Gender Dysphoria: How it Feels to Live a Lie

Chapter IV

I sat on the edge of my couch one morning, looking down at the beautiful Brazilian adonis, as he lay stretched out on his side sleeping. He came over to Slim’s Diner last night to pick me up as usual then begged me for a sleepover. With light brown eyes as gorgeous as his were, practically pleading to me, how could I decline? We stayed up late last night watching DVDs, since all the tv was showing were those blasted infomercials. After only watching half of one movie, we both started to dose off. I smacked his leg as I got up, telling him to come to bed. He said he was, so I quickly got dressed in my nightclothes. Thinking I’d wait up for him, I crawled in bed but fell asleep instantly. I was more tired than I thought. So, the next morning, I find him still on the couch, basically passed out.

I leaned down and kissed his lightly fussed jawline. He just swallowed unconsciously. I kissed him again, this time closer to his lips, and ran my fingers through his shiny brunette hair. Carlos murmured something in his sleep. Rolling my eyes at his refusal to wake up, I grabbed his chin and turned his face quickly towards me, planting one on his soft lips. His eyes flew open suddenly and he wrapped an arm around my waist.

I pulled back, but I kept my closeness to him. “Finally. I thought I’d have to set a fire under your feet to wake you up.”

Carlos smiled. “Why not? You’ve already set fire to my loins.”

I laughed. “You may be mistaking that with morning wood.”

“Oh I don’t think so.” He grabbed the hand that wasn’t currently tangled in his hair and pressed it against his hardness. “Now, what do you think?”

I nodded slowly. “I think I may have been mistaken.” Carlos laughed as he tried to pull me back towards his lips. But I pushed away, sitting back up. “No. We can’t. Not now anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m all dressed up in my work clothes and I need you to take me to the diner.”

“Man, screw Slim. Let’s stay in today.”

I frowned at Carlos. “What’s up between you and Slim? Why don’t you like each other?” I asked, curious.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do.” I countered. “Tell me, please?”

Carlos looked at me for a minute then sighed in defeat. “Slim had a niece he took care of that I dated years ago. For some odd reason, he wasn’t crazy about me talking to her. But I didn’t pay him no mind then. To make a long story short, she was hanging out at my place one night, when he called yelling and fussing for her to get home right now. It was raining cats and dogs outside, so I tried to persuade her not to leave. She wouldn’t listen. She got into her car and left. Two hours later, one of her girlfriends call and tell me she was killed. It’s been said that because the rain was so unbearable outside, she couldn’t see and her car swerved into the opposite lane. She had a head-on collision. So now, Slim blames me for what happened and I blame him.”

My mouth slightly gaped open, I shook my head stunned. “I’m so sorry.”

Carlos cracked a smile. “Don’t be.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s all in the past now. I’ve got YOU.” He kissed me.

“I guess a truce between you and Slim is out of the question.”

“Definitely out of the question.” He checked his watch. “What time do you have to be at work? Ten?”

“Yep.”

Carlos got up and started to walk to my bathroom. “Alright. Let me just use the ‘john’ real quick and clean my face off.”

***

After my boyfriend dropped me off at the diner, I made my way inside the cramped building, tying my apron around my waist once I reached the counter. I grabbed a white hair net and stuffed my brown tresses into it then pulled out a stack of order slips, when Slim came out from the back kitchen. “Gwen, let me have a word with you for a minute.”

“Sure.” I walked over to him and we ‘pow-wowed’ behind the kitchen door. “What’s up?”

“Well, nothing actually. That’s the problem. Sales aren’t as good as they once were. With the way gas prices are becoming outrageous nowadays, people are eating at home more. With less customers coming in, less money rolls in. And when less money rolls in, there’s no way to pay the employees. And when things get to that point, I have to start making changes. Starting today, I’m going to have to cut back your hours, Gwen.”

I gasped. “My wh….how much of a cut are you talking?”

“Probably half.”

“What? Slim, come on, man I need this money.” I pleaded.

He held up his large hands in the air. “There’s nothing I can do, kiddo.”

Dropping my head, I sighed. “Shit.”

