Francis Holcomb, known as Fran, carefully walked into his sick mother’s bedroom carrying a bowl of steaming soup broth. She had been extremely ill for several months, and was now terminal. Twelve-year-old Fran had taken care of her mostly single-handedly to the best of his ability, but the outlook was very bleak.

“Fran, honey, I don’t think I can get it down,” she said, weakly.

“Pleeeease, mom? I don’t want you to die,” said Fran.

“Fran, I don’t want to die, but I really think I don’t have much time left. You’ve taken care of me so well, and I don’t really want to leave you alone with your father, but it isn’t looking like I have any choice. My little Frannie, you have a soft side to you that your father doesn’t like. I just don’t know how I can protect you from him.”

He leaned over her and hugged her for a long time.

Her breathing was very labored, and she died that night.

-o0o-

Jim Holcomb didn’t spend any time mourning his wife. She should have been stronger. Now he’s stuck with the sissy kid. Jim doubts the kid is really his. No seed of his could have resulted in such a small, girly boy.

Fran was completely bereft, sobbing his heart out. Jim made arrangements for a cheap burial with no service, and hit the bar afterward on his way home. When he came home and found his young son crying, he belted him.

-o0o-

With the wife gone, Jim ordered Fran take over her duties, cleaning, cooking and laundry. Jim hadn’t noticed, but Fran had mostly been doing all this already, as his mother was too sick to leave her bed. The way Jim saw it, Fran was so girly already he may as well do women’s work. Fran was numb now, and just did as he was told. He didn’t see how he could ever escape this hellish life. Beatings with Jim’s belt became a regular thing, whether or not there was anything to beat him about.

Several months later, after Fran had unceremoniously turned thirteen, Jim came up with a plan to be rid of the brat.

“Frank, you and I are going to go camping! Doesn’t that sound fun?” said, Jim, trying to sound enthusiastic, as if he was talking to a five-year-old.

Fran, who didn’t like being called Frank, was not in the slightest bit interested in camping, but he knew better than to say so. He just said, “That sounds great, Dad.” The jovial act certainly raised his suspicions, but he didn’t know what to expect.

They packed for the trip. Fran brought his mother’s ancient red flannel sleeping bag. Jim got himself a new, super-insulated bag. There was no tent, because “only sissies need a tent when they camp,” Jim said.

It was a gray day when they set out. They got in the pickup and Jim drove all day long, leaving central Wisconsin and heading north in Minnesota to a wilderness area near the Canadian border he had found on the map. Jim had the radio on the whole time, to discourage conversation. Once they reached the park he drove for another hour, until he could see nothing but trees and a dirt road. They hadn’t passed another car since long before entering the forest. He pulled off into a two-car, dirt parking area and sent Fran to find some tinder for a fire in a little clearing about a quarter mile in from the truck. They set up some stones for a campfire and Jim made the fire. Then they ate sandwiches Fran had packed. The light was waning by this time, and Jim told Fran to put on his pajamas and turn in. The temperature was in the upper 40s.

Jim sat watching the fire until he was sure Fran was asleep and then quietly walked back to the truck, taking Fran’s clothes and everything else they had brought, hoping he’d die of exposure and hunger. If anyone noticed Fran was missing Jim could claim the boy had wandered off by himself, or was a runaway.

-o0o-

In the morning it took only one look for Fran to realize he was on his own, and he was actually relieved. Of course he knew his father hated him, and he had never really had feelings for his father. Nothing he could do would please Jim. Since his mother died Jim had been freely calling him a sissy and a damned fairy, along with the beatings, so being left on his own in a forest didn’t seem so bad in comparison to life with Jim Holcomb.

He lay there in the sleeping bag for a while, thinking about his life up to now, but knew he had to start moving or he really would die out there.

It was cold that morning, around 40°. Fran put the sleeping bag around his shoulders to try and keep warm and started walking, barefoot and in his threadbare pajamas. It took most of the day to make his way out of the wilderness area. He was hungry and cold, so walking was really the only thing he could do to try and warm up. He spent that night in the woods. His feet were torn up from rocks and roots and his stomach ached from hunger. The next day, after six hours trudging along the empty road, he came to a lonely ramshackle house and knocked on the door.

