I was in love with him for the first time - Chapter 1

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My Reunion

I stared into the mirror of my vanity and started applying the third coat of mascara to my lashes. ‘I have to be out of my fucking mind’, I thought to myself. Whatever possessed me to agree to attend a tenth high school reunion? Really! Anyone I wanted to see I still saw; all two of them.

I really didn’t want to know who got married and who gave birth and who came ‘out’ and who died, and who was making it big time. I was such an overachiever in high school that I really didn’t permit myself the luxury to become a center of attention and, in truth, I really didn’t want to be one anyway.

The only person I truly did want to see probably wouldn’t even be there. It wasn’t his style. And he probably wasn’t even in the state. I wasn’t really sure that I even wanted to see him. He was my first love and, to be brutally honest, my only love.

Oh sure, there have been others. In college, especially after getting ‘the cut’ at the end my junior year, I spent as much time between the sheets as in the classroom. But it was simply not the same. It is said that one’s first love is forever remembered. Maybe that’s true. After all, he knew me during my transition (I hate that word…transition, ‘rebirth’ is more like it) and he never flinched or turned his very broad back to me, even in the midst of my occasional hormonal hissy fits.

We were the most unlikely couple one could possibly imagine. He was a jock. He was not a super jock mind you, but a jock nonetheless. He played baseball. He simply loved to play that game. He loved to hit the ball and that was what he did best. I think playing ball was the only reason he remained in high school as long as he did.

I was the complete opposite. I lived for school. I excelled at everything that didn’t require perspiration or equipment. This was the gene pool I happened, by seer fate, to be born into. My father was a psychiatrist and my mom was a psychologist. They lived for their journals and books. I was one of the youngest seniors ever in the school. Jimmy was one of the oldest.

Our first meeting was out of complete necessity; his, of course. He had several universities interested in his athletic abilities. But…and make that a very large BUT, he had to graduate and he had to get some kind of score on his SATs. I was a volunteer tutor. And so my tale unfolds.

The first time we met was one for the books to be sure. I was sitting in the school library waiting for my assigned student. Jimmy walked into the library and looked around as though he had never seen it before. He eyed the rows of neatly stacked books with what I could only describe as a shocked look on his face.

Oh my God! He had such beautiful baby blue eyes. And he was so tall! I wasn’t exactly short at five feet eight inches, but I was very gangly in build. This was also the work of my gene pool. My dad was only five feet eight inches and my mom barely measured five feet and four inches. Both were also very slim as was my sister.

But James Ryan Hughes was every bit of six feet and four inches. He weighed about two hundred and thirty pounds and he was so completely bluff! He had straight dark brown, almost black hair that fell across the front of his face.

One of the student volunteers walked up to Jimmy and asked if he needed any help. Jimmy’s vocabulary was a wee bit less than average and most of the words contained four letters.

“Do I fuckin’ look like I need your fuckin’ help!” He roared so loudly that everybody, including some kid outside the building, heard him.

His stare alone would have frightened most away and this poor student was no exception. But for some reason, I wasn’t afraid of him. I don’t know…there was something rather vulnerable about him that I couldn’t place, but I could feel. Behind his swagger and attitude was a small kid in a really big kid’s body and that kid was scared of something. I rose from my seat and walked up to him.

“You fuckin’ look like you could use my help.”

He looked down at me and gave me his famous ‘I’ll break your fuckin’ skull’ stare. I started to giggle and had to contain myself lest I start to laugh. He finally smiled at me. I guess he saw me as no threat and maybe realized that I indeed was there to help him.

I must say that his smile was…dazzling. I felt something that I rarely felt in the past. I got that ‘tingly’ feeling of excitement that I didn’t recognize at the time but would yearn for in the future.

“You’re the tutor? How fuckin’ old are you?” He laughed.

“I’m old enough to be a senior.” He stopped laughing. He stared at me for several moments.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Patrick Kelly Maguire, but my family calls me Kelly. I hate the name, Patrick.”  People would call me Pat, or Pattie, or the old folks up north would call me Paddy. Kelly was fine with me. It was my mom’s maiden name.

“Quiet, please! This is a library!”

Jimmy looked at the librarian and was about to make one of his expletive-laced statements of dissatisfaction. I reached out and touched his arm. I think I startled him a bit and he looked at me. I shook my head slightly indicating that it would not be a good idea to voice his opinion of the librarian and her family. He nodded at me as we stood in silence for several more moments.

He looked around the room once again. He was deep in thought.

“Listen, let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like being closed in, you know? Maybe we could go out to the tables and sit there. Okay with you?”

