3 Years earlier…

“You must be Owen… I’ll take the room on the left, and you’ve got the one on the right. I’m David by the way.” The apartments on the campus of Northern Coastal University offered a bit more privacy than the dormitories, but you were still assigned your roommate.

“Alright sweetheart, if you need anything just give us a call.” Mom gives me a hug. Dad had already walked back to the car to relax before the long drive back down home. He wouldn’t have me to share the drive back, and Mom hated to drive on the roads that snaked around the cliffs along the coast. If they left now, they would be home just in time for them to go to bed. Mom takes one more look at me and sighs. She did the exact same thing last year. Fortunately, she didn’t make a scene in front of David.

The apartment was amazing, the room on the right, overlooked the water. Actually the Pacific Ocean and what can only meagerly be called a beach. The left room overlooked the campus. David chooses the year long view of the coeds, knowing that rarely would there be anyone at the beach in the fall and winter months. I didn’t care my room offered a bit more in the way of privacy. I was glad to be out of the dormitories and the antics that infested those places. Besides, cafeteria food was about as appetizing anything else mass produced and boiled in a bag.

“So Owen, how do you want to handle the apartment? Free-for-all or do you wanna share the cooking and cleaning duties?” That worried me. Though I didn’t know anything about my new roommate, and I didn’t want to seem pushy.

“I could go either way on it.”

“How about this? You get Monday and Tuesday, I’ll take Wednesday/Thursday, on Fridays and Weekends we fend for ourselves. Swap when we have to entertain?”

“Fair warning, I’m horrible in the kitchen.” I looked over to David with a smirk.

“If I’m doing all the cooking you’re doing all the cleaning…”

Knowing what I know now about David’s cooking. I would have cleaned the apartment, did the laundry, shined David’s shoes, and anything else if he would agree to do all the cooking, “Monday-Tuesday it is.”

David plants himself on the couch “What’s your story?” He’s not unpacking. I look over at the stack of boxes in my room. That’s going to take me hours to unpack. I kick-slide a few boxes marked living room out of the way to make a pseudo walkway between the front door and the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. The boxes slide towards the countertop island that separates the kitchen from the living room.

“Psych major, second year, but I’m still trying to get into some of the intro classes. Who would have thought it would be impossible to get classes?”

He staring at his fingernails checking for dirt. He’s using the small pocket knife on his key ring to as a pick. “Do you work?” He begins to file away his freshly cleaned fingernails.

“No,” I walk over from entryway to the love seat catty-corner to the couch and collapse from exhaustion. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” I begin to pull off my boots.

He stows away the file and places his keychain on the coffee table. “You’re having problems getting to classes, right?” He looks up at me. The wheels are turning in his head.

“Yeah, what does a job have to do with anything?” He’s peaked my curiosity. I prop my legs up on the arm of the love seat and relax lacing my fingers behind my head, leaning back against the other arm of the love seat.

“Simple, if your work for the campus, you get priority for registration of classes.” A Cheshire cat grin is shone on his face. His grin is kind of creepy.

I turn in the love seat and plant my socks on the floor and stare at him. “You’re kidding…” I smile and let out a chuckle. I’m skeptical, but he has my attention.

“How about I hook you up with Ally in the research department? They needed someone to man the front desk at the clinic.” David shifts his legs from the floor to lounge on the couch. “You get hired, and you get early registration.”

“Awesome… what do you get out if it?” My suspicions grow.

“The apartment to myself on the weekends,” he says with a smile. “Win-Win!”

I shake my head. “Alright, let your friend know I’m interested and ask her when I start.”

“Oh, you still need to interview.”

“Why would I need to interview. The clinic needs to fill the position right?”

“This is a university position, they have to go through the process to make sure that you are not a psycho. They’ll probably need references, and you probably should have your suit cleaned and pressed.”

“You’re making this sound like anything but a slam dunk.” I worry that this may not be as easy as I thought.

“Well, you do need to know the alphabet too… They’ll probably need you to file and answer phones. You’re a psych major… I hope you have some of those skills.” He says with a laugh. “You still interested?”

“Yeah, but I need to buy a suit.”

“How do you not have a suit?” There's incredulous look on his face.

“Old one doesn’t fit, and I left it at home. Mom was going to donate it to charity.“

“Oh, you can get a great deal on suits at the second-hand store down the road from campus.”

