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My life changed that wonderful year—the year that I stopped being Anthony and started my life as Ann.

Cross-Country: Skiing, by Karin Bishop

Part 5

Chapter 11: Heading Home

I felt so bad about Shelly leaving that I almost didn’t want to ski, but I had to go up to rendezvous with The Moms. The lunch crowds were swarming, so The Moms had made a preemptive attack, getting sandwiches and drinks that they knew we liked and were already seated while everyone else stood in line. Jeff had already eaten and taken off. I sat with Mom while Donna went to get something. Kevin wandered over, looked at us strangely for a moment, grinned, and tucked into his sandwich and chips. Donna came up shaking a protein drink and set it in front of Kevin and went back to chatting with Mom.

Mom had ordered a small sandwich and soup combo with a side salad and a blackberry smoothie. I loved the meal but was preoccupied thinking about Shelly and her parental problems. Mom nudged me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I halfway sighed.

“Ri-ight,” Mom grinned.

“Shelly’s gone now.”

I realized that I hadn’t told Mom anything about Shelly’s parents, but before I did, Kevin finished, scooped up his things, said, “Gotta catch snow, Ma” and was gone. So with the boys gone, now was the proper time, just the three of us, so I told Mom and Donna about Shelly’s soap opera.

“The rich are different,” Donna sniffed. “There are just more assholes that are rich.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mom said. “Love and hate, marriage and divorce …they’re pretty much the same whether you’re rich or not.”

“Sort of,” Donna said. “Maybe I’m being too harsh; you’re right, Liz. They may love and hate just like us …but I think money complicates it. Amplifies things, too.”

I told them about Shelly’s complex relationship with her father. With her mother, it seemed to be dismissal from her mother returned with disdain from Shelly. They nodded and got off onto other subjects. I went to the Ladies’ Room, did my business and touched up my minimal makeup from the little fanny pack I carried. An older woman in ski garb looked at me in the mirror and sighed.

“It must be nice …” she said dreamily.

“I’m sorry, ma’am …uh, what must be nice?”

She smiled sadly. “To be so young and so pretty.”

I couldn’t believe it at first. “Oh, I’m not pre …” I trailed off, remembering what Mom had told me. So I smiled widely and said, “Thank you, ma’am.” What else could I say?

She smiled genuinely and said, “You’re welcome, and you really don’t know it, do you? I mean, you’re not one of those girls who knows she’s pretty and figures the world owes her something. And you know what, dear?” She leaned in, patting my forearm as she whispered, “It makes you even lovelier!” She nodded once and headed out, leaving me wondering …what was that?

Back at the table I decided I’d do one or two more runs, so I made arrangements with The Moms for our final pickup. On the first run I noticed Rick across the trail; I waved and he waved back but then pulled his arm down quickly and frowned as he turned away. I remembered that Jeff had said some things to him, so there was no telling what Rick thought. But I realized that it wasn’t important; Rick wasn’t important to me and whatever weird ideas he or somebody might have about me didn’t affect who I really was. I wished Shelly had been there with me, of course, but I was happy to be my own person—my own girl—and just enjoy the mountain without worrying what someone thought.

On my second run, I saw Kevin take a nasty tumble farther down the slope. I zoomed down to him and stopped by the side so I didn’t spray him with snow.

“God, Kevin, that was a pretty hairy fall; are you okay?”

He looked up, his face crusted with snow, and blinked, then rubbed the snow from his goggles.

“Is that you, Ann? Man, I got totaled!” He laughed at that, like it was a badge of honor.

Boys are so strange!

He sat in the snow, sorting himself out, and his skis had come off, held by the straps. We were clear of any other skiers, so once he got the straps free, grabbed his skis and was up, he limped across the slope to a stand of trees to get sorted. There really wasn’t anything I could do for him; I think he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him and was a little dizzy. It’d take him some time to get himself together, so I took the opportunity to kind of scoop snow into the depression he’d made, as a courtesy to other skiers. Then I went over to see how he was and to relax a bit. We made some small talk about how great the snow was—and how hard it could be when you landed on it—and then Kevin shocked me.

“You know, Ann, I couldn’t say anything back at the cabin, but I’m really glad that you came out of the closet.”

“Kevin, thank you, but I didn’t exactly ‘come out of the closet’,” I laughed. “I just changed what closet I get dressed from!”

He gave me a look that showed he wasn’t kidding. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You came out. And I don’t mean you’re gay and into guys, because if you’re truly a female you’d be straight if you were into guys. You know what I mean?”

I sighed. “Yeah, Kevin, I do. It’s confusing to get everything straight—I mean, get everything in correct order, but ...yeah, I know what you mean. And thanks for getting it.”

He looked off into the distance of the valley and his voice suddenly sounded much older than the kid I knew.

“What you’ve done—the guts it took—is really important to me. Now I’ve got to have guts, too.”

I was totally caught off guard. Was he talking about coming out, too? Was he gay?

“Kevin, I’m not sure what ‘guts’ you’re talking about.”

He turned to look at me, and I was struck again by how he suddenly seemed much older than his years. “A couple of years ago I saw something on TV. Have you ever seen any ballroom dancing?”

“You mean like those competitions with everybody in tuxedos and gowns and numbers on the back?” I didn’t really watch that much television.

He smiled. “That’s it. The Ballroom Dancing World Championships on PBS changed my life. And now Dancing With the Stars and some other shows. I know you think I’m just a little kid, just Jeff’s little brother.”

“Well, you are his younger brother, and you are younger than me, and I have known you all of our lives, but you know what? I don’t really know you, just like you really didn’t know me.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve got to agree with you there; I sort of knew Tony but now I’m getting to know Ann.”

