Weeping Willow - Part 5

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Weeping Willow
Part 5

Damn Breaks

by **Sigh**
Copyright© 2019 plaintivesigh
All Rights Reserved.

He really, really loves you. As Willow, or as Bill; doesn’t matter. Now, LIKE? I think he LIKES Willow better, and I do too. Sorry, Bill, if you’re in there somewhere,” she smiled as she poked her daughter on the noggin. “But we LOVE you just as much, no matter which one you are.”


The main evidence of hormonal treatment in the first week was nausea, vomiting and hot flushes. They all began when Willow awoke the next morning after her shots. She had never worshipped at the porcelain throne so much before.

Willow’s attitude began to worsen some. She obviously had trouble reining in her emotions; angry moments began to erupt, though they never progressed to foul language and threats as Bill would have done. Often she felt morose, and could be seen lying on the couch in the living area, pillow pulled over her head. Gwen twice checked on her to see if she might actually be weeping – she never was; just sad and retreating from the world. She also began eating a little more at meals and in between.

A week after the doctor visit, Willow confronted her mother. “MOMMA! Did you dry my clothes on the hot cycle? They seem to be shrinking!”

“No, honey. I mostly cool dry your stuff, since it’s all still fairly new. I think the problem is … you’re growing,” said Gwen, and she softly pushed a finger into Willow’s tummy, hip, deltoid and cheek. “There’s a little more fat on you, all over.”

“How can that be?? Am I eating more than I did as Bill?”

“A little, and you’ve been less active too. But a big reason may be the estrogen, honey. It slows the metabolism; makes it hard to keep weight off. You’ll have to eat a lot less and get some aerobic exercise in. Welcome to our world; Angie and I struggle with this all the time.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Great. Just great.”


Bernard u there

Bernard, come in bruh

BILL! Where u been? No text 4 a week now!

Sorry dude. Been down. Don’t kno what 2 do

Uh oh what happened

Should have listened 2u. doctor put me on hormone shots! 1st one last Tuesday

U let Dr give u hormone shot?

Didn’t want 2, folks were there, felt trapped. Mainly stupid Dr’s fault. Mom & stepdad didn’t want me 2 have it either.


NO then Mom & W kno all this was an act, & still on house arrest for almost 2 yrs more. They can’t find out this was all a lie. If u think my grounding strict now – sh**, after that I’ll be a virtual missing person!

So what r u growing tits now


Wasn’t joking, ru?

No. not yet NE way

U any closer to freedom?

Not that I can f*** tell.

Dude. U have another “addendum” 2 ur plan you can use?

No. have 2 think. U think 2, ok? I don’t know what to do next!

Ur the planning genius, buddy. I try tho. Hey, can u send me pic of you as Willow?


Tryin to help u, dude.

I hate my life

Don’t give up. Repeet after me: I will not give up.

Okay. Keep misspelling – makes me laugh

Awr yew macking phun ov mei?

Now ur doing on purpose. Still funny. ROFLMAO!


Gwen Eiken was on the phone with her minister from Chula Vista Episcopal.

“Father Wilson, I have a question for you; I’m trying to settle a disagreement that I have with one of my children. It’s about transsexuals and cross-dressers. I’ve been taught that those behaviors are sinful, but I can’t seem to find where Jesus says so in the Bible.”

“Ah," sighed the minister. "I’m getting this more and more from our members as the years go by. I suspect it’s due to the LGBT agendas being pushed by the schools. The book of Deuteronomy clearly states cross-dressing to be an abomination.”

“Yes, I saw those scriptures,” said Gwen. “But Deuteronomy is an Old Testament book of rules; right after that ‘abomination’ passage, it says you can’t wear clothes made of wool and linen woven together; you can’t plant 2 different types of grapes in your vineyard, and adulterers should be put to death. We don’t believe or do any of those things – why should we consider cross-dressing an abomination then?”

Father Wilson sidestepped that question to offer another point. “Well, the apostle Paul says the effeminate will not inherit the Kingdom of Heaven; that means they’re going to hell unless they repent and stop being that way. That’s in the New Testament.”

“Yes, I found that too. 1st Corinthians chapter six. It also says that adulterers and drunkards are going to hell. Forgive me, but wouldn’t that disqualify half of our eldership?

“Ms. Eiken. Insults are not becoming of a Christian lady such as yourself.”

“And hypocrisy is not becoming of my church leaders. For years I have been taking what you said as the gospel truth, without researching it myself. Well, never again. The one guy I trust in this Bible is Jesus. He condemns hypocrites. But nowhere does he condemn gays, transsexuals or crossdressers. He’s the example you keep saying we should follow.. So I’m going to do just that.”

