Chapter Six: Isn’t He Pretty!
Angela picked Kenny up about 12:30 p.m. for their afternoon session at the nursing home. Kenny changed into a pair of low-riding girl’s jeans, having found them to be more comfortable and better fitting than his boy jeans. No one could tell the difference at a glance, anyway, between boy and girl jeans. He wore a light blue polo shirt and tied his hair in a pony tail. He cleaned off the makeup he had worn in the morning with incomplete success. His eyelashes retained their dark tint from the morning and the lips continued to look plump and reddish.

Patty Murray and Gwen Stickney were in the back seat of Angela’s aging Ford Focus as Kenny entered to sit in the front right seat. Angela announced that there would be only four “girls” today at the nursing home. Usually there were eight in the service club that visited the elderly, but two others were away on family vacations and two were preparing to leave for college and were too busy.

They had only gone about two blocks where Patty, a round-faced, plain girl, asked from the back seat: “Is that you wearing Casual, Angela? I love that perfume, too.”

Kenny froze, realizing that in spite of his effort to cleanse himself of the smell, the scent of Casual remained and emanated from his own body into the car’s stuffy interior. He looked at Angela anxiously, who stole a glance at him a she drove the car.

“Ah yes, Patty, my mom wanted me to try it,” Angela said.

She gave Kenny a conspiratorial wink. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you didn’t wear perfume,” Patty said.

“I don’t but mom insisted,” Angela lied again. “Besides it’s not too smelly.”

They had driven a few blocks before the other girl, Gwen, asked: “I wonder why boys don’t wear perfume. Would you like to wear it, Kenny?”

Kenny grew red, wondering if Gwen suspected the truth and was teasing him. Gwen, a rather chubby, cheerful girl, was known for her teasing comments about others. She was not a malicious girl, just trying to be clever, but sometimes was known for going to far with her comments.

“I suppose I would,” Kenny said, surprising himself with his comment. “But if a boy wore it, he’d get laughed at. It’s just not done.”

“I dare you to put some on,” Gwen said, giggling.

“Then I’d smell as nice as Angela,” he said.

“And almost as pretty,” Gwen continued teasing.

“No, prettier,” Angela said, with a laugh. They all giggled.

Angela and Kenny walked together, the other girls several steps ahead as they left the car and walked through the parking lot to the entrance of the Sunset Days Nursing Home.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Angela,” Kenny said.

“Well, you looked so hopeless when Patty asked the question.”

“I didn’t know how to answer, but I had put some on this morning when I dressed up as Karen for my mother.”

“Oh I wish I had been there,” she said, her voice becoming low and conspiratorial. “You look so sweet today, darling. I could just eat you up, dear girl. The perfume, too, it’s so intoxicating.”

The Sunset Days recreational director welcomed the four warmly. She was a large, strong-looking woman with a broad face and warm smile. “Oh, only four of you girls today?” Kenny caught the use of the word “girls,” let it pass, thinking it was a misstatement.

Angela explained the reasons for the four missing girls, and the director nodded.

“Mrs. Oppenheimer is so looking forward to her Scrabble game today with Kenny,” she said, her words pouring rapidly out. “Is Kenny here? Oh yes, there you are. You looked like one of the girls. . . Oh, I’m sorry. Must be your long hair. Anyway, Kenny, you know where Elsa’s room is; just head on down there, and wheel her out into the day room and maybe you’ll get an audience.”

Kenny nodded, realizing that his appearance had been confusing to many persons.

*****
Elsa Oppenheimer was several years past her 90th birthday and she looked every bit of her age. Tiny, terribly wrinkled and able to stand only with a walker, she still had a sharp mind and a keen sense of humor. Kenny found that their regular Scrabble sessions to be a true challenge: he didn’t have to fake losing to humor her since the old woman could easily win on her own abilities.

“She’s a crafty old lady,” Kenny complained to Angela after losing a close match to Elsa. “She knows how to take an ‘a’ and turn it into 40 points.”

“You love the challenge, Kenny,” she said. “Just as you love trying to beat me at tennis.”

“You and your crafty serves, Angela,” he said smiling.

