Chapter Five: “I Prefer Karen”
The Friday night fish fry in Wisconsin restaurants was a tradition, and the Olympus featured “All You Eat” meals for $9.95 for adults and $5.95 for children under 7. As a result of the constant attention given to quality by George Alexopolous, the place had become a favorite with the residents of the area, many who were raised in the Catholic traditions of meatless Fridays.

This Friday was no different; many families had returned from their out-of-town family vacations in preparation for schools that were opening the following week. To make matters worse, one of the waitresses, Amy, had broken her arm earlier in the week in a water-skiing accident and Kenny and Sharon had to share three work stations.

Kenny seemed to get an unusual amount of stares and puzzled looked, particularly when he introduced himself to new customers with the phrase, “Hello, I’m Kenny, your server for the evening. Would you care for coffee to start?”

“Kenny,” one woman said. “That’s an unusual name for such a lovely girl.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kenny said. “Can I get you coffee?”

“Did your mother choose that name? Did she want a boy?” the woman persisted.

“Now, now, Myrtle,” the man who was with her interceded, putting his hand on the woman’s arm, as if to shut her up. “It’s none of your business. She looks like a nice young lady.”

Turning to Kenny, he said: “My wife and I both would like decaf, black. Thank you miss.”

Such incidents happened almost nightly, and they made him uncomfortable, but he decided not to try to make explanations, and just continue to give the customer the best service he could. Later, he noticed Sharon had been stopped by the couple who had inquired about Kenny’s name, and had a few words with them. Kenny noticed the couple nodded after Sharon gave what appeared to be a satisfactory explanation. Then he noticed both looked over at him and smiled.

A few minutes later, Kenny approached their table with the check. “You may pay me when you’re ready, sir,” she told the man.

“Oh dear,” the woman said. “I’m sorry I was so nosey. That other nice waitress said your real name is Kendra. That’s such a pretty name, dear, but I’m sure you have your reasons for being Kenny.”

Kenny wanted to slap the inquisitive woman in the face, but instead smiled and said: “Thank you. When you’re ready let me know.”

A few minutes later, the couple got up, smiled at Kenny and left, leaving the black bill folder at the table. Kenny retrieved it. The bill was $32.50, and inside the folder was a $50 bill (complete with Ulysses S. Grant’s picture) inside. Wow! A $17.50 tip! Maybe it was worth being Kendra, or better yet, Karen!

*****
Sharon joined Kenny as they walked to the parking lot after work that night; despite the differences in their ages and life styles (Sharon was a single mother in her early 30s with two daughters and Kenny at 18 was about to enter college) the two had become close, sometimes even stopping at a late night pizza place, where Sharon had a beer and Kenny a diet cola.

“Will you stop with me for a drink tonight, Kenny?” she asked.

“Sure let’s unwind,” he said. “By the way, how did you come up with Kendra?”

“I don’t know why I chose that name. I was so rushed and they stopped me. That woman was so persistent I had to tell her something. It’s the only name that came to my mind. Besides, I was so busy that I didn’t want to take time to explain who you really were. I hope you’re not mad.”

Kenny smiled. “No, but I prefer Karen.”

“You don’t?” Sharon said, giggling. “Well that’s a cuter name and it fits you well.”

Later, as Sharon drank her beer and Kenny a diet cola at the pizza place, Kenny confessed to how he spent several weeks as “Karen” in preparation for the play.

“It seems you learned your role well, Karen,” Sharon said. “You do make such a lovely girl.”

Their conversation continued, discussing Kenny’s college plans, and that he’d work Sunday night and then be leaving the following Tuesday for the state university.

“I’m going to miss you, Kenny,” the older waitress said. “You’re fun to work with and you don’t fuck up.”

“Thanks, and I admire you, Sharon. You’re so good to work with and so efficient. I don’t know what George would do without you.”

Sharon looked at her nearly empty beer glass, apparently debating whether to order another. She didn’t hail the waitress, but said:

“I wanted to go to college, too, and I was accepted at the University in Green Bay to study English and education,” she began. “But I was stupid and got pregnant on prom night; I was so dumb and had been a virgin up ‘til then. His parents forced him to marry me that summer and then around Christmas I had Billy. Two years later, I had James, and now they’re both in middle school. And my husband, he’s long gone; he found a doll and sometimes he sends his monthly support, but usually not. The bum.”

“It’s never too late to go back to school, Sharon,” he said.

“Try it with our work schedule and two kids, honey. I’m exhausted half the time.”

“But you’re so smart, Sharon.”

