This is an expanded version of a story which I wrote and posted here two years ago.

The story is dedicated to all young trans-women, particularly teens, who feel that their "condition" will always define or label them. As this story shows, that's not the case at all. Megan Phillips (born Michael) transitions and goes on to become a student, a friend, a doctor, a mother, and a wife - much as any other woman. In the end, she dies having lived her life as a woman, not as a trans-woman or some other term. Like any story, there are tragedies, victories, and side issues that influence life, and Megan is certainly no exception.

I'm posting this in 8 segments, as the entire work is over 78,000 words - a bit lengthy for reading at one seating.

The only warning that I give is that a number of people die due to circumstances in the story. Also, if you are averse to Christians or to associated prayer/Bible reading, this might be worth skipping. Megan becomes a Christian in the story, and while it's not an active part of the story, her faith is touched on from time to time.

I would appreciate any comments or suggestions that you might make. Thank you for any comments.

CHAPTER 5 – Three years, ten months later

April, 2005 – the Emperor Bar

Susie Templeton was drunk again.

Four years earlier, just before Matt Belwick’s death, she had joined the local branch of one of Wall Street’s largest investment houses. The stint was a huge boon to her career. Considered to be the best and brightest of their “rookie” investment counselors, they gave her a choice clientele. She responded by garnering substantial gains for their investment portfolios. But over time, it taxed her brain almost to its breaking point. Several months earlier, she had begun to seek solace and escape in alcohol and now it was a nightly ritual.

In spite of their busy schedules and separate apartments, Megan had tried to talk to her on more than one occasion about her nightly binging, but to no avail. Susie was in no mood to listen. She had found something that had worked for her in spite of the toll it was taking on her body and mind. She had gained weight and her once trim body now sported a growing pot belly. Her skin and hair, once the envy of the others in her office, now appeared unkempt at times and oily.

But the biggest effect was on her mind. Once able to juggle multiple tasks with almost limitless energy, now she was barely able to keep up with the myriad of tasks that faced her each day. She compensated by working longer hours, but that only made her want to drink more. In spite of attempts to hide her issue, she knew that her performance was slipping, and this merely added more reasons to imbibe.

But on this Friday night, she was determined to drown herself at the Emperor Bar, where several of her new drinking friends gathered each week. But after a few hours, knowing how drunk that she was, the bartender wanted her out of there before she passed out. Since it was just after midnight, there would still be patrons coming and going for some time. A passed out patron would be bad for business, he decided. Asking her friends to help her stumble to her car gave him a bit of solace that if she did hurt someone on the short drive home, that he hadn’t directly contributed to her driving.

The friends obliged, and after multiple attempts to get her in the car, the group succeeded. But after a few minutes of laughing and talking, they returned inside, leaving Susie alone. The happiness that she felt inside the bar was fast waning. I need to go home, she told herself. All of the bad thoughts were returning to her head, and there was enough booze at home to once again drown them out. Sitting unsteadily upright in the Mustang, Susie was about to start the car when her phone rang. By some miracle, she located it quickly in her purse and without looking at the display, answered it.

“Helllo?” In spite of desperately wanting to sound sober, Susie’s efforts failed badly.

“Susie, where are you? I’ve been worried about you.” It was Megan, who had been unsuccessfully calling Susie’s phone for the past three hours.

“Jus’ down here at the Emperor enjoyin’ myself. Jus’ got back to the car.”

“You don’t sound like you need to be driving anywhere. How ‘bout I come and take you home?”

“No, I’ll be OK. I promish. Ish just three blocks that way, or is it that way? I don’t remember.” Susie began to emit a silly laugh.

Megan sighed. She’s darned lucky to have not been picked up for DUI ever, she reflected. But even the three blocks from the Emperor to home might be too much.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Sit there – don’t you drive anywhere.”

“But I’ll be OK. Ish just a little ways ‘way.”

“No! You just sit there.”

“OK – you win. This time. But next time, I’m goin’ home myshelf.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Bye.”

“Bye, girl. Once we get to my ‘partment, you can have a drink, too. We can enjoy ourshelves.”

“No, thank you. Bye.”

“Party pooper”, the drunk lady said her phone. Megan had already hung up.

Putting aside her anger for the moment, Megan hurried downstairs from her apartment to the parking lot where her aging Corolla waited.

Within five minutes, Megan pulled up alongside Susie’s Mustang in the parking lot adjacent to the bar. Hopping out, Megan went around and opened the passenger door of her car before going to the drivers’ door of the Mustang. Seeing Megan at her car, Susie gathered her purse, opened the door and began to unsteadily alight from it.

“Hhhii, Megan. Thanksh for coming. We can go to my apartment and party shum more there.”

“Susie, you just need to go home. We don’t need to party at all. You’re drunk as hell, girl.”

“I know. Idn’t it great?”

Megan held Susie’s arm as the drunk woman staggered to Megan’s car.

In spite of the stench of alcohol, Megan got a close-up look at her friend and what she saw disturbed and frightened her. Susie’s shoulder length permed hair was unkempt. Her gray and white skirt suit that once flattered her body was straining to contain the extra weight that had piled on Susie’s body. Instead of flawless skin that Megan was used to seeing on her friend, splotchy makeup added to an oily mess. The picture of her friend in such a state disheartened and depressed Megan. This is not my friend. The Susie that I know would never get to this state, Megan told herself.

Falling into the seat, Susie yelled, “Whee” as Megan helped her turn around and get her seat belt on. It was obvious that her addiction had not only left her out of shape, but looking four months’ pregnant as well.

As Megan returned to the driver’s seat, she seated herself and slammed the door, obviously angry with her best friend.

