A Different Kind of Prom, Part 4 (2001)

By Czolgolz

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The next day, I got the call I had been dreading. Mom wanted to know what I was going to do for Thanksgiving.

"Well Mom," I said, making a conscious effort to lower my voice, "I think I'm just going to stay here over the holidays. I can't get away right now."

"Well, I'm cashing in some of my frequent flier miles. I'll come up and visit you!"

My mind reeled. "OK. I'll see you then." Gulp.

I told Brenda what was happening when I saw her that afternoon. "Oh my," she said, looking ill. "Is there any way to cancel?"

"That's beside the point. I'll have to tell her some day, might as well be in a couple of weeks."

"Well, you don't have to tell her so soon," Brenda seemed more nervous than I was. "Maybe we could dress you up like a guy again."

"Do you really think that would work?"

"Honestly? No, not anymore."

"Brenda, I'm going to have to face the music. I can't put off the inevitable. And you have to be there to support me. Remember your agreement."

"Of course."

Figuring that it would be impossible to explain over the phone, I asked Mom to come to my dorm the day before Thanksgiving. Seeing is believing, as they say, and she'd certainly see a lot when she saw me.

Brenda and I debated for hours about what I was going to wear. "It has to be something very feminine," Brenda insisted. "She has to know this is more than a stage, more than a fetish with you. When she looks at you, she has to realize that you're going to be her daughter."

"Yes, but at the same time, we can't go overboard," I argued. "She's going to be coming here fully expecting to see her son. If I meet her in a bikini top, that might be pushing things a bit too far."

Eventually we settled on a compromise. Despite the fact that it had already snowed that year, we decided I needed to show off a bit of flesh. Mom had to see that my transformation into a woman was more than mental. In the end I ended up wearing a short skirt, a halter-top, and heels. I gazed at my reflection as Brenda did my nails and hair. Could I really be that frightened girl in the mirror? The one who's soft freckled skin stood out on her graceful neck, slender back, and perky breasts? The one who could now walk in high heels shoes like a pro? The one who made herself up to look pretty every morning? God, what would my mother think? Could she ever learn to accept me as Roberta?

Eventually the moment came. Mom would show up at the door any second now. "Would you stop pacing?" Brenda asked me. "You're putting me on edge!"

"You tell your parents you're having a sex change and see how you feel! God, I think I'm going to puke."

Brenda stood up and grabbed me by the arms. "Roberta, listen to me. This will shock your mother. She might even get mad. But she will accept you. How do I know? Because you are still her child. You are still the same person she always loved. Nothing can stop a mother's love. If it goes badly, and it might, just remember that things will improve."

There was a knock at the door. "Robert, honey?" I heard my mother say. This was it. Trying to look as confident as possible, I opened the door.

Mom stopped smiling when I opened the door. "Hello!" I said warmly and girlishly at the same time.

"Um, hello. Is this Robert's room?" She was refusing to believe what she was seeing.

"Yes, of course, come in."

Mom seemed upset. "Are you Robert's girlfriend?" she asked, hopefully.

"Mom, it's me. Robert. I know you recognize me."

Mom took a deep breath, and sat down in my chair, roughly. "Robert, what is this? Is this a joke?" Despite the obvious physical changes in her son, she still was hoping that this was all some sort of prank.

"Mom, you remember Brenda? We're in love. Brenda is attracted to women, so I've decided to become Roberta. We're very happy." Mom turned gray. Brenda waved, meekly.

"Robert, what has gotten into you?" my mom whispered.

"I'm in love. I've been living like this for months. I'm not going to change back."

"Robert, stop it. You need to see a doctor. I'll make an appointment with a therapist."

"It's not like that. I love Brenda, she loves me, and nothing else matters."

Mom started crying. "Robert, please. Can't you see you're killing your mother?"

I started crying too. "Mom, I know this is a shock. I never planned it this way. But in time you'll grow to accept..."

"Accept what?" my mom suddenly shouted. "That my only son has become a freak? That my offspring has decided to live a deviant lifestyle?"

I felt like I had been gut-punched. "Mom, please don't "

"Don't 'Mom' me! You are not my child! My child was Robert! You, you're no son of mine!"

"Mommy..." I sobbed, trying to touch her.

"Back off, you pervert! I never want to see you again!" She moved to leave.

"Ma'am..." Brenda began, unsteadily.

"Shut up, you whore!" screamed my mother. "You've killed my son and ruined my life. Don't come near me!" The door slammed behind her.

I never thought there was much truth to people blacking out from emotional shock, but that's exactly what I did then. When I came to, I was in my pajamas. Brenda was holding me in her lap, rocking me as if I were an infant.

