"You're welcome. By the way, you start a new learning curve tomorrow; that of becoming a woman in a few short days. Goodnight, Julianna."
Shit, was that me?
Chapter Six
I stood in the check-in line at the airport in Bangkok, nervous as hell. I was not only nervous at the prospect of flying into Hanoi, but, dressed as I was, with a Canadian passport; the whole scenario was enough to almost make me wish I was back in Iraq – almost.
I pulled the hem of my skirt down, in a vain attempt to try to cover my exposed thighs. I could never remember being quite so self-conscious, ever! The skirt was the least of my problems, really, as my prominent breasts in my very tight cheese-cloth top, were fighting the high-heeled boots for first place. I had to admit that the last five weeks had seen a good deal of change in my appearance, as well as attempting to cram twenty-odd years’ worth of learning into a very short space of time.
Gradually, the swelling in my face had subsided, as had the pain, leaving me quite amazed at the doctor’s handiwork. I had gone from a rather messed up looking bloke to the kind of girl who’d turn heads at any social gathering that I used to attend. Okay, my hair was short, but had been cut and styled into a chic bob, that actually suited the shape of my head. Besides, Maryanne told me that I wasn’t ready to deal with long hair, so it was just as well.
The last few weeks had been a revelation for me. Once the doctor had declared me fit to be discharged from his care, Maryanne and I left the ship, coming ashore one night at a small village in Thailand. There, we were collected by a darkened MPV and arrived in Bangkok a few hours later. The vehicle drove into an underground car park, from where we rose in an elevator to a plush apartment. The next morning, two local girls arrived and completed my transformation and training.
At Maryanne’s insistence, I logged onto some websites where I was introduced to a completely alien world. I was aware that there were those in society who sincerely believed they had been born into the wrong body, but I had never dreamt that there were quite so many or with the feelings held so deeply. I read personal accounts of men and women who had become the person of their dreams through years of angst, pain and suffering, often losing their entire families and all their friends along the way. It helped me appreciate that the whole matter of gender wasn’t as cut and dried as I had believed.
Some stories made me laugh, while others made me cry. I read some of the fiction; where there was a mixture of genuinely good stories involving transgender issues and a fair measure of basic pornography that made me faintly nauseous. I have to say, those stories with a genuine plot, containing a hero(ine) who fought his or her personal demons as well as bad guys, showed me that these were real people, just like me. The difference was minimal, a simple matter of gender identity. I had no alternative but to re-evaluate my own attitudes and values, ending up coming to terms with the person I was becoming, regardless of gender.
I’d been a soldier, so I found it a gruelling time, which only went to bring home to me the amazing differences between the genders. I had found simple things like sitting down, walking into a room and eating like a lady exceptionally difficult. However, with Maryanne’s untiring coaching and endless practice and patience, I believed I’d mastered the basics. My time culminated in several days out in downtown Bangkok, where I went shopping with Maryanne and got used to riding in busses and taxis. We ate out in restaurants, where my lessons continued, with Maryanne telling me when I was being a bloke in a dress. Gradually, my mistakes became less in frequency and seriousness. The final day was almost without fault, except my tendency to drink rather too quickly.
“You must always keep sober, so sip all drinks, particularly as so many men try to slip you some dope in the drink.”
“What do you suggest?”
“You seem to have basic tastes, so as you like a beer, always drink from a bottle and one from which you’ve actually seen the cap removed.”
Good advice indeed, particularly as I wasn’t what I seemed, so a would-be rapist would be particularly pissed off if he managed to get me in such a state that my vulnerability was revealed.
I was still the only person who knew where the stones were, as Maryanne had consistently refused to let me tell her what I’d done with them, as she believed that I needed to finish the job for my own satisfaction. Apart from the first time I’d come round, and she told me she only asked because she thought I was about to die.
She did give me one piece of good news just before I left.
“Oh, you may be interested to hear that Quang lost his job. After failing to get you to divulge the location of the diamonds, he was sacked and ‘retired’ to some obscure country estate.”
I said nothing, but inside I felt a degree of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, as he was representative of greater powers who’d never be made to pay. In a way, I held the British government more responsible, but hey, whoever said life was fair?
“Next!”
I moved forward to the front or the line and approached the Thai Airlines check-in clerk. She was an attractive girl, on whom, in the old days, I would have used all my charm, yet strangely, I no longer felt that I either could or should.
I popped my ticket and passport onto the top of her desk and smiled. She took them, looked at the passport, glancing at me when she looked at the photograph.
"Any luggage?" she asked in good English.
"Just one case and my shoulder bag for the cabin," I replied in my new Canadian accent, with slight French intonation. That was tough, but Maryanne had insisted that from the first day out of bed, I adopt such an accent. Her own French had been excellent, so we’d only converse in French for much of the time. Having learned French in Canada, she’d correct my accent, as it was lacking the Canadian intonation and colloquialisms. It was almost second nature to me now.
I put the small rigid case onto the conveyor next to her desk, while she printed off the luggage tag. She then asked me the usual security questions, which I answered satisfactorily, for my case was whizzed away on the belt and she handed me my ticket, boarding card and passport.
"Boarding at gate twelve in about at hour, Miss Blanchard. Have a nice flight."
“Thanks.”
Phew, that was the first hurdle over, now for security and passport control. I walked slowly to the escalator that took me to the departure channel. I had to walk slowly, as I had yet to feel confident on high heels, so had no great desire to fall arse over tit and split my stitches.
As I moved through the terminal, I was very conscious that people watched me pass. Previously, I'd managed to glide through life with a minimum of fuss, rarely drawing attention to myself. I had been quite content in my anonymity, but found this new attention disconcerting. I expected men to be aware of me, but hadn't anticipated female attention. Maryanne had warned me, as she'd told me that women are always watching other women, either to check out competition or out of sheer curiosity. Males just didn’t seem to be that bothered about other men, unless they happened to be gay, that is.
I found the end of the line for the security check, eventually submitting my passport and boarding card to the stony-faced immigration officer. He glanced at me, then at my passport, flicking back through it to see what other visas and stamps were on the previous pages. He noted the Vietnamese visa, nodded and stamped the relevant page, passing the documents back to me while already looking at the next person in line. I breathed a silent sigh of relief as I moved forward to wait for the security search.