At a home in the San Francisco area...

Hey, Chuck, have you seen my grey hoodie?" Alan called from the bedroom. He came down the hall and walked into the kitchen, where Chuck was cooking lunch.

"No, babe, I haven't," He pulled back just a bit as Alan went to kiss him.

"Sorry...haven’t brushed my teeth. My breath smells almost as bad as your cooking." He said, only partly telling the truth. Something was going on inside of him, and he felt uncomfortable around his partner, even when things were going well, which they weren't.

"Funny...ha ha." Alan said in a dull monotone. "What's for lunch?"

"I'm trying that recipe for macaroni and cheese that I got off of Paula Dean's show yesterday.

"Oh...okay." Alan sounded less than enthusiastic, which Chuck found disappointing. He had tried everything to placate his partner since the grand failure of the other night. Actually it wasn't a complete failure since Alan always enjoyed their sex immensely while Chuck felt more and more separated and removed from their lovemaking. It had gotten to the point where it was worse than being non-involved. Like a 'dutiful wife,' he laid back and 'took' it, feeling less and less a part of their relationship and more like someone he didn't know.

"I'm off after dinner tonight; I switched hours for Saturday with Dana, and I figured we could spend some time together."

Alan had gotten almost insatiable; the only thing that slowed him down was if he had to pee in the middle of everything. And after the other night, Chuck was surprised that he still wanted to do anything at all.

"Alan...can't we talk about it?"

"We already did."

"You talked...you lectured me...like I don't have a say."

"You have a say, but if we want this to work, it has to be this way, honey, you know it!" Alan raised his eyebrows and shook his head, as if he had to deal with a recalcitrant child.

"But you don't even want to hear what I have to say." Chuck bit his tongue. He was not going to give Alan any more ammunition by crying. It didn't make a difference as Alan continued.

"What...that you think you remember something? That maybe you're not a guy after all...that what we have is just another perverted form of suburban life?"

"Now you're twisting my words. I only said I wanted what other couples have."

"And what would that be, Chuck." He never used that name unless he was becoming frustrated. That usually meant the conversation was about to draw to a close. Chuck wasn't far off.

"You want to be a woman? After all these years, you pull this crap on me. I thought I meant something to you, but apparently wanting to discover yourself takes precedence over what I want. You can be so fucking selfish sometimes." He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge before finishing.

"Listen. Just think about it. You're just a bit confused. Let's plan on just having a nice meal at home tomorrow, no strings attached, okay. And we'll take it from there." He went to kiss Chuck once again and Chuck shied away.

"Fine...I'll see you later. You know, you oughta grow up!" Alan said as he shook his head. A moment later, Chuck stood alone in the kitchen. He turned off the stove and sat down at the table. Looking out the window hoping that Alan would come walking back in and apologize, he sat for several minutes before putting his head down on the table and sobbing softly.

Later that evening....

She looked in the mirror, surveying herself. The hair was reasonably acceptable, almost like a copy of Janine Turner or Moira Tierney in her new lawyer show; pretty but short...very short. Her ears sported new amethyst studs; amethyst being her birthstone. She sighed before moving on to view her apparel. She wore a calf length corduroy skirt; tan, with a cream silk blouse under a cocoa cardigan. Her legs were covered in dark brown tights under calf length cowgirl boots with a low heel; she hadn't mastered (mistressed) heels yet, being nearly twenty years removed from the last time she wore anything higher than an inch heel.

"Not bad, but will it play in Peoria?"

She frowned and looked over at the front door. He was going to be home any minute, and she wanted it to be just right. Maybe it was the pose, or the lingerie...that must be it...too fast...She must have moved too fast. She took one last look in the mirror before walking into the kitchen. She just needed a chance to change his mind.

"Roast Beef and Mashed Potatoes and String Beans," she said aloud. Nothing fancy or unpredictable; his favorite meal.

"Can't have too many changes, not tonight," she thought. She began singing softly to herself as she put the food on the table. She heard the front door open and her heart skipped a beat. She turned to greet him.

"Oh shit...fuck no, Chuck...I told you I don't want any part of this..."

"But..."

"Damn it, Chuck...no...fuck no. This isn't going to happen." Alan walked straight up to him and glared. If he had been wearing a wig instead of just his own very short hair, Alan would have ripped it off in disgust.

"Please...don't...I'll go change...we can still have dinner," he cried, grabbing a paper towel and wiping his face off hastily.

"Don't bother. I'm not hungry." Alan squeezed past Chuck and grabbed a Heineken out of the fridge.

"But?" Chuck tried to get Alan's attention as he pushed his way past him and out of the kitchen. A door slam let Chuck know that it wouldn't be a good idea to try to talk, as if the rude and cruel words weren't enough. He stood in the middle of the kitchen once again before walking into the darkened living room; a perfect place to hide with the pretty colors and wonderful fragrances of acceptance closed off by the drawn curtains. He sat down in the chair by the fireplace; it was still redolent with the smell of burnt paper from a few nights before. He looked down at the fragment of charred paper that still remained; the few legible words mocking him one last time...

