Our State Fair - Part 1 of 7

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Many thanks to Alyssa Davis for her kind permission to expand on her story, “The State Fair”.

Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 1

Our state fair is a great state fair,
Don’t miss it; don’t even be late.
It’s dollars to doughnuts
That our state fair
Is the best state fair in our state!

–from State Fair, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II


The Wilcox farm was typical of small-town American farmers. What had been a large mixed-type, with profits from grain, livestock, and dairy products, had dwindled down to primarily a specialized grain operation, with just enough livestock to feed the family with a bit for market as well. The dwindling down wasn’t due to poor management or operation; it was just the way of the world with single-family farmers. Squeezed between bankers’ reluctance to invest in small farmers, and the massive agri-businesses, with mega-farms able to field hundreds upon hundreds of combines, Frank and Marie Wilcox had actually done quite well for themselves, avoiding the trap of borrowing against the next harvest, which had proved the ruin of so many farm families.

There were several small towns scattered across the broad valley, towns that used to have distinctive flavors all their own but now seemed very much like one another. The town nearest the Wilcox farm was small but was still becoming homogenized into a copy of Everytown, USA, with a McDonald’s, of course, a small mall going up, and a Wal-Mart, with rumors of other chain stores coming in. The community was mostly white and Protestant, watched NASCAR and American Idol and thought Clint Eastwood was the Last Great American. There were very few social problems in terms of race or sexuality or politics, but there was a growing methamphetamine problem that was, sadly, all-too-typical of rural America. And every farmer anxiously watched the massive agri-business farm in the next valley, wondering when they would be swallowed up, their lands added to the giant conglomerate.

The Wilcox family was demographically typical; Dad, Mom, and two children, one of each. But there the demographic norms stopped. The ideal pattern for a farm family was to have a first-born son to help on the farm and to later inherit the farm, and a second-born daughter to help the mother with the domestic end of things. In the old days, the younger daughter would be married to the heir of a nearby farm, and the parents would work out the joining of the lands. It wasn’t a bad thing if the first-born was a girl; she wouldn’t get the farm but could babysit the younger male until he was strong enough to help his father in the fields. This was the basic pattern of life for farmers like the Wilcox family, with some exceptions in their case.

The exceptions were evident by the age of five. The first-born was Alice, a large girl at 9.3 pounds, strong and loud. Three years later Terence was born at 6.6 pounds, and the difference between them was marked by lots of crying and parental preferences. Alice had already spent three years being her father’s only child and would bully Terry, who would run to his mother and cling to her skirts. When Alice began kindergarten, Terry was able to spend all his time with his mother. There was a tremendous separation anxiety when it was Terry’s turn to start school.

There was only one school building for the elementary grades so both children went together, despite the age difference. Two curious facts occurred: Other children could sense that Terry was easily bullied by Alice; some bullied him themselves but most considered him beneath their notice. The other fact was that suddenly Alice made a turnaround and began protecting her little brother from any classmates that targeted him. Several times the Wilcox children came home and Mom made a fuss over Terry’s torn shirt while Dad was proud of Alice’s black eye.

Terry’s classmates had pretty much accepted him as a non-entity. He ate alone and read. He was bothered by not having friends, but didn’t know the first thing about making any. The problem was that he didn’t really understand the other boys in his class, and he wasn’t coordinated for sports. His father and big sister would play catch all the time, and Terry was dreadful at it. He had been given a baseball glove for his seventh birthday, and they played three-way catch …or tried to. His father actually said, “Come on; you throw like a girl!” which struck Terry as a silly statement, because Alice was throwing wonderfully and Dad even complimented how hard she threw. So Terry faked an injury and went to help his mother bake cookies.

It was Terry’s mother that he was happiest with, and he was proud to be helping her with the kitchen and housework. Alice was spending more time with her father and coming in just as dirty or oily as Dad; they’d clean up, laughing, while Terry and his mother would look at each other and roll their eyes.

The obvious difference between Alice and Terry didn’t go unnoticed by the parents; they spent many nights discussing ways to better adjust their children. Mom took Alice on girlish shopping trips for new dresses, to get her hair done, and so on. They degenerated into screaming matches. Alice would cross her arms and refuse to try anything on, and squirmed so much in the chair at the salon that the hairstylist gave up. It was an iron-clad rule that she wear dresses at Easter and Christmas, and looked so miserable that what should have been happy holidays were an ordeal. Dad took Terry out for clothes and bought him a dark blue suit and white shirt and tie; Terry stood silently as he tried things on. When they bought casual clothes, Terry would pull things from the rack only to have them put back by his father as ‘too loud’ or ‘not practical’.

This pattern continued until they were separated by middle school. Both had been good students but Alice’s grades slipped a bit, even requiring a parent-teacher conference at one point. Terry’s grades continued to be near the top of his class; he had so much time alone with his books that studying came easy. At home, both children performed the usual small farm chores before and after school. Alice was spending more time doing actual hard labor alongside Dad, something that pleased him very much. Terry did the lighter farm chores; since many hand-intensive chores had been replaced by some form of machine, a lot of his work was checking to make sure bins were full, hoppers were clear, and then pushing buttons. The rest of the time he worked alongside his mother, learning household chores. Mom told herself it was important that a man in the 21st century know how to cook and clean; she pointed to the Home Economics courses that were required for boys as well as girls in the high school, right along with Farm Management.

Middle school made further changes to Alice’s life. She was always tanned and robust and tall for a girl; she could run and play sports as fast and hard as any of the other boys, who accepted her as a peer. But one by one, the boys began changing towards her. Now she was a girl, and she had several fights with boys that had been her friends, as if beating them up would make them accept her. But the boys were looking at girls differently, and the girls were looking different, too. Most of them were sticks, straight up and down, but curves were starting, and the new bumps on their chests were fascinating to the boys. Alice had never been disgusted by the boys’ jokes, which were mostly gross, and she’d laugh as hard as they did at fart jokes. But now the boys were talking about ‘tits’ and ‘ass’ and ‘first base’ and it wasn’t baseball. Alice hated that kind of talk, but even more, she hated the talk from the girls; all she heard in the girls’ restrooms was about breasts and periods and–yuck!–which boy was cutest!

