“What about you, Sue, don’t you feel like crud when it’s your period?” Dorothy asked.

Here it was, I thought, time to lie. Or maybe there was a way to slip sideways with the truth ...

“Actually, I’ve found that there are plenty of days when I don’t have a period–and I still feel like crud!”

Fortunately, she whooped with laughter. And so we passed the subject of my periods, and I didn’t really have to lie. We got down to the serious business of choosing clothes.

The Cabin - Part 11

Chapter 29: At The Movies

Thanks to Dorothy’s great closet, I settled on an ivory camisole top with a lacy short-sleeve cover, tight black low-cut jeans–I had to lay back on the bed and slither them on–and black strappy sandals with a higher heel than I’d ever handled before. I could relax a bit knowing that my ‘secret’ was safely tucked away under the slacks without a tell-tale bulge; but still, the outfit felt sexier than anything I’d worn up to now. And it was nothing compared to Dorothy! She chose a black glittery tube top, short black skirt, black stockings and boots, and a denim jacket. She looked tough and yet totally girly. What a change from the candy striper!

Next, of course, came the accessories, and I settled on some gold bracelets, a necklace, and some wonderful earrings. They were soft curlicues of gold and I loved them; I made the mistake of ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ too much and Dorothy said I could have them. I felt so much in her debt already, but she laughed and said not to worry; they’d been a present and looked better on me than her, so she was just passing the present along, sort of ‘re-gifting’. After a spritz of her cologne–something very sexy by Calvin Klein–we headed out to her car.

We got to the theater and sure enough, there were Eric and, yes, Mike–as well as a million other kids! This was obviously the place to be on weekends. The boys were out front, trying to look casual. We parked and walked past them, then turned as if we’d just noticed them. We paired off immediately, with small talk. Dorothy and Mike did most of the talking while Eric and I just looked at each other and smiled. It turned out that Dorothy and Mike knew many of the same people, and I could tell they were getting friendlier by the minute.

As we got to the ticket window, the boys offered to pay, but Dorothy shut them down and paid for the two of us. She leaned over to me and whispered that it was so they couldn’t think we owed them. However, she did let them buy us all Cokes. We went inside the crowded theater and unfortunately there were no longer four seats together. Dorothy and Mike took off down towards the screen.

“Where do you like to sit?” Eric asked me.

It was suddenly apparent to me that despite all the kids in the theater, I felt all alone without Dorothy. Of course, I was with Eric …which was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

“Uh ...back a bit so I can see the whole screen,” I stammered my answer.

Fortunately, he didn’t pick up on my terror. He was nodding, “Me, too. When I was younger I used to sit way down there and get all bleary-eyed; I thought it was part of the fun. Now I like to watch what I’ve paid for.”

We found two seats a decent distance from the screen. Eric was a gentleman, wiping popcorn off my seat before I sat down, then sat to my right. I sat sipping my Coke and watched the movie, but this voice in my head kept going, “You’re a girl on a date. You’re a girl on a date. But you’re a boy! Decide!”

I was a little freaked. No, I was a lot freaked. Eric didn’t try to put his hands anywhere they didn’t belong, to my relief, and yet I found myself having this strange disappointment and frustration with him that he didn’t try. So when a scary part came–and there were many–I recoiled and leaned into Eric. Automatically; I certainly didn’t plan it! He chuckled and put his arm around me during the scary part. When it was over, he started to pull his arm away–after all, he was a gentleman–and I surprised myself again by reaching up with my hand, finding his hand and pulling it back down around my shoulder, our fingers interlocked.

I didn’t really concentrate on the movie much after that, because that voice in my head was working overtime. I found that I wanted Eric to hug me and protect me, and I loved the feeling of being protected by him. But I didn’t even know him, really! All I knew is that I didn’t want the movie to end; I was perfectly content sitting here with him in the dark. Of course, the movie did end, and we stood up reluctantly. He was gentlemanly and didn’t assume any further contact; we kept our hands to ourselves when we rendezvoused with Dorothy and Mike. They apparently had gotten to be very friendly during the movie, and when we decided to walk to a nearby Starbucks, I felt Eric’s hand brush my own. I didn’t know if it was an accident, but I decided to take it as an opening, and I reached down and our hands met. It was ...electric. I felt connected again. I felt a warm thrill in my tummy, and somewhat lower, too. We walked to the Starbucks hand in hand. Me! With Eric! I was blissed out.

