Chapters 1-3 of 9

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Monica Rose
Special thanks to Barbie Lee and Amanda Lynn.

 

 

 

1. My dad – a whiz kid. My appearance. Dad’s offered a job in America. We’re ready to go.

There is a certificate for everything and everybody in our life. You are nobody and nothing without a proper certificate. Even a piece of meat has to be certified and approved for its proper use. There is one for the replacement of your defunct kidney. Another one as a meal for your family, and then another one for burying. And there is no way you should miss-match those certificates. If something is stated in your certificate – it is final. If there is a statement in your certificate that you are striped black and white, then there is no other chance than to be a zebra for you.

In my birth certificate, there is the line – ‘Mother: Unknown’ instead of ‘Father: Unknown’. Like some other people have on their birth certificates.

There the story starts. My father was a whiz-kid. I’d like to call him a genius because then maybe I could feel something special but let’s be truthful. He was a whiz-kid and graduated high school at thirteen. That same year, he was accepted into the most prestigious university. Some five hundred miles away from his home. He was the only one that young there. He was placed into the dorm, not in the boys’ wing but in the girls’ wing. There he was given a single room with a personal bathroom.

I hadn’t been to that university or the dorm. I can’t describe it. He told me later the girls were taking care of him and he did not feel the same as at home but not bad though. He graduated when he was sixteen and stayed there for postgraduate studies. Another year later he got his first doctoral degree.

He was sixteen and was accepted into students’ parties. At one of those parties, probably something happened. Two days before the New Year, he found a baby in front of his dorm room door. He knew the child was his because it had the same nevus in the shape of uppercase ‘Q’ below the left shoulder blade. He picked up the baby and immediately made his way home. There were no documents with the child. My father went with my grandmother to the hospital to register me.

My father struck a dashing figure with high cheekbones, a slight upturn nose, big grey eyes, and blond hair. He was similar to his father (my grandfather). Except that his father was as bald as a polished marble sculpture. Only he knew what color hair he had before he went bald.

My father was a bit of a mad scientist from a young age. He was far from a social butterfly, one might call him a wallflower. He would start sobbing and his lip would quiver every time somebody would raise their voice at him, except of course for when it came to scientific discussions. I’d witnessed one such discussion years later. I was eleven and came into his lab and it found him squeaking in a high-pitched voice.

There we were, my Grandmother, my seventeen-year-old father, and me in my cradle. We all were in the office of the head doctor of the hospital. The doctor didn’t seem to be happy as she was being quite curt. My father began sobbing and the doctor's attitude changed to a more gentle one. The doctor listened to the mother’s story about her child studying in another city and about life in the dorm. My father was unable to talk because he was still choked up. Grandma pulled up his sweater and undershirt to show the birthmark on the lower portion of his back to the doctor then they showed the same one on my back. The doctor then filled out the birth certificate.

Minde wanted to name me something related to crystals, my father was addicted to crystals because he built lasers. His mom preferred Kristijonas (Christian, like Hans Christian Andersen). She said there was no Crystal-related name. Later I was called Kris, Krisis, Krisiukas, and all other possible derivatives of my name.

“Child's name is Kristijonas then,” Doc said, “who is his father sweetie?”

 

 

I was officially born on December 31st. For some reason, the wrong year was put on the certificate and I was suddenly two years older than I actually was. They didn’t find the mistake until my birth certificate was needed for kindergarten and by then it was too late to correct it.

My father left a couple of days after the New Year. He came home only on vacations or long weekends. For me, he was more like an older brother. When I was growing up, I didn’t know he was my father. He was my bro Minde and I was Kris. His Mom was my Mom and his Dad was my Dad. We lived in a two-room flat in a complex. There were no bedrooms and no dining room just two rooms. One for parents and one for us kids. There was a kitchen eight by seven feet and a bathroom six by five feet. Our parents’ room was ten by fourteen while our room was eight by twelve.

Minde came home after he got his second doctorate and I was starting school. He got a grant to build a short impulse laser lab at a local institute of semiconductor physics. While waiting for equipment, he and his buddies built their first green light laser. They were young, keen, and rebellious like all young people were. Then perestroika and glasnost began and being rebellious wasn’t that wrong.

A year later, Minde was invited to an international conference on laser physics in Prague. His boss told him that he needed to look more presentable and that his long hair, which was down to the middle of his back, needed to go. Minde was upset, but the conference meant too much to him so he sought out a barber.

“If I cut the hair of every girl who came in here because they had a fight with their boyfriend or something, their mothers would eat me alive!” the barber said. “Come back here with your mother. If she says that it’s okay, then I will cut it. But, not without her say so.”

Our parents thought that it was such a great idea, that they brought me with him! We both walked out sporting crew cuts.

 

 

Mom and Dad were not bothered by Minde's feminine appearance. They had told us that dad’s puberty didn’t start until he was twenty-seven. Minde’s started after the crew cut. He began to sport bushy eyebrows and started to shave twice a week. It was the same with Dad as he still had the eyebrows and shaved. There were some other minor changes like a little wider chest and a more angled face. He was more like a man in his appearance as compared to a frightened girl that he resembled earlier.

I appeared as Minde had looked when he was younger. I was mistaken for a girl rather often. Otherwise, I was growing into a normal boy as opposed to a prodigy like Minde. I wasn’t at the top of my class, but I was close. Unlike Minde, I adapted very easily to all social environments. When it was just Minde and me, I was the one taking care of everything, no, I wasn’t being bossy, I was in charge, I took responsibility for what was happening. I was ten at the time and he was twenty-seven.

 

 

Minde came back from the conference a different person.

Our parents had anticipated he would completely man up now. Another vast change in Minde’s life was making friends easier. One of his new friends was Stan who was from America. They both worked with lasers of the same class and wavelength.

Nothing special happened in our personal lives over the next three years. Then Stanley came to visit suddenly. Because nothing special happened in our personal lives didn’t mean that nothing happened at all. Our country got its independence.

Stan was here to invite Minde with his family (that’s his wife and kids if any) to come to America, to live and work there. Stan spoke Russian with a horrible accent but we could understand him and he could understand us.

Minde was thinking about going with Stan. Work at his lab had ceased because the funds had dried up at the moment and for foreseeable future. I convinced myself that it was for the best. I’d been worrying to death probably, but I worried about him every time he was late coming home from work. And then I got the first shock of my life – Minde’s my Father and not my brother!

Well… Not well! Ah, I didn’t know… Mom and Dad both said that everything would be the same. They would still be my Mom and Dad, and Minde will be my brother as always and only be my Father only in an official capacity. The important part of all this was I could go or rather I had to go to America. I’ll be with Minde and I’ll take care of him there instead of worrying about him here.

I’ll be taking care of Minde like I took care of everything back home.

With Mom, Dad, and Minde working I was the first to arrive home after school around three in the afternoon every day. My duties were shopping for food and anything else that was needed for the home. I prepared meals. I had to hand wash everything as we had no washing machine. Mom did her delicates by herself. As far as cooking is concerned, I cooked nothing fancy just the most basic meals from flour and potatoes. When meat or fish were available, I added them.

I knew everything about Minde’s wardrobe. I knew how to keep them clean and how to make Minde presentable if needed.

 

 

Stan said his office would take care of all the paperwork for Minde and me, however, I needed to go to the Embassy to fill out some forms required for school. There was a representative office of the United States, in our city we all called it an Embassy. I was used to doing things for myself, so I took my birth certificate and went to the embassy. After some interrogation by an officer at the entrance, I was let in and was directed to the office where a lady was waiting for me. She said I had to supply a certificate of fluency in English, or else I would have to start at the fourth grade level instead of the tenth. She gave me the name of the company where I could get certified. I was lucky this company was close to home.

I was thirteen and I spoke four languages. Russian, Polish, Yiddish along with my native language, and I was studying German in school. Now to learn English. That nudnik in the embassy said she’ll send me back to fourth grade without a certificate. I went to the Company she told me to on the same day. They said they provided English language courses, the minimum term was six months. I didn’t need the courses, I needed the certificate by next week. After talking with them, they told me to bring the money for a one-year course and they would provide me with a certificate. I got it the same day along with some course material. They said English was a kind of universal language used in airports and at hotels worldwide.

At home, I perused the books I was given. I discovered that English was very similar to Turbo Pascal. I was sure that I'd survive with it. I brought it to the embassy. Now all I could do now was wait for the papers to arrive.

Before Stan left for America, he told Minde to call him when our papers arrived. The papers came in two files in a large manila envelope towards the middle of May. All those papers were in a language I didn’t understand, though I had a certificate that said I spoke it fluently. I wasn't sure as to what they meant, It looked like they incorrectly spelled my last name and they had my first name as Crystal instead of Kristijonas. Minde said that everybody will know me as Kris anyway, so why bother as we didn’t have the time to change them. There were some numbers and some tick marks but who would know what they were about?

We were finally ready to call Stan.

Back in that time, our phones didn’t have any buttons just a rotary dial. To call Stan we had to dial ‘8’ and wait for the phone station to answer. Then we had to dial in the country code, regional code, the number itself, and four zeros. Then we had to wait for the station signal again. Finally, we had to dial our phone number. That made twenty-one digits. It was the fourth attempt that we succeeded.

Stan told us we needed to get our health certificates. And then he would come and meet us to shepherd us on to America. He gave us lists of doctors for each of us and told us to get detailed health histories. Good thing it was still June because beginning in July, everyone who was entering a university or college needed a health certificate and they were valid for one month. You couldn’t get certificates beforehand. Within two weeks we got all the certificates we needed. Among them were statements that we were not nuts, that we had no AIDS, no STDs, that we were vaccinated. And almost anything that could be checked and certified.

Stan arrived on Minde’s birthday, the sixth of July. We left the next day by bus for Warsaw and then from Warsaw to New York by plane. During the trip, Stan told us we will live on some island named Rode and to be more exact in a village called Wakefield. Minde will be going to work at Kingstown Labs and I will be attending school in the same village.

 

 

2. Arrival. New home. What yogurt to buy? The lifesaver. Getting to know my neighbors.

We thought we were going to be living in a small village but when we started driving through a neighborhood of decent-sized houses, we began to wonder, and then we pulled up in front of one of them! We got out of the car and walked up to the front door of this sprawling dwelling. Stan got out the keys and let us in. Minde and I each got our own bedrooms along with our own private bathrooms, all on the second floor. On the first floor, there was a large kitchen and a room with a table. Next to that, there was a room with a TV and then another bedroom with another bathroom. Finally, there was a basement where there was a couch, a TV, and a small room with a washing machine. I noticed that the machine had instructions that included pictures, which was a good thing, so I could understand how to operate it.

Stan gave me some money “in case I needed to buy something.” As he and Minde walked out of the house. They were going to the lab and said they would be back for dinner.

I was alone, as usual, and I went to my bathroom to get refreshed from the trip. Ten minutes later I was clean and naked in my room looking for something to wear, however, I had only my dirty clothes. We had used our luggage for books and I only brought a raggedy doll as a talisman so we had no clean clothes to change into. We needed our books as it would be impossible to get them over here. My underwear was not so dirty and I put it back on. I checked the chest and the closet and they were empty, I was wearing the same clothes I had been wearing before. My room was dominated by pale green, gold, and white. I liked the coloring. The time was one o’clock in the afternoon. I had enough time to go shopping both for my and Minde’s change of clothing as well as for some food for dinner.

Our house was at the end of the dead-end street. I had to walk six houses to the street that would lead me into town. I noticed a florist shop where I crossed the street then walked another fifteen minutes to get to a small strip mall where they sold clothes, food, and other assorted things. I decided to food shop first and was taken aback by what I’d found inside. There was just about anything anyone could wish for. But everything was in some very strange packages or weird coloring like milk in a red pack. I was looking for something very common where I came from but I couldn’t find it. I didn’t know if it was called something else here, I would have to look it up. I ended up substituting Black Rye Bread, Sour Cream, and Soured Milk. I was considering, at first, only getting fruits and veggies. But then I opted for chicken, young potatoes, and some veggies for a salad. When I got home, I prepped chicken with herbs I’d found in the shop and let it season for about an hour. Half an hour later I was back looking for some comfort food, something sweet in other words.

At mom and dad’s home, we had a German TV channel, and there were ads every ten or fifteen minutes. One of them was for yogurt. I knew what it was and wanted to taste it. I’m sure I’ll eventually buy some, but I couldn’t decide what flavor, there were too many choices there. I’d bought bananas and pineapple, they were fruits that I hadn’t eaten before and some oranges. I left fruit at home and I went back to the strip mall, for underwear this time.