It was a single-mother family with four girls, Rosie, Betsy, Renee and Lesley. Rosie, the eldest, was seventeen, and Lesley, the youngest was nine. The mother, introduced as Mrs. Langley, had a pinched, unhappy face, and was not friendly at all, but the older girls talked her into taking him in. They couldn’t believe he was walking around barefoot and in pajamas.

After he was cleaned up, and some gauze bandages wrapped around his feet, their clothes were all that was available, but he was grateful for anything, and girls clothes didn’t bother him. He was very aware of the fact that he had a girly side. Rosie and Betsy saw the scars on his arms and back, asked about them, and realized just how bad things must have been. They saw a frail, small, abused kid, who certainly looked younger than thirteen. He was everything Jim Holcomb didn’t want in a son. The girls supported him and gave him love, which he was starved for.

Mrs. Langley was on the cleaning staff at an office building in town. She had a piece of crap car that got her there and back. She looked at him, standing there in an old dress.

“We don’t have any money to buy you clothes, young man,” she snapped at him.

He hadn’t asked for any. He didn’t mind wearing the girls’ old clothes, and tried to be as helpful as possible, so that maybe Mrs. Langley would thaw out and start to like him. He cleaned, helped with the younger girls, swept up outside. But Mrs. Langley had bad experiences with men, such as her ex-husband, and didn’t want another mouth to feed, especially a male one. She was just barely civil to him. The only thing that kept him going was the support he got from the girls. They all adored him and he loved them back.

-o0o-

After about three weeks Mrs. Langley fell ill, and it was Fran who knew what to do for her. He took responsibility for taking care of her. He had experience as a caregiver, and was gentle and loving. She still lashed out at him, but now it was more out of her guilt for being so mean. He just kept quiet and continued taking care of her.

When she was well enough that her daughters could easily help her, Fran retreated and tried to stay out of her way, but unknown to him, he’d gotten under her skin. She realized she had taken out her hatred of men on him, but hadn’t figured out how to apologize yet.

Meanwhile, Fran had decided that, since she still didn’t like him, he might as well leave and try to find somewhere else to live. He was already too familiar with living with someone who couldn’t stand him. Besides, he knew they didn’t have much and he never wanted to be a burden. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye to the girls; they had been so kind. It would just be too hard. So he crept out at night, leaving a note in the kitchen.

-o0o-

The next morning one of the girls asked where Fran was.

“I haven’t seen him yet. Is he outside?”

It was Rosie who spotted a note on the kitchen table.

“Dear Langleys,

Thank you so much for taking care of me. It really meant so much to me. I can tell there isn’t much money to go around, so I am leaving so each of you can have more. Please don’t try and find me. I will be fine.

Love,
Fran”

To Rosie, it was obvious why he left.

“This is your fault!” she yelled at her mother. “You were so nasty to him that you drove him away! He took good care of you while you were so sick, and you still treated him like dirt!”

Mrs. Langley dissolved into tears of guilt, because she knew she owed him for taking care of her, and had been unfair, and none of it was his fault.

“Do you even know or care what he went through? His little body was a mass of scars from being beaten by his bastard of a father, who took him to the wilderness and abandoned him to die!”

Mrs. Langley felt much worse now. She hadn’t bothered to find out his story. It sounded like little Fran suffered a lot more from men than she had.

-o0o-

Meanwhile Fran wasn’t faring so well. He was in an old dress and a tattered coat they couldn’t repair any more. At least this time he was wearing some old shoes. He didn’t come to many houses along the road, but when he saw one he would knock and ask if he could work for a meal. A couple places took him up on it, doing bits of housework, but it wasn’t really enough. They all saw a skinny little girl in rags, who looked like a good breeze would blow her over.

At thirteen he was too young to get a job, but he also really didn’t want to go into foster care. On the fifth day after he left the Langleys he was just staggering into a small town when he had to sit down by the side of the road, weak from hunger and exposure. He lay down and gazed at the gray sky, wondering if would be worth getting up, and thinking that dying might be the best way out of this situation.

