CHAPTER 37 - OOh my God, there is a giant picture of a vagina right in front of my face.

Taylor

Today had been such a boring day at school. I think all of my teachers should have given me a cut of their ridiculous salaries just for remaining coherent through their duller than dull classes. We had to read the Declaration of Independence for Government. Do you know how many times I’ve read and analyzed the Declaration of Independence? A whole freaking lot. The teacher simply droned on about how the founding fathers were fighting the whole no taxation without representation thing and all that crap. I want to know why we weren’t told about John Hancock and how his signature was the biggest because he wanted to make sure the king could see it without his glasses! And since we had an epic long conversation on the life of Thomas Jefferson, how come we weren’t told what a hypocrite he was? He was known for being against slavery but he had his own slaves working at his plantation! He actually had an affair with one particularly, one whom historians believed he truly loved, and that’s why there are a lot of African American who are descendents of Thomas Jefferson. Had he married the woman, he would have had to flee the country considering how racist the country was then and he’d have to give up his entire political career. It is also rumored true that Jefferson did care for his mixed children, but they were still considered slaves. However, it was only on his deathbed that he finally freed the slaves he owned, “seeing the error of his ways,” but they were never allowed to be freed after he died because the white men who’d heard Jefferson pretended it never happened or something like that. I’m not sure if those are all the exact details but that’s what I’ve learned from reading different articles and whatnot on the subject. But why didn’t the teacher talk about any of that? You don’t think learning that Thomas Jefferson has African American descendents is important? Not to be snobbish, but I thought that private academies like Dayton were supposed to go above and beyond the basic curriculum that public schools had to adhere to. Don’t the big guys pay the teachers at Dayton enough to be interesting?

Sometimes I think that I should be a teacher. I think kids need people who care about what they learn and also are concerned about making it fun, fast-paced, and interesting. Almost every teacher I have at Dayton sounds so utterly bored with what they teach that it makes the students bored too. But if the teachers could find interesting methods of teaching something they were passionate about, what a totally different environment school would become!

After setting my backpack on the living room couch, I headed back towards the kitchen. Brooke, who had been walking home with me, had just flopped down on the couch with an enormous sigh. I smiled a little and peered into the refrigerator.

“We have milk, orange juice, and Pepsi. Pick your poison,” I shouted, my head desperately searching for something yummy to snack on.

“Pepsi!” I heard from the living room.

I knew she would say that. It’s amazing what you learn about people by living with them. I could tell you when Brooke was hungry or thirsty before she said anything. And she has to take three caplets of extra strength Tylenol whenever she has her period because nothing else works. She needs two pillows when she sleeps too- one to put her head on and one to hold onto. She only eats breakfast on the weekends and she likes little dogs better than cats and cats better than big dogs.

And I knew that she liked three cubes and a three-quarters full glass of Pepsi. I made poured two glasses that way brought them into the living room. I sat down next to her on the couch and handed her a fizzing glass.

“Thanks!” She said, taking a long sip. “I needed that.”

I know. She’s addicted to caffeine almost as much as I am.

“You have a lot of homework today?” I asked, looking over at her.

“Not really,” she replied, casually. “I actually wanted to go grocery shopping tonight. I’ve been here an entire week, eating you out of house and home, and I haven’t contributed towards rent or groceries.”

I shook my head at her. “You know that doesn’t matter. My…Mom doesn’t mind that you’re here. In fact, she’s glad to have you.”

“Well, I still should contribute somewhat,” she insisted, not listening to a word I’d said. She pulled a platinum credit card out of her purse. “My father should at least buy his own child groceries. Do you think Taylor would drive me to the grocery store? I don’t want to have to carry bags and bags of groceries five miles home.”

I laughed at her. “Yeah, I think he would if you asked him to.”

She blushed slightly. “I’m a little nervous to call him.”

I raised a curious eyebrow. Isn’t “Taylor” sort of her boyfriend? “Why’s that?”

