The Real Me - Chapter 7

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Sunday morning dawned and the house lay quiet. Rachel liked to stay abed until after eight and then titivate, making herself pristine for the following week, shaving legs and underarms, trimming brows, searching for black or whiteheads, perhaps having a face pack, manicuring and pedicuring, all the little things that boys never do. Rachel had examined her reasons for her attention to personal grooming and therefore, the reasons for the bulk of the female world’s need to strive for perfection.

She had concluded that, although it might seem to men, women’s hygiene is about catching them, she believed it was for their own self-satisfaction. She wanted to be pristine, clean, and sweet-smelling, for her own happiness, her own pride. Pride when striving for perfection, is not a sin, except when used as a comparison to others.

Maybe at one time, when we were just another breed of ape, females needed to make themselves attractive to the most powerful male, as ape species do to this day, but the human-ape had progressed, hadn’t it? Perhaps she mused, that primal instinct survived and that was why some very ugly men with money, netted such beautiful women.

Having completed her toiletry, she peeped into her little sister’s room and found Daniella fully dressed in a new skirt and blouse, her face made up quite successfully. She had been busy, cutting off shop labels and hanging clothes. In one corner, lay a jumble of her old boy clothes, shoes, little-used football shoes, and her few boy toys.

‘You’ve been busy.’ ‘Hi, Rache. Yes, I have. Clean beginning.’ ‘How do you feel?’ ‘I feel an enormous weight has been removed. A bit floaty, but I’m scared as well. I know there are lots of hoops and hurdles to jump through and over, and school is not going to be easy, maybe even harder than before, but at least I’m happy in my own skin, happy with my image, the person I see in the mirror.’ ‘You look nice. Just be careful with that eye shadow.

You hardly need it.’ ‘OK. Rache, what do you think if I just use a light cream on my lids?’ ‘Yes, that might work. Keep experimenting to get your look. Have a look at YouTube too.’ ‘I have. I’ll keep searching and experimenting. Rache, thank you, for everything, you are such a lovely sister. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.’ ‘You don’t have to, except, just be the best you can be. No more bunking off and, doing your homework.

I shall be keeping an eye on you myself as Mum is too busy.’ ‘Yes, Rachel.’ She smiles beguilingly, twisting a lock of her hair. ‘I mean it, Daniella. You need to work harder than I ever did because as a trans-girl, you are already disadvantaged. If there’s trouble at school, you tell me and we discuss it. Don’t trouble Mum, she’s not good at this stuff and wasn’t good at school either.

But you, you are not a dimwit. I’ll look after you but you need to work. If you need help with homework, don’t be frightened to ask me. At school, don’t pretend to understand, ask the teacher to explain. Got it?’ ‘Yes Sis, I get it. No more bunking and working hard. Anyway, I don’t need to come home and play dress-up anymore. I just hope some of the bullyings will stop.’ ‘As I just said, you don’t bottle it up, you tell me and we will think what to do, the two of us, you and me, a team. Do you hear?’ ‘Yes.’

‘Right, don’t sulk. I want to see homework each night, including now. What have you that has to be done for Monday?’ ‘I have to read a chapter of history, the Peninsula War, and write an essay on the effects of volcanic activity.’ ‘Well, that’s not difficult. Go online and find examples. Look at European volcanos, Vesuvius and Etna, and that one in Iceland. In fact, Iceland is really interesting because it’s a cold country and they use geothermal heating.

Then think about Asia and the Pacific and South America, tectonic plate movements, earthquakes, and the way they are linked to volcanic activity. Also, bring it up to date with the Hawaii one because they also have geothermal heating. You know what that is?’ ‘Yes Rachel, but Crikey Moses. How do you know all that?’ ‘I went to school too and I read books and magazines, a good newspaper, you should too.

It’s called a rounded education. Have you finished arranging your clothes?’ ‘Yes, Rache. Look!’ Dannie opened her wardrobe and her chest of drawers, proudly displaying her clothes. ‘Very good. Come down and have breakfast. Then homework. Perhaps we’ll go out this afternoon.’ ‘Rache, I can’t believe I have all this lovely new stuff.

It’s like the best dream Rache. Thank you.’ ‘I’m sorry you had to wait so long to get what you wanted.’ She buckled down to homework after breakfast and as she had promised, Rachel looked at the essay. She red-penciled the misspellings and inaccuracies. Dannie wrote it out again. Rachel tested her on the chapter of history but also made it much more of a story.

Mum came down at ten-thirty, having had a bath and her own pampering session. ‘Well now, Daniella. You don’t look too bad. I don’t like the haircut. Where was that done?’ Rachel answered. ‘Well don’t go there again. It’s not that bad but not good either. Too much makeup, leave off the eye shadow, especially for school. Eyebrows and lashes as you are fair, and that’s all.

