Set in the early eighties when Visage, Human League and Duran Duran were top of the tree. Paul was just getting to grips with his growing up and coming to terms with certain differences...
FYI - Thanks to Kristina L S for all her help. This story has been written in UK English since I'm not too hot with Americanisms, so I have chosen to stick to what I know...
Chapter 1
Damned don't cry
I was not a big kid, in fact I was probably only about the same size as a medium-sized girl; about five-six by the age of sixteen. My body was still smooth and slender with no muscular definition whatsoever. I hadn’t much in the way of body hair (or body to put it on really) and my face was still baby-smooth. By this age, I would have expected to have something — even if it was just the obligatory dead caterpillar on my top lip.
It didn’t seem that long ago that I was the same as everyone else, but in the blink of an eye, my school friends had sprouted hair all over the place, grown up or grown outwards or both and some of them had even started shaving. I meanwhile felt as though I’d been nailed to the spot not having changed at all that I could see. I hadn’t grown as much as an inch in height in over eighteen months.
The others had noticed these things too and this is where my troubles really began…
“Hey look, it’s girly Turner” called Jeremy Fuller, one of the school bullies as I entered through the school gates. “Wonder if he’s flush today.”
Fuller’s friend Greg Bridger grabbed me and without a word, Fuller pushed his hands into my pockets and swiftly divested me of my lunch money and then as a parting “Thank you”, punched me in the stomach, leaving me winded and penniless.
“You’d better bring some more tomorrow.” said Fuller tossing the coins in the palm of his hand. “Oh and you’d better not say anything or we’ll have to rip up your homework too.” They walked away laughing, leaving me to gather myself together and get to registration.
This hurt more than just physically, since two years previously I was at least as big as Fuller and Bridger was just the fat kid. Now, Bridger more closely resembled a brick shithouse and Fuller stood head and shoulders taller than me.
I on the other hand, was barely keeping up with the girls except where the hair on my head was concerned. Unlike the other boys, this was the only part of me that knew how to grow and was now shoulder-length. It wasn’t a fashion statement or anything, although I did like it long. It just never got cut.
No matter what I did to avoid them, Fuller and Bridger seemed to find me before lunch time and for the next two weeks, I didn’t eat at school.
The next week, I tried a change of tack and bought snacks on the way in the mornings.
“Where’s our money you little poof?” said Fuller Monday morning.
“I haven’t got any.” This time it was the truth, but not taking my word for it, Bridger once again acted as a human crusher and held me in place while Fuller went about the search.
“Where is it?” they asked.
“I told you. I haven’t any.” I assured and before I knew what was happening, my exercise books were out of my bag, taken along with my biscuits and crisps and spread across the road.
I got a good kicking, though I didn’t think it was that GOOD. I could barely walk afterwards. I STILL lost my lunch and what was more, my homework was ruined. It happened again the next day and the day after, but then it came to the attention of the school and boy did I get into trouble. This was mostly because I wouldn’t tell them who had done it as I was afraid of what the repercussions would be.
The teaching staff wondered why the hell I was trying to protect people who were causing trouble, but then, they wouldn’t admit that bullying was a problem or that keeping my gob shut was in fact protecting ME and their protection was actually only a by-product.
Mum just told me to stand up for myself, but I really don’t think she fully understood the severity of the situation.
“Bullies,” she said sagaciously. “Are only strong, because they make you think they are.”
“Believe me mum,” I said. “Bridger and Fuller are strong alright and bigger than me too.”
“Paul, Paul, Paul. It’s not the size of the man in the fight, but the size of the fight in the man.” said mum as if that answered all my questions and solved all my problems.
At a loss for anything better to do, I tried fighting back, but that just made the beatings worse and the expression “if at first you don’t succeed…” didn’t work either (I wondered just who the hell thinks up all this blather?), it just made bashing me more challenging and I’m sure, more fun for them.
The “help” I was getting was probably alright in theory but it fell down somewhere short of practice. I decided to try the “running” technique. It is here that we can examine the formula of “He who fights, but runs away, lives to fight another day”. In my case, it’s more along the lines of “He who fights, but runs away, gets to be able to run” so this was an improvement.
I had little going for me at that time as the few friends I had, were giving me a wide berth so as not to get beaten up by association, which left me well and truly on my own.
Steve Strange was busy singing about how the damned don’t cry, a sentiment I was finding very hard to agree with. I felt that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, whether I cried or not, made very little difference.
“If that’s the way it’s going to be, then so be it” I thought. “Fuck the lot of them.”
Stool pigeon
Games lessons got to be a pain - literally. For the guys who were developing as normal, their build and stature made them nearly twice my size on average and pounding me for ‘the good of the game’ became their primary concern. Of course if I complained, I was a wimp and the poundings increased, so I kept my mouth shut and instead, it was seen that I was getting used to it and the poundings increased.
Either way I looked at it, I would limp away from whatever sport was being played (even the non-contact ones), feeling as though I needed to rearrange my features and would still get it in the neck by Mr Georgeson, the teacher, for not trying hard enough. I couldn’t win and games lessons became something I dreaded.
Mr. Georgeson the teacher referred to what I was getting from the other boys as ‘sporting camaraderie’ and when it extended to the changing room, I started to get very upset very quickly.
Tired and sore after one particular session, I was sure my ankle had been damaged when I was tackled during the rugby game by one of the bigger boys. While I was on the floor, another had ground the heel of his boot into it. I limped quite badly, which angered Mr Georgeson and he spent the rest of the game shouting at me to get a move on. Mercifully, the game ended shortly after that.
Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as I changed I found I was hobbling more noticeably. I got shoved and my ankle gave way. Sent flying I hit the floor in a ‘belly-flop’ with a resounding ‘slap!’ I gasped and held my right ankle. God it hurt, and the verbal abuse that accompanied it, hurt almost as much.
“Get out of my way short-arse.” said Fuller with a sneer. “Christ, I don’t know why they let a puny little fart like you in here with us seniors.” I tried to get up, but I couldn’t put any pressure on my right leg, which left me sprawled on the floor.
“I mean shit, look at you, bloody wimp. Do you shave your legs?” Bridger pulled away my towel, exposing my apparently hairless body.
“Hey look, he even shaves round his cock too and under his arms. Just like the girl he is.” said Greg
“Aw look, the little girl’s crying.” added Fuller. The truth was, there were hairs on my legs, but not like the fuse-wire he had on his, a fact that seemed to go unnoticed.
The laughter that went round the changing room hurt more than landing badly on the floor had and nearly as much as my ankle was now hurting. The boys were jeering and pointing their fingers as I sat on the floor with tears running down my face.
Mr Georgeson entered at that moment.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Get dressed all of you. Fuller, Bridger, get away from there.” I was in plain view when Fuller and Bridger moved and Mr Georgeson looked across at me as I sat, rocking gently, holding my ankle with tears still running down my face.
“Turner! I might have known you’d be the cause of this. My office NOW! And stop that stupid snivelling.” With that he turned and left the changing room. I hauled myself up onto the bench below my clothes and tried to pull myself together. It was just like home, I was the stool pigeon, taking the flack for whatever happened, regardless of whether I was at fault or not.
The other boys in the room were almost silent. I could see out of the corner of my eye that some of the lads knew something major was wrong, but Fuller was not someone you messed with. He had no business on my side of the changing room anyway (neither did Bridger) and whilst I was sure that they wanted to at least check me out and make sure I was okay, they wouldn’t move until he and his band of merry dickheads had gone, but they were still laughing about me at that point.
I managed to get my shirt and jumper on, but was finding it really difficult to get my underwear on thanks to the blinding pain I was experiencing from my swollen ankle, my right sock being a definite no-no. I was pulling up my trousers when Mr Georgeson came back in. What small amount of talking was going on at the time, ceased immediately the guys knew it was Georgeson that had opened the door.
“Turner! I thought I told you to come to my office?”
“I’m dressing. I didn’t think exposing myself in the corridor would be acceptable, sir.” I said trying to hide the fact that the throb that was now almost constant was actually taking my breath away. I was silently pleased to hear that my retort had met with the approval of some of the other students.
“I didn’t tell you to dress. I told you to get your puny little arse into my office.” This got a few snorts and chuckles from Fuller’s side of the changing room.
“I don’t think I can sir. I think I’ve my ankle’s broken.”
“Don’t be so stupid, Turner.” he said and strode round the racks in the centre of the room, grabbed me by the ear, hauled me to my feet and dragged me across the changing room floor.
I didn’t have my trousers on properly at the time and I tripped, falling back onto the floor.
“Get up!” Georgeson shouted and bent down, grabbing me by my upper left arm and hauling me out into the corridor. I was trying to pull up my trousers with my free hand, when I suddenly howled in pain. My ankle got knocked against the sprung door to the changing rooms as it returned to its closed position and it sent the most awful pain straight up my leg.
“Stop that noise!” he growled. “Or I’ll give you something to moan about.”
He didn’t let go until he’d slammed me onto a chair inside the doorway of his office. I just sat there and looked at the now tennis-ball sized swelling that was once my ankle.
He sat down and did that ignoring thing for several minutes before he looked up. I was tearstained and gasping every so often as pain would shoot up my leg.
“You disgust me.” he said. “You’re about as much use as…” He shook his head and returned his gaze to the paper in front of him.
“Did you know you’re the bottom of the list when it comes to sports activities? You’ve made absolutely no effort whatsoever.”
“But sir…” I began. I didn’t care that I was bottom of the list, but to say I didn’t make the effort was unfair and well, completely untrue.
“Shut up. I’m sending you to the headmaster’s office. I’ll be along shortly when I’ve got the other boys out of the changing rooms. Now get out of my sight.”
I got up and turned, put my right leg down and a bright light flashed across my field of vision as a bolt of pain shot up my leg and I went down like a sack of shit.
The next thing I knew was I was lying on a bed. I stared at the ceiling trying to get my head round what had happened and it all started coming back to me. I could feel the pain in my ankle, but now it felt different, kind of numb, but there nonetheless.
I looked down the bed and saw that my ankle had been wrapped and I could hear voices from the small ante room.
“You bloody idiot Jeff. Didn’t you even look to see what he was talking about?” asked the headmaster.
“I thought he was just moaning as usual.” replied Georgeson.
“I’m disappointed. I spoke to some of the boys and they’ve all told me the same thing; that you manhandled young Turner from the changing room and shouted at him for not keeping up. Is this true?”
“He was being obstinate.” said Georgeson defensively.
“He couldn’t walk you imbecile. You saw his ankle. That’s not being obstinate. I can’t help you with this one, you’ve gone too far.” I heard the door close and the room next door went once again quiet.
Anyway, I was taken to hospital for x-rays and all sorts of other tests and apart from severe bruising that they said was consistent with my ankle being crushed under someone’s boot, I’d be alright, although they did say that it could take some time before I was back to full fitness.
I didn’t need an excuse now to get out of games. I couldn’t do them anyway and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Mum was concerned and told me off for being careless, but then changed her tune, looking suitably embarrassed when she was told what had happened. Why she should have thought that everything that happened was automatically my fault I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it with a cynical edge, having had her take that viewpoint for so long.
Fortunately, Jeremy Fuller’s taunting got kind of washed away when what happened came out into the open. It was odd how many of the boys came forward after what happened to me and parents were lining up to cut one part or another of Jeff Georgeson’s anatomy off with a blunt knife.
Sadly, my mum’s opinion about how things are automatically my fault, soon returned to normal, but hey, I could handle that. I just didn’t tell her stuff, it was that simple.
I got a new found respect from some of the others after it was made known that the ‘accident’ that caused my ankle injury was “not sporting at all”. The fact that I couldn’t or rather wouldn’t tell who had actually crushed my ankle, when I knew perfectly well who it was, seemed to get me brownie points and the picking on me subsided somewhat.
Walking on sunshine?
I was given free periods for those lessons that would normally have been for games “until I felt fit enough”, so that was good. I would have looked a bit silly trying to play soccer or rugby on crutches anyway, so for a while at least, I wasn’t exactly ‘walking on sunshine’, but hobbling anyway!
Free periods weren’t what they sounded like. I mean I couldn’t go off school premises, or just do my own thing either; I had to make use of them. It was more like ‘get-on-with-homework-and-no-talking-periods’, but this is where I met Amanda or Mandy.
I’d been in the classroom designated for this for about three weeks when she turned up. I had lost the crutches by then and my ankle was just bandaged. What was even better was the fact that I got to wear trainers, which were infinitely more comfortable than the shoes I would have worn. Anyway, Mandy was not one of the spectacularly pretty girls, quite plain actually, but I became aware of her stares quite soon after she arrived. I don’t think she knew I knew what she was doing, but I did. I just didn’t know why.
She approached me, which was cool as far as I was concerned, because I had absolutely no experience with girls and wouldn’t have known where to start. I had had a crush on one girl, Elaine, who was one of those ‘pretty’ girls, well out of my league, but if I was anywhere near her, I lost the power of speech. It was just lucky I suppose that she wasn’t near me very often. As with Elaine, all I knew about what was happening with Mandy was that I felt uncomfortable.
She came across to my table and the feeling of discomfort rose.
“It’s Paul isn’t it?” she asked and I just nodded, probably looking a little vacant actually as I twirled a lock of hair in my fingers, but for Christ’s sake, I had no idea what she was going to do or say and since most of my experiences seemed to involve getting pounded on or ridiculed, I was on guard; bayonet at the ready.
“Um... Hi.” I said, edging backwards and making ready to run or hastily limp for it.
“Amanda Jenkins! Go and sit back down.” said Mr Fredricks, a miserable Maths teacher, with all the ‘teacher/pupil’ skills of an alligator with toothache. He had what he termed as the misfortune to be assigned to supervise us during the first period of the lesson.
“I was just getting a rubber, sir.” she said and he tutted, muttering something about having her own stationery, especially an eraser and not wandering around pinching everyone else’s. Unfortunately for him, Mandy’s hearing was spot on.
“I don’t want everyone else’s, sir, nor was I ‘pinching’. I just borrowed this one.” she said, holding mine up for him to see, then looked at me and rolled her eyes.
“Well now you’ve got it you’d better sit back down.”
That didn’t work for long as after she’d finished rubbing out the error, she then needed to give it back.
“You again?” asked Mr Fredricks, sighing and looking at her over to top of his glasses, his fingers steepled before him on the desk.
“I’m just returning the rubber, sir.” she said, that look of dumb insolence returning to her otherwise plain and open face. She was a feisty one and I couldn’t help admiring her ballsy attitude.
“Well to save you getting it again, as I’m sure you’ll have to before this period is through, move your belongings to er…” he struggled for my name, but I wasn’t going to supply it. “...HIS table. Come on, don’t take all day.” he added, waving his hand in my general direction.
“Here, sir?”
“Yes there! Now no talking.” he barked, lowering his head to whatever he was doing and muttering something along the lines of “Bloody kids!” but I can’t be sure.
We sat in silence until the bell for the end of the first period rang. The games lesson was a double period — one hour and as Mr Fredricks left, he barked out his no talking order as the door closed behind him.
“You’re that kid aren’t you?” Mandy asked, springing back to her normal animated self.
“I’m certainly one of them I suppose; only I prefer the term young man.”
“I know that, silly. I mean are you the ‘young man’ Jeremy Fuller was picking on in the changing room.”
Ah, so that’s where this was going. I shook my head and went back to the rigours of trying to work out what was so important about learning fractions and twirling that lock of hair again.
“I guess.” I said without looking up.
“He’s such an asshole.” I looked at her, trying to read where the ‘friendly’ conversation was going to turn into something else.
“I mean it’s not your fault you’re smaller or prettier than them, is it?” she said.
“Thank you for pointing that out.” I said sarcastically, mortified by the ‘prettier’ part in her statement. I hope she meant better-looking, but well, that’s not what she said and I couldn’t help being cut to the quick by her remark.
“Well it’s not is it?” she asked, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having.
“Look, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” I said, trying to head any further faux pas off at the pass.
“I was just saying.” she said as if I was being overly sensitive about being called small and pretty.
I got up to move to another table.
“Where are you going?”
“To sit elsewhere. I know you mean well, but just leave me alone.” My movement coincided with the arrival of Miss Clarke the home economics teacher.
“Sit down!” she commanded. “You’re not here to wander around.” I sat back down with a thump.
We sat in silence again and I tried concentrating on fractions. I knew I had less than half of the lesson left to get these, was only a quarter of the way through the problems and about a third of them just looked vulgar.
The silence didn’t last for long this time as not only was Miss Clarke the home economics teacher, but was also a year tutor for the year below me and as such, she was often on call. She’d only been sat at her table for a few minutes when she had to leave.
“I’m going to have to leave you lot on your own and I don’t want to hear anything about you talking, waking around or any other form of misbehaving. Is that clear?” We all looked at her, but said nothing.
“I said, IS THAT CLEAR?” she barked.
“Yes Miss Clarke.” we intoned in unison.
“Good.” she said, turning on her heels and disappearing.
Of course, as soon as she’d left the room, Mandy became once again reanimated and was probing.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” she said, I expect trying to make me feel better.
“You didn’t.” I answered not looking up, that strand of hair wrapped again around my finger.
