Hope is a luxury not everyone can afford.
Special Ed
by Wanda Cunningham
The boy had a speech defect and at first she didn't understand him. "Pardon? I'm sorry, could you please ask me again?" she said. She smiled when she said it.
The boy looked around the busy fast food restaurant as if checking to see if she were talking to anyone else. They were alone in one corner of the big room. He turned back to her and smiled wide, the tip of his too tall, too narrow tongue showing.
She waited, smiling.
"Oh," he said. "Are you dozhe kidj mommy?" He pointed with a fat-fingered hand toward two children playing in the room added on to the restaurant especially for that purpose. The two kids had the tunnels and ladders and chutes and platforms to themselves. Their laughing, shouting voices could be heard through the glass wall.
"No," she said, still smiling. "I'm their -- nanny -- babysitter, you could say."
"Oh," he said. He seemed to wrinkle up in thought. From his tortured expression it might have been painful. His neck twisted; one arm up, one arm down and behind him, he leaned so far sideways that his left foot turned under him and he almost fell.
He caught himself with a jerking sidestep. A gamut of strange distorted expressions flashed across his face; surprise, dismay, embarrassment, shame and finally, anger. "Zhtupitt. Zhtupitt." He pounded his own thigh with one balled up fist.
"Stop that," she said in a level tone. She smiled at him still.
He paused, staring at her.
She smiled wider. "You don't want to hurt yourself."
He thought about that. "Zumdimezh I do," he said.
She had to concentrate to understand him. She shook her head. "No, you don't really want to hurt yourself. If you did, you would have let yourself fall down. That would hurt a lot more."
He stared. Then he grinned, a wide empty grin with his lips stretched to almost cover his teeth and his tongue moving in his mouth. He laughed. "Gug, gug, gug."
She laughed with him, a quiet gurgle.
He stopped laughing but she continued to smile. He smiled back, his face and eyes lit up with enjoyment of the joke she had made. "Dat was funny," he said.
She nodded but held her fingers up, only an inch or so apart. "A little bit funny."
He tried to nod but his neck twisted. He half turned away from her while one arm reached for her and the other yanked at the neck of his pullover shirt.
She sat, waiting, smiling. The book she had been reading lay open on her lap, spine up. From her seat, she could see the whole playroom and still face the boy.
After making grimaces toward a far corner of the room, he turned back toward her. "You jood be zumbottie's mommy."
She didn't know if he meant could or should. "I'm not old enough. And I'm not married, yet." A reply that would fit either case.
He laughed again, as if she had told another joke. "Guh, guh, guh."
She didn't, but he seemed not to mind that, enjoying whatever humor he found without her participation. Still, she smiled. Her eyes burned with the effort, but she smiled.
"You're kind of like a mommy," he said.
"Thank you."
He nodded, resisting an effort by his body to turn him sideways again. He shrugged and stretched his neck. "You're welcome," he said. He looked toward the children in the playroom. "A boy and a girl," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Girls can grow up to be mommies."
"Yes, some of them can." She said. "Some of them do."
He frowned, his face folding in a parody of an ordinary frown. His eyes disappeared in wrinkles, his mouth turned down, his lips curled and protruded. The cords in his neck stood out. "All girls can. Boys can't," he said.
She didn't contradict him but she didn't agree either. She smiled and waited.
He turned, looking at the far corner of the room again, studying it. "When I was little, like them." He waved at the playroom, his arm pumping, hand fluttering, fingers grasping. "When I was little," he said again. "I wanted to grow up to be a mommy."
She smiled, though perhaps her eyes widened just a little.
"They said I couldn't, because I was a boy. They said I would grow up to be a daddy. But they lied."
She didn't say anything while he cried. She didn't smile but she didn't say anything.
He wept, "Ug, ug, ug." Tears ran down his cheeks and a plug of mucus appeared and disappeared in his nose.
She took her big nanny's bag from the floor and handed him a tissue from deep inside it.
He took the tissue and blew his nose. "Denk'oo," he said. He balled the tissue up and stuck it into the pocket of his jeans, missing twice. "They lied," he said. "I'll never be a daddy. They don't let stupid kids like me be daddies."
She opened her mouth but changed her mind and said nothing. She got another tissue from her bag. She looked for the children in the playroom. They waved at her and she waved back. She kept the tissue in her hand.
The boy waved at the kids, too. His fingers worked like an infant as he moved his elbow up and down and wagged his head side to side. "I didn't want to be a daddy, anyway. Daddy's go to work and yell and sometimes they have to hit people."
She pressed her lips together but said nothing, just looking at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.
"Mommies have babies and cook and take care of you when you're sick. I wanted to be a mommy but they told me that I'm not a girl." He looked at the floor, showing her nothing but the top of his head. "They lied," he said.
He finally sat in one of the bolted-down chairs next to a bolted-down table near the middle of the room. He turned away from her and his shoulders moved like he might be crying without making a sound.
