I handed the four moving guys each a crisp $20 bill.

“Thanks for all the help,” I said to them, “and I’ll make sure to refer you to anyone I know who plans on moving.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. O’Brien,” Jake, the foreman of the bunch, replied. And with that, they got in the truck and drove away.

I looked back at the house. My family now had a home of our own. The 5-bedroom, 4 and a half bath colonial had cost me a pretty penny, but I had been smart with my money while in the Army, investing it all, as well as the inheritance I got from my parents’ death. Eleven years of pay at Warrant Officer levels, all with flying bonuses, and five with combat bonuses, tends to add up, especially when your only expense is insurance on a car you only drive a thousand miles a year. The credit union was happy when I was able to put up almost a quarter of the cost of the house as a down payment. And I still had another quarter million to hold onto.

Bev came up behind me and wrapped me up in a hug, the scent of her perfume giving me just enough warning to not surprise me. She kissed me on the cheek and said, “I have some news for you, Sean.”

“I hope it’s good. I’m feeling really happy today, and I don’t want that to change.”

Just then the kids came squealing past us, running towards the back yard.

“You’ll have to decide for yourself.” She raised her voice. “Kids, stay in the front yard for now.” I knew she wanted them to stay where we could see them.

“If that’s the case, I’m guessing you’re pregnant,” I replied.

“Got it in one.”

She turned me around then pushed me out to arm’s length while I attempted to keep my poker face on. “And?”

“This is terrible. Now I have to stay with you forever.”

I got a light punch on the shoulder as she burst out laughing. My poker face had failed again. There’s a reason I never joined in the poker games on base.

“When do you want to tell the kids?” she asked after composed herself.

“How far along are you?”

“Two, maybe three weeks. We didn’t waste any time after the wedding.”

“In that case, Christmas. Before they open their presents.”

“I hope you’re not working that day.”

“I hope I’ve found a job by then. Speaking of, I have four interviews next week.”

“Where?”

“Boston MedFlight on Monday, WBZ on Tuesday, UMass Memorial on Thursday, and NECN on Friday. How’s the school application going?” I asked, knowing she just needed two general education credits to complete her accounting degree.

“Waiting to hear back from Fitchburg State and UMass Lowell.”

“What about Framingham State?” I asked.

“Got accepted, but you know UMass is my first choice.”

At that moment, George came running up to us.

“I’m hungry, mommy!”

I picked him up. He was sort of small for a seven year old boy. “How about you and I unpack the grill and we can make burgers while your mom makes a salad?”

“Can I make the salad with mommy?”

“Sure thing, just make sure to actually help, ok?”

“I will.”

With that, Bev and the kids went into the kitchen, while I went to the back yard and started assembling the grill that I had bought the day before. When I was done, I loaded it with the lump charcoal the previous owners of the house had left behind and got it lit. I headed into the house to find my wife unpacking all the dishes and loading them in the dishwasher. I washed my hands in the sink, then grabbed the ground beef from the fridge and started making it into patties. I had just finished when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Bev said, abandoning me to the children.

I could hear the voices from the front door as I washed my hands, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. As I was drying off, Bev returned to the kitchen, followed by four people, a couple in their mid-thirties, a girl of about sixteen who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, and a boy of about thirteen or fourteen. The man was carrying a case of hard cider from a local orchard, while the woman was holding a bottle of wine and the girl held a bowl covered in cellophane containing what appeared to be macaroni salad.

“Sean, these are our neighbors Jacques and Sophie Archambeau, their daughter Yvette and son Pierre,” Bev said. As she made the introduction, I shook the free hand of Jacques.

Sophie piped up, “We brought you some housewarming gifts,” indicating the wine and the cider. She had a slight accent, not quite French or Quebecois, closer to Walloon.

Jacques looked me in the eye and said, “I’m sure you’ll love living here,” his accent was thicker, definitely Walloon. The year in Brussels shuttling around NATO generals had taught me French and Dutch.

“Merci pour le cidre, voisin,” I replied in my best French. With that he broke into a huge grin.

“I can tell from that you haven’t spoken French in a while. How about we go out back and let our wives gossip?”

“Sounds good. Grill should be ready for the meat,” I said as I picked up the platter of beef patties, a pack of cheese, and a spatula. Pierre followed us out to the backyard.

Jacques and I talked for a while as I cooked the burgers, and we rejoined the families in the dining room to have lunch.

The rest of the afternoon passed by as we talked, learning about each other. Jacques worked from home as a freelance translator, mostly of technical manuals. Sophie taught French at the local high school, and Yvette was about to start her junior year at the same school, while Pierre went to the junior high school across the street. The family had moved to the town right before Pierre started junior high. At some point, George, Alice and Paul wandered into the living room, and were followed by Yvette. Bev and I learned a secret about Pierre, which he told me after both he and his parents swore us not to tell anyone.

