by Cindi Jones
I had absolutely no work to do but I was expected to show up every day. Were they looking for an excuse to get rid of me? I would not grant it. So I showed up every day and continued working on my own projects. That by itself was degrading.
My phone rang. “Hello, this is Cindi Jones speaking. How may I help you?” I hadn’t had a call for a couple of days. The receptionist was forwarding business calls to someone else. I knew why.
“David” Charlene started. “I need to talk to you.”
My heart stopped briefly and I slumped in my chair. I really didn’t need this. I was already having a tough time coming to work every day and facing the possibility of someone coming to my apartment at night. And now, I thought that someone was following me. That thought was probably paranoid and delusional. But I thought it nonetheless.
“Alright Charlene, what do you want to talk about?”
“Did you receive the package?”
“Yes, I received it this morning.”
“Did you read my letter?”
“I will always read your letters Charlene.”
“Will you read the book as I asked?”
“Charlene, I really don’t want to read the book.”
“Please David, please, do this one last thing for me.”
My will was breaking. I had been having nightmares. Rusty had returned but he looked different and I could not remember how. I kept waking up. They were beating me down and I was having a hard time holding up. Three weeks had passed since the night I could not talk to my children on their birthdays.
“Charlene, okay, I will read it for you,” I promised. We chatted some more and she broke into tears as she related the story of my excommunication. The date had been moved up when the bishop had learned I was using an unused Women’s restroom on the unleased floor above us in our office building.
“Please David, you can come back. Please read the book. I do still love you very much.”
She hung up the phone and I sat staring at the book.
It was Thursday afternoon. I started reading the book. The story was very well written. Unlike this volume, it had been professionally edited, rewritten, and published. It was heart wrenching. I got halfway through everyone started leaving the office to go home. I left the book on my desk and drove home to my tiny apartment. Someone else tried to visit that night. I had to hide behind my bed for a long time as they peeped into my windows.
The following day, at work, I finished the book. The “pray the gay away” theme seemed very logical for some reason. It was powerful. It was convincing. I was desperate to see my kids. I wanted to feel the love that only an innocent life can share. I did not want to be told I was loved and that should be enough to be normal. I couldn’t stand it. My will had been broken. I had become the smashed dirt clod.
Dennis called me into his office for another pep talk. I told him that I did not want to talk anymore But talk we did. He drove the final nail and I submitted.
“Can I take the rest of the day off?” I asked.
“Sure David,” he said.
“My name is still legally Cindi” I replied.
I rose from my chair and went home. I flopped on the bed and cried for the rest of the night until sleep finally rescued me.
“Charlene” I said as she picked up the phone.
“I hope you have read that book. You promised me David,” she demanded.
“I read the book Charlene. I can’t stand another minute without my kids. You have all won. I’m coming home.”
“You’d better not show up here with long hair,” she warned.
“I’ll cut it off” I replied with no conviction. I was beat, I was defeated, and I could hardly care anymore. I did truly want to try one last time to be David.
“Can you come this afternoon?” she asked.
“Is 4PM okay with you?” I asked.
“Yes, that is fine,” she answered
And with that, I said goodbye. I wondered how I was going to do this. It didn’t matter. I would just let time pass by I supposed.
“Mike, hi, this is Cindi,” I told him on the phone. “I need your help.”
I had worked with Mike in a start up company. He had become a best friend. He was slightly overweight but still good looking. He talked with a slight lisp, had never gone to college, and was the brightest programmer I had ever met. He had a beautiful wife named Cindy. She had been a member of the Mormon Church at one time but had been ostracized for some reason. I didn’t know what it was. But because of that experience she had shown me considerable compassion. They both had. Mike grew up in a Catholic home and when he had married Cindy, she became a member of the Catholic faith. I loved them both very much, not just because Cindy and I shared some common ground.
“Mike, I’m giving up,” I said
“Oh, Cindi, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I don’t know Mike. I can hardly function. I can’t think and I’m severely depressed.”
“What do you need Cindi? Just say the word.”
“Mike, can you get me an appointment with a barber? I’m going to cut my hair and I need you to go with me. I can’t go alone. It’s just too much for me to handle right now.”
“I’d do anything for you. Are you coming up this way?” he asked
“Yea. I’m going to see my kids and Charlene wants me to cut my hair first. I can be there in 25 minutes.”
“Okay Cindi, I’ll set something up and wait for you here at home.”
Now, how many people that you know will turn on a dime to help you on that very spot at that very moment? Both he and Cindy were like that.
I flushed out some boy clothes. My tennis shoes were women’s shoes but I don’t know that anyone would ever know. I put on a tee shirt and jeans. I drove north to meet up with Mike.
“The appointment isn’t for an hour or so,” Cindy said as she passed me a cold glass of Diet Coke.
“I haven’t had one of these for a while” I said with gratitude. We talked about what had happened and how I had been beat down. I told her that I thought that I could do it. I could make things right. She sat there crying as I told her the story.