“You seem pretty upset now.”
“Look Amanda…”
“It’s Mandy.”
“Alright. Look Mandy, I really don’t know you and I don’t feel comfortable with talking to you about this, alright?”
“You’ve got to talk to someone.”
“Can’t you take a hint?” I said, looking at her and trying to convey a look of exasperation. “I — DON’T — WANT — TO — TALK — ABOUT — IT!”
“Oooooh!” she said, sitting back, her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide. “No need to get your knickers in a twist.”
“Just piss off will you?” I said shaking my head and doing my level best to ignore her. It went quiet after that.
I suspect you’ve already guessed by the way I spoke to the only girl who had shown any interest in me for any reason, that I haven’t had much experience in that department and you’d be right. About the only ‘experience’ I did have was with Sally Hurst two years ago. We lasted about a week and never went anywhere outside of school together.
Like I said, it was only a week before I was unceremoniously ‘chucked’ and I later found out that she was only with me because of a dare. The grown-up feeling I got being part of a ‘couple’, disappeared about a millisecond after she did the chucking bit.
We didn’t kiss, well, we did, once and then it was the quickest of pecks behind the bike sheds when we thought that no-one was looking. Not exactly the most auspicious of beginnings.
Since then, even having passed my sixteenth birthday and had therefore reached and passed the age of consent, there had been no girls in my life and I was fast beginning to question the validity of the boy/girl relationship thing. I was confused at being legally allowed to bonk and yet I knew nothing about foreplay, intercourse or even ‘French’ kissing.
Mandy was the first girl since Sally and she said I was cute. I think that was the best she could come up with, since the word ‘pretty’ upset me, but I’m not sure that ‘cute’ was any better. To this day, I still haven’t found out what cute really means when a girl uses it to describe a boy/bloke/man, but I’ve since decided that it means, you’re nice, but don’t try getting into my knickers. Not that at that time I’d have known what to do if I did!
Anyway, back to the present and I was heading out of school the afternoon after meeting Mandy, when who should be waiting for me?
Yeah, you guessed it; Mandy (or did you cheat and read ahead?).
She certainly was a tough nut this one and I think I underestimated her when I called her feisty. I think the word ‘feisty’ was coined as a mild alternative to ‘Mandy’. I obviously wasn’t going to avoid her this time.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Well I know you can. It’s stopping you that’s the hard part.” I said, mentally chalking one up for my side. She wasn’t happy with my remark.
“You don’t have to be like that.” she said. “I just wanted to know from your point of view what happened. Hell, I know how hard it can be, but if you’re going to be like that…” I immediately mentally rubbed out the one up, returned the score to evens and apologised.
I gave her a potted version of my final year of school up to that point and played down a lot of the bullying I’d had to put up with, hopefully so that she didn’t think I was either being melodramatic or would look upon me with pity. That was definitely one thing I didn’t want.
By the time we got to her house, we were chatting away a lot more comfortably and I actually felt that with certain reservations of course, I liked her. I was glad I had someone to talk to who seemed to understand the situation. From then on, Mandy was never far away from me or I from her (lessons permitting), depending on your viewpoint.
Still I now had a friend.
Mandy and I became something of an item and pretty soon, the guys that had been giving me grief, eased off because all of a sudden, I had a girlfriend. Well, I say girlfriend, but I don’t think she was really that. She was a young female friend and I think there’s a vast chasm between that and the ‘girlfriend’. I had at least, been seen with a girl that was not my sister or mother and perhaps I wasn’t such a weirdo after all; all of this thanks to Mandy.
Thanks Mandy — really.
The fact that nothing happened in that way between Mandy and I, was beside the point. It deflected the situation somewhat and I was able to get on with school without the fear of constant ridicule, my performance picking up enough for me not to be in regular trouble with the teachers and having to keep my mother from finding out, not that she took that much interest anyway.
After a couple of weeks, I was invited to go round to her place after school, where we just chatted and listened to music. She really was a very intelligent person, one with whom I could talk, laugh and joke and not feel self-conscious, although I did notice that she watched me closely whatever I did. I just thought it was her way.
I was late home after the first time I went to Mandy’s house after school and was nearly in trouble, but when I said that I was round Mandy’s, I was let off. I got the usual “Paul’s got a girlfriend, Paul’s got a girlfriend” and “Paul and Mandy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G” from my brothers. It amused them, but as a pouting, underdeveloped teen, I was most annoyed which seemed to amuse mum and was an almost constant source of hilarity for the brats.
Friends
After a couple of weeks, I got to meet some of her friends too.
They weren’t from our school, but they seemed nice enough. A bit standoffish at first, but that’s only to be expected since their normal female circle was being sullied by a male. I don’t know what happened to change this view, but it wasn’t long before I was accepted and the quartet became a quintet.
It all started innocently enough.
There were only three of them: Julie, a five-eight blonde with a real sharp sense of humour. Her body was behaving something like mine, so although mentally mature, physically, she was a bit slow off the mark, looking a bit like a stick insect.
Next, there was Lisa. She was the same height as me with dark spiky hair. She was into the new romantics (I DID say this was set in the eighties) and as a result, her outlandish style tended to alienate her from the other circles. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was only hanging about with us because there was nowhere else to be. She was actually really nice though.
Lastly, there was Caroline. She was a quiet one. Long straight hair and looked not unlike Violet Parr from the Incredibles. When they said “beware of the quiet ones, they’re the ones to watch out for”, they must have been talking about her.
This motley crew got together just before half term that year and I was just pleased to have someone to do things with, that it never bothered me that they were girls and not boys.
It didn’t take long before the makeup and makeovers started. I would sit and read to begin with, since I nearly caught fire blushing when Mandy first stripped down to bra and panties. Her argument was that it was no different to being in a bikini and suddenly it didn’t matter. I was pleased however that I was only asked to give an opinion and not actually join in with this pastime.
I was a pretty good artist and as such, got asked my opinion on makeup quite a lot — the apparently natural progression from dressing up. Lisa and her ‘colourful’ image was the starting point. She was somewhere between Souxie and the Banshees and Steve Strange. I know that the idea was to shock or to be outlandish, but it can shock or be outlandish and still look tasteful can’t it?
I started by offering opinions just from observation and when Caroline said “Well if you think you can do any better” I was up and at it. Next thing I knew, it became almost ritualistic and I started to get asked to do all of them (their makeup, silly!). Sometimes Mandy would even take pictures of the finished results.
It was during the two-week half-term break that things first stepped into a different realm.
Who's that girl?
Up until now, I had been able to just watch as the four of them would play ‘fashion show’ and they seemed happy enough to let it go at that. I was happy enough just getting involved with the makeup and the more I did it, the better I got, but it never went near MY face.
This time however, I had done all four girls’ makeup and was taking a well-earned break while they danced around to something on the radio. I was pretending to be reading a magazine, but in fact I was looking at Lisa. I liked her the most and I didn’t see anything wrong with looking since Mandy had not made any romantic feelings apparent to me.
So there I was, enjoying the ‘show’ and the music when Lisa suddenly asked “What about Paul?”
“What about me?” I asked and for the first time, I actually felt quite wary about what was to come.
“Well, you’ve done this for us so often and yet we never get to do yours.”
“No sweat! I don’t wear it do I?”
“We just want to see what you look like in it.”
Now I didn’t know where the ‘I’ suddenly became ‘we’, but somehow these women had an ability to talk to one another without moving their lips.
“Yeah, come on Paul. It’ll be fun.” said Mandy.
I thought SHE of all of them would have been a little more sympathetic, but no. Lots of ‘boys’ were wearing makeup since plenty of guys in bands like Duran Duran (especially Nick Rhodes) and Human League were wearing it and Steve Strange of Visage had made it something of a trademark.
I was outvoted four to one and whether I wanted to or not, I was going to be wearing makeup. It wasn’t a gentle experience. While I gently tended to each of them in turn, with me, it was a case of all hands on deck (or Paul in this case), so the experience wasn’t like being pampered, but mauled.
At the end of their work, I was shown the mirror and staring back at me was a teenage girl in too much makeup.
“Don’t you just love it?”
“Er…” I began. Yes actually I did. Boy George, eat your heart out, but the word pretty kept coming back into my head and it was shouting out that this was wrong. I was confused since for the first time the image in the mirror looked right. I don’t think there’s anything worse than trying to be something that your not, but sometimes it can be more difficult finding out what you are and even more so, coming to terms with what that might be.
I was speechless. I saw a girl in the mirror, not a boy in makeup — a girl. Perhaps there WAS too much makeup, but it looked so much more believable than looking in the mirror each morning and seeing me staring back and trying to see the man, even the boy.
“Yeah, I guess…” I said not knowing what to say. It was all so much of a shock.
Looking this way and that and seeing the cheekbones highlighted with the blusher, the lips, full, glossy and pouting and the eyes… I couldn’t get over how feminine I looked, how real.
I could see that the girls looked somewhat deflated, their efforts being shrugged off with an “I guess”, like an old coat that keeps you warm but you don’t want to be seen in and I felt sorry for being so offhand.
I was confused. I’d never seen me like this before, not even in my head. The idea that I could pass for female never occurred to me. I suppose it’s because I already had a lot on my mind, but now all the emotion I’d felt about not fitting in, not feeling comfortable with the way I was and a whole host of other things came crashing in all at once.
Tears started to well up in my eyes and in theirs too and I had no choice but to run into the bathroom and try to scrub it off my face. Believe me that was no mean feat, since the tears wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t see what I was doing.
I didn’t even stop to get my coat. As soon as I had ‘cleaned’ the war paint from my face, I was off. I ran nearly all the way home, sprinting upstairs two steps at a time into my room and closed the door behind me, ignoring the pleas of my mum to come in and find out what was wrong. My chest hurt and my head was spinning like a top and I really wasn’t sure which way was up.
I thought that would be an end to it. I thought that by running out on them, they would be saying how I wasn’t worth it and that I wasn’t one of the girls (which with all due respect, I wasn’t) and wasn’t it better without him?
I was wrong, on all counts.
The first thing I was wrong about was being able to stay in my room and sulk, mum saw to that.
“Dinner’s ready!” she announced. I just buried my head deeper into the pillow and tried to pretend to not hear. It wasn’t long before there was a sharp rapping on my door.
“I don’t know what the matter is, but it’ll be a whole lot worse if you don’t come and have you dinner NOW!”
Putting on my best ‘hurt’ pout, I went and opened the door. I thought she had gone back to the kitchen, but to my surprise, she was waiting outside, arms folded and tapping her foot in that way a woman does when you’re in the wrong and they are at the end of their patience.
“Get your backside into…” she began and then all at once, her eyebrows started their ascension to her hairline and didn’t stop there. “Oh — my — God! Are you wearing makeup?”
“NO!” I assured her.
I had rubbed my face almost raw back at Mandy’s and was sure there was nothing left; if I had rubbed any more, she would have been looking at my bones, wouldn’t she?
Evidently not.
She caught my earlobe in between her thumb and forefinger and dragged me yelping and squirming into the bathroom, hauling me up to the mirror.
“So what’s that?” she demanded, pointing at the mirror.
“Er…” I spluttered. It was obvious that where I had rubbed, the makeup had been removed, but I just hadn’t rubbed enough all over. In fact, I had missed more than I had got, my eyes looked like those of a panda and there was still enough rouge on my cheeks to look more than just a healthy blush.
She dragged me back out of the bathroom and into her bedroom and my ear by was feeling like one more tug and it would come away, probably complete with the half of my face.
“Here.” she said, thrusting a tin of makeup remover at me. “Don’t come into the kitchen until it’s all off.”
“I’d rather not go into the kitchen at all, if it’s all the same.” I said miserably.
“I didn’t go to all the trouble of cooking your food, just to have you leave it.” she said, her eyes flashing with an anger I’d not seen before. “Now get on with it and come and have your tea. If you don’t hurry up, it’ll be cold.”
She turned to leave her bedroom and both of us could hear the scampering or four other feet that no doubt belonged to the brats. I could still hear their titters and giggles well after mum had gone.
I picked up some tissue from a box on her dressing table and started to smear the cold gloop over my face, being careful to cover where all the makeup was then threw that tissue away, picked a fresh one and started to wipe the gloop and makeup off.
It wasn’t a long job; not nearly as long as I had hoped. I had hoped it would take forever so I could just go to bed, but no. A couple of minutes and it was history, a bad memory, or rather, a good memory gone bad.
I tried to stay invisible as I crept into the kitchen and my two brothers we giggling into their hands. I wasn’t happy and told them to shut up, but mum was having none of it.
“What do you expect you big sissy.”
“I’m no sissy!” I said and I thought that had I been bigger, this probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place.
“Well, boys don’t wear makeup do they?”
“What about Boy George, Adam ant or Duran Duran?” I asked. “Maybe OMD or Tears for Fears and Gary Numan?”
“But they’re all bloody poofs.” she said spitefully, making the two brats laugh even harder.
I couldn’t eat all my dinner that evening. I was too interested in getting the hell out of there. I wasn’t a poof and what was wrong with Gary Numan or the Durannies anyway? I was pretty sure after consideration, mentioning Boy George didn’t help my cause though.
I couldn’t believe that my own mother could be so negative, especially since she had Slade, Sweet, Kiss, David Bowie and Marc Bolan albums in her collection, not to mention Roxy Music when Brian Eno was with them and there were some serious makeup jobs on a few of them that’s for sure, never mind the suits!
Another thing that shocked me was the fact that this was the first thing she had actually given an opinion on with regards to what I was doing. Up until then, she’d shown little or no interest in my schooling, the subjects, marks or my reports. Why the sudden interest when legally, I was allowed to leave home, get a job and be my own man or woman for that matter?
(Keep feeling) Fascination
The next thing I was wrong about was the girls just giving up on me.
It was a few days later when Mandy, Lisa, Caroline and Julie turned up mob-handed to drag me out with them. Mum answered the door and was shocked to see that there were four girls asking me to come out with them.
Boy was that a shock (for both of us).
I didn’t feel that it was necessary to point out that I wasn’t having a relationship with any of them (more’s the pity) and just like Mandy and I at school; that was just a detail. Mum could believe what she wanted to believe.
Meanwhile, it deflected the anger that mum was still harbouring to some degree over my returning with makeup on last time I was with them because, how could a poof go out with four girls? She’s a dear mother, but can be a real simpleton sometimes.
It was with a look of wonder that mum watched me waltz off with my friends and I have to say, it felt good to be in their company again.
“We’ve got to stop off at my place, and then we’re all going to that café along Western Road, The Cordoba to play some pool and have coffees.” Mandy announced.
“Lead on!” I said grinning and the four girls looked at one another and giggled. I tried to ignore it, but once again, I was just one pathetic and skinny lad with four rapidly maturing females that frankly scared the bejezus out of me.
In no time, we had arrived at Mandy’s house and were ushered inside. I was grabbed and led to the bathroom. I didn’t even have time to react before the shower was turned on and I was told to get on my knees and lean over the bath.
Before you ask, yes I did try and resist, but in my defence, there wasn’t a lot of room and it was a four-to-one spilt, so the long and short of it was, I lost and was on my knees with my head over the side of the bath within seconds of my objection.
They weren’t too discriminate about the water, my t-shirt and sweatshirt soaked after a few moments amidst much giggling and yelping. I felt like I had been pushed through a car-wash by the time they’d finished and I was told to turn round. My wet things were roughly pulled off and hung up to dry while one of them towel-dried my hair.
“You’ve got lovely hair.” said Lisa and for the first time, I felt proud to get the compliment although, with everything else that was happening, I wondered how much sincerity there was there.
After much patting and rubbing of my hair, I was led to the bedroom and sat down on Mandy’s computer chair in front of the vanity.
“We’re really sorry about the other day.” said Mandy. The others chorused in with a murmur of affirmation. “And we feel really bad about you having to go home like you did.”
There were more affirmatives, but I was starting to see something here, bubbling as it was just below the surface and I had a strange feeling I probably wasn't going to like it.
“So we decided we needed to look after you.” said Lisa. I looked up into the mirror before me, to see Lisa standing just behind my right shoulder. The look she gave me could have melted my heart right there and then, in fact it did. “So do you trust us?”
“Oh God!” I thought as a resounding “NO!” crashed like an ICBM into my conscious thoughts, but I was looking at Lisa’s face and any resolve that may have been present disappeared with a ‘ping’ like it had been zapped by a magic wand. “Yes.” I said in a small voice, thinking that I trusted her, but I wasn’t sure about the others.
It was like letting off a firework. The stillness was broken by the four girls going into overdrive, each moving in a different direction, each with an agenda and all moving together like the cogs of a well maintained precision instrument. This one, swift movement culminated in the covering of the mirror and then all hell broke loose.
The next stage rushed at me like a herd of stampeding bison as Lisa began applying makeup.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I started, backing away as far as the seat back would allow.
“Shh. You trust us, right?”
“Well…”
“I promise I won’t let anything bad happen okay?” she said and kissed me lightly, her lips barely touching mine, but the feeling was like being hit in the stomach with an out of control truck.
