Chapter 18: Just Like the Other Girls

Karen’s life before the Christmas break became hectic; she was working 16 hours a week assisting Professor Fenstrom while also rehearsing for the bit part in the University Players play that was to be performed the first two weekends of December. Along with her therapy sessions at the Gender Clinic and keeping up with her studies, she found she had little time for either Gabe or Angela.

In fact, both of her lovers seemed to be fading from her life. Perhaps it was her busy schedule, but the loss of their frequent presence seemed not to bother her.

Angela’s lesbian relationship with Doreen had grown so that the two were inseparable, both girls finding warmth and perhaps eventually a lifetime partner. They had invited Karen in for a threesome, but she had declined. Angela, however, remained a friend, and the two occasionally met for coffee, with Angela always ready to give Karen rides if she needed them.

Gabe, in the meantime, had become friendly with Tracy, who he met when Karen introduced them after the audition. A few nights into the rehearsals, Karen had to stay a bit longer than usual at rehearsal to work with Fenstrom in re-blocking a scene because of lighting problems. Realizing she’d not be able to meet Gabe on time, she asked Tracy (who had become a stage worker for the play) to tell him she’d be late and that it was Ok if he didn’t want to wait. She’d call him later.

It was a full half hour later when the rehearsal finally ended, and Karen was surprised to see both Tracy and Gabe still just outside the theater, standing together and talking earnestly. So engaged in conversation were they that they didn’t even notice Karen approach.

“Oh Gabe, I’m sorry I was late. I couldn’t help it,” she said, startling the two.

“Oh, you’re here,” Tracy said. Karen noticed how red-faced the two were.

“You didn’t have to wait, Gabe,” Karen said.

“Well, Trace and I just got talking,” Gabe said.

Karen noticed that Gabe called her “Trace,” a name that only the closest of Tracy’s friends had used.

“I better go, and leave you two to do your thing,” Tracy said.

“No, stay with us and join us for coffee,” Gabe said hurriedly.

It was obvious Gabe enjoyed Tracy immensely. That was made even more obvious when a few days later Gabe told Karen that he had a friend who needed a date for the Holiday dance to which he had invited Karen. “Do you have a girl friend who might like to join us? He’s a real nice guy.”

Karen had plenty of girl friends; in fact most of the girls in her morning coffee group were dateless, except for Jenny and herself.

“Sure I supposed, if your friend is as nice as you, Gabe,” she said.

“How about Trace?” he asked, again using the girl’s name in a familiar sense that made Karen wonder just how close those two had become.

“Tracy might like that, although I don’t know that any of us are keen on blind dates,” Karen said.

Gabe agreed and suggested the four meet for coffee so that Tracy and Gabe’s friend could meet. Several days later, they did just that, and Gabe’s friend, true to his word, was truly attractive, though a bit shy. He was tall, angular, but with wispy, unruly blond hair and a few freckles. His name was Cletus Andrew Macomb III, but he insisted on being called “Andy,” complaining that he had been chosen by his farm family to carry on the family name of “Cletus.”

Karen thought his shyness was a “cute” trait, and was surprised to see that Tracy and Gabe seemed to converse more with each other than either Karen or Andy. That behavior was duplicated at the dance, as Gabe repeatedly asked Tracy to dance with him, even though Tracy — an awkward girl at best — was tentative on the dance floor; by contrast, Karen had become excellent in following a boy’s lead. Andy, it turned out, for all his shyness sensed the music as he danced his steps sure and his command of the girl in his arms allowed him to easily direct her on the floor.

“Gabe, I sensed you really like Tracy,” Karen said to the boy as few days after the dance. They met after class in the student union’s snack area.

Gabe reddened, mumbling, “Yes, she’s nice, I guess.”

“You guess?” Karen said, her voice rising in anger. “You only had eyes for her at the dance. You hardly danced with me.”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to be nonchalant.

“Like hell you didn’t,” Karen said, cussing in a way that surprised her.

“Ok, so I did. So what?”

“So what? Wasn’t I your date? Or had you forgotten that? Or are you so dazzled by her that you can’t see me?”

