My Cherie Amour

by Angela Rasch

Chapter Five

 

"Myth and creeds are heroic struggles to comprehend the truth in the world." - Ansel Adams

 

We weren't even halfway to Duluth, and I was wondering what the heck I was doing. I had been Cherie for less than two hours, and would have already quit, if it hadn't been for my promise to Mom to stick it out.

Mrs. Thompson showed up at our house promptly at 7:15 on Saturday morning with her four kids. The day before, which was the day after school got out, Lee took me into her salon. She told me that we were going to get the whole-day treatment. Acting on advice from Mom and Lee, I had grown out my nails so they could be properly manicured. I was given a facial, and my eyebrows were professionally plucked.

At first, I wondered what the salon staff thought of me. Then I realized from their comments about not having too many identical twins as clients that I had little to fear. They challenged each other to make us as identical as possible. Lee and I selected a hairdo from a stylebook, although in reality Lee was doing all the choosing.

With no more ready excuses, I allowed them to pierce my ears, and put in drainage studs. Lee said I could wear any earrings I wanted in a few days. Like I cared!

A professional cosmetician did a makeover on both of us. Although, Lee and Mom had taught me a great deal during the previous two weeks, I learned all sorts of new things from her.

When we finally got to look in the mirror, our reflection took my breath away. They had added a reddish tint to our honey blonde hair. We looked sort of like two little pixies. The lady said that our hair would be easy to take care of with our new permanents. Lee said that we would be able to maintain them by ourselves for the summer.

It took us half an hour to load all our things into the Thompson van. They didn't have much luggage, as they had already taken most of their things up to their cabin. Even so, we had to be really careful with our packing to get everything in.

Mom was brave, as we pulled away from the house. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't hold back a couple of tears. I wiped them away quickly, so the boys wouldn't see. I didn't want them to think that they could take advantage of me.

Mom had done so much to prepare me. My bedroom had been totally redecorated by a contractor the first day I was in school. She must have paid plenty to have them work so fast. It was even more feminine than Lee's. Mom schooled me endlessly on the finer points of how to talk, sit, stand, walk, what words to use and not use, and a hundred other things. I was ready.

Mrs. Thompson was really nice. She was unruffled and organized. The boys were mostly well-behaved, and seemed to think the world of her.

For some reason the two boys gravitated to Lee, while the two little girls stuck to me like spongy little magnets. Not wanting to create a problem, I sat with the girls in the middle seat. Lee sat with the boys in the back. We were barely under way when I found myself holding little Kayla and giving her a bottle. Lee and I had taken a childcare course to qualify to work at the latchkey center. The course had included infant care, even though the youngest kids at the center had been six.

I fed Kayla the bottle of juice while holding her across my chest. Dressed as I was, I felt much more maternal than I really wanted to. Lee had insisted that we dress identically, and wear the same makeup. The t-shirts she had picked out were pink, and had lots of trim. She also decided we should wear high ponytails with pink scrunchies. As Kayla sucked on her bottle, she worked over the fingers on my left hand with her tiny little mitt, her eyes bore into my face memorizing every detail.

All the while, Emily was introducing me to her doll family. It was actually interesting hearing all the names she had made up, and the stories she had for each of them. I listened intently as it was obvious that she was serious. She told all of her dolls about Cherie. How Cherie was her new best friend. How Cherie was going to teach her how to make cookies, and swim with her, and have tea parties. She didn't mention Lee at all. Hopefully she wouldn't be able to tell us apart.

Everything was okay, until I caught a reflection of myself in the car window. I looked so much like a young mother that I wanted to scream, and jump out of the van. I was on sensory overload.

Kayla finished her bottle. I placed a diaper over my shoulder and burped her. Mrs. Thompson caught my eye in the rearview mirror.

"You're a natural, Cherie," Mrs. Thompson said. "You'll be a great mom, someday."

"Mommy," Emily said, "Lee has a little black spot on her face." So much for them not being able to tell us apart. "I'll always know I'm with my friend Cherie, 'cuz she doesn't have no spots on her face."

Kayla had gone to sleep on my shoulder. She actually felt nice lying there, and she smelled so sweet. About thirty minutes later, she woke up, and cried until Mrs. Thompson suggested I change her diaper. It wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world. We had been trained to change diapers in our class. I had to be reminded by Mrs. Thompson to use a little baby oil on Kayla's bottom to prevent rash. Other than that I did okay. Once I got the used diaper in its covered pail, and changed Kayla's pink velour footie for a similar yellow footie, she was a sweet little baby again.

I held her in my arms and rocked her. I was holding her in much the same position she had been in when I fed her. She kept scratching at my breasts. Mrs. Thompson looked at me again in the mirror.

"I'm still breast-feeding her," she said. "I'll stop at the next rest area, unless you've got something on tap." She was grinning at me, so it must have been a women's joke.

"No, I'm as dry as a bone." Dry as a bone --- and totally mortified.

When we got to the rest area, Lee walked behind the boy's toward the men's room door. She stayed about twenty yards back to give them their dignity. Mrs. Thompson had me go into the ladies' area with her. It was a very clean room with a couch. Mrs. Thompson sat on the couch, opened her blouse right in front of me, unsnapped her bra cup, and offered her breast to Kayla. I went into a stall and stayed there until she called to me, asking if I was okay. When I came out of the stall, I quickly washed my hands.

"I'll go out and give Lee a chance to come in."

When Lee, Mrs. Thompson, and the two little girls came back to the van, I was already sitting in the back with Dave and Brandon. Brandon had just told me he was ten and didn't need any "smartybutt" girl watching him. He also said his girlfriend was prettier than me. I was shocked. He had behaved like the perfect kid in front of his mom. I figured he was testing me to see if I would rat on him.

"Brandon has been making me feel at home," I said, as soon as Mrs. Thompson opened the side door and looked in.

"I hope the boys aren't getting too attached to you, Cherie," she said. "I just promised Emily that you would sit with her all the rest of the way to our cabin."

Emily's face beamed at me as she nodded. We had become best buddies.

Lee was carrying Kayla. When Kayla saw me she reached toward me with outspread arms and said, "Uhn, uhn."

"You've made two new friends," Mrs. Thompson said. "Kayla and Emily aren't normally so receptive to strangers." She looked very pleased. Despite myself I blushed. There was satisfaction in having babies like you.

A few miles down the road I was holding a sleeping Kayla on my shoulder again, and talking baby talk to Susie Q, Emily's smallest doll, when Mrs. Thompson spoke.

"Have you girls seen your list of duties?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson," I said. I had totally adjusted to being called a girl.

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson," Lee echoed, from behind me. She was playing a road version of checkers with David,

"Have you decided who will do what?" Mrs. Thompson asked.

"I'll take care of the kids and work in the house," Lee said. "Cherie will take care of the lawn and the boats and teach the boys how to play tennis."

"Take care of the lawn?" Mrs. Thompson asked. "Was that on the list I gave you?"

"Yes," I said. "I take care of our lawn, and have taken care of our boats for years."

"Those two items shouldn't have been on your list," she said. "That list included all the things I wanted to hire people to do. We have a local boy to take care of the lawn, and the gardens. He's also in charge of the boats."

That would leave me to take care of Brandon and Dave. I looked back at the boys. Brandon stuck out his tongue at me. I was going to enjoy taking him down a peg on the tennis court. I would stay busy with them, and stay out of the house as much as possible. I liked the girls, but they saw me as too much of a mom for it to be comfortable. Kayla's wanting to suck on my breasts had been pretty weird.

"Which one of you is the better tennis player?" Mrs. Thompson asked of Lee and me.

"I am," I said. The truth was Lee and I hadn't played each other in a competitive match for years. We almost always played mixed doubles.

"I am." Lee sounded upset. I snapped my head around to stare at her. "Well, I am."

What was she doing? If I wasn't the tennis coach, I would have more work inside. She knew I didn't want to do that.

"We'll just have to have a match when we get to the lake," Mrs. Thompson said. "Whoever wins, will coach the boys."

"Okay," we both said. I didn't want to seem petulant or immature by arguing. I would get Lee aside and make sure she understood that I had to win.

"I want one of you to always take care of the girls, and one of you to always take care of the boys," Mrs. Thompson said. "It would be best if we keep that consistency so the children can adjust easier."

"I want Cherie," Kayla said. "Cherie's my friend, and she's pretty. I want her to play dress up with me so I can be pretty."

"Boys?" Mrs. Thompson asked. "Does it matter to you who your nanny is?"

"I don't need a nanny," Brandon said. "Just little brats like Dave need a nanny." He reached across Lee, who was sitting in the middle and poked Dave, just to show us how mature he was. Mrs. Thompson didn't say a word to him about his horrible behavior.

"That settles it," Mrs. Thompson said. "Cherie will be Kayla and Emily's nanny for the summer."

Oh no. My summer would be filled with tea parties, diapers, and bottles. I would go crazy. I would just have to beat Lee, and convince Mrs. Thompson coaching tennis would take so much of my time I couldn't be with the girls. I would make those two boys into prodigies.

"You girls certainly brought a lot of luggage," Mrs. Thompson said.

"We each have lots of shorts and t-shirts," I said. "We didn't want to have to do laundry every day."

"I'm afraid you will," she said. "Doing the laundry will be part of the inside nanny's duties. Daily laundry is almost a must with a baby."

The inside nanny?

"Most days, the outside nanny will have the boys in the morning on the tennis court. After lunch, she will be out in the boat with Drew helping him teach the boys how to water-ski or maybe tubing, or fishing. The law says you have to have two people over sixteen in the boat. One to drive, and one to watch the skier." Almost on cue, Kayla woke from her nap in my lap and looked up at me. She cooed and reached for my hand to feel my fingers.

"For two hours a day, the outside nanny will take all four children down to the beach to swim, and play in the sand. The inside nanny will use those two hours, and the two hours the girls are napping, to clean, do the laundry, and help me around the house."

Emily had fallen asleep in her car seat, which was lying against me. Despite being belted in she had squirmed until she could lovingly assault my side with her head.

"The nice part for the inside nanny is that she won't have to use her own clothes," Mrs. Thompson said. "The inside nanny will wear maid uniforms."

I didn't want Lee to have to wear a maid uniform. A maid uniform at a lake home was probably khaki shorts and blouses, I was sure Lee would prefer her own things.

Kayla was getting interested in my breasts again.

"That's okay Mrs. Thompson," I said, "We can wear our own things. We don't care if we ruin them."

Mrs. Thompson looked back at me via the mirror and smiled again. "That's sweet of you, Cherie. However, Mr. Thompson uses the cabin to entertain a lot of his business connections. We have to stand on some traditions. It wouldn't look right if the inside maid wasn't in uniform. You don't mind do you?"

"No, that's okay."

I had tried. Lee would have to wear the uniform as the inside maid. I hoped it wouldn't be too bad for her. That part about additional people being around was news to me. Hopefully it wouldn't be frequent.

