tee, hon. I love Haibane-Renmei. Did you get that at the last Otakon?" The new girl nodded nervously as if she expected me to try slipping a collar around her neck and forcing her to her knees, instead of offering my hand.
Her grip was light as a doe's footstep. "R..Renee…Hollister." Good voice I noted, even if untrained. "Haibane is one of my favorite shows."
"I love the way it talks of finding healing and renewal in self-forgiveness." I raised my steaming cup to spread the welcoming smell of the Gevalia French Roast I'd brought. "Well Renee, they're about to start the session. Would you like some coffee or something to drink?"
I could tell she was tempted, but could almost hear the thought process going through her head. "If I drink I'll have to pass it and then I have to choose."
I resisted the temptation to take her by the arm. "No hoo-hoo. Renee. Let’s fix you a cup to have something to hold onto at least. Then I won't have to go for seconds." I said, steering her to the coffee pot at the opposite end of the room. The other girls were already taking their seats and being polite about not mobbing Renee. Our group had traditions about easing the newbies and everyone knew there was no tolerance for violating them. As I poured for Renee and offered cream and sugar (she impressed me by only sweetening the brew a bit), I asked the next question that was 'required by law' as it were.
"Um, Renee you know this is a support group and there's usually a brief catch-up thing. Everyone in the circle letting the others know what’s doing in their world and such. You give the word and we'll make sure you're skipped and left to yourself if you like. Or I can simply introduce you and that will let everyone know to let you come to them as you will or not."
Renee actually smiled with relief and sipped at her coffee. "Thanks, I…" Her brown eyes widened in astonishment and she looked down at her cup. When her taste buds were ready to talk to her again, she looked at me with flushed pleasure. I smiled back in acknowledgement of the unspoken compliment. She sipped again slowly to better get to know the brew and answered with her first genuine smile. "Thank you Sarah," she resumed, raising the cup in salute. "But I'm here on the advice of my doctor to learn to relax and join into some group activities." I nodded and showed her a chair. Another nod to Becca let her know that running the circle normally was fine.
Renee wasn't quite as sure of herself later when the circle came round to her, but no one ever is the first time.
The meeting went well enough and Terry's presentation on delivering proper feminine inflections, comparing his male self's speech patterns with his wife's assistance while informative, was made interesting more for the comedy of Sally correcting Marcia's diction. Terry has been cross-dressing for fun, relaxation and profit since at least his college days. Marcia and he met working for the same company as Singing Delivery girls and exotic dancers at parties and such. Nowadays they run a similar business and Terry still allows himself to be booked occasionally under the watchful eye of his wife. In their mid-fifties now, the Terry at 6'2" still cuts a stunning figure of a woman. Tall and busty, with an impossibly well maintained mass of auburn hair, his only concession to age being the mild chubbiness which is easily offset by his obvious enjoyment of life and love for Marcia who seems to find infinite amusement in her husband's antics and playing with his look… When the diminutive Latino isn't showing that no matter how good her husband is at dressing like a woman, she is one. Their mocking 'battles' over fashion, makeup and whatever else happens to cross their path are delivered with great passion and it's always a joy to watch them dance verbally.
Renee sat across from me at the group of tables the group assembled in The Soiled Dove after breaking up the official part of the meeting. It was Karaoke Night and everyone was having fun egging each other to take a turn on the stage. It was nearly 11 and the bar had that quietly cheerful glow tinged with the sounds of friendly conversation and good fellowship, and sweet tobacco smoke that you imagine all bars should have only to be dark caves with muted spirits. There were others places the group took after meeting activities to, but the Dove was always my favorite.
One of the other nice things about The Soiled Dove is that no one cares if you're Gay, Straight, TG or a three-headed alien with a yin for Chippendales…furniture. If you you've brought cash, can pass Sully's eye for presentability and are reasonably polite, you're welcome to sit and have a few. Now what exactly Sully uses as criteria has been debated for years. I've seen people that I would have sworn were begging change when I drove into the city chatting with local and national celebrities. At the same time no one could ever dispute Sully's judgment and no one ever seemed to pass through the doors that did not add to the place somehow.
Terry was first up and gave a surprisingly good rendition of Joplin's "Me and Bobby McGee". Even managing to capture the desperation of the cries at the end. Having proven he still had 'it', he dragged Becca, who was latched onto Anne to the stage and the two of them completely blew trading off verses of "Space Oddity". By the end though they'd loosened up and were clearly hamming their way to the end. I raised a cheer for an encore that earned me a mock-evil look from Anne and a nod from Becca.
The "Uh-oh" I heard from Renee echoed my own sentiments as Becca gravely approached me and Anne took the mike and announced that we had a local celeb in the audience.
I groaned internally as Anne told one and all assembled of my past on the stage and in All State Choir. She naturally admitted that was all from a high school career over twenty years in the past and that I had been known as Scott back then.
I scanned the gathered tables for help, and saw nothing but innocent 'who me?' smiles, except for Renee who was apparently fascinated by the condensation on her glass.
Shrugging, I allowed Becca to haul me across the hardwood floor to the small stage. Looking over the screen, I played with the menu and hunted around in the tunes by the Eagles. My pearled nail almost stopped on "James Dean", but I'd be disappointed if I couldn't get the whole bar hopping like a bad musical, so selected 'Wasted Time", something that I both knew well and could tear someone's guts out with.
