Christine XV: Good News and Bad

No family trip to Florida is complete without a shopping spree, especially with five good looking children in the group. Thursday was the day when we were all going to the outlet mall to get outfitted and decorated for the rest of the winter and the following summer. We went to Sea World on Wednesday and had a pretty good time. It wasn’t great, but I think everyone else enjoyed themselves and I did my best not to poop the party. But Thursday was another story.

We had been tramping from store to store for three hours when Mom said “Ok, Christopher, it’s your turn. We haven’t got you so much as a pair of socks yet.”
“It’s ok, Mom,” I answered as truthfully as I could, “I haven’t seen anything I like.” Well, it was true that I hadn’t seen anything I wanted for Christopher. I had seen all sorts of beautiful outfits I would have loved to have, but they weren’t in the boys’ section. The only boys’ clothes that caught my eye at all were the gorgeous shirts and shorts that Josh had tried on.
“Come on, honey,” Mom coaxed, “there must be something you’ve seen that you’d like to have.”
“Not really, Mom,” I replied. “I guess I’m kinda tired or something.”

Mom had me try on a few things, but the old Christopher who hates shopping was back in full force. I found something wrong with everything that she tried on me, and when she finally gave up and we called it a day, I had nothing but three new pair of boys’ briefs. No problem though, that was three pair of briefs more than I wanted.

Friday was spent around the pool again. We had planned to go to Fantasy Island but no one seemed very enthusiastic, so we scrapped the idea. Friday evening we all went out to a restaurant for a nice meal. It was a lot of fun, and for me no small part of the enjoyment was being told by all the adults that it was a pleasure to take such a large group of kids out to eat because we were all so well behaved. We had fun, laughing and joking and giggling, but we weren’t loud and we were careful with our manners in spite of the fun atmosphere. Then as soon as we were back at the resort, Uncle Robert announced that he wanted to take me for a ride. I think everyone knew what it was about, and I had a strong suspicion that I did too.

“So how has your week been going?” Uncle Robert said as soon as we were in the van. “We’ll be leaving for home early in the morning.”
“It’s been fun,” I answered. “Thanks for bringing us, Uncle Robert.”
“You’re more than welcome,” he answered. “But I was hoping for a more detailed answer. How does it feel to be Christopher again?”
“It’s ok I guess,” I replied non-committally.
“Ready to make it permanent?” he pressed.
“I guess so. That was the idea, wasn’t it?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think the idea was to try to help you decide if you could live a lifetime as Christopher Elliot.”
“I can do anything I set my mind to,” I countered. “You said so yourself.”
“Yes, I did; and with your intelligence and determination I believe you can. But we all want you to be happy. It’s not fair at all for you to have to make a decision like this at your age, but there really isn’t any alternative. I’m just hoping I can help make your decision a little easier.”

“I think my dad has already made the decision,” I said with more bitterness than I really wanted to show.
“You’re wrong, Christopher,” the doctor said. “Your dad is as anxious as the rest of us for you to be happy. He’s told me that, and I’ve heard him tell you that too.”
“Yeah, but he thinks the only way I can be happy is by being Christopher.”
“But he’s wrong, isn’t he?”
“Yes, sir, he is. I hate it. I hate the name, and I hate these clunky clothes. I hate how I look and how I feel. And I hate... er... I hate not being Josh’s girlfriend.”

“Josh told me it doesn’t make any difference if you’re a girl or a boy, that he’ll always love you anyway. Don’t you feel that way too?”
“Josh told you that?”
“That’s what he told me. He said he would live as a gay man with you rather than lose you.”
“He told you that? That he wanted to be gay? And you didn’t freak out?”

“Chris, I have seen enough troubled kids to know that I can’t fight love, and I won’t even try. In a few years you or he or both of you might feel differently; but for now it’s a thrill to watch you two: your love, dedication, tenderness to each other. As for Josh being gay, well, it wouldn’t be my choice for him but it’s not my place to make that choice. I don’t think I could influence that if I wanted to. Actually I don’t think he can decide either, but he doesn’t know that yet. But this conversation isn’t about Josh, it’s about you. What do you want to do, Chris? I mean, look deep into yourself and tell me: what do YOU want to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said as I started to cry. “I think life, or God, or someone’s played a dirty trick on me. There’s so much to consider... if I’m a girl I’m pretty happy most of the time, but there’s the cost of that operation... I don’t know where we’ll ever get that kinda money. My grandfather doesn’t speak to me at all, and he and Dad aren’t even speaking. If I’m a boy then I’m gonna screw up Josh’s life and make him a freak just like I am. I think maybe you should just leave me here when you go home. I just don’t fit. I’m so confused.”

