Big Bangs, Prohibition, and a Sugar Daddy

I Am Ellen Cross

(Recently rewritten)

My Mother gave birth to twins on April 20, 1902. Allen and Ellen Cross. Mother grieved when Ellen died at childbirth. Father rejoiced at having a boy. That rejoicing was short lived, it was as though the ghost of Ellen had exacted a revenge on her surviving brother.

It happened at puberty. Up until then, I had been a sickly child, but I was a boy. Doctors told my parents that it was a hormonal dysfunction. Until I was fully developed, there was little they could do without resorting to very expensive, experimental treatments. My Father deserted us, possibly out of shame about what was happening to his 'boy'.

As my breasts and hips developed, my Mother saw little choice. She began to dress me in my older Sister's hand me downs. Carol had always been jealous of 'Daddy's' attention lavished on her younger brother. She relished dressing me up as a girl. I was mortified. I also realized that short of radical surgery, which we could not afford, I had to dress and act as a girl.

Allen Cross died at puberty. I became Ellen Cross. My speech defect that I was born with made me sound slow. It didn't help that I was also accident prone. To teach me details to become Ellen Cross, my Mother enlisted the help of her best friend. A vaudeville performed become play writer and actress.

How my Mother became acquainted with Rae North, I have no idea. Her instruction helped me assume my new role as Ellen Cross. Despite living in New York, I leaned to speak in a Southern drawl to hide my speech defect. Most people who hear my sister Carol and I speak, wonder how two sisters manage to speak in two very different accents. I learned from Rae to move carefully, almost gracefully, to cover my clumsiness.

As I matured into what appeared to be a young woman. I obtained a job as a nurse at a nearby medical clinic. I find the work tolerable. Caring for patients is not easy for me. I am outspoken, not very empathetic, but as Doctor Jane Harrison has told me, I am efficient.

Carol loves me as her sister. That doesn't stop her from tying my corset too tight, teasing me, and in one case arranging a date for me. A friend of Carol's boyfriend, Luke Mason. He was a tall, handsome man, In his mid-twenties. At first it was all very proper.

Until he began to hold my hand and kiss me. I often found my nerves caused me to be short of breath and tremble when he did these things. As his touches became more intimate, holding me by the waist or draping an arm around my shoulders, the more my nerves seemed to act up. I liked his attention, but I knew that in the end I had to leave Luke. Eventually Luke obtained a job down South and to my relief he was gone.

At eighteen, I am considered a marriageable young woman. I am five foot five, attractive, voluptuous. Young men find me desirable. If I had been born as a natural woman, I have no doubt I would be engaged by now. Possibly to Luke. As I developed unnaturally at puberty, I do not have the proper genitalia to be a wife. As it is I shall become an old maid, living alone and never knowing marital bliss or even a lover.

Knowing this. Why was I so nervous as Carol tightened my corset. A bit more than was necessary, of course. I stood in front of a full length mirror in our bedroom. Dressed only in knickers, a chemise, and corset. I took a deep breath. Carol took advantage to tighten the corset just a bit more. I was nervous because I was seeing Luke again, I wanted to look nice for him.

I stepped into the pencil skirt which Carol pulled up and fastened. I held my arms out and Carol slipped on my white blouse. Over this went a waist coat. All of the clothes were a decade out of

date. Carol was dressed in something more suitable to the new decade, but I preferred my old clothes.

I sat on the edge of the bed. I held out a stocking clad foot. I couldn't bend at the waist. Carol had to kneel and slip on the Victorian boot tying the long laces tightly. Carol seemed to enjoy helping me dress myself. I think that this is due to her original glee of dressing me when I changed. I don't think she ever lost that amusement of dressing her little brother in her clothes.