Chapter 18 – Spring Break

“Mom, did I just hear you right? You think I should dress more girly?” I couldn’t believe what I just heard. I never expected this to be our discussion over lunch. Dad was off running some errands and then off to Nashville to pick up my Aunt, my Uncle, and my cousins. It was just us girls. If anything, I expected Mom to say dress less like a girl, not more.

“Yes, Samantha, I did say dress more like a girl, not less.”

“Okay, I don’t mind, but I am a bit surprised. May I at least know why I am being asked to be more girly?”

“Because your sister made an excellent observation to me yesterday. She commented that when you change back into being a boy, anyone whom you have met as a girl might be able to recognize you more easily because I worked it so you were less girly. But, if I allow you go more girly now, you stand a better chance of them not finding out about your past.”

“Mom, that isn’t all I said.” Jane said.

“Yes, I know dear, but she is still my child and I am responsible for her. And ...”

“Mom, you know very well what I mean.”

“Okay, I see your point. Samantha, what your sister says is that I need to relax a few rules. She feels you need to be trusted more to explore.”

“I thought I was trusted.” I was confused.

Mom looked at Jane. “Your right. She doesn’t understand. You two are really too far apart in age for her to remember.” She looked back at me. “Honey, when Jane was your age, I allowed her to do things. One, I gave her the freedom to redo her room within reason. Two, I gave her leeway on finding clothes that made her look good and feel pretty. In that respect, Jane has pointed out correctly that I have sabotaged you. While I have picked out clothing that works and looks respectable on you, I haven’t, with the exception of the funeral dress, allowed you the option of having clothes that look very pretty on you. To excuse the pun, and in the words of your sister, I have wanted you to be a plain Jane.”

I snickered. “Aw, Mom, it’s okay. I haven’t really minded.”

“I appreciate your not feeling slighted, but, Jane is right. You have been. And I ask for your forgiveness.”

I got up and went over to Mom and we hugged. “Mom, of course you have it. I just don’t think you have done anything wrong.”

“Pipsqueak, what we are saying is that you need to, as you put to me, find your own ‘style.’ You would be doing the same thing if you were still Sam the boy. And Mom would have let you. It is normal at your age to want to start expressing yourself. And, whether we like it or not, even as a girl, you need to be expressing yourself.”

“You see, honey, what I forget is that it is normal to experiment with your surroundings and your clothes. I think you need that latitude or else you won’t grow and mature. But, I only insist that you be tasteful.”

“Mom, thank you.” I thought for a moment about what she said. “Do you think we can go to the poster and framing store in the mall first?”

“Sure honey. Why?” Mom was intrigued.

“There is this Pierre-Auguste Renoir reproduction of two girls at a piano I have been wanting for my room. But, I have been too afraid to ask. I like it because it reminds me of the times I have been at the piano with another girl at school. And there are a few others.” Mom looked at Jane. Jane nodded as if to say, ‘See, I told you so.’

Jane then smiled and winked at me. So, after a quick lunch, we went to the mall. Mom and I ended up getting posters of “In The Meadow (Picking Flowers)” and “Young Girls at a Piano” by Renoir, “Garden Path at Giverny” by Monet, and, at the last moment, I grabbed “Dance at Bougival” by Renoir. Then we went into Sears and purchased a white comforter bedspread with a spring flower print. With it, we bought green sheets and I asked for a couple of pillows with lace around them. We also bought antique looking cranberry crystal lamps to put on my dresser. In addition, we got lace doilies to go on my furniture. Finally, I got flower print towels for me. Mom quickly figured out that I love flowers. I think she was very happy I wasn’t going Gothic or something even stranger.

Finally, we bought a cot to set up in my room for Tristan. Then some bedding for it too. And we were done. Then we stopped at an office store and bought some foam board and adhesive to mount the posters on.

Once home, Jane helped me redo my room. First, we mounted the posters to the foam board, cut them to size. Then we took wood trim, mitered it, and stapled simple frames around the mounted and trimmed posters. It felt like we were actually doing a Martha Stewart show project. Upstairs, I took down Rick Wakeman, rolled him up, and put him in my closet. Jane looked at me. “Are you sure? You have had that poster up forever.”

“Yes, I think it is time for a change.” I giggled. “I have found a picture of Justin Hayward in a flower print shirt from a performance of ‘Forever Autumn’ he did in the late 70s that I will order to replace Rick. Doug found it for me on that new website, Ebay. He promised to try and get it for me.”

“I sense a theme.” Jane said. She smiled and said, “I like it, Pipsqueak.”

“Squeak, squeak.” Jane smiled ear to ear.

The posters were sweet, charming, and beautifully lightened up my room giving it a spring like feel and loads of color. As we did the the new sheets, bedspread and new pillows, the room was completely changed not only in mood, but a real change from the austere room it had been before. My room was definitely brighter and more feminine. Yet, it was also classy and elegant. I knew I would make further changes. But this was a good start.

Mom came in to take a look. “My, my Samantha. I love it. I am very surprised. I expected you to go with a teenage theme. The latest boy band or something. This is more like what I would expect an adult to have in their room.”

“I saw them in the mall a little while ago while I had time to kill waiting for you all to show up for portraits. I fell in love with them. They were so beautiful and serene. I couldn’t get them out of my mind.”

Mom mused, “Well, they really make this a lovely room. And I am not surprised.”

“Why, Mom?”

“Because, when you were five, you cut yourself breaking a rose off a bush and brought the rose to me. It was adorable to be given a rose by my little boy. Even if it meant I had to do first aid too.”

“I remember that Pipsqueak. You loved the smell of the rose too. After you broke it off the bush, you would twirl every time you sniffed it and giggle. Then I told you to take it inside to Mommy and you skipped inside.”

