(Edited by Eric)

Two -- The Decision

“We want you lovely young ladies to represent the Riverside Club in style at the tournament,” Emil H. “Brick” Walters, the Country Club’s president, said to the girls after they walked into the clubhouse, having completed their practice round.

He was a ruddy-faced man in his late 50s, whose growing girth revealed a life of good eating and the downing of many expensive liquors and wines. Nonetheless, he retained the image of a handsome, fit man, and he apparently knew it. A scion of one of the oldest and wealthiest families of the area, Walters continually sought to be chummy with the staff, as if he understood their lives; of course, he couldn’t.

Heather, who seemed to assume a motherly role with Sonny, recalled a time during her early twenties when she first joined the staff as a waitress when Brick put the “make” on her. “I told him I only liked other girls,” she said with a laugh.

“Did he believe you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, but I think he got the message. He’s not a bad guy, I guess, and he’s actually been pretty good in assuring that we get a halfway decent wage.”

Having gathered the girls in a side lounge, Brick announced that he was going to have matching uniforms made that they could wear for the tournament. He held up a large picture showing the proposed uniform.

“Wow, I love them,” Sonny said, surprising himself and the others with his involuntary outburst.

“Yes, young lady. They are great, aren’t they? We had them especially designed by the fashion staff of one of our members’ clothing companies,” Brick said.

The others agreed they liked the design. The picture showed a pink cotton polo shirt, with the gold and navy blue logo of the Riverside Club discreetly placed on the left breast. Beneath each logo there would be the name of the wearer. The shirt was sleeveless and had gold and navy piping along the shoulder openings. The beige shorts covered only the top half of each girl’s thighs with gold and navy piping along the hem and each side.

A matching baseball cap (pink with teal piping), teal ankle socks and beige shoes would round out the uniform.

“Aren’t those too short, Mr. Walters?” Maria asked.

Brick looked at the waitress (who likely was uncomfortable with showing her fairly husky thighs, Sonny guessed) and scowled. “I don’t think so, Maria,” he said disdainfully.

Sonny was shocked at the man’s insensitivity.

“I, too, think they’re too short,” he blurted, his voice rising into a high pitch due to his emotion.

Tess looked at him, her eyes telling him he’d made a mistake by alienating the Riverside Club president. Brick turned his attention toward Sonny, his face growing red.

“And who are you, young lady? This is the first I’ve seen of you around here. Juan, what’s she doing here if she’s not a worker here?”

“This is my sister, Sonja. She’s filling in for Mindy, Mr. Walters,” Tess said quickly, hoping to stem the Club President’s ire.

“Oh? Doesn’t that make her a ringer, Juan?” he said.

“No, she works here, Mr. Walters, but perhaps you haven’t seen her around,” the young pro said.

“What does she do here? I can’t imagine I wouldn’t have noticed her before.”

“Well . . . ah . . . Mr. Walters . . .” Juan stuttered.

“You know me as Sonny, the boy who works at the snack shop. I remember serving your grandson on Sunday,” Sonny interjected, saving Juan from having to explain the situation.

Walters seemed puzzled for a minute and then shook his head. “No, we can’t do this,” he said.

“But, Mr. Walters, without her . .. er . . . him . . . we won’t have a team,” Heather interjected.

“No . . . no,” Walters said, his voice growing firm.

“Please, he hits the ball like a girl anyway and no one would think he was anything but a girl,” Juan said.

“You mean there are no other girls on the staff who can play?” the club president asked.

“None, I’ve really tried, Mr. Walters,” Tess said.

“Well I admit he looks mighty cute and pretty,” Walters said. “But, still I don’t think . . . “

“Remember, you called me ‘miss’ when you ordered the ice cream for your grandson?” Sonny said.

“Besides, she’s under treatment for possible sex change. She’s really transgendered,” Tess said.

Sonny was about to protest, since he had only been wondering about whether he was transgendered and whether to consider such steps.

“Is that right?” Walter said, his eyes bearing upon Sonny.

“Um, yes sir. I’ve been feeling that way,” Sonny said, since suddenly such a prospect intrigued him.

“Do all you girls want Sonja or Sonny or whoever this is to play on the team?” Walter asked of the team.

