CHAPTER 5: Recognition and Reconciliation
Samantha affirms her womanhood but a new potential issue arises. She also reaches out to her mother in attempt to build some kind of relationship.
Obviously this story is completely fictional and no resemblance to actual people is intended. There are elements of my personal fetishes involved in this story. I have written several stories before regarding my fetish for turtlenecks and turtleneck sweaters as well as various styles of socks. I understand these are niche fetishes and I hope that, even if they aren't your thing, you will humor me and appreciate the story as a whole. Additionally, there are going to be elements of intentional pornographic homoeroticism and eroticism throughout the story. Naturally, if this does not appeal to you or is not legal for you to access by locality or age (18 and over!) please stop reading here.
I hope that you enjoy my story, dear reader, and I am open to feedback and criticism to improve as a writer. Positive feedback is always welcome! If you feel so inclined, please email me at: queerturtleneck@yahoo.com.
I sat with Laura that Monday morning in the hospital cafeteria eating lunch. She had sent a few texts on Friday and Saturday asking about my date. I told her that I'd tell all about it Monday at work. I was wearing my navy scrubs over my pink turtleneck, white slouch socks and black crocs. Laura had her blonde hair pulled back in her usual work ponytail and wore her navy scrubs, a gray longsleeve T-shirt, gray athletic socks and black Dansco nursing shoes.
"So, come on Samantha, you can't keep me in suspense like this! So how'd it go?"
I blushed and whispered, "Well, we slept together." I couldn't help but smile thinking about how amazing the sex felt.
Laura covered her mouth, her salad fork in hand. "No! How was it, you know, how was it?"
"It was...incredible," I said. "It was just incredible:"
"Come on, tell what happened? What was he like?"
I sighed, thoughtfully. "He was nice, we met at Emmett's and he was just nice. A little clumsy I guess but I think I was too. I was a little too dressed up for what he was expecting I guess."
"Really, how?"
"Well I wore my nice turtleneck dress and he was wearing a hoody, so I guess I was kind of expecting a little more than what he was. Anyway we just kind of talked and then I don't know, I just kind of of wanted, you know, to see what it was like."
"You didn't go back to your apartment did you?"
I shook my head. "No we went to his. And, then, you know, we kind of started kissing and then we did it."
"Did it? Are we in high school again," chided Laura and I had laugh. "So, any regrets?"
I shook my head and ringed my fingers around my turtleneck collar. "No, but I left before he woke up. And I got this." I pulled my turtleneck collar down to show off my liver colored hickey that covered a good part of the side of my neck. "So, something to remember him by."
"Oh my God, Samantha! That is...well its a good thing you wear turtlenecks a lot because that is bad. So are you going to see him again?"
I did date Steve for about three months. It was pretty clear that he liked me a lot more than I liked him. The sex was great though. No, that's not right, sex with men is amazing and I absolutely love anal sex now. Being submissive to a man in bed wearing a turtleneck is so incredible erotic and the orgasms are other worldly! I was even able to get myself off a few times by sucking on Steve's gorgeous cock and rubbing my little penis in the right spot by the base as he came in my mouth. Just thinking about sex with him is enough to make me feel aroused. That or its pregesterone which has this affect for trans women.
But I never could connect with Steve outside of sex. I liked hanging out with him to a point, and then I wanted to have sex with him so that I would okay being around him longer. It wasn't fair for him but there was also the fact that he was treating me more like a guy half the time. It's true I still have some masculine traits and hobbies but I'm a woman and my femininity is becoming more pronounced, I think, each week. Yvonne and Laura had both told me that if I'm not feeling it, then I need to break up with him. But I'm a wuss and I let the relationship, if you could call it that, linger on well past its sell-by date.
By now my hair has grown out more and I saw Vicky who's cut it into more of a pageboy cut. She said this will make it easier to grow out into a bob or I can do layers as my hair grows out more. My breasts are shaping nicely and I fit very well into a B-cup and I think, if they keep growing for as long as they should, I might even become a C-cup girl. Thanks to Yvonne and the other girls in my group, I feel much more confident in my femininity and `passing' is exactly that. I think my hands are a little too masculine but there's not a whole lot I can do about that. Laura and Yvonne have both told me seperately that I'm making a bigger deal of my hands than it is.
