Finally Jack's father faces his son. But the mother has to intervene.

Choices
Chapter 16

I wasn’t certain which one was more anxious about talking with the other, Don or Jack. They both looked so serious, Jack almost scowling and Don, well, Don looked more intense (and worried) than when our first child was born.

We were waiting for Jack when he got home from school the Tuesday after New Year’s 1956. I took my place in the big chair opposite the couch with a coffee table between as Don met Jack when he came through the door. I had asked Tim to pick up bread and milk at the store after school certain that he would spend the change, as well as considerable time, with the pinball machine conveniently located at the back of the little mom and pop store he would stop at.

I thought it only fair to give Jack a heads up about what was coming. I simply told him that his father and I had talked at length, that we agreed what was going on wasn’t good, and that his dad had decided that he would now take an active role. That scared my little boy; he literally cried and was so afraid his father would try to make him stop what he was doing. Jack clearly verbalized to me that any attempt would fail which I wisely failed to relay to Don.

Don rather solemnly led Jack to the couch and they sat next to each other. Actually they were both turned toward the other, Don with his legs apart in the traditional male open position and Jack with his legs folded under him. The body language said a lot about how the conversation was going to go just from the view I had.

I tried to be an unbiased observer even though I did want Don to make Jack understand what perils lay ahead and convince him that he would have to live in a world as a boy and then a man. But I had almost shed all my own need to make Jack be manlier as he matured. My only goal, my bias, was to protect Jack from what I was certain was a hostile world if he did in fact become homosexual, or whatever. I now understood what Elaine Rogers said to me that evening at Bible study; that her only choice was to love her child, and to have faith.

So I sat almost passive and listened. Don and I had finally agreed that he needed to face this, one way of the other, and that he had to be involved. We also swore to always be in agreement which meant I wouldn’t indulge our son without first getting Don’s approval. He did forgive me for preempting him and buying Jack that pair of panties. After all, he wasn’t here and while he felt I made a huge mistake he said he understood the pressure I was under. Don was not himself after our visit to Jack’s world on the third floor. Usually the life of the party at the New Year’s gala he only had one drink and although he did kiss me at midnight, the next thing I knew we were on our way home without saying goodnight to anyone. He tried to regain his confidence though telling me one pair of panties, and what he saw on the third floor, would not deter him from convincing Jack the benefits of being the man he would become.

I insisted that we set ground rules for our talk with our cross dressing eleven year old son. First we were going to stay calm, try not to become emotional. I figured that was a necessary rule for Don but he most likely thought it would apply to me. Second, we would try to be neutral about what Jack was doing and what he likely would say. Don said he had thought about it and was ready for any claims his boy might make about feeling he should have been a girl. While I had gained Jack’s trust, albeit at a price of condoning what he did, we agreed we shouldn’t give Jack any hope of continuing the girl fantasy more than it already had. I did realize that further indulgence was fraught with peril.

“Jack, I want to talk to you and I need you to listen.” Don began.

“I will, daddy.” Jack answered meekly.

“You’re a good boy, Jack.” Being both positive and accurate. Jack looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“And you and I are buddies, right.” Don noted as factual. Jack nodded in agreement, but only slightly.

“We do things together. You help me cut the grass and work on things.” Jack was silent. “I taught you how to shoot the 22. We’re guys right?” I saw Don laying the impeccably logical groundwork that could only lead to the irrefutable conclusion that boys don’t wear dresses. The only problem was that Jack didn’t seem to be accepting the premise.

“You’re a guy.” Jack corrected his father through clenched teeth.

“Jack.” Don took a breath clearly not happy to be contradicted. “You are a boy too, my boy and you will grow up to be a wonderful man, and marry a wonderful girl like mommy.” I expected Jack to answer but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything or show any expression. He just looked down at his hands.

Don looked at me not so much for help but as a break to gather his thoughts. He decided to approach the discussion more direct.

“Jack, my point is that you are a boy and boys don’t do what you are doing.” Don finally declared as if factual. Obviously at least one boy in the world did wear a dress, on occasion, so Don was already on thin ice.

“So?” Jack asked finally rejoining the conversation.

“So I know you are wearing your sister’s dresses up there. Boys don’t wear dresses Jack.” I knew Don just hated to acknowledge what Jack was doing but he finally said the word, the one that began with a “d”.

“I know.” Jack actually admitted. Don didn’t seem to realize the trap he was setting for himself but he almost grinned at what he thought was the progress he was making with his son, his boy. Don must have felt that Jack finally realized what he was doing was wrong.

“That’s what I don’t understand, Jack. Why would you do that?” He asked and without waiting for a reply asked another but more biased question. “What in God’s name is the attraction?” He demanded slightly raising his voice.

Good question. I could have asked my fashion ignorant husband what the attraction the floppy eared orange hat had for him, or I could have piped up and told him how much fun it was to get all dressed up and feel wonderfully girly, but doing so would not have been well received.