Gabe rose suddenly from his chair, almost causing it to overturn. He looked at her, his face showing disdain and disgust she had never seen before.

“It’s not like you’re a real girl,” he said, his voice cruel and hurtful. She had never before heard him speak in such a tone.

She looked at him, not believing what she heard. Several students at adjoining tables heard his words and looked in astonishment at what they must perceived to be a pretty girl having an argument with a large-framed boy.

“I want a girl who can give me babies,” he said, his voice harsh and loud enough for those at nearby tables to look at the quarreling pair.

Gabe picked up his bookbag, turned on his heel and left abruptly. Karen began sobbing, knowing her friendship with him was ended. She tried to hide her face from onlookers, but Gabe’s dramatic and noisy departure brought lots of attention. A matronly older woman came to her table and sat down in the chair vacated by Gabe.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked kindly.

“Yes,” Karen said through her sniffles. “I could kill him.”

The woman smiled. “That’s better, dear. A little bit of anger helps in these situations.”

Karen looked at the woman, realizing the words she had said. Never in her life did she think she could speak out with such an awful statement.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said to the woman.

“You didn’t mean that, I’m sure dear, but it never hurts to let out a bit of emotion at times,” the woman said. Karen thought the woman looked to be in her mid-50s, and figured she must have been a faculty member; she was a short woman, quite slender with close-cropped graying hair. Her gray eyes and crinkles about them displayed a warmth that instilled confidence.

“It’s just that Gabe never acted like that before,” Karen said.

The woman nodded. “He does seem like a nice boy, but really dear if he’s no longer interested in you, for whatever reason, that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. You’re obviously a pretty and it appears intelligent young lady. It’s best to know early in a relationship that two people don’t click.”

“I guess you’re right, ma’am,” Karen said, wiping her eyes.

The woman smiled, and reached into her purse, extracting a card and handing it over to Karen.

“Look dear, I’m the Carol Stanley listed on the card for the University Women’s Center,” she said. “Why don’t you stop over sometime, and you’ll find lots of girls you could chum with? Or, if you just want somebody to talk to, I’m there as a counselor most of the time.”

“Thank you, Ms. Stanley, but I think I’ll be all right now. Thank you for helping.”

The woman left and returned to her table and Karen put the card into her purse. She didn’t think she’d need it, but who knows what the future will bring. As she clicked the purse shut, she smiled: it was so nice being accepted into the world of women! Karen picked up her bookbag and headed to rehearsal where she knew she’d have to see Tracy, who would also be there, assisting in the rehearsal.

*****
During the walk to the Theater she had been able to clear her head. Yes, it was better that Gabe was gone from her life; it was only fair to him, since she knew he wanted to have girlfriend and possible future wife who would give him children. She knew she’d be a burden upon any man who wished to make her a partner in life. The reality was cruel, but it was a fact of life she had to accept.

She saw Tracy the minute she entered the theater; she was seated in a chair, with a small table before, the script open. There were a few minutes before rehearsal would begin.

“I broke up with Gabe just now,” she said. Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact.

Tracy looked up, as if she hadn’t heard Karen.

“You what?” Tracy said.

“Gabe and I are no longer. He’s all yours.”

“Oh my God,” Tracy said. “Karen, I never wanted that to happen. Really, but he just seemed to latch onto me, and I found I liked him. A lot. But I never wanted to come between you and him. I love you too much, Karen.”

Karen believed Tracy; she had become fond of this large, plain girl and felt Tracy would never want to hurt anyone else.

“I understand,” Karen said. “It just wasn’t right between us, you know. He said he wanted a ‘real girl,’ and I can’t blame him. And you’re real.”

“Karen, you about as real a girl as I know,” Tracy said, rising from the chair and hugging Karen, drawing her into her soft, wide body. They both cried.