“You mean my power serves, dear,” she corrected him.

On this Saturday, Elsa looked sharply at Kenny as they sat down at the Scrabble table in the recreation center of Sunset Days Home. Her expressive face seemed to assume a quizzical look as she looked about the room, realizing the two were alone in the recreation room at the moment.

“That’s a lovely scent, Kenny,” she said finally. “Is that a perfume you’re wearing?”

“Who me?”

“Who else, Kenny? There’s no one else around. And it smells like some of perfumes the younger aides wear around here.”

Kenny reddened. “Well, yes. It’s me. Mother tested it out on me this morning and I can’t seem to wash the smell away.”

The old lady reached across the table, patting Kenny’s hand. “Don’t fret, my darling boy. It’s OK. You’re such a pretty child and a little perfume helps overcome the stench of old ladies in this place.” She giggled.

Kenny lost by a score of 310 to 299, in spite of gaining an early 50-point lead thanks to placing all seven of his tiles down at one point. “I’ve only beaten you once this summer, Elsa,” he complained.

“Just keep trying, Kenny,” she said. “One of these times my old age will creep up on me and cripple my mind, too.”

“That’ll never happen, Elsa.”

“Aren’t you sweet!”

He helped Mrs. Oppenheimer back to her room, settling her in her rocking chair. “This will be my last visit with you, Elsa,” he said, sitting down on the extra chair she had in her room.

“Oh dear, that’s right,” she said. “You’re off to college soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I’ll try to stop by when I’m home for the holidays or an occasional weekend.”

“I would like that,” she said. “I’ll miss our games, but mostly I’ll miss you, dear. You’re such a sweet boy. I don’t know any other boys who would spend a Saturday with an old bitty like me.”

He reached over, taking the old woman’s hand. “It’s fun, Elsa. I look forward to these visits. I really do. Besides, you’re not an old bitty.”

“Now you’re lying,” she giggled. “I am an old bitty. Look how you have to hold me up just to walk down the hall. You’d never know I once won a jitterbug dance contest at the old Roof Ballroom once.”

“I believe you, Elsa,” he said. “You showed me a picture of you dancing. You must have been good.”

Elsa smiled. “Ah, but one shouldn’t dwell on the old days, dear. I’m eager to watch you blossom and do well in life. You deserve the best, my dear.”

He smiled her, not knowing how to respond and then looked at the old lady, her eyes filling with tears. Suddenly, without warning, he felt he must tell her his secret. He loved the old lady, just as he loved Harriet Burkhalter. They were people he could trust, he knew, and both of them cared about him. He had become close as well to Elsa Oppenheimer in his weeks of playing Scrabble, and they often found time to talk before and after the games, and Kenny found that the woman’s reflections — based on a full 92 years of living — were invaluable as he looked forward to life. Now, he was feeling badly that he had lied to her about the perfume she had smelled and felt he had to set the record straight, even if it meant revealing his secret life as Karen.

“I did lie to you before, Elsa,” he began.

“Oh? When?”

“When I told you about why I had had the perfume smell. I put it on myself this morning when I dressed up like a girl this morning. I like looking pretty and like a girl,” he said simply, exposing himself now to the woman.

She eyed him carefully, her shrewd look disquieting him, making him wish he’d never blurted out her desires to dress as a girl to the old lady.

“I hope you’re not shocked by that, Elsa,” he said hurriedly.

“No darling,” she said reassuringly. “I’m sure you must look very pretty in a dress. You have very beautiful features.”

Then he told Elsa Oppenheimer everything, about his selection as Ophelia, his taking on the identity of Karen for four weeks of rehearsal and his acceptance as “one of the Bard’s girls.” He even showed her a small photo of him in the Ophelia costume. When he was dressing for the visit, he had purposefully decided to bring the photo along without any particular reason. Now he realized that he must have been wishing to share the memories of his role as Ophelia with someone, obviously Mrs. Oppenheimer. He was so proud of how lovely he looked — possibly as pretty and winsome as Jean Simmons was in the 1948 film.

Elsa examined the photo closely, glancing up at Kenny several times as if to study his face. Finally, she handed the picture back, saying simply, “You’re so beautiful, dear, and you make a lovely girl.”