Gloria Matthews was driving back home when she saw what looked like a bundle of rags by the side of the road. As she got closer she realized it was a young girl. She was dirty and didn’t look like she could last much longer. Gloria stopped the car, got out, and checked to see if the girl had injuries.

“Honey, did a car hit you?” she asked.

“No,” Fran rasped out. “I’m just tired and a little hungry.”

“How long have you been lying here?”

“I don’t know. A half hour? An hour. It doesn’t really matter…”

Alarmed, Gloria picked her up and carefully carried her back to her car. The girl weighed almost nothing. She lay her down in the back seat and got back in.

She took Fran home, helped him inside and fed him. She really wanted to get him into the bath before anything else, because he stunk, but he was so malnourished she fed him first. He was unable to eat much, but felt a lot better for having something in his stomach. He was quite tired.

“Would you like a bath, honey?”

“I would love to have a bath, Miss Matthews” said Fran.

“You can call me Gloria, dear. While you’re in there I’ll wash your dress,” she offered, although she could see it was more of a rag than a garment. Fran seemed so sweet.

“I really don’t want to be any trouble,” he said automatically, but agreed without much resistance.

Fran gratefully eased into the warm, bubbly water, and quickly fell asleep. When Gloria came in to find out why he was so quiet she discovered he was not exactly female. She also saw the scars on his body and was angered anyone would beat such a gentle child. But she knew he was in trouble, and she had already taken quite a shine to him. Even without any clothes on he still seemed like a girl.

“Wake up, honey,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder.

Fran swam back to consciousness. He hadn’t even begun to wash his long, dirty hair, and so she did it for him. He just relished the attention and sensation; no one had ever done something like that for him.

She dried his hair, wrapped a towel around him and steered him to the guest room. She put a soft sleep shirt on him and got him into bed. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she had seen he wasn’t a girl, not that it would have bothered him.

-o0o-

The next morning he felt so much better. A night in a comfortable bed, and having a little food in his stomach seemed like the most wonderful things. He got up and padded into the kitchen. The sleep shirt was so long on him that he had to hold it up. Gloria sat him down and put a plate of food in front of him. She watched him daintily eat. Once he was finished, she asked, “Fran, dear, why don’t you tell me your story?”

“Okay. Let’s see… My mom was really sick last year, and I took care of her, but then she died.” He had to pause here as a few tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away and continued.

“My father never really liked me, and about a month ago he drove us hours and hours to a big forest, and then left me alone there during the night. He took away my clothes and shoes. So when I woke up the next day I started walking, in my pajamas. I walked all day and part of the night and then the next day I found a family to stay with, but the mother didn’t like me, so I left.”

Gloria was horrified by this matter-of-fact recital. “How long did you stay with them?”

“Just about a month?”

“How old are you, Fran?”

“Thirteen.”

Gloria was somewhat shocked at this. She would have guessed eleven.

“I just don’t know what to do. I won’t go back to my father, and I don’t want to go into foster care, because I’ve heard scary stories about it. When you picked me up I was just ready to die. It seemed like the easiest solution. No one wants me,” he said, looking at his plate.

Gloria was heartbroken hearing this sad story.

“Do you have any aunts or uncles, Fran?”

“Not on my mom’s side. My father has two brothers, but they’re just like him.”

“How did you end up in a dress?”

“The house where I stayed, there were only girls there, and they didn’t have the money to spend on clothes for me, so I just wore their clothes. I didn’t mind.”

Gloria wasn’t sure what to do with him. If she kept him that could open up cans and cans of worms when she put him in school. To get his school records they’d have to find the father, who would then go to jail. That would be a mess, and probably expensive, with lawyers and paperwork.

Gloria thought for a bit. He seemed quite comfortable as a girl, and very believable. “Fran, would you like to stay as a girl?” she asked, very gently.

He became emotional, thinking for a while. “I think I would. My mom knew I was like this, kind of more girl than boy, and she was worried about what would happen to me after she was gone. She knew my dad hated that I wasn’t big and manly… I wish I was normal, but I’m just not,” he said, tears falling.