*****

Karen’s love of the theater and drama was beginning to overwhelm her, as she watched the rehearsal, working closely with Professor Fenstrom as he directed the scenes. She watched how Heather, who was playing the lead, struggle through the rehearsal, playing her part with an unnatural stiffness and tentativeness that surprised Karen. She watched in horror as Professor Fenstrom constantly berated Heather for what appeared to be minor details, such as failing to get an inflection just right or to be standing just a few steps from where he expected her to be. Several times Heather broke down in tears before the entire cast, only to find the Professor berate her even more fiercely.

It became apparent to Karen that the more Fenstrom criticized the girl the stiffer she became.

After one rehearsal, Heather hugged Karen and began to cry quietly. “I’m doing just awful, Karen. I don’t know why I’m doing this, Karen,” Heather said, sniffling through tears.

“Look, Fenstrom is a perfectionist and he’s only doing this for the play. You’ll do fine.”

“I don’t know, Karen. Maybe he should have chosen you.”

“No, honey,” Karen said. “You’re best for the part. Really.”

Heather forced a laugh. “I don’t know, Karen. You really aced that audition, and I can’t imagine why he chose me in the first place. I’m such a klutz.”

Karen remembered how hurt she had felt when Fenstrom selected Heather. In her heart, Karen honestly felt she been the best of all those who auditioned; yet, she knew Fenstrom had been honest with her when he said the Players’ producers had ruled out using a boy-turned-into-a-girl as the lead.

Taking a tissue from her purse, Karen wiped Heather’s face, and then the other girl reached over and kissed her.

*****
Most of Karen’s work with Fenstrom involved sitting next to him in the theater’s small studio where most of the rehearsals would be held. Her job, Fenstrom stressed, was an important one and consisted of taking notes on a laptop of his directions to the actors, the stage managers and others.

“Karen, sit right here so you’re close enough for me to whisper into your ear about matters on stage,” he ordered, taking her hand and leading her to a small table with a laptop, and a secretarial chair. It stood next to an upholstered stool, where the director was to sit.

Several other stools flanked Fenstrom and Karen, and they were occupied by the stage manager (a grad assistant by the name of Stephanie Miller, whom everyone called “Steve,” likely due to her mannish hair styling and clothing) and by an assistant director (another grad assistant, Ellen Gipson, a tall, striking blonde whose basic good looks were spoiled by her constant sour look).

During rehearsals, Fenstrom was all business, closely observing each scene as it was played out, yelling instructions almost constantly. It was apparent that his directing style was far different than that of Karen’s Summer Camp instructor, Stanton McIver, whose devotion to method acting was to get the actors to become immersed in their characters, and then to give them free rein to act out the scene with their own ideas. Fenstrom seemed to demand precise positioning on stage, rigid posturing and clear diction, almost in the classic traditions of the theater.

Fenstrom’s tendency was to be particularly hard on Heather, and it bothered Karen who thought he was too critical of the girl’s performance. After the incident where Heather broke into tears, Karen could see her friend was at the breaking point. She felt she had to say something to Fenstrom, but was reluctant knowing how he might explode if his acting directions were being questioned.

She found an opening to mention her thoughts at the end of a rehearsal; it was typical that after the rehearsal Fenstrom, the assistant director, the stage manager and she would confer on various details emerging from the session.

“Heather’s really not got this part yet,” Fenstrom said. “She’s so stiff, hardly like the fun-loving teen girl she’s supposed to be. I should have gone with you, Karen. Maybe I should make the change now, before it’s too late.”

Karen quickly shook her head. “No. No. No. Heather will do just fine. Give her a chance.”

“I know she’s your friend, dear, but don’t let that cloud your professional judgment,” Fenstrom said.

Karen looked directly at the professor and said: “Eric, you should give her freedom to act out the part. Make her feel at ease. You’re yelling at her for everything. Really she’ll do fine. All she needs is a little confidence.”

She was surprised at her own audacious outburst, but she honestly felt she was correct. She waited what she thought would be an outburst, but was surprised to hear him reply.

“You think so, dear?” Fenstrom said.

He conferred briefly with the assistant director, Ellen Gipson, who seemed to agree with Karen.