“Everyone says I am pretty,” he confessed. “Elsa, I am so confused. I was really so happy when I was acting as a girl at the camp, doing girl things. I never like doing boy stuff and had few boys as friends. Yet, I’m supposed to be a boy.”

Elsa got a twinkle in her eye. “I understand, dear. Oh, I hate calling you Kenny. Can’t I give you a girl’s name?”

“I already have one. I adopted it at the camp. Karen.”

She smiled. “Karen. That’s better. Just between us, I’ll call you Karen and think of you as Karen. You know, we old people are not so behind the times as you think. I know there are boys and men who feel they are female and there are things that can be done so they can live as woman. They’re called trans . . . ah . . . trans something.”

“Transgendered or transsexual,” he volunteered. “I know, but that’s a big step to make.”

“I know, honey, and only you know what you should do. Just follow your heart, dear. Follow your heart.”

Just then, Angela poked her head in the room, “Time to go, Kenny.”

He kissed the old woman good bye, leaving the room reflecting on the advice of two old women: “Go where your heart takes you.”

The wisdom of age and experience! Should that be his guide, Kenny wondered?

*****
“I can’t get you out of my thoughts,” Angela said. After they left the nursing home, she had dropped the Patty and Gwen off at their homes, and had driven to a spot along the lakefront where she stopped the car.

Kenny sat stiffly, saying nothing, his gaze fixed upon the waves as they broke into the sandy shore. Yet, he didn’t see anything. His mind was reflecting on Angela’s statement, fearful of the mystery of where it was headed.

Angela reached across the console that separated the two front seats of her Focus, her hard, calloused hand grabbing his slender hand, with her index finger beginning to trace small circles on his narrow wrist.

“I love how dainty you are Karen,” she said, her voice become low and excited. She seemed to be panting breathlessly as she spoke.

Kenny tried to pull his hand away, but her grip was too firm and he relaxed.

“I have to get home, Angela, to get ready for work,” he said, but without conviction.

“It’s only three, and you don’t have to be there ‘til 4:30. You have time to sit with me. We have so little time together.”

Kenny nodded, and put his other hand on top of hers. He looked at the girl, and she looked back, her eyes pleading for his affection. She pulled her hand out from between his, and leaned over she used both hands to untie the ribbon that created his ponytail, letting his long hair flow freely. She ran her hands through his hair, which had retained some of its curl and it settled in a bob.

“There,” she said. “My pretty, pretty Karen.”

The girl removed both of their seat belts and soon had contorted herself so that she could draw Kenny into a hug. She began kissing him, her lips hungry for his. Kenny felt weak in her arms and received her kisses with eagerness.

Even as he felt he was a girl as he received the attentions of the Lesbian Angela, Kenny felt his own penis stiffen and he hoped he would not ejaculate and mess his panties and the tight girl jeans he wore. He relished his role as the femme in the arms of a butch lesbian friend.

She had loosened her own jeans and guided Kenny’s hand into her crotch. His fingers moved into the coarse hair of her pubic area as his index finger entered into her moist hole. He moved his finger about in the fleshy swamp and Angela moaned loudly, letting out a squeal that scared him momentarily.

“Don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.

Her breathing became heavier and the moans more steady until finding she let out a gasp, and his hand felt a warm moist fluid. She relaxed slightly in his arms. His own penis had become pained, but he willed back an ejaculation.

“Oh my dear girl, I love you so,” Angela said to him. “You’re the best lover. You’re my best girl friend.”

Kenny relaxed, his own erection softening, as Angela moved her lanky body off of him, returning to the driver’s seat. Nobody said anything for a few minutes, both looking blankly at the waves crashing on the shoreline.

“I feel so strange about this, Angela,” he said finally.

“Why is that? There were other couples necking here, too.”

“Not that, but here I am a boy, pretending to be a girl making love as if we’re lesbians. It seems wrong for some reason. I’m sure it’s a sin I’ll have to confess.”

She looked at him.

“No, you silly girl,” she said. “It’s just natural. And besides, I am a lesbian and then you’re more girl than boy anyway. Don’t you love me?”

