For the past week, since talking to Human Resources and my own manager, things had been going quite well for me at the work place. Carissa had settled into the job at the help desk once worked by Carl. Everyone at the cable company knew that Carl was history.
I was probably handling a couple of dozen calls a day. Most called for simple solutions. Some were more complex requiring me to talk someone through the problem.
For the most part I was getting along well with my co workers. Joe Pollard talked to me just about every day. In fact I talked to him more now than Carl ever had. I was less secretive than Carl.
Jill Blaine, a butch lesbian, worked in the accounts receivable/ billing office. Her light brown hair was cut very short like a boy would wear it. She never wore earrings. She often wore tight slacks.
I always felt that with a little makeover Jill could be quite pretty. Her face was oval shape. She had a full lip but not a wide mouth and nice blue eyes.
She seemed to never stop talking. There's an old song called "Girl Talk" which I had heard many times. Part of it's lyric went "We love to chat about he dresses we will wear tonight. We chew the fat about our tresses and the neighbor's fight." When ever I heard it, Jill came to mind as an odd combination of butch behavior and girlish chat.
It began innocently enough one morning. I had been taking my morning coffee break in the cafeteria. She came by carrying a coffee and a muffin inside a cardboard takeout box.
"Do you mind if I sit with you?"
"No," I said. "I don't mind company."
"Do you like working here?"
"I like it fine."
"I understand you're transgender."
"I am."
"You must put up with a lot of crap."
"I deal with it."
My life had changed suddenly one week earlier at the company Christmas party. Thousands of men who spend years trying to feminize themselves would give anything to have what happened to me happen to them. I went from male cross dresser to woman without the regimen of hormone therapy or surgery. Funny thing is I never felt the overpowering need to change my body. It was simply the occasional fantasy.
She seemed not to know where to go with the conversation. "I got myself a Harley. I love it. It's great on gas."
"I'm afraid of those things. I could never ride one."
Jill giggled. "They're not that scary girl. Some day I'll take you for a ride on one."
"No thanks," I said grinning. "I prefer the safety of my car."
"Oh well," she replied. "I just wanted to ask."
Two nights ago I sensed for the first time that I might actually be lesbian. When I had fallen asleep a few minutes after ten there was dream image of Brittany Spears. We had french kissed with great passion for several minutes. The following morning while I showered I briefly imagined kissing Ellen Degeneres but then let go the thought as I dressed for the office. That part of me was private. I hoped that it was not true.
Jill was quite the opposite. That she's lesbian was obvious from the way she carried herself, the way she dressed, and her occasional lustful comments. Not far away from us two of the secretaries were walking towards a table by the window. Jill leaned closer to me.
"The one on the left is really hot!"
"I wouldn't know," I answered softly.
"Oh yeah you would," she replied quickly.
Finished with my coffee I headed back toward my desk walking quickly. Jill caught up with me.
"Bye," I said.
"Bye sweety, I'll see you."
That's quite enough Jill, I thought. I don't swing that way! I finally reached my desk still asking myself why is she hitting on me? The thought repeated itself. I don't swing that way!
I make my living fixing internet connectivity problems. The phone interrupted my thoughts but it was just as well it did. After taking the caller's name and address then giving him my name for future reference we tackled his problem. The caller had a two computer network but only one was online and that only when he disconnected his router.
Five o'clock came around finally and I was on my way out of the building. Walking through the parking lot I planned my evening. The plan was to stop by the store and buy some groceries then head for home.
I had become a person given to crying when something happened to upset me. A couple of days later something terrible did happen. I loved my pet. Losing Fritz certainly could cause me to break down.
Fritz was a black labrador retriever. I could not bring him with me when I moved from my parents home into my apartment so I left him with my parents. They took very good care of him. Usually two or three times a week on my way home, I would stop at mom and dad's house. Fritz would always trot out to play and compel me to pet him.
Unfortunately he was getting on in years. I had been living in my apartment for five years now. I had the dog six years before I moved. He was quite old. I could see him aging. He moved more slowly. He seemed less willing to chase the tennis ball.
This afternoon I decided to stop by mom's house. It was time for that free meal and to see the love of my life, Fritz. As I came in the front door my mom looked at me. I could see in her eyes that something was wrong.
"Carissa," she began slowly, "Fritz died this morning."
O God no I thought. It was a battle to hold back the tears but the whole evening had been a somber occasion.
"It was just old age. The vet told us that his heart wasn't all that strong these days."
I had spent an almost sleepless night thinking about that animal. I thought about the day when I first got him. He was one then, 7 in people years. Eighty-four is long enough for anyone else I thought but not for Fritz and me.
At the office the following day I did my best to put the tragedy out of my mind. It would not take much to crack the veneer. Losing Fritz was like losing a child. To make matters worse, I had my period when I awoke. The hormonal changes simply added to my feeling of sadness. For a brief instant I wished I had remained Carl but I can't undue this magic.
It was the end of my work day when Jill came by the help desk. Somehow she could read my mood.
"Carissa are you OK hon?"
"I'm ok," I replied.
She stared at me for a couple of seconds. We had just come to the exit door.
"You look like you lost your best friend."
I broke and cried. "My dog died."
"I'm so sorry!"
