A woman. A real woman. A genuine, genetic, born-that-way girl.
I was stunned. They both stopped when they saw me. The woman just looked annoyed. She wanted to know who I was. Tom asked her to leave, which she wasn't too happy about, but she complied.
With difficulty, I got up off the floor and brushed myself off.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've never done that before."
"Don't touch me!" I said, though he wasn't trying to touch me.
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Oh, don't be sorry. This was bound to happen eventually. I knew one day you'd be leaving me for a real girl who can give you all kinds of things I can't. I knew, I just knew, the very day I took off my white dress, we were doomed."
"Joanie, this has nothing to do with you taking off any dress! This is about the fact that you don't love me enough to do what I'm asking you to do."
"Yeah? And you don't love me enough to wait for me and be patient."
"I've waited for you all summer!"
"Don't touch me!" I said, and that time he really WAS trying to touch me. "I've had it. It's over between us."
"Joanie, please, let's talk about this."
"No. No more talking. Go find yourself another girl to live off of."
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
I grabbed my purse. I went out and got a cab.
Funny, I didn't even feel like crying. If I'd been a real woman I would've been bawling my eyes out, I guess.
I didn't look forward to confronting my mother. When I finished my cab ride home, I waited in the park until six o'clock before I made my way back to the house.
Mom was home. I went in the back yard and knocked at the back door. I didn't want to have this confrontation in front of the neighbors. I saw my Mom's face in the window, and boy, was she livid!
She seemed to be taking a long time to answer the door. I took a few steps back to try to see what was going on. Finally, she showed up, and in her hands she had one of my shirts and a pair of my trousers, and some of my underpants.
"Hi, Mom."
"Take off my dress! Take it off, this instant!"
"Can't we talk about this?"
"No! Take off that dress, and all that lingerie, and everything else you're wearing, or you're not coming in this house! If you want to keep wearing my dresses, you can just turn around and go back where you came from!"
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"Sorry! For stealing my dresses? For disappearing for three months? You bet you're sorry! You're the sorriest excuse for a boy I've ever seen! If your Dad could see you now he'd disown you! And you still haven't taken off that dress!"
My three sisters began to slowly file out the door and stand behind my mother.
"Mom, you're the one who started all this," I said.
"Fine. I started it; I'm ending it. Take off that dress!"
Melissa came and stood next to me.
"Mom," she said, "I was the one who helped Joanie steal all your dresses. You should be mad at me, too. And she's been wearing some of my dresses as well, so I'm a part of this."
"Don't call him Joanie! This is your brother!"
Melanie came and stood next to us. She said, "Mom, I think we need to seriously consider that Joanie was meant to be a girl. She needs us to be understanding about this. One day she may want to have the operation. We have to help her though this."
"Johnny is a boy! I don't want to hear any nonsense about having any operation!"
Melinda joined us, and said, "Mom, please at least promise you'll take Joanie to a doctor to investigate the possibility. And you have to allow her to be a girl around the house sometimes. Not all the time, but she's going to go crazy if you don't let her dress up now and then. Look at her. Can't you see she was meant to be a girl?"
My mother sighed heavily. She looked at me intently, considering.
"I notice you didn't keep to your promise of wearing the same dress all summer."
I looked down at the ground. I was more ashamed and embarrassed by that than anything else.
"This is what you all want?" asked my mother.
My sisters nodded.
"Fine. I'll take him to a doctor. A gender specialist. And he can dress up, sometimes. But for now, out of my dress, out of my lingerie. Right now, or you're not coming in."
I looked at my sisters. Sadly, I unzipped the side zipper on the dress I was wearing, and took it off. I wriggled out of my slip. Melinda undid my longline bra. The falsies fell to the ground. I was glad no neighbors could see into our backyard. I stepped out of my high heels and pulled down my girdle. I grabbed the trousers and was going to put them on.
"Pantyhose off," said Mom.
I peeled off my pantyhose, and took off my panties. I picked up my male underpants and put them on. That wasn't so bad. Then I put on my trousers.
That was when I lost it. As I zipped up my fly I started to cry uncontrollably. My sisters hugged me. My mother stepped forward and hugged me. She helped me put my shirt on, and buttoned it for me.
"I'm sorry," she said. "We'll get through this together. But I need you to be a boy, right now. School is starting soon, and they won't let you go to school as a girl. Maybe one day you can have the operation, but that's still a long way off. In the meantime, I'll try to be more understanding. We'll see what the doctor says."
We went inside.
That wasn't the end of my long journey, but it was the end of the summer, so I think I will end the tale right here. I did eventually have the operation, but not until many years later. Strange that I never had so much as an inkling of my desire to become a woman until that fateful day when my Mom and my sisters got that idea of a singularly unique punishment into their heads, but I'm sure there are any number of comparably significant events or inclinations in the lives of a great many of us that have come about in a similarly random fashion.
Mom went to our hotel room and retrieved the rest of her dresses. Tom couldn't find another girl to live off of, so he came home. I never forgave him for cheating on me.
I sent a letter to Mrs. Henderson saying I was quitting, citing her personal comments and her unasked for advice as the reason.
Many years, and many treatments later, I eventually married Mr. Johnson. I am now Tom's stepmother.
THE END