 

Chapter Six

 

"Most people will occasionally stumble over the truth, but he will pick himself up and hurry off as if nothing has ever happened." - Winston Churchill

 

We stopped in Eveleth for lunch at a family-style restaurant. The people at the next table were talking about going to the National Hockey Hall of Fame. Even though I didn't play hockey, it would have been fun to see that.

The water tasted funny. I liked the water at our home. I liked my bed at home. I liked the clothes I used to wear as Zack.

Before we ordered, the waitress gushed over how pretty Kayla was. She turned to me. "Is she your baby, or is she your little sister?"

"She's mine," Mrs. Thompson said. I closed my eyes, and thought about how bad the water tasted.

Lee poked me under the table and grinned. I suppose a girl my age could have a baby daughter. If I had a baby, I would want her to look like Kayla. She was a definite cutie.

An hour and a half later, we were approaching Lake Pelican, just outside the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. A roadside sign said we were in the Kabetogami State Forest. The Thompsons' lake home was a large, cedar A-frame sitting on an isolated lot. There must have been other cabins nearby, but I couldn't see any. There was a slightly smaller guest cabin about two hundred feet from the main cabin. Without getting out of the van, I could see that the lake was beautiful.

"Leave the bags in the van," Mrs. Thompson said. "Drew will take everything in for you. Just grab your tennis clothes, and we'll hold the match. You change, and I'll put the girls down for their nap. Follow that path to the south, and you'll find the court. I'll be with you shortly to act as line judge. Please don't start without me. This is going to be fun."

"I'll bet Lee beats the pants off Cherie," Brandon said.

"No, she won't," I said. "She never beats me." Lee looked at me in a way I wasn't used to. We never competed, and I was sure she would let me win.

We found the bags with our tennis outfits, and took them into the house. Lee and I had a private suite on the second floor adjoining the nursery, where Kayla and Emily would be.

I hadn't even looked at the tennis clothes Lee had bought. When I opened the bags from The Supreme Court I was shocked. The first item I pulled out was red panties. They were made of something like Lycra and had pockets for tennis balls on either side.

"Red?"

"It was either red or pink," Lee said. "They had others with ruffles, if you would have preferred."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "I'm sure you did the best for me you could."

Next came the sports bra. My faux breasts bounced in my normal bra when I moved too quickly. I was glad she had thought of getting me such a useful thing. The label said it was a crossover bra. I was dismayed to see it made my breasts look even more prominent.

My socks had little pink crossed tennis racquets on them. They matched the pink trimming and shoelaces on my new tennis shoes.

The polyester and Lycra top was a tennis tank with mesh over the shoulders. It was very feminine looking, but it would have to do.

"Lee," I said, as I pulled out the last item from my tennis bag, "it's a skirt."

"Duh! Don't you remember Mom saying you needed one? The Thompsons will expect you to be properly attired on their court."

" Lee!" I said. "I can't possibly wear this." The skirt looked like a small lampshade. With my long legs it would stop eight inches or so above my knees. It had a mesh overlay that matched the tank top.

"Okay," Lee said. "I'll tell Mrs. Thompson that you want to forfeit the match."

"No!" I said. "I have to win."

"No you don't. I'm going to play as hard as I can."

"Please, Lee. I need you to let me win. I can't be the inside nanny. It would be too embarrassing."

"First of all, nothing that would be embarrassing to you would be any less embarrassing to me. And second, Mrs. Thompson wants the best tennis player to teach her boys. If I don't play as hard as I can, it's possible the best player wouldn't be coaching and that would be dishonest."

Damn Lee, and her high principles, and irrefutable logic. She finished dressing in an outfit just like mine, and pulled on her warm-up jacket. Our jackets had flared sleeves, and rose zippers with a mesh collar. All of the material was blinding white except for the rose accents.

"Are you going to play me or not?" Lee asked.

I was distracted. When I opened the side pocket of my tennis bag I found several cans of pink balls. A note on the side of each can said a donation had been made from every purchase to Tennis Against Breast Cancer. I took out my Wilson Triad racquet and sat on the edge of the bed spinning it in my hand.

I felt like crying. It was unfair. I was supposed to be outside pushing a lawnmower. Sure, I was prepared to wear my girlish shorts and t-shirts with the fake breasts and bra. However, the idea that I had to wear a tennis dress was too much.

Okay! I would win the match, and then convince Mrs. Thompson I could coach better in shorts. "I'll play you, and I'll beat you, fair and square," I said, as I pulled on the skirt and grabbed my warm-up.

We were on the court, almost ready to play, when Mrs. Thompson joined us. "Wow! You two look lovely." Mrs. Thompson had changed into a short skirt and tank top. "I hate it when women play tennis in shorts. It's so tacky."

I would have an uphill battle over her dress code, but for now, I had to concentrate on beating Lee.

"Dave is watching a video in his room, and will listen for the girls to wake up," Mrs. Thompson said. "When they're done with their naps he'll call me on the intercom. We'll have about ninety minutes for the match. Brandon will be coming down to watch you play. He doesn't believe girls can play good tennis, so I hope you'll show him how wrong he is." She gave us a patronizing wink that suggested she didn't think girls could play good tennis, either.

The court was as good as any I had played on. However it was a composition surface, much different than the concrete surface we played on at our club. The ball grabbed more, setting it up for easier shots.

Mrs. Thompson climbed up into the umpire's chair to referee our match. As we warmed up, I had problems with my skirt and breasts getting in the way. I couldn't say anything, as that would seem strange to Mrs. Thompson. Lee signaled that she was ready to play. I walked to the corner of the court to retrieve two balls that had rolled to the wire fence. I was bent over picking up the balls when I heard --

"I see Cherie's underpants! They're red!" Brandon had announced his presence in such a way that made me immediately stand up straight and want to smack him.

"Brandon," Mrs. Thompson said, "be quiet. Girls sometimes show a bit of their underpants when they play. A gentleman doesn't notice, and certainly doesn't say anything."

I yanked on the bottom of my skirt to get every bit of length I could. Lee was also retrieving some practice balls. She either picked the ball up with the side of her foot and her racquet head, or bent from her knees. I would be more careful. I still had things to learn. I tucked a ball in both pockets of my panties and was careful not to raise my hem too far.

Lee came to the net. "M or W?" She asked. She also had a Wilson Triad, and was spinning her racket to decide who served first.

"M," I called, hoping the racket would end up with the logo upside down. It did, and I got to serve first. Whoever served first had a big advantage, as both Lee and I had strong serves.

"Do you want any practice serves?" Lee asked.

I was still mad at her for not agreeing to throw the match. Even though she was acting nice by offering practice serves, I wasn't about to follow her lead.

"No, I'm as ready as I need to be to beat you," I said.

I toed the line, and made my toss. As my arm went up I brushed my breast. It disturbed my concentration, and I served the first ball into the net.

"Fault," Mrs. Thompson said. Of course it was a fault. She didn't need to say anything.

I served again into the net. I hadn't done anything like that in years.

"Love-fifteen," Mrs. Thompson said.

I took a couple of practice tosses while toeing the service line, and felt ready. However, to be sure I got the ball in, I eased off a bit. Running around her backhand, Lee pounced on my weak serve, and sent a winner down my forehand line.

"Love-thirty," Mrs. Thompson said.

Losing a couple of points was no big deal. In fact, I could lose the first two sets, and still beat Lee, by winning the best of five. I always played better the deeper we got into the match.

I reached back, and powered a hard serve down the centerline for an ace.

"Fifteen-thirty."

That was more like it. As I bent into the serve - leaning forward with my head down almost to my waist - Brandon said, just loud enough for all to hear –

"Underpants."

"Brandon, I'm warning you," Mrs. Thompson said. "If you can't be quiet, you'll have to go up to the house."

"But, her panties were showing."

"Brandon, be still."

My serve had again been hit into the net.

"Do you want to play a let?" Lee asked. She was being a good sport by offering me a do-over.

"No," I said, "Brandon didn't really bother me." But he had. My next serve went wide.

"Fifteen-forty."

I was caught between wanting to serve with my normal motion, which would involve showing my underwear to that little devil, and serving a less than best effort. I decided I would ease back on my serve, and beat Lee on my volley. She again drove my weak serve past me for an easy winner.

"Game to Lee. 1 - 0. Switch sides."

Losing the first game woke me up. However, my outfit, my breasts, and the waitress thinking Kayla was my baby had all combined to rattle me. I was able to hold serve for the rest of the set, but I couldn't get back that service break and lost 4 – 6.

That was okay. I would win the next three sets for sure, and still take the best out of five match.

I served to start the second set, and won easily with three aces, and an overhead smash. Her only point came on a drop shot that completely fooled me.

She barely held serve in the second game. Two of my passing shots were called out. I thought both were on the line, and in tennis the line is in. Mrs. Thompson had no reason to care who won. If she got the call wrong, that would be merely part of the game.

Just as I was starting to serve the third game at 1 - 1, I saw someone approaching the court out of the corner of my eyes. The serve was in and Lee and I started what turned out to be the longest rally of the day. We were smashing the ball at each other, running side to side making impossible shot after improbable volley. I won the point when Lee couldn't quite get to a nasty drop shot of my own. She knocked the ball skittering out of bounds toward whomever it was I had seen approaching.

I ran with excitement to get the ball. I sensed victory. Often the winner of a long point will win the match based on his elation, and the dismay of the other player. I carefully bent at the knee to pick up the ball, and bumped heads with ... him.

"I'm sor ... "

"My bad. Ohhh!"

He had clearly got the worst of it, as the hardest part of my head had connected with his jaw. He sat down on the small bleachers.

"You're hurt," I said.

"No, it's nothing."

I was afraid he might have a concussion, so I looked into his eyes to see if his pupils were dilated. I stared, I realizing they were the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen. Once I pulled myself out of an optical embrace, the rest of him came into focus. His face was the perfect setting for those precious eyes.

He looked so familiar. Hmmm, that was it. He looked just like Benjamin Bratt, the guy who played opposite Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. He had the same curly black hair, bushy eyebrows, and firm jaw.

"Um - - Cherie," Mrs. Thompson said, "if you can tear yourself away from Drew, we have a match to finish."

Omigosh! I had been staring way too long.

"You're Cherie? Hi, I'm Drew Beazley. When I was taking the bags in, Emily told me she had a new, beautiful mom named Cherie."

For some odd reason I blushed, and couldn't think of a thing to say. He already knew my name, and thought ... he thought I was beautiful. Damn. And, I thought he was beautiful. That was wrong. I didn't like guys. I didn't have a girlfriend or anything, but I didn't like guys.

"Is Emily already awake?" Mrs. Thompson asked.

"It's okay," Drew said. "I set her up with Davey in the room across from the nursery. They're watching 'The Lion King,' and they'll be able to hear when Kayla wakes up. I set the sound real low so Kayla can go on sleeping."