"Gender identity disorder (GID) is the formal diagnosis used by psychologists and physicians to describe persons who experience significant gender dysphoria ..."

The basement of St. Thomas Episcopal Church, a week later...

"Hey, Cheryl, you look awfully worn out; what's going on," Nancy asked.

"I don't really want to talk." Cheryl shook her head but the tears in her eyes almost begged for someone to speak up.

"He still angry at you?" Bella Biseglia asked as she shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it.....Let it go, Bella, okay?"

"Sure...I'm sorry."

"Anyone want to start? Any concerns? Maybe a nice report for a change?" Nancy was certainly and understandably frustrated; most of the women in the group seemed to be dealing with the same issue out of a host of issues that were common to them.

"So I take it most of you are still facing rejection, even with your partners?" It sounded like a dull accusation; as if Nancy were bored of the topic, but really she was frustrated and sad for her fellow group members. They needed some promise, some hope.

"My wife told me she always thought there was something different about me," Leona said with a half-smile.

"We had a long talk, and she's willing to go to couple's counseling." The half-smile grew into a grin.

"She even picked out the therapist; a woman over on Tucker Avenue who specializes in gender issues. I think we've finally turned a corner." Leona's smile changed to a happy frown as she burst into tears. The women on either side of her patted her on the back.

"That's great...I'm so happy for you." Mae said and hugged her tightly.

"Yeah...I'm happy for you too." Cheryl said even as the tears began to flow. What would have been a happy occasion on another night became the opposite as Cheryl continued.

"I can't do this anymore." Bella grabbed her arm in shock until she continued.

"I'm not going to keep living a lie. This...not Chuck, is who I am, and Alan will never accept that." She bit her lip at the thought of the next few words.

"He's asked me to move out....three years and that's what the sum total of my love for him is; a request that he texted me while I was at work." She shook her head; it went beyond cruel and had lapsed into indifference....almost the hardest emotion to overcome.

"I don't have anywhere to go, so I'm going to move back in with my parents." Chelsea gasped.

"But they won't accept you either. You won't be able to be yourself with them...this isn't fair." She began to cry. A new member of the group, she was young and actually enjoyed the support of her family.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Chels.... I'll be okay." Cheryl shook her head, completely contradicting her statement.

"You will, because you can come live with me. I've got two empty bedrooms since the kids moved back to San Jose to be with my ex." Bella smiled and looked around, seeking endorsement for the idea from the group.

"Gosh, Cheryl...that' s great, don't you think? Leona asked.

"Oh...I don't know?" What was to know other than that she was so used to being put down and being rejected, even by the man she thought she knew, that it didn't occur that it was a great idea.

"You don't have to make this permanent, sis!" Dina said.

"Just to get you out from under that cloud you've been living under for the last year. I'm sure Bella would agree, right?" Dina raised her eyebrows as she glanced at Bella.

"Oh, hell yeah...you can as long or as short as you like. But this way you don't have that godawful commute from Oakland. In fact, our company is looking for a new IT person; print out your resume' and bring it on Sunday at the luncheon and I'll give it to my boss.

"She know you're a transwoman?" Chelsea asked.

"Yeah, six months now. The whole office knows and they're cool with it. Hell, if you can't come out in Frisco, where the hell can you come out. Seriously, she's been really supportive, and not just because she's the boss. Just one of those folks who has their priorities straight, if you'll excuse the pun.

"Listen, Cheryl, I know this is a hard time for you, and this is no substitute for what you've lost." Bella put her hand on Cheryl's arm once again.

"Believe me, I know. My ex still is good friends with me, but it's not the same. We love who we love, and when that doesn't get returned or goes away, it hurts like hell."
She paused and looked around the room; the nods of the women there gave sad testimony to the truth of her words.

"I've got an idea. My girlfriend is coming over tomorrow to make me dinner. She's really sweet, and obviously she understands about girls like us. Why don't you come over; you'll get a free meal and a free tour; no strings attached. Whatyasay?" She rubbed Cheryl's arm like a big sister.

"Okay..." Cheryl said after a moment of thought.

"So dinner tomorrow. Come over about five and we can talk for a while if you want."

"Oh, yes...dinner...I think....would it be okay?" She paused, almost fearing that the offer would be rescinded like a cruel joke.

"Okay, what, honey?"

"Can I move in tomorrow?" Cheryl said quietly with her head down.

"I've got my pickup outside in the church parking lot...why not tonight?"

"O...okay."

The group broke into spontaneous applause; the one exception being Chelsea, who just said, 'Oh, that's so sweet" before bursting into tears.

Next: Danny's Story