Alice’s departure into middle school left Terry alone in the elementary school, but he was safe. Years of having Alice as a protector had gotten bullies out of the habit of going after Terry, and being such a small town, there were almost no new kids added to the school system. Everybody that was their classmate stayed their classmate through the years; only in high school did several schools add children from three outlying towns. Terry ate alone and read, and there was a curious factor of a farming community: There were some ‘townies’, children whose parents owned a grocery store, or worked at Wal-Mart, but since the majority of the children worked on their family farms before and after school, Physical Education classes were an elective. It was deemed that the children expended enough physical energy during their routine days; several families had complained about their kids being exhausted performing their afternoon chores after PE classes.

So Terry never had to take a PE class. This meant that he never really learned the sports played by the other boys, and certainly never had a chance to get better at any of them. He didn’t mind; in fact, he was glad to reduce any time exposed to the other boys because he really didn’t understand what they were talking about. He didn’t know the sports terms they used, or the teams they rooted for, and the rest of the time they just talked about squashed animals on the road or told fart jokes.

Even if Terry had taken PE, however, there was one fact that was unavoidable: He was small. He was by far the shortest boy and was as short as all but the shortest of the girls. His arms and legs were thin, almost as thin as any of the girls’ rail-thin legs under their skirts; nobody could tell because he never wore shorts, although his thin arms were visible. His gestures were like his mother’s, with whom he spent the most time, as was his speech pattern in his high, light voice. Terry’s parents were called in for a parent-teacher conference, too, but unlike Alice’s, which was about her grades, Terry’s conference were about his ‘lack of socialization’. The teacher knew it would be too dangerous to come right out and say that Terry was effeminate, and it also bothered her because that wasn’t quite the right term. Terry wasn’t swishy or anything overt or flamboyant; he just wasn’t like any other boy. He worked well in groups that were formed for class projects, she told the parents, but stopped herself from saying that he worked better with the girls, almost as one of them.

There was something about Frank Wilcox that the teacher sensed that made her stay away from anything that might hint that his son was gay. And that was something else that troubled her; Terry didn’t seem gay; he wasn’t effeminate–he was feminine. Other than the fact that he wore boys’ clothing and had an ‘M’ next to his name, Terry was as feminine as most of the girls. No; that wasn’t quite right …he was no different than any of the girls. He worked well in the groups, as she’d told the parents, but many times he was giggling right alongside the girls. The teacher had even noted his hand would cover his mouth, fingers straight, as girls did. None of the children ever commented on it; they’d all grown up together and as one girl had said in passing, “That’s just Terry.” The end result of the conference was that nothing changed. Both parents were concerned and from time to time would ask Terry if he had any boys he wanted to invite over or go play with; he’d smile and shake his head and go back to his book or go back to folding the sheets or go back to stirring the cake mix.

Marie Wilcox was an excellent cook but had an absolute passion for canning. It was an economical farm skill, but some of her fondest memories were when she’d accompanied her mother to the State Fair and proudly watched as she won two blue ribbons for her preserves, and she wanted to pass on her skills to her daughter. Alice would come in and dutifully help her mother with the canning and Terry would go help his father. But as with shopping, Alice was bored and uninterested in the canning process. She was great at lifting heavy boxes of jars but it all seemed kind of trivial to her. Meanwhile, her brother would be out staring at his father in bewilderment as Dad went on about carburetors and coulters and other strange words. Both children had matured enough to not whine and complain; they were stoic in their unhappiness but dutiful at helping where they could.

But it was obvious that it wasn’t a good working situation, and by the time the kids were thirteen and ten, it had been decided that Alice wouldn’t have to do any canning; Terry was only too happy to help. However, the State Fair was nearly four hours’ drive away and impractical to commute. Frank only needed a day or two there to see what he wanted to see, but Marie needed to be there for the full week with her preserves in competition. For a few years they went as a family, the kids having fun on the midway, but even there the difference between them was obvious. Alice absolutely loved the thrill rides, grinning as she rode the roller coaster over and over again; once had been enough for Terry, who had shrieked with fear and afterwards felt queasy.

Midway games showed their differences, too; Alice loved throwing baseballs at milk bottles and shooting BB guns, while Terry liked the ring toss and fishing pole games. By the third year the family went, the division was acknowledged; Dad and Alice hit the rides while Mom and Terry toured the displays of handicrafts and household products. They’d all meet up later, walking along with snacks. Dad had a foot-long beer, Mom licked an ice cream cone, and both kids worked on cotton candy. The difference was that Alice would take large bites out of hers, while Terry held the cone and plucked bits of pink cotton candy with his fingers. Alice wound up with pink wisps on her face and in her hair; she’d be dragged into the Ladies’ by Mom, complaining that Mom should just let her cut her hair short. Meanwhile, Terry went into the Men’s restroom, his nose wrinkling at the stench, washed his hands and got out fast.

Hair became a difference by the time Terry entered the middle school as Alice was entering high school. Alice had finally convinced her mother to let her keep her hair short, parted in the middle and not reaching her collar; it was just long enough to tuck behind her ears. She often wore a baseball hat over her straight, dirty blonde hair. The school dress code allowed jeans for the girls, and other than the hated dresses for formal events, Alice wore jeans or dungarees exclusively.

Popular culture leaked into the farm community; the kids listened to country music or hard rock–nobody seemed to understand rap or hip-hop. Long-haired rock stars, as well as some country stars, were well-known and even high school kids on TV had long hair. Gradually the length of time between Terry’s haircuts grew. His hair was lighter than his sister’s and had a bit of a wave to it. He learned a lot about hair care just from listening to the girls at school; he always used conditioner–something Alice said she had no time for–and asked his mother to trim his split ends from time to time. Terry usually wore a low ponytail, like some of the other boys, keeping it together with a black elastic band.

