“She wanted this. She asked for this!”

“She?!? My son is not a she, Cheryl! This is delusion! This is abuse!”

“You need to get off my property, Dale, or I’m calling the cops!”

“I bought this house, you bitch!”

“Before you abandoned it!”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I hadn’t seen my father in years, and he picked my thirteenth birthday, as well as the day before my first school dance, to just show up? And now the two of them were arguing. I thought I had forgotten about the arguing. But it was always like this, wasn’t it? Was this my fault? Was this always my fault?

I couldn’t stand this going on any longer. If it was my fault, I was putting a stop to it. I got out of the car and slammed the door, my wig blowing back into my face from the wind. I brushed the hair from my eyes and approached them.

“Honey, I told you to wait in the car!” my mother said, sweetly, yet clearly uncomfortable.

“That’s my boy! Facing problems head-on instead of hiding from them!”

I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re one to talk. And I’m not your boy.”

The smirk disappeared from his face. My mother was shocked into silence.

“Just who do you think you are to talk to your father that way?” he asked, turning himself towards me. My mother just stood there with her mouth agape.

“I’m - I’m a girl, Dad. And you’re a huge jerk! I barely know you and you’ve been gone for five years! Why are you even here? To ruin my birthday?”

His face became sad, in an acted out sort of way, like he was only pretending to have emotions. “I came here to see you on your thirteenth birthday because this is supposed to be the day you become a man. That’s my right as a father, isn’t it?!?” He paused, as if to catch the manly tears in his eyes that weren’t really there. “But I can see that day isn’t here yet.”

Mom had unlocked the front door while he was distracted, and she waved me inside. I ran in and we shut and locked it behind us. He started screaming and banging on the door.

“You can’t keep my son from me, Cheryl! I have rights!”

The whole neighborhood must’ve heard him. My mother picked up the phone to call the police, but he must have overheard the conversation. He was gone before they arrived. Apparently, though my mom didn’t want to worry me, she had been trying to get a restraining order put in place ever since she heard he was back in town. This behavior must have been why.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, honey. I didn’t want this to happen; I told him to stay away. But you were very brave. Very. I want you to get some rest tonight. You have a big day tomorrow and he will have no part of it.”

~

We stayed in for breakfast the next morning, regularly glancing out the windows. I think we were both on edge from what happened the night before.

“I thought it would be nice if we went and got mani-pedis, but…” she glanced out the window again, out of habit. “Maybe we should just focus on getting you dressed up for tonight. I have nail polish here. Do you want to pick a color?”

She broke out her box of polish - there were so many colors - purples and blues and greens and turquoise, black, gray, white, in sparkly and glossy and matte. I looked all across the spectrum of them, excited, but mom was quick to warn me that only so many of these colors would go with my pink dress. She gave me the choice of two options: red or pink.

“Why can’t I wear the violet or the turquoise?”

“Because, Kris, those colors don’t go with hot pink. I told you, I know my stuff. Don’t question me on girl things, I’ve been at this for a long time.”

I chose pink.

One of the perks of a wig is that you can style it without having to sit there for however long to do it. So why was I sitting there in a kitchen chair waiting for my nails to dry while my mom braided the wig on my head?

“It’s mother-daughter bonding, honey. This is a rite of passage. My little girl is growing up!”

“Oh yeah,” I recalled. “Did I tell you I’m going to the dance with Kylie?”

“I don’t think so. She’s such a sweet girl. You’re just going as friends, right?”

Suddenly I got the feeling there was a right answer and a wrong answer to that question.

“Uh, actually, we’re -” my voice cracked again.

“Oh, honey! You… really are growing up. Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll start work on getting you to a doctor for a puberty blocker this week. What were you saying?”

“I… was just saying that, uh… yeah. We’re just going as friends.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your birthday present!” She brought out a little box, wrapped in pink ribbon. I opened it up, and there it was - a My First Makeup Set. “I think at thirteen, you’re old enough for makeup! I’m going to make you gorgeous, hun!”