I found bulk packs of briefs for myself, I wanted white, but there were none in my size. What I did find, however, was a bulk pack of white brief with a stylized cat’s face on the front. The briefs I was wearing were not white, they had blue trim and blue seams, the white material was a light blue with shades of gray in them. I usually tucked my thingy down and back to prevent yellow urine spots on the front of the light-colored underwear. These new briefs had a double layer down where my thingy was usually tucked. I fancied them more than my old underwear.

It was summer and hot, but the temperature might drop at any time. I was looking for undershirts when a sales lady approached.

“Looking for something sweetie?”

I understood when people used simple words in short sentences. I tried to explain to her that I was looking for something to put on under my shirt. This was awkward, I knew how to ask for an undershirt in four different languages, but not in English. I was about to demonstrate what I needed and she offered me a bra.

I said I didn’t need it because I was flat. She ended up giving me what she called a cami. The sales lady insisted on I put the cami on under my shirt and gave me some others. I told her that I was fifteen because that was what my ID said, although, really I was only thirteen. She told me that at my age it was improper to go around without something underneath my shirt and I might get in trouble because of it. The last thing I wanted to do was get into trouble so I put it on.

My shopping for today was over and I now needed to concentrate on something for Minde to wear. I asked the same sales lady about some boxers for my bro. I showed her his sizes that I had recalculated from centimeters to inches. I got a bulk pack of some grayish satin boxer shorts and then asked for cami for Minde.

“Do you mean ‘tank top’?” she asked.

No tanks, thank you very much!

She gave me the same undershirt as my cami just in Minde’s size.

Socks weren’t a problem both in my and Minde’s sizes. I bought a pack of white socks for me and another pack in black for Minde.

I’d had enough shopping for today so I headed home. I planned on stopping at the florist on my way, I introduced myself as a new neighbor. Then I bought two pots – one with Saintpaulia and another with Gardenia. Even without flowers, these plants were beautiful and they will add some coziness to our new home.

At home, I removed the cami. I wasn’t too hot in it, however; I wasn’t used to so many layers in summer. Could I leave it at home? Who is going to check what underwear I have on?

 

 

Minde came home, with Stan, sometime between six and seven pm, at the exact time the chicken came out of the oven. The salad and mashed potatoes matched great with it.

“Kris, you'll make an exceptional housewife someday,” Stan said in English, “and a pretty one.”

I thanked him and blushed. I wasn’t used to being complimented for doing my job. I didn’t understand everything he said, I assumed it was something polite.

“I’ve set up an appointment with the Doctor tomorrow morning,” Stan continued. “Her office is near the store where you’ve gone shopping. Take all health certificates you have with you, and she’ll make you one for school.”

“What store? There’re no stores only shops.”

“The place where you go shopping is called the store,” Stan explained.

 

 

The next morning I convinced Minde to put on his new underwear. I told him to go shopping after work for some shirts and trousers that he can change into. I was going to go to the Doctor's first then to the store for some clothes for myself.

I put on my new briefs, tucked what I had under myself and back. Then I put that cami thing on, though I wasn’t sure why I needed it. But it was kind of formal and I didn’t want any misunderstanding.

The doctor was a woman around Mom’s age. I handed her all of my health certificates,

“You don't want to get undressed sweetie?” Doctor offered.

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

I told her that for me to get all those certificates, I had to undress completely, and I had eighteen certificates.

“Then undress just to your undies,” she said and I complied and undressed to briefs. She let the nurse measure my height (four feet and eleven inches, which had to be one forty-nine as measured back at home). Then she weighed me (seventy-two pounds and I didn’t know how many kilos it was, at home I was thirty-four).

“You have to eat more,” the Doctor said, “you are underweight.”

Then the nurse measured blood pressure and checked my vision.

“When was your last period?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure what it was about. Maybe something when I was at the doc last time. So I said, “Ten days ago.”

“Do you take pills?” Doctor asked suddenly.

I said “No.”

“Do you need birth control?”

“What is it?”

“Do you want a baby to accidentally drop into your lap?”

I thought about when Minde found me in the box at his door. He had to immediately take me home, and Mom took care of everything. I couldn’t go home if someone dropped a box with a baby in it at our front door. I said “No! I definitely don’t want that!” maybe a little too heartily.

The doctor chuckled at my reaction. Then said “here is the prescription for your birth control,” handing me a piece of paper. “Don’t forget to get a prescription for your vitamins at reception.”

I thanked her, dressed up, and was about to exit when she said. “Come back on August twenty-eighth for another prescription.”

I thanked her again and went to the waiting area where a reception nurse gave me a few prescriptions. I went to a nearby pharmacy with the prescriptions still in my hand for vitamins and my pills. The sales lady finished with me and turned to another customer. I remembered I had another prescription. I handed it to another pharmacist and got a little box with pills. As I was near the grocery store, I decided to get something for tonight’s dinner.

At home, I’d checked all of the boxes from the pharmacy. Everything was one pill daily some with a glass of water while others under the tongue to dissolve.

 

 

Stan said the doctor sent my health certificate to the school I’ll be attending in September. I’ll have to go to school for a schedule a week before school started. Thus, I had six weeks for Minde, our home, and myself.

Stan was coming every morning to take Minde to the lab and drop him off home after work as Minde had no car. About a week later, he purchased what I thought was a luxury car, compared to what we had at home, it was an almost ten-year-old Hyundai in a dark lilac color. He started to come home after work later and later. Once he called to tell me he had to stay in the lab overnight, but didn’t come for three days!. It was the same as when he was working back in our hometown. There was no sense for me to make dinner or breakfast for only myself. I had some fruit, yogurt, and bubblegum for breakfast and I had some salad and cold soup for dinner. I didn’t watch TV because I didn’t understand the language. I had books in my language that I had brought instead of clothes and I had my housework to do while waiting for Minde to come home.

 

 

We had some toiletries and home supplies but we didn’t have a large stock. I had to go to the store every day to refill the stock. Minde finally took me to one of the big box stores so we could stock up on some things for a month or two, so I didn’t have to keep buying some things every other day. While we were there, we decided to splurge a little on some more clothes to build up our wardrobe. I still had to go shopping every day and I had to bring everything back on foot.

I’d been here about two weeks and was coming home from my first shopping trip of the day, as I was passing one of the homes, I saw a long table in the yard covered with various things and there was a handmade banner that said ‘Garage sale’.

“Everything on the counter is one dollar dear,” a woman behind the table told me. I was looking for things to make our house feel homier. I found a clock to hang on the wall. Then there were dyed dark green flower crates and a barbecue grill. There were jars for flour and sugar and similar things. There was some kitchenware that I knew what it was called in any language but English. I had no idea in what store to buy them. Getting them new would cost a lot more than a dollar for an item.

As I looked around I spotted something that wasn’t on a table that attracted my attention. It was a bicycle with a basket mounted in the front.

“Is this for sale also?” I asked.

“It’s more than a dollar,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Is twelve a deal?”

“I’ll take it,” I said immediately. Then I saw something else out of the corner of my eye, there was a trailer that could be attached to the rear of the bike. The bike’s wheels were the same size as the trailer’s ones. For twenty-five dollars, I got the bike and a trailer. I even got locks with it! I also got a pump and a spare tube. The bike was for someone as short as I was. I guess that was the reason it wasn’t in great demand. It was old, its leather saddle was cracked and the color was weather-washed but otherwise, it was as good as new.

For me, my new bike was a real lifesaver.

 

 

While I was at that yard sale, I bought a lot of kitchenware such as baking trays and grates. I’m not sure what to call everything I bought there. I wouldn’t know where to buy them if I could. I bought them to make cookies. I knew Minde and Stan liked my butter cookies. Others might call them Danish cookies. I usually made my dough with very little sugar; I sprinkled the rest of the sugar over the hot cookies just from the oven. If the sugar crystallized over the cookies, they tasted heavenly.

One afternoon, I devoted myself to making cookies so Minde would have something to take to his lab when he wasn’t coming home for dinner. I got the idea that it might be a good time to meet neighbors. With some fresh homemade cookies in a box, an introduction might go much easier. We had four neighbors. On the left, there was a house at the same end of the cul-de-sac. There were two houses on the other side of the street and one house on the right as you walk down into the town.

It was just after six when most people were home from work. I grabbed one box filled with still-warm cookies and headed to our neighbor on the left. I had gone over what to say over and over in my head. I practiced for a few hours while the cookies were baking on how I would introduce myself to the neighbors. There was no doorbell so I simply knocked on the door and it was answered quickly.

“Hello, my name is Kris and I’m your new nei…”. The door was shut into my face I thought it was shut so they could release the door chain and then open it. It wasn’t. I mean the door wasn’t opened. I waited for a couple of minutes and then left. I’d never considered what I’d do if this happened. I wasn’t going to knock again and I wasn’t about to leave the box with cookies at the door as a present. Or was I?

Well… I went to the next house on the other side of the street from our home. There was a doorbell and when I pressed its button I heard that fancy ‘Ding-dong’ ring inside the house. I waited a minute and then another and nobody opened the door. There were two cars in the driveway and I had seen them both pull in. I mean the cars. I heard some movement inside. I supposed someone came to the door and looked through the peephole. But the door wasn’t answered even after I’d rung the second time.

I went to the next house. I was thinking that people weren’t as neighborly as back home. There was no doorbell at the third door so I knocked. The door was answered almost immediately by a woman who looked younger than my Mom.

“Come in sweetie,” she said after I introduced myself, “would you like to have a cup of tea. Or would you prefer some soda?”

Do they drink soda? I used soda to wash bedclothes. No way will I drink it. I wasn’t a tea fancier either. But I'd rather drink tea than soda.

“Tea is ok I guess, Madame,” I said.

“Melanie, please,” she corrected me.

“Ok. Madame Melanie.”

“No, no, no… Just Melanie, without Madame, please. Your accent is strange. Where are you from?”

I tried to explain it to her.

“Louisiana then?” she said. Oh no! I gave her a lesson about Central European geography. It made her day when she found out I was someone from a country she didn’t imagine ever existed.

“It’s good to have you here. You are at least my Sandra’s age. She’s fourteen and she'll be coming home on Sunday from cheerleader camp.”

Camp I understood as tents and bonfires but what it had to do with leaders at the age of fourteen?

“Who made those cookies? Where is your Mom by the way,” Melanie asked, “I haven’t seen her around your home.”

Mom? I didn’t have Mom. I told her the truth, “My mom doesn’t live with us.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Melanie patted my hand reassuringly.

 

 

3. Hanging out. Sleepover. Minde’s girlfriend? Another yard sale and Claude’s mom.

I went back over to Melanie’s when Sandra came back from camp. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so she had no friends here As I was new here, I had no friends either.

The very first thing she said when she saw me was, “It’s a kid, mom! How old are you?” she asked looking at me, “ten, eleven?”

Well, I know I was a little underdeveloped for thirteen, but ten? It sounded like an insult. According to my certificate, I was fifteen and so that’s what I told her.

“No way!” she pouted but then she grinned and turned to Melanie, “I guess Kris is old enough to chaperone me to the mall.”

“Do what?” I didn’t know the word and it sounded more French than English.

“Go to the mall with me,” Sandra explained.

“Why?”

“I don’t want her hanging around the mall alone,” Melanie explained. And then she added, “Sandra’s too young.”

I figured that ‘hanging’ in her turn of phrase had nothing to do with a rope. So I had nothing to say to keep the conversation going.

“I ride my bike there,” I said instead.

“Are you talking about the piece of crap at your porch?” Sandra wondered.

“It’s not a piece of crap! I have fixed what had to be fixed and it rides like new!” I complained.

“You have to repaint it. Definitely.” Sandra announced. “No bee-eff-eff of mine will ride a shabby thing of faded color.” So we were already bee-eff-effs, Sandra and I. I'd have to look that word up in my dictionary, but I assumed it was something honorable.

“I haven’t found a place where to buy the paint and brushes and…”

“No worries!” Sandra exclaimed. “I’ll show you and I’ll help you to transform that not-a-piece-of-crap of yours into some cute thing.”

 

 

“What’s this?”

“It’s a paint for your bike,” Sandra explained.

“Rose…?”

“Pink,” she stated.

“Why?”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s not,” I complained, “It’s the color of fresh pork.”

“WHAT!?”

“Pig’s meat,” I explained pointing to my sides showing where that meat comes from.

“I like pink,” Sandra whined.

“You are not alone. Many people like pork.”

“I’m talking about color, not meat.”

“Maybe lilac then?” I offered.

“The flowering bush?”