“Ma’am … are you quitting the church?”

“No. I still love church – worshipping, singing, fellowship with my friends. But I will no longer sit and absorb every word I’m told. I’ll be listening, researching, cross-checking. Watching for hypocrisy. And when I see it I will not be silent. You have been warned.” She hung up the phone.

Okay God, she prayed silently. I’m sorry for how I’ve rejected my daughter. I repent; please forgive me. Help me to change. Help me to treat her right, no matter what sex she chooses to be.


The only strategy that Willow had was to try yet again to get Dr. Estrada to consider recommending “emancipated minor” status; perhaps he would wear down with repeated requests. Her next appointment was in the morning; the biweekly shots were due. Willow tossed and turned, yet could not get to sleep. She didn’t like the thought of more chemicals entering her body. Maybe the doc would stop the injections if she really emphasized the hot flashes and nausea?

She looked at the clock; 3:37 AM. Tired of lying in bed, she got up and proceeded to the kitchen. She was trying to diet, but maybe some of the gelatin Momma had made – with a little whipped cream on top, just a touch – would make her satisfied enough that she could sleep.

On the way, she passed the wet bar; a non-event, as her folks always left it locked. Willow stopped. She spun around to look at the bar again. For the first time she could remember, one of the cabinet doors to the alcohol had been left open. William may have forgotten to close and lock it after his nightcap earlier.

Man, how long has it been since I’ve had a beer? Since just before I got thrown in Juvie. Now THAT would help me sleep. Let’s see, what’s in this cabinet? No beer … lots of pretty bottles … what’s this one … vodka! Man, I haven’t even had wine before, much less liquor. Surely the ‘rents won’t miss a little of this?

Willow found a wine glass and poured some vodka into it. She noted that before the pour, the level in the bottle was above the “A” in the word ABSOLUT; after, the level was nearly down at the bottom of the A. Okay; that should be at least one beer’s worth. She replaced the bottle and attempted to gulp down the glass in one big long swallow. She got not half of it down before choking and spewing the rest on the carpet.

OOH CRAPCRAPCRAP!! Grabbing the paper towels at the bar sink, she cleaned all she could – including the wine glass, which she slipped back into the cupboard – and sprayed the whole area with the bottle of deodorizer she’d found below the sink. What a major screw-up. I can’t believe Momma didn’t wake up and catch me. Willow was already feeling woozy-headed when she got back into her room and fell into bed.


The next day Gwen drove Willow to Estrada’s office. The mother looked over at her child in the passenger seat. “You look like you feel awful, honey. What’s going on with the big sunglasses?”

“Momma, you don’t have to yell. It’s … ah, the hot flashes from the shots. Really bad today.”

“Hmm. Let’s tell Dr. Estrada that. Maybe he needs to cut back on the hormone dosage."

The meeting went quick. The doctor heard the complaints about the flashes, emotions, nausea. He dismissed those concerns, saying that she’d get a tolerance to those symptoms with more time on the hormones. “I do need blood work from you before I give you your shots, Willow.”

“What for?”

“To determine blood levels of the drugs you’re on.”

Willow misinterpreted this as a request for an illicit drug screen, not the estrogen level test that the doctor meant.

HE WANTS TO DO A DRUG SCREEN ON ME?? Wait, that’s fine – I haven’t used any since before I was in juvie. OH GOD, WAIT – I GOT INTO THE VODKA 6 HOURS AGO. IF I GET BUSTED, IT’S ALL OVER. What makes him suspicious? My bloodshot eyes? I can’t let them test my blood.

“Doc … I’m already getting 2 shots, and I hate needles. Now you’re going to stick another in me. Can’t we just skip it?”

Dr Ramos smiled. “We’ve just developed urinalysis technology that approximates serum levels; I have one of the first machines here in my office.”

The nurse in the room turned to Willow and Gwen. “He means a urine sample will do, Hon.”

Willow walked with the urine cup to the bathroom. This is no better. I’ll bet there’s some alcohol in my urine. She went in the toilet room and hiked her skirt up, pulled her panties down and filled the cup with yellow pee. After she pulled herself back together, she poured at least ¾ of the cup into the toilet. Have to have a little pee in there for the color, right? Then she filled it back to the brim using warm water from the tap. God, I hope that dilutes the vodka enough.

“Done,” she said exiting the bathroom, handing the sample to a gloved nurse.

