Have I said how much I love Mom and Pastor Porter lately? There is no way I can say it enough. They have taken a relative stranger into their lives, and home. Most especially they make me feel welcome. They never seem to regret the decision because they took me into their hearts first. I feel closer to them that I have ever felt with any other human beings.
Sitting here, thinking about all of their love and care, everything they have done to help me, my eyes tear up and I get a huge lump in my throat.
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“A better question, young lady, might be what are you doing in my son’s apartment?”
With my mouth gaping wide, my brain seemed frozen, only able to focus on the minutia of the cataclysm about to unfold. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t recognize me. Apparently he didn’t realize I was Sam.
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The exercise in creating a back story for ‘Samantha’ was a real stretch for her creative abilities. Most things she grew up with could be tweaked to a girl’s perspective, but some things just couldn’t. Writing birthday parties she wore a dress to instead of pants and t-shirt she had been in was an interesting exercise in fantasy.
The journal of Samantha’s life became something of an obsession. She found herself thinking about scenes from her life as a girl, skinned knees, climbing through drainage pipes as though they were a super-secret tunnel with friends, and all the other normal activities of a child. The thoughts constantly revolved in her mind, no matter where she was or what she was doing. She kept finding her mind drifting to real memories and more and more found it easy to see the same scene as a girl. She even invented tea parties and dance classes that she never attended.
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Just how gullible were most people? I had been coming to class as a boy nearly my entire freshman year, but when I decided to start wearing female clothes, and apparently everyone thought I was a grunge-babe who decided to start dressing nicer.
I mean, I hadn’t told anyone that I was not a boy, and I hadn’t lied about being a girl either. Everyone assumed that they knew what was going on and invariably the verdict was that I was female. It made me wonder about a lot of things.
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Samantha had a routine now. She would get up in the morning, put on light makeup, do her general grooming and get dressed in her he-self’s clothes for school. Sometimes she would substitute some of the girl’s jeans for the boy’s stuff figuring that no one would notice.
After class she would run errands, sometimes to the grocery store, sometimes to see if there were any insane deals at the Salvation Army Store or at Goodwill. She would occasionally come back with a dress, a skirt or a blouse. It depended really what she had the money for. She wouldn’t spend over $2.00 for the outfit, simply because she couldn’t spare the money from her account.
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I don’t know how many people come home with a brand new wardrobe after only a few hours of being out, but I ran into a problem that was new for me. I ran out of space in my single tiny closet.
I now had two full wardrobes to deal with, my Sam self’s clothes and now Samantha’s wardrobe. Integrating them was going to be interesting. I still didn’t know if I wanted to attend school as Sam or Samantha, and that was a question that needed to be answered soon.
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Samantha’s Story part 10