As the opening piano chords rang through some of the best speakers to ever come out of the Polk Audio warehouse, I closed my eyes and drifted to the music. Letting it guide my performance, I removed the wireless mike from the stand tenderly, as I began easing the woes of my lover in the song. I was swaying with each step to the slow, lazy pace of the song. Commiserating with the audience over the loss of yet another romance and allowing my voice to take me to where I needed to go, I circled the group's table. I paused at Anne and sang to her as if I was addressing her worries over the passing of time and how sometimes a "little something" could "make them go away". She squirmed in hushed silence as I moved on to Renee and motioned her to join me before someone decided she should get up here by herself and as the backup singers 'Ooh'd and Ah'd' Renee joined in and surprised me with having a fair alto and the ear to match harmony to my melody.
When the back up singers left the mix, I thanked Renee with a smile and made my way back onto the small stage, allowing the audience to get on with their search while I got on with mine and just finished my slow spin to face them again in time to moan out the last few syllables.
Lowering my head I let my eyes refocus for a moment and savored the feeling of being 'on' for just a moment and placed the mike back in the stand. It occurred to me that the Dove had gone quiet, and it came to me that perhaps I'd gone a little too far over the top. Now that the high of losing myself in the music was over, I nervously raised my chin and brushed and brushed my bangs out of my eyes.
Every eye in the place seemed to be on me. No one seated at the bar was facing it. Instead, all of them were watching the 39 year old pre-op in tan cargo pants and a light green cotton blouse stand there after acting half her age and as if dressed to kill.
"Hey, thank you folks, on behalf of the band and m'self and I hope we passed the audition." I called into the room with an effort at confidence that I no longer felt and was about to rush back to the group's table when Sully, behind the bar began clapping.
The whole room broke out in quiet applause at that point and I was greeted by the welcoming smiles of the whole group. I was gonna tap the next victim when Sully's gravelly basso roared. "Well Gents and Ladies? Anyone want to try to top that?" Sully pulled out an incredibly large cigar and made a show of nipping the end and lighting up while waiting for a response.
When no one stepped up and more than one person across the room let out a variation of 'Follow her?' Sully pulled deeply on the cigar and nodded at me. "You're drinking on the house tonight Sarah…Unless someone can mount a successful challenge."
I felt myself blushing at the attention and the honor, and furtively tried to bury myself in the crowd as Terry called out that Sully wouldn't lose any money on me as I rarely had more than three drinks on any visit to the Dove. Marcia must have elbowed him as his argument cut off abruptly.
I managed to find my seat and settled in to find my now cold Irish Coffee had been swept away and replaced with a fresh, piping hot cup. Sully or Tom, his assistant had even remembered the way I like it. Without crá¨me d mint and with a sugar-rimmed mug. I let the aroma seep into my nostrils and took a tentative sip.
"Well Renee?" I smiled. "After the way you matched the back up singers, I'm sure you could knock me off the top slot."
Darn it she actually blushed. "No way, I've a good voice, but that that wasn't what blew us all away, Sarah." Renee answered; waving off my compliment and then darn if she didn't blush again. "I mean… It's not that you didn't sing well."
"I didn't take it that way, Renee. Although I have to admit the silence was a little daunting at first."
"You surprised everyone." Becca laughed, leaning into me. "Most of the girls have forgotten that you weren't always as quiet as you tend to be now. Even I got caught by surprise, and I was your 'big sister'"
Renee was making motions to her upper lip. I took the hint, and resisted the temptation to lick off my whipped cream mustache. As Renee spoke I reluctantly used a napkin. "I don't know about that Sarah, but you just shined from the moment the music started. You were a torch singer from head to toe and acted…No; 'acted' isn't the right word. When you came down and walked through the bar, you just were. Even if I though I could compete vocally with the performance that you and…Terry?" I nodded and Renee continued, "Terry and of course, you and Anne, Becca."
Anne laughed out loud at the last inclusion. "Are you kidding? Becca and I don't even sing in the shower for fear of curdling the water!" She said hugging Becca and sloshing some beer on the table; a slightly slurred 'Oopsie' being Anne's main comment as she stared disconsolately at the puddle on the table. Renee and I took no notice as Becca kept one arm about Anne while wiping up the mess.
"Well girls, it's been fun, but I think I need get my Annie home." Becca said, rising slowly, while supporting Anne.
"Aww, bu' Becky the party's Jus' started."
"Not for you it hasn't, lover mine." She said. "A quick pit stop and then it's to bed for you." Marcia offered a ride, but Becca said she'd be ok. Tom had already appeared with the next round and offered to have a cab waiting by the time Becca was ready to leave. As the pair with Marcia in tow made their way to the women's room, I turned my attention to the table where Tom placed yet another Irish Coffee in front of me.
"Compliments of the gentleman" Tom commented when he saw I was about to protest that I hadn't ordered another. I blushed and Renee giggled and the other girls "ooo'd" appropriately. As Tom cleared the half drunken remains of my last drink, I was tempted to send the new one back. Two and a half ICs was a lot for me. I figured I might have to grab a taxi too if I wasn't careful, but it seemed impolite to turn it down either. I followed Tom's nod to see my benefactor was a man in his early fifties with dark hair, just starting to show a sprinkling of salt. He smiled congenially and returned to talking with the man sitting next to him. He seemed to be in no hurry, so I relaxed and got back into the conversation.
Renee was picking back up where she left off before Anne's outburst of inebriated joy. "What I was saying before was it was like watching a pro. I guess I sorta expected that from Terry, but… I'm not explaining this right."
"It's cool Renee, you caught me in one of those moments of glory." I assured her. "You know a smidge of talent and a lot of desperation about not looking too bad. I step into my panties one leg at a time.
"Is that what it was?" Marcia said, rejoining us. "And here I was gonna ask if you had an agent." She joked and let me know Becca had said I was to handle Renee's questions and tell her about the niggly bits concerning the group. She also let Renee know that she'd email Renee's doctor to thank her for sending Renee.