“Yes,” they all said enthusiastically.

“Well, OK, but I’ll have to inform the other clubs about this and if there is any objection, we’ll have to maybe forget playing this time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walters,” Tess said.

“It’s a bit unusual but I’ll see what I can do,” the president said. “So, now, do you all wish your shorts were a bit longer?”

They all nodded in the affirmative, and Walters agreed he’d have them lengthened a bit, but before he left the room, he walked over to Sonny.

“I’m surprised young lady that you’d object to wearing the shorts. You have mighty pretty legs, my dear,” he said, his hand moving forward to touch Sonny’s arm.

Sonny felt uneasy; the touch seemed to linger a bit longer than it should have if it were merely a friendly gesture.

“I wasn’t thinking about myself, sir. I felt I should support Maria who didn’t like the idea,” Sonny said. He spoke with hesitation, afraid to alienate the president further; yet, his voice showed conviction.

“All right, young lady, if that’s how you want it,” the man said, turning abruptly and charging out of the room.

“What did you say to him, Sonja?” Heather said.

“I . . . ah . . . ah . . . think he was trying to put the make on me,” he said.

“Ah, he’s a harmless old flirt,” the older woman said. “But you should be nice to him since he’s been good about supporting the workers here.”

“That’s fine,” Sonny said, “But he’d better keep his hands off me.”

Heather smiled. “I can see you’re a girl who knows her mind. You’ll do alright.”

As they drove home together, Tess warned him about doing things that would draw so much attention, since it might cause others to examine him more carefully and learn about his deception.

“But I see you have learned what girls sometimes have to endure, particularly pretty ones like you,” his sister said, smiling.

“And I’ve got lots to learn.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think you’re doing just fine, my dear Sonja. You’re all girl already.”

*****
“I think mom suspects something,” Sonny told Tess a few days later.

“Why?”

Sonny told his sister that the previous night he had joined his mother – as he often did – to watch a late-night re-run of a television show that has a fashion expert turn a poorly dressed woman into a lovely, well-dressed woman, often with the subject fighting the changes. Sonny found the show fascinating, often wondering if they’d ever take a boy like him and turn him into a prettily dressed young lady. He loved sharing the program with his mother since it was one of the few times the two could be together, given the demands of her job.

That night had been warm and he wore a blue tank top and white shorts. As he and his mother laughed about one of the show’s subjects, he noticed his mother staring at him.

“What?” he said to her.

“For a minute, you looked like Tessie,” his mother said.

“Oh?”

“I just don’t understand why you watch this show, Sonny. You’re a boy.”

“Mom, I just like being with you.”

“I know sweetie, and mom’s sorry she can’t spend more time with you kids, but you really do look like a pretty girl, honey. You should do something about your hair.”

His mother turned her attention back to the show and Sonny had hoped she forgot about the conversation. Nonetheless, he realized his mother was right: he was acting more and more like a girl, even when he was in his Sonny mode. He realized, too, he was sitting on the sofa, his legs tucked under him in the most feminine of postures.

He told Tess about the incident and she said, “I guess it’s time to tell mom about Sonja.”

“Must we?”

“Either that, or you’ll have to stop being Sonja and quit the golf team,” Tess said. “I should never have gotten you into that.”

“I can’t quit now. The other girls need me, don’t they?”

“Yes, or else they’ll have to withdraw from the tournament since I doubt we can find a replacement.”

“Tessie. I don’t want to quit. I like being Sonja.”

Sonny began to cry and his sister came over to hug him. He buried his head into her neck and sobbed. He just had to be Sonja, not just for the golf tournament, but forever.

*****
The family rarely shared an evening meal together; often only Sonny was home at supper time, his mother usually working additional hours due to her responsibilities and Tess away either at the university library or chumming with her friends. No one asked him to do so, but Sonny began to prepare the evening meals, usually making a casserole or stir fry that could be heated up whenever the others returned home.

“You don’t have to do this, Sonny,” his mother told him one recent night when she got home seeing he had made lasagna.

“That’s OK, mom. I kinda like cooking. Maybe I’ll be a chef,” he said, smiling at her.

