Sex?
That made me think. Who in their right mind would ever want to fuck me?
The nurse left after another week, not before removing the final stitches, at which point I was able to dress and get around by myself with little difficulty. I wore simple dresses, without anything too tight down below as I still wore large sanitary napkins in case of seepage or mistakes. The pain had gone, having been replaced by a dull ache that was more like an itch. Because I’d been given faux genitalia several weeks ago, the sight of my new parts weren’t that much of a shock. If anything, I just felt slightly more normal than before. It made me think about how screwed up I had been, or was I still?
The house was ideal, having no stairs and a superb garden in which to relax. Over the next couple of weeks, I spent most of my time reading from the very well stocked library and slowly watching my scars heal. A Vietnamese woman who spoke no English seemed to be there whenever I needed anything, and one evening Maryanne joined me for the evening meal on the veranda.
“Better?” she asked.
I nodded, saying nothing as the servant brought our food on trays and served us. After she left, Maryanne continued.
“The doctor was cross with me,” she admitted.
“Oh, why?”
“Despite receiving a substantial fee, he was somewhat reluctant to conduct such an operation without a consultant psychiatrist’s report and approval. He believes that there is a danger of you suffering long-term psychological damage from an ill-advised operation, together with our meddling with you in such a way.”
“Hell, I was screwed up long before you got your hands on me. I’m only just beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but my gender and sexuality is the least of it.”
“Really, so what’s more important?”
I paused, as I hadn’t intended to bare myself so readily. However, I had to speak to someone.
“I’ve been more at home as Julianna than I had ever been as Robert, but that’s not the whole point. Looking back, I realise that the whole gender issue was something that I hid away deep in my sub-conscious, so perhaps a psychiatrist would only agree that what we’ve done is something that should have been done years ago. But what I have found out about myself is that I’ve never been three dimensional enough to get a real life of my own. I’ve always been driven by others or what I believe others want for me. I have never done anything for me, neither have I ever actually stopped and bothered with any real relationship, and I find I want to, desperately.”
“Go on,” she said.
So I did. For the first time I actually off-loaded all my inner hurts and confusions that my time as Julianna had brought to the surface. Being incarcerated in prison had been bad, but somehow I had managed to focus on not giving in and holding out until the end. Beating them had become the focus of my entire existence, even if it meant me dying. Since being given the freedom to be someone completely different, I’d had time to reflect, and it seems I had taken the opportunity to do just that. I must have spoken for twenty minutes without a break, except to eat a little of the rice dishes.
After I’d finished, she looked at me and sighed.
“Boy, is that it, or is there more?” she asked, smiling.
“Oh, if you want more, I think I could find you something,” I replied, feeling somewhat lighter and less burdened.
“Let me get this straight; setting aside your new gender, which, I must say, suits you far better than your old self, you seem to me to be seeking some direction and purpose, and this time of your own making. Is that right?”
“Yes, I suppose so. You see, all my life I have been fulfilling what I believe others expect or require of me. My decisions at school and later to join the army were all geared towards what I felt others expected of me, so I don’t think I ever considered doing what I wanted to do, neither do I actually know if I ever had the faintest idea of what I wanted to do, in any case.”
Maryanne smiled.
“Many people are like that, as they are steered along life’s path by those who are responsible and care. Usually they’re right, but occasionally the individual rejects their assistance and goes their own way. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. My dad wanted me to be a little homemaker, to marry, settle down and have loads of kids. I wasn’t into that, so as I was bright, I went to Harvard. He wanted me to go into law, but instead I became a journalist. I did marry, but it didn’t work out as Mike’s expectations of me as a wife were not dissimilar to those of my father.”
“You still wear a ring,” I observed.
Holding her hand up, she regarded the offending article.
“Hmm, I do, yes, as it seems to help when I deal with people. Men see me as safe and other women see me as less of a threat.”
“How long were you married?”
“Just under four years. We met in the Middle East. I was working for CNN and he was a freelance photographer. We were together for three years before getting married. By that time, he was settled in New York with a good business and I was still going all over the world. He expected me to slide into his life-style and so for a while, I did. I got a job with a local newspaper and hated every minute. I had a miscarriage that seemed to turn him against me, and for the last year we hardly spoke. In the end, I applied for a job in Europe and told him if he wanted the marriage to work, then he had to meet me half way. He didn’t and I left.”
“Would you have met him half way?” I asked.
She smiled sadly.
“Yes, but then we both knew it was over. He was seeing someone else and I just had to leave.”
“You never considered remarrying?”
“No, not immediately. I was busy following the news. The seventies and eighties were a turbulent time in Europe and the Middle East, so I managed to make loads of contacts and a name for myself. I started my own new agency with some colleagues, which grew into the beast you see today. In the last ten years I’ve had many offers of marriage, from senators, congressmen, the occasional general and many high powered businessmen. I’ve had lovers of most nationalities and some have been amazing, but to be honest, I find the simplicity of sleeping alone does wonders for the soul.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“Sometimes, but then I’m never alone for long.”
“From my experience, being alone and being lonely are two completely different things. I was alone, but not lonely. I’ve been around people and been as lonely as sin,” I observed.
She smiled again.
“How true. Yes, I’ve been lonely, but then I’ve my work and many wonderful friends. I’m never lonely for long, and I do cherish solitude at times, for when one is alone, one can really think about things without interruptions.”
“Have you any regrets?” I asked.
“Not that many, but I suppose it’s inevitable that when one reaches my stage in life, one can only look back and wonder what would have happened had one done something different at any point.”
“Surely there must be one regret that is more obvious to you?”
She looked at me with a sad smile.
“You regret never having a child,” I said.
The smile broadened, yet her eyes reflected the sadness within. She nodded.
“And here’s me, completely buggering up any chance of having kids with hardly a thought,” I said.
“As I told you before, we did take a sperm sample, just in case,” she said.
“Who the hell would agree to carry the child for me? I’d like to be able to do it myself, but somehow I don’t think even Doctor No could manage that miracle.”
“Do you regret your decision?” she asked.
“Not yet, ask me in a few months, or even years. I have thought about my capacity to have kids, and yes, it was something that almost changed my mind. However, I could foresee real problems later if I’d got married, fathered children and then had a crisis of gender. What sort of damage would that have done to my marriage, my wife and the kids? I had to be honest with myself and looked at what’s best for me right now. All I know is that I feel complete for the first time in my life and I never knew why I didn’t before. I guess I’m sort of unique. But, if you had the chance to go back, would you try harder at your marriage, or do anything different?”