Hope Lives Again?                     by: Anne O’Nonymous

 

Part 1: On the way.

Carl Parker looked over at his mother: her light auburn hair falling to her shoulders and her brown eyes wet from crying. She been through a lot lately. A real estate scam took over thirty thousand dollars from her, and she was left with nothing! The dream of starting her own business was now gone! Their home had to be sold to repay debts; they had nowhere to live and no job--just their van, and clothes in four suitcases.

"It can’t get any worse than this," Carl thought, then asked, "Mom, are you OK?"

Susan, Carl’s mother, thought about what had happened: a land deal that was supposed to net her enough to pay off all her debts, and a romance with a "nice guy"--both gone sour! He waltzed off with the money and another woman, and a big corporation owned the land she thought she purchased! What a sucker she was! Over the last ten days, she cried more than ever, wondering how she would be able to raise, feed, clothe, and house Carl! She had let him down, and felt miserable!

"Oh, I’m sorry, Carl, honey," Susan said, "what was it you said?"

"Are you OK, mom," Carl repeated, "Please don’t cry, I’m sure things will get better; besides, if you cry, you can’t see the road. I don’t want to be in an accident!"

"OK, sweetie," Susan replied with a slight smile, thinking maybe a fatal "accident" would be the best thing that could happen.

During their time on the road, they would sleep at rest stops when they could, then drive a few more miles. Food was a bite here and there. After more miles of driving on the interstate, they pulled into a rest stop, where Susan decided to look at the letter again:

Dear Ms. Parker: Thank you for your inquiry regarding the opening in my agency. I have a need for someone with multiple office skills, and you do seem to possess the skills I seek.

The work is mainly billing and accounting in offices, stores and other client companies in this area, with the occasional work in stores doing inventory.

In looking over your resume and references, I believe you may be the ideal candidate for this position and if you will give me a phone call, I will be most happy to personally answer any questions you may have.

I look forward to hearing from you and hope to welcome you onboard as a new citizen of Hope.

Wilma V. Andersen, Pres. Carter Services, Inc. (555-706-1234, -1235)

From the phone call, it was just a matter of getting directions, then packing what little they had in the van and taking off for a new town. Susan was surprised at the number of questions Wilma asked. Some of them seemed to have nothing to do with the job. One in particular was, "Can you get along with people that may be somewhat out of the mainstream of society?" and her first thought was, "Is this a town with a lot of weirdoes?" Several thoughts occurred to her: "Carl, will he like it? Are there kids his age there? He just doesn’t deserve to have this happen to him, he’s a good kid!"

"Hey, mom! Want some water? You look kinda dry!" Carl asked, with a worried expression, as he handed her a canteen filled at a previous stop. He tried to look out for her! Ever since his pop died five years ago, he was the man of the house and he took on the responsibility to look after mom. When she went into that investment scheme, he tried to warn her but she was just too headstrong. He knew she was doing it for him. She always thought of him first, never herself! God, he would do almost anything to make her happy!

"Sure," Susan said, taking the offered canteen. The water was warm, but that didn’t matter! It was refreshing anyway. While drinking, she re-checked the directions she wrote on the back of an envelope.

"According to this, we need to get off at exit 56, go east 65 miles to a crossroad. From there we turn left, north, go ten miles to a sign saying "John’s Tractor Service," and that’s where we turn right, go four miles to a two-lane blacktop marked county 593, turn left and it’s about three miles to the town! Oh, I do hope you like it!"

"Mom, if you’re there, I’m sure I’ll like it!" Carl replied enthusiastically.

One thing about Susan and Carl was a closeness that is rare in a mother-son relationship. Sure, Susan would love to have a daughter, but that was out of the question. At 32, it was her feeling that she was over-the-hill as far as love was concerned. The last four men she dated were just a roll-in-the-bed type, and they didn’t get any from her.

"Mom, Exit 56 ahead," Carl said, "and if I’m not wrong, we should be there in another two hours."

"About time for dinner," Susan stated, as she made the turn off the interstate. It was down a ramp, turn right at a traffic light, onto a three-lane road. As they drove, each was involved in their own thoughts.

