Putting the Pieces Together...

People who changed gender in the 70s and 80s were uncommon and rarely discussed as they are today. It was encouraging to see taboo topics becoming more openly discussed during our time, although it was still a slow process. It was a time for women to be more aware of their bodies, and copies of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” flew off the shelves as curious teenagers, like myself, wanted to know, but were still a little afraid to ask. However, I, along with many of my peers, still straddled the line between open conversation and silent embarrassment.

I spent my teen years clad in ripped-up jeans, tee-shirts, and flannel shirts. Wearing a pretty dress was an awkward event for me and took me out of my comfort zone. I was quite tomboyish and a bit of a loner in high school —until I met my equal, Kelly. If

I remember correctly, she began talking to me during lunch break during school.She sensed that I wasn’t one of those rah-rah cheerleaders or potheads, and we clicked immediately. To be truthful, my attire probably caught her eye, being quite similar to hers.

We became very good friends, to the point of being inseparable. Frankly, I’m surprised that her parents didn’t petition the courts to adopt me, because I practically lived in their house. At the time, my parents were going through a messy divorce and were more

concerned with their lives than about me. It was probably a relief that I was one less thing to contend with, and my being with Kelly’s family was a blessing for them. 

As a member of a well-to-do family, Kelly lacked a barometer for determining what was appropriate behavior. If she ever found herself in any trouble, her parents were there to bail her

out. She was a class clown and very much a tomboy. In the looks department, she wasn’t very attractive, resembling Jerry Lewis’ Nutty Professor character. Part of her humor was self-deprecating, making fun of her bucked teeth. She joked that her chin never got wet in the rain or burned in the Florida sun and that she was famous for being the first human can opener.

During high school, we did a minor amount of academia and a significant amount of Tom Foolery. Despite all the rules and regulations, we did what we wanted when we wanted. We were

cheered on for every crazy thing we did, from riding a moped down the hallway to startling the principal by cackling loudly in his office to making fun of the preps and cheerleaders who attempted to look down on us for being different. There was nothing orderly about our conduct, and in addition to breaking rules, we broke many of the stereotypical perceptions of how girls were expected to behave.

Best of all, nothing ever happened to us. She was immune from all punishment, and being her friend, I fell under that umbrella and loved it. Anything to thumb my nose at authority was amazing, especially after being in Catholic schools all my life and under

the strict regiment of oppressive nuns.

One of our favorite things to do, was to cut out of school and visit this movie house that played old films from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Judy Garland, her beloved star, was on our list of movies never to miss. I would crack up laughing when Judy was

belting out a number, and Kelly would stand up in the theater and yell, with arms extended, “Sing it —Judy!” It never failed to get a big laugh from everyone in the theater.

We remained close friends for years, until the day I met my then-husband-to-be. Kelly hated him, and I thought her resentment was because she was bitter that I had met someone. I chalked it up to the fact that it happens between close friends and nothing

more. But perhaps I was wrong and too naïve to see it.

Soon after the news of my new boyfriend, Kelly had gotten very drunk at a friend’s house and locked herself in the bathroom, crying hysterically. A mutual friend tried to talk to her and to see if she could get her to calm down. But Kelly wanted no part of

anything our friend had to say and kept asking for me. When I arrived, I found her lying on the bathroom floor with a beer in her hand. Frankly, I must have been the dumbest kid ever, because although I felt bad that she was crying, I didn’t know why or what to do for her.

“Kelly, why don’t we go home. I’ll walk with you,” I said, trying to comfort her.

“I don’t want to go home, I don’t want anything,”

“Then what’s wrong? I don’t get it.”

She extended her arms and yelled, “TAKE ME! TAKE ME HERE!”

“Okay… let’s go then,” I said, reaching down for her to grab her hand.

“YOU DON’T GET IT. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” she yelled as she turned away from me.

To this day, I still don’t know what she really wanted. Could it have been me? She never showed any signs that she wanted that kind of relationship, so I was confused.

Months passed, and I ended up moving up north with my boyfriend, and soon became pregnant. I kept in touch with Kelly, mostly her calling me, because I couldn’t afford to call long distance. We mostly reminisced about the good times we had and laughed about

the stupidest things. I looked forward to her calls because being with my boyfriend, living with his parents, and being a pregnant teen was not the best decision I could have made with my life.