I studied him for a moment. Jeff was more or less a known quantity; but Kevin had always been this ...noise around the house, and I was startled to discover there was a depth and …an odd strength to him that I’d never noticed. His voice, posture, everything was more mature.

He went on with his confession. “Well, I know what I want to be when I grow up—a championship ballroom dancer.” He stopped, checking my reaction. “I’ve already talked to two of the dance schools about taking me, but they’ll only do it with Mom’s approval because of my age. And, of course, I can’t afford it so I could only do it with Mom’s money, too.”

I saw his situation. “Kevin,” I began as gently as I could. “Are you trying to tell me you’re gay?”

To my dismay he exploded. “Jesus, no! Why does ...why does wanting to dance make me gay? There are straight dancers, too!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry; keep your voice down. I thought you were saying—”

“You thought I had to be gay and dancing was just a cover. I said ‘ballroom’ and you automatically assumed ‘gay’. Geez, I thought that you of all people would understand.”

He was miserable, and he was right; I’d jumped to the conclusion without thinking. I felt ashamed on several levels.

“Kevin, I’m sorry; it was a dumb thing to say and a wrong thing to say. I thought you were …like beating around the bush or something. Using dancing as a front, an excuse …Wait a minute, I think I understand; please bear with me and let me see ...I’ve got to take this step by step, so first, just to get it out of the way, are you gay?”

He was getting steamed up, ready for a fight, but I held a finger up like I’d seen Donna do and he calmed down and answered the question. “No. I’m sure of that.” He grinned sheepishly, and I believed him.

“Second,” I said, “you want to learn ballroom dancing and dance competitively.”

“Right.”

“Just a whim or sure thing?”

He gave me a frighteningly direct look. “I want to dance competitively more than anything I’ve wanted in my whole life.”

It was so strong it almost blew me back. Where was I? “Third, your mom doesn’t know.”

“Right.”

“Does anybody know?”

“Only the dance instructors I talked to at the studios. And now you.”

“Then ...I don’t know, Kevin, maybe I’m missing something but I don’t see a big problem with this. Why haven’t you told your mom?”

He sighed and looked in the distance before answering. “I was afraid to, I guess. She always seems to prefer Jeff and he’s so macho-man—”

“Jeff’s a Neanderthal,” I said helpfully.

He laughed. “Yeah, so maybe she prefers Neanderthals.”

“And you’re Cro-Magnon?” I didn’t know if he’d know the reference.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough on us Cromies when our mommies love their Neanders best ...”

We both hooted with laughter, but there was a serious side to what he said—and an intellectual and humorous sharpness that I’d never dreamed of. Where did this guy come from? We calmed down, and he went on.

“But seeing Mom protect you, the way she accepted you and took care of you ...I think maybe I can talk to her.”

“Yes! Of course you can! Your mom is the greatest! I mean, I’ve known her all my life and even I didn’t know how totally cool she was. Is.” I thought for a moment about what I’d just said. “I guess I never thought about how cool my own mom is, either; it took my ...mega-change for me to learn that about them. Kevin, tell your mom; she’ll be cool about it. Even if you were gay, she’d be cool. But you’re like Gene Kelly in that movie: ‘Got-ta dance!”

He laughed again in recognition at the movie, or at my lousy Kelly imitation. “You know, I started seeing every dance movie I could find. I was renting dance movies like Footloose and the Step Up movies; even things like White Nights with Baryshnikov and Hines, or anything with Kelly in it. I’d go down to Blockbuster with my allowance and hide the dance movies with a macho gory movie on top. I was so afraid Jeff would find them.” He imitated Jeff’s voice. “Hey, cool, I Eat Your Brain, and what’s this? The Red Shoes? What the hell is that?”

We laughed together.

I said, “Netflix?”

He shook his head. “Mom would have to be paying for them, and Jeff’s not into movies so it would obviously be for me, and she’d be able to see the playlist or whatever you call it.” He shrugged. “And she’d know.”

I nodded, remembering the horror of that life of stealth, of being afraid of discovery. Of double-and-triple checking everything you said, everything you did, fearing that you might have somehow given away your secret, revealed your true nature …and all the while the pressure grew to be yourself, to be true to your nature …

That growing fear and pressure had made me steal a girl’s dress from school, and lie to my mother, and twist me into the kind of person I’m not, yet the discovery led to me becoming the happy girl I was now, and closer than ever to my mother.

Perhaps Kevin acted immature so his mother and brother would never think he could possibly be interested in dancing. So they wouldn’t leap to the same wrong conclusion that I had, that he was gay. I felt that shame again.

To say something, I asked, “Do you know anybody at school that could get the Netflix movies for you? I mean, somebody who has an account, like a girl, and let her know?” He started shaking his head and I spoke quickly, warming to my idea. “I mean, like a girl who dances, not just the kind forced into ballet. A girl that’s serious about dance, like you, like in a dance troupe. Find out where she has like a recital, ‘just happen to go’, and you, know, strike up a conversation …”

He was shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I thought of that. There aren’t that many that are in dance troupes that are also cool. Either stuck-up or the kind I couldn’t trust with my secret. Besides, I—”

His blush was so fast and fierce—and based on his declaration that he wasn’t gay—I felt kind of safe leaping to another conclusion. “There is a girl you like, but she doesn’t dance, does she?”

