Carlie has sissy predispositions, but overcomes difficulties with love, courage and increasing self-awareness. In this chapter, Sharon and Carlie have different views of sharing.
Carlie
IX. The Little Girl
One Monday a few weeks later we were walking across campus when Shar pointed out a petite girl I’d seen before. Her name was Cindi. Like many of us, Cindi had her own distinct look. I’d once seen her in a Bonnie Jean sailor dress I thought I might look darling in, but mostly our tastes were very different. That day she wore a puff-sleeved blouse with a Peter Pan collar, pink shortalls, and black patent Mary Janes with ruffled ankle socks. Blond pigtails with ribbons matching her shortalls bounced as she almost skipped along, and her books were in a Princess Ariel pack. A very substantial chest and killer legs broke her little girl image.
Shar asked how I liked her look. I was hardly in a position to criticize how anyone dressed, so I said she looked cute and sweet, but it wasn’t a look I’d choose. I thought nothing more about it until lunch, when Cindi joined us shortly after we sat down. Cindi’s little girl didn’t stop with her clothes or pink nails and lips. She called Shar “Auntie Sharon,” and asked if she could call me “Nanny Carlie.” I wasn’t very comfortable being her nanny, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t object.
The only two people at State who knew I was a nanny were Mr. Jenkins and Shar. So, Shar must have told her about me. I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“Cindi, Nanny told me she thinks you look cute and sweet.”
“Thank you, Nanny.”
“You're welcome, Cindi.” She did look cute, but not entirely sweet up close, as her white blouse did little to obscure her braless nipples.
Cindi was nice enough, but it became apparent that she and Shar were playing some kind of game. Shar would say things like “Sit straight, dear” or “Take small bites, sweetie,” and Cindi would say, “Yes, Auntie,” and do as she was told. Occasionally Cindi would look at me as though I should also correct her. I finally decided to tell her to finish her milk and said what a good girl she was when she did. She beamed a smile at me and seemed to relax.
“Nanny, I’ve eaten all my lunch may I have an ice cream?”
“Yes. What kind would you like?”
“Cherry, with sprinkles … pretty please.” Shar didn’t want dessert. When I came back with Cindi’s ice cream, she and Shar were whispering. They stopped when they saw me. I was a bit miffed at being excluded.
Cindi made a mess of her face with the ice cream — on purpose, I suspect, because there wasn’t a speck on her blouse or shortalls. I cleaned her up. “Thank you, Nanny.”
We’d spent much longer at lunch than usual, and I was anxious to get to my own sweets with Shar. I got up. Shar followed, but turned to Cindi. “Come along, sweetie.” I was disappointed that we wouldn’t be alone, but Cindi was too close for me to object to Shar. In fact, she grabbed my hand and followed along like a little girl. I have to admit that I was starting to like the game. Still, I’d been looking forward to being alone with Shar.
When we got to Shar’s room, I had to ask. “Shar, why’s Cindi here?”
“Cindi and I have been playing auntie and niece all weekend, and I thought you’d like to join in, girlfriend. You like to dress up little girls, and Cindi needs to be put in a pretty dress for our tea party.” Shar laid a white satin and pink chiffon confection on her bed.
I didn’t like Shar comparing my maternal feelings toward Liz with my growing lust for Cindi, but I couldn’t think how to say that nicely, either. So, I just asked, “Tea party?”
“Yes, we’re going to play tea party, won’t that be fun Cindi?”
“Oh yes, Auntie, scrumptious fun! Change me into my party dress. Pretty please, Nanny.” She made a begging little girl face, put her thumb in her mouth and twisted back and forth expectantly. She did make a luscious little girl. She’d look even better without her blouse.
I’d told Shar about playing dress up for the party with my girl friends when I was 5 or 6. I didn’t think this would be the same. Images of Cindi out of her blouse and shortalls flooded my imagination. I looked at Shar for direction, but she was fixed on Cindi — her face flush, her pupils wide and her breath quick.
I recognized the look. It wasn’t one I wanted to share with Cindi or anyone else. Cindi still stood innocent and childlike, but when she looked at me she started sucking her index finger. Was she being suggestive, or was I projecting? Maybe she’d let me do what Shar hadn’t — make love to her like a boy with a girl. Make love … but I didn’t love Cindi. I barely knew Cindi. I wanted her, but I didn’t love her. I knew where the game would go — even if Shar and Cindi hadn’t already planned it — I knew because I’d take it there. I had no self control, not once I was breast to breast with a girl as I’d surely be with Cindi.
Images of Shar and Cindi playing auntie and niece flashed in my imagination, making me feel like a replaceable part. A mix of anger, jealousy, and revulsion at my own loveless lust filled me. “I’m sorry, but I forgot that Sandy wanted me to take care of Liz this afternoon.” It was a lie, but one that wouldn’t insult the girls. I left. Angry tears streaked my mascara as I made my way to the bus stop.
Both mommy and Shane were still at school, so I went to my room and cried until I fell asleep. Mommy woke me for dinner. She could tell I’d been crying, and sent Shane off to watch the news as so we could talk. Faithfulness and cheating had been abstract terms for me, but now that Shar had been with another girl, I understood their full impact.
“Another girl, Carlie?”
“I did say that didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we made love like two girls, never like a boy and a girl, so I guess I was her girlfriend.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
“Well, I liked it. But, I wanted more, to be with her like a boy with a girl. Still I loved her.”
“I’m sure you did and maybe still do. But, it's like you and Jason. You loved each other and maybe you still do, but you could not give him what he needed, and maybe Shar can’t give you what you want and need. And — maybe — you can’t give her what she wants and needs. Maybe a girl — like Cindi — can. If so, you might not be right for each other. You know it took a lot of searching for Shane and me to find each other — but eventually we did.”
“Thanks, mommy.”
It was still early. I went back to my room to try doing my algebra homework. About 8:00 Shar called to find out how I was. I said that I was very unhappy, but I couldn’t find a way tell her why because I didn’t want to hurt her. Still, I was hurting. Finally, I told her I didn’t like sharing her with Cindi.
“Well, dear, that’s not how I was thinking about it. It was more like I was sharing Cindi with you. She’s so cute and childlike, and I know you love taking care of children, so I thought you’d like playing with her. Besides, she was interested in you as a boy. It’s a long story, but being with you as a boy might be a breakthrough for her.”
“Shar, I’m faithful to you and I thought you’d be faithful with me — not playing auntie and niece with another girl.” (There, I said it.)
“Is that what’s bothering you? It’s only sex, Carlie. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s just fun to play with, and I invited you to play too. I wouldn’t be upset if you and Cindi made it.”
“Well, sex means something to me, Shar. It’s how I show you you’re special to me. That’s part of the reason I ran off — cuz I knew if I undressed Cindi what would happen. Also there’s no comparison between my taking care of Liz and playing games with Cindi.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if something happened with you and Cindi. That’s why I invited her — so we could both play with her. … So, if that’s part of the reason, what’s the rest of the reason you ran off like a little cry baby?”
“Because I’m hurt that you made love with someone else.”
“Carlie, sex isn’t love — get over it.”
“Maybe I will, but I’m not over it now. I’ll think about it, but we better hang up before I say something mean. Bye”
“Bye.”
I did think about it, but didn’t get over it. Shar wasn’t trying to hurt me. She thought she was being considerate sharing her toy with a friend … but, I never thought people were toys. We didn’t see sex the same way — so we weren’t the ones for each other. I wasn’t a toy. If she wanted to play with Cindi, let her. If not, she could find someone else to play with in no time flat.