She waited but he didn't turn around. She wiped her eyes and nose with the tissue in her hand and put it into a small plastic bag. She got another tissue out and stood up to take it to him.
He turned his head a little. She held out the tissue and he took it, wiped his eyes and nose and put it into his pocket with the other one.
She glanced at the playroom then positioned herself again where she could see both the boy on the chair and the children playing in their separate room. "My name is Nadie. NAH-dee-ay. I'm from Russia."
He stared. He licked his lips. "Nah-DEE-ay from Rutcha." He smiled.
She smiled. "If you were a little girl, what would your name be?" she asked. She smiled but it was a serious smile, not an I'm-making-fun-of-you smile.
He twitched, considering. He stared at her, his deepset eyes seeming to burn with some emotion. "Alitch. I like the name Alitch."
"Alice?" she repeated.
He nodded in his contorted way. He looked around to see if anyone had heard them but they were still alone in their corner of the busy room.
"Pleased to meet you, Alice," she said. She put out her hand in a very American way.
He grasped the tips of her elegant fingers in his thickend pudgy ones. "Pleased to meet you, Nah-DEE-ya." He smiled.
Someone with their arms full of bags of food called, "Ed? Where's Eddie?" Several children followed the woman, surrounding her with their distorted faces, too short arms and legs, staring eyes and hollow expressions. Two of them pointed at the corner.
"That's me," he said. He looked as if all hope had been crushed from his body by a weight greater than he could ever bear. "Ug," he said. "Guh. Gug." He stood up, shuffling toward the woman with the bags of food. His shoulders curved down and forward, he thrust his head forward, too, and worked his tongue in his mouth.
"Eddie, come on. We're going to the park to eat. Won't that be fun? Come on, Ed. He hasn't been bothering you has he, miss? Eddie, you shouldn't bother people you don't know." The woman with the bags rattled on. She had a companion; another woman with more bags followed, making sure all the human beings in her charge made their way toward the door.
"No," Nadie said. "We're friends, Alice and I."
Neither busy woman heard her but the little girl who never was and never would be turned and smiled at her.
"Goodbye, Alice," Nadie whispered. She waved, holding her palm up and wiggling her fingers like a baby. Alice waved back the same way and then went out the door to go eat in the park with her other friends.
Comments
Nice one Wanda, exploring an
Nice one Wanda, exploring an area we tend to overlook, that of disability and gender identity - sensitively written without being overly sentimental. I enjoyed it thank you, more please.
best wishes,
Angharad.
Angharad
I've hesitated to comment..
As a new arrival on BC (7 weeks ago) , I've only commented on other newbie authors so far, as I've observed that many of the writers I regard as 'classic' BC authors critique each others stories and have thus hesitated to comment on the work of established authors, but on reading this and as a long term admirer of Kelly Girl, I just wanted to say how much I admired this story.
To build up characters and tell a meaningful and emotional tale within the framework of a short story requires a special skill and you demonstrate that in a masterful fashion here . Thanks.
Cindybelle
Cindy
Nice
Having a disability is hard and suffering from gender identity is difficult. Both at once is a horror story. Thank you for treating this one so tenderly Wanda.
Hugs!
grover
A Simple Act of Kindness
There's a time to tell and a time to show through example.
Alice will never forget Nadie. Nadie will feel very good about what happened between them for the rest of her life. As the Dalai Lama says, if you want to be happy seek to make other people happy.
Wonderful story.
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Now
This is writing something! The association of TG with disability is so often implied and so painful that to see the actual synthesis, well,I would have closed my eyes but then I could not keep reading. :) A surprise to me from Wanda, but wow! Oh, and the irony of the title, well, hehee!
Gwen
Gwen Lavyril
Gwen Lavyril
It says it all
Wanda,
I left my main comment at Stardust but to be brief, spot on.
My late disabled sister Ann would have thanked you if she was capable of speach. But she would have smiled at your charcter's kindness AND injoyed her time in the park.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Great!
I don't comment on stories often, but this one really hit me. You did a wonderful job of making me feel for the characters in this story.
Thank you.
Kyosuke - "The wind may blow in many directions, but a dog has feelings too."
Kyosuke - "The wind may blow in many directions, but a dog has feelings too."
a gentle poke
It is all too easy to get wrapped up in our own little world. To let slide the fact there will almost always be someone worse off. Gentle understated pain and hoplessness that by a simple kindness is for a moment alleviated. Very nice.
Kristina
I second what everyone else has said ...
... about this story, and would add that it is a pleasure to read about a good woman in a TG story for a change.
"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show
BE a lady!
A fantastic piece
A story to warm the heart and bring a tear to the eye. Fantastic.
Character and setting and emotion in a very tidy, compact case. I will hold on to this one.
Tara
x
The strangest journeys start with a single step.
The strangest journeys start with a single step.
*sniffling*
That's really such a beautiful story. It broke my heart when Alice was able to be herself for a moment, then wound up being dragged away and had to be Eddie. But, sometimes, it's moments like this that can give us hope that there's at least somebody out there that can see us for ourselves.
