Chapter 2

Jeff and Chelsea walked from the union holding hands. “I like that episode,” he said. “I like Tom Baker. He made the best of the Doctors.”

“Mmm ... I agree. I like his sense of anarchy.”

“I saw an interview with him. He said that the BBC is rather good at period costume dramas. Less so at giant man-eating rats.”

“I guess that’s true,” she replied. “I think some of the cheesy special effects are part of the charm.”

“Have you ever seen Logan’s Run?”

“No.”

“It was considered the ultimate in sci-fi special effects for its era. Then Star Wars came along.”

“I’m not a big Star Wars fan,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think it’s very good sci-fi. It’s basically a Rescue Me plot within a wartime framing story, but with an alien setting.”

“Never considered it like that. Maybe you’d like Logan’s Run. It’s definitely more sci-fi -- a dystopian future in which the citizens self-immolate upon reaching the age of thirty.”

“Interesting...”

“Maybe we could watch it together some time. I can see if I can get a copy.”

“I’d like that.”

“Mild night,” he remarked. “Pretty moon with the clouds.”

“The moon a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,” she replied.

“Alfred Noyes...”

“I’m surprised you know.”

“I guess I’m not surprised that you know,” he replied. “I don’t know the whole work ... just that line.”

“It’s from ‘The Highwayman’...”

“You know, Chelsea -- I think you and I really are kindred spirits.”

She looked down at their clasped hands and abruptly pulled away. “DAMN!” she exclaimed. “Damn, damn, damn...”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want to let it happen. I was trying not to let it happen ... Shit!”

“Let what happen?”

“Jeff -- we need to talk.”

Uh-oh, he thought. “There’s a bench over there.”

He sat beside her and attempted to take her hand again. She kept her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Jeff ... there’s something you don’t know about me.”

“I know that you’re the one, Chelsea. I’m not saying it to mess with your head. We have chemistry -- I can feel it. Maybe this is going fast, but that’s how I know it’s right. I know what I need to know.”

“No, you don’t. Jeff -- I can’t have a relationship with a guy. I can’t have a relationship with anyone!”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. You said you respect me. Respect me on this.”

“All right. If you say we can’t have a relationship, I won’t push it. If you say you don’t want anything to do with me after tonight, I’ll walk away and never bother you again. It would crush me but I would do it if it’s your wish. I just need to know why. What is it? Are you gay?”

“I’m not gay. I’m something else. Something...”

“What something? Do you have some awful disease?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Were you abused? Traumatized?

“Nothing like that.” She drew in a breath and closed her eyes. “Jeff -- I’m trans.”

His jaw dropped and he regarded her in the light from a streetlamp. “Do you mean, trans-gender?”

“I prefer the term trans-sexual.”

“Holy shit ... I never would’ve guessed, Chelsea. You’re so perfect.”

“I am far from that.” Chelsea buried her face in her hands.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No ... yes ... I don’t know ... I’m not perfect ... I’m just ... me.” She looked up at him. “I do have feelings for you. Jeff -- I’m not used to a guy giving me your sort of attention; and I must admit it feels pretty good. I do feel the chemistry between us. You’re right ... we ARE soul mates. We are right for each other. That’s what makes this so damned difficult.”

“You’re biologically male...” She nodded. “ ... attracted to guys...” She nodded again. “Doesn’t that make you gay?”

She looked up at him. “NO! I’m not gay. I’m not a transvestite or a cross-dresser. I’m not a guy who likes other guys. I’m a straight girl ... a girl who’s attracted to guys ... who was born with a boy’s body. Being a trans-woman isn’t about bed partners. It’s about self-identity. Jeff -- I’m not a pervert. I’m not delusional.”

“You identify as a girl.”

“No! I AM a girl ... with the wrong anatomy. I was diagnosed as a pre-teen with gender dysphoria. It’s a real condition recognized by the medical community. Gender reassignment therapy is a legitimate and recognized treatment. I started transitioning in middle school.” She snorted. “When we were driving back through the mountains and you said that thing about waffles and spaghetti. I said it was absurd. Well ... You were right. Guys and girls do think differently and I think like a girl ... even if it doesn’t show in my writing.”

“You just took us off on a different strand,” he remarked.

“Oh, God -- you’re right.” She buried her face in her palms, her shoulders quaking.

“Chelsea -- are you crying or laughing?”

“I don’t know...” She brushed some tears from her face. “Back to topic ... This is why I was so reluctant to let you get to know me, Jeff. It’s self-preservation ... for my safety. I’m just not brave enough to be out there.”

“What about Quinn?” he asked. “Is she trans, too?”

