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My Wonderful Obsession Part 37: A Truly Awful Week Somehow I managed to drag myself out of bed and get together with Kath for a late breakfast, the day after the cast party. I was beginning to appreciate why there was an age restriction for drinking alcohol! As anticlimactic as the week following the show promised to be, at least there was ONE thing to look forward to - the end of the school year, and the end of high school. FREEDOM! Maybe it was just because the end was imminent, but both of us couldn't wait to put it all behind us. So, escape from the drudgery that school had become was what dominated the first half hour of our conversation. But what about the spring prom, you ask? Oh yes, THAT little event - the school year couldn't be over until the prom was, so that subject came up next. Well, Kath and I had previously figured we'd accompany each other that night - but NOT to the prom - rather to dinner and a movie instead. She told me she wasn't up for yet another big public appearance, especially when her steady guy couldn't come, and she was almost counting on coming down with another bout of the evening version of morning sickness. Me? I already told you how badly I wanted to be supportive. Besides, we'd been way too busy to go dress shopping when we should have, like four or five months earlier, and now everyone was saying if you didn't have your dress you were so screwed! And with my vow not to attend this year's event in anything but a dress, but no guy to be on the arm of, it just didn't seem do-able. But Kath had a surprise for me. "So thanks a lot for backing out of our deal," she said. "Huh? What deal?" "You know - the prom. You and I were supposed to go out on a date instead." "Yeah, I know - so what's the problem?" "YOU'RE the problem. You told Michael you'd be his date for the prom. Some best friend you are." "I did? Oh my God, I totally forgot - Michael did ask me last night, didn't he? Uh ... don't tell me I said yes?" Kath just fixed me with a stare and nodded. Wow - I must've been drunker than I thought. "Well, no big deal - I'll just tell him I changed my mind." "Sandy, will you please get a life? You don't do that to a guy. Not even Michael." "Well I did it to you, didn't I? No, we did agree to go out, and I should stick to my commitments." "Oh, give it a rest. You're beginning to sound like my mother. I was doing some more thinking about it, and I'm good to do the prom after all." "By yourself?" "Uh-uh," she shook her head. "Kenny doesn't have a date, so I'll make his day and tell him I'm available. He's too shy to ever ask anyone himself." "Ken Russell? That's a hoot - so he finally gets to hook up with you." Ken had played the general, the fianc? Kate ends up dropping for Fred in Kiss Me Kate. "How d'you think Ben will feel about that?" "I talked to him this morning - he's cool." "Just one more reason he's a keeper," I smiled. "Some guys can be so jealous." Like me, I thought, when it came to Mark and Pam. "But hey, what are we gonna wear? We still have this little problem - no dresses." "Says the girl with the closet jam-packed with all kinds of dresses? Sandy, let's just wear what we've already got. Like, who's gonna care?" 'I will,' I thought. But she made a good point. We didn't need to impress anyone, and my mind had already begun sorting through the contents of my closet. "Okay, you convinced me. And it'll be way cheaper." "And a lot easier. We might not look all prim and proper like the rest of the girls, but we always WERE kinda different, weren't we?" "Hey, speak for yourself, okay? I like to think I'm JUST like the other girls." Kath erupted in laughter. "Oh yeah - tell me about it! That's why you and I aren't going as boy and girl, like we should be." "Oh, don't start - that ship sailed a long time ago. Besides, you'd never have gone to the prom with Sandy the guy. He wouldn't have been macho enough for you." "Hey, I'm not like that," she shook her head, a pained look on her face. "I always liked you just the way you were." That stopped me in my tracks. Did she really like me, in a boyfriend kind of way? Hmm, I thought - how interesting. Well, anyway ... like I said, the ship had sailed. Anyway, she seemed to like me just fine as her girlfriend, and that suited me perfectly. When Kath left I went upstairs to rummage through my closet and drawers. 'So now I'm going to the prom, after all,' I thought with a smile, 'and in a dress, too - just like I said I would.' But then I began to worry that Michael was interested in me, and maybe he thought I felt the same about him 'cause I said yes. That possibility was a bit much to contemplate. How was I going to break it to Michael that I wasn't serious, or in my right mind, when I agreed to be his date? And what about him? He must've been drunker than a skunk to ask me ... ***** The bottom fell out the very next evening. Kath and I were together in her bedroom studying for an exam - well, in reality I was doing the studying and she was on her bedside phone talking to Ben for what seemed like an eternity. The call started off with their usual lighted- hearted banter, but soon she was doing a lot of listening and every so often she'd glance my way with a concerned look on her face, nodding or shaking her head. She looked so serious I began to think he was trying to break up with her! Soon I was no longer able to concentrate on my textbook, so I scribbled a note and stuck it in front of her: "Wazzup with Ben?" She just shook her head, which didn't shed much light on things. When Kath finally hung up the phone I looked up and noticed her eyes were glistening. She ignored me and started for the door, heading for the bathroom I guessed, but I jumped up to intercept her. "What's going on?" I demanded. "What did he say?" "You don't wanna know," she replied. "I need to go pee." With that she pushed past me and was gone for at least ten minutes. During that time I imagined all sorts of nasty, terrible things, all of which involved horrible outcomes for Kath. Had she gone ahead and spilled the beans after all, I wondered? Maybe Ben told her it was all over between them, like a lot of young guys who abandon their girlfriends when they discover the consequences of sticking their dicks where they should know better than to put them. Or maybe Ben was sick with some incurable disease. Or one of his folks just passed away. It was maddening not to know what Kath's bad news was. By the time she finally came back I'd made up my mind to keep my mouth shut, so when she flopped down on the bed I just put my arms around her and hugged her good and tight. To my surprise Kath did the same right back, and then she began speaking softly: "Sandy, I'm so sorry ..." "Sorry? I don't get it. I should be saying that ... did ... did Ben, like, break up with you?" Kath pulled back and stared at me. "Ben? Break up? No, why would he do THAT?" "I thought ... like, maybe you told him ..." "No, no, no ... everything's cool with Ben ... so far. He still doesn't know. But now I'm REALLY not telling him." "I don't get it. So why are you so broken up? What did he say?" Kath pulled back a bit more and took both my hands in hers. I glanced down as she did that and noticed for the first time that her nails were done, in that salmon pink I'd given her. Mine were the copper-red color I favored that year. Typical