Sitting and talking, the four of us had a great time. We talked about movies, books, schools, and so on. At some point I realized I had stopped thinking that I was a boy–and suddenly I had to remember what I’d told Dorothy about myself so it all fit with what I talked about. Mike obviously wanted to spend longer with Dorothy, and I know she was torn about it, but being the good friend that she was, we decided to call it a night around eleven. We walked back to her car, two and two, with Eric and I in the rear. At her car door, Dorothy turned, put her arms around Mike’s neck and gave him a deep kiss. Eric and I stopped a discreet distance away and faced each other awkwardly. I could tell that he was going to be a gentleman and not press for a kiss. I surprised myself once more by leaning up on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. As my feet came back down, he smiled and took my chin in one hand. ‘Here it comes!’ I thought. ‘What do I do?’ Finally the voice in my head yelled, ‘You kiss him, dummy!’ So when Eric leaned down to kiss my lips softly, I was ready. I reached my hand up to his cheek and gently made him hold the kiss longer. Oh, God, the feelings! I was tingling from my lips to the tip of my hair to my toes to my tummy to my ...

The kiss ended softly and sweetly. I smiled up at Eric.

“Thank you, Eric. I had a great time.”

“Me, too, Susan. From talking with you at the hospital I knew you were special, but I didn’t know you’d be so ...great!” He laughed, sheepishly. “Can I see you again?”

My thoughts struggled back and forth; this was dangerous territory. Finally I said, “I’d like that. But I’ll have to call you when I know my family’s schedule.”

“Oh, that’s right, I keep forgetting you’re not local! I keep wishing you were, though,” he smiled as he pulled a card from his wallet and a pen, wrote down his number, and handed it to me. I folded it up in my hand and held it up to my chest to show how precious it was.

“I’ll call you. Bye, Eric,” I said, and leaned up for a quick kiss on his lips. They were so soft and yet so masculine and I wanted so much more than just the kiss. I turned and ran to the car before Eric could do anything. Dorothy reluctantly ended her necking with Mike and both boys waved as Dorothy started the car and we backed out to head home.

Dorothy let out a whoop. “Woo! What a night! What a guy! And you and Eric–woo!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yep. Woo. That about says it all!”

Needless to say, we talked about the boys the whole drive back to her place. She got some more Diet Cokes and we undressed, giggling as we speculated on what else we’d like to do with the boys. As girlish as I was becoming, I still had to keep from staring as Dorothy put on a sheer set of babydoll pajamas. I had a sleep shirt, but Dorothy made a ‘pew’ face at it and tossed me a bit of lilac gauze that turned out to be a babydoll set for me. I blushed for some reason and began to worry about between my legs. Fortunately, she ran off to pee and I changed quickly. I found that the panties would hold me in place, so I relaxed. It felt strange to feel my small developing nipples rubbing against the soft fabric, and I had this fierce stab of frustration that my breasts weren’t developed. Once again I was amazed at all the new feelings I was learning.

Dorothy had an airbed and used the vacuum to set it up. “Had a lot of sleepovers when I was younger, girls on my soccer team, you know,” she explained over the vacuum. “Got the system down.”

She was right; she even had a smooth nylon sleeping bag for me. In my ignorance, I hadn’t asked about the sleeping arrangements, and only after we’d washed and gotten under our covers did I realize that without the airbed, I might have been sharing her bed and I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t stand to have my secret found out. So I snuggled down and enjoyed the feeling of a slippery nylon babydoll in a nylon bag.

We talked about an hour into the dark, but finally the yawns got us and we slept. The next morning I awoke to the smell of French toast. I padded out into the kitchen, the strange-but-wonderful babydoll floating about me, and Dorothy was already in a pink tank top and shorts set and standing at the stove. For some reason I felt dreadfully exposed, but decided to tough it out. I sat down and immediately leapt up.

“Woo! Cold!”

“Of course, silly, don’t you know enough not to sit in sheers?” she laughed, but looked at me curiously.

“Wanna know the truth?” I asked sheepishly. “This is the first time I’ve ever worn babydolls. I always wanted a pair, but my parents never got me any.” That much was true. “I also wanted a harem set but never got that.” Okay, that wasn’t, but seemed like it would be. God, I hated lying.

“Just nightgowns?”

“Yep. Or sleep shirts. Oversized tees, you know.” I sat back down slowly, crossed my legs at the knees and crossed my arms in my lap. What I’d said that time was true, at least.

“Well, those are okay for regular stuff, but when I have a friend over, I like to kind of ‘dress up’–especially after a great night with the guys!”

