by Rachel Gold
Chapter Nine
Claire
Even with previews blaring from the big screen, the cool darkness of the theater was a relief. Claire didn’t want it to bother her, but there was something about the way Natalie sounded so cavalier about surgeries and sex changes. There were only a few things in her life that Claire hadn’t gotten around to questioning, but sex and how bodies were made was one of them.
And she liked Chris’s body. He was a cute guy. Except for the girl-brain part. He looked great in sweaters because of his swimmer’s shoulders, and she loved the feel of his hard chest and strong arms. Now he wanted to go and change everything. Was he going to grow breasts and have long hair and paint his nails? Wouldn’t he just look like her boyfriend in drag?
Probably not, she had to admit, after looking at Natalie for most of lunch. She might not know all the details, but she could see that the medical stuff they did to Natalie had worked. She had kind of a big jaw, but no bigger than a few of the girls at school. Claire knew plenty of girls who were taller than Natalie, and a few who were taller than Chris.
When she and Chris started going out last summer, she always assumed he would dump her someday for a prettier girl, not that he would want to become a prettier girl. The thought made her giggle and she put her hands over her mouth.
They’d met in a two-day poetry workshop offered by a visiting teacher from the Cities over a weekend. After the first day, Chris told her he liked what she wrote, and how could she resist him after that? Besides, they liked a lot of the same things: music, computers, games, books, each other, and Chris even admitted to talking to God from time to time, but not in some weird superreligious way, which Claire thought was an adorable footnote to add to every other good quality about him. They’d been dating almost eight months. Chris was already her best friend and she felt like she’d known him most of her life—only to find she didn’t know him that well at all.
She felt jealous of Natalie. Not that Chris was going to run off with her, just that she so clearly had what he needed right now.
And then there was that dizzy feeling, like the seat was going to fall out from under her at any moment. Men didn’t turn into women, and yet here in the theater, two seats away, was a girl who had been born a boy, or assigned male at birth, however she was supposed to say that. And, if Claire understood correctly, had at least one very boy part on her still. She couldn’t help but think about it. What would it be like to go to school and have to hide that? Natalie couldn’t change in the locker room, that was for sure. What happened if someone found out? She didn’t know about Minneapolis, but out in Liberty lesser infractions than that sent people to the hospital. Some of the Neanderthals at school still thought it was sporting to “roll fags.”
Off balance as she felt, a strong wave of protectiveness welled up in her. Chris had stepped in and stopped other kids at school from calling her “death freak” or worse for wearing all black. Dating him improved her social standing immensely, which meant almost no taunting anymore and occasionally an invite to a cool party. Not that she cared about those and she’d lose all of that if anyone found out about this transgender stuff, but he’d lose a lot more. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t let any harm come to Chris if she could stop it.
When the movie ended, Claire could barely have said what it was about. They had another hour to play with before they had to drive back and assure their parents that the big city hadn’t corrupted them.
“Come on,” Natalie said. “Let’s go shopping. What’ve you got for girl clothes?”
Chris blinked a couple times, glanced at Claire and then said, “Two sweaters, a pair of jeans and a skirt.”
“What?” Claire asked before she could stop herself. “You have girl clothes? Do your parents know?”
His cheeks reddened as he admitted, “They’re in a duffel in my car with your name on it.”
She laughed. “Oh. Cute. They’re like ten sizes too big.”
“They’ll never notice.”
“No pants?” Natalie cut in. “You need a good pair of dress pants. Come on.”
She pulled them into Banana Republic and in a matter of minutes collected an armful of pants. Then she dragged the three of them into the women’s largest dressing room stall. “I need my boyfriend’s opinion,” she told the startled attendant and shut the door firmly, pushing the pants at Chris. “Brown first,” she whispered.
Claire sat on the chair in the dressing room and watched with amazement. Natalie had plastered herself across the door and after a moment’s pause, Chris pulled off his jeans and stepped into the pants, turning away to tuck himself so he’d fit into girls’ pants. Claire forced herself not to look at Natalie and wonder what she did with her… Don’t think of that, she told herself.
It wasn’t the fit of the pants Claire saw when she turned from Natalie back to Chris, it was Chris’s face. As the pants were zipped and buttoned and he turned to show them off, his face lightened. Most of the time his eyes were dark, haunted, and looked as if he was staring out of them from far away inside himself. Now they sparkled. It was like sitting in a dark room for months and then suddenly having the sun fall through an open window.
“Wow,” she said.
“Do they look good?” Natalie asked because Chris couldn’t voice the question. If the attendant was lurking outside, they needed it to sound like Natalie was showing off the pants, not Chris.
Claire stood up and touched this bright, glowing person’s cheek. “You look really happy,” she said almost in a whisper. “I never saw how very sad you look all the time. I thought that was how you looked, but this…this is you, happy.”
From inside Chris, Emily smiled, eyes bright with joy.
“I think I should get these pants,” Natalie said loudly enough for the attendant to hear and winked.