~

We pulled up at the school at about a quarter to seven, just a little early for the dance. My mom was giddy with excitement.

“You’re so pretty, Kris! Just look at yourself!”

She pulled down the passenger side visor, and through the little narrow patch of mirror I could see bits and pieces of myself at a time. Deep red eyeshadow, blush on my cheeks, pink lipstick with shiny gloss. But mostly, I just felt the foundation caked into my pores. Not a single freckle was visible anymore. My face was as smooth as that of a mannequin.

I stepped out onto the pavement, wobbling on my two-inch heels. This was my first time wearing these, and I was already getting blisters. Just as well, my blood would match their red color. Everything about my look was red or pink except the black ribbons on the dress. It was fine, but… kind of exhausting. I hadn’t exactly slept well the night before, after all the conflict. I wasn’t really used to sleeping in my old bed anymore.

I limped into the building after waving goodbye to my mother. I was going to rest in my dorm room for a few minutes, but when I walked in, I saw Britt crying on her bed.

“Hey,” I said sheepishly. “Should I not be here right now?”

“No, please,” Britt said. “Don’t go.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t know how any boy could love me. I’m hideous!” She buried her face into her pillow, lining right up with the faceprint she’d already left before.

“You’re not hideous, Britt. You’re really pretty. But you are probably going to run out of makeup if you keep rubbing your face on your pillow.”

She gave a pained, tearful chuckle before going back into anguish mode. “If I’m pretty, then why’d he…” She started sobbing again, as if she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

“What happened, Britt?”

“I met a boy. He’s… fourteen, I think. I wanted a date to the dance. He wanted to… he wanted…”

There were too many tears coming out for her to talk. I handed her a tissue.

“I can’t give them what they want, Kris! They’re never going to love a girl like me.”

Looking at her, I couldn’t believe she was saying that. She had a cute little nose, green eyes, and flowing dirty blonde hair. Her emerald-colored dress sparkled in the dim light of the sunset coming through the window. What could she not have that a boy would want?

Oh.

“Did he touch you?!?” I blurted out.

Britt cried even harder.

“What was his name? We can get that creep banned from the campus or something!”

“No!” she shouted at me. “He didn’t do anything wrong! I’m the creep!” She sat up and continued, now barely able to speak without choking on every other word. “He wanted to do stuff with me, and I…” She looked down. “I told him.”

“You told him?”

“That I’m different from most girls. That I don’t have the same… ‘down there’. He got mad and stormed out.”

I really felt bad for her. But I wasn’t sure what I could do to help.

“Maybe, someday you’ll find a boy who doesn’t mind that? Or… likes it, even?”

“No, I won’t. I’m going to be miserable and alone until I can get my surgery. But then - then they’ll be all over me! Every boy will want me! They’ll throw themselves at me, and I’ll say, ‘I’m sorry, lowly peasants, you should have tried when you still had a chance.’” She did a performative scoff at the imaginary thrall beneath her.

“See, you’re not ugly, Britt. They wouldn’t do that for an ugly girl, even one with the parts they like!”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“And you don’t need him! Boys are jerks! You can just hang out with me and Kylie at the dance.”

“Thank you, Kris. You’re the best friend a girl could have.”

We hugged. Soon after, Kylie arrived. She was in a pastel yellow dress with sunflowers on it and brown Mary Jane flats. Her hair was freshly washed, though not otherwise styled, and the only makeup I could see on her was a light tinted lip gloss.

“So…” she asked as she walked in. “Am I underdressed or are you two overdressed?”

~

We arrived at the dance a few minutes after it started. I already regretted not changing my shoes, but I knew there would be photos and I didn’t want to disappoint my mom. I don’t know if she ever meant to suggest it, but I felt like if I wasn’t “girl” enough, she wouldn’t get me the puberty blocker. I couldn’t stand the thought of my voice getting deeper, and especially not whatever other horrors I might have to look forward to. It wasn’t worth the risk.