“We’re not leaving you any place,” Uncle Robert said. “What we’re going to do is to help you clarify things in your mind so you know what to do. You are not to worry about money, ok? If you need surgery we’ll get the money somehow, just the same as if you had a brain tumor or needed an artificial leg. But what I want you to do right now is to start making two lists: I want you to list all the things you like about being a girl, and another list of things you like about being a boy. Write down everything that comes into your head, and if you can, put numbers on them. One is most important to you, two is a little less important, and so on. Your parents are already working on their lists. I’ll be seeing you all on Monday, and I’d like you to finish your lists by then. You don’t have to show them to anyone, including me if you don’t want to. Or you can show them to anyone you like, but I want it to be YOUR work. No one suggests anything to put down, ok?”
“I’ll try,” I said.

“Try your very best,” he ordered. “We’ll have to decide by the time you go back to school if you’re going as Christine or Christopher. You will probably finish out the year as Christine, but I’d like you to try and decide now what happens then.”
“But my dad...” I protested.
“Your dad is behind you all the way,” he assured me. “I know sometimes it doesn’t seem that way, but he is. He’s just trying his best to be sure we don’t make any mistakes, the same as the rest of us. Now let’s go back, ok? I think your mom and dad bought some marshmallows to roast over the grill before bedtime.”

I still wasn’t convinced that my dad was “with me all the way.” He had been so different on that fishing trip. He had called me “son,” had hugged me more, put his hand on my shoulder, my head, rubbed my neck, more than he had done for a long time. It was so obvious to me that he was enjoying having his little boy back. And perhaps most important, I was number one. Adam had been with us and we both treated him as a welcome member of the outing; but with me it was different; I was my dad’s son, without question. So how could I believe that my dad would be the same if Christopher disappeared forever? He certainly hadn’t been that way with Christine.

I never told anyone the real reason I wasn’t interested in clothes on that shopping trip. In my mind, it seemed a useless waste to be buying more clothes that I would never wear. I wouldn’t be needing any clothes that much longer because I would not live to see another Christmas. It seemed so hopeless - no matter what I did at this point was going to piss someone off, so it would be better if I just wasn’t around any more. That little issue I was going to take care of as soon as we got back home. I wasn’t sure quite how I was going to do it yet, but I was going to find a way.

We had a good time our last night in Florida. Mom had bought marshmallows just as Uncle Robert had said, but so much more. There were wieners to roast, popcorn, and lots of ice cream and different flavored drinks. For a few hours we all forgot whatever problems we were facing in life and enjoyed being together, squeezing the last drop of goodness from the Florida warmth before heading back to the relative cold of North Carolina.

Josh pulled me aside just before we all called it a night and went inside to bed. “What are you gonna do?” he asked anxiously. “The week is over. As soon as we get back home you’re gonna have to decide if you’re gonna be Christopher or Christine. Have you decided?”
“Not really,” I answered. The last thing in the world I needed right now was more pressure, but it seemed to me that I was getting pressure from every side. So when Josh told me his middle school was having a big dance, I treated it with indifference. He explained that they’d planned it for before the holidays, but so many kids were going to be away they decided to have it as soon as school started again in January.

“My dad told me that you would probably finish out the year as Christine,” he said. “So I was hoping that maybe... I mean, if you’re gonna be a girl anyway, could you go to the dance with me?”
“I don’t feel much like dancing, Josh,” I said. At that moment I was wishing as hard as I could that Josh would suddenly disappear and reappear on Mars, but he didn’t budge. And it soon became painfully obvious to me that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Please, Christine?” he said again as he kissed me. “It might be the last time we ever get to dance together in public. I want to see that smile and hear you laugh again once more, like you do when we get really into it. Please?”
“I guess so,” I said with a shrug. “If it’ll make you happy.”

By the time we got home from Florida, Josh had me pretty excited about the dance. He hadn’t shut up about it even once, going on about how we should go fully formal. “Some of the other kids are going that way too,” he explained. “The teachers wanted us to dress as formally as we could without being too uncomfortable, just to see what it’s like. Some of those dufuses have never worn a tie in their lives. I think it’ll be a total blast.”
“But I don’t have a formal gown,” I protested.
“Sure you do,” Mom said. “And if there isn’t one you want to wear, we’ll get you a new one. If I’m gonna lose my little girl, I’m gonna send her off in style.”

So that was it. The decision had already been made. Everyone except me, it seemed, already knew that I wouldn’t be a girl any more as soon as school was out. Ok then, if that was the game they were playing, I could play too. I’d go to Josh’s dance, and I’d be the belle of the ball. And after the dance, Josh would get the chance to prove just how serious he was about wanting to be gay so we could be lovers. I had learned a lot on the Internet in the past year, and I knew what web sites to go to to learn a lot more. I would give Josh a party he wouldn’t soon forget.