"Hush little baby," she sang, "don't say a word. Mama's going to buy you a mocking bird. If that mocking bird won't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring..."

I fell asleep in her arms, wishing I was living someone else's life.

I awoke the next morning to see Brenda sitting on a chair, looking down at me. She obviously hadn't slept a wink, she looked miserable. "I guess you hate me," she said, flatly.

"Don't be like that. Of course I don't."

"Even after what happened?"

"That wasn't your fault."

"It was in a way. Listen, Roberta. If you want to leave me I'll understand."

"The hell you would. Brenda, I love you. You're all I have now. Now that my mother doesn't..." I started bawling, and Brenda held me. The one constant in my life, my mother's love, had evaporated. I had never felt so low. Not when my Dad left, not when I thought Brenda was gone out of my life, never. My own mother no longer loved me.

"So what now?" asked Brenda, when I had calmed down.

"I get on with my life. We finished school, see what the future holds."

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"Brenda, you didn't do anything. Everything I've done was my own doing. I've no one to blame but myself."

The phone rang. Brenda and I looked at it with shock. Could it be ? I hoped. Quickly, I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Robert?"

"Mom!"

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't sleep at all last night. I didn't mean what I said; I was just in shock! Oh, honey, say you forgive me, say you still love me!"

"Oh, Mommy! Oh Mommy, of course I love you."

"God, I was so upset last night. Can I see you? Let me see you! Come to my hotel."

"Well?" asked Brenda, when I hung up.

"She apologized. I think she felt as bad as I did."

"Oh, that's wonderful."

"She wants me to see her."

"Then get going. Do you want me to come?"

"Not just yet. I think we'll need to discuss some things. But could you stay by the phone? I might need to talk to you later."

"I won't leave the dorm."

I approached my mother's door with trepidation. I was dressed as conservatively as possible, in jeans and a sweater. I still was wearing makeup and jewelry, however. I knocked.

Mom opened the door. I could tell by her face she had spent most of the night crying. We stared at each other for a long time. Then, as if a dam had burst, we embraced, crying. "I'm so sorry," we both said about fifty times.

Eventually, we settled down. "Robert, I was obviously shocked to see you yesterday. I didn't know how to react, so I just got mad. That was the wrong thing to do. You know I didn't mean what I said, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Can we start over?"

"I'd like that."

"So could you try to explain things to me? I'm very confused."

I started from the beginning. About Andy, prom, Brenda's uncle, the hormones, everything. It took about an hour. Mom didn't say anything, just looked at me with a strange expression.

"Robert," she said when I was finished, "you did this because of Brenda, right?"

"Yes."

"You don't think you could convince her to love you as a man, do you?"

I shook my head. "That would be easier, but no, that's not an option."

Mom placed her arm around me and hugged me. "Honey, can I tell you something? Something I've never told you?"

"Of course."

"Before I met your father, I loved another man. His name was Dave. Dave was the love of my life. Handsome, charming, a lover and a friend. And black.

"Your grandparents never accepted that. They refused to see him as a potential member of the family. They eventually told me I had to choose between my love and my family. I chose my family. You know the rest of the story. I married an 'acceptable' man, who cheated on me, ignored me, and left me with nothing.

"Last night I realized that by denying you your love I was no better than my parents. I know what it's like to have to choose between the ones you love, and I could never do that to you. If Brenda makes you happy, then you have my blessing. I don't think I'll ever like the idea of your being a girl, and I guess I'll always secretly hope you'll stop, but I want you to know I'll never be ashamed of you. If you won't be my son, then you'll just have to be my daughter Roberta."

"Mom, you've made me so happy. I could never be happy without you in my life."

"You don't have to worry about that. So if you don't mind my asking, how do you like womanhood?"

"It was hard at first, but I'm getting into it. I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"Well, I hate to say it, but you make a lovely woman. You were always a little gangly before, but you've certainly become a beauty."

"Mom you're going to make me cry again."

"Then maybe we should just let things be. You know, it is Thanksgiving. Can I take you out to eat?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Why don't you give Brenda a call?"

"You'd be OK with that?" I asked, rapturously.

"Well, if she's a potential daughter-in-law, I guess I should get to know her."

Dinner started of very awkwardly, as you could imagine. Brenda was terrified Mom would hate her, Mom wasn't sure what to think about the girl who had robbed her of her son. But by desert, Brenda's natural charm had won Mom over. Brenda was right, once Mom saw that I was happy, then she was hard pressed to complain.

When it came time for Mom to leave, we both saw her to the airport. "Well Robert, Roberta sorry, this is all rather new. It was good to see you. I'll miss you." We hugged.

"And Brenda," continued Mom, "Roberta tells me you don't have much planned for Christmas."

"No, the folks are going off to Bermuda."