“Uh-huh, it smells good.” And it's the same color as Minde’s car.

 

 

Sandra and Melanie and I were getting closer and I was spending a lot of time at their home until Sandra offered something inappropriate.

“Hey, do you wanna have a sleepover?” Sandra offered.

In all four languages, I knew “sleep” had two meanings – the rest and the sex. To take a rest no one needs company. It meant she was talking about sex.

Well… I was taking the pills that the doctor had prescribed to avoid having babies. No, babies weren’t the problem, the problem was that I wasn’t prepared for it to come so out of the blue. Another problem was…

“Linda, Rachel, and Alice would be there also,” they were Sandra’s friends from the mall.

“Huh…” four girls and me? I wondered if the word ‘sleepover’ had another meaning? Or was Sandra about to arrange an orgy at her home under her mom’s nose?

“We’ll rent some videos, have some pizza…”

“Aha…” so it was kind of a party!

“Do I need to bring anything?” I asked.

“Just a nightie.”

I didn’t know what it was so I probably didn't have it. “I don’t have it.”

“How do you sleep then?”

What’s the right answer: ‘in bed’ or ‘on a bed’? “In a bed?” I offered.

“Sure you sleep in bed but what do you wear at night?”

“Underwear?” I wasn’t sure we were talking about the same thing.

“You need a nightie,” she said. “Let’s go to the mall.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve planned to go looking in the woods…”

“The woods? Why?”

“It’s August, and I need some blueberries for a blueberry pie. I don’t like frozen ones like in the grocery store so I need to go into the woods and…”

“What you need is the Farmers’ Market. It’s two blocks away from the mall,” Sandra said.

“I thought the right name was a ‘bazaar’ and not a Farmers’ Market.”

“Bazaar is a fashion magazine.”

I knew what some words were, but their meaning wasn’t what I’d expected, their meaning was different than in other languages.

“Let’s go,” Sandra nudged me.

 

 

We met Sandra’s friends Alice, Rachel, and Linda at the mall. They were there all the time and when they weren’t, they were at ‘practice' at school, whatever that was.

They all agreed that I was ‘cute’ and so I needed to wear something cute at night. What they meant was a long light blue shirt that almost came to my knees with ponies on the front. I don’t think they knew that I was fifteen.

“I can’t,” I complained, “I’m not a kid.”

“Try it,” Linda offered, “and see how good it looks on you.”

I was about to put it on over my clothes but they stopped me and ushered me into the changing area. I expected them to leave me to change but the four of them just stared at me.

“Don’t be shy, it’s just us here,” Rachel said.

I took off my tee-shirt and shorts and was left in just my briefs with a round-faced cat on the front. I covered my chest with my left hand where the cami was supposed to be, I wasn’t wearing one because I didn’t like it.

“You look so cute in your hello-kitty panties,” they all four gushed.

My thingy was tucked down and back, as usual, to avoid yellow urine spots on white underwear. So there was nothing really to look at. I guess the cat’s name was hello-kitty. They didn’t say anything about my not wearing the cami. It was a relief.

I put the long shirt on, looked at myself in the mirror, and… I looked like a kid. I turned back to face them and was about to complain “What did I say?” but they all clapped their hands and Sandra exclaimed, “You look so sweet!”

I had to buy the nightie and a pair of pajamas with the same ponies on the top and lilac pants. Then we rented two videos for the night and went home.

 

 

“Minde called and said he'd be home by six for dinner with Stan and McCroy,” Melanie said when we got to Sandra’s place.

I had given Melanie’s number to Minde for emergencies because I was spending so much of my time with Sandra and Melanie.

“Who’s McCroy?” I asked.

“Minde didn’t say,” Melanie replied. Then asked, “Do you need any help sweetie?”

“No, thanks. I’m good,” I said. I still had six hours till they got home. “I’d better go home now.”

 

 

Six hours were barely enough. I got back from the grocery store about an hour later. I made roasted pork covered with young onions and mayonnaise. Pork is tender enough and it doesn’t require seasoning when it’s stewed under onions. Vinegar from mayonnaise makes it very tender. In the time of stewing in the oven, most of the vinegar evaporates and the result isn’t as tart as it could seem. Add grated cheese to it and mmmmm…

I made butter cookies for dessert and they were almost ready, I needed some wine to go with them. I tried to buy a bottle but they wouldn’t sell it to me even though I said it was for my dad.

I didn’t have to worry about cleaning the house, I kept up on the housework daily so I could just concentrate on the dinner.

 

 

Minde didn’t get home until seven, it was a good thing I cooked what I did. I was able to keep it warm and the cheese a little crispy without being burned. McCroy was a woman and a young woman at that! She looked around the same age as Minde. She was pretty. Her name was Cleo. Minde whispered to me it was short of Cleopatra.

Stan picked up the wine. It’s good that Stan came also. Minde never thought about the little things that make life perfect. The wine wasn’t Saperavi, but it tasted fine. He probably had expected beef, and the wine was somewhat on the heavy side, not semi-dry, as I would expect.

After we ate, they wanted Turkish coffee. I told them that it was so strong that they wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. They just looked at each other and snickered. I used a cezve to make the coffee for each of them.

After the coffee, they opened another bottle of wine and I got a feeling that I was a fifth wheel in this company.

They were sitting down talking so I interrupted “If you don’t need me, I've been invited to a sleepover,”.

“Oh, I remember sleepovers, when I was your age,” Cleo said.

“Do you need a ride?” Stan asked. “I can call a cab.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need a ride. It’s right next door.”

“Do you need to bring your sleeping bag with you?” Cleo mentioned.

“They said no. And I got some new pajamas for it,” I replied.

“Oh, you must show us before you leave,” Cleo suggested.

As I was leaving, I showed them my new pajamas.

“So sweet!” Cleo exclaimed. “I almost envy you.”

“Aren’t those for a kid?” Minde asked.

“My words exactly!” I replied. “But the girls said it was perfect for me.”

 

 

Melanie was out visiting a friend so we had the whole house to ourselves.

I had missed the pizza, but as I had eaten before I came over, I was full anyway. Then we had the butter cookies I made.

I thought we would start watching videos but they started painting themselves. First, they painted their faces, then they painted mine. We looked like… like we were painted. They insisted that we all were pretty. They ignored my opinion.

After we finished with our faces we painted our nails, the paint was called ‘polish’. Why was it ‘polish’? I didn’t know. It smelled like acetone.

Finally, it was time to watch the videos. We had almost a bucket of what girls called ‘popcorn’ in front of us and Coke. Coke was like Pepsi but I didn’t like it as much. I didn’t like Pepsi either, but this Coke was even worse.

Before we watched the movies, we washed our faces but left our nails painted.

I changed into my pajamas. Linda, Alice, and Sandra were in camisoles and shorts with frills. Rachel was in pajamas with cartoon mice all over them.

I found it hard to comprehend the movie we watched as they talked too fast for me. See, there was this dog that was injured and it made me tear up. The girls were weeping too, so I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed that I'd shed a few tears.

 

 

The next morning when I got up the girls were still sleeping. I let them sleep in and left a note on the kitchen table that I went home. Minde’s car was in the driveway. I assumed he was home. But he and the others had left. Good. I didn’t want to explain to them why my nails were painted. I used a brush cleaner to remove the polish from my nails. After I took a shower, I was ready to go looking for what Sandra had called the Farmers’ market.

At the florist’s, I went in the opposite direction than I usually go. That was away from all the stores and the doctor’s office. I was now riding in an unknown part of town for me. It reminded me of our street. Only the trees were older and bigger.

As I turned right following directions to the Farmers’ Market, there was a sign with an arrow on it. Under the arrow, there was a “Yard sale at 59 Park Rd”.

Two blocks down the street there was a hand-made banner “YARD SALE”. My bike was from a yard sale and I considered this much more important than the Farmers’ Market. There still were a lot of things that I needed that I was hoping they had.

This yard sale was much bigger than the previous one. It couldn’t be from just one house. They even had a table with refreshments and snacks. And… the prices were more than a dollar.

I found a cardboard box filled with old magazines. They ranged from the sixties to the late eighties. Some were for kids like “Humpty Dumpty”. Others were about housekeeping like “Family Circle” and “The Ladies Home Journal”. Those had some recipes and home arrangement tips that I found useful as I looked through them.

“Hi,” someone said from behind me. I turned around and there was a boy who was probably Sandra’s age. He was tall, almost a foot taller than me.

“Hi,” I replied.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he rather stated than asked.

I wasn’t sure what to say, I mean I wasn’t!

“I haven’t seen you at school,” he said.

“I moved here six weeks ago,” I replied, “My home is not on this street. It’s Cherry Blossom Lane.”

“Oh, Sandra from school lives there.”

“She’s my neighbor,” I confirmed.

“My name’s Claude,” he added. The name sounded French.

“Kristi,” I introduced myself, “it's short for Crystal.”

“So where are you from?”

“From Lithuania.”

“Oh… I know… Sar-oon-as Mar-sue-lon-is.” I assumed it was about Šarūnas Marčiulionis...

“You play basketball?”

“Yeah… I’m the boys’ team captain.”

“What’s this yard sale for? Is someone moving?” I asked as I knew nothing about basketball and wanted to change the subject.

“Uh… No. It’s an annual charity event in our neighborhood.” I had no idea what charity was. I assumed that it just meant that it was a time for people to declutter.

“So… Lookin’ for recipes or fashion tips?” Claude asked motioning his hand toward the boxes with magazines.

“Recipes…” I replied.

“Ok then,” he said and then he walked away.

Magazines were ten cents each. I’d selected a few dozen of them, was about to pay and leave when Claude approached me with some woman.

“Kristi,” he started, “I want you to meet my mom.”

Okay, so that’s his mom! After we introduced ourselves, she gave me something – a “June Platt's New England Cook Book”. It was well worn like any cookbook should be.

“How much?” I asked. I expected it to be no less than ten dollars ‘cause recipe books were always expensive.

“It’s my present to a new girl in our town,” she replied.

Well… sometimes it happened back home when Minde and I were mistaken for girls. Mainly because Minde was shy and girly. This was the first time it happened to me here. I didn’t want to make a fuss, complain and embarrass Claude and his mom. Claude and I will attend the same school. We’ll laugh at this mistake later anyway.

 

 

When I got home I’d found Minde’s car still in the driveway but nobody was home. Sandra and the girls were gone too. They probably went to the mall.

I read Claude's mom’s book a little and a recipe for Clam Chowder caught my attention. I went to the grocery store, bought all the ingredients, and started making the dish. It’s fun cooking something you have never cooked before. It took me more than two hours to prepare. I hoped it was good.

Minde and Stan got home just as I was starting to worry about where they were. They liked the chowder. Stan complimented me again. I thanked him and I told them a joke.

“The clam chowder was from a book that I got as a present,” I was trying to keep my face serious, “the lady who gave it to me mistook me for a girl.”

When you say a joke you expect other people to laugh or at least chuckle. No reaction this time.

“What do you mean by ‘mistook’?” Stan asked after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

Was he joking? Or was he serious? I looked at Minde but his face was looking away. Stan had this worried look on his face.

“You’re not a girl?” Stan stammered at last. “All your papers are for Minde’s daughter Crystal…”

I turned to Minde. My blood started to boil in rage.

“MINDE!!!”

“Serves you good for teasing me back at home all these years!” Minde retorted.

I still was fuming but I needed a way to fix this, not an argument. So if all my papers say that I am a girl, do I have to live as a girl? Was there any way to correct them before school started?

“Can you correct them?” I asked Stan.

“It may take a few years because ICE is involved.”

“So, what do I do now? I don’t know how to be a girl!” I exclaimed.

Minde started to laugh at what I said. Stan soon followed. It was a few minutes before they calmed down.

“WHAT?” I asked angrily.

“Just be you,” Stan said, “and no one will mistake you for a boy.”

 

Chapters 4-6 of 9

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Monica Rose
Special thanks to Barbie Lee and Amanda Lynn.

 

 

 

4. Girl me. McCroy and shopping for a girl. Uniform. Cleo suspects something.

So, it looks like I'm a girl. That’s what all the certificates I had said. I was a girl. I was born a boy, but the certificates said otherwise. It was Minde’s and Stan’s fault. Mostly Minde’s fault but Stan took responsibility.

Stan found a doctor in the religious city. I thought it was a monastery at first, but later it appeared to be a city name. He, the Doc, made me look all-girl where the natural certificate of my manliness dangled. He said it’s reversible. My thingy was tucked down and back. The same way I usually did it before but it was arranged surgically this time.