Pierre was born female and was transitioning to male.

When the Archambeau family left, it was dinner time. Bev and I decided to order a couple of pizzas, then made sure the beds were reassembled and ready for being slept in. At nine, we tucked the kids into their beds, with George being last. As we were tucking him in, he got a funny look on his face and said, “Why am I the only girl I know who gets treated like a boy?”

In this chapter, Sean meets an old army buddy, gets some advice, and we meet his twin sister and her spouse.

Bev and I looked at each other, unsure how to continue. I am going to need to make a few phone calls in the morning, I thought to myself.

“Honey, it’s because we thought you were a boy,” Bev said. “We can talk about it in the morning, OK?”

“Alright mommy,” was the reply.

“How about I read you a story?” I asked.

“I’m too tired, daddy.”

“Alright, get to sleep, OK?.”

After we had made it to the living room, Bev and I started talking. The first thing we agreed on was that we would call a child psychiatrist first thing in the morning. The second was we would talk to the Archambeaus. And the third was we would distract George from the issue until we had done the first two.

I did not sleep well that night. Recollections of the things I had seen in Iraq and Afghanistan invaded my thoughts. It made for a very restless night. At 6am, I got out of bed, put on my shorts, my PT shirt with “ARMY AVIATION” printed across the front with the front profile image of a Huey on it, grabbed my well-worn sneakers and mp3 player, and set out on a run with Ayreon’s The Final Experiment playing in my ears. In this outer suburb of Boston, running “around the block” was a decent four and a half miles. By the time I got home, the sun had come up, Ayreon had been silenced by Merlin, and I was being followed. Black Ford Crown Victorias tend to stick out in neighborhoods where most people are driving entry level models from BMW, Mercedes and Audi.

As I turned into my driveway, blue lights started flashing. I slowed down to a stop, not wanting to give myself a cramp at 7am, and turned to give the cop a dirty look that soon turned into a grin.

“Sergeant Foster you magnificent bastard,” I said to the former military policeman.

“Mr. O’Brien you crazy fool. And it’s detective now.”

“Let me guess, you got a call about a suspicious character in the neighborhood?”

“Spotted you myself as you went past my driveway on my way to the station. You living around here these days?”

I pointed to the house, “Just moved in here yesterday. How long have you been harassing civilians?”

“Five years now. Got out just before Iraq. They tried to drag me back to train new MPs but I refused flat out. That tends to end up getting thrown back into the shit.”

“Xavier, I can’t see anyone other than Andre the Giant dragging you anywhere. I’m surprised you fit in that Ford.”

The six foot, four inch detective laughed. “I’ve got to get going. Here’s my card,” He said, handing me a business card emblazoned with the Massachusetts State Police badge, “text me at the number on the back when you get a chance.”

After I got back in the house, I snuck my way upstairs hoping not to wake anyone else up in the house. I thought my plan had succeeded until I noticed the empty bed in the master bedroom and heard the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. I decided Bev could use the company while washing, and made sure she knew it was me long before I hopped in. By the time we got out, the kids were up. Bev decided we would have pancakes for breakfast, and I was not one to argue with her pancakes, and neither did the kids. After the kids went to their room to play, I called Jacques.

He picked up on the second ring. “’Allo?”

“Good morning neighbor, sorry to call you so soon and so early in the morning, but I needed some advice. It’s somewhat related to Pierre.”

“What kind of advice?”

“Well, George is saying he is a girl and-“

Jacques cut me off. “She.”

“Huh?”

“First point of advice, respect George’s wishes. Refer to her with female pronouns.”

“What about school? And should I get a psychiatrist involved?”

“As for school, Sophie can help you with that. She’s already very familiar with the district’s policies. As for a psychiatrist, I have a couple to recommend.” He gave me the numbers for two in the area.

“Thanks for the help. I’m going to call those two now and see if I can get George in next week.”

“No problem. And Yvette said she would be willing to babysit any time you need her to this summer. All her friends are away and Sophie and I want her to earn some money on her own before we buy her a car. And she had a good time with your two youngest.”

After I hung up, I dialed the first number and discovered the doctor was not currently accepting new patients. The second number I dialed surprised me when Doctor Tracy Sharp herself answered the phone. She had an opening for Monday, right after my interview with Boston MedFlight, and her office was on the way to Hanscom Field, and she wanted to see myself and Bev with George. The advice she gave for the weekend echoed Jacques’s advice, and I passed this on to Bev. Aftward, I called Jacques back, though this time I got Yvette. I made the arrangements for her to look after Alice and Paul on Monday, then got a call from the local police department. My license to carry had been approved, and they said I could pick it up any time. I thanked the officer, then called my sister Mary in Boston, inviting her and her family over to dinner that night.

