Becoming Zandra - Part 5

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At five-thirty I was commanded to go and shower and shout when I was in a bra and knickers. Jacquie was going to do hair and makeup, making sure I looked as sexy as possible for a night as a waitress. I loved the sensation of being done to, being passive while I was changed. I sat still but kept smiling, loving the feel of this pampering by another’s hand. It was just brilliant. I could not contain myself. ‘I love being a girl.’ I said. ‘I know.

I could tell when I first played with your hair. I suspected then and when I dressed you, I knew. Good luck tonight. Now, these are my last words of advice. You have to believe that you are Zandra, you have never been Alex, you don’t even know him. Say who is Alex!’ ‘Who is Alex/” I said using my best girl voice. ‘Again!’ I repeated. ‘Try this, ‘Table one, table two, table three!’

I did as bidden and she listened critically. ‘OKish. Now, how about, Good evening, have you decided?’ We went through other useful phrases and small talk. ‘I really think you are starting to get it. I think you will do it but it is not nearly perfect, don’t forget to modulate and project and smile. When you ask if they have decided, you rise on the last syllable, ‘ded?’ Try!’ I tried. ‘Yes, miles better. Boys tend to go flat at the end of a sentence, girls really ask the question. Girls smile a lot, three or four times as much as boys. I suppose it is an old defense mechanism, from when we were apes and strong males could kill us with a blow. You are selling yourself as a sweet caring person. These customers are hopefully going to tip well. You have to please and nothing is too much trouble.

Get dressed, time you were off.’ ‘Golly, I am going out there on my own.’ ‘Oh, so you are a little girl. You’ll be OK. You can wear pumps there and take your heels in a bag. Yes? I think that is sensible or you will be limping home or walking in bare feet, both undesirable. Your coat and your bag, it will be cold when you finish. Your makeup is in your bag and a pack of hankies. Good. You are ready, your debut.’ They wished me luck and waved from the front step. I tripped down the street in the pumps and walked through the now-silent Mall and past the market into the parade.

Every step took me nearer what could be my ‘guillotine’. My nerves nearly got the better of me. I wanted to run away and it was pride that got me to the door and my wish to please my friends by succeeding. I pushed open the door of the Old Kettle. I reported to Guiseppe and found another Italian man with him. We were introduced.

He was Gino the younger brother. They were in white shirts and black ties and looked after the wines and bills. Gino showed me where to stow my things. I put on my heels and tied the apron I was given, making sure I tied a nice bow on the small of my back. Even that gave me a thrill. I was shown my tables, five in the back room, the first booking due at seven. They went through the menu, five starters, seven mains, and four sweets plus a selection of ices.

They taught me a few things about serving from the left and clearing from the right, making sure the condiments were on the table and full, providing a fresh jug of water, and laying up and placing the starched napkins for the ladies. It seemed quite a lot to take in, but I had been to some posh places with mum and dad and it sort of came back, all the little actions one takes for granted as a customer. I had just finished this minimum of training when other staff walked in and I was introduced. We gossiped and I found all but one of us were students. Luckily I’m the only one from the Creative Arts campus. The first customers arrived and one of the girls showed me how to refer to the booking register to see which table they were on.

The third people were mine, a young girl and boy and their parents, a celebration of some sort. I picked up menus and asked them to follow me. I pulled the chairs out and helped the mother settle in, placed the menus and a wine list,  and went away to fetch water in a glass pitcher. I returned and placed the water and asked if they would like some then upturned their glasses and filled them. I went to get a basket of bread and butter packs. By the time I had done that they had sorted out the menu.

I knew from my visits to the States with mum and dad, how professional the American waiters were. I introduced myself. “I am Zandra your waitress for tonight, if there is anything you want just let me know. Have you made a decision?’ I remembered to smile and project as well as modulate. They had and I took a pad and pen from the pocket of my apron and took the order for starters and mains. I made a note of who was having what, making it like a clock on the table.

I collected the menus and took the order to the kitchen. ‘Ordering chef,’ I called out, ‘table eight, two garlic prawns, one soup, one melon. Two chicken Maison, I sirloin rare, and one sole meunière.’ The chef looked at me glaring. One of the girls said he always did that. I saw the sous chefs start to put the starters together. I returned to the table and took the drinks order, a bottle of number fifteen. I put that on a ticket and gave that to Gino.

When I returned I had another table. I settled them with menus and introduced myself as Gino was opening the wine for my first table. I saw him watching as I helped two ladies with their chairs and placed their napkins. I served starters to my first table. Everything followed on. After that I had about thirty minutes until the next arrivals were due, a three on table five by the window looking out on the courtyard, used in summer but too cold in winter. I rushed back and forth with dishes, managing to place them in the right place without asking, making sure they had everything but trying not to be intrusive.

