Squirrel Cage (26 page)

Ellen, our HR director called me in to talk to me.

“David, we have talked with our corporate law group and I can now answer your questions. The company has helped others in your position to transfer into a new role.
We have been advised that we must help you where we can facilitate without interrupting the business.”

I pondered this.
Squirrel got to work on it right away. If I were to move out and obtain another job at another facility right now, I would have to reveal myself to yet another group of people. I would have to face another new set of problems. I knew that I must remove myself away from my children. They could not know the perversions of their father. I could not imagine how that my affect them.

“But what if”…. started
Squirrel
. “What if you did the transition here? They already know about you. You could at least get your act together. You could gain experience in working as a woman. Then, when you move, you’ll start life as Cindi. You won’t have to go through all of this ever again,” reasoned
S
quirrel.

Squirrel was right. I had been revealed to the world. It made sense to do it now, get some experience, grow my hair, and finish
electrolysis on
my face while there was nothing to hide. Although the idea of coming out like this was still embarrassing, it made perfect sense. Events pushed me again to take another step.

“So, what can we do to help you David?” Ellen asked.

“Can I do the transition here Ellen?” I queried.

“Yes David, you can.” She stated.

“I could use the restroom up on the next floor.
It goes unused since no one occupies that floor space.” I volunteered.

“That sounds reasonable to me,” she responded.

“What do I need to get going Ellen?”

“There are some legal things that we need to go over, I will need to see an official name change document if you would like your legal name used on your checks and so on.
We will need to set up a schedule.
I will need to advise the employees what is expected of them as you do this.”

“Now that is easy.” Said
Squirrel
.
“I betchya never thought it could flow like that.”

We set the plan in motion.

I spent the next few weeks getting together the things I needed. I contacted a lawyer to get my name changed.
He was very gracious and got the
paperwork going.

I got together with Kevin, a hairdresser I had met at church. My hair was fairly long now. I asked him to give me a cut that I could wear in both gender roles. The man was brilliant. Such talent he had. He quickly and deftly threw my hair this way and that, combing out a section and expertly cutting the ends. Within 10 minutes he demonstrated what he had created.

“Look, all you have to do to dress in drag, is wash it and wear it.
Now, when you are Cindi,”
I paused to reflect exactly what he had just said.
When I wanted to dress in drag?
In male clothes?
Oh this was funny.
It was the first laugh at myself I’d had in a long time. This guy was brilliant. “you just have to poof it a little here, throw this back on both sides and use a little hairspray.” He concluded.
Brilliant!
An understatement of epic proportions.
The cut really did work effectively. I cherished the image I saw in the mirror. I had lost weight. I had been on hormone replacement therapy for a short while under the care of my analyst and my face had softened ever so lightly. But it was an effective change nonetheless. There was a girl staring back at me in the mirror. “This is always a m
oment you will cherish,” cooed S
quirrel.
I knew she was right.
I would remember this moment.
It defined a beginning.

The petition to change my name had been snagged. Charlene’s lawyer was now involved.
A stipulation must be added to my petition for name change. It stated that I
must
contact her and give her my address every time that I moved. “Great” I thought to myself. Her good name will be dragged into every legal proceeding I have for the rest of my life. Her name will be there when I get my driver’s license, my passport, any major financial transactions, and who knows what else? I wonder if she knows this? As far as me cutting out on her, she had nothing to worry about, I had every intention to provide for my children.

I approved the change and it went through with no problems.

I was now Cindi Jones.

The department of motor vehicles, the same sluggish bureaucracy in every state, changed my name with no hassle. I could not change the sex designation but a name change was fine. They asked me if I wanted a new picture taken. Were they crazy?
Of course I did!

I had prepared myself very carefully for my photograph to be taken.
My makeup was perfect. My face had been cleared for weeks (from facial hair). My hair was dynami
te and I was in a very good mood
. It turned out to be the best picture I have ever had
taken
of myself.