You just about look more girl than a boy. I dare say, things will get better in time and with that medicine.’ Daniella looks crestfallen after this critique. ‘Mum!’ Rachel says. ‘What?’ ‘Too harsh Mum, not what she needs to hear.’ ‘I can only help by telling the truth. I can still see the boy.’ ‘Mum! Stop, you’re not being fair. Don’t you think she is going through enough?’

‘If I don’t say it, I’m sure her classmates will.’ ‘Mum, she has only just transitioned, honestly. Show some love.’ ‘I am Rachel, tough love.’ ‘Daniella, take your books up to your room, then come down and we’ll do lunch together.’ Rachel commanded. Daniella obeyed, somewhat dismayed by Mum’s words. As she mounted the stairs, the kitchen door closed quietly. She heard her sister and mother talking but can’t make out the words. She bit her lip.

She wanted to hear what was said but feared it would add to her unease. Her mother seems like a different person today. In the kitchen, Rachel said quietly, ‘What got into you Mum. She needs lots of morale-boosting. She’s on a high at being her true self but she is also terrified at the thought of school tomorrow.’

‘Maybe I was harsh, but for her sake. I know she’s on a high, but really, I think she would only just pass. If she thinks she’s a supermodel, well she isn’t.’ ‘Mum, she passes. In a way, she has always passed, we always saw the girl, didn’t we? Even Dad, that’s why he treated her so harshly. Aunt Annie always thought her a girl, too. You remember having a boy baby.

Perhaps that colors your judgment. She needs kindness. I swear no one suspected anything when we were shopping. She’s good Mum, she passes.’ ‘You talk so like a lawyer these days Rachel.’ ‘I am one Mum. I thought you were proud of my attainment?’ ‘I am. I’m sorry. Your father has dragged me down to his level. At least you are going up the social ladder. I don’t know what her father will say.’ ‘Is that what all this is about?’

‘I’m just doubtful, this is right. Maybe there’s another way, psychiatry, or one of the girls at work suggested faith, you know, laying on of hands, faith healing, she suggested going to the Spiritualist church. They have faith healers come from all over, last week one from Brazil.’ ‘I suppose they come here because all the sick people in Brazil have been cured? Mum those people are crooks, conjurors, charlatans. It’s an act Mum, playing with poor dupes’ afflictions. People showering them with money.’ ‘Well, I don’t know. Why did this have to happen to us?

Your father will go berserk.’ ‘It’s up to you to explain it. Mum really, don’t listen to those people at work, what do they know? They are just part of the twenty percent who know nothing about trans and don’t want to understand. Sorry Mum, but I won’t have you upsetting her!’ ‘I’ll remind you, I’m her mother, Rachel, and yours. Don’t play high and mighty with me.’

‘Mothers should show love and understanding, build confidence. I’ll move out and take her with me.’ ‘I don’t know what her father will say.’ ‘You have to explain.’ ‘Just how do you think I’m going to do that to a man who sees the world in black or white?’ ‘When he sees her, Mum, surely. She’s so sweet.’ ‘Oh yes, she can put it on.

I wonder whether this is the real Daniel or an act.’ ‘Mother! You know. God, what has happened to you.’ ‘I have to break this to your father next week.’ ‘Will he really be home? He’s been away for three weeks now. She hates her father. He doesn’t support you or us. Why don’t you get rid of Mum? It would be better for all of us. Besides, this week is important for her at school.’ ‘I just can’t dump him.

I know you are an atheist, but I said ‘for better or for worse, I vowed and it meant something to me.’ ‘You are wrong Mum. He’s never hit me although he’s hit you and Daniella, Mum, my Dad or not, we are better off, happier without him.’ ‘I can’t do it.’ ‘Then God help us. I’ll take care of Daniella if you won’t, even if that means moving out and taking her with me.’ ‘Don’t molly-coddle her. She has to face up to the consequences of her decision to act like a girl.’

‘It’s not a choice Mum! Not an act! God almighty, I can hardly believe this is you talking. You are being bloody horrible. We have talked about this, and researched the sites.’ ‘Don’t swear at me, Rachel!’ ‘I will while you are being such an arsehole Mum. Is dad really worth alienating your children, particularly Daniella, who God knows has enough to go through?

We know Dannie has been like this for years. We know she has done dress-up since a toddler, only she hid that up because of Dad’s attitude. It’s no act, oh yes, she is more girl than ever, since she came out to us, but that’s only because she feels more secure, expressing her real self.’ ‘She will never be a true woman, a real woman. She won’t have periods, won’t get pregnant, may not even have a female orgasm and if she has surgery, she won’t have a male orgasm either.