"Thank you, Drew," Mrs. Thompson said. "Why don't you stay, and watch the rest of the match. Do you play?"

"I was the captain of our team in high school," he said. "But, I didn't play this year at college."

"You'll have to play with the girls."

"I'd like that. They look like they would probably give me a pretty hard time."

"Are we ever going to play?" Lee asked. She was standing on her baseline waiting for me to get the match going again.

I walked to my baseline to serve trying desperately to remember the score. Somehow the score of the match didn't seem very important when you just discover you've gone gay. No, I hadn't. It was the knock on the head. I momentarily had lost my sense. That was all that that had happened.

"The other player's name is Lee, Lee Blake and Cherie Blake," Mrs. Thompson said.

"Hi," Lee said, keeping her focus on the match.

"Hi. Wow. We don't have even one girl in Orr as pretty ... and there's two of you."

"Can we play?" Lee asked.

"Fifteen – love," Mrs. Thompson said. "1 – 1 game score, and Lee is up a set in the match."

Love ... couldn't the inventers of tennis scoring have found a less personal word for zero? I reached back to put one down the middle as Lee seemed to be set up to protect her backhand. Ace!

"Foot fault," Mrs. Thompson said.

Foot fault. I hadn't been called for a foot fault in years. I was pretty sure I hadn't. However, I suppose. Now, what's the score? I served the next one into the net.

Maybe, he'll forget about wanting to play with me after that one.

"Fifteen – fifteen."

"Fifteen - thirty."

"Fifteen – forty."

"Game to Lee."

I had been unable to get my concentration back on the game. I honestly did think he was good-looking. There was no harm in acknowledging that. That didn't make me homosexual. I thought Tom Cruise was good-looking; and Uncle Kevin.

I didn't lose another serve but Lee won the set 6 – 4. I had my back against the wall, and had to win three sets in a row. I had done that plenty of times before. It was no time to panic.

"Well," Mrs. Thompson said, as she got down from the umpire's chair, "that settles that. Lee will be the boys' coach."

"Hooray!" Brandon shouted and stuck his tongue out at me.

"But ... ?" I said. "We've got three more sets to play."

"Three more sets?" Mrs. Thompson asked. "Oh no, dear. Only men play best of five. Women always play best of three."

I was crushed. Once again everything was unfair. Had I known we were playing best of three I would have played harder, or different. I wanted to argue, but didn't know Mrs. Thompson well enough to know how that would be accepted.

"But," I said, "Lee doesn't really like fishing."

"Oh, you're such a sweet thing worrying about your sister," Mrs. Thompson said. "Drew will bait the hooks, and take the fish off their lines. She'll be in the boat merely for safety reasons."

We put our things away in our tennis bags, and walked with Mrs. Thompson down the path toward the house.

"There's something I want to talk about with you girls," she said. "Drew, would you and Brandon go on ahead up to the house, please? I put a pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator. I should be nicely chilled by now."

Mrs. Thompson waited until they were out of earshot.

"Drew has been helping out around here for years," she said. "He's like one of the family. We think the world of him. He's in pre-med at the university. Such a nice boy!" She sighed. "But, what I want to talk to you about is Brandon. He's become a little unruly this year. I think there might be some boys in his class at school who are bad influences. Mr. Thompson and I don't believe in negative punishments. We believe in teaching our children through good example. I was so pleased when you accepted your loss so graciously, Cherie."

Little did she know! I was boiling inside. Damn Lee, and her damned convictions.

"All summer long, I want the two of you to make a special effort to do everything that I tell you to do without any discussion. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson."

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson." If I could help turn around Brandon's surly attitude, I was all for it.

"In return, I won't ask you to do anything that you won't want to do," she said.

That sounded good.

 

Chapter Seven

 

"Convictions are a greater enemy of the truth than lies." - Nietzsche

 

When we walked into the kitchen, hot and thirsty from our match, Brandon had Dave in a headlock and was giving him a noggy. He quit as soon as he saw his mother.

"Brandon," she said, "did you have some lemonade?"

"No, I was waiting for you to get it for me."

"Cherie, would you be a dear, and get a glass of lemonade for Brandon."

"Ewww, she's all sweaty. I don't want to drink any lemonade she serves me."

"Okay, Brandon, enough with the attitude," Mrs. Thompson said. "I guess you girls might want a shower," she smiled at us. "Why don't you take your lemonade up to your room and get settled in?"

We poured ourselves glasses of lemonade, and gathered our things to go to our room.

"Girls," she said. "When you're working in the house you're expected to be in full makeup. When you're outside it's okay to simply use a dab of lipstick. We have to keep up appearances. I never know when Mark will fly in on his plane with his guest."

Fly in? They must have a seaplane. Makeup! I had to switch jobs with Lee.

"Cherie," Mrs. Thompson said, "I know you wanted to win badly. You both did. But, things really worked out for the best. Emily and Kayla love you so much, and it would be almost impossible for Lee to be the inside nanny."

Makeup ... all the time when I'm working. Inside nanny! Help!

"Cherie, you'll find your uniforms in your bedroom. There's a chart next to them that will let you know when to wear which uniform."

I had been in the boy scouts, and didn't mind the uniform. I would get by. But full makeup? Nothing in the scouts had me prepared for that.

"Cherie, one more thing. Don't be afraid to wear a little perfume around the house. Mark likes it when the inside nanny smells domestic."

Perfume? I hadn't planned on that. I didn't want to wear perfume. I didn't want to be the inside nanny. I sure as heck didn't want to wear makeup. However, I wasn't going to show even the slightest dismay over what she wanted me to do. I had to set a good example for Brandon.

Mrs. Thompson came over to me, and whispered in my ear, "Drew will like it if you wear perfume, too. He's available. I think I saw a little spark between you two." She backed away, and grinned to let me know she was teasing. At least, I hoped she was.

When we got to our room I threw myself down on one of the twin beds. "Ohhhhh." I moaned.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I have to be the inside nanny. That's what's wrong."

"Better you than me," Lee said, showing her delight by lying down next to me, and poking me in the ribs. "It won't be so bad. You have to admit Emily is a heck of a lot nicer then Brandon."

Emily was a little sweetie. Despite how bad I felt, my face broke into a smile when I thought of Emily grinding her nose into my side as she slept, and Kayla's little fingers grabbing mine.

"There you go," Lee said, responding to my look of pleasure. "Let's get a shower, and get cracking. Mrs. Thompson said she wanted me to take the boys on a boat ride before dinner. She wants you to help out in the kitchen, after you give Emily her four o'clock bottle. What's a four o'clock bottle?"

"It's what they keep the peroxide in, you blonde!"

I let Lee shower first, as I stuck a few things away into the dresser drawers on my side of the room. We each had our own dresser, and dressing table complete with a mirror. When I came out from the shower, Lee was sitting on her bed looking depressed.

"What's the long face for?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Like what?"

"In the closet ..." She pointed to our walk-in closet.

I walked toward it holding my towel around my chest like a girl. Good. I had to keep up my role, even though we had locked the door to our bedroom suite. The closet was huge. It was lined with cedar and had hanging racks on both sides.

Hanging along the one wall there were about two-dozen dresses in various colors and designs. Below them were shoes set in wooden cubbies.

"So what's the big deal?" I asked. "So she uses our closet for storage. We have plenty of room. Say, Lee - - - did you see any khaki shirts and shorts in any of your drawers – something that might be a uniform."

"Those -- are your uniforms."

"What are?"

"Those dresses ... " Despite the softness of her voice, I was stunned.

"Dre ... NO!"

Lee nodded her head.

I went back into the closet and took a closer look. Above the dresses, which were pink, black, and navy, were signs. They said, "Princess", "Chantilly", "Dinner Belle", "Jr. Pincord", and "English Maid". On the wall was a list of when to wear each style and color. It appeared I was to make several changes a day. Also on the list were instructions as to which cosmetics were appropriate with each uniform. There were four or five styles of aprons that went with the dresses and something called a Mob Cap that I was to wear when vacuuming or dusting, "to keep my hair fresh".

The shoes were mostly square-ish black shoes with inch to two-inch heels. However, there was one pair with taller heels that supposedly was to be worn when serving formal meals.

Lee moved from the bed to my side. She put her arm around me. "I'm sorry," she said, "If I'd known, I would've thrown the match." It helped to know she was still my best friend. "But, it's too late now. You'll just have to make the best of it. I'll switch with you whenever Mrs. Thompson allows it. I can cover my mole with some makeup sometimes, and we can fool them."

She couldn't be serious. This wasn't what I had agreed to. This wasn't at all the summer I thought it would be. I wasn't even going to get to spend that much time with Lee. Everything was wrong.

"Don't forget your perfume," Lee said. "I think Mrs. Thompson is right. The best way to help Brandon be less of a little poop is to show him we can follow instructions to the letter, without arguing about everything. Do you want help with your makeup? --- No? -- Oh, of course not, you're as good at putting on makeup as I am from all those lessons Mom gave you."

I had found my way to the bed and was lying on my back looking up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes, and made a wish - - only to find it hadn't come true when I opened them. I was still up to my neck in UNFAIR.

Everything could have been okay, if I hadn't lost that stupid tennis match. If I hadn't gotten so upset when Drew arrived I would have won. It was clearly my fault. Not Mom's. Not Lee's. Not Mrs. Thompson's, and certainly not Emily's or little Kayla's. They couldn't help it if they made the wrong choice for their nanny.

As bad as I felt, thinking about those two made me smile. It wouldn't be so bad. I would play a role. I would be the star actress in a comedy for a twelve week run at the theatre in the woods.

"Don't forget to wear pantyhose," Lee said.

"What?"

"Read the instructions."

Sure enough. Mrs. Thompson had things listed right down to the earrings and bracelets I was to wear.

There was a similar list for the outside nanny. However, it was only two paragraphs and dealt only with proper decorum in interacting with the caretaker in public. Evidently, Lee could wear whatever she wanted as long as she didn't maul Drew.

At four in the afternoon, while caring for the girls, I was to wear a "Chantilly". I pulled a black Chantilly from the rack. It buttoned up the front and had starched white collars at the end of sleeves that came down to just above my elbows. The white collar at the neck made two big isosceles triangles.

The instructions said I was to wear the pearl earrings in the top drawer of my dressing table. I would have to wait a few days to allow my ears to heal, before I could meet the letter of that law. I was to wear sheer "nude" pantyhose, which also were kept in the dressing table drawers. When I opened the drawer I found an extensive amount of jewelry and pantyhose.

Lee was scurrying around the room getting ready for her boat ride. I didn't envy her. Mrs. Thompson was right. Lee would do better with the boys. Lee had the patience of Job that would be required to work with Brandon. Little Davey seemed sweet, but if Lee wasn't careful, Brandon could have a bad influence on him.