I was enjoying Renee's company and she seemed to fit in pleasantly with the rest of the group. We got into a conversation on Studio Ghibli films and how Disney was mismanaging the franchise that had us both giggling and the other girls looking confused. That led to comparing video collections, which she kept on her Zire PDA, with the same program I do on my Tungsten. She was impressed with the sheer size of my collection and I was impressed with her taste. As the party wound down I broached the subject of how she'd liked her experience so far she practically bubbled with excitement.
"I don't know what I was really expecting, but this is very nice." She admitted. "Somehow I guess I figured it'd either be a whiney bitch session or a…" She stopped and looked embarrassed.
"A bunch of queens on the prowl?" I asked, smiling. "I know what you mean. Most TG support groups end up being more social club than support. But when Becca, Dale and Mary set this up, they wanted to make sure neither side was left out." Sipping the last of my cup, I added, "I've visited with other groups that were like that. They have their good points, but this is the place I came back to."
"I can understand why my Dr. Klein recommended you all." I was expecting a ton of questions when I stood up in the circle to introduce myself, but y'all just listened and asked if _I_ had questions."
"And?"
"Loads of them, but I hardly know where to start." Renee admitted. "But I guess one of the first is what's this 'Big Sister' thing?"
Terry leapt in on that. "Well, it's something I never had to take advantage of being so accomplished."
"Not to mention that you have a wife who supports and loves you for what you are." Marcia interjected, kissing his lightly powered cheek. "Renee dear, you really should have seen my husband when I first met him. He could fill a costume like no one I knew, but was totally lost at getting ready to pick up a few things at the grocery store."
"I wasn't that bad." Terry grumbled into his beer.
"Your makeup alone would have stopped traffic for miles, hon. Great for the act, but hardly day to day wear." Marcia grinned and turned back to Renee. "You look great kiddo, but you're a little different from other girls and there are times things can get confusing or out of control. The 'Big Sister' program we run here brings together people in the group who have similar problems. For instance, a few of the girls here are married and out to their wives. I try to make myself available to them to help ease things out. Terry has been tapped to help some of the guys who are having problems with their dressing." Marcia paused while she took a sip and continued, "Now Becca tapped Sarah here because she's been walking the same road you're starting down for years."
"Years?" Renee asked looking at me.
"I did some 'Girl Interrupted' time for a few years." If I'd taken proper advantage of the help my Big Sister/mentor offered back then, I…"
"Stop that Sarah." Marcia warned. "You had a bad time and none of us was prepared then to know how to handle it."
"Anywho Renee," I continued. "The idea is that Becca thought that you and I were similar enough that I might be able to help if you're ever confused or alone and in need of help." Pulling my PDA back out, I tapped the Tungsten's screen and transmitted my "business card" to her Zire. "Even if you just need to chat a bit, you can find me. Later on, you may decide I'm not your cup of tea and choose another big sister, but for now I'd be proud to lend you a hand if you ever need it, okay?"
The young brunette stared at her PDA and confirmed the data transfer. "Would you like mine too?"
"If you want to Renee, I'd be happy to accept." I said, and realized it was true.
We put the tables back were they'd been and left, a slightly smaller mob than we'd come in as under Sully and Tom's watchful eyes. Had anyone not passed muster, one or the other would have asked politely if they could arrange a ride home. Other than Annie, who'd already been taken home with Becca though, none of us was tight. I stayed in the middle of the group, not so much because I thought it would keep me safe from Sully's scrutiny, but to keep from being waylaid by the man who'd bought me that drink.
It didn't keep him from briefly striking up a short conversation though. First with Terry, who dropped his femme voice and was obviously trying to faze my admirer. This being the Dove though the tactic didn't work, and I actually got a smile listening to the two of them. Terry was actually enjoying himself, and the stranger looked to be able to pass whatever conversational 'weirdness' Terry could think of to throw at the man. I decided that he at least deserved a polite rain check, and thanked him for the drink, but explained that I was with a group and was leaving with them.
"Then the least I can do is make sure you ladies make it to your ride, no?"
He said it so sincerely and added to his unfazability, good looks and the fact that even Sully was looking at me with a 'what're you waiting for girl?' look, I swallowed my fears and offered my arm.
"Thank you Mr...?"
"Ian please. Ian McConnell." He didn't quite smile winningly, just mildly grinned in a pleased manner. I tried to ignore the little jump that gave my heart, and reminded myself that I was getting too long in the tooth to pay attention to such reactions.
Thus began the odd, but necessary 'migration of the transgendered'. Even in groups of two or three, the average mugger in Baltimore won't hesitate to take a stab at you on the late night streets, but gather a mob of four or more, and even the local street gangs will think twice about the potential risk...
If everyone is passing well.
We were nine that night, including Ian. I don't doubt we drew a few stares from the shadows once clear of The Soiled Dove's well lit doorway, but no one was desperate enough to take a shot.
I really love our group. Somehow the whole group managed to keep Ian and I 'in' the herd, while feeling like they were keeping a discrete distance. As a result, he and I had what turned out to be a pleasant chat while walking the three blocks to Terry and Marcia's Expedition. I started off feeling more self-conscious than normal. While not as casual as Renee's tee shirt and jeans combo, I felt distinctly under dressed next to Ian. His 6' plus frame, was clothed in a well tailored sports jacket and slacks, coupled with a crisply pressed oxford shirt. In combination with handsomely lean, muscular face and hands, along with the neatly combed hair, I kept wanting to call him 'sir and ask what subjects he taught. By comparison, I looked like a soccer mom, fresh from a day shopping. It didn't seem to matter to him though and soon I was just enjoying a pleasant evening stroll with an intelligent, good-looking man. (I left the question of why such a man might be interested in me unresolved.)