“Susie, what in hell…” She paused as she glanced over to see a now-sleeping drunk. Sighing, Megan alit from her car once again and ascertained that the Mustang was locked. Returning to the Corolla, she almost gagged at the alcohol scent that emanated.

Once Megan made the short drive to Susie’s apartment, she carefully unloaded her sleepy friend and with difficulty, got her awake enough to get her inside the ground level of her building and to her door. Fortunately, Megan had a key to Susie’s apartment and wrestled her friend to an awaiting couch. Susie collapsed on it and was asleep again within seconds to her friend’s disgust. It had been a difficult task to half-carry Susie along with two purses.

Megan removed Susie’s purse from her shoulder and plopped it soundly on the dining room table. Then she announced with a loud voice, “Good night, Susie!” as she walked out the door locking it behind her. The disheveled drunk woman didn’t awaken until the following morning.

In spite of her late night rescue of Susie, Megan arose early and was grocery shopping around 9:30 the next morning when her cell phone rang. Retrieving it from her purse, she noticed the number on the caller ID and sighed audibly before answering it.

“Susie?”

“Did you bring me home last night? My car’s not outside.”

“Yes, I brought you home. You were smashed out of your mind at the Emperor again.”

“I wondered. Ooh, my head hurts.”

“I’m not surprised. You went to sleep in my car and I had to drag you inside. You were pretty out of it. By the way, your car’s in the lot at the Emperor.” Megan was unsympathetic.

“OK, as soon as I get over this headache, I’ll walk over and get it.”

“I’m going to the gym later. You want to go with me? Maybe work off some of last night’s calories?”

“I dunno. I am getting fat, though. Too much work. ”

“Too much booze, you mean. Susie, you have to stop this. You’re gonna kill yourself if you don’t kill somebody else first. I know that you’re driving home drunk about every night. If somebody even tries to cross the street in those three blocks, you’d run over them without even veering.”

“I know, but it’s the only way that I can get unwound. Work is a bitch.”

“Susie, get off the booze and find another job, or we’re not friends anymore. I’m tired of taking care of you like this.”

“After all this time, and after all we’ve been through?”

“And all of the denial that you’re in right now. You’re darn right that I would end our friendship. I would rather do that than watch you destroy yourself. If you can’t do it yourself, there are plenty of programs out there that can. Now go get some medicine for your headache, get your car, then come back to your apartment and think about what I said. And if you decide to booze it up again at the Emperor tonight, don’t call me to rescue you.”

Megan slammed her flip phone shut and almost threw it back in her purse. She spent the next fifteen minutes wandering the grocery store aisles in order to calm herself. Even as a psychiatrist, you lose hope trying to help someone, especially if she’s your best friend, she sadly thought.

Susie, however, took the route that came naturally the past several months. She found an unopened bottle of vodka in her apartment’s kitchen and poured herself a drink straight up. It wasn’t long until she had drunk herself into a stupor even worse than the previous evening’s debacle. Passing out on her couch, she awakened eighteen hours later and staggered to her kitchen seeking relief for the pounding headache of a hangover.

Looking at the clock, she wondered why it was dark outside until she realized that it was shortly after four - in the morning. Darn, it’s Sunday morning, she thought to herself. No liquor store open at this hour. Maybe I have enough in my opened bottles to get me through, though.

But before imbibing again, she decided to take a break and let the drugs take effect, hopefully relieving her headache once again.

Susie dimmed her living room lights and turned on the television. She paid a lot of money for cable service that she seldom used. But at this hour of the morning, there was a religious program on. Most times, she would have flipped the channel automatically. But she began to listen. The minister, a woman, was speaking about self-destruction and how God had helped her to overcome her drug and alcohol habit.

After thirty minutes, Susie was in tears, ashamed of what she had done to herself. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen. I need all the prayer that I can get, she told herself. On the other end of the line, an elderly woman answered. Verbally stumbling at first, Susie told the woman why she called, that she was ashamed of her nightly drinking and the resultant damage to her reputation at work and to her physical body.

The woman listened carefully and prayed with Susie, encouraging her to find a church to attend, as well as a recovery group to stay accountable. A feeling washed over her, something more powerful and calming than the booze had ever been. Susie knew that she couldn’t use alcohol to escape any longer, that something else would have to take its place. God or Jesus or whatever, she knew that she had to find out more. Thanking the woman profusely, Susie hung up and vowed to change the way she was heading.

Flipping on her computer, she began to research churches in the area. Having seldom attended, some of the terms like “Holy Spirit” and “Evangelical” were unfamiliar. But after looking around, she found a nearby church that sounded open and friendly. The woman had told her, “If you don’t like the first one you walk into, then find another one ‘til you find one that suits you.”

Shortly after 7:00, she was done with her research. It was time to do the next thing – to pour out all of the alcohol that she had accumulated in her apartment.

Before she started, though, she had to use the bathroom. Instead of avoiding the full-length mirror on the back of the door, Susie took a good look at herself and what she saw shocked and dismayed her. Her once trim body was flabby and ill-defined. There was a pot belly instead of a flat stomach. Her thighs jiggled as she slapped them. Her hair was limp, ill kempt, and had little shine.

She became angry at herself, but then the woman’s words from the prayer line came back to her. ‘Don’t blame yourself, with God’s help, just change’, the woman admonished. Leaving the bathroom in tears once again, it would be easy to take the next step.

Returning to the kitchen, Susie poured bottle after bottle of alcohol down the drain, placing the empties in a box that she had placed next to the kitchen sink. Afterward, she took the bottles to the apartment trash dumpster and heaved them in, causing a loud crash of glass breaking.

Walking back to her apartment, Susie walked inside and promptly began sniffling again. After a few minutes, she knew what she had to do. Realizing that it was nearing 8:00, she thought that Megan might be up.

