New Life

Chapter 1:







By the time I turned sixteen I was resolved to do anything in this world that would make me a proper young woman. That New Year many resolutions had been made. I couldn’t live in this living hell any longer, while leading a double life. I had to start living on my own. And, yes, my mother had to know. For a long time I have suspected that she had known about my gender identity, about her stolen negligee, panties, silken gowns she had thought to be lost.



It was on the eve of my sixteenth birthday when I decided to tell my mother. My senses recall the smell of backing sweets and pastry every time I remember the long descent down the stairs to the kitchen and well prepared words I was about to tell her. She was standing next to stove, deciding if the cake had been baked when I appeared. Mrs Jankov, our cook was seated at the table making pies and other delicacies for tomorrow’s celebration, but it was my mother’s self-appointed task to make the birthday cake for each of her four children.



In her late thirties she still looked very much fresh and beautiful as she did ten years ago. Black hair framed perfectly oval face, cascading down her shoulders reaching middle of her back in wild rivulets of shiny curls, long dark eyelashes batted across large green eyes and perfect lips stretched in an intimate smile. She seemed happy and in peace. A tear moistened my cheek and I quickly wiped it off. I was the monster who would ruin it forever. I sighed and closed me eyes for a second.



“Hi Daniel.” Mrs Jankov spotted me leaning on the door frame. I smiled politely.



“Hi sweetheart.” She smiled at me and my heart contracted. For a moment I wished for it to stop. It would be better to die.



“Mom, can we talk, please.” My voice cracked under the onslaught of unshed tears. I gave my best to sound nonchalant and even managed a small, crooked smile. Her emerald gaze pierced my very soul and I knew there was no point in pretending anymore.



“Sure. Give me a second.” She dried her delicate long-fingered hands. As she exited the kitchen she moved towards the living room.



“Somewhere more private”. I pleaded. Her eyes stopped on me once more pondering the importance of the situation and nodding once changed direction upstairs to my room. My leaded legs followed her and when she sat on my bed they gave way under me making me fell next to her. For a minute neither of us spoke.



“What is the problem, Daniel?” She spoke finally. I closed my eyes and held breath for a moment too long before letting it whiz through my clenched teeth. I was the problem.



“I don’t know how to tell you…I don’t know where to start…”

Her delicate eyebrow rose questioningly, not helping at all.



“Mom, you know, about me…Have you ever wondered why I never bring a girlfriend?”



“Because you never had one.” Her answer was ready.



“Well…I…That’s because I don’t like girls…not in that way.” There it was. I said it. She must have picked on it, because her eyes were fixed on me as on a potential prey.



“So, you are gay, Daniel.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He voice was even and held no emotions as she had known this all along. Before I could ask her anything further she continued.



“I’ve suspected it…for a long time. You never had friends, male friends, never played group sport even just for fun, never brought girls home...However, I thought you were too young, shy, still too innocent to think of girls in that way. I concluded you were gay when these posters started to appear on the walls.” She gestured to the one of a famous pop singer which hung above my bed and I blushed fiercely. She was calm, way too calm.



“Mom…I am not gay…I am transsexual.” For a moment she didn’t move, eyes glued to the starlit sky. I couldn’t read her reaction. Was she shocked, angry? Did she know what it meant? After God knows how long she turned her face slowly towards me, tears running down her cheeks, drowning her beauty yet unable to ruin it. Half opened lips trembled when she whispered:



“Your father was right.” And than she screamed:”God, how right he was! Why do you have to be this way…this…? She screamed and I was terrified my siblings would wake up.



“Please, mom, calm down…I didn’t choose to be this way…You…You know what it means?”



“I damn well know what it means! Oh, Jesus, why is this happening to me? Why punish me?!” Here she was asking the Heavens why she had been punished while I thought it was me, an abomination who had been punished. Then, she fell silent for what seemed hours, but was in fact couple of minutes. She seemed calm when she spoke again.



“Your father had suspected it. But, are you sure? Could it be a phase? When did you start feeling that way?” she reached for my hands and I took hers as a drowning man would.



“I have know it since forever…I know father knew it or at least suspected it.”



“How?”



“You remember when I asked for his books. Well, in those boxes I found dozens of medical magazines with the topic on transsexuals. And, when I think back, there were signs. He bought me purple ribbon I had wanted so badly…and so many other toys which wouldn’t be a girl’s choice specifically. He never bought me gun or fake bow with arrows, or Indian costume...”



She only nodded, unable to say anything. I pitied her even more than I did myself for the worst family nightmare was coming true. My confession was tearing her heart apart, yet I couldn’t stay silent; it has been poisoning my heart for so long, since I could remember. There was nothing to be done; my mother could accept it or not, but she had to live with that as I had to and after all it would be only natural because I was part of her.



“It will be a hard way in front of you.”, she whispered and hugged me at first tentatively and than strongly, as to convince herself that it was still her child, no matter of its gender. It seemed to me that had accepted it better than I had hoped for. Maybe it was due to my father’s previous suspicions, maybe due to her mild character, I didn’t want to know.