We started off discussing music, wandered into movies and had an interesting argument about the differences between traditional and CG animation. By the time we got to the SUV, I'd found myself inviting the handsome man to see a showing of 'Spirited Away' at Towson State.
Remember how I said I loved the group? Well I take it back. When we all piled into the SUV and again, 'somehow' I found myself wedged in beside Ian, while Terry drove us to our individual cars. Perhaps wedged isn't the proper word. I was practically in his lap. That despite knowing for a fact that Terry's Expedition has sat 12 of us comfortably, purses and all.
Terry dropped Ian off at his car first. I got pushed out with him, ostensively to 'thank him and make sure he got to the car without problems'. We traded info and again, he impressed me by simply taking my hand and squeezing it gently while telling me he looked forward to hearing from me about the movie.
For a heartbeat or three, while my hand was engulfed in his, I wondered what it would feel like to be held in the arms those hands were connected to. Perhaps it was longer as the next thing I knew Ian was in his car with the engine idling, waiting for me to rejoin my friends.
Not surprisingly, there was suddenly plenty of elbow room. As I settled in, and Ian's car pulled out in front of us, every head but Terry's turned to me.
"Sar-rah's got a BOY-friend" was followed by a chorus of "Sarah and Ian sittin' in a tree..." Utterly childish... and useful. My own blush, could be filed under the heading of embarrassment rather than the shakes I seem to get after being with any 'strange' guy.
Especially if he's 'nice'.
"Seriously Sarah," Cally said once all the giggling and kidding had calmed down. "Nice catch. Tall, dark, handsome and smells nice to boot."
"Aqua Velva Blue Ice." Renee said, drawing mild looks of interest. "What? Dad uses it."
That started another round of giggles while one by one, cars were located. When we were down to three, Terry called back, "Hey Renee, where's your ride hon?"
"Oh." The small brunette said nervously. "You can drop me at the bus stop nearest Essex. I can catch a bus from there."
"Not at this time of night you won't." I said.
Renee shrugged. "I didn't expect to be out this long or I'd have driven or brought more cash for a cab."
I shook my head. "Terry, I'll get her home. Essex is on my way anyway. You two can handle getting Cally home, right?"
"Don't hurry on my part at this point," Cally said in her soft, little girl's voice. After glancing at her watch she added, "I'm just now ten MIIIIIIIN-ettes...whew...late."
"Cally!" everyone but Renee cried.
"Sorry, Roger and I need to talk about re-setting that pager." Cally said squirming in the seat next to me. Knowing that despite her normally demure attire she and her husband engaged in some rather kinky games, neither I nor Terry and Marcia were willing to ask where exactly that pager had been placed.
Following the awkward silence that followed, Marcia decided to have her say. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? You'll be at least 30 minutes late as it is."
"I know." Cally said with a sly grin. "I think I like it too much when he pages now." I motioned for Renee to ask later.
Terry nodded and turned to drop Renee and me at my car. I smiled at the welcoming sight of the little stuffed Sonic the Hedgehog and Totoro sitting in the back window of the little green Kia Spectra. I opened Renee's side first and joined her a moment or two later. Seeing my parking lights kick on, Terry and Marcia took off with Cally to Glen Burnie.
As I pulled out behind the SUV to leave the parking lot, Renee thanked me. "No biggie hon, I live down Victory Villa way. You living with your parents still?"
"No, Mom and Dad are still 'adjusting' to me coming out." Renee admitted. "I have an apartment and my old car. I just don't like diving in the city. Seems every time I go down here I get lost."
I grunted and turned onto Eastern Ave. "Understood, I know my way to and from about four places and heaven help me if I get diverted. Still, I think you were taking a bigger risk on the MARC line, than you would have with driving."
"Maybe. I've been out full time for the last semester and most of the summer though. I'm pretty used to being out and about. Dr. Klien insisted that I should get in touch with a group that was more in line with some of the problems…we have."
"Not the point, Renee." I said firmly. "You're young and not bad looking. Walking alone anywhere could get you hurt. Don't let yourself be deluded on that point. All women are targets in situations like that. Girls like us, maybe more so than genetic girls."
I stopped at a light in front of City Hospital and noticed Renee staring. "Something wrong?"
"Sorry, I just haven't been around anyone else who was TS too before tonight." I'd thought for a moment she was going to ask about Ian, or why I might be so worried about her being out alone. Neither were topics I felt ready to approach yet and was grateful for Renee's avoidance of them.
I chuckled. "Disappointed?"
"No, I had a great time tonight. I seem to be the only person on campus who's out and… Well, the LG group at Essex Community College just didn't know what to do with me." Renee said.
The light switched to green finally and we got back underway; I began maneuvering over into the right lane so we'd be able to make the on ramp to I-95. "They couldn't lend any support?"
"They have a LGB support group, but they weren't that friendly." Renee sighed. "The general train of thought seemed to be that they need to help me accept that I was really gay and just covering it with clothes and makeup."
"Sorry Renee." I sighed and wished for once I was driving an automatic. Renee sounded like she needed a hand to hold, but a stick in city traffic demands both hands. "I wish I could tell you that the attitude is rare."
"It's just that I've known I was a girl for as long as I can remember, you know? I expected Mom and Dad to be upset, and I do have friends, but they're adjusting too. I kinda assumed I'd have at least some people other than my shrink to talk things over with, but instead found I was having to fight for my identity on two fronts. By the end of this summer Dr. Klien was concerned about depression."
"Well you found us." I nodded. "How surprised were your folks?"