“Well, let’s give it a try,” Fenstrom said. “Karen, go see if Heather’s still in the dressing room and bring her out here.”

Heather was about to leave the building, when Karen stopped her and said Fenstrom wanted to see her. At first Heather hesitated, suggesting that Karen could say she’d already left. It took persuading but finally she agreed.

Fenstrom took the girl backstage for what he said would be a private conversation, and Karen feared that rather than try to work more gently with her, he’d end up kicking her off the show. Karen stuck around, even though Fenstrom said they could all leave. She felt she’d have to be there in case Heather broke down after the conversation. Finally, Heather emerged from behind the curtain, followed by the professor and Karen heard her say: “Thank you Professor Fenstrom, I’m sure I understand what you want now.”

She was smiling, and immediately ran up to Karen, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, Karen,” was all she said, and she bounded out the door.

*****
The last two weeks before the play was to be performed were about as hectic a period as Karen had ever faced in her young life. She was at Fenstrom’s side for three hours every rehearsal day, often staying one to two hours afterward to finish up details with him and his two grad assistants. It turned out, as well, that he had her work a full eight hours on the two Saturdays. She would be paid for the extra hours, she was promised, and that pleased her, but it cut into her study time. Usually when she got back to her room she found herself too fatigued to do much more than give her books much more than a passing look, and she feared for her grades. Semester finals would be coming up in the week following the last performance, and she knew she was hardly prepared.

Karen was pleased to see him ease up on Heather, and the girl quickly responded by giving a her character, Amy, a 15-year-old girl, an easy naturalism that soon captivated the actors, the stage managers and even Fenstrom himself.

In the play, Amy was to be a pert, wispy girl who was exceedingly dainty and pretty, but also vulnerable, and Heather offered just the right amount of softness to make it realistic.

“I must say I’m happy I listened to you, Karen,” Fenstrom said to her after the completion of a rehearsal in which Heather had been particularly effective.

Everyone else had left, and the professor had asked Karen to stay to finish up some last minute details. The two were standing together in the studio, when Fenstrom without warning pulled Karen toward him, engulfing her with a sweep of the arm, hugging her tightly.

Karen was taken completely off her guard, since, contrary to her earlier feelings that Fenstrom might make such an approach, he had done little in their weeks working together to indicate that anything other than the play occupied his mind. It was true that the two were seated so close in the studio that their thighs or arms would touch; but such brushes were to be expected due to the close proximity of the layout.

Suddenly, Karen felt his hand at the back of her head, and felt him tilt her head upward so that their lips met in a kiss. She tried to pull her head to one side, but the pressure of his lips was too hard, and she felt his tongue pushing into her mouth. She wanted to scream, but felt powerless and unable to pry her mouth from his.

She could taste a sourness of his mouth and smell his man odor as he continued to kiss her at the same time his free hand caressed her body, attempting to sneak his hand up inside of the sweatshirt she normally wore to rehearsals. Karen tried to squirm away, but he was too strong, and she attempted to figure out a way to run a knee into his groin.

She silently cursed her weakness, and wondered whether everyone had deserted the theater, leaving her alone with Fenstrom, who was now full of lustful passion that seemed to consume him and give him super strength.

“Relax, my dear Karen,” he said, finally removing his lips from hers. “You’re so beautiful. I need you, dear.”

“No, please, professor,” Karen pleaded, giving up the idea of screaming.

“Karen, I won’t hurt you,” he said. He tried to soften his hold on the girl, caressing her now, some of the passion seemingly gone from him.

Karen wondered what she should do; for some reason, she refused to scream in hope of attracting attention. Perhaps, she felt some loyalty for Eric Fenstrom, since she had truly begun to appreciate his directing knowledge and love of the theater. More importantly, he had seemed to value her opinion on matters in the theater as the rehearsals had continued.

For some reason, Fenstrom let go of her, took her hand and led her to a sofa that stood at one side of the studio. Karen knew she should feel frightened, but she accepted his offer to sit next to him. Once seated, he took Karen’s hands in both his own, and held them together, resting on their thighs, now tightly joined.