One day, out of the blue, Kelly showed up at my boyfriend’s parents’ house. She told me she was staying at a nearby hotel for a couple of days and wanted to talk to me. To try and “wise me up,” as she put it. She met and didn’t think much of my then-husband. And to be frank with you, I didn’t think much of him either. But to tell you the truth, being there with him was much better than being with my

family. She begged me to come back to Florida with her, and as much as I missed her and hanging out with her, I now had a baby to think about. I felt it wouldn’t be fair to rip him away from his father, just because I wanted to hang out with my friend. After realizing that I wasn’t going to change my mind, she left and stopped calling me. I didn’t hear from her again for quite a while.

As most teen marriages go, mine became another statistic on why they don’t work. Things had changed, and my father was no longer living at home, so I decided to leave my husband and move back in with my mother. After I settled, I went to Kelly’s house to see

how she was doing. I found her with her brother under a car, greasy from head to toe, fixing something.

“Hey, what’s shakin’?” she asked, almost aloof, but I could tell she was happy to see me.

“Nothing much… I’m back,” I replied, noticing that she had cut her very long hair short, almost like a crew cut. One thing about Kelly that I always envied, actually two things, were her hair and her big boobs. She had gorgeous, long, silky chestnut hair that she

tied back into a ponytail. I was a skinny kid with no boobs, and I screwed up my hair with box bleach, so it was pretty short and very frizzy. Not a good look.

“Kelly, what happened to your hair? Why did you cut it? It was so pretty!”

 I don’t think she expected me to ask such a question, and I think I put her on the spot. Obviously, she was uncomfortable and, therefore, could not tell me the truth. Again, stupid me missed the signs.

“Aw, I dunno, I guess I got sick of it.”

And I just couldn’t leave it alone: insensitivity via ignorance. I reached out to touch what was left of her hair, “It was so beautiful, Kelly...” She pulled away and changed the subject.

I think I saw her several times after that, and then life got in the way of our friendship. College and a baby took up most of my time, and I didn’t see her again for years. Until one day, when I was shopping in a local supermarket, I bumped into a mutual friend who attended high school with Kelly and me. We chit-chatted about a bunch of

things, and then the subject of Kelly came up.

“Hey, have you seen Kelly around?”

“Kelly?” asked my friend.

“Yeah, Kelly, we went to high school with, duh…?”

“Oh, that Kelly… yeah well…something happened… Kelly isn’t Kelly anymore…” she said mysteriously.

My first thoughts were, “Oh my God, she was in an accident, and she’s a vegetable!”

“Was she in an accident? What happened?”

“Kelly isn’t Kelly anymore. She’s Joseph,” she blurted out.

 “What? I don’t get it. What do you mean she’s Joseph?”

“Okay, this is all that I’m going to say… she works at the Breakfast Bagel as a cook, go see for yourself. Only thing, you cannot call her—him, Kelly—it’s Joseph!”

The next morning, I went to see what my friend was talking about. I was pretty nervous, not knowing what to expect, so I brought my sister. Before we went in, I had to warn her not to stare or say anything stupid, better yet, not to say anything at all, just nod,

or she was a Deadman. She had a tendency to say the most uncomfortable things at the wrong time; she, too, had no barometer for tact.

We sat at the counter, ordered breakfast, and discretely looked around for Kelly. She was nowhere to be found. I flagged over a waitress and asked if Joseph O’Conner worked there.

“Hell yeah, that’s him making y’alls breakfast,” she said in the most charming southern accent, and that I was some type of dope for not knowing this information.

“Joe, get out here y’all have company!”

I spotted him immediately; I’d know that face anywhere. I was just a little bewildered about the beard, hairy chest and missing boobs. He walked out from behind the window and greeted us as if we had just spoken a few days ago and nothing had changed. But then again, what would he say? His job may not be aware of his new life, and he

may wish to keep it private. He seemed to handle it pretty well, considering I was from his past and could have blown his cover.

“Hey, Elaine, what shakin’?” Same old Kelly —kind of…

“Hey Joe, whaddaya know?”

“Is that your little sister? Man, she has grown. What are you a teenager now?”

“Yep,” she answered briefly as I instructed, not wanting to die on the spot.

I was speechless and didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, he broke the ice by introducing me to his significant other. He called over an older blond woman who was a waitress at the diner. She was very nice and greeted us warmly.

“You know what? You oughta come out to the house to see my Ma. She would love to see you again; after all, it’s the least you can do, being that you practically lived at my house,” he said, smiling with those nutty professor teeth.

“Sure, I'd love to see her and your brothers.”