I talked by phone with my mom. Well, I don’t have or rather I don’t know my biological mother, so my mom was Minde’s mom. Formally, she was my granny but I’d called her mom all my life. I talked with her by phone and she made me promise to try to be the best girl possible. She told me that it was my fault too. Because I didn’t double-check the papers Stan had sent us with our data.

I was away a day and a night and, when I returned, things started to snowball.

When Stan brought me home, Minde was waiting for me and he wasn’t alone. Cleo was with him.

“School is starting shortly,” Cleo said, “and you definitely need some new things.”

“What things?” I wondered.

“Your dad showed me your closet…” she started.

“DAD!? You mean Minde,” I corrected her.

“As you wish. But Minde is your father, right?”

“Yeah… And…?”

“And, as your father, he has a right to show me your room and closet,” Cleo retorted.

“So…?”

“What?”

“What what? You wanted to say something, not I,” I said.

“Huh? Sorry…” after a pause, she added, “you need underwear, clothes, shoes, learning tools, and much more like…”

She made a pause and I wasn’t sure she had mentioned that ‘much more’ for emphasis or she was about to add something to her list of things I needed.

“… like the uniform,” Cleo completed the sentence at last.

“Don’t I need to get instructions from the school first?” I asked.

“I picked up everything for you,” she said proudly.

“Well… thank you, I guess. But I can do it all by myself,” I wasn’t happy that she was kind of overprotective. As if I was a little kid or a damsel in distress. Well, I might be a damsel now, but no way was I in distress.

“You’re welcome,” Cleo replied. Just like I didn’t complain about her treating me like a child.

“Don’t want to ask your friend to come with us?” she asked.

“Come where?” I didn’t plan to go anywhere. I thought we were about to make a detailed list of what I needed and then I'd get everything.

“To the mall. Go ask your friend. We can take my car.”

She was annoying. I had no choice but to pay a visit to Melanie and Sandra.

“Do you remember McCroy?” I asked Sandra’s mom.

“Yes, I remember. Didn't he come to your home with Minde and Stan? Wasn't it the same day you girls had a slumber party here?” Melanie asked. “Why didn’t I see you afterward? Were Minde, Stan, and this Mr. McCroy happy with the meal prepared for them?”

“Thank you, it all went well,” I replied. “They complimented me on the dinner. But McCroy is a she and she is kind of Minde’s friend, I guess… And she is taking me to the mall to get things for school and like… she asked me if you and Sandra might want to go with us?…”

Sandra didn’t let me finish, “Let’s go, let’s go. Please, mommy, please?…”

What was with that girl and the mall?

“What does Ms. McCroy drive?” asked Melanie.

“A microbus Voyager,” I said.

“You mean a mini-van?” Melanie asked.

“Maybe… In our country, it’s called a microbus.”

 

 

The mall – a place with many stores. That’s where Sandra and her friends spent their time. I expected that there would be some privacy but… Cleo was here and she was annoying. She selected things that I would never buy, ever.

Like underwear with lace. You could see through it! On top of this, Cleo wanted my underwear to be brightly colored. It was so shockingly impractical. See-through and visible under light clothes! I could only manage to ask one question, “WHY?”

“There are moments when every girl needs something special,” Cleo explained.

“Well, I don’t.”

“You can’t be sure. Those moments will come up unexpectedly.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“But even if there is no occasion, there are times a girl just wants to feel, feminine…”

“Not me.”

So we ended with plain white, black, and nude-colored briefs. Cleo said they’re called panties. I’ll have to write down that word when I get home.

Next in the line were bras.

“You need to wear one at school according to this book,” Cleo said. Not waiting for me to answer, she showed me the “Student Code of Conduct: Rules and Regulations”.

We ended with an elderly lady, almost mom’s age, measuring my chest. The first bra is probably a kind of initiation, so Cleo, Sandra, and her mom gathered at the dressing room awaiting the saleslady’s verdict.

The result was predictable – I had no breasts. My chest was flat. All of them including the saleslady were very disappointed. I wasn’t. But I needed the bra anyway and the saleslady offered me a padded one. I got many bras for any occasion in all the popular colors and they were all padded.

The next item was pantyhose.

“It’s too hot…” I tried to complain, but…

“There are times when you simply can’t go bare-legged,” Cleo explained.

I didn’t inquire as to what those times were, but, It didn’t matter. They bought what they thought was essential for a girl.

‘Essential’ wasn’t one or two things. I got new shorts that barely covered my underwear and jeans with embroidery on the back pockets. I got two skirts. I didn’t know why I needed them but after Sandra approved, Cleo bought them. Later, I got some shirts, only they called them blouses. Then some ballet flats and running shoes.

“We need to get you the uniform,” Cleo said, “the rest will have to wait until the next time.”

“What REST?” I had already everything that anyone could wear for a year or two. What was this ‘rest’ thing?

“The rest are all things for when it gets cold out…”

“How cold?”

“Very cold,” Cleo didn’t go into details. I’ll look it up when we get home. I thought it was always warm because the sun was setting very fast like in the South. Like in Crimea. At home, there were two hours of twilight before sunset, and then two hours after and then full darkness. Here in America, the light before the night fell was as if someone flipped a switch! It couldn’t be as cold as it was in Lithuania?

“Maybe it can wait?” I offered.

“It won’t be long before it starts to get chilly,” Cleo said, “the weather starts to get cold as early as September.”

“So all I need now is only the uniform?” I asked.

“Only…” Cleo confirmed with a chuckle.

We had to go to a special store. They measured me in all sorts of ways.

“What does my uniform look like?” I wondered after another lady took all of my measurements.

“What grade?” she asked. I noticed her nametag said ‘Nancy’.

“Nine,” Cleo replied.

“Wait! What? Why nine. I was told by the embassy that I would be going into tenth!” I argued.

“Principal decided that ninth grade would be better for you to adapt. So we decided…”

“Wait! Who are ‘we’? And what is this ‘principal’ thing?”

“The Principal runs the school,” Cleo explained.

“Kind of a director then?” I offered.

“Not exactly but you should call him the principal.”

“So who are ‘we’?” I insisted.

“Your father and I.…”

“What’s next? Is he going to find me a husband?

“Are you finished?” Nancy, the lady who had measured me asked. Cleo and I turned to face her.

“So grade nine then?” she asked and Cleo nodded.

“Grades six through eight wear pleated skirts. Starting with grade nine the skirt is A-line,” Nancy explained.

For me, it was another whole new bird language – what’s that A-line? Is it shaped like an A? So why not just call it a truncated cone?

“A-line is better I guess,” Cleo offered.

“You’re right,” Nancy said. “The problem is in your girl’s size we have only pleated skirts. It’s the same with the blouse and the swimming suit. We’ll have them in two weeks. At least you won’t have to wait till the last day.”

“Swimming suit?” I wondered.

“Yes,” Nancy confirmed. “They are one-piece navy for older girls while for the younger ones, they are blue with pink trim.”

“Why do I need one for school.”

“You’ll have two of them. And they are for swimming,” Nancy said with a chuckle like it was a joke. “What style do you swim in?”

“An ax style,” I replied.

“Huh?”

“I don’t swim, I sink like a rock,” I said.

“Do you do any sports?” Cleo asked.

“Sure. Gymnastics.”

“Gymnastics like on the beam?” Sandra asked.

“Well, no, the beam is for…” I stopped before I said ‘for girls'. Because exercises on the beam are only for girls in the competition. For boys, they only use the beam to train for balance, but never in competition. “… the beam is for advanced gymnasts. I’m not that good.”

“Then you will need a leotard also,” Cleo announced.

I didn’t know what this leo-something thingy was so I didn’t complain or argue.

“Are we finished yet?” I asked instead.

 

 

We were not finished. After the school uniform was ordered we spent another two hours looking for and buying things like paint for the face and nails. And then, of course, plastic and metal decorations for hands, fingers, neck, and hair.

Sandra, her mom, Melanie, and Cleo were all excited about all those purchases. I wasn’t. For me, it was the greatest waste of time and money. I didn’t plan to wear anything that we had bought. I couldn’t find any use for these things. Before I had everything I needed and I was comfortable.

At home, Cleo helped me put everything into its proper place into the closet and drawers. Then she wanted me to change into something we had bought but I refused.

Minde and Stan were still at work. I didn’t know if Minde would come home with Stan and at what time. I needed to get started on dinner now. I had German fresh pork sausages in the freezer and they bake well in the oven. I needed some veggies to go with the meal, but Cleo was still here.

“I need to start dinner and then clean the house,” I hinted at her. I expected she’ll leave me alone. The hint didn’t work.

“So, what do you want to do for dinner?” she asked instead.

“I’m going to do bratwurst with mashed potatoes on the side and some salad. While everything is cooking, I'm going to clean and dust.”

“How about if I take care of the potatoes and then I’ll help you with your cleaning, ok?” Cleo offered.

 

 

We finished everything I had planned to do. Minde came home with Stan and we had dinner. After dinner, I again felt like I did the other day as I felt like a fifth wheel. I excused myself and went to my room.

I went through my new things to know where everything was. I had calmed down enough by now. I could see the clothes were made for a girl and I was a girl now. I will wear most of them when… when I need to, even though I didn’t want to. Except for my new jeans, everything showed too much skin for my liking. Maybe I had to start wearing them at home to get used to them.

I changed into a denim skirt and a tee. The skirt was short and the shirt was skin-tight. After I changed, I sat on the edge of my bed and looked at the full-length mirror on the closet door. I looked like a girl. I could see my panties. I smacked my knees together but there still was a triangle through which I could see my white panties. I changed my panties into black and checked myself in the mirror again. I had to keep my knees together to not expose myself. But as mentioned, there was darkness in the triangle area and no panties were visible.

The next hour or so I wore the skirt. I walked around my room, bathroom, and hall on the second floor. The bra was constraining. I felt it all the time. I could forget that I was wearing the skirt. But I had to remind myself to keep my knees together.

 

 

After Cleo and Stan left, Minde came to my room.

“I owe you an apology,” he started. “I thought it was a prank and we could fix it any time. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. It will be practically impossible to change you back into a boy. Can you ever forgive me?”

“You don’t have to apologize. As mom had said it was my fault. I didn’t read the paperwork. What I don’t understand though, is why do you treat me like an object? You went to the school and set things up in a way that I would never do myself. Why? You were never there for me. Never. On my very first day at school, when I played sports or, my math and physics Olympiads. You were never there with me. I had to do everything by myself. And now you went to the school and decide what grade I will be in.”

“That was Stan. A few weeks ago he noticed you had one friend, Sandra. But you were more friends with Melanie instead of Sandra and other girls. He asked Cleo for help. Cleo is a professional.”

“Who’s Cleo?”

“She’s the HR Manager for our company,” Minde said.

“What’s that HR thing?”

“Human resources, like ‘kadrovik’ at home.”

“They have the KGB where you work?” A little sidetrack here. There was a KGB representative in every enterprise. They had the last say if any employee was suited for career growth, a foreign business trip, or allowed to work in a secret program. They were called Kadrovik, and they were doing all HR jobs there.

“No. It’s arranged a little differently here. She’s a psychologist. We just wanted her advice. So we invited her to our home.”

“Why you didn’t tell me?” I inquired.

“Stan was afraid you would be offended.”

“Why didn’t you tell them that I could cope with anything?”

“I told them what kind of father I was,” Minde admitted. “They didn't believe it was true. Cleo said I had to be more attentive. Anything added to nothing was more. I couldn’t think of what I could do for you. Cleo helped me. That was when Stan was with you in Providence.”

Oh! That was the religious word that the city was named.

“So Cleo knows I’m really a boy?”

“No!”

“That’s good. I was afraid she was suspicious of me.”

“The only thing she was suspicious about was your age. I had to reveal to Cleo and Stan today that your birth certificate was messed up and you are two years younger.”

“Oh… What will happen now?”

“Nothing…” Minde replied. “Cleo said it explains why you behave like a tween girl and not a fifteen-year-old one.”

 

 

5. Being myself. My first period. Bazaar and school uniform.

Each day was the same as any other day – chores, duties, groceries, and laundry.

Then one day, a week or so later, Minde came home with Stan.

“There is a way to fix this,” Stan started. “You may identify as a boy while physically a girl. You’ll claim gender dysphoria and it will be a reason to change back into boy mode.”

“When?” I was a little impatient.

“It won't work immediately. You have to identify as a boy. Convince others you are a boy inside.”

“I’m sorry Kris, but you will have to attend school as a girl,” Minde said. “That includes the school uniform, girls’ classes and…”

“Wait, what girls’ classes?”