The years passed with two notable changes. The first was that it was decided that Alice would accompany Mom to the State Fair for the entire week, since it was too far to drive. The whole family would drive up for the day, leaving the two females to stay at the Women’s Dormitory, and Terry and his father had a mostly silent drive back. During the week, Alice did the heavy lifting for Mom and other women, and rolled her eyes over the giggles and chatter of the other teenage girls in the dorm. When she could, she would haunt the midway and got to know several of the carnies.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Terry did the cooking for his father and did all the laundry at the end of the week so Mom would come home to fresh sheets. His father tried working alone the first year and despite his best efforts, the farm was too big for one man and things didn’t get done. The second year he hired a high school senior to help; they were in short supply since the boys of farm families had their own farms to attend to. Frank would take an enterprising ‘townie’, eager to earn money, although Frank would have to train him–as well as pay him–and had to train a new senior every year. Nevertheless, that was the routine for the next few years while Mom and Alice were at the fair.

At the end of the week, Terry and his father drove silently to retrieve Mom and Alice and listened to Mom telling Terry all about the other competitors and entries, chatting excitedly back and forth while Alice stayed silent, rolled her eyes, or shared looks with her father. But the third year, Mom came in second and now she was determined to continue; it was her dream to follow in her mother’s footsteps and win a blue ribbon.

The second notable change was no change at all. Frank and Marie had spent so many hours over the years discussing their children. They knew it wasn’t the normal arrangement with the daughter in the field and the boy in the house. They weren’t blind; they knew their daughter was masculine and their son was feminine …but they never came right out and said it. They never openly said that Alice was more like a boy and Terry was more like a girl. They were aware of it but just never admitted it. Instead, they accepted their children’s differences, mostly out of love and partly out of practicality. And partly out of ignorance, of course; they didn’t really discuss any possible future for their children other than working on the farm.

And they never discussed sexuality.

So things continued as they had been, as far as Frank and Marie were concerned.

But things were changing in Alice and Terry’s rooms. Alone in her room, Alice began exercising. She debated asking for a weight set but decided against it; she was afraid her mother would freak out and immediately put in her dresses. She would take stacks of books in each hand and do lifting exercises. She did squats and push-ups, and over months was gratified to see some muscular development. At the same time, she was dismayed that her body was betraying her. Around thirteen, her breasts began budding and she was disgusted–but not nearly as disgusted as when her first period occurred months later. There was no way to avoid telling Mom, who wrapped her in her arms and had tears of happiness. At first Mom mistook Alice’s tears for happiness but soon learned of her daughter’s misery every month. Fortunately, Alice’s periods were light and regular after the first few, and she had almost no pain or cramping. But the very reminder of being female distressed her, and she began exercising all the more.

Meanwhile in Terry’s room, there was a very different exercise going on. Terry had seen ballet on TV and was entranced by the grace of the dancers, and was impressed that both the male and female dancers could do splits. Terry began working on splits, even reading a book as he stretched. By the time he was eleven, Terry could do full splits. First he mastered the front split with either leg, then the side splits which he really liked, and then twisting splits within a year, where he could move from either type to the other. He studied a ballet book in the library, being too embarrassed to bring it home, and learned to pirouette. Terry had no illusions that he was going to be a dancer; he just thought that splits and pirouettes were something neat to do with one’s body. And if he was ever found out, he could reasonably point out that both males and females did them both.

While Alice’s body was growing and changing in the room next door, coming up to nearly six feet tall, Terry’s remained as it always had been. He crossed the five-foot barrier, barely. When he had a physical before entering middle school, the doctor told Mom that he was in the ‘lower percentile’ but growth spurts could happen at any time. But no growth spurt came–with one exception. Around twelve, Terry’s nipples hardened. His inquiries at the library led him to learn about ‘gynecomastia’, with the information telling him that it was not rare, it would go away, and to just live with it until it went away.

But as Terry lay under his covers at night, his fingertips lightly touching his nipples, he began wondering what if it didn’t go away? He did not have PE and didn’t go to the community pool or shower with boys so he was spared any ridicule. He was vaguely aware that Alice’s breasts were developing and that she was unhappy about it. He didn’t understand that; breasts were wonderful, so why would Alice be unhappy? It meant she was becoming a woman like Mom, and wasn’t that a fantastic thing to be? One night he wondered what it would be like if he were the girl instead of Alice, and it hit him like a lightning bolt–Alice should have been a boy, and Terry should have been a girl. How in the world had it taken him so long to see that? But, what was done was done, he thought sadly. He was a boy–he had the undeniable proof between his legs, however small it was–and he’d have to live with it.

Alice continued exercising secretly and lifting heavier and heavier loads while helping Dad, and was happy with that. She had no girls that she was friendly with but there were a couple of guys that were always good for a laugh or a pickup game of football. She wore a dress for Easter and Christmas, frowning. The family stopped going to church, because to Mom it was unthinkable to wear jeans into church, and the weekly fights with Alice about wearing a dress just wasn’t worth the agony. Alice did wear a dress to the funeral of a cousin; Terry had worn his suit and seeing the man in the coffin dressed up in a similar suit left an impression. Anytime Terry wore a suit, all he could think of was being stiff and cold like the corpse, so he didn’t mind not going to church because he didn’t have to wear the suit.

The only other time Alice had to wear a dress was her week-long misery with Mom at the State Fair. The first time she accompanied Mom, she was outraged to see other girls in the dorm wearing jeans, because her mother had only packed dresses. After that year, she wore one ‘good’ dress for the judging and awards ceremony. She loved her mother but hated the whole girly thing so much that she always looked unhappy and even odd in a dress. The rest of the time at the fair she wore jeans.

Things proceeded this way until Alice was nearly seventeen and Terry was thirteen. Alice would be starting her senior year and Terry would be moving into high school. For various reasons, Dad was having trouble lining up a high school boy to help out on the farm during the week that Alice would be gone with Mom to the State Fair. Alice had discovered a gift for machinery and Dad was relying on Alice more and more to keep the engines humming along. Meanwhile, Terry was enthusiastically helping his mother with the season’s canning, readying for the State Fair competition in August. As always, he was being fastidious with the produce in the jars, taking pains to match the exact same count of pickles, a carrot and a stick of celery in each.

*****

“Terry, that looks marvelous! Where did you get the idea?” Mom asked.

“I saw it at last year’s fair. Remember the woman from Wisconsin, the one with the really rosy cheeks and that pretty blue and white dress?”

