Her Idol Part 4

This part has trigger warnings. A young Paulene shows her father who she really is for the first time.

Part 4

Paulene’s past...

A gentle knock on the door right now sounds like rapid gunfire. I’m so on edge that I almost go full veteran and jump behind cover.

“Paulene?” Mom says, slowly opening the door. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Heart thudding away like I’ve just done a marathon, I turn to look at her. Standing half-dressed in my room surrounded by piles of clothing, I shake my head.

I’m not okay. My nerves are shot to pieces, and for the life of me, I can’t decide what to wear.

Mom looks at me with a wry smile before stepping into my room and gently closing the door. “Ah, I see….” She then sits on the edge of my bed. “Can’t find something you feel comfortable in?”

I bite my bottom lip and almost growl in frustration.

“Why don’t you just go like that?” she says, smiling at me as I stand in just a pair of simple pyjama trousers and my bra. “That’ll get the message across to your Dad that you’re a girl now.”

“That’s not funny.”

I kick at a pile of tried and rejected outfits. “Everything about me looks stupid! I’m either too wide or not wide enough, Mom. I hate my body!”

The silence between us only makes things more unbearable. I feel foolish, forcing myself to pretend I’m someone my body refuses to be, and all I want is to give up and sink into misery for the rest of my life.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom sighs, like I’m being petulant or childish.

I throw her a stern stare. “Don’t patronise me like that. You were born the correct gender, so you have no idea what this feels like!”

My eyes widen for a moment before they narrow, and she glares back. “Paulene, don’t speak to me like that. I understand you're nervous about seeing your father for the first time, but don’t act like I’ve never stressed over an outfit before.”

I hang my head in shame as I stare down at the floor, and for a moment, the tension between us hangs in the air. I’m not angry at her, I’m just kinda scared of how Dad will react. It’s not like we have a good relationship to start with.

“Right!” Mom claps her hands, stands, and starts looking around. “What do you find yourself most comfortable in that isn’t just your underwear and sleepwear?

I let out a long breath. “I guess I feel most comfortable as a girl when I’m at work with you. So something like that?”

“Office clothes?” Mom looks at me with a curious smile before tilting her head to tease me. “That’s only because Oscar’s there, isn’t it? Don’t try and hide it, Paulene, I see how you blush when he comes into the room!”

My cheeks sting just thinking about it. “Mom….” I gently whine bashfully, looking away so she can’t see my blushing cheeks. “We’ve been on like two dates. You make it sound like I love him or something!”

“Well, I guess if that was the case….” Mom picks up a skirt from the floor and brushes it down as she talks. “Then that would explain my phone bill. You’ve been chatting with him all night on that internet, haven’t you?”

My eyes widen. “I have not!”

Mom chuckles, steps close to me, and holds the skirt at my waist. “It’s okay, Paulene. I don’t mind. I know it makes you happy.”

Mom then makes me hold the black pleated skirt in my hands as she steps away and looks at me with a curious smile. “I don’t want you to dress to ‘business’, sweetheart. You should let your own natural style show with your Dad, rather than treating him like just another meeting.”

“My natural style?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Y’know, how you wanna dress as a woman.”

I think about it for a moment before frantically looking around my room. I start stepping over piles and throwing clothes around the room. I know how I want to dress. My laughs at me as skirts and tops go flying into the air.

“Alright, sweetheart….” She giggles, stepping back from the chaos. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs. Once you're ready, we will head to your father's place.”

I know exactly what I want to wear, and maybe thirty minutes later, I stand up at the top of the staircase, calling down to my Mom and asking her what she thinks.

She looks at me with the brightest of smiles as I rush downstairs. My wig almost falls off with how fast I’m moving, but I’m excited for her to see what I ended up choosing.

“Well!?”

Mom looks at the flared jeans I’ve stuffed my body into and the light purple, cropped t-shirt that barely covers my midriff. Then, she looks around me at the big, bright scrunchy I’ve got in my hair, holding it in a ponytail.