Dialing the number, it was three rings before it was answered. It was a rare morning – Megan was still sleeping – but as soon as the psychiatrist answered, she dried her tears and tried to talk normally.

“Megan, I’m sorry to wake you up this early.”

“You’re not drunk. You’re not hung over. What happened?”

“Megan, it’s all gone. I got rid of it. There isn’t an ounce of alcohol in the apartment anymore.”

“What happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story. But I want to go to church today. Would you go with me?”

“Church? OoooK. But I’m still curious.” Megan, even though her career was in its infancy, was jaded by those who claimed to have a quick turnaround. She knew that her best friend had a strong will, but a destructive habit normally wasn’t overcome with one decision.

Susie went through the whole story with Megan – about her drunkenness, waking up early in the morning, but most of all turning on the television to the religious program.

“Susie, don’t go overboard. Are you sure that you were ready to throw out the alcohol? What happens the next time that you have a bad day? Are you going to head on down to the Emperor and get yourself drunk once again? Or are you going to liquor store to buy a bottle?”

“No. I’m not going there anymore. The whole alcohol and getting drunk thing was a hole. I was throwing my life away!”

“So you’re going to throw alcohol out and become one of those religious crazies?” Megan regretted the question the second that it left her. Even though she hadn’t been in church in years, she hated to categorize people. But even God has let me down, Megan thought, as she sadly remembered the prayers of her youth. Why would God let my parents do what they did? They went to church, albeit occasionally. Wasn’t God a loving entity?

Fortunately, Susie didn’t catch the cutting remark. “No! I just feel like that I belong in church – somehow. I can’t explain it. I just need to go this morning. Would you go with me? There’s a church called Calvary Hill just down the block from me. On their website, it sounds like a church full of young people, kind of like us.”

“Are you forgetting one thing? Churches don’t want my kind around. I mean, all I’d have to do is say, ‘I used to be a boy’ and they’d escort me out of there quicker than you know what.”

“Nobody has to know that. When I met you, there was no way in the world that I would have guessed. And now that’s the case for sure. How many people around the hospital know?

“Not many. And I want to keep it that way for right now.”

“So don’t tell anybody at the church.”

Megan knew that she was on the losing end of the argument, and she was relieved that Susie wanted to do something other than drink.

“OK. What time is the service?”

“10:30. I’ll be by to pick you up at 10:15.” Oh, and I have to go pick up my car, Susie reminded herself, since her car was still parked at the Emperor parking lot. I hope it’s still OK, she told herself.

“OK. You’ve talked me into it. I’ll go with you.” With relief, Megan decided that it was safe to ride with Susie for the first time in a long time.

Susie pulled up to Megan’s apartment a few minutes early. Fortunately, the psychiatrist was waiting outside for her. Peering inside the car before opening the door, she was delighted to see that the “old Susie” was back again. In spite of her clothes being too tight, she looked like a professional in casual clothes with her makeup perfect and her hair in place. Megan smiled broadly at her friend as she sat down.

“Thank you for going with me. This is the first time that I’ve been to church since I was a little girl” Susie said to Megan as she sat down.

“You’re welcome”, Megan answered, not really sure how to react to such a sudden turnaround in her friend.

As she drove off from Megan’s apartment, Susie continued, “Look, I’ve been thinking, I need to buy some new clothes until I can lose this extra weight. I can’t believe how fat I’ve let myself get. After church, would you go with me to the mall so I can get a few things?”

Megan could scarcely believe what she was hearing. This was the pre-alcohol Susie speaking again. This has been some kind of miracle, she thought to herself.

“Sure. I need to go to the gym, too. You want to go with me afterwards?”

“I would love to. But I probably won’t last too long on the treadmill.”

“Just walk to start with.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

At that moment, they passed some runners on a trail alongside the road.

“That’s what I’d really like to do”, Susie remarked.

“Me, too. I’ve always thought that would be so great – get some fresh air, some stress relief, along with the exercise.”

“You want to try that this afternoon, instead?”

“We need some running shoes, Susie. And some clothes.”

“Great. Maybe we can look for that this afternoon, too.”

“OK. You’re on.”

Inwardly, Megan celebrated the seeming return of her friend. Let’s see how long this lasts, she told herself.

The pair arrived at Calvary Hill at 10:25 and were promptly guided to a parking place by a long-haired teen boy dressed in jeans and a bright red hoodie. Well, this is different than those stuffy places that Mom and Dad used to haul me to on Easter, Megan reflected. She still cringed at the memories of having to wear a suit and tie on such occasions.

The pair alit from the Mustang and made their way to the entrance. Once inside, they were greeted warmly by a man and his wife not much older than Megan and Susie. Then they entered the sanctuary, a long high room that was plainly equipped with a tile floor and padded folding chairs. On the stage was a simple podium, a wooden cross on a stand, and numerous instruments for a band, the latter of which began playing with words like hymns but with a beat of rock music.

The service began with a prayer. After the prayer, there were was more “praise music” accompanied by guitars, drums, vocalists, and even a trumpet. Then came the sermon, a passionate message that struck to the heart of what Susie had just experienced with her drinking. Tears kept coming to her eyes during the message as she realized just how far down that she had fallen.

Megan, on the other hand, came into church totally unprepared to face her feelings, which was odd considering her profession. But as the sermon was being delivered, she thought about her circumstances. Her life consisted of her work and little else outside her friendship with Susie and a few others. Because of her parents’ rejection, she had no family with which to share. Megan still hurt from the death of Matt Belwick, as well. Throughout the message, she recognized how empty her life had become and how much “baggage” that she carried from life. In a way, she was just like Susie, except that she hadn’t given in to a destructive habit. She needed something more, a purpose. A feeling of calm swept over her. Maybe the answer was there in front of her if she would just give into it, she decided.