A couple weeks after my break up with Steve I was at Yvonne's house for wine and for her to show off her shiny engagement ring. Shawn had definitely not skimped out on the ring or the engagement. I was so happy for her and I felt super girly about the fuss about it. And it was a natural excitement, which made me realize how feminine I am becoming. Joy in other's happiness is a lot more of an emotion than I ever felt as a man. Yvonne is a tall woman, taller than me, and she's been amazing for helping me embody my femininity and the tricks of the trade as it were in my transition and the ins and outs (well, ins for me!) of anal sex of which she had an abundance of experience. Prior to her transition, Yvonne, then known as Nicolas, was a homosexual man and never gave one thought of being with women, even through her hormone treatment. When I told her that I had been a straight guy, Yvonne thought it was hysterical that I was now completely boy crazy.
I knew for sure now that I'm a heterosexual woman. Okay, mostly heterosexual. A few weeks after breaking up with Steve, I felt my needs starting to mount and the desire for physical contact was overwhelming me. Masturbation is fun and feels really good, but the physical contact is a deeper need than an orgasmic release. It's a weird feeling and it is something that got really in the way of everything. So I reopened my Ok Cupid profile. By the next day, my inbox was flooded yet again with dozens of men interested in having sex with me. I know it was my fault for that, on my profile I had selected short-term dating and hookups for what I'm looking for as well as being on the prowl for men and women.
Suzanne had left a message. There were quite a few transwomen who had messaged me but I wasn't really sure about going out with them when I'm still finding my way through my own womanhood. But Suzanne was a woman, a 36 year old divorcé who had accepted her homosexuality later in life. She was cute, with bright expressive face with blue eyes and gorgeous dark red layered hair. She thought I was pretty, which of course made me melt as I read her message and immediately replied to her, thanking her for messaging me. We exchanged messages over the next week and decided to meet at Bowlaro for a bowling date. I thought that sounded fun and definitely not the usual first date!
We met on a Thursday night, which meant the bowling alley was a lot less busy and we could talk. Suzanne was really beautiful, much more attractive in person than in her photos. She had a stunning sleeve tattoo of roses down her arm. She was wearing a light denim dress with strappy heels. She was standing outside the bowling alley, a big warehouse looking place that was quite popular.
I was having immediate second thoughts of my outfit. Despite it being a warm early summer evening, I wore a white turtleneck with little pastel pink and blue cats printed on it under a denim pinafore dress, a pair of white knee socks and my white Converse canvas sneakers. Now I wished I had worn a skirt or something, anything but denim! As if I wasn't nervous enough as it was! Despite Suzanne's encouragement and my own personal experiences of validation and affirmation, going on dates is still nerve wracking. I mean, it always a bit of a nervy experience for everyone, not just for me as a transwoman. Going on a date with a natural born woman was that much more intimidating. And now we're both wearing denim! As a man I never understood the big deal of this, but as a woman, I get it. Trying hard not to blush, I walked up to Suzanne.
"Hi, Samantha? Hi! I'm Suzanne," she said brightly, shaking my hand. Her voice was laconic and soothing.
"Hi, Suzanne," I tried not to mumble and was now suddenly self conscious of my voice for the first time in months.
"You look even prettier in person," exclaimed Suzanne. "Come on, let's go inside and get situated!" She took my arm and we walked into the bowling alley arm in arm. I was taken aback about how forward she was in establishing to everyone we were together. "That's a cute turtleneck!"
I blushed brightly in spite of myself. "Thank you," I said, feeling better. She was incredibly friendly and spritely. She walked up briskly to the shoe rental and she paid for me and we took our lane. The neon lighting was less intense than the last time I was here, oh gosh, four years ago when I first moved here and we had a department party? That was on a Saturday night and it was loud and crazy. We sat on the seats by the ball carousel and Suzanne pulled out a pair of white ankle socks from her fringed leather purse and started to put on her shoes.
"So, how's your bowling," she asked with twinkle in her eye.
"I'm okay I guess, this is my first time playing in a while though. I hope you go easy on me!" I decided I needed to add a little more cuteness to my outfit and scrunched my knee socks down, bunching them around my calves. I don't know if Suzanne really noticed, but I thought I should have worn my socks like this before coming!