girls' hands, was the idle thought that ran through my mind. But what was the awful news that had her so disturbed? "Sandy, I'm sorry," she repeated. "Ben told me this in confidence, but you really need to know. It's about Mark." "Mark? What happened? Was he hurt? Is he okay?" I could feel my heart racing. "Yeah, he's okay. But Pam isn't ... exactly. Sandy, she's pregnant." It's a good thing I was sitting, 'cause I would've passed out and hit the floor if I wasn't. I'm surprised I didn't faint as it was. "Pregnant? What do you mean?" I asked, as if I didn't know exactly what that meant. "She got pregnant ... that's what I'm saying." "You mean HE got her pregnant." "I dunno ..." "Well how else would it happen? You don't just GET pregnant." I could feel a wave of anger pass over me - anger directed more at Mark than Pam, strangely. But mostly I felt deeply wounded and even more betrayed than before. "Sandy, I think I KNOW how it happens ..." "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. You were right, you shouldn't have told me. I'm SO pissed at him right now. How could he do this, Kath?" "Maybe it WAS her. Maybe she - you know - sucked him in." If I wasn't feeling so hurt and betrayed I probably would've found that comment perversely funny. But I was so I didn't. "Is that what Ben said?" "Not exactly. But you know he doesn't have much use for her - he thinks she's just looking for a cushy life with a guy who's got the bucks to keep her in the style she wants to get accustomed to." "That's insane. Mark doesn't have any money. He hasn't even been through college yet." "But his family does. Isn't he gonna take over his Dad's company?" "I guess so ... but not for a while. His Dad's not even fifty yet." "So she plans ahead. Ben said so - he was like, 'She's pretty crafty. She knows how to get what she wants.'" Hearing Ben's assessment of Pam made me feel like a total failure, on top of all the pain this revelation was causing. I knew what I wanted too, and I even had it, but I was too damn stupid to figure out how to hang onto it. "By getting knocked up? That's kinda risky, isn't it? Most guys get scared off when they find out a kid's on the way." "Sandy, come on - is Mark that kind of guy?" "Uh, no ... I guess not. That's why I liked him so much. But neither is Ben." "Prob'ly not, but I'm not planning to find out." I nodded, reminded of what she did plan to do. "Uh, did he say when she's due?" "January." "Huh!" I shook my head, fighting back tears. "So they'll have a millennium baby. How nice for them. Uh ... Kath?" "Yeah?" "Does Ben think they're gonna ... you know?" She looked at me silently for a moment, then just nodded slowly. And my heart sank even lower than it already was, if that was possible, and I felt myself slipping into a state of mental shock. "I like your nails ... they look so nice," I said in a soft voice, tears streaming down my face. Needless to say, studying was done for the evening, and I don't recall going home but I do remember lying awake all night, tossing and turning, not caring about the exam, or much else either. I also remember promising myself I was going to throw out all my girl stuff and go back to just being me again (whoever that was!), and then changing my mind and deciding to finish what I started, get the damn operation over with and move away where no one would know about the real 'me'. Maybe, I imagined, I could find Rob and get him to marry me and we could both be ski bums for the rest of our lives. And then I'd give my head a big shake, call myself a stupid idiot for thinking I deserved anything remotely that nice, and circle back to ditching my female persona. And I'd go through the whole thing all over again. Wow - was I ever conflicted! Then, sometime around dawn, I remember reflexively turning over onto my chest, as I always did when I was younger, and receiving a painful reminder of how my body had changed before I'd even turned eighteen. Strangely, I seemed to fear the notion of a scalpel cutting into my crotch less than having it slicing into my boobs. So by the time I dragged my half-dead body out of bed to get ready for school, I knew I wouldn't be changing course, even though I'd never ever be Mrs. Sandra McCowan. But for days on end I hurt inside more than I ever thought possible. ***** So how WAS the spring prom, you ask? Let me see - I'd just lived through one of the worst weeks of my life (yes, I DID feel like ending it all, more than once), I'd stupidly gotten myself into going with a guy I had NO attraction to, and whom I figured must be a perv for wanting somebody like me for his date, and I'd let down my best friend in the whole wide world. Any normal girl would have been a total write- off under those circumstances. But you know me pretty well by now, enough to know I wasn't exactly your everyday girl-next-door. I had thought about keeping a low profile that night; try to fly under the radar, so to speak. Just find a nice conservative dress and a pair of low heels and do my face and hair like I usually did for school, maybe add a ribbon if I was feeling a bit more daring - that sort of thing. But try not to get noticed. Oddly, it was Kath herself who'd suggested we should both throw caution to the winds - probably to help me get my mind off Mark. So there we were in my bedroom something like four hours before the big event, sorting undies, shoes and jewelry into a Sandy pile and a Kath pile on my bedspread. Then Kath stripped her clothes off, letting them fall in a heap on the floor, and walked the six feet to my bathroom and stepped into the shower. Now this was in our getting-ready plans, but it still felt strange to see her totally nude for the first time ever. And yes, I felt pretty nervous about doing the same in front of her, but I'd already thought about it and decided it was only fair, and from now on there would be no secrets between us. So when she emerged, I was standing there unclothed holding a towel, ready to take my turn in the shower. My eyes darted momentarily to her tummy as she wrapped the towel around her hair, and my face probably registered surprise that she was barely showing. Kath must have thought I was stealing a glance at her red pubic hair, 'cause she took a good look at the same place on me and remarked, "Oh, a girl with a little something extra - how cute is that!" "Okay, I'm not exactly hung like Ben if that's what you mean," I commented dryly. "THAT's pretty obvious," she laughed, turning her attention to my boobs and feeling the weight of one with her hand. "So where did you get these girls? I don't remember them being THIS huge last time you exposed yourself to me." I felt pleased and flattered that she noticed - and that her attention was no longer focused on my silly little penis. "They just happened," I giggled. "Mother Nature was nice to me for once? But yours are still a lot bigger." "Don't remind me. If Ben wasn't so crazy about them I would've had 'em cut off a long time ago. It's such a pain having to wear boob-hangers all the time." "Oh my God, there you go again! Kath, will you stop being so ridiculous? It's like, a huge GIFT to be born a girl! You gotta go with it, enjoy it, remember? Stop fighting it." "Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Anyway, whose idea do you think it was to get us all prettied up for tonight? Not yours, if I remember correctly!" I just