“Well, you’re a darling to do it, but I hate that I can’t be a real mom to you, dear,” she said.

“I know, mom, but you’ve had to be both daddy and mommy to Tessie and me. We both love you, mom. Now sit down to eat and I’ll serve you.”

His mother protested that she could take care of herself, but he insisted, noting how tired she looked. She found it easy to wait to be served.

“This is delicious, honey,” she said after her first taste.

He smiled, and after fixing himself a cup of tea, he sat down opposite her. He had placed a plate of coconut cookies (that he had baked) down on the table, teasing his mother to keep her hands off them until she finished her meal. They both giggled and his mother said:

“Now you sound like the mother,” she said. Sonny smiled, remembering the same admonition he had gotten from her when he was younger.

His mother continued to eat, every so often looking at him with eyes that seemed to be examining him. Sonny became uneasy. Perhaps, he wondered, she had noticed his growing tendency to dress in androgynous clothes. That night, for instance, he wore shorts that could have been donned by either a man or a woman and a sleeveless tee shirt that exposed his slender arms. He had tied his light brown hair in a high ponytail, even though he knew it was a more feminine style, mainly, he told himself, because it felt cooler. The lower-level flat was hot and lacked air conditioning.

“This is so nice, Sonny, being able to sit here with you,” his mother said after she had finished two helpings of the lasagna and began to drink her tea and dive into the cookies.

“I like doing it, too. You and Tessie are my best friends, really,” he said. It was true, he knew, since he had made few friends among other children.

“And I remember how you two used to fight,” she laughed.

“But we played together a lot, too.”

“I know you did. Your sister loves you, Sonny.”

“And I love her,” he said.

Sonny looked at his mother closely. She was smiling at him, but then a frown developed on her face and she turned her face down, staring into her teacup, as if to avoid looking at him. The boy knew something was bothering her.

“Mom, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

His mother looked up, her eyes boring into him. She shook her head.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Her question was actually more of a statement than a question.

*****
Sonny knew immediately what she must be talking about; his mother must have discovered that he was dressing again like a girl, something she had forbidden him to do when he turned nine years old. Before that, she had permitted the two children to engage in the play-acting they enjoyed, usually with Tess dressing him as a girl. “Look mommy, doesn’t Sonny look cute as a girl?” Tess would squeal to their mother.

When Sonny – wearing a colorful sundress – and Tess ran out to the ice cream truck on a warm summer day, a neighbor asked their mother who “the cute little girl” was. That was when their mother put her foot down: “No more dressing up as a girl. He’s a boy and should be out playing ball.”

Sonny had hated to disobey his mother; yet, he couldn’t resist the lure of putting on a dress and perhaps some makeup. As he got into his teens, he used the empty hours at home alone to get into his sister’s bedroom to find panties, bras, skirts, blouses and heels to wear. He was always careful not to damage them and to replace them exactly as he found them. Sometimes, too, he’d raid the dirty clothes hamper to find his sister’s clothes.

One day when he was sixteen, Tess returned home early to find him preening himself before a mirror wearing her favorite yellow sundress.

“Oh, my God, sis. I’m sorry,” he blurted, his face turning a bright red at his embarrassment.

“Sonny, is that you? I thought mom told you not to dress up like this.”

“I’ll . . . get out of . . . this . . . dress,” he blubbered.

“No! No! No! Stay as you are. I want to take a picture of you,” she ordered.

“No, don’t. You’ll just show it around and tell mom. Please don’t.”

“No, I won’t tell mom, Sonny,” she said. “You’re an absolutely beautiful girl.”

He looked at his sister, perplexed as to her reaction. He thought she’d be mad at him for wearing her clothes and now she was admiring him for his feminine beauty.

“Really, Tessie? You think I make a pretty girl?”

“Oh my yes. You look all girl,” she said, smiling.

Tess was angry at him for sneaking into her room and wearing her clothes; yet, rather than tell him to stop dressing up, she said she’d find some clothes for him that she rarely wore and keep them in a special spot in her room for his use.

“But don’t you dare touch anything else in my room, Sonny, or I’ll beat your brains out,” she threatened. Sonny took the warning seriously; he knew she was stronger than he was and could make good on her threat.