“Because…I don’t know. He just makes me a little nervous sometimes,” she began, fiddling with the stitching on her shirt. “I get scared talking to him sometimes because I’m positive that I’m going to say something stupid or wrong or embarrassing and that he’ll think I’m this colossal moron.” She laughed softly at herself as my expression softened into a warm smile. “It’s stupid, I know. But I’ve never met anyone like him. I’ve never met a guy who was so sweet and good to me. I feel like when he looks at me, he’s looking at the real me. You know? And I just want him to like me as much as I like him.”

“Brooke, there’s…” I hated knowing the future. I hated knowing that Abby was going to break up with her relatively soon. It only made me feel worse and worse about listening to Brooke about all of this.

“It’s, like, whenever he walks into the room it’s as if time has completely stopped and all you can do is admire him and wonder why he’s smiling at you,” she gushed, completely lost into her own world. Her eyes sparkled and there was a permanent rosy hue on her cheeks. “I’m sure you feel that same way with Zac. There are times that I think that Taylor is the oddest boy in the entire world, but those are the times I love him most. He’s not pretentious or arrogant, which is a huge change from what I’m used to. I feel like I can trust him with anything because it feels as though he’s already a close friend of mine. There’s just all these feelings that are swirling around in my head and I’m not really sure what to make of them because they’re all so new and weird.” She took a long swig of Pepsi, staring purposefully at her knees.

“Wow,” I choked, my eyebrows skyrocketing all the way to my hairline. “That’s…”

“OH MY GOD!” She screamed, so suddenly that I fell off the couch. The Pepsi in my hand crashed to the floor as my rear end followed suit. I landed roughly on my backside, my long legs and uniform skirt over my head. I’m sure Brooke got a lovely view of Abby’s purple hearts underwear.

“What?” I wheezed, pulling myself up and my skirt down. I raced into the kitchen and hurried back with a handful of paper towels in my hand. I swear, I will never get used to having nothing in between my legs… Er, I meant in terms of fabric. Well, I guess the same could be said for other things… Oh hell, forget it.

She turned to me so fiercely that I thought I was going to take another spill onto the floor. “I love him.”

For the love of Christ, tell me she did not just say that!

“You…WHAT?” I exclaimed, feeling an all-consuming guilt rise in my throat. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with “me” anymore! Now that I’m… not myself anymore, there was no point in trying to convince Brooke to be with me.

“You’re right,” she agreed, resting back against the couch and covering her face with her petite hands. “That’s crazy. I couldn’t possibly be in love with him. We still only hardly know each other. But at the same time, whenever he’s around I get all shaky and lightheaded and I think about him all the time and…” She gave me a guilty look. “I think all these dirty things about him and …”

My interest was immediately piqued and I momentarily forgot any guilt that had once inhabited me. “Oh, really? Care to share?” I mentally scolded myself. Now was not the time for shamelessness. Brooke was seriously dealing with some inner turmoil. Turmoil that I had greedily been the cause of.

Brooke turned bright red. “NO! The point is, is that it has to be love, right? What else could feel so powerful? What else could make me feel so powerless?”

I had no words to offer her. Everything seemed so harmless in the beginning. Abby and I were going to switch back after a week or two and have better lives because of it. I was going to convince Brooke to give me a chance so that when I got back into my body I could woo her from there. I wasn’t supposed to be stuck as a girl forever. Brooke wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a lie.

***

“Hey, honey,” Susan Deluca said, setting down her purse on the kitchen table I was sitting at. Brooke had left for the grocery store with Taylor and Zac about twenty minutes ago, giving me some time to enjoy a little light reading.

With one foot resting comfortably on the wooden chair next to me, I grunted, “Hey.” I was right in the middle of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, where Victor’s brother William has just been murdered by the monster. I really hadn’t heard anything Abby’s mother had just said, but I figured some kind of acknowledgement on my part was required. When I’m engrossed in a fantastic novel, there’s really no point in trying to defer my attention. Brooke Thompson, sopping wet in a string bikini, running down a sandy beach in slow motion couldn’t pull away my attention.

Okay, that was an outright lie. I just wanted to bring up the imagery.

My apologies.

“You ready to go?”

“Mmm.”