"More than my older sisters." Renee grabbed for a support as we got on the loop to join the interstate. "I mean, they were dressing me up like their own personal Barbie doll back when I was little, and Jan must have noticed that long after they lost interest in playing dolly with me, I was still borrowing clothes…What about you?"
Sneaking into the shadow of a tractor trailer I relaxed and let traffic flow around us. "Oh, I didn't have any experiences like that. Might have eased things a little." I admitted.
"But you knew, didn't you?"
"I knew something was messed up, Renee; just not what. I was about nine before I had any understanding of what I am. Let's see, that would have been 1974."
"Seventy-four!?"
"Don't laugh. Someday you'll be 39 and telling some 'kid' about your childhood." I warned.
"I stand corrected ma'am." Renee said with mocking seriousness. "So what made everything so clear?"
I let my mind drift back thirty years while scanning the road around me….
End prologue.
By NiGHTs
(Based on a Story and Title suggestion made by Tyrone Slothrop)
The night sky was clear and still warm on a night in late July of 2004. On interstate 95, just north of Baltimore, a green Kia Spectra uses a tractor trailer to run blocking for it as it makes it way to the 695 interchange. Renee Holister and I have been discussing how I came to the understanding that I was transsexual.
"The world of 1974 is probably more familiar than you'd think Renee." I glanced at the twenty year old brunette beside me. If I had been born a genetic girl, the young brunette could have been my daughter. Assuming of course, she'd been born a genetic girl as well. I smiled sadly at the thought and recalled the song I'd sung at The Soiled Dove. "Wasted Time." I mumbled.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, just thinking about might-have-beens;" I said, still wondering at where all the time had gone since I was her age. "A danger when discussing the past." I assured her and continued thinking about what was happening the year I discovered myself.
"Now that I'm thinking about it, the similarities between 2004 and 1974 are interesting." I said, getting back into the groove and brushing a stray hair from behind my glasses. "There were terrorists back then too, both at home and abroad." I said, referring to the Munich Olympics in 72 and the Patty Hearst kidnapping of that year. The OPEC embargo played havoc with gas prices and while it wasn't an election year but we were changing presidents anyway. Nixon resigned about three weeks before my 9th birthday."
"Weird, 'the more things change…'" Renee said, breaking my internal search for the events of 30 years ago.
I steered the car onto 695 so we could merge with 702 and get my TG Support group's newest member back home. She was listening intently, grunting and nodding just enough to remind me that she was there and paying attention.
"Not that any of this really meant a lot to a nine year old. With my birthday just past, summer vacation was coming to a close and I had a new school year coming up and more than enough on my plate anyway…" I said letting my mind drift back.
Walking the aisles of the local Safeway with my parents and little sister was always less than exciting. Outside of looking at the artwork on the breakfast cereal boxes and checking the magazine racks there wasn't a lot to look forward to. The first issue of Starlog was years away and so Famous Monsters of Filmland and Analog were all I really had to feed my head. With Mom along though I knew that even if new issues were out, FM would be considered too gross and Analog too old for me. At least I'd get to page through them briefly. Assuming of course, my little sister didn't insist on looking at the same magazine I was looking at. She'd recently decided that anything I'd taken interest in, she had to handle as well. Usually at the same time.
We were past the produce section and that underlying smell of rotten vegetable matter that no one but me seems to smell. The bread aisle was still a good five or six aisles away from where I could slip away from Mom's grousing about prices. Fortunately, there were J-hooks bearing silly cheap crap to tempt the shopper into impulse purchases. Most were miscellaneous household items, and a few were toys like squirt guns and the like, to get the really little kids whining. It didn't matter what was on the hooks to me though. I played a game of reading the descriptions and imagining what they could be in a funnier world.
It was a toy ping pong ball gun that got me to laughing loudly, much to Mom's distraction.
In my mind's eye, the packaging and toy came together to form the following battle:
The battle raged about the beast-man. Seven feet tall and nearly a full ton of green flesh waded through ranks of tanks and gunfire; bullets and exploding shells impacting with little or no perceptible damage. Instead of cowering, the hulking brute swatted the air around him, as if trying to shoo a swarm of excited bees away.
A muzzle flash reminded the Hulk's nearly infinitesimal mind of one of the sources of his annoyance. Roaring his disdain for the puny humans and their machines, The Hulk leapt the 400 yards separating him from the nearest tank to fire as though hopping across a hopscotch grid. Gripping the smoking barrel of the tank's main gun, he ripped the entire turret free of the vehicle and beat the main body to twisted rubble. Tossing the wreckage aside, The Hulk scanned the battlefield for his next victim.
"I have a clean shot, sir!" Shouted a prone soldier.
General Thunderbolt Ross observed the Hulk's doings from a jeep beside the soldier through high power binoculars and nodded. "Take him down soldier!" Ross shouted and raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Get those gas grenades ready."
The giant on the battlefield below never heard the shot, but even without the binoculars the change in the Hulk's stance was easily seen. Almost immediately the great green behemoth dropped to his knees and looked on the verge of kneeling over. Through his binocs, the General smiled with satisfaction seeing the pained confusion on the Hulk's face. Misshapen, Neanderthal brows arched high on his broad face. The half-lidded dull look that predominated the Hulk's face had been replaced by one of saucer-eyed shock.
"Gas Grenades, Now!" Ross shouted into his radio.
Even as he issued orders continued to peer through his binoculars. Ross could see the Hulk's head sag down on his bull neck and could imagine ham hands with unaccustomed tenderness assessing the damage.
"Where are those blasted grenades!" The perpetually irate general bellowed over his shoulder in time with a pair of 'phunt' sounds announcing the launch of the grenades, which exploded a good thirty yards off target and downwind to boot.
"Correct that trajectory, pronto!"