I was trembling like a leaf, but I let her carry on and Caroline started brushing out my hair, sectioning it off and putting it in rollers. I was just a complete mess inside and was about to turn completely to jelly when Mandy returned from wherever she’d been along with Julie with a whole host of clothes, none of which matched my gender.
Now with my eyes closed and Lisa being oh-so-gentle with the pencil, I succumbed to what was inevitable. Even though I knew what was about to happen, frankly with the feeling of the pampering I was getting, I didn’t care.
My hair completely rolled, I was told to raise my hands, which I did almost in a dreamlike state and felt a very strange sensation of something been draped over my arms and fastened about my chest. I can’t say I didn’t know what it was or what was going on, because that wasn’t true. After the makeup session, I was intrigued as they were as to what I would look like and was content to go with the flow. The fact that four pairs of very feminine hands were brushing, touching and just being on my body probably swung it.
I felt some things being shoved down the front of the bra and then my hands were raised again and a very soft, silky garment was dropped over my head and buttons were fastened when it was in place.
“You’re going to have to do this last bit.” I was told. I opened my eyes to see all four girls turned away, one holding a pair of cotton knickers in pale lavender with a tiny bow in the front on the waistband and one holding a plain black pleated skirt. I understood what was expected and dropped my trousers and briefs, stepped out of them and took the proffered underwear.
I have to say, that women get the better deal in the undies department. I know they’re not supporting anything, but the construction is lighter, the material softer, more gentle and well, much more comfortable than the crappy things I was expected to wear.
I stepped into them and pulled them up, marvelling at the feeling, partly because I knew they were girl’s undies and partly because I liked the feeling. Then I stepped into the skirt, zipping it up and turning it round as I had seen mum do thousands of times before.
“Are you done yet?” asked Mandy.
“Just about, I said smiling ruefully. They turned round and although that part wasn’t choreographed, I have to say that it couldn’t have been done better in a film. They all turned at about the same time and their jaws dropped one at a time from right to left as they looked at me, standing in a skirt and whatever else and a silly grin. Oh, don’t forget the curlers.
“Right, sit yourself down.” said Caroline, patting the seat in front of her and when I had plopped back down in the chair, she started to take out the curlers one by one, teasing the hair gently with the tail of the comb.
I lifted an arm to see the blouse I was wearing and although it wasn’t particularly showy, it felt gorgeous and I could feel the butterflies starting to do their own version of Riverdance in my stomach at the anticipation of the final outcome. The last thing was a pair of low-heeled sandals that fortunately fitted quite comfortably.
I didn’t have long to wait either as with two girls on either side of the mirror and to the count of “one… two… three…” the cover was removed from the mirror and I gasped.
“Holy…” I cried, finding it hard to take my eyes from the reflection of the teenage girl that was staring back at me. I rose slowly, smoothing the front of the skirt as I did and turned equally slowly, looking at myself from every conceivable angle.
The girls were nudging one another as they looked at me, my eyes nearly out on stalks.
“You like?”
“I-I don’t know w-what to say.” I stammered. My mind was in warp-drive as I felt the material of the skirt touching my legs like a whisper. I liked alright. I could see Lisa standing just behind them all and when I caught her eye, she looked down, demurely. That feeling of being hit by a truck resurfaced and I had to sit back down.
I got my breath back, got up and walked straight up to her. I looked her in the eye and whispered “Do YOU like?” She blushed and I could tell without her saying anything what the answer was.
Club Tropicana (The Cordoba)
I was caught up in a whole range of emotions, the most overpowering on was the feeling of Lisa’s touch. I got the collywobbles just thinking about it and I think the silly grin was fast becoming a permanent fixture.
I sat waiting for the next thing to happen, my brain somewhere in outer space I think. I had completely forgotten the bit about going out into the big, bad, very wide world and was preoccupied with the feeling of the blouse, the skirt and the knickers.
I don’t know or care how long I had sat there, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mandy announced that we were now going to the Cordoba.
“What?” I almost screamed.
“That’s what we said, remember? Now come on or we’ll be late.”
“Late?” I thought. Were we meeting others there or something?
“I-I don’t know if I c-can d-do this.” I said, suddenly turning very green. I couldn’t see the colour change, but I felt like I was just a moment away from actually being sick, so I think it’s a fair assumption.
“Yes you can.” said Mandy as usual, taking charge of the situation.
I wasn’t so sure. I mean, okay, I liked the way I looked, how I felt, but for over sixteen years, I had been Paul. Now I suppose I was Paula or Pauline, which was a complete departure from what I was used to.
Lisa came and put her arm round me and gave me a hug. I wished that we could have just stayed there while I cuddled Lisa. I think that would have been infinitely more preferable to wandering around town in a skirt for the first time in my life.
Once again, I found myself outnumbered and it was only because of Lisa that I found the courage to go with them.
I have to say though that Mandy was starting to worry me and had been from the first time I had seen her looking at me. I don’t know what it was or is that I find bothersome, but there’s something there and I have had the impression on numerous occasions that she is working to an agenda I know nothing about.
The trip to the Cordoba wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. I walked close to Lisa and no-one even gave me a second look.
We were in there for about half an hour I suppose when some boys came into the little café. I recognised Greg Bridger and one or two others, but I didn’t know their names. The rest I didn’t know. I guess they were like the girls and went to different schools.
I knew that if Greg Bridger saw me, I was dead. My life at school would be over, if I got to live that long. I immediately found the toilets and nearly went into the gents rather than the ladies. I was in there for about twenty minutes before anyone knew I was even missing.
I expect that it was just a coincidence, but I thought I saw a look on Mandy’s face when the boys came in and it didn’t look as though she was particularly shocked by their arrival.
It was Lisa that found me.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her face showing concern.
“No,” I sniffed. “I know some of those boys that came in. Are they still out there?”
“Yes. You know them?”
“One of them is Greg Bridger. He’s friends with one of the boys at school that like to make my life a living hell.”
Lisa thought for a moment.
“We can get you out of here. You’re not feeling good right?”
“Not now, no.”
“Well just rest your head on my shoulder and we’ll walk out. They won’t even see who you are and they stop us, we’ll just say you’re not well and I’m taking you home.”
It was so simple, it had to work.
I tucked my head into Lisa’s shoulder and I could smell her perfume, I couldn’t help but plant a kiss on her neck. She was reaching for the door when I did it and she froze. I looked up at her. There was a look on her face I couldn’t read and she pushed me back slightly. I wondered whether I had done something bad, something that would leave me on my own again to deal with a situation that I really didn’t need to be in.
She took my face in her hands and drew me closer, planting her lips on mine. I could feel her tongue against my lips and opened my mouth for her to let it slip inside. Within seconds, we were wrapped in a very passionate kiss that left me breathless and weak at the knees to say the very least.
We broke apart and assumed the position again to get me out of there.
Walking at a slow but steady pace, my weak knees just adding to the effect and we left, passing the pool table. Mandy and Julie were talking with the boys that had come in, while Caroline was sat on the edge of the pool table, her legs wrapped around one of the boys. I think that given a little more prompting she’d have been prepared to have sex there and then. As I said, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. They didn’t notice us until we walked past the window outside and along the road.
There was a shout from behind and still arm in arm, my head against Lisa’s neck, we stopped.
“Where are you going?” asked Julie.
“Do you know who those boys are?” asked Lisa.
“Yeah, they’re friends of Mandy’s I think.” she answered. Lisa looked at me and nodded. She pursed her lips and nodded again.
“She knew they’d be there then?” It was more rhetorical than a question.
“Dunno,” said Julie shrugging. “They’re in there most afternoons.”
Lisa nodded again. “See ya.” she said, turned around and we carried on up the road.
“Hey! Just a fucking minute. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Those are the boys who have been giving Paul grief. Mandy must have known that. She set him up.”
“You don’t know that.” said Julie defensively, although her defence seemed to lack conviction. “Oh shit. Wait a minute.”
We hung around for a few moments before Julie reappeared complete with jacket and the three of us walked back towards my house. I didn’t know what I was going to say to mum, but I needed to understand what was happening to me and I needed her to understand that too.
We got to the front door and I asked if they wanted to come in for a drink.
“We’d better not.” said Lisa and we kissed again before she and Julie disappeared up the lane and out of sight.
My heart sank. I knew that thanks to me, the quintet was now down to a quartet and I wasn’t overly sure about that. I was in tears as I opened the front door and ran upstairs to my room. I didn’t care whether mum saw me like this or not. All I cared about was the fact that my one friend at school turned out to be an enemy or at best, someone I could no longer trust any further than I could spit.
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Paul's mum is not impressed by his new look...
More thanks to Kristina L S for her help.
Chapter 2
All cried out
I didn’t know whether mum was in or out. I didn’t care. I was sobbing like a little girl, looked like a little girl and wasn’t sure I wasn’t really supposed to be a little girl.
I had apparently been tricked and by someone with whom trickery of this nature should not have been an issue. Perhaps I was being overly sensitive to all this, but all I knew right now was that I wouldn’t piss in Mandy’s ear if her brain were on fire. In the heat of the moment, there were one or two other things I wouldn’t have minded subjecting her to either.
I locked myself in the bedroom and basically bawled my eyes out. For about half an hour, I cried and cried and then I cried some more.
During this, I contemplated all sorts of dark things, not least of which was an end to all this. I was just so angry and upset by a litany of bad events for the last, well years really. I wanted it to stop and one way to do that was to end it once and for all.
On my bed and through the copious flow of tears, I tried to fathom how my life had got this far into the mire. I knew that my size was part of the problem, but there was little I could do about that and it scared me that my first sojourn into feminine attire had made me feel something I had never felt before, something that in amongst the angst and turbulence, felt right.
Through the snivels and sobs, I tried to come to terms with the fact that I liked being one of the girls; I liked playing their games, well, not the ones that Mandy appeared to be playing, but the dressing up and the makeup. I even caught myself thinking that I had wasted so much time NOT joining in with the dressing up before, but then I wasn’t given the opportunity before.
I went back to the beginning, to where the brown pungent matter started hitting the air conditioning…
The issues at school began about half way through the last school year, but then I already knew that part. The disquiet at home started before that, long before that; before I started at senior school, so I guess that would have made me about ten.
Mum had found this guy out of whose arse, she thought the sun shone and after a whirlwind romance, they became an item getting married shortly after. Soon I was a big brother when Phil was born. Roger (the man with the shining bum and now my step-father) was over the moon, or so it seemed.
All was going well. I would help with looking after my young sibling and by the time he was about eighteen months, I was going to be a big brother to yet another sibling when Terry arrived.
By now, I had started at a secondary school and had gone from a small primary with no more than a hundred and twenty students, to a huge school that had ten times that number. The classes were twice the size and for the longest time I felt lost as I was one of the only pupils from my old junior school, the rest having gone to another school which I had to thank my lucky stars I didn’t go to.
Anyhow, about half way through the first year there, I got sent home (much to the schools administrator’s disgust), to help mum. I was worried as I had no idea what had happened, but when I arrived, I found mum had slipped a disc in her back and was lying prostrate on the sofa. Phil was about two and Terry was only six months, needing almost constant attention, something mum couldn’t give.
I became a surrogate mother for the next month, doing everything from feeding to changing nappies, cooking, cleaning and some light shopping from the shop down the road.
Mum and Roger argued almost constantly. I knew she was in pain and he wouldn’t accept any responsibility. She almost pleaded with him to help, but that was too much for his fragile, macho ego to cope with and he point blankly refused.
Mum argued that the house should not be being run by an eleven year-old, but he just laughed and said that it should be right up my street. I didn’t understand, largely because I couldn’t hear everything that was said and in some cases I felt that I had already heard too much, but I didn’t understand what he implied.
Mum was in tears, shouting at Roger and I could only make out certain things that were being said as their arguing had woken Terry, who was now screaming blue murder and Phil wasn’t far behind. I had to close the kitchen door and spent the next however long trying to calm the two boys.
The upshot was that mum had asked Roger what he thought would have happened had I not been there. What did he think she was going to be able to do without being able to walk, even sit up?
Roger stormed out, slamming doors and swearing, undoing all I had done to calm my brothers and starting them off again. That coupled with mum’s sobbing from next door was all I needed to make that afternoon a most memorable occasion.
From that point forth, Roger treated me differently. I tried not to read too much into things, but I got the distinct impression that he was jealous. I wasn’t particularly mature (I wasn’t old or wise enough yet) and didn’t know much about human emotions, but jealousy was one of the more powerful and I had seen that a-plenty in kids. It was confusing to see it from a fully-grown adult.
That started everything off. From then on, mum was different too. Roger had accused her of favouring me over ‘their’ children and mum, ever the peacekeeper, tried to even the score by showing me less affection, her thinking being that I was obviously mature enough to understand what was going on and more pointedly, why.
But I wasn’t. I had been put under a lot of pressure to keep things together over that month and at the end of it all, I felt like I was being cast aside by the one person I felt should have been there for me.
Over the years, this ‘he’s your favourite’ was a regular in their arguments and mum’s outward displays of affection towards me became less and less. I got the feeling that I had done something somewhere down the line that was pushing her away, but every time I tried to get close, it was always the wrong time, there was always something else to do; something more important.
I had reached the stage where I knew the little boy was going away, but I didn’t know what was coming. I was sure that I was supposed to grow to be a larger boy then on to a man, but every time I looked at myself, that’s not what I saw. To be honest, even if I was some big strapping lad, I don’t think that’s what I would have seen.
Meanwhile, I had a more immediate problem to deal with…
Mum was banging on my door, demanding entry. That’s mum, subtle as a brick to the soft bits. I wondered whether changing was a good plan, but considered the amount of makeup that was abseiling down my face and decided against it.
“Good God!” she exclaimed as I stood in the doorway in skirt, blouse, training bra, sandals and eyes like Alice Cooper on a bad night (again). “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
I didn’t know.
Was this playing? I guess not.
Was I serious about being a girl? I didn’t know that either.
“I-I’m sorry m-mum.” I stammered not really knowing what to say.
“So you bloody-well should be. What are the neighbours going to think seeing you coming and going in all this… this… stuff?” she continued angrily.
Good point, but then I didn’t suppose that the neighbours had gender issues. I just shrugged and looked at my toes poking out through the straps of the sandals and wondered what they’d look like with polish.
“Perhaps Roger was right about you. Bloody poof!” she spat and turned to walk away. To my horror, she wasn’t alone. Lisa was there behind her and up to this point in our ‘discussion’ was keeping mum (sorry, couldn’t resist).
“Hey, that’s a bit unfair. It was just a bit of fun that got out of hand.” she said. My God, if she wanted me to fall in love with her, she was going the right way about it. I’d never had anyone stand up for me before.
“What’s it got to do with you? You don’t know anything.”
“I know a lot more than you do by the looks of things.” she retorted hotly.
Foxy bitch! I was getting hot flushes just thinking about her and I wrapped in each others arms kissing like we were in the café. This was just making me tremble all over; at least I think it was that that was making me tremble. Fear may have had something to do with it though.
“I think you should leave. I see that my SON has problems with his choice of friends and I don’t think you’re actually a particularly good influence on him. I’d prefer it if you left.”
I could see Lisa’s eyes flash anger then start to fill and my own were going the same way.
“No!” I shouted. “Stay here, I think I need you to be here. Please Lisa?”
“I’m not going to ask you again Lisa. Just get out of my house!”
Lisa turned and with a slight sniff, she descended the stairs and disappeared.
I dropped to the bed like a stone. My stomach felt queasy and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to withhold the next bout of tears. Mum turned to me.
“Get out of that ridiculous costume immediately and wash that crap off your face.” she snarled and walked away, leaving me with tears rolling down my face, a knot the size of Europe in my stomach and a feeling I can only describe as loathing forming in my head.
Say hello wave goodbye
Once I had calmed down, changed into my own clothes and cleaned the makeup from my face (which incidentally, if camouflage ever becomes popular, this is a good way of getting it, though I can’t say I would recommend the methods), I went to face the music.
“Ah. I have a SON again.” said mum, a note of sarcasm in her voice. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“I don’t know why you bothered. You never take any interest in anything else I do.”
“How dare you? Don’t speak to me like that. I’m your mother, show some respect.”
“Why? You’re not showing me any. Talking to ME like that in front of my friend, never mind the way you spoke to her.”
I didn’t know where that came from. Had I suddenly discovered courage?
No.
It wasn’t courage, it was frustration.
I had had enough of her treating me like I wasn’t there most of the time and not having time for me when I needed it and… All those things I had tried to tell myself were just part of being a parent and then trying to find excuses for when she’d sit either of the brats on her knee and talk them through something. I hadn’t had time like that with her since I was eleven.
“This is MY house and while you’re in MY house, you’ll obey MY rules.” she said with that holier than thou look on her face.
“So I’m not allowed to see Lisa, I’m not allowed to have fun with my friends unless you like them. Is there anything I can do, or is that asking too much?”
“Yes, you can go to your room. I’m fed up with you talking back like that.”
“Talking back? I only asked a question.”
“Roger was right. It would have been so much better had he not had to compete with you all the time.”
Well that was it for me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was at my wits end and didn’t know what to do for the better. I just wanted to get away, to run and hide somewhere and not come out again. Roger had NEVER had to compete as it was made clear very early on where my place was and it NEVER came above HIM.