"Oh don't worry about the score, we're just here to have some fun and get to know each other. Come on, let's get a pitcher and some fries." Suzanne took my hand and we walked to the snack bar. She has a brisk and confident no-prisoners kind of walk.
"I love your tattoo," I finally said, looking at the intricate petals and vines that covered most of her arm, from her shoulder and just past her elbow.
"Thank you! You know I always wanted one and it was the first thing I did after my divorce. Hi, can we get a pitcher and a plate of fries please?"
We played terribly but I felt at ease with Suzanne, she laughed at her gutter balls and it got easier to be more relaxed after getting a decent buzz going. Suzanne was a sales representative for business software and travelled frequently to different states and occasionally to Europe. She had known that she was gay since she was a teenager but, growing up in Catholic household there was no way she was going to be open about it. She married a man named Tyler for a couple of years, who was an alright guy but it wasn't right for her and she finally gave into the temptation when she was in Seattle for work. She and Tyler divorced about six years ago and Suzanne was very much a free spirit since. She was in a brief relationship with Ellen but her travel got in the way of that relationship. I was relieved there was no pressure to think about a relationship or anything really.
"Do you ever think you'll settle down and find someone," I asked, ringing my turtleneck collar. I was aroused, and sexually desired Suzanne but it didn't feel the same as with a man. I was aroused from myself and the idea of sex with her in my turtleneck was more about my own gratification rather than ours. I felt like I would've much preferred Suzanne as a friend than as a lover. Well, Samantha, I guess that means you're not bisexual after all, much less a lesbian.
"Oh I'm sure I will but I'm having fun and the travel is really great. It's like I have my own little homes everywhere I go. Besides, I'm not looking for anything serious. Just some fun, right?"
I nodded and realized that, no, I'm not really looking just for fun actually. I think I already want something special or at least meaningful. From my inbox on OK Cupid, getting sex is the least of my worries!
We did have sex though. I had a bit too much to drink to think about driving. I wasn't drunk at all, just buzzed and Suzanne apparently could hold her own with beer. She drove us in her really cool yellow Mustang to her townhouse where we walked up to the front door. Suzanne was mostly supporting me and we got pretty feisty with each other being silly and squeezing each other's breasts and light kissing as we stumbled up the stairs to her front door. She fumbled with the key and managed to push door ajar before our combined weight caused us to crash through and land on the carpeted floor of her townhouse.
Laughing at ourselves we picked each other up and Suzanne led me up the stairs to her bedroom. We started kissing passionately and our hands raced over our bodies in rush of sexual energy. Suzanne's trembling fingers were getting frustrated by the buckles of my denim pinafore dress and she broke our kiss and savagely popped the shoulder buckles and let my denim dress fall to the floor. Suzanne immediately started to pull my turtleneck up my body. "Suzanne," I panted, "could I...keep my turtleneck on?"
Suzanne looked up at me a little confusion on her face for a second before she said, "Sure sweetie," as she ran her fingers through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. We resumed our passionate kissing and I slipped the soft denim straps from her shoulders and then tugging her dress down her smooth body. Our kissing moved slowly from our lips to our cheeks in into our necks. I gasped as Suzanne kissing my turtleneck covered neck. I grasped the clasp of her nude bra and it came apart easily. I felt Suzanne's furtive hands slide up under my printed white turtleneck and push the cups of my white lace bra up start to massage my breasts, squeezing my nipples.
We pressed our bodies tightly together and Suzanne swung us towards the bed. We fell onto her white rose printed bed spread and our bodies intertwined together and we kissed passionately. I felt Suzanne squeeze her legs onto my thigh and start to grind against me. We both moaned and gasped breathlessly in our passion and sensuality and our eroticism. I wasn't building my own pleasure in a way, but I was enthralled and aroused incredibly by Suzanne's building excitement.
We rolled onto my back with Suzanne mounted onto my leg. She leaned in, her ample breasts waving in front of me. I took her breasts into my mouth and hands and pleasured her breasts and Suzanne started to grind herself on me harder and her breath quickened. "Oh fuck Samantha, oh my God, I'm getting close, oh that feels so good..." We both started to press ourselves together as Suzanne got closer and closer. I took her hand and put it on my turtleneck collared neck held it there.