I hugged my Mom. “Thank you for indulging me. I really do love flowers.” She helped do the finishing touches on the room and made some good suggestions on how to arrange the room with the cot in it.

After we had finished, we headed downstairs to start working on dinner. We soon heard Dad come in with my Uncle Robert, Aunt Sandra, and my two cousins, Tristan and Evelyn. I had a flower print canvas apron we bought too and I was peeling potatoes when Evelyn came bouncing into the kitchen and saw me.

“Samantha, it’s you!” She ran up to me. “What you doing?”

“Helping prepare dinner, silly.” I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and hugged her. “I am so happy to see you again too.”

Jane came over from having worked on a pork tenderloin roast. She just put it into the oven. “Hello Evelyn, I am your cousin Jane.” They hugged.

“Wow, you two sure look alike, Samantha. I can tell you are sisters. I mean ...”

“It is okay, Evelyn. But, you have been told. You aren’t to mention who Samantha really is.” Mom corrected her.

“Will I be staying in your room, Samantha?”

“I am not sure yet. I think Tristan will be in mine and you will be staying in Jane’s.”

“That is the plan.” Mom said.

“Samantha, what a pretty apron on such a pretty girl.” My Aunt and Uncle came in with their luggage. Aunt Sandra came over to the table where I was peeling potatoes and hugged me. “You look so happy in the kitchen too.”

“What can I say. I love to cook. How was your flight?” I said.

“A bit bumpy, but on the whole, a decent flight.” Uncle Robert went on to say, “The airport was packed with college kids going to Florida. I had to laugh. I saw a few of my students.”

Dad came around, “We have a lot planned for us this week. It should be a fun trip for you even though we don’t have beaches filled with drunken students..”

“Uncle, do I get to do dress up with Samantha?”

“Yes, and I get to join you.” Jane interjected.

The phone rang, Mom picked it up, “Hello. Oh, hi Bill. What can do we do for you? Nothing much, her cousins just showed up. It is spring break. Yeah, we plan to do a picnic tomorrow, would that work? Sure, bring her, I don’t need to ask Samantha, tell her we would love to have her, especially if you think it would help her. Ten O’Clock at Forest Park. Here, let me check. Yes, we rented Ramada twelve for the day up until four. Oh no, we will have more than enough food. We are going to do kite flying and crafts for the kids. Yes, we have extra so she can do them too. See you, and your lovely wife finally, and your new charge then.”

Mom hung up and came over to talk to me. “Well, you up for a little visit from Arlene tomorrow?”

“Oh, that would be nice. Is she joining us for our picnic?” I asked sounding a bit surprised.

“Yes. Bill says that they are her foster parents right now. Their nine year old has a baseball game tomorrow and they don’t want her to be bored. They thought she might like to spend time with you instead. So, Bill’s going to drop off his wife and Arlene. They will join us for the picnic. It works out since it is a double header for Timothy.”

“Who is Arlene, Samantha?” Evelyn asked sounding a bit left out of it.

“She is an eight year old girl whom I met last week volunteering for the police. She is in foster care right now and feeling lonely. And, most importantly, she doesn’t know who I really am. So, tomorrow, no comments about Samuel, okay?”

“Cool! I turn eight in two weeks. So, we are almost the same age.”

The evening went well. Lots of talking. They decided because of Arlene to not bring beer to the picnic. And, I told them about the ice cream, so after an early dinner, I made some ice cream with the help of Jane and Evelyn. It was chocolate with chocolate chips in it. My smart dad went out and got dry ice to get the ice cream its coldest and for the picnic. I used a custard base so it was rich, thick, and delicious. I made about three gallons. While doing that, I also made some fudge brownies and rice krispie treats.

Upstairs, we found that Tristan had gotten up and fallen asleep in Jane’s trundle bed. He didn’t like cots, it seemed. Evelyn was thrilled. When she walked into my room, she swooned. “Oh Samantha, those pictures are so pretty. I love your room.”

“Thanks, my Mom just let me do it.”

“But, it isn’t very boy like? Are you going to keep it this way once you change back?” Evelyn asked.

“I’ll probably keep the ‘Garden Path at Giverny’ painting. I love the color. You can almost feel the coolness of Spring and the fresh breeze with the sound of bees buzzing. I just want to open that door and move in to the house.”

Mom stepped into the room as I was asked and answered the question, “I’ll take the rest for our room. But I hadn’t really looked at any of the paintings, Samantha. Yes, I can see that. It is a very restful painting, sweetie.”

I continued my tour of my little art gallery. “And look at Renoir’s painting of the two girls at piano. I love the look of the girl as she holds the page of music trying out the music on the piano. She is studying how to play the piece and possibly sing it too. You can see in her face the music coming alive. And the girl standing next to her, you can see her playing the music in her mind too. They are engrossed by what they are doing and loving it at the same time.”

“Oh, I see that.” Evelyn said.

“And I love the expression of the young lady in ‘Dance at Bougival.’ She knows he is totally in love with her and yet she is looking away with a tender look. I wonder if she is thinking of how to let him down easily or is just thinking of how much in love with him she is or if she is just into the dance. They are lost in each others arms for different reasons and it is just fun to think about those reasons. I like creating a story where she has just broken his heart and he is hiding his tears as they dance. Then another story where he sweeps her off her feet and they live happily ever after.” I sounded melodramatic.

“How about the two girls in the meadow? What is their story?” Mom inquired.