I went to my room and spent about thirty microseconds weighing up my options. With a few things packed in a rucksack, I waited until mum went into the bathroom, then legged it downstairs and out.
The feeling or relief when I got to the outside world again was tremendous. I had no idea where I was going, but I was sure I’d think of something.
I ended up some three hours later at my Uncle Ray’s house. He was cool. He liked making model aeroplanes and had a ‘young’ outlook on life. His woman and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but he was alright.
He opened the door and the floodgates opened. I was bawling my eyes out yet again and even I was shocked at the amount of emotion that had come out that day.
He just stood there in a state of shock, wondering what the hell was going on.
“I’ve run away from home.” I blurted. “Please let me stay here, please.” That didn’t reduce the look of incomprehension on his face at all. By then Lily, his other half had come to see what all the fuss was about.
Ray asked Lily to leave me with him for a few minutes and he led me into their lounge. I sat, my rucksack clutched to me on my lap, my head just about poking over the top.
“What do you mean you’ve left home?”
“Well I had a big argument with mum and snuck out while she wasn’t looking.”
“You’ve obviously given this some thought.” he said a wry smile playing on his lips.
“Er, not really. I just couldn’t stay there any more.”
Lily arrived with tea.
(Tea: a hot or cold drink that is viewed in England as an elixir. It is reputed to cure what ails ye. For example: Mrs Jones’ cat dies and the next door neighbour says “come and ‘ave a nice cup of tea luv” and magically, the once distraught Mrs Jones is once more back to normal. Or Mr Smith loses his job and Mrs Smith says “come and ‘ave a nice cup of tea luv” and suddenly everything’s alright again)
The three of us went through home, the bullying, the time in bandages, the first makeup job and then the café, culminating in the row with mum and hers with Lisa.
“I’m just about all in with this. Whatever I do it’s wrong. I can’t see my friends and now they’re not allowed to see me either, well not at home. They’re not even bad people. I thought the best thing to do was to end it all. I don’t fit and I don’t know whether I’m a boy or a girl…” I stopped there as two jaws hit the deck at the same time. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Er, yes. I’m not sure what you mean by that.” said Ray, looking a little embarrassed.
The truth was out and I felt strangely relieved at the fact. Oddly, they were shocked, but I had imagined them backing away, trying to get as far from me as possible in case they caught it too.
“Well actually, exactly that. I don’t, I mean, look at me. I’m sixteen going on seventeen and I look like I’m about twelve.”
“I was going to say thirteen actually.” said Lily.
“Well, whatever age, that doesn’t mean you should be a girl. Whatever gave you that idea.” said Ray.
“I only have two or three ‘friends’ and they’re all girls. Lisa is my girlfriend — sort of — and they dressed me up today, makeup, the works. It felt great, I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.”
Ray and Lily looked at one another and I could feel that depression looming once again. I knew they were going to tell me I was being ridiculous and didn’t know what I was talking about. Perhaps they WERE going to back away from me, but I was surprised when Lily came to me, prised the rucksack from my grasp and drew me to her in one of the nicest hugs I’ve had (apart from Lisa).
“It’ll be alright.” she whispered. “Do you want us to tell your mum you’re here?”
“Do you have to?” I asked, hanging on to her for grim death, envisaging an angry parent trying to bash their door down in the middle of the night.
“Not really I suppose, but it might be wise. She might have the police out looking for you. At least if she knows where you are…”
I didn’t want to tell Lily that I thought the police part unlikely as I always seemed to be in the way, but I didn’t want mum to know where I was. I wanted her to sweat. I wanted her to wonder about what she had said and what she’d done and to think about what she had put me through.
“I don’t know. I mean, if she knows I’m here, she’ll give you hell. I’m just afraid of what she’d do.”
“Why? She’s never hit you before has she? She certainly won’t do anything like that here.”
“Just because she doesn’t hit, doesn’t mean it’s not painful. I’ve had the non-hitting abuse for the last five years and I don’t want any more.”
“I see. You’re serious about this aren’t you?”
“I think I am, yes. Very.”
“What about school?”
“I could walk from here. It’s closer than mum’s anyway. I don’t want to miss the exams.”
Ray and Lily left the room. They stood out in the hall and I was ready for them to send me back on my way, asking not to be involved.
To be precise, Ray’s not my real uncle. He’s the son of my grandfather’s second wife from her former marriage. He’s closer to me than most of my relations and has always made me welcome. I don’t know why Lily should suddenly have changed her tune, but I couldn’t say I was unhappy about it.
I could hear them talking in the hallway.
“I’ve seen this coming for ages.” said Lily. “I think he’s very brave.”
“Yeah, I know, but he’s Sarah’s kid. I don’t know that we should be getting involved.”
“Oh come on. He’s been branded a queer and a sissy. He’s had to put up with abuse at home, bullying at school, been to hospital for that very reason and I can’t see that Sarah’s cutting him any slack. You know what I think about her. I think she’s only interested in one thing and it isn’t Paul.”
There was quiet for a few moments then Ray came back into the lounge.
“Okay sport. You can stay here, but only on one condition…” said Ray.
“Conditions be hanged.” I thought and rushed him, throwing my arms round him and hugging him soundly. To say he looked embarrassed would be a crass understatement. He was beet-red and didn’t know where to put his face.
“Thank you so much Ray and you too Lily.” I said, going to her and hugging her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Ray coughed, uncomfortable with the open displays of affection. “Yes, well… One condition. You must attend school until your exams and everything are over. Is that clear?”
“Crystal!” I said.
“Good. We’ll deal with the other things as they come up.”
Lifeline
Ray and Lily had handed me a lifeline. I was given my own room and the atmosphere was really pleasant. Ray helped with my studying and often it would bring tears to my eyes, the fact that I wasn’t related to him and yet, he went out of his way to be a good and helpful person.
Lily too was a revelation. I had never got on with her too well, I don’t know why, but perhaps mum had something to do with that. She made it plain to Ray what she thought about mum and I think that my development into a person and not an extension of her made a difference.
Lily was patient and we would often sit and talk. She wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she had a degree in psychology and understood the issues regarding transgendered people, a subject which was becoming more widespread. I suppose I was a brilliant opportunity to study one in the flesh. She would write things down as we spoke and I was surprised how much.
I was happy to talk, as things became clearer in my mind after I’d chatted with her and each time I felt I was closer to becoming what I was supposed to become, although I still wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be. Nevertheless, I was getting comfortable with what I currently was.
I missed the girls though and most of all, I missed Lisa. I know we had only known each other for a short while, but there was a connection there I didn’t want to lose and I was sure that if we could get together again, I would have a friend, I mean a real friend if not more.
I didn’t miss mum. I know ‘blood’s thicker than water’ and all that, but as one of my friends once said, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family” and I can’t say I disagree.
Similarly, they couldn’t choose me either, so I can’t be disappointed with them for being disappointed with me. I can however be upset with the treatment and since I’d been out of that house, I was less stressed than ever before.
Ray and Lily had to ring mum and tell her where I was, but apparently she showed no emotion until Lily said that they ought to get something financially to keep me with.
“If he wants to live with you (though I can’t see why he would) he’ll have to pay his own way. There’s a perfectly good home here for him here if he stops all this queer business and gets himself some proper friends. I’m not having him wandering around in skirts and dresses. The next thing I know, he’ll want to bring his boyfriends home. What would the neighbours say? I’ll be a laughing stock.”
“You can’t make demands like that.” argued Lily.
“I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s my house and I’m not having my son acting like a girl, making a fool of himself with those girls he calls his friends dressing him up and that’s final. You want him; you have him, but I’m not paying for it.”
“Fine! We will. If that’s what it takes to get him away from you.” said Lily angrily, slamming the phone down.
I ran to my room. Lily was shaking and in tears and I didn’t think I should hang around.
It was quite a shock to hear (afterwards) what mum had to say and the fact that Ray and Lily were prepared to pick up the mantle of mum and dad. The thought of me calling Ray ‘dad’ was very funny indeed, but so sweet too since I never knew my dad, but Ray said that under no circumstances was I ever to do so. I could happily call Lily mum, but I don’t think she’d have liked it much either.
The school holiday was over all too quickly and I went back to face a whole heap of exams. I had to do well if I wanted to go to college and learn a trade or maybe go to university, but that was all in the future. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring let alone what I wanted to do for a living.
I took a deep breath and walked through the gate.
It was a very strange feeling walking into school after the break. We had few lessons and most of those were revision classes to help us through the examinations. I felt relaxed and ready which surprised me. I was expecting to feel as tense as an over-wound clock, but no. Maybe it was moving out of home and the tension that released.
I was half expecting to run into the girls, but the only one would have been Mandy. I wasn’t sure I wanted to run into her, but somehow, the time that passed between the café and now, had relaxed what had initially been a rage towards her.
I was now just curious to know what on earth possessed her to make a date at that café, but I knew for sure the relationship would never be the same as it was and would not deepen as I thought or hoped it might.
I did see her that first day, but she ignored me and judging by the look on her face, I figured that it was just as well we didn’t meet face to face. I’d calmed, but it didn’t look as though she had.
Lunch was another place we passed like ships in the night and although I tried my best to avoid her, I would have had more luck sweeping air into a heap.
Confrontation was inevitable and as much as I had feared it before, now I was becoming more relaxed with myself thanks to Ray and Lily I just thought “ho-hum” and couldn’t wait to get it over with. I don’t know for sure, but I think Lily was for me like a cerebral Valium. I just couldn’t be bothered to get worked up about it.
It was sad that Mandy didn’t feel the same way. I could sense that each time she saw me she was getting more and more agitated. It was visible in her body language, visible in the look on her face. I just shook my head and wondered how long it would take for her to develop ulcers with that much stress going on.
I predicted the confrontation wouldn’t take long to come to pass and I was right. It actually only took a couple of days for her to get round to it. I didn’t know either whether it would take place in the school or outside. She chose outside.
“What did you say to Julie and Lisa?” she demanded. She had that lop-sided stance of someone that was ready to fight.
“Why?” Just a single word reply and no stress on my part was all it took to diffuse the situation. I think her belligerence was expected to get me to curl up and beg for forgiveness.
“I haven’t seen or heard from them.”
“Why do you think that would have anything to do with me? They were your friends.”
The balling of the fists and the almost pursed lips made it look as though her thought processes were working overtime. I could see that she was just looking for something, anything to blame me for, but couldn’t. She ended up walking away with no joy.
I smiled inwardly and thanked Ray and Lily for their advice, as normally any form of confrontation ended in bruising, but this time (alright it was a girl I was confronted by), I walked away with nothing and the aggressor got nothing either.
I knew it wasn’t over though. I knew that there was more to come and it was probably going to end up in a cat fight.
That night as I sat on my bed, I thought about THAT day (the one at the café); the feeling of being dressed in the skirt… well everything really. I went to my chest of drawers and drew out the outfit. I treated it with reverence and still do. It doesn’t fit now, but I still have it. Anyway, I got it out of its safe place at the back of a deep drawer, tucked away in a stout polythene bag. I made sure the door was shut and disrobed then put on the bra, the knickers and then the blouse, pulling the skirt up last of all.
I looked in the vanity mirror and twirled this way and that, taking in the incomplete, but still girlish image that returned my gaze. I could feel the skirt as it swished against my legs, the feeling of the bra, like a harness to keep the girl in me in place and the soft, light underwear. The finishing touch was the footwear; the sandals that felt so nice, not like sandals that boys wear at all, like shoes with no uppers. It’s hard to put my finger on, but when I looked at myself, it felt so freeing.
I stayed in my room all evening, not taking the outfit off until bed time and even then, it could be viewed that I only did it under duress.
I was feeling so much better that I didn’t even flinch when I was confronted by Fuller and Bridger. I just didn’t care anymore and they must have known as all I got was the knocking of shoulders as they walked past trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t playing anymore. I was starting to feel empowered and all it took was a change of attitude and perhaps the new living arrangements.
Ray wasn’t a big bloke and I guess he’d had to take his turn with the big bullies too in his time, but he had worked out a way of deflecting the situation. It was so simple but one of those things that if you don’t know about it, you’d never know and now I knew. True, it didn’t work in all cases, but it did enough to get me through the exams without a scratch.
The whole week went past and although I could see that Mandy was just bursting to have another go, nothing actually happened. I was sad. It was like having something hanging over me that I didn’t want there. I also didn’t want the friction between Mandy and I. I had too few friends already.
Lily invited me to go shopping that weekend and I jumped at the chance.
We weren’t going for me, but Lily wanted to get some things and I was surprised that she asked my opinion. I enjoyed it.
She would go and try something on and then come out of the cubicle and pose. I’d give my opinion and she’d either smile or frown, but it was all done with a smile really. It didn’t even bother me that I was a boy, in fact, I never gave it a thought until we got home and realised that what I’d done today was very typically girlish and again my ‘up’ came down with a thud.
I didn’t get depressed though because while we were out, I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen since the day at the café: Caroline.
I made my excuses and left Lily for a few moments to catch up with Caroline and once I had scanned the horizon for incoming Bridger’s, we settle to chat.
“You left so quickly.” she said of my departure from the café.
“Yeah, well.” I said blushing slightly. “I had good reason. The boy you were wrapped up in wasn’t exactly friendly towards me and I felt it best to get out of his way.” I said, underplaying the reasoning.
“I know what you mean.” she replied. “I chucked him the day after. He was such a moron. He looked nice until he opened his mouth. I felt really bad, but that was the only reason I wanted Mandy to go to the Cordoba, so I could see him.”
Well now that was revelation.
We had all jumped to conclusions about that day and now Caroline had just made Julie, Lisa and I look like complete weasels. I felt so bad about Mandy. She had been blamed for everything. I wondered whether she could ever forgive me.
Back at school on Monday and even at the risk of being late, I waited for Mandy at the school gate. I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to, to explain where everything had gone wrong, why I thought that Julie and Lisa had given her the brush-off and why I didn’t want to not be friends with her.
I didn’t have long to wait and at first she tried her level best to ignore me, those shrewish looks and the undeniable belligerence, written all over her face.
“Mandy! Wait!” I shouted. “What’s happening with Julie and Lisa: It’s not your fault.” I said. All three of us had jumped to conclusions, but all three of us weren’t there anymore, it was just me. If I wanted to get this mess cleared up, I knew it was going to have to be me who made the first move.
She stopped and turned slowly, her face like thunder.
“I, I mean, ‘we’, that is Julie, Lisa and I, jumped to conclusions after the café.” I said; ready to take anything she could throw at me. “I saw Caroline on Saturday and well, it all came out in the open. We thought it was your idea to go to the Cordoba and now I find out that it wasn’t.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry?” I said, my face turning beet red with the embarrassment of thinking that I had been instrumental in putting her though the mill. “I don’t expect you to accept it, much less forgive me, but what can I say? I’m really sorry. REALLY sorry.”
“Huh!” she said and went on her way.
I stood there, having poured my heart into those few words and was left there to stew. It could have been worse I suppose. She could have hit me or given me a mouthful of abuse, but instead, she just went “huh!” and left me to it. How was I supposed to deal with that?
I felt bad for the rest of the day, trying to hide in the shadows, keep myself to myself and not to think about what I had done to someone who was only trying to include me when she could easily have just left me to my own devices. I owed her a lot and I had stuffed it down the toilet like so much tissue paper.
Back at home (yes, I was now thinking of Ray and Lily’s as my home), I couldn’t think straight. I was more confused now than I have ever been, but this time, I was confused about what to do about someone else. I wanted Mandy to like me, wanted her to be my friend and include me in her life, so I could include her in mine, but now it looked as though that was over and I had to move on.
I spoke to Lily about it.
“If she wants to come back, she will. I think she will, but I don’t know that. You’ll have to wait and see. Don’t try and force it though.” she advised.
I suppose that was the right thing to do, but as with all teenagers, I didn’t want to take forever, I wanted it to be okay now!
Meanwhile, we got back to the matter at hand, which was me and my problems, deciding which side of the fence I was supposed to be on.
Strange little girl
The next day, I waited for Mandy again at the school gates.
When she arrived, she looked a lot less harsh. Was I starting to come off of her ‘ten most hated’ list?
I hoped so.
According to Lily, there was likely to be a time of suffering.
“What’s that?” I asked.
It turned out to be the time (indeterminate in length) that a person who has been scorned, makes the scorner suffer. The length of this suffering is directly proportional or not, to the amount of scorn that was suffered. In some cases, the penance or suffering the scorner has to endure, far outweighs the scorn inflicted.
“Harsh.” I said.
“Then so was what you, Julie and Lisa did. You know you may end up suffering for all three of you, don’t you?”
“Ouch!” I thought as I slowly climbed the stairs to my room.
To calm myself, I decided to indulge myself and changed, once again pulling the outfit from it place in the drawer in its bag and dressed, taking out a magazine and lying on my stomach on the bed, my head propped up on my hands and the magazine in front of me on the pillow.
I wasn’t paying attention when the knock came on my door.
“You decent?”
“Yeah.” I said automatically without looking up and in walked Ray.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is Paul in the loo?” he said. I turned my head, realising that I wasn’t quite what he expected to find and it took a few seconds for the penny to drop. When it did, I don’t know who was more embarrassed: him or me.