My first tables were well on the way, the first on mains, the second on starters when my three arrived and to my horror found it was my housemates. I blushed crimson. I seated them as though I didn’t know them and introduced myself. I helped them with napkins, shaking them out and handing them to them. I brought them water and filled their glasses. I took their order and gave it to the chefs calling it out. I returned the drinks order and gave that to Gino. I had another table after that, thirty minutes later and the last came at nine, a five. By that time the first had gone and I had the table cleared. My housemates were on their mains. I asked if there was anything else they required and apparently they were happy. They were, quite merry and that devil Jacquie tweaked my bottom.

Finally, the five turned up and there were just my mates and the five left. Gemma ordered another bottle and coffee for later, but she would tell me when they wanted the coffee. The five were on their starters, two bottles of wine on the table, candles lit, and happy. It had all been quite hard work. As I took dirty dishes to the kitchen, Guiseppe signaled that he wanted to see me.

I dumped the dirties with the porter and returned to the office. ‘Zandra, you have done a good job tonight, very good start. Easy, not too busy but you do well. Good tips so far. You tire yet?’ ‘A bit.’ ‘It will get easier. Go now, look after your customers.’ Phew so far so good. I fetched mains for the five and made sure they had enough wine. I ordered another bottle of red and refilled the water jug. My friends asked for their coffee and I found chocs for them too.

Next, it was sweets for the five after I cleared their table. My feet were killing me. Ten forty-five and my friends still sat. The five had coffee, paid, and departed. Jacquie asked for the bill and they paid. They sat on me, saying they would walk me home.

I reported to Gino that I had cleared the tables and replaced the clothes. Just my friends were waiting for me. Two of the other waitresses had gone. Gino took me by the shoulder and steered me into the office and shut the door. Guiseppe turned in his swivel chair. ‘You do good, you good girl. I like you very much your work. Very professional. Where do you learn?’ ‘In America Guiseppe.’ ‘Is very good. Your tips for tonight.’ He gave me an envelope. ‘I pay you wages after five days.

You can go home now, bathe your feet.’ He smiled and patted my backside. Gino kissed me on both cheeks and I blushed. I discarded my apron throwing it in the linen basket. I collected my things, changed into my pumps, put on my lovely new coat, and picked up my bag. I collected my friends and we walked home together. We chatted about how it had gone and whether it had been fun. I said it had. I was elated. I had pulled it off.

Going through the Mall we linked arms and did a Madness walk. We giggled and some older people looked at us as though we were hooligans. I was pretty tired and I was glad when we reached home. I opened the envelope. There were thirty-six pounds in there. I went to my room stripped off and put on my new PJs, pink bottoms three-quarter length, eau de nil top with lace around the bust, if only I had one. I removed my makeup and climbed into bed. I read my book for a few minutes and put the light out. I thought it had been the best day of my life, but now every day seemed to be better than the one before.

The next day, was Monday and it was Uni. I had not been for three months, I had missed six weeks of this term. I showered and washed my hair and blew it dry. I dressed in my new girlie jeans, a sweatshirt, and some lightweight sand shoes. I looked androgynous enough. I still sported shiny black nails. Oh well, what the fuck I said. People could think about what they liked. I grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of tea. I was going to pick up my bag then remembered who I was supposed to be. Black polished nails and a patent handbag might be just a bit of a giveaway.

I picked it up anyway and put it in my small backpack. I wore an old denim jacket and let myself out. I was in my art space just after nine and surveyed my work. I didn’t like any of it. Somehow it all looked completely foreign and talentless. I tore down two designs. I had new ideas and I set to. I worked quickly, charcoal on parchment paper, inspired, feeling a new enthusiasm, full of ideas, designing what I would love to wear. By half past three, I had one new design with different aspects hanging and two more roughed out in front view.

At three-thirty I packed up and made for the Mall to meet my mentor, Jay. She was waiting and we kissed in French fashion. I pulled my bag from my backpack and made my face while we waited for coffee. Jay watched an amused glint in her eye. ‘OK, you will do my girlie girl. I have good news, a TV part, only small but my agent says the fee is in four figures. I think I may be getting somewhere.’ ‘That is super Jay, really good, I am so pleased for you. Jacquie, I want to say this while we are alone. I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me, really you have been an angel, my guardian angel.’ I had a tear in my eye, I felt so emotional, so beholden to her. ‘You are a sweet girl Zandie. I hope you are going to be happy.