“Oh, I think they are talking about their boyfriends and wishing they would bring them flowers. They look like the same girls at the piano. They are gossiping for sure. We can’t see their faces full on because the artist chose to paint them looking away from the canvas. You can see the one girl’s face a little as she arranges the daises. But, that makes what they are saying all the more interesting as the only thing we can see is the softness of spring enfolding these two young girls in its magical embrace of color and gentleness. Then they are facing down a long road in the distance. It is like their future is out in front of them and in arranging the flowers they are arranging their future too.”

“Your are going to have a hard time getting rid of these, aren’t you?” Mom said with a smirk.

“Yeah, Mom. I love each for different reasons. And I enjoy their color and beauty. I may just collect more and switch them out according to my mood. Kind of like my own art gallery.” I said thoughtfully.

Mom picked up on my serene mood. “I like your art gallery too. And the curator is a really special lady. I forgot to ask, did you want a boom box too?”

Her question brought me out of my curator role real fast. “Oh, please Mom! May I? Maybe with a CD player too. I would love some Beethoven CDs. I would love to listen to his 2nd symphony when doing homework. And Strauss has so many more waltzes I would like to listen to for ice dancing. And, I really want to learn to play Chopin. His piano pieces are brilliant.”

Mom chuckled and hugged me, “Okay, okay, I think that can be arranged.”

Jane was listening in at my door and I hadn’t noticed because of being lost in the paintings. “See Mom, I told you not to worry.” Jane teased, “I just hope I can sleep with all that loud heavy metal orchestra booming down the hallway.”

“Consider it an invitation to come and join me in my art gallery.” I ventured trying to sound artistic without being snobbish.

“I will, Pipsqueak.”

“Squeak, squeak.”

“I love you too, night.”

Evelyn and I settled down for a good nights sleep. I let her sleep in my bed. Guests should always come first, I think. Even if they are family. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I, on the other hand, sat there thinking about what kind of clothes I would love to have. Mom moved me more into jeans. The truth was that I loved skirts and dresses. Still, capris and jeans were more practical at school. But, it occurred to me that I could do more with my tops and accessories. My head was swimming with possibilities.

Finally, after ten minutes of debate, I got up and went downstairs for a glass of water and to get my mind off of clothes. While deep in thought, I heard a voice call my name. “Oh, Aunt Sandra, I’m sorry. I was deep in thought.”

“About what?”

“Clothes. What to wear at school.”

“That is hardly worthy of deep thought.”

“Well, it is just that I can’t figure out why girls aren’t wearing dresses as much as I would expect. It is almost as though dresses weren’t for girls anymore.”

“How do you feel when you wear a dress?”

“Actually, I like it. They are very comfortable. But they are also a lot of hard work. You have to keep your legs together and watch out for breezes. Except, the long dresses I made for doing Shakespeare. They were different. It was like walking naked inside a tent. Nice, but different.”

“Well, there you have it. Dresses require work. But, there is something else you should consider. You are thin and because of your sex, you have a model’s body. Come to think of it, so does Jane and your Mom. Dresses and skirts look good on you.”

After chatting a little while longer, I went back up to bed and fell asleep right away.

It was chaos getting to the park. Logistics required the dry ice containers be in the bed of a truck and we didn’t have a truck. So, we drove to the park with all our windows down. That meant I had to comb out my hair again at the park while helping carry all the goodies to the Ramada.

About 10:30, Mrs. Watson arrived with Arlene. Arlene was timid. She looked like she was having second thoughts about coming. So, I ran over as fast as I could and hugged her. “Arlene, I am so happy you came. Can I introduce you to everyone, please?”

The ice seemed to melt. “See, Honey. They knew you were coming. They want you here.”

“Darn right!” I said. “I don’t often get a chance to show off my whole family to my friends.”

“I’m your friend. But I thought I was so mean to you and you would never talk to me again.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly in the nicest of places. On the whole, I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

She took my hand and we sat down on a park bench. “How could I? I was scared. You came in and cared about me. Uncle Bill has explained to me that you have helped a lot of girls. He even says one of the girls you helped died of cancer.”

A few more tears ran down my face, “Yes, that is true, I do know someone who died of cancer. So, how can I help you?”

Arlene touched my tear and looked at me with sad eyes. I could see her melt. She lowered her eyes.

“My counselor tells me that maybe I should get to know a family that is healthy so I can help change my own. When I mentioned that I had met a girl who said she had a nice family and told her your name, she smiled and said I should get to know your family if I get the chance.”

“What is your counselor’s name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Dr. Erin Cramer. Why, do you know her?”

“I know her very well, yes. Professional ethics prevented her from telling you that she is my counselor too.”

“What do you need her for? You are so sane and normal.”

“Many reasons. Because of my friend who died of cancer. Because of wanting to help girls. She helps me in so many ways. And my family insists that I see her so I can stay sane and normal. I would go to see her just for the tea parties we have alone!” I giggled and pretended to drink a cup of tea.

“I wish she had told me.”

I had to be redundant. “Patient privacy rights. She knew I would tell you. Just because I have a healthy family doesn’t mean I don’t need to talk to someone about my problems and how I feel. I think you can trust Dr. Cramer.”

I gave her a hug. She hugged me back.

“I think we should go join the family and I can introduce you to everyone. It sounds like we will have plenty of time to discuss things more today.”

I began my introductions. “Arlene, this is my cousin Evelyn and her cute little brother Tristan.”

“Hi Arlene. I am going to turn eight next week. We will be the same age. This is my annoying brother, Tristan.”

“Hi Evelyn and Tristan.”

“My sister is the one that is annoying. She even tried to convince that Samantha was a boy. You lied!”

“Well, we tried, didn’t we Evelyn.” I winked at her. She and I giggled. Inside, I said ‘wow, I dodged a bullet.’

Tristan came up to me and hugged me. I picked him up and held him as I introduced the rest of the family.