“That was great, wasn’t it?” I blushed, remembering.

“And going to get better, unless they blow it somehow!”

We grinned at each other, sharing A Moment, and there was a brief lapse in the conversation. I decided to ask a tough question.

“Dorothy? Why do you ...why are you my friend? I mean, I’m so much younger than you.”

“Only three years.”

“Yeah, but they’re teenage years. It’s not like you’re thirty-five and I’m thirty-two.”

“Thirty-five? Yow–not yet! But I know what you mean. I don’t usually hang with younger kids; usually my age or a year or two older. But you’re different, somehow. I noticed right away when you first came to the hospital. You seem ...I don’t know, like you’re ‘an old soul’ like some people say. You’re much more mature than any thirteen-year old I know. And some of the sixteen-year-olds!” She grinned.

“Thanks. But everything reminds me of the age difference. I mean, your car, your clothes, even ...hell, even your body! I’m a few years from developing like you already are! I know that sounds weird–”

She burst out laughing, holding a hand over her mouth to keep her food in. “Shit, yeah! But it’s okay, I know exactly what you mean. When I was thirteen I had no body at all. Zero. I had an older sister and I’d stare at her for hours–”

“I don’t stare!”

“No, no, I know you don’t; in fact, that’s part of it.” She stopped laughing and turned serious. “My sister was five years older and had no time or interest in me at all. I wanted to share things with her and do things with her, but she just wanted me to drop dead.”

“Have you two gotten closer as you got older?”

“No. She dropped dead.”

I was stunned; I didn’t know if this was weird humor or what it was.

She shrugged. “Really. At eighteen. Valedictorian, Most Likely To Succeed, track star, all that. And one day dropped dead of undiagnosed heart failure while running a10k.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I reached out and put my hand on hers. My eyes burned with tears.

“Yeah. It’s okay. I’ve had some time to deal with it. But I know I’ll never get a chance to show her that I’m okay, that I’m not a bratty little kid anymore, you know?” She said she was okay, but her eyes were clouded.

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. She seemed to pull herself together a bit.

“Anyway, when I noticed you ...I don’t know, maybe it started out as therapy, you know? You were all alone there in the nurses’ station, and about the same age I was when Molly died. So maybe it started out that way, but over the times we’ve met, that therapy thing went right out the window. I like you as a friend. I like you. So what if you’re ‘just a kid’? That’s just a calendar thing, anyway. You’re very cool and I’m glad you’re my friend. At least, if you still are my friend ...?”

I gave her hand a squeeze, released it and picked up my fork. “Of course, dummy! No, no–the truth is, I’m just using you to meet cute guys!”

We laughed and ate and talked some more; she said she was sorry we couldn’t spend more time together and it was a shame that I lived so far away from the hospital. We talked a little about the town and hospital, but I think we were both aware that I didn’t really live there but was just visiting for the summer.

I dressed in a scoop-neck t-shirt and khaki shorts, washed, put on a dab of makeup and brushed my hair. I helped clean up, then we got in her car and she took me back to the cabin. It all felt so natural, but of course ‘spending the night with a girlfriend’ now had a very different meaning than before this summer!

Chapter 30: Larry

Dorothy and I had chatted about movies, music, boys, clothes, and so on during the drive back, and I was amazed at how quickly I was back at the cabin. I was surprised to find nobody home, but had a key and went in. Dorothy couldn’t stay, but I gave her a really quick tour–she thought an attic bedroom was ‘pretty cool!’ and got her a Diet Coke for the drive home, and she took off after a hug.

I realized that I hadn’t been alone in the cabin before, and when I went to my room, I was surprised at how homey it felt. And Dorothy liked the room! I thought then that this was the only room I’d known in my ‘new’ life; I could only vaguely remember my room–my boy’s room–back in the city. As I thought of it, I realized it was pretty stark–did I really not have any posters on the wall? More to think about …

I unpacked, tossed dirties into the hamper, and went down to make a tuna fish sandwich.

I was just finishing lunch when the station wagon pulled in and my cousins entered. My stomach clenched when I saw their faces. I just knew that it had to be about Larry. I ran to the door.

“Uncle Jack ...what is it?” I asked.

He just looked at me, or kind of past me, and said nothing. He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. My aunt was next.

“Aunt Margaret ...?” I asked, my voice growing high with worry.

She looked at me without recognizing me for a moment, then focused on me. “Hello ...dear. It’s Larry. He’s ...gone.”