As Petra said at work, she’ll just be a boy with tits. Is that what we want? Shouldn’t we spell out the reality? It might put a stop to this before Dad comes home.’ ‘So that’s what this is all about. Preparing the ground for when Dad reappears, so we all have an easy life, except for poor Daniella, who you are prepared to sacrifice for peace from Dad?

Do you think that Daniella, so happy in her girl identity can put on a macho act, like a cloak, so Dad is happy? You are delusional. Dannie can’t just switch her persona on and off to please you or Dad.’ ‘I, I’m terrified of what he’ll do. He will never accept this. I feel it could all end in tragedy, even death.

You know Dad, he’s never hit you but you know how he is with Daniel, how he blames me already.’ ‘Daniella! The truth at last Mum, the reason for your cold feet. Leave Dad to me.’ ‘Rachel, I have become used to peace in the house. I expect that to an end when Dad comes home, as he will in five days according to his last phone call.’ ‘Perhaps you need to consider us, our peace. Perhaps you should break with him, Mum. Sue for divorce.

We can manage better without him. He’s never hurt me Mum, but all your fights, and he's hitting and yelling at Daniella. We don’t need that. It’s bad for all of us, disastrous for her. She has spoken of ending it.’ ‘Oh, I don’t think she would be serious. I can’t just throw your father on the scrap heap.’ ‘Then on your head be it, Mum. Your choice.

I will have to leave home and I’ll take Daniella, I’ll be her mother if you won’t. I thought you loved her?’ ‘I do but we have enough problems. I fear how things will be with Dad.’ Her voice quavered, she was near to tears, frightened of the future, terrified by the expectations of her husband’s reaction. ‘Oh, Mother! I despair.

You wait until I have arranged everything with the doctor and school, spent God knows how much on her, and now this? Thanks a lot, Mum.’ ‘He’s such a hard man.’ ‘Don’t we all have problems? Most of all, the little girl upstairs.’ Rachel says despondently. Cruelly, Rachel adds, ‘God certainly wasn’t on Dannie’s or my side when He gave us parents.’ Rachel saw her mother turn away and knew silent tears were running down her cheeks. She couldn’t bring herself to relent or apologize. ‘No family should live in fear and violence, Mother. This is pointless, we are just going round in circles.’ She turned and left the kitchen.

Monday dawned one of those uniformly grey days, the sky battleship grey, unbroken by any color. Rachel would drop Daniella at the school gate. In the space of a few days, her mother had changed, Rachel supposed from conversations at work with her colleagues who also knew nothing and understood nothing about transgender, except that boxing promotor and Caitlyn Jenner. Few of the ‘out’ trans, the celebrity trans, formed a good picture of the syndrome.

Older trans, even the celebs were seldom a good advert for transwomen. Their features, even with extensive plastic surgery, together with their voices, set them apart. Dannie, thank God, because she had received T blockers in time, would not have a tell-tale voice, nor Adam’s apple, nor require months of extensive and expensive, depilation.

Rachel knew there were some, those who changed before the ravages of puberty, for example, and even a few who had endured puberty before changing, who were indistinguishable from ‘normal women’ if that normal animal existed. Females to males did better, and looked more like authentic men after their change, but as Rachel had read, their surgery was longer, more involved, and hardly satisfactory.

In both cases, it was making the best of a bad job, correcting unsatisfactorily, what had happened in the womb. Rachel, intelligent, well-educated, and well-read, knew all this. She could have told her little brother, painted a bleak picture and pointed to all the detractions of ineffective genitalia, discrimination, relationship difficulties, and possible loneliness, but she knew it would be no use. Her brother had been born a girl in his brain and nothing could change his basic instincts.

Denial could end in suicide. The statistics were frightening. Forty-eight percent of trans, due to their fundamental dissatisfaction with their gender, would at least contemplate suicide before plunging into transition. Thirty-six percent would make one or more suicide attempts, sometimes just a cry for help, before having the courage to come out and show their real nature to family and friends. Dannie had hinted life was not worth living as a boy.

Rachel was glad it was she and not her mother who had discovered Daniel in full drag, in her best swing dance frock. She smiled while waiting for the traffic lights to change. Little bugger, her best dance dress, probably the most feminine item she owned. Rachel worried about her mother. Since she had discovered Daniel lying on his bed, wearing her dress, and the child coming out to them, her mother had back-tracked.

Rachel wondered whether the change in Mum’s attitude was the now imminent reappearance of their father or her companions at work, airing their prejudices. Their father’s return was though, a frightening prospect. Perhaps, that was what had turned her Mother. But turning to faith-healing? They didn’t even go to church.

As far as Rachel knew, her parents had no belief in God, and nor did she. Her three years away at University had driven a wedge between her and the family. Rachel had joined the intelligentsia, as a lawyer, while her father and mother were very much rooted in working-class attitudes. They read and believed the gutter press.