Sonny was good to his word: he dressed more discreetly after Tess’ warning, wearing only clothes his sister set aside for him. Together, they had gone shopping and Sonny purchased a skirt, blouse and cute dress, along with panties, bras and a nightgown. They were confident they had kept his dressing their mutual secret.

*****
Harriet Warner repeated her question: “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“What’s true mom?” he asked feigning ignorance at the point of her question.

“You’re dressing up as a girl again, aren’t you?”

Sonny knew he couldn’t lie to his mother. She could always tell, he realized.

“Yes,” he said his voice a whisper.

“What did you say? I didn’t hear you,” she demanded.

“Yes, I guess,” he said more loudly.

“You guess? You either are or aren’t and you must be doing it a lot since you’re looking more and more like a girl every day. Look at how you’re sitting now.”

Sonny looked down at his lap, realizing that unknowingly he had tucked one leg up and under the other as he sat on the kitchen chair.

“Oh mommy,” he said, his voice quavering as he broke into a full-throated cry. He put his head down on the table, resting on his arms and sobbed.

He felt his mother’s hand rest gently on his head as she let him cry.

*****
“What’s he crying about,” Tess said, entering the room. She heard the commotion in the kitchen as she returned home from school.

“He’s dressing again,” his mother said.

“Oh?” Tess said trying to sound innocent.

“Did you know about it, Tess?”

“I guess,” the girl said.

“What’s with this ‘I guess’ stuff? Your brother had the same answer.” Their mother appeared angry.

Finally, Tess admitted to finding him dressed and to helping him find clothes to wear.

“I’m really mad at both of you,” their mother said. “How could you keep something like this from me for a whole year? This is serious. Don’t you realize Sonny is turning into a girl? Look at him; he’ll never be able to function in the world as he is now.”

“But mother . . .” Tess interrupted, hoping to stop her mother’s tirade.

“No buts. This has got to end. Sonny’s got to understand that he’s a boy and soon he’ll be a man and he’s got to begin acting like one. This is ridiculous.”

Sonny raised his head, his eyes red and moist. “I’ll never be a man, mom,” he said.

“Not if you don’t try, Sonny. You can do it! Both me and your father came from strong farming stock. I’ll get you into some physical fitness classes to start with.”

“Oh mom, please. I can’t do that stuff.”

With that, Sonny ran upstairs to his room, closed the door and collapsed onto his bed sobbing uncontrollably.

*****
The girls on the golf team were shocked – and angry – at learning that Sonja would be unable to play because her mother had forbidden it. Tess told them when she got to work about 11 a.m., summoning them into a side room in the golf pro shop, along with Juan, the assistant pro and team coach.

“Why won’t she let Sonja play?” Heather asked, her face registering shock. She had grown to enjoy the young girl as a golf mate as much as they all had enjoyed Sonny as a friendly, cheerful boy co-worker.

Tess explained: “I looked at my little brother Sonny, who had learned how to play golf and did it pretty well and began thinking: why not him? Through the years, we’d play dress up a lot and he could look like a girl, I thought. So, Sonny became Sonja.”

“And your mother didn’t know about Sonja and the golf team until last night?” Maria queried.

Tess nodded: “Mother doesn’t like Sonny acting like a girl and wants to enroll him in physical fitness places to make him more of a man.”

“Since I’ve seen her as Sonja, I just can’t think of her as a boy,” Heather said.

“She’s really a cutie,” Juan said smiling.

“I thought I saw you giving her lots of attention, Juan,” Heather quipped.

“Are we going to have to withdraw from the tournament?” Maria asked.

Juan said the team would have to drop out unless a substitute could be found for the tournament. It was only four days away, and it was unlikely there was another female employee at the Club who golfed.

“Do you think if we all went over to talk to your mother, Tess, that we could get her to change her mind?” Maria said.

“Probably, mom is really open-minded about most things,” Tess said.

“But she . . . ah . . . I mean, he . . . doesn’t hit the ball like a guy,” Juan pointed out. “Look at how short his drives are.”

“Yeah, I noticed that when I might use a seven-iron for a shot, he’ll use a four-iron,” Heather remarked.

(Note to non-golfers: A seven-iron is used for shorter distances than a four-iron. The higher the number, the shorter the distance.)

