The Free Transition

The Prince had been out of jail for over a week. Even though I had endured a long six months awaiting his release, I now had to wait three more weeks for his family to fly back home before I could see him. He had been staying with them at a local motel. 

The Prince’s parents were here to help him get his life back on track after his release, and I must admit, I was actually amazed by how many things The Prince had accomplished in such a short amount of time.

His driver’s license was reinstated, he had a breathalyzer installed in his car, and he was even back to work. The only problem was he was hiding our relationship from his family.

Now don’t get me wrong, I had no desire to meet the people who had raised him. His Majesty had told me all about his abusive upbringing throughout our expensive nightly jail calls and it wasn’t pretty. Plus, they didn’t speak much English.

I just didn’t like the fact that he was now being so distant. The nightly calls had ended and the texting was minimal.

After a week of sitting by my nearly quiet phone, my impatience had gotten the best of me, and I sent him a text.

“Look Prince, I wanted to be there for you while you were in jail. That’s it, I did my job. I told you from the beginning, you didn’t owe me anything. We can end things here. It’s okay. Get on with your life.”

He responded right away.

“Asterisk, I stayed in this country for two reasons. One of them was my loyalty to my job, but the other reason was you. You know I have to spend time with my family. As soon as they leave, I’ll be there. I told you, I’ll stay a few months and I’ll help you out financially. Trust me, I’ll be around so much you’ll be sick of me. Please wait.”

“Pfft! I’ll never be sick of you!”

“I have to go now, we are at dinner. They will leave in two weeks. Then I’ll be with you.”

His words gave me hope and made my heart all soft and squishy. I went on with my day wearing a big smile across my retarded face.

After work, I sat down to have a talk with my daughter. “Tomorrow is a big day, Rosie. I need you to really think about what you want.”

My child had come out as transgender a few years before, and realized she was a girl and not the male gender she had been assigned at birth. We had attended counseling ever since, along with regular appointments to an endocrinologist. Rosie had been having her hormones tested regularly, and she was now hitting puberty. Tomorrow was the day she was to begin hormone blockers.

“Rosie, if you start blockers tomorrow, they are going to put your puberty on pause, so you won’t develop physically until you’re 18. Are you really sure this is what you want?”

I had explained the process to her many times and had been going over it almost everyday that week in preparation.

“I don’t want to take pills or shots,” she said.

“I’m not sure what method the doctor will recommend, but you’ll probably have to do one of those for the rest of your life. This is a huge decision, Rosie. Please make sure you are certain of what you want. Think about it okay?”

“I will,” she said, before leaving the room.

When she was gone, I looked down to my phone. Nothing had come in that night from The Prince. My anticipation of finally being with my man was starting to get the best of me. I wanted to text him something, to open up any line of communication, but I knew it was best not to push him.

So, I turned on the TV.

A second later, Rosie had come back into the living room. “I don’t want to do it.”

Her words caught me off guard. “What? You don’t want to do what?”

“Be a girl.”

This was the first time since her transition, Rosie had ever said that.

“Okay. Well, can you tell me why you changed your mind?” I asked.

“It was just a phase.”

“Are you sure? You know that blockers are just to pause puberty and give you extra time to decide. If you take them, you can still change your mind later. You wouldn’t take female hormones until you were 18. You can take blockers and still decide to be a man when you are older.”

“I don’t want to be a girl anymore.”

“Okay, should I cancel the appointment?”

“Yes. I feel like I’m a man inside now.”

“Should I go back to calling you, Franklin, then?”

“Yup.”

I looked down to his long, waist-legnth, blonde waves. “Do you want a hair cut?”

“Uh huh. Can I go back to my room now?”

I sat confused as I watched him walk away. You would probably think that I should have let out a huge sigh of relief, but I was more worried than anything.

The first time he transitioned was a nightmare, he was bullied to the point of switching schools, family members and friends had disowned us. I certainly didn’t want my child going through all that that again.