As soon as we got home Mom suggested that I dress any way I liked for the rest of the Christmas vacation. Dad said he didn’t really mind, so the morning after Christine was back in all her glory. I told everyone that there was a special dance in January that Josh and I were going to, so that if anyone hadn’t already bought my present, I would like something for that dance. Mom got the hint and told me she would take me shopping the day after Christmas. That made me feel a little guilty because I already had a pretty big pile under the tree, including a whole bunch of fishing gear from my dad. He already had his mind made up about my decision. It seemed it wasn’t my decision at all.

My relationship with my dad seemed to go downhill fast after we got back from Florida. I guess maybe he had thought that once I became Christopher again I would like it so much I would never go back. Nothing could be further from the truth, and that didn’t go down very well with my dad. He hardly spoke to me now, and never commented on my clothes or my appearance. Adam was around the house and going to the computer store with Dad almost every day, and every morning when he showed up Dad would comment on how good he looked, how handsome he was, or some such comment. That hurt a lot, but I didn’t say anything. He wasn’t mean to me, he just sorta ignored me like I wasn’t there at all.

“So, have you got your list?” Uncle Robert asked when I went to see him.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, “right here.”
“Has it helped you make your decision?”
“Well, yes and no. I kinda made up my mind, but so did Mom and Dad.”
“And their decision was different from yours, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“May I see the list? If you don’t mind, that is.”
“I don’t mind. Here it is.”

Dr. Reynolds sat quietly and studied the two lists I had made. He made no effort to show his feelings at all, but I was used to that now. He never showed his feelings during these sessions. “That’s a very thorough list,” he finally said. “A little lopsided though. I don’t think I have to ask what your decision is, it’s pretty obvious from reading this list.”
“You told me to be honest and don’t hold anything back,” I said defensively.
“Yes, I did. And you did a very good job. You should be proud. I can’t think of a single thing on either side that you’ve left out. May I show this to your parents?”
“But you said...”
“Yes, and I meant it. No one will ever see this list unless you give your approval first. But it’s not going to be easy to find surgeons to operate on you. I’m going to have to convince them the same as you had to convince me. This will help. You do want that surgery, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I do. But I don’t think it’ll ever happen.”
“It will if you believe, Christine. But the first step is your parents. May I show this to them?”
“There’s some pretty personal stuff on there. But... yeah, show it to ‘em. In a few days it won’t matter anyway.”

The doctor looked at me sharply after my last comment and asked me what I meant. “Nuthin’ really,” I answered. “I guess I’m just gettin’ so I’m not sure I care any more.”
“I know you’re discouraged, Christine, but you can’t let yourself get down,” the doctor said. “Things are gonna work out, and there are a lot of people determined to make sure that they do. But it’ll be all that much harder if you’re not working right along with us.”

I had gone into a great deal of detail about my life as a boy and how uncomfortable it was for me. Those details included my constant erections, how grossed out I was when I had to keep myself clean under my foreskin, how much it hurt when I sat on my balls, and on and on. I described how mortified I was using urinals at school, undressing in change rooms, how I could never seem to learn the “rules” of being a boy. I had written it knowing full well Dr, Reynolds would want to see it, but he was my doctor and I knew he wouldn’t divulge the gory details to anyone without my permission. But as we talked, I suddenly didn’t care who saw it. It just didn’t matter any more. I hated being a boy and I didn’t care who knew. I hated living now too, but I knew I had to be careful about who knew that.

Dr. Reynolds suddenly sat a little straighter in his chair. Something I had written had obviously caught his eye. “This... this last item on your girl list,” he said as he fingered it. “It’s almost like it was an afterthought. The color of the ink is different, as if it was written at a different time.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I wrote it while I was in the waiting room. It just seemed to me that maybe it’s the most important reason of all.”
“I agree, Christine,” the doctor said. “That is so simple, yet so profound. I’ve got to show this to your parents. That one item says it all, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. What I had written, almost at the last possible moment:

“I know how to be a girl, but I don’t know how to be a boy.”

Saturday, the end of the first week back and school and the day of the dance, I wasn’t able to see Josh all day. Mom had been busy on the sewing machine making alterations to the dress we’d bought. She said she would need me around the house to try on various things, and in the afternoon I had an appointment to get my hair done. My hair was down to my waist now, and I was thinking seriously of having it cut. Mom, Gail and Josh were all determined that I wasn’t, and had finally convinced me that they would agree with me if I began showing real male characteristics. So far I’d shown no signs, other than a light dusting of fine hair... well, fuzz actually, around my groin. Much to my disappointment I had also shown no signs that the female hormone was having any effect, but Dr. Reynolds told me that it was a very small dose, and that the purpose wasn’t to develop me but just to impede the effects of any testosterone in my system.