“Like Gym and Home Economics,” Stan explained.

“Just be yourself,” Minde offered. I did remember Stan saying the same when I asked how to be a girl.

 

 

Summer was coming to an end and school starts soon, but, I still had a few things to do. I had an appointment with the doctor. Not the one who had rearranged my boy things, but that one who prescribed my vitamins and sent my health certificate to the school.

After the doc, I had planned to buy some groceries so I rode my bike. It rained the night before, so in the morning there were still some puddles on the road. Passing one puddle I managed to hit a pothole and the blow made the seat top crack and shot a spring up into my groin. I checked myself discretely and my shorts weren’t torn. I used duct tape and a plastic bag to fix the broken seat.

At the doc’s office, there were a lot of people. But I had an appointment so I went in quick. The nurse checked my vitals, measured my height and weight. The doc asked if I was taking the prescribed pills. Then she suddenly said, “I want to check how things are going this time. Please change into a gown.”

“Take all your clothes off,” the nurse told me.

I was sure that my body was rearranged properly and I wasn’t afraid to undress. When the bra came off the doc examined my chest.

“Not much there, but I feel some development,” she said.

The nurse handed me a paper gown and helped me to get in it. I pulled my panties down and there was a fresh bloodstain on them.

“Shit!” I muttered to myself and then it dawned to me I’d said it in English and both women would understand what I said. My hand automatically shot up to cover my mouth and I said, “I’m sorry…”

“When did it happen?” the doc asked.

“On the way here,” I said.

“Weren’t you prepared for it?”

“I have roller-bandage in my backpack,” I said. I was prepared for an emergency. “But I had no occasion to check myself.”

“Don’t you have a pad?” the nurse asked.

“What’s this?” I shook my head no.

“Didn’t your mother show you what to do?”

“I don’t have mom,” I replied. Even if I had a mom, how could she know I'd hit a pothole on the way.

“Oh, you poor thing!” they both exclaimed in unison.

“Put this in your panties, this side up, and fix in place by folding those wings down.”The nurse gave me a strange cotton dressing-like thing and showed me how to fix it inside my panties.

“Change every time you use a toilet,” the doc offered me a pack of those things. “And take this brochure to read at home. There is everything you’ll need to know.”

The brochure was titled ‘My very first period’.

“Come back for a new prescription after you finish your pills,” the doc said and dismissed me.

 

 

I had two big problems now. The first one – what I’d damaged in my groin. I examined myself in the mirror at home. There was nothing serious just a little spot where the broken spring shot into. Nothing serious.

Another problem was my broken bike seat. Because of its size, the seat wasn’t as common as most other bikes. You could get it in the store but it cost thirty-nine dollars. That’s more than my bike cost with all the accessories. Sigh…

When I got home, I checked my shorts, I found out they were torn. Those were the last clean pair, so I had no choice but to put a skirt on. I liked denim the most cuz it had pockets. The pockets weren’t as big as they were in shorts or pants, but they were pockets for things, like money and keys.

At the bike shop, I didn’t remove the seat fast enough.

“May I help you miss?”

Miss? Well, I was wearing a skirt so, who would possibly think that I was a boy? I looked up and there was Claude.

“Oh…” I said. But then I thought I was being impolite, “I mean, hi!”

“Hi Crystal. I didn’t recognize you at first,” Claude replied. “What happened?”

“I need to change my seat, this one is broken. I need this particular one because its stem is non-standard and…”

“It’s standard junior size.”

“You mean kids?”

“Not kids, junior,” he insisted.

“Ok then. Thanks,” I replied and bent down to unfasten the old seat.

“Let me help you,” Claude offered.

I didn’t like the idea of Claude doing my job. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to be rude, so maybe it was… as I was considering how to respond Claude removed the old seat.

“Let’s go. I’ll show you what we have,” he ushered me into the store.

I turned to the spare parts section but Claude took me in the opposite direction. We passed the bike section. We entered another section where the junior bikes were. It wasn’t as big as the adult section, but not small. I had been in this store before, but I’d never been in this section. I didn’t even know it was here. I explored stores by myself. I didn’t ask the staff for help because my English was worse than poor.

“Here we are,” Claude said. “Those seats are the size you need.”

There were almost ten different choices - narrow and wide, hard and soft, leather and plastic.

“I think this one suits your needs the best,” Claude offered me a wide soft plastic seat. “It’s for everyday use, not for racing. And this new material remains soft in freezing temperatures so you could ride in winter. And as a plus, it matches your bike’s color.”

That was true. The seat was lavender. I’d say girly lavender. I wanted to ask for another color, something more boyish, that’s not so girly. But then I thought – it’s just a seat.

Another surprise – it was only six dollars. I had planned on spending thirty-nine but spent only six. It felt as if I made thirty-three dollars!

 

 

On my way back, I finally found the Farmers’ Market. It wasn’t like it was like back home. It was cleaner, with no dirt, and rubbish.

The reason I specifically wanted was for blueberries. That was my first disappointment – the blueberries were the same as the ones in the grocery store. They were not from the forest but harvested on the plantation. But veggies and fruits were good, much better than in the grocery.

 

 

School time was getting close and I went back to the mall for my uniform. This time I went with Sandra and her mom Melanie. My order was ready and I needed to check the way the clothes looked and felt.

The first thing was my new swimsuit. Why did I need one if I didn‘t swim? There it was anyway. A one-piece with an open back and bumps on the chest.

“When your breasts start to grow,” the assistant woman Nancy said, ”just remove the padding.”

To be honest I didn’t plan on growing my boobs. But I couldn’t say that.

Next was the uniform itself. That was a shirt, sorry blouse, skirt, ballet shoes, and jacket. The shoes were sorta ballet shoes but they were not as soft and their sole was rather hard. The jacket was heavy and long. The plus – it wasn’t mandatory in hot weather.

Melanie started fiddling around the hem of my skirt. The skirt was short – to the middle of my thigh. But Melanie made it even shorter.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Rule book says skirt’s hem can’t be above the jacket hem. It can be at the same height as the jacket’s hem though,” Sandra explained.

“It’s already short,” I complained.

“Don’t be a prude,” Sandra said. What does the word ‘prude’ mean?

“Girls your age look much better in shorter skirts,” Melanie added. “We will fix them at home.”

What could I say? Did I have a say?

“Check out this one too,” Nancy offered me the second skirt. “It’s made from another material.”

That other material made the skirt hug my bottom and made it feel round and big.

“Super!” Sandra exclaimed. “I want it too!”

“It’s a new arrival,” Nancy said.

Sandra got two new skirts. She was eager to get home and shorten them.

I wasn’t as enthusiastic as Sandra. I didn’t like the idea of this padding over my chest or skirt making my butt look big. I didn’t like the skirt so short. I dreaded sitting in it.

 

 

6. School. New friends. I got a job. New look. Stan.

I expected the first school day to be something very special. Sandra said and Melanie confirmed that it wasn’t. I decorated our home with flowers and Minde with Stan took pictures of me in my new uniform to send home.

I was in what they called an A-line skirt. I felt better in it than the other one that hugged my butt. It was the only skirt that wasn’t altered by Melanie. Anyway, I felt it was a little too short for me. I kept tugging the hem down.

I wanted to ride my bike but everybody said that the school bus was much better. Sandra and I went down the street to the florist shop where the school bus would pick us and other kids up every day. At the bus stop, two boys were there already. Sandra knew both of them and said their names were Sean and Ken. She didn’t talk to them and didn't say hi. She said they were geeks, whatever that was. I waved, smiled, and said hi anyway.

The bus came and we boarded it. Sandra’s friends were already there and they had kept a place for her, but not for me.

“Crystal!” someone waved a hand from the middle of the bus. It was Claude.

“Hi,” he said when I came near. “You wanna sit with me?” Claude motioned to the empty seat.

“Hi,” I greeted him back. “Thanks,” I said and sat down in the empty seat, not forgetting to keep the hem of my skirt straight out in front of me when something bumped into my back. It was my backpack. I’d forgotten to take it off before sitting down. So I stood up and repeated the same move with the backpack in my hands. This time I plopped down not holding the hem. I almost gasped when my bare thighs touched the cold plastic of the seat. I hated skirts and that stupid uniform.

The bus was divided into zones. The front was occupied by girls in small groups. The girls were gossiping and giggling. The back of the bus was taken by bigger boys. The giggles from the front of the bus were echoed by guffaw in the back. In the middle, there were all regular people. Like geeks Sean, Ken and their friends, or other boys and girls, like Claude and I.

The school was two separate buildings in one gated area. It was called a campus. The buildings were a junior high and a senior high school. The latter was the one I was attending.

Most kids knew each other from previous years. I knew Sandra, Claude, and Sandra’s friends Alice, Rachel, and Linda.

First, all of us were ushered into the auditorium. There some man, probably the principal, greeted us all and he made a speech. I didn’t understand what he was saying, the acoustics were terrible and my English was even worse. Later, we were divided into groups of twenty. My group went to what was called homeroom and there was a teacher. Homeroom is where the school day starts.

The homeroom teacher was a young woman, Minde’s age, Morgan Kramer. I would think Morgan was a masculine name but she was definitely a woman. She took roll call so we would know who was who. There were twelve boys and eight girls. That’s eight girls including me.

Ms. Kramer told us when the girls have Home Economics and she said that the boys will have a shop at the same time.

Later there were classes. In English and history, I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Language and history weren’t my best courses. Mathematics, physics, and chemistry were what I preferred. But I wasn’t sure about being able to communicate. There were clubs and some academic activities after school. I signed for programming.

The last period was the gym. Boys and girls were on opposite ends of the field. The teacher was evaluating our skill at running and jumping. There were some clubs too, but they called them teams. I couldn’t understand what these teams did, they were softball, soccer, and cheerleading.

Sandra said that I could be a cheerleader because I was a gymnast. I didn’t understand what that was.

“It’s kind of group gymnastics,” the gym teacher explained.

“I’m not good at group things. I’m too short,” I replied.

“Just show me what you can do with the other girls.”

Sandra and her friends showed me what jumps, tumbling, and splits they wanted me to do.

“Very well,” the teacher said, “I can use you.”

“But I’m not sure I want it,” I said.

“You’ll get a credit,” she offered.

“I don’t need it.”

“What do you mean you don’t need it?” the second teacher wondered.

“I don’t plan to buy anything so why would I need a credit?”

“Here credit is a point added to your graduation score,” is how Sandra tried to explain the significance of the credit.

“Oh… Ok then,” I agreed.

 

 

I and other new cheerleaders were about to start practice during gym classes. Then there will be another evaluation. Those who pass will join the squad. Another new word.

After school, I rode the bus home while Sandra and her friends stayed there for practice. As I exited the bus I saw a handwritten sign in the florist’s shop window – “Help wanted!”

I looked around and there was a dark tremendous cloud coming from the northeast. I rushed into the shop but the florist wasn’t there. I ran into the backyard and there she was. A huge amount of flowers in their pots were on the ground. If the rain started, all those plants would be washed out of their pots.

“Need help?” I asked her without greeting.

“Yes. Please,” she replied.

I dropped my backpack on the porch. We both get down to work moving pots one by one onto shelves in the basement. We had just finished when the first big drops of rain began to fall. It bucketed down shortly after that. The florist motioned me to come inside. I grabbed my backpack and followed her in.

“Let’s talk about money,” she offered.

“Have I damaged something?” I wondered.

“Oh, no!” She exclaimed. “About your payment.”

“No! You asked for help. We are neighbors. What are neighbors for then?”

“I guess you don’t understand,” she said. “The phrase ‘Help wanted’ indicates that I need an employee.”

“Ah… I can’t. I go to school.”

“That’s ok. I’ll need you two hours a day three times a week,” she explained.

“Is it legitimate?”

“Yes, of course!” she confirmed.

I got a job. My boss was Polly the florist. I’d never imagined it was so simple to get the job.

 

 

The first school day was remarkable. I got a job. And the weather changed. It was raining constantly. Not pouring but drizzling. Anyway, it was colder than before. Like sixty at day and dropping to fifty at night. So now I was wearing pantyhose under the skirt or shorts. I still don’t understand why girls were not allowed to wear pants instead. Rules are rules. I wore pantyhose every day to school and for the florist store and practice. Like any other girl.

Pantyhose is another unpractical feminine garment. It’s sliding down constantly. I just wanted to adjust it and suddenly it’s torn. Even the microscopic hole resulted in a running eye and the whole pantyhose was ruined. The next thing I had to do was to excuse myself and scurry to the bathroom and change into a spare one.