In the seat next to Megan, the words “I need Jesus” kept echoing through Susie’s mind. At the end of the service was an invitation for prayer while the band continued to play. Susie started forward, but turned first to her friend and whispered, “Are you coming, too?” Megan nodded to her friend, scrambling as best she could from the row of chairs, closely following Susie to an area at the front of the church where several had gathered to pray for others.

The prayer would be a turning point in the women’s lives. A middle-age mother of five prayed with the pair, first for their acceptance of Christ, and the second, for healing. Susie prayed for forgiveness for all that she had done, to others and to herself.

Megan’s response was much more cerebral. She told God that she needed Him, and asked if He forgive her for all the things that she had done wrong in her life. She also asked for the strength to forgive her parents for rejecting her.

While they responded differently, each woman made a lifelong commitment, starting down a path that would lead to healing for both of them. Susie had decided to use some of the money that she had saved, quit her job and open up her own investment advisory business. Megan decided to forgive her parents and to treat each of her patients as God’s children and not her own.

For each of them, this church service was not the end of their issues. It would take time for Susie to forget about the bottle. For several more months, she would slip and go to a bar and imbibe heavily. But each time, while still sober enough to reason, she would call Megan in tears, and the psychiatrist would respond with help and encouragement. At the end of the year, Susie was a teetotaler except for an occasional glass of wine with dinner.

For Megan, there were hurts that were deeply buried, and it would also take more time for them to be resolved. While still upset at losing her parents, Megan was no longer embittered at their actions. Not yet ready to face them, she decided that a reunion would come about sometime. As for being transgender, Megan was no longer ashamed. Christ didn’t demand that she go back and “change back” to a boy. Her sins were forgiven and God could work through her as a complete and reconciled person. Over the next several months, she would also finally complete her grieving for Matt Belwick.

After church, the two went shopping and to the gym as promised. As Megan had feared, an overweight and out of shape Susie didn’t make it far on the treadmill. But Susie’s mood was upbeat and she laughed at herself, much to Megan’s relief. A few days later, the women donned their running outfits for the first time. Susie didn’t make it far, a few blocks, before wheezing to a walk. But over the next several months, she would lose the weight and would again be toned enough to go further. Megan joined her and soon the two would find a hobby that would strengthen their friendship and their bodies.

Along with the running, the two developed a deep faith in God and their mutual faith would strengthen them.

CHAPTER 6

March, 2007

Susie Templeton couldn’t wait to share this kind of good news to her best friend. What was a gamble twenty-two months earlier had turned into a win better than almost any casino. It was tantamount to winning the lottery.

She had just returned from having lunch with another investment counselor. While she was out, her cell phone buzzed with news that had huge financial implications for Susie and Megan. Each of them had invested $5,000 in a small but innovative restaurant chain. The concept had exploded in popularity, and a corporation desperate to revive its stodgy image decided to pay off the original investors in exchange for their portion of ownership – at one hundred times their original investment. Susie and Megan each stood to net a half million dollars.

Kicking off her stilettos, Susie leaned back in her chair. This would be a great day, as Susie had garnered eight other investors besides her and Megan. Since the other investors were wealthy, they stood to gain a large amount in exchange for an infinitesimal portion of their wealth. The news would solidify Susie’s growing reputation as one of the best investment counselors in the city.

Before she called Megan, though, Susie had to say a prayer of thanks first. The timing of the original investment – just weeks after her decision to accept God and to leave alcohol behind as a crutch – couldn’t be ignored. Instead of living with modest savings and mostly paycheck-to-paycheck, Megan and Susie would be assured modest financial security. Even though it seemed like a reward, Susie had to remind herself that it was really grace. It was time to call her friend, so she picked up her desk phone and pressed Megan’s speed dial number.

Susie’s call to Megan went to voice mail, and the investment counselor sighed. Darn, she thought, no telling when she’ll call me back.

Two minutes later, her cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, Susie gladly saw that it was Megan.

“What’s up, Doc?” Susie called her “Doc” when she was in a particularly silly or giddy mood.

On the other end of the phone, Megan heartily laughed at her friend.

“Thanks, I needed that. It’s been a bum of a morning. I’ve run up and down the stairs between the garage and my office at least four times.”

“Wow. Well, this ought to change your day a little bit.”

“Someone gave you five pounds of chocolate and you wanna share it with me.”

“This puts five pounds of chocolate to shame, lady. You know that $5,000 you gave me a couple of years ago?”

“Yes, a bunch of my hard-earned savings.”

“Well get ready to get it back, plus a whole bunch more. Enough to buy you that townhouse you’ve been eyeing forever.”

“What? No.” Megan couldn’t believe it. No, no way, she told herself. Susie’s just kidding me.

“Yeah, about a cool half million, that is. Translates to around four hundred after tax.”

“You’re kidding. That’s impossible. Four hundred thousand after tax?”

“Yep.”

It was too much to believe for the psychiatrist. There was a townhouse development in a new “infill” area not far from the hospital. The units were just now being completed, but Megan had looked at the model three months previous and loved it. She had chided herself for looking at them, because even with low interest for first-time home buyers, they were realistically out of reach for her budget.

“I still can’t believe this is real.”

Susie went on to explain the corporate buyout, and that Megan would see the money within sixty days.

Susie concluded with, “That’s it. I hope you enjoy your townhouse. I’d put half down on it, then get another car to replace that piece of junk that you keep fixing.”

Megan retorted, “That’s not the way to talk about Cory Corolla.”

“I’m just going by how much money you’ve spent on him the past year. I mean, your parents gave you that car when you were in high school. That doesn’t mean that it has to last a lifetime. This isn’t Cuba, for goodness sake!”