“Abby?” Susan said, placing her hands on her hips. “Abby? Are you ready to leave yet?” I flipped a page. “Abigail! Have you been listening to a darn thing I’ve said?”

Was someone talking to me? Regrettably, I pulled my attention away from Dr. Frankenstein and looked up innocently. “Oh, hi! Did you just get home?”

Abby’s mother rolled her eyes before walking around the table to kiss me on the cheek. “Yes, dear, about five minutes ago. Are you all set?”

I just blinked a couple of times, a pleasant expression on my face. “Set for what?”

Susan sighed deeply. “For your doctor’s appointment. It’s time for your yearly check up. Remember, we made the appointment a little over a month ago? Yes? No? Anyway, I feel horrible but I can’t come in and stay with you because I promised Mrs. Perkins from the church choir that I would help her sew some of the costumes for their competition this weekend…” She trailed off and gave me a gentle smile. “But you’ll be just fine in there, right? Of course you will. And don’t worry, I can come and pick you up as soon as you get out. Just call me when you’re ready.”

There was a terrible wrenching in the pit my stomach. It felt like there was a mortifying tingle of bleak foreshadowing that went all the way down to my toes.

I swallowed hard before I ruefully asked, “What kind of doctor am I going to?”

“Abby, don’t you remember? You’re going to the gynecologist.”

***

I stepped into the doctor’s office with my heart beating so hard in my chest that I thought it was going to burst out completely. What was I doing here? Why did I have to do this? As far as I knew, there was nothing wrong with Abby’s personal areas. So, if there were no problems, why did I have to come to this terrible, terrible place?

Because life loved to fuck me up the ass sometimes?

That’s it. I’m not doing this. I don’t care what kind of trouble I get into, there is no way that I am going to allow myself to be manhandled like this. I’ve been to a proctologist before and it wasn’t pleasant. I can only imagine what it would be like going to a gynecologist. I take that back, I can’t imagine at all.

And I’ll be damned if I ever found out.

I spun on my heel and headed towards the other direction when I felt a hand on my shoulder, preventing me from escaping. I made a face and slowly turned around to see a plump woman in her late forties smiling brightly at me. She had large brown eyes hidden behind small thick glasses, a tiny button nose, and a soft mauve color painted onto her grinning lips.

It felt as though I was staring directly into the eyes of Satan.

“Ms. Deluca, where do you think you’re going?” She asked, teasingly. “We’re ready for you now. Please come back with me.”

Oh shit. Taylor, do something! You must get out of this!

“I, er, uh…”

Kick her if you need to. Bite her hand if necessary. Don’t just let her drag you into a room so she can shove crap up your borrowed vagina! Maybe you can karate chop her while she’s not looking! Just GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!

The woman gently led me past the waiting room and into a long hallway. In my own imagination, I saw cement jail cells instead of rooms and gnarled prisoners instead of fake foliage. Instead of a sweet, plump woman gently leading me to a room, I saw a large, grizzled guard silently leading me in handcuffs to the electric chair. Leading me to my inescapable death. With every clicking of her small heels I felt my stomach lurch.

She sat me down in an eerily decorated room and shut the door. There was a cluttered desk that had a folder of all of Abby’s medical information sitting open on it. There were pictures of women holding newborns on the walls and also an advertisement of a tall, thin woman for osteoporosis. They only made me feel like more of a perverted intruder than I already felt like.

“Abby,” she said, causing me to jump a mile. “First I need you to get up on the scale. Make sure you take off your shoes first. We don’t want to have the extra weight.”

I let out a sigh of relief. As long as I didn’t have to insert anything inside me I was more than willing to do as she commanded. I kicked off my shoes and stepped up on the scale. “Whatever. I don’t care about my weight anyway.”

The woman looked shocked at me. “That’s wonderful! It’s so rare to find a girl who accepts her body! And you’re one hundred percent right, you know. You hardly need to worry about your weight.” I saw her smile fall for a moment. “It’s not like you’re a forty-seven year old woman who is in the middle of a divorce who literally eats her emotions.”