Carl wondered about the schools, kids, and possible bullies. He could protect himself, but fighting seemed to bring out a meanness in him that he deplored! At his last school, he beat up a bully who was picking on a defenseless little girl, then spent two hours crying because of how much he hurt the boy! His life seemed odd: he was good at playing baseball, but saw no point to it; cooked and was a better housekeeper most wives; preferred books and solitude to horsing around with the guys; and, felt so close to his mother that it bordered on incest. This town had better be all mom hopes for!

Susan drove slower than usual. Her thoughts were ranging from "how far is it to that road" and "I hope this is a nice friendly town" to "I want this job to work out, I’ve come too far to turn back." She glanced at Carl and gave him a little smile. He was her life, more than a son but less than a lover!

Farms passed by along with two small towns, a Dairy Queen, a feed lot filled with animals waiting to end their days, and more farms, indicating the rural nature of the area. Finally, the Crossroads! After waiting for three trucks delivering more unfortunate livestock to the feed lot, it was a left turn and, at a little more than ten miles, the "Tractor Service" building and sign was in view.

There was a right turn, and a "We’re on the home stretch now" from Susan. Carl started to count the miles, then a thought was blurted out, "Mom, where are we going to stay? We don’t have more than fifty dollars!"

"I’m sorry, honey. I have more money in a suitcase, so we can stay in a motel if necessary," Susan replied. In one of the bags, she had stashed some twenties and three fifties for emergencies.

The four miles quickly passed, and a two-lane blacktop road, with a sign proclaiming it to be "County 593," intersected theirs. After a left turn and a few minutes of driving, a second sign appeared: HOPE, 3 miles, Pop. 25,000.

Just after the sign, Susan pulled off the road to read the rest of her instructions. "OK, Carl. We got this far. Now let’s see what’s next. We’re to stop at a Gretzler Real Estate office," Susan said with a pensive expression, "and ask for Helen. Hmmm, I wonder why?"

"That sounds kinda strange, mom. Does this Wilma own this office?" Carl asked.

"Well, only one way to find out," Susan said as she put the car in gear and started back on the blacktop towards Hope.

In a short time, the two lanes widened out to three and a town appeared. It was a typical small town, and Carl was the first to notice that there were no fast food places.

"Hey, mom. No McDonald’s, no Wendy’s. Doesn’t that seem odd?"

Susan also thought it unusual, and replied, "In this day and age, that does seem strange. You are now entering the twilight zone! Seriously, would you miss them?"

"Not really!" Carl replied, as he spied a bookstore and made a mental note. There were other things that seemed odd. A few of the females he saw didn’t seem right--but he just could not tell how. "Just the effects of a long drive," he thought.

Seeing a police car, Susan pulled over close and said to the officer, "Excuse me, sir, but would you please direct me to Gretzler Real Estate."

The officer smiled and replied, "Just follow me." He maneuvered his car in front, let out a blast from his siren and was off. Susan followed the car down the street, around the corner, down a block, and finally the officer pulled up and signaled.

Susan pulled up to the curb, and the officer got out of his vehicle, came back and said, "First fifteen minutes are free, then a quarter per half-hour after. Since you’re a visitor, I’ll take care of the meter!" She watched as the officer went and put three quarters in the meter.

"Wow, I’ve never seen that happen!" Susan said in amazement. "Well, come on, Carl."

They entered the building where they were greeted by a pretty girl of about eighteen who said, "How may I be of service to you?" Her smile indicated this was not just some trite phrase she repeated to all the customers.

"My name is Susan Parker, and this is my son, Carl. I’m supposed to see a Helen. I’m sorry, I don’t know her last name."

"I’m very pleased the meet you Susan and Carl. My name is Pat," she said with a smile that seemed to be directed towards Carl, "She’s in the back. Please follow me."

A short stroll through to a large office cubicle, and Pat announced their presence with, "Helen, Ms. Parker and Carl are here. Please sit," the last part directed to Susan.

Susan sat in the available chair, wondering why she was here, as Carl took notice of Helen. She appeared to be Susan’s age, maybe a pound or three lighter, reddish-brown hair and very attractive.