***

Carlos came and picked me up after my shift was over. I had to call him early and tell him I’d be done at 3 from on. Of course, once he found out about it, he was pissed. He started fussing and I had to calm him down.

If I wasn’t in a fix before, I’m was sure enough in a bind then. How the hell was I gonna save up enough money for my SRS with my work hours cut in half? How will I get by during the weeks?

Since I’ve been here, I’ve never called home asking for money. I don’t call when I want to get in touch with them anyway, I mostly mail them. But there I was, three weeks later, in my apartment dialing their number, about to ask for a favor.

*Ring. Ring. Ring*

“Hello?” A female voice called.

“Felicia?”

“Yes. Who is…..Junior?”

I laughed. “Yeah. Well, I go by Gwen now.”

“Oh my…..I didn’t even recognize your voice. Are you still in Las Vegas?”

“Yeah. Though I stay in a town 30 minutes away. How are you? How is college life?” Felicia attended the Rutgers University, which was only 20 minutes away, so she was able to stay at home.

“It’s good. Hard and trying at times, but good. In the end, becoming a gynecologist will make it all worth it.”

“Definitely. I miss you guys. It can lonely here without family.”

“I’m sure it can be. How ARE you doing there?”

I paused. “….Okay.”

I heard a grunt from my sister. “You know you were always a terrible liar. Ever since you were little. How are you really doing?”

I sighed. “Not too good. Due to a lack of customers, my job cut my hours in half. And I’m not getting enough money to pay for food, bills, and my meds. At this point, my efforts to save cash for my surgery has stalled and….”

“And you need cash.” Felicia finished.

“Yeah. Felicia, you know I’d never ask for this if I wasn’t in a fix.”

“You don’t need to explain anything. You’re still a part of this family. You deserve help too. Hold on, I’ll get Mama.” I heard the phone tap as she set the phone down. Faintly, I could still hear her voice. “Mama! Mama!........Eddie, have you seen Mama?......She went down the road? To do what?.....”

“What’s with all that yelling, gal?! I don’t see a fire!” it was father. Damn it.

“She has a phone call and I was trying to find her.”

“A phone call?” He grabbed the phone. “Hello?” he asked suspiciously.

I could never get used to his deep, baritone, intimidating voice. “H-hello.”

“Who is this?”

“Um…..ah….Gwen?” Why was I so scared? He couldn’t beat me over the phone. I don’t know. I halfway expected to see his forearm come through the phone receiver and slap me across my face.

“Gwen? Who the hell is…..”

“Father, it’s Georgie.” Felicia murmured in the background. Oh shit.

“Junior? Where are you?” I could hear the all-too familiar anger boiling in his voice. It took something Felicia or Eddie did that would piss father off. Me, I didn’t have to do anything. The way I looked and acted was enough for him to blow a top.

I couldn’t tell him where I was. If I did, he’d come down here and whip my ass sure enough. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me? Boy, if you don’t bring your ass back to this house, I’m going to find you. And you don’t want ME to have to go through the trouble of finding you. You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t want to come home, father.”

“Then you don’t ‘want’ nothing here then, do you?” the line went dead.

I slowly laid my phone back on it’s base and just sat there for a moment. My father TRULY hates me. This isn’t a choice. I can’t help what I am. I like dresses. I like cute little shirts and sandals. I like make-up. I like fixing my hair. I like getting my nails done. I like men….a lot. I like what I’m becoming. I was never cut out for being a man’s man, doing manual labor, having a wife, and providing for a family. And anybody that saw me for just a nanosecond before my transition would definitely agree with me. I mean, if I were to have had a wife, she could’ve easily kicked MY ass.

I’m guessing as soon as I starting expressing a personality, his resentment of me began. The most far back I can go –that I can remember- is when I was around five. We were all getting dressed for church that Sunday and Felicia had just finished helping me put on my dress shoes. I ran into the kitchen where Mama was already dressed, sitting in a chair, and I climbed into her lap. “Look at what I got on!” I referred to the new dark blue suit and bowtie Mama had bought me. Then, embarrassment wasn’t an emotion I carried yet. I didn’t feel out-of-place wearing a suit.