Lee had her problems, and I had mine. It wasn't that I didn't want to wear the dresses. It was precisely the opposite. I wanted to wear them. I wanted to be a girl. I had always wanted to be a girl. I had wished every night on the evening star, for as long as I could remember -- to wake up a girl.

When the boys picked on me in school and said, "Zacky, Zacky, Zacky - - Girly/boy is whacky!" I doubt they knew how close they were to the truth. I was nuts. I was a boy and hated it. I was crazy. Anyone could see that I was a boy. Why couldn't I just accept it?

Lee put her perfume on my dresser. "In case you want to change scents once in a while," she said, as she gave me the smile she held back from everyone else. No one else knew how utterly beautiful she was. She only turned it on when the two of us were alone. She smiled like that when I needed everything she had, to pull me through another internal crisis.

The first huge crisis she had to help me through had occurred when we were about eight. It was the first night I slept in her nightie. It had taken me months to work up the courage to ask her. She had laughed. Not at me being girlish, but at me being so shy about asking her. "You can wear anything of mine you want. I love you more than anything."

"Even if I'm crazy?" I had asked.

"Crazy? Who said you're crazy. If Buster said that, I'll clobber him."

"No ... I am crazy," I had struggled to force the words out. They were stuck inside me. So far inside me they had never seen the light of day. I finally managed to turn toward her in our bed and say, "I think I'm a girl."

"Silly, if you think you're a girl, that's what you are."

From that day forward it was our secret. We wrote plays, mainly so I could be the girl I was. When we slept together, we talked all about the things we would do when we were two adult women out in the world. Lee had been the one that picked up on the name Cherie when the waitress said it. She said it was fate. Lee often said I was more of a girl than she was.

We never told Mom. We never told Uncle Kevin. We never told anyone. When I was about thirteen, and too old to believe it anymore, we quit telling each other.

As I looked in one of the many mirrors in our nanny suite, I saw me. Cherie. Not Zack. It was frightening. If I put on that dress, and became the inside nanny, I knew I was going to love it. I knew it would be the summer of my childhood dreams. For once in my life, I would be me.

But ... if I saw someone I knew ... they would know. There would be no denying it. When Mom came up for her visit in a few weeks she would know that I had been living a lie for the past eighteen years, and would be living a lie again, once the summer was over.

My secret - our secret - would be out.

Lee was ready to go down to start working, and I hadn't even begun to change.

"Cherie, you take your time. I'll talk to Mrs. Thompson. I'll tell her it's your time of the month. If you come down dressed for the outside, I'll tell her that you could have easily beaten me on any other day without your cramps. She'll change her mind, and allow you to be the outside nanny. But, I think you should be the inside nanny. I think you should finally be the girl you've always wanted to be. Either way I love you."

She kissed me on the cheek, and left the room. She had kissed away my tears, and calmed my fears.

Lee would always love me ... and so would Mom. Anyone else could go to hell, if they didn't like my secret.

It would have been hard for Lee to lie for me about my cramps. She knew perfectly well my periods came four days after hers, and she wouldn't have hers until that next week, so I was about ten days off.

I got up to look again at all the scrumptious uniforms Mrs. Thompson had thoughtfully provided. Luckily, they fit me like a glove.

 

Chapter Eight

 

"Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay you can kick it around all day, and it will be round and full at evening." – Mark Twain

 

The next two weeks went by in a cloud of femininity. Each day it became less and less odd to look down and see breasts. I became accustomed to my bra, my pantyhose, my uniforms, and the girls.

The girls were so wonderful. Kayla changed every day in many ways. She couldn't wait to walk. When I held her up by her hands, she kept trying to walk toward me. Lee and I tried everything to fool her. Lee put foundation over her mole, and I painted a mole on with eyebrow pencil, and she still demanded to come to me.

When Emily and I went on our daily walk, we took Kayla along in the stroller. She was so alert. She pointed at everything - demanding we tell her about each bird, each tree, and each cloud. Emily was so cute explaining the world to Kayla.

Emily was becoming quite the little artist. She loved to draw houses, and make up stories about the families in them. She could copy the letters X, T, H, V, and O I wrote for her. I taught her to bounce a ball in the driveway. She was enthralled. We worked to increase her skill with a fork and spoon.

Emily's favorite game, by far, was dress-up. So was mine.

I was having a ball. I no longer felt like I was playing a role. I wasn't trying to convince anyone I was anything, but what I was. For the first time in my life I felt complete.

Nothing could be more fulfilling than spending time caring for the girls and the house. I loved housekeeping. It gave me real pride to keep things nice for the people I was starting to love as my family.

One night, Lee and I were lying in bed waiting for sleep when she asked me what I thought of Drew. I was a little jealous of all the time Lee got to spend with him. Almost every day they went fishing with the boys. The lake had an abundance of yellow perch, bass, and northern pike. If they weren't fishing they were tubing or water-skiing.

"He's nice," I said. "I like the way he relates to the boys. He's a good role model. Mrs. Thompson never has to tell him twice how to do something or when something has to be done."

"You make him sound like the family pet. I mean what do you think of him, as a boy?"

"Lee - - are you thinking of cheating on Josh?" I couldn't believe it. Josh and Lee were so good together.

"No, silly. I mean do YOU like him as a possible boyfriend?"

"For heavens sakes, Lee. I'm a boy. I can't like Drew. That would be wrong."

"Lots of boys like boys."

"Do you think Drew is homosexual?"

"I don't think so," Lee said. "And, I don't think he would be homosexual for liking what he sees in you."

"What makes you think he likes me?"

"Because he asked me if you do."

"Like in the seventh grade?" I asked.

"Boys don't mature as fast as we girls do."

"He's very attractive," I said.

"Then why don't you say something, or do something to let him know you like him?"

"Lee, I don't think that will ever be an option for me."

"Maybe it wasn't for Zack, but it is for Cherie."

"Let's say I did tell him I like him. What happens when Cherie goes back to being Zack at the end of the summer? What happens this summer if Drew is a normal red-blooded boy, and wants to have sex?"

"Cherie! You don't have to have sex to have a summer relationship. And - - - are you sure you want to go back to being Zack?"

"I have to. I want to go to college in the fall, and I'm registered as Zack."

"You could have an operation to change your sex."

She was serious. The idea had occurred to me, but it wasn't something real people would do. Only those sensationalists who were trying to have a career in movies or on television would do something like that.

"Let's not talk about this any more. Did he really ask you if I liked him?"

Two days later, Mrs. Thompson asked Drew and me to paint the fence out by the main road, while Lee taught her tennis lesson. It gave me a chance to get to know Drew a bit more.

"Drew, do you like college?" I asked.

"No Cherie, I don't like college. I love it."

We were probably getting more paint on ourselves than we were on the fence. It was latex paint. We planned on diving in the lake once we were done. I was only wearing a hint of foundation and a light pink lip-gloss. Even so, I thought I looked good.

"What do you l-love so much about college?" Given my thoughts, saying the word love was awkward.

"It's in the Cities for one thing. There's so much to do there. The people are different. No one's watching me twenty-four hours a day. I can be myself. And, I'm learning so many new things."

"What was the most exciting thing you learned, last year?" It made me feel important talking to him. I couldn't help smiling.

"This might not sound earth-shattering, but my class on biochemicals really has hot me going."

"Biochemicals?"

"There are researchers who believe that chemicals in the body are responsible to a large degree in deciding what our personality will be. Most of the study has been done on what are called sensation seekers."

"I'm not one of those," I said. "I'm not what you would call fearless."

"You seem to take your share of risk, but you probably wouldn't go out looking for risk, just for the fun of it. Anyway - - studies - - of twins, by the way - - have shown that chemicals in the body might be more important in determining behavior, than how a person was brought up, or what life experiences they've had."

"I haven't heard much about that."

"Our professor said it's a highly charged political argument."

"Why?" Lee probably would say I was flirting with Drew by asking him questions, but I really wanted to know.

"A segment of people seem to want to believe that everyone comes out of the womb a blank slate. They want you to believe that faulty nurture creates abnormalities."

"I take it you don't believe that?"

"I believe faulty nurture can, and does cause abnormalities. Who could deny the impact of abuse? But - - I also think their belief has two major faults. First of all, not all abnormalities are caused by abuse. The abnormalities are there when the baby is born. And second, I don't believe that everything that doesn't fit into a neat box is an abnormality that needs to be cured or fixed."

"Can you help me out a little? I'm getting lost. I understand the first part about babies having things about them that aren't considered normal -- that really aren't abnormalities, but are just part of nature. I think?"

"Maybe you do understand, and maybe you don't," Drew studied me for a moment as he dipped his brush. He hardly had any paint on him. I guess it was just me who wasn't being careful. "Cherie, my oldest brother Keith is my best friend. When he was in high school, he had to move out of town."

"Why?"

"Mom and Dad thought he would have an easier time of it in the Twin Cities because he's gay."

"For gosh sakes, what kind of town do you live in?" I asked. "That's horrible. There were at least half a dozen kids in my high school who were out of the closet. Being gay is no big deal."

"That depends on the town, and the people in it. Around here, it's a big deal. Even though I love my brother, and think he's the greatest guy in the world, I was embarrassed to think people might think I was gay too because I was raised by the same parents. Mom told me one time she felt guilty because she had done something wrong raising Keith."

"You think Keith was born gay?"

"Absolutely."

"I've heard that argument before. I guess I've never thought about it."

"It really pisses me off when people ask me if Keith has ever thought about taking a cure for being gay." He had forgotten all about painting, in his effort to tell me about his brother.

"I can see why that would make you upset."

"I think the biggest problem I'm going to have as a physician is to determine what needs fixing, and what doesn't. From what I learned this year too many things have been fixed in the past, creating bigger problems, than if we had just allowed nature to takes its course."

"It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature," I said, sounding like a stupid TV ad.

"Not nice, and incredibly stupid," Drew said. "Nature does things for a reason. One of the great things about growing up in the north country is that I have a healthy respect for the natural path of life. What is ... is."

"Are you against stem cell research and cloning?"

"I don't know enough yet to talk about it. But, I am against trying to fix what isn't broken."

"You would accept a person with flaws when you have the power as a doctor to change them?

"Some people confuse acceptance with apathy. Apathy fails to distinguish between what can and what shouldn't be helped. Did you ever see a baby bird on the ground when your were young?"

"Mom always told us to leave them; she said if we tried to care for them, they would die. She said their mother would find them, and somehow get them back in the nest."

"Our natural tendency is to poke our nose in where it doesn't belong," Drew said. "To help those who are different from us, become like us, whether it's good for them or not." He was back to painting.

At that point my brain was almost bursting trying to take in the full meaning of what he was saying. I couldn't wait to get to college, to be subjected to new ideas. I was starting to admire what went on inside Drew's head as much as I liked looking at his eyes. He was talking about tolerance and compassion, and I loved him for it.