“And this is Doug, my unofficial brother and his girlfriend and my best friend Mary.”

“Unofficial brother?”

Mary said, “Yeah, he is over at their house so often, they kind of have adopted him as a kid.”

“And here is my sister, Jane.”

“Hi Arlene, we are so glad you could come.

Mom and Dad were talking to Mrs. Watson. “Voici mes parents, ma Mere et Mon Pere.”

“Excuse me, did you just say something in another language?”

“Oops, I have recited that line so often in my ‘French in Action’ course, it just came out. I mean, this is my Mom and My Dad, Arlene.”

“Hello Arlene, thank you for coming.” My Mom was as gracious as could be and hugged her.

“Arlene, this is my Uncle Robert and Aunt Sandra.” They smiled and waved.

“And finally, my Grandpa Miller and my Grandma Miller.” They nodded their heads and waved.

Dad came up to us and said, “Are ready for the birdhouse project?”

“Yes, Daddy. It is really so exciting.” I couldn’t wait to start.

Arlene asked, “What project is this?”

“My Dad works for the city. The park here needs new birdhouses. They put them in the trees to encourage and protect nesting birds. With spring starting, they want birds to have new homes. So, we are building as many birdhouses as we can for the next few hours until lunch.”

We parked ourselves in front of a picnic bench with hammers and pre-cut wooden parts and started to assemble them. Dad took full command. He gave each of us a part we could handle. He showed Arlene, Evelyn, and myself how to hammer the pieces together that we were assigned. We formed an assembly line with each of working on the same part. Pretty soon, we were cranking out a birdhouse about every four or five minutes. In an hour and a half, we put together about twenty birdhouses and were done.

We gave each other a high five. Arlene said, “Wow, that was fun. We make a good team, don’t we?”

“Yes we do!” Mrs. Watson said. “This was a fun idea.”

About that time, a park ATV pulled up. “Hey Paul, you finished. Awesome! We can’t thank you enough.”

“Good timing Frank, we can help you load them up.” We put all of our work in the wagon hitched to the ATV. Frank then came over with coupons to visit the local science museum for free.

“So, Arlene, the next time you visit this park, you will be able to see birds nesting in a birdhouse you helped build. How does that make you feel?” Mrs. Watson said.

“It makes me feel good.”

“That is how Samantha feels when she helps someone too.” she said. I nodded in agreement. “I just want you to know that when we help you, it doesn’t bother us. Shakespeare has this famous quote, ‘The quality of mercy is not strained. It blesses both the giver and the taker.’ Helping someone is a form of mercy. The bible even says that among faith, hope, and love, the greatest thing is love.”

“Does that mean I have to help you or else you won’t help me?”

“No, Arlene. Not at all. It means that when we help you, we get blessed. You don’t have to pay us back unless you want to pay us back. It is called unconditional love. You don’t have to earn it.”

“We hope that you learn that by doing for others, you will be blessed too and in turn can enjoy those benefits of unconditional love that we have. Unconditional love is sometimes called mercy or charity.”

“Samantha, is that why you came to help at the police station?”

“Yes. But, to tell you the truth, I didn’t know I was doing it out of unconditional love or mercy. I just enjoyed doing it because I love helping. Thank you, Mrs Watson, I learned something new today.” I gave her a hug.

Mrs. Watson beamed. “Thank you, Samantha, I have a book I would like to lend you. Will you promise me to read it?”

“Sure. I love to read a good story. What is the book?”

“Well, it is a true story. It is of a woman who greatly influenced my life and I think will be a good role model for you too. Her name was Golda Meir. She was the Prime Minister of Israel from 1969 to 1974. And she wrote an autobiography called ‘My Life.’ I think you will find it inspiring.”

Mrs. Watson pulled a book from her purse. It was a hardback book that was clearly decades old. I opened the cover and found that it was signed ‘Golda Meir’ in very shaky hand writing. “I want it back. But, I trust you. Besides, I can collect it during one of your fantastic dinners, Samantha. I have been hearing about them from Bill.”

“Deal. But only if you bring Timothy along. I like him.”

Arlene said, “You are right. Timothy is a sweetheart. He has made me feel very welcome. If I am not back with my family yet, can I come to the dinner too?”

“Yup.”

Dad and Uncle Robert announced that the hamburgers and hot dogs were cooked. We picked up our paper plates and filed through a line getting food and filling our plates with hamburgers, potato salad, and beans. At each of the tables were cups with ice and bottles of soda. Arlene and I sat down with Mary, Doug, Evelyn, Tristan, and Jane at one table while the adults congregated at another table.

After it was all eaten, Arlene was thrilled to hear there was chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips. “Do they have to check to see if there is a file in it?” she asked sarcastically.

“No.” I giggled.

Jane embarrassed me with her next comment. “Arlene, Samantha made the ice cream herself. Want some?”

“Sure, I would love some.” She quickly went up to Jane who had just opened up the metal container I made the ice cream in.

As Jane scooped out ice cream for Arlene, she went on to say, “Did you know that Samantha stayed up late last night to make this ice cream just for you. I have no idea why, do you?”

Arlene began to tear up. “Because I asked for some at the police station, I suppose.”

“Exactly, Arlene. Because she knew it meant something to you and that would feel welcome and know that you are loved.” Jane handed her back the bowl filled with ice cream. “So, just know this ice cream has a special ingredient in it called love. And that is what makes it taste so good.” Jane hugged her. “I love stories with happy beginnings.”

A moment later, Tristan cried out. “Mommy, I don’t want ice cream. It makes you cry like a girl!” He pulled away from the gaggle of crying and giggling girls. Running to his dad, he quickly hid behind his leg and just stared at us.