"OK, my full name is Helen Gretzler. I will be taking you out to your home in a few minutes, but first I have a few questions," Helen said. They were personal, concerning their dates of birth, SS numbers, ages, and a few inquiries into Susan and Carl’s past.

When Helen heard where Susan would be working, she smiled and said, "Wilma’s good to work for. She does taxes for most of the town! Well, let’s get you settled, hmm."

In fifteen minutes, Susan’s van was following a Chevy into a nice housing area. After a few turns, the car and van stopped in front of a nice two-story brick house, with a garage on the right. Helen got out, walked back and handed a surprised Susan some keys with the words, "This is where you live. There is an extra room that will come in handy." With that, she returned to her car, entered, and drove away.

Susan got out, stood there with a sagging jaw, speechless. She was joined by Carl with a similar expression.

A woman and two kids, a boy and a girl, joined them. "Hi! My name’s Cass, Cass Franklin. The boy’s Nick, he’s fifteen, and the girl’s Julie, she’s seventeen. We’re your neighbors. If you’ll give the kids the keys, they’ll park your van in the driveway, and bring your things in. Oh, don’t worry about the house--it’s furnished. And you’re invited to our house for a spaghetti dinner!"

Susan managed to survive the onslaught of words, and say, "My name’s Susan Parker, and this is my son, Carl."

Cass steered Carl and Susan to the front door, opened it and gently pushed them in. On her first glimpse into her new home, Susan started to cry. It was just the way she wanted her home to be: Walnut furniture, including a rocking chair; Slipcovered sofa and chairs; hardwood floors; a bookcase under the stairs; TV, VCR and other small items that go to making a house a home!

"The rest of the house is like this," Cass said, as two kids entered carrying suitcases, which they promptly toted upstairs.

Susan watched as Carl’s face lit up.

"Mom. It’s just what you wanted," Carl exclaimed joyfully, then asked, "why?"

"OK," Cass said, "sit down and I’ll explain."

After all had settled on the furniture, Cass started, "Welcome to Hope. First, keep your van parked in the driveway. It helps keep the road open, and lets kids ride their bikes safely. Now, the house. You will pay a rent of $650. a month. That comes directly from your pay. There is a tax of $55. monthly. Also, from your pay. They are automatic deductions. The house is yours as long as you live and work in Hope."

"Cass, I don’t know if I have a job yet!’

"You got here, you got the job. Hope doesn’t take in everybody," Cass stated, and continued, "The townspeople are very tolerant, except for crime. There are some things here that may seem strange in other towns. All you need to do is accept people as they are, Susan, to live here in Hope. Oh, your fridge is filled. There’s Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer, my favorite. Gives me an excuse to visit."

Susan got up and gave Cass a big hug, then said, "You’re welcome anytime! No excuse needed!"

There were hugs all around, even Carl getting into the act.

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It was after an excellent dinner at the Franklins that Carl and Nick got together on the porch.

"Your mother is a great cook," Carl said, "I do a little cooking myself, so I do know."

"There’s a lot of kids here who cook," Nick said. "So, you’re starting at Buchanan this fall. Should tell you a few things, you interested?"

"Sure, anything you can!" Carl replied.

"OK. You will probably get Kinney. He takes newcomers through eight, ninth, and tenth grades. See, here homeroom teachers have the same students for three or more years, and in that way they get to know them better. Now with Kinney, watch yourself."

"Why?" Carl interrupted.

"Can’t tell you everything yet, but he doesn’t like jocks, jerks or jokers. So, I hope you aren’t a jock. Phys Ed is co-ed exercises and health classes. You’ll learn more later."

"You mean no football or baseball. Not that I care," Carl replied.

"All sports are outside of school. It’s just not emphasized. Oh, another thing, if you try to, em, try any force on anyone, forget it. It is not acceptable in Hope. Bullies and their families lose all privileges, and are usually shunned."

"Oh man, am I glad of that!" Carl said, "I tried to get away from them in other schools, but they were always there, challenging me. I got tired of it. Em, I . . . errr, look Nick, I know this is strange, but, emm, can I take sewing classes at Buchanan. I know it sounds weird but . . ."