I couldn't take it any longer. Drew's black t-shirt looked too inviting, and we were done with the fence. With five quick strokes, I had painted a smiley face on his back. We ended up with so much paint on us from the ensuing battle that we had to hose off behind the garage, rather than turn the entire lake milky white.

Later that day, Mrs. Thompson asked us to go out to eat with her at a local resort. Unfortunately, when Lee and I told her we hadn't brought any dresses, we couldn't go. I relented and allowed Lee to call Mom to send us a set of identical dresses. Why wouldn't I? I was wearing a maid's dress every day, as it was.

When they arrived, Lee squealed in delight. They were the off-the-shoulder dress we had seen while shopping at Bloomingdale's. They were a pullover style that hugged our curves. The label said they were imported from Italy. They had long sleeves, but were made of a light enough fabric for summer wear. The color looked like dark red to me, but Lee said it was Bordeaux. Although the hem was shirred just below the knee, the dresses spelled S-E-X. Mom sent along two and a half-inch slingback heels, dyed to match. She even sent each of us matching lipstick, and a one-ounce bottle of Chanel No. 5 parfum. Also in the box were the appropriate strapless bras. I didn't even try to hide my enthusiasm and excitement.

That Friday evening, Drew agreed to baby-sit the four children so Mrs. Thompson, Lee, and I could go out to eat. Lee and I spent hours getting perfectly prepared. We deserved some time away from the job. We had become great friends with Mrs. Thompson. She wanted us to call her Carolyn, but we just couldn't.

Mrs. Thompson worked in her study every day for four to six hours. Her work as a psychiatrist had made her want to write a book. She didn't talk about it with us, only telling us, "I had a good day writing." Or, "My muse was taking a vacation today." Yet, we talked about everything else.

Mr. Thompson had yet to put in an appearance. His business was evidently unpredictable. Every night at seven, he called from some far-flung place. He spent a lot of time in Hong Kong, London, and Tokyo.

All the while we were doing each other's hair, and giving each other manicures, Lee kept complaining about an upset stomach. As we finished our makeup, I noticed her red face and damp forehead. When we checked her temperature it was 102.3° .

"We'll have to cancel for tonight, girls," Mrs. Thompson said, as she read the thermometer. Lee groaned out of disappointment, and also from the aches in her body. "I think you've got a bug."

We had taken Lee's Bordeaux dress off, and were slipping her into bed, when the phone rang. Mrs. Thompson answered and handed it to Lee.

"Josh! Where are you?" Lee seemed to recover somewhat, but lost her strength, and collapsed into her pillow. "Right away in the morning. You big nut! You came all that way for one meal with me. Wow. I love you, too. Wonderful. Sure. I'd love to. No, I'm just a little tired. I'll be all right. Okay, I'll see you in ten minutes."

She clicked off the phone and looked up at me. "Be a sweetie, and get me an eyebrow pencil." It was an odd request, but I didn't have the heart to make her explain herself, as she looked like she only had a very few words left in her. She took the eyebrow pencil and dotted my cheek.

"Now, you're all dressed up, and have someplace to go," she said. "In ten minutes, Josh will be pulling up to the front door. He drove all the way up from the cities to take me out to dinner, as a surprise. Tonight is the six-year anniversary of the first time he told me he loves me. He has to go back at four tomorrow morning, so all he has time for is dinner. He has a motel room in Orr where he'll get about three hours sleep before he starts for home. I'm not going to disappoint him. Tonight, you'll be me."

"No way!" I said, "I can't do that. He came to see you."

"He will see ME. I just won't see him, except through the window."

"It sounds like the perfect solution to me," Mrs. Thompson said. "Cherie, you need a night away from here. Josh would be terribly disappointed if he came all the way up here, and didn't even get to see his girl."

"Do it for me, Cherie. Please," Lee said. Her hand touched mine. "You look so great tonight - and you can tell me all about it. It'll be like I actually did get to go with him."

"What if he wants to kiss me? He's bound to want to do that." HE PROBABLY WOULD WANT A HECK OF A LOT MORE. Lee and he had been going together forever. I never asked, and Lee never told me, but I was positive she and Josh were sleeping together.

"When you first see him, run to him, and kiss him on the cheek. Tell him you can't kiss him on the mouth, because you have a canker sore, and don't want him to get it. Josh is afraid of anything that has to do with germs. He'll keep his distance."

"And he's in pre-med?" Mrs. Thompson asked with a wry laugh. "I see some lights coming up the driveway. He's here already. Let me look at you Cherie. You look perfect. Grab your purse, and meet him on the porch so he doesn't have to run the gauntlet through my beloved children."

All the while she was talking, she had me by the elbow steering me toward the front door. As I went by the kitchen, Drew saw me. His mouth formed an appreciative "O". Great, I finally had impressed Drew, and he thought I was Lee.

Before I could say a word, I was on the front porch looking up into Josh's lovesick eyes. I remembered what Lee had said, and kissed him on the cheek.

"That was nice," he said. "Nice, but different."

"Canker sores."

His eyes got big, and he backed away slightly. Lee certainly knew him inside and out.

I directed him to the resort where Mrs. Thompson was going to take us, before Lee got sick.

There were only a few times during our conversation that I got lost over some intimate detail I obviously should have known. I always liked being around Josh. He was fun. He told me all about the work he was doing on a landscape gardening crew. He was working long hours, and making enough money to pay for his college tuition, and more. He said he had already added five pounds of muscle to his body.

He had put his arm around me on the way into the restaurant. Not pushy or possessive, just a friendly hug. His body was like granite. Especially compared to mine. The heaviest thing I ever picked up was the vacuum cleaner. Besides, Lee had me using lotion by the gallons to soften my skin.

I couldn't imagine doing the kind of work he was doing. If possible, I wanted to work with babies and toddlers the rest of my life.

The evening was a great deal of fun. We made a very attractive couple. As such, we seemed to be attracting the attention of everyone in the dining room.

While we were waiting for our food to arrive, I looked over Josh, mentally comparing him to Drew. Josh was pretty amazing, but Drew was more to my liking. It was like deciding between spending a night at the Guthrie or at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra.

I couldn't eat any more after finishing my pan-fried walleye, but Josh ordered lemon meringue pie for his dessert. He insisted on feeding me a forkful, and in the process smeared meringue on my cheek. A true gentleman, he begged me to allow him to clean it off. Dabbing his napkin in his water glass, he gently cleansed my face.

"Are you having a good time this summer?" He asked.

"You know, I really am. At first it was strange," I said.

"I'll bet it was," he said, "How long did it take you to get used to high heels?"

That was an odd question, which made me a little nervous. "That was years ago," I said with a nervous giggle.

"You've been dressing like a girl for years, Zack?" He asked, dropping his voice so only I could hear.

Shame rushed through me. He wasn't supposed to see through my disguise. Not Josh. Oh shit. What did he think of me? What would he think of Lee? If I was the cause of them breaking up I'd ... do something. Do something! Say something!

"Lee's sick," I said. "She has a high temperature. She asked me to fill in for her."

"You've done a great job," he said. "Not perfect, but great."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I haven't seen you in good lighting yet, but your eyes looked different."

"You and Mom are the only people in the world who would notice that."

"There were other things. Lee is more of a pragmatist. Your comments seemed too compassionate for her."

"Lee's compassionate!" How could he say such a thing?

"She's compassionate, but not in the same league as you. There are a lot of good qualities that she has that you don't. For example, you followed my lead on everything tonight. Lee can't help but be the leader, even with me."

"Lee is kind of bossy." I giggled. The butterflies in my stomach had subsided. My giggle was the same one I had had all my life. Looking like I did, it sounded feminine.

"She's very determined," Josh said, "and knows exactly what she wants out of life, while you seem to be floundering a bit, waiting to see what life will bring to you." I was surprised that Josh knew me as well as he did. "I was pretty sure it was you so I intentionally smeared that meringue on your cheek. My suspicions were confirmed when your 'mole' came off in my napkin."

He grinned, and reached across the table to touch my hand. "It's okay, I'm having fun. I don't want to offend you, ahh ..." he started to whisper again, "I'm uncomfortable calling you Lee, and I can't very well call you Zack."

"My name for the summer is Cherie," I said. Omigosh, I had told him this was more than a one-night thing.

"Well, Cherie," he said. "You'll have the best theme in class, if your English professor asks you to write about what you did for the summer. - - I don't want to offend you, but you seem much happier as a girl."

"Can we go?" I asked. I was afraid someone would overhear us, and call the police or the county sheriff.

On our way back to the Thompsons' cabin, Josh was as friendly as he had been before he found out.

"So, one thing led to another, and here you are looking gorgeous," he said.

"Gorgeous?" I asked.

"You're the spitting image of Lee, and there's no more beautiful girl in the world."

"I'll tell her you said that."

"She knows how I feel."

"Yes, but a girl likes to hear that as often as possible." I was absolutely certain a girl loves to hear it for the first time, as I just had.

"You look the happiest I've ever seen you," he said, again.

"It has been nice, so far."

"Are you going to make this a fulltime thing after the summer?"

"Heck no." I said. "I might be crazy, but I don't want to tell the whole world I'm a psycho."

"Psycho?"

"I'm a boy. If I dress as a girl, people will think I'm nuts."

"I don't think you're nuts."

"You don't?"

He had parked the car in the Thompsons' driveway. Without thinking I waited for him to open my door, and give me a hand. He placed his arm around my waist, and rested his hand gently on my hip, as he escorted me to the door.

He stopped short of the steps, and circled me with both of his arms. He pulled me in so that my face was inches from his. He was about six inches taller than me even in my heels, so I was looking up into his eyes when he --- kissed - - - me.

It was a sweet kiss. Not bruising. No tongue. Lingering. It was as I had imagined it would be, when I had watched him kiss Lee good night a year or two back.

"I think you're absolutely stunning," he said in a hushed tone. "You would be crazy if you don't stay Cherie, and forget all about Zack. When Lee asks, you tell her I said her kisses were more important than canker sores to me."

I giggled again.

"I knew it," he said. "She told you to say you had a canker sore, didn't she?"

This time it was me that kissed him. It was more than a peck, and much less than sexual. Better than friends, but certainly not lovers.

"Cherie," he whispered, "as far as the world is concerned, I had a wonderful night with Lee -- as planned. Okay?"

I nodded, and pulled away. I tripped on the porch step, and landed back in his arms. My Chanel floated around us setting a romantic tone. Surprisingly, I could also smell a musky odor coming from me, and could feel dampness in my panties.

"Did Lee teach you that move," he whispered.

I shook my head.

"It worked." He kissed me with unmistakable passion. Then he picked me up with all those muscles from moving sod and river rock, and set me on the porch. "Goodnight, Lee," he called for the benefit of anyone that might be listening inside, as he walked to his car. "I'll see you in three weeks. I'll call you Sunday night."