There was a pleading look in his eyes. I looked around to try and see what he saw; what was unsettling to him. I couldn’t discern what the problem was, but if he was more comfortable somewhere else, that would make it easier for me.

“Okay.” I went and grabbed my book pack and walked side by side with him to the tables.

Dear Lord that seems like so long ago. I feel almost like I’m going to my school prom, only my image of myself, and my gender, would be ‘correct’ this time. I can’t believe I actually bought this stupid gown. That’s Chrissie’s doing. He had to go and help me. After all, this entire event was his idea to begin with.

Anyway, we walked outside and over to the lunch tables. Only one or two people were there and I let him pick a spot where he could feel comfortable. A soft breeze was blowing in off the ocean and the sun was high in the cloudless sky. He chose a spot under a pair of palm trees that shaded us and he sat down. He put his hands over his face and began to rub or massage, I wasn’t sure which, his features.

“Just how bad is it?”

He peeked out from between his fingers and stared at me for a moment. I smiled at him gently whilst he decided whether he would tell me the truth or not. He finally put his hands down on the table and laughed. He had such a nice open laugh that came from deep within him.

“It’s not real good.” I was to learn that he was never one for many words. “I think I’m basically passing everything…” He hunched his shoulders quickly. “I think.” Then he straightened himself up and turned, sitting at an angle facing me. “It’s those fuckin’ S.A.T.’s! All I usually get are the fuckin’ points for signing my fuckin’ name, plus a few lucky guesses!”

Okay, so vocabulary was high on the study list. I mean, I know those words but really you need at least two or three alternatives with more than four letters. I assumed that he wasn’t much better at math. I had my work cut out for me. We decided that we would meet twice a week to start with and thus began our relationship.

We met at school the first few times. We always sat at the same table and he seemed to actually be doing the small assignments I gave him. It was at our fifth meeting that he made a discovery that was to cement our…friendship?

“Your nails!”

Oh shit! I had forgotten about that. My sister, Corie, short for Coreen, had done my finger and toenails. Actually, to be more precise, she had given me a manicure and a pedicure. I had watched her do her own forever and I was curious. Well…maybe not curious…envious would be a better word. I asked what it felt like to have the polish on and I told her how beautiful I thought it looked.

So, being the good and attentive older sister she was… she shaped my nails, cut back the cuticles, and applied three coats of a clear but slightly rose-tinted polish. I found the entire process to be totally thrilling. I sat patiently and quietly the whole time. She talked away at a mile a minute about everything and anything; this was all so very second nature to her.

Now I must explain that my sister was, is, and always will be, my Goddess of Femininity. She was simply the most ‘girly’ girl I have ever known. She also was the most honest and loving person I’d ever known. Corie understood my curiosity and, rather than simply feed it, or defeat it, she would help me explore it.

When I was fourteen I watched her get ready for a date. She was putting on her ‘face’. I was entranced by how much she could change her appearance with a simple swipe of color here and there. Corie noticed my rapt attention to what she was doing and, with a smile, turned toward me and started doing my face as well.

“Let’s see what you could look like Kel. Your skin is so perfect!” She looked carefully at me as she turned my head from side to side. “I think we can skip the foundation. Gawd!” She squealed in mock anger. “You don’t have a single zit! I hate you!” She laughed.

Corie began to do her thing and in ten minutes or so she had completely made up my face. When I turned and looked in the mirror, I was…shocked! I looked wonderful. I looked like a teenage girl on a Saturday night. My eyes looked so large and… OMG! I looked…hot!

“Let me clean up your brow line just a bit.” I was still somewhat stunned at my appearance and didn’t quite hear what Corie said.

“Now hold still. This’ll only take a moment.” She turned my head to face her.

“Ow!” I hadn’t noticed the tweezers in her hands and I certainly didn’t realize what she was going to do. “Stop!”

“Listen, sweetie, you look so good that we should go all the way.” I looked into her eyes but could see no deception in them.

“How much are you going to do?” I didn’t want to be some sort of a freak with two pencil line thin brows. I would never survive at school!

“Just a few babies. Don’t worry! It’ll be the Brook Shields look.” She smiled and went back to work.

Good to her word, Corie only did a few stray hairs and blotted the areas with a mild astringent. It stung a bit but she said it would clean and close the insulted and assaulted pores. When I turned back to the mirror, I understood what she meant. She had simply better defined my brows and rid me of a few hairs.

“There really isn’t much we can do with your hair. The length is too short. But if you let it grow a bit” As her words trailed off I looked into her hers as she smiled at me. She was giving me a hint. Corie applied some mousse and combed it straight back. I turned to see my image and tried to envision what an extra inch or two, or three, of hair, would do in terms of fulfilling this new image she had endowed me with.