Mom laughed. “Oh, yes! You said she might be winning because she looked like an American flag!”

They laughed together. Then Mom said, “Oh, sweetheart; I wish you could be there with me. You’ve done such hard work and won’t be there to enjoy the fruits of your labors.”

Terry shrugged. “It’s alright. I mean, when Dad and I go back up we’ll get to see you get your blue ribbon!”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Mom laughed. “Still …you’d get so much more out of it than Alice.”

“I don’t mind Alice going,” Terry said automatically. “I understand.”

Dad came into the kitchen, washed his hands and got a pitcher of ice tea; he poured some into a thermos. “Thought I’d treat Alice to some ice tea,” he explained. He poured a single glass for himself and leaned against the sink, sipping, then set his glass down. “I heard what you said about not minding Alice going,” he frowned, looking at Terry, and then at Mom. “Alice can’t go to the fair this year. I can’t find anybody to replace her for the week. Plus she’s got the tractor apart and almost figured out the problem.”

Mom said, “But our exhibit is larger than ever this year! I’ve got to have Alice’s help; I can’t move it all by myself.”

Terry said, “Dad, I can …help you …”

All three of them knew it was a nice offer–but not doable.

Dad shook his head. “Thanks for that, Terry; I know you’re trying to help, but it’s your mother that needs the help more than me. You know, it would be better if you went instead of Alice. I’ve been thinking that, anyway, the last couple of years. After all, you did all that work, helping your mom.”

“But Terry can’t go, Frank, you know that!” Mom said. “Alice and I always stay in the Women’s Dorm; Terry can’t do that. Oh, unless you’re willing to pay for a hotel for the week?”

He shook his head. “That’s out of the question and you know it, Marie. You ought to just sneak him into the dorm with you!” He chuckled. “Oh, have you asked around any of your gal pals? One of them should be able to help you.”

“No; I already know what every one of them is doing and they don’t have the time. And before you ask, no, their daughters can’t go, either. Most of them aren’t interested. Only Terry is …” She paused, looking at Terry, and then back to Dad. “Maybe we can work something out where Alice isn’t gone as long?”

He shook his head. “Crazy growing season we’ve had, and now we’re behind on the tractor, and the fact that every boy I talked to has other work lined up. I’m sorry, Marie; Alice is staying here to work. If you can’t find a replacement, you’ll have to pass on the fair this year. Farm work pays the bills around here.”

With that, he drained his glass and set it on the counter, picked up the thermos and went back out.

Mom flopped into a kitchen chair; Terry stood next to her and put his hand on her shoulder for comfort. “I’m sorry, Mom. If I was able to do more to help Dad, you could have Alice with you.”

Mom placed her hand on Terry’s. “Thank you, dear. You’re such a sweetheart. And your father’s right; it should be you that …” She drifted off, thinking.

Terry left her and went to the sink, rinsing his father’s glass and putting it in the dishwasher. He was folding a hand towel when he felt his mother looking at him. “Uh …what?” he asked.

Slowly, Mom asked, “Terry …I think I have a solution–for both of us. I think that we …” She stood and extended a hand. “Come with me, Terry.”

Terry took her hand and they went into Alice’s room, to her closet. “Where did she put the …here it is,” Mom said, taking a blue dress from the back. She turned towards Terry, still holding the dress.

Terry’s eyes widened. “Uh …Mom? Are you thinking of …” He didn’t know how to phrase it.

“I’m thinking of a replacement for Alice for this year’s State Fair. I’m thinking of the replacement being someone who deserves to be there.” She paused. “Yes, Terry; I’m thinking of you masquerading as a girl and going to the fair with me.”

“But that would mean staying in the Women’s Dorm!” Terry cried.

“That’s right,” Mom said. “But I noticed that it wasn’t the masquerade that you objected to first, only the dorm.”

“Yes, well …but …” Terry felt he was sputtering. “That, of course …”

As gently as she could, Mom said, “Terry? I think it’s time that you and I both tell the absolute truth to each other. I know you deserve it from me, and I think I deserve it from you, too. Don’t you think so?”

Her voice had a calming effect. “Yes, Mom; I …I always tell you the truth.”

“The absolute truth, Terry,” Mom said seriously. “And the whole truth.”

“Yes, Mother,” Terry said, as he did in serious situations.

Mom sat on the edge of the bed, laying the dress to her left, and patted the right side next to her. “Come sit with me, Terry.” Once Terry did so, Mom took one of his hands. “Terry, sweetheart …I’m just going to come right out and say this. You’ve always been much more …acted more like a girl than …well, than your sister does.”

Terry nodded, eyes downcast.

“And I think sometimes, that …deep down …you feel more like a girl than your sister does?”

Terry swallowed hard and nodded.

“Tell you what; maybe I’m crazy but I think this can be something special, for both of us. If you try being a girl for me, for the fair, you’ll be able to find out …well …if it’s more than just sometimes feeling like one, you know?”

“And you can compete this year. Oh, Mom! I know you’ll win!” Terry smiled.

“Thank you, sweetheart. But think about it for a moment. Oh, you’ll say, ‘But I’m a boy!’ but let’s just set that one thought aside and look at the situation we’re in. The farm, your father needing Alice with him–and let’s face it, Alice wants to work with him–and you doing the work for my exhibit and you’ve never gotten to go for the full week. Never gotten to hear all the compliments about your hard work. And, finally, that you’re …you’ll have an opportunity to find out about yourself. Or even just have an adventure.”

Terry swallowed again. “When you say it like that, I …um …okay …” His voice got smaller and smaller.

“Sweetheart, you’re trembling!” Mom marveled, and hugged Terry tightly. “Alright. We won’t see your father and sister for another four hours. I want you to put yourself in my hands. You have to trust me, Terry.”

“I do, Mom,” Terry nodded. “Um …what do you want me to do?”

“Remember, it’s just you and me, right?” She nodded, Terry nodding along with her. “So, please take off all of your clothes.”

“My …” Terry gasped. Then, he unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them and then unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him in a baggy t-shirt and briefs.