nodded and rolled my eyes as I stepped past her into the shower. She was so right about that. How ironic that my pregnant tom-boy best friend Kath had to be the instigator of this whole get-dolled-up-for- the-prom thing. Ten minutes later we were standing in bras and panties, helping each other with our hair. I worked Kath's beautiful long red tresses into an up-do, fixing it with at least twenty bobby pins and half a can of my volumizer, and she fastened my much shorter still-reddish locks up with a black comb and a thin white hair ribbon, which she tied into a perfect little bow. I have to admit, I always liked how I looked with my hair up - it made my neck seem longer more slender and really accentuated the smooth skin of my upper chest and shoulders. Then we worked on each other's' nails and makeup, which must have consumed more than an hour, and after spritzing ourselves liberally with perfume, it was finally time for les pieces de resistance: our sexy party dresses. I smiled as I rehashed a conversation we'd had the day before. For like the tenth time, I was having second thoughts about not having real prom dresses to wear. "Kath, maybe we should go shopping after all," I'd lamented. "Excuse me? You can't be serious," she snickered. "I seem to remember a knockout emerald green party dress with a cute layered skirt that some nice person bought for me. Should go well with those red shoes, don't ya think?" "And that crazy red hair," I giggled, snapping out of my silly mood and getting excited. "Oh Kath, what a great idea! And maybe I could wear that white cocktail dress, the one I wore when I went out with Rob? I could wear it strapless ... I just need some new shoes. Should I get red ones too? Would you mind? (She shook her head, looking mildly disgusted.) Oh, cool - but that's still a lot cheaper than buying new prom dresses, right?" "A LOT." So that's how it all happened. Before driving us to the school, Mom went all mushy over us (as usual) and made us pose for her customary snapshots, some taken in the living room and others outside in front of the house, where it was quite nice and warm in the bright sunlight of that early spring evening. Now this is how much of a non-event the evening was shaping up to be for both of us: neither of our dates could drive, so we missed out on the big to-do of having the guys pick us up at our houses in the traditional way. Instead they asked us to meet them at the front steps of the school where they could at least escort us inside. So the disappointment of missing out on the experience of shopping for and wearing a real prom dress just another example of how pathetic my personal life was becoming. Anyway, as it turned out we were a bit early, so there Kath and I stood waiting for our 'men' at the foot of the steps, clutching our little purses and having to say hi to everyone who passed by. So much for flying under the radar! It felt pretty awkward, and I felt really centered out, but at least we got lots of compliments from other girls we knew and even some we didn't, not to mention lots of ogles from all the handsome, well-dressed guys, who we amused ourselves with by ogling right back! And as I carefully checked out each and every prom dress that paraded on by, I was able to convince myself I felt at least as beautiful in my revealing, curve-flattering dress as any of them looked in their over-the-top outfits with the big flouncy skirts, and with some of the poor style and color choices I observed, maybe even prettier and sexier than I did when I wore it for Rob. Of course Kath looked perfectly stunning in hers, especially with those bright red shoes, and I knew she felt great too. So even though we weren't wearing 'traditional' prom dresses, I didn't feel the slightest bit under- dressed. What I DID feel is a bit over-exposed, like whenever a guy ogled a spot about six inches below my chin. "Oh Kath," I whispered, "am I showing off too much ...?" "Cleavage? Yeah, and you might get us both tossed out, but that'll just add to the fun, won't it?" 'And I thought Julia was the shit-disturber,' I mused as I watched that very girl approach with a guy I recognized but didn't know. "Hi Sandy. Hi Kath," she greeted us, with hugs, looking me and then Kath over head to toe. "Do you know Jason?" "Hi Jason," said Kath. "Hi," I repeated. We shook hands with him and he nodded a silent hello. He probably knew about me, I thought. "I love your dress," I told Julia sincerely. She was wearing a super- gorgeous light blue number, strapless of course, with a longish flared skirt layered with pretty ruffles - decidedly prom-class! She replied, "Thanks, Sandy. My mom insisted on taking me dress shopping. I love yours too. It, uh ... really suits you." I'm sure her eyes were on my boobs when she said that, and my mind flashed back to the first time she tricked this flat-chested boy into wearing a skirt ... "But it's not as pretty as yours," I stammered, "and it's not really a prom dress ..." I glanced at Kath, who added, "We kinda procrastinated? So we had to wear what we had in our closets." Julia laughed out loud. "Oh, I've SEEN what Sandy keeps in HER closet! Yours is really nice too, Kath - I love that color on you. And you both have red shoes - pretty racy!" "That's us," Kath snickered. "The raciest girls in the whole school." As Julia and her beau made their way up the steps we resumed scanning the crowd for our dates. Now, one thing we both could've done without was seeing my old nemesis Justin Bradford. He was walking hand-in-hand with a Goth-looking girl I didn't recognize, which was probably a good thing, and when he saw me his initial expression was one of surprise, or maybe shock, but then it changed to a kind of sneer and he looked like he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head - in surprise or disgust, I don't know. Did he always have to make me feel like shit? "Don't let that turkey ruin your night," advised Kath, echoing what had just crossed my mind. "Remember, a couple more weeks and you'll never see him again." "Can't come too soon," I replied. And I tried to put him out of my mind. Soon Kenny appeared and he disappointed me by NOT going all ga-ga over Kath. He did tell her she looked "real nice" though, and a few minutes later a car pulled up to the curb and Michael made his appearance, with his father waving at us from the car. I waved back. "You're LATE," I told him with a big smile, which instantly reminded me of the scene in 'Pretty Woman' where Vivian greets Edward in the hotel bar. Michael apologized profusely, blaming his father who'd supposedly arrived home later than he should have. Excuses! But I resisted the urge to make a fuss about it, as Kath was already ascending the steps. Michael nicely offered me his arm and I instinctively put my hand on it, feeling not a little strange and apprehensive about the gender similarities I'm sure we both were well aware of. But the thought did cross my mind that another hit of his wine wouldn't be a bad idea, right about then! As it turned out we had a pretty good time, considering. My drama friends were all there, so we all hung out together on and off the dance floor. The whole night I kept bumping into other girls I knew, and that would start a whole round of mutual dress admiration and even a few unexpected hugs. And I could distinctly feel the other guys checking me out, especially