Kevin swallowed and looked down. “La Shaye Jenkins. She’s very cool, and really pretty. She’s not in a dance troupe or anything, but she should be. The way she moves …”

I could tell he had a major crush by the way he got kind of dreamy. I also knew that with a name like that, there was probably another complication. But I’d been lucky with one leap and wouldn’t risk another.

Kevin took a breath and got serious. “Listen, I want to apologize for ...well, for trying to feel you up on the drive. It was a stupid thing to do, a Jeff thing to do, since he thinks ‘chicks are meat’ or some such crap. And he did dare me. But I was ...I am in awe of you.”

“Geez, Kevin, you’re making me sound ...I don’t know ...”

“I mean it, Ann. You weren’t happy with yourself and discovered the reason why and changed it and now you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. Happier than I am, at any rate. And happier than Jeff is, too, I think.”

“About wanting to dance; I think you’re more worried about Jeff than you are about your mom, and you’re probably right. Look, you want the truth? It’s not going to be pretty. I don’t think Jeff’s going to understand, at least at first. Like with me ...I was hoping he’d understand and I was really patient about telling him, but he just didn’t get it no matter how hard I tried to explain, and now he hates me.”

I knew now that Jeff had a major and majorly-complicated crush on me, but I really felt there was some hatred there. And even though Kevin was surprisingly mature, I didn’t want to involve him in the complicate-crush part because it might strain things with his brother. But, as with my first leap, I was wrong.

“Hates you? You really think Jeff hates you?”

“Well, yeah, I mean he’s all mixed up about what I’ve become; but sure, he hates me.”

“Ann, you are one seriously deluded girl. Jeff doesn’t hate you; he’s crazy about you.”

“Yeah, crazy enough to bury a hatchet in me.”

“No, crazy in love with you. Or crazy in lust with you is more accurate. And he knows who you were and what you are, and he knows how he feels about you, and he knows that you don’t feel the same way, and he’s not sure if any of it makes him gay or not, and it’s making him mental. And nobody can be mental like Jeff can!”

Had everybody known but me? And Jeff? “Your mom said the same thing but I didn’t really believe her at first. And I don’t know if you know about last night?”

He shrugged. “You were out with a girlfriend. Dancing.” He gave me a slightly accusatory glare of envy, then grinned to show he was kidding. “Jeff saw you. Said shit to the guy you were with. Got drunk and yelled at Mom.” He chuckled. “Bad choice. And seriously hung-over this morning!” He almost cackled with glee.

“Uh …yeah, well, you’re pretty up-to-date.” Hung-over? Good!

“Just because I acted like a little kid doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on.” He said it casually.

“I’ve learned that about you, and let me apologize for pigeon-holing you like that.”

“S’okay,” he shrugged.

“So you know the whole story.” I sighed. “Oh, Kevin, what am I going to do?”

He stood up and latched his boot in his ski. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do, either. We’re going to finish this mountain, go back to the cabin, pack and leave. I’ll bury myself in a video game magazine. Jeff will be weird about you. Tempers will flare. I’ll get in a fight with him and lose. The three-hour drive will seem like three weeks. The usual.”

I thought I’d known Kevin, but I didn’t really; I had just known the little boy—but I really did like this guy who was turning into Kevin, a friend, and not Kevin, some vague sort-of relative.

He’d called it right; when we finished this run we saw Donna waving us over and telling us to get our things in the car while we waited for Jeff. Kevin gave me a secret look and I saw him morph, actually transforming himself into the younger son again; he seemed to lose a few years of maturity in an instant. Jeff finally came down, in a great showoff-y burst of snow, and made a big thing of knocking the snow off his skis. Kevin gave me that secret look again, along with an almost-imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, and immediately reverted to Annoying Little Brother mode. I made a mental note to tell him that when he finally talked with his mother about dancing, he should use the grown-up mode that he used when he had talked—and let her see the transformation. It was pretty impressive.

Back at the cabin, we mutually decided to pack and leave without supper, and we’d stop along the way. We’d done the drive up and back so many times over the years that we knew each restaurant in both directions. Mom could tell that something unusual had taken place; I quietly told her I had a lot to tell her—but later.

Jeff maintained his distance from me in the car, but now I didn’t mind sitting next to Kevin at all; I preferred it because I had gotten a glimpse of the real Kevin. Donna drove us out of the mountains and we stopped at The Orange Tree, a silly name for a fairly good steakhouse. We were all tired and hungry and ate in silence. Mom took over the driving and I guess we dozed; I did, and every time I awoke, somebody else was asleep. I still didn’t risk telling Mom about Kevin, but I told her again about how much it hurt saying goodbye to Shelly. I spoke very quietly to not waken the others.

Mom told me to be prepared to never see Shelly again; we might have been destined for the one meeting. Sometimes that happened, she said, reminding me how I’d had the one meeting with Amy in Nevada. On the other hand, she said maybe Shelly and I would be friends for life like her and Donna. I told Mom that Shelly and I had said exactly that, but Mom didn’t want me to be disappointed if Shelly couldn’t get back in touch, with her life in flux right now because of her parents. I really liked Amy, right from the start, but Shelly and I seemed to be on the same wavelength, some instant communication, that seemed closer and stronger.

I felt very close to Mom then; how she had been so accepting of me and so willing to see Shelly and me in terms of her and Donna, which was the central friendship of her life. Donna had come awake and offered to drive, so Mom pulled into a gas station and they switched. I started to doze again and when I awoke, we were in front of our house. The boys were still asleep—in fact, they were snoring—and we three ...women stood on the darkened sidewalk, our arms wrapped under our breasts as we prepared to say goodbye.

Donna hugged me. “Please don’t judge Jeff too harshly,” she said.