I kind of shrieked I think would be the best way to describe the noise that came out of my mouth and rolled off the bed away from the door, landing unceremoniously in a heap by the other side of the bed.
Ray turned and tried to flee when he heard something that possibly sounded like the war-cry of Xena, Warrior Princess, but turned the wrong way and hit the door. He reached for the door-knob, yanked the door and hit himself with it again. His nose was extremely tender after that for about a week.
I wasn’t flavour of the month.
I put my own clothes back on, went to apologise and when I got to the lounge, I could hear Lily sniggering as Ray was recounting the sight he saw laying on my bed when he entered the bedroom.
“It’s not funny Lil, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Oh, come on. Surely it’s up to him; I mean it’s HIS room after all.”
“It’s my house though.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry. It’s OUR house. I didn’t even realise it was him. Nothing said bloke-in-frock, my brain just read girl.”
I felt a surge of pride I think it was. Whatever, I was bloody pleased since it was what I wanted to believe.
I knocked on the lounge door and the talking stopped.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” said Lily.
When I got in there, Ray looked a little hurt and Lily still had a smirk.
“I’m sorry Ray.”
“No, my fault.”
“Well, okay. You can argue if you want, but if I was dressed like this, nothing would have happened would it?”
“He’s got a point.” said Lily, the smirk getting bigger.
“I’m going to the shed for a while. I feel outnumbered here.” he said and giving me a fairly wide birth, he sidled out of the door, closing it behind him. Lily and I looked at one another and when we heard the door to the garden closing, we both burst out laughing.
“You changed.”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I thought I’d opt for the safer option.”
“Shame. I’d like to have seen you.”
“I can change back if you’d like.”
“Would you? Anything that can have that effect on Ray I’d like to see.”
I was back in minutes in my outfit.
“Oh my…” said Lily. “I see what he means.”
She sat there, an odd look on her face. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew it wasn’t bad. She kept asking me to turn this way and that and I was happy to oblige. Back out came the writing pad and more notes got scribbled. Looking back, I wonder why I never asked what she was going to do with all those notes, but I don’t know, perhaps I was too wrapped up with the effect that talking to someone was having on me.
“I’d like to take you to see a friend of mine.” she said at last. “But I need er, what do you call yourself when you’re like that? I mean Paul doesn’t fit, does it?”
“I’ve never really given it much thought. I just went with ‘her’, but I don’t know.”
“What about Paula or Pauline. They’re nice and close to your own name.” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I usually dress like this to forget about Paul. He has a really hard time, but I have fun. Well, I did until mum got stuck in. I like Suzanne, but do you think it fits?”
“I think it’s perfect!” she said beaming at me. “Do you think I could take Suzanne to see my friend?”
It was a done deal and I felt really nervous, but excited at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t think it would be bad and Lily would look after me.
Back at school and Mandy still hadn’t let me off the hook. I think she found it amusing to walk past and pointedly make me aware of the fact that she wasn’t talking to me. She’d stick her nose in the air and wander past, with this imperious look on her face. I could see she wasn’t angry and I would like to have seen a heading like Paul then Julie, then Lisa at the top so I could see where I was in the ‘suffering’. It hadn’t happened by Friday and I went home for the weekend wondering whether I was ever going to be forgiven.
Friday after school, Lily asked me for my outfit. I was loathed to let her have it as it wasn’t mine to give, but there was a look in her eye when she asked for it and curiosity made me give it to her. I know it sounds weird, but I thought I saw something else, lurking. Somehow I knew though, that it wasn’t being taken away from me as mum would probably have done.
“Please be careful, they’re not mine.” I said, sad to hand them over to anyone.
“I’ll be careful. Is that all of it?” she asked.
“Er, yes.” I lied.
“Where’s the bra? Come on, hand it over.”
“But it’s not even dirty.” I complained.
“All of it.” she said in a more commanding tone. I ran upstairs and brought it down. “You’ll like it better when it’s all clean and fresh.”
But I liked it as it was.
It had a smell about it, a sort of lingering fragrance that I would like to believe came from Lisa, but anyway, it reminded me of my first day. I was a very glum puppy after that.
Saturday afternoon we were to be going to this friend of Lily’s. I was supposed to be going as Suzanne and the closer it got, the more petrified I became. I knew I’d look good since everything would be clean and freshly ironed, but it didn’t take away from the fear that was building up in me.
Friday night was a nightmare, literally. I awoke sweating and breathless. I was chasing through darkened streets that I was familiar with, but wasn’t sure of. It was like being amidst the twists and turns of a ghost train at the fair only it was streets and roads near my school, my old home.
I was searching for something and whichever way I turned there popped a snarling Bridger, Fuller or an angry mother. Shrieks and moans accompanied the ghastly-lit effigies of my most feared foes and I can remember the image of my mother springing forth at the end of a dark alley, with a hideous, cackling laughter as thunder struck and lights flashed like lightening.
The further I went, the narrower the alleys became and more frequently the images appeared, popping up with fangs and teeth like saw blades. The faster I ran, the more my feet felt like I was running through treacle that got thicker and more viscous as I made my way through the maze of alleys and empty streets that just reeked of horror.
Then I caught a sight of a figure in the darkness, its silhouetted form just barely recognisable. Lisa.
I tried to shout, but my throat was dry from the running and nothing more than a hoarse rasp would come out. I ran and as hard as I tried, I only seemed to move at a snails pace, the figure in the background, getting further and further away.
I tried with one last-ditch effort to reach her. I could see her face, mournful and sad, her eyes empty and uncomprehending as I reached out to touch her when another effigy popped up, followed by a second and a third and within the blink of an eye, I was surrounded as Lisa’s form slid backwards into the many shadows.
“NO!” I shouted and sat up, the sweat beading on my forehead and the darkness I opened my eyes to strangely similar to that that had engulfed me in the dream.
The door opened and a soft padding moved across the short space between me and the door. My eyes were shut fast. “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me” was the dream logic that coursed through my brain and I gritted my teeth waiting for the inevitable. A hand touched my head and a voice, sweet and caring asked if I was okay.
It was Lily and I let go of the tension in one gasp that turned into sobbing, clutching her to me and hugging her tight as she whispered soothing sounds, rocking gently back and forth as I drifted back off to sleep.
I was nudged awake by Ray the next morning as he brought in a cup of tea. I blinked away the sleep and tried to recall the dream of last night. He sat beside me on the bed and looked concerned.
“You alright there sport?”
“Yeah, a big groggy is all.” I assured him. He ruffled my hair and I giggled.
“Well, drink that and come and have some breakfast. From what Lil’s told me, you’ve got a busy day ahead when she gets back.”
“Thanks Ray.” I said and sat up looking out over the garden through the open window.
Lily returned and called me into the kitchen. I was in jeans and sweatshirt and she looked my up and down critically.
“That won’t do. I need you smarter than that if we’re to make a good impression on Doctor Whaite this afternoon.”
“Doctor? You said your friend.”
“And she is. She just happens to be a doctor.”
“Oh. Like me and Mandy? She’s a girl and my friend (or she was), but not my girlfriend?”
“Hmm, something like that.” she said smiling. “Anyway, you’re going to have to get out of that and into something decent if you’re going to come with me.”
“But you took my clothes yesterday. Will they be dry?”
“No Paul, I took your friends clothes. These are yours.”
She handed me a carrier and I looked inside. There was a lot of stuff and immediately my eyes filled.
“I don’t know what to say.” I said, the tears starting to flow. “No-one’s ever done this for me before.”
“Then don’t say anything, well not until you have tried it on and like it. Now run along, we don’t have long.”
I was in my room in seconds, leaving rucked and scorched carpeting in my wake.
I sat on the bed and started to go through the clothing while it was still in the bag, but gave up and tipped it all out. There were small packs, large packs and little packs and I didn’t know where to start.
I fished out one of the little ones and opened it. It was a compact. Inside were about ten different colours of eye shadow and in another was some mascara. Another contained foundation and the last of the little ones, contained an assortment of bungees and clips for my hair.
The middle-sized packages contained a five pack of knickers. Noting exotic, just everyday wear, but along with them were tights and two training bras just like the one I had.
The big packages were two skirts, three blouses and a dress and some medium heeled court shoes.
A dress?
I was gobsmacked.
I just sat there for the longest time picking the items up and putting them back down again; scared I’d wrinkle them or something. I became aware of a figure in the doorway and looked up.
“Well?”
“Oh Lily, they’re wonderful. I don’t know what to say.” I gushed, running to her and hugging her tight.
“Hmm. Twice in one day? That’s a first!”
I threw the knickers at her and she ducked out, laughing and telling me to get a move on. I shouted back that I didn’t know what to wear and she just told me that they were mine now, I’d have to make that decision for myself.
I tried on the dress and apart from the fact that I really could have done with being fuller in the hips, it looked wonderful. The shoes went perfectly and were quite comfortable considering I had never worn big heels before and the image in the mirror almost brought me to tears, especially after I had finished the makeup.
I floated downstairs (or it felt like I did) and walked into the lounge. Ray nearly dropped his tea down him and Lily’s mouth opened several times before so much as a squeak came out.
“What do you think?” I asked, giving a little twirl.
“Um, well, you know? It looks alright, I suppose.” said Ray. I scowled at him.
“Can’t you do any better than that?”
“Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“I had that problem too. I can’t believe these are really mine.” I said going a bit giddy. Lily’s mouth was still opening and closing, but there wasn’t a lot coming out.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Mmmphst.” she said
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?”
Doctor, doctor
Dr. Rosalind Whaite was a middle-aged woman with a kindly smile and a sign on the front of her house that read Psychiatrist. I froze.
“She’s a psychiatrist!” I said, not moving an inch more.
“She’s also my friend.” said Lily patiently. “You DO trust me don’t you?”
I nodded and with fear and trepidation I went into the imposing Victorian house.
“Lily!” said the doctor. “Nice to see you. Who’s this?”
“This is Suzanne.” said Lily. A thrill ran up and down my spine like the cold fingers of a hundred spiders at the sound of that name. “She’s the girl I spoke to you about.”
“Well don’t just stand there, girl, come in.”
I sat down on one of those big Chesterfields that immediately engulfed me and I knew that without help, I was probably stuck there.
I thought that Lily wanted me to meet this doctor and was surprised that after nearly an hour, all I’d said was “Hello” and had spent the rest of the time on my own. Oh, it was comfortable enough, but I was surprised that I had to get all dressed up for this, just to sit in the waiting room or whatever it was.
“Suzie, can you come in?” called Lily. Another thrill went down my spine this time and with a lot of farting noises from the large sofa, I managed to extricate myself and wandered over to the office, smoothing the skirt of my dress en-route.
“Please, sit down Suzanne. Or do you prefer Suzie like Lily just called you?”
“Either is fine. I guess it depends how bad you think I’ve been.” Lily and the doctor laughed and the doctor called me sharp. That was nice, but I was still no closer to finding out what I was there for.
She asked me a lot of questions and after about twenty minutes, she turned to Lily and said:
“I can’t see what you’ve brought her here for. She seems a perfectly well-adjusted young lady. Perhaps a little underdeveloped, but there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“I’m glad you said that. It will help Paul no end.”
“Who’s Paul?”
“That would be me.” I said and Lily laughed.
The doctor frowned. “Is this some sort of a joke?”
“Not at all Ros, This is the boy I’ve been telling you about.”
“My word!” she said. “Is it really?”
We left shortly afterwards, but not before I was swallowed whole again by the huge Chesterfield.
Lily chuckled almost all the way back, much to my annoyance. I thought that if she was going to laugh at something, she could at least have clued me in.
“Your friend Mandy lives near here, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. Next street along. Why?”
“I thought you might want to go say hello.”
“Like this?!” I yelped.
“Why not? You fooled Rosalind. No-one will know. Ring if you need picking up.”
“She might not be in though.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
I was nervous as I rang the door bell and even more nervous when her mum answered.
“Hello?”
“Is Mandy there?”
“Yes. Just a minute, I’ll get her. Er, who are you?”
“It’s Suzanne, from school.” I replied, still getting those tingles at the sound of my new name.
I waved to Lily and she waved back and drove off. When I turned round, there was Mandy, a look of total incomprehension on her face. I smiled.
“Hi Mandy.” I said cautiously.
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Paul makes up with Mandy and starts work...
Thanks to my friend Kris who has helped enormously with this.
Chapter 3
Let's stay together
“BLOODY-HELL!” she exclaimed and threw her arms round me. “You look… Blimey… What’s…? Come in… holy shit!”
“Mandy! Mind your language!” said a voice from another room.
“Sorry dad!”
Giggling, we piled up to her room.
I felt elation that I had not felt in a long time, finding that Mandy was not responsible for putting me in that God-awful position with Greg Bridger at the Cordoba; it was just a complete misunderstanding. I guess it was just a lack of understanding and patience, typical of a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers.
Mandy was looking at me kind of strange a lot of the time.
Was it wonder or something else?
Look at me. I was back with someone who I suppose could be best described as my best friend and there I was trying to find fault with everything she did. Mind you, after having put up with the back-stabbing at home, the name-calling, bullying and everything else at school, it’s not surprising. Not only that, but I had just turned up in a dress for God’s sake, I had to expect some strange looks, even from Mandy.
We chatted like nothing had happened and I was so pleased that Lily had brought me here although I felt a little odd not having the others here too. Perhaps that rift could be fixed as well, I mean, I thought I had burnt my bridges with Mandy yet here I was.
“Hey, I got that new Blancmange album last week. Wanna hear it?”
“Go for it!” I said and as it played, we went through Mandy’s magazines, looking at pictures of Bowie, David Sylvian, Steve Strange and bands such as Soft Cell, Thompson Twins, Yazoo (the Alison Moyet version) and were comparing fashions and so forth.
It wasn’t long after that the makeup came out and I was back in my element. While I applied the makeup, I recounted what had happened, bringing Mandy right bang up to date with the ongoing saga of Paul/Suzanne.
“You left home? Cool!”
“It’s not like that.” I said. “I got so much stick after you lot made me over last time that I decided I didn’t belong there. Mum said to Lily and Ray that if they wanted me, they could have me.” I tried to sound off-hand about it, but it still caught in my throat.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Poor Lily was in tears. I don’t think she likes my mum. Don’t think she ever has. She certainly doesn’t now anyway. They’ve just been SO nice. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay them.” I could feel that lump in my throat getting bigger and I tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to blast forth and ruin my makeup (don’t worry, I’m slowly getting used to it).
“I really missed you all.” I said, trying to deflect the emotional avalanche that was happening.
“Me too.” she said taking my hand and squeezing it.
“Are you going to have a sex change?” Mandy asked. Straight to the point; that’s my Mandy! It got my mind off of the emotional rollercoaster anyway.
“Honestly? I don’t know. If you’d have said to me a month ago that I would be standing here now, in a dress, heels and doing your makeup, I’d have laughed at you first, then shit myself, but here I am and it doesn’t feel odd, in fact, quite the reverse. It’s only when I think about it that I start to get cold feet.”
“I can understand that.” she said. “What about boyfriends?”
Boys?
Hmm. I didn’t think that’d work.
I had been accused of ‘looking’ at the other boys in the changing rooms, but it wasn’t true, well not in that way anyway. Being near to boys was for me, a threatening experience. Not one other than Ray had been nice and thanks to Mr Georgeson, it felt like even the older ones, the ones that had ‘grown up’ so to speak, appeared to be as duplicitous and untrustworthy as the kids I had been forced to associate with.
About eighteen months or two years before this, boys in my year started to develop hairy armpits and legs, muscles, facial hair and ‘pubes’ and were generally getting bigger. Many of them had had their voices change, but not me.
I HAD looked at the other boys, but it wasn’t ‘checking them out’, it was because they had sprouted and I hadn’t, so I was making comparisons. I was trying to figure when this was going to happen to me, why was my Willy so much smaller than theirs, would mine get like that, would I look like that too and why didn’t I already?
I spoke to mum about this and all she could say was “don’t worry it’ll happen to you sooner or later”. In the meantime of course it had happened or was happening to the other kids and I was getting left behind. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone, but by the time I had reached the last year of school, I was the only one whose voice hadn’t broken or who hadn’t developed physically and I was understandably worried, because suddenly I wasn’t the same as the others and wasn’t getting treated the same either.
It had been a painful period and I really couldn’t see myself getting romantically involved with one of those very people who had made the last two years of my life hell and turned me into a nervous wreck.
“I don’t think so.” I said finally, grimacing at the thought. “I’m really into Lisa and I thought she was into me too, but I haven’t seen her since that day.”
“Lisa?! I didn’t think she was into girls.”
“Lisa? Into girls? I’m not a girl.”
“Aren’t you? You look pretty girly from where I’m sitting. Hmm. Let me see, dress, high heels — nice, makeup; definitely girl. Even when you weren’t dressed this way, I thought you were really a girl, leastways, more girl than boy.”
I sat down. I was too wasn’t I; more girl than boy?
This was something I hadn’t thought about.
If I was supposed to be a girl and I felt that was the probably truth of the matter, was I supposed to be into guys? Wasn’t that a prerequisite for being a girl?
