And he never referred to me by my namejust "kid". Maybe I just exaggerated myself and the true reason wassomewhere else, but then I was just fifteen and saw him, the emphaticallymasculine man, and me, the freak (by my Mother's word) denying mymasculinity I'd inherited from him in favor of femininity.I just put two and two. There had to be an undercurrent and I couldn'tignore it. So what my reaction would be? None. I waited for him to tellmore and I'd see what he'd turn for."I understand you not believing my words and intentions," he said. "I'venever ignored you. My attitude to you was not a disregard. It'd seemed assuch. It was a part of agreement between your mother and me. Do youremember the time you've been six and you've announced a desire to be agirl?"I nodded."You've said this to your mother not to me. She's come to me asking forhelp. I've stated in my turn that I'd make everything helping my kid toreveal real inner identity no matter what it is. Some quarrel followed butwe. That Saturday, bathed and shaved and bearing a note from the foxy lady with whom I had spent a very tiring morning the day before, I appeared at her sister's nearby brick home, ready for action. A black servant admitted me, and I waited in the parlor, examining the garish art and leather-bound library. When the young woman finally appeared, seemingly in some haste, she was dressed all in black as befit a widow and with her chin lifted and her eyes sparkling, looked as if she had just arisen from a bed of lusty lovemaking.I stood, bowed, and handed her the envelope her sister had given me. While she read, I studied her. She was a slim, fine looking woman with a lovely countenance, outstanding posture and a stirring body. I had pictured some sort of drudge and was very pleased to find I was being asked to horse a true beauty."My sister is a funny one," she said, tearing the note in half and tossing the pieces into the fireplace. "Have you known her long?"I smiled thinking that 'long'.
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