“I know Mom, but it cannot be any other way.”



“Marko must not know.” She spoke under the voice as being afraid that my stepfather could overhear us.



“I know that much”, I added sarcastically. “Perhaps, I should start living on my own.” Her eyes begged me to reconsider my decision, but my mind had already been made. “It’s necessary if I want to start taking hormones and I want it as soon as possible. Mom, I really can’t live like this anymore.”



“Can’t you wait at least until you finish high school?”



“I have two more years to go! This isn’t a thing where time favours you, on contrary. I don’t want to waste time.” That was my final decision and she read it from my eyes. I was damn stubborn when I wanted to be and there was nothing on this planet that could’ve stopped me once I had made my mind; it was my dad’s temperament I inherited.



“Jesus, Daniel, you cannot wear skirts and dresses to school! You won’t survive a second. And I honestly doubt that any of your teachers let alone classmates will understand.”



“Of course not, Mom. It will take time to…to change my body. I’m sure it won’t be that visible. Mom, can’t you understand how much I had already compromised, how much I had missed. I will be careful, but neither your fear nor anything will make me change my mind. And if I have to die, I’d rather die as a beautiful girl than a boy!” She looked at me with worry filled eyes, trying to say something but failing. There wasn’t much to tell further. Determined as I might have been, I wasn’t stupid to think that someone with gender dysphoria would be readily accepted in a nationalistic, traditional, post-communist society. It might be over with a totalitarian regime, but even the most democratic and liberal society was not ready for people like me. I highly doubted that it will ever be. The huge majority didn’t even know we existed.



And that was about it. Never again she talked about my school, or how hard it would be for me, if not impossible. I suppose she understood that I had come to terms with everything and suspecting my identity since I’d been child it came less of a shock.



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My birthday passed as uneventfully as I had hoped. Special meal and sweets were made, but the whole event was kept totally private, only my mother and siblings were present. Marko excused himself with a business lie just after he had stuffed the last piece of cake in his mouth. He was the same with his children, never giving them much attention or love. I was actually relived to see his back; dislike was mutual.



It was late in the evening when I kissed my little sisters goodnight and retired. There, in my room I prepared my own special present. I would probably turn into prune one day, but I still love long warm baths and have loved them since I was a baby. Now, as a teenage girl the smell of vanilla and honey made my fantasies go wild as warm water surrounded me. Perhaps, the only thing better than taking the bath alone would be taking it with someone special. After almost an hour of relaxation in scented water and just before soft music from radio lulled me into sleep I pulled myself out of the heaven. Putting on bathrobe and comfy slippers I padded towards the secret place where my treasure resided-make up.



Most of the time I hated watching myself in the mirror for it never showed me what I desired. Light violet eye shadow flattered my dark eyes and fair complexion, black eyeliner made my eyes look darker than possible and mascara gave them that sultry look. That amateur try seemed to be good enough, so I passed on to the next stage.



In the wardrobe, stashed among coats and jackets was safely hidden my other treasure-mother’s cocktail little black dress I longed to try on for so long and matching stilettos. Once I was done, I couldn’t believe my eyes; nothing I’ve done so far, didn’t match this success. I was sure I could pass as a girl, a pretty, rich, sophisticated young woman. That was the message the mirror was sending me. At that time I didn’t want to see the curves missing; the moment was perfect. The material was so soft and I felt I had been born to have it on my skin. Moving around slowly like in an imaginative dance, I was impressed how four inch heels, fastened to my ankles with silken straps, fit me so flawlessly, making the legs longer and femininely firmer. Turning around in an improvised waltz, imagining myself securely locked in a strong embrace I felt powerful, like a mighty queen of the ancient times. And that was what I truly yearned to become: a strong, commanding, beautiful young woman, whom no one could resist.



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The next couple of months proved me how wrong I was to think that mother had accepted everything with ease. Small talks we usually had once a week ceased slowly and now she would communicate with me just when pressed to do so. Even then, anguish and overwhelming pain radiated from her sullen, dull eyes. Most of the time she would walk past me as I was a ghost and the feeling of being her nemesis would not let me. Seeing her play with my siblings, twins and a baby girl, smiling, radiating love and harmony filled me with bittersweet joy and frustrating regret, and forced me to realize what nuisance and disappointment I must have been. When sitting in the same room she looked at me with hopelessness, like wanting to encourage me, but not knowing how. Finally, I had to see that there was no help coming from her, not because she lacked the will, but because she lacked ability; yet I took every sign of comfort, every hug and touch that came from her with greedy need born out of desperation for approval.



As the school year ended so my resignation grew stronger-there was no point in living with her under the same roof, while bringing her such pain unintentionally. I will move out and let her live her life; after all she had three more children to take care of, young children who needed her more than I. In that way I will be able to start living as I always wanted to and she won’t cease loving me.



An element I didn’t take in consideration was Marko and his innate brutality towards everyone and everything unnatural, anything that was against the God and reason in his one-dimensional opinion. My forgetfulness will cost me lot and will cruelly hasten my escape.





TBC...