“Oh, my God! No!” My hand flew to my mouth and I stood, speechless. She walked past me, put her purse on the table and went to the fridge. She took out orange juice, some glasses from the cupboard, and poured for herself and Jack. The ordinariness of it–the triviality of it–hit her and she crumpled into her chair, weeping. Jack reached his hand to her shoulder and they sat like that, unmoving except for her shoulders. I guessed she’d managed to keep it all in the drive home, then lost it.

I looked through the door and saw Chuck standing at the edge of the yard, staring at the lake. Cindy still sat in the car with the door open, on the edge of the car seat with her feet on the ground. She was slowly rolling her window closed, then got up and walked across the yard to Chuck. She looked up at him and may have said something to him, then looked out across the lake as he did and put her arm around him. In their everyday routine, sniping at each other, it was easy to forget they were big brother and little sister. Now I could see the strength of their family as they comforted each other.

Turning back to my aunt and uncle, I quietly asked, “What …oh, God–what happened?”

Uncle Jack just waved his hand at me slowly; he didn’t want to speak. Aunt Margaret sat up slowly, reached across for her purse and took out a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes and nose, she began haltingly.

“They said ...his kidneys ...um–” She shook visibly and went on stronger. “They said that there was a sudden breakdown of his kidney function and it went toxic all of a sudden. There’d been so much damage ...they had so many things to monitor at once–”

“Should have caught it.” Uncle Jack said quietly.

“Well, they didn’t–”

“Better hospital, maybe. They would have caught it.”

“You don’t know that, Jack. Oh God, I want to believe he got the best care possible. They seemed to know what they were doing–”

“They didn’t do enough. I think I need to talk to a lawyer.”

He got up from the table and went into the living room. Aunt Margaret stared after him; I didn’t move. We heard him rooting around for the phonebook, then making a call.

Aunt Margaret sighed a little. “All he can think of is finding someone to blame.”

I was scared to say anything, and scared not to, so I tried to help. “I think maybe he feels the need to be doing something–anything–for his family.”

She looked at me strangely, and after a moment she said, “Yes, dear, I think you’re right. You have this knack for knowing ...things ...you shouldn’t at your age.”

I wasn’t quite sure how she meant this, or if she meant other things as well. I said, “I’m so sorry, Aunt Margaret. God, I’m …I’m just so sorry! Is there anything I can do? Anything to help out?”

She smiled weakly. “No, dear. Just ...please take this the right way: Just stay out of the way. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think I do. I’ll keep quiet and do everything and anything I can for you. Okay?”

“Thank you, dear.” Then she seemed to look at me–really look at me–for the first time. “You seem changed, somehow. You really are becoming attractive, Susan. I think ...I’m not supposed to say anything, but to hell with it–I’m going to. I’m too …just too tired to think about what’s right and proper anymore, so I’m just going to tell you the absolute truth. I think you are a much better person as a girl than you were as a boy–smarter, kinder, just ...better. You certainly seem much happier as a girl, too. I think you prefer being a girl and I will tell you now that I loved you as my nephew, but you know how it is; you kinda sorta have to love family. But truth be told, I love you more as my niece. Genuinely love you, as a person and not just as family. Understand?”

Despite the circumstances I felt this warm glow of happiness and had to suppress a smile. “Yes, Aunt Margaret. Thank you. And you’re right. About …well, everything.”

“I know, dear. But here’s the bad part: I don’t know how Larry’s ...death–” She gulped a bit and went on. “–How Larry’s death is going to affect how the family feels about your change. Right now Jack blames the hospital, but before things get ugly–and they will, they will …before blame gets thrown around and cruel things are said, I wanted you to know how I really felt. Keep that tight to you.”

She was telling me that I might somehow be blamed for Larry’s death. After all, if I’d gone on the hunting trip, it might have been me that was shot. While no comfort to me, of course, it would mean their son would still be alive. Sure, they’d mourn me, as a distant, troubled cousin. Or maybe if I’d been there, the dynamics of the whole trip would have been different, and nobody would have been shot. Who knew? All I knew was that my uncle blamed himself for letting the boys drink; Chuck blamed himself for …well, for killing his brother; my aunt blamed herself for letting them go off hunting without a sterner warning, perhaps. Cindy? I don’t know if she had any blame for anyone, but I suddenly realized that my transition to Susan might seem like some way to escape the hunting trip and the shooting. I would be a constant reminder of ‘the one who didn’t go hunting’. Maybe Cindy would feel that I should have gone on the trip so she’d still have her brother. No matter what, it was going to be ugly, as Aunt Margaret said, and I would hold her touching confession tight to my heart through the painful times ahead.