I stood on the porch unable to move. I wasn't in love. He wasn't either. He had made it clear that Lee was his choice. Yet I loved his attention. His compliments. Mostly his kisses. If I moved, I would have to re-enter life. Would I have to go back to where I had been? Or - - could I go forward - - forward to a life of more boy kisses? I couldn't. My date had been a once in a lifetime experience.

He probably was thinking of Lee when he kissed me, but I had enjoyed it ... loved it.

I stumbled a few steps to the swinging bench on the porch. Sitting down I closed my eyes, and memorized every moment of the night. I had looked my best, and it had been dreamy.

What more could I want? I had enough recollections for a lifetime.

 

Chapter Nine

 

"An error does not become truth because of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because no one sees it." – M. Gandhi

 

It had been sweet of Mrs. Thompson to invite Mom. She would be staying with us for two weeks.

I greeted Mom on the driveway in my Dinner Belle dress. It had an eyelet collar and cuffs. The black dress was fashionably tailored, and made me look a bit older. My makeup was just the way Mom had taught me. Mrs. Thompson had bought a darker shade of nude pantyhose for me, so that their shimmer matched my sun-darkened skin. I was at the third level of darkness with my breasts.

"Cherie," Mom said, as we gave each other a fierce embrace, "You look marvelous." I had written her two letters a week telling her about everything that was happening. The maid uniform was no shock to her.

"I feel marvelous, Mom."

Everyone else was out on the pontoon. The water off our sandy beach was one to two feet deep. The lake only was thirty-eight feet deep in the middle. To get to a point where they could dive without any question, they had to take the pontoon out about two hundred yards.

"Any regrets?" She asked.

"None, whatsoever."

We took her things to one of the guest bedrooms in the main cabin. I helped her put her things into drawers.

A few weeks back, I would have been somewhat embarrassed handling her lingerie. As it was, I looked at her beautiful clothing with deep interest, wondering if my tastes were genetically inspired.

"I keep looking for signs of Zack," Mom said.

"I'm here, Mom." I hugged her tight again, and rested my head on her shoulder. My eyes were moist. It felt so good to be with her. I hadn't realized how much I missed her. "I'll always be here."

Noises from the first floor pulled us apart, but not before Mom took both of my hands, held me at arms-length, and caressed me with her eyes.

"Mom!" Lee jumped her from behind, and kissed her on the cheek.

"CherieAnn, CherieAnn ... I caught a fish," I could hear Emily making her way up the stairs. She could run on her toes, but wasn't capable yet of running up stairs. "Look CherieAnn ... my fish!"

Her fish was more of a minnow – a three-inch perch that probably had been injured too much to throw back.

"It's a wonderful fish," I said. "Did he put up a big fight?"

"Mom said Drew could clean it and we could all have him for dinner."

Once cleaned, her fish would provide about a fourth a spoonful of food. I had a feeling "her fish" would grow magically into the lake trout that were thawing in the kitchen.

We all went down to the kitchen where Kayla latched on to me. It was time for her bottle. I sat in the rocker feeding her, while catching up with Mom. Lee had an hour of tennis to do with the boys before dinner.

The cabin was filled with the wonderment of three generations of women. Well, almost. I had developed a horrible habit of thinking of Kayla as my baby. If Mrs. Thompson didn't watch too closely at the end of the summer I was going to stuff her into one of my bags, and take her home with me.

During a lull in our conversation, I thought about how strange Kayla would think Cherie was acting when she was Zack again. It was obvious I could never see Kayla again after the summer was over.

"What's wrong darling?" Mom asked. "You just had such a pained expression on your face."

"Oh, it was nothing."

"Your girls are such hard workers," Mrs. Thompson said, as she brought in a cool drink for Mom. "They're supposed to work eight hours a day, but they normally work twelve to fifteen."

"You can hardly call what we do work," I said, as I looked down at Kayla who was fixing her eyes on me with her normal look of adoration. The feelings between us were mutual.

"I could order you to take a little time off," Mrs. Thompson said, as she took Kayla from me. Kayla was always as comfortable with her, as she was with me. "Why don't you walk up to the tennis court, and ask Lee to cut the boys' lesson short. You two have done enough for today. Then would you walk down, and tell Drew that dinner will be a little late, Emily's fish needs some more time to grow. It was so sweet of him to accept Em's invitation to dinner, after she caught her fish." I smiled as I left the room, glad that Drew had treated Emily so nicely.

Lee was happy to be able to have some immediate time with Mom. After helping the boys, and her pick up the forty or so practice balls, I headed down to the lake to give Drew the message about dinner. It would be almost an hour until we ate. I didn't have to prepare meals, only serve them, so I had free time until then.

Drew was taking lifejackets and gas cans off the pontoon, and storing them in the boathouse. I helped him with the fishing tackle.

Drew and I didn't see much of each other except for noon meals. He went home every night, after his work was done. Most days we packed a lunch for the boys, Lee, and him for out on the boat, so they could keep doing whatever they were doing.

Somehow though, we had grown closer, at least in my mind.

As we were finishing taking in the fishing equipment, he touched me on the arm. "Do you want to walk up to the point?"

The point was about fifty feet above the lake surface on a rocky cliff. It was about three hundred yards from the house via a path through fairly dense forest. The Thompsons had put a bench up there, and Drew kept a small grassy area mowed to keep the bugs under control. There was a light breeze coming off the lake, and the temperature was perfect. It would be a truly ideal day to look out on the lake from the point.

"Sure, that sounds fantastic."

I was wearing the heels I was required to wear with my serving dress. After a few missteps on the crude path, I gladly accepted the offer of Drew's arm.

His body didn't seem as chiseled as Josh's had, but he was comforting to lean against.

When we got to the bench, we sat about four inches apart, and stared out over the water. There were two sailboats about a mile out on the lake augmenting what was nearly a picture postcard scene.

"I love it up here," Drew said. "The lake is getting more, and more populated by tourists every year. I wish it could stay like this. I wish the tourists would stay at home."

"I'm a tourist," I said, as I slid an inch or two closer to him. The day was cooler than I had thought, and we were in the shade of a huge fir. The warmth of his body would be more than welcome.

"I didn't mean you. You're wonderful," he said. "If I've offended my lady with my thoughtless babble, let me swiftly cut out my tongue so it will never happeneth again."

"Is Shakespeare required for pre-med?" I asked.

"No, was my attempt horrible?"

"You could have done better," I said, and slid the last inches to press into his side. I shivered.

"Are you cold?" He looked at me with astonishment, making me feel like a delicate flower.

"A little."

He put his arm around me, engulfing me in his warmth. I snuggled in, surprised how small I seemed compared to him. In my mind, I had thought we were about the same size. In reality, he was almost a foot taller, and much heavier.

"Cherie - - I really like you."

"You don't know me," I said. "It's my twin you like."

"Oh I like Lee a lot," he said. "She's great with the boys, and a lot of fun. But, it's different with you. I think about you all the time. You're wonderful."

I stiffened when I realized what was happening.

"What's wrong?"

"We need to get back. I need to get Kayla and Emily dressed for dinner."

"First, I need to ask you something."

"No, we need to get back, now." I got up ducking under his arm to free myself. The look on his face was painful. I didn't mean to hurt him.

Without thinking I reached out and touched his face to comfort him.

"I think you're wonderful, too." I said.

I hadn't meant to say that, but the smile that broke across his tanned face made me happy I had. Somehow I found myself back in his arms with my face buried in his neck. He smelled fresh, inviting.

He whispered in my ear. "I think I love you."

"No ... no you don't." I stumbled out of his arms, and backed away from him. He had said exactly what I had wanted him to. That was why I agreed to go to the point with him. However, it was exactly what I couldn't allow him to say.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"We shouldn't," I said. "Mrs. Thompson wouldn't like it, if we dated."

"Would she like it if we kissed?" I was back in his arms again, head over heels into a kiss that carried me into a sense of awe. It was the kind of kiss Lee and I had written about in our plays. The kind of kiss that woke sleeping princesses. Why did it have to be such a nightmare for me?

I turned, and ran back to the house. I went straight up to the nanny suite, and looked in the mirror. My face showed all the emotions I had felt; fear, shame, love, passion, desire, guilt ... I had flirted with Drew. What had happened had been my fault. It had been so delightful and wrong.

I quickly fixed my hair and makeup. Then I changed my pantyhose, which had several runs from my sprint through the woods. How on earth had I done that in high heels?

When I finally went down to dinner, everyone else was seated. I went to the kitchen, and started bringing out platters of food.

"I've asked Cherie to go on a date with me," Drew said, "but she's afraid you will be upset if your employees date one another."

"Nonsense, Cherie," Mrs. Thompson said. "I think you and Drew would have an amazing time together. Where do you plan on taking her, Drew?"

"To the Blue Heron for dinner Saturday night."

"Oh that's great; you'll have a wonderful time there. Mr. Winkleman used to be a marketing executive in the Cities. He moved up here, and runs an eccentric little restaurant. He's the entire staff. You have to call your orders in twenty-four hours in advance. But his food is to die for, everything from Thai to Chesapeake Bay."

"I can't," I said. Everyone looked at me. I never talked while serving, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. I stopped mid-air with a serving spoon full of twice-baked potato I had planned on scooping onto Brandon's plate. "I've never dated. Mom has always said I'm too immature." I pleaded with Mom with my eyes to stand behind my flimsy excuse.

She was more interested in studying Drew, and wasn't looking my way. Drew looked at her, and gave her his little boy smile. Damn. He looked so good. I could still feel his lips on mine.

"Could I have my potatoes, please?" Brandon asked, breaking my reverie.

"I think you've grown a lot this summer," Mom said. She turned from the glow of Drew's smile to the shock on my face. "I think you should be more like your sister. Lee isn't afraid of trying new things."

"Is CherieAnn 'fraid, Mommy?" Emily asked.

"No sweetie," Mrs. Thompson said, "Cherie's mother means Cherie needs to look at all the great possibilities life has to offer. She just wants CherieAnn to know that she can decide if she wants to go on a date with Drew on her own."

"That's enough, that's enough." Brandon was trying to stop me from putting the sixth serving of twice-baked potato on his plate. My face was on fire.

After I brought a fresh plate for Brandon and got things back on track, the rest of the meal was much less stressful. Emily had a wonderful time, as everyone complimented her on her fish.

As Drew walked toward the door to go home I joined him. Once we were on the porch I stopped him, and once again took his face in my hands.

"Drew," I said, "there are things about me you don't know that could hurt you. I want to be with you more than you could ever know. If you still want to take me out Saturday night I'll be ready at seven." I brought his face to mine, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "If I've scared my lord awayeth, I'll cut out the tongue that has offendeth thee."

He smiled. "My only fear is that you and I will keep trying to talk Shakespearean English. I'll call The Blue Heron, and order dinner. You'll love it."