The doctor came back in Willow’s room fifteen minutes later with the shots.

“Sir,” Gwen urged, “Is there any way we can cut down on her dosage? She had a lot of hot flashes even just this morning. This is all new to her, and she’s struggling a bit.”

“Cut down? I’m having to increase it. Her drug levels are almost nonexistent. I’m guessing her liver or kidneys chew up and eliminate the drugs more aggressively than most. She needs more, not less,” he said, waving the very full syringes in his right hand. "I'll give her a nausea medicine shot also, and send you home with a prescription for antinausea suppositories."

Willow really didn’t catch on the whole meaning of this conversation between her mother and the physician. Her head was still pounding, yet she was relieved that no drugs were found in her urine. When prompted, she “assumed the position” and received her shots. And in her hung-over state, she forgot to pull him aside and ask for the emancipation letter she wanted.

Gwen drove them home where Willow once again collapsed in her bed.


Three days later.

“How are you today, Willow?” Gwen asked as her newest daughter walked into the kitchen. “Feel like eating this morning?”

The girl was wearing her skater skirt, pink sneakers and a long sleeved purple tee. Her wig was now always on her head unless showering or asleep; she had some eyeliner and minimal makeup, with simple studs in her ears.

“Yeah, finally. I’m hungry; after broth for the last 2 days, I hope I can tolerate real food. The nausea was so intense after those latest shots! I think I lost a little weight – which is the only good thing about all this.”

“Getting thinner via bulimia is NOT a good thing, daughter. I’ve already been on the phone with Dr. Estrada’s office this morning. Your blood sample we gave them yesterday – you know, the one they requested when I called about your severe reactions – it showed way too much estrogen in your system. Evidently that urine estrogen level they did at the office was inaccurate in your case, so you got an extra high dose this last shot. They’re lowering the dose next time. I’m pretty angry at them; you really have suffered.” Gwen handed a small plate of buttered toast to Willow, who started nibbling eagerly.

“Momma – you’re saying the pee I gave them was to check for a hormone level, not anything else?”

“Yes. Why, what were you thinking it was for?”

“Nothing. Just wondering,” the teen lied. STUPID! Stupid stupid stupid idiot! I’m already messing up my body with hormones, and I just tricked him into giving me MORE?! Okay. No more alcohol, no more distractions. It’s all on hold until I gain my freedom. Speaking of …

“I was wondering, Momma – oh boy, this toast is so good – how am I behaving? I know I’ve been more emotional since the shots. You said that time at Dr. Estrada’s that I was being obedient and polite; am I still that way?”

“Oh, you’ve been a little more difficult after starting the shots, but I think that’s due to those estrogen side effects. Some of us women become emotional wrecks when our ovaries first start firing up. So you could have been worse. Maybe you would have been, if you’d had to deal with bleeding and periods too.”

“Am I better than I was when I was Bill?” When you say yes, I’ll push to end my grounding.

Gwen tilted her head as she looked back at Willow. “Behaving better? Absolutely. But let’s not say you’re ‘better’ than Bill as a person. Bill had a lot of rough edges, but I loved him and always will. Just like I love you, daughter. Now if you start doing the things Bill was doing, you’ll find your Poppa and I can be just as harsh with our rules. But no matter what, we’ll still love you.”

“I know you love me, Momma. But I’ve always thought Poppa didn’t. ‘Cause he’s a stepfather. And stepdads abuse their children. Stepparents can’t love their stepkids because - they aren’t really their kids.”

“Willow,” gasped Gwen, “who told you that?”

“It’s common knowledge, Momma. Half the kids at school – when I actually went to public school - are stepkids. We talked about our folks. Most all of us wished we could have our original two parents back together. Not me! I know how rotten my ‘sperm donor’ father is. But William married you for you; we kids are just the baggage you brought along. That’s how most everyone thinks of their stepdads and moms.”

Gwen stroked her daughter’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “Oh Willow. Maybe that’s true for some stepparents. It’s true for some original parents too; there are plenty of Moms and Dads that have their natural kids and treat them like garbage. Again, exhibit one: your natural father. But when it comes to me, you are so, so wrong.”

“Momma – I wasn’t talking about you.“

“In a way, you were. See, after my divorce, I vowed to never get involved with any man who would treat my kids as second-class citizens. If some guy wanted me, he needed to treat me as the love of his life, and treat my kids as his own – better than his own. I frankly thought I had set the bar too high, that no man out there could meet my strict requirements. And then God plopped William into my life.

