Chapter 9

Jeff started his hike to the hill campus. His phone signaled a call from Chelsea. He answered it. “Hey ... How did your AMA go?”

“It went well,” she replied.

What sort of things did they ask?”

“Mostly the usual -- when did I discover I was a trans-sexual, what is transitioning like, have I had the surgery. One asked if my boobs are real. Some tried to ask about my own sex life and Dr Wolfe cut them off and said it was off-limits.”

“Do you recall anything in particular?” he asked.

“One guy asked if I pee sitting or standing.”

“Gee, I don’t know the answer to that one. What did you tell them?”

“Usually, sitting, especially if I’m in a public restroom. But, if I’m in a rush I’ll just whip it out to save time. It got a laugh.”

“I’ll bet. I hope this exercise at least helps some of them realize you’re just another human being.”

“I hope so, too. So, where are you now?”

“Headed up the hill. You back in the dorm?”

“No, I’m still at State. Professor Wolfe is arranging an Uber to take me back to Wheeler.”

“That’s considerate.”

“She’s really very nice. She’s stern but fair in the classroom but otherwise very nice. We had a nice discussion during the class and afterward she invited us to dinner at her place. She wants her wife to meet us.”

“That’s something. I’ve never been invited to a prof’s house. Did she say what time?”

“Saturday at six. Can I tell her we accept?”

“Sure, if this is something you’d like to do.”

“It is. I’ll tell her.”

“Dinner at five as usual?

“As usual. See you later. I love you.”

“I love you.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

Jeff arrived at his room and let himself inside and spotted Ted. “Guess who I was just on the phone with,” Ted said.

“I wouldn’t have a clue. Who?”

“Morgan Turlock.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s that senior I told you about on registration day. The one who was in Wheeler last year.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“She was right.”

“About what?”

“Chelsea. She’s a tranny.”

Jeff stared at his roommate for a long moment. “That’s not a nice word. You wouldn’t refer to a Black person with the N-word. I hope you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Ted replied. “Never.”

“Then don’t refer to Chelsea that way.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t. What should I call her?”

“Chelsea. It’s her name. She is trans-sexual, not that it’s anyone’s business. She was diagnosed as a pre-teen with gender dysphoria, and she began gender reassignment therapy in middle school. That is a legitimate and effective treatment for her condition.”

“Holy shit! Has she had surgery?”

“No, she has not had The Surgery. Yes, Ted. Chelsea is a woman who has a dick. How did Morgan Turlock learn this?”

“She takes this LGBT course over at State. The prof brought in a guest speaker who’s a tran ... who’s trans-gendered named Quinn something. Morgan recognized her as Chelsea. She said you can’t miss that hair and those glasses.”

Jeff held his head in his palm. Oh, fuck! he thought.

“And, you sleep with her? Are engaged to her and going to marry her? What are you? A homo? Are you gay or bi or something?”

Jeff could feel his blood pressure rising. “I am a straight guy who is in love with a trans-woman.” He threw his hands in the air. “Look -- if your definition of gay or bi or whatever is someone who is comfortable handling someone ease’s peen ... then go ahead and call me gay or bi or whatever. But, I don’t go out cruising for cock. Chelsea’s is the only other peen I’m ever going handle. Do you know why?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Ted replied.

“Because we truly love each other. When two people are in true love, sooner or later they’ll want to express that love physically. And when they do, they must use the tools available to them. I love Chelsea because she has a mind ... not like the bimbos you bring around. We have similar interests, tastes and values. We’re soul mates. Sooner or later Chelsea might decide to have The Surgery, but that will not change how deeply I love her or she loves me. Hell, it wouldn’t have mattered to me if she were intersex and had both a dick and a pussy. Yeah, we had to write our own playbook for making love, but all lovers do. Why we make love is way more important than how we do it.”

Ted shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe this ... A trans woman is still a woman. Chelsea is a woman. She looks like a woman, she thinks like a woman and she smells like a woman. If you take the time to get to know her you’ll forget she was born male. People with her condition who don’t receive transition therapy have a high suicide rate and Chelsea told me if she hadn’t transitioned she would be dead. What do you think now, Ted?”

“It’s ... it’s a lot to assimilate. I only know her from registration night and she seemed like a nice, normal girl.”

“Then think of her as a nice, normal girl.” He tapped his temple. “I love Chelsea for what she has here.” He pointed to his crotch. “Not for what she has there, because what’s there is merely the means to an end and not an end itself. Think of it like that, Ted. If you can’t think of it like that -- it means you have never experienced true love and I feel sorry for you. Chelsea and I love each other and the details of what happens when we’re alone together is nobody’s business but ours. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Jeff clenched his fists and advanced on Ted. Ted backed away until he was stopped by his desk. Jeff stood glowering inches away. “And, believe this,” he said in a stern but steady voice, “we both value our privacy in this matter. If details about Chelsea or me become public and if I trace the source of that information back to you ... I will make sure you regret it. Understood?”

“Geez, Jeff ... Calm down. I won’t say anything about this to anyone. I have a gay cousin who’s in the closet and I can keep that secret. I can keep this one.”