Suzanne's body started to vibrate and shake as she ground herself into me and then she let out a high pitched squeal as she came. "Oh God, oh God, yes, yes, yesss...." Suzanne shuddered as she sat on me, straddling and tightly squeezing my leg, savoring the orgasmic rush I knew she was feeling. "Ohhhh," she moaned shakily. "Oh wow, oh wow!"
Suzanne rolled off of me and moved me so that my legs were spread out. As she moved down she slid her dark red panties off and threw them on the floor and then stripped her strappy sandals off and tossed them to the floor as well. Now completely nude with before me, Suzanne lifted one of my legs and untied my white Converse sneaker. She did it slowly and after my shoe was off, she started to kiss my white socked foot and breathing in my sock. "Mmmm, it smells so good," she moaned. She did the same with other shoe and put my socked toes into her mouth, sucking on them. I gasped and rubbed my fingers over my kitty printed turtleneck collar and down over my breasts as Suzanne sucked and breathed in my socked foot.
Suzanne took the edges of my sock and pulled my knee sock back up to my knees and then did the same with my other sock. Then she took my socks and slid them down my legs and I will admit I was a little disappointed with she slid them off my feet one by one. She then reached down and hooked her fingers into my white lace panties and pulled them down my legs and carelessly tossed them off the bed. Me penis, now free, was semi-hard with my arousal and from me having sex in my turtleneck.
"Mmm, I haven't seen one of these in a while," murmured Suzanne as she leaned in between my legs and took my penis into my mouth. I squirmed in both pleasure and shocking discomfort as she sucked on my penis. I basked in the sensuality of sex and my turtleneck fetish and the heightened sensitivity that my penis tip had. But there was something not right, not right at all in having Suzanne giving me a blowjob. I couldn't reach my sexual orgasmic plateau in my pleasure, even with my turtleneck on. I needed more, and I needed it now!
"Oh that's too much," I moaned. "Do you have a vibrator," I asked nervously, wondering if I was asking for too much from Suzanne.
Suzanne looked up at me and smiled. "I do in fact," she said huskily and leaned over me, making sure her breasts rubbed against me and she reached into her nightstand and pulled out a white wand. "Where do you want it?"
I took Suzanne's hand and guided her the tip of her vibrator to the base of my penis and laid it there. "Gently, ooh, ohhh, ohhhh," I moaned as I rapidly climbed my orgasmic rollercoater. "Oh baby, oh baby, hold it there, oh wow!" My legs trembled and thrashed on the bed as I lost my inhibitions. Suzanne massaged my breast through my turtleneck as she kneeled next to me. "Yes, oh put your hand on my neck, squeeze it, oh God yes!" Suzanne's long feminine fingers gently wrapped around the soft cotton of my turtleneck collar, sending me over the crest of my orgasm and I fell into the warm radiating pleasure wave that crashed through my body. I could feel myself vibrate and my muscles went limp and I convulsed lightly from the orgasmic delight I was experiencing! Oh my God I am so glad I am a woman now!
Our lovemaking continued through the night. I was completely exhausted and I never thought this would be possible but I was orgasmed out. I think numb would be the right word for it. I think Suzanne was too and we didn't even kiss each other good night or anything. It was more like fainting in our pleasure and passing out till the next morning. It was so strange though, making love to Suzanne. It was satisfying, erotic and the idea of lesbian sex was arousing to me but I just didn't quite know how I felt about it. I enjoyed the experience but I didn't feel the primal carnal desire for Suzanne like I did with Steve. I had a much better emotional connection with her, but I was more friendship and companionship than actual attraction I guess. I was turned on by the fact I was having sex with a woman, not exactly by her.
Suzanne was not, thankfully, wanting anything more from me than a fun night out and a lot of sex. We haven't messaged since our trist and I think that's probably for the best. But I know now that when I have sex, I want a man, I want a nice hard cock that I can ride to sexual oblivion. In a way, I'm glad that I had to have sex with a woman to find that out and truth be told, if I was in the right frame of mind, and was approached by an attractive woman I probably would have sex with her. But for me, I say I'm heterosexual because when I think about my life, I want a husband.