“You’re biased Kenny, but thanks anyway. I love my boys, don’t get me wrong. They’re really good kids and my mom’s around now to help since my dad died. Maybe I’ll think about it again.”

“You should. I’ll miss you, too.”

“No you won’t,” Sharon said. “You think you will, but soon you’ll be in the swing of school and new friends, and maybe you’ll come by the Olympus on your Christmas vacation to say hi, but that’ll be it. I’ll still be good ol’ Sharon, keeping the wait staff humming.”

Kenny knew that Sharon might be right; at the moment, however, he considered Sharon a dear friend, just like Aunt Harriet.

“Let’s go, dear,” Sharon said. “Or else I’ll order another beer and start crying into it.”

“You can, if you want.”

“No we better go. It’s getting late. Let me buy, Kendra,” she said with a smile.

“Remember, my name is Karen,” he said, giggling.

*****
It was after 10 a.m. when Kenny arose from a sleep that was interrupted with periods of thoughts full of imaginations about being Karen in the restaurant waitress uniform of a peasant blouse and full print skirt, about being soft and weak Karen in the arms of muscular Mark, about being Karen in the erotic embraces of Angela, and about being accepted as a girl by Auntie Harriet. These lovely thoughts excited Kenny and he felt his small penis grow hard and erect in the satin panties he wore at night. At one point they were interrupted by fear: How was he to tell his mother about all this? Soon his mind began scheming many ways to break the news, each one more compelling than the next.

“Oh my God, I look like a wreck,” he told himself in the bathroom mirror.

He ran his fingers through his tussled hair, trying to untangle the mess. He knew he should have put his hair up the previous night, but after his stop with Sharon, he was too tired.

Still wearing the nightie that Mark had given him at the camp, Kenny realized he looked very much like a girl in the mirror, even without makeup. He made several effeminate poses, displaying his slender girlish arms and shoulders. For years as a boy he had cursed his weakness, but now he adored it. How weird was that?

He knew his brother would be gone most of the day at a baseball camp and that he and his mother would be alone. Today, he resolved, he’d tell her about Karen.

*****
He showered, using a scented soap that he knew was marketed for teen girls. He knew it smelled up the bathroom, but since Sonny was gone for the day he wouldn’t have to hear his brother’s complaint that Kenny left the bathroom smelling like a whorehouse. He was sure Sonny knew nothing about whorehouses, but there was no question that when Kenny finished up he left it as a steamy, sweet scented room. About the only thing he didn’t leave that would mark it as a girl’s bathroom were bras and stockings drying on the shower rod. He brushed his hair after drying it, tying it in a ponytail. He felt like putting on some makeup, of course, but felt that wouldn’t do for the day: he was later to accompany Angela and several of the girls from their social service group to their Saturday afternoon visit.

Kenny took his time getting ready for the morning, trying to stem off the evitable discussion he was planning with his mother. Despite Aunt Harriet’s assurances, he was still frightened of his mother’s reaction: She was such a practical woman and he was worried she wouldn’t understand his situation. Finally, he put on a pair of white tennis shorts that barely covered his buttocks and a white tank top along with sandals, realizing how fragile he must look in the outfit. He had reasoned he must not look too masculine for the conversation he was about to have. Slowly, he descended the stairs to the first floor. The smell of freshly baked blueberry muffins filled the kitchen as he entered.

“Hi sleepy head,” his mother greeted him. “I made your favorite muffins today, honey.”

“Thank you mother,” he said, the words coming out quickly and at an unexpected high pitch, reflecting his nervousness.

He kissed her, as was their custom, and then sat down to the table.

“You smell pretty, my dear,” his mother commented.

There was no anger in her voice, since his mother spoke, as she always did, in a matter-of-fact tone, usually merely stating a fact.

“It’s that soap I bought, mom,” he said.

“So that’s what you were doing in the bathroom all this time, Kenny, making yourself pretty?” she asked. “I swear you’re looking more and more like a girl all the time.”

His mother put a glass of orange juice, two biscuits and several strips of bacon in front of him. She followed with a cup of coffee, sweetened with sugar. Kenny finished the bacon, the juice and one of the biscuits.

“You usually eat two of those, Kenny? Are you sick?”

“No, mom, just not very hungry, I guess. They’re so good. I love ‘em, you know.”

His mother looked at him. “So you worried about your figure, young lady,” her words had a sarcastic tone.

Kenny was taken aback. It was the first time his mother had alluded to his girlish behaviors. He mumbled a ‘no mom, I love your biscuits,’ but he doubted she heard him. Now was the time to tell her.