“You’re right. It’s time that I get a vehicle befitting a doctor.”

“Megan, I know that you’re thrifty, and goodness knows we both had to do it when we were poor college kids. But we’re both professionals now. And you came out with virtually no student loans thanks to your scholarships. You need to enjoy your status now. You worked hard for it.”

“You’re right. And yes, I’ll look at the townhouse again tonight. I should be able to write them a check for a deposit.”

Megan checked her watch out of habit, and realizing that she had a patient waiting, exclaimed, “Darn. I gotta go. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

In a serious tone, Susie answered her, “Thank you for saving my life when I buried it in a bottle, lady. And for running the marathon with me. I’ll never forget it.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, my BFF”, Megan said quietly.

Two months later, she made a long-delayed trip to the car dealership and bought a brand-new BMW X3. It turned out to be perfect timing, as Cory Corolla refused to start for the dealer employees as Megan drove out of the dealer’s driveway in her new SUV.

Then just ten days after that, Megan closed on her brand-new three-bedroom townhouse. It was larger than she really wanted, but for some reason, it seemed right to have the extra space. Being the first owner, Megan had been able to pick her floor coverings and paint. By offering half down, the payment and interest rate on the townhouse was well within her budget and less than the rent in a far smaller apartment.

CHAPTER 7

November 4, 2007 – New York City – site of the 2007 New York City Marathon

The day dawned a cool 45 degrees in the Big Apple. Megan and Susie had arrived two days earlier after months of training for this day. Just a year earlier, they discussed running the ultimate race for an amateur – a marathon. Now, here they were, standing in the starting area with over 12,000 other women on a bright clear Sunday morning. The pair had prayed for no rain, little wind, and a cool day. Their wish came true on two out of three, the wind being the only exception. But with race temperatures warming into the fifties, a little wind to help cool them would be welcome.

They had spent several previous days “carb loading” on a heavy carbohydrates diet, as well as drinking as much water as they could stand. Before beginning the race, they loaded up once again, but were careful to avoid overdoing it. So the two were as ready as they could be.

Megan had donned corrective goggles with a tight head strap instead of her normal round glasses. Just above the goggles, she had tied a bright orange headband around her head. Behind that, the psychiatrist had loosely tied her shoulder length hair to keep it straight. Both women sported matching race outfits of dark blue. Each of them wore a sponsor vest that promoted a local charity.

As the starting time neared, Megan and Susie smiled nervously at each other and talked quietly, each pacing around the other in anticipation. Susie could tell that something else was on Megan’s mind, though, but now wasn’t the time to address it, she decided.

Finally, it was time to line up, and the crack of a starting pistol marked the beginning of the race.

“Not too fast”, Megan kept telling herself. Even though the women had practiced this run several times in the past few months, the course back home was fairly level, more so than the route through all of New York’s boroughs.

The race started with an uphill climb for the first mile through Brooklyn, then settled down to a fairly level trek to the northeast. After levelling off, Megan let Susie sprint several yards ahead of her, but after a bit shouted, “Hey short stuff, what’s your hurry?”

Animatedly, Susie slowed down enough to let Megan catch up. After a few miles, the immense starting crowd had begun to scatter, making it easier for Megan and Susie to run almost side-by-side as they had through their training. In spite of Megan being taller, her leg length was almost identical to Susie’s, so their stride was almost identical.

The pair reached the Queensboro bridge halfway point in relatively good shape. Ever the type “A” person, Susie was concerned that they were too slow, but Megan reminded her of all the pre-race material that they studied that suggested otherwise. Fortunately, the two women had watched their hydration and nutrition and had taken advantage of water and bars given out along the route.

As expected, the crowds greatly increased after the pair came off the bridge into Manhattan. Megan and Susie began to pay more and more attention to their bodies as they tired. At mile 20, the course began to climb back uphill. Entering Central Park, their eyes took in the beauty of it, but their minds were oblivious to anything but the miles ahead of them. Just after mile 24, Susie began having light cramps in her legs. “Walk it off, walk it off”, Megan shouted at her. She slowed her own pace to a crawl to allow her friend to catch up. Within seconds, the cramps subsided and the women continued on.

Just a half mile from the finish line, an exhausted Megan slowed to a walk, telling her best friend, “I can’t do it, I can’t do it. Too tired. Too sore.” Susie retorted back, “Megan Ann Phillips, you’re going to finish this race if I have to pick you up and carry you. Now come on.” The investment counselor took her half-empty water bottle and splashed it in Megan’s face which the latter wasn’t expecting. This drew a surprised gasp from Megan, and slowly, she started running again.

The pair crossed the finish line in four hours, forty-five minutes, about average for the women running the marathon. For several minutes afterward, they walked around slowly, taking gulps of water and rehydrating drinks and snacking on bars that the organizers were passing out to race finishers.

Susie and Megan looked at each other, but didn’t say a word until Megan finally broke the ice.

“We did it.” Megan was almost nonchalant about it, but her friend could tell that she had something on her mind besides finishing the race.

“Yeah, we did!” Ignoring Megan’s mood for the moment, Susie decided to be enthusiastic even as she was wondering what her friend was thinking.

Susie continued. “Y’know, two and a half years ago, I was a fat, out of shape drunk who didn’t care about anything other than where her next drink was coming from. And look where we are now!”

But Megan was looking across the finish area at a family where the mother had run the race, and the father had brought their toddler and young school age children to greet her at the finish line. It pulled mightily at her, representing more of what she wanted than the race that they had finished.

As Susie looked over toward the family, she looked back at Megan staring at them with tears in her eyes.

“Megan, what’s wrong?” Susie was genuinely alarmed by this time, wondering if Megan had gotten too dehydrated and was suffering a delusion or maybe something more serious. Going over to her, she hugged her tightly while Megan continued to be silent, tears ebbing but emitting occasional momentary sobs.

