The Best Boy Ever Made Read online

  Now I saw that those girls were just like me. Except Emma, she was certainly not like me, or I was not like her, or whatever. Anyway Tina had talked about her little brother, and her nieces and nephews, and I knew deep down she had every drop of maternal instinct I did. She wanted a family one day. How was that ever going to be possible? I didn't know. But I knew I couldn't ask her to give up who she was to be in a heterosexual loveless marriage.

  On the other hand, should the church be forced to accept that? Should the Catholic Church be forced to disregard two thousand years of tradition? I didn't think so either.

  I was leaning, in my head at least, towards some sort of civil union. There were just two simple problems. The first was that even this would be way too far for my family. Anyone with half a brain- well anyone under thirty with half a brain- knew that homosexuality was not a choice. That had been well established as a fact. My family, however, still thinks it's a lifestyle, and a sinful one at that.

  The second problem was that civil unions weren't what the debate was about. It was crystal clear in the instructions you had to be either for or against gay marriage. I wasn't sure I could ever go that far, but I also couldn't stand the thought of condemning anyone to a loveless life. Call me a romantic or a sap but I believe there is someone for everyone and everyone deserves a happy life.

  I gave up on the speech and went to bed. I lay awake for a long time. At first I thought about Sam. Where would she end up living? In San Francisco? In some other big city? Would she have an apartment or a house? Would she go to bed alone night after night? I would call her at least once a week, or more, I decided. She could come visit, whatever the community thought of her. I would share as much of my family as I possibly could. Or would that just make it worse for her?

  That started me thinking about my future. I thought about the "one." He would sweep into my life anytime now, making my heart flutter and skip a beat. None of the boys at school did that, but maybe I would meet him in college. We would date a long while but I would know right away, I was sure. We would get married, just a simple affair, and live in the country. We would have oodles of kids and our house would always be bright, cheerful, active and warm.

  Usually thinking about the "one" and my future made me feel happy, but for some reason tonight it made me feel even worse. Suddenly he felt so vague and insubstantial. I had never met this mysterious "one." I hadn't had these children. They were all just ghosts in my head. I couldn't get any warmth from the thought of ghost children or imaginary men I would meet someday.

  What I wanted more than anything else was a real warm body next to me. I shrugged and pulled the quilts closer and struggled to get to sleep.

  #

  "So, I have something to tell you," I began slowly as we milked the goats the next morning, "about school."

  "Okay." Sam said, "shoot."

  "It's about Eric," I went on. "Well maybe not just Eric. I don't know-"

  "What is it?" Sam interrupted.

  "He knows."

  "Knows what?"

  "About you." I waited for that to sink in.

  "So?"

  "So!" I almost shouted. "So, he knows about your, you know, gender issues."

  "Yeah, he is getting counseling about the same time. We often end up sitting in the waiting room together. What was I supposed to do?"

  "You told him?"

  "Yeah, he said he'd keep it under his hat," Sam said. "I didn't really believe him, but like I said, what was I supposed to do? Lie? Tell him what? What lie wouldn't be just as bad?"

  "I know, but still he's talking. People know. I am worried."

  "They'll find out eventually, anyway." Sam said.

  "Eventually," I echoed, "but not now."

  "Why not now?" Sam retorted. "They're going to know when I transition. They might as well start getting ready for that fact."

  "I know. I know you have to transition, you have to go-"

  "Go? Go where, Alecia?"

  "I don't know, San Francisco?"

  "Why am I going to San Francisco?"

  "I don't know, where do they do it? We haven't talked about that." We hadn't. I was scared of the answer.

  "I haven't a clue what you are talking about. Where am I going Alecia, and why?"

  I was in tears. "I accept that you are transgender, Sam, that when we all get out of high school you are going to leave and go to where ever it is that they do this transition thing and you are going to become a man."

