He had started work in a local council office. His father had got him the job, so he was grateful for the reasonable pay, which allowed him to maintain his car and buy his hormones and clothes – Michelle’s clothes, that is.
One day, shortly after his psychiatrist had approved his transition prior to authorising SRS after living for at least a year as a girl, he had bitten the bullet.
He had asked his parents to sit in the kitchen as he had something to say.
His father had looked at him.
“I know what this is. You are going to tell us you are a homosexual pervert, aren’t you?”
His mother had almost sobbed then and there, and Michel had almost cried out loud.
“No father. I am not a homosexual. In fact I’m not a man at all. I’m a transsexual, and I am going to live for the rest of my life as a woman. I’m having a sex change.”
His father had stared at him, the colour drained from his face. His mother had started to cry soundlessly.
“Oh you are, are you?” his father had asked.
“Yes. As from tomorrow, with your approval or without it, I am living as Michelle, as a girl.”
“Get out! You are no child of mine,” his father said, as his mother wailed in the background.
Feeling incredibly calm, Michel nodded, collected a few of his clothes. Leaving all his male ones behind, he left the house. He had never been back. He had called his sister once, but his father had found out, and banned her from ever calling or using the phone again.
Michelle stared at the wall of rain, as the memories were still sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes. She saw Ryan and smiled when he waved at her. He had found a cab, so she pushed the luggage trolley towards him. By the time she reached him, she had regained her composure.
They were booked into a hotel a short drive from the old family home. Ryan had arranged to hire a car through the hotel, so obviating the horrible rush to return the car to the airport depot.
She snuggled up against him in the back of the cab.
“Are you okay, Honey?” he asked.
“I am now. I had a moment back there. It all came back.”
He kissed her temple.
“Bad?”
She nodded. “Not good. I should call them first. I just don’t know whether we’ll be welcome.”
“It’s six years ago. Have you tried to call?”
“Several times. But each time I chickened out, but as I left it longer and longer, then there just was too big a gap. Oh, Ryan, do we have to do this?”
“No. We don’t have to, but I think we ought to. Look, the worst they can do is to not speak to you. Who knows, they might even welcome you with open arms.”
She laughed; a short and un-amused snort.
“If I could trace Gabrielle, it would help.”
“Okay, then ring your home, say you are an old friend of Gabrielle’s and want to speak to her. She is probably married and living somewhere else. You know that, don’t you?”
She had nodded, staring out at the damp landscape as they drove, but not seeing anything.
They arrived at the hotel and were shown a very nice double room with en-suite bathroom.
While Ryan sorted out the hire car, she picked up the telephone.
Nervously, she dialled a number she had not used for a long time.
A female voice answered and tears sprang to Michelle’s eyes. It was her mother.
Keeping her voice neutral, she slipped back into native Dutch with no difficulty..
“Hello, I am trying to find Gabrielle Van Hooyt. I am an old friend from High School and I’ve been abroad for a few years, so I am trying to meet up with some old friends.”
“Oh, Gabrielle is married now. She is living in the next village. What did you say your name was?” her mother asked.
“Can you give me her number?”
“I think so, it is here somewhere. Yes, here it is.”
She read out Gabrielle’s number, so Michelle wrote it down.
“I don’t recall all the girls in Gabrielle’s class. What is your name?” said her mother.
“I remember you. You live in the end house, near the pig farm. Your husband is an admin officer in the hospital,” Michelle said.
“Oh, my husband died two years ago. You have been away for a long time.”
Michelle couldn’t help it, she broke down and a sob escaped.
Her mother picked upon it.
“Oh God! Michel, is that you?” she asked, her voice quavering.
Tears started to roll down Michelle’s cheeks, so Ryan returned to see her crumple and sit on the bed.
He came and held her in his arms, as she struggled to speak to her mother.
“Mama, I am Michelle now. I am so sorry,” she managed to say, but then broke down completely, dropping the phone on the floor.
Ryan picked up the phone. The whole of the preceding conversation had been in Dutch, so he took a chance.
“Hi, my name is Ryan. Michelle has come all the way from America to see you, but is afraid you don’t want to see her. What can I tell her?” he asked in English.
He could hear that Michelle’s mother was in a similar state to her new daughter, but she managed to say, “Oh, please tell her to come home,” she said in halting English.
He replaced the handset and spent the next twenty minutes bringing Michelle back to planet Earth.
She could not accept that her mother actually wanted to see her.
She felt incredibly guilty over her father, and not knowing that he had died. Ryan said very little, just patiently watching as she gradually returned to near normal.
“Take a shower, you’ll feel better,” he suggested.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said.
“Then I’ll take a shower with you. We can drive over there afterwards. The car is in the lot.”
She nodded, but he could see she was uncertain.
He helped her undress, kissing her tenderly as he did so. She smiled weakly, clinging to him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“What for?”
“Being here!”
Gabrielle answered the phone. She was heavily pregnant, so was not as quick on her feet as she used to be. Her husband was a police officer at the local police station, so she wondered who could be calling at this time in the morning.
She dreaded the call from the police to tell her that Marcus had been hurt, or worse. When she heard her mother’s voice, she relaxed, but not for long.
“Michelle is back. He, no, she is coming over. You must come too,” she said.
“Who?”
“Your bro,… sister. That’s who.”
“When?”
“Now. She just called. She is here, in the Netherlands, and she is coming to see me.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Gabrielle locked up and squeezed behind the wheel of her VW Golf. It took her fifteen minutes to get to her mother’s home.
She found Trude Van Hooyt in the kitchen, still shocked and strangely pleased that Michelle was coming home.
“An American man told me that Michelle wanted to know if she was welcome,” she told her daughter.
“Is she, Mama?”
“Of course. You know it was your father who sent him, no, her away?”
“I know, but neither of you tried to find him. And when I did, papa was very angry.”
“Papa is not here any more, bless him. He didn’t understand.”
“Do you, mama?”
Trude looked at her daughter.
“Not really. All I know is that my child is coming home, and that is all that matters.”
Gabrielle embraced her mother and was still holding her at 12:30 when a silver Mercedes pulled up outside the house. She watched as a tall, powerful looking man got out. He opened the passenger door. The girl got out. She was almost as tall as the man, with long flowing blonde hair. She was in a smart skirt and blouse, with a matching dark jacket.