Becoming April

Chapter 10

Sitting at our table, I played with my napkin. We'd left Dr. James' office with a new medical file, still thin without the lab results to fatten it, and a small stack of pamphlets in lieu of a lecture—she'd said she trusted me to be adult about it and read everything and ask May questions. She'd also promised to rush all the tests, and I had filled out the forms for a direct cash transfer payment. Afterwards May had decided to take us out to sandwiches and tea. "My mom did it as a ritual to mark my first female exam," she'd told me. "I know you're an old hand with doctors, but . . ."

It had been very strange; the tea shop's hostess had complimented May on "your beautiful daughter" and shown us to a private corner saying something about there not being many days left until school. May was just thirty-two so the lady was chopping a bit off my supposed age, but it had still made me feel . . . warm.

And that had been after our encounter on the way from the carpark to the tea place. Waiting at the traffic light we'd crossed paths with a group of boys on their way to the mall across the road and I'd been seen. And not in any way I was at all comfortable with.

I'd been a big man and not just in circumference before this year—I'd topped out at six foot two in college. Now I wasn't even five feet (May thought I'd get there and not much further) and like Carl these teen boys, around my new presented age, loomed. Two days ago, I wouldn't have looked at them twice and they wouldn't have looked at me once except to stay out of my way. Now they noticed me.

The new size difference between me and Carl didn't bother me at all, but with the boisterous group crowding us at the corner, most of them towering over me, something in me shrank away. May noticed my step closer into her space as they turned their interest to me, and gave me a look.

and I didn't hear what May said.

The light couldn't change fast enough for us to move along and now, sitting at our table, that scene mixed with our hostess' comments to leave me with feelings I couldn't name.

"What are you thinking?" May asked softly after our waitress left us with our warm pot of tea and plate of finger sandwiches and pastries.

I shrugged. Great time to go non-verbal. Closing my legs beneath the table, straightening and smoothing my skirt, I thought again I should have worn the shorts as everything from the morning crashed into me.

"Hey," she said, waiting for me to look up. "Is it about what our hostess said?"

"No, I—" And unaccountably there were tears in my eyes. Again. It really was getting absurd.

She gave me a moment. "You can use your words," she finally said with an encouraging smile. "Or we can just sit here and eat."

And that wasn't fair, she was working so hard to make this nice.

"It wasn't just the hostess," I mumbled. "It was this morning. Everything. It was those boys?"

Yesterday I'd fought outright numbing panic to come to grips with my new physical state. I'd pushed through it just to function. I'd woken up this morning feeling like I had that grip, however tenuously. Like the worst surprises were over, like I could function as an adult human being again. But all through the appointment—which May was right and I'd needed even if not today—I'd felt off and not just because of the horribly embarrassing procedures. The boys had deepened that feeling and our hostess solidified it.

May had made decisions for me, was making decisions for me, without telling me her reasons and getting my approval in advance. It was different from last year, when she'd pushed their involvement with my recovery; then she'd checked every thought with me first. And once Dr. James had been convinced of my story—known my true age—she'd still been, not condescending, but as differential to May's opinions as my own. In her defense, I'd deferred to May a lot through the ordeal, but she'd acted like May was my guardian even though she'd known that wasn't the case. The boys had been deferential to May but in their brief interaction with me they'd been something else that made me squirm. Polite enough, yes, but also interested, almost posturing, engaging with me like they'd expected me to reciprocate. I'd had no idea what to do and it had been . . . intimidating.