Arlene fired up a cigarette and exhaled angrily and glared at her son. "I still can't believe this. Didn't they teach you anything in school? Didn't your father and I teach you anything? What about sports? Did you ever stop to think about that? You know you can't play sports if you smoke. Are you stupid? Tell me Hank because I want to know. Do your friends smoke? Is that it? Is this some kind of peer pressure thing?"

Hank shook his head no as he struggled to fight back the tears.

"Then what is it Hank? Why in the the world would you do something so stupid? Did you think it would make you look all tough and grown-up like your father?"

"No."

"Did you want to try it because you saw someone you like in the movies doing it?"

"Nooo!"

"Then tell me why you're so stupid Hank! Tell me why?"

"BECAUSE I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU MOM!" screamed Hank. "I love you so much and you hate me so much." He fell to his knees and started bawling.

Arlene was flabbergasted. She was overwhelmed by her son's display of emotions. Even more, she had heard what he said about wanting to be like her. She didn't understand it but she had heard it. She'd seen the pain in his face and knew he had tried his best not to say it. Her heart had ached when he said he loved her. How could he think she hated him? She was angry and confused but she loved him with every breath she took. She fell beside him on her own knees and pulled his wet face to her chest.

"I don't hate you," she said. "I love you more than life itself. I'm just trying to understand."

"Me too," choked Hank.

Arlene stood up and took him by the hand, leading him to her bed where they sat down on the mattress. "You said you want to be like me. Why did you say that?"

Hank didn't hesitate. "Because its true. I want to be like you."

"But you're a boy. A boy should want to be like his father."

"I know that, and I do kind of, but not really. At least thats not what I think about. I just think about what it would be like to be you."'

"I'm still not sure what you mean. Are you saying you like the kind of person I am and the things I stand for? Or are you talking about being like me physically?"

"Both," said Hank. "I think you're the greatest person in the whole universe and you're so beautiful. Everything you do looks so wonderful when you do it. Its like I want to do everything you do the same way you do it."

Arlene followed his gaze as it focused on her cigarette while he was talking. "So I'm the reason you started smoking," she asked?

He wanted to be truthful, but then again, he didn't want to make her feel worse.

"Its okay Hank. I think I need to hear this.

Hank nodded. "I"m sorry. Please don't hate me."

Arlene rubbed the back of his neck with her hand. "I don't baby. Maybe I should be flattered. You know what they say about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery?"

Hank sniffed and wiped his eyes.

Arlene got up and put her cigarette out. "So how long has this been going on," she asked?

Hank laughed. The sound of his laughter reflected his relief. "A real long time," he said. "Forever, I guess."

Arlene smiled as she sat back down on the bed beside him. "Tell me about it and don't leave anything out."

"I don't know Mom. Some of it is kind of embarrassing."

"Then those are the parts I especially want to hear. It means they're the most important. Who knows? Maybe I did or thought the same things when I was your age."

Hank shook his head. "I don't think so. Probably not."

"Tell me anyway and start at the beginning."

"Okay, well for starters, I guess I've always thought you were like the coolest person in the world for as long as I can remember. I'm talking like when I was probably five or six. I used to watch you do everything and then I'd try to do it like you did."

Arlene scowled. "I hope you weren't smoking like me when you were five or six."

Hank laughed. "No, but I pretended to. I used pencils and pens and pretzels. I didn't start using real cigarettes until I was eight or nine."

"What? You started smoking then?"

"No! I was just holding them. They weren't even lit. I was just pretending. I didn't start smoking for real until about a year ago."

"I see," said Arlene. "So do you like the way you feel when you smoke?"

"Yeah, but its hard to explain."

"Well does it feel physically good or is there something else about it that you like?"

"Definitely both. I know it makes me feel good, but there's more to it than that. Its like when you asked me if it made me feel manly and grown-up like Dad. Well it doesn't make me feel like Dad. It makes feel like you and that's the part I like."

"So what else do you do like me?"

"I don't know. You know. Just things."

"Oh really? Like what?"

"I can't say Mom. Its too weird, but I'm not going to do it anymore so it really doesn't matter. The thing is that I really love you a lot and there's a lot of times when I wish I could be more like you, to know what it feels like. Its really dumb and I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Arlene rubbed her eyes and then she put her cigarette out. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won't be mad or think less of you."