Chris tried on the next pair, while Natalie quietly told Claire, “My mom said something similar when I started going to school like this. She said she’d been so worried about me and suddenly I was full of confidence and optimism. I told her I’d always been like that, I’d just spent so much energy fighting against that other thing that I had nothing left over.”
None of the other pairs of pants worked as well as that first chocolate brown pair. When Chris was back in jeans, Natalie took the brown pants and went to the register. As they left the store, Chris offered to pay her back but she insisted it was a gift.
They said goodbye in the theater lobby with hugs all around. Claire tried not to pay attention to Natalie’s breasts during the hug, but she couldn’t help it. They felt very real, and she smelled like clover and oranges. It felt like hugging any other girl.
All the way back to Liberty, Claire watched Chris’s face. It was like the sun coming out from behind clouds. She wanted to find a more unusual metaphor, but none came to mind. She just knew she’d never seen anything like it in her life. The closest was her mom the year after Dad left. She’d turned dark for a while, but that was because she literally never opened the window shades. And then slowly, day-by-day, she went from being shadowed back to the life-giving colors Claire remembered. Even that wasn’t as dramatic a change as she’d seen in Chris.
Up to that point, Emily had been a faint idea. Something strange that Chris wanted and maybe Claire could support him because she cared about him. But in the dressing room and now on the drive back, Claire saw distantly, like spotting a friend across a crowded cafeteria, the presence of a scared, happy, shy, proud girl. She seemed to be inside Chris and yet so much more vibrant, bright and alive.
“You look good happy,” she said.
“Is it that obvious?”
“More than obvious.”
She kissed Chris in the car and held tight to that newly alien, newly bright body for a few minutes. Then she trooped back through the snow to her living room where Mom was watching TV as usual.
“How was the city?” Mom asked as she paused the episode of Bones that she’d recorded. She wore her around-th
e-house blue terry-cloth pants and jacket.
“Great. Really fun.” Claire dropped onto the couch. “We went to a big mall for pizza and a movie. What about your day? I thought you had a dinner date tonight.”
“Are you trying to get me out of the house?”
Claire laughed. “If I wanted to see more of Chris, I’d have him sneak in the window,” she said.
“You’re kidding, right? I hope you’re kidding.”
“Mom. Really.”
“My date turned out to be a typical Aquarius,” Mom said with a sigh.
“I told you those air signs are trouble for you.”
Mom shook her head but she was smiling. She hit play and they watched to the next commercial. While her mom was fast-forwarding through it, Claire asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Cleaning and I hope you are too, why?”
“Can we go shopping for nonblack makeup? I think it’s time for me to learn how to wear it.”
Her mom grinned. She’d been trying even harder to get Claire interested in cosmetics for the last year, since the lesbian jokes had started.
“Sure, honey.”
Claire smiled and settled back into the couch. If her mom knew what she was really going to use the cosmetics for it would probably fry her brain, but let her be happy about it instead. Everyone deserved to be happy.
Chapter Ten
Saturday night I watched a stupid kids’ movie with Mikey, but I wasn’t really watching. I took the opportunity of sitting on the couch to replay the afternoon with Natalie and Claire over and over. I fell asleep later still thinking about Claire saying I looked happy. I hadn’t known it was that obvious, but I did change that afternoon. “Change” wasn’t the right word. That would mean I’d become something else. I’d relaxed into myself. I could let other people see me.
There had been so many years of pretense; I hadn’t realized how different it made me to always be pretending. The trappings of boyhood were wrapped around me in layers, like wearing all my winter clothes, one sweater on top of another and then the jacket and scarf, in the middle of summer. Everyone was so used to seeing me as a mummy, they didn’t know I could be any other way.
I’d learned to disconnect my ears and mouth from the rest of me so that I could hear all those words “son,” “boy,” “he/him” without them taking a chunk out of my soul every time. But what did that make me?
I wanted to live a real life. If magic didn’t turn me into a real girl, the way I’d wanted as a kid, there were other ways. Natalie had done it. Now she went to school every day like I did, but she got to be fully herself. I fell asleep wondering what that would be like.
In the morning, still in the T-shirt and boxers I slept in, I silently locked my door and then sat down at the computer to start my next phase of research. I’d seen a lot of these sites in the last few years as I was figuring things out, but now I researched in earnest, read deeply and made cryptic notes in my science notebook. One site had a list called “Things you can do before your parents know.” A few of those I was already doing, like working hard in school, saving money and researching my options. I already had my name picked out, but I hadn’t started working on my voice.
This summer would be the perfect time to practice my voice. I’d download a few tracks to my iPod and rename them as exercises from a drama class I took last year. The iPod was another device my parents had no idea how to use, but even if they did snoop, they’d see the names and never give it a second thought. Then I could take it with me and practice in my car when I was alone.
The list also said I should take care of my skin, though there was no way with Dad and Mikey in the house that that was going to happen. They’d spot an exfoliant in the “men’s bathroom” in a hot second. Mom had long ago taken over the master bathroom as her sanctuary and I could sometimes sneak in there, but not often enough. Maybe Claire would let me keep some skin products at her house.