“And please don’t judge Kevin too harshly,” I said.

Donna looked at me with suspicion. “What does that mean? Was he bothering you?”

I smiled to put her at ease. “No, not at all. We had a long talk and he apologized. But I found out something in that long talk, and I want you to know that he’s a really cool guy, not just a noisy little kid.”

She smiled back at me. “Tell you a secret? I already knew that. I despair for Jeff a bit, because he doesn’t have a clue of the depths in his little brother, and you’re right—Kevin’s a very cool guy.” She hugged me even tighter. “And it takes a special girl to notice. Oh, Ann, I had such a good time getting to know you!”

Mom and Donna hugged and said their farewells; I noticed a glint from the car and saw Kevin looking at me, while still pretending to be asleep. I secretly gave him the ‘thumbs up’ signal and he did the same, then closed his eyes as Donna got back in the car and they drove off.

Chapter 12: Getting Back To Normal?

New Year’s Eve was quiet and joyous for Mom and me, because we were alone together, and because we were mother and daughter. This would be my first full year living as a girl—it would be the first year of the rest of my life as a girl. Thank God!

New Year’s fell on a Thursday, so there was a long weekend before Mom headed back to work. I knew that all the kids would be trudging back to school in two days, but not me. I’d done my semester at Randolph Berry but wouldn’t be continuing there; their curriculum was set up so students had more flexibility—like the pregnant girls. I had learned a lot and gotten the ‘socialization’ that my shrinks were concerned about, like my friendship with Kelly and Christina. They didn’t really know about Tony—or maybe they did but were too polite or too cool to let on. I really liked them, but they were moving on, too. The guy that had been stalking Kelly had gotten busted in December and was going to be in Juvie until he was eighteen, so she was going back to her old school after the one semester as a Berry. We’d stay in touch and hang when we could, but it wouldn’t be the same Three Musketeers that we had been, because Christina was leaving, too; her dad was getting transferred and she’d be gone at the end of the month.

Mom and I had discussed it and I would no longer be a Berry, either. It had been a really good environment for me, despite the bit of stigma, and I would miss the place and the people. I’d proven that I could keep my grades up as I transitioned and ‘was socializing up a storm’, as Mom laughingly put it. So I could finish my school year with a tutor, and although I’d miss school functions like Spring Dance, I was going to go to sports events to cheer my Berries on. Hard to believe, but our collection of GLBT kids, schizos, geniuses, and Baby-Mamas also made some pretty good baseball and swim teams!

There was also the decision to move …

It was something we’d kicked around during the fall, waiting to see how I did at Randolph Berry and while Mom ‘sorted out some things’ at work. With good reports from both fronts, Mom asked how I felt about moving across town and I didn’t have to think twice. I said yes as long as: 1) She could keep her job; 2) I could go to a high school other than the one that my old school fed into; and 3) I could continue with my doctors at the Gender Identity Clinic.

Mom just grinned and said she’d gotten promoted and was being moved to a different office; it was in another school district, and only ten minutes farther away from the clinic—and then she pulled out brochures of some apartment complexes that she’d already scouted! I hugged her and laughed that I should have asked for more conditions—number four might have been ‘still close enough to get together with Jane’ but the trade-off was that now I might be closer to Lisa. It just seemed that my life was determined by friendships with girls that lived a distance away!

Making arrangements for the move was Mom’s ‘spring project’, and my own project was really exciting—I was going to have a more active role in the Gender Identity Clinic where I was a patient. It meant more time there and more testing and things, but we would get additional help with educational and legal assistance, and so on. Most importantly, I might be ‘fast tracked’ to have my all-important surgery! There were some ways they could get around the age requirement, certain hoops to jump through, and I was determined to jump through those hoops. Of course, there was no way we could afford the surgery, so I hoped to get a jump on the kids in regular school and try for weekend and then summer jobs and save every penny. But it was a long way off …

Through the clinic’s connections, Mom had arranged for private tutoring to keep me at my grade level until I was ‘fully transitioned’. After my time at Berry, I was pretty much there as long as I wasn’t around people that knew Tony, but as far as the school district was concerned, there really had to be a full year of the Real Life Test to be eligible to be back in the public schools.

In the meantime, I’d be taught by a college student majoring in education who got college credit but was highly trained and certified. I’d have a couple of months of tutoring and then a bunch of tests; if I passed I’d move up a grade and could have a long summer.

And start at a new high school as a girl next fall! The thought filled me with excitement, dread, longing, and joy. For right now, until I meet my tutor—that made me nervous—I was enjoying not having school. I would start that charm school in a few weeks, but I was actually looking forward to that. In the meantime, I figured life would be nice and lazy after the holidays. I was wrong.

Right after breakfast on Saturday, Mom went to answer the phone, and called me to come join her.

“Ann, have you heard from that girl you met skiing? Shelly?”

“No. I really miss her, too. Why?”

She turned back to the phone. “No, sir, Ann hasn’t seen or heard from her since they said goodbye at the slope.” Mom turned to me, eyebrows raised in question, and I nodded my confirmation.

I wondered what was going on and stayed with her until she got off the phone. After her question to me, she mostly listened to the caller, then said we’d be in touch if we heard anything, and hung up.

“That was Shelly’s father; she’s vanished—either run away or been kidnapped. He thinks she’s run away, but apparently kidnapping is something they can’t rule out. You said they’re rich, and that makes them targets for ransom.”

“Yep. From what Shelly told me and I saw, they’re not just rich—they’re loaded. Super-rich. Oh, man, I hope she’s alright! I really haven’t heard from her, Mom.”