Bringing his binoculars back to bear on the man-beast, who was already rising back to his feet, Ross could see a glowering rage burning through the Hulk's face that was unmatched in the all the years he'd spent in pursuit of the creature.
"oh shit"
My laughter was only intensified by the use of the naughty word at the end. No matter that no one would hear it from me, or that the writers at Marvel Comics would ever be allowed to publish it.
Dad gave me an indulgent look and said "Okay, what is it this time?" I pointed up at the florescent green ping pong ball gun and still giggling, read the packaging, which bore a picture of the Hulk by as rendered by the comic's old regular artist, Herb Trimpe.
"'The Incredible Hulk Ball Blaster'," I read aloud in my best imitation of a TV announcer's voice, then turning to Dad and leaning in close enough to smell the distinctive mix of Old Spice and tobacco smoke that seemed to cling to him, I added 'whispering' in that loud voice that only children can manage, "It won't stop him, but it'll sure slow him down!" Dad knew enough about comics to get that the Hulk's strength was directly proportional to his anger, and was caught between joining in the joke, or placating Mom, whose eyes had just dropped onto the floor.
"Hey Buddy-Roe, head on down to the deli and get us a half pound of Swiss and one pound of Bologna, okay?" He said; touching my back with gentle pressure to get me out of the way before Mom got her eyes stuffed back in her head. I heard an all too familiar whine starting up, as Dad pushed me off and almost as fast it started, Dad said something about having time alone with his two favorite ladies and I turned briefly to see Dad pick Stacy up and nuzzle her soft brown hair.
I left the three of them and turned the corner. The coolness of the dairy section enveloped me and gooseflesh tickled my skin. Although the summer day outside had been hot and totally justified my choice of blue shorts and a light green tee shirt, I'd not considered shopping today or would have pulled my blue jeans out instead.
I actually was happy enough to be on my own in a way. With no Mom, Dad, or Stacy looking over my shoulder, there was little pressure to watch myself that I was behaving as they expected. At the same time, a niggling voice in the back of my head wished silently that Dad or Mom could still pick me up or even just hug and hold me.
But they didn't seem to expect that I needed that anymore and I didn't want to add to their disappointment in me by asking.
I skipped stopping at the magazine rack on my way. While it might have been fun and even what Dad had originally intended, I knew from experience that I could get too absorbed in reading and the lines at the Deli sometimes took forever to wade through. Sure enough, there were 5 or 6 people waiting there. It occurred to me that I could have lifted a magazine and read while I waited, but then I'd draw evil looks from the clerks as they waited for me to damage, shoplift or simply leave it sitting on a case somewhere.
So I plucked a ticket and determined from the number there were really only three people actually ahead of me. There was a coffin case in front of the deli full of stuff we never bought and I looked at all the platters and funny breads while waiting. Time passed, as I kept an ear open to hear for my number to be called, and my mind was drifting as I watched a family with three girls pass. One of them, about my age smiled at me briefly, causing me to nervously brush blonde bangs out of my eyes. Why did she smile? What did she see? I told myself I was being paranoid and just watched in confusion as she turned back to her sisters and all three giggled.
So why had that girl smiled? Couldn't she see whatever it was that all the kids at school did? That I was some strange geek, to be laughed at and picked on? Maybe she did and that was the reason for the laughter afterward.
At the age of nine there was really only one central question in my life.
'What's wrong with me?'
It occupied my mind when I wasn't drawing or thinking up stories or submersing myself in books or TV. The worry and anxiety it caused evaporated when I could escape into other worlds.
I just didn't understand. Adults thought I was normal and couldn't see why I was sometimes despondent and depressed. They listened to my stories and looked at my drawings and said I was bright and imaginative and seemed to expect I should be happy with that.
Eventually though, I couldn't keep them entertained and they would push me to join with the other kids.
I didn't understand the boys my own age either. All they ever seemed to want to do was attack each other, while I wanted play out the adventures in my head and draw and read and write. Adults I could entertain. Boys I annoyed and learned not to talk too much around or at least usually say what they expected to hear. The policy didn't work all the time, but had kept incidents of fighting and parent conferences about 'my problems with socialization' to a minimum.
I can't say I didn't understand girls the girls my age, but the signals I could readily interpret at the time were mixed at best. My cousins seemed to accept me readily enough, and I always had fun playing with them, but that could have just been a "family thing". Certainly, the girls at school weren't generally inclined to let boys near. I did learn how to stay in the background and listen. They still chased me away when I they noticed and I guess I earned even more of a reputation for being weird over it.
The upshot being that when I tried to do what was expected and be with the boys, I felt wrong and at extreme disadvantage, but the girls with whom I felt more at ease made it clear I was wrong to seek their company too.
I was still standing there, my back to the deli counter hugging myself nervously and wondering again what was wrong with me, when the answer came from a most unlikely source.
"And what can we get you today Miss?" Called a woman's voice from the deli counter.
All the puzzle pieces fell into place and my mind seemed to lock up. I knew for the first time, why I felt wrong wherever I went.
"I'm a girl." I said to myself and the realization felt right and obvious, but at the same time, impossible.
"No you're not dummy." chimed in the part of me that always debated my decisions. "You've got a thing down there! You've helped Mom change and bathe Tracy when she was a baby. If you can see the difference, surely Mom and Dad would have by now."
"Not proof. My G I Joes don't have things." I ventured cautiously.
"Joe's like any doll. He's got nothing." My other side retorted, and then pointed out, "Dad has a thing and he's a man too."
"Prove it."
"Look next time we're in a public restroom, stupid! You think Tracy or Mom can use a urinal? Tracy had to squat behind those bushes on the camping trip last month for a reason."
"Maybe she was pooping?"
