George Georgina Gina
The newcomer to the area who’d moved into one of the small apartment flats, many of which were shared by pairs of students, was known to go by the name of George. George was five feet three, narrow shouldered to point of being puny and had short hair. Despite androgynous looks, George was naturally enough assumed at college to be male. That was till in an over heard conversation between some one who clearly had known George for somewhat longer than most George had been referred to as Gina and without being surprised had answered to the name. George or Gina had few friends and other than in class did not engage with others. However, eventually when asked about the two names by a classmate before the lecture started she’d said, “My name is Georgina. I get called George, Georgy and Gina.” That was all she said not engaging in further conversation before the class commenced and leaving immediately it ended.
Georgina at first was considered to be physically immature and flat chested due to the heavy, woollen sweaters and the heavy, fur trimmed, hooded coat she wore even in class during the particularly cold weather when she’d started college. However, on a warm, sunny day she had removed her coat before she entered the class room. She was not wearing a sweater and her figure hugging top meant all could see she was a well proportioned young woman with a feminine figure. One of the boys whispered to a friend as she entered the lecture theatre, “Damn it, Alvin. That’s got to be an E or an F!”
“You’ve got sex on the brain, Jerry, and you know next to nothing about girls. That’s barely a B.” It was then assumed she was trans and using breast forms. All the girls considered that though Georgina made minimal use of make up she probably used so little because she was pretty and with her flawless complexion she had little need of it. It was still assumed, though never remarked upon, that Georgina was trans. None of her peers thought any the worse of her for that, for theirs was an enlightened society. Enlightened enough for a number of her male classmates and a couple of female ones too to be interested in her to the point of wishing to date her. She’d always turned such offers down saying she had to look after Heather. It was known that she lived with Heather, a six year old who attended the local primary school along with a lot of their siblings too. It was believed that the two siblings were orphans and just about getting by. One of the girls had said that it was lucky for Georgina that she didn’t need much make up because it was so expensive that she needed to work on her dad before she could buy any more.
As the college year progressed Georgina’s short hair became a pixie cut. Then as it grew out a bit she had extensions, all of which seemed to support the contention that Georgina was in transition. One day she was spotted wearing a pair of double cross earrings by one of the girls who remarked they were pretty. She’d replied that they matched the one she wore on a chain around her neck. She further explained that they were crosses of Lorraine made of platinum and had been her mother’s, and she’d been given them by her mum when she was dying. Seeing that Georgina was upset at the memory the other girl asked no further questions and conversation returned to class matters. Many of her classmates interacted with Georgina on class matters, for she was intelligent and never seemed to have any trouble keeping up to date with her work. She was an effortless straight A student who had become popular because she was pleasant and helpful.
When Georgina admitted that she’d be eighteen in a few weeks her classmates had managed to persuade the daycare centre to look after Heather for a few extra hours, so they could all enjoy a Saturday afternoon out together. They’d had to settle for that because Georgina had point blank refused to go out in the evening, explaining she worked seven evenings a week at a local mini market store where her employers allowed her to take Heather to work with her, and she needed the money. Several of them attended the self defence and martial arts course that Georgina attended on Sunday afternoons at the local community centre, so that had been a no no for many of them too.
Many of Georgina’s classmates had younger siblings who attended the daycare, early years and primary school centre that Heather attended, and most of what they knew about Georgina had come to them via the younger children. Eventually they became aware that the two girls had moved a considerable distance away from their original home to escape an abusive father. It had seemed reasonable to conclude that he was abusive because Georgina was trans.
A few days after Georgina’s eighteenth birthday a man burst into her first class of the afternoon dragging Heather with him. Heather was screaming, “No, Daddy. No that hurts.” The man threw Heather to one side and slapped Georgina so hard he knocked her to the floor. He shouted at her to get up and told her they were going home. As he kicked Georgina to make her obey, Heather was screaming, “Stop it, Daddy. Don’t hurt us any more. We’ll be good. Promise.”
As she picked herself up from the floor, Georgina said, “No, Heather. No we won’t. I’m eighteen now, and I’m not going anywhere for him to hurt me or you ever again.” As she faced off with the man he grabbed Heather, pulled a knife and said, “If you don’t do as you’re told I’ll cut her face so badly she’ll never want to look in a mirror again, and I’ll give you a buzz cut again.” The lecturer had pressed the panic button as soon as the man had entered the room and the college police had arrived in time to hear what he’d said and to see Georgina close with the man to protect Heather. Georgina had both her hands around the man’s wrist keeping the knife away from herself. In the struggle he’d released Heather and focussed on hitting Georgina with his free hand. With him distracted she’d managed to turn his knife hand. Using her recently acquired skills she allowed herself to fall backwards pulling the man down on top of herself. Unseen by any as they fell she guided the knife so that as he came down it plunged into his heart. Obviously not known at the time she would later be deemed blameless.
It had all taken less than a handful of seconds and the police had hesitated whilst they evaluated the situation by which time it was all over. It was a few seconds before the police managed to pull him off Georgina. As they did, she’d had her hands around the knife which left his chest with a gush of blood and slid to the floor. When she stood she could see him twitching as the pool of blood on the floor spread out and within seconds started to congeal at the edges. Georgina stared at the knife at his side and hugging Heather said, “It’s all over now, Sweetheart. He’ll never hurt us again.”
In front of a silent and deeply shocked lecturer and class, a police woman gently asked, “Who was he? Ex boyfriend? Husband?”
Georgina was at that point shaking with relief and unable to answer. Heather answered for her, “We left home and came here because Daddy did mean things to us and was always hurting me and Mummy.”
A
note from Rosemary: This story is a story of a Christian trans-girl
in the early '80s, and how she and her parents dealt with it. It is
just that. A story. I am not trying to foist my beliefs upon anyone.