whenever I tugged the top of my dress up to keep it from revealing even more of me, but that was only mildly disconcerting - by then I was into showing off my body a bit more, and male attention was something I was getting used to from my waitress job. Anyway, I felt pretty glad to have a real date, and Michael was great to dance with, 'cause he knew all the regular ballroom dance steps and was super easy to follow. Not so with poor Ken, who seemed to be all left feet and needed Kath to lead HIM when they were slow-dancing. We traded partners a couple of times during the evening and I had a bit of trouble getting my own date back! Also, I got the distinct impression that Ken was squeamish about dancing with me. But even with Michael I had a hard time relaxing and just enjoying the moment, even though he treated me like a lady and even let one or two compliments on my appearance pass his lips. Still, as the evening wore on we got to chatting more and more, and I finally worked up the courage to ask him something I'd been curious about since we started rehearsing for 'Kate.' "So Michael, do your folks know about me ... you know, like, my um, background?" He pulled back a little and looked at me, his face showing uncertainty. "Do you mean, like, what I think you mean?" "Mmm ... yeah." His expression softened a bit. "Okay, uh ... well, I guess I did tell them ... but only because they were asking me a ton of questions about you." My heart sank a little. 'Oh crap,' I thought. Mark would never have told HIS parents. "So ... like, when did you ..." "Right after the party." He chuckled, nervously. "They'd been bugging me for weeks to ask you to the prom, right? So I did. I think they were hoping that 'attractive young lady,' as they called you, was a nice Jewish girl." "Me? Jewish?" That was so funny! I'd never have guessed I looked Jewish. Well, maybe for the play last year ... but Mom was born Catholic, and Dad was nothing, so I guess that counted ME out, didn't it? "Uh-huh ... and I um ... I said you weren't either, right? It was pretty funny at the time - you should've been there. My father was like, 'What do you mean, EITHER?' and I said, 'just that - she's not Jewish and she's not a lady.' And my Mom's like, 'What do you mean she's not a lady?' and I said 'You haven't heard? She isn't even a girl.' Hah! You should've seen their faces!" That didn't sound at all funny to me. "I'm glad I WASN'T there," I exclaimed, feeling kind of violated. "So I don't get it. If your folks know I'm not, uh ..." "Oh, I don't think they knew what I was taking about, and if they did they sure didn't believe me. I'm always pulling their leg, Sandy." I felt confused. "So like, you told them I'm not a girl, but they think you're kidding? That's INSANE. What did they say when you told them you were taking me to the prom?" "Oh, they acted really pleased. Orrr ... maybe they weren't really acting - it's hard to tell with them, right? So I said, 'You don't mind me going with, ahh, you know?' and they were like, 'Mind? Oh no, you just go right ahead and have the nicest time, Michael. Give our best to your new boyfriend.'" "You sure have an interesting relationship with your parents," I commented dryly. "Let's just say we communicate on an entirely different level than most people," he smiled. "But you have to admit, I do tell the truth, don't I?" Now I could let myself relax and even laugh a bit. "Yes, I guess you really do. But you have the weirdest way of doing it." Then I thought about what he'd just shared with me. "Uh ... Michael?" "Yes my dear?" "Thanks. Thanks for looking after my ... my, um, dignity. I appreciate it a lot." And I stood tippy-toe and planted a copper-colored kiss on his cheek. "I'll never wash that spot again," he said theatrically, which made me giggle, and I felt myself relaxing at last. Maybe, I thought, Michael Bell wasn't such a strange guy after all. But I had the distinct impression that he didn't know for sure about me either. Anyway, that little exchange seemed to break the last chunk of ice between us, so whenever it was a slow dance, or when we were taking a break, we laughed and chatted like old friends. I simple loved his wry sense of humor! (Later I came to realize that most Jewish people had that wonderful gift, and I've appreciated Jewish humor ever since.) Then, just as we started another slow dance, it was Michael's turn to ask ME an awkward question: "Sandy? Now c'mon, tell me the truth - you aren't really a boy, are you -that's just a vicious rumor everybody's been spreading, right?" "Uh ... why would you ask me that?" was all I could think to say, I was so taken aback. "Why shouldn't I?" he laughed. "I've never seen any evidence ... you don't look anything like a boy," he stated, his eyes darting down to my exposed cleavage. "Or SING like one. You do have a really beautiful voice, you know." Then he put his face close to mine and sniffed the air. "And you sure don't SMELL like a boy tonight!" He had a big silly grin on his face. That made me giggle. "Any boy could wear Halston," I teased, "if they wanted to smell really pretty!" The song came to an end, and I said, "I need some fresh air. Can we go outside?" "Sure, no problem," he nodded, and we headed for the door. "Just a sec - my feet are killing me - I need to take these off." I reached down and pulled off my too-new red pumps, hand-carrying them out to the courtyard where we sat in the same spot Julia and I had occupied three years earlier. Did that ever bring back a flood of memories, like my first-ever kiss, for instance. And Julia looking so spectacular in that navy-blue dress, with her perfect hair and makeup - and me in my last-ever boys' suit. How the tables had turned! For a brief moment I was struck by just how much my life had changed since my freshman year - like, I'd become an entirely different person! And I had to admit, as much as I loved being Julia's boyfriend and as much as my life as a quasi-girl had been full of heartache and turmoil, I felt way more comfortable in the female persona I'd taken on for my senior year. Michael's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Sandy? Just tell me if you think I should mind my own business, okay? You don't have to talk about this ..." "Oh no, I don't mind," I fibbed, hoping he didn't think I was put off by his question, even though it felt uncomfortable to share my secrets with someone who was really just an acquaintance. "It's just that I'm, like, you know - a different person now? And it's ... it's ... well, I don't like to think about how many people know my past." "So it's true?" "Um ... yes - but Michael, I thought you knew ... don't you ever, like, look at the old yearbooks?" "Well I did see last year's, but you just had shorter hair. You still looked like a girl. You were still the same Sandy Johnson." "Oh. Well, whatever ... before that I was just a boy, period, end of story. Some people thought I was queer, and some even thought I was a girl in boys' clothes? But I really was just a boy. Correction - I still am. I just wear girls' clothes now, and uh, you probably noticed my body's been going through some changes? So does that answer your question?" He was quiet for a moment. "I guess it does ..." Then he looked away and we didn't speak for at least a minute. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, like I'd given way too much information, or maybe not enough, and I was sure our pleasant evening was all over ... when he turned back to me and asked, "So ... what's it like?" "Excuse me?" "I mean, like, how does it feel to be doing this ... you know, like wearing a dress, having a different body ... to be living like a girl all the time? " "Oh ... uh, let's see ... well, if you must know, it feels really natural. It feels totally right. I like being able to wear nice things like this ... to have the body for it? I never really liked who I was before ... I always felt like a non-person, you know? Kind of boring? There's nothing wrong with being a guy, but that isn't who I was supposed to be. I really like who I am now ... I'm a lot happier." I also ramble too much, I thought. "Because now you're so popular?" That made me laugh. "Oh please! I'm not popular at all! And I'm still as boring as ever ..." "I wouldn't say that at all - a lot of people think you're really cool ... and I feel the same. But how do other people treat you? Are they ever, like, you know ... mean?" "Yeah, sometimes they are. They talk behind your back, or it's just the way they look at you ... but I don't really give a shit what other people think." (I thought Kath would be proud of me for saying that.) "It's not always easy to be like this, and sometimes it can get really complicated? But this is how I want to be for the rest of my life? And if anybody doesn't like it they can go fuck themselves. Uh, sorry about my bad French." He chuckled. "No worries, Sandy. But I think you really do care what other people think. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone has their opinions, and there's nothing wrong with that, either. I think sometimes people should just keep their opinions to themselves." "Why, what have YOU heard?" "Me? Uh, not a lot ... some people just say stupid things, like, 'Look - Sandy's wearing mascara' ... or, like, 'Do you think those things are fake?' Or, 'Why doesn't he just get a sex change?'" "Okay, I get the idea. So ... is that the worst you've heard?" "Uh, well ... maybe I've heard worse." My heart sank a little when he said that. "Hmm ... well, I'd prefer if you keep it to yourself. I really don't care what everyone says and I don't care who said it. When school's over I won't have to put up with any of them ever again, and that'll suit me just fine." Michael looked away and was quiet for another few seconds, then he said, "Well I hope we can still be friends ... I hope I'll get to see you again ..." I looked at him and thought, 'Hmm - this guy's definitely not marriage or even boyfriend material for me, but he treats me well and seems to respect who I am ... and I DO like being with him. I hope I'll see him again too.' Then without thinking I leaned my head a little so it was lightly touching his shoulder. "Thanks, Michael. That means a lot to me." "As long as my parents let me," he added with mock seriousness, which made me giggle out loud. "So, uh ... do you want to go dance some more?" "I can't think of anything else I'd rather do. But not in these shoes, so no stepping on my toes, okay? These are pricey pantyhose." He glanced at my feet. "Looks like a pricey pedicure too. So tell me, Sandy - exactly how many times have I done that tonight?" "Well, none, but don't start now, okay?" Michael laughed. And so he should have, because he really was a good dancer. It was just so cool to be the 'lady' and have a gentleman who knew how to lead, and I totally trusted him not to squish my toes. But after we resumed our dancing I imagined everyone at the prom had been gossiping and snickering all year long about that weirdo Sandy Johnson, the disgusting girlie-boy who comes to school wearing makeup and nail polish and tight jeans. Not to mention fake boobs! What were they saying about me right now, I wondered. At least with this dress nobody would be saying, are they real? 'Hey, I don't care,' I tried to remind myself. 'So they think I should get a sex change?' I stewed. 'If that'll make 'em happy, fine - and it can't happen soon enough.' "Are you feeling all right?" I heard Michael's voice say. "Yeah ... I'm fine." "I wanted to tell you how great you were in the play." "Oh ... thanks. Did you really think so?" "You totally blew me away!" "Oh Michael, that's very sweet of you ... but you blew me away too. Matter of fact, you were just perfect in that role." "Thanks, Sandy ... that means a lot to me, coming from you." "I meant every word." And by then, I felt the exact same way about Michael as my prom date. ***** The next big event, if you forget about final exams, would be our grad banquet. At least I didn't have to worry about finding a date - Mom, Phil and Natalie would accompany me that night. Earlier that same day, Natalie and I had made a trip to the shop that was doing her bridesmaids' dresses, and I had my first fitting. I was so pleased with her choices of style, fabric and color - it was a very romantic-looking cap-sleeve dress with a squared-off neckline, unadorned bodice and a softly pleated, satin-lined A-line skirt that reached a few inches below the knee, all made from a filmy pale pink chiffon-like material. SO feminine! Natalie wanted us all to wear plain flesh-colored bras to make sure they wouldn't show through the fabric, and I made sure to have mine on for the fitting. "Oh, it's just perfect on you, Sandy!" Natalie gushed when I emerged from the change room. "What do YOU think?" I twirled in front of the mirror, and the skirt billowed just the right amount. "I love it too," I happily agreed. "It's the prettiest bridesmaid dress in the whole world!" And that was an educated statement, since I'd spent a lot of time perusing bridal magazines and catalogs that spring. The saleslady agreed too. "That's the nicest dress we've ever carried. You girls are very lucky - the bride wants you to look your best." "Oh, Sandra always looks fantastic, no matter what she's wearing," Natalie kidded. Looking myself over in the mirror and turning side to side, I demurred, "Oh, you know that's totally NOT true. Look at me - my hair! It kind of clashes, wouldn't you say?" "Only a little," she giggled. "Orange and pink - such a bold statement you make!" "I promise to get it fixed before the wedding. And it's red, not orange ..." But under the fluorescent lights it really did look orange. Maybe it was beginning to fade, I thought. The saleslady was busy making micro-adjustments to the dress's fit, inserting safety pins here and there and tightening up the bodice so no folds appeared in the fabric where it wrapped around my breasts and underarms. It reminded me a lot of a ballerina's dress, and I instinctively pictured myself in toe-shoes, standing on pointe with my arms arched over my head. Oh yeah, and my hair back to its normal color and pulled back in a bun. So beautiful! I guess my appearance obsession was still perfectly intact, even after all the emotional turmoil I'd been through that spring. The best part was, we'd get to keep our dresses after the wedding! Afterwards, the two of us shared a girls' lunch (i.e. salads) and talked for at least two hours about Natalie's year at college, her family, her friends, Phil, and of course the big wedding which was now just six weeks away, just after my birthday. Oh yeah, and she asked me how my job was going, and if I'd decided about college in the fall, and if I'd heard from Mark and