I certainly hoped not!
I mean I still dreamt of Lisa, the only girl I have ever kissed and straight away, into my head came the memory of her; the softness of her touch, her scent and well I didn’t know what it was about her or any other woman, but to forego that for a spiky-faced, hairy, inconsiderate MAN?
I didn’t think so.
I really couldn’t reconcile the concept of changing what appealed to me. If Lisa and I were not destined to be anything other than friends then I could imagine other women appealing to me, but not men (as girly as some of them looked at the moment and I was thinking of Marylyn and Boy George et al).
Not exactly my cup of tea.
I felt odd. It was one thing to show myself to others as a girl, to behave like a girl (which frankly I seemed to have been anyway), but quite another if it meant I had to include male partners or a husband figure. If that was the case then the deal was off.
It was late by the time we finished and Mandy’s mum let me phone Lily. I hoped I wasn’t being too much of a nuisance by asking her to come and get me, but somehow, I didn’t feel particularly safe walking back at this time of night.
“How did it go?” asked Lily.
“Alright. I’m surprised that she seems to have accepted it so readily. Even I can’t quite get to grips with it and there are some things that scare me.”
“Such as?”
“Boys for one.” I said.
“That’s something you’ll have to talk to the good doctor about, but if it’s any consolation, you completely fooled her.”
“Is that good?”
“I think so. She said she could spot someone with transgender issues from about half a mile. She didn’t see YOU coming at all.” she said chuckling.
“Transgender?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s where someone crosses the line between one gender and the other.”
I’d crossed the line alright. Most boys would find it hard to even touch women’s underwear (unless there was actually a girl inside it) under most circumstances and there I was finding it hard to not to.
“What happens now then?”
“That depends largely on you; whether you want to stay as Suzie or Paul.”
“Yeah, but it’s a one way ticket isn’t it?”
“Eventually, yes, but that part of things is a long way off yet. You really are going to have to give this some thought before you go ahead with anything. You’ll be expected to live as a girl for a period of time before you can consider that as an option.”
“Yes, but I will have to won’t I?”
“Not all do. Some live on the outside as a girl and still retain the male sex organs.”
“They do?” I asked, wondering why anyone would want that. Either they were a girl or a boy weren’t they?
I had so much to think about, but it looked as though going ahead with Suzie was the best thing. I felt a lot more comfortable as Suzie than I did as Paul, but then that wasn’t difficult.
School’s out FOR EVER! (I know, but it’s a perennial and seems to pop up every year)
The last week at school was much less fraught than I had expected, the bonus being that I didn’t have to be there anymore after my last exam. That meant I had Friday off and fortunately, so did Mandy.
I spent that day as Suzie and Mandy and I went round the shops of Brighton We got eyed up by boys, which surprisingly I found thrilling. Being close to them wasn’t quite so much fun though and I confess I had my eye on more than one of the girls, not the boys.
They’re so different. I didn’t realise how big a gulf there was between me and the boy I thought I was supposed to be until that moment and although Mandy was in her element, I must have come across a bit standoffish for which Mandy was peeved to say the least.
We ended up having a sandwich in a crowded little café and were chatting away when I saw someone go past the window.
Lisa.
I got up and charged as fast as my heels would allow, outside and up the street, leaving Mandy staring after me, mouth open full of cheese and pickle.
“Lisa!” I shouted and the figure stopped, looked round, but looked right through me. She was with her parents I think (who didn’t stop) and when I caught up with her, she was shocked.
“Er, oh, it’s you!” she said.
The response was not what I had expected, nor what I had hoped for.
I was hoping for a fifties film type thing where the star-crossed lovers see each other across a crowded railway station platform and run to each other in slow motion while dramatic music builds up in the background. Finally they fight through the crowds and catch each other in a passionate embrace.
You get the picture?
Suffice it to say “er, oh, it’s you” didn’t really have the same impact.
“You’re looking well.” I said and tried to retain some semblance of enthusiasm even though it was obvious that things were not as I hoped they would be. It seemed that she had had more of an affect on me than I had had on her.
“Yeah, you too. How have you been?” she asked, looking a little uncomfortable.
“It would take too long to tell you, but I don’t live at home anymore and things are much better now thanks.”
“You look er, good.” she said and I tried to see whether that was saying that I looked well presented or I looked GOOD (nudge, nudge), but couldn’t tell. “What are you doing down here?”
“Mandy and I are just window shopping. I was kind of hoping we could get together, you know like we used to round at Mandy’s? You, me, Mandy, Julie and Caroline; just like old times.”
“Maybe. Gotta go.” she said and looked round to see her parents half way up the street and waving with a look on her face that I couldn’t read, she ran off after them. “See ya!”
To say I felt deflated would be a very conservative way of describing what I really felt as I plodded back to the café. I could see Mandy standing outside the door looking up the road towards me.
“Lisa?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“How is she?”
“Fine I suppose.”
“It’s not the same anymore is it?”
“No.” I said, and I couldn’t help it, I was starting to cry.
Can’t get used to losing you
That feeling of rejection after the indifference of Lisa’s response didn’t go away. I was, I suppose, the epitome of a hopeless romantic (although I preferred “new romantic” as the term then was), offering more melodrama than a Bette Davis movie and moping round the house like a fart in a trance.
I questioned being Suzanne at all. After all, it was Lisa’s affirmation of liking what she saw on the day of the Cordoba that made me go along with it all in the first place. The kiss in the toilets just made me feel if that was what being a girl was going to be like then I didn’t ever want to change, a fact that was strengthened by the kiss when she left me at mum’s.
The trouble was of course, it didn’t last.
I didn’t know whether Suzanne was the real me or whether she was just an excuse to hold on to the memory of those two kisses; the only emotional releases I had had in my relatively short life that had truly made my toes curl.
I reverted to dressing as Paul and Lily didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was disappointed even concerned. Even Mandy, who didn’t seem to express a preference one way or the other, appeared to be more than a little reticent around me and that just served to confuse me more.
“Right young lady.” said Lily after the third day. “Come here this minute. We have some things to talk about.”
Young Lady?
Did she just call me Young Lady? I was Paul wasn’t I?
Regardless of the mode of address, I went obediently and sat as once again, Lily took out her pad.
“What is it?” she asked. I didn’t know what she meant. What was what?
“What is it that’s eating you?”
Ah!
It didn’t take long before I was blurting everything out in one huge great gush of words, sniffs, sobs and gesticulations. Lily’s eyes went wide as this torrent of “stuff” just poured out, crashing through the space between us and bombarding her senses.
By the time I stopped, Lily just sat there looking shell-shocked.
“Oh.” she said.
“Yes and now I don’t know if she loves me or not, if I’m supposed to be Paul or Suzie and… oh Lily, what do I do?” I cried.
Hugs came first.
Having spent years thinking that Lily didn’t like me, she was the one person now who could deliver a hug or a cuddle that just left me feeling warm and snug, loved and content. Had I four legs and a soft furry coat, I would have been purring loudly.
“Alright then. I can’t tell you what to do and you obviously have conflicting opinions about what or who you are, but you need to decide, for your own sake one way or the other. These feelings will not go away otherwise.”
Lily said that at my age, relationships often didn’t last long, however much we wanted them to, so I had to face the fact that Lisa may well have been doing a little “experimenting”, seeing what it might be like to be with another girl and since I wasn’t a girl physically (regardless of how I may have appeared), it satisfied her desire to see herself with a girl by being with a boy who looked like a girl, as she was comfortable with the boy part.
That seemed harsh. I knew it was only a hypothesis, but I couldn’t believe that she would have done that to me. Everything else pointed away from that, but then what did I know?
It was my choice to believe otherwise and I felt there was more between Lisa and I than just a bit of helping out. The kisses for a start (they still make me go all goose-bumpy just thinking about them), the almost kiss during makeup, the looks. There was so much that wasn’t said. I found a happy medium in my head and although I had outwardly accepted the fact that Lisa and I were not going to happen, I chose quietly, not to believe it was so.
It was true that every time things got a bit awkward, Paul would resurface and I guess that because I had been Paul for the thicker end of seventeen years, he was what I thought I should be. It was his insecurity that kept bubbling to the surface, asking me whether I thought that turning all girly was going to make everything better and I had to wonder because right when the question was posed, things weren’t alright.
Meeting Lisa outside the café and being treated so indifferently had hit me hard and I guess that being emotionally inexperienced didn’t help, but I thought that she and I really had something that was ‘special’, worth persisting with. As I said earlier, even if we didn’t become intimate, then at least we’d be friends. After that last episode, I didn’t see either happening.
As a result, Paul popped up once again to question the point of being Suzanne, who up till then had been my happy place, but was it just hiding? Was I just burying my head in the metaphoric sand or sweeping an awkward childhood under the rug as it were? Was I just hiding in Suzanne to try and make Paul’s problems disappear or was Paul hiding from Suzanne?
Then it hit me.
As Paul, I was often mistaken for a girl. Perhaps it was my slight build, my soft features, long hair. I didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, I never got mistaken for a boy when I was Suzanne. Not even in jeans, without fake breasts or makeup.
I came to the conclusion that what other people were seeing may not have been Suzanne, but whether I liked it or not, they weren’t seeing Paul or more pointedly, a boy.
Phew! That was one heck of a conclusion to come to! Scared the pants off me I can tell you.
I made a choice and whilst it scared me to death, it scared me in a good way. As Paul, being scared meant bruising, detention, humiliation and worse. For Suzie, scared meant wondering about the future. It wasn’t hard to make a choice between being scared for life and limb and being scared because the future was an unknown.
Just what I always wanted
I was starting to find my feet again and was getting back into being Suzanne, which confused Mandy. She couldn’t quite decide whether I was a girl or girl trying to be a boy. I quickly pointed out that for her, being a girl was all she’d known and came naturally, but for me, not only did I have to learn how to be a girl, but also how NOT to be a boy. That seemed to do the trick.
When I went to the good doctor Whaite, all the trials and tribulations had to come out again. I have to say that I must have taken a rather over simplified viewpoint on being either Suzanne or Paul since once I’d got it squared up in my head, it became quite easy; logical. That was until she asked me to explain things.
I thought it was simple, but you’d never have guessed with all the questions she asked.
“Are you going to stick to it this time?”
“Yes.” I said with my most affirmative voice. “I don’t know which way round I am, whether I’m a boy who’s really a girl or a boy who’s trying to hide from himself by looking like a girl, but I intend to find out.”
“In that case, might I suggest you make the name Suzanne permanent?”
“I can do that?”
“Most certainly. You’re over sixteen. It will help in establishing your new identity too.”
Where I’d currently got to felt right on so many levels, I actually had a feeling of positive anticipation about the future. So much so, that I found myself walking around in an almost permanent state of wonder. Suzanne was going to be a real, living, breathing person.
It had taken a good few weeks of intensive talking to and a number of object lessons to get me there, but for the first time, I felt like I was doing something right and regardless of what mum had to say or anyone else for that matter, I was following my heart and my head, not someone else’s.
Speaking of mum, I received a phone call from her shortly after making the request for my name to be changed by deed-poll to Suzanne Paula Turner (I thought the ‘Paula’ touch would be nice, a mark of respect to who I used to be).
The name didn’t go down well with mum though. She was still convinced that I was being led around by “that bloody Lily and Ray”. At least it wasn’t my fault this time, but I was still saddened by the fact that everything seemed to her to be someone else’s fault all the time.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” she said and the phone went dead.
I stood there looking at the receiver in my hand. Were we just cut off or had I just been excommunicated?
Despite mum’s apparent lack of understanding, I thought the phone call went quite well. I wasn’t expecting her to be rational. It was easy for me to understand, but for someone who wasn’t the best at being a loving and understanding parent, I had expected far less. I had almost anticipated sparks flying out of the phone and a mushroom cloud, so I suppose, yes, it went well.
The next thing to do was to get Suzanne Turner a job.
I liked that; Suzanne Paula Turner. Somehow, making that my REAL name made me all tingly again.
Once again, I was beholden to Ray for this. He had refurbished a beauty salon in the centre of Hove and Gwen, the owner, was a friend of his. He got her to see me and as he said, the rest was up to me. So taking the photos taken of the girl’s makeup that I did, I went to see her.
It wasn’t well paid and she could only manage part-time for me, but after talking for some time and showing her the photos, she agreed to give me a trial.
I was more surprised than anyone that I actually got the job and whilst it was only part time to begin with, Gwen said that if I fitted in, there was the possibility of going full-time and an apprenticeship to boot. I think cloud nine was passed and the one I was on had fairly large calibre double figures!
It was just as well that Lily and Ray didn’t want any money for me staying in their house.
“All in good time.” they said. “Right now, let’s get you on your feet.”
So I spent the next couple of months working at the salon and soon was given the opportunity to work there full time. I jumped at the chance although Mandy was a little peevish about me continuing to work on Saturday’s. Not that I minded. I was still a ‘stick-in-the-mud’ when it came to boys and I felt rotten for cramping Mandy’s style.
Once I got to know the customers and found that most of them were alright, I started to become a little less of a shrinking violet. One or two of them I thought needed a punch up the bracket, as they wouldn’t let Steve the stylist near them on account of him being gay. They were however happy to let me work on them as they had no idea I wasn’t what I appeared to be. I was only washing hair though, not cutting.
What I appeared to be...
It wasn’t what I was. It was all a facade. I wasn’t actually a girl. I was a boy in girl’s clothes and was beginning to think that this would never change. How ever much I looked in the mirror and no matter how much I told myself otherwise, I was still a boy and not a proper one at that.
I had heard the other boys talking about ‘wanking’, ‘tossing-off’ and ‘hand-jobs’, but in truth, I had no idea what they were talking about. The slow development had left me with something that would occasionally ‘rise to the occasion’ as it were, but well never for long enough to do anything with and as for orgasms… I’d never had one.
Watching Steve working, I could see that I was not like him. It wasn’t sexual orientation I had a problem with, it was MY orientation. The way he lisped and minced around, the limp wrist. It wasn’t female, more a parody of female. He seemed to take a few key feminine mannerisms and enlarge them, like a drag queen, larger than life.
I hoped to God that that wasn’t how I came across.
I was strangely happy to know that I wasn’t gay, well not in a man-man way (that all seemed particularly yucky) and I was convinced that if Dr. Whaite found out I was still attracted to women or girls, she might just say “stay as you are then” and I didn’t know whether or not to tell her.
I was pleasantly surprised when on my next visit to the good doctor, she suggested starting hormone therapy.
“You’re working now, your name is officially Suzanne Turner and you are part of the community. I see no reason to delay the next step. In fact I would suggest we did, before you start down the road of male puberty. You’re uncommonly late in this and under the circumstances it’s likely to work in our favour.”
“What’s hormone therapy?” I asked. I knew basically what hormones were, both men and women had them and I knew that the males had testosterone. I had heard this term bandied about when some of the bigger boys at school were getting rowdy.
“There’s too much testosterone in here.” Sally George had said. The girls all laughed as they left the room to stand out in the corridor and the boys all went “Huh?” Typical!
It transpired that I was to be given female hormones to make my body feminine.
Holy shit!
That was it. I was going to be changed and I felt guilty because I wasn’t telling Dr. Whaite the whole truth.
“Er, does this mean I’ve got to start liking boys?” I asked in a small voice. I don’t think anything has ever frightened me more than the concept of being sexually aroused by the same group of animals that spent their lives making me miserable at school.
“If you want.” she said in an offhand way.
“You mean I don’t have to?”
“You may find that your attraction changes as a result of the hormones, but sexual orientation isn’t the same as preference.”
“It’s not?”
“God Lord, no. Quite a number of transsexuals are like you. They prefer females and it stays that way. Some change with the hormones and become female with the desire to be with members of the opposite sex, well opposite to their new identity anyway.”
I was asked to drop my knickers and was given an injection.
I hate injections. “This won’t hurt” they say, but it always does. Lily was given a prescription for some pills or capsules which I was to take daily.
I asked what this was and the doctor said that these would help my body to change, to take on the appearance of a female’s body. It wouldn’t happen quickly, but because I had still not entered puberty and was still relatively young, this was likely to be quicker than others. I would start to develop breasts, broader hips, slimmer waist more feminine features etc.
“Wow! Breasts?” I asked.
Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head and doctor Whaite jokingly asked whether this was such a good idea.
I was well on the road to becoming what I hoped would be what I was supposed to be. It was at that point that something in me changed. Suddenly, I felt very relaxed, very calm and I don’t know whether it was a result of the injection, but it felt like the boy in me said goodbye for the last time.
Of course, no amount of injections or pills were going to get rid of that one boy part, I would need surgery for that, but the rest of me felt one hundred percent female. It was like one of those times when the mind goes ‘click’ and you just know that something is right.
“When will I start seeing results?” I said, wanting to be like other girls I had seen that didn’t look like they had one vital statistic for every point on their body from top to bottom.
“Probably in about three months, maybe sooner.” said the doctor and then ran me through the general time-frame of how my body would react to the hormonal treatment, which according to her, would be about two years.
It seemed so long, so far away, but I thought that at least I was moving in the right direction. I may have been wearing the uniform of a girl up until then, but hopefully it wouldn’t be long until I actually looked like one too — properly.