 The next day, I showed up at his house —where we hung out as teenagers. Nothing had changed; everything was exactly the same. Joseph was late, and one of his brothers let me in to wait for him and his mother to arrive. Apparently, that didn’t change

either; Joseph was habitually late for everything.

“Hey, long time no see, Elaine. You here to see Joe?”

 “Yeah.. good to see you too,” I responded. “Joe?”  I thought.

I walked into his bedroom, and it too was untouched from our high school days. His beer can collection still circled the room on a ledge near the ceiling. Judy Garland's albums were stacked neatly in the corner of the room. I bet I slept more in that room than

I did in my own bedroom at home.

One thing came to mind as I was looking around and reminiscing. I always remembered how she was reluctant to change in front of me. Girls seldom have issues changing in front of one another at sleepovers or in the locker room. Sure, there was that occasional

very shy girl who would run to the toilets to change, but it was rare. Also, I remember she made a point to tell me to change in the bathroom. I just figured she was modest and left it alone. Still, I always thought it was odd.

“Elaine! How are you doing? I see you’re scoping out your old bedroom,” Joseph’s mother joked.

Like her house and Kelly's room, she hadn’t changed either. She was a chain-smoking, bleached blonde from New York City. She even had a Lincoln with one of those chain steering wheels and a vanity license plate that read NEW YAWK, which I thought, at the time, was pretty cool.

“You and my Joe were such good friends in high school, very rarely does that happen,” she said, with a sigh.

“Joe? What happened to Kelly?” I thought.

 “Yeah, he was my best pal,” I said, playing along. Now, I can understand this ruse, if I were new to the family. But to me, it was like the Twilight Zone. Maybe this is how they had to cope with the change. I just thought it was peculiar.

“Remember how I used to make lunch for you and Joe when you skipped out of school? God, you guys were so bad. Joe

used to love my bologna sandwiches, and Joe always had to have the

crust cut off, and so did you… remember that?”

“Yep, they were delicious,” I said politely, finding this whole thing bizarre. 

Joe’s mother had to leave, so I went to the kitchen, where I sat at the kitchen table, taking the whole thing in. Shortly after sitting down, in walked Joe’s older brother, Liam. He was hysterically funny and could tell stories that would have you rolling on the floor with laughter. Everything that came out of his mouth was funny. He couldn’t be —not funny.

“Hey, Elaine, what’s up?” he said in a manner that was quite serious and unlike him.

“Nothing much, how about you?”

“Whaddaya think? I get busted for drugs, go to jail for a few years, get out, come home, and my sister is my brother!”

I was almost relieved to hear him say that. It was nice to listen to a little reality in that house for a change of pace. I actually started to believe that Kelly never existed.

“So, how’s your dad? Is he working? I haven’t seen him.”

“Oh —he split! When this whole thing was going down, it was too much for him, and he was outta here. On the other hand, my Ma and brother are both in some fantasyland as if she never existed or died.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. I just didn’t want to be rude and say anything. So, I went along with it,” I said.

“Well, I don’t give a shit. That guy with the beard is still my sister, Kelly. I don’t care what anyone says.”

Joe called the house to apologize and tell me he was going to be working later than he expected and that he would come over to see me the next day. As promised, he showed up, and we sat by the pool talking. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I felt awkward doing so. I could have asked Kelly, but this was Joe.

Kelly no longer existed. As he was leaving, we hugged and said our goodbyes. I never saw him again. I tried looking him up on Facebook, but unfortunately, I never found him.

Perhaps it was for the best. He had a new life and identity, where all the pieces were beginning to fit. I was just another part of his past that was filled with confusion, torment, and uncertainty. I would, however, like to think that he remembers some of the good

times we had —because I still do.

Years later, I often feel bad, as I think of an incident that occurred in the bathroom at a drive-in movie. We were both in a stall, and Kelly reached under, asking me for a tampon. I made what I thought was an innocent joke, but to Kelly, it hurt as it was yet another reminder of what she was going through. I said, “I didn’t think you used those things.” Initially quiet, she snapped, “Do you have one or not?” I laughed it off, but she did not.

It was never my intention to hurt or be cruel to my best friend. I couldn’t even imagine what she was going through and how she did her best to cope with what she was missing and still try to be a normal teenager. I hope that wherever he is, he has found all the ingredients to happiness. And I wished I had known more about his transition. I regret that I was unable to show him the compassion that he needed and deserved. I just didn’t understand what was going on with her —HIS metamorphosis.