“As we were dating, I kept a keen eye on how he treated you. When he proposed, I demanded a yearlong engagement just so I could see if he loved you guys like you should be. He knew that becoming a stepparent would be rough, and that one or all of you would rebel against him. And he took you on anyway. So I married him. And he’s stayed true to his promise to me – and to you.

“So see, when you say William’s going to treat you as ‘baggage’, that means you don’t trust me as your Mom. I would never marry a man who does wrong by my kids. Rules? Yes. It’s frankly easier to enforce the rules when I have a husband to help me; that may be why it feels like things are stricter with him around. But abuse? Absolutely not. If I saw any, I’d take you three and be gone in a heartbeat, even if it meant living in a mobile home again. But me and you and your siblings, we got lucky. We got the best guy on the planet, and he’s sticking with us despite all our mess.”

Willow shook her head. “I’ll buy that he loves you, Mal and Angie. But the only reason he’s being affectionate to me right now is that I’m behaving. He never loved me when I was Bill. If I’m honest, Momma, I want a father who loves me for who I am, no matter how I act, no matter if I’m a boy or a girl. My real dad never did, and you can’t convince me that William does. Why should he? Even I wouldn’t love me if I was my own father.”

“Oh baby – what a thing to say!” Gwen’s eyes became moist. “You have more love in you than you know. We just need to bring it to the surface, past all that hurt and anger. You are worthy of love – ESPECIALLY from yourself. And how can you believe that William doesn’t love you after what he did while you were in Juvenile Detention?”

Willow tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

Gwen’s eyes widened. “Don’t you – didn’t you ever hear about his speech in Juvie court?”

Her daughter shook her head, intrigued. For the moment, she’d forgotten all about asking for the grounding to be stopped.

“Oh, baby. I thought he’d told you,” Gwen sighed. “When you got put in detention, William and I came to visit you, remember? Seeing you there, obviously scared out of your wits – that shook us. Then that week we were told that the Judge in your case wanted to meet with us without you present. I had the impression it was to be an informal affair, maybe just to have us answer some questions.

However, they began to proceed with your case! In the court, police and your school counselors laid out their opinion that you were a rebellious, out of control child who was probably introducing drugs into their pristine utopia of Montclair High and North Montanas. All they had was second-hand testimony that you were dealing drugs, no definite proof; but they were ready to incarcerate you for the next 3 years. We were taken aback – there was no attorney there to speak for you; we weren’t aware you’d need one.

“Then William stood up and told the court that although you were rebellious and disobedient, there was too little evidence to support their decision. He said if you were in juvie detention for that long, you would surely emerge damaged; that they should reduce the sentence to time served, then let us keep you in home detention until you turned around. When they tried to blow him off, William promised he'd return that day with an army of lawyers. The court ended up shortening your detention to 5 months.

“Your Poppa made some enemies that day; he put his reputation and community standing on the line for you. Then he prayed every day, along with me, for your protection and survival while you were in detention. So he’s proven to me that he loves you, and I love him so much for it.”

Willow was amazed. “He did all of that for me?”

“Yes. That’s why I know he loves you. He really, really loves you. As Willow, or as Bill; doesn’t matter. Now, LIKE? I think he LIKES Willow better, and I do too. Sorry, Bill, if you’re in there somewhere,” she smiled as she poked her daughter on the noggin. “But we LOVE you just as much, no matter which one you are.”

Willow sat bolt still. “He … he really loves me,” she eked out in a whisper.

“Yes, and – honey? Willow, are you okay?” Gwen suddenly was concerned.

Willow was experiencing distress she’d never felt before. A severe cramp squeezed her upper chest and spread to the base of her neck. Her jaw locked shut, and her facial muscles spasmed to form a grimace. God! What’s happening? Am I having a heart attack?? Now the cramp rose up to her voice box and the back of her throat; it was painful! Her vision blurred, and she could feel water drenching her face. Am I dying? She attempted to call for help.

“Mmm … mmMomm … wha … wha’s … WHA’S HAPPENIN’ TO MEEE??”

Willow dissolved into a weeping, sobbing heap there at the kitchen table. She was crying for the first time in over a decade. Gwen ran and embraced her daughter, hugging and rocking her as her own tears now fell.

“Go ahead, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you.”


William walked in from the garage that late afternoon carrying two large flat square boxes.

“I come bearing gifts – the gift of pizza. One meat, one veggie. Putting them on the kitchen counter. Uh … hello?”

Gwen’s voice came through the intercom. “Hi, honey. Come on back to Willow’s room, okay?”