As I write this, I have my “old” license and the “new” one in front of me.
For some reason, I never surrendered either. The “old” license shows a fairly handsome man with strong jowls, the beginnings of a fleshy chin and a face with acne.
The “new” license shows a happy young girl in her twenties with a beautiful smile and a perfect face.
As I place licenses side by side, I see only one similarity between them.
And that is the “M” for sex designation.
When I have shown these documents, no one has ever been able to tell that this is indeed could be the same person.

I was elated.
I now had identification. My name was changed. And very soon, Cindi would be Cindi where she worked.

I got together with Ellen.
I gave her a video tape of the Rene Richards story that had been broadcast on television. She was grateful that she would have a video she could offer to employees.

She had some documents that I had to sign to deal with the name change for payroll and for my insurance.
I would insure my children for some time to come.

I told her that I would be taking a two week vacation to take care of some things in California.
She thought that it was an excellent idea for me to disappear for a while to let everyone get accustomed to what may be a shock.

The paperwork had been signed. My life had some order to it. I was starting my real life transition.
I would leave the next morning for California.

I had been gone two weeks.
I was sitting in front of my secretary’s desk. She was in the chair beside me.

“Cindi, those heels are to die for!”

I agreed. When I found them, I had purchased three pair, each in a different color.
I had them for some time, long before I moved into my apartment
.
Yes, I had three pair of heels and very little else.

I did have terrific legs and beautiful hair. These were my best features.
My face was a traitor only when deeply saddened.
Otherwise, I seemed to get by very well.

“Cindi, I have to know.” Amy began as she cozied up close to me. “Did you have anything done?”

I had visited friends in the LA area and then had driven up to the bay area for a visit.
Matty, short for Mathew, had taken me out to have my ears pierced. We went to a spiffy place in the Palo Alto mall.
I liked a pair of some small ruby colored earrings. They were false stones but set in gold settings.
I liked them but I could not afford the $30 or so to purchase them.

“Your money is no good here.” Matty said as he saw me rifling through my purse. I was looking to see just how much was left in the wallet to ascertain my current purchasing power. There were other earrings that were okay and cost less money.
He pulled out his credit card waving his hand in my face as if to shoo me away. He laid the card down on the counter. The cashier scooped it up and rang
up
the
transaction
.

The sales agent then escorted me to where my ears would be pierced. A woman sat down with me, explained the procedure, and then quickly set the studs into my earlobes. “Now did that hurt?” she asked. “Not much” I
admitted
.
She turned so I could see my face in the mirror. The girl looking back was very happy. She smiled.

I really liked the earrings.

“Pigs really can fly” Matty reminded me.

I smiled as I recalled how he had purchased a gold chain necklace for me a few years earlier. He knew what I was going through and sympathized greatly. One day, after returning home from work, I had a package in the mail. I opened it to find a beautiful gold neck chain.
I knew that he had spent far too much on it. Inside the box he had included a note that said “Pigs really can fly.” It’s a phrase that I had never heard before
but it still comes to mind, even now, when I consider the impossible
.

I looked back at Amy. “I sure did!” I said as I looked at her and turned my head slightly so she could see my new earrings. It was a joke that she did not
understand
. From our conversation, I thought that she believed something else had gone on. Oh well, what is it going to hurt to let her think what she wants to? I still hadn’t learned the lesson. If you will be close to someone, you must be honest to them.

I
let
her office with her thinking that I had part of the sex change operation done. “Th
at is okay,” said S
quirrel. “Let it get out that there is no returning now. Maybe they will leave you alone.”

That little fact would some how make it back to my church leaders. I never begrudged her “leaking” this information. Had I asked her to keep something confidential, she would have done so.

My work load was practically nonexistent. I had nothing to do all day. I would immediately finish up any little task that I was assigned. The big computer company that bought us had little use for our in house marketing team.
The writing