A Christmas Sampler a Christmas Anthology by Andrea DiMaggio Jessica's Story

Jessica sat at the end of the couch; her clothing seemed so out of place with the other girls in the group. Nina wore a corduroy dress, blue with leather trim at the collar and the sleeve cuffs, along with a fringe at the calf-lenth skirt. Connie wore a cocoa brown sweater over a cream colored cotton shift. Nancy had come from work; her blue jeans were distressed, and the blue cotton workshirt was unbuttoned, revealing a green cami. The other girls wore similar clothing; dresses and skirts and blouses. Even the jeans were pretty. Jessica looked down at herself. The non-descript blue jeans and tee shirt adorned only by a maroon work smock that had a “Shop-Rite” Logo sewn over the pocket. Her name tag read James.

Renaissance Transgender Peer Support Group...Limestone Presbyterian Church, Wilmington, Delaware...December 22, 2011

“Jessica? You seem distant tonight? Is there anything wrong?” Minnie asked.

“What…are you an idiot? She comes here every fucking meeting in her work clothes. What do you think?” Cathy looked at Minnie and laughed before shaking her head.

“Cathy…not nice!” Nina half-frowned and rapped Cathy on the arm with her magazine.

“I haven’t told Dad yet.” James shrugged his shoulders.

“I still have a need at the consignment shop, honey. I’m sure it pays as good as what you’re getting at Shop-Rite.” Connie reminded the boy of the job, not so much beause of employment as much as to remove any excuse. She wasn’t trying to make it difficult for James, but removing the issue of a job placed his fears squarely back where they belonged; on his father’s doorstep so to speak.

“Yeah.that just leaves you talkin’ with your Dad, honey.” Cathy tapped the boy on the knee.

“I know you can do it, hon…you just have to…this isn’t who you are…and he needs to know that.”

“You tell us all the time he loves you, right,” Nina spoke up in a soft, motherly tone. The boy frowned.

“But she also said he is still having a hard time….you know, with the loss of his wife.” Nancy shook her head and tried to smile at the boy but began to tear up, having lost her own wife of seventeen years only a few months before.

“He…keeps saying that if he lost me, he’d die. I can’t put him through that.” The boy put his head down and began to sob. Nina leaned closer and patted him on the back.

“You miss your Mom just as much as he does…I bet he doesn’t even know how bad it’s been for you.” At that the boy turned and buried his face in her shoulder and started to shake.

“Let it out, Jessie…it’s okay…I know, I know.” She tried to keep from sobbing herself, but Nina still cried along with the child. Not a boy, not by any stretch of her imagination at least, the child in her arms was just as much a girl as any of them, and at fifteen, the youngest as well.

The Padalino home, Wilmington, Delaware….the following afternoon….

“Hey…Jimmy, Is your father home yet?” Mrs. Thomasino called from her front porch.

“No, Mrs. T. One of the guys at the precinct is at the hospital for his first kid, so he’s working the extra shift. You want him to call you?”

“No… I’ll catch him tomorrow when you come to dinner.” Jimmy blushed. Carla Thomasino had both of them over on the occasional Sunday; she was a divorcee’ with a daughter who went to Catholic High School. Both Thomasino girls had designs on both Padalino boys, so to speak. Angelo Padalino didn’t mind the attention. It had been nearly three years since Helen’s passing, and Carla was a very attractive woman. Jimmy, on the other hand, had no interest being anyone’s boyfriend, since at fifteen, he had already determined that being a girlfriend to a girl was the best possible future for him.

As scared as he was of telling his father about his other self, he was terrified of the rejection from Gina. Almost like a pre-teen girl, he had autographed his own middle-school yearbook with his alter-ego.

Best of Luck, Luv, Jessie Padalino… Dear Gina, We had fun at camp, Hugs, Jessie. See you in High Skool, luv, Jessie…

Jessie stared at the yearbook picture; Eighth Grade Science Club, Mr. Grajewksi. She stood next to Gina when the picture was taken. Her male self looked so girly anyway, she would have been mistaken for Gina’s BGFF. She bit her lip and dropped the book to the floor. Slowly she took off her Shop-Rite Smock and placed it on her desk chair. She pulled off her sweater and tee shirt and jeans, revealing a bra and panties. Pulling back her hair, she fastened it with a rubber band in a tight pony tail.