Yvonne was pouring more wine and I was mellowing in it. Yvonne was wearing a white dress and sandals. She'd had a bit of surgery to further feminize her face and had a tracheal shave to enhance her appearance. Her breasts were natural and Yvonne was extremely disciplined with her diet which kept her slim and gorgeous. She had long straight blonde hair and she loved it when I played with her hair to get ready for my own hair as I grew it out. One main difference in our transitions is that Yvonne had had sexual reassignment surgery and I was about 90% sure I was not going to. Yvonne respected my thoughts on it but it never stopped her from asking me about it. And I gave her my usual reasons.
"I don't know, I just hear so many horror stories about not being able to feel anything and, you know with my luck I'll end up with some kind of infection." I picked at a bit of lint off of my khaki skirt. I was also wearing a white short sleeve turtleneck, a pair of white scrunched ribbed socks and a pair of taupe New Balance sneakers. I still in awe how natural it is for me to wake up in the morning and the only choices I have for clothes are women's. I've had a few teases about the fact that I wear a turtleneck every single day, but I love that the freedom I have as a woman in my clothes, much much more than as a man. For the women at work who don't know me, or in the store or whatever, they probably think its a quirk. I've let Laura and Mike and Yvonne think its to hide my Adam's Apple. Oh if they only knew, if they only knew the absolute eroticism of turtlenecks for me.
"No pressure of course, sweetie. But I think it'll be easier to find a guy who sees you as a woman when you have a vagina and not that little clitty of yours." We both laughed at the crassness that Yvonne liked to throw out from time to time. "Though Rachel says her girlfriend likes hers." Rachel was another transgender woman in our little support group and the only one aside from Yvonne who has a significant other. Yvonne and I was the only straight girls among us. Denise is bisexual and Rachel, Tina and Kathy are lesbians.
"Ha, well I'm sure Mr. Right will like my little clitty," I shot back. "But its a big deal, so I'll keep thinking about it." I didn't want to admit just yet, but I was actually thinking about it now. As it was I could get it now since I'd been on hormones for just over a year now. But I don't mind my penis, and SRS is pretty major surgery. But still...
"And I'll keep asking. So, are you ready for your trip?"
"I was actually hoping to avoid that topic," I mumbled, reaching up and playing with the collar of my turtleneck. "But yes and no. I guess mostly no," I laughed.
"Look sweetie, my parents and I got through it after a while. They weren't surprised at all when I came out as gay when I was a teenager, they already figured that one out on their own. But it took a while for them to deal with me being a woman. And my parents are pretty lefty so just be patient with your mom okay?"
I nodded. "I just want to be able to go to Patty's wedding without it being weird. So I guess that's why I'm putting pressure on myself. But I'm not going to push it if its not the right time." Patty and her boyfriend, well, fiancé now, got engaged last month and they scheduled their wedding for early October. It was going to be quite a thing apparently and the church she is a pastor at is managing the thing. I tried begging off being a bridesmaid but Patty was insistent and I had to say yes. But with mom there, I just had to make sure there wasn't going to be a scene on Patty's day."
"You know, my parents were pretty okay when I told them I was gay. They were pretty sure I was anyway. But when I came out as trans they were, well, let's just say it was an unpleasant converstation. It took mom a long time to be able to call me Yvonne. Dad was a little better, and I guess having a brother already softened the blow for him I guess. Besides Dan's the athlete and I was always the effeminate little gay boy. But mom, I think mom still thinks I'm going through a phase sometimes and its been ten years."
I grimaced and took a swallow of wine. Yvonne was a big fan of red. "That's filling me up with confidence."
"The point is is that I wouldn't have too high of expectations, Sammie. I think it speaks very highly of you that you value your relationship with your mother the way you do. But you are your own person and you can't go through life hoping for someone else's approval. And you have no reason to, either, you're becoming a beautiful girl." And I cried. Of course. Thanks Yvonne.
The drive to Lebanon was not that far but it sure felt like it took forever. An hour and a half. I haven't made this drive in over a year. That is ridiculous. I was actually pretty emotional on the drive because my anxiety was out of control. For the first time since, oh I don't know, maybe since starting my transition I started questioning myself. How was mom going to look at me? Would she recognize me? What if she asks about my sex life? Yeah mom, I'm love dick now, but if a hot girl asks I'll sleep with her. And by the way, I'm starting to think about cutting it off and having my own vagina. What do you think about that?