She smiled. “I know, honey; I believe you. Her father seems like a nice man and I know he must be frantic. I don’t know what I’d do if you disappeared.” She impulsively hugged me, and I hugged her back.

“Her dad’s okay, I guess, but her mom’s a bitch.”

“Ann! Watch your language!”

“Ooh, did I say bitch? I meant witch. Gee, I hope that tutor can help my spelling!”

We both giggled, then I told Mom my thoughts about Shelly’s mother and she guardedly agreed with my assessment, but reminded me to keep my opinions quiet. I started sending silent prayers for Shelly’s safety.

Nothing else happened over that weekend other than doing all the laundry and remaking the beds, recycling the Christmas tree, that sort of thing. Jane’s family had gone to England for the holidays and wouldn’t be back until the following week. Lisa was on the other side of town, of course, and had friends there and then another church function on Sunday and so I called her for a quick chat but I could tell she was preoccupied with back-to-school. Then it was Monday and time to meet my tutor. I was dressed simply, in a denim skirt and light blue embroidered sweater—there’d been a sudden cold snap—and at ten Mom called me to the front room.

The tutor was a young woman, which surprised me. For some reason all the talk when they arranged my tutor used ‘he’. I’d been paranoid at first they were referring to me, but finally somebody said, ‘When he can certify that she’s up to speed’ and I knew that I was the ‘she’ and relaxed. I had a silly thought: Were there tutors and tutoresses, or were they all tutors? Anyway, her name was Teresa Reynolds, and she was a fourth-year Education major specializing in children with disabilities. I liked her right away for some reason, but her specialty threw me.

I looked at Mom. “Am I …?”

Teresa understood immediately. “No, no, no; that’s the field I’ll go into, not what I’m doing now. Right now it’s General Education. We get exposed to all types of learning situations. This afternoon I’ll be working with a fifty-year old Korean woman learning English.”

Mom said, “I think that’s commendable, coming to our country and right away wanting to learn the language.”

“Right away …hmm.” Teresa scratched her ear and said sheepishly, “I don’t know how commendable it might be; she’s been running a dry cleaning shop on Stewart for twenty-two years!”

We chuckled at that and sat around the table. The air had to be cleared first—rather, the air had to be defined first and then cleared.

Mom asked, “Ms. Reynolds, how much information do you have on my daughter?”

“Her school records—everything was rendered anonymous in the classroom but assigned with her student ID number. She’s been a good but not spectacular student over the years, and really excelled this past semester. I gather that there is a medical reason that you’re keeping her out of school?” Before we could say anything, she plowed on with a wave of her hand. “We get that a lot. Last semester I had a football superstar that got drunk and smashed his car to bits, along with his leg. And a girl with leukemia …” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, I’m sorry; I’m not usually this dense. If you have a medical problem, I shouldn’t be so flippant.”

Mom and I looked at each other. We both realized that the tutor hadn’t been told about me, and it might make things easier or harder or even impossible if she knew—or didn’t know; hard to tell. I got in before Mom spoke.

“Ms. Reynolds—”

“Please call me Teresa,” she smiled, “as we’ll be working together. Once I’m a credentialed teacher, then you may call me Ms. Reynolds.”

I liked her, but I had to say what I had to say. “Teresa, there are no indications why I’m being tutored? No? Okay.” I glanced at Mom and took a deep breath. “I’ve been attending school all of my life as a boy. I’ve been diagnosed as a girl and am transitioning to full-time life as a girl.” I stopped and looked at her for a reaction.

She looked from Mom to me and back to Mom. “Is this some kind of joke, or something?” Mom shook her head, and Teresa looked back at me. “I know you were at Randolph Berry this fall, but …You’re transgendered? Male to female?” I nodded. She kind of settled in her chair. “Wow. I would never have believed it. You look so …well, look at you!”

Mom and I looked at each other, and Teresa laughed. “I’m sorry, you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about! Oh, God …transgendered …” she said softly, slightly shaking her head. Then she looked up at Mom and said, “By any chance, could I trouble you for a drink of water? Normally I have a bottle with me, but today …”

“We have filtered water, or would you prefer ice tea?” Mom asked.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Teresa said.

At least she isn’t running down the block, I thought.

Mom returned at once with three glasses with ice and the cooled pitcher; she poured and the three of us sat around the table. After a hefty swig, Teresa seemed to relax. There was an awkward silence which she finally broke.

“I must apologize for my reaction there. I always promised myself that if I ever met another transgendered person I’d …” She looked at her glass and then back at us. “My brother was transgendered. Older brother, named Paul. He was so mean to me when we were little and later confessed it was because he was so …jealous of me, envious that I got to be a girl while he had to be a boy and hated it. When he was in high school he came out as gay and was so …annoyingly swishy that even I told him to knock it off. That’s when he fully confessed that it wasn’t that he was gay but was transgendered.”

“Oh, my,” was all Mom could say. I had no idea what to say at this point.

Teresa sipped and went on. “We were kind of cruel to him, my family. Not because of your garden-variety homophobia or anything, just …Paul was so obnoxious about it. He’d talk about the sex of things at home, like does a telephone have gender or something. He took to the streets and I found out …” She gathered herself together. “I found out that he’d been turning tricks to—Omigod, I shouldn’t be talking like this,” she caught herself.

Mom said, “Teresa, please continue if you wish to, although you don’t have to. But don’t worry about our sensitive ears; say anything or nothing but don’t worry about us.”