Now, what does one say in awkward situations like these? I should say something, shouldn’t I?

“Um…”

Before I could say anything relatively coherent, I heard her continue, “Uh oh, looks as though you’ve gained about six pounds since our last visit. I want you to stand right here and measure your height.”

Uh oh? What the hell does she mean by “uh oh?” Who says that to someone? I actually feel insulted. Is she implying I’m fat now or something? I am by no means fat! You can’t even tell that I gained any weight! If anything, Abby could have stood to gain some weight anyway. Just to be safe I won’t tell her that I made her gain weight. Girls can be a bit neurotic about stuff like that.

Hmm, I wonder if gaining weight will make my boobs bigger…

If that’s the case then I don’t see why girls aren’t keen on gaining weight all the time. I like boobs. I’m a guy. Girls like guys. Therefore, wouldn’t it make sense that girls should like boobs?

“Seventy inches.” The woman looked at me sweetly. “Have you ever considered being a model? With your height and looks, I bet agencies would trip over themselves to get to you!”

“Actually, I was offered a contract to model boxer briefs for Calvin Klein but I turned them down because the band is made of three people, not just one, and I tend to get shy with my shirt off and my legs are unnaturally hairy so um…”

I’ll bet she didn’t need to know all that.

She gave me an uncomfortable smile. “Isn’t that nice. Well, if you just take off all your clothes and put on this gown the doctor will be in momentarily for your examination.” She thrust a scratchy, paper gown into my unwilling hands and gave me another strange look before shutting the door behind her.

Oh my God, there is a giant picture of a vagina right in front of my face.

Ew, and the one right next to it describes yeast infections.

Me thinks it’s time to plan the escape route. Okay, how do I bust out of here? There are no windows, so there goes the sneaky disappearance plan. There are no closets to hide in (don’t you dare even start with the gay jokes). The just run like hell towards the door tactic could achieve desirable results. I bet that would be the best way to go.

My hand was clutching the doorknob when I heard a soft knock at the door. I let go and imitated a deer in headlights as the door slowly opened. A petite Asian man walked in, smelling strongly of sweat and bad cologne, and shut the door behind him. His large glasses were almost sliding off his small nose, his eyes only two tiny slits.

“You no changed?”

Oh crap. He doesn’t even speak English well. This can’t be good for Camp Taylor.

“Er, I forgot?”

“I come back in minute.” He pointed a finger at me impatiently. “You change.” He shut the door behind him, a look of pure terror on my face. I waited a second before opening the door to bolt out towards the exit but the doctor was standing there waiting for me. I quickly slammed the door in his bewildered face, pressing my back up against it.

What was I going to do? The bastard had me cornered! Running was no longer a choice on the menu. Fuck. How was I going to get out of here? Sweat was starting to trickle down my forehead as I grew more and more panicky.

Maybe if I played along a bit longer the opportunity to run would reveal itself. Deciding that I had no other choice, I slowly undressed. I gave the cornflower blue paper gown a distinct look of utmost contempt as I slipped it on.

Good Christ, it didn’t even close over my ass! And just between us, Abby doesn’t really have a lot of curves so why the hell doesn’t this cover me? Swearing profusely in my head, I tied the pointless plastic strip around my waist in hopes of maintaining some modesty. The air conditioning was up so high that I could feel goosebumps and a little bit of hair rise on my long legs. In fact, my legs closely resemble cacti at the moment. I hope that the doctor gets wicked rug burn if he so much as touches a thigh.

There was another soft knock before the door opened again. The doctor emerged and my legs instinctively clamped together. If he so much as thought about parting them he’d get a black eye. The doctor was ruffling through some paperwork, completely oblivious to the looks of death radiating from my eyes, and sat down at the small desk.

“Come sit,” he said, extending a small, wrinkly hand towards the seat adjacent to the desk. I begrudgingly sat down, my legs so tightly pressed against one another that my thighs were beginning to cramp painfully. “I need ask some questions, okay? You be honest, mmhmm.” I narrowed my eyes at him as he took the cap off of his pen and positioned it on some file.

