On Being a Woman

[Carolynn]

Being a Woman

"Real smart Jen, just real smart" was the refrain as I silently chastised myself, the words in my mind keeping time to the click of my heels on the side walk, jockeying the plastic bag of milk and eggs in one hand and keeping my purse under control with the other arm. I just couldn't wait ‘til morning to mail my bills and letters, and just couldn't make do with what was in the house for breakfast. Ohhhh no, couldn't do that. Had to have an omelet for tomorrow's breakfast. Then as I come back the car decides to crap out!!.

So now I'm walking the last 6 blocks back to the house in black four inch heels (couldn't wear flats, no not at all, didn't go with the way I felt nor my outfit of black mini skirt and orange top and windbreaker! Well, it is nearly Halloween ya' know! ), at 1 am, in the dark, with the poorly spaced street lights partially lighting my way, large, old trees casting long shadows. "Real smart Jen-girl, just real smart. "

Denton, Texas wasn't a bad place to be traipsing around in at this hour for the most part, being a college town and all, but it is a little too close to Dallas all the same. I have lived the last six months of my RLT in Denton, rent free, thanks to my sis and brother-in-law. It just so happened Fred had a year-long NSF grant for work in Japan with other geek scientists on the track of the elusive neutrino, and Marj just happened to want to see Japan, and they just happened to need a house sitter that wouldn't trash their place, and I just happened to need to scrape every penny I could scrape for airfare to Thailand and SRS, and it all happened at just the right time.

Not that Marj was particularly happy with the path her younger sibling's life had taken. We had both known I was seriously unhappy when we were growing up, and though I knew why, in a way, I just couldn't open up and talk about it and that made it worse for me. Marj was my official guardian my last three years of highschool, following Mom and Dad's deaths on I-35, and we were pretty close, just not close enough, I thought. I couldn't tell her what was wrong then.

Afraid. She always liked having a little bro, even though his skinny butt wasn't much to look at or brag about. And I was afraid to disappoint her. She's not been real happy with my decisions, but she does want me to be happy with my life. She accepted that transition is the only way that's going to happen, and making arrangements for me to live here while they are gone was one way she was letting me know that..

Whew, two blocks to go. My feet are in serious pain now. Stupid shoes. So what if they matched the outfit. I should have worn walking shoes. But then, I shouldn't have been in the situation to begin with. One thing I have had a hard time with, is learning about the vulnerability I am open to now, with the loss of muscle mass and upper body strength. So I blithely run out alone, at too late hours without a thought, just as I used to when I looked like a skinny male. The sack dangling from the end of my right hand, nominally my strong one, is about more than I can handle over the long haul now, though it probably only weighs about 15 lbs. It's dead weight, and the narrow plastic straps of the so called handle are cutting into the sensative skin of my hand, nearly shutting off the circulation and making it feel useless.

I stop to shift my load around, moving my purse to my right shoulder, taking the sack into my left hand, and resume walking. That's when I realized there is a peculiar echo to my heels, a much softer sound that seems to come from- somewhere- behind me. I endure this a moment only, then take a quick look behind me. Nothing in sight. Over active imagination, yeah that's it. Just a block to the house, and I increase my step just a bit, but the hurt in my feet slows me quickly. I am still accompanied by that sibilant echo, like, like, well, rubber soles on concrete?

I glance back over my shoulder again. Again, nothing visible. Just nerves, but also a feeling like someone or something is looking at me. But nothing there. Just nerves. Used to never have ‘em. Part of the female perspective? Who knows.

I turn into the side walk approaching the front door of the house. The security light clicks on as I come into sensor range, and I feel a modicum of relief. I pull the keys from my bag and fumble the right one into the lock, then I'm through the door with the lock turned and my back against it. I worked up a light sweat, in spite of the cooler air of autumn with my little unanticipated stroll.

I put the bag down with relief, massage my hand, and return my keys to the table by the entry, along with the purse. Something, some residual unease prompts me to look through the spy hole in the door—and I nearly scream as I see the dark figure standing and looking at the house at the end of the sidewalk, no more than 30 feet away. The light from the security light just reaches him, and male he is for sure, looking huge! And all in black. I see his head turn, misshapen, maybe a mask?, looking up and down the street, and then back at the house, then he seems to melt away in the dark!