“Why did you call me young lady?” he asked.

His mother sat down at the table, placing her coffee cup in front of her, and looked Kenny straight in the eyes.

“Because that’s all see anymore is a young lady before me,” she said firmly. “What happened to the nice little boy? His name was Kenny. Ever since that camp, you’ve been prancing about here like a little girl. I shouldn’t have let you go there. What’s going on Kenny?”

“Oh mom,” was all he get out before he started crying. His sobbing continued, but his mother did nothing to stop his tears. His body continued to shake, until finally he forced himself to stop.

“Now tell me what this is all about,” she demanded when the crying stopped.

“Mother, I wanted to tell you, but I’m afraid,” he started, finally realizing the best way to begin was to be direct.

“You never should be afraid to tell your mother anything, dear,” she said. “Now go ahead.”

“Mother,” he blurted out. “I’m a girl. Well, not yet, but I feel I am a girl. I love being a girl. I’m happy being a girl. And, I’m so miserable as a boy. Mommy, I’m a girl.”

His mother got that stern look on her face.

“Look, last time I looked, you had a penis, Kenny,” she said. “That makes you a boy.”

“Yes mother, in body, but not in my mind, not in my dreams. I feel I am a girl, really mother.”

She reached across the table, taking his hands and looking at them. “You’ve always had such beautiful hands, dear,” she began. “When you were little, you were such a pretty baby. You probably won’t remember this, but I had a pretty little dress that I bought for you when you were two. You loved that dress so much, but your father — the bum — said for us to throw it out. He didn’t want to make you a sissy, he said.”

“Oh mother, I don’t remember that.”

“You were too young to remember that, but I kept some pictures from then. You’ve never seen them, but I’ll show you later. I called you little Katie. You even had a doll then.”

“Mother, I want to see them.”

“You will, dear, all in good time. Now tell me the whole story.”

*****
Kenny was surprised at his mother’s response to his feelings that he was a girl; he felt she normally would have said his desires were outrageous, outlandish and just plain stupid. His mother suffered fools badly, he knew, and she often responded with derision at those who said statements out of ignorance.

It finally dawned on him. His mother must have known all along that Kenny may have been a different boy from others; his behavior since he was about six years old hardly fit that of a boy.

“Mother, you must have suspected this already,” he said.

“I did, Kenny, since it had always bothered me why you so enjoyed staying in the house helping me or visiting Aunt Harriet. I always wanted you to get out and play with the boys more, but you seemed to want to be with me.

“And then when you were so proud of the crocheting and you took it to 4th Grade ‘Show and Tell’ I began to see what a sweet child you were. I worried about you, dear, I did, but I felt you’d change as you grew older. But I guess you just grew prettier and prettier.”

Kenny felt tears welling up, and fought to hold them back.

“Mother, you must be so disappointed in me,” he said, his voice halting and hesitant. “I never became a real son for you.”

She smiled, and got up from her chair, and hugged Kenny holding him as he shook with his crying. His mother, as he buried his head into her soft, warm breasts, smelled clean and fresh. She never wore perfume and used plain soaps to bathe and Kenny knew her scent from its freshness.

“No honey, I’m not disappointed in you, but I have been puzzled by your behavior, and worried about you,” she began. “I understand how the world wants all people to fall into patterns, such as girls will be girly and boys will be boys, but we’re each different. And, you may just be a bit more different than others, which will make life difficult for you. That’s why I am worried about you.”

Kenny nodded.

“Now tell me about all this, from the beginning, dear. Mother’s listening.”

Kenny related his feelings, telling his mother that the four weeks at the summer camp, when he basically lived as Karen, were the happiest of his life. “The girls treated me as one of them, mother, and I felt so accepted.”

“I could see that,” his mother said. “When I saw the sparkle in your eyes that night after the play, I saw what a beautiful, happy daughter I had. You were so pretty that night.”

“I was mother, I was so happy. I just loved being Karen,” he said. “Mother, mother do you think I’m a girl, too?”

His mother also began to cry, something he rarely saw his mother do. She was normally stoic perhaps due to her strict Norwegian Lutheran background, but that morning she cried out loud.

Finally, Kenny said, “If you knew this about me why didn’t you ask me?”

“Kenny, let me be honest with you,” she began. “First of all, I still don’t know about this girl business. After all you are anatomically a boy, and I’ve done some research on this and know that can be altered, but you’ll never be a complete woman and that would mean bearing a child. Secondly, even if you did choose to live as a woman, it’s an expensive process to change and complicated. Thirdly, your chances of getting a good job might be decreased. Oh dear, there’s all sorts of issues here, I hate to think about them.”