“Smoke?”

“What?” I asked, sharply. The doctor was mumbling and in addition to his accent, it was difficult to understand him.

“You smoke?”

“No,” I replied.

“Drink alcohol?”

“Er, only rarely during special occasions.” I grew nervous as he scribbled down on the paper quickly. Why did he need to know that? It’s not like I drink it through my vagina or anything! I hoped he wasn’t going to tell Abby’s mom.

“You have boyfriend?”

“No!” I exclaimed, horrified. He began to write when I paused. “Oh wait, yes.” If you could call Zac a boyfriend, that is.

He eyed me suspiciously. “You no sure?”

Oh, so he was going to be a smart ass, was he? I replied bitterly, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You have the sex?”

I squinted and cocked my head to the side. The doctor’s voice had dropped dramatically so that it was only a mere whisper. I hadn’t understood a word he’d said.

“What was that?”

“Sex?”

Six? Sense? Socks? He was still speaking far too quietly for me to make out what he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry, one more time? I can’t hear you.”

“Do you engage in sexual activity?” He shouted, causing me to jump at his sudden outburst.

I gaped at him with utmost disgust. “For God’s sake, no! Man, how can you ask me something like that?”

The doctor sighed heavily. “Need know information. You ever have the sex yet?”

I think Abby said she was a virgin. “No.”

“Okay, let get straight, have everything right. You no smoke, drink much, have the sex.” The older man squinted at me and smiled. “You want to be nun?”

My jaw literally dropped. I grew stiff in my cold metal chair. “Excuse me?” Was he making fun of me? Was he? Just because I don’t kill myself with cigarettes or whore myself around to every penis I meet doesn’t make me one step away from the convent! Er, and by me I mean Abby.

You know, maybe Abby has a lot of pride in herself! Maybe she’s waiting for the right person or maybe she’s waiting for marriage? Maybe she wants to be right with God? Whatever her reasons, there’s no reason to make fun of someone for their lifestyle choices, particularly if they’re morally grounded.

I suddenly felt a pang of remorse for all of the less than “morally grounded” choices I’d made. All of the hook ups, one night stands, threesomes, foursomes (with only women naturally), quickies in the tour bus… I was a pathetic little boy. I had no respect for myself or for the women I’d been with.

The doctor looked flustered. He repeated with much less vigor, “You want to be nun?” It suddenly dawned on me that he was trying to joke around with me. For some reason unbeknownst to me, he thought the whole nun joke was actually something I, or any girl, might find remotely amusing.

“Okay, now you lie on table and we examine?” The doctor said. His statements always sounded like questions.

I slowly stood up from the chair and was about to dash out when I remembered that I was practically naked. There was very little modesty maintained with this hellish paper garb. This would not do. Somehow I had to maneuver myself around the doctor, grab my clothes, put on some pants at least, and get the hell out of this God forsaken prison.

I shakily laid myself down onto the cold table and frantically tried to think of a feasible method of escape. If only Zac were here. I know he’d think of something to get me out of here. Well, maybe he wouldn’t because he might find my little predicament amusing, the sick bastard, but assuming that I threatened his existence, I’d wager that Zac could think of something brilliant in the nick of time.

My attention was immediately averted when I felt one leg being tugged and placed against some metal foot contraption. I instinctively covered my middle region as he grabbed the other leg.

“You need move hands, miss.”

Miss-ter.

“No.”

The doctor sighed tiredly. I think it’s needless to say that I am not his favorite patient of the day. “Miss, I doctor. You need move hands so I examine. Then we done and you go home.”

I could feel the sharp pangs of helplessness stab at my stomach. Was there no justice in the world? I’m a boy, damn it! I don’t want to A) own a vagina of my very own and B) have to have it examined by some odd-smelling stranger in a gloomy, vaginally-decorated room!

There was no way to get out of this. There was no means of escape. No, there was only the horror of the inescapable. The only means to an end is something so perverse, something so unnatural and despicable. The heaviness of inevitability was pulling at me in all directions and I had no choice but to face facts and do the unthinkable.