"Well, maybe you'd like to spend the holidays with us?"

"Oh, do you mean it?"

"We'd love to have you. We'll, that's my flight. And Roberta, next time you have a surprise like this, write first, OK?" She kissed my cheek and was gone.

I stood in the terminal, holding hands with my girlfriend. "Brenda, you wouldn't believe how happy I am right now."

"Oh, I think I would." We then kissed, in full view of the many travelers nearby.

Epilogue: four years later

"So will you hurry up already? The ceremony starts in less than an hour!"

"Sorry," I replied sarcastically, "but we're both going to be in the spotlight today, and I have to look pretty too." As we both struggled for space in front of the bathroom mirror of our apartment, I couldn't help but smile at the situation. Most guys wanted their girlfriends to hurry up in the bathroom; mine wanted me to hurry up.

As Brenda did her makeup, I stood and looked at my nude body in the mirror. The hormones had worked wonders on me. Though I never reached a higher cup size than a B, my breasts were rather perky and cute. In fact, I had worn a bikini top for the first time last spring break.

But now I had better things to do than admire my curves. This afternoon everyone would have their eyes on us and I had to look as pretty as possible. I removed my gown from the garment bag. It was as beautiful as I had always pictured it. It was also identical to the one Brenda would be wearing. Of course it would me. All academic garb looks the same. But this was our college graduation and I thought my cap and gown were gorgeous.

"So, how do I look?" Brenda asked me, stepping out of the bathroom. She was fully clothed, looking both regal and pretty in her black robe. God, but she was lovely. I told her so.

"Not as lovely as you. I'd kiss you now, but I don't want to smear your lipstick. You almost ready?"

"Give me one second," I replied, putting in my earrings. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, we got a letter from Chett and Crystal today."

Brenda picked up the letter from the nightstand and examined the enclosed photo. It was of our two friends on a beach in France. Chett looked handsome as always, with his blonde hair, good looking face, and muscular frame. Still self-conscious about his arm, he had hidden his stump behind Crystal's back. Crystal, on the other hand, looked like she was posing for a swimsuit calendar. She was smiling as if the world were at her doorstep. Her long blonde hair hung down around her shoulders, and I found it hard to imagine there was skimpier bikini on earth. They both seemed so happy.

"All set," I told my girlfriend. "Are you excited?"

"Of course! This is going to be the most important day of our life. Well, until a few months from now." We giggled.

We'd be making the announcement that night, as we had dinner with our families. Last April, while enjoyed spring break in Florida, Brenda had popped the question. Of course I had said yes.

For the last few weeks we'd been secretly making wedding preparations. At a normal wedding, the bride would be in charge of that, while the groom only had to rent a tux. But since there would be two brides at this wedding, we'd both been spending every free moment deciding on our gowns, the flowers, the music, every detail. We had considered wearing identical gowns, but decided against it. Just as we were very different people emotionally, we were very different physically as well. We had both selected gowns that would compliment our different body types, and couldn't wait to wear them for the world.

There were points of contention, however. Which of us would get to walk down the aisle? Brenda thought she was the logical choice, as her father could escort her, but I wasn't about to be left out of the fun. We'd eventually decided to both enter from the wings, so no one of us would be official 'bride.' Brenda, however, demanded that she get to carry me over the threshold.

As we walked out into the warm spring sunshine, Brenda took my hand. "I'm really looking forward to making you Mrs. Brenda Anders," she smiled.

"And I'm looking forward to being your wife. Do you remember when I proposed to you?"

"But I...oh, I remember! Kindergarten! Well, looks like your prediction came true. You became a woman and are going to marry me." We laughed.

"Roberta," continued Brenda, in a more serious vein, "about our honeymoon..."

"You said I could pick the location. I hope you're not going to back out now."

"Of course not. But Thailand? I thought for sure you'd want to go to Hawaii or somewhere."

"Thailand is beautiful. There are beaches, beautiful temples, you'll love it."

Brenda winked at me. "I'll love anywhere, as long as you're there. We'll have a great time."

As we lined up with the other graduates, I laughed inwardly. Thailand was beautiful, but Brenda little suspected the true motives behind my selection. For months I'd been in communication with a Thai surgeon, via e-mail. After about a week of honeymooning, I'd check into his hospital and come out as Brenda's true wife. When I had made her swear she'd never ask me to have a sex change I meant it. But after four years of being Roberta, it seemed silly not to. I hadn't thought of myself as a man in years.

I came back to myself as they began calling names. Brenda, separated from me by several letters of the alphabet, shot me a smile as they read her name. As I stepped up to take my diploma (made out in the name of Roberta), I smiled in anticipation of the hubbub our engagement announcement would make that night.

(the end)