“I know, mother, but it seems so right for me.”

“And the reason I didn’t bring this up sooner was that I knew you’d eventually tell me,” she said. “I didn’t want to push you or nag you. This is a decision you must make, but you must make it with the full knowledge of what you’re getting into.”

Kenny nodded.

His mother continued:

“Finally I got concerned at how feminine you had become this summer. I knew I had to bring this matter to a head. So dear, I talked with Aunt Harriet about this. You know, she’s been around and still has her wits about her. And I know how close you two are.”

“You talked with Aunt Harriet?” Kenny interrupted.

“Yes, dear about a week ago, and I asked her to probe into the situation,” his mother said. “She was so concerned that I might blame her for your feminine behaviors, the crocheting and all that. I wasn’t, of course. I knew she could not have made you what you are without you having such an inclination to start with. After all, can you see Sonny taking up crocheting?”

They both laughed.

“Honey, Harriet and I tricked you, I guess, into coming out about your feelings,” she said. “It wasn’t fair for me to do that, but I knew you’d take Harriet’s advice to tell me. I’m not really the ogre you maybe think I am.”

Kenny looked at his mother. How could this be? And Harriet even told him not to tell his mother they had talked about this.

“Mother, that’s OK,” he said finally. “I needed to be prodded into telling you about this.”

“Well, I’m glad you understand, Kenny, since we need to figure out what we do next,” she said.

“I know mother, and I’m so sorry to bring you this worry.”

She patted his hand and didn’t respond at first. Finally, she said: “Look you’ve got several hours before Angela comes and takes you to the nursing home for your Saturday visits. Why don’t you dress up like Karen and let me see what a pretty daughter I have. I know you kept some of your girl stuff from camp.”

“Oh mother, really? I want to show you so bad.”

He squealed in girlish joy, arising from the table, his arms waving about almost daintily as he went up to change.

*****
Kenny bounded up to his room, rummaging into the drawer in which he had buried several skirts and blouses.

“Something summery,” he mused, as he pulled out a print skirt, lots of pink and light blue flowers emblazoned on a white cloth background. The skirt was pleated and full, reaching to about the knee; it was belted, and being so full, it accentuated his hips.

He also found the small A-cup-sized breast forms and placed them inside a white, lace trimmed bra, and found a top — a lavender colored satiny blouse with buttons down the middle and a small collar. The blouse was sleeveless.

First he put on the bra, learning how to fasten it from the back thanks to the four weeks of being Karen in the camp. He had already been wearing panties, and walked to the bathroom to do his hair and makeup. Looking in the mirror, he untied the ribbon holding his ponytail and let his hair flow freely. He brushed it vigorously. He smiled, as his light brown hair seemed to grow alive as he brushed.

He knew that his mother would not like him loading up on too much makeup, but he felt compelled to fix his face. He brushed on a light coating of mascara, darkened his eyebrows slightly, adding highlights to the lids. Finally, he put on an almost neutral share of lipstick, followed by a bit of lip gloss to highlight them.

“I am kinda cute,” he giggled. Immediately he hated himself for being so vain about his looks, but he felt the truth was clear: he looked like a cute teen girl.

He donned the blouse and dress, finally putting on a pair of light blue ballet slipper-type flats. He ran into his mother’s room, where she had a full length mirror on a closet door to examine himself.

Standing in several poses before the mirror, he smiled, pleased with the girl he saw looking back at him.

His mother was sitting, nursing a cup of coffee when he finally returned to the kitchen. She looked up, examining the boy; finally she nodded approvingly. All she said:

“You young girls take so much time in getting ready.”

Kenny did a turn before his mother, so she could view him from the front, back and both sides. “I wanted to look pretty for you, mother.”

“That’s fine, but did you have to put on so much makeup?”

“Don’t you like it, mother?”

“Oh, it’s all right, as long as it’s not too heavy,” she said. “You don’t want to look like a slut.”

*****
Just then the door buzzer rang. “Go get the door, honey,” his mother ordered.

“Like this?”

“Of course, like that.”

The buzzer sounded again, more insistent this time. Kenny went to the door and opened it, surprised to see Harriet Burkhalter standing these.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, young lady?”

Kenny feeling embarrassed and totally exposed, merely held the door open more widely in a sign for the old woman to enter.

“Oh, Harriet,” his mother yelled from the kitchen. “Come in, I just made some tea for us girls.”

Kenny followed the old woman (who still walked vigorously and like someone half her age) into the kitchen.