Bring it on…
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The final chapter.
Suzie goes to college...
Heartfelt thanks to Kristina L S for helping me through this one. She's more help than she'll admit.
Chapter 4
Senses working overtime
I hadn’t heard from mum since the last phone call, which I considered a success because I didn’t get yelled at. Really though, I was angry with her for not listening. I know by that time I should have been used to that kind of response, but still it hurt.
Lily and Dr. Whaite had pointed out that it’s often more difficult for the parents to accept the kind of decision I was making, but assured me that given time, she would probably come round.
I desperately wanted mum to at least acknowledge what I was doing and listen this time, not just give me the “I can’t deal with this right now” line. I dialled the number. I suppose I was hoping she wouldn’t be in.
“Hi mum.” I said brightly. “It’s Suzie.”
“Who?” That wasn’t the best of starts and despite my initial reluctance to phone mum, I wanted or perhaps needed to make her aware of what was going on; what I was going through
“Your son. At least I am for the time being anyway.”
“Oh, Paul it’s you.”
“No, it’s Suzie, er, Suzanne.” I corrected. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that my treatment is going well and I have a job and...”
“So what’s all stuff about Suzanne then?”
“It’s my name. I told you last time.”
“I thought you were joking.”
“No, it’s real alright. I’ve got the paperwork and everything.” The line went quiet for a few moments.
“So who are you now?”
“Suzanne Paula Turner.” It still gave me a shiver. Mmmm.
“You’re mad. I bet you’re only doing this because of Ray and Lily. You wouldn’t be involved in all this nonsense had it not been for them. Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” she asked.
That stung. For whatever reason, she still thought that I was incapable of making a decision on my own. Curious when I came to think that she was perfectly happy to leave me in charge of the brats while she and fart-face went out.
“Don’t be silly, of course I wouldn’t, but then they’re not asking me to do that are they?” I said. I could feel tears forming in my eyes and that obligatory lump in the throat. “Anyway, it’s not nonsense. My psychiatrist suggested it.”
“Psychiatrist?” she almost yelled. “What the bloody-hell do you need a psychiatrist for?”
“So that I can become Suzanne physically as well as in name. I DID tell you.”
“Are you insane?” she asked, her voice going up a couple of semitones.
“Actually no. According to Dr. Whaite, I’m perfectly sane. I have what’s termed as Gender Dysphoria. It means that I’m a girl in a boy’s body, so we decided to put that right.”
“Put what right? There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Actually there is. Inside, I feel like I’m a girl, but on the outside, I’m a boy. If that’s not bad enough, my boy stuff doesn’t work properly and I haven’t even started going through puberty, so the doctor has put me on hormones.”
“Hormones? For Christ’s sake Paul.”
“It’s Suzanne mum and like it or not, it’s my legal name, please use it. Anyway, my body is still that of a teenage boy. I need those to make my body right; to be a girl.”
“Of course you’ve got a boy’s body. You’re a BOY for crying out loud! It’s that bloody Ray and Lily isn’t it; filling your head with all this idiocy. I knew this would happen.”
“Firstly, it was my decision and secondly, Ray and Lily are not in any way to blame. In fact, they have been wonderful and supportive, which is more than I can say for you.”
“Why you disrespectful little shit.”
“Me? I’m not the one using swear words am I? Why can’t you just accept that I need to be on the outside what I know I am on the inside. It’s only hormones at the moment, I don’t expect I will be able to get surgery for at least a year maybe two, depending on whether I can afford it of course.”
“SURGERY?!” Her voice went up a full octave and was making the phone crackle, not to mention my ears.
“Yes, surgery, now would you please stop shouting? I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve had God knows how much counselling and both my psychiatrist and I think that it’s for the best. I’ve basically been Suzanne for the last three months now and I want it to be permanent.”
“Look, you need to stop all this silliness and come home. I need you here. I can’t do anything with you over there.”
“But there’s nothing for you to do. I moved out in the first place because we weren’t getting along. You didn’t like my friends, you wouldn’t talk to me, hug me or be a mother to me. You never once asked me about school and even when I was being bullied it was seemingly my own fault. You don’t have time for me, mum and my being Suzanne isn’t going to make that any better. This is a very big step for me and it’s serious. I am what I am and all I want you to do is please understand that.”
“I can’t accept that Paul, it’s not natural.”
“It’s Suzanne or Suzie for the last time and I assure you, it’s perfectly natural.” I said in my most reasonable tone, though I could feel steam coming out of my ears as the temperature rose. “It’s far more common than you would imagine and it’s certainly not unnatural.”
It went downhill from there.
Nothing I said would convince her. What I was doing was nothing more than rectifying a technical glitch in the build phase of my life. Somehow wires got crossed and I wound up being something I shouldn’t.
I imagine that if I not had such an oppressive time at school and home, I might have accepted Paul for longer. In all honesty though, I don’t think that the track I was on could have been termed anything other than inevitable as agent Smith would say, but in the here and now, mum’s words cast a big, black shadow of doubt over all I was doing.
The apparent calmness disappeared once I had put the phone down. I was shaking, angry, confused and upset. I went up to my room and collapsed on the bed. The image of a safety net being pulled out from underneath me came into my head and I started to panic.
Paul was being stripped from me and the safety net that had been there for “if things go wrong, go back to being Paul” was no more. Not only that, but neither was mum. I was beginning to see that all too clearly.
I was being unreasonable I know. She in truth had never been there for me since she remarried. I guess I was asking a lot for her to suddenly have time for me and accept the changes I was going through all in one go, but she was my mother after all’s said and done.
It all seemed so simple in Dr. Whaite’s office with the comfort and encouragement from Lily and the doctor herself, but I found I was on my own at this point and it felt like I was stepping into a black hole with no idea of what was on the other side.
Lily knocked softly on my door and asked to come in.
“It’s all very real now isn’t it?” she said.
“Oh Lily.” I blubbed. “I think I’ve made a BIG mistake.”
“Why?”
“What if mum’s right? What if Suzanne is all wrong? I don’t know if I’ve made the right decision.”
“Your mum didn’t understand, did she?”
“No.”
“I know this may be hard, but you might have to face the fact that she may never understand. It’s up to you of course, but you have to do what’s right for you, not her.”
“I know.” I said dejectedly.
Lily was right. It was my life and I had to live it the way I thought was right, not in a way that was convenient to mum.
The panic settled and as soon as I went back to work, I was right as rain.
Gwen was in a minor state of panic too. Trends were going away from the traditional hair salon to something that was more ‘unisex’. She was in a bit of a panic since it was only a short while ago that she had the place refurbished. Still, changing the overall colour scheme from its current early seventies lipstick pink accents and seating to a more modern cream, black and white would not take that much.
The salon was quite big and was divided into two sections, one larger than the other. The larger section was for the ladies as one wall was a row of static hairdryers with a pink vinyl seat beneath, a small table or shelf between each chair had copies of popular magazines to keep the women occupied whilst waiting for their hair to dry. These were more or less redundant nowadays with the modern methods of hairstyling, going a long way to making the roller and set obsolete.
“After Ray redid this place for me, I couldn’t get the customers from under those quick enough.” she said looking at the empty row of hairdryers. “Now, I have trouble getting anyone under them in the first place. Perhaps it IS time for a change.”
Gwen was a big woman, about five feet four tall and five feet five round with a huge bosom and a smile that never seemed to leave her face. She was always impeccably turned out and set an example to all of us. It was mainly her example that prompted me to take a real pride in my own appearance.
Apart from me, the only full-timer was Steve and as I said before, he was gay. To be honest, it was only a couple of the customers who got uppity about him, the others just saw him for what he was — a typical hairdresser. It wasn’t long before he and I were getting on famously, mainly because I couldn’t believe how outrageous he could be, oh and I liked him.
Frances and Beth were two women who came in usually in the mornings as they both had children and they dealt with the shampoo, set and blue-rinse brigade that was thankfully a dying breed. The styles were changing and their time was being taken up more with winding perm rods or pulling hair through those unbelievably uncomfortable rubber caps for highlighting or streaks.
A salon makeover was not far away and I wondered what my role in it would be or whether there was one for me at all.
I needn’t have worried.
It wasn’t long before my body responded to the hormones. My nipples were swollen and very sensitive. I had inadvertently knocked them a couple of times and nearly ended up hanging from the ceiling by my finger nails (they’re my own by the way).
The bra helped, it kept them snug and stopped them from rubbing on my blouses and stuff. I left it off one day and within half an hour I was putting it back on again. They weren’t large but if I jumped or tried to run, I KNEW they were there. Lily assured me that this tenderness was only temporary and the bounce was just something I’d have to get used to. She couldn’t help smiling at that and I smiled back as I looked forward to not feeling like my senses were working overtime.
I had some problems with tears, which just seemed to want to switch on for no apparent reason and I’d have to go and sit somewhere while I bawled my eyes out, but it just meant I had to take more makeup with me just in case.
For a while, I thought I was going loopy. Everything was bringing tears to my eyes. Even the demise of Wily Coyote made me cry, especially the one with the spring, but I was assured that like the production of breasts, this was just another by-product of the hormones and would settle down to at least a more acceptable level.
Love is a battlefield
Gwen had a plan and it even involved Ray.
The ‘barber’s’ side of the shop was to be turned into a beauty salon and the main salon was going to become unisex instead. It was a big step for the salon and a big step for Gwen.
My part in it all was to go to college and learn how to be a beautician.
In no time at all, I was attending college one day a week and the first day was a complete jaw-dropper.
Brighton as a town had a reputation for being cosmopolitan and I was shocked by just HOW cosmopolitan, not only in racial mix, but preferential too. I had only been in the college for about an hour when I had seen several Boy Georges umpteen Siouxies, Lord alone knows how many Nick Rhodes’ and more John Taylor’s, Jim Kerr’s and George Michael’s than you could shake a fair-sized stick at.
It did help me to relax though. Suddenly I didn’t feel I was quite the weirdo my mum seemed to think I was. If she ever saw inside that place, she’d have had a fit!
About three weeks into the course and I was having the time of my life. Okay, I didn’t associate with any of the people there on a social basis, but I was with people who had a much more “live and let live” attitude than I had been used to at school and at break-times we would all go to the common room, get coffees or other drinks, maybe a snack and have a good laugh.
We were lined up to get coffees from the machine when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone I recognised, or thought I did. By the time I had turned round though, the person was gone and I nearly lost my place in the queue craning my neck trying to see where they were.
I couldn’t have been. Not here.
By the end of break, I had completely forgotten all about it.
The following week, I was on my own. I was the only day release student and the full-time were off at some meeting or another. I went into a largely empty common room.
I had my notes in my hand and rather stupidly, was trying to read whilst aiming somewhat haphazardly at the coffee machine when I bumped into someone.
“Sorry.” I said without looking up.
“That’s alright… Hey, don’t I know you?”
It was a girl’s voice and I did recognise it, but I was still glued to skin types and treatments for oiliness, greasiness and conversely, dryness for an up-coming test. I dragged my eyes from the badly copied script and looked up.
“Lisa?”
“Wow! It’s good to see you.” she said. That wasn’t what I expected, especially after the indifference in our last encounter.
“You too.” I said as she gave me a hug.
I couldn’t help it. My skin felt like it was tingling all over, a feeling I hadn’t had since the last time we were that close.
“How are you keeping?” she asked.
“You know, working — the usual.” I laughed, trying to sound offhand about what was really happening. I had been in her company for a matter of a few moments and all the hard work I had put in getting her out of my mind was rapidly coursing its way down the proverbial toilet.
“You look… wow!.” she said and automatically, I blushed, going a deep crimson colour and feeling my cheeks getting almost hot enough to spontaneously combust. Plus, that feeling inside that had started at the hug, like going over a hump-back bridge too fast in a car, became almost all-consuming.
“Thanks. So do you, but then I don’t have to tell you that.” I said, blushing even more at my mouth going into warp drive and not taking my brain with it.
We stood side by side at the coffee machine while I fumbled with my purse for some change, neither of us saying anything. I was finding it difficult to think and get change out at the same time.
I managed to get the right money and was pushing it into the machine when from beside or behind me, I heard someone, a girl, talking.
“Hi sweetheart, have you been waiting long?” she said. I looked as I lifted the flap for my drink and could see someone draped all over Lisa. It looked as though she was kissing her cheek, but I couldn’t quite see. I only caught one part of a black leather biker-style jacket with a holographic badge on one of the lapels.
“No. I’ve only just got here.” Lisa replied. I was wondering what I was supposed to do, but as it happened, Lisa and friend were not into hanging around or goodbyes… or “see ya rounds”.
“Ready?” said the friend.
“Yeah.” said Lisa and still with this other girl all over her like a cheap suit, they wandered off. I watched as they strolled across the common room and had I not been paying attention, I would have missed two things.
The first was a very slight wave Lisa gave me along with the second thing; an equally slight smile as she looked back at me.
Once again, I went from being focussed to being a bag of nerves. I had only known anything similar to love once and she was it. Why did it have to be something like a war zone?
How I made it home that evening without making a complete fool of myself I’ll never know, but I was sure after that that Lisa WAS into girls after all and I was still into Lisa.
Love plus one
I can’t understand why I was being so ridiculous. I was acting as though I had been jilted and that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” expression proved itself as, as soon as I saw her and she was nice to me, I went back to being a love-sick puppy.
At home, I sat on my bed trying to reconcile the fact that I hadn’t been jilted. We weren’t seeing one another, so why shouldn’t she go find someone new? The song on the radio was Nick Heywood and Haircut 100 with Love plus one.
How apt...
I must have had a face as long as a wet weekend for days afterwards and even Steve gave me a wide berth, but after the weekend I had managed to calm down sufficiently to be back to something resembling approachable.
“How are we this morning?” he asked tentatively.
“Better thank you. I can’t apologise enough for last week. I had a bit of a nasty turn.”
“Oooh! I know just what you mean sweetie.” he said, his face lighting up. “I hope you made him pay for it. Perhaps a good spanking?” He shuddered suggestively. I was stunned into silence and blushed.
“Er, it wasn’t my boyfriend.” I said, realising immediately that I hadn’t phrased that at all well and had left the door open for Steve to wheedle yet more info out of me.
“Hmm. Never thought of you as one that would be playing the field.” he said, adopting that stance with his finger on his chin and a “What have you been up to” wide-eyed and innocent look on his face.
“I wasn’t playing the field. I don’t do that.”
“Hmm.” he murmured and looked away, his finger still on his chin, evidently not believing what I had told him. Jesus, he could put more into what he didn’t say than others could with what they DID!
“It wasn’t a boy.” I said quietly.
“Ooooh! Well aren’t we the dark horse?” he said and his eyebrows almost went into a low orbit. “It wasn’t a horse was it?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“No. Not a horse either.”
“I should hope not. They can make a real mess of the sheets.” he said fluffing up some towels. “Well are you going to tell me or not?”
“In for a penny…” I thought.
“It was a girl I used to know. I thought I was over it, but it seems that well, I wasn’t. I saw her again and all those feelings came back up and months of work trying to forget her amounted to nothing.”
“Look at you.” he lisped. “I would never have guessed. Such a quiet one too.”
“Yeah, well. We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.”
“Hmm. Well that’s a first, ducky.”
“What’s that?”
“Me not reading you.” I froze momentarily wondering what was coming and dreading the “I know what you really are” speech. “I had you pegged as the little miss house maker. You know two point two kids, semi-detached dog and door chimes.”
I just laughed again. “I’m a bit young for that yet.” I said, a wave of relief washing over me.
“Hey-ho! Can’t win them all.” he said and minced out into the salon.
Well that was a weird one. I thought that he had spotted that I was a transitioning transsexual, but no. He’d gone away thinking I was a lesbian instead. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Was there a ‘worse’ and under the circumstances, did it matter?
I suppose both were true and I certainly didn’t like the idea of the ‘little miss home maker’, so I settled for lesbian.
Weird.
I would have argued until I was blue in the face that I wasn’t gay at school and yet there I was, standing in the salon accepting the fact that I was a gay female, but not only accepting it, actually getting a kick out of it, especially since it felt so right.
After bumping into Lisa, going to college was a mix of dread and excitement. On the one hand I was excited by the prospects of learning more about a trade that I had never considered before, but actually got me enthusiastic on a daily basis, while on the other, was the dread of bumping into Lisa again with her girlfriend. Strangely, I also felt a certain amount of excitement about bumping into Lisa too. Providing she was on her own that was.
Christ, it was getting complicated. Why did she still have that effect on me?
The fact was, it was only once a week and for five days out of the remaining six, I was putting my newly learned skills to good use in the salon. When I wasn’t plying my side of the trade, I was helping with hair washing and the occasional blow-dry. I was obviously doing something right as the number of customers was rising and the amount of work I was doing rose considerably.
We were doing a few things that I had mastered and that I had demonstrated on either Steve — he was fond of the facial massage, Gwen — who could take all I could do, all day if she could or one of the two part-timers — both of whom were partial to the manicures and most weekends had me apply false nails. Nevertheless, it attracted custom and everyone was pleased. The plan was, to integrate as much as I felt comfortable with as soon as I was comfortable with it.