Unfortunately Don continued to press the point even though he had revealed earlier to me that his strategy was not to let Jack know he had been to the third floor, that he had witnessed Jack’s imaginary girl’s room.

“Jack, I went up there.” He confessed. Jack didn’t look surprised as if he expected at some point that his other life would be uncovered. He even gave a slight smile showing some pride.

“Do you think that is normal? I mean for a boy?”

“No.” Jack dutifully answered.

“Then why would you do all that. Jack you can’t be a girl on the third floor.” Don told Jack rather forcefully.

Jack finally looked up at his father and spoke haltingly. “It’s hard to explain, daddy. But God understands.” He paused while his father waited for him to continue.

“Maybe He does but I sure as hell don’t.” Don admitted. I elected not to chastise Don for the mild profanity. Then Jack spoke up suddenly asking the questions.

“Daddy, you were a boy, right?”

“Of course.” Don confirmed.

“Daddy, did you ever wear a dress? I mean, when you were a boy.”

“Of course not.” Don was so happy to answer Jack’s probing question thinking his boy was finally connecting the dots.

“That means you and I are different, right.”

“Now wait a minute.” Don didn’t seem to enjoy having logic used against him especially from an eleven year old. Jack took it further.

“Daddy, you grew up to be a man because you were a boy, a real boy.” He said almost with delight as if he had been thinking about it. Jack could justify doing what he was doing, and accept that he had the body of a boy, by differentiating between real boys and himself. Then he added with conviction. “I’m not a real boy.”

“Jack, you’re a real boy.” Don countered trying to head Jack off. “Listen Jack. I’m sure you think its fun to do whatever you are doing, pretending and playing. But well, it isn’t all that fun, being a girl, I mean.” If Don was on thin ice before it just cracked underneath the weight of that perfect logic he often boasted about. Jack again didn’t try to refute his father.

“It’s hard work, Jack. That’s what it is. And besides the work it is just hard, having babies and everything.” I kicked Don under the coffee table. We had agreed to stay away from sex and reproduction in talking to Jack. Don got the message and changed course.

“Ok Jack, I’m not going to argue with you about this. You’re a kid who for whatever reason thinks he should have been a girl. Jack, you are not a girl and will never be one. That’s what you have to understand.”

This was almost the same argument I had with Jack when he adamantly told me he thought he should have been a girl and I tried to explain reality to him. Grant the premise but smack him down with the reality. Before the ‘talk’ between Jack and his father deteriorated further I debated if I should intervene but decided to just see where the push and pull went. I expected Jack to protest but he said nothing.

“But.” Don added giving some ground. “I believe you.” He surprisingly said. “You really think this. It’s silly but if that is how you feel, ok.” Don was trying to turn the tables. “You feel this way. You like to go up there and pretend or play. Fine.” Don paused letting Jack feel he was winning but then smacked him hard, figuratively.

“But what are you going to do the rest of your life?” He asked as the first of a series of rapid fire questions with Jack not having answers.

“I don’t know.” Jack answered quickly to the first question drawing out each word.

“What do you think would happen if you wore a dress to school, or church?” He asked but Jack just shrugged.

“What would your brother say, Jack?” Don was firing questions but not necessarily thinking. “Does he know, Jack? Does Tim know about this? Has he been on the third floor?” Don’s questions suddenly made both of us wonder if Jack’s siblings were aware of what their brother was doing. Brenda had asked the question and revealed Tim mentioned the third floor. We both waited for Jack to respond.

“Tim doesn’t know anything. He leaves me alone and never comes up there. Sometimes he’s mean and he started calling me names.” Jack complained.

“Like what?” I interjected.

“He called me a sissy ‘cause I wouldn’t crawl under the truck and hold the light for him. He told me I was useless, just like a girl.” I wanted to laugh; boys learning to become men with misogynous attitudes to match. It made me wonder why Jack wasn't learning the same lesson. I gave Don the look not to pursue further discussion about Tim.

“Well Jack, you can’t live your life on the third floor, not without consequences.” Don pushed.

“I know.” Jack barked upset that his father was pushing so hard.

“That’s right. You can’t. You are going to have to face the fact that you have to live your life as what you are.” Don lectured just as I had done but more bluntly. “Things will change and you’ll be better for it.” He predicted. Jack sat fidgeting with the cigarette lighter that we kept on the coffee table intentionally not looking at his father.

“Are you listening?” Don asked sternly. Jack nodded his head. “Maybe you can pretend now, dress up and look like a girl, like Joanie, with your hair so damn long, but believe me Jack, things are going to change and well, I don’t want to be mean but you’re not going to be able to look like Joanie in a couple of years or so.”