Finally, the two made their way over to an area where chairs had been set up to allow race participants to rest.

Susie broke the ice again, almost chiding her friend. “Would you please tell me what’s going on. I’m really worried about you.”

Megan looked down at first, but slowly raised her head and looked in her friend’s eyes. “Susie, I looked at that family and I realized that I want that more than any other thing in the world. I want a child. I want a husband. I want to be that Mom that holds her kids, gets onto them when they do something wrong. I want to hear, ‘Hi, Mom’ when they come home from school. And I want a husband to hold me, to tell me what a good day or bad day he’s had, to get onto him when he puts his feet on the furniture.”

Pausing a second, she continued. “I’m not ungrateful for what God’s done. I mean, I was kicked out and disowned, and now I’m a doctor. I’ve helped to save people who would have otherwise taken their own life. I have a wonderful best friend who I just shared the thrill of a lifetime with. I’m just incomplete.”

Lovingly, Susie stroked the side of Megan’s face. “When you saw that family, you thought about Matt again and how he would have brought your kids down here to see Mommy finish the race. You were the woman when you saw that family.”

Megan shook her head up and down without saying a word for several seconds. “Yeah, I still miss him. And selfishly, I still want a child. I want to be called ‘Mom’, even if I can’t have a husband.”

“And why do you think that you won’t have those someday?”

“I pray about it every night, and has it happened? No.”

“Megan, you have to trust God. He knows what He’s doing. His timing is perfect.”

“But it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Remember where I was? A drunk with a hangover sitting in front of the TV since there weren’t any liquor stores open in the middle of the night. Could He have reached me before then? Would He have reached me if my best friend hadn’t told me that she was ready to end our friendship? No and no. Everything had to line up.”

Megan sighed audibly. Her exhausted body was sucking what little energy that she had away from her brain.

“OK. I’ll try to remember that. Maybe it isn’t time yet.”

Susie hugged Megan. “It will work out. Trust me. Now, let’s go get something to eat.” Holding up her medal for finishing, she added, “I want to celebrate this medal that we earned for finishing!”

Megan finally smiled back at her friend. Susie’s right, she decided. Everything is going to work out – someday. I just have to be patient, she told herself.

“I’m starving. But didn’t they say to watch it for a while?”

“There’s a great pizza place back by the hotel. Did you smell it last night? And what will it hurt if we take it back to the room and eat it as we feel like it?”

“Good plan, Miss Templeton. Now where were those shuttle buses?”

CHAPTER 8 – Just over six months later

A Friday evening in April, 2008, in the same city where Megan and Susie lived

Everyone who ever met Kyle (pronounced “Ky-lee”) Britton knew that she was a girl. The only people who didn’t seem aware of this fact were her father Jerry and the Office of Vital Records that maintained Kyle’s birth certificate. The “fix” that Peter Nicosa made on Kyle didn’t change how she felt (like a girl) or her physical appearance. The five feet, six inch Kyle looked a few years younger than her actual age of fifteen. Even so, her long fingers, delicate features, and girlish voice all added up to “girl”. Other than some issues when she was an infant, Kyle grew up much as any other child, except that her puberty had not yet started.

Earlier in her life, having no breasts and no shape didn’t bother Kyle. Now that she was fifteen, it had started to become an issue to her. There were times that she looked in the mirror after taking a shower and saying “When am I gonna get boobs and a butt?” Even the “breast buds” that very young girls develop weren’t there. The appendage left by Dr. Nicosa was also a reminder that she wasn’t a “regular girl”.

Kyle’s lack of development merely fueled her father’s insistence that the teen was a boy and abusing her if she didn’t comply. As a result, Jerry insisted that Kyle dress like a boy much of the time, which humiliated her since she felt otherwise. Lately, though, with her mother’s help, she began to “push the envelope” by purchasing androgynous items that were worn by both genders, like skinny jeans and brightly colored shirts. Brenda supplemented these with actual girls’ clothing which Kyle wore clandestinely when her father was not around.

Fortunately, Kyle did not allow the “rules” to affect her self-image. Her schoolmates merely looked at her as a “tomboy” who never dressed like a girl, but didn’t tease her over her clothing choices. As a result, Kyle had many friends and that kept her outlook positive. Her schoolwork didn’t suffer, either, as she was one of the top students in her class.

This particular afternoon, Kyle was at the home of her “BFF”, Jessica White. Kyle and Jessica met in the first grade and gradually developed a relationship that more closely resembled sisterhood than friends. Earlier in the day, the two girls learned that they were to have a test in their History class the following Monday. For both, this called for serious study as History was not a strong suit for either. As soon as school was dismissed, Jessica and Kyle headed for Jessica’s house and her plush upstairs bedroom. Even though the two girls lived only a few blocks apart, there was a world of difference in their homes. Jessica’s home was over three thousand square feet, with a brick exterior and luxury furnishings inside. Kyle’s house, on the other hand, was an older frame home that was much smaller and more middle-to-lower class. Given that Jessica’s parents both had demanding jobs and worked overtime virtually every day, the house would be quiet where the girls could study.

As an outlet for her repressed femininity, Kyle took full advantage of Jessica’s extensive cache of feminine clothing every time that she was at Jessica’s house. This was possible as both girls wore the same size in virtually everything including shoes. As soon as the girls arrived at Jessica’s, Kyle found a dress and heels to wear, and she quickly changed. This was part of the routine that the two had developed, as Jessica long ago found out about Kyle’s situation. Kyle could be herself, a talkative, bubbly teenager with a bit of attitude. At home, she had to be quiet and could show nothing but a semblance of a male personality while her father was around.