“Yes. Quinn is me. She’s the only outlet I have for this.”

“And -- is she out there?”

Chelsea swallowed hard and nodded. “I had a panic when I realized you connected me to Quinn. Then, I realized you hadn’t picked up on her ... identity.”

“I told you I had no idea that she’s you, Chelsea.”

“I meant her gender identity.”

“I only read the one story. I didn’t see any trans characters in it ... not that I was looking for them.”

“You won’t. I keep that out of my fiction. Quinn also has a blog where she writes about being trans. Her recent posts have been about her thoughts and fears when she discovers a guy she likes is starting to pay attention to her ... about how she rebuffs his advances but he persists...”

“You wrote about us? I’d like to read that.”

“Please, don’t ... not now. It’s too personal -- too revealing. I’d be mortified. Maybe some day...”

“If you don’t want me to read it, I won’t. You didn’t use my real name, did you?”

“Of course not. I’m careful, Jeff. I’m careful not to include any details that could link me with Quinn. Oh, God -- if Quinn were ever doxxed or outed as me -- I don’t know what I’d do. The thought terrifies me. I have nightmares about it. Trans people get killed just for being who we are. We lose our jobs ... our friends ... our livelihoods ... our lives ... Just because we’re different and that bothers some people.”

“I ... I guess I understand. It doesn’t bother me. I can’t see how you living the life you want to live impacts or injures anyone else.”

“There was a case in the news this week about a trans woman who was murdered. They’re calling it a hate crime...”

“Your secret’s safe, Chelsea.”

“ ... the guy just wanted to rape her. When he discovered what she was -- he beat her to death.”

“I’d die if any harm to came to you.”

“That sort of thing could happen to me, Jeff. It’s why I lead such a guarded life. Quinn’s blog has its fans but she also gets her share of hate mail.”

“I understand, Chelsea ... at least, as well as I can without actually living it.”

“Jeff -- if you find me repulsive or disgusting ... I’ll understand. I needed to tell you the truth ... before this went any further.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jeff. This is the first time in my life that I’ve felt inadequate or dissatisfied with who I am.”

“Chelsea...”

“I want to go back to my room, now.”

They walked together toward her dorm in silence broken only by Chelsea’s sniffling. Jeff opened the lobby door and they stepped inside into the bright fluorescent lights. “I’ll give you some time,” she said, “to think this over and we can talk again and figure out where we’re going.”

“I don’t need any time,” he replied and looked directly into her face. Chelsea swallowed hard. “I don’t care. Well, I mean ... I do care. It’s part of what makes you, you. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“You really mean that? You accept me as I am?”

“Absolutely. You see, Chelsea ... my younger sister has spina bifida. I watched her grow up. We thought she’d never walk. Now, she’s fifteen ... happy and successful ... a very normal kid in most ways. I think it’s people who overcome challenges who have the strongest characters. I see that in your character. I admire you for it.”

“Really?”

“Really ... the way I admire my sister. The difference is ... she was born that way.”

“I was born this way,” she responded abruptly.

“Oh, God -- forgive me. That’s not what I meant. My sister was born with a visible, physical deformity. I didn’t mean to imply what you went through was a choice ... or any less of a challenge. I expressed it poorly. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Jeff.” She smiled. “I like it that you can admit you’re wrong and say you’re sorry.”

He looked into her blue eyes. “You’re so pretty ... so feminine. I can hardly believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“Maybe we should head over to the Quad snack bar for a chocolate malt or two and talk some more. I’ll buy. Maybe you’ll accept this time?”

“Yes, I’ll accept.” She smiled. “I love chocolate malts.”

He held the door for her and they headed across campus. Jeff reached for her hand and they locked fingers. Stepping into the snack bar Chelsea selected a table in the corner and Jeff brought two malts.

“How long have you known you were ... different?” he asked.

“As far back as I remember. I never was interested in sports or playing soldiers or cops-and-robbers. I wanted to play with dolls. My parents are great -- I have the best parents in the world. They let me wear dresses and grow my hair long. When I approached puberty we had a long talk. I remember how they sincerely listened to what I had to say. I knew at age eleven it was a choice between living as a female or dying. I told them if I had to grow up as a man, I wouldn’t make it past puberty. I’d kill myself first.”

“They listened?”

“Yes, they listened, and they believed me. They found a doctor who diagnosed me and started reassignment treatment.”

“I guess the younger the better,” he remarked.