Gloria hugged and comforted him.

“Well, sweetie, we’ll see how we can make that happen.”

-o0o-

Fran stayed with her for the week, recovering his strength. Gloria ran out and bought some girls clothes for him to wear, since nothing she had would fit him; he was just too small. She thought long and hard and formulated a plan to keep him. She would say he was her niece. The story would be that this niece was sent to stay with her while her father—Gloria’s brother—was out of the country. The school records were somehow lost, etc. It’s a small town and the story would be in no danger of being investigated. Taking in your niece is just something you do for family.

Gloria had a job which supported her needs. She owned her home, thanks to her parents, and would be able to take care of the two of them.

At school Fran was enrolled as Frances, or Frannie Matthews, and made friends and fit in pretty quickly with a small group of girls. She and Gloria quickly grew to love each other, and Gloria could see that living as a girl was the right path for Frannie. She got Frannie the psychological and medical help she needed to become a girl in every way possible.

Gloria introduced Frannie to her parents, three towns over, who fell in love with her. As time went on they informally adopted her as a granddaughter. Grandma died when Frannie was seventeen, and both she and Gloria were left some money, which went a long way in her SRS fund. She also found a part-time job in a candy shop in town, to add to this fund.

She hardly grew much taller, ending up at 5’4”, and still looked fairly frail, in spite of eating well now. She was not bad looking and had pleasant curves, under the influence of the hormones.

At eighteen Frannie graduated high school, had SRS, and once she was back on her feet enrolled at the community college nearby. In her French class she saw Betsy Langley, one of the four daughters from the house with the nasty mother. After five years of course Betsy didn’t recognize Frannie, and it was mainly because of her name that Frannie knew who she was. Since she had put that old life behind her, and it was really nothing but bad memories, she decided not to tell Betsy who she was. She loved all the Langley daughters, but the whole episode just reminded her of why she was with them to start with.

-o0o-

Betsy had noticed Frannie, and she reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who. They had never spoken, and had only the one class together. Betsy and her family had gradually worked their way out of poverty and the mother was now a pretty pleasant woman. Betsy was two years older than Frannie, and the second oldest in her family. After a month of seeing Frannie in class and wondering about her she realized she reminded her of little Fran, but… wasn’t Fran really a boy?

She called her older sister, Rosie, to talk about this girl.

“She reminds me so much of Fran, but she seems to be all girl. Was he really a boy? I wonder whatever happened to him. He didn’t mention any sisters to us, did he?”

“No, he said he was an only child, and no, I never actually saw, but he told us he was a boy. Let’s hope he found his way to somewhere better than where he came from,” said Rosie.

“You know, Rosie, I’ve seen this girl at the diner in town a few times. What if you come to lunch with me one day and see what you think of her?”

“Okay. I’m always happy to see you, Betsy.”

-o0o-

They picked a day Betsy was pretty sure Frannie would be eating there, and sure enough, there she was, at a table with another girl. They sat across the room so Rosie could observe discreetly.

“You’re right, Bets. She reminds me of Fran too. Do you know her name? Actually, I can’t even remember Fran’s last name.”

“No, we’ve never spoken. I just wanted confirmation that I wasn’t dreaming. Fran had hair just that color, but at this point it’s kind of hard to remember anything more about him.”

“Oh, I know!! Fran had scars on his forearms. His awful father beat him with a belt, he said. Too bad that girl is wearing long sleeves! Well, maybe you’ll be able to see her arms at some point.”

-o0o-

During the next quarter Frannie had a swimming class, and so did Betsy, so she was able to get a look at Frannie’s arms, and yes, they were scarred. She didn’t say anything, though, and in the locker room she did notice that Frannie appeared to be physically all girl. She also saw scars on Frannie’s back. She was having some trouble admitting it to herself, because this wasn’t her main interest, but she found herself attracted to Frannie, who hadn’t appeared to notice her at all.

Betsy finally approached Frannie one day when she found her studying.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Frannie looked up. “No, not at all.”

“Hey, weren’t you in my French class last quarter?”

“I don’t know. Did you have Garnier?”