Hank shook his head no.

"Okay then. I'll tell you what I think it is and you tell me if I'm right."

Hank agreed, knowing she'd never guess his shameful secret.

"Are you drinking alcohol?"

"No...not really. Dad lets me have a sip of his beer sometimes when we're watching football or baseball, but its not like I've ever drank a whole can of beer or anything."

Arlene nodded as if she were satisfied with his answer. She sighed and placed her hand on his thigh. "I didn't think you were drinking."

"Then why'd you ask?"

She shrugged. "Because I didn't know how to ask you what I really wanted to ask you, so I guess I'll just come out and say it. Don't take this the wrong way, but someone has been getting into my closet and dresser and I thought it was Tommy, but now I think it might be you."

Hank's jaw dropped and the moisture in his mouth evaporated.

"It's okay honey. I'm not mad. Please don't be embarrassed. I'm sure a lot of boys your age have probably played around with their mother's clothes."

His eyes watered and his lips trembled as he looked at her.

"But I think those boys are probably just curious about women in general and I think it might be different with you."

"I'm not gay Mom. I promise. Please don't tell Dad what I did. He'll hate me."

"Your father won't hate you Hank. He loves you. We both love you."

"But I don't want him to know!"

"He already does."

"You told him?"

"Yes. But I didn't say it was you. I told him about thinking that someone was playing with my clothes and I told him that I thought it might be Tommy."

"Okay then," pleaded Hank. "So don't tell him. He doesn't need to know. I'm not going to do it anymore anyway."

"Its okay Hank. He wasn't mad when he thought it was Tommy so he won't be made when he knows its you."

"But Mom..."

"He's your father and he needs to know."

"No he doesn't. He never has to know. You don't have to tell him."

"He's your father and he needs to know but I don't have to tell him tonight. Maybe you can tell him yourself later, when the time is right."

"Uh-uh. No way."

"We'll cross that bridge later. Right now we have to deal with your smoking. He already knows about that because he caught you."

"And he hates me for it too. You saw the way he was looking at me when he told you about catching me."

"Quit saying he hates you. Nobody hates you. He was just angry and disappointed. We both were."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know you are and I'm sure this and everything else must make you feel like its the end of your world, but it isn't. Things will get better. You'll see."

Hank sniffed and wiped his eyes.

Arlene placed her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. "Well at least now I know why you got caught with my Virginia Slims instead of your father's Winstons."

Hank forced a nervous laugh. "I told him that I took yours because they were easier to get."

"How would you feel if we got you some nice clothes of your own? I know we're about the same size and you could wear mine, but I was thinking it might be better if you had some things of your own."

Hank croaked. "I couldn't do that Mom."

"Why not? You do it with my clothes. Since you're probably going to keep doing it, I think it makes sense for you to have your own clothes. I also think it would be a good idea for you to explore this side of yourself. Maybe you'll get it out of your system or maybe you'll figure out that it really makes you happy."

"I don't think so Mom. Its just too embarrassing. I wouldn't want anyone to see me."

"You're just saying that because you're afraid you'll look silly, but I think if you let me help you, you'd be proud of the way you look. All you need is a little make-up and your eyebrows shaped. Of course you'd need a wig and some breast forms, but other than that, you have the perfect features. Your nose is small and your lips are full. You have nice cheekbones too."

His breathing became more labored as he visualized his mother's offer to make him over. She was right in thinking he was afraid. "I can't Mom. I'm a boy."

"A boy who wants to feel what its like to be a woman," she said softly. "Its okay, I know you're scared. We'll figure it out later. In the meantime, I need to decide what to do about your smoking."

Hank took a deep breath and braced for his punishment. At best he could expect to be grounded for two weeks without allowance. The worst she'd probably do is ground him for the rest of the summer. But that would screw up their family vacation with the Dicksons and their kids. It wasn't as if they'd leave him at home by himself, but it would certainly be nice if they did. Then again, a week with Mrs. Dickson in Disneyland was nothing to sneeze at either.

"I'll talk to your father tonight. No promises, but I think I can get him to go easy on you."

"Thanks Mom. I love you."

"I know you do honey. And after tonight, I know it more than I ever did. I love you too darling." She stood up and kissed him on the top of his head. "And don't you worry about it. Some day all your dreams will come true."