“I was started on a puberty blocker. It’s a drug that prevented me from developing male characteristics. They enrolled me in a private school as Chelsea Lane. I wore girls’ clothes and let my hair grow. When I was sixteen they discontinued the blocker and started me on estrogen and a testosterone blocker ... the same drug used in the legal system for chemical castration of sex offenders. I went through female puberty quickly and by the time I graduated I looked pretty much how I look now.”

Jeff shook his head. “I do not find you repulsive or disgusting. To the contrary, I admire you and I want you in my life.”

“I can’t believe how you’re taking this ... My doctor wrote a letter that, without actually divulging my condition, induced this school to put me into a single room.”

“That’s how you ended up in Wheeler.”

“Right -- my Freshman year It was the only dorm with singles with en-suites. It’s why I decided to come here. Now I can keep the room under squatters’ rights.”

“Forgive me if I sound cavalier ... but it seems to me that you’ve had it pretty easy ... considering...”

“Oh, I know I have. I know how fortunate I am. Both my parents have good jobs and could afford to take care of me. I know there are others who’ve been much less fortunate and have had much more difficult times. It’s my mission to help people like them. I thought I’d go to college, get my degree ... then to grad school ... maybe med school. I’d have a career and that would be it. I never thought I could have a relationship. I thought I’d spend my whole life celibate. I thought I’d have to actualize my life in other ways.”

“Like in your writing.”

“Yes ... Now I’m in a relationship and it’s as new and strange to me as it must be to you, Jeff.”

“That I can appreciate.”

“You’re the only one who knows ... aside from my parents. I trust you, Jeff.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Chelsea grasped his hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal ... but ... have you had surgery?”

“You mean, reassignment surgery?” She shook her head. “It frightens me too much. I’ve investigated it and it’s a difficult way to go. I told you I’m not brave.”

“I think you’re pretty brave to live the life you’re living,” he replied.

“Only because I wasn’t brave enough to kill myself.”

“No, Chelsea. Suicide is a coward’s way out.”

“You are sweet, Jeff. You seem to know what to say.” She drank some of her malt. “I’m not uncomfortable discussing this with you. After all -- if we’re to have a relationship, you deserve to know.” Through the straw she sucked down the last of her malt. “I’ve already had all the surgery I’m going to have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had them removed.”

“Them?” She pointed down, between her legs. Jeff’s mouth formed an unvoiced O.

“When I turned eighteen I did two things. First I changed my name and gender, legally.”

“What was your name?”

“Chester,” she replied. “I’ve gone by Chelsea since before I was in grade school.”

“I like the sound of Chelsea much more. They let you change your gender?”

“My state does with proper medical certification. The testosterone blocker had some unpleasant side-effects, so I had them removed. I’ve felt better since. I even need to take a small amount of testosterone ... to prop up my libido.”

“I thought you said you anticipated a life of celibacy,” he remarked.

“Celibates need a libido, too. It is a big part of your creativity, you know.”

“I suppose ... and you are creative.”

“So, there it is ... Where do we go from here?”

“I’m falling in love with you, Chelsea.”

“I’m falling in love with you, too.”

“I want you in my life...”

“So do I.”

“ ... even if it means we can’t have a physical relationship.”

“That’s the problem. Would you really be satisfied with a platonic one, Jeff?” He regarded her in silence. “Would you?”

“Umm...”

“Well -- I don’t think I would, and I doubt you would either. I can live without being in a relationship. But -- if I’m going to be in one, I want it to be a full one -- a steady, committed one between us -- and a physical one.” He continued regarding her. “Well?”

“I don’t know if I could. The thought of gay sex always turned me off ... two guys going at it ... But, you’re not a guy. You’re a sensational looking woman.”

“Except, for what’s between my navel and my knees,” she interjected.

“Right. This is so far outside my experience, Chelsea ... I don’t know how I’d respond. I’m being honest.”

“Then ... there we have it.”

“I’ve always been open to new experiences,” he added. “The only way to know how I’d respond is for us to try it and see.”

Chelsea’s eyes widened and her lips parted. “Are you saying...”

“I’m saying I’m game if you are.”

“Do you mean ... NOW?”

“Now’s as good a time as any, don’t you think? It’s Friday night and not that late. You said your dorm room is a single. We won’t be disturbing anyone.” Chelsea put her hand against her chest and began hyperventilating slightly. Jeff noticed a pulse point in her neck throbbing. “Are you all right?”

“It’s just ... be careful what you wish for, Chelsea -- you might get it.”

“We don’t need to do it now,” he replied, “if you’re not ready.”

“You have asked THE question rhat’s occupied me since ... since I discovered I like boys. I really need to know if this is possible.” She looked in his eyes. “I’m game. Let’s do it.”