"Miss Cheshire would be the one to see. When you lived in Hope for awhile, it’s not weird," said Nick with a grin.

"Look Nick, give it to me straight! Is there something here I shouldn’t know about, such as this town being an asylum of some sort?"

Nick stood there for a minute as if debating whether or not to disclose the big secret.

Carl saved him with, "I think we had better go in."

As they entered Nick’s house, they heard, "Where have you two been?"

"We were just on the porch discussing school, sports, the weather, fashions, hair styles. You know, the usual boy stuff!" Carl replied. Nick was trying to keep a straight face, but was losing the battle.

Susan, knowing Carl, smiled at the joke and said to Cass and her children, "We had a lovely time. I want to thank you for all you did to make us feel so welcome. I was very apprehensive about moving here, and now I’m glad I did!"

After Susan left for her house, Cass asked Nick, "You didn’t say anything to Carl about what you do, honey. He might get the wrong idea."

"No, mom. I think we should wait a few days, then show him. If he’s going to be my friend, he should accept me, no matter what."

Cass smiled at her son. "OK, the two of you! Baths and bed, you have two hours, and I love you both too much!" was her command, and two bodies fled, each wanting to be first in the bathroom, with a "I love you too much to measure" from both in return.

Meanwhile, in the new Parker residence, Susan managed to find clothes for tomorrow. It was just before her bath that Carl asked, "Mom, do you think you’ll be happy here?"

"Yes, honey. Why?" Susan inquired. She could sense that there was something bothering him.

"It just seems strange. Maybe it’s just a new situation and I don’t feel completely comfortable with it. You know, a new town, that sort of thing. Oh, mom, I asked Nick about taking sewing in school. You remember the last time and that note: ‘No boys are allowed to take classes specifically meant for girls!!’ He said I should see a Miss Cheshire. Would you let me take sewing?" Carl said expectantly.

"If you want to, we’ll try, OK?" Susan said. "OK" came the reply.

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It was nearly 10:30 am, the following day, when they pulled up in front of "Carter Services, Inc." in downtown Hope. To the left of the building was a small area, about large enough to hold seven cars, marked "employee parking." Susan was hesitant about parking there, not sure if she qualified right now.

"I guess I can park here," she said to Carl, as she maneuvered the van into an open slot.

"Mom. We might as well park here, after all Cass said, ‘you got the job,’ so that makes you an employee. Am I right?" Carl said, as he was getting out.

"Right!" Susan acknowledged with a grin as she joined him.

A short walk brought them around to the front entrance, where Susan began to have second thoughts: "What if I’m the wrong person," "Will they like me here," and "Will I like the work." Had she traveled a long way to experience yet another disappointment?

"Well, Susie girl," she thought, "only one way to find out!" They entered the building, went through a pair of doors, and into a large open area.

The office of "Carter Services" filled an air-conditioned, one-story building. There were two desks on each side, and, near the rear wall, there was a slightly larger desk. To the right of the larger desk was a door leading to the ladies’ rest room, and to the left, a door going to a supply room. Against three of the four walls were filing cabinets, four- and five-drawer high, some with plush dolls on top. The whole area was well lit with fluorescent lights, painted in a variety of pastel colors, and on each desk, a vase holding a variety of flowers.

Carl noticed that only three of the five desks were occupied, each with a rather attractive female. "Can I be of assistance," came from the larger desk. Startled for a second, Carl looked to see his mother’s future employer standing there. She was at least 6’3" tall, weighed about 165 pounds, and had jet-black hair tumbling down over her shoulders.

Susan stood there in shock, then said, "I’m Susan Parker, this is my son, Carl. I’m looking for Ms. Wilma Andersen," while extending her hand.

"Call me Wilma! I see you made it OK. How do you like your house? Come on and sit, and we can discuss your duties," Wilma said, after shaking hands with each of them, as she led them back to her somewhat cluttered desk.