She looked at Fenstrom; there were tears in his eyes. For a moment he said nothing, and it was obvious his sexual ardor had been stilled. Karen had an impulse to reach over and dry his tears, but both her hands were being held. Should she lean and kiss his eyes? She was overwhelmed with a desire to comfort this man, who just moments earlier seemed to be on the verge of a violent sexual attack.

Instead, she said, finally coming to her senses: “You shouldn’t have done that, professor.”

He nodded his head, finally mumbling: “I know, I know.”

“Maybe I better quit this job, professor,” she said.

“No, no, no, you can’t do that. It’s just three days before the opening,” he said. “I need you.”

“But I need to protect myself, sir.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said. “I was so wrong, but Karen you make me drunk with desire. You are so deliciously feminine.”

“But you know I’m not even all girl yet. I still have my penis.”

“You’re all girl to me, and, no, I’m not interested in your penis. I’m not that kind of man. I only like girls.”

“Then I’m not for you,” Karen said, getting up from the sofa.

Fenstrom made no effort to stop her. He looked pathetic on the sofa, looking up at Karen, his eyes pleading now.

Sensing his discomfort, she said finally: “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t say anything, just as long as you keep your hands off me until this job is done.”

Suddenly, he seemed to compose himself, and he arose from the couch and headed to the clothes tree, where he found Karen’s coat. He brought it to her and in silence helped her get into it.

“I’ll see you are 4 p.m. tomorrow,” she said.

Karen left the room without looking back.

*****
The play turned out to be a resounding success with Heather getting rave reviews, both from the campus daily newspaper and the local newspaper. Even Karen’s own three brief appearances on stage, drew the attention of the reviewer from the city’s daily paper, who wrote: “One of the most refreshing moments in the play involve the brief appearances of a pert waitress, played by Kenny Hansson, whose unquestioned striking beauty and sexy mannerisms stole the three scenes in which she appeared. I predict we’ll see more of Miss Hansson on the University stage in the future.”

Surprisingly, the reviewer seemed unconcerned about while an actor named “Kenny” was playing a female part, and Karen wondered whether he must have thought the “Kenny” was just a nickname adopted by the young female actress. Obviously, Karen’s beauty threw him off any concerns about her gender.

As the rehearsals had continued, Karen had grown increasingly impressed with Fenstrom’s directing genius, with his precise if sometimes maddeningly obsession with details, but in the end it worked.

Heather confided in Karen on the night after the dress rehearsal, as the two left the theater, exhausted from the tension of the day, but nonetheless elated by the fact that they felt the rehearsal had been smooth and would bode well for the opening the next night.

“I’m not sure what you said to Fenstrom that day, but he quit harping on me, Karen, and made me feel so good about my acting,” she said.

“I didn’t say much, Heather,” Karen replied. “I think he finally realized he was riding you too much.”

“You must have said something, Karen, ‘cause once he told me what he wanted of me in that talk we had then, I felt I could do it,” she smiled.

“I think he’s a good director, Heather.”

“Yes, and contrary to his reputation, he never hit on me, never propositioned me even once,” Heather said.

Karen nodded, but then Heather quickly followed that up with a comment: “Don’t tell him I said that, Karen. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I know you work closely with him.”

“You know I won’t say anything to him about this,” Karen assured her.

“Oh, Karen, you’re such a great friend. I love you,” Heather said, gathering Karen in her arms and giving her a sisterly hug.

*****
Once the play was ended, there was less than a week before semester finals were scheduled, with the long Christmas-New Years holiday period following shortly thereafter. While Karen tried to focus on her studies (she had fallen behind in her reading due to the play rehearsals), she found she couldn’t help but reflect on what her future held for her. It appeared she was headed into full transition into womanhood, but even that caused her great tension, and threw her into deep depression.

Her experiences with men tended to wear on her mind, realizing that she had basically been rejected time after time just because she wasn’t a real girl. That thought hit Karen hard one night shortly after the play ended as she tried to go to sleep. Though she was exhausted from her busy days, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. It raced through the events of the recent days, and she wondered what the future would bring. Was there any reason to even pursue further life?