The rest of the afternoon went splendidly. Soon, Bill showed up with Timothy and we all had brownies. Jane didn’t mention that I made them too. I think she had made her point and knew it didn’t need to be made again.

The next day, I had a project to do in the morning. Dean and I were going to start working on an ice dance routine starting the next week. I really wanted us to look the part for the music our instructor had chosen. She choose ‘There is nothing like a dame’ from South Pacific. It is one of my favorite movies. I cry at the end when the nurse is given French lessons and the hero shows up.

“Hi Dean, I am glad you could come. Come on in. Let’s get you measured for your sailor outfit. Hi Mrs. Pilsner. This is my cousin Evelyn.”

“Samantha, I didn’t know you ice skated. I hope you come for Christmas and we can ice skate together.”

Dean piped up and made a face to Evelyn, “O-Oh no y-you don’t. I-I w-want to ice s-skate with h-her for C-Christmas.”

“We’ll just have to see about that?!” Evelyn said defiantly.

Dean stood on the platform and I began to measure him. He had changed so much from the fall when he first asked me to dance. He was quickly becoming a man. I looked at his face and the baby fat was turning into the chiseled features of a young man with a smile that could melt a girl’s heart if it were made of ice. My heart, however, was not. So, I worried if it was really safe for me to measure him. I was grateful his mother and my cousin were present. That didn’t mean it was easy. Having to look at him in the eye while I pulled the tape around him was excruciatingly hard without wanting to ask him to wrap those strong arms around me and pull me into his chest and kiss me.

I gave Evelyn his numbers. “His neck is fourteen inches.” I measured his waist and then went to measure his inseam. That turned out to be a bit embarrassing. I could tell as I measured it that he was, for lack of a better word, a bit excited. I ignored it. “Inseam is twenty-nine inches.” And I thought in passing in my head, ‘plus a good seven inches I bet.’ I caught my breath and turned a deep red as I looked down at his shoes and fiddled with his pant cuff. And then I felt my breasts and my loins tingle. I took a deep breath again and remembered what Doug said. I had to control my impulses and not lose control.

I collected myself and pondered the pant cuffs. “I don’t know whether or not I should do pant cuffs. It would be more sailor like, but they could get caught on my skates. What do you think Mrs. Pilsner?”

I looked back up at her. She had been watching me and had a wry grin. She knew her son was reacting in a way boys do and she had see me notice too. “Well, Samantha, I think the most important thing is to look at it from the point of view of the audience. Are they going to see a sailor or not?”

“Cuffs it is then.” I looked back up into his dreamy eyes. “Dean, I will make pants that look like jeans and a roped belt, but they will have built in elastic. Then I will make a blue denim shirt with a flesh colored tank top on the inside to keep you warm and give you the look of having a little chest hair. Are you okay with the design?”

“Y-yes, I l-like i-it. W-What is y-your o-outfit going to l-look l-like?”

“I am going to have a top that looks like it is part of a one piece bathing suit. Well, actually, it will be a one piece with flesh colored netting. It will look like a red bathing suit. Then I will have a short white skirt around my waist. With the blue denim of your outfit, it ought to look very cute and together we will look patriotic. Underneath it all, I will have a flesh toned body suit.”

“I am sure it will look very nice Samantha. When will you have Dean’s outfit ready?” Mrs. Pilsner said with a grin.

“If he could come by Wednesday night for dinner, along with his parents, I might add, we can check the fit.” I got up and put down my measuring tape on the sewing machine table. I confirmed that Evelyn wrote down all the figures I needed for making his costume.

Mrs. Pilsner grinned. She knew I couldn’t ask him for a date outright. “Have you checked with your parents about our coming on Wednesday.”

Dad walked in and interrupted, “We are the ones who suggested it, Claudia.” Dad was followed by Tristan. Tristan knew I was a softy. He ran up to me and wanted me to pick him up. I cheerfully gave in. I didn’t hold him all the time, but when he was tired, I was a welcoming refuge.

Dean smiled at him. “Hi, w-what is y-your n-name?”

“I’m Tristan. I am four years old.” He began to yawn uncontrollably.

“I think somebody needs to go down for a nap.” I said.

“No, I don’t.” Tristan pouted and didn’t look happy.

I looked at Dean and his mother, “It’s okay honey. We understand. Duty calls. You are going to make a fine mother some day, Samantha.” Mrs. Pilsner was enjoying seeing me with a child. I knew in the back of her mind, that I may be holding her grandchild one day. And I knew that my sister was going to make that possible.

“Thank you, Mrs. Pilsner. That is very kind of you to say. Sorry Dean, I will see you on Wednesday night.” I gave him a half hug. After they left, I took Tristan upstairs to my room to put him down for a nap on the cot. I told him the story about the three little pigs and he fell asleep. I brushed his hair out of his face and looked at the angel in repose. He was a sweet boy. He reminded me of my Robert.

After I got him to sleep, I looked over at my dresser. On it was a modest Sony boombox with a cassette and CD player. I was excited to see and didn’t know how it got there. I heard a chuckle coming from the door. It was my Dad. I rushed over to him and gave him a big hug and said softly, “Thank you Daddy! And you got me a great selection of music too I bet. Now I won’t have to use our stereo system anymore downstairs.”

We walked over to the boombox and I looked over the pile of CDs. I put in Beethoven’s third symphony performed by Bernstein and set the volume low. I closed my eyes as the movement began. We stood there for a moment. “Oh, Daddy, this is so wonderful. Can you hear the wistful horns as they play with the strings. I love this movement. It sounds like the strings and horns are talking to each other.”

“Samantha, I so am so lucky to have you. Why do you love classical music and art so much? You ought to be into the latest rock and roll band.”