“I can’t believe those are back in fashion,” Mom laughs, pointing at my flared jeans. “I used to wear stuff like that when I was your age.”

I look down at my legs. “Do they look okay on me? I do really like the way they cling around my hips, but flare out, making my feet look really small.”

Mom nods, then places her hand on my exposed stomach to give it a playful tickle. I flinch and burst into giggles as I push her away.

“Are you sure about this much exposed skin?”

“Yes!” I back away, pulling down my t-shirt as low as it will go. “It’s the fashion, Mom. This is why I keep asking you if I can get my belly button pierced.”

Mom steps back to take in the whole ensemble.

“I like it.” She smiles and looks me deep in the eyes. “Your makeup is getting better, too. I like what you’ve done with your eyes.”

“Thanks!” I flutter my eyelids. “I’ve been trying new things.”

“I can tell.” Mom brings a finger to my lips to wipe away a smudge. “Still gotta work on not applying too much to your lips, but you’ve gotta teach me that eye look. It’s cute.”

She then turns, gathers her purse, and stands at the front door. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

The ride over to my father's is honestly painful. As we get closer, my chest feels heavier and heavier. My stomach does flips, and I swear I’m slowly turning into a puddle of sweat. However, Mom doesn’t seem worried at all.

I look at her, and, as always, she is my beacon of strength. I wouldn’t be doing this without her.

We pull up into Dad’s drive. It’s a small home on the outskirts of the city. He lives here alone. I haven’t been here since I was a lot younger, which is kinda sad. I do want him in my life.

I have such fond memories of when we all lived together before they broke up. One Christmas stands out in particular, when they surprised me with a PlayStation. Dad and I spent the whole morning side by side, playing Crash Bandicoot until we finally beat it.

It might sound like a boring memory, but it’s one of my favourites and I do miss him.

For a moment, we sit in the car just looking at the house.

“Paulene,” Mom says with a tone of voice that makes me look at her worried.

“Y-Yeah...?”

Staring forward like she’s about to go to war, she lets out a long breath and turns to me with a smile. “Just remember if—”

She stops herself, looks down.

“Mom?”

After a moment, she shakes her head and then gives me the widest smile. “I-It’s nothing. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”  I nod my head several times, knowing how proud of myself I am for getting this far. “I-I…I really am, Mom. I want him to share this with him.”

She looks me right in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re so brave.” She pushes open her door as she continues to look at me. “Okay then. I’m right behind you.”

As I step out of the car, I glance around the neighborhood, suddenly hyper-aware of what I’m wearing. A small part of me secretly wishes someone I know would show up, just to see if they’d even recognize me, but the empty sidewalks bring an even greater sense of relief.

We step up to Dad’s house. Mom knocks on the door, and we wait

All I can hear his my heart thudding in my chest.

Thud

Thud

Then ‘click’ as the front door to my father's home opens.

Standing in the doorway is my father. He’s wearing his high-vis jacket and looks rough around the edges. First, he stares at Mom, and I can see the disdain on his face for her.

“Hello, Melissa,” Dad says plainly, opening the door fully.

My heart skips a beat as he throws me a quick glance. Strangely, he doesn’t acknowledge me at all, only looking at Mom. It’s almost like he doesn’t know who I am.

“Who’s this?” Dad nods his head towards me as he talks to Mom. “I thought Paul was coming over. He said he had something he wanted to show me.”

My breath catches in my throat, and once again, he throws me a confused look.

“Is this his girlfriend? Is that what he wants to show me?”

I feel like just nodding, agreeing, and then instantly leaving. Either way, I’m too nervous to say anything, so I just stare past him into his messy home.

“Erm…” Mom rubs her face and is clearly a little stressed, too. “No, Kyle.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “T-This is Paul. This is what she wanted to show you.”

“Melissa…” My Dad says obnoxiously, like he’s already tired of our presence. “Have you been drinking again. Stop referring to our son as a ‘she’ and tell me where he is.”

Mom grips my shoulder a little too tightly for comfort.