I stood on the porch, and watched his taillights disappear down the driveway. My hands were stuck deep into the pockets of my bib front apron, as I rocked from heel to toe, thinking back to what had happened on the point.

 

Chapter Ten

 

"Truth is by nature self-evident. As soon as you remove the cobwebs of ignorance that surround it, it shines clear." - M. Gandhi

 

Later that night, after the children were asleep in bed, Lee and I were sitting in the living room with Mrs. Thompson and Mom. I found the courage to open a conversation that had been bottled inside me for as long as I could remember. I had changed out of my maid uniform into a skirt and sweater set Mom had brought along as a surprise. She had brought several skirts, blouses and dresses for Lee and me.

"Mrs. Thompson," I said. "I'll bet you've seen some strange things in your profession."

"Uh huh," She said. If she were a pipe smoker, she would have drawn her lungs full, tapped the pipe against her teeth, and blown several perfect rings.

"Have you ever run across anyone who didn't want to be the person he or she was?"

"That's just about everyone," she said, smiling at me like a friend, a mother, and a counselor.

Lee sensed what I was planning on doing, and moved to sit be with me on the loveseat. She took my hand on hers, and fixed her eyes on mine. She nodded. She wanted me to talk to Mrs. Thompson about our secret.

"Mrs. Thompson," I said, "I'm a boy."

I didn't know what to expect. It had been weeks since I had had the chance to feel like I was sure about what was happening. Mom didn't appear too surprised or upset. In fact, she looked relieved.

"No, you aren't," Mrs. Thompson said. "No one as pretty as you could ever be a boy."

"But I am," I said, as much as I didn't want them to, tears rolled down my cheek. Lee was also silently weeping. Now was the time to pay the piper. "I was born a boy."

"No you weren't," Mrs. Thompson said. "I was in the hospital the night you were born. You were a lovely, pink little baby girl when I saw you the first time in your mother's arms."

"Whaa…" My head was on a swivel from Mrs. Thompson to Mom. They both nodded, and smiled like White Rabbits enticing me into a cavernous hole.

Lee was nodding as well. She was apparently a co-conspirator. But what? How?

"The night you were born I was called in as a consultant to help your mom and dad reach a decision about you."

"A decision?"

All around me the world had come unhinged. Mom was nodding as if left was right. Lee, the person I had always trusted, had plotted against me. I had been set up. It was obvious those three had changed me into a girl on purpose, but - why?

"Your mother and father were being asked to make some hasty decisions about your future," Mrs. Thompson said. "They didn't feel equipped to make them, and called me in as an expert in the area of gender."

"The doctors were advising us to perform surgery on you," Mom said. "I didn't like their attitudes. We thought the surgery they were suggesting was fairly invasive without your input. As you were a newborn, we hired a professional to tell us what you would say, if you could talk."

I was still speechless, eighteen years later.

"Mrs. Thompson has been Mom's friend since then," Lee said. "She helped Mom and me plan your summer. We wanted you to be able to make an informed decision about your future."

"What about my future?" I asked Lee.

"We wanted you to be able to pick your gender."

"That would be nice, but nature picked it for me. I'm a boy. You know that Lee."

"I know how you feel, Cherie," Lee said. "All of this came as a big surprise to me when Mom and Mrs. Thompson told me four years ago."

"Four years ago?"

She nodded, as did Mom and Mrs. Thompson.

"It was four years ago when we told Lee that you're an intersex person," Mom said.

"Intersex?"

"The term intersex or intersexual," Mrs. Thompson said, as she stared intently into my eyes, "is used when a person is both male and female."

"I'm both – ahhh." I woke staring up from my bed into Mom's eyes. She was holding a cold compress against my forehead. Someone had taken off my shoes. Someone had also reversed everything I knew to be true. The black skirt I had been wearing was now white. There was a blizzard outside in the middle of July. Emily's tiny fish had fed all of us, and the leftovers had filled the disposal. Mrs. Thompson was massaging my upper arm, trying to find even a little muscle. Brandon's plate had overflowed with twice-baked potatoes flooding the living room with creamy spuds ...

I woke again with the sun shining through the window on me. Lee was sitting in a chair next to me smiling, as I opened my eyes. My new skirt had been replaced by one of my nighties.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?"

"Afternoon? Where are Emily and Kayla? Did Mrs. Thompson fire me? I need to get my things together ... " I slumped back into bed unable to lift my head more than six inches off my pillow.

"Take it easy. Mrs. Thompson injected a sedative into your arm after you passed out last night. You've been sleeping for about twenty hours straight, except for once when you almost came around, and she put you right back under with another shot."

"Lee?" Tears were coming out of my eyes again. "Why you? How could you be so mean to me?"

"Mean?" She got up out of her chair, and sat on the bed pushing my hair off my face. "You know that's impossible." She moved completely onto the bed and took me into her arms with my head resting on her chest. I knew it was impossible for Lee to do anything that would be to my detriment. But I also knew what I had heard. I knew I was wearing a nightie, and living as a girl. I knew I had been repeatedly tricked.

"Did you and Mrs. Thompson cheat during our tennis match?"

Lee blushed. She didn't need to answer. "She might've made a few bad calls. But, you had to be the inside maid. I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings. You can't be the winner every time."

"Has it all been a lie? Did you tell Josh to kiss me?"

"Josh kissed you?" Lee asked. "No, he wasn't in on it. He must've been totally convinced I was you."

"No, he wasn't. He kissed me because he said I was gorgeous. He knew it was me." I wanted to hurt her. However, I really didn't. I still loved her, no matter what she had done. "Noooo. He was talking about how great you are all the time he was kissing me. He was only trying to make me feel better."

"Josh and I are going to have a little talk."

"No. Please. It wasn't like that. It was nice, sweet."

"He IS a great kisser. Did he try anything else with you?" I shook my head. "He's pretty horny. I never should have sent you out with him. We're lucky you ..." Her voice trailed off. There was a line we would never cross.

"Is Drew in on all of this?"

"No. Drew is a very nice boy who thinks the world of you."

"What's going to happen when he finds out I'm not a girl."

"But you are," she said. "Look - I'm not supposed to talk to you about this without Mrs. Thompson. I'm going down to get you some toast and orange juice. You stay in bed, maybe sleep some more. I'll ask Mrs. Thompson to come up."

The pillow felt nice. I drifted waiting for Lee to come back to hold me. We were on Drew's boat. He was a little older. He was holding our son Kevin in his arms - helping him steer the boat. I was breasts-feeding our daughter, Susan.

It was twilight when I woke again. Mrs. Thompson was gently shaking me.

"Cherie," she said. "Cherie, dear. You should have something to eat. You should get up, and walk around."

She helped me get my feet on the ground, and supported most of my weight, as Lee slipped a robe around me. The two of them steered me to a chair by the kitchen table. The captain's chair embraced me, as I blinked and blinked, trying to make the trails from the light go away.

"I need to use the bathroom," I said.

Lee helped me find my sea legs. She came in with me and sat on the edge of the tub, as I sat and did my business.

"I love you," she said. "You gave us all a bit of a scare last night."

I nodded.

"Pretty shocking news, huh."

I still wasn't sure what I had heard. I nodded.

We went back to the kitchen where I had a piece of dry toast.

"Drew took the kids over to his parents' house," Mom said. "They'll be back in a few hours. There are some things we need to discuss."

There was really only one question I needed answered.

"What am I, Mom?"

 

Chapter Eleven

 

"The truth is inconvertible, malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is." - Winston Churchill

 

"You are my wonderful child," Mom said. "You are sweet, kind, considerate, and tolerant of all around you. You're beautiful. You are trusting and generous. You're brave and honest. You're everything anyone could ever want in their off-spring."

"Or, in a twin," Lee said.

We were seated in the Thompsons' lake home living room. We could hear the sound of the waves lapping against the shore as Mom and Lee's words echoed through the room.

They made me sound like a scout. Was I a boy scout, or ... ?

"I'm sorry I wasn't more forthright," Mrs. Thompson said. "Zack, I've seen a great deal of you over the years. Every time you two came in for a check up at the university hospital as children, I watched you play together through a two-way mirror."

"Why were you doing that?" I asked.

"We needed to observe what toys you played with, how you interacted with Lee, your words, and gestures. All of that was important, if a decision was to be made. However, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Sharon ..."

I looked to my mother. It was apparent that I was going to learn something about my sexuality or maybe my gender.

"The day you were born," Mom said, talking with a great amount of certainty in her voice, "was the most fantastic day of my life. Your father was a terrific Lamaze partner. Through concentrating on my focal point, his love, and correct breathing techniques I was able to have natural childbirth."

"At that time it wasn't all that common," Mrs. Thompson said.

"You're right, Carolyn," Mom said, "My doctor actually tried to talk me out of it because he knew we were having twins. The sonogram showed two babies. The technician told us he thought he saw a boy and a girl. My doctor advised me to have a Caesarean-section. I didn't want to do that, as I thought it would be traumatic for your sister and you."

"That was the first of many arguments you had with Dr. Powell," Mrs. Thompson said. Mom nodded.

"Lee was the first to be born," Mom said. "She couldn't wait, even then. She came out hollering. Dr. Powell announced to the room that we had a beautiful little girl."

"I was a leader and beautiful," Lee said. "Nothing much has changed." Everyone grinned at her. Lee and I were sitting on a couch, but we were huddled so close we only used a third of it. She had changed into her nightie and robe, so we were dressed alike.

"We waited about eight minutes for you to decide to join us," Mom said. "During that time, the nurse said that Lee scored a perfect ten on the Apgar test."

"What's Apgar?" I asked.

"They test things like skin color, respiration, heart rate, muscle tone, and reflex," Mrs. Thompson said. "All of my babies were tens."

"They still are," I said. Brandon might be a 9.5, but the others were so perfect they brought the average up.

"When you were born," Mom said, "You also came out crying. I think you missed Lee for those eight minutes, and were wondering where she went."

Lee was cuddling into me, letting me know she was right there, if I needed her.

"Dr. Powell looked you over and said 'Hmmmm,' " Mom said. "Then he said it again, 'Hmmmmm.' Your father and I were scared silly. The nurse took you from the doctor, and washed you up. She announced that you too had scored ten on the Apgar."

"Identical scores," Lee said, as she snuggled even closer, if that was possible.

"The nurse put both of you on my stomach," Mom said. "I looked up at her and asked her if you were a boy. She turned to Doctor Powell, and he said, 'That's what I'll put on the birth certificate'. Your Dad and I smiled at each other, and all seemed to be well in the world."

"Wasn't it?" I asked, knowing that something must have been wrong or there would have been a need for our discussion.

"That was a matter of opinion," Mom said. "Doctor Powell left the room, and made some calls. When he came back in he told us they could operate on you immediately."

"I thought you said I was perfect," I said.