I had it all figured now. I would go to the dance with Josh and together we would have a wonderful time. Then after the dance we would spend some time alone, and I would tell him that I hated to do it, but Christine was going to die tonight forever. I would tell him that I couldn’t ask him to commit to me as a gay couple, because he was simply not gay and we both knew it. I would kiss him as passionately as I knew how, then I would do whatever else he wanted to do sexually, then I would tell him good-bye.

After he was gone, I would change into “Christopher” one last time, then I would sneak out of the house after everyone was asleep. I had read on the Internet that the most pleasant way of dying was to drown in cold water because hypothermia, and consequently lethargy would set in as soon as the body temperature started to fall. I knew where there was a public swimming pool and had checked it out, satisfying myself that there was still enough water in it. I would take my bike and ride to the pool, then simply go swimming. I knew that the initial plunge into that cold water would be hard, but if I just stayed in the water it wouldn’t be long before I simply went to sleep.

Naturally there would be a note, and I had already written it. It simply stated that I could see no possibility of resolving all the issues, all the problems, and I was just tired of trying so hard not to hurt anyone but failing miserably. Even if I did resolve the issues, the note said, it seemed that my parents had already made up their minds and my opinion didn’t matter anyway. The note was hidden in my bedside table, and would be on my pillow when my parents came to wake me in the morning.

By five PM I was ready to make my appearance. Josh was due any time now. We were to be picked up by a limo which would take us out to eat and then to the dance, just like a high school prom. My mom had been in my bedroom since I’d got home from the hair dressers, fixing this, adjusting that. The hair dresser had spent over two hours on my red head, trying to get all those trusses into some form of formal “up” style that would look good. Mom said she had done an excellent job. She had made two French braids which were pinned up and around the sides of my head sort of like a crown, and the rest of the hair was tied in what amounted to a large bun in the back. There were two small wisps hanging to just above my shoulders in gentle curls on each side of my head.

My dress was a blue satin with a sheer skirt over the light blue material that made up the full hooped skirt. My shoulders were totally bare, but there was a thin blue strap fastened to the top of each breast cup in the front and circling my neck. Mom and I had wanted to cut the strap off, but the clerk had told us that I’d need breasts to hold it up, which of course I didn’t have; well, not exactly anyway. Mom had bought me a strapless padded bras, so I was filling out the dress in front with just a hint of breasts.

From breast to just above the hips, the dress hugged my body tightly. I had a simple nylon slip underneath so I could move more easily in the perfectly fit dress. The skirt... oh man, that skirt! Mom had sewn in six alternating layers of crinoline and cotton petticoat so that the full skirt blossomed outward from my waist, giving the same effect as the old 18th century hoop skirts. It made the most delicious swishhh-swishhh sound whenever I walked or even moved. Under the skirt was a pair of matching blue silk panties with lots of lace trim, a pair of skin colored panty-hose, and of course matching blue shoes. I had wanted high heels because even though I had grown quite a bit, I was still a lot shorter than Josh. But Mom had said no, that I didn’t need to be dealing with high heels. “If I know you and Josh,” she had said with the most beautiful knowing smile on her face, “you two will dance your hearts out. What you need is what I call dancing slippers.” I had to admit they were more comfortable than what I had in mind, and allowed the freedom of movement that Mom had accurately predicted I would need.

“Come have a look, Daddy,” mom said as we descended the stairs. Dad was sitting in his favorite chair, reading the newspaper. He grunted and rattled his paper, then peered over it and mumbled “very nice.” I could see Mom’s face getting red and I knew we were in for yet another fight. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the doorbell rang. “Go into the living room, dear,” she ordered as she went to the door to let Josh in. She led him into the living room where I was standing. I swear I had never had an erotic thought concerning Josh until the moment I saw him standing in the doorway in his tux. He looked like a penguin, or perhaps something not real like a life-size porcelain doll or something. He was so incredibly handsome I felt a stirring in my groin, then hated myself for the feelings that were coming without my bidding. When he saw me his eyes popped open to twice their normal size, and his chin dropped to his chest. His lips were moving but no sound was coming out. Mom led him directly to me and positioned him beside me so she could get a picture. “You’re beautiful!” he said when he finally found his voice.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I countered. Just the sight of him had turned a pretty magical day into one that was enchanted, and I wished it would never end. My last day on earth had already been my best, and we still had dinner and the dance to go.