At last, though, the sun’s light began to wane and Kyle knew she better get home. Jessica and Kyle were weary from the school day and from studying, in any case. After changing back to her “boy clothes”, the two girls hugged each other and said their good-byes. Jessica and Kyle promised to get together again the following day, when Jessica’s Mom had planned to take them to a nearby mall.

“I hope Dad isn’t home yet”, Kyle admitted.

“Maybe he stayed around the bar longer than usual. It is Friday night.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t get paid today. That’s next Friday. So he won’t stay too long.”

“I’m sorry.” Jessica was genuinely sorry for Kyle, for Jessica had heard about Kyle being beaten due to Jerry’s alcoholism and his shame about the “boy” in the family.

“Guess I better go”, Kyle said disappointingly. Jessica followed her friend to the front door of the White house. Kyle bounded quickly down the steps and waved back to her friend as she began the walk back to her house.

The beating that Kyle feared was not merely limited to herself. Her mother Brenda was not immune to Jerry’s wrath, either. He had begun to beat Brenda some years before when she attempted to circumvent his controlling ways. While he charged her with taking care of the family funds, if something didn’t appear right, he punished her for it.

As Kyle neared home, she dreaded another beating, and the reason for the slow stroll home was the result of consideration for how to avoid her father once again. She knew that her Pokemon shirt, skinny jeans, and ankle boots were clothing of which Jerry would not approve.

She had two choices – run past him and try to make it up the stairs to her room before her father, or climb up the fire escape ladder that extended from her second-story bedroom window. However, the teen had locked her bedroom window the night before when she heard noises outside, so the latter option was not possible.

As she neared home, Kyle spotted her Dad’s white Dodge Ram diesel truck in the driveway. It was his pride and joy and neither his wife nor his “son” could dare criticize his choice, even though it was an extravagant purchase for a factory production supervisor. The Britton family didn’t own a boat, trailer, recreational vehicle, or anything that could use the overpowered truck as a tow vehicle. The truck was merely an egotistical purchase meant to stroke Jerry’s ego and supposedly make him the envy of his friends. Every month, Brenda Britton had to carefully watch their funds so that they could make the payments on the vehicle. As a result, it had become a sore spot with Brenda and Kyle as they had to sacrifice at times to pay for their father’s selfishness.

Carefully strolling up the driveway, Kyle spotted her father sitting in his worn recliner buried behind a newspaper that partially obstructed his view. It was time, Kyle decided. Opening the door, she made a run for the stairs, only to be spotted by her father in his peripheral vision.

“Dressed like a goodam fag again, I see. Brenda, when are you gonna quit buyin’ him clothes like that?” he yelled. Kyle was completely upstairs by the time that Jerry managed to drop his paper and begin to make his way up the stairs. There was just enough time for Kyle to go into her room, lock the door, and push her chest of drawers against it as a barricade. If Jerry did manage to break through, Kyle reasoned that she could make it down the fire escape ladder and run back to her friend’s house if necessary.

This particular evening, though, something within her snapped. She remembered not only her own beating from a couple of weeks earlier, but also one particularly loud conflict between her Mom and Dad from just a week earlier. There had been an emergency plumbing repair necessary and Brenda had to raid their savings account for the cost. Jerry had disagreed with her decision, insisting that they could have made it without taking it from their savings. The disagreement ended with Jerry striking Brenda with his hand, leaving a particularly ugly mark across her face. The mark had faded, Kyle noted, but it was a sign as to how violent that Jerry had gotten lately.

Tears began to stream down Kyle’s face. It didn’t matter how much she tried, the relationship with her father was hopeless. Her mother had proven to be equally powerless to resist Jerry’s wrath. When would this end? Could Mom and I make it on our own? Would Dad come after us even after we left? There were hundreds of questions that ran through Kyle’s mind one after another.

For weeks, Kyle had been suffering within herself regarding who she was and whether she was the cause of her parents’ marital issues. Am I really a freak and am I guilty of all this, Kyle wondered. Do they need me around? Wouldn’t Mom and Dad be better off without me? Between the tears, Kyle wanted to do something to alleviate the pain. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she could take this with Jessica’s help. But this time, she didn’t know what was going to happen.

Kyle heard Jerry yell as he went up the stairs toward her room, but then his father’s steps stopped and retreated. She thought that maybe his temper had abated. Nothing could have been further from the truth. However, it didn’t make any difference to Kyle. She knew that she had to do something to try to alleviate all of this yelling and conflict. Ending her life seemed logical at the time. I can’t live with this anymore, she kept telling herself. Instead of calling the police or a suicide line, in her immature mind, the only way to handle the stress was to take her own life.

Through her sobs, she looked across her room, spotting a utility knife that she had used on a craft project earlier in the week. In a headlong lunge, she grabbed it and made a cut near the main veins in her wrist. As the blood began to pour out, she found two towels in her room with which to soak up part of the blood. Like most people who try to commit suicide, though, she regretted it as soon as she made the cut. Kyle would have to seek help, regardless of the results.

With part of her last strength, Kyle moved the chest away from the door and unlocked it. Yelling “Help” to downstairs, her Mom heard it but was unable to act. As the blood continued to pour from her wrist, the teen stepped into the hallway to hear what was happening between Jerry and Brenda. Kyle couldn’t see it, but Jerry had cornered her mother in the kitchen while wielding a piece of galvanized pipe that the plumbers had used in the repairs from a week earlier.

“This is gonna be the last time that you try to influence our son to be a girl. He’s a boy and don’t you forget it!” Jerry’s words rang throughout the house as Kyle retreated from the hallway, helplessly listening upstairs in the doorway to her room.