  "Whoa, back up there. First off, who says I have to go anywhere? I might have to travel to find a doctor willing to prescribe the hormones, but there's no law that says I have to live in San Francisco because I am trans. This isn't the 1950's. I don't have to move far away and deny who I am, never come back home."

  I was relieved and startled at the same time. Sam transition here? Sam staying right here, being close, was the best news I had had in a long time. But how would she deal with everyone? I knew what this community was like, was she strong enough to face that?

  "You don't want me to transition here?" Sam asked.

  "No, it's not that."

  "Yes, it is," she shouted. "You are scared of what people will think, aren't you?"

  "You don't know what they can be like. They can be so mean about things like that."

  "Oh, I know, alright. You're forgetting I've always been like this. I've always had to deal with the names and taunting." Sam was angry, angrier than I had ever seen her.

  "I am sorry," I said, "I guess I hadn't thought about it, and when I heard Eric saying stuff it hit me."

  "What am I supposed to do, Al?"

  "I just wish I had known that he knew. It wouldn't have been such a shock."

  "Lots of people know."

  "What do you mean lots of people?"

  "Isn't it obvious, Alecia? I can't hide it anymore. When I was a kid they'd look the other way and laugh when I wanted to wear boy clothes or play a cowboy instead of a princess. But we are almost grown. In case you haven't noticed, every other tomboy has either grown out of it or come out as a lesbian by our age. I have to explain myself somehow. Why not the truth?"

  "Of course, you should tell the truth. I just wasn't prepared. I am part of this, too, you know. I am your best friend and I swore I'd stand by you. But I got to know what's coming. I got to know what to expect."

  "What, I am supposed to clear it with you before I tell anyone?"

  "I didn't mean it like that," I said frantic. "It's just all coming so fast."

  She shook her head. "Not for me it isn't. God, every day I have to wake up and be Samantha one more day, I feel like I am dying."

  I was crying then, bawling like a baby. "Don't say that, Sam, don't say that. I don't want you to die. Not now, not ever."

  Sam came over and put her arms around me. "It's okay, it's okay." She said over and over while I cried. "I am not going to die."

  When I had regained my composure she held me at arms' length. "What I am trying to say, Alecia, is that I have to do this, and I have to do this as soon as possible. That means people are going to find out. I'll just have to deal with what they think. This is not a choice for me."

  I nodded, trying to be brave. I knew that when it came down to it, Sam was strong enough. I just wasn't sure that I was.

  Chapter Five

  Prom, it's the highlight of every high school girl's life, or should be. Junior prom is a pretty big event as well, but not the highlight. That's a comforting thought since I bombed junior prom. I humpfed and glanced across at Jeremy, who was at least as much to blame for ruining Junior Prom as I was.

  The last two weeks hadn't been great. After our fight, Sam and I finished our chores in silence. I could sense she was still upset with me. Why? Because I was upset that people wouldn't accept her? I was trying to be supportive, to protect her and I get chastised for this?

  I sort of wanted to talk to Great-Grandma Becca about the whole thing. I couldn't
, of course. Partly because she's so old. They didn't have these sorts of problems in her day. I mean, I know she'd have something wise to say about the whole thing, and she wouldn't be snooty or judgmental about it. But still.

  Besides, we went as a family and I sure couldn't tell them anything. She knew right away I was upset and I told her Sam was going through some stuff and it was hard for both of us. I hope she understood, but I couldn't tell. Maybe I can find some time to visit on my own.

  I was worried about Sam, whatever she thought, and knowing that others knew made me jumpy. Every time I thought I heard someone talking about Sam, I tried to listen in to gauge their reaction. Every time I heard a gay joke, and they were all too common in a small town like this, I imagined Sam to be the butt of it. Every time someone mentioned conservative politics, religion or any number of other things I imagined what it would mean for her. Like, if they mentioned church or the Republican Party I would think they won't accept Sam and it felt like a friend lost. Had she really felt like this her whole life? What an awful way to live.