I said, “Please don’t worry about saying anything that you think might offend us, or that you think I’m too young to hear. I, uh …” I glanced at Mom. “Being studied at the clinic, and at Randolph Berry, I’ve heard …and known …some people that have had rough lives.” I smiled sadly. “And I’m sorry for your sister.”

Teresa gave me a strange look, and then nodded. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding that she was my sister. I haven’t …I haven’t talked about this since …It feels good to get it out. Still hurts, though.” She tried to make light of things with a chuckle and a shrug but couldn’t pull it off. She took another sip and went on. “Well, Paula was turning tricks and using black-market hormones. She looked dreadful the last time I saw her—she was fully dressed as a female, but like a cheap hooker. I begged her to come home. The police found her body a week later.” Teresa stared off in space for a moment.

I knew that without looking at her that Mom was as shaken as I was. Part of me wondered, what the heck kind of introduction was this? But Teresa began speaking again.

“I’m sorry to burden you with my history, but I think it’s important. You see, I couldn’t help but blame myself in part for what had happened. I began reading everything I could about transsexuals and transgendered people. Over time I learned that it wasn’t being transgendered that killed Paul, it was our refusal to let him become Paula. She was my sister and we were so wrapped up in old definitions that we couldn’t see it. She was driven to seek out womanhood however she could. Unfortunately, it led her to a path with a …customer who killed her. They did catch him, by the way.” She shook herself slightly. “But the important thing is that I learned what I could about transgendered people. And now I’m faced with a girl so pretty and naturally feminine—all the things that my brother Paul wanted to be but never could be—and if you don’t want me as a tutor, I understand. But I want you to know that I fully understand and fully support what you’re going through. I am a darned good tutor, though. And if you accept my services, I can pledge to you that I’ll tutor you very, very well.”

Mom and I looked at each other this time; there was a moment of ‘Whadya think?’ passing between us, and imperceptible nods, and Mom spoke. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Hearing that makes me even more frightened of what might have happened to my daughter, and strengthens my resolve that we’re on the right course.”

“You are, ma’am, you are,” Teresa said.

“Teresa, I’d like you to tutor me, please, ” I said. “And I hope you’ll be as forgiving of my math as anything else!”

We chuckled at that, lightening the mood, and signed the appropriate documents and I had a tutor. Of course, once that was concluded, I had to actually open my books and get down to it. I’ve got to say that Teresa was darned good, and tough—she wouldn’t let me do less than my best—but I felt I was absorbing more than I would in a comparable day in the classroom.

All in all, it was a great way to start the end of my school year, so to speak!

Chapter 13: Meetings At The Mall

The next afternoon I decided to brave our local mall to redeem my Christmas gift certificates. I had such a boost of confidence from my holidays that I didn’t care about running into kids from my old school, the one before Randolph Berry. So I was in a great mood. I was wearing Christmas clothes—my new black slacks and a soft pink sweater, a long black coat, heels, and my hair loose and swinging.

One certificate was for Claire’s—there’s one in every mall—and I planned to accessorize to the max. Every girl I knew had years of accumulated bracelets, necklaces, rings, pins, hair bands, and so now it was my turn to accumulate them all at once. No, it wasn’t my turn—because every girl was already in Claire’s, redeeming certificates! I chuckled at that and decided I’d wait for a couple of weeks before tackling the store again.

I was heading back through the mall when I saw some boys standing by a fountain, waving their hands as they talked. Something pinged in my head and I realized that one of them was Jeff Maxwell. I quickly decided I didn’t want to encounter him now—especially with his buddies—and started to go a different direction when Jeff suddenly spoke loudly.

“Hey, Ronnie, did I tell you about that fairy I know?”

One of the guys said no; it must have been Ronnie and he didn’t seem too smart.

Jeff was swaggering toward me now, back arched, his hands held out from his sides, palm up. “Yeah, Ronnie. It turns out an old family friend didn’t have what it takes to be a guy, so he’s trying to be a chick.”

“Gross!” said one of the buddies.

“Damn faggot!” growled the other.

“Makes me sick,” said Ronnie.

“Yeah,” continued Jeff, his voice dripping with venom, “And now he thinks he can dance with guys. Maybe date. Maybe make out!”

Jeff was right up to me now, and I felt like a deer in headlights. I glanced around, but nobody else had heard Jeff’s remarks.

“Jeff!” I muttered quietly, for his ears only. “Please don’t do this!”

He leaned over to me. “What’s the matter, chickie-babe? Gonna cry? Can’t stand the truth?”

Something happened inside me—I snapped, as they say. Instantly I felt myself shift from the deer, scattered and frightened, to Ann, calm and coolly rational. I was not afraid. I absolutely knew that I was a pretty girl. Therefore, I knew that Jeff had far more to lose than I. I also realized he was expecting a rebuttal of some kind, me versus him, typical guy stuff, and I wanted to put him off balance.

I looked past him to his buddies and in my most feminine voice—not effeminate, but definitely female—I said loudly, “Guys, could you excuse Jeff and me for a moment? I need to tell him something to pass on to his mother.”

They were stunned, as was Jeff, who’d been expecting a heated denial; so he didn’t put up any resistance when I put my hand around his upper arm—just like a girl would do with a boy—and walked away with him. Three steps later, he snapped out of his shock and pulled his arm away from me. It was okay; we were now definitely out of earshot.

“Geez!” Jeff hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Jeff, we need to talk and we need to talk right now. This has got to stop.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean. Hassling me. With your buddies.”

“What are you talking about? I never did it before!”

“You know what I mean,” I said again, and decided to attack him where he least expected it. “Jeff, I know that you’re all mixed up about me. You know that I was a boy and that I’m not anymore, and you’re attracted to me and it’s making you crazy.”