“Something in me senses Mom is starting to struggle with the moment, so I try to meet my father’s eyes, but I can’t. Still, I force the words out. ‘H-Hi, Dad. I-It’s me. I’m a-a… g-girl now.”

Dad steps back, visibly repulsed or scared, I’m not too sure. He quickly puts a hand over his mouth and, even though I’m barely looking, I can tell he’s glaring down at me.

“P-Paul!?” his voice is tainted with disgust.

“K-Kyle…” Mom speaks quickly, as every second counts. “She’s done some really growing up lately and has come out to me as a transsexual. She wants you—”

“My god, child!” My father grabs at my wig, pulling it from my head. “No child of mine…”

I try my best to snatch it from him, but at this point, I’m starting to regret coming to see him. He dangles it above me, like road kill he’s just peeled off the road.

“This is gross, Melissa!” she shouts, throwing my wig to the floor, only to stand on it seconds later with his big, stupid boots. “This is our SON and you’re letting him dress like a….like a freak! What’s wrong with you!?”

“What’s wrong with me!?” Mom shouts back, taking her hand from my shoulder as she begins getting very animated. “Our child has shared something so wonderful with me, and now she wants to share it with you!” Mom scoffs at him with venom. “And that’s how you react!?”

“Look at him, Melissa!” Dad grabs roughly at my t-shirt and yanks me in front of Mom like I’m some sort of circus freak. “This is a boy, Melissa, and you’ve got him parading around where I LIVE like some sort of….back street transvestite!”

Mom instantly grabs me and pulls me away.

“DO NOT TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!”

Dad laughs out loud, like he thinks Mom is crazy. “Oh my goodness, Melissa. Have you heard yourself? Maybe if you’d spent more time actually caring for him and less trying to be business lady of the year, our son would be normal!”

My chest caves in like all the air has been ripped out of me. Dad doesn’t see me. He’s not even trying to understand me.

To him, I’m still just ‘his son,’ no matter how much courage it took to stand here. The way he spits the word makes it clear he’ll never see me as his daughter, and that cuts deeper than anything else ever has.

My hands shake as I stare at the floor, wishing I could vanish.

“Paul!” Dad almost screeches, grabbing me once again. He looks me deep in my eyes, but I look past the angry expression on his face. I’m vacant, dissociating myself from the reality playing out around me.

 “You are a boy, Paul!” she shouts in my face. “A BOY! You can’t be a girl, no matter how much fucking dress up you do, child! You understand me!”

I say nothing as Mom tries to break his grip from me, but can’t

“Talk to me, boy!” he says, inches from my face. “Tell me this is some big joke. Tell me you aren’t this freak I see before me!”

His grip on me is iron, holding me in place while his disgusted glare burns straight through me. I’m trapped, helpless, spiraling into despair as my breath shatters and the edges of a panic attack close in.

“Get off her!” Mom shouts, screams even.

They fight around me, pulling me in directions as if I were the last cupcake at the party. I’m silent, unable to talk and almost unable to breath.

“She wants your acceptance, Kyle!” Mom screeches. “Wants you to be part of her life!”

And like that, my father says words that cut so deep, he might as well have pulled out my heart and stomped on it, like the precious wig he tore off me so easily.

“I don’t want to be part of whatever this is!” she shouts back. “Get off my property. I don’t want anything to do with this freak show!”

“Kyle! That’s our child you’re talking about!” Mom’s arms wrap around me, but his shove pushes me back, and I stumble against her.

Dad’s eyes lock onto mine with a cold glare, and I stare back through a blur of tears, my chest tightening as if I’m being crushed.

“I don’t have a son anymore. Now get the hell out of here before I call the police, you freaks!”

I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper as I reach for him with one hand. “D-Dad…?”

He slaps my hand away like I’m nothing, his words slicing through me. “I ain’t your Dad. You’re dead to me.”

I crumble against Mom, my body shaking, heart hammering in my ears, and the world feels like it’s collapsing around me.

Every hope, every ounce of courage I built up to stand here, shatters into dust. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can feel is the raw, burning ache of rejection.

And like that, my world goes numb.