Now come on, we have somewhere to go.’ We collected our things and walked down the Mall. She turned into a beautician and I followed, thinking she was going to buy something. She gave her name and we were ushered into an inner room.  An assistant came forward, pristine in white overall with pink piping. ‘Studs or rings?’ she said. ‘Studs, she would like studs.’ The girl was making marks on my lobes and I was shown a box of studs. I chose some with three-millimeter crystals. Bang, each ear in turn, and I had ear studs. We followed her to the till and Jay paid. ‘Wow Jay, thank you. That will take some explaining.’ ‘I think the sooner you are out, the better, at uni too.

Gemma has made an appointment for you on Friday with the psychiatrist in case you are challenged when out or at work. You have no work then until the following Wednesday. You should really think about being who you want to be at college. It will be a five-minute wonder, but who cares.’ ‘This has all been sudden enough. A week ago I was a miserable youth, now I am a cross-dressing, I don’t know what, with pierced ears and in knickers.’ We had wandered through the college grounds to the river.

We perched on the bridge parapet and watched the activity below. Ducks paddled by, and two swans moved serenely, like princesses in ball gowns. ‘I hope I have not pushed you too quickly Zandra. Your brain needs time to catch up with your instincts and I caught you at a time when your ego was on the floor and probably your sexuality and sense of reality too. I am sorry, I have been an impulsive idiot playing with someone else’s mind and body. I have been terrible” ‘Don’t say that.

You made me see what has always been there, but with mum and particularly dad, I didn’t dare show the real me. Dad was what I suppose was a man’s man, someone other men looked up to, suave, manly, outgoing, liking a pint or a glass of red, a rugby fan, and a cricketer. He knew about cars and treated women with courtesy but without consideration for what they wanted to do. A sissy for a son would have been the last thing he wanted. It was bad enough when he knew I wanted to do fashion design. Why not cars? He said, and why not?

Except that I was fascinated by women and their clothes. When I came to college and started to design and make some things, I got this girl to model them, but I really wanted to wear them myself. It was only fear of ridicule and ostracism that made me refrain.’ ‘So perhaps I need not feel quite so guilty, but has it all been too much, too fast? Like last night, seeing you buzz around the Café in your heels, we could hardly believe you and you did such a good job, but it must have taken such a lot of nerve. I don’t want to be responsible for a breakdown.

If it is too much you must back off, go back to being Alex if that is easier for you.’ ‘Actually, last night was super. I really enjoyed it. But it was not making money that thrilled me, I enjoyed being Zandra, a waitress, pretty and efficient and Guiseppe and Gino said they liked what I did. Me, the misfit in my black tights and patent heels. I made over thirty pounds just in tips, so I will be able to pay you back.’ ‘No, I told you, daddy has more money than he knows what to do with. It’s good to help. So what now, where are we going with this?’ We are all worried for you, that’s why Gemma made the appointment with the psychiatrist. You will keep it won’t you?’ ‘Yes, I will, I don’t think I need counseling, I know where I want to go, but it will take time. In the meantime, I need advice that the psycho can probably give and I need security, in the unlikely event that something happens, like I get knocked down in the street and end up in the hospital. In the long run, I will need medical help, won’t I?

I have looked at internet sites on trans people. I thought at first I was a trannie, a transvestite, but I don’t think I am. It is not just the clothes, I want the body, breasts, curves and I don’t want what I have down there.’ ‘OK. You have thought it out. I am relieved, So if you are not just a trannie, are you going all the way, a full sex change? If that is the case, then don’t label yourself as a cross-dresser. That demeans what you are. I think you are really female, just your body is not right.

I just brought you out, didn’t I? I thought for a time and especially Gemma did, that I had perverted you. Tell me it is not so?’ ‘It was always there, always has been since a small child. You saw those undies I attempted to hide when I unpacked.’ ‘Yes, well I saw something. So what now dear Zandra?’ ‘I am going to come out. I will wait until after this Friday's appointment with the shrink. Monday I will go to college as Zandra, handbag over my shoulder, not hidden in my rucksack, makeup on and head held high. I am ready to challenge the world.

People will either like me or won’t, it is their problem. I have to be happy with who I am and these last four days, since you converted me, have been the happiest ever.’ ‘Ever?’ ‘Yes really. I grieve for mum, I can’t get the imagined vision of her face as they went over the precipice, out of my mind. I grieve a bit for dad, but with them going, I am free to do what I want, what I am compelled to do. The awful loss, has given me freedom, for that brought me to you and you are so perceptive, you saw into my soul and you knew, you saw the girl inside, even though I was dressed as a scruffy male student.’ ‘It was somewhat intuitive, I think as soon as I saw you even before I saw a glimpse of undies as you put clothes away.’ She took my hand and we strolled the riverbank. She told me of her school and the pranks the girls pulled. I wish I had been there with her.