“You’re outta your freakin’ mind!” He pulled back, appalled.

“Am I? Look, they can’t hear you,” I said, nodding to his buddies. “You know it’s true, and I know it’s true—and your family knows it’s true.”

He paled.

“Lisa and her mom? They told me, too, way back at Christmas dinner. And Shelly, the girl I met skiing? She could tell just by watching you on the slopes! Do you understand? Everybody knows about you!”

I’d said it with quiet force. He tried to form a response but had nothing to say. He was hammered; now I had to soften things.

“Look, Jeff, don’t worry; I’m not going to embarrass you. The truth is, this is all really strange for me, too, but let’s face it—there are a couple of key points that have to be said. First, at the risk of bragging, I know that I’ve turned out, well, kind of pretty. It’s kind of weird to say this, but I am a pretty girl, now. So don’t get yourself tied up in knots just because you’re attracted to a pretty girl, okay? Because, point two, we’ve known each other since we were babies and there’s just too much ...stuff between us for anything to happen, right?”

He nodded, dumbly. Good, I thought, he’s nearly there.

“Anybody meeting me is going to see a girl, like your buddies there. I won’t say or do anything to make them think of me as anything other than a girl, so you’ll look pretty weird pushing it. So drop it; none of them knows. Got it? None of them knows! Unless you tell them. And what will they think of you, then? You can’t afford to tell them. Can you see that?”

Again he nodded. I turned him and started walking him back to his buddies.

“Just get on with your life, and I’ll get on with mine. I’m the daughter of a friend of your mother’s; you’ve known me since I was a little girl, right? It’s almost like a brother and sister thing.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’ve got cousins that are girls. Just like that.”

“Sure! You might check them out, or catch a peek at their boobs or something, but do you want to actually do something with them?” I could see him revolted at the idea. “Exactly. Jeff, we talked about all this when we walked to Shelly’s hotel when we were skiing.”

“Yeah, but that was before you started dancing with guys and started ...” his voice got small. “Looking so good.”

I think I blushed; I know it was a huge compliment from him and so hard for him to admit. “Thank you for that, Jeff. But treat me like ...treat me like I’m your ‘babelicious’ cousin, okay?”

The term cracked him up and relaxed him.

I gave him the cover story. “Now, as for you and me talking here, just tell your buddies that I’ve just told you something my mom wants your mom to know. And you were just kidding, trying to embarrass me and put one over on Ronnie as a goof.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he nodded. “I’ve been hassling you for years.”

I smiled and squeezed his arm. “Exactly right, you have! Are we cool with this?”

He turned and smiled, and before he spoke I knew I’d won.

“Um, Ann?”

I think it was the first time he’d said my name without a sneer. “Yes?”

“I guess we’re cool. I think I can handle it. You’re right. It’s cool.”

I knew it didn’t sound like much, but it was a major admission coming from him. I squeezed his arm again and we were back to his friends. I decided to help things along with Jeff’s cover story.

“Jeff, just tell her not to worry, okay? And guys,” I said to his buddies, Ronnie in particular, “Jeff was telling the truth.” I lowered my voice as falsely low as it could go. “And you all look mighty good to this boy!” My voice still sounded like a girl soprano pretending to be a bass.

Their disgust was now turned on Jeff. “Dude, you suck! Stop hasslin’ the babe!”

Ronnie said, “I knew she wasn’t a dude! You suck, Jeff!”

Jeff glanced at me and said to the guys, “Hey, Ronnie actually bought it for a minute so it was worth a laugh! Shit, I’ve been hassling Ann since we were kids. Come on, let’s hit the Pizza Hut. See ya, Annie.”

As they walked away, I got a couple of sneaking looks from them, and they were guys-checking-out-a-girl looks, so I knew everything had worked out alright. I breathed deeply; job done. Thank God!

Wow. I felt great; empowered, whatever. I Am Woman; Hear Me Roar! I got this incredible rush of confidence, and decided then and there that I needed a sexy bra. A power bra. A Wonderbra! So I went to Victoria’s Secret, of course, and was overwhelmed by the sheer femininity of the place. The smell, the feel, the soft female voices ...I suddenly understood that Sound of Music opening where Maria is spinning around on the mountaintop—only instead of Austrian Alps I was surrounded by bras, camisoles, tap panties, and bustiers. It was a good thing I didn’t burst out in song or they would have thrown me out for sure!

The strange thing was that at first, I had this wish to be invisible. I had this nagging fear that someone would point me out and call security, but it slowly faded as I realized—truly realized—that I was just a girl shopping where girls shop. I could relax, and felt this happy warmth that when people looked at me, it was taken for granted that I was a girl.

I looked and touched, but didn’t try anything on until I found two that I wanted. I went in the changing room and tried them on, finding out—to my delight—that they were too small! I pulled my top back on and went out to get the next sizes, and across the room I saw two girls from my old school heading towards me. Without seeming too hasty, I picked up the two bras, plus one more that caught my eye, and went back in to change. It was a hard choice; since I didn’t have a gift certificate for this store it would come out of my own money, so I could only afford one. But they felt so wonderful! Each one cradled my small breasts slightly differently, and the straps were different. Finally I chose one in ivory, with straps to the side of the cups that had delicate lace at the edges and made my boobs seem larger, more prominent. I loved it! I hated to take it off, but I didn’t know the protocol, whether it was okay to wear your purchase out of the store.