I listened to the music for a moment more before I replied. I hit the stop button. “I guess because it makes me feel alive. It is like I am hearing a whole story being told. The songs on the radio only last a few minutes and tell me shallow stories about boy loses girl or boy gets girl. But, when I listen to classical music, it is like I get to hear a complete life story filled with all the nuances of life. There is birth, romance, love, pain, joy, and death.”

I held onto my Dad. I rested my head on his chest and listened to him breath. “And as I listen to the music, I think about the people I love. I love you Daddy so very much. I am a lucky girl.”

He hugged me back. “I love you too, Princess.” He caressed my hair and I could almost hear him sniffle. “Seems to me that I owe you an ice cream. I am sorry I forgot the other day.”

“It’s okay Daddy, time with you is my real treat. Ice cream is just an excuse.” With that I felt another kiss on the head and a sniffle.

In the morning, Grandma picked me up to take me to the fabric store. Evelyn tagged along. I picked out fabric for our outfits and thread. I got a few other supplies and patterns for our outfits. Then Evelyn and I spent time on finding fabric for our baseball outfits. She was enjoying the idea of going to Fenway finally. She didn’t think I had to come out after all. I mean, she still wanted me to come out, but she wanted to do other stuff with me other than baseball. That was going to be her Dad time. I could understand that. Still, she did want a nice outfit to go to the ball park with her Dad. So, I found a pattern and some fabric. We headed home.

Before we headed home, we stopped off at a Border’s bookstore. Grandma wanted us to find three books a piece. She sat down reading a magazine in a chair near the check out counter and we began wandering around the bookstore looking for books we would want. Evelyn headed to the kid’s section and I found myself looking in the fiction section. I was looking for something by Dickens or maybe Hugo.

When I turned the corner, I saw Cat from my old school. Cat was the coolest dude at school and at the same time in a different world from the rest of us. Like a cat, he ran in a pack all by himself. Austere and bohemian, stylish and unkempt, he cut a different path from the way he looked to the way he walked. He was an enigma, a loner who lives in a world unto himself, while, yet, at the same time is the most social and approachable person I had ever known. No bully picked on him. And no wimp feared his approach. He never got into trouble for the usual reasons. Everyone liked him and wanted to be his friend. I thought he never noticed me until one day he approached me at school and said hi. I was awestruck that he even noticed me. Every time I encountered him at school, he was as polite and nice to me as he could be that I relished those few moments. His real name was Henry, but, instead of accepting the nickname Hank, he chose his own. Rumor had it that he was a superb artist. He certainly looked the part with his wild hair.

He turned and looked at me. “Oh, hi Sam.” His smiled was disarming. His instant recognition of my was frightening.

I froze, he used my real name. He instantly knew what had happened. He saw through my girl disguise and knew me. He dropped his voice because he knew I wasn’t dressed as a boy. “Yes, I know who you really are.”

I couldn’t say a word. I was frozen standing there. I think he saw the panic in my eyes.

“Please be calm. Don’t be afraid, Sam. I have known who you really are since I first met you. What is your name now so I don’t give you away?”

I stammered out, “S-samantha.”

He walked up to me and took my paralyzed hand and shook it for me. “Samantha, it is a pleasure to meet the real you.” He looked around cautiously, “But, how did you tell your parents or is this still a secret?”

I don’t know why, but I knew honesty was the best policy. I whispered, “Yes and no. I am helping the police with undercover work. My parents are letting me be me because they think it is a disguise. So, I am me full time until my job is over.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I had hoped you were finally released from your prison.” He sounded genuinely disappointed and caring.

I softly said, “Yes. But, I think I will come out to them at the end and they won’t mind.”

“Oh good. That would be wonderful.”

“But, how ...” I couldn’t get out the words.

“But, how did I know?” His expression became even more gentle and he smiled at me.

“Because I love to draw. I have drawn you several times at school with out you knowing. I noticed that you carried yourself like a girl.” I looked at him perplexed and he seemed to know what to say next. “The artist in me enjoys observing people. After a while, I found I can read people and their inner struggles. I saw how you looked at the girls around you and other things you did, like being a girl for Shakespeare. And when I introduced myself to you at school, I just knew when I looked into your eyes I was right.” He changed to subject to give me a chance to breath. He returned to using a normal voice, “I have recently moved into paints from water colors and am taking classes at the college since they don’t offer what I want to learn in art class anymore.” I don’t know why, but I felt at ease with him.

We began walking the aisles slowly. I felt as safe with him as I did with Doug. His honesty and compassion were evident. “Cat, would you help me pick out a good book on the impressionists?”

“Sure. I would love to, but I didn’t know you painted.”

“Oh no, I just love their art. It is so beautiful.”

“Whom do you like the most?”

“Right now it is Renoir.”

He said softly, so no one could hear, “You like the way he paints young girls, don’t you? In fact, I bet you would longing to have been one of those girls.” Cat smiled. How could someone who barely met me at school know my heart so quickly and so well.

“I guess so.” I blushed.

“I tell you what, I promise to keep your secret forever. I will pretend I never knew you as Samuel. But, please, would you let me paint you in a beautiful flowing dress a la mode Renoir and give it to you?”

I looked at him speechless and wondering why.

“Look, Samantha. I admire your struggle for integrity and what you are doing now even if I don’t know the whole story. You have a tough road ahead of you. If I do a good job, you can put that painting in your home for your parent’s to enjoy. And it will help your parents accept the real you when the time comes.”

“You would do that for me? Why?”

“Because, as an artist, I yearn to free a soul to find their true nature, not just capture it.”

With a thrill in my heart at hearing his words, I took his hand and guided him to my Grandma. I said, “This is my Grandma Miller.”