She had never felt like this; always, even in her darkest, loneliest days as Kenny, she had an optimistic view of the future, that somehow she would succeed in life just because of her ability to learn and accomplish things. Now, she wondered. The first glory of emerging as a lovely, popular girl had faded with reality: she looked like a girl, she talked like a girl, thought like a girl and walked like a girl. Yet, she wasn’t a girl.

Karen began sobbing, and buried her head into her pillow to avoid awakening Ramini who was snoring contentedly in her bed across the room.

Karen was suddenly aware that someone had moved into bed alongside her. Ramini’s petite, soft body as nestled tightly, her warmth comforting Karen. Had she finally dozed off, she wondered?

“Are you all right, Karen?” Ramini said, her words coming out in a lyrical sing-song rhthym.

“Did I wake you, Rami? I’m sorry. I tried not to.”

“Darling Karen, I want to help you. What’s wrong?” The girl stroked Karen’s hair, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Karen welcomed the caresses and moved her body more tightly against Ramini, cuddling together like baby kittens.

“Oh Ramini, we’re such freaks,” she said. “We’ll never fit into this world.”

With that, Karen began to sob again. Ramini held Karen’s head, bringing it tightly against her narrow bosom, patting her head as she would a tiny baby’s head.

“No honey, we’re just a bit different, and there’ll always be a place for a lovely, smart girl like you,” Ramini said.

“But I’m not a girl, Rami. We need to stop kidding ourselves. Even when we get our operations, we’ll still not be able to have babies. We’ll never be complete. What boy will ever want us?”

Ramini pushed Karen away, and Karen could see a determined look grow on the tiny girl’s face, thanks to a sliver of light coming in from outside street lights.

“Don’t be silly, Karen,” Ramini said, her voice firm and commanding. “Millions of what you call real girls can’t have babies and not all men want babies either. You’re as much a girl as any around here.”

“But Rami, I’ve been rejected five times just ‘cause I’m not real. First, Mark walked out on me at summer camp when he had to tell his parents I wasn’t real. And, Angela ditched me for a real girl so she could have a real lesbian affair. Fenstrom said I would have had the lead part in the play if I had not been a fake girl. A boy I met at Thanksgiving who was really nice as much as hung up on me when he found out I began as a boy, and now, today, Gabe dumped me.”

“My poor dear,” Ramini said, moving closer to Karen and the two cuddled.

Karen sobbed quietly. Soon, her crying ended as she found warmth and love in the arms of her friend. And so they slept.

*****
Her mood wasn’t much better the next day, and she had planned to skip the usual morning coffee time with the girls, largely because she felt it would be awkward to see Tracy so soon after she learned of the girl’s friendship with Gabe.

“Come on, you’ll feel better, Karen,” her friend Jenny coaxed as they left the sociology lecture.

It was difficult seeing Tracy, whose eyes, Karen felt, seemed to sparkle unusually brightly this morning. Tracy reddened when Karen and Jenny arrived, but quickly composed herself and urged Karen to sit in the empty chair next to her.

“I was hoping you’d still come today, Karen,” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I, Trace?” she said, deliberately using the name that Gabe used for the girl, immediately regretting the slightly sarcastic tone she injected into the use of “Trace.”

“No reason, but I wanted to thank you. I got my sweater finished for my dad, thanks to you,” the girl said. “Just in time for Christmas.”

“I’m sure your dad will love it,” Karen said.

“Well thank you, again,” Tracy said, leaning over to kiss Karen a quick kiss.

Soon the conversation turned to what each of the girls were planning for the Christmas vacation period, a topic that left Karen a bit depressed, since she had no plans at all. There would be no boyfriend back home waiting for her, unless she were to meet up with Aaron, but that didn’t seem likely. She looked around the table, and suddenly realized that among the girls there only Jenny and now Tracy had boyfriends; the others in the group were largely without boyfriends, too. Real girls, too, face disappointments with boys, she realized. Maybe she wasn’t any different, after all. The thought made her smile.