Oh Crrrrraap!!.

With sudden adrenalin pumping I rush to the other doors in the house, in the kitchen, the garage entry. All locked. Both outside doors are steel, that's secure. I look out the peep hole of both the outside doors, clear. The patio door! It has a curtain over, and with trepidation, needing to know it's locked, but also afraid I will see that grim figure standing there, I gingerly move the curtain aside and..... No, no one there. Whew! The door is secure and I add the anti-burglary bar to the floor guides. No way in there now, well except for breaking the tempered glass. The windows, same routine, slowly move the curtains away trying to be prepared if there is someone standing on the other side; damn lot of windows in this house!! Now all definitely locked. And then I sorta relax a bit. I peek through the peep hole in the front door again, but the security light is off, and visibility is poor. The light reacts to movement, so guess no movement = no light, and that's actually good news.

I pick up the bag with the milk and take it toward the kitchen, turning on lights as I go. For some reason, the warm dark of the friendly house seems suddenly oppressive, and I feel tentative about entering a room until I have a light on. Residual nerves, that's all, but the lights are nice anyway. In the kitchen I put the few groceries away, decide at the last minute I need some comfort, and keep the milk out to make hot chocolate. It takes just a couple of minutes, and I pour up the scalding liquid and retrieve a few of today's baked chocolate chip cookies to go along with it. Nothing like chocolate to soothe the nervous soul. I smile at the memory of chocolate binges with Marj after our parents deaths. I wonder if that's where the use of chocolate as comfort food came into my life, or if it had always been there?

Gradually I turn out lights and settle in the den with the TV and my snack, sitting in my favorite chair with my shoes off and legs tucked under, and feel better. Thinking about what I had seen, I wonder if I should call the police? What could I tell them?

"Yes sir officer, that's right, I looked out the door peep hole and saw a dark figure at the end of the sidewalk. How tall? About 8 ft., maybe more, and shoulders about three ft. wide. No I did not mistake the tree along the street for a man. Yes he followed me, I'm sure. No I did not see him, I just felt he was back there, and maybe I heard him in rubber soled shoes. My ID, here you go. Yes that is me. and yes David is my legal name though I prefer Jennifer. I haven't got my name changed yet. Can't ‘til after my surgery. No, I don't own the house, I'm just house sitting for my sister."

No, maybe I won't call the cops. Probably a bad move with no more than I had for them, and I am still in ID limbo. Just two more weeks and I will be winging it for Thailand and FFS and SRS and the rest of the alphabet soup!!! Then a legal name change, and then, well then the rest of my life, for real! Jennifer was my maternal grandmother's name, and would have been mine if I had been born with all I should have. It will be mine yet, and for real. I wonder if mom and dad could have approved of me?

The chocolate was having the desired effect, and yawning, I clicked on the TV for the late news rerun. There was a mess of news types at a press conference. I turned up the volume, and felt a renewed thrill of adrenalin as I realized the news hounds were interviewing the Chief of Police, and he was energetically denying the existence of a serial rapist in Denton. Damn!! The news guys seem to have it layed out! Tall, masked male, dressed in black for Christ's sake, stalking women out alone, learning where they live, then break in and.............. Click.

Well, that news story I did not need!. I rise from my chair, walk back to the entry where the alarm pad is. I almost never consider setting it when I'm inside, and am not sure how to set it for only the perimeter of the house, and leave off the movement sensors inside. I fiddle with it for awhile, and I seem to have it. I'm still wired, but need to go to bed. No real reason, nothing to do tomorrow, just I am tired too.

Turning off the lights around as I go, I enter the bedroom I have been using, one of several guest rooms, this one with it's own bath. I brush back my hair and put a band on, and stroll back into the bedroom. I undress and am caught in secret childish glee as I watch my very own B+ breasts move and bob in the mirror as I complete my undressing. That's one part of the alphabet soup I will be leaving off, the BA or breast augmentation. Since I lost upper body mass, and put it on down below, the 130 lb. 5'6" frame looked about right with the B's. I pull up a pair of clean panties (midnight blue) and tuck away that "thing" that is soon to be made much more friendly to me, and slip a matching gown over my head, waltz length tonight.