So much about bad weather.

Considering all other things my life changed. Not much. Homework, florist shop, practice, school. I had much less time for home. At home, cleaning, laundry, and meal were eating the rest of the time. Not much of it was left for me.

What else? My friends changed. Sandra and her friends didn’t bother to invite me to their sleepovers or other activities. I had no interest in fashions and cheerleading. We simply hadn’t many things to talk about. Claude had a new girlfriend Ruby and was spending all his free time with her.

I got closer with Ken and Sean. Sandra said the boys were losers. From my point of view, they were normal boys. More like regular people than sport-addicted Sandra and company or Claude with his buddies. Sean was in programming like I was. He introduced me to Unix and other network-related things I wasn’t familiar with. Ken was into the radio. He built his own radios and various gadgets.

I spent almost all my free time with Sean. He lived a block away from the florist shop in opposite direction to my home. I got to know his parents and baby sister (Sean’s words) Sidney. Sidney was in eighth grade. She was thirteen.

Once when my last pair of pantyhose was torn Sidney offered me a pair of her own. I liked it much more than mine. It wasn’t sheer and was softer and it was no run. It looked like a kids’ thing but it was so more comfortable that I bought some of them and wore them to school. Sandra sure disapproved of my new look but her mom Melanie said I looked cute. Minde said I looked like a kid but Stan liked it.

 

 

“Why isn’t Cleo coming over anymore?” I asked one day in October. It was already more than a month since her last visit. “Did you split because of me?”

“Why, no,” Minde replied.

“She did what we had asked her,” Stan said, “and that’s all.”

“I thought she was Minde’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, no!” Stan chuckled. “She’s married with three sons.”

It was a kind of relief.

“I thought she was offended. You know… because of me…”

“I guess she understands the reason for your behavior,” Stan said, “but if you want to apologize, it’s great. You may write her a letter.”

I felt better already. On the other hand, I was a little confused.

“Are you two, uh, like, uh, you know, err… like those men, uh, that…”

“If you think we are gay, we are not,” Stan replied. “I don’t have a steady girlfriend, but your dad…” and he winked at Minde.

I noticed how Minde at this instant blushed beet red. I giggled and Stan laughed. And Minde became even redder.

“Oh…” I managed to say.

I wanted to know everything about Minde’s girlfriend but he didn’t say a word. I didn’t pressure him.

 

 

Stan was like a family member. He was visiting very often. And he helped me a lot. Minde helped too but only after I’d asked him. Stan was different. He offered to help. Usually, it was when I was ready to ask Minde. Stan had this kind of sense to know the exact moment when to offer his help.

Usually, it was transportation. I had my bike and trailer. But I couldn’t take large and heavy things. Besides, it was drizzling almost every day lately. Simple grocery shopping was a problem.

Then I needed an adult to buy things I couldn’t buy myself. Like brandy and rum. Rum was good for preparing remedies in case of flu or cold. At home, Mom used brandy for some cakes or to make butter crème for cake finishing. Those were not my own recipes though.

At last… Stan was someone I could address with the question of what to wear for one or another occasion. Minde usually just shrugged and said nothing. Sandra and her mom Melanie tended to dress me in everything skimpy and tight showing a lot of bare skin. Stan explained what I was expected to look like and what jewelry to put on.

Stan brought me to Providence. This time the same doctor reverted me back into the boy. For one week only. He said some problems might start if things in my groin were left glued for two months or longer. Who needed additional problems? I didn’t. So once in a while, I had to be the boy for a week and then the girl again.

 

Chapters 7-9 of 9

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Monica Rose
Special thanks to Barbie Lee and Amanda Lynn.

 

 

 

7. Attending secret spy school. Emergency crash-test. Halloween and sauerkraut.

October started with the return of summer. Not real summer but Indian summer this time. Turning back to a summer wardrobe and more time in the open air. It was a sign of really cold and rainy autumn coming next. It was the last time to prepare for winter and all possible cold weather-related obstructions. Cleo had reminded me to buy warm things for Minde and me.

I had gathered some home remedies like unprocessed honey, aloe tree, raspberry preserve, and garlic. I could get everything when needed in the store or the Farmer's market. But I preferred to have it at hand. To be sure I had everything I possibly would need in winter. I had made a list in my recipe notebook still at home. My mom approved it. That’s Minde’s mom and my grandmother but you understand what I mean. In the same recipe book, I had some basic mom’s recipes. I wasn’t that good in the kitchen. I knew very basic things. Anything else I did according to the recipe book.

Our neighbor, Melanie, had introduced me to local American cuisine and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t say about more sophisticated meals but neither bacon nor burgers were on my tasty list. For breakfast, I served oatmeal or buckwheat porridge instead of bacon, sausages, pancakes, and eggs. All those mentioned above I did sometimes too but separately. For school lunch, I preferred a homemade meal. It usually was some kind of salad or cooked onions with ketchup.

One day Minde, with Stan, got home when I was slicing onions for cooking.

“What will you do with such monstrous amount?” Stan asked.

“It’s not so much. It shrinks while cooking. It tastes good with ketchup. When cold it tastes even better. You’ll see. I take it to the school.”

“Is it your Home Economic homework?”

“No, it’s my lunch. I don’t like school food.”

“Yeah, in public schools, food is never good, but in your school…” Stan wondered. “Does it taste bad?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to it.” I replied. “You mentioned public school… Isn’t my school public?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Is it a secret spy school?”

“Why secret? Ah, you mean not public then… No, it’s not a public but private school.”

“If it’s private then Minde has to pay for it?”

“Not this way,” Stan tried to explain. “It was incorporated in Minde’s contract. Like the house, your education, health insurance, Minde’s salary, and settlement expenses.”

I tried to visualize what Stan had said.

“Why do we need health insurance?” I was curious about it. I knew there was this kind of insurance. At home, it served as payment for injury in addition to paid inability leave.

“To pay the doctor.”

“Why? Doesn’t the government pay them?”

“No. Your insurance pays. If you have no insurance then you pay.”

Hm-m…

 

 

After the month in the school, one thing was resolved at last. I didn’t pass cheerleader tryouts. I was good at gymnastics. But boys’ gymnastics are more static while girls do it dynamically. I could do wide and long splits but not in the jump. Maybe later but not now. I continued gym classes with other girls and it was much more fun.

I had no practice after school and eventually I had more time for myself. I needed more time in the florist shop. My job was to prepare pot plants for winter sleep. Some plants don’t like to spend winter in the greenhouse. They need the rest like people.

Another important thing I had to do was to wash the windows. It would be stupid to wash them in winter. The next time the weather will be good maybe only in April. And it was very wise of me to do it now. The same day I finished cleaning windows, disaster struck.

The first snow fell. It wasn’t much but it was October and nobody expected it. Minde’s car didn’t start up when he tried to go home. Stan’s car started but his wheels still had summer rubber. They both ended in the ditch. They were not injured. Stan’s car gently slid to the side ditch and they waited here almost three hours to be rescued. There was mayhem on the roads and they weren’t the only ones in distress.

When Stan brought Minde home he wanted a cup of tea and was about to leave. I didn’t let him go. They both were exhausted. They looked more like icicles rather than humans. I prepared bubble baths for them on the second floor and in the guests’ bathroom. When they were washing cold from their bodies, I made a bed for Stan in the guests’ bedroom.

They both were in their beds. I served them mugs with hot sweet raspberry tea. To every mug, I added two shots of warmed-up rum. They were asleep instantly.

I left the door of their rooms open and kept vigil in the living room. Meanwhile, I was reading magazines I’d bought at Claude Mom’s yard sale. At one in the morning, Minde started to stir. I found him soaked in sweat. He changed into a new pajama set and I changed bedclothes. The same I repeated with Stan half an hour later. Now it was time for me to go to bed.

The next morning sun was shining again. The temperature was fifty-five and rising and there was no trace of the snow. I called the school and said I had a family emergency. They called back immediately and wanted to speak with Minde. I replied he will call back when available.

Minde and Stan woke up at ten. As they were refreshing themselves, I changed their bedclothes again and prepared them sweet raspberry tea. This time without rum. Minde called the school office and Stan called the lab. I ushered them to bed and they fell asleep.

I expected them to wake up at one or two. I had almost three hours. I went to Melanie and fortunately found her at home. She drove me to the Farmers’ Marked where I got a chicken. You can get chicken in the grocery store. But in the store, they are kinda not very real. They taste good when seasoned but… Well, they are white, like pale white. What I got was yellow. Because schmaltz is yellow, you know…

On our way back we stopped at the pharmacy and I got Aspirin. I wasn’t sure I would need it but just in case I did.

At eleven I was at home and started the brew. First, I separated the meat from bones and skin. The meat I saved for later. Bones and skins were what I needed. Two uncut carrots and two uncut onion bulbs, some bay leaves, and a pinch of black pepper and salt. When it came to a boiling point I turned fire to the most low level. A dark scum appeared and I removed it carefully.

I had time to start laundry. Stan and Minde were wearing the last pairs of clean pajamas and I had no clean bedclothes left.

They woke up at two-thirty. I insisted that they take a shower. I changed bedclothes and gave them freshly washed and pressed pajamas. Then they had a mug of hot stew each, then another mug, and moved to the living room to watch some TV.

I made chicken cutlets from the remaining meat with mashed potatoes. We had dinner at six. Then another three hours watching TV and I sent them to bed after serving a mug of sweet raspberry tea with one shot of rum. This time they didn’t wake up during the night.

The next morning, they woke up without an alarm clock and left for the lab after breakfast. I guess I’ve passed the emergency crash test.

 

 

The next thing was Halloween. Nobody explained to me what it was and why they all were so happy. I understood that little kids got a lot of sweets. And I mean a huge amount of something unhealthy that moms usually hold under the lock. Melanie had warned me to keep some sweets at home. To treat kids if and when they will come to our home. All kids I knew were meandering through the neighborhood from one house to another hunting for sweets.

Most homes were decorated. I helped to decorate the florist shop. I did a pumpkin lantern and put a tea candle in it. Good, it was kept outside. It smelled so bad. The same pumpkin I made and placed at our home. Maybe our house wasn’t decorated so much as others on our street. There were some without any decoration. I assumed my decoration was enough for someone who didn’t know what was going on.

That evening I could live at the entrance door. Almost every five minutes there was a knock at the door with kids asking for trick or treat. There were kids from school I did know. A lot of younger kids were coming. Some of them had the company of older ones. Others were alone.

Some time around nine, the stream of kids stopped. Minde and Stan were celebrating with their friends who knows where. They didn’t say where and Minde didn’t tell me when he would be home. I planned to read a little and go to bed.

Not this time.

I saw a car trying to get into our driveway. It succeeded on the third attempt. Anyway, it was parked diagonally. Then two bodies fell out of the car.

Those two were Minde and Stan. Minde was drunk as a fiddler. Stan was a little better. He had to drive cause he couldn’t walk.

Stan said something but I didn’t understand. After the fifth try, I found out at last that Stan drove Minde home. Otherwise, Minde would get in trouble.

They both were in trouble now. That trouble was me.

One and a half years ago, I was visiting my cousins. It was a farm in the northern rural part of the country. There I witnessed for the first time in my life a drunk man coming home. I was two years younger then and it wasn’t my family. It was an uncle who was drunk as a lord and it was the third time I had seen him. Now I had the very same situation here at our home and was about to deal with it. The same way my aunt had dealt.

I ordered them to undress and get into the same double-size bed in the guests’ bedroom. I didn’t want any of them climbing the stair when they barely managed to stand square.

They didn’t protest. On the other hand, they didn’t manage to get out of their clothes without falling. That didn’t mean they were like mannequins. They were twirling trying to keep themselves upright. And they both were trying to say something very important non-stop.

How I hate that drunken slur!

I had them in bed at last. They prattled something before falling asleep. It was time for me to go to bed too.

In the morning I found them still in bed. There was a mess in the kitchen and hallway. The bathroom was the worst. How could it be I didn’t hear them at night. Someone had puked and didn’t aim at the toilet. Then the same or another had stepped in that puddle and tracked the trace over all the bathroom and kitchen. At Minde’s side of the bed, there was a puddle on the floor. Bedclothes were a mess. Add to this the most terrible stench.

I was desperate and furious at the same time. It was Monday but I couldn’t leave for school. I called the school office again. And again, they called immediately back. I told them Minde will call them when he will be available.

I cleaned the kitchen, bathroom, hallway, and the floor in the guests’ bedroom. The stench lessened but was still present. I went to wake them up. They didn’t react at first. Later, they started stirring and grunting. After I had them out of bed I ushered them into the bathroom to shower and to do their business. I used the opportunity to change bedclothes and put them with their underwear into the washing machine.