The sound of an imaginary eyebrow lifting incredulously is an awesome thing.
"I'm a girl!"
"You're not!"
"AM!"
"NOT!!"
"Miss?" The voice from the deli counter drifted in from behind me and I turned on a kind of auto pilot, while the two voices in my head battled it out. I know I gave my order, because a minute or two later, I had two packages from the lady. She smiled at me and never once gave indication that she'd identified me incorrectly.
"See?"
"I don't see. Whatever we may be in here doesn't change the reality between our legs." I said to myself; pointing out, "It's not like perception can change that.
With all that buzzing in my head, I thanked the woman as politely as I knew and turning, noticed Dad walking up with Stacy transferred to his back. At five, even that would tire Dad out soon.
I showed Dad the cheese and meat he'd sent me for and on a rogue impulse gave him a hug. I was confused inside even more than ever and needed to feel his strength and drink in his comforting scent. Too old or not, I needed the reassurance of a hug.
The way he tensed and eventually pried me off his leg told me how uncomfortable he was with this public display of affection from his 'son'. The separation was gentle, but insistent. I'd goofed again and felt a little worse for embarrassing him than comforted by his presence. The little voice in my head reminded me that I'd also felt the evidence of maleness we'd argued over before. He did have a thing.
There was no doubt that I did too, but there was also no doubt that I was and always had been a girl.
Just what I was supposed to do with the knowledge was another question…
"There's a spot over there, by the Durango."
I blinked at Renee's statement and pulled myself out of the past. Nodding to Renee, I pulled in and made flicked the door lock release. "I'll stay here and make sure you get in okay."
"So that was it?" Renee, looked at me uncertainly. "A sudden epiphany and you were on your way?"
"Hardly," I grinned. "That was less a phase transition than a big bang. From void to gas as it were." Renee's face was a case study for incomprehension.
"Ok, transitioning I get, what's this phase thing?" She asked. "You want to come in for a little more talk? Maybe a nightcap or something?"
I glanced at the car's clock display. It was almost two. "You sure 'bout this?"
Renee nodded, opening her door. "I wanna hear about this Phase Transition thing."
"Not sure I should've mentioned it." I said swiveling my hips to allow my legs out onto the apartment's parking lot. "From the way you said you've always known your path, I'm not sure the analogy applies all that well to you." Checking to be sure my keys were attached to my bag, I closed the car door and followed the young woman to the foyer of her building. "Ummm, is there a roomie we need to keep quiet for?"
"Nope," Renee answered, climbing the stairs. "On a sa-er, Sunday morning this early, she'll be at her boyfriend's."
"Then maybe I should go and we can have this discussion online when I get home, or some other time."
"Za? What, like I need a chaperone? Renee turned to look at me. "I saw how 'eager' you were to hook up with that hunky Ian, and if you'd had any intentions toward me you woulda tried something in the car, no?" She turned her attention back to fitting the key into the doorknob. "So I think you're safe enough, Sarah." Opening the door and walking through, she added, "No, I think I'm safe enough with you, hon."
That one statement, so casually tossed off created a warm feeling inside and forced me in the door. Lights flared on and I had a look at the place my new friend called home. It was a smallish two bedroom affair that was typical for the neighborhood. Just within the confines of what could be termed cozy. Renee had the fridge open and was rustling about.
"Soda okay?" She called. "Looks like Sue drank all the tea and 'forgot' to make more."
Joining her in the kitchenette was going to be difficult but I felt the need to offer. "Diet if you have it. I overdid the whipped cream tonight. Need a hand?"
"Nope, just have a seat on the couch. I'll be there shortly." Renee called from the kitchen. "Sorry about the clothes. Had time to run laundry this morning, but… you know."
I settled in, only having to move a couple of stacks of clean laundry. "If this is the worst this place normally looks, I want to hire whichever of you two keeps it."
Renee passed in front of me then, handing me a Pepsi One and padding over to the computer desk sitting next to the TV and sound system. "Two secs." Was her only comment as she wakened the computer and booted Winamp. A few moments later, the soundtrack to Kiki's Delivery service was quietly playing through the apartment's sound system and Renee was gathering herself on the couch next to me. "Hope that's okay," She asked. I like to have background noise."
"No arguments from me." I replied, sipping from my glass. "Laputa may be my favorite Ghibli movie, but Kiki's soundtrack is wonderful to relax to."
"I know what you mean. When I update my blog tonight, I'll switch over to something a little more lively." Renee grinned. "So now back to our druthers. What's a phase transition?"
"In physics, I guess you could basically call it a change in state. Like chilled water vapor condensing to become liquid, then if chilled further, it becomes ice." I offered. "I guess you could say I use it as an analogy for those times when outside pressure and internal tendencies combine to produce a new outlook and direction."
Renee simply nodded and sipped her Pepsi, content to let me ramble for the moment. "When I said my… epiphany..." I rolled the word on my tongue and smiled. "I like that. When I said my epiphany was more akin to a big bang though, it's because, it never occurred to me before that point what was wrong, only that something was wrong."
"So you went from being 'void' of understanding to…" Renee said, taking my point and using it to encourage me to continue.
"Gas, vapor…" I said waving my free hand to illustrate. "I mean, knowing may be half the battle, but what happens if you don't know what to do with the knowledge?"
"Your parents?"
"When did you tell yours?"
"Point taken." Renee admitted. "Granted, I know my sisters were aware that I continued dressing, Jan even covered for me a few times. They didn't tell, as much from a sense of guilt over starting me dressing as loyalty to their younger sibling, I guess. In any case, no; I didn't tell the folks till I was applying to for scholarships and college."
"Sounds like an exciting Senior year."