"First, the job is yours to accept or reject. Now, what we do here is mostly billing, accounting and secretarial work. Susan, you will be the ‘Loaner.’ You see, several of the companies keep the minimum staff necessary, so I help by supplying employees. You may be doing inventory one day, stocking dress racks the next, and typing on Friday. The loan is as long as the outside company needs you, and you do get to learn a lot of different skills. I handle tax reports for several companies, so I might need you here. Now, the truth--I pay you $8.50 an hour and I loan you out at $12.00, and I pay straight time only, no OT. After one year, it’s $9.50 an hour, then in six more months, $10.00. All your pay is directly deposited in the bank; your house rent is paid up for one month. Say ‘Yes’ or just walk out."

Susan looked at Carl, caught his nod in assent, then said, "When do I start!"

"Ok, every body, get over here!" Wilma said in a voice that shook the desk.

Carl stood up as the other two ladies approached the desk. A gorgeous blonde, resembling Loni Anderson, was introduced as Candi Cornwall, and the other, an equally attractive brunette, as Sandra Smith. He was taken completely by surprise as each gave him a kiss and hug. He was in heaven!

After a "Welcome to Hope" from each, Wilma said, "You start 8:30 am tomorrow. It’s a five-day week, with some Saturdays, when necessary, arranged in advance. Lunch will vary, depending upon where you are working. Always park in the lot. You’ll work with Sandra for a week, then Candi." She then opened a desk drawer, pulled out and handed Susan a 4X5 card with "Hope Citizen" printed in large letters. "When you park in the town, show this in your windshield. You park free. Have you had lunch?"

"No!" came quickly from Carl.

"I could use a bite to eat," was Susan’s contribution.

Wilma opened a wallet, extracted a fifty and handed it to Susan, saying, "Here, take this and go eat at Gypsy’s. The food’s great and you might learn something! And before you say it, this is a gift—no obligation."

Susan never turned down good offers. A question, "how do I get there" was answered with, "out of the lot, turn right, two blocks to light, turn right, four blocks, turn right, and in the middle of the second block is Gypsy’s."

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Susan easily found Gypsy’s in the middle of the block, and parked in the small lot to the left of the two-story restaurant.

"This place is like something from those European travel pictures on TV," Carl said as he looked up at the facade.

"Well, let’s go in," Susan said, taking Carl’s hand under her arm. They walked into the place more like two lovers, arm-in-arm, than mother and son.

They both heard and felt the violin music. Carl started to get a chill running up and down his spine. He felt like he wasn’t just listening to the music, he was experiencing it; probing into those lonely places deep within each person. Places where we keep our darkest secrets!

Susan also felt strangely moved by the music. There was a sadness and melancholy about it that made her want to break out in tears.

"Welcome to Gypsy’s," a waitperson said, adding, "please follow me." She weaved her way through tables to a booth, where she left them with a pair of menus and "I’ll be back in a minute with water."

After they were seated, Carl and Susan looked around. It was like many restaurants--booths around the walls, tables and chairs in the middle. Several tables were occupied with diners. An attractive woman with long black hair and a long skirt with many petticoats came over to them.

"Welcome to Gypsy’s," she said with a smile, revealing perfectly white teeth. "I’m Gypsy, I own this place, and I give Tarot readings. After your meal, I will give you one free." She got up and continued to greet customers, many as old friends.

It was shortly after a very good meal, consisting of shrimp salad, salmon filet with lemon-butter sauce and iced tea, that Gypsy returned.

Carl watched as she carefully removed a Tarot deck from its silk wrappings. She placed it on the table, and appeared to be praying to it. She held the deck, bowed to it, said words in some foreign language.

"Please, take it in your hands," she said as she placed the cards in his left hand, then put his right hand on top. "As you hold these cards, think of what has passed, what you want and the future. Let the cards enter you, feel them probe you. When you are ready, mix the cards thoroughly, place them in several piles."

Carl followed her instructions, shuffling cards and putting them in random piles. He watched as she picked piles at random, mixed cards together and then dealt them out on the table.

"Carl," she began, "you are a gentle person. In your gentleness is your strength. The challenges in your past were all outside, the ones you face now are in you. You will soon go through a period of change that will be strange to you, but in the end, you will reap a reward that will last the rest of your life. Please accept the change, you will be the same, yet different."

Gypsy gathered up the cards, and said, "Susan, it’s your turn!"

Susan sat quietly, wondering how she knew their names. Taking the cards, she repeated the actions of Carl, and soon had a few piles of cards.