I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then turned to go out to my cousins. They had moved; Chuck was skipping stones at the lakeside and Cindy was sitting with her knees pulled up tight against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. At first I was shocked at what seemed like Chuck’s ‘playing’; then I realized he was not skipping but hurling the rocks in as viciously hard as he could, grunting with each throw. He’d worked up a sweat, and by the looks of him, he’d keep skipping until the beach was empty of rocks. I walked up into Cindy’s vision. She looked up at me.

“God, Cindy, your mom just told me.”

“Yeah,” she said looking back at Chuck.

We stayed like that for a bit, as I tried to sense her feelings.

“Can I sit down?” I asked.

“Suit yourself.”

I sat next to her, at a loss what to say. “Cindy, I–”

She interrupted with a cold tone. “Have a fun sleepover?” The emphasis on the last word was cruel.

I was shocked. “What?”

“With your new friend? Away from the family?”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.“Cindy, that’s not what it was. I mean, yes, she’s a new friend, but not the way you mean. And I didn’t do it to get away from the family. It was just ...a sleepover. You’ve had them before.”

She turned to me. “Face it–you do whatever you want. No matter who gets hurt–” Her eyes teared up suddenly and her voice broke. Furious with herself, she knuckled her tears away, then wrapped her arms around her and looked back at Chuck.

I would have responded hotly, defending myself and probably making things worse, but I’d had that warning from Aunt Margaret about blame and could deal with it better. Forewarned is forearmed. So, instead of fighting, I just dropped it. I turned away from her and looked at Chuck, too.

The only thing I could think of was to utter a short prayer. “Dear God, please take care of Larry.” I felt her tension, her seething hatred, ease a bit. And we sat there, listening to the rocks smash into the lake.

Chapter 31: Rebuilding

It was apparent that my cousins needed time to deal with the loss of Larry; not just the immediate details of burial, but the grief and all that went with it. I sensed that I would only be in the way, and my personal happiness at each day I spent as a girl would be in stark contrast to their misery. They would soon start to blame each other, as my aunt warned me, and they would need to be alone to deal with the realignment of their family.

I walked back from the lake and went next door. Bonnie was in, thank goodness, and I asked to use her computer. She could tell from my face that something was wrong, and I told her about Larry and the situation. I sent an email to my folks telling them of Larry’s death and that it would probably be best if I quietly ended my summer with my cousins as soon as possible. I knew it would screw things up with my parents’ schedule, but it was best for my aunt, uncle, and cousins while they grieved for Larry. Bonnie had called her mom in, and they immediately began cooking things to take over so my aunt wouldn’t have to worry about cooking. I once again learned the strength of women; how they supported each other in the face of sorrow. I thought that if I were allowed to continue on my road to being a woman, I had a long way to go before I automatically responded with such compassion. I was humbled.

I helped with the cooking for a bit, then excused myself to go next door. The cabin was still; Cindy and Chuck had come back from the lake but each member of the family was alone with their grief. I found Aunt Margaret in the kitchen, standing at the sink and slowly wiping a glass. I told her that food was coming from next door; she choked slightly and nodded. We sat at the table and I told her that I had emailed my folks. She protested at first that I didn’t need to bother them, but then she reached across the table, squeezed my hand and smiled sadly.

“Oh, Susan, this’ll be hard for you,” she said as she gripped my hand.

“No, no; you guys have the hard part; are you kidding? I want to help you anyway I can. I don’t want to leave; I mean, I don’t want you to think I ditched you. It just seems ...”

“I know, honey. It just seems better that we be alone. I understand, and I love you for thinking about us. But you’re going to lose the rest of your summer here, and I don’t know if your folks will let you continue–you know, it’s strange for me to think of you as a boy any more. You’re so ...so Susan, you know?”

I nodded and smiled, feeling wonderful and a little guilty.

She looked at me sadly.“But there’s a possibility they might not let Susan continue. Remember, this was only a sort of experiment to see if you liked it and how you did. They might end it. And Dr. Janssen might turn thumbs down, too. But it’s been so great getting to know Susan ...”

She trailed off as her smile faded; I knew that something had reminded her of Larry and his loss came rushing back. She let go of my hand, then continued talking.