"Actually I think it was for the best." Renee said. "By that time Mom and Dad were convinced I was gay and I think it was almost a relief to them to have just to have the other shoe drop. It wasn't as bad as I feared. I got Jan and Lizbet to hold my hand. Mom and Dad did insist I see a shrink of course."
I squeezed her free hand. "A little support can go a long way."
"Streuth." Renee grinned. "We did 'test runs' before the folks were convinced. I spent Christmas break in femme at home and never went back. By the Spring break week, I shifted up to living in femme everywhere but school. Messed with my social life a bit but Sue, my roomie and best -friend, was with me and convinced most of our friends to hang. Once I'd graduated, I was living full time and after I'd gotten into the groove of college life I got my scrip."
"Coolness."
"It wasn't as smooth sailing as I just made it sound of course, but it wasn't unbearable. What about you though?" Renee encouraged, "I can tell you must have been conflicted from your story."
"My, we are looking to chat the night away." I chuckled to and sipped. "I knew what I was inside. The mirror however, was depressingly clear...to me at least... as to what I was outside. Remember that this was the early seventies. No internet, heck home computers were still years away, and the only examples I had to work from were Max Klinger on M.A.S.H., Flip Wilson's Geraldine and Harvey Korman's cross-dressing in Carol Burnett show skits."
I expected a 'Gerald-who?', but Renee seemed content to let me ramble a bit. "Speaking to my parents seemed less an option than a way to place an order for a jacket that was all sleeves… Or an exorcism. My folks were really involved in at church and I was brought up with a pretty fundamentalist view of the world. There's a passage in Deuteronomy that seemed awfully on point in the matter."
"No woman shall wear an article of man's clothing nor shall a man put on a woman's dress; for those that do these things are abominable to the Lord your God." Renee recited. I raised an appreciative brow. "You do know that passage has been argued to apply to a whole other set of circumstances than ours."
"I've heard that and seen the commentaries, most of which are made by Rabbis and therefore don't show up in the literature we had at home." There was no bitterness in that statement. It was just the way things were. "I did come to realize years later that I was either the girl I thought I am and just in need of corrective surgery or that I'm Loony Tunes. In the former case, the dictate doesn't apply and if the latter… Well one hopes god can make allowances for madness he hasn't seen fit to lift from one, no?"
Turning the conversation to happier subjects than my own early years of gender confusion was difficult, but eventually I got Renee to regale me with stories of her childhood play with her sisters and eventual problems as she grew up and would 'sneak' clothing from her sisters.
"You wouldn't believe some of the idiocy I indulged in." she giggled, describing the 1st time she'd experimented with masquera on her own and failed to clean adequately.
"Everyone in class thought I was trying for a goth look, with my raccoon eyes. No doubt, that's when Sue twigged though. She pulled me aside and gave my eyes a through scrubbing between classes."
Renee went further to describe the time she'd taken a fancy to her eldest sister's (Lizbet) prom dress and split a seam along the bodice.
"If Jan hadn't been there to save my bacon, I might not be here today."
I laughed out loud at her descriptions of Lizbet's face and asked, "But she knew it was you immediately, how?"
"Well who else?" Renee sniggered. "Jan and I might have been close to the same size, but I'm the only one between the two of us who'd be dumb enough to violate the sancity of Lizbet's prom gown. Before she'd worn it to the prom, mind."
We continued on through until I glanced at my watch and noticed it was drifting toward 3 in the morning. I pleaded old age and made my way out with a promise to add Renee to my contact list on YIM.
"One question that's niggling at me" Renee asked as I crossed the doorway to leave. "About how big were you at 9?"
"I was prolly pushing five foot, why?"
"Big kid. And comparatively strong for your age because of it I bet."
I nodded dumbly. Although my size had drawn much attention as a kid in school, it had also allowed me to survive most of the resulting fights with little more damage than leaky eyes and bruised feelings. "Yeah…I got my growth spurt relatively early too." Things didn't really even out until high school my 5' 10" frame was less noticeable, but why Renee would pick on that puzzled me.
"So just how tight would you say that hug was if you could feel his thing?"
I blinked. That did nothing to clear the system crash that had just occurred in my brain. Further blinking was obviously called for while waiting for the task manager in my brain to catch up.
"I mean, do you think your Dad is..."
"Was." It came spilling out before I could stop it. The word did help clear the log jam in my head though.
"Oh... I'm sorry; I didn't know."
"S'ok." I said numbly. Dad might not have been embarrassed and disgusted with me for hugging him. "You couldn't know."
I felt a gentle touch on my arm and looked into Renee's brown eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah. You have any tissues?" I said as my brain finished rebooting and caught up to the fact that I was shaking and my eyes were leaking. "I just never considered...Dad..." A bunch of stuff wanted to come spilling out right then that was inappropriate to burden someone with whose acquaintance I'd made not eight hours before; no matter how close I thought we might become in the future. When Renee came rushing back with a whole box of Kleenex I accepted it and dabbed at my leaking eyes.
"Sarah, you need to crash out here tonight?"
"Thanks Renee that's kind of you, but I'm really okay. You just made something that's hurt a long time feel a lot better." I said editing the flood I was damming up. "You grow up thinking your Dad is a superman or something, you know? The idea that I might have simply been crushing him never occurred to me."
Renee looked a little uncertain, but I'd already assembled myself enough to keep her from dragging me back in. I did thank her again and kissed her cheek before heading back to my car.
There were more tears on the drive home, but they were happy tears, revising memories to allow for possibilities I'd never seen before.
When I'd gotten home and ready for bed, I slid between the covers with a smile. It had been a memorable evening and I wondered how I'd be entering it in my journal when I woke.
end gas pt.1