“But he’s deadly accurate on his shots, which makes up for his weak shots,” Juan said.

“I don’t care what you all think, but Sonja’s all girl in my book. I say we talk to her mother,” Maria said, pointedly refusing to use the male pronoun to reference Sonny.

*****
Heather and Maria showed up at the Warner household after Tess had called them that her mother was home for the night. “I told mom that you are coming over and that she should stick around,” she told them.

At precisely eight o’clock, the two women rang the bell and were welcomed into the living room by Tess. She had alerted Sonny, but urged him to stay in his room.

“I know what this is all about, but I’m not about to change my mind,” Harriet Warner told the three.

“Mom, just hear us out,” Tess pleaded.

“I will listen to you, of course, but I think I’m doing this in Sonny’s best interest. He’s a boy who must grow up to be a man so that he has a good future.”

“We understand your concerns, Mrs. Warner,” Maria said.

“Mom, listen to me. I think Sonny really wants to live as a woman. Really, he does.”

“Yes, Mrs. Warner, all I really see when I look at her . . . oops . . . I meant him . . . is a pretty young lady,” Maria said.

Heather nodded. “We’re so used to calling him Sonja now. Even when he dresses like a guy, he still gets mistaken for a woman.”

“And he’s always called ‘miss’ by customers at the snack shop, mom, and he seems so happy now,” Tess added.

The conversation continued on for another twenty minutes before Harriet Warner held up her hand and said: “Stop please. I know you all are sincere, but still I don’t think playing in a golf tournament is so important you’d risk a boy’s future.”

“But mom, he wouldn’t be the only boy who transitioned into being a girl, you know,” Tess said.

“I’m well aware of what being transgendered means,” Mrs. Warner said, showing anger for the first time in the conversation. “I also know it could lead to an extremely difficult life for a person. Very few are able to find a lifetime mate, like a husband, and jobs can be hard to come by. I’m not sure Sonny is strong enough to weather all that.”

“But Sonny’s miserable as a boy, mom. You must have noticed how happy he seems to be.”

Harriet Warner agreed that Sonny had shown much more spirit in the last weeks, even though she also noticed how increasingly feminine he had been acting.

“He’s always been such a pretty child,” she said.

“Would you consider it, Mrs. Warner?” Maria asked.

Harriet Warner thought for a minute, before nodding her head. “I’ll have a good talk with Sonny and then I’ll make my decision,” she said. “I know you must know my answer soon so I’ll let Tess know once I’ve talked with Sonny.”

Tess led the two women out of the house, telling them that she knew her mother would make the right decision.

“She’s a good woman, Tess,” Maria nodded. The three girls had a group hug and then Maria and Heather got into Heather’s aging Ford Focus station wagon and took off.

Returning to the house, Tess saw her mother was crying and walked over to hug her.

“Mom, I’m sorry we did this, but the other girls wanted to play so bad and Sonny was the only way.”

Her mother looked up and answered in a halting voice, “No, I’m not mad at you or the others. They seem like nice women. It’s just that I feel so guilty not being able to be around for you kids. If I had been, maybe this wouldn’t have happened to Sonny. I so much looked for him to be a handsome, strong young man, but now you’re telling me he wants to be a woman. I blame myself for not having a dad around.”

“Oh mom, dad walked out on you, remember?” Tess said.

“That’s because I wasn’t a good enough wife for him, Tessie.”

“Oh mom, don’t blame yourself. Sonny might have turned out the same whether or not dad was here. Usually such tendencies develop naturally, having nothing to do with the parents, mom.”

“I suppose you’re right, Tess.”

“I checked up on what being transgender means and basically it means the boy or the girl can’t help themselves for wanting to be something else.”

“Besides, mom, dad has always been a selfish man and he still is,” Tess continued

“I’m no saint, either,” her mother said, still unwilling not to blame herself for what was occurring with her son.

Their conversation was interrupted by the kitchen door opening; they looked up to see Sonny entering, looking fresh and emitting a subtle scent of roses. He wore a bright yellow and blue sleeveless summer dress of mid-thigh length. His hair was brushed and flowed smoothly to his pretty shoulders; he wore no stockings and had yellow sandals with two-inch heels.