  So I went into prom night jumpy and irritable. The dinner and the dance went well enough. I got my picture taken with Jeremy and it looked okay. Mary and I hung out most of the nights and that was pretty cool. Sam didn't attend. She never went to any school dances.

  It was the after prom party that really went downhill. It was at Jerry's farm, about five miles down the road from home. We had a huge bonfire and stayed up all night by the fire talking. We were supposed to bring sleeping bags and sack out there. That was when the problems started. Jeremy had only one sleeping bag, because you know, he figured we'd just share. Because we've been going out like five months now and it's high time I put out.

  I am not that kind of girl. I hope I have made that clear by now. There isn't a magical number of dates or months of dating that means I spread my legs. There's a magical feeling, and Jeremy was not giving me that feeling.

  I spent the majority of the night at the fire, ignoring any of Jeremy's suggestions that we should turn in. Finally, about one, two in the morning everyone else turned in and I had no choice but to face the situation.

  Don't worry, I didn't cave. We argued though, hot and heavy. In fact he kept telling me to lower my voice. I was waking others up and that was embarrassing him. Embarrassing him? If I had stayed quiet, even if we didn't do anything, everyone would make assumptions. Then who would be embarrassed? He didn't care about that. I guess a boy's reputation as a stallion is more important then a girls reputation as a slut or not.

  Even though I made it crystal clear we weren't doing anything he still persisted in pawing me half the night. It was like sleeping with an octopus. I don't know how many times his hands "accidentally" slid somewhere they shouldn't be.

  I didn't sleep well, neither of us did, and we were up early. I asked him to take me home. He was in a foul mood and we drove most of the way in silence.

  A tan form flitted across my vision in the early dawn light. I had only one second to recognize what it was before the car slammed into the deer. The airbags popped with a loud bang and all I could see was gray. The car slid sideways on the gravel and tilted. For a second, I thought we were going to roll but then the car fell back with another loud crunch.

  I pulled the airbag down and fought to master my breathing. Next to me I heard Jeremy cussing. After a few moments the dust began to settle.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "My f-ing car!" Jeremy screamed, "My f-ing car!"

  I got out and scanned around the ditch behind us. I figured Jeremy must be okay if he could cuss like that. I heard his door slam.

  "It won't f-ing shut!" he yelled, slamming the door again. "Look at my f-ng car."

  I am cleaning up his language a bit. I don't cuss like that, and I don't want the readers to think I approve. I am sure his car was a mess. I would look in time. Right then I had bigger things to think about. I saw a flash of tan and made for it.

  "What the F am I supposed to do now?" Jeremy wailed.

  "Call someone." I already had my phone out and hit speed dial. Once it picked up I didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Sam, Jeremy hit a deer, three miles south, on Victor Avenue." I saw the flash of tan break over the ditch and into the far field. "It's injured."

  "We're in the back eighty," Sam said, "Dad and I will drop the last two bales and be right there." She hung up.

  "I called Dad," Jeremy said when I turned back. "He says to call 911."

  Duh.

  About ten minutes later two vehicles converged on us from opposite sides. From the south and the highway came a state trooper. From the north came the Oleson's chore truck. Mr. Oleson and the trooper made for Jeremy and the car, Sam made for me.

  "You okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern. I nodded and pointed.

  I didn't have to say anything. I was standing on the far bank of the ditch. About ten yards away, lying in a tall clump of weeds was a doe. She was gasping. She tried to rise, but her front leg was broken. It was amazing she'd even made it that far. She looked at me and I saw pain and fear.

  I looked at Sam. Her face was full of concern, concern for me and for the doe. "You know what needs to be done?" she asked. I nodded. I knew.

  "Dad, I need the thirty eight," Sam called. Mr. Oleson and the trooper exchanged a glance. He gave a nod and Mr. Oleson returned to the truck. I saw him remove the .38 Winchester and a box of shells. He brought it to Sam.