Gypsy repeated her random selection process and started her reading: "Susan, you had a period of great difficulty. It will continue, but as a period of adjustment to your son. You love him very much, more than any man you’ve had in the past three years. You bear a dark secret you consider horrible, I will not reveal it. Now, your new job.There is a man coming into your life and he will laugh with you, cry with you and make you happy."

Gypsy heard the soft weeping coming from Susan, and she took her hand.

Susan was surprised by the comforting touch and the soft smile from Gypsy.

"I know the secrets of half this town, Susan," she said, "believe me, yours is really not that unusual!"

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Back at their new home, each went to their room to finish the unpacking started on the previous day. Soon, the few clothes they had were placed in drawers, wardrobes and closets. "Carl, honey, we need to do some shopping!" Susan said from her room.

Later, after a chicken dinner at home, Carl decided a little TV would take his mind off what Gypsy had said. He kept coming back to three words: dark horrible secret. What did she do! Kill someone? Was she on "Most Wanted." What could she have done that was so bad. She was always there for him; thought more of him than she did of her boyfriends. No matter what she did, he would always love her.

"OK, young man! Time to hit the showers and bed," Susan said, as she trudged up to take her own bath before turning in.

"I’ll be right up, mom," Carl said, wondering if he should watch "America’s Most Wanted" to see if mom robbed a bank somewhere. But if she did, why were they always so poor?

It was a 7:30 am breakfast, consisting of cereal with fruit, OJ, English muffin, and a cup of coffee for each of them. Carl glanced at his mom dressed in a grey business suit, black stockings and 2" heels. "Damn, she’s beautiful!" Carl thought.

"OK, honey. Usual chores, dishes, laundry, you know the drill!" Susan said, happy to be earning a living again. "Sure, mom! Have a good day at work!" Carl replied with a big grin, as he waved good bye to her.

By noon, everything was finished: floors mopped, dishes washed, dusting done, beds made and bathrooms cleaned. After cleaning up the luncheon dishes, he was free for the rest of the day. Dinner would be a casserole he prepared that morning.

Brring, brrring.

The bell ringing startled him for a minute, and he quickly hurried to answer the door.

"Hi Carl. Finished your chores?" Nick said.

"Hi Nick. Come on in, hey, how did you know I had chores to do!"

"We all do," Nick said, "some more than others. Lock up, and we can take a walk around the area."

"I should stay home and . . . "

"Don’t worry about the house! I promise to have you back soon! OK?"

Carl thought for a minute, then said, "I guess it would be OK."

The two boys strolled down the street, with Carl being introduced to several families. At a playground, they stopped to watch a pickup baseball game in progress. It was a close play at first that gave Carl a bit of insight into the nature of Hope.

It was a good hit, and at the crack of the bat, the youngster took off. The outfielder took it in one hop, and made an off-to-the-right throw to first. As the first baseman leaned to catch the ball, the runner made a slide into first. The ump called him "out." Carl, from where he stood, could see the runner was safe. The boy picked himself up, looked at the ump, nodded his head and ran back to the bench. The coach said nothing! Carl was dumbfounded!

"I don’t get it, he was safe. Why didn’t the coach argue the call?" Carl asked.

"Because the ump called him out, and that was his decision. The runner knew he was safe, but he has to learn to accept the decision of the ump. See, the ump was selected by the players to maintain control of the game, now imagine if every questionable call was argued. And what do you gain by the argument--it is, after all, only a game. Here, we consider how you play the game, not the winning or losing. Besides, if you noticed, he slowed down a bit, and did not do his best. He was called ‘out’ because he didn’t try hard enough. In other words, he was not playing up to his full potential."

Carl was listening to what was said, but something else bothered him. "Nick, you mean he was deliberately called out?"

"Yep, games are meant to teach, as well as be fun."

The fifth inning was a bigger shocker! There was one out, tied up, 3--3, with a man on second. Now the man was a twelve-year-old boy, and the batter was a fourteen-year-old boy. Well, the batter leans into a high fastball and skies a pop-up to deep center, and it drops in. The boy on second is rounding third, heading home, when a relayed throw comes in. It’s a close play at home, and in sliding home, the boy’s pants come down.