Dad rattled his newspaper again. Mom turned a deeper shade of red. “John Elliot,” she yelled, “get your ass out of that chair and come look at these two. I’m not gonna have you spoil this beautiful moment for Christine and Josh.”
Dad muttered, “I already told you he looks very nice.”
“Please, Mom, not tonight,” I begged.
“She, dammit!” Mom screamed, totally ignoring my pleas. “SHE! If you’re that ashamed of your own flesh and blood, maybe she and I should just get out of your life. I’ve had it with you and your prejudice. You’re acting just like your father.”
“You mean the same father who isn’t speaking to me at all because of what’s going on here?” Dad replied angrily.
“That’s his loss and I have no control over it. But I DO have control over my daughter, and I swear, John, if you don’t get out of that chair right now, it’s gonna be your last chance. I have totally had it.” Just hang in there a few more hours, Mom, I said to myself. Just a few more hours and all my mess will be out of your hair, and so will I.

Dad snapped the paper closed with a loud paper rattling sound and threw it on the floor. As he stood I could feel Josh bristling beside me. I didn’t know what was coming, but there was no question in my mind that if Dad had any ideas about hurting me, he’d have to go through Josh first, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Josh was tall and strong for a twelve year old, with shoulders as broad as a football field. He had run interference for me since the very first day we’d met, and I knew today would be no different. I resolved then and there that we were going to that dance and having a good time tonight even if Dad ripped every stitch of clothes off both of us.

Dad walked the three steps to stand directly in front of me. His eyes wandered up and down my body, from head to feet, then back to head. He looked directly into my eyes. I glared back, trying to tell him with my eyes that I didn’t want a fight, but I was ready for one. Josh’s hand found mine and he grabbed it and squeezed it so hard it hurt. “If I’ve told you once,” Dad said sternly, “I’ve told you a thousand times. When God makes something beautiful, something perfect, you don’t mess with it.” He raised his hands. Josh tried to let go of my hand, I knew to defend me, but I held him fast. Dad’s huge hands descended to my head, and he started pulling the pins out of my hair. “You’ve got the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen,” Dad said a little more tenderly. “It’s a sin to tie it all up like that.” Four hours in a hair dresser’s chair, sitting under a dryer, enduring the stench of all those chemicals, were undone in a heartbeat as I felt my hair fall on my shoulders and down my back.

“Josh!” My dad said even more sternly.
“Yes, sir!” Josh replied defiantly, just as strongly. I squeezed his hand.
“If you’re gonna take my daughter out tonight, I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves. You two have come a long way together and I suspect you’ll go a lot further. I’m trusting you with the most precious thing in my life. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said in an almost military tone. “I understand perfectly, sir. I will treat her like the queen she is.”
“Fine,” Dad said. His eyes were getting misty. I couldn’t see a tear, but I could tell there was a surplus of fluid in them. He rested his arms on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eye. “This... this thing isn’t gonna go away, is it?” he whispered.
“No, Dad, it isn’t. I’m sorry, but it isn’t going away. Christopher is gone.”
“You were miserable in Florida, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“No matter what we call you or how you dress, you’re Christine aren’t you?”
“Yes, Dad, I am. I’m sorry...”
“Don’t you ever apologize again for being yourself,” he ordered. “I’m not sorry, Christine. You have tried your very best to cooperate and resolve this thing, and I can’t ask for more. I’ve got a beautiful daughter, and it’s time I started enjoying it. Susan, I think we need a brush to get out those tangles in Christine’s hair. You two have a wonderful time tonight because you’re in for some pretty painful surgery, Christine. I’m proud of you, Peanut.”

I was stunned. As we got settled in the limo, Josh commented, “I’m glad he let your hair down. I like it better that way.”
“He called me Christine!” I said absently. Then I repeated it. By the time we got back to the Reynolds’ to have the inevitable pictures taken there, I was in tears. Dr. Reynolds completely misread the situation. “What’s happened?” he questioned. “Did you and your father have another fight?”
“He called me Christine!” I said again. “He said he was proud of me!”

The dance was everything I had hoped it would be. The middle school kids were a lot more mature than my school mates, and the girls were even more so. They even commented to Josh about his date and how pretty I was. Josh was obviously very proud and wasted no opportunity to show me off to boys and girls alike. I guess the way I was dressed made me look older because no one seemed to realize that I was only nine - well, almost 10. Some of them even asked me what school I went to, and when I told them I was in elementary they were quite surprised.

I thought of the story of Cinderella as we danced. I decided if I could have an evening like this once in a while then I really didn’t need reassignment surgery; I could take all the heat from intolerant teachers and school bullies, as long as I could have my Cinderella night now and then. This made up for everything. And then there was my Dad. He had said he was proud of me. And he called me Peanut, in the most loving, tender way I had ever heard. I had often wished that he could find some other nickname for me, but suddenly I loved the name Peanut. It was my Dad’s favorite name for me. I was his Peanut and he was proud of me. Who could ask for more?