There were a handful of boys walking around. Some in Hawaiian shirts and Khakis, some in suits which were all either too small or too large. One wore a tuxedo T-shirt. One of them, who I think was wearing golf clothes, winked at me from across the room. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

My feet were so sore from the heels that I couldn’t stand for long, let alone dance - but I suppose I looked pretty. The three of us sat in the corner near the refreshments table.

“I really like your dress, Kris.” Kylie said. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Thank you. I actually got it for Christmas, and… this is kinda embarrassing, but I fainted when I opened the box.”

“You… liked it that much?”

“No, I just… I thought I was a boy then. I didn’t want anyone to know I was different, but my whole family found out and they got this for me. It’s really special, since it’s the first dress I ever wore. The first dress I ever had. But I never had a good reason to wear it until now.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Thanks. I like your dress too.”

“Thank you. I got mine on the sale rack at Fauna.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s not as meaningful as yours.”

“How did your parents find out?”

“They didn’t ‘find out,’ I told them. I was, like, seven - I think? And I went into their bedroom late into the night, after I had a nightmare, and I woke up my mom and said, ‘I wanna be a girl.’”

“What was the nightmare about?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I think it had something to do with urinals.”

“Ew, what?” said Britt, just coming back from a daydream.

Kylie ignored the question. “How did you come out to your parents, Britt?”

“Oh, that’s what you were talking about.” She looked up to remember, like she hadn’t thought about it in a long time. “I don’t know if I did. I was always just, like, suuuuper obsessed with boy bands and I wouldn’t stop stealing my sister’s clothes. When I was five or six they asked me if I wanted them to call me by a different name and I came up with ‘Britt’ on the spot. They really just went with it.”

“Lucky.” Kylie said, jealously.

“What?”

“You never had to know what it was like to be expected to be a boy all the time. It sucked. They made me play softball… ugh.”

“I like softball. I played it.”

“You did?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Britt continued. “My parents let me do what I want. Boy things, girl things, whatever. There were lots of girls on the softball team. I’m a girly girl, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play sports. I do know how to wear pants, Kris.”

“Whatever you want…” I said, mostly to myself. “That sounds nice.”

~

I’m in an inky black space. A void. A place of pure nothingness. I can’t move my arms; I feel like I’m tied up in something. Something… smooth? Soft? I hear faint rustling off in the distance, echoing through the infinity.

Suddenly, a blinding light comes from above. I squint my eyes and after adjusting, I can see what’s around me. It’s an ocean of pink as far as the eye can see, glistening in the light. There are corners, far off in the distance. Am I in a room? No.

I look up and see my face staring back at me, frightened by the sight. I catch a glimpse of a Christmas tree above and I realize where I am. It’s the living room, before all this started, and I’m tied up in this box, on this dress, restrained tightly by a pink bow.

My gigantic past self reaches into the box and pulls out the dress, and I, still attached, come with it. I am displayed unceremoniously to the room and I can see the towering faces off in the distance, horrified by the sight of the little teeny tiny girl struggling to get out of her restraints. All the faces, all except one. My mother is smiling.

I awoke with a start, in a cold sweat. I was disoriented. Why are my sheets so cold and wet? Where am I? Who am I?

To answer the first, it was because of the sweat. To answer the second, I was in my bedroom at home, right next to my stuffed shark. To answer the third… I was the person prescribed the puberty blocker implant in my left arm. That was about all I knew for sure.

I ran my finger over the little lump where it was inserted. It didn’t hurt anymore, but it was a little distracting. At least my voice wasn’t getting deeper.

I looked at my alarm clock. Three AM. Ugh. I jostled my bedding in an attempt to evaporate the sweat, then gave up and went back to sleep anyway.

The following morning, I put on my wig and went downstairs in my nightgown. Mom was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast: French toast with sliced strawberries.

“Morning,” I said, groggily.

“Ah, sleeping beauty is finally awake. I guess sleeping in is one way to spend your summer.”

“I actually didn’t get very much sleep last night,” I said, slumping into a seat at the kitchen table.