“And it’s such an inconvenience for your parents! I don’t know when they’ll be able to get back to take you, so in the meantime you’d better enjoy being Susan. But you’re right; stay out of the way–especially away from Jack and Chuck–and help out on the edges of things until we find out about your folks.”

“Should I stay somewhere else? Bonnie and her mom already said I can stay next door if I need to.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary, but it’s good to know that safety net’s there. You see, Susan ...I know how ugly things can get. You never knew my oldest brother Jeff. He would have been your uncle but he was killed in Viet Nam before you were born.”

“I remember. I mean; I’ve seen pictures of him and heard stories.”

“What your dad probably never told you was how it affected us when we got the news. Mom and Dad–your grandparents–”

“Nonnie and Grampa,” I said.

She smiled weakly. “Right, Nonnie and Grampa. Well, things got ...strained between us all. What I remember most of all was each of us blaming somebody for some trivial thing that could have caused Jeff to be there, as if any of us could have prevented him from going to Viet Nam. And it was crazy. And painful. Especially because the war was just about over. But the blame thing got …crazy. I mean, the week Jeff was supposed to ship out, I was hit by a car and was in the hospital. The Army gave Jeff one extra week so he could be with me, then he had to leave. So after he was killed, I even got blamed that if I hadn’t been hit by the car, he would’ve left a week earlier and maybe would’ve been someplace else that week instead of where he was when he was killed. So it was my fault?”

I could tell the memory still burned fresh. “You’re right, Aunt Margaret, that’s not fair. And it really must’ve hurt.”

“More than anything. Because I got to wondering, ‘Am I to blame?’ And I got to feeling guilty for being so careless so that car hit me. I also learned first-hand about what’s called ‘survivor’s guilt’. Your father was the only one of us that …well, he just kept quiet; no blame or anything, just …quiet. Anyway, we all calmed down eventually. The whole thing was just because we were hurting so bad with Jeff gone, you know? So we tried to hurt each other more–spreading the hurt around–kind of like it might thin out our own pain, make it less. And it didn’t work; I think we hurt even more because deep down we knew it wouldn’t help. And we hurt because we knew we were hurting the ones who loved us. And I want to spare you that. That’s why I warned you; because if I didn’t, you’d get caught up in the blame for what happened to Larry.”

“I really appreciate that. And I love you so much, Aunt Margaret. I only hope I can be as strong and as … caring as you when I grow up.” I got up and went to her, put my hands on her shoulders and hugged her. She hugged me hard and patted my back.

“I love you too, Susan, and thank you for that.” She let up from the hug and I sat back down. “Now, I want you to get a couple of things straight. First, you’re not ‘ditching’ us, you’re doing the right thing, okay?”

I nodded.

“Because, sure as shootin’, someone will accuse you of running away. Don’t listen to it; just know it’s coming from a need to hurt. Got it?”

I nodded again and squeezed my agreement.

“Second. If at all possible, I think you and your parents should try to work out this ...Susan thing, any way you can. Because I, for one, truly believe that your future–your best future–is as a pretty girl named Susan.”

I nodded, feeling warm and happy.

She set her jaw. “I promise you that if they ask, I will tell them that I think you’re better off as a girl. And that’s a solemn promise. But only on one condition–that you be a full, productive woman. Be the best woman you can be. And somehow, find a way to give back to the world. If you get your dream, help other people’s dreams. Okay?”

I was touched beyond words. All I could do was nod and hug her more. I was so fortunate to have such a wise, compassionate aunt!

There was a knock at the door; Monica Doyle was holding a tray with a casserole dish and some Tupperware bowls.

“I just thought I’d ...you know,” she said with an embarrassed little smile. Then the smile disappeared. “Oh, Margaret, I’m so sorry!”

I reached out and took the tray from Mrs. Doyle, who stood uncertainly for a moment. Then my aunt leaned forward and the two women hugged; Mrs. Doyle started to cry a little and it seemed like my aunt was comforting her. Then I realized my aunt was sobbing silently; I could tell by her shoulders. I put the food down and got things ready, set the table, and so on, thinking again about the power of women to help each other.

My aunt and Mrs. Doyle talked quietly on the porch for a bit, then Mrs. Doyle went back home. My aunt came in, saw my handiwork, smiled weakly, and we called the family to eat. Everyone was reluctant, surly, and quietly miserable. We ate in silence, with the exception of the standard ‘pass the butter’ type of thing. Then they wandered back to their rooms and their thoughts, and I cleaned up.

End of Part 11