“See that you do.” Jeff backed away. “Now, what about Morgan Turlock. Do you have something going with her?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

“I want you to make sure Morgan knows not to spread this around. Chelsea believes her safety depends on keeping this quiet. Trans women are crime victims at a much higher rate than the general population.”

“I’m gonna call her right now.”

“Good. I’m going over to Wheeler.”

Jeff pulled on his coat and headed across campus. He dug out his phone out of his pocket and made a call.

“Hi,” Chelsea answered.

“Are you back in the dorm?”

“Yeah, just got in.”

“I’m headed there. We need to talk.”

“What’s the matter?”

“We have a problem. I’ll explain when I get there.”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

He stuffed his phone in his pocket and stepped up his pace. He reached the Wheeler lobby and spotted Chelsea. They embraced and kissed. “Let’s go up,” he said.

They reached her room. Jeff slipped off his coat. “What is it?” she asked.

“Ted knows.”

“Knows what?”

“About you ... us ... your identity.”

“Oh, my God! How?”

“Do you remember a girl on your floor from last year ... a junior named Morgan Turlock?”

“I remember her. I don’t know her. She wasn’t very friendly to me. I think she resented a freshman in the upper-class dorm.”

“Would you recognize her if you saw her?”

“Of course.”

“Well, she is friendly with Ted. Apparently she is in Professor Wolfe’s class at State. She was at your AMA and recognized you. She told him.”

“Oh, my GOD!” Chelsea put her hand on her chest. “I’m having palpitations...” She began to hyperventilate.

Jeff held her. “Calm down,” he said and held her face in his palms. “Breathe in and hold it ... now out ... in and hold it ... out...” He stroked her cheek. “Better?”

She nodded. “I almost passed out ... my vision was going gray.”

He led her to her bed and they sat on it. “You okay now?”

“No. I’m still having palpitations. Professor Wolfe told me that she’d let me look over the class before she introduced me. If I saw anyone who would make me uncomfortable she’d understand if I bolted. It wasn’t a big class -- maybe a dozen students and I didn’t recognize anyone, I swear. Now I regret agreeing to that AMA.”

“We don’t need to worry about Ted. He and I had a ... conversation. I had to restrain myself from giving him a fat lip for some of what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“Typical dudebro homo- and trans-phobic shit ... mainly directed toward me, not you. He couldn’t understand how a straight guy could be involved with a chick with a dick.”

“I’m sorry, Jeff.”

“No, don’t be. He’s the one who should be sorry. I set him straight on the topic the best I could. I’m not as eloquent as you are.”

“What did you say?”

“I said when two people find themselves in true love, at some point they want to express it physically, and when they reach that point they need to use the tools available. I told him I love you for what’s in your head and not what’s in your pants because that’s only a means to an end, not the end itself. I told him that why we make love is much more important than how and that all lovers write their own playbooks. And, what’s in our playbook is nobody’s business but ours. Then I said if he didn’t understand that, then he has never experienced true love.”

Chelsea grasped his face and covered it with kisses. “That was wonderful ... beautiful. You are a real man for standing up for us like that. I’m proud of you and I love you so much.”

“Feeling better?”

She nodded. “My heart is settling down.”

“I also told Ted how important it is to keep this private. He agreed not to tell anyone.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I do in this case.”

“I wouldn’t. My dad has a phrase -- ‘I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could hand-roll a bulldozer.’ Jeff -- this is the guy who you said wouldn’t break rules HE thought were important ... the guy who would steal a handicap parking space from someone who needed it. How can you trust him?”

“He has a gay cousin who’s in the closet. He keeps that secret and he can keep ours.”

“What about Morgan Turlock?”

“He said he’d call her and implore her not to spread it around.”

“Jeff -- this is exactly what I’ve been saying all along ... why I need to keep this strictly on a need-to-know basis. The more people that know the more likely it’ll slip out.”

“That is a risk you are going to need to accept, Chelsea. There is one sure way to end all this anxiety about being outed. Out yourself. I firmly believe you will be much happier out of the closet.”

“You keep telling me that,” she replied. “I realize my fear of being outed is a bit irrational...”

“A bit? You said you almost passed out.”

“ ... but it is my fear. Don’t try to invalidate my fears or feelings.”

“I’m not. You own your fears and I understand that. I’m trying to help you conquer them. You keep telling me that statistically trans women are victims more often than the general population. I took a course in statistics. I read up on some of those cases and most of them involved trans women who were sex workers. Sex work is a dangerous career and it seems a disproportionate number of trans women, in particular trans women of color, resort to sex work because they have no other options. I think that is a bloody shame.”

“I understand that also.”

“It seems there are other socioeconomic risk factors involved that don’t apply to you. You are one of the fortunate ones.”

“I know I’m very lucky and I’m very thankful for that.”

“I think the odds of harm befalling you due to your identity are very small. You’re much more likely to be run over crossing the street. We take calculated risks every time we walk out our doors.”

“You’re right about all that,” she replied.