Mama faked surprise. “Oh wow! Don’t you look nice, Georgie!”

I nodded. “You think I look pretty?”

“Yes, love. You look very pretty.”

That’s when father walked in tying his tie. “Don’t tell him that shit.” Even on Sundays, when we’re two minutes away from heading to church, he still felt the need to curse.

“Don’t tell him what?”

“He’s pretty. Boys aren’t pretty.” He leaned down eye level with me and looked me square in the eyes. I have his almond eyes. “You hear me, Junior? Boys aren’t pretty. They are handsome. Understand?” I nodded ‘yes’, but I didn’t understand. I thought I looked cute and pretty when I dressed up. I felt ‘handsome’ didn’t suit me. Still don’t.

Another moment would be when I was seven and we were at my grandmother’s house for a family reunion. Our family tree is pretty big. Scattered throughout the U.S. but when a family gathering comes around, so do they. There’s tons of food, conversations, and games that take place during these reunions and that day was no different. By then, we all had finished eating and began our games. Potato-sack race was first. Since there were so many children running all over the place, they decided to split it into two races. The first race would be all the boys and the second would be all the girls.

“Okay! We need all the boys who want to be in the sack race, over here by the tree!” yelled my cousin, Mike. He was really great with kids and the family always got him to organize the children’s games.

Mama, who was currently sitting at the tables with the other mothers, feeding another bottle to my then one year old brother Eddie, called me. “Georgie honey, you wanna go play in the sack race with the other boys?!”

Me? I was laid out on a large blanket with four of my female cousins, coloring in a coloring book. “No!” I called back, still coloring.

“Alright!”

Then I heard the voice. “Junior!” I flinched, pausing from coloring the rose petal with a red crayon.

“Yes?!”

“Put that mess down and get over there with the other boys!”

I turned around and saw my father sitting in a folding chair in the distance with the other fathers, uncles, brother-in-laws, etc. He had a beer bottle in his hand. Never a good sign. “But I don’t want to be in the sack race!”

“Why not?! Something wrong with your legs?!”

“No!”

“Then get over there!!” he yelled a bit more stronger than needed, considering our distance. He was getting mad.

“I don’t want to!” I pleaded. I should’ve never said that. Father put down his beer bottle and walked to where I was. By then, other family members had gotten quiet. I couldn’t look at him.

Looking down at me, he said in a dangerously low voice. “Get over there, Junior.” When he saw I made no move to speak or move, he snapped. He grabbed me by my arm and literally pulled me towards the palm tree.

“No! No! I don’t want to play!” I yelled, tears coming in my eyes.

Mama saw the display and yelled, “George, let him go! He doesn’t want to play!”

“Hush, Leigh! The boy is gonna play! He doesn’t need to be over there with those girls ‘coloring’!”

“George!’

“I said ‘no’, woman!”

After fighting with me, father finally got me to the palm tree with the other boys and Mike. I was crying full force by then. Father squatted down eyelevel with me and held me tight by my upper arms. “Hush up all that crying, boy. Be a man.” Easy for him to say. “Wipe your face and go get a potato sack……you’re playing.” Sniffing, I wiped my face as I walked to the pile of sacks and picked one out.

Father stood back out of the way and watched as Mike got us all lined up at the starting line. When we were ready, he blew a whistle for us to go. All the boys started jumping except me. After the show me and father gave everybody, I was too humiliated to hop around in a sack.

“Junior, go! You’re gonna lose, son!” father yelled. I ducked my head down. I heard him sigh. Grabbing me by my arm again, he grabbed the sack with his other hand. “Just get out the sack.” He said, disappointed.

I’m just a big pile of disappointment to him. He probably thinks, “Ten million sperm, and HE was the fastest?”. When I looked at him, I never saw a moment of pride or love for me. I saw shame and displeasure. I thought I wasn’t just doing myself but him a favor too by leaving home. He doesn’t have to stress over me all the time.

If I ever end up with children in the future, I pray everyday that I never act that way.