Meanwhile, Mom had gone to the bureau and was going through the drawers. “Where did that girl put …ah!”she cried with triumph, holding a package. “And never even opened! Honestly, that girl …” She trailed off and then waved a hand. “Never mind. Works all the better for us.” She went back through another drawer and then chuckled. “Two for two!”

She came back to the bed with two unopened packages, one of bras and one of panties, in assorted colors. She looked with dismay at Terry. “Oh, Terry–I’m sorry; I meant everything off.”

“Everything?” Terry gulped.

Mom smiled. “Yes; we’re fortunate that your sister didn’t open these; they can be yours now, right from the start.”

“The start?” Terry said dumbly.

“Oh, honey; I know you’re freaked out about this, but enter into the fun of it, okay? I said ‘masquerade’ a little while ago? You know, like Halloween?” She got a feeble nod from Terry. “Alright, then. So, off with the tightie-whities.” She tried to make it sound jovial.

Terry bent over and stepped out of the briefs; Mom busied herself opening the package and handed him a pair of yellow panties, briefs actually, trying to obviously not be looking. Terry took them and quickly pulled them up and stood before his mother. They were a little baggy.

Mom started to say, “And the …” Then she frowned. She had been expecting the bulge of Terry’s genitals to be visible through the thin cotton. Instead, even allowing for the baggy panties, he presented a smooth front. “Terry …sweetheart …” she said, concerned.

“Yes, Mom?” Terry asked, automatically covering his crotch with one hand while trying to pull the bottom of his t-shirt down to cover, too.

“Sweetheart, I think I …” Mom pursed her lips. “I’ll just have to come right out and say this. I’m not seeing …” She cleared her throat and more forcefully, said, “I’m not seeing your penis.”

Terry blushed crimson and shook his head.

Mom said, “Terry …I would like you to lower your panties, please.”

Terry was reluctant, but was startled by the phrase ‘your panties’ and hooked his thumbs in the sides and pulled them down, keeping his legs together. His mother stared at his crotch.

“Mother, I can explain …” he began, and then started crying.

Without thinking, Mom took two steps and hugged him. “It’s alright, sweetie. I’m here. You’re safe.” She patted Terry until he was under control. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Terry said, “Well, when I started working on splits, I–”

Mom held up a hand. “Sorry; I think I misunderstood. Did you say splits?”

He nodded. “I saw dancers on TV a couple of years ago and I thought it was wonderful. So I started …every night before I go to bed I practice. I’ve gotten pretty good. But it hurt, you know?”

“I’ve heard that,” Mom nodded. “I never could do them, myself, but my girlfriends all told me how much it hurt to learn how to do them.” She paused.

Terry said, “Well, it hurt, yeah, but, I kept at it.”

“You mean you can do a split?” Mom asked, incredulous.

“Can I …May I pull up my …my panties?” Terry asked sheepishly.

“Yes, of course,” Mom smiled, confused.

Terry said, “I just found it was easier to …tuck myself–my …penis–back between my legs when I do ‘em. And just sort of …kept it that way. That’s why you didn’t see it.”

Mom startled at that admission but decided to try keeping things light. She tried a playfully challenging tone. “Well, then …let’s see how far down you can go.”

To her utter amazement, Terry raised both hands up in the air and slowly, gracefully, slid down into full front splits, his right leg in front. Then he twisted to center, with perfect side splits, and leaned forward until his chest was fully on the floor, arms on the floor parallel to his legs. Then he raised his head and perched his chin on his palm, with his elbow on the floor. Mom stared.

“I don’t …I’m absolutely amazed …” Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Terry, that’s fantastic! How did you …how long did you …you said two years?”

Terry nodded, pleased that he’d surprised her. “I’m not a dancer or anything; I just thought they would be neat to learn.” Gracefully, he sat up and swung his legs under him and stood.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” Mom said. “What a delightful surprise!” She frowned. “But …I’ve heard boys …well, don’t your testicles get in the way? I’ve heard that can be painful …”

Terry blushed again. “Mom, my testicles …haven’t …”

Mom understood immediately. “You mean they haven’t dropped yet?”

Terry shook his head slowly, still blushing

Mom pursed her lips. “When was …when did we see Dr. Curtis last?”

“Just before school. When I started middle school, I mean.”

She remembered now; he’d said something about Terry being in the lowest percentile for development but that things should start developing …

Apparently, they hadn’t.

Mom sighed deeply. “Well, we can talk about all that some other time.” She tried to be casual and bustling. “Well, let’s move forward. Now, I know the panties feel different from your briefs, but you’ll get used to them. And you’ll get used to this, too, but I need you to have an open mind.” She opened the package of bras and found the matching yellow and extracted it. “You see, a girl your age will already be developing, and to help things fit right, you should …” She trailed off.

Terry was staring at the bra.

Mom laughed. “Oh, Terry; it’s not going to bite you! Yes, it’s something completely new, but please, please keep an open mind and try this on for me, please? Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

Terry took the bra from her and held it out, still staring at it, his face unreadable.

Mom decided to be matter-of-fact about it. “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Just go ahead and try it on! Oh, take your t-shirt off first, silly!” She grinned to show she was teasing.

Terry slowly set the bra back on the bed, looked at his mother, and took the bottom of his t-shirt in his hands. He frowned, then sighed. In one fluid motion, he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Mom was surprised to see there was a second t-shirt underneath. Terry turned his back quickly and reached down to the bottom, but before he’d turned Mom had a glance at the front of the shirt. It was a t-shirt she’d bought for Terry five years ago at the State Fair. Even from the back she could tell it was impossibly small; the sleeves had been cut off but came up high under his arms and the t-shirt hugged like a second skin, curving in to …

Curving into his waist? And his hips were wider?

Before Mom could think about that, Terry pulled it off, leaving a red band around his tummy. He clutched the shirt to his chest and slowly turned around to face her. He was blushing furiously and something was odd with his breathing.

His mother smiled encouragingly and nodded towards the shirt. Terry seemed reluctant for some reason, but then sighed again and tossed it onto the bed.

Mom gasped, her hand to her mouth.

On Terry’s creamy smooth and hairless chest were two breasts. Small, yes; but they were round and topped with rosy nipples. They were more than mounds; they were undeniably perky …they were breasts.