It was a weirdly cool day for August in New England, and so we didn’t make use of the pool, but the kids played outside, inside, and with the house, exploring the boundaries before getting worn out and wanting to watch a movie. I found the DVD for Cars and put it on. Mary, her wife Elizabeth, and their adopted infant daughter Wendy arrived just as the move finished. My sister had always been open about her sexuality, including being understanding about my own penchant for occasionally crossdressing, and had been with Elizabeth since they met at Suffolk University Law School. They had gotten married a month after the Goodridge v. Department of Public Health decision came into force in 2004, and my one regret about it was that I was unable to attend, having been part of a still classified mission with the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment at the time. In the meantime, my sister had been steadily working on her legal career.

Bev had somehow found time to make Beef Wellington with Brussels Sprouts for dinner (my personal favorite), with a fine California Merlot for the adults and Hood 2% milk for the children. Wendy had something that looked like pureed vomit. Elizabeth explained how her legal career as a lawyer for a local women’s shelter was going, and then my sister dropped a bombshell.

“Governor Patrick has nominated me for a seat on the bench in the Middlesex Superior Court.”

My sister-in-law looked shocked. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“At dinner tonight. I just found out as I was leaving my office.”

I grinned, “So when will I have to start calling you ‘Your Honor’?”

“After the Governor’s council votes on the nomination and I take the oath of office, most likely just after Labor Day.”

“Aren’t you a little young?” Bev asked.

“Bev, as you know, I’m only five minutes younger than your husband. I have the requisite experience, the Judicial Nomination Commission was more than happy with my interview and resume, and even members of the bar I am not married to have nothing but good things to say about me. The Commonwealth has no laws stating how old a judge should be. And honestly, I’ve been wanting to be a judge since I saw Lance Ito preside over the O.J. Simpson trial with the thought of ‘I could do a better job.’” She paused and took a sip of wine. “Also I think the Governor wants to score some brownie points with the LGBT community by appointing an openly gay judge.”

“On that note, we need to talk to you about something else, but not right now.” Bev stated.

Mary gave me a questioning look, but I quickly changed the subject to the Red Sox.

After dinner and a dessert of cherry pie with ice cream, the kids decided they wanted to play a bit, and Elizabeth took Wendy and watched over them.

“George is now identifying as a girl,” I said to Mary. “Any legal opinion on this?”

“I’ve dealt with it a couple times, but never in someone so young. I did have a client who was 17 and being beaten regularly by her father for being trans. I helped her earn emancipation and get into college on a scholarship. She’s now a sophomore at MassArt, studying photography.”

“I can assure you that I will never harm George.”

“I know, Sean. You have a good heart. I’m more worried about what you would do to anyone who would try to harm her.”

I hugged my sister.

Bev spoke up. “We need to come up with a new name for George. I am not naming her Georgia or Georgina.”

Mary and I looked at each other and then nodded. I had always wanted to name my first daughter after our mother, and my first son after our father – and by extension, myself. So I’m a little vain.

“How about Siobhan, after our mother?” Mary asked.

“I like it, but let’s ask George,” was Bev’s reply

I went into the living room. Alice and Paul were asleep on the couch, and George was reading a book on the floor in front of Elizabeth, who held a sleeping Wendy in her arms, and George looked up at us as we entered.

“Mommy, Daddy, can I change my name?” came out of her mouth.

“Honey, we were just talking about that with your Aunt Mary,” Bev replied.

“We even came up with a name we want to give you, if you want it,” I continued.

“As long as it’s not something close to George,” George said. Bev, Mary and I had to stifle a laugh to keep from waking the other children. Elizabeth looked at us with interest.

“Mary and your dad suggested naming you after their mother, Siobhan,” Bev replied, before adding, “And I think your middle name should be Mary, after both your aunt and my mom.”

Both Mary and myself smiled at this. Our smiles grew bigger, and so did Bev’s, when George next spoke.

“OK, I’m now Siobhan Mary O’Brien!”

Mary Murmured in my ear, “I’ll help you get the paperwork sorted, after you’ve all seen the shrink.” I pecked my sister on the cheek, then she relieved Elizabeth of the sleeping baby. I noticed it was getting a little late and scooped up Paul to bring him up to his room, while Bev did the same with Alice. The little tyke didn’t even stir as I changed him into his pajamas and tucked him into bed, and after I got downstairs, I got Siobhan to get ready for bed as Elizabeth and Mary said their goodbyes. By the time my sister and her family left, Siobhan was in bed, and Bev and I had cleaned up, I was dead tired and went to sleep.