I left the changing room and almost smacked into Julie, one of the two girls I recognized. After the ‘sorry!’ bit, I could feel her looking at me closely. Well, the heck with it; maybe it was the giddy high of being myself in Victoria’s Secret, but I was done with living in fear. It was different with Jeff’s buddies, who I’d heard were homophobes and certainly seemed the part, or at least were trying to act that way. But here and now with these girls, if the question of Anthony came up, possibly I could control the ‘spin’, as they say.

So if Julie wanted to talk about me, she could always ask. The other girl, Ginny, was in the changing room, and Julie ducked inside. As I put the other bras back, I could hear muffled whispering, giggling, and so on. My options were either to leave quickly and quietly, or confront the girls. I decided to confront them; no, that’s too strong a word. I decided to let the cat out of the bag. So what if it went all over my old school? I didn’t go there anymore, and we were moving. As long as we were still in the area, I figured I’d run into somebody who knew Tony sooner or later, so I might as well get it over with.

Well, the heck with it again, I thought. I went to the register and paid for my new bra, and asked if I could put it on. The girl told me the purchase-and-wear procedure for next time, and I went back to the room next to the two girls to change into my new bra. I could hear them.

“No way!”

“Way!”

“He was in my English class. No way!”

“Ginny, my dad’s a cop, remember? He taught me ways to recognize people, you know, for ID-ing and stuff, and that’s Tony!”

“Well, I didn’t see her—”

“Him.”

“Okay, him up close—so I’ll just take your word on it.”

I put on my new bra—which felt and looked fantastic!—and pulled my clothes on, then went out to the camisole section to browse, as if they just caught my fancy on my way out, just to kill time. Of course, I found two camis I loved while I was waiting for the girls to come out.

They did, and there was the inevitable heads-together whispering, and Ginny shook off Julie and headed towards me, holding some hangers and lingerie. Here she comes, I thought; seize the initiative and control the spin. I casually looked up to her and smiled.

“Hi, Ginny,” I said.

Her mouth fell open in an ‘O’, she stopped dead in her tracks, turned to Julie, then back to me, her face switching to concern and amazement.

“Tony?” she said hesitantly.

“No. But come out here and I’ll tell you about Tony,” I said, moving towards the exit.

Ginny handed the lingerie to Julie and followed me out to the mall; there was a bench in front of the Radio Shack and we both sat and she fairly exploded with curiosity.

“Okay, tell me what’s going on. Is this a joke, or ...but you look great ...come on, what’s up?”

Julie was walking to us, so I waited until she arrived to begin.

“Alright, in a nutshell. I used to be Tony. Now I’m Ann.”

Julie said, “A joke, right?”

Ginny shook her head, and never taking her eyes off me, said to Julie, “No joke. Look at her! She’s real!”

“No way!” Julie said.

I laughed. “Yes, way! Look at it this way; Tony was the joke. I’m really a girl, always was, sort of ...there was a medical problem and it’s been corrected.”

Julie’s eyes widened even further. “You mean, you were a chick in the boy’s locker room?”

Ginny scoffed, “Geez, Jules, you’re always thinking about the boy’s locker room!”

“Am not.”

I took control again. “It’s like this: I looked like a boy when I was born—you know what I mean—and so they made me grow up as a boy. But I’m not a boy, not really, and when I started to develop,” I nodded to my boobs, “it became obvious that someone had made a mistake. All along I was trying to tell them that I was a girl, but nobody listened. Now, the mistake has been corrected.”

Okay, it wasn’t quite the truth, but it was the cover story that Mom and I had crafted. And it worked beautifully!

Ginny squealed, “That’s so cool! No wonder you disappeared this year. So what are you doing now?”

I told them about Randolph Berry; every kid knew somebody that had gone to ‘continuation’. I told them about the tutoring, then starting school in the fall, omitting the fact that it would be a different school. I told them I would be out of school this spring because of ‘having to spend more time with the doctors’; I was having some ‘corrective surgeries’. Mom and I had worked this out, too. I explained to the girls that there had been a sort of blockage to my vagina when I was born and that they had to wait until my body had grown past pubescence to correct it and restore my vagina. That’s the term Mom and I came up with for situations like these—‘restore my vagina’.

By using the plural ‘surgeries’, it sounded much more serious and medical and less like The Surgery associated with a sex change. I stressed that I was not having a sex change, since my sex had always been female. But because of the ‘misdiagnosis at birth’, I had been forced to pretend to be a boy. They bought it completely, and there was the back-and-forth between them that they never really thought I was a boy, actually. It was interesting watching them rewrite their own lives, revise their memories about me, to the point where Julie declared she’d ‘always thought I was a girl’ and Ginny solemnly nodded.

I probably couldn’t have picked two better candidates to confirm my story if the subject came up. I’d already had a full semester to drop from everybody’s minds, and had never been very visible or memorable anyway, by choice. If the story was that ‘Anthony wants to be a girl’ or ‘Tony’s dressing like a chick’, it might be juicy gossip. But a medical problem was different, and my ‘vaginal blockage’ was something that girls could understand and sympathize with. Heck, I figured that girls would understand any boy wanting to be a girl! But I knew how teen minds went—without knowing whatever sense or nonsense they picked up at home—and a quiet sharing of a sad medical secret between ‘us three girls’ was the way to go.

We actually did the huggy thing when we separated, so another hurdle in my life was accomplished. Gee, first Jeff was handled, and now the medical story passed inspection and would prevent any rumors spreading through school. And I got a great bra! Was this a productive trip to the mall, or what? I decided not to push things; talking with Jeff and the girls had taken a lot of time so I headed home.

And walked into a storm ...

End of Part 5

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