“No one is a saint, mother, but you’re the closest to being one as much as anyone else is,” said the lovely creature standing before them in a voice soft and sweet.

“Oh my God, you are so lovely, darling,” Harriet Warner said, bursting into tears and rising from her chair to hug Sonny.

“Mom, I love you and I want you to love me, too, even though I’m not the boy you wished for. Let me be your daughter, mom. Please,” Sonny pleaded, clinging onto his mother tightly.

The two held each other for what seemed an eternity, both dampening each other’s dress with their flowing tears. Standing by, Tess cried, too, still uncertain as to where this scene would be heading.

“I need to sit down, Sonny,” the older woman said, visibly exhausted by the emotions of the moment.

“Mother, call me Sonja. That’s my name.”

“This is too much,” Harriet said.

No one said anything for a moment; they looked at each other and Sonny could feel see mother studying him, trying to take in the image of the beautiful person sitting opposite her. Tess, too, was examining Sonny, and unlike the other two, she was smiling.

Sonny broke the silence: “Mother and Tessie, I don’t know what you were talking about, but I did hear mother say something about not being a saint and I wanted her to know how much I love and admire her. I’m proud to be your daughter.”

Hearing the word “daughter” from her son, Harriet perked up, ready to argue.

“Daughter? You’re my son. You’re Sonny and no pretty dress can change that,” she blurted out, getting up from her chair, preparing to leave the room.

“Mother, please,” Sonny said, his eyes filling with tears again. “I can’t be happy as Sonny.”

He reached over to grab his mother’s forearm; though his grip was weak, it was enough to dissuade Harriet from darting from the room. She sat down again.

“Mother,” Sonny began, again using the more formal “mother” that he felt was more like how a girl would address the parent. “Mother, I was moping in my room again tonight, still feeling bad that you didn’t like me as Sonja, and I felt the only way to feel better was to take a shower, wash my hair and put on the cutest dress I could find. I felt I had to do that to get out of the mood I was in.”

Tess interjected: “Mom, I’ve never seen Sonja happy unless she’s being a girl. Really, she was meant to be Sonja, not Sonny.”

Their mother shook her head. “This seems so unreal, kids, but I can see that and I guess I should have seen that. Just seeing how he sits sometimes was so much like a girl,” she said.

“I seemed to do that without thinking, and you know I’ve been mistaken for a girl quite a bit more recently, even when dressed in my boy stuff,” Sonny said.

“That’s true, mom, he’s been borrowing my clothes for years and dressing when you’ve been gone,” Tess said. “I tried to stop him, but I could see how much he liked it, so I helped him learn how to put on make up and fix his hair. It was cool to have a little sister.”

“I should have suspected as much and I’m angry at both of you for hiding this from me,” Harriet said.

“We thought you’d be mad at us and Sonja wanted to do it so much,” Tess said.

“How long have you felt this way, Sonny?” their mother asked.

“It seems like always, mother. But, can’t you call me Sonja?”

“It just seems wrong. You’re my son.”

“But I’ve always really been your daughter and that’s why after I got dressed tonight I decided to show you how much of a daughter I really am,” Sonny said, smiling sweetly.

“Yes, mom,” Tess added. “You’ve never really seen how really pretty Sonja is when all dressed up.”

*****
As Sonny prepared himself for bed that night, wearing a short nightgown with slim straps over the shoulders, he looked into the mirror as he tied his hair into a ponytail. He had removed all signs of make up, but still the image reflected in the glass was that of a slender, almost dainty young lady. He smiled the sweet, warm smile that seemed to come so easily.

His mother, he knew deep in his heart, would give her approval to sign the necessary papers to acknowledge that her son should be considered female, technically a transgendered girl. Her promise as they broke up their long talk in the kitchen in a group hug was that she’d give her answer to whether she’d give her permission the next evening.

“I promise to think carefully and to talk this over with a doctor friend I know who specializes in cases like this and then make my decision. I truly want you to be happy, either as Sonny or as Sonja.”

“I know you do, mother,” Sonny said.

“We both love you, mom,” Tess said.

The group hug was long and tight.
(To be continued)