“Oh, honey, no, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Well I hope you aren’t too exhausted. Today we need to talk about school, young lady. It’s almost enrollment time. So the big question of the day is…” She placed a plate in front of me. “Do you want to stay living as a girl?”

I looked down at the plate. The strawberries were arranged into heart shapes. Cute. I touched the lump on my arm and thought of Kylie and Britt.

“I get to keep going to Dickinson, right?”

“If being a girl is what you want, then yes.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess. My wig is getting really itchy. Can I stop wearing it?”

She got a serious look on her face. “Show me what you’ve got.”

I pulled the wig off to reveal my five or six inches of real hair. I ran my fingers through it a couple times to make it less messy.

“Hmmm.” She looked at my head from a few angles. “No, I think you’d better keep the wig for now. This length isn’t quite coming off as ‘girl.’ I wouldn’t want anyone to make fun of you.”

I defeatedly plopped the wig back onto my head and started eating my french toast. I used the raspberry syrup.

~

I didn’t see much of Kylie or Britt over the summer. I was distant living at home, both physically and emotionally, and we just hadn’t kept in touch. I spent most of my time working a summer job at Steam-Hot Pretzels, and all my free time sleeping. Mom still wouldn’t let me play videogames, and it was so difficult to arrange a meet-up between my friends and me, so what else was there to do?

I kept having these dreams about the dress. What was my brain trying to tell me? My mom said maybe I was so tired because of the puberty blocker, and that I should get onto estrogen right away. I started the regimen, and it cleared my mental fog for sure, but I still couldn’t sleep as well as I would have liked. So it was a relief to go back to school.

I thought things could go back to the way they were, but there was some kind of awkwardness between the three of us. Kylie wasn’t her usual upbeat self, and Britt kept chasing after older boys who didn’t want anything to do with her. I wasn’t the same either, I guess. I never took off my wig anymore. Swore off the jeans and T-shirts for dresses, blouses, and skirts. I did my makeup every morning. This was how to be a girl, right?

And so the year went by. Kylie and I just didn’t click like before. If we ever were “going out,” I put an end to it by never reciprocating her affection. Every moment I found myself thinking of her that way, my mother’s voice would play out in my head. “You’re just friends, right?” I didn’t even bother to go to any dances anymore. What was the point? It was just another place to put up a facade. And it was either this, or letting masculine puberty destroy my will to live - what there was left of it, anyway.

More time passed, not worth noticing. I met a guy named Charley, and he seemed nice enough. My mom really liked him. He asked me out, so we started dating. I didn’t want to put him through dealing with what I had… going on, down there. So I got GRS. It was just the thing to do. So were breast implants. By age 25, I was a model of beauty, the ideal woman. And nothing else.

Well, not nothing - I was a wife, I suppose. For a while, there. But he got sick of me like everyone else. I was alone for years, just keeping my head down, firmly pressed into my desk at work, the career woman everyone respected so, but no one liked me. I didn’t like me. It wasn’t until my mom passed away that I had a mid-life crisis of sorts, or a nervous breakdown depending on your perspective. I cut my hair into a messy bob, got my implants removed, and gave away all my dresses and skirts. I had so many regrets, but I finally started to feel like myself again. The nightmares, after decades, finally stopped.

I don’t know what I am. Man? Woman? Both? Neither? I sometimes think back to that first time I met Celia. 'A perfect medium'... maybe she was trying to tell me something from the start. I'd go thank her, but she's long gone now. The mall always changes, but some things never do. You know what set up shop in her old store? Pretzels 'n' Things.

It felt like someone else was always making my choices for me. I never knew all my options - it was boy or girl, videogames or skirts, my father or my mother. No one ever told me I didn't have to give up a part of myself to get another. Being a girl turned out to be a prison. I wonder what could have been, what I could have done differently. Could I have changed anything?

~ Fin

It’s so sad that Kris and Kylie didn’t become a couple. They were so cute together. And it was hard seeing Kris take so long to figure themself out. Luckily, it looks like things are going to work out in the end, but… would you like to try something else?

The Option You Weren’t Told About

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