Shelly

Chapter 7: Dad's response

When Dad walked in from the garage that night, he was confronted with three females standing against the far wall holding hands, all nicely dressed and trying to smile. I was in the middle, looking as pretty as my mother and sister could make me; my smile strained and my knees knocking.

"What's going on?" he asked searching each of our faces in puzzlement.

Mum spoke as she nodded down at me: "This is what has been going on."

"Micky?"

"Close, love, but not quite right. This is Shelly."

"Shelly?"

"From Micky to Michele to Shelly."

"I don't think I'm following this." He was staring at me, but throwing questioning glances at Mum and Lorna.

"She's beautiful, Dad. She's my little sister and I love her," Lorna declared.

Mum spoke kindly. "For months Micky has been transforming into Shelly when you and I are out."

"At bridge, I suppose," Dad was still staring at me.

"Mainly , it seems."

A slow mile began to appear on Dad's face and a wave of relief passed through me. He looked at Mum, "Well, this explains a few things, doesn't it?" he said.

"You're right, it does," Mum replied.

"Micky slash Shelly," she went on, "believes she has found her true self. As a girl, not as a boy. Obviously, there is a lot of stuff to talk about, but I thought shock treatment might be the best way to get started."

"Shock, alright. Go out leaving a son, come back to find a daughter." Dad seemed to have himself under control.

I was on the verge of collapse. My insides were churning and my legs turning to jelly. Dad must have seen something, for he said to me with a gentle smile: "You are beautiful, Shelly. Can you give your Dad a hug, please?"

I hurled myself across the room into my father's outstretched arms. "Oh, Daddy," I cried as I clung to him with all my strength.

That was one very late night. More tears, hugs, kisses, I love you's, cups of tea, sensible talk, decisions made, plans formulated, even lots of laughs. I think we were a fairly close knit family anyway, but after that night and all the ensuing worries and wonders and delights, our bonds were forged in steel.

The upshot was an agreement on 'openness'. None of us wanted to hide what I was.

A few days later, Dad and Mum sat in the Principal's office at my school with me between them and stated quite simply that I had discovered that I wanted to live as a girl; that they believed that my desire to do so was fully considered and genuine, and that they supported me completely and without reservation.

I was wearing the proper school uniform for girls, my hair neatly done and tied with two ribbons. I kept a brave smile on my face and, in truth, I didn't really feel afraid. My main fears were all behind me. Sure, I knew I might get teased, ostracised, bullied and even possibly physically beaten, but I had no doubts I would cope because of the support of my amazing family.

Besides, I felt so good sitting there as a girl.