I was wearing my maroon bohemian dress with a floral pattern on it. It was a three quarter sleeve dress with a deep V-neckline and I love the flowing skirt of it. It's so comfortable and its modest. I have a few summer dresses too, but I think showing off my shoulders and a shorter dress might be too much for mom to deal with. I was also wearing a pair of navy slouch socks and my brown Mary Jane shoes. I've accessorized my dress with silver hoop earrings, rings with different designs on my index, middle and ring fingers and a long pendent with a silver Gordian knot.
Even though its summer and I do have a pair of summer sandals, I am very self conscious about my feet. I always have been with my stupid high arches and up-turned toes. If I can, I wear socks. If its not appropriate, then I make sure to wear shoes that cover my toes. Besides, its not uncomfortable for me to be wearing socks and shoes in the summer, or even my short sleeve turtlenecks. One of the less pleasant aspects of my HRT is that I am constantly cold.
The house was the same. It was a brick colonial style house that was now far too big for mom. Patty said that mom was going to put the house on the market and move to a smaller house back in Cincinnati or somewhere nearby. She was procrastinating on that though. I pulled up the drive and parked in front of the garage. No sign of mom coming out, so that can either be good or bad. Or neither I guess. Taking a deep breath I opened my Corrolla's door and stepped out, taking my purse and my Nike overnight bag. Hopefully I'll need it.
Mounted by the front door is a colorful concrete sign that read: "For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything - Hebrews 3:4." I shook my head and rang the doorbell before I could stop myself, my heart racing in my chest.
The door swung open, and mom, Elizabeth Hewitt, stepped into the doorway. Mom was looking older since the last time I saw her, only eighteen months or so ago. She was going to be sixty in December. She was a willowy tall woman, and seeing her with her graying long cascading hair was a bit of a shock. "Hi, Mom," Samantha said softly.
Mom's eyes widened at the sight of her middle child. "Samuel...Samantha," she managed, her voice trembling. "I... I wasn't expecting you till later."
I stepped inside, taking in the familiar surroundings. The living room was unchanged, with its cream couch and armchair set and family photos on the walls. The smell of mom's favorite lavender air freshener still hung in the air. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry I didn't call first. I just... I really wanted to talk to you."
Mom closed the door behind her, her brow furrowed in confusion. "About what?" she asked, her voice firm.
I took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about Patty's wedding. It's coming up soon, and I was hoping... I really want to be there for her. To support her. To be a part of her day."
Mom's expression softened slightly. "I know how close you two are Sam...Samantha. Sammie. But I... I'm still struggling with this. With you being... well, you know."
I nodded, my throat tightening. "I understand, mom. It's just... Patty's has been there for me since I was little and when you were at work and, with my transition she has been just wonderful. She really knows me understands what I'm going through. And I just want to be there for her. She's asked me to be one of her bridesmaids and it's important to her for me to be there. And I guess for me too."
Mom sighed heavily, her eyes welling up with tears. She sat down on the edge of the couch, motioning for me to join her. "I don't know, Sammie, I can call you Sammie right? My Lord your voice, its, so different now. I've been praying about this a lot. And I... I just don't know. Or the rest of the family. They've all been through so much already."
I sat down beside mom. "I know it's been hard on all of us, Mom. But I promise you, I haven't changed. It's still me. I'm still your child."
"You used to be my little boy," said Beth, holding back her tears. "You were my little Sammy."
I looked down at my lap, my eyes starting to water but I was able to hold on to myself this time. "I know, Mom. And I'm sorry if this is hard for you. But I'm still your daughter. I'm still the same person I've always been."
Mom looked down at me. "I know you are, Sammie. I know it here," she said, pointing at her head. "And I... I want to try. For your sake, and for Patty's. But I need you to understand that not everyone will be able to accept this."
I nodded, wiping away a tear. "I know, mom. And I'm sorry if I'm asking too much. I just... I really want to be there for her."
Beth drew a deep breath, then stood up, her shoulders squared. "All right, Sammie. I will, you have made a promise to your sister and that's the main thing. I'm not going to get in the way of that. And your right, Patricia has been wonderful and I haven't. And I am so sorry but I just am trying so hard and its so difficult for me."
