A Step Off the Path

Hope

Hope walked across the sand. Nobody paid any particular attention to him - a skinny, tallish girl with a small bust, shoulder-length, mousey-coloured hair and wearing a modest bikini.

Nevertheless, he still felt scared stiff as he spread his towel and lay down on it.

His first time in public. Oh, lord. Was everybody staring at me? Laughing behind their hands? Perhaps I'd better leave. This was a stupid idea. No, no. Stay calm, Hope, just stay calm, it'll be all right. Oh, God.

Of course, Hope wasn't his real name, it was the name of the girl he wanted to be. The name he had loved and dreamed of for as many years as he could remember.

Three weeks at this nice resort, booked and registered under the name Hope. It wouldn't work, he knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try, he had to.

Two days, three days, four. Nobody seemed to guess; was he simply being accepted as a rather ordinary-looking girl?

Was it working? Oh, please, please. It felt good, it felt so good.

It took Hope a few days to realise that Bryce was hesitantly trying to chat her up. He was a tall, gawky young man of unprepossessing appearance, but she was enjoying his company.

They went to the movies in the town . . . they kissed goodnight.

No, no, Hope. What are you doing?

You can't do this to him. He's a nice guy.

"I'm sorry, Bryce, I have to cut short my stay."

"Oh, no, Hope. Why?"

"I can't say. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He looked completely devastated. He started talking to the ground, "I suppose it was too good to be true. Finally, I found a girl that I could relax with, feel comfortable with, and even ask out for my first-ever date. Hope, I really like you."

"Oh, Bryce, Bryce. What have I done?" Suddenly, unable to stop herself she told him all - the dressing up for many years, the increasingly irresistible desire to be a girl, of being frightened, of starting hormones last year at the age of twenty-two, of never having a social life, of feeling ever more desperate.

He was looking at her intently. "Hope, you mustn't go, you mustn't. Please."

"Did you understand what I said, Bryce? I'm not a real girl."

"You are to me and you're such a lovely person. I've never felt so good with anybody before. Please, Hope, please stay."

She looked at him in wonder, "You like me, Bryce?"

"Heaps. Heaps and heaps."

"Oh," she smiled weakly, "I like you too."

Gazing into each other's eyes. "Do you think it will be all right, Bryce?"

"I'm sure it will."

It was.

They returned to the same resort a few months later - on their honeymoon.