A Mother’s Story

Part 3

Jerry tries to cope while the Queen poisons an apple.

Friends and Family

I’ve not said much about our family and friends. Mother and I chatted daily, and visited each week. Occasionally, she came Saturday night to see both of us. Jane was not rude, but was less than cordial. More often, I went to see mom Monday night. I’d arrive at her apartment before she got home and make dinner as I used to before I married.

Mother and I had no secrets. She knew I’d never dated. So, when I told her about Tyler, she wanted to know if I was gay. I admitted enjoying Tyler’s affection, but had no desire to go further. I also told her about my job as things unfolded. I had Rene take a cell pic of me when he was done. I sent it to mom. She wanted to know if I was forced, or had done it freely. I said I knew it’d take getting used to, but that I felt like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon, and for the first time in my life, liked how I looked.

She saw the whole effect – makeup, nail polish, hot pants, panty line, hairless legs and wedge sandals – the first Saturday after I started. The pic had prepared her, but the reality still set her back. After dinner, Jane watched TV while mom and I cleaned up in the kitchen.

“You like your new look?”

“Yes, very much. Before, I felt like I didn’t exist. No one ever looked at me. Now, I’m noticed. Sometimes it is embarrassing, but I’ll get over that. I like the attention. I get a lot more smiles than I used to, and even if I get stares and scowls, at least people know I exist.”

Mother was silent to as she rinsed and dried the dishes I was washing. “And your sure you’re not attracted to men?”

“Well, not sexually, but I did like Tyler being affectionate. He was the first person – other than you – to give me any affection.”

“You needed a father in your life. It’s my fault – I should have found you one. I think every child needs a man’s affection as well as a woman’s.” She thought silently as she wiped two plates. “Also, you’ve always had a feminine side. I saw it when you were little. You were so neat, and liked to play dolls and house with Sandy when we lived in the Valley. I took you to soccer so you’d learn to be more boyish. … And not many boys have babysitting jobs. … Also you and I relate more like mother and daughter than mother and son – we talk so freely you know.

“I remember you used to like bright colors. Then, after you were in school, you wanted to wear dull colors and fade into the background. That surprised me at the time.”

“Well, I got teased and called a sissy. I wanted to disappear.”

“Well, you’re making up for it now.” She smiled and gave me a hug. Her acceptance made me feel warm and … centered. I don’t know how else to say it.

I tried to keep in touch with my friends. Mostly it was with texts. Delores and I were never close. She was more Tina’s friend. So, I never heard from her after graduation.

Cat and Roger asked why I’d not come out to them before, as they had with me. It took quite a while to convince them I wasn’t gay. I invited them to the boutique one evening. It was pricey, so I didn’t expect them to buy anything – just see where I was working. Rene treated them warmly and gave them each one of his signature berets. He also gave Cat a note to Randi for a free manicure and pedi.

Tina had an unexpected reaction to my new look. She thought I looked better than her and was jealous. It came out as a joke, but as we talked I could tell she was down on her appearance. I felt bad for her. I invited her to lunch one day when she wasn’t working. After lunch we walked around West Hollywood, stopping at Randi’s. I’d sent him a steady stream of new clients, so he’d agreed to a free makeup session for Tina. Of course, she demurred. I told her it was all set up, and it would insult Randi to turn it down. So, with a little pushing and cajoling, she went in and I went back to work.

I expected to see her in an hour, but I was busy and time flew. Three hours later, the new Tina appeared with tears running down her cheeks. Randi had opened his heart and given her the works on the house. She was both radiant and gorgeous. I was rewarded with hugs and kisses.

I did not see much of Jane’s friends. I think she tried to keep me out of their sight. On the few occasions when I did see them, they either ignored me or snickered.

The person whose reaction I was most worried about was Ralph Turner. In the weeks before the wedding, I’d begun to look up to him as a father. He said he thought of me as the son he never had. Every father wants his son to be a chip off the old block, not a sissy. However much I liked my new look, I knew I was a sissy – a disappointment to him. Still, I respected him too much to avoid him.

On the way home from my first full day, I called him to set up an evening I could come over and “talk” to him – really, to face his disappointment and disapproval. He suggested that he pick me up the next day and take me to lunch at his club. I agreed, but thought it would be better not to go to his club. I didn’t want to embarrass him.

I was very nervous as I helped Rene close for lunch. Though my mouth was dry, I imagined further embarrassing myself by wetting myself from fright as I had on a third grade field trip when I nearly stepped on a snake. I pictured a little boy wetting his sissy shorts on the sidewalk. I went to the toilet – just in case – but had nothing to pee.

It was 12:05 when I went out. I looked up and down the street – no Ralph Turner. Part of me was very relieved. I wouldn’t have to do this – at least, not today. Suddenly, there was a pert beep from a white BMW Series 4 convertible double-parked in front of me. I did practically wet myself. Swallowing hard, I opened the door and got in.

Ralph Turner was smiling. “Nice to see you Jerry. You look a lot different that when I saw you last.”

“Sorry, but I wanted to be the one to show you what I look like, and not have you get it second hand. I respect you too much not to face the music. I’m sorry if I shocked you.” Damn it! Tears were forming in my eyes. I was being almost as much of a sissy as if I’d wet my pants. I wanted to be strong. Fuck!