“Cindi, is it okay if I call you that?” she asked
“That is still my legal name” I answered.
“Good. What I want to tell you is this: We will always be your friends no matter what happens. If you need help, you call us okay?”
“Okay” I blubbered.
“You and Mike got along so well for so long. I want you to feel free to be part of our little family.”
“Thank you so much Cindy” I said as I wiped the hair from my face. We talked for a bit and the hour passed.
“Ready to go?” asked Mike.
“Sure” I said.
We entered into the barber shop and sat down.
“Next” the barber said to us. There was no one else in his shop.
I sat down in his chair and looked at myself in the mirror. I saw a broken soul with a red puffy face.
“Now what would you like me to do with this?” he asked.
“Cut it off” I replied. Give me a working man’s cut.
“Nice hair,” he said. “You know I know a lot of women who would die for hair like this,” he went on. Every female hairdresser that I’d ever visited as David would tell me “you should be a girl with hair like this. It’s just not fair.” And, I knew, I’d be hearing that for the rest of my life. Digging and gouging piercing stings into my heart.
The locks came off and I paid the gent with a credit card.
“Next customer!” he yelled as the two of us left.
“Do you mind but I have to stop at the ATM” Mike asked.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
I sat in the front of his Toyota minivan as he approached the ATM. He ran into someone he knew and they chatted briefly. His friend looked at me and they chatted a bit and parted. Mike retrieved the cash from the ATM and returned to the car.
“Sorry, but that wa
s someone I knew,” he said. When she looked at you in the car, she asked who you were. I told her that you were a long time work associate. She asked me why I was with another woman and not my wife. I told her that we were just running some errands and that we were going back to my place for some lunch with Cindy.”
“She thought that I was a girl with this cut?”
“Apparently,” he replied. “Look, Cindi, you have changed a lot you know. I can see how she would have made the mistake.”
I pulled down the vanity mirror. My face was soft with no sign of any facial hair. My lower face was much thinner than it used to be and my chin was now softer, not so angular. Additionally, I had lost over 30 pounds. I wasn’t that heavy to begin with.
Charlene met me at the curb as I approached the house. Oh how I wanted to see my kids. I’m sorry David but we need to go somewhere to talk first. I thought a moment and remembered that there was a picnic area just above us in the foothills.
“You look thin David,” she said.
“I haven’t been eating much lately.”
“So, what did you have done?” She demanded.
“Huh?”
“When you went to California, what did you have done to your body,” she demanded again.
“Oh, that. I had my ears pierced. See?” I said as I presented my earlobes. The holes were barely visible because they were hidden in the natural landscape of my ears.
“What? You didn’t have surgery?” she asked.
“Nope” I replied.
“You have been excommunicated for having surgery to become a woman!” she exclaimed.
“I can’t help it. They are the ones who did the excommunicating. I didn’t want to go to face the church court.”
Charlene pulled herself together. I could see her Squirrel cage spinning as she processed the information.
“Have you had sex with anyone?” she demanded.
“Yes” I said. There was no use trying to hide this. It was bound to come out sooner or later.
“Tell me about it.”
“This happened several months ago, long before I started my change,” I started. “I was at a club in Salt Lake. One of my friends had an acquaintance that was performing. I talked to another woman there for an hour or so until this person was to perform. Someone told her that I was a cross dresser. She couldn’t believe that I had a male anatomy and so she asked me. I told her that it was sort of true. She invited home with her and she made moves on me. I figured I was going to hell anyway, so I gave in. I wanted to see if there was anything male left in me. Apparently there was.” I finalized. Guilt washed over my broken soul. I had been unfaithful to my dearest love.
Charlene recognized some value in this confession. David had sex with another woman. David is still straight. Yes, David can be saved. I saw some relief in her eyes as she recognized her illogical understanding. To me it meant nothing. I didn’t want sex. I could care less. If someone would have asked me if I wanted to be with a man or a woman, I’d tell them that sex was the furthest thing from my mind.
“I have scheduled you to meet with the bishop. After that, you can come home,” she stated.
She had set up an appointment for me to see the Bishop. It was her turn to betray me. And she had complete power over me. So, we drove down to the chapel to see the bishop. He was waiting in his office.
“David, I know that this has been very difficult for you to do. But I am convinced that you will be able to recover from your illness. Now, tell me what you have done to your body,” he said. I realized that this would be the same conversation and confession as the one I just had.
It was. The bishop told me that the path back to my former station would be a difficult one. My excommunication had been announced to the congregation. They all new that it had happened. I would need to sit in the back pews for a couple of years; it would be a long time before I could be baptized….
“Why did they excommunicate me?” I asked.
“Because you started your sex change with an operation,” he answered.
“But I did not” I said.
“David, where are you going with this?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to find out what happened. I suppose that it isn’t all that important. What’s done is done.”