  "Are you sure it's okay?" Sam asked as she loaded the gun.

  "Yes," I said. I could feel the tears threatening. "Just stop its pain."

  She nodded. Her eyes held compassion and determination. Good old Sam.

  I felt Mr. Oleson's hand on my shoulder and I was glad for it but I didn't look away. I couldn't. Sam held the rifle up and took aim. A shot rang out and the doe's eyes went dim. "Clean shot," Mr. Oleson commented.

  I took a deep breath and held it. So did Sam. We looked at each other and then both let our breath out in a sigh. And we were practical again.

  I turned and marched back to the trooper. Mr. Oleson took the gun from Sam and unloaded the spent shell. He headed for the truck. Sam marched off into the field to where the deer lay.

  I surveyed the damage to Jeremy's car. It was a mess. The deer had hit hard. His bumper was ruined, the hood had popped and judging from the fact that his door wouldn't shut I guessed his frame must have been sprung as well. The car was totaled. Jeremy was in a right state.

  The trooper was taking his report like, well, a trooper. He kept scratching on the notepad he carried while Jeremy ranted, cussed and went through hysterics. The officer rolled his eyes and kept writing.

  "We want the tag," I told the officer. He nodded. Most city people don't realize this but when you hit a deer the DNR will issue you a tag, just like you shot it during hunting season. My dad laughs at me when I do stuff like this. I refuse to hunt because I don't kill for sport, but I have put as many deer on our table as my cousin who does. My cousin gets one tag a year. My extended family, all farmers who rise early to do chores, hits at least three or four deer. I've insisted they all field dress and deliver the carcass to the nearest butcher. Mr. Oleson usually ends up paying and taking the meat. He doles it out amongst a variety of elderly families around the community. A lot are on fixed income and the extra food really helps.

  This might seem like a sudden change of pace for me, but it's really not. My first and biggest concern was that the animal not be left to suffer. My second concern was that its life not be taken for nothing. My third and smallest concern was for inanimate objects like cars. That was what insurance was for, after all.

  I gave the officer the brief and to the point version of what had happened. We had rounded the corner, driven about fifty yards and then the deer came up out of the ditch and we hit it. It was an accident. Now was that so hard?

  A third and fourth vehicle joined us on the gravel road, quite a crowd for the country. The third v
ehicle was Jeremy's dad, he had a tow truck minutes behind him.

  With his dad there they finished making the report in no time. The tow truck driver inspected the damage and promised to have it to the dealer straight away. They wouldn't be able to assess the damage until Monday, but it seemed a pretty moot point to me. Jeremy would no doubt be getting a new car.

  "You need a ride?" his dad asked, gesturing towards the Suburban.

  I shook my head, no. "I'll go with the Oleson's. They only live a mile from my home. It's not out of the way. Besides we got to deal with that deer."

  Jeremy's dad glanced over at Sam, who had just returned across the ditch. She had a bloody utility knife in one hand, and blood to her elbow. A look of undisguised revulsion crossed the man's face. Revulsion at the reality of country life maybe, or perhaps at the tomboy who could field dress a deer in a matter of minutes with a utility knife. Either way I hated that look.

  By the time Mr. Oleson, Sam and I had wrapped the deer in a tarp and dragged it across the field, the trooper and Jeremy and his dad were gone. The tow truck driver had maneuvered his truck to the other side of Jeremy's car and was trying to figure out how to get it turned enough to get it on the tow truck.

  He left off what he was doing and helped us carry the deer, which was full grown, over the ditch and put it in the back of the truck. While Sam used the water pitcher to clean her hands, Mr. Oleson helped him load the car. That's how we country folk do things, we help each other.

  As soon as he was on his way with Jeremy's car and we were loaded into the cab of Mr. Oleson's truck I turned to Sam. "I have got to dump that boy!" I exclaimed.

  Mr. Oleson just chuckled. I heard him mutter. "Another one bites the dust."