Jerry began using the pipe to strike Brenda several times, with Brenda screaming and attempting to defend herself the best that she could. But finally, Jerry broke through her attempts, and striking her on the head, knocked her unconscious. Looking at her in shock, not realizing the power with which he performed his foolish act, he decided to run to the bar that he frequented. It was his frequent method of escape after beating his wife or child, then regretting his actions. This evening was no exception. All the while, Kyle was upstairs listening to the beating, trying her best to control her bleeding with an old towel, and trying to cry quietly knowing what was occurring to her mother.

After hearing her Dad’s footsteps depart the kitchen, followed by the sound of the front door slamming, Kyle slowly proceeded downstairs to check on her mother. Seeing her mother unconscious on the kitchen floor combined with her own blood loss was too much and she fainted, the now blood-soaked towel still wrapped around her wrist.

Fortunately, Jerry left the front door unlocked in his haste, and soon as his truck left, their elderly next door neighbor Velma Hodgins ran from her house to check on them. She had called 911 a few minutes earlier when she heard Brenda’s screams.

Velma feared the worst, and the sight before her matched the nightmare that she anticipated. A retired nurse, Velma noted Kyle’s blood loss and located some kitchen towels to attempt to stem the flow of blood the best that she could. Determining that Brenda was unconscious but still breathing, Kyle became her first priority.

Kyle awakened within seconds of Velma’s arrival. The elderly woman was now faced with stemming the blood flow from Kyle’s wrist and trying to calm the teen with her unconscious mother was in plain sight. Grabbing more towels from a cabinet in the kitchen, Velma managed to place a tourniquet on Kyle’s arm, temporarily slowing down the bleeding.

Before she had a chance to check on Brenda, an ambulance and a police car showed up. Brenda had started to awaken but was in some pain from a blow to her head.

Within the next thirty minutes, Kyle’s slashes were patched up by the ambulance personnel while Brenda’s scratches were treated and an examination for a concussion had been completed. It didn’t take long for the police to classify Brenda’s injuries as domestic violence. Both would need to be transported by ambulance to Metro Hospital.

After mother and daughter had been loaded in the ambulance, Velma locked their front door and followed the ambulance to the hospital. She would bring Brenda home later that evening after some x-rays determined that she only suffered severe bruising, not a concussion that would require hospitalization. However, Kyle would need to spend several days there in their Mental Health Unit since her injuries were classified as a suicide attempt.

The same Friday evening, in an upscale condominium complex in the metro area

Megan Anne Phillips, MD relaxed in her Jacuzzi tub, surrounded by several lit cinnamon scented candles, a glass of wine on the tub rim, and her IPad in hand. The 34-year-old psychiatrist had opted for this downtime immediately following a six-mile run with Susie.

Megan was looking through all of the monthly psychiatric journals to which she subscribed, and was interspersing that with reading the latest entertainment tabloids that she read to satisfy her curiosity about the rich and famous.

Carefully sitting the tablet/phone on the rim of the tub, she reached for the wine. She had taken out all-hazards insurance on the IPad, but was warned that no more would be paid for by insurance if she dropped it in water. Three previous IPads had met that fate in her tub during times such as this. After “frying” the third one, she was finally careful.

After a long drink, she again picked up the device and resumed reading an article on the effectiveness of a certain medication on schizoid behaviors. Deep in the article, the phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, it was the Chief of Psychiatry at Metro Mental Health, her boss, Terry Weston. Pressing the button to answer the phone in speaker mode, she calmly spoke.

“Hi, Terry!”

“Megan! How are you doing? Since you’re not breathing heavily, I assume I haven’t caught you running again.”

Megan smiled. Weston was always giving her a hard time regarding her favorite off-duty activity. She was known throughout MMH as a “runner”.

“Caught me in the Jacuzzi with candles, a glass of wine, and my reading.”

“Every woman’s favorite fantasy.”

“No, every woman’s favorite fantasy is to not hear from her boss while she’s in her Jacuzzi. You’re lucky, though – the merlot has softened my mood.”

Terry couldn’t help but smile as well. Megan and her boss always traded barbs good-naturedly because of the mutual respect that they had for each other. Much of their work involved very depressing situations and a sense of humor helped to blunt the inherent sadness.

“I’ll keep it short, I promise. I’d like you to talk to a patient who came in tonight. The records say “male”, but this 15-year-old looks more like a girl than most girls. I only spent a short time with her because they were still trying to patch her up from slashing her wrists, but she kept telling me, “I’m a girl!” I’ll send her file down to you shortly."

“OK, Terry. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I don’t have much on the schedule, so there’ll be plenty of time.”

“Hopefully, it’ll stay that way for you. The older I get, the worse these weekend stints get.”

Megan laughed. She would miss Weston when he retired in a few years. As well as a good doctor, he was a good administrator without an accompanying ego. Such a combination was rare in her opinion.

“Thank you! Have a good night, now! Bye.”

Phillips was considered to be the best psychiatrist for transgender children in a several state area. Her career was not without controversy, however. Because of her own background as transgender, she didn’t mince words for those in the field who steered their young patients immediately toward transition. Her view of the process was to ascertain that transgender patients merely didn’t feel like or want to be like the other gender, but were genuinely the “real thing” as she termed it. Many slammed her for being too strict a “gatekeeper”, but in her fairly short career, she pointed with pride to the fact that none of the patients that she counseled had “de-transitioned” to their original gender.

Within a couple of minutes, the new patient’s file summary appeared in her secure email box. This was going to be an interesting case, she ascertained. Terry was right – from the picture provided, Megan would have guessed “girl” one hundred percent of the time. However, any case where an attempted suicide by a teen was involved was serious, and had to be handled delicately.

After her bath, Megan read for a bit longer, but with the prospect of an early morning wakeup call from her alarm, she turned out her light a bit after 11:00.