I looked up at my mother, and I felt a bit of hope coming through me. "Thank you, mom. Thank you so much." I couldn't help myself and I stood up from the couch and I hugged mom. Mom returned the embrace, her cheek resting against mine and our embrace tightened for a moment before relaxing.
We separated and we both were a bit at a loss of what to do next. Mom broke the silence by asking, "Are you going back to Columbus or are you staying the night?"
"I think I'll stay here tonight, mom," I replied, my voice soft with gratitude. "I, we haven't been close since I was little and I don't like that. I hate it. I want us to, to have a relationship."
Mom sighed, and held my arms gently. "I want that too, Samantha. More than anything. And I'm sorry for not being more understanding. It's just... it's hard for me to see you like this. To accept it. But I want you to know I love you, but I don't know how to...how to change."
We stood there for a moment, again stuck in an awkward pause, searching for the right thing to say to not be hurtful but still honest. Mom cleared her throat, realizing we got ourselves into a no-win situation. "All right, then. Why don't you go get settled in? I'll make some dinner. I was going to make salmon and green beans."
I told mom that sounded great and too my bag upstairs to my old bedroom. As I unpacked my overnight bag, I felt a little alien in a teenage boy's room. Posters of my favorite bands growing, the Strokes and the Beatles adorned my walls along with classic cars and a few role playing game characters like Geralt. My model airplanes still hung from the ceiling. It was me, but it wasn't me anymore. It wasn't just growing up, it was becoming who I am. My apartment isn't necessarily feminine, but its not masculine either. It's deliberately neutral and a lot of inspiration from the Ikea catalogs. I love being feminine but I'm not really into the cutesy side of things or home decor. But this kind of space, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction that I was doing so well, and I realized the base happiness I lived in now.
I changed out of my dress and put on a striped T-shirt, denim shorts and white slouch socks. When she came back downstairs, mom looked me over and said, "It's hard for me to say this, but you look...well you look very pretty Sammie."
I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "Thanks, mom." I sat down at the kitchen table and watched as mom prepared dinner. The familiar sounds of pots and pans clanging filled the room.
"So this, this permanent? Do you have any boy clothes at all?"
I blushed, feeling a little embarrassed. "Not really, Mom. I mean, I had a few things that I used to wear before I started going by Samantha full-time. But I haven't worn boy clothes in a long time."
"And, you'll never be a man again?"
"No, Mom. I'm not going to change back. This is who I am now."
"I'm sorry, I hope you understand that I had to ask."
Mom's cooking was pretty good, but that's probably the bias of her being my mom. Her dad, my grandfather loved cooking and he used to take me and Tom hunting and fishing when we were kids. Mostly Tom, I was just glad to be there. Then he would have us skin or gut the animal for dinner. Mom said Grace and I bowed my head politely. We ate dinner and made small talk about how our work lives had been and the goings on of Lebanon, her church and that Tom couldn't wait to leave Guam, island fever and all that. I cleaned the dishes while mom went to the living room to drink her after dinner tea and peruse her newspaper.
I turned off the kitchen lights after I finished and sat on the couch with mom. She looked at me, and I knew she was searching for the right thing to say. "It's okay mom, I just want to sit with you, but we don't have to talk."
"Is it my fault, Sammie?"
"Oh God, no! No mom its not. I don't know why I'm transgender. But I am and its not a choice. I never blamed you at all. You gave me everything I ever wanted, and I don't blame you for working so hard for us. I don't think I was as...as appreciative as I should have been. But I am happy with who I am now."
Mom nodded and opened her arms and brought me into her embrace. "I know you are," she whispered in my ear. "I know you are."
We said nothing more for the rest of the night until mom apologized for going to bed. Some things just never change, like mom's 9:30 bed time. I kissed her goodnight. After she went to bed, I walked around the house, feeling nostalgic and thinking of Thanksgivings and birthdays and trying to block out the nights when mom's temper was short because she was exhausted or my poor attempts to hide my exasperation when mom got really into the Bible stuff. Mom knows I'm not religious anymore. That's what I told her anyways. I didn't think telling her that I am pretty much an atheist now would do either of us any good.
I went to bed a couple of hours later. My anxiety had passed by now. I would say mom and I aren't fully comfortable around each other, but there is no animosity and, in my heart, I know mom is trying. As she always had with us, she was trying her best.