Carl sat in shock! The boy was wearing girl’s panties! A boy in girl’s panties, and all they did was to help him pull up his pants. No cat-calls, no shouts of sissy, faggie, pansy or fairy.

"Am I dreaming, crazy, or was that runner wearing panties," he asked. "Nick, was that a boy or a girl?"

"Well, HE was wearing mint green rhumba panties, to be precise. So, what is your question," Nick replied.

"I don’t know! I’m not sure what I want to ask."

"OK. He was wearing panties. He was playing baseball. He prefers panties to shorts. Now, did it affect his playing, or did his wearing panties affect you in any way?"

"No, but . . . , but . . .," Carl sputtered.

"Come on, let’s walk and talk. You can do that, can’t you?"

"Sure," said Carl, ignoring the obvious sarcasm.

"OK, some of the boys . . . well, a lot of the boys wear girl’s underwear. They like the feel of it. That does not mean they are queer, sissies, fairies or anything else--they are just boys in girl’s clothes. You see, when we dress as boys, we act as boys--a little rambunctious and we tend to get into mischief. When we dress as girls, we act as girls--quieter, gentler and more cooperative. After you wear nice things, like petticoats, stockings and frilly undies, you get to like them."

"Not me! I don’t see how you can wear those things and still call yourself a male."

"Alright, what is a male? Is it someone with a thing drooping down between their legs? Is it a person able to belch and fart at the same time? Maybe somebody who cuts their chin trying to remove hair? A person with a huge belly? Carl, a male donates sperm, and a female donates ova. If you donate sperm you are a male, no matter what you wear."

"Well then, explain why there are male and female clothes!" Carl said, feeling he had a good argument.

"Well, all Romans wore togas, it’s just that the female togas were longer. The male garment came from the fact that men rode horses, and needed the legs separated, so pants. Female garments were open at the bottom, I think, for sanitary purposes and to allow quicker access by males. Also, they needed more air because of, well I think you know. Now this is all supposition on my part: male royalty once wore soft, frilly clothes and raised heels, while the commoner wore a harder cloth. There was a revolution, the aristocracy was overthrown and the soft things gave way to the clothes we wear today. Also, at one time there were ‘Dandies’ and ‘Fops’ who also wore ribbons, silks and bows, to show themselves as better than the average workingclass man. Female clothes and cosmetics were meant to attract men by the enhancement of certain features found appealing: for example, eyes shadow and lipstick, corsets to reduce the waist size, and high heels to accentuate the curve of the legs."

"So, isn’t that a good reason why men shouldn’t wear female clothes?" Carl replied, wanting a simple answer, not a lecture.

"Carl, you’re asking for a simple answer to a complex question. Do you mean a man who enjoys wearing nice, soft things must give it up, or, a man only wears those things to attract other men, or, he wears those things because he thinks he’s a woman," Nick stated, then added, "Don’t you think a person should be respected, no matter how they dress?" He stopped, thought for a bit, then asked, "Would you be willing to try, as an experiment, dressing, provided we get your mother’s permission?"

"Umm, I don’t know. This all sounds so crazy," Carl said. He did not want to say "Yes," because then he feared he would be thought of as being "gay" and he wasn’t. There were very few things that scared him, and women’s clothes was one of them!

"Say ‘no’ if you want. But then, you’ll never know how it feels," Nick replied, "and it’s not going to turn you into something less than what you are."

"It will make me look like a girl, and only boys who are sissies want to look like girls!"

"Now it comes out! Aha," Nick said in triumph, "boys are boys, and girls are girls. They are separate and unequal. Carl, let me tell you this: I play baseball, swim, do laundry, sew, play basketball, wear T-shirts, and I am good in Math. and English. Now, am I a boy or girl?"

"Come on, Nick, I can see you’re a boy. You walk and talk like one!"

"Now," Nick started out carefully, not wanting to upset his new friend, "suppose I tell you that I am wearing a girl’s garterbelt, stockings, lacey panties, and a training bra under my shirt and pants, what would you say?"

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End of Part One.

Annie O

 

 

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