Mean? I thought Don was being almost cruel. No doubt Don was correct as Jack got older, and started developing as all boys do, he would no longer be able to look like a girl but did he have to be so blunt with Jack, innocent Jack. I still sat quietly.

“You will see Jack. I know it’s hard but there are wonderful things ahead for you. You just have to try. You’ve gotten used to doing this and it’s become a habit and now you have to just stop.” The father declared. “And as you get used to not going up there, it won’t be so important and in a few months you’ll think why did I ever do that?” Don was smiling now reaching over and ruffling Jack’s hair.

Jack pushed Don’s hand away. “It’s not a habit.” He said letting the cigarette lighter tumble to the floor. “I don’t have to stop.” He declared looking at me. “Mom said I can, didn’t you?” I was on the spot but he didn’t wait for my answer.

“And if you try to stop me daddy, I’ll go live somewhere else.” I expected Jack to defend what he was doing but his threat to run away caught me off guard. I wanted to cry but knew I was the one who needed to stay calm. I looked at my husband and could tell he was angry.

“Jack.” I said in disbelief. Jack was suddenly standing between Don and me and looking at us alternately back and forth.

“Fine.” Don said at the same time. “You don’t like it here. Go. Do you think there’s anyone who would put up with a boy wearing a dress? You think you could survive trying to be a real girl. Ha.” Don gave a mock laugh then continued. “You’re lucky your mom and I have been this lenient Jack. Most parents would know how to handle this.” Don added as he glared at me.

“Don don’t.” I implored.

“Don’t what?” He shot back at me. “He wouldn’t be this way if I had my way. A good spanking would go a long way. But we’re into this now and Miri, if Jack can find someplace to live where he can prance around in dresses, then let him go.”

I hoped Don was bluffing about both the spanking and letting his son go but wasn’t sure. He now tried to finish, bluff or not.

“Where the hell do you think you would go Jack? Certainly not your grandparents. They’d kick you out. Oh, how about the Benson’s. Nope don’t think so. Nobody would want someone like you.” Don predicted cruelly. “Well, Jack, I’m waiting.”

“I’d go live with Aunt Ceil and Aunt Caroline in Baltimore.” He announced as if he had thought about it long before our discussion.

Now it was Don’s turn to be stunned. “Aunt Ceil’s? Uh, they couldn’t take care of an eleven year old boy.”

“No.” Jack agreed. “But they would let me be an eleven year old girl!”

That did it. Don was defeated. He knew that Ceil and Caroline would readily agree to take Jack (Don saw how attached Jack was to Caroline at Thanksgiving and vice versa) and he knew they might be much more open to his son’s cross dressing than he was. Defeat boiled into anger and anger into demands.

“You are not going anywhere young man. And you will stop wearing girls’ dresses and stuff immediately. And you’re to stay off the third floor. And if you don’t there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?”

Without waiting for a reply he turned to leave through the living room toward the stairs. That was it. Typical Don, make unilateral demands and then run. All that we had agreed to was out the window. All that I had hoped for, some understanding, some unity, was gone. Jack was hurt and now crying. He stomped his foot and started to go through the door into the dining room. I just knew if I let him go there would be a slammed door in my future. He reminded me of his sister.

Don too was angry but that didn’t justify him setting unilateral rules. It went against everything Dr. Ellis had recommended and I knew it would forever hurt Jack and tear the family apart.

I was at the proverbial fork in the road. I guess the easy path would be to let them both go and just see how it played out; let Don take the responsibility for how things ended. I couldn’t do that. Something, perhaps that force I could never quite define, told me I had to take charge. I had a son exhibiting very unusual, and yes troubling, behavior. He was so stubbornly sure of himself, so determined that he was not really a boy. I worried that what he was doing on the third floor would soon spill out to other parts of his life, at home and at school. I considered that it already had and that I just didn’t know. After all, he was bold enough to wear panties on our shopping trip. I just could not, and would not, abandon him. I couldn’t let him think I agreed with Don that the best course was repression. To help him I had to keep his trust and as I watched him disappear through the dining room I felt that trust slip away.

As for my reactionary husband, I knew from years of experience he would calm down and relent, at least some. For a man, I’m sure, he could not give in, could not give any ground that might threaten his precious manhood. Of course he would desperately need to save his boy from the perils of the feminine at all costs. I knew, without a doubt however, that I could convince him that his manhood was not in jeopardy.

“Get back here!” I yelled. “Both of you.” I must have been out of character because both my husband and my son reacted immediately with surprised expressions.

“Don, you sit in the chair; Jack the couch.” Now I stood between the two and wisely decided to set the child straight first.

“First. Jack you are our child and you are not going anywhere else to live. We love you, both of us.” I looked at Don who had a serious but agreeable expression. I think he was happy a cooler head was taking charge.

“But if you think you can just demand to do whatever you want just because you have these feelings or whatever, than you need to think again. You’re not the only one that’s troubled Jack. Daddy and I are going nuts over this.” I hardly ever called the father of my children daddy but it seemed appropriate; it helped to personalize Don to the situation.

“And Jack this can’t continue without somebody else figuring it out; Brenda, Tim, your grandparents, even friends.” I was almost certain Jack had considered the inevitable moment when someone besides Don and I knew, but that thought terrified me. I knew what he didn’t. In his mind, his fantasy, others would accept and understand. He almost said that when I put The Angel costume over his head and buttoned up the back for the Christmas play at church. I knew there would be no acceptance of a boy who wanted to be a girl.

“We don’t know how to deal with this Jack.” I continued now trying to be positive. So you have to give us a chance. That means you have trust us.” I tried to sound calm and convincing but was a total basket case inside. “We’re in this together, whatever the hell it is.” Now I was using profanity. “Do you think we aren’t trying? Or that we don’t care? Jack, I’m the one who bought you the panties. Do you think I wanted to do that? Believe me this is no picnic for us.” Don gave me an approving look.

“Jack, we just don’t know how we can help you. We believe you that you feel this way. Don’t we Don?” I looked at my husband who nodded somewhat reluctantly even though he said as much earlier.

“And we want you to be happy. You believe that don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes.” He answered.

“You see Jack, what your father was trying to make you understand is that as you get older it will be harder and harder for you to feel this way and be happy.” Jack didn’t respond.

“Jack, the bottom line is this. Your dad and I need help, we need help so you can be happy and safe. I told you that before. Jack, as much as you think you should be a girl, it’s not just going to happen. Something has to give and we need help finding what that something is.” I probably worded that wrong because Jack immediately thought it could happen if only we could find that elusive and magical something. His face lit up a little and I knew I was the one now on the thin ice.

“Sure.” He said hopefully. “How do we find it?” He asked naively.

I had to bring him back to reality. I could accept that my son might forever be a little on the feminine side and might even continue to cross dress. Living as a girl, or woman, however was unacceptable and impossible, that Christine person (banished from my thinking) notwithstanding.

“I don’t want you to think that you can ever do what you are doing outside of the third floor. I’ve given, we’ve given, you a lot of space and you have to be satisfied with that. Maybe a doctor will say different but until then, well. Jack, what I’m trying to say is that help means finding someone who will make it easier for you to grow up. It doesn’t mean helping you be, uh, well helping you be a girl.” Jack’s look returned to that dire solemn face that was not cute.

“So we have to find that something.” Then I rolled the dice. Don was listening looking supportive so I made my own unilateral decision. “What you do on the third floor will stay on the third floor. You must keep it to a minimum and you must be careful.” Don rolled his eyes but did not object. “And together we will get through this.”

“Now Don.” I said wishing I had a glass of fortification. “We agreed we would deal with this together. Telling Jack he has to stop doing this won’t work. You know that.” I said as forcefully as I could mostly for Jack’s benefit.

“But Miri, I wouldn’t care if I didn’t love him so much. Sure let him wear dresses but you know where that’s going to lead.” I actually was glad Don now spoke up. Now Jack could see how his parents struggled with what he was doing and how much we cared.

“Don, it’s not about letting him or not letting him. It’s about getting him, getting us some help. This has been going on for a long time. It’s not just going to stop, not without more arguments and scenes like we just had.” I knew I had the upper hand.

“So you and I will go see Dr. Ellis. Jack, you will need to go and talk to him too. I mean it. I know you don’t want to but it’s the only way.” I took a breath but neither the father nor the son said anything.

“And if he can’t help us then we’ll find someone who will.” Still neither said anything.

“Jack, will you go?” I asked directly.

“I guess.” He tried to evade.

“No guessing. You either go and tell the doctor the what and the why, or your father and I will lock the third floor.” Now I was dictating but at least it was conditional not absolute.

“Don, you’ll go? And participate?” I asked. “And you understand Jack will continue to have some freedom up there?” I added.

“I guess.” He first said, then remembering my admonition of no guessing to Jack added. “Yes, of course.”

I knew he still was reluctant and suspected he was happy to let me bear the decision making burden. At least I was able to divert disaster and somehow get agreement and a truce. The appointment with Dr. Ellis, still two weeks away, could not come fast enough but I did not see how one visit to a psychiatrist was going to change anything much. What God had given to us was unlike any burden I could imagine. I feared my love and my faith would not be enough to get through what was coming. I had I knew that Jack, the boy who thought he should be a girl, would still begin the slow and irrevocable process of becoming a man, physically. His expeditions into the other, unlikely to stop, would become not sweet, innocent and joyful as they had been, but freakish and perhaps even perverted as time and change marched on. I still had so much doubt and so much fear. In Moundsville, West Virginia storm clouds, vicious clouds without silver linings, perpetually loomed over innocent boys like Jack.