“Daddy…Dad…Father dear…Pater…” She kidded as she looked into the mirror over her dresser. Staring back at her was a nice girl; about fifteen or so. With a little makeup she would look almost pretty. Maybe something to cover her face, which sported only a few blemishes. She sighed before reaching into her dresser to pull out what she had placed there on Saturday after she had done the laundry.

Just handling the garments brought her to tears. It was really nothing remarkable; a pair of kelly green slacks and a mint ladies shirt. There was something special about buttoning a garment backwards, she remembered as she put the clothing on. She reached into her closet and pulled out a pair of Sketchers; pink and low cut. Walking back to the mirror she tilted her head as she inspected the image.

“Hi, mom….I missed you,” she said as she waved to her reflection. She really more resembled her father, almost like a pretty younger sister of her Dad’s. But she was wearing her mother’s outfit. Jessie treasured the clothing because it really stood for who her mother was. Helen Padalino would have looked great even in Angelo’s sweat pants and a tee, but the nice green outfit made Jessica identify with the practical but pretty woman her mother was. She sighed and slapped herself in the head like she was chastising her self.

“You always cry….why do you do that?” The girl in the mirror seemed to be wondering as much as she did over the continued habit of tears invading what should have been a nice moment. It was really her and her other self’s way of both grieving and holding on, but at that moment, it just hurt and felt great at the same time.

She picked up her Mp3 player from her desk and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Putting the earbuds on, she proceeded to gather the morning dishes to load in the dishwasher. The player was blaring a Tech-House mix that her uncle Tony had made for her a few weeks before. Angelo's brother Tony was a Social Studies Substitute by day and did weekend gigs as a Tech-Jockey in the city and had gotten Jessie interested in the genre’.

The girl had her back to the kitchen door, and didn’t notice the police officer step inside the kitchen behind her.

“Jimmy?” She continued to load the dishwasher, oblivious to the company. The man reached over and popped one of the ear buds out and repeated,

“Jimmy?” She turned around and saw her father standing red-faced and shaking.

“Oh..god…Dad, No..it’s not what you think.” Jimmy tried to argue the point with his dad but stopped in the middle of it. Jimmy started to shake, almost matching his father’s tremor like motion until he shuddered once, burst into tears, and ran down the hall.

A knock came at the door…

“Jimmy? Jim…let me in, we need to talk.” Angelo stood in the hallway by his son’s door, his head placed against it; he was exhausted. After a few minutes, he pulled back and started to walk down the hall when he heard the door unlock. Walking back slowly, he knocked twice on the door frame as he opened the door. Jimmy was sitting on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chin. He had on some sweatpants and a Phillie’s hoodie, which was pulled up over his head, casting a shadow on his face. Even at that, Angelo saw that the boy's face was puffy and red

“Can we talk?” His father asked softly as he approached the bed.

“I guess.” The boy turned his face away.

“I had a very hard day, Jim….I’m sorry if I got angry at you.” Angelo shook his head, and it was then that Jimmy noticed his father had been crying as well.

“You know…I was so upset just now….but I realized, I’ve been so upset about losing her…your mother… that I forgot how hard it’s been for you. That’s why you wore her clothes.”

Part of Jimmy was so afraid of what his father still might do that he was tempted to say yes, but the look on his father’s face was as welcoming and loving as he ever remembered. He took a chance and began, trying hard not to cry.

“Dad…yeah…that’s part of it…but that’s just it…it’s only part.” Angelo’s eyes widened, almost as fearful as his son as he wondered what he’d find out.

“I wear the outfit because it’s what Mommy would wear…like when we’d go to Wegmans or she’d sit in the living room on the couch…you know…with her legs curled up under her as she’d do a crossword puzzle?” His father nodded, wanting to understand.

“It’s like that, but I was like this before Mommy died. You….I’m sorry Dad…I’m…” He started to cry, but caught himself quickly.

“No…you don’t deserve this….I can’t…you need a son…I’m sorry, Dad.” The boy looked away until his father reached over and touched his cheek with his hand; as lovely a gesture as the boy ever remembered.

“Jimmy…I should be sorry. Your mother tried to tell me before….she knew…She never said anything. I think we both thought it was…wanted it to be a phase…just something you were going through. I am so sorry.” The boy tried to pull away, but his father wouldn’t have it.