I went to the fridge and pulled out one of the beers I had purchased in anticipation of my Princie’s arrival. Fuck it, I needed it! Then despite my better judgement, I texted him anyway.

“You won’t fucking believe this, Rosie just asked me to cancel her doctor’s appointment tomorrow. She said she wants to be a boy again.”

A second later, my phone rang.

“Hey Handsome!” I answered.

“Hey Babe! Did I just read that right? Rosie wants to be a boy!”

“Yeah. I’m in shock, I can’t belive it.”

The Prince started giggling, “That’s amazing! Wow! You have a son again!”

His tone caught me off guard. I’d never heard him sound happy before. “Are you drunk?” I asked.

“What? No! My family is here, I told you. Well, they are staying in a different room but same motel.”

“You sound… different.”

“I’m so happy for you! This is a celebration.”

“I’m so confused. She’s never changed her mind before, I just hope she’s making the right choice and that no one has been pressuring her, oh my God, I mean ‘him’ into it,” I said.

“That is great news. You see? You know why this happened for you?”

“No?”

“Because you are nice to me! How many times have I told you? When someone is nice to The Prince, good things happen for them!”

He had mentioned that numerous times.

He continued, “If you hurt me, bad things will come to you. You can ask my ex, you can ask my mother! Whenever they would piss me off, bad things happen to them. But you were nice to me in jail, and now you see? You receive this gift!”

I just laughed. I wasn’t about to say anything that might comprise my Princy Poo’s mood. Well, maybe just one thing…

“So you didn’t drink anything today?” I wasn’t convinced.

“Nooo! I told you, I spent the day with my family, I drink nothing.”

Even though I knew he was lying, I went along with it. “I’m drinking a Stella Atrois! I bought a case for when you come. I’ll only have three, I’ll save the rest for you.”

“I don’t care! Drink, be happy, celebrate. I’m out of jail now, I don’t care if you drink my beer, I’m free!”

The Prince and I talked for over an hour that night. It was the first conversation we ever had that I wasn’t paying for, and one of the only times I ever experienced him truly happy.

Although I certainly managed to piss The Prince off in the following months, Franklin never changed his mind about being a boy. I cut his long hair the following week, though he still wears women’s knee-socks… But who am I to judge?

J’ai trouvé la couverture.

If you liked this story, go check out my books!

13 Comments

  1. Boys will be girls and girls will be boys… remember that line from Lola by the Kinks? Surprise mom. It’s good to let kids work out their identities, although it can be awfully frustrating for a parent. You were blonde in the last post, and have dark hair in this post. Really cute dress, BTW. Is one hair more fun or successful than the other? I let my daughter and her friend die my hair blue back in 2016 (long story). What can you say about pissing people off? People are too easily pissed off these days.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ha ha ha! That’s all very true, Tim! I’m just having some fun with wigs. I think blonde is still the most popular. The dresses I’m modeling for my friend’s clothing store.

      People SUCK!

      Thanks for your comment and your support. They both mean a lot! ♡

      Like

      1. That makes sense. I’ve always been partial to dark hair on women. Although, I’ve know some fun blondes. My hair was down to the middle of my back when I lived in Spain years ago. My beard was dark back then, so a lot of people told me I looked like Jesus. When I wore my hair loose, it fell in wavy locks around by face and shoulders. Old women on the street would cross themselves when I walked by. I kid you not.

        Liked by 1 person

            1. I tried to keep it long out here, but all the stuff I had to put on my hair to keep it from frizzing was too much. I don’t have the patience for messing with my hair. I’ve been through two bouts with cancer and have been bald, grew back, bald, grew back several times. I had very curly hair before my first cancer, it ended up straight and gray for six years. During my treatment the second round it came back curly, then straight, then curly again and now it’s sort of curly. Still gray and much finer than before, so it really wants to frizz out and look scraggly. When I raced bicycles years ago, I shaved my legs. The hair never grew back on my legs, now I don’t race anymore.

              Liked by 1 person

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