When her Dad had begun working away on what they really knew not what, Rachel had moved back home to help her mother, who was and continued to be, the main provider in a household that had been bossed by a drunken scoundrel, who was into shady business. Rachel rued the day she had returned home. That her little brother, now coming out as her little sister, needed her so much, provided a reason to stay.

She had roused Dannie at six-thirty. Rachel had inspected her sister, now dressed in her school uniform, white blouse, and pleated grey skirt, black blazer, the first new school uniform she had ever possessed. She tried to see Dannie as others would.

Well, she looked like a girl, to her, not beautiful but nice enough, attractive she thought. Rachel checked Dannie’s bag and made sure she had money. She drove her little charge to the school, putting her down as close to the gates as possible. A posse of girls and a couple of boys stood there, Lisa and Jenny amongst them. She turned to Dannie, ‘Kiss sister.’ They kissed. ‘OK, off you go then darling. I’ll ring at lunchtime. You look fine.

Head up and be proud. It looks like you have a welcoming committee.’ ‘Oh Christ, bye Mum, I mean Rache.’ She watched until Dannie was surrounded by the posse. Someone behind Rachel was waiting to park in her spot and so she signaled and pulled away. She hoped all would be well. She drove to her office, her thoughts on Dannie. She waited while a delivery van exited the firm’s car park and drove in between the opened iron gates to the law firm’s private parking.

She sighed heavily as she left the car and walked the short distance to the staff entrance. She mounted the stairs to her own tiny office on the third floor. In passing her manager’s office, Mr. Richard Moss, QC, knocked on the open door. Richard looked up and smiled. ‘You’re in, good. We have much to do and a new case, and papers on your desk for a meeting with the client and his solicitor on Thursday. I hope you have sorted out your family affairs?’ ‘May I sit?’ She asked, taking a seat.

‘I need to explain.’ ‘Oh, that sounds ominous. You are surely not thinking of leaving us?’ ‘Oh no, Richard. It’s family. My fourteen-year-old brother has come out as trans, transgender, or transsexual, anyway, whatever the terminology, was a boy, now considers herself a girl, we consider her a girl. Mum, well, she’s not capable of helping and hasn’t the right attitude. I can’t stand and watch. Trans people are so vulnerable with a forty-eight percent rate of attempted suicide.

I know lots of those are just cries for help, but,’ ‘Oh dear. Does this mean you can’t take such a large workload, that this new case is beyond your capacity?’ ‘Oh no. No, not at all. I love my work, it’s a thrill, especially working for you.’ ‘It’s good to have you on my team, Rachel, but we haven’t room for a passenger. We are short-handed.’ ‘I don’t want to be a passenger. I was just off-loading and explaining why I was absent. Daniella has gone to school as a girl today, her first day.

Naturally, I’m worried. However, I have to work and I’ll do my best. I will take work home if need be, so I can watch over her in the evening and keep on top. I hope that will be OK?’ ‘Yes, as long as the work’s done. You are one of the brightest juniors I’ve had and I want to keep you. Your father, what’s the situation there?’ ‘He’s still away. I think we are all dreading having him back in our lives.

Driving here today, I was thinking, if need be, I’ll leave home again and take Daniella with me. Anyway, as you say, work to be done.’ ‘Well, read the new brief, and then perhaps we can discuss it over lunch. Will that suit?’ ‘Yes Richard, thank you.’ She goes to her own cubbyhole of an office and sees the new brief tied with pink tape sitting, waiting for her, with Richard’s penned note, ‘Read and we’ll discuss.’ She undoes the tape and opens up the considerable dossier.

A shoe factory put in a trust fund was being sued by its trustees over tax avoidance and mismanagement. It was an involved case. It had aspects of trust law and tax law. It seemed from the start, that accusations were being made against the three brothers and their mother who had inherited the factory, by the members of the trust. It was a power struggle for control, one side of the family against the other over a trust set up to avoid death duties and other taxes.

A very involved and nasty affair as inter-family disputes always are. Having read through half the papers, she was of the view that the trustees were a mean-spirited, greed-inspired trio, jealous of the family running a successful enterprise. One of the trustees was even godfather to one of the boys on the other side. It would be the most interesting case with which she had been involved. Coffee break. She knew it was also morning break time, ten-thirty at school. She phoned Daniella.

There was no reply and she worried, then comforted herself that no news was good news. Five minutes later, her phone burbled into life. ‘Hi Sis, you rang.’ ‘Are you OK?’ ‘Yeah, OK.’ ‘No trouble?’ ‘No Rache. I’ve got more friends than I ever had and they are being pretty protective. It’s OK.’ ‘Good. Remember, I’m only a phone call away, and promise me, any nastiness and you will tell me and a teacher.’ ‘OK.’ ‘You’re happy?’ “I’m fine Rache, yes. I gotta go. See you tonight.’