“Yes! I thought you looked familiar. My name’s Betsy.”

“Frannie, nice to meet you.”

Betsy certainly noticed it was just about the same name.

“J’adore votre chemisier.”

“Sorry Betsy, but I’m afraid none of that course stayed in my head!”

“Sorry. I said I love your blouse.”

“Thank you. Your earrings are pretty cool.”

“Hey, um, when you’re done studying you want to go get a snack?”

“Sure. I’ll be about another half hour.”

Frannie didn’t want to seem antisocial, and Betsy had always been very nice to her, so she didn’t think this would compromise her idea not to say who she was.

They went to the snack counter in the Student Center and sat together and chatted. Betsy found her extremely cute. She couldn’t help herself and started to pour on the charm, and Frannie found herself giggling and responding. So when Betsy suggested going to a movie together she said yes.

This started a nice friendship, and Frannie started really looking forward to seeing Betsy. She found she was very attracted to her, in spite of her idea to keep her distance. She hadn’t given a lot of thought to her sexual orientation. Mostly she just wanted to stay away from men.

-o0o-

Betsy had her over to the apartment she shared with the next youngest sister, Renee, and started to ask about her.

“Where are you from, Frannie?”

“I used to live in Wisconsin, but my parents died in a car wreck, so I came here to live with my aunt,” she said, telling Betsy the story she and Gloria had cooked up several years before. (The story about Gloria’s brother being out of the country for years was eventually deemed too flimsy.)

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask how you got those scars?” she indicated Frannie’s arms.

“I really don’t like to think about that, Betsy,” she said, tearing up a little.

“I’m so sorry for asking,” Betsy said, and moved over to put an arm around Frannie, who leaned her head on Betsy’s shoulder.

“It was just a very hard time, and I’ve tried to put it behind me.”

Betsy pulled her a little closer, both suddenly felt their hearts pumping faster, and before they knew what had happened they found themselves kissing, their arms wrapped around each other.

When they eventually came up for air they pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now,” said Betsy.

Frannie blushed and smiled. She stared into Betsy’s eyes for a while, and then said, “You know who I am, don’t you.”

“Yes, I do. You’re little Fran, who stayed with us a few years back. We all felt terrible when you left, especially mom.”

“What?! I don’t understand. She never liked me.”

“During the time you were taking care of her, she realized she had treated you like crap, but she found it hard to stop, and then felt guilty about it. She had been mistreated by our father and other men, and projected that anger on to you. When we discovered you were gone she cried her eyes out.”

Frannie was just stunned to hear that. She put her head back down on Betsy’s shoulder.

Finally she said, “Well, it all turned out okay. You all could barely support yourselves; you didn’t need another mouth to feed. And I ended up meeting a wonderful lady who became my aunt and helped me become the person I am today. And you seem much better off than you were back then.”

“Oh yes, we managed to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and move away from that slum. I think, thanks to you, my mother became a changed woman. She stopped focusing on all that was wrong and changed her attitude. She has a job as an executive secretary and lives in a much nicer home.”

“I’m glad,” said Frannie.

-o0o-

Frannie still wasn’t sure about letting the rest of the Langleys know who she was, but if she and Betsy continued in their relationship, she realized they would inevitably find out. As they spent more and more time together she asked Betsy how her family would feel, knowing she was a lesbian.

“Oh, they’ve known for some time,” she smiled. “My sisters and I are all very close.”

“If I meet them how will they feel about me being TS?”

“Frannie, they all loved you when you stayed with us. And you were always in a dress anyway so we mostly thought of you as a girl. When I first saw you at college I wondered if it was you, and it took a while until I remembered you were supposed to be a boy! You always seemed like a girl to me.”

-o0o-

Gloria knew Frannie was seeing Betsy, and that Betsy was from the family who had taken her in, however briefly. She was very happy to see Frannie in a loving relationship.

-o0o-

The day came when Betsy wanted to introduce Frannie to her family. There was a birthday party for her mother, and all the daughters would be there. Frannie was very nervous, and clung to Betsy on the way up the front walk.

“Don’t be nervous, Baby. They will still love you.”