It was almost midnight when the long black limo slid to the curb in front of the Elliot house with Josh and me inside. “Have fun?” Josh asked.
“Are you kidding?” I replied. “That was the greatest. I love you, Josh.” All the suicidal thoughts were gone. The note I had planned to slip into his pocket as we danced was still inside my padded bra. I knew I was still in for a long road, painful surgery, maybe more ridicule; but I knew now I could face it. The two most important men in my life, my father and my boyfriend, were both behind me now and there was nothing I couldn’t face.

Josh didn’t answer... he couldn’t, because his lips were covered by mine. It was the first time I had ever taken the initiative and kissed him, or anyone else for that matter except perhaps Gail. I felt that rotten little thing between my legs spring to life, but tonight it was covered by too many layers of cloth to do any damage so I didn’t care. Soon I would be back on a full dose of hormones and it would be lifeless again. My earlier thoughts of getting into Josh’s pants tonight were forgotten - we were still children and it was enough for us to be together, to be close, and to kiss each other tenderly.

Finally Josh opened the door and got out, then took my hand and helped me out and escorted me to the front door. Mom and Dad were waiting there, but Josh didn’t care. He kissed me again, right in front of them. It wasn’t a long lingering kiss because we were not into all that yet... but it was still a kiss; a kiss that said loud and clear, “I don’t care who’s watching, I love my girl and I’m gonna make sure she knows it.”

“So you had a good time tonight?” Dad said as he came into my room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“The best, Daddy,” I answered dreamily.
“I’m glad,” He said as he began stroking my hair, which was all over my pillow and framing my head in a cushion of red. “You were the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on tonight.” I didn’t answer, but just smiled up at him. I had hardly ever seen this gentle side of my dad before, and I was enjoying it.

“I was talking with Dr. Reynolds tonight,” he said as he combed my hair with his fingers. “I told him to go ahead with plans to schedule your surgery. You will be off your feet for three or four weeks so he’s going to set it up for the end of the school year. Is that ok with you?”
“Really?” I questioned. “You mean this year?”
“I mean this year. Call it a combination tenth birthday present and reward for doing well at school in spite of the problems with your teacher.”
“But the money. It’ll cost so much. We can’t afford...”
“We can’t afford to have the prettiest girl in town unhappy all the time. Don’t you worry about the money, you just worry about keeping yourself healthy so there won’t be any delays this May. And please, err.... Princess, please forgive your old dad for being so stubborn.”

“Course I do, Daddy. But what about Grand-dad? He’ll never speak to you again.”
“If he doesn’t, then that’s his problem, not mine. And if he chooses not to embrace his granddaughter, it’ll be his loss, not yours or mine. As he gets older he’s gonna need us more than we need him, but if he fails to see that, well, he’ll just have to find another family to abuse.”

“I love you, Daddy,” I said as I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.
“More than you love Josh?” he said with a grin.
“Well...” I giggled.
“Night, Peanut. Sleep tight.”

Back in school, things were going downhill fast. Miss Banks had made no secret of her contempt for me, and kids are quick to pick up on things like that. She was careful not to make direct reference to my situation, but it only took a few oblique remarks for the rest of the class to figure it out. The girls made me feel very unwelcome in the girls’ bathroom by always stopping their laughter and chatter when I walked in, making remarks among themselves about the female impersonator in their midst, things like that. The boys were downright hostile, calling me names like “Missy Christopher” or “Sissy Chris.” So I didn’t take part in most of the school activities that I would have probably enjoyed, which was fine with my dad. He was determined to make a computer tech out of me, and I was beginning to enjoy the work.

Towards the end of January we received an overseas call from Herman Marks. “I have hesitated to call earlier because Dr. Reynolds told me you were trying to schedule some surgery,” he told us when my mom and dad and I were all on the line.
“That’s right, Herman,” Dad said. “I think we have it pretty well set. Christine is scheduled for the OR the second week of May. Unfortunately she will be out of commission until well into July, and even then I don’t know how I feel about her touring with you.”
“That is why I’m calling now,” Herman said. “Some things have come up here and I won’t be able to spend the summer in America this year. I would like to come right away and spend the spring with the children. My producer is very interested in having them make a CD in the future, so I’d like to work with them as much as I can, while I can.”

