Bill returns to his old life...well, not quite.
After returning home he was called to the operating room. One of his patients, a young man in his care had suddenly worsened making surgery necessary. The operation was more than successful. The onlookers recognized his fore-to-be-seen skill and expertise in the delicate procedure. It was almost as though he was on automatic pilot; receiving instructions from some unforeseen source with each step he took without the need for reflection. It was "eerie" one of his assistants said to someone after the operation. He himself seemed surprised with what he'd done, as though he had been in some hypnotic trance during the procedure.
Of course no one knew the young man he saved would produce a line of progeny that one day would give birth to a scientist who was instrumental in combining anti-matter with matter when flight and space travel would be revolutionized to match the capabilities that had been reported with the countless number of UFO reports that were being made for thousands of years.
The following day he had a specialists examine his ear. With a grimace of pain a small unknown object was extracted from his auditory canal. He heard the sound it made when the physician dropped it into the pan. When the physician poured water on it to rinse the blood away, it vaporized and dissolved as though the water was acid.
Bill found himself becoming depressed noting the only thing keeping him going was his interaction with Claudia. He knew he had to do something and when we are put under the gun in life, we sometimes consider suicide as being a choice. Sometimes it seems like the easy way out of a situation we find ourselves in. Still he felt the need to live each day as he had done for so long; putting one foot ahead of the other each day.
There wasn't a day that passed when he'd call Claudia, or she'd call him. They exchanged emails when she told him how scared she was when she found him on the beach and hoped he would never do that to her again. It was clear to both of them they missed each other. She related the following about her childhood in one of her emails to him.
Email from Claudia:
Dear Bill,
I was an only child. I told you I had an anal fixation I believe. I don't know where or when I got my Raggedy-Ann doll but it seemed I always carried it around with me. I even slept with it.
My mother knew I was different very early on since I smiled so much. She told me I had a girl's smile and when she would change me she knew there was a contradiction in how I looked and smiled and with my body parts. She knew something didn't belong or go together. She said it was like seeing a milking cow, a dairymaid and a stein of beer when one of those things just didn't belong, unlike the others.
My parents used to go out on Saturday nights when Evelyn babysat with me. One of my fondest memories was in seeing my mother put on her makeup. I made it a point to always watch her. I stood by her side noting exactly how she did it. I thought it was the neatest thing imaginable; seeing her face becoming prettier than it already was.
When she was done I'd ask if she would make me look pretty too. She told me little boys don't wear makeup. I cried telling her I wanted to look pretty like her. I thought women were the superior of the sexes and looked far better than men; the way I wanted to look because it was how I thought of myself.
"Please," I begged her to put makeup on me. The first time she put a little lipstick on me. I looked at myself in her mirror before smiling at her. She smiled too and somehow I thought it was her way of accepting me. I hugged her feeling a deeper love in thinking she acknowledged who I was on the inside.
"Go show your father," she giggled encouraging me to do so. I did but he was not pleased. He teased me about it; hurting my feelings. Sometimes he'd come home from work and ask,
"Have you been a good boy or a bad girl today?"
I knew he was trying to get me to say I'd been a good boy but I'd just get angry with him; not answering him. He did this all the time until one day I stuck out my tongue at him and told him I'd been a good girl feeling there was nothing wrong with it and wanted to see what he was going to say about my declaration. I guess I challenged him and he looked upset.
I remember hearing my parents talking and arguing about me when they didn't know I could hear them. My mother kept defending me when I could tell he was unhappy with me and my behavior. He went as far as to blame her for my having a gender crisis. I began to dislike him wishing he was dead. I avoided him perhaps clinging to my mother too frequently. She was my chosen mentor, guardian and role model. No doubt I had bonded to her quite a bit.
They began to see how I behaved around other children my age and how I related to them. They could see I was friendly with the girls and identified with them more like a girl would. I related to boys as a girl would too. Once we had a birthday party for one of the boys in the neighborhood and after he had blown out the candles; I kissed him on the cheek. I didn't understand why everyone was looking at me the way they were; as though I'd done something wrong.
My hair was getting longer and I began to do what the other girls were doing with their hair when one Saturday my father took me to the mall to get a haircut. I didn't know we were going there for that reason; he surprised me. I began to resist, even crying when he sat me in the chair. When I heard the barber turn on his trimmer, I jumped out of the chair screaming "no" as I pulled off the apron angrily throwing it to the floor. I ran from the shop when my father grabbed me by the arm. In a fit of rage I kicked him and told him I hated him.
I ran away crying when a female security guard stopped me. She asked if I was lost and I told her I was running away from my father. When he caught up to me the security guard scolded him saying I was traumatized and that my hair looked fine as it was. He seemed ashamed of himself, looking embarrassed.
Once during a family get-together my Uncle Charles was visiting when he wanted to talk to me. He asked me a lot of questions about myself. His questions seemed strange making me uncomfortable as I wondered why he wanted to know certain things about me and how I felt.
Uncle Charlie is a psychiatrist and though I didn't know it at the time, my father asked him to talk to me and give him his opinion on whether or not I was having gender identity problems. I found out later he told my father I wasn't having them since they were already embedded, or enmeshed in me. He told my father I was fine and it was probably he who had the problem in accepting the obvious. They stood watching me while I was talking to my cousin when Uncle Charlie said something like,
"Look at the mannerisms as he places one hand on his hip while the other is opened with the palm pointing up. This is not imitation; it's how he expresses himself naturally. Some males are naturally effeminate in their behavior revealing how they feel and think about themselves on the inside. No one knows what triggers this phenomenon. It happens to girls too when their behavior is naturally more masculine. "
The following week he came home with a present for me. He had me sit on his lap handing it to me to open. He smiled at me when he saw my expression. It was the most beautiful doll ever. Guess what her name was, as it was written on the box –
Claudia
.
When I hugged him and he saw the smile on my face, I think it was when he finally accepted me. From that day forward he was my friend.
Compared to other transgenders, I started hormones very early which resulted in them having the maximum impact and effect on me. My mother is a doctor and she co-ordinated my treatments.
It might surprise you to know I avoided showcasing my femininity...