They entered the house. The family was sitting in the living room chatting. The talk stopped as the two came in. Betsy’s arm was around Frannie.

“Everyone? This is my girlfriend, Frannie, the love of my life.”

Rosie was the first to jump up and embrace Frannie very warmly.

“Welcome, Frannie!”

The other two girls said hello, but they didn’t remember Fran as well as the two oldest. The mother kept staring at her, making her very nervous.

Finally she said, her voice trembling, “Fran? Is it you?”

Frannie felt tears coming to her eyes. “Yes.” was all she said.

The mother rose and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Can you ever forgive me for treating you so terribly?” she said, crying now herself.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she replied.

The two younger girls were mystified at this, until Rosie whispered to them. Their eyes widened and they jumped up and joined the hug. The other two joined in and Frannie was at the center of a loving embrace. She was also the shortest one there, and felt warmly enveloped. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You’ve become a beautiful young lady,” said Mrs. Langley.

“Thank you, but all of you are much prettier than I am,” she said, trying to dry her tears.

They all sat back down, with Betsy and Frannie together, holding hands.

“What happened to you, Fran?” asked Lesley, the youngest.

“Frannie, please. A wonderful lady found me and adopted me as her niece, and I’ve been very happy with her.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to your louse of a father?”

“I really don’t spend any time thinking about that part of my past. It’s too dark and sad to spend any effort on. Him abandoning me was probably the nicest thing he ever did for me.”

The others tried in vain to imagine a scenario in which abandonment was the best option. They knew their mom had been hard to live with, but they still loved her.

The party moved into the dining room, where they had a meal and birthday cake. Mrs. Langley and Frannie had a moment alone in the kitchen. She asked, “Are you really okay with me, Frannie? I felt so awful when I drove you away.”

Frannie smiled at her. “Yes, I am. I didn’t hold it against you. And you didn’t need to try and provide for another person, as tight as things were. It all turned out well.”

Mrs. Langley gave her another hug. “Thank you, you loving child.”

-o0o-

When Betsy dropped her off at home that night she went in to talk to Gloria.

“Aunt Gloria, you’ll never guess what happened today.”

Gloria smiled at her niece and said, “You’re right. Tell me.”

“I went to a party at the home of Betsy’s family, where I stayed before I came to you. Mrs. Langley was overjoyed to see me. The woman I thought couldn’t stand me cried when she hugged me.”

“Well, well,” said Gloria. “Sounds as if she had a change of heart.”

“Yes, she seems much happier now. The girls were all very glad to see me, and it was great to see them again. They were so nice to me when I stayed with them.”

“Betsy must be getting more serious about your relationship if she wanted you to meet the family.”

Frannie blushed. “Yes, I really love her. I want to be with her all the time.”

“I’m happy for you, honey,” said Gloria, wrapping her arms around Frannie.

-o0o-

It was funny about good old Jim Holcomb, but not in a ha-ha way. A neighbor lady had seen him and Fran leave the house on the day they left for their so-called camping trip. The neighbor had noted that Jim had returned alone. From Fran’s mother she knew that Jim had mistreated the boy, and was suspicious that Fran hadn’t come back too. She reported her suspicions to the police. They checked with his school and discovered Fran had never returned.

When they went and questioned Jim he told them Fran had just run away while they were camping in the Upper Peninsula, in Michigan; he didn’t know why. That didn’t explain why he never reported his own son missing. Some of his teachers reported seeing a lot of bruising and scars on Fran. But, ultimately, there was no corpus delicti, so Jim wasn’t charged. Posters were put up about the missing child, but they were not even in the same state where Fran was abandoned, and nothing came of it.

Jim Holcomb continued drinking, and his house soon became a pigsty. He attempted to get a girlfriend, in order to have someone to do all his housework, but no one would touch him. Two years after he abandoned Fran he drunkenly drove his truck into a bridge abutment and died.

When he was reborn a few years later he was, you guessed it, a wimpy little fairy struggling with gender identity. He had a father exactly like the kind he had been to Fran. He felt very unfairly treated, but then, that’s karma.

The End.