“You know Kel” As if she was reading my mind. “Just a few more inches and we could really do something with it. Then you could merely comb and gel it back for school. But looking at myself in the mirror, I really didn’t want to comb it back for school or remove my makeup either. I was looking at me! I was looking at a new, but very comfortable, image of me.

“Let’s go downstairs and show you to mom.” She took my hand and began to pull me behind her. I felt so conflicted about ‘revealing’ who I was to mom. But Corie kept up a stream of chatter that centered on the way I looked. We finally walked into the kitchen where mom and dad were sitting and having some coffee while they read their journals.

“Look! I have a new sister!” Corie giggled and was so full of joy when she introduced the ‘new’ me to them. Mom kind of stared at me for a moment, as did dad. I expected to hear a barrage of negativity, or worse.

“You look, quite lovely dear. My God, you do look very lovely. What do you think Jack?”

My dad was frozen with his cup halfway to his mouth. Mom actually looked amused but there was a note of excitement in her voice.

“I trust that you’re not planning to go to school that way. It would be asking for trouble son.” Dad immediately dove back into whatever he was reading.

The disappointment must have registered on my face. I mean, I already was the target of derisive comments simply because my GPA was the highest in the school. I had already heard the other names reserved for the boys who were less than boys? But the harassment was never manifested in a physical manner. After all, it was totally the ‘burbs’, and fighting in school was almost unheard of.

Bless my mom because she found a solution that would work. She sensed that I was somewhat conflicted about what Corie had done and she wanted me to explore this new persona with some direction perhaps, but not interference.

“Well Jack, I don’t see any problem with Kelly ‘playing’ dress up at home if he wishes to.”

“Mmm…” Well, it was more than a tacit approval.

If I wished to? If I wished to!!! OH…MY…GOD!!! My dad looked at mom, and then back at me. He shrugged his shoulders and that was that. So every chance we got, my sister and I would ‘play’. I became her living Barbi doll. We were so much alike in coloration and size, at least at that age, although she already had major boobage, that clothing was the next natural step in my progression toward transitioning (I really hate that word!!! Okay…so my rebirth).

Perfect Nails.

“Your nails!”

Oh my God! Here it comes. The big ‘OUT’. I swiftly pulled my hands off the table and sat on them. I felt myself flushing red and I was on the verge of tears. The fact that I was also in the midst of a hormonal rush didn’t help. I was crying a few times a day as it was. ‘Oh…it’s nothing…just my allergies’.

Jimmy looked around and leaned in closer to me. He suddenly wasn’t smiling. He had a serious look in his eyes. Not angry mind you, simply serious.

“Let me see those nails.”

Without looking at him, I slowly slid my hands out from beneath me and put them on the table; palms up of course. He again looked around. He suddenly sat up and looked over my right shoulder. His face grew tense.

“What are you fuckin’ looking at!”

His very loud comment was obviously directed at someone behind me. When he was satisfied that the other person’s attention was diverted elsewhere, he grasped my hands and turned them over. There was no hiding anything now.

He stared at each nail in silence. There was a look of curiosity on his face and his brows furrowed. His gentle grasp pulled me out of the deep, dark, and very scary place I was in.

“Did you do this yourself?” His voice was soft and gentle; almost a whisper. He was looking at my downcast eyes.

“My sister started with three coats and I’ve been adding one or two a day.” My voice was a soft whisper.

“But, why?” He didn't seem shocked. He was merely curious.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked off to my left. “It’s pretty” My voice trailed off as I turned and looked at him. “I like the way it looks and feels.”

I felt strange with Jimmy holding both of my hands. His hands were so much larger than mine with their long thick fingers and calluses from holding the bat, or whatever those powerful hands held.

“You must think I’m weird, right?” He had to think that at the least. I was so frightened of what he must think. All of those words I’d occasionally heard that were tossed my way rang in my ears. Oh God! He was still holding my hands and looking at my nails. He seemed fascinated by them.

“Listen. There are fuckin’ guys running around this place with black nails and purple nails. Now that’s pretty fuckin’ weird. This? What have you got? It’s well pretty fuckin’ cool looking. They’re like perfect, you know? Not a single flaw. They feel so cool too. It sorta looks like a glass covering.”

Now he was making circular motions on my nail with the tip of his finger. To be quite honest, I was becoming a bit excited. My hands in his; his touching and rubbing my fingernails; his body being so close to mine; it all was so very titillating. I didn’t know what it was about him but something was…well, distracting and exciting?