We concluded the interview. I had finally confessed ALL my sins. My life was an open book to this man.
“Before you go, let me call Charlene. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. Yes this is Bishop Green. Uh huh. We are done here. I think that everything will be fine. Uh huh. Okay. He’ll be right down.” And then he hung up.
“Go on David, get out of here. Go see your loving wife,” he said.
As I walked to my car, I wondered what had gone on behind the scenes. I felt uneasy. But it wouldn’t matter because soon I would embrace my little children as Charlene had promised. I drove down to the house and parked the car in the driveway. As I approached the door, it opened and Charlene beamed with happiness. I gave her a hug. “Mom told me I had better not have sex with you David,” she said before anything else.
“What?” I asked myself. I could care less about sex. I didn’t care if I never had sex again in my life.
“Where are the kids? I can’t wait to see them. It has been nearly five months. All I’ve been able to look at is their pictures.”
“David, they are not here,” she said.
My heart fell into my stomach. My chest deflated. They were going to do what they did to Alex. They were going to lobotomize David. I didn’t care. The last ounce of hope, that I would see my children was pulled from reach. They weren’t here. Yes, it was Charlene’s turn to betray me. She had every right to do so.
She had prepared a list for me to look at.
“Look David, I’ve written down all of these things that you can do when you come back to live with us.” Charlene said as she passed me a sheet of paper.
At the top of the list was “Play the cello”. I had always wanted to keep up with the cello, to take lessons, and to perform with some local group. Charlene had always thought that playing the cello was for sissies. She had poo pooed the idea and I had never brought it up again. Why was it on the list? The rest of the list contained all of the interests and hobbies I had neglected for so long. It held no enticement for me.
“When can I see the kids?” I asked.
“You can’t see them now David. You must prove yourself before you can see the kids.”
My mind went blank. Words, words, words. She was saying them. I heard them and my mind could not process. I couldn’t see my kids. The next thing that I remember is that I was in my car driving home to my little apartment.
“I’ll never be worthy to see my children,” I started thinking. “My life will slide down the gutter with the autumn rain into the sewer. I am going to lose my job. I will drag them down with me.” Squirrel had nothing to say. I didn’t know if she would ever talk to me again.
I arrived in my apartment fairly early on Saturday night. I spent the time watching the blank screen of a dead TV. I tried to think but the thoughts were not coherent. There was no thought. Nurse Cratched gave me a shot. I sat there slobbering through the remainder of the weekend immersed in self pity and hopelessness.
I managed to pull myself together Monday morning. I put on my blue suit, pressed white shirt, and red silk power tie. Squirrel was gone. She said nothing. Perhaps I killed her.
How would I face my peers at work? How would I face anyone today? What would my life be like?
How would I rise from the fall?
California, Here I Come
After my stay at the hospital, I returned to work. The job was dead. There was absolutely nothing to do. I knew that I had to find a new job. It was the end of October and I wanted to get out that night with friends to paint the town for Halloween. I called Pastor Bruce to let him know I was still alive.
I gave him a synopsis of what had happened. He, along with everyone else had been very worried
about me. They had not been able to contact me and thought that something had happened. I told him that everything was going to be okay now.
“Cindi, what are you doing for Halloween? Bruce asked.
“Bruce, I called to see what was going on. I’d like to have some fun,” I answered.
“Well, some of us are meeting at the chapel. We are going to get dressed in costumes and go out to eat. Please join us Cindi.” He said.
“I’d love to Bruce. I need some fun,” I replied.
“Great, meet us at the church at 5 PM,” he said. I usually stayed at the office until 5:30 or so, but this job was in the toilet.
“I’ll be there”, I promised and hung up the phone.
Later that morning, after the donut break, I received a call from my Lawyer Leonard Simms. “Hello Cindi, how are you this morning?” he queried.
“I’m very well, thank you,” I replied.
“Cindi, I’m calling you with Art Dresch from the Equal Opportunity office in conference,” he said.
“Hello Cindi,” Art said.
“Okay,” I said wondering what this was all about.
“Cindi, I need to ask you something. Are you still going by Cindi at work?” he queried.
“Well that is my legal name I answered. And I have not asked them to change it. I have it on record with memos. But there is a lot of really weird stuff going on here,” I answered.
“The reason I ask Cindi is that I called you earlier this morning. The receptionist told me that Cindi Jones no longer worked there and asked if she could forward me to someone else. I knew that you had been having some problems there with your transition,” he said.
“That’s an understatement,” I replied. Every couple of weeks, I sent him a packet of my memos and copies of my notes for safe keeping.
“I know Cindi. I assumed that you were still employed since you had not advised me otherwise. That’s why I called the Equal Opportunity office. Art agreed to conference call you again. I got the same run around… that you no longer worked there and I was asked if there was someone else who could help me. I answered in the affirmative and asked to speak with Dennis, your plant manager. He told me that he had instructed the receptionist to say what she told me. Do you know anything about this?”