“There’s a couple problems, Mr. Marks,” I said. “My teacher doesn’t like me much and I know she won’t let me miss that much time at school. And the other thing is, I think Josh’s voice is starting to change.”
“All the more reason for me to come,” Mr. Marks said. I would like to take you and Josh out of school completely, and tutor you privately. As for Josh’s voice changing, I’m anxious to get to him before that happens. There are exercises he can do to delay the change for a year, perhaps a little more. If I can get to him soon enough, we can ease the transition and be sure that the change takes place quickly and without problems.”
“It’s going to be difficult,” Dad said. “Christine has literally dozens of medical appointments in preparation for her surgery. There’s hardly a week between now and May when she doesn’t have to see at least one doctor.”
“I anticipated that,” he answered. “We’ll work around her schedule, John. My producer is very anxious as you can tell. He will make whatever concessions he has to if we can get to work right away.

“Also you might want to consider the fact that there will be a substantial financial consideration if he can get a contract. We simply cannot go any further without any money changing hands. I know that could be significant to you right now.”
“You’ve got that right,” Dad said. “We’re in no position to spend any money right now unless it’s absolutely necessary. Precisely how much would it cost?”

Mr. Marks laughed heartily. I loved how he laughed. “I’m afraid you don’t understand, John,” he said. “We would be paying Christine. My producer is prepared to pay a rather large retainer to secure a contract.”
“That really is good news.” My dad exclaimed. “I have to admit that we are in no position to simply walk away from any money we might be able to gather, but that is not our main consideration. I suspect that Christine is facing some rather difficult surgery and I cannot even consider allowing anything to put more of a strain on her right now.”
“Of course not,” Mr. Marks agreed. “Would a week be enough time for you to come to a decision?”
“That would be fine, Herman,” Mom said. She and I were standing facing each other in the bedroom, and she could see the excitement all over my face. Dad was downstairs and didn’t have the benefit of my facial expressions.

“Did you hear?” I said to Josh as soon as I had dialed the number.
“Hear about what?” he said blankly.
“Mr. Marks,” I almost screamed into the receiver. “Didn’t your dad tell you?”
“Oh, that,” he said. “Yeah, I heard. Kinda neat, huh?”
“Kinda neat? Josh, what do you mean, KINDA neat? It’s awesome!”
“Yeah,” he laughed, “I guess it is, isn’t it? Sorry, Angel, I was just teasin’.”
“I’ll get ya for that,” I said in frustration. “So what did your dad say?”
“He thinks it’s great, if we can work it into your schedule.”
“Mr. Marks said he would work around our schedule. And the good news is, I get away from Miss Banks.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, “I knew you’d like that part. But are your parents gonna let ya do it?”
“I think so,” I replied. “They want to be sure I can handle it.”
“No brainer,” Josh commented. We talked about other things then... things that are only important to two very young lovers who hadn’t seen each other for almost two days. I was floating somewhere in the stratosphere and I had a great deal of trouble keeping my feet on the floor.

The first doctor I went to see was Dr. Morse, whom Dr. Reynolds had picked as the lead surgeon. He had scheduled a two hour appointment starting at 3 PM. His nurse had me stripped naked, lying on a table with my butt on a large pillow and my feet in stirrups before I even saw the doctor, so I presented a rather interesting view when he walked into the room. She had given me a shot of something that made me very dopey. “So you’re the young lady who was born with the wrong parts,” he said pleasantly when we had introduced ourselves. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
“Help yourself,” I mumbled. “You’re about the only one in town who hasn’t already seen all there is to see.”
“Still got a sense of humor,” Dr. Morse chuckled. “I like that.”

Mom was in the examination room with me, as she said she would be for all my preliminary work. I think it would have been easier if she had stayed in the waiting room, but I appreciated her gesture. Dr. Morse seated himself on a stool between my legs and peered into my crotch, his nose no more than a foot from my butt. He turned a bright light on and examined every square centimeter of my exposed parts. His only comment was to thank Mom for not having had me circumcised when I was a baby. “We’ll be able to make good use of that extra skin,” he said.

He stuck a catheter like device with a viewing scope into my wee-wee and inspected the inside of it. “Are you on any medication?” he asked me as he pulled and tugged, rolled skin and manipulated me until I felt the inevitable hardness coming on.
“No, sir,” I answered, “not since the middle of December. I was taking hormones before that an’ I’ll be starting again.”
“Ah, yes, your week as a boy. I understand that didn’t go very well.”
“It was ok,” I answered. “But I was glad when it was over.”
“So you don’t have any problem with what we’re planning to do?”
“No, sir.”
“You understand that once we do this, there’s no changing your mind. We can’t undo it. Once these things are gone, they’re gone for good.” As he said that he rolled my tiny balls between his fingers.
“Good riddance,” I said as a wave of... of that same electricity that I’d felt the first time I wore a dress coursed through my body.