“Love is too strong a word, Angela. I’m so inexperienced in this stuff. I’m not sure what love is.”

“But you liked it?”

He nodded, giving a little giggle.

“And you really liked being called Karen and being my girl friend, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I like it when you tell me I’m feminine and girly.”

“There, and when we both get to the university we can do this more often,” Angela said.

“Maybe,” he said, still trying to keep the relationship a bit cool.

They had talked about both being at the State University when the school year started. She would be a sophomore in physical therapy and he would be starting as a freshman in liberal arts, maybe hoping to eventually get into social work. Angela would be living with three other girls in a house just off campus where she’d have her own bedroom. Kenny was to be in a dormitory, sharing a room with another student.

“You can visit me whenever and we can be alone in the bedroom, too,” she said.

“I know,” he said. He was none too enthusiastic about the prospect, since he was still wary of carrying this lesbian romance too far. Besides he still thought constantly about Mark. He still yearned for the hugs and kisses of his boyfriend from the summer camp. How could he be in love with both? And, he realized, they both wanted him not as Kenny, but as a fragile, lovely girl named Karen.

What was he to do?

*****
The wait staff at Olympus gave Kenny a brief “going away” party at the end of evening meal on Sunday, his last night of work before leaving for college. It was held in the back banquet room after the doors were shut for the night; there were still some tables left to be cleared, but the owner, George Alexopolous, suggested they all take a short break to bid Kenny “bon voyage” for his trip to school.

Kenny had become a favorite among the staff (virtually all of the others were young women or high school girls), having worked at Olympus since the summer he turned 16, working fulltime in summer and vacation periods and weekends during the school year. He was known to be friendly with all of them, even as he had become a skilled server.

Because of his growing effeminate mannerisms, Kenny knew several gossiped that he must be gay, and he did little to fight that, feeling it was better than revealing his rather recent tendency to think he should be a girl. Nonetheless, he was still a favorite.

Lucy Alexopolous, the hostess, daughter of the owner and a classmate of Kenny’s, opened the party, praising him for his work, and wishing him well at the University. “We hope he’ll be back with us next summer and for the vacation times, when we could use his services here, right, girls?” she asked.

They all applauded. At that moment, George Alexopolous emerged from the kitchen, carrying a small sheet cake with the simple words “To Kenny” written in pink frosting across the top.

“Speech, speech, speech,” several of the girls cried out.

Kenny blushed, remained seated, while Lucy leaned over, saying, “Come on Kenny, you gotta say something.”

He stood and the group quieted down.

“I don’t know what to say,” he began. “Except that first I want to thank Mr. Alexopolous for putting up with me for these years. Thank you, sir. And also I enjoyed working with all of you. You all made me feel so welcome, like I was part of the group, even though I was so young.”

They clapped. One of the girls shouted out, “You were one of us, Kenny.”

He smiled, since he was only one of a few boys who had joined the wait staff. They all knew he had regularly been mistaken for a girl by the customers, and he paused, before quipping: “Yeah, all I needed was to put on your uniforms!”

They all laughed. “Oh, miss, miss,” someone yelled mimicking the cry they had all heard being directed Kenny’s way during the last five weeks.

George added: “I threatened to put him in skirts if I heard one more customer call him ‘miss.’”

Kenny blushed, both enjoying the repartee and being somewhat troubled by the attention his femininity had attracted.

The senior waitress, Sharon, sensing the discomfort Kenny might be feeling, broke it. “Come on Kenny, cut the cake. I know we all wish you the best.”

“Wait,” Lucy Alexopolous said. “We all chipped in for a little gift for you, Kenny.”

She pulled a square box that had been hidden on a chair that had been pushed under the table. It was wrapped in blue paper and dark lavender ribbon, handing it to Kenny. He took it, almost dropping it; it felt heavy.

“Open it,” someone said.

“It’s so beautifully wrapped,” he said. “I hate to tear it open.”

“Oh go ahead,” came a voice.