December came and Gwen cheered me up no end by giving me a pay rise. It wasn’t a large rise, but she promised to increase that regularly since I was doing so well. Things were definitely better now than they had been and I was sure that if I had stayed at home, none of this would be happening.
The shame was that the one person I would like to be being congratulated and patted on the back by, was conspicuous by her absence.
Mum and I had not spoken since the last phone call and all the time “blood’s thicker than water” kept intruding and I just hated the thought that I was blanking her out. In point of fact, I wasn’t blanking her, she was blanking me.
Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t fit into a nice neat package anymore and I got the impression that she couldn’t deal with that. “Here’s my daughter who used to be my son”, probably wouldn’t have sat well in her mind. I felt sorry for her, but sorrier for me, because her absence left a large hole in my life and I couldn’t help feeling that if I could only DO something...
The “WHAT” though was the hard part.
Facing the truth was harder than anything else I’d had to do. I was being stubborn I know and I had to realise that it was down to mum to get her head round what I was doing. It wasn’t as if I was doing anything nefarious or illegal, I was doing what I felt was best for me given the facts.
It was for her to come to the same conclusion and whether it took a day, a week, a year or a decade, it was down to her and her alone. I couldn’t force the issue, chuck facts down her throat or talk until I was hoarse. I wasn’t at all sure it would make the least bit of difference anyway.
Party fears two
My birthday arrived and I went to the front door before I left for work to see if anyone had sent me a card. I was only looking for one, but it wasn’t there.
“Maybe it’ll be here when you get home.” said Lily helpfully, but I doubted it.
The rest of the day was much like any other. I got a couple of “Happy Birthday” wishes from the staff, but I hadn’t been there long enough to expect anything, so I was surprised when Steve went and got a whole bunch of ring doughnuts, Danish pastries and the like “from Gwen” he said. It took my mind off of the fact that I didn’t get a card even from mum and made me feel like part of Gwen’s family.
Sometimes I don’t know whether all that guff about ‘family’ is actually worth a damn, because frankly I have felt better with the people in the salon and Ray and Lily than I ever had with my own family.
Go figure.
Ray and Lily had not only bought me a present, but had provided me with a cake and card. It was only a small cake and had a single candle on it. The card was emblazoned with a large ‘1’.
“But I’m seventeen.” I said.
“We know, but Suzanne isn’t is she? She’s having HER first birthday. Happy Birthday Suzanne.”
I was in tears before they had finished with the Happy Birthday bit and when I threw my arms round Ray, I could feel him flushing. I don’t think he ever got used to me going from boy to girl at all and even if I had been a girl all my life, Ray was just one of those people who got easily embarrassed with any affectionate displays.
Lily on the other hand, was a real hugger and I could hug her anytime, this one was a real excuse for an extended hug, which even got her a bit bleary-eyed too.
My present consisted of some more clothes and a pair of ankle boots I had had my eyes on for a while, but couldn’t bring myself to buy because they were a bit out of my price range. So it was off with the old and on with the new. I didn’t care whether they were the most uncomfortable boots out there, but I was going to wear them tonight!
Mandy had something planned for me and I had to leave just before things got too slushy with Ray and Lily. I hugged the two of them once more and thanked them for my presents, the card and the cake and left for the evening.
God, how I wished they were my parents.
I had no idea what her plan was and when I got to her place, we went straight out. I was fully togged up and as nervous as hell. This would be the first time I had ‘gone out’ in any sense of the word — visits to friends and family aside of course.
I had work the following day and was under strict instructions to be back before midnight. We met up with Julie and Caroline who now had someone else in tow and mercifully, I had no idea who he was or he me.
We went to a small place just up from the Old Steine that by the time we’d got there was pretty empty. No-one questioned our ages, but we were only drinking soft drinks anyhow while we played pool and badly I might add. It was a lot of fun and after a while more people came in and soon we were relegated to sitting to one side while people who could really play took over the tables.
Mandy was the last of us to finish and I don’t know where she learnt to play like she did, but she gave this guy a damned good run for his money. Anyway, he joined us or rather Mandy when I went to the bar to get some drinks.
Julie and another lad called Jeff were playing now as part of a foursome with Mandy and her new beau whose name was Marcus. I felt momentarily left out, but I was so bad at the game anyway that I was happy just watching and cheering both sides equally.
I wasn’t alone for long though as a girl named Annabel joined me and sat opposite. She was a bit older than me, but she was good fun and as the place filled even more, she dragged her stool round to beside me.
“Want some of this?” she asked, taking a small silver-coloured hip-flask from inside her bike jacket.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Just a little something to ward off the chill.” she said with a mischievous grin.
“I don’t know…” I said, but then relented. “Oh go on then. It is my birthday after all.
She surreptitiously poured a small amount into my glass on top of my coke and nothing more was said. I don’t know what it was, but after a while I started to feel a bit warm and fuzzy, not at all unpleasant.
The place was heaving by about half nine and Annabel and I were hitting it off nicely. I was getting drunk I could feel that, but I hadn’t seen her slip anything else into my drink since the last one and as I tasted my coke, I couldn’t tell the difference. She kept looking at me and grinning and I being unaware of the situation just kept grinning back.
Then the hand went around my shoulders as we sat watching more people playing pool and really getting into the atmosphere. I turned to get my drink from the table and as I did, I found she was there waiting for me.
We kissed and it seemed very natural. It wasn’t the same tingly kiss that I got from Lisa, but it was nice and before long, the kisses were getting more passionate and more frequent.
I don’t know if she was topping my drink off with more of whatever she had in that flask, but things were beginning to get a little blurry and starting to spin.
“Wassin the glass?” I asked, aware that I was having trouble forming my sentences.
“It’s just a little winter warmer.” she said. “Do you like it?”
“I just don’t think it likes me.” I said. “I don’t feel so good.”
She helped me out to the toilets and I was as sick as a pig. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink or eat, but there was more than I was expecting that was for sure. I rinsed off at one of the sinks and I couldn’t stop the room from turning. My head was spinning like a top and had it not been for Annabel, I don’t think I’d have made it out of the toilets at all.
She was helping me back into the bar and I spotted something on her jacket.
“Tha’s nice.” I said as I stumbled to the table.
“Christ Suzie! Where’ve you been?” asked Mandy.
“Wiv my frien’ An’bel.”
“Shit. You’re pissed. What’ve you been drinking?”
“Win’er warmer.” I giggled.
“I’ll see you around.” said Annabel, although I was too sloshed to realise she’d said that until later.
“Thanks for helping, Annabel.” said Mandy.
“No problem.” she replied as she threaded her way through the people and out the door.
“I’ll go and see the others then I think we’ll have to get you out of here.” said Mandy and plopping me down on a stool, disappeared to the other side of the table to find Julie and Caroline.
It wasn’t long before she was back and peeling me off the table. I put my arm round her and we started to stagger towards the door.
“I luff you.” I said seriously.
“Thanks.” said Mandy, trying hard to stay upright under the weight of the drunk on her shoulder — me.
Outside, we made our way to the taxi rank not far from the King and Queen and before I knew what was happening, I was asleep in the back of a cab.
Ray and Lily were still up and one look at me, told them I was more than a little the worse for wear. Lily hurried me off to bed and without a telling off too. Mum would probably have given me the third degree which would only have served to make a bad headache worse, but not so with Lily.
As I lay in bed in the darkness, my head on a cool part of the pillow, I couldn’t help wondering about that kiss in the pub. Had I asked for it or was it just someone taking advantage?
Probably some of both.
I won’t be drinking ‘unknowns’ again though.
I awoke to the sound of the alarm clock trying to beat the shit out of my ears.
I felt diabolical. I should have guessed that she was spiking the drinks more than I knew about. I went all giggly and stupid for a start and I’m not normally like that. As much as I liked her, my condition wasn’t just from her company that’s for sure.
Coffee brought me round, but I just couldn’t face the thought of eating anything. I think Lily was secretly amused by what happened and the state of me that morning, but after the walk to work I was at least starting to feel like a human being.
So that was a hangover, was it? I could hear myself muttering those immortal words “never again”. I know now that that’s like saying “I’m not going to breath again”, but it was meant with the best of intentions!
Mad world
Christmas came and I spent half of my time over the holidays at Mandy’s and half with Ray and Lily. I got nothing from mum, not even a card and the more I stopped feeling piteous and thought about it, the more I realised that Lily was right about her.
It didn’t stop it hurting though.
In the New Year, Gwen was making plans with Ray about the new fittings in the salon and I was nearly half way though my college course. I was enjoying it and had even bumped into Lisa a couple of times more. Although the feelings hadn’t gone away, I had much more control of them.
As far as Annabel was concerned, I hadn’t seen her since that awful night. It didn’t surprise me though as I didn’t spend much of my time in that neck of the woods and I don’t know whether I could face her again after my drunken display anyway.
My breasts had actually started to look like breasts and I had even started to round over as Ray put it. My figure was starting to look a lot more feminine. Even my face was changing and the further on I got, the more I was sure that I had made exactly the right choice, exactly the right decision.
I don’t think I had ever felt so good. I was truly happy. It goes without saying that things could have been better, there’s always room for improvement, but the hormones were kicking in nicely and I had even got used to the mood swings, which by now were diminishing.
I was doing well in the salon and more people were coming in for manicures and the occasional facial. I felt more alive than I have ever done and whilst thinking about mum and the fact that she made me feel as though I was like a rat deserting the sinking ship, my own life was gaining momentum.
Learning to deal with my new persona in the real world was fun. I was fending off advances from boys and was gaining in confidence all the time. At first, I didn’t know what to do, but I soon got the hang of letting them down gently and instead of blurting out that I was a lesbian transsexual, I would simply say that there was already someone else, however some did need the absolute truth!
Around February, I was in the common room at the college and was once again getting coffee. I bumped into someone I didn’t think I’d ever see again — Annabel.
There was a big crowd in there that day, more students than I’d seen in there in a while and I was surprised to see her standing to one side of the main group.
The memory of talking to God down the great white telephone came to my mind and I felt embarrassed by the scene, but well, if you want to spike someone’s drink I guess there’s every chance that what happened to me is likely to happen.
I swallowed my pride and decided that whether her fault or not (it may not have been after all. Yeah, right!), I thought an apology was in order.
“Hi Annabel.” I said brightly and the look on her face was a picture, I thought she was going to swallow the coffee, cup and all. Her eyes went as big as saucers and I swear, she took two involuntary steps backwards. “Well, I’ve never had that effect on anyone before!”
“Er, hi.” she replied.
“I just wanted to apologise for that night. I made a fool of myself and you’d been so nice to me. I really enjoyed being with you too. I felt rotten afterwards. Can you ever forgive me?” It was a bit theatrical perhaps, but, hey.
She was starting to make weird kind of strangled noises and suddenly Lisa turned round. I had been so intent on Annabel, that I just didn’t recognise Lisa from behind.
“Forgive who?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Suddenly, the picture became whole.
Upon Annabel’s jacket was a badge, a holographic badge and it became overlaid with the one that belonged to the girl that was all over Lisa the first time I saw her in the common room, which also became overlaid with the one Annabel was wearing the night of my birthday.
“Oh shit!” I said. “I’m soooo sorry Lisa.” I said and turned, fleeing with eyes brimming full of tears.
I was sent home early that day because I couldn’t keep it together.
I couldn’t believe what had happened. I had no idea who Annabel was in the pub and it never dawned on me until I saw the two of them together and caught sight of that badge.
I laid on my bed at home, my eyes sore and puffy thanks to the crying. I was pretty sure how this would look to Lisa; in fact I was pretty sure how it would look to anyone. Every time I tried to find an excuse, my head kept on telling me that it was Lisa’s girlfriend, regardless of the mitigating circumstances that surrounded the event.
I avoided the common room like plague from then on. I told a couple of my friends what had happened and apart from them being shocked because I was apparently dating another girl, they generally thought I was beating myself up over something that I couldn’t possibly have known beforehand.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
By about mid March, I was just about over it all. I had finally told myself that Lisa was gone forever. What girl would be interested in me after I had apparently ‘stolen’ her girlfriend after all?
I was just about to go to lunch when the door to the newly refurbished ‘unisex’ salon opened.
It was Lisa.
“Christ!” I thought. She’s finally tracked me down and now I’m going to get it.
“Hi Suzie.” she said.
“Er, hi.”
“Have you got a minute?” she asked and she didn’t look comfortable.
“Well, I was just about to go to dinner. Would you like to come along?”
We left the salon and I could feel Steve’s eyes following me out of the door.
“It’ll end in tears.” I heard him saying to no-one in particular.
We walked to the café in silence. I had a plethora of thoughts swirling around my head, none of them ending well and all of them leaving me needing another makeup job at the very least.
I ordered two coffees and we sat down at a table in a quiet corner.
“Lisa, I had no idea who she…” I began before her finger touched my lips.
“Shhh! I’m not blaming you.” she said, cutting my words off. “Truth is I had an idea something like that was happening.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There was a distinct lack of respect there. I was kind of expecting it.”
“Oh.” I said as all my fears and misgivings evaporated.
“I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t find you. After what you said in the common room, I wanted to cut you into little pieces, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t you. You were just the person who pointed out that it really was happening and it wasn’t my imagination.”
We sat for a while, the sound of the people in the café and the little transistor radio burbling in the background.
“What happened to us? I mean, I know it didn’t really get started, but I really thought we had something and I was so hoping we could be friends, but then I didn’t see you again.” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled. I could feel that “hump-backed bridge” feeling welling up like a swarm of butterflies about the size of jumbo jets in my stomach and I was starting to tremble.
“I didn’t think you were into me, least that’s what your mum said.”
“What?”
I was dumbfounded. I had no idea she had been back and mum didn’t see fit to tell me either. It’s just another of those shocks that justified my being where I was, doing what I was and not involving her in any of it.
“Yeah. I went back to apologise, but she told me you’d run off to live with some guy named Ray.”
I nearly wet myself laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t suppose she mentioned his wife Lily?” I asked, still laughing.
“No.”
“Ahh. Ray’s my uncle, well, sort of. It’s a bit complicated, but he’s kind of part of an extended family. If it weren’t for him and especially Lily, I wouldn’t be here now I don’t think.”
“Wow.”
“Lily helped me see myself for what I really am, find a direction and perhaps more importantly, professional support. She still is. They’re amazing people and I have always wished that I could have been their daughter and not mum’s, but c’est la vie.”
“So you’re going all the way with this?”
“I guess.” I said. “My male parts have never really worked, so I think it’s for the best. Not to mention that I feel better and look better like this than I did as a boy.”
“Yes. You’re looking very well, I must say.”
“Thank you.” I said flushing slightly. “Do you think we could start over?” I asked, trembling with the thought that she was going to say no, but even if she did, I would know that at least what little we did have, didn’t end acrimoniously.
“It’s possible.” she said smiling.
That all seems like an eternity ago.
I still wonder how I ever doubted what I should be, but having helped a number of other young people through — both male and female, I realise that it’s not everyone who ‘knows’ what they should be, many just know that something’s not right and that’s as far as it goes.
Am I happy?
As a pig in the brown, smelly stuff.
I’m sitting in the office or what’s known as the office, just finishing reading through this. Parts brought tears to my eyes and whilst I don’t expect that it will have the same effect on other people who might read this, you have no idea how much better it makes me feel realising for the first time in some cases that it’s all in the past and I can let go.
I have found it quite cathartic writing it all down. It’s like throwing a load of old stuff out of the attic, you don’t realise how much excess baggage you’re carrying around with you until you pluck up the courage to actually get rid of it.
Paul now is like a film. Yes I can appreciate how he felt, but now, it’s like it happened to someone else. I have kept one or two things to remind me, they help me keep my feet on the ground and no, I couldn’t throw out that old skirt, blouse, bra and briefs that I wore for that first time. Since Lily washed it, I haven’t taken it out of the plastic bag. In fact, it was that that prompted me to write this down in the first place, after rooting around in the attic.
Sadly, even after all this time, I haven’t heard from mum. I have driven round there a couple of times, but have never got past sitting outside for a few minutes and catching the occasional glimpse of her or the brats (who are now two strapping young men now and are going to be breaking hearts any time soon).
Mandy is married and if I don’t go to her, she will often come into the salon (which I now run) and after all she did for me, I feel a free hair-do or facial is the least I can do. She’s expecting her second child in August. It must have been a good Christmas.
I get on well with her and her hubby Justin and am God mother to Suzanne, their first. Now the tingles I get on hearing that name are for a different reason and whilst I’m not exactly what anyone would call religious, I take my role very seriously, even though there are those out there who would disagree with me, my life, what I have done or am doing with it. I like to think of it as the natural flow of the universe.
I cannot stress how lucky I was to have Ray and Lily around for me. They were everything I needed in parents but never had. Speaking of which, they should be here soon, so I will bid you a fond farewell and draw a close to that early chapter of my life.
That was the door bell. Speak of the devil and he shall appear as they say.
“Lisa, would you mind getting that, I think it’s Ray and Lily.”
“No problem.” she said and gave me a quick hug and peck on the cheek before heading for the door.
I don’t know if “Finding Lisa” is quite right as a title as it could be said she found me!
The end.
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