what he was up to. I just answered yes, no and I don't really know to the last three questions. "I think I'm going to keep working next year," I replied to the first. "I want to save up before thinking about college. Like, I don't even know what I'd take right now." Natalie had been nodding as she listened to what I was saying. Then she just smiled and said, "I'm sure everything will work out for you." But she didn't offer any specific advice. That was one thing I'd already noted about real girls and women - they never tried to analyze what you said, they just listened and understood each other, somehow. Not at all like me, or Mark, or especially my brother. We always gave advice whether it was asked for or not. Erica was like that, too. I wondered (or maybe hoped?) if those female hormones would make me more like Natalie. And the grad banquet? Like the prom - kind of anticlimactic. More like a rite of passage, if you know what I mean. By then I was so focused on life after high school and getting on with my transition, that I just wanted to put it all behind me. Of course, like most people, years later I'd look back on those times with great fondness and nostalgia. ***** Shortly afterwards, Kath and I found ourselves walking home from school for the very last time. And we talked - but not about the closing of that chapter of our lives. "So you're really going through with it?" I asked. "Yeah - but they said I need to come in for another checkup first." "You mean that clinic you went to?" "Uh-huh." "When?" "Next Tuesday. At nine-thirty." "I'd like to come with you." "You sure? Why, so you can try and talk me out of it again?" "No, no ... I won't go there. I just think you should, like, have a friend along - you know." I thought Kath was going to say she didn't need my help, but after a moment's silence she said, "That would be really nice. Thanks." Kath and I were still the only ones who knew, except for the lady physician at the family planning clinic she'd gone to. You know, I always thought 'family planning' was such a strange phrase to use for killing an unborn baby. "How's things with your folks these days?" "Oh, same as ever. Dad's still away a lot and Mom's in a bad mood a lot. Parents are so hard to figure out sometimes." I thought about the great relationship I had with my mom. And I was also reminded of my suspicions about her dad. "They're probably going through a tough time right now," I said, trying to be helpful. "And their only child is getting all grown up!" "Stuff happens," she replied in a monotone voice. "I just wish things would be like they were before. We used to do a lot of things we don't do anymore, like go on trips, go to shows ..." I was trying to be like Natalie, and not offer advice. "I'm sure everything will work out," I said, echoing her comment to me from a few days before. ***** I had to work double shifts all weekend to cover for a girl who was sick, so I didn't see Kath again till she came over early on the Tuesday morning to get me. We took the bus to the clinic, telling our respective moms we were off to check out a museum downtown. On the way we discussed our final report cards, which had arrived in the mail the day before, and congratulated each other on passing everything with flying colors. Then I noticed that Kath's expression wasn't as cheerful as I expected - kind of ashen-faced, I thought. "What's wrong?" I whispered. "Are you feeling sick?" "Yeah ... I am, kind of. It's been on and off for a couple of days. I thought maybe morning sickness, but I've been bleeding too ... haven't been able to eat, either." "Oh no ... that sounds awful! Thank God we're going to the clinic - they can help you, can't they?" "Hope so." Kath was called in about ten minutes after we arrived, and I found a copy of 'Woman's Day' magazine to distract myself with while I waited. A half-hour later she reappeared and stood at the front counter speaking in low tones with the receptionist. Kath was handed a clipboard and a pen, and I heard her say "Thanks." "What happened?" I asked in a whisper as she came over and sat next to me. "They couldn't detect a heartbeat." "They couldn't?" "No. So they want to do an ultrasound. I have to fill out this form." "What's the ultrasound for?" "They can see the baby and tell if it's okay or not." Kath seemed genuinely nervous to me. "I'll stay here with you," I stated firmly. "I don't need to be at work till four." "Thanks, Sandy." When she was finished she gave the clipboard back and she took her seat again. "Everything's gonna be all right," I said, taking her hand in mine and not knowing what else to say. "Whatever." With my free hand I resumed thumbing through my magazine, and Kath alternately glanced sideways at it and stared off straight ahead into space. I wondered what was going through her mind. Was she scared for her baby? That wasn't likely, since she was soon going to abort it anyway. Or was she worried about her parents finding out? Or even worse, Ben? A few minutes later a woman in a nurse's uniform appeared and called Kath's name. I gave her hand a squeeze as she got up and left, then I went back to reading and tried not to worry. That was becoming harder as the minutes ticked by and turned into more than an hour, then maybe two. I think I was on my third or fourth magazine when I heard my name being called. Looking up I saw the same woman standing near the door, and when I raised my hand and said "Yes?" she motioned for me to come with her. "Is she all right?" I asked, suddenly feeling a huge wave of dread come over me. "Kathleen's doing fine," she replied. "You can see her now." 'Oh my God,' I thought, 'what's going on?' I was led down a corridor and into a small room with two beds. One was occupied by a fortyish lady and Kath was in the other. Her eyes were wide open, just staring at the ceiling. I rushed to her side and took her hand. "Kath? Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?" She turned and looked at me. "I lost the baby," she said in a low monotone voice. "What? Are you serious?" "I can't believe it. They said it'd been dead for like, days. I would've spontaneously aborted any time. Like a miscarriage." "How?" I asked. "Do they know?" "I guess it happens a lot. Mostly in the first trimester. It wasn't anything I did or didn't do. It just happened." "Holy crap, that's awful, Kath. How are you feeling?" "I feel like shit. They did this D and C thing on me to get everything out, and they gave me some drugs. I can't believe it - I was gonna abort it, and now it doesn't matter, you know? It happened all by itself. But now I feel so guilty, that I was gonna do that. I was gonna kill my own baby." "But you didn't have to ..." "I know ... but I still feel so terrible. The baby DIED, Sandy. When it was still in me." What's crazy was, I'd just read a story in one of the magazines about a woman who lost her baby that way. Except she was married and they wanted a baby really badly. But she miscarried and the story was about how she had all this guilt, even though everyone told her there's nothing she could've done to prevent it. I found it fascinating to learn more about how women's minds work, but I never in a million years expected that Kath would be going through the same thing! Still, I think it made me better prepared to be the friend Kath needed me to be, not the kind of person who tries to analyze the