Mom’s mouth worked poorly. “What did …how did you …are you …taking anything …”

Terry shook his head slowly, his eyes wide. “No, Mother. They just …grew.”

“But …but how?”

Terry shrugged. “A little after my birthday–a year ago, I mean–my …nipples got kind of hard and then …” He shrugged again.

Mom nodded slowly, her mouth dry. “Yes, I’m …familiar with the process.” She shook herself. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I looked it up at the library. It’s called gyneco …mastia, I think it’s pronounced. I looked it up,” he said again. “It was just like what Dr. Curtis said. Some guys get it and it just goes away naturally.” He paused. “And doctor visits cost, so we could save the money. I didn’t want you to freak out over nothing, when they went away.”

Mom said, “Believe it or not, I’ve heard of that. And you said it was …about a year and half ago they started?” Terry nodded. Mom looked him in the eyes. “Terry, they should be gone already, or at least smaller. And why didn’t anybody …oh, that’s right; you don’t have PE.”

“No.”

There was something in his tone, and in his stance, and Mom said softly, “You like having them, don’t you?” Before he could answer, she said, “They feel wonderful, don’t they?”

Slowly, Terry nodded.

Even more softly, Mom said, “And they’re so pretty, aren’t they?”

Terry gulped and then nodded quickly.

Something else occurred to her. As gently as she could, Mom said quietly, “And they’re like mine, aren’t they?”

It was too much for Terry; a sob escaped him and he threw himself into his mother’s arms. Mom had the disconcerting sensation of feeling her son’s breasts against hers. They hugged quietly until Terry’s sobs subsided. He’d started mumbling, “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry …”

Mom patted his back and whispered ‘Shush, it’s alright, honey’ until Terry’s cries ended.

Mom held Terry at arms’ length and then tilted her head, grinning. “I think we both want to see how that bra fits now, don’t we?”

Terry blushed and nodded quickly.

Mom picked it up and held it up for Terry to put his arms through the straps, and she fastened the clasp in front. “Your sister hates bras and especially hates the clasp in back.” She adjusted the straps and stood back, one arm across her chest and her other hand under her chin. “Amazing …” she said to herself.

“Is it …okay?” Terry asked.

“Go ahead and move your arms around, see how it feels.”

Terry did so and smiled. “Feels …um …really nice.”

He looked down; his breasts had never looked so large as they did in the yellow bra. A warm feeling washed over him.

“Oh, Mother!” he sighed happily. “They’re so pretty!”

Impulsively, Mom hugged Terry and kissed his forehead. “I know, sweetheart.” Even softer, she said, “I know …”

Her eyes stung with tears; she remembered the terrible time when Alice began developing. Mom was helpless as Alice shrieked, “I don’t want them! Make them stop! Make them go away!” And now her youngest was so pleased with her pretty breasts …his pretty breasts …

They stayed in the hug for a long time; Terry soaking up the wonderful sense of mother and Mom soaking up the wonderful sense of a graceful, feminine daughter …

…who was her son.

She made a snap decision. Holding Terry again at arm’s length, she looked into Terry’s eyes. “Your father must not know about this. Do you understand me?”

“Well, he’s gonna find out some time,” Terry said, nervously.

“Not for a good long while, if we work together. I’ve got reasons for this, Terry.”

“What about Alice?”

Mom found herself with a small grin. “I don’t think Alice’s going to have a problem with it.” On Terry’s look, she said, “Really! I think she’ll be absolutely delighted that she doesn’t have to be the only girl in the family.”

“Alice doesn’t want to be any kind of girl,” Terry said. Afraid he’d said too much, he pulled back. “I mean …”

“I know exactly what you mean. But let’s not talk about Alice. Let’s talk about …Teresa, shall we? For that’s who you would have been …and, just maybe …who you are …”

Mom could feel Terry tremble at that. “Teresa …” he breathed.

“But!” Mom held up a finger for emphasis. “Let me handle things. And you will be Terry for everyday, okay?” Terry nodded. Mom grinned. “Our little secret. Just us girls. Mother and daughter.” She kept her eyes locked on Terry’s, and to her relief, saw the gleam of happiness in Terry’s eyes as he nodded.

They separated and Mom said, “Well! Now that we know that you’ve got a pretty body, let’s cover it up with clothes, shall we?”

She’d meant it lightly and in fun, but saw Terry’s face cloud and she immediately took Terry’s chin in her hand. “Listen to me, sweetheart; listen to me very carefully. We’re going to work on two levels, okay? On one level, the everyday level with your father and sister, you are Terry-the-boy who is reluctantly helping out his mother. You don’t want to, but you’re a good boy and it’s …heavy sigh and roll your eyes …just for a week. Okay? Think you can do that?”

Terry nodded, grinning in spite of himself.

“The other level is the one where you’ve got to just jump off the cliff and trust me, okay? That level is just you and me. Just like our lives have been, with you helping me in the house with Dad and Alice working out in the fields. But inside, life goes on as it has for us. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and so on.”

“No change,” he nodded.

“No! A very, very big change,” Mom smiled and held her finger up again. “That time, that level? That will be as mother and daughter. You are my daughter, and I will talk to you and teach you and we will relate to each other as females, alright? Because I think you need that, to learn about being naturally female, and we both need to …well, rehearse our cover story, you might say, for the fair. Make sense?”

It was Dad’s catchphrase, familiar to the whole Wilcox family. It felt strange to Mom to be using it, when she was taking such an extreme chance, going out on a limb she’d never dreamed existed …but it seemed right for her child.

While she had those thoughts, Terry nodded and said, “But I’m–”

Mom held her palm up. “Sweetheart, I think you’re going to say something like, ‘But I’m a boy’ or ‘But I can’t do that, I’m not a girl’ or something.”

Terry looked at the floor and blushed and finally nodded.

“You have to stop thinking of yourself as a boy named Terence.” Mom reached out and squeezed Terry’s hand. “You are my pretty daughter Teresa. You are a girl. But for a time, you have to play this silly game with your father and sister where you pretend to be a boy that has to dress up and act like a girl. If you think of it that way, I think you’ll do better. You’ll feel better. Can you do that? Huh, sweetie? Can you be the girl that we both know …that you are …” She reached up with her other hand and smoothed some hair from Terry’s face.