“Grandma, this is someone I knew from my previous school. He doesn’t remember me. His name is Cat. He is an awesome artist I hear and he asked if he could paint me in the Renoir style of those young girls at the piano I have in the poster in my room. Can I get your permission for him to come over and paint me at your place. It would make a terrific present to Mom and Dad.”

“Mrs. Miller. I would love to do it. I just need to let my college instructor see it in order for me to get high school and college class credit. It would help me get a good grade to have Samantha be my model. I certainly can’t ask the college students in my class to be a model because I am a minor. That puts me in an awkward position.”

Grandma lowered her reading glasses and regarded him with a withering stare worthy of any policeman giving the third degree. “I would be able to supervise?”

It was impressive to see that she could even make Cat uncomfortable. “Oh yes Ma’am! I wouldn’t have it any other way. It would be a great help if I could paint her. I guess I should add that I can’t use one of the girls at my middle school without it creating jealousy and an outright ‘Cat’ fight. This solves a real problem for me. So, I would really appreciate you saying yes, but I would accept you saying no with no animosity or ill will at all.”

“Then, gracious young man. I accept on behalf of my granddaughter.” She smiled at his gentlemanly behavior.

We exchanged information and set up for modeling sessions at my grandparents place with my Grandma. I asked if Mary could be the other girl and he said yes. Then Cat and myself walked over to the section of books for impressionists. Cat picked out a book on clearance he said would give me lots of pictures to look through on the impressionists. I thanked him and said I was looking forward to our portrait sessions.

After we got home, my folks wanted to go out together to do some adult things. I was proud that they tasked me to watch Evelyn and Tristan. I decided to make the most of it by picking up Tristan and leading Evelyn next door to watch the triplets while Mrs. Smith took a nap. It turned out to be a lot of fun. Tristan could keep up with Brian who ran circles around me now. They were a few days from turning one. In fact, they shared the same birthday as Evelyn.

Evelyn took to Carol. Of course, she was my favorite. But that was okay. It was nice to spend time with Alice. I taught Evelyn how to change the babies. She was very impressed with my skill.

Eventually, the babies wore themselves out and we put them down for naps. Mrs. Smith came out and we sat on her back porch while Tristan and Evelyn threw a Frisbee.

“You have a nice family. I am glad they are visiting.” She handed me a stack of fashion catalogs.

“Take some time and go through the catalogs. You want to look for three things. First, someone with the same coloring as you. Second, you want to find someone with a similar body type to yours. Circle those. Third, you want to circle a style you like. If the picture you circle meets more than just one condition, then put a check in it. So, for example, a picture has all three, you would have a circle with two checks in it.”

She handed me a pen and I began to work on the catalogs. “Mrs. Smith, how did you learn to dress so nicely?”

“The same way I am teaching you. My mother and I would go through catalogs at home. We would circle the ones we liked and talk about them. Then, my mother would go through the ones I didn’t circle and we would talk about them too. It was a lot of hard work, but, by the time we had done it for a while, I learned what worked and what didn’t. In some cases, I ignored something that really worked well on me. In other cases, I hit the nail on the head.”

“Well, thank you so much for helping me. It really means a lot.”

“Good. I can’t wait for us to go shopping soon. Catalogs help you know what to look for. Shopping helps you figure out if what you see is what you get.”

We sat there and looked through the catalogs together. At one point, she drew my attention to a really pretty girl and said she was my body type and coloring. “Here. Look at her. She is wearing jeans and a denim top. But look at how she combines them. She looks all girl. The denim top is in black with decorative cuffs. And she is wearing a flower print blouse. She uses a cord for a belt. And she has simple flats with a flower on them. It suits her age and her looks. That would look cute on you.”

I looked over what she had pointed out to me. “I totally missed that.”

“And that is why I had you circle things. I have blind spots too. When I go shopping, it is nice to go with a girlfriend who can see something I don’t. I think this style would look very good on you. Sometime soon, we will go shopping and you will see something you think looks good on me. I will try it and find you are right. And I will learn something new too.”

The afternoon passed by quickly. I learned about styles that worked for me and those that didn’t. It was a lot of hard work and it was fun. Eventually, we had to go back home. I made a simple dinner for us and we watched ‘Chitty Chitty, Bang, Bang.’ Tristan was tired and I carried him up to Jane’s trundle. I put him in the cot and encouraged Evelyn to go to bed in my bed. They finally fell asleep. The house was real quiet at last.

I sat at my desk with all the catalogs and put on some Chopin my father had bought. I looked at the two girls at the piano and started to think about where my road was taking me. Before long, Dad poked his head in the door. “Hey Princess. How is the Chopin?”

“Oh hi Daddy, I love it. His music is so beautiful. How was your adult day?”

“Wonderful. Your Mom had a real good time with your uncle. She doesn’t get much time to spend with her brother these days. They sure appreciated you babysitting so we could have a day for us. Jane enjoyed being with us too.”

“No problem. I loved every moment of it.”

“You know, pumpkin, I bet you did. You really do like being a home body.”

I grinned. “Yes, Daddy, I do.”

After our talk, I slept like an angel.

Wednesday night, I answered the door and there stood this handsome creature who invaded my life. My heart skipped a beat when he smiled. “Dean, I am so glad you and your folks could come for dinner.”

Mom came to the door behind me. “Claire, Harper, Dean. We are so glad you could come for dinner. Come on in.”

“Dean, did you want to try on the outfit before dinner.” I asked.

“Y-yes, I-I would l-like t-that.”

I handed him the outfit and lead him to the upstairs bathroom. While he went into the bathroom, I went into my room to wake up Tristan for dinner. As I woke him up, I found that he wet himself. I had him undress, gave him a towel, and picked out new clothes after putting his wet clothes, rubber sheet, and sheeting in a laundry basket. Dean came to my door. “I-It fits p-perfectly, S-samantha. Y-you do a-awesome w-work.”