“Maybe you could alleviate your fear by taking some positive steps. You could enroll in a self-defense course. You don’t need to earn a black belt, but there are moves and techniques you could learn that could get you out of a jam. You should carry pepper spray and know how to use it ... and, get one of those emergency whistles.”

“That’s good advice for anyone, not just for someone who’s trans.”

“I gave you a list of successful trans women. Have you looked any of them up?”

“No -- I haven’t had a chance.”

Jeff went to her laptop. “This is one name that sticks in my head.”

“She’s beautiful...” Chelsea read from the screen. :”Janet Mock ... best-selling author ... columnist ... contributor ... activist.”

“She started with less privilege than you,” he remarked. “Quite a remarkable career, don’t you think?”

“Yeah...”

“That could be you in ten or fifteen years. She didn’t get there by cowering in the closet. And neither will you.” He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “I’m using tough love. You’re so bright and talented. I can’t bear to see you suffer these panic attacks every time you meet someone new or think you might have been outed. I want you to succeed. Your folks, my folks ... We all want you to succeed. You are who you are. You are what you are. Embrace it. Use it. You won’t succeed otherwise.”

“You are absolutely right, Jeff. This is something I need to do. I just don’t know how to start.”

“We’re having dinner on Saturday with Dr Wolfe and her wife. Maybe they have some ideas.”

“Good idea.”

A knock came at her door. “Who could that be?” Jeff asked.

Chelsea opened her door part-way. A woman of medium build with blonde hair and designer-frame glasses stood at the door.

“Chelsea?” she asked.

“Yes...”

“I’m Morgan Turlock. May I come in?”

“Yes, come in.” Chelsea fully opened the door and Morgan stepped in. “I ... I didn’t recognize you. I remember you as a brunette.”

“I went blonde over the summer. By the way, it’s a lie. Blondes don’t have more fun.” She spotted Jeff.

“That’s Jeff, my fiance.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jeff said.

“You must be the Jeff who gave Ted an earful. Probably what he needed to hear.” Morgan turned to Chelsea. “I came to apologize, in person, for outing you to Ted. I should have known better than to out someone without their permission and I am deeply sorry for it. Believe me, neither of us will let this go any further.”

“Apology accepted,” Chelsea replied.

“Ted and I are both pre-law. That’s how we know each other. I want to specialize in family law and was looking for a class on social responsibility. I saw Dr Wolfe’s course available to Tech students through cross-registration. I enrolled in last term’s class and it has been an eye-opener for me. We spent the last half of the term discussing trans issues and the blog you write as Quinn was a double eye-opener. Of course I enrolled in it for this term, too. You write eloquently and don’t pull punches.”

“I appreciate hearing that,” Chelsea replied.

“I know I wasn’t very gracious to you last year -- or to most of the girls on this floor, for that matter. I was going through some difficulties ... not that that is an excuse. I made some changes over the summer, both physically and mentally. I changed my hair and lost twenty pounds.”

“And the glasses?”

“Problems with my contacts so I’m giving them a rest. Most importantly I changed my attitude.”

“You look like a different woman,” Chelsea remarked.

“Thank you. I feel like a different woman.”

“No wonder I didn’t recognize you at the AMA.”

“I was sitting right in front. Chelsea, despite my prior behavior ... I was hoping that we could be friends. I think I could learn a lot from you.”

“I’d like that,” Chelsea replied and hugged her.

“I said what I came to say and I’ve taken enough of your time. Believe me, your secret is safe with Ted and me.”

“Well ... Just before you arrived Jeff and I were having a conversation. I decided ... Jeff convinced me that my mental health would improve if ... If I came out, publicly.”

“Congratulations. I know several gays and lesbians who say coming out was the best thing they ever did.”

“We’re still figuring out how,” Jeff interjected.

“Then, mum’s the word until it’s official. Good-bye, you two, and best wishes.” Morgan stepped into the hallway and Chelsea closed her door.

“See?” Jeff sad. Most folks are okay with you being a trans-woman.”

“Ever since I transitioned I’ve been going around as if it were tattooed on my forehead.”

“So that’s why you wear your hair like that.”

Chelsea giggled and then laughed. She lifted her hair to expose her forehead. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always say the right thing. It’s one reason I love you so much.”

Jeff and Chelsea stepped from the car and into the Wheeler lobby. “It was considerate of Dr Wolfe to arrange an Uber for us,” Chelsea remarked. “It beats making the walk in the cold and dark.”

“She arranged rides for you to and from that AMA, didn’t she?” Jeff asked.

“Yes, she did.”

“I wonder if she owns stock in the company.”

Chelsea unlocked the door to the resident halls with her ID card and they headed toward her room. “It was a nice evening,” she remarked.

“I liked how Dr Wolfe said, that as guests in her house we can call her Tricia. Unsaid was, but when on campus it’s Dr Wolfe.”

“She is rather old-school that way.”

“Her wife, Wendy, was so cute,” he remarked. “She made a wonderful Thai dinner. And, we need to look up that dojo she mentioned that offers a self-defense class for women.”