The Girl He Could Be - Intro

 ALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10 | PART 11 | PART 12 | FINAL PART ONE | FINAL PART

Tim didn't mean any harm. It wasn't his fault that he was born with a girl's pretty face. It was just innocent curiosity that first led him to experiment with crossdressing in his sister's clothes.

Tim was as nervous as a cat.

This was only his second time out in public at a mall, and he was acutely aware of everyone and everything around him. As it was on almost any Sunday, the mall was crowded. When the weather was poor, people flocked there in droves. Today was no exception.

Fortunately, he hadn't run into anyone he knew.

He hoped his luck would hold, but that would be a miracle. He could only pray he wasn't recognized. Tim had only arrived a few minutes ago, but the strain from being so nervous was already getting to him. He had walked to the middle of the busy mall and found an empty bench outside of Maas Brothers, by the ice-skating rink. He sat to rest.

His eyes scanned the people as they walked by, looking for any indication that a passerby saw through the disguise. The mental strain was exhausting.

It had been three weeks ago today that his stepfather had come home early and surprised him.

Tim was sitting on the couch watching television.

Tim's family was not well off.

His mother had to work to help his stepfather keep ahead of the bills. They had a small house in the poorer section of town.

When they had scraped together the down payment several years ago, there wasn't much left over for new furniture. The house was a patchwork of odds and ends.

He would never forget the feeling when his stepfather first saw him, the look on his face. He blew up at Tim. Tim was so ashamed of himself. His stepfather threw him out of the house on the spot.

Tim froze when he walked in. Embarrassed almost to the point of tears, there was nothing he could say to the man. When he finally got tired of calling him every perverted name he could think of, his stepfather told him to get his things and get out.

Tim was just thankful he didn't beat him and rushed to the bedroom, changed, and gathered everything of his that he could. He quickly skulked out of the house. Tim had been dressing up, secretly, in his older sister's clothes for years.

On the rare occasions that he was home alone, Tim would dress up and go about his chores as normally as possible.

He was sitting in the living room in one of his sister's dresses, with his sister's wig on and makeup on as he ate his lunch, when his stepfather walked in and surprised him.

There has never been a close relationship. The man had always felt that the boy didn't like him, that Tim came between him and his mother.

Tim, in fact, didn't like him. He was not very good to his mother.

He was the lord of the house, and nothing any of them said mattered. His mother had to bow to his wishes. It frustrated Tim that his mother put up with it, but he sort of understood.

Tim's father had been her second try at marriage after her first husband had deserted her, right after Tim's half-sister was born.

Tim's father had died in a car accident. His mother had gone to pieces for several years. When this man came along, she jumped into marriage with him. She never thought she'd get another chance, and she didn't think twice when he proposed.

Tim's half-sister resented him.

She was four years old when he was born, and her new father and her mother seemed to forget about her, showering all their affection on their newborn son.

Bridget felt unloved and unwanted. After Tim's father died, she regained her former standing with her mother, with Tim getting the leftovers of his mother's affections.

Matters were made worse between Tim and Bridget when, because money was tight, they had to share a bedroom. Bridget hated that situation and never let him have a moment's peace at home.

Tim had nearly given up hope before he found a cheap furnished apartment over a furniture store. It was a small corner apartment, just three rooms. The living room occupied the corner of the building with two windows on the street side and one facing the alley.

The furniture consisted of a worn plaid couch and a battered old stuffed chair. His coffee table and end table were full of scratches. Tim was grateful that the TV worked at all.

The kitchen was very small; there was hardly enough room to turn around in.

The appliances all worked, but they were chipped and rusted badly.

A modest collection of plates, glasses, and silverware hardly filled one cabinet. The entrance to the apartment, by way of a narrow stairway from the alley in the rear of the building, opened into the kitchen.

His bedroom, about 12' by 10', was just slightly smaller than the living room. It contained an old metal frame bed, a double, with no headboard; a small, beat-up nightstand; a large, low dresser; and a small desk.

The small, tiled bathroom had large chips off the porcelain washstand and bathtub. The toilet had stains that Tim had given up trying to scrub off. It wasn't easy to find an apartment when you are only fifteen.

Tim was lucky that the man was willing to rent to him.

Tim was fortunate to have a full-time job, but he still couldn't afford some of the things he would have liked to have, like a phone.

He saved every dime he could for more important things.

Between high school and work, he had very little time for himself.

Most nights, he would come home between nine and ten and have to do homework. Collapsing in bed at midnight, totally drained, was not unusual.

He had called his mother after a few days.

He was careful to call when his stepfather wasn't supposed to be there. She didn't pretend to understand why he had done what he did. She was a God-fearing woman, and what Tim had done was an affront to God.

His mother didn't even want to talk about it. She warned him not to come near the house; his stepfather wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

He would have been furious if he knew they even talked on the phone.

He was very strict in his handling of his stepchildren and his wife. The man ran the household, and Tim's mother allowed it; she was afraid of losing the security he provided her and her remaining child.

Tim, from outward appearances, was one of those unusual kids that most parents wished they could call their own.

He tried to do well in school, and he was highly thought of at work. Normally he got along well with his parents.

He never got in trouble or messed with drugs. His mother always used to sing his praises to her friends.

Tim had been working any kind of odd job he could for years.

He was saving to buy a car when he was old enough.

Being kicked out was a blessing in a way. He was out from under his stepfather's strict rule and his sister's badgering.

Tim had taken the few things he treasured with him, although he didn't intend to continue dressing up.

He had some clothes he had bought, saying to the salesgirls that they were for his sister or his imaginary girlfriend. He was planning to throw them out, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The long, wavy wig was from a catalog.

He had sent a lock of his hair for them to match. It was one of his prized possessions. Tim had some makeup, but not much. He had used his sister's most of the time.

He didn't know why or remember when the urge first struck him.

He remembered way back when he was little; people always mistook him for a girl. He had a pretty, slender girl's face, big brown eyes, and long, thick lashes.

His small nose turned up slightly, and his smile was as pretty as any girl his age. His full, shaped lips were the envy of many of them.

He'd go to bed at night praying that as he grew up, he would become more masculine in face and stature.

After he began to dress up, he didn't pray as often. Tim had been letting his hair grow for about two and a half years. He would pull it all back and tie it in a flat knot, high on the back, for school.

He wanted it to grow long, even knowing he could never style it like the girls his age did.

Long hair represented something to Tim, and he could get away with having it. It grew slowly, and his stepfather and he were always battling about it being too long.

He constantly wore his baseball cap to hide it.

Tim didn't think he was gay.

He had always liked girls and never really given a thought to being with a boy.

When he was little, he had more girlfriends than boyfriends, but that was only because the boys didn't accept him as readily because of the way he looked and his small size.

Peer pressure changed things; as he grew older, his face and slender build began to cause him real problems. Some of the guys called him a sissy for no reason.

He knew how to play ball and did all the other things boys his age normally enjoyed when they let him join in. Tim was almost always the last one picked as the kids chose up sides for their games, and it really hurt him deeply.

Tim had only had two girlfriends as he grew up.

One was very special to him, and he was very serious about her. It didn't last very long. Peer pressure again, the girls would hear him called a sissy, or they'd be with him and one of the school bullies would pick on him. It wasn't cool to go out with a guy that people called a sissy, no matter how nice he was.

He spent most of his time alone, always the outsider.