I moved my hands.

Oh God, it was so awful. Just lying there with my legs spread open like some ten-cent hooker on a padded table in an itchy gown…it was pure hell. My knees ached to cling together as a small draft went through the room. I was going to be sick. I just knew it. Nausea overwhelmed me as the doctor turned on a warm light and peered closer.

My eyes bulged as I felt a gloved finger touching me in a place I never, ever wanted touched. Ever. My eyes watered in disgust and pure torment as I felt him moving around. This did not feel good. Was this how girls felt when boys touched them there? Were they repulsed and violated? Not only was I ready to spew at the drop of a dime but now I felt more guilt trying to suffocate me.

I bit my lip and willed myself to think of anything else. I tried thinking of being onstage performing, but the audience was filled with creepy, little Asian doctors with magnifying glasses in their hands. I tried thinking about Brooke, but I could only think of how revolted she would be if she ever found out about this.

I made the mistake of looking up at the doctor when I noticed something metal and shiny in his hands. I immediately brought my legs together and sat up on the table. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do with that…thing…exactly but there was no way in hell that it was going to touch me.

“Relax, miss,” the doctor insisted, reaching for a leg. I refused to let him have it. “Miss, I almost done here. Just let me finish and we go home, okay?”

I whined and allowed myself to once again be manhandled. Just a few more minutes and then I could go home and wallow in my tormented sorrows. I let out a dramatic scream as I felt something very cold and hard being thrust against me and it felt like I was being opened completely. It was as if I were the fucking Red Sea being parted.

“OW!” I yowled, trying my damndest to make my knees come together. “That hurts like a mother fucker!”

“It okay, miss,” the doctor said, avoiding a swift kick to the head. “All women do this. Duck lips not fun but must do. Your friends do it, your sisters, your aunts, your grandmothers, your mother…”

Words cannot even begin to describe the horrid imagery that flooded me. My girl friends? Oh, the nausea. My sisters? Horror of horrors! My Aunts? Oh my God, it’s rising! The bile is rising! MY FUCKING MOM?

Oh God, I just imagined my mother laying spread eagle on a table having her mom-part examined.

With an inhumane cry, my body flung itself over the table, kicking the unsuspecting doctor smack on the forehead, and sending the duck lips flying into the air. I doubled over to throw up just as the doctor rushed to me in shock. This resulted in my vomit oozing down the front of his once white lab coat. That gave me only momentary satisfaction because the dire need to get the fuck out throbbed painfully throughout my body. The doctor jumped back and gaped at himself as I pushed him away roughly to grab Abby’s jeans, nearly knocking him over. I thrust one leg in while hopping towards the door. I needed to leave. I had to get out. There were no more travesties that my terrorized psyche could endure.

The receptionists and guests in the lobby area stared surprised as I bolted out, half naked and screaming my idiot head off. A nurse tried to stop me but I managed to maneuver myself out of her gentle grasp. No one else in their right mind dared to go near me, considering the frantic and insane state I was currently in. And at this time, I could make no promises that I wouldn’t hit a woman if she got in my way.

I was in take-no-prisoners mode all the way.

I rushed out of the front door and jumped down the steps. The fresh air hit me with such blessed fervor that I ended up tripping on my trailing pant-leg and fell smack onto the ground. Panting, I just laid there a moment to collect myself. I couldn’t even possibly begin to take in what had just occurred. My brain was incapable of processing such atrocity.

When I slowly began to calm down, I pulled my pants completely on and pulled the paper gown closer around me. I had only taken the pants in all of the commotion, leaving me only in jeans and a faulty paper gown to walk home in. I thought about calling Zac or Abby for a ride home, but decided against it. I didn’t want anyone to know what happened and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it. All I wanted was sweet repression. If that meant I had a good forty-minute walk home, so be it.

Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Gynecologist appointments? Mammograms? What was next? I couldn’t handle this anymore. My brain cannot convince itself that I’m a girl now, no matter what my physical exterior looks like. I closed my eyes as I shoved my hands into my jean pockets and began the long walk home.

I needed some time to deal.