You Know

The raindrops are splattering against the window, distorting my image in this transparent mirror. The nurses keep walking in and out of the room. The young man sitting across the white room is fidgeting nervously. I wonder what his story is. I wonder why he is so anxious. I watched him drop a magazine on the floor earlier; he grabbed it up, guiltily, looking to see if anyone had noticed him. I am a little nervous too. I don't know why, I have wanted to do this for years. I wonder if the guy next to me wants to talk. I don't care if he does; he can listen anyway.

"Before I was born, when my mother was 3 months pregnant, she went to a Hopi Wise man advertised in the local newspaper and asked what she was having. She was told that she was having a girl. She believed him unconditionally. The nursery of the new house was painted pink. I remember it well. My mother spent her final time of confinement painting roses on the walls. She bought new baby clothing for her third daughter and picked out the name. Christine Maria. Then three months after her meeting the Hopi, I was born-a boy. My father was thrilled at my being a son, and not surprised that my mother's wise man was wrong. My birth certificate read: Christopher Marice-8 pounds, 2 ounces."

The guy just keeps reading his magazine. I wonder if he heard a word that I just said. He is so rude. I am just going to talk to the receptionist over there, but I am not going to look at her hair. It is bright rust colored. I will never look like her. I refuse to wear polyester in my clothing and in my wigs. Her eyes' lashes are fake but she looks like a good listener. I can at least try to talk to her.

"My earliest memory is of playing with my older sisters, Elena and Kathy. I was first their baby, then their maid, and then one of their girlfriends. I was Shirley Temple one day, and Little Lulu the next. They would pull me into the pink nursery, given to them at my surprise birth. I don't know why they didn't leave me in there. It didn't matter, I spent most of my time in that room with them anyway, so they might aswell have left the bassinet, and crib, and then my bed in there. But my parents moved me into the little white room across the hall that had been the sewing room. I recall one Christmas when mom gave me a rosebud tea set. She had painted the same roses on it that she had painted on the nursery walls. I still have that tea set. It's one of my prize possessions."

The woman nods sympathetically, so I continue on: "Then, suddenly, my sisters were grown up overnight and too busy to play with me, so I played in their clothes. Blouses and shorts were fun, but their short dresses and high heels were my favorite. My sister Elena was always furious when I stained them-sometimes I couldn't help wearing them outside-unfortunately my eight-year-old legs weren't long enough to keep the edges of their clothes out of the mud. One time I ruined her favorite white sweater while building a fort down by the creek. It was a beautiful fort and strong too."

The secretary answers the phone that is ringing. She looks like she is going to be talking for a while. Oh well. This is really a cold room. I should have worn a jacket, or a snowsuit. The walls are so white; it's too pure. I wish they would paint it yellow. Yellow is so sunny and warm. Perhaps I'll suggest it to the secretary when she gets off the phone.

I can't see the clock. I wonder what time it is? Mr. Green shirt has a watch.

"Excuse me sir, what time do you have?" I've only been here 55 minutes. "I've been waiting 55 minutes and it's still raining." He "umm'd" back to me and I replied, "It reminds me of when I was twelve and I loved baseball. I remember one game very well: It was the worst game I had ever played in. We were so deficient in points that we looked like we were winning at golf. The raindrops pelted our backs like they were animals released from their cages, springing down from the clouds. My sisters watched and chanted from the sidelines. I was soon soaking and I had no dry clothes to change into, so my sister pulled me over to the car and gave me her spare turtleneck to put on. It was a little big and black, but dry. The rain stopped and the teams ran out onto the field. I felt so strange as I stepped up to the plate, like my skin wasn't my own, and I hit the ball far away. I was so surprised. I felt so powerful, so strong. After that I wouldwear Kathy's turtlenecks to all my games and her flannel shirts on exam days. It worked just great until I outgrew her clothes."

The man is just looking at me. I wonder what's wrong. I hope I don't have ink on my face, or spinach in my teeth. Now Mr. Green shirt is drawing in his limbs, close to his body, like a turtle pulls in its head. He must be cold too. I guess I should talk to him more, to help keep both of our minds off the temperature.

"I should be in there, but I just can't. I faint at the sight of blood since my friend died my senior year of high school. It was horrible, blood everywhere. It dried on my hands and stained them. The air filled with his sobs as the car's glass shreds cut into him. I felt my life end with him and I thought it was over. But here I am today. One does survive. Time is so restful to a tired body. I am happy now, but I can't stand the sight of blood."

I can't stand still anymore, so I stand up. What's taking so long? Should it be this long? Pacing back and forth. I should have worn shorter heels. My feet hurt. I think I am going to sit next to that girl in a blue dress. She has got the comfortable looking couch and she shouldn't mind sharing.

I start talking to her: "Ever wonder why human beings pace when they're nervous," well now she's looking at me-I have her full attention. "I used to pace back and forth when I was a dancer. One time I was pacing back and forth, back and forth. I closed my eyes so I could hear the music and see the dance steps I would need. Back and forth across the room I walked until, well, I went too far back on my way from far, tripped, fell, and broke my ankle. I permanently damaged my foot and had to give up dancing. I went back to school and I am now a chef. You know, they should really paint the walls in here pink."

I hear the door open and look up. It's Kathy.

"Kathy, you made it. Thank-you so much."

She answers me, "Of course love, here is the clean turtleneck you wanted. Have you heard anything yet?"

I feel like sighing as I tell her, "No. I haven't heard a thing. I've been thinking about when we were kids, Kathy do you remember that old Hopi mom went to see before I was born?" I see Kathy nod her head. "Well did you know mom took me to see him after I was born. I read about it in thejournal after she died. Apparently he told her I was a woman and a man forged together into male body."

"That sounds like mom," Kathy replied, "He also told her that you would be of both always and so need to feel and grow up as both male and female. That's why she gave the tea set and the hammer, and then the baseball bat and the dance shoes."

I hear a voice interrupt us, "Excuse me, are you Mr.-"

It's the nurse. I jump up and reply "Yes, that's me. Do you have any news?"

"Your wife came out of the operation just fine and you now have a beautiful baby girl."

"A girl? The ultrasound showed us a boy." I am shocked.

"Well, it must have been a misreading. Sometimes you just can't tell by looking. Appearances can be deceiving."