The doctor put some grease on his gloved finger and stuck it so far up my butt that I thought it was going to come out my mouth. Then he poked it all around, feeling this and that, rubbing here and there, feeling again, then poking inward on my belly with his other hand till it hurt and feeling everything again. He took a very large instrument that looked to me like a giant Geometry compass with curved legs and measured the width of my hips, the thickness of my body from somewhere inside my butt to the bone in front of my wee-wee. “Very interesting,” he commented. He poked his finger into the hole in front of my pelvis and felt around again. A few more “Hmmm’s” and “UH-huh’s” and he was done. “Ok Honey, you may get dressed while I talk to your mom,” he said as he stood up. “I’m going to enjoy having you as my patient.”

“We don’t have any secrets from Christine,” Mom said. “Would it be possible to talk here while she gets dressed?”
“If you like,” the doctor said. “Christine is very young though, and I don’t want to frighten her. This is a pretty invasive procedure.”
“I just need to know if it’s gonna work,” I said as the nurse unfastened the straps that held my legs in place. “The rest I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Fair enough,” the doctor said. “I have never done this procedure on one as young as you are,” he said directly to me. “Ordinarily I would never consider such a thing on someone under the age of 21 or so, but your Dr. Reynolds has done an excellent job of convincing me that it is indeed necessary. The fact is that physically you will make an excellent patient. I have no reason whatsoever to believe that the operation will not be one hundred percent successful. Further to that, I cannot tell for sure until you have grown a few more years, but as nearly as I can tell your pelvis seems wider than the average nine year old boy. Perhaps your body isn’t as confused as everyone thinks. You are a good patient, Christine, and will make an excellent subject.”

I thanked the doctor and started getting dressed as everyone left the room. He took my mom into his office and told her the details of exactly what he was going to do, in far more detail than I wanted to know. I was practically dancing around the room as I put my clothes on, I was so excited. An excellent subject, he’d said. He was going to do it!

If someone had told me two years earlier that I would be doing all the things I did that spring, balancing school and music instruction, doctor appointments and working at a computer store, I think I’d have said they were completely out of their minds. But these were all things I wanted to do. These were all exciting things, and nothing is impossible when you’re nine (well, almost ten) and doing things you want to do. But when Herman Marks appeared in early February, I realized that I had agreed to a little more than I’d bargained for.

“I’m going to arrange for you to learn German,” Mr. Marks told Josh and me during our first meeting. We had already been formally withdrawn from public school and introduced to our tutor, Mr. Rollins. He was a nice man, about 40 years old, and one of the smartest men I have ever met. We warmed to him immediately.
“German?” Josh questioned. “Why German?”
“Some of the songs we’d like you to record are in German, and I think it will be a lot easier for you to learn them if you speak the language. We may also take a shot at French and Italian in the future. You both have excellent grades, so I don’t anticipate that you’ll have any problems. It will be hard work though.”

Hard work was an understatement. Mr. Rollins started immediately on the curriculum he’d been given by the school board, plus some extra music instruction, and he did it all totally in German. “It’s called immersion,” he told our parents. “The children will be completely lost for a while, but soon they will learn a few key words and begin to understand what’s going on, and they themselves will be astonished at how quickly they catch on. If they are as bright and motivated as I think they are, they will be speaking German fluently within the year.” Well, that may well be true, but for now we were indeed totally bewildered.

I had a visit with a plastic surgeon whose name was Dr. McCall. “I’m the one who is going to determine what you LOOK like down there,” he explained to me. “I have to determine how much tissue and skin I’m going to need and where I’m going to get it. Hopefully we can make you look like you were born a girl with no scars, if I’m good enough.”
“I WAS born a girl,” I said defiantly.
“Whatever,” he said indifferently. “But when I examine you, what I see is a boy. My task is to make you look like a girl.”
“Don’t bother,” Mom said as she handed me my underwear. “Thank you for your time, Doctor, but we won’t be needing your services.”

“Before you dismiss me so offhandedly,” the doctor said, “you might want to consider that it won’t be easy to find a plastic surgeon with my experience who is willing to operate on a nine year old boy.”
“We don’t want someone to operate on a nine year old boy,” she said. “We need someone to operate on a ten year old GIRL. And I’ll take my chances. First and foremost, whether you consider Christine a boy or a girl, she is a human being, and not a WHATEVER.”

Mom called Dr. Reynolds as soon as we got home and told him what happened. “No problem,” he said, “I’ll find someone else.” Meanwhile I had to go see two more psychologists whose job it was to confirm what everyone else already knew. Uncle Robert wanted to leave no chance that anyone could say we went into this process hastily. As it turned out, it’s a good thing he did because the Child Protection Agency got involved. Before I even knew what was happening, I found myself in a foster home and my parents and I were in court.

To be continued...