The clinic is to the north of campus, it's a fairly long walk from the apartments which are to the south of campus. It’s early September just after Labor Day, we get a bit of fog in the mornings which burns off about midday. I walk in the fog making my way to through campus. Dorms are to the east, further inland. Most of the students have moved back to campus by now, but with classes starting in 2 weeks, none are really up before noon. The campus is pretty empty.

The clinic is an ice box, the thermostat must either be broken, or they’re keeping experiments cold. The chill even invades the layers of my ‘new to me’ navy blue suit I picked up at the thrift store that David suggested. Slacks and coat my size are generally difficult to come by without a ton of alterations. I was excited when I found this suit for $40.00. The tags were missing so I had to try it on for size. Everything was just about the right length. It was a bit odd to find pants that were lined.

A blonde, statuesque woman in a lab coat comes through the door into the lobby, her heel click on the linoleum floors. She paused in front of me with a pensive look then smiles. She whispers to me, “Are you, Laura?”

It must be the hair. My dark brown hair reaches just above my collar. I really should have got it cut, but I spent too much time looking for a suit that would fit. “No, are you expecting a guy named ‘Laura’?”

“Um…” I just made her uncomfortable.

“I’m Owen, are you Ally?”

“Oh right! You’re David’s friend. Yes, I’m Ally, but we’ll go over all the introductions in the interview. You’ll be meeting with Professor Bishop. She’s running late, I’ll come get you when she’s ready to start.”

“The interview is not with you?”

“It’s not, why? Did David tell you that I am interviewing you?

“I guess I just assumed.” I look up at her with slight embarrassment. A change of topics would be good right about now. “Can I ask why you are expecting a guy named Laura.”

“I’m not supposed to say. I could get in a lot of trouble.” A man walks through the entryway looking nervous. Ally spies him and walks towards him. They speak quietly for the moment, and he takes a seat on the chair opposite me. I can tell he’s very self-conscious. He alternates between fidgeting with his fingers and drying his palms on his slightly faded jeans and bouncing his knee.

He’s got a medium build to him, the ball cap on his head covering the short crop of hair that peeks from under the brim. I raise my gaze to him. His eyes meet mine. He gives me a nervous smile. “You know, you’re lucky.” He says with an uneasy grin. “Being so petite.”

I give him a puzzled look. I’m not sure whether the comment was an insult, but it had a twinge of both earnest sincerity and jealousy. “I’m not sure that I could say that I’m lucky for being short.”

“No, really. A ton of girls would love to have your frame.”

“I’m a guy, so that doesn’t seem to work in my favor.”

“But that’s why you’re here, right?”

“I’m here for the receptionist position.”

The color drains from his face. “You’re not a patient?”

“No…” I say drawing the word out trying to figure what to say next…

“Oh…” he says as color returns to his cheeks. “That’s a shame, you would be the envy of a ton of girls.” His gaze shifts from me to the floor.

Ally returns, “Mr. Horton, please come with me.” I rise from my chair and follow her through the door. “I’m sorry about the error earlier. I would appreciate some - discretion about what we chatted about earlier.”

“No problem Ally.” I stand, button my suit coat. Ally looks me over and says, “I love your suit.” She grins. “You know, I think you’ll fit in pretty well here. Come on. Professor Bishop is waiting for us.”

I’m seated for the interview. Professor Bishop, a woman in her late 40's, is seated in a conference room. She’s wearing a skirt suit, it’s navy similar in color to my suit. Underneath is a cotton tip which is partially obstructed by her blue, green and orange scarf. She rises to greet me, extending her hand. “Welcome Mr. Horton, I’m Professor Bishop. I’m glad you were able to sit for this interview with such short notice.” I can see her look me over before I sit. “I understand you are a psychology major?”

“Yes, Professor Bishop. I…”

The interview goes for about an hour. I’ve established quite a rapport with Dr. Bishop. She begins to tell me about the clinic and its clientele. It’s only then it is explained to me that the Clinic is one that specializes in ‘Gender-Related Issues.'

I was ready to kill David.

“Was that some kind of a joke!?!?!” I’m hopping mad as David stand there calmly dicing an onion.

“Dude, probably not a good idea to yell at a guy holding a knife.” David puts the knife down on the cutting board and wipes his hand with a kitchen rag. “What’s this all about?”

“You hooked me up with an interview for a gender clinic!”

“Oh right! Ally’s great isn't she? She was mentioning that she was having problems trying to fill the receptionist position. I thought I could solve her problem and yours. Win-Win, remember?”