"I did," Mom said, "and you were. Your Dad and I were shocked. We demanded an explanation. Doctor Powell said that you were a hermaphrodite."

"Oh my," I gasped. I knew it. I was pretty sure that's what Mrs. Thompson had meant when she said I was both female and male. *I'm a freak!*

"Doctor Powell told your father and me that he could cure you with surgery," Mom said. "When we asked him what that meant, he told us that you had both male and female sexual organs. He said he was going to remove the male organs, and you would be cured. He said a gender abnormality happened in about one of every two thousand births."

"At that time nearly all physicians, and most psychiatrists thought there were only two sexes," Mrs. Thompson said. "Of course, at that time they also mostly thought anything but a heterosexual lifestyle was abnormal."

I was falling into Wonderland again. There are only two sexes. What could she mean?

"The nurse tried to take you away from me, but I wouldn't let go," Mom said. "Your father told her to take her hands off you. He told them that we needed to talk more."

"Your father was a wonderful man," Mrs. Thompson said.

Mom and Lee had some explaining to do, but there was never any question about my love for them. When Mrs. Thompson spoke glowingly of Dad, she had made a quantum leap back into my good graces.

"The doctor told me we didn't have any choice," Mom said. "He said it was standard procedure to perform what he called 'corrective' surgery. He said we had to work quickly before you were imprinted with incorrect gender information from those around you."

"That's when your mom started asking what proved to be the right questions," Mrs. Thompson said. "Your mom correctly assumed the doctor was caught up in his ego, afraid to give any indication he didn't have an answer for everything."

"I asked Dr. Powell how he knew that you were a girl," Mom said. "He said he could tell by looking at you. That didn't sound right. I looked at you, and I couldn't tell. In my eyes you appeared to be a boy."

"What do you mean, Mom?" I asked. "Couldn't he see that I was a boy?"

"Oh, Honey," Mom said. "We've kept many things about gender and sexual organs away from you. Remember how I wouldn't allow you to take sex education? Remember how you had a skin condition that kept you out of physical education?"

"I never did believe the skin condition thing," I said. "I figured it was something else, but it was no big deal to me since Lee wasn't in what would have been my gym classes."

"You have the sexual organs of both a female, and a male," Mrs. Thompson said. Mom nodded.

"It's true," Lee whispered to me.

"You've known?" I asked Lee, making sure I had heard her right.

She nodded, "Like I said, I've known since we were almost fourteen."

"If I have both female and male sex organs, and Mom couldn't tell for sure what I was, how did the doctor know?"

"He didn't," Mom said. "He was making an educated guess. I asked him if once you had surgery you could have babies. He didn't know. He said they would have to do exploratory surgery to see if you had the correct organs." Mom took a sip of water. It was clear that she was ripping open some emotional scars.

"I asked him if he could perform surgery that would make you a boy instead of a girl. He said he could. So your Dad asked him if he could guarantee that you could reproduce as a man. He couldn't guarantee anything."

"If he couldn't guarantee anything, and he really didn't know what sex I was, what was the point of surgery?" I asked. It all sounded so preposterous.

"He told us that if we didn't give our permission for the surgery we would be subjecting you to a high risk of cancer. Your dad asked how soon the cancer would develop. He hemmed and hawed enough to show us that he really wasn't used to people challenging his authority."

"Did he ever give you an answer?" I asked.

"Yes," Mom said. "He said the cancer would develop after you went through puberty. He told us you weren't enough of a male to be allowed to be a man, so you had to be a female. That's when your father told him he had heard enough. He said if they operated on you without our permission, he would find a way to close them down. There's been a Blake or a Smythe on the hospital board since it opened."

"They brought in a team of physicians, geneticist, endocrinologists, pediatric specialists, urologists, and psychoendocrinologists," Mrs. Thompson said. "All of them were experienced in intersexed syndromes. None of them were willing to consider anything but immediate surgery. By the way Cherie, I thought you were a girl from the first day," She smiled.

"Doctor Powell wasn't about to take your dad on," Mom said. "However, he told us he would have to report us to Hennepin County for child abuse."

"Child abuse?" I asked.

"I've heard this story before," Lee said. "They had some pretty whacked ideas."

"Doctor Powell told us," Mom said, "if we didn't allow the hospital to fix you, you wouldn't properly imprint, and would suffer horribly for it the rest of your life. I didn't believe him, but to be sure we sought help."

"Why didn't they just do blood tests to check my sex chromosomes?"

"Sex chromosomes are a misnomer," Mom said. "There are many, many individuals who are termed 'female' who have a Y chromosome. Bodies react to what they call androgens differently. Different bodies deliver different levels of testosterone. Many times the body will override the chromosomes. Dr. Powell told us that what counted most at the end of the day was the appearance of the genitalia."

"I suppose that's right," I said.

"It sounded right," Mom said, "however, there was something about how he said it that caused both your father and me to question him. Then he got pushy. He said our relatives would want to know what sex you are. He said we had to tell them something or they wouldn't react right to you, and cause you emotional harm."

"Tell him what that one specialist said," Lee demanded.

"One of the men," Mom said. "They were all men. -- One of the men said we should tell everyone we had triplets. Two girls and a boy. Then when we determined what sex you would be, we could tell them the other baby died."

"What?" I was shocked.

"That's when I got involved," Mrs. Thompson said. "Your father and I knew each other from working on similar charities. He called me right after they took Lee, your mom, and you to your private room. Luckily, I had considerable research on intersex case studies. Of the dozens and dozens of files I had reviewed -- I hadn't found one where the patient said they were happy they had the surgery as a baby."

"There were numerous cases of severe hardship caused by the surgery," Mom said. "There was a case where the person was raised as a boy after surgery to remove his vagina. He started menstruating at thirteen, and grew breasts at fourteen."

"Like I did?" They all nodded. "Then I should have been surgically corrected to be a female."

"There are dozens of cases where the penis was removed, and the person ended up living as a male without any means of sexual satisfaction." Mrs. Thompson said.

"I don't care about sex," I said. The moment I said it, I doubted myself. The summer had changed me.

"You're still young," Mrs. Thompson said. "Your libido is still evolving."

"Are you telling me I could be a father and a mother?" I asked.

"Yes, as far as we know," Mom said. "The MRI scans you've had indicate fully functioning organs. You're what is known as a true hermaphrodite, which is quite rare. You have a clitoris, ovaries, fallopian tubes, a vagina leading to a uterus, and labia minora and majora. It appears you could bear a child. However, you never know until you try to conceive. You also have a scrotal sac, a prostate, a penis ... physically it appears as if everything is in working order."

"Why haven't you done something? Why haven't you made me something ... anything ...?"

"It didn't seem right or necessary. It appeared all society was concerned about was making sure you never had homosexual sex. At least that seems to be the attitude of society as reflected through its medical community."

"Why do you say that? What did homosexual sex have to do with it?" I asked.

"They seemed compelled to sort you into one sex or the other so that you would know who you could, and couldn't have sex with in their heterosexual exclusive minds." Mom had let us know many times how repulsive she found homophobic thinking.

"But you've allowed me to be a hermaphrodite," I said. "Just the sound of that word is creepy."

"It's just a word," Mrs. Thompson said. "At one time the term hermaphrodite was used by society to include all cross-dressers, homosexuals, or feminists. Anyone who didn't mentally or physically fit into the concept of two heterosexual sexes, with the female sex being subservient to the male sex --- was called a hermaphrodite. As men were establishing the social mores, it was no wonder the term hermaphrodite had negative connotations."

"Wow," I said. Mrs. Thompson was making me feel special, not different. I was beginning to see how society had applied its bigoted ideas to two-sexed people.

"Your father and I listened to Dr. Thompson and others. We read everything we could find. It appeared the logical thing was to wait until you could help us with the decision. Society has all sorts of reasons to have people sorted into two sexes; most are bigoted. Things like what jobs are available to you; whether or not you can be drafted ... most of these things are outdated. We could readily see that we needed to think for ourselves."

"The first thing I did was help your parents create a working philosophy," Mrs. Thompson said. "They wanted to construct the healthiest atmosphere possible for you."

"With Carolyn's help," Mom smiled broadly at Mrs. Thompson as she spoke, "we were able to understand that your genitals were just another body organ. We determined that there was no reason to care what they looked like as long as they worked. We decided to treat you as a boy as you looked like a boy to me. However, we were ready to change our opinions if you showed a personal preference. Bottom line - we wanted to think about your genitals as often as you would think about ours."

I blushed at Mom's frankness. I could readily see the wisdom Mrs. Thompson had help them achieve.

"We thought you would indicate to us through your actions within weeks or months which sex you preferred. However, you made it very hard," Mrs. Thompson said. "You haven't given us any firm indication one way or the other. You seemed happy as a boy, but you displayed many, many tendencies of a female."

"Carolyn told us that the biggest issue was to keep you from being humiliated," Mom said. "We had the cooperation of the hospital staff, your Uncle Kevin, and your school. Had something happened, Carolyn was ready to work to mitigate the trauma."

"Obviously no one ever tipped me off," I said, mentally readying myself for the next time I saw Uncle Kevin. "But, why take the risk I would be found out?"

"With no answer during the first few years, we thought we could wait for you to show a gender preference until your male puberty," Mom said. "Your male puberty has been delayed. However, we think it's starting. The risk of cancer is real. It isn't huge once your testicles descend. You could always have frequent checkups, and take your chances. But ..."

"But," I said, "the time has probably come for a choice, and you hadn't given me a real opportunity to see what it was like to live as a girl."

"So we set up your job for this summer," Mrs. Thompson said. "We wanted you to be far away from the interfering world. I'm afraid we had to be a little devious. Mr. Thompson would never bring business guests to our cabin. In fact, Mr. Thompson is scheduled to be away most of the summer."

"You mean to say I really didn't have to wear the maid uniforms, and all that makeup?"

"Not for the job," Mom said.

"You thought I needed to do that to make a decision?" I asked. They all nodded. I snuggled into Lee. I was a girl. I was a boy. What would I be? "I can be a boy?" They nodded. "I can be a girl?" They nodded again. "Or, I can be both." They nodded once more, but not as vigorously.

It appeared to me they wanted me to make a choice. I'm truly my mother's child. The fact that they wanted me to make a choice pissed me off. I wasn't a freak. The only way I would be a freak was if I allowed hateful peoples' opinions to matter. That would never happen.

What would Drew say? Once he knew, would he have any interest in me? What would he want me to do? If I had children, and they saw me, would I cause them emotional harm?

I'm me. I have always felt good enough for my family, and that was all that mattered. Mom would always love me. Lee would always love me. It sounded like I could have a family no matter what I did.

There was only one thing to do.

 

"Three things cannot long be hidden, the sun, the moon and truth." – Buddha

The End

 

Thank you to Geoff, Kim West, and all the others who helped with this story. - Angela

  

  

  

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