He did so. His wife was standing at the door to meet him; they shared a quick heartfelt kiss.

“Pizza’s in the kitchen like you asked. How’s Willow?”

“Still weepy, off and on. It’s like she’s making up for years and years of not crying. But she does want to see you. Go on in; I’ll be here in the doorway.”

William walked in. The overhead light to the bedroom was off, but two lamps and the sunlight from the window was sufficient. Willow was sitting on the side of her bed in the same outfit from this morning; her eyes were red, and any vestige of makeup had long ago been washed away by tears. A trash can with a small hill of wadded tissues was off to her left.

Willow looked up at the man in her room and smiled. “Hi, Poppa.”

“Hey, Willow. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” She rose to stand like a perfect lady, legs together, with a smooth gradual ascension. “Um …”

Suddenly she ran the few steps to where he stood. She embraced him around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I … I love you too, Poppa. Love you too!” Now her tears were flowing again. William returned her embrace with his big arms around her back.

Her mother looked around for a fresh tissue box as the one in Willow’s room was now empty. Gwen felt a tap from behind on her shoulder blade; it was her daughter Angela to the rescue with another box.

“Thought it might be time for a new one,” whispered Angie.

Gwen kissed her oldest, then grabbed a handful of the paper and walked up behind William. She dabbed at Willow’s eyes with a few pieces and stuffed the rest into the girl’s right hand. Then she took a step back and took in the sight of these two former enemies holding on to each other.

Malachi’s voice crackled through the intercom. “OH my GOD!! Can we EAT already? I’m STARVING out here!”


Bernard u there?

Yep. How u? quit hurling yet?

Yes kept down slice of veggie pizza tonite!

Veggie? U a carnyvore dude

On a diet. Was getting fat

Okaaaay; whtevr. How goes the Plan

Um; reworking it; not finished yet.

Better do it B4 ur next shot!

Yeah. Hey Bern. Got serious question

Uh oh. Ok shoot

Ok. Ur my friend, right? We still best buds?


Would we still be best buds if I stayed this way 4 a little while?

Stay what way?

Just say yes or no

I cant. Don’t kno what ur talkin bout. Stay … ?

The way I am right now

Which is?

Um, a girl.

If I stayed living like a girl. Would u b disgusted, hate me?

Bern u still there? Plz. Plz b there.

Srry, just stunned. Yes dude. Still besties. No matter what.


Yes unless I get a girlfriend. Jealusy probs, right?


SO when did this happen – r u considering really turnin into a chick??

I been thinking hard about this. I don’t know when I’ll get Dr. to help me with legal action; feels like I’m in limbo. Until then keeping up with this act. But u kno … I don’t think I totally hate being a girl. In some ways.

What ways are those?

Relationship with parents much better – they treat me with love and respect. I learned today that William loves me as if I was his natural kid. And I think they may start relaxing rules soon? So maybe I get more freedom finally?

Well at least that’s happening - good

I feel more peace in life and heart, especially today. Anger not constantly burning in chest. Don’t kno if that is from being a girl or not; if not, it’s a huge coincidence.

Hello – R U sure this is Bill im talking 2?

Actually, ur talking to Willow. I’m still Bill, but Willow is becoming like a real person now, not just an act. She likes to get dressed up and look pretty, too. With my wig, I fool most people – don’t get tagged too often as guy in public.

Dude u even sound like a chick. So u happy?

I think maybe a little – more than I was.

Then Im happy 4 u. Glad u told me

Scary though. Thought I’d lose u as a friend.

Hey, Im always in ur corner. Dude/chick/whatever.

U don’t kno how much I appreciate that ☺

R u into guys now?

No. but looking at girls different – their style and clothes – and not as much their T&A. Not getting boners much – but hormones may be doin that

I M worried bout u. Rite now u in sheltered life. Tougher when out in real world as tranny.

Yeah, thass true probably. So next goal in “Plan” is allowing me some freedom in real world. Will have doc recommend to folks

Maybe u and I could finally hang out some again. I kno ur mom hates me 4 the drug stuff – but clean/sober for almost 10 months, attending 12 step program.

Man, I miss hangin w/u. I’ll talk 2 Poppa 1st; he might convince Momma

U call him Poppa? Not Stepshit? OK mind blown. So what do u look like as girl?

Texting u a pic of me. Lousy light srry. I haven’t seen u in over a year – text me a pic of u please?

Ok I sent pic; just got urs. Dude u r kinda hot

Why thank u Bernard. I C U R kind of a stud yrself


U started it! ROFLMAO!


To be continued tomorrow

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