“No…hear me out. I said I had a difficult day? Difficult doesn’t describe it. Me and Phil were in Big D’s between shifts…we hear this godawful crash…accident right down the street. Mom and daughter got sideswiped on a hit and run…run off the road and hit a tree…gone.” Angelo began to cry.

“She… the mom…and the girl was your age….” He sobbed.

“All I could think of…I got sick right there. Phil covered them and called it in. He must have said something because Jacki calls back and says the Sergeant is on the other end. Phil probably noticed the resemblance and Sarge gave me the rest of the shift off. Anybody else or anything else…but she looked just like your Mom…she…..oh God…I am so sorrrreeeee.” The boy pulled his father close and patted him on the back for several minutes before speaking softly.

“I promise I won’t do that ever again.” He struggled with only a little success in holding back his own tears until his father answered.

“Jimmy…no…that’s just it. I couldn’t even drive…Phil dropped me off about six blocks from here…I had to walk…you know…to get my head together. All I could think of was how much I missed your Mom and how it would kill me if I lost you…not you…Oh I don’t know how to put it. Your mom had sort of an awakening just before she died. She was always sort of close to God…you know. But she said the night before she died that I needed to remember that you were my child. She kept saying over and over, ‘Now Babe…remember’…she kept saying over and over…our child…our child. It was only when I walked in just now that I realized what she was trying to tell me.”

“I don’t understand, Dad.” The boy covered his face in shame. His father reached over awkwardly; not really knowing what would follow.

“She knew, Jimmy….” He paused and shook his head, as if he were a high school junior trying to remember his lines in a play.

“What’s her name?”

James misunderstood and said, “Gina,” while looking out the window to the next door neighbor’s house. Angelo half-smiled and his nose crinkled as he began to tear up once again.

“No…what’s her name…the girl…you….” Angelo tried to smile; he was being warm, but in that moment he felt another grief of a sort as he said farewell in a way to his son. He would struggle with that grief for many months, but at that moment in time he had gained a daughter he really knew all along; the name became the hardest part of the process after a while.

“Jessica, Dad…my name is Jessica” The girl, for that is what she truly was, shrugged her shoulders. Being a girl in her heart and mind was one thing as was the clothing and the accoutrements, but becoming who she’d always felt she was…being able finally to be accepted was too much for her.

Partly out of embarrassment as they both were still stuck somewhat in the past in their previous roles, Angelo and his daughter were left wondering just what does a father do for his daughter when she is happy and sad at the same time. In a few minutes they figured in out as the girl collapsed in her father’s arms and wept in relief.

Saturday afternoon before Christmas, the AMF Price Lanes, Wilmington...three years later...

The family laughed as the older of the two girls stepped up to the line for her second frame. She wore faded blue jeans and a dark green sleeveless blouse with the obligatory rented bi-colored shoes. She brought the ball right to her nose before walking back a few paces. She took two strides while bringing the ball back in an arc before swinging it forward quickly. The ball released with a ‘pop’ as it flew down above the lane for a few feet before making contact.

“Oooohh….I think…I think.” Her mother shouted as the ball sped down the lane, finally striking the head pin just right of center. The pins fell down in surrender as her mother shouted, ‘Strike!’

“That’s okay, Gee!,” Angelo patted his daugther Gina on the back as she stood up for her turn.

“Go get er, girl.”

“Okay…baby girl…don’t miss,” Carla shouted as daughter number two ignored her attempts at a psych job. The girl walked to the ball return and picked up her ball, a recent gift from her erstwhile step-sister and girlfriend. She stopped only long enough to kiss Jessie on the cheek before walking up to the line.

“No fraternization, there" Angelo shouted.

“You bowl your game, Dad and I’ll bowl mine, okay?” Gina called back to her father before rolling the ball down the lane sharply. Unlike Jessie’s ball, her’s was straight on and hit the head pin dead to center. But the mix flew around and by the end all but the ten pin had fallen. It teetered a bit before finally falling down.

“Strike!” Angelo cried out and rewarded his team by kissing the captain of the other team, his bride of three months.

“Hey…none of that,” Jessie laughed as her girlfriend sat down next to her on the side seats. Gina leaned closer and kissed Jessie before laughing.

“What’s that for?” Jessie asked.

“I just think this is a ‘perfect’ game, don’t you?”

Jessie kissed back before saying softly at last,

“Yep….just perfect!”

Next: Theresa's Story