I had a pail of sauerkraut from Farmers’ market. I took some and pressed a juice from it with my hands. I wasn’t as strong as my dad, sorry my grandfather, was but I managed to get two mugs of that juice. For the unaccustomed, the juice stinks. I could agree its smell was rather special. But I knew from a handful of witnesses back at home the sauerkraut juice was the first remedy for a hangover.

Minde and Stan were out of the bathroom. They looked a little more like humans. They still had a stinking breath. Good, they had changed underwear and washed the stench out from their skin and hair.

I gave them mugs with sauerkraut juice. Minde accepted his mug readily. He had maybe some practice.

Stan instead turned up his nose.

“I’ll puke again,” he said groggily the drunken slur still present in his talk.

“Drink!” I ordered without getting into an explanation.

He tried a sip of it, then another one, and then gulped it all down.

“That was good,” Stan admitted. “May I have more?”

“Later,” I promised. “Call the lab now and say you’ll not come today.”

“Why not? We are ready to go, aren’t we Minde?” he turned to Minde.

“You will NOT! Don’t complain, especially when you are guilty and you know it,” I objected. “Your breath stinks of the alcohol, that’s coursing your veins, there is still not enough blood.”

“Ok, let it be as you say,” Stan said.

Then I turned to Minde, “Call my school and say them we have a routine family emergency.”

“Huh? Ah… Ok.”

Then he called the school. His speech wasn’t easy to perceive. He talked with a terrible accent. The slur could be written off to the fact English wasn’t his native language. I hoped school staff didn’t understand he was drunk.

 

 

8. Hangover. Nothing to wear. I was thinking. Thanksgiving.

The next few days went like a blur. My mood was down and I could call it my very first hangover. I wasn’t drunk ever but witnessing those two nearest to me falling so low was worse than intoxication.

I started thinking what happens if…

First of all, if they were to get in a car accident and would be lost. I would be lost too. I couldn’t take care of myself. Speaking about my bits glued down there. Without the doctor’s help, it would develop into gangrene and… Sigh…

Then I wouldn’t have the money to come back to my homeland. Even if I called mom and dad… Sorry, grandmother and grandfather, you know what I mean… So if I called them they wouldn’t come to help me cause they don’t have enough money.

Another thing to think about. Minde made me when he was unconscious drunk. Good, it all ended well. I’ve read in those magazines I’d bought at a yard sale that in America things are a little bit different. If not to say they are completely different.

Back to more pleasant things. The weather was as warm as in September. Maybe a couple of degrees colder but warm anyway. Except for that one-day snow outbreak, the autumn was warm. When the weather is good the mood isn’t depressed. The world was in brighter colors though trees were without leaves.

Minde was coming home alone now. Stan didn’t visit us often. Usually, it was once a week. So there was nothing new. Minde behaved as if nothing had happened. I didn’t want to escalate the last incident. We talked only about school and home. He usually didn’t talk about his job. Maybe I wouldn’t understand or maybe he was such a person.

“At the beginning of December, I will be going to Japan for a week with Stan,” he announced on Wednesday. “Our flight is booked on the sixth day. It will be Monday.”

“Is it a kind of vacation?” I wondered.

“No. It’s pure business. We are about to sign a contract with NEC.”

“Oh, I know, they make monitors,” I said.

“Not only. Storage solutions. And even much more.”

“So Stan and you are important persons in your lab…”

“We are technicians. The real VIP is Stan’s father. He’s already spent two months in Japan. He’ll come back home for a week and then we’ll go together.”

“Stan never said a word about his parents. Have you met them?”

“Only his dad,” Minde said. “But his mom has invited us both for Thanksgiving.”

“What giving?”

“Thanksgiving. Pure American thing to thank for what they have,” Minde tried to explain. “I don’t know really. It’s what I’ve read in the encyclopedia at work.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t start it! You are such a girl…”

“It wasn’t my idea for that matter,” I snapped back angrily. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the solution. What day it is by the way?”

“It has to be the fourth Thursday. November twenty-fifth this year.”

 

 

I needed help. I got to know that Thanksgiving was not a regular holiday. I couldn’t come to Stan’s mom just wearing jeans. I needed something special. Something that would be acceptable to my mom. Minde and Stan were the same age, I guessed. Their moms had to be of the same age too. Our mom’s age was fifty-five. I could ask Melanie, Sandra’s mom. But I didn’t trust her taste. Melanie was like Sandra – everything short and tight with a lot of skin showing.

It was Thursday, my day at the florist store. My boss, Polly, seemed to be a similar age to mom’s maybe a bit younger.

“I’m invited to Thanksgiving,” I started, “it’s my first Thanksgiving. I don’t know what to wear. Would you please give me some suggestions?”

“And who’s inviting you, sweetie?”

“That’s my father's friend’s mom.”

“I see…” she said. “I would set for something conservative, maybe a long skirt in earth tones. Add matching turtleneck and ankle boots.”

“Thank you. I’ll see what they have in the mall.”

“I don’t expect anybody will come today. Let’s go to the mall now. We’ll browse through the racks together,” Polly offered.

She locked the store and drove me in her car to the mall. I thought we’ll start looking for the skirt. But she rather guided me to the racks with sweaters. She opted for a cable knit tan-colored one. I tried it. She starred at me with her eyes squinted and then announced, “Not your color. It doesn’t match your complexion.”

I tried then chocolate brown and it was even worse. Then she found greenish-brown, what Polly called olive. I liked it and it looked good. Though there was nothing green in my complexion. My eyes are grayish brown.

The turtleneck was close-fitting but not tight. I was wearing a bra but its outline wasn’t visible through the sweater. Anyway, the padded bra was creating an illusion of my real tits.

The top wasn’t finished yet. Polly said I needed some enhancer. I didn’t know what it was. We moved to a section with scarves. No. The scarf wasn’t what I needed. Then shawls maybe? Not even a shawl. So kerchief maybe? She said maybe. I tried to help her to find what was good for but I was unsuccessful.

“Your taste is so much tomboyish that you could be mistaken for a boy,” she said.

“Then maybe I have to dress like a tomboy or even a boy and be myself?” I suggested.

“Will not work,” Polly retorted. “You would look like a girl in her brother’s clothes.”

At least I’d tried to be more boyish.

Polly’s choice was a kerchief with a kind of army camouflage pattern. Kind of. But more subtle. I had to admit it looked good.

Were we ready to buy a skirt yet? At last. I expected to go to the kids' store cause I was still below five feet.

“Kids’ are for kids,” Polly said, “you are mature enough not to be messing with lavender unicorns and little ponies.”

I didn’t complain.

We had spent already more than an hour in the mall and I expected another hour to be spent looking for a skirt. Quite unexpectedly Polly found it in less than five minutes. It was a long tiered skirt in brownish-green. The linen was with lacy trim and it was visible. It added some charm.

“It looks extremely girly,” I complained. “Can’t we find something without linen?”

“You’ll need a slip then,” Polly said.

I knew what slip was. Some super girly super lacy super silky garment. I never understood why women wore it under other clothes.

“Why?”

“Skirt’s material isn’t slippery and every move will ride it up.”

I wasn’t ready for the slip. Let it be some visible linen then.

The boots were not a problem to find because Polly knew exactly what I needed. I got light brown boots to the middle of my calf with a low heel. The heel wasn’t spiky and I managed to walk in boots without wobbling. On the sides of the boots, there was embossing. Their top was unusual.

“They are cowboy boots,” Polly explained. “They go with anything of soft leather.”

“What anything?”

“Bracelets, belt, pendants, bags.”

“Oh, I need a shoulder bag cause the skirt has no pockets,” I said.

“Oh, my cute tomboy… You need a purse,” Polly replied.

Purse then. Later a narrow belt of matching light brown soft leather and a set of leather bracelets.

 

 

I was thinking… No! It sounds so wrong! It sounds as if I’m not thinking usually and did it only on some special occasions. So let's say, I’m thinking constantly. This time was special thinking. So I was thinking that Thanksgiving is a day including a lot of eating. I found this in Encyclopedia.

Melanie had confirmed it. She asked if we had somewhere to spend Thanksgiving. I said we were already invited. She said wives bring some dishes to the host. So the hostess doesn’t need to make everything by herself.

I was kind of the wife of our home. No matter that I wasn’t. I was in the eyes of everyone. Eventually, I had to bring something to Stan’s mom. The question was what. I had to ask Stan. But he wasn’t coming. The weekend went by without him. I was worried. Was he ok? Maybe he had some other plans. Or was he avoiding me because of the last incident when Minde and he were drunk? Maybe I had treated him badly. Or maybe he had a girlfriend now. I didn’t know. I couldn’t ask him cause I didn’t have his number.

“Is Stan ok?” I brought myself to ask Minde after the weekend not seeing Stan.

“Why he is. Why are you asking?”

“I haven’t seen him in more than a week.”

“My car is at last repaired and I don’t need a ride,” Minde replied.

“I have some questions.”

“’Bout what?”

“About Thanksgiving. Do I need to bring something with me? Like cake or something?”

“I guess no, but I’ll ask.”

Minde was always short-spoken with me. It didn’t seem he was angry or something. I was worried more about Stan distancing from us. Or maybe just me.

The next day Minde delivered the message from Stan don’t worry about anything.

 

 

I was working now two days a week at Polly’s place. Almost all the potted plants were arranged for winter sleep in the garage and the basement. The main job was various flower compositions for this and that. Like funerals and weddings or more simple but more frequent flower bouquets.

Then it dawned to me that I could bring flowers to Stan’s mom. All women like flowers.

“Polly, would it be ok to bring flowers for Thanksgiving?” I asked my boss.

“If you don’t bring some food… Or do you?”

“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I’ve asked if I have to bring something and the answer’s not to worry about anything. I feel sorta empty-handed bringing nothing with us.”

“Roses are too much ceremonial. My choice would be gerberas daisies. They stand well and they look good. I guess your friend’s mother will be glad to get such a bouquet.”

“And his father?” I suddenly thought that flowers go for mom. Stan’s dad remains without our attention.

“I would be opting for some liquor,” Polly said.

“What would be good?”

“Scotch, Amaretto, Cognac…”

Cognac was the only word I knew. I knew that it was considered exquisite. But nobody will sell it to me. I’d tried to buy rum and didn’t get it.

“Would you be so kind to buy me good cognac, maybe in a gift box?”

“And your father?” Polly wondered.

“Sigh… My father is the real mad scientist. I will be happy for him not to be home late from his lab on Thursday.”

“Be warned that cognac is something expensive.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve bought black matured rum,” I replied.

“Rum? What do you need rum for?”

“To add to hot raspberry tea,” I said but I saw Polly didn’t understand anyway. “It’s a remedy against cold and flu.”

“Really? Does it work?”

“Yes, sure it does. I’ve healed my father three weeks ago.”

“Oh… Yes, I remember. You skipped a day then.”

 

 

Thursday came. I went through Minde’s clothes and underwear and socks. Once I had caught him wearing holey socks. Another time it was his shirt with buttons torn off.

“I don’t button them up,” he excused.

This time I double-checked everything. The socks and underwear were new. Pants pressed, shirt and coat with all buttons, shoes clean and not smelly.

Minde called a cab and we left before dark. Forty minutes later we were at our destination.

“Shit…” Minde muttered under his nose.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve left my wallet at home. I don’t have money.”

“Take this,” I handed him my wallet from my purse. “Don’t forget to tip the driver.”

As we exited the car, he handed the wallet back to me. I gave him the cognac in a cardboard box.

The door opened before we knocked at it. We were ushered inside. Then usual mayhem followed. Hugs, handshakes, compliments, introductions. Stan was here too and at his side was a young woman.

“Meet my sister Shelby,” Stan introduced us. Shelby was one of those women who were more beautiful than others. I didn’t know how they managed to do it but they just managed to be such.

“I was afraid Minde, that you would be late or you would forget something,” Stan’s father Malcolm said. “But I was wrong. Who could guess – Coeur de Cognac! You are so thoughtful indeed.”

“I have to admit it’s all my daughter’s deed,” Minde replied stressing the word daughter.

I felt my cheeks burn. Adults chuckled at my confusion.

Then there was the dinner part. After the grace, various dishes were served. Some were edible some not very. Maybe those dishes were tasty but I wasn’t used to eating American food. I was stuffed full. Then the turkey was served and I had to find some spare space in my stomach for it.