situation away. So I pulled up a chair and held one of her hands tight while softly stroking her head. "That's so awful, Kath," I whispered. "I'm so sorry ..." She began to cry - something that was rare for her. "I can't believe it," she sobbed. I fumbled for a Kleenex in my bag and dabbed her tears as they streamed down her freckled face. "I screwed up by getting pregnant, then I went and screwed up having the baby. And I screwed up with my family, and now I probably screwed up with Ben too." "It's gonna be okay," I said instinctively, then remembered why I shouldn't be saying that kind of thing. So I leaned over the bed and put my head next to hers. "I love you SO much," I said in a whisper. "I just want you to know that. I always will ..." She leaned her head to look into my eyes. "Thanks, Sandy ... I love you too. But it's so hard to believe anybody could love me, I feel like such a fuck-up right now." "Maybe it's 'cause we're both fuck-ups," I replied. "Us fuck-ups need to look after each other." Kath giggled out loud between sobs when I said that, and I glanced in the direction of the lady to see if she was eavesdropping. Luckily, she seemed to be asleep. We just hugged each other tight for a few minutes. "When will they let you go home?" I asked in a whisper. "Later this afternoon. They just wanna make sure I'm not bleeding or anything." I was about to ask what they did with the baby, and maybe what sex it was, but stopped myself. I didn't really matter now, I realized. Instead I asked, "Do you think they'll let your folks know?" "Don't think so. The clinic has this strict confidentiality policy. As long as you're over sixteen, I think." "But don't you have to pay?" "I think so. I'll find out how much when I'm discharged." "I want to pay for it," I stated without a second thought. "You? Get serious, Sandy. You're not paying - it's my fuck-up, not yours." "But this'll never happen to me," I argued. "It's the least I can do. And I make a lot more money than you do." "Maybe, but you've also got a lot bigger clothing obsession than I do. You need every cent you got." It seemed that her sense of humor was returning, and I almost giggled out loud - she was so right about my obsession - but I really did want to help out. "Well, let's wait and see what the bill is." "Don't you have to be somewhere this afternoon?" "Oh shit, I almost forgot. I need to go find a phone and see if one of the other girls can cover for me. Be back in a jiff." I found what I was looking for in a patient lounge at the end of the hall, and thankfully it only took one call to the girl I'd covered for. Back in Kath's room, we resumed our argument about who would cover the bill for her 'procedure.' "Let me pay," I pleaded. "If you do it, your folks might find out - like, what if they see your bank statement? I have my checkbook with me ... and Mom never opens MY mail." My friend had told me she suspected her mom was doing that to snoop on her activities. Kath thought for a minute. "Good point. But I'm gonna pay you back right away. No arguments." "Yes arguments! I want to do this for you. God knows you've done enough for me ..." "Like what for instance?" "Well, like putting up with all my BS all these years?" "Sandy, you've already bought me clothes and stuff, and you've always been there for me. You don't have to pay for all my mistakes in life, too!" "Please let me just do this for you? I'm sure you'll get lots of chances to pay me back, the way my life's going. I'm still counting on you giving me that housemaid job ..." She chuckled, "I'll be lucky if I can get a gig like that, the way MY life's been going. I'll probably end up in prison for killing my parents." "Don't be silly. Remember, you're going to college this fall and you won't be living at home anyway. And after that you'll be making buckets of money." "Whatever. I have to decide if I'm even going now ..." I didn't like the sound of that. "Kath, please don't make any big decisions, not for a while? You have to get past this whole thing first." "As if THAT's ever gonna happen ..." ***** We never got home till around ten that night, because after Kath was discharged we rode the bus over to Mount Echo Park (contrary to doctor's orders, which were to go home and rest in bed, except there was no way I could talk sense into her). There we laid on the grass in the warm late afternoon sunshine and talked, mostly about boyfriend issues, just like normal eighteen-year-old girls always do. I took it Kath wanted to steer clear of the main topic of the day. "So what's happening with you and Michael?" she began. "Are you two an item now?" "Michael? What makes you think I'd want to go out with him? What makes you think he'd want to go out with ME?" "Oh, nothing much - just how friendly you two were at the prom. And the fact that you haven't had a steady guy for a while. I know how much you need a man in your life." "Kath!" I giggled, "that's not very nice. True maybe, but not very nice. Well it so happens we're just friends. He's not as much of a nerd as we thought, you know. But he's probably gonna call me up this summer and take me to a music thingy, like a symphony in the park or something?" "That sounds nice. It also sounds like a date." "Okay, so we're gonna go out on a date. So what? I happen to like going on dates with guys." "I knew that. But what about your ski dude, Rob? Are you expecting a visit anytime soon?" My heart leapt a bit when she said his name. "Oh, I sure hope so. He's emailed me a couple of times since he was here. Kath, I'm SO attracted to him. Isn't he the hunkiest guy you've ever seen? I mean, other than Ben?" "No comment. So tell me - exactly why ARE you so into guys? Shouldn't you be, like, a lesbian or something?" Now I laughed out loud. "Why, were you hoping? Oh, I don't know ... it's just that when I'm wearing pretty clothes, you know, like dresses and nice underwear and stuff, and I'm wearing makeup and have my hair and nails done nice, it just seems so perfectly natural to be with a man, especially a guy like Rob? You feel so wonderful, and so sexy ... and so appreciated? You know what I'm talking about." "I'm not sure I do." "Yes you do ... you know, how SPECIAL they make you feel ..." "Yeah I know, like a princess, right? That's what YOU always want. But I don't really see it that way - they're just being what they should be - a friend ... okay, a gentleman. It's all about being yourself, and being respectful. It doesn't matter if you're a girl or not." "No, I don't agree at all. It DOES matter if you're a girl. Remember when we did those ladies' retreats with the Taylors, and they talked about putting your man's needs first? You know, having a servant heart? And you'd get treated like a princess in return. They'd want to romance you off your feet!" "Oh, I remember all right. I thought they were totally out to lunch. Sandy, it's not fair to expect men to make you feel like a princess. Men and women are equals and they have the same needs. Nobody should be someone else's servant. It should always be mutual." "Well I beg to differ? I think they're totally different. It's not about being unequal. When I was a guy, I really appreciated if a girl made an effort to look nice for me? It was like they gave me a huge compliment? And all I wanted to do was make her feel really special." "So who ever did that?" Kath interrupted. "Not me, that's for sure ..." "Well maybe not, but I really wanted it to be like that? Julia came close, but I still had to do all the work to get her looking nice." I hoped Kath wouldn't mind me mentioning my old girlfriend. "That's 'cause girls don't see the point of going to so much trouble," she remarked. "I know - and that's where they're missing the boat. I don't mean they should be all made up 24-7 like some of those cheerleader types at school. That way you can only look worse when you're normal. I mean like how we did it last summer when we were dating Ben and Mark. Remember how we had those guys eating out of our hands? Didn't you think that was just the best thing ever? It was SO romantic!" I could picture those two wonderful guys, treating us like solid gold on our first double-date, and a wave of sadness mixed with nostalgia washed over me. Kath was lying on her back next to me, staring up at the sky. "Yeah ... it was. You're right, that was the best experience of my whole life. I don't think I really appreciated it at the time, but now ... after all that's happened ... it's like a crazy dream." "Tell me about it! But the dream isn't over for you ... you can still have those experiences with Ben ..." My voice trailed off as an image of Mark, sitting across from me on our first solo date, came to me. That was by far the most romantic night of my life. But then Pam entered the picture ... and led him away. Or maybe it was me that pushed him into her arms ... "I really sorry about you and Mark," Kath said, as if she could see the images in my mind. I didn't reply, because I'd become too choked up. I'd felt absolutely horrible when I learned he was dating Pam, but I'd been in a state of shock since Kath shared those newer bombshells with me - not just the part about Pam getting pregnant, but far worse, that they were getting married. I realized I'd yet to recover from that sucker-punch to the gut, because my stomach still felt just like it did when I heard the news. Now you're probably thinking, Sandra has no right to expect anything from Mark, after her escapade with Rob. And you'd probably be right about that, too. So Kath and I just lay there silently, each of us contemplating each other's turbulent lives as well as our own, all the while watching the clouds drift by. When nature finally called and we had to pick ourselves up off the grass and find a restroom, the light was fading. So we slowly made our way out of the park and headed home before they sent a search party out for us. You know what was funny? I'd made such a big deal about Kath wanting to get an abortion - getting all self-righteous about the morality of it. But I had no such qualms when it came to Pam - in fact, I found myself hoping fervently that she'd go get one herself. Anything to let Mark off the hook, so he and I might still have a chance. But really, could we ever get back together like we were before? I mean, he'd made real man-woman love with Pam ... after telling me intercourse wasn't a big deal for him, and that he preferred gay sex, and he wanted me to keep my male organs forever. Talk about feeling totally betrayed! And there was still that huge issue with his folks. But as conflicted as I was, I still carried a torch for that guy, and I knew I always would. In time, I'd come to forgive his behavior, but not before I finally came to terms with MY role in the whole mixed-up tale. But THAT would require a lot more maturity than I possessed in 1999, a few more good and bad experiences, and a little piece of information I didn't learn until a couple of years later. ***** Dr. Cooper had some questions for me when I showed up for the next of my dreaded hormone injections, a few days after Kath lost her baby. And I had one big question for her! But first, as always, was whether I'd noticed any changes since my last appointment. No was the usual answer, although I was tempted to ask if I should be expecting my breasts to continue to grow, as they'd been about the same for the last few months. "How was the school year for you?" was the second. I told her it went better than I could have hoped, omitting mention of what Michael had shared with me or any of the personal trauma that really wasn't connected with school anyhow. And I thanked her again for the letter that made it all possible. "Are you still experiencing mood swings on a regular basis?" she asked. I'd wondered if she'd go there. "Well, yes ... but I've gotten pretty used to them. It's usually just the first week after I see you." "I'm not surprised. I was thinking of switching you to oral administration for a few months to see how well you do," she said. "I think you'll tolerate that better than injections." "Oh - but doesn't that cause other problems?" I asked, probably sounding very hopeful, which I definitely was, but remembering why I hadn't been going the oral route already. 'ANYTHING would be better than those damn needles,' I thought. 'My butt must look like a pincushion!' "No Sandra, I don't think so. You see, I've been looking into the efficacy - the effectiveness - of administering your hormones in sublingual form, and from what I've read in the medical literature, it should be every bit as effective as direct injection. Without the discomfort. And because you'll be taking the pills more frequently, you shouldn't experience big swings in your hormone levels. They'll be more stable." I liked the sound of no discomfort. Losing the mood swings was a bonus! "What do you mean by ... sub-lingal?" "Sublingual," she smiled. "It literally means 'under the tongue.' From there the hormone is absorbed directly into the bloodstream. It avoids the degradation issue caused by the digestive tract, and the danger of liver problems." "Sounds pretty good to me!" I was SO happy my injections were a thing of the past! "Uh, do I start taking them today?" "No, Sandra, I need to give you a prescription. We'll still need to do your regular injections today as usual, but that should be the end of it." 'Shit!' I thought - 'Just when she was getting my hopes up, too.' Then I saw my chance. "Uh ... so, Dr. Westerman said he thought I was ready to ... you know, have my operation?" Dr. Cooper grinned. "Yes Sandra, he did speak to me about that. He thinks you're doing extremely well in your transition - physically AND psychologically. I think so too. You've definitely become much more feminine than when I first met you. Just listening to you today, hearing how you think and observing your mannerisms - I'd never believe you weren't a genetic female if I didn't know otherwise." "So can I go ahead with it now?" I hoped I wasn't sounding too impatient, even if I was. "Whoa, Sandra - not so fast. First we'll need to get together again, the three of us, and your mother too." She was looking at her clipboard. "I see you'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks, so you'll be age of majority ..." "Meaning I don't need my Mom's consent, right?" "That's correct. But Sandra, I think you should bring her anyway ... this is a big deal for a mother. You won't be her son anymore. You're going to become her daughter." 'I already am,' I thought. "Oh, I don't have any problem with that. I know she wants what's best for me." The appointment was booked for the week after my birthday and I headed home happier than I'd felt in months. At least ONE of my dreams was about to come true! To be continued ....