“So you conveniently neglected the part where I’d be ringmaster at the gender circus?”

“That’s pretty insensitive… As a psych major, I thought you would be more open-minded.”

“Open minded? Have you actually been down to the clinic? You let me walk it the ‘pitch room’ for the Jerry Springer show!”

“Dude, so don’t take the job! But you’re making me look like an ass by turning it down. Ally thought you would be perfect for the job. She called me after the interview to thank me. We’re going out Saturday night. Seriously, what’s the big deal anyway?”

“Oh, you don’t see a problem?”

“No, and if you do that’s YOUR problem. Look, Ally is coming over in a bit; she was going to tell you in person that you’ve got the job. You can give her the bad news yourself.” David resumes his culinary duties for the evening.

I head off to my room and begin to look for other campus jobs online. The doorbell rings, and after a brief interlude, there's a soft knock on my doorframe. “Owen?” Ally says softly. “David said you were having some second thoughts about taking the position at the clinic?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it would be a good fit for me.”

“I’m sure you have your reasons for turning down the Chair of the psych department.”

“She won’t hold it against me, would she? I just don’t think it would be a good fit for me.”

“So was all that in the interview about wanting to take your psychology career seriously - just BS?”

“No, I really want to help people.”

“Just not ‘some people,' is that it?”

“No, I just want to take my career seriously.”

“Of course you do, you just don’t want to bother with those people who really need help with lifelong personal struggles. I get it.”

“That’s not fair! I want to help people with real problems. Not some fetish or some compulsion to be something they're not!”

She’s stunned into silence. Tears begin to pool in Ally’s eyes. “If that’s what you think, then you’re probably not a good fit for this job or this major for that matter.” She turns and walks slowly back to the kitchen.

Now I feel like crap… I get up from my chair and chase after her. She’s crying into David's shoulder. This can’t be just about the job. It was like I had insulted her. David tries to console her. He looks up at me, “you know, you may want to consider another place to live.”

“Now wait a minute, I have as much right to this place as anyone else!” I start to panic. “Look, I’m sorry alright. Ally? I’m sure you have a lot of sympathy for the patients there.” Ally turns from David, walks over to the couch, grabs her purse and hugs David and walks out the door.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“What’s it to you? I mean, I never pegged you as an ass.”

“She was baiting me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Learn, you’re a student, you’re supposed to learn or didn’t they teach you that?” He closes the front door and heads back to the kitchen.

I head back to my room and close the door. I relax on my bed for a bit before dinner.

I must have fallen asleep as I am awakened by my cell phone. It’s Ms. Bishop calling to offer me the position. Ally must not have spoken with her. “I’m having some reservations about taking the position.”

“You did seem a bit nervous though I’m surprised to hear that you’re having second thoughts. Would you mind sharing those with me?”

“Ally was just here, and I mentioned some of my concerns to her. She didn’t react well to what I saying.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to cause her any distress, but I wanted to talk about your misgivings.”

“It’s just… I don’t know.”

“I’m not here to coddle you or convince you to take a position you are not comfortable with. I suggest you research your ‘thoughts,' find out what you ‘don’t know’ and give me a call Friday. If you decline my offer of employment, that is your choice. But to aid you, I suggest you study up on Gender dysphoria or Gender Identity Disorder and not the euphemisms commonly associated with those with gender-related struggles.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bishop, I’ll give you a call on Friday. If you see Ally, please tell her, I’m sorry.”

“I think she’ll find it more meaningful if you were to apologize when you know more of your transgression. I hope to hear from you Friday.” I put down my phone and head to the dining room.

What David prepared is already sitting in the kitchen with a portion missing from the casserole dish. David must be out for the evening. I plate my portion for dinner, wash the everything that was left in the sink. I take Dr. Bishop’s advice and research what she outlined. The internet is great, but the amount of explicit material online is distracting. There is a remarkable difference between the material that comes up when you look up “Tranny” than “Gender Identity Disorder.” Much of the research related to GID is very technical and well beyond what a 2nd-year psych student could really meaningfully absorb.

I called Dr. Bishop Friday morning. In truth, I still had nothing to convince me that any of this was more that just what I had thought. Separating fact from fiction was difficult with what was out there. I’m still not sure why I said I would take the position. Curiosity or quid-pro-quo at least there would be something there that would give me a peek at what a career in psychology would be like.