After turkey, there was a short break. Men went to another room leaving the workspace for us women. I wasn’t a great help. Just collecting dirty plates and putting them into a dishwasher. Then Shelby and I set the table for desserts.

There was a short while after the table was set and before men were back. I took the time to look around. A lot of family pictures were on all walls. I counted four kids in one. Most pictures were of kids growing up. I recognized Stan on some of them. Another boy looked somewhat familiar but I couldn’t be sure. There was Shelby and another boy, the oldest one of the four.

“We’ll go through family albums after the dinner,” Stan’s mom offered. “Would you like to see the photos, honey?”

“Oh… Yes, Madame, please.” I knew Americans used ma’am but it wasn’t enough reverent for my liking.

“Call me Debbie dear,” Stan’s mom asked.

So we went through family albums. Not all. Only two this time. I got to know Stanley was one of three boys.

Another boy who looked familiar was the older Stan’s brother Graham. He was now the leading abdominal surgeon in the Maternity hospital in Providence. That was the same doctor who messed with my bits. Did they all know I was really a boy? If they knew they didn’t show.

Shelby was the only girl. She was younger than Stan and she was single. Stan’s mom sighed many times about it. The oldest of all the kids was Kieran and he lived with his family in Boston. He was a professor at MIT. Whatever it was.

 

 

9. Uncertainties. Sweet sixteen and consequences.

Thanksgiving with Stan’s parents was kind of a milestone in my life. Not only my life in America. My whole life.

I was a boy masquerading as a girl before. I hated everything girly – bra, pantyhose, skirt. This time I liked what I was wearing. Even though it was a skirt and pantyhose and bra. I liked it when I was complimented. By everyone. Even by the cab driver.

I needed to talk to somebody. Anybody. Minde… No, not Minde. We were much closer when I thought he was my brother. He was my father. I probably had some expectations. But Minde was the same. He never was caring. Yes, he was shy. But he was egocentric too. I had tried to talk to him. It was the same as talking to the fridge.

I wanted to talk with mom. That’s with Minde’s mom. But she was like MY mom. But she was so far away. We could talk by phone. But there was a time difference and there was a price high enough even for us. It always ended in a couple of minutes saying just the most basic things.

Stan. He was doing so much already for Minde and me. He was the only one who knew and cared.

Mom was asking me to be the best girl possible. It didn't mean I had to be the best anti-boy. I had to be the best person. That included not complaining too much, not making waves. The same I wasn’t supposed to do as a boy.

How to make others believe I was really a boy not complaining and doing everything I was expected to do?

The only difference at school was the home economics classinstead of the shop class. I liked what I learned. It was useful. How to patch, sew, repair, crochet. I had everything five years ago. This time it was more in-depth learning and practice and some projects to do.

Some girls complained about bras and pantyhose. I wouldn’t stand out as somebody special complaining about them. I started liking them now the way I was wearing them for Thanksgiving though I still hated school uniforms.

Was I turning gay?

 

 

Minde and Stan went to Japan with Stan’s father Malcolm. They were about to sign a contract with NEC. Which was several million dollars worth. Then Minde would be able to pay his debt for the house and my tuition to Kingstown Labs.

They said they wouldbe back two days before Christmas. I was going to be left alone for sixteen days.

I was alone at home. There was still Melanie and Sandra. And my friends at school. So I wasn’t so really alone.

I was busy all these days. Home, the presents, Christmas tree, decorations.

The 23rd of December came and I was still alone. I thought maybe the plane was delayed or something. The next day I was still alone.

It was Christmas Eve. A very important day. Traditionally it was even more important than Christmas. Christmas Eve dinner was very special. I made everything and was waiting at the table. I had set for four. Minde, Stan, me and someone who might come. It was a part of tradition to have one addition place at table ready.

The tree was decorated and presents were under the tree. The house was decorated. Not so much like some houses in the neighborhood but it looked festively.

I waited for them and they didn't show. Finally, it was midnight.

Then I went to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I thought of all possible scenarios of what could happen. If there was some accident it should be on news.

I went downstairs back to the living room and turned the TV on. There were only some old movies, concerts, or shows. No news. At last, there was some news but nothing special happened – no disaster, no accident, no blizzard or something.

Minde was back on the third day after Christmas. He came home with Stan. They behaved as if nothing was wrong with them coming back almost a week later than planned.

 

 

I was angry. No, I was furious. I was tempted to cry out loud at them. But I didn’t want to demean myself. Or look like a drama queen.

My birthday was getting close. It’s on Sylvester day, but they just called it New Years Eve here. Only mom and dad remembered it was my birthday. Minde and friends never. Such a day. Everyone was busy prepping for the New Year. I never blamed them.

This year, Stan remembered and he offered to celebrate it a day before. I was okay not doing it. But he said the sixteenth birthday was crucial. It was called Sweet Sixteen. Girls were allowed to date afterward. Like it was of use for me.

I was setting the table and Stan was helping. Minde was out to buy some wine.

“You could have senta telegram at least,” I started. “I was fearful something bad had happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan wondered.

“About your coming home one week later,” I said calmly.

“Didn’t Minde call you?”

“Never.”

“I talked with my mom every day and Minde had assured me he too was calling you every day.”

“He never called,” I repeated.

“Shit…”

“And Stan, don’t say anything to Minde,” I asked.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to make a scene. And anyway, he wouldn’t understand. Minde is just like that.”

“Yeah… I’ve noticed, Minde doesn’t like to change,” Stan agreed with me.

 

 

I was sixteen now officially. I could drive the car. I needed a license, but it was a possibility. Another great or maybe not so great thing was that I could become an emancipated young adult. That was if something happened to Minde, I wouldn’t be taken to an orphanage. I thought it was great.

Minde just shrugged when Stan presented him with this possibility. At least he wasn’t against it. Stan arranged everything. Like my lawyer, court, the date.

I didn’t understand much because the language was even worse than everyday English. I had to say, “Yes, your honor,” when the lawyer nodded or “No, your honor,” when he shook his head.

I got my very own plastic card where some emergency money was deposited. I could have another card for everyday use, but I preferred cash.

All this my becoming independent thing coincided with another announcement of Minde’s leaving. This time he, Stan, and Stan’s father, Malcolm, went to Houston. That’s in America. Not near but in America anyway. I thought I could call them myself if something happened.

“You can’t,” Stan refuted my idea of calling them. “It’s a military place where we are going. Those people are kinda paranoid about security. But you’ll be sure we’ll be okay for the four weeks we will be gone. No worries this time.”

Who was I to complain? No worries, then no worries. Another four weeks at home alone. Not the first time. Not worrying about Minde, the time will pass more pleasantly. Probably. I hoped.

 

 

It was March. The weather was warmer and warmer every day. The spring here came earlier than in my hometown. Before Minde and Stan left, I had another visit to Stan’s brother. He’s thedoctor in Providence. And he managed my boy bits to look more like of agirl.

“Good thing that it’s not a surgery I perform here,” Graham, the doc, sighed, “or otherwise I’d need your father here.”

“Not anymore,” Stan said, “she’s an emancipated youth now.”

“She?... Tellme again why do you want to be a girl?” the doc asked.

“I don’t want,” I replied, “I am.”

“Hmm…”

“Believe me,” Stan offered, “she is.”

As if it was my choice.

 

 

At school, other tryouts for cheerleaders and pep squads were arranged. The teachers said it was an evaluation. They wanted to know which girls pass.

There were four of us. We were evaluated in September but didn’t pass. The same routine again. Jump, toe touch, high kick, split. And attitude. By this, they meant how the butt and chest were wiggled. I couldn’t force myself to do this. Everyone said I was a tomboy.

I didn’t pass. I wasn’t disappointed. On the contrary, I was happy I had more free time. I needed it in theflorist shop. Spring was coming. My boss Polly and I had a job to do. Like planting flowers in the flowerbeds in the backyard and at the driveway.

I was planting flowers from their pots into flowerbeds when some discomfort in my groin started. It was first just like discomfort. It didn’t feel as painful.

I washed thoroughly with a stream of hot water. If there was some dirt, I had removed it. But the discomfort didn’t go away.

I remembered I felt something during tryouts a few days ago when I plopped on the floor performing the split. It felt then like some sprain. But it always was some tension doing splits.

The discomfort continued to the next day. It wasn’t a great deal of pain, just an annoying inconvenience.

The day passed with that inconvenience not getting better or worse. Then when I was sitting in class, I felt a sudden twinge in my groin. The pain subsided but I felt a twinge again and it was much stronger.

I probably winced visibly. The teacher noticed me behaving funny and sent me to the nurse.

The nurse had my panties pulled down and… Yes, there was blood. It shouldn't have been there. The nurse didn’t know this though. She gave me a pad and Midol. Midol didn’t help much. Or it was too early for a result. I was gasping in pain with every twinge.

The nurse accompanied me to the principal’s office.

“The girl has an excruciating period,” she said to VP pointing at me.

“I’ll call her parents,” VP offered while turning to look through the files.

“There is nobody to call,” I said, “my father is in Houston for a month.”

“And where is your mommy?” she inquired.

“I have no mother.”

“I can’t let you go by foot.”

“Call a cab. I’ll pay.”

She made a call. Meanwhile, my friend Sean had brought my backpack from the classroom.

The trip home took less than ten minutes. That compared to thirty minutes by bus. The cab driver gave me his card. He said it would be cheaper to call direct and not through the dispatch service.

At home, the pain subsided and the twinges didn’t come back. I guess I dozed on the couch in the living room.

I woke up because the pain was back. Not the same pain. This time it was tearing me in parts. Like there was a knife stabbed in my groin and the knife was being twisted.

There was no way I could live with the pain. I needed a doctor. Urgently ! But it had to be Stan’s brother, Graham. I assumed any other doctor might cause a handful of problems for Stan and Minde.

I didn’t know how to reach him though. My doctor. I knew he was in Providence. What hospital? What address? What phone number? I had three phone numbers – Melanie’s, mom and dad’s at home, and Minde’s lab.

It was already six by the time I was ready to call. Only Minde and Stan would be there at this time of day. But they weren’t at the lab. I couldn’t call them in Houston.

How to reach Graham?

Stan’s mom! I had to get to Stan’s mom. I didn’t know her phone number or address but I knew how to get there.

I called the number on the card I’d got from the cab driver. After some meandering, we got to the familiar house.

It was already dark when I rang the doorbell. Nobody answered and the door was locked. I tried the backdoor and it was locked too. I came back to the front door and sat down on the stair step. I couldn’t stand and I couldn’t walk. I had no strength to fight. I guess I passed out.

When I woke up, I was on the couch and Stan’s mom was sitting at my side.

“Graham…” I whispered.

“On his way already,” the older woman replied stroking my hand.

 

 

I didn’t remember much. Only separate pictures of something happening and like it was happening to someone else.

When I woke up, at last, I found Stan and his mom at my side. Minde came in an hour later. Stan’s mom had managed to call them in some miraculous way.

The doctor came into the room a couple of minutes after Minde.

“You had a terrible abscess,” Graham, the doctor, started to explain. “The skin of your scrotum was bruised. It festered into a serious infection. The skin ruptured but only a few drops of blood came out. Another part was locked behind skin folds. The abscess intensified. And… Well… When I got you here there was not much left of your testicles and penis. Seeing you are taking estrogen…”

“I’m not,” I interrupted him.

“Your blood test shows you are,” the doc objected.

“I saw you taking some pills at home,” Stan intervened. “What they are.”

“Vitamins and anti-baby pills.”

“Anti-baby pills? You got from another doc who was sure you were a girl?” Graham asked.

“Err… Yes,” I confirmed.

“How long?”

“Since July. I don’t remember what day it was exactly.”

“Day isn’t of great importance,” the doc said. ”Anti-baby pills as you call them are estrogen. You have been taking it for eight months already. No wonder your estrogen level is high.”

“So what about this estrogen level?” Minde asked.

“It convinced me Crystal was transitioning,” the doc said.

“Like from being a boy to being a girl?” Stan asked.

“Exactly. After the conversation with you the other day, I was sure you felt you were a girl really.”

“So what then?” I asked.

“Your boys’ bits were irreparable and for you were transitioning, as I saw it, so I performed a vaginoplasty of the tissue material that was left.”

“Say it in English please,” Minde asked.

“Crystal now has a vagina instead of a penis.”

“So I was right,” Minde said.

“What do you mean?” I inquired.

“He means you are a real girl from now on,” Stan said.

“A girl? Hmm… Maybe it’s to the best?” I wondered.

So now I was a girl like millions of other girls around the world. My life was special only for me. There was no more a story to tell.