Finally, he gently pushed the ribbon to the side and removed it, without disturbing the bow. He unwrapped the paper, careful not to tear it, except where a small use of tape had sealed it, and when opened it revealed a faux leather-bound copy of the “The Complete Shakespeare,” which contained all of the Bard’s plays.

Astounded, Kenny looked at it, while someone yelled. “Let us see.”

Before he held it up, he opened the book to see written on the first page, “To our friend, Kenny. Your friends at the Olympus. Aug. 2012.” He began to tear up.

Holding it up finally, he said in a choked voice: “This is so wonderful. How did you know?”

Sharon said: “I talked with your mother, Kenny, and she said you were so taken with Shakespeare that this might be a nice gift.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “This is something that I’ll keep for the rest of my life. You all are so special. I think I’m going to cry.”

“Go ahead,” Lucy said. “Some of us will, too.”

“Now, cut the cake, Kenny,” Sharon said sternly.

*****
Later, Sharon and Kenny left together, since she would be taking him home tonight. When they reached her car, she extracted a small, wrapped package from under her seat.

“This is from me, dear.”

Sharon turned on the overhead light in the car so that Kenny could open it.

“For me? You didn’t have to, Sharon.”

“Let’s just say I wanted to. Open it.”

He opened it carefully again, struggling a bit with the ribbon, but finally removing it intact. Within the wrapped was a small jewelry box. He opened it.

“Earrings,” he said. “They’re beautiful.”

He held them up. They had a pearl center, surrounded by tiny faux diamonds which sparkled in the dim light of the car.

“Look inside the box, Kenny, and you’ll see there’s a certificate to have your ears pierced at Macy’s. It’s good for a year.”

“Oh Sharon, I can’t wait,” he said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

“I know you’re not ready for these yet, but I sense you will be soon. And, if you change your mind, and remain a boy, you can give them to your girlfriend.”

Kenny did just what any girl would do when she receives such a personal, beautiful gift. She would cry, and so did he.

“I so hoped you’d like these, Kenny,” Sharon said. “You’ll make such a sweet girl, I know.”

She handed him a tissue. He took it, dabbing daintily at his eyes.

“I’m so glad I told you, Sharon, about being a girl,” he said, finally. “You didn’t laugh at me, or anything.”

She smiled, taking his hands in hers.

“I just hoped that I wasn’t being too intrusive with this gift, and perhaps your mother wouldn’t understand,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, she knows all about how badly I feel I should be a girl, and she’s OK with it. She’s just scared for me, thinking I’ll have some problems, I guess, with being bullied or beat up.”

“She’s right, of course.”

“But I’m going to remain a boy for a while, at least for the first year of college, but I’m scared about that, too,” he said. “I guess I look too much like a girl already.”

“A lot of our customers thought so, didn’t they?”

Kenny giggled. “I even had one boy about my age ask if I had a boyfriend and rather than argue I said, yes.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He . . . ah . . . said he hoped my boyfriend appreciated how cute I was. And he left me a nice tip and slip of paper with his name on it, Jason, and his phone number.”

“Wow,” said Sharon. “He was right about that. You are so pretty. I only wish you would have been in our waitress outfits. I think you would have looked darling in them.”

“I wanted to wear one so bad, Sharon. I just love the outfits. Those lovely skirts and peasant blouses, except that I don’t have the breasts for them.”

“Well, if you come back to work for us, Kenny, you’ll have to wear them.”

“And then I can put on a name tag that says ‘Karen.’ That was my name when I lived as a girl at the camp.”

“Karen. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

He put his hand on the car door, and opened it, preparing to leave.

“Sharon,” he began. “Thank you so much for the earrings. They’re lovely , and I will get my ears pierced soon. I’ll at least stop in the restaurant when I’m back in town. Really, Sharon, I’ll never forget you. Never ever.”

She smiled, looked at him and said: “Sweet Karen, I don’t expect you to remember me. You’ll get up to the university and fall in love with some big old hunk of a football player and forget all about us.”

“No. I won’t. I promise. You’ve helped me so much in so many ways, helping me get such confidence as a waiter and now understanding me. I’ll always remember you.”

She held onto his hand a moment longer before releasing it. He left the car and walked into the apartment building. There were tears in his eyes.