“What do you think of my daughter, Harriet?” his mother asked.

His mother’s behavior was strange, he thought. Rarely had she shown much of a sense of humor; nor had she ever been understanding of anything new or different. And now she was calling him her daughter. Her comment confused him, to be sure, but he felt a sweet pleasure in hearing the word “daughter.”

“I must say, Cecelia, that she’s beautiful, even more so than in the pictures I saw,” Harriet Burkhalter said as she sat down on one chairs at the kitchen table.

Kenny blushed, wondering whether Mrs. Burkhalter said that just to be nice; in truth he felt she was telling the truth since in his own observation he felt he was as pretty and feminine as any girl he knew.

“You saw pictures, Harriet?” his mother said sharply, looking at Kenny.

“Yes, Kenny showed me them on the computer this morning,” she said. “Didn’t you show your mother, young lady?”

Kenny shook his head to indicate he hadn’t.

“Why didn’t you, dear?” his mother demanded.

He paused before answering. “I . . . ah . . . didn’t think you’d like them and would be mad that I’m shown on line as a girl.”

Cecelia Hansson scowled. “Well, young lady, I want to see them, but you can show me later.”

Mrs. Burkhalter rescued the situation, by suggesting that Kenny walk around a bit, so that she could see more of him. Kenny took a few turns about the hallway and kitchen so that the old woman could see, walking easily as a teen girl might walk in short steps, one foot directly in front of the other as he strolled while his arms moved loosely.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she, Cecelia?” Mrs. Burkhalter said, using the female pronoun for the first time.

His mother nodded.

“But we can’t call her Kenny now, can we?” the older woman said. “She’s just the cutest thing, the way her hair is flowing so freely, and with that nice bang she has across her forehead.”

“They called me Karen at the camp,” Kenny volunteered. He self-consciously brushed a strand of hair with his hand.”

“Yes,” his mother said, her tone still a bit severe. “She was Karen there.”

Kenny sat down at the table, making sure he brushed a hand under his skirt to smooth it out before he sat. He had made it a habit to do so when he sat, even when he was wearing pants.

“You have a special child here, Cecelia,” Harriet said. “You must let her blossom out and become the woman that I think she truly is.”

Kenny looked at his mother; she had a scowl that she often wore when thinking about problems and when she was angry.

“I guess you’re right, Harriet,” his mother said. “But it’s not as easy at it sounds. There’s cost and what others will do when they realize there’s a boy still remaining under that cute girl they see before them.”

“Yes, there’s lot’s to consider,” Harriet agreed.

“I would hate to see her hurt, Harriet,” his mother said. Then she turned to Kenny, holding his two hands in hers.

“I’m so worried about you, dear. You’re not very strong and I fear that you’ll be bullied if others knew you dress like a girl, or go out in public as a girl. I can just stand to see you being beaten up.”

Kenny looked at his mother, seeing the anguish in her face. He hated for his mother to be unhappy; it was part of the reason that he had been so secretive about how girlish he felt before.

“Mother, mother, I love you so much,” he began. “I want you so much to love me as your daughter, and I’ll be safer that way, too. You know I get bullied and teased a lot when I’m out as a boy. At least when I’m out as a girl, everyone thinks I’m a girl. Remember how Mark’s parents accepted me as Karen. I’ll be no more bullied than any other girl would be, mother.”

His mother’s grip on his hands grew tenser. “And I love you, too darling. And you really are so sweet and lovely. But I’m so worried about you.”

Kenny understood his mother’s feelings; in truth, he was frightened, too. His realization that he should be a girl came into his life so quickly that he did wonder whether it was real. It’s just that he felt right.

“Mother, other girls protect themselves in many ways,” Kenny said, trying to be reassuring.

“Besides, she can do what I do when I go out,” Harriet said. “I have mace and I have a long straight pin handy I can poke at the guy who attacks me.”

“And mother,” he said, tears beginning again, “I’ve never been happier. I’m so unhappy as a boy. I’m sorry, I can’t explain it. But, as Karen, it feels so natural.”

“I know dear, and we’ll chat more about it,” his mother said.

Harriet Burkhalter interrupted, saying: “I’ve said too much now, I’m sorry, Cecelia. This is family business, and you don’t want an old bitty like me telling you what to do.”

“Oh no, Harriet, remember I asked you to probe Kenny,” his mother said. “I can never get him to talk. You helped immensely.”

They both looked at Kenny and smiled. Self-consciously, he brushed his hair back, showing a flirty, girlish move. Soon all three were giggling.