Next I had to figure out how to get hormones. Mom was too young to start menopause, so I wasn’t going to be able to sneak any estrogen replacement therapy from her, assuming she’d even use it. I laughed. How many teenage kids sat around thinking about their mom’s menopause? It was possible to illegally order hormones from an overseas pharmacy. But first there was that whole illegal issue, and I’d seen other girls on the forums say there were no quality and safety checks. So I could spend a bunch of money only to get pills that didn’t work or made me sick.
I couldn’t waste money now. In addition to surgery, I’d need electrolysis or laser hair removal. I needed to make a lot more money.
Okay, that was the plan. This summer I would work on my voice and skin, while making as much money as humanly possible. The tip sheet also said it would be good to talk to a therapist, but I still thought Dr. Webber was not my guy. I’d try some hints in the next session because you never know. Speaking of hints, I wondered what my parents were doing today. Maybe I could start to see if Mom was at all receptive to the idea of having a daughter.
I unlocked my door, showered and threw on a weekend outfit: jeans, T-shirt, sweatshirt. Mom was in the living room reading the Sunday paper, and I heard clattering sounds from the garage.
“You’re finally up,” Mom said, talking across the hall to me while I poured a bowl of cereal.
I glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. “Yeah, I guess I’m catching up on my sleep.”
“Do you really have that much homework?” she asked.
I took my bowl of cereal into the living room and sat on the other end of the couch from her, stretching my huge feet out on the coffee table. In Claire’s house, no one ever rested their feet on the coffee table, but here it was impossible to keep Dad from doing it, and generally if Dad did it, Mikey and I could get away with it.
I shrugged while I swallowed a few bites. “It’s not that much,” I said. “I do some extra stuff, you know, for college and that. And sometimes I get interested in something and stay up.”
She rested the paper on her lap with a wistful smile. “I used to stay up half the night reading when I was your age.” That only enforced my belief that Mom was a lot smarter than she let on. She never went to college because she got pregnant in the last year of high school and married my dad. Sometimes I joked that she and I could go to college together, but she ignored that. I think she’d given up. At best she said she’d take some classes after she retired.
It was easy to forget how young my mom was. In another year, I’d be the same age she was when she’d had me. She actually looked youngest when she dressed up for work and blew her hair dry so that it feathered back in waves from her face. When she wasn’t bustling around the house with her hair rough and her face scrunched in a look of disapproval, she was prettier than Claire’s mom.
“Mom, do you ever wish you had a daughter?”
She folded closed the section of the paper she’d been reading and picked up the next section. “Sometimes,” she said. “I thought about getting pregnant again after Mikey. I love both of you, you know that right?”
“Sure, yeah. But it would be nice if you had a kid who was a girl, right?”
I must’ve had a look because she asked, “What are you worried about? I know you’re not as masculine as your father, but you’ve become a wonderful young man.”
“It’s not that. I’m not worried about not being masculine,” I said.
I’d put too much dismissive tone on “masculine.” Mom’s face hardened and she straightened up, folding shut the section of newspaper she’d opened.
“Chris, I know your father and I don’t take you to church every weekend, but we are good Christians and we don’t support alternative lifestyles. You do understand that, don’t you? If you have questions, you should talk to the doctor about that and get help.”
My heart shriveled into a small, dark mass and then crumbled. If she was going to freak like that at the idea that I could be gay, there was no way I was getting anywhere with the “I’m really a
girl” conversation.
“It’s fine, Mom, it’s not that. I like girls, really.”
She smiled, though the gesture looked forced.
“Are Dad and Mikey in the garage?” I asked, standing up. She nodded and opened the paper again. I put my bowl in the sink, washing the uneaten cereal down the drain. “I’m going to go bang on the car with them. Yell if Claire calls.”
“Okay,” she said.
I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. You know what they say about adding insult to injury? Well, that came later in the evening. I worked on the Bronco with Dad and Mikey most of the afternoon. Showered again. Did some homework.
Dad knocked on my door after dinner, which was weird enough. Not the knocking, but him coming to my room instead of waiting to run into me around the house or in the garage.
I glanced toward the foot of the bed to make sure that “Claire’s” duffel was in my car, which it was. “Come in,” I said.
He was already halfway through the door, but he shut it behind him, also unusual. He sat down on my bed. His hair was still wet from the shower, making the brown gray a shade darker. He’d put on clean carpenter pants and a different waffle pattern shirt, but had the same dark gray vest over it with its fifteen pockets filled with tools and bits of car.
“Son,” he said. “Your mother told me you were asking some questions this morning.”
“Yeah,” I replied, voice carefully neutral while the ice of panic dripped down the inside of my ribs.
“Were you afraid to talk to me?” he asked.
I thought, About being your daughter? Yeah.
“Um, I guess,” I managed. Could he possibly have figured it out? Or did they still think I was gay? “I’m not gay,” I told him.
He smiled thinly. Strong, creased fingers took a small pair of long-nosed pliers out of his vest pocket and turned them over as he talked. “Of course you aren’t. These kinds of things can happen to anyone.”