“Well, you didn’t shock me. Connie showed me a picture Jane texted her last night. Still, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It shows a lot of courage, and I’m proud of you. Now, there’s no need to cry.” We were stopped at a light and he dabbed my eyes with his handkerchief.

“We’re going to Malibu for lunch. An associate has a nice house with an ocean view. We can eat quietly while you tell me what this is all about.”

I don’t remember much about the house or how to get there, but behind it was a patio high above the ocean with a fabulous view. We had a simple lunch of salad and fish tacos while I told Ralph everything. I can’t say he approved my decisions, but he didn’t second-guess them. He told me everyone has to find his or her own way in the world, and as long as they were not hurting anyone – including themselves – they should be given the space to find their way.

As 2:00 PM approached, we were pulling up in front of the Boutique. Ralph said, “I think you're a brave person who's doing his best. Next time, let’s eat lunch at my club if you're willing. There are a few people I’d like to shake up.”

Acting for the Queen

I’ve already said how Jane made my life hell until I agreed to go along with her story that I was her transitioning gay brother. I should have learned from her father that unless agreements are spelled out in detail, they’re subject to differing interpretations. My interpretation was I’d hold my tongue and let her spin whatever harmless yarn she wanted to the neighbors. Jane’s interpretation was quite different.

I grew up in a peaceful household and always accepted – well, up to the time I decided to marry Jane – that mother was older and wiser, and knew what was best for me. Jane, on the other hand, lived in a household where hysteria ruled. If Connie did not get her way she made Ralph’s life hell until she did. Jane did the same as a child, and was now doing it with me. You’d probably say a real man would have stood up to her and I didn’t because I’m a sissy momma’s boy. I might be, but Ralph Turner is a confident and successful businessman, and he didn’t stand up to them either. I know – that’s no excuse. I’m responsible for my own choices.

I almost always chose peace over stress and conflict – go along to get along, as they say. The one exception was the baby – my baby, as I’d come to think of it. When it came to my baby, more than my personal stress or comfort was involved. Compared to it, what happened to me was secondary. I got that from my mother – in things that mattered, my welfare always came first with her.

I’m wandering. I was talking about agreeing to go along with Jane’s story about me wanting to be a woman. As I said, the first active thing I did was to go for a walk around the neighborhood with barrettes in my hair. She introduced me to three different neighbors as Geraldine, her transitioning sister. I said little, but my makeup, nails and shoes all silently confirmed her story.

Being exhibited as a half girl in a conservative L. A. neighborhood is very different from dressing as a beautiful boy in accepting West Hollywood. No one was overtly rude, but there was a lot more sympathy for Jane being in such a demeaning situation than for any struggles I might face expressing my inner self. That was just what she was looking for – to play the role of the poor suffering sister of a confused and inconsiderate sibling. By the time we got home she was as satisfied and exhilarated as I was embarrassed and depressed.

Having tasted victory, her appetite increased. The next evening, I was told to wear a shear white blouse and pushup bra. When I balked, Jane flew into a rage – calling me a lying fag for going back on my word. Given the choice between temporary embarrassment and continuing hell, I chose the former. My cranberry bra showed through my sheer blouse, and it molded cleavage at my neckline. Again, parading me around the neighborhood generated attention and sympathy for Jane while it made me feel weak and impotent.

With my spirit broken, I saw little point in protesting when she told me to wear my new bras whenever I wasn’t at work – including to bed. After two months my chest had reshaped itself. My new shape remained even when I removed my bra to shower. When I wasn’t wearing a bra, my nipples rubbed against my shirt, causing painful swelling. It was a relief to put my bra back on when I got home. I started wearing camisoles to work to protect my nipples during the day.

One day when we closed at noon, Rene asked me up to his apartment for a talk.

“Are you transitioning, sweetie?”

“Transitioning?”

“Yes. You’ve stated wearing camis and your nipples are dimpling your shirt. Also, your shorts have gotten tighter across your hips and derriere.”

I told him that Jane had made up a story about me transitioning, and had me wearing bras at home to support her story. My bra cups were just molding my chest.

“May I see, sweetie?”

I lifted my shirt and camisole. Rene asked if he could touch, then gently pinched the area under my nipples. “Ouch!”

“How long have you been taking hormones, Jerri?”

“I haven’t been, Rene. Really.”

“You may not know it, but you have been, and for at least a couple of months – probably longer.”

“You think Jane’s been feeding me hormones?”

“Yes – probably from when she started cooking for you.”

I started crying. Not because I’d been given hormones, but because my hope of making Jane love me was based on another of her lies. She was probably laughing at me right now. Rene held me until I calmed down.

I looked in the mirror. My breasts weren’t real big or pointy, but my chest didn’t look like any boy’s chest I’d seen. Also, my aureolas were getting bigger – not huge yet, but definitely bigger than boys’. It had all happened so slowly, I hadn’t noticed the change from one day to the next, but once Rene pointed it out, it was obvious that I was growing breasts. I felt my breast where Rene had squeezed. I was firm and tender. “Milk glands, Jerry,” Rene said. My nipples were little cylinders maybe a ¼” in diameter. A little moisture had spread out over the tip – not even a drop, but enough to glisten in the light.

I started panicking and hyperventilating. I was feeling faint. Rene gave me a bag to breathe into. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.” I nodded.

“I better drive you. You might pass out on the bus.”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling very well.”

Rene drove me home. He offered to come in, but I wanted to talk to Jane alone.