I motioned for him to come in. He looked around my room and admired my paintings. I looked over the outfit checking the seams and the overall fit. “Dean, you should go down and show your parents. I have to give Tristan a quick bath in my parent’s room. I will be down in about fifteen minutes. That should leave the bathroom available for you to change out of the outfit.”

“G-Good p-plan.” Dean went off to show everyone his outfit.

I took Tristan into my parent’s bathroom and put him in the bathtub. I began to get him up cleaned up. While he was getting cleaned up in the tub, I had to pee real bad. “I have to pee, Tristan, just keep cleaning yourself up. I will be right with you.” My parents had a commode with a door, so I stepped in to the toilet room, pulled down my pants and then my panties to my knees, and sat down to pee.

At that point, Jane wandered into the bathroom and laughed when she saw me.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you took it that seriously, Pipsqueak.”

“Yeah, I can’t let my guard down for a minute. So, it is play the part twenty-four seven.” I wiped and pull up my panties and pants. I washed my hands. Jane helped me towel off Tristan before we got him dressed.

“Do you miss standing up?” She whispered in my ear.

I looked at her and shook my head no.

“Do you miss being a boy yet?” She whispered in my ear.

I looked at Tristan standing there naked for a moment. I then turned to her and shook my head no.

As we got Tristan dressed, Jane said, “I love you Pipsqueak.”

“Squeak, squeak.”

She leaned over me and kissed me on the head as we left the bathroom with a clean Tristan. “Thank you, I needed to know.” She stopped and said, “I will be right down. I have to pee too. I saw her pull a box from her purse as she did it. I realized it was a kind of test kit one finds in the drug store. I picked up Tristan and took him downstairs to dinner. I did what Erin said. I didn’t say a word about what I just saw. I just grinned because I knew what it meant.

When I got downstairs, I told my parents that Jane was going to be a little while.

“I’ll have you know that Samantha cooked most of this meal.” Mom said proudly to our guests. I turned redder than a radish.

The Pilsners seemed to be impressed. Especially since it was Beef Wellington that I cooked. According to everyone, it was ‘cooked to perfection.’ Doug even joined in with his praises.

Before the evening was out, Dean took Doug outside for a little talk. They came back in and Dean was clearly happy. But, at the same time, he was a little restrained. We all said our goodbyes. I walked with Doug back to his house.

“What did you say to the poor guy?” I inquired.

“That he needs to be a gentleman. I am not going to let my sister be used. I said that it is clear you love children and that you were saving yourself for marriage. In other words, I gave him ‘the lecture’ your Dad would give him if you were born with girl parts.”

“How did he take it?”

“He grinned the whole time.”

“Doug.” I blushed and stammered. I stood looking at my feet for a moment. Then I pushed up on my toes and pulled him down and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you. Thanks! I am so blessed that you are my brother.” I skipped home. I don’t know why, but being looked after by my family made me feel so girly, but it did.

The week went by quickly. I made the baseball dress for Evelyn with her help. We had a dress up evening with Jane and tried on some of my old clothes and Jane’s old clothes. Then we did make up and brushed each others hair too. It was a lot of fun. She loved learning about how to sew and said she would see if she could learn when she got back home. Her Dad was enjoying watching us work together at the sewing table. We also visited a few sites of the Civil War and a museum or two with Grandpa. All in all, it was so busy that we didn’t care if I didn’t care if I was stuck at home for spring break.

The time came for our sad goodbyes. It was hard to say goodbye to Evelyn who had become like my little sister too. We hugged and promised we would stay in touch. And caring for Tristan was a joy too, even if he wet the bed a few times. I really loved carrying him around. Aunt Sandra and Uncle Robert never treated me like a boy and seemed to enjoy my being a girl.

Dad took them off to the airport and the house felt too quiet. The silence was broken when I heard the phone ring. I sat down at the dinning room table thinking school couldn’t happen soon enough, when Mom came into the dinning room after putting down the phone. She sat down at the dinner table with me. “I have some interesting news for you Samantha.”

“What?”

“The trial in Denver is being moved. They call it a ‘Change in Venue.’ It is being moved to Nashville. And, that means Miranda and her parents are going to be staying south of Nashville in less than a month. So, they want to see you when they get settled in their temporary housing here. It will be just until the trial is over. But, Miranda has been asking about when she gets to see you again. Apparently, you made quite an impression on her. And the mother really wants to meet you and thank you.”

“How long will they be here, do you think?” I was excited to hear this news.

“They figure about six to nine months.” Awesome, I really get to spend some time with Miranda.

I couldn’t believe how much my world had changed in just two weeks.

I wondered what April showers would bring as I fell asleep to Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata.’

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner

[ Author’s Note: I have a confession to make. When I was twelve, I fell madly in love with her when I was introduced to her during a news broadcast showing her conferring with President Nixon. There was something about her I couldn’t resist. I wanted her to be family. I wanted her to be my other grandmother since I only had one. Her name was Golda Meir. She enchanted me with her words, charm, and wisdom. I was head over heels in love with her. Yes, I confess that I was totally smitten with her at first sight. I never saw her as ugly, though she called herself ugly. To me, she was beautiful and radiant, kind, and everything I wanted in a role model. Her fierce nature and gently nature perfectly combined in a way that both comforted me as a child pushing his way onto the adult stage and inspired me to be a better human being. There! I’ve said it. I feel better now that I have made a full confession about my first passionate crush. Well, there was my stuffed animal which took me forever to give up. I don't think that counts. – AuP ]