With each declaration of Terry’s girlhood, she felt more confident that this was right. How, she’d think about later.

After a long pause and a hard swallow, Terry nodded.

Mom squeezed his hand and let go. “All right, then! Let’s see how you look in this dress.”

She instructed Terry how to put it on and after zipping it off, made a face. “Nope. Doesn’t do anything for you. Let’s see …” Mom went to the closet and pulled out some others. “Try this skirt and top.” Again she instructed Terry how to put them on, and stood back. “Better. What do you think?”

Terry turned to the mirror and there was a girl looking back at him, a pretty girl with breasts under a light green top and shapely but thin legs under a denim skirt. Impulsively, he reached up and removed the elastic from his hair and shook it out.

“Bend over from the waist and shake it out and then stand up straight,” Mom advised.

Terry did and Mom stared. They both did.

“God, you really are pretty!” Mom said, and her eyes sparkled with tears. Her hand impulsively reached out to smooth her daughter’s hair. Her son’s hair …

Terry hugged her again.

Mom chuckled. “Well, we have the start of a wardrobe!”

Terry said, “I don’t want Alice to get freaked out by me wearing her things.”

“I’ll talk to her; it’ll be fine. Come on; you know she doesn’t want to wear any of these things; for goodness’ sake–she never even opened the packages of lingerie!”

Terry smiled in the mirror and did a pirouette with happiness. It was so nicely done that Mom asked, “Are you …do you practice that, too?”

“Uh-huh,” Terry grinned, and did another one with his hand held high over his head.

“Wow,” Mom grinned. “I know you said you’re no dancer but maybe we should get you some sort of dance lessons–”

“No, Mom; we can’t afford it,” Terry said, his jaw tight.

Mom sighed heavily. “You’re right; we can’t right now. Well, we are going to have to spend a little to get you outfitted.”

“But can’t I just rotate the things in Alice’s closet for the week?”

Mom stared at Terry for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness, no! No girl in her right mind would do that! But …” She frowned. “I just realized …do you think this is just for now? That we’re going to take everything off this afternoon and go back to Terry-the-boy in jeans and t-shirts until the week of the fair?”

“Well …yeah …aren’t we?” He frowned. “I mean …Dad …”

“No,” Mom said solemnly. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You need to practice to be a convincing girl for Fair Week–although I don’t think it will take much. But this is our time–yours and mine–to answer some questions about you and about your life. You’re going to be …” She trailed off and looked out the window to the distant fields where her husband worked. “It’s going to be a little weird at first, but you’re going to be dressed as a girl from now until Fair Week.” She paused. “At least.”

“Mom!” Terry was shocked.

“You are,” Mom said forcefully. “And I’ll handle things with your father. It’s a whole new world you’re entering–a whole new life–and we’re going to do it right.” She shrugged. “And that will mean a trip to the mall at some point. But I’ll handle that, too.” She looked around. “And that reminds me. Shoes.”

They looked in Alice’s closet; the shoes in the front were hiking boots and cross-trainers, which Alice lived in during school. But far in the back they found several pairs of girls’ shoes, including a pair of dark blue pumps with a short heel, still in the box with the soles showing they’d never been worn. Mom frowned as she took them out and handed them to Terry along with a white plastic shoehorn. To their amazement, they fit. They were stiff and new, but his foot slipped in properly. He took a few steps and Mom was amazed at how gracefully he moved. And for some reason, there was a slight sway to his hips. She wondered, Does he have that …well, feminine sway because of the heels, or did he always sway and I never really noticed?

The shoes weren’t right for around-the-house, but Terry could wear them to break them in. Even better, there was a slightly worn pair of black flats that also fit nicely. Mom judged that these shoes dated from two or three years prior when Alice was about Terry’s age now.

Oh, my God, Mom thought, they’re sisters.

Then she corrected herself. Teresa is Alice’s sister. Alice is …more of the big brother …

And that led to all sorts of new thoughts she didn’t want to get into just then.

Rooting around in the drawers, she found a sleeveless top in yellow and had Terry try it on. His shoulders curve gracefully …even his arms are delicate, Mom noted as Terry looked in the mirror. Both of them were noticing the swell of his bust under the top.

“Come on, sweetie; we’re done in here for now,” Mom said.

She went into her room and had Terry sit at her vanity, took a new hair brush and began brushing Terry’s hair.

“Maybe something like this,” Mom murmured, and found two tortoiseshell combs and twisted some hair up and to the side and fastened with the comb and then did the other side. It was a very feminine hairstyle that framed Terry’s face and obscured the unstyled mop of his hair. Only split ends had been trimmed, but he always washed and conditioned and his hair was wonderfully thick and soft. As she brushed, Mom thought of how much fun a trip to the salon together could be …unlike the screaming matches with Alice, until she’d settled on the dull cut straight across.

“Need something else, sweetie,” Mom smiled, sorted through her makeup and selected a lipstick and wiped the tip with tissue. “Ordinarily it’s not good to share your makeup with another girl, but we’ll make an exception today until you get your own.”

Terry held up a hand, looking at his mother’s eyes in the mirror. “Mom? You seem …well, absolutely sure this is going to happen.”

Mom sagged a little and set the lipstick down on the vanity top. “Yes, perhaps I am.” She sat on the edge of the vanity bench, shoulder-to-shoulder with Terry, facing the other direction. “Sweetheart, this is really your decision. Well, and one other’s, but we’ll come to that. First, though, is you. Right now, look in the mirror and tell me if you want to get to know the girl in the mirror. And don’t play any word games; we both know that that–” She pointed at the image. “–is a very pretty girl. Not a boy playing dress-up. A pretty girl.”

She paused. “Or …you can say that you never want to see her again, take everything off right now and I promise that we will never, ever do this again or even speak of it. And you go on, as you have, as Terence.”

Terry’s lips were trembling. “Not fair …” he whispered.

“What’s that, Terry?”

“Not fair!” He was openly crying now, and Mom saw him automatically reach for the box of tissues on her vanity. Alice–if she ever cried–would have wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

What’s not fair, Terry?” Mom asked gently.