I return to the bathroom to clean my face of makeup, my smooth hairless face, another expensive but secret delight, and apply moisturizer. Yawning, I turn off the light and pull back the covers of the bed, take my night time meds, and gratefully slide under the covers. The bed side light off, and I find my needed slumber. Ummmmmmmh.


I wake not at all sure why for a minute, then I have that feeling that I am not alone!! Why? Calm now Jen, think. I am lying on my left side, on the left side of the bed, the bathroom door an indistinct dark rectangle at the end of the room. The BED. I am not alone. I feel it— it's weighted down on the right by something or somebody much heavier than me, and I can feel my body wanting to roll toward it. I have to get up!!!! I have to!!!! But if he knows I know, what then? I need something, a diversion. I grab the light covers and throw them behind me over the right side of the bed. IF he is there, the cover will maybe slow him down as I twist out of bed. I try to mutter sleepily and walk toward the bathroom, trying to be the sleepy head with a small bladder. As I get up, I see the mirror, and the large lump on the right side of the bed, a black part, a head? lifts and watches me as I walk away, but I pretend sleep befuddlement and don't "notice", but inside I'm gibbering with dread..

In the bathroom I nearly turn on the light, then realize if I do, I will be at a disadvantage when I have to come out, temporarily blind. I can't stay in there, it is too small, to confined, and I can't maneuver. If he comes through the door, he could overpower me with his strength when he gets hold of me. What to do? Lock the door? That would tell him I know, give away my advantage, and the door is a typical light interior door, flimsy as all hell, easy to smash, the neighbors too far away to be bothered by that sound from the inside of the house.

I am looking, straining my eyes toward the door---- is he coming through?---- but see no outline against the lighter wall of the bedroom. What to do? Well first, I really, really DO need the bathroom right now, bad. I lift my gown hem, slip the panties down and sit, trying to watch the door. My breath is coming quick, and I feel light headed. Right, now would be a great time to faint Jen...... Not!!!!

Think Jen, think. There has to be something in the bathroom useable as a weapon!. Toilet brush and plunger. Possible, but not probable weapons. Razor? Ha. A couple of throwaways tiny blades sealed in head. Hair dryer, curling iron. Limited as possible clubs, but not likely. My hands are reaching over the vanity counter, grasping, touching, and find a cool cylinder. HAIR SPRAY, extra strength!!!!! Yes, chemical warfare!!. ------What was that? Creaking floorboards. There are some by the right side of the bed. He's getting out of it!!!! Will he leave, or is he coming after meeee? I listen, straining ears and eyes. Nothing!!

I reach for and retrieve the Scrubbing Bubbly or what ever bathroom cleaner from off the floor by the commode . It has the noxious smell of bleach and under pressure too!! Two weapons. The Scrubbing Bubbly in the eyes with hair spray right after to help seal it in. If I can blind him, then a kick in the groin. Then run!!!!!

I pull up my panties, and step back against the wall by the door and strain all my senses- and nearly scream as I hear a second floor board creak, and I know that one is about four feet from the bathroom door!!!! "He's coming, he's coming, he's coming", my mind gibbers at me, and I need to DO something!!!! "Not yet, not yet," some cool part of me says. "Wait just a bit."

I sense, rather than hear it as he presses against the wall as few feet from the door, a touch of cloth against the wall. He's planning an ambush when I come out. In way, it's funny. We're back to back, with a wall between us.

I'm breathing hard, my heart feels like it could burst it's beating so. My hands are shaking and I am sweating. God, I wish I could run!!! In a moment of cold clarity— right now, at this moment in time, I FEEL vulnerable, in the presence of a male threatening violence, and probably for the first time understand one aspect of BEING a woman. Not a good aspect, hope it won't be my last experience.

But now, before he decides to come in I need to go out, hands at shoulder level, nozzles turned toward the front, and a knee or foot ready for a groin strike. I take a deep breath, twist around with my back against the door so I will be facing him,

and I ----- step ----- through, ---------


and.........


BOOOO!!!!!!
Happy Halloween!!

[AJ West]

Great short story1