I remember one time in school when I'd gotten scraped up from a fall and wound up going to the nurses office. Even though I'd really tried hard to pass as a boy in school, the nurse seemed to assume I was a girl. I didn't bother correcting her. It was a very special moment that I carried with me a long time. I hope Alice will be able to do the same with her experience in the story.
Heather Rose Brown :)
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend.
Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.
Groucho Marx
Thanks Heather
You reminded me of this powerful story.
I had a sweet older siter, Ann, dead now two years this New Years Eve -- 1pm CST -- and though she was not TG, the plight of this fictional child reminded me of the bitersweetness of her life.
My parents chose to keep her at home rather than institutionalize her in in 1955. The doctors said she'd be lucky to make it to her teens, she was born Halloween 1955 and died December 31, 2005, happy to be with us but still grieving for her mother who died in June of 2005. Cancer took them both. She may have had the mind of a infant but she loved.
This fictional boy loves and knows what SHE should be but her well meaning careworker hasn't a clue. Who is the disabled person here?
This one has me crying, damn you. God I miss them both.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Transglimpses
I have a dear transsexual friend who has quite severe cerebral palsy. She tells me (mostly through written messages) that having CP and battling through her problems with it has helped her to see that the problems she faced as transsexual were almost minor. I might add that by her sheer doggedness and strength of will she has put herself through University too, gaining a BA.
In knowing this I feel that my own problems with facing the world as a transsexual are easily overcome; I just need to be like her and have faith in my own strength.
Transglimpses has, through your fascinating writing, allowed us to glimpse a world few of us really see, or want to see. That world is all around us, but we are ever ready to ignore it.
Ellenz.
Ellenz
a good story to remember
on occasions when I am tempted to feel sorry for myself. A beautiful, heart-felt story.
read this again
and cried all over again
Dorothycolleen
Very Sweet Very Tender
Wanda,
You are among the very few here that reach into my breast, pull my heart out, turn it over and shake it a little, pouring out the pain the world gives, then tenderly replaces it where it was. And make me glad you did. Thank you. This story is so sweet. An immigrant seeing what the natives miss, and trying to help the very sweet little child that the natives never see.
Much like my counselor and transition guide. She sees, she prods, and places the bandaid over the boo boo when life gets to painful.
Thank you Wanda.
Beth
PS: It's a good thing this is electronic. If it was paper it would be totally smeared and tear stained.
MARAVILLOSA !!!!
Thank you Wanda for such a wonderful piece, as Beth said, you have touched my heart, no, you have touched many of our hearts. Thank you. Kiss I.
Thank you Wanda, for a
Thank you Wanda, for a sweet, caring story that also made a person about the two main characters and how they interacted with each other. Nadia saw way past the physical/mental/medical issues that Alice (Eddie) exhibited and saw the inner grace and beauty of a young girl. She did indeed make a friend that day, altho they may never meet each other again. Some people are there when you need them most, then they may never appear in your life again, as their "work" is done.
My heart breaks for Alice....
...and wish there could be a way she could be who she is.
When I wrote about TG people and disabilities in my blog recently, someone suggested I come here and read this. I must say it pained me, as it was hard for me to do. That could just as easily have been me, if the blood transfusion that saved my life had been performed just a half-hour later or so. Reading this, I'm reminded of how independent I am, and how lucky I am to be that independent. Were that not so, I could not have moved to another state, nor could I have been able to be me.
Eddie/Alice is trapped, not by his/her disability, but by the smothering attention of his guardians, it seems to me. It would be nice to see this continued, to have him break free with the aid of someone as sympathetic as Nadie. There would be one less sad little disabled transgirl shuffling through the world.
Livin' A Ragtime Life,
Rachel
Special Needs
I know how hard it is to be special needs. I know there's people out there that has to deal with it and have to prove they can even do things that people that aren't special needs can do.
As for living with both I can't think of someone like that
I felt helpless
What a wonderful message in this story. The feelings that you involved are strong and I felt helpless reading it. Not sure how I would have handled that situation. We all think that we can do the right thing at the right time, but I'm not so sure.
Thanks,
Santacruzman
Alice
:}
Truly a special story
It was a little challenging at first but after a bit I got the hang of Alice's speech. Well done piece, suitable character development and perfect length. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
>>> Kay
The lie
I grew up in Special Education. I was lied to a lot growing up, I wasn't supposed to be smart enough to know. I have thought many times what my life might have been like if I had actually become the person everyone expected me to be. There is no doubt in my mind that I would never have been taken seriously if I had ever got the guts to voice my gender issues. I know as a kid, it was just assumed I didn't understand I was a boy and that boys are not supposed to like girl things. Admittedly, I struggled throughout my childhood to figure out what was a girl only thing and what I was allowed to like as a boy.
Thanks for sharing this with us.
Keep Smiling, Keep Writing
Teek
Sad And Beautiful
All it took was a little compassion to bring out the girl that nobody noticed or understood.