He sighed, his shoulders drooping as he folded the tissue and dabbed at his eyes. “Not fair that I wasn’t born this way. Not fair that Alice wasn’t born a boy. Not fair!” He turned the damp tissue in his hands and softly said, “And not fair that you make me choose.”

“Terry, sweetheart; who else can choose? It’s your life. It’s your life! You have an idea of what life is like as Terry. You have no idea what life could be like as Teresa. All we have is the evidence in the mirror …well, and the fact that your body …your own body …seems to want to be Teresa. But you have to tell me–to tell us.”

He nodded. “You’re right,” he sniffed and dabbed one last time. “How do you want me to say it?”

“Oh, sweetie! There’s no proper form or whatever. Just …say what you truly feel.”

His lips sucked in and he frowned, thinking. He even does that prettily, Mom thought.

Another deep sigh and Terry turned to face his mother. “Mother, I want to be a girl. I think I’ve always been a girl, inside, but never …went there, if you know what I mean. Because I’m supposed to be a boy. But I don’t …I never felt like a boy. And, yes, my body’s changing …seeming to change into a girl’s, and I swear I’m not doing anything to make it happen, it just is happening …” He frowned again. “But I want to see …who I can be. Who …Teresa can be. And I do know that I want to be your daughter–God, so much!–but I’m scared.”

Mom reached out and hugged her child. “Thank you, Teresa, for that. Honest truth time; I’ve always wondered about you. I mean, let’s face it; both of my kids are kind of mixed up!” She chuckled to show she was gently teasing, and got a small, sheepish grin from Terry. Mom patted his shoulder. “I just would never …I would never force anything on you.” She chuckled ruefully to herself. “I know it might seem like I kind of …forced you upstairs here and handed you the lingerie, but …”

“You didn’t …force me …” Terry said sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you …what you wanted at first but …no force …”

“Thank you for that, sweetheart,” Mom said gratefully. “And again, thank you for telling me how you feel, and it was done beautifully. But you see what I meant that it had to come from you?”

Terry solemnly nodded.

Mom smiled sadly. “It’s only the extraordinary circumstances of today that we discovered this, both of us. And that you’ve felt like this for years. But I couldn’t do or say anything before. If you felt like a girl, you would have needed to come to me, and I don’t think you would have. You’re the type that would suffer in silence.”

“Didn’t want to cause problems …” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie; and that’s just part of what makes you so wonderful! But, don’t you see? It’s your father that made this happen today–although I’ll bet he never dreamed it in a million years!”

“Dad?”

“Sure! It was his decision that Alice can’t go to the fair, and he said–remember?–he said it would be better if you went to the fair with me. And I’d have to cancel unless I came up with something, and I just thought, you know, we could try a dress and maybe …”

She looked at the pretty girl in the mirror, knew that it was her son despite what she saw, and leaned her head on his shoulder. “But I never dreamed that you would be so pretty, or so naturally feminine–and how have I not seen that before?–and that your body ...” She found herself actually speechless at how he looked.

“I’m sorry about that,” Terry said. “I mean, hiding it from you. I just thought it would …go away, you know? The books said so.”

“I know, sweetheart, but …I think there might be something more going on here than just some temporarily mixed-up hormones. We’ll get you to Dr. Curtis–” She frowned. “Maybe somebody better. He certainly didn’t notice much last time, did he?”

Terry giggled slightly at that.

She giggles! Mom thought happily.

It was the first time Mom had definitely thought of Terry as ‘she’.

“Come on, you; final touch.” Mom reached over to her jewelry box and took out a gold chain and bracelet and had Terry put them on as Mom thought. She’ll need her ears pierced, and a trip to a salon, and we’ll have such fun shopping! I’ve got to start a list, and–oh, Lord! Is that the time already?–and Mom shook herself and said, “Terry, honey; let me brush your hair quickly and we’ve got to get started on supper.”

End of Part 1

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Comments

It's February in New Jersey...

Andrea Lena's picture

which is nothing that would make me want to sing?

But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.

Terence has a lovely family and a wonderful name...Theresa means harvest. I can't wait to get to the fair, and I'm sure I'm only one of a lot of folks who've already taken a liking to this marvelous story. Thank you, Karin

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Our State Fair - Part 1 of 7

Wonder if there is a way to rectify things?

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Dorothy Coleen

WillowD's picture

Yay! I get to reply to one of Dorothy's comments. I like Dorothy's comments. In this case, my reply is..... "Ya think?"

I loved the movie State Fair as a kid. I've got to admit I've got all sorts of visuals from that movie popping up in my head as I read this terrific story. I'm looking forward to what happens next.

Another great one...

The chapter causes me to be so introspective; already knowing that Mom would have been supportive, and as I think of it, perhaps my Father would have been too, had I gotten to know him better. Only got to meet him once, for about two weeks, and then he was gone.

Stepfather made life worse than hell.

Really makes thoughts of the road not taken come to the fore.

Beautifully written, as usual.

Gwendolyn

Keep in mind that Alice seems to be still a 'she'

And she obviously does not behave in a typical feminine fashion. Terry might exhibit feminine behaviors but that should not rule him out as just a feminine boy at this point.

Kim

off to a great start

oh yes another great start, karin. love the slant youve taken with this one. keep up the god work.
robert

001.JPG

It's a grand night for singing - Karin

And the stars are bright above!

Great movie and I know I'm going to love your story just as much!

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)

LoL
Rita

The plot thinkens

Renee_Heart2's picture

Alice ts a ftm ts & Terry is intersexed, I wonder how dad will handle things? Espicaly with spending money on girl clothes for his son.

This is an interesting story will try & read
More

Love Samantha Renee Heart

What an interesting and potentially sweet story...

Ole Ulfson's picture

of the coming of age of a new child (children? Alice, in a later chapter?). Don't think dad has a clue yet! I hope that doesn't cause problems for Teresa. I'm sure you'll work it all out an take us on a marvelous journey!

Thank you,

Ole

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

Understand the midwestern farm country

A wonderful story ... moving through the changes slowly in Terry's life. Karin, you must know your midwestern farm country and the changes going on there. Always enjoy it when TG stories provide us with more than the gender issues.