Everyone has their own truth. But is Les's truth the same as Elle's?

 
 
Love Less -13-
 
Truth Is...

 
The Drs. Davenport, Jessie and Owen, re-entered the home office wearing somber expressions. Mrs. Madison stood beside the French windows that opened onto the back porch of the large suburban house, smiling. Les sat in the chair in front of the desk, looking at the floor.

“What is this about, Maddy?” Jessie asked. She and her husband moved behind the desk, but neither sat. They smiled, but Owen’s eyebrows made peaks on his forehead, and Jessie held her hands together in front of her.

“It’s all about Elle’s true status,” the social worker admitted. “I discovered that her parents are unlikely to be able to claim her for months, and in fact, may lose their parental rights for abandonment.”

Owen smiled, and his eyebrows relaxed a bit. “It’s good that Elle’s here with us then.”

“There’s a complication,” Maddy said, putting a hand on the back of Les’s chair.

Les closed his eyes. No one heard him whimper. If he hadn’t already been sitting down, he would have collapsed.

“What sort of complication?” Jessie asked. “Another relative?” She reached out toward Les, but the boy in the dress did not see or respond.

Maddy shook her head. “No. There are other relatives, yes, but no court in this state is likely to give any of them custody, either. Not if I oppose it, at any rate. And if you are still willing to give Elle a home.” She glanced from Jessie to Owen and back.

“Of course,” said Owen and Jessie nodded. “Providing foster homes for girls in trouble is one of our joys.” But their smiles flickered. Maddy’s attitude signaled that something still needed to be brought into the open.

Les trembled under Maddy’s hand and she gave his shoulder a squeeze. He looked up to find both Davenports’ gazes on him.

“Um,” said Maddy. “I don’t want you to feel like I boxed you into this.” Her voice stayed firm even if her words expressed some tentativeness.

Jessie blinked several times, then looked directly into Les’s eyes. “Maddy…” she began.

“Elle is transgender,” Maddy said quickly. “She’s a transgender girl, biologically male. I confirmed this from a fax I received from her school in Colorado.” She paused. “The paperwork I got from the station house yesterday was wrong.”

Owen and Jessie stared at Les. He blinked several times. After a moment, quiet tears rolled down his cheeks, but his eyes were closed again. Maddy bent beside his chair.

“I tried to tell Maddy yesterday and… and Pris last night…” Les murmured before opening his eyes and looking up again. “Please don’t be mad. I know I let you think I was a girl, but I was… so… so scared.”

Owen smiled. “Elle, honey, you are a girl.” He glanced at his wife who had already started around the desk to fold the crying boy into a hug. “The only problem I see is what do we tell the school,” the doctor continued.

Jessie glanced back at Owen while hugging Les. “Elle, I don’t see how anyone could think you were a boy!” She held him out to look at him, laughed, then pulled him in close for more hugging.

Les wasn’t sure what to think about that, but he smiled at her through his tears. It looked like he would get to stay. He tried to relax into the hugging.

Everyone talked at once.

Maddy was saying, “I have paperwork I will have to straighten out….”

Jessie said. “We’ll have to find out if Pris still wants to share a bedroom with you….”

Owen remarked, “I know a doctor that has some experience in this area….”

Les floated halfway between happiness that he would be allowed to stay in the family and fear—fear that this meant he would have to continue trying to convince people that he was a girl. How long could he do that for? “I told Pris… I mean… I don’t have to go to a special school…. Do I? Will my folks have to find out? Is anyone going to tell Mom-Mom?”

“I can get a bigger allowance from the state for Les as a special needs child,” said Maddy.

Owen shook his head. “The money isn’t important.” He looked at Les. “But, Elle, if Pris doesn’t want to share rooms, I’ll move my office into the living room corner and convert this into a bedroom.” He waved at the room, grinning.

Jessie commented. “The school already has another transgender girl attending. I know because I’m on the board there, so that is not really going to be a problem. Or only a minor one, at least.”

Maddy remarked. “I can write letters to all your relatives, Elle.” Then sort of as an aside to herself, “We can manage what we tell them.”

Jessie smiled at Les. “Pris is not going to care, honey. She’ll be tickled that you told her the truth and she didn’t believe you.”

Owen laughed. “No wonder the idea of a physical exam scared you so bad. I’m sorry I was being thick about it.” He shook his head.

Les giggled, cried some more, and got the hiccoughs again. The buzz of talk among the grown-ups continued.

“How soon can we adopt her?” Jessie asked Maddy.

“Six months normally,” said Maddy. “But if I can get paperwork in front of a judge to declare that her parents have effectively abandoned her, maybe in only a few weeks?”

“Would you like that, Elle?” asked Owen.

“Her name was misspelled on the police paperwork, they spelled it as two girl’s names,” Maddy told Jessie. “I got the correct spelling today and investigated.”

Les wondered about that. He had felt sure yesterday that Maddy had known the truth and was just scheming to keep him out of juvenile hall with her masquerade. But now everyone seemed to know he was a boy and assumed that he wanted to be a girl.

Did he? Maybe if it meant he could stay as a member of the Davenport family, maybe he did.

“We can get your name changed as part of the adoption,” Jessie said.

“The doctor I know can give you hormone blockers until you’re sixteen so you don’t have to go through male puberty,” said Owen.

Maddy brought something else up. “Elle was born in Henderson, Nevada. We can get her birth certificate changed to show female even before she is old enough to have surgery.”

Les’s head buzzed with all the talking back and forth. Had he heard what Maddy said right?

“Do you like ‘Elle’ as a first name, honey?” Jessie asked him. “Or should that just be your nickname for something longer? Ellen? Elizabeth Eleanor?”

“Keep your last name as your new middle name,” suggested Owen. “Eleanor Love Davenport.”

They were all smiling. Happy for him. He couldn’t tell them he wasn’t sure, could he? “Where’s the b-bathroom?” he asked, his voice breaking a bit.

Owen indicated one of the rooms other doors. The office turned out to connect with the large disability-equipped bathroom attached to Carol’s first-floor bedroom. He went in and shut the door. The tile, porcelain, glass and metal surfaces made every sound louder and more sharp-edged.

He could still hear the voices in the office through the door.

“She’s adorable,” Jessie was saying. “So pretty and feminine, with that awkward grace like a fawn or a kitten.”

“She would never have survived being put in juvenile detention with the sort of boys she would have been with,” said Maddy.

“I don’t see how anyone ever believed she was a boy,” commented Owen.

Les put the toilet ring up and knelt beside the tall shape of the porcelain bowl, careful not to kneel on his skirt. He gagged a couple of times and spat up some sour fluid into the water. But he did not throw up.

Jessie said, “She wears clothes so well, she could be a model. Pris commented on that.”

Owen speculated. “I know they can give blockers at her age, but I’m not sure about other hormones.”

“We have to do some research,” said Maddy.

“Get her some counseling, too,” said Owen.

“It’s important to do what’s best for her,” said Maddy.

“She might not want to be a model,” Jessie said. “That can be a hard life. We need to find out what she does want to do.”

“Exactly,” said Owen. “That’s the most important thing. Find out what she wants to do with her life. What she really wants to do.”

“And help her be the best person she can be,” added Jessie.

Les blinked tears out of his eyes again. Would he ever stop crying? People wanted to be nice to him, but why did it hurt so much?

“Are you all right in there, honey?” Jessie’s voice came at the door after a soft knock.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he answered. He took tissue and wiped his eyes.

“All right, dear. We’re going out to the dining room table to strategize and make coffee. Come see us there when you feel better. This is a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

Les nodded then realized she couldn’t see him. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated.

“You’re not throwing up, are you?” Jessie asked.

“Not so far,” Les said. “But it was close. Ma’am.” He wasn’t used to people caring or even noticing what he did or how he felt.

Jessie was quiet a moment, then said in a softer tone. “You can call me ‘Mom’ anytime you want to, honey. Not required but I would like that.”

Les didn’t say anything but grabbed more tissue, and after a while, he heard Jessie and the others leave the office. He knelt beside the porcelain a while longer, his thoughts circling non-ironically around his situation, his past and his future.

Finally, he stood again, smoothing his skirt the way Pris had shown him. He flushed the toilet, watching the sour spit and tear-stained tissue disappear.

At the mirror over the sink, he examined his reflection. Was he really all that girly? He pulled his long hair away from his face with one hand and covered up his foofy bowtie with the other but could not decide if that made him look more like a boy.

He fluffed his hair back up with his fingers and turned to the full-length mirror on the door. He did look cute in the school uniform with the big red bow at his throat and the plaid jumper skirt. He tried a smile and a pose, then another one. Was that what models had to do? He did have long pretty eyelashes, didn’t he?

Counseling? What would he tell a counselor?

Les opened the door, left the office and turned down the hall toward the dining room. When he entered, everyone stopped talking to turn and smile at him. He made a decision, maybe not a permanent one but for the time being anyway.

Elle stepped into the room, moving toward the chair she had used at dinner last night and breakfast this morning. She needed to talk to her foster parents about seeing a doctor and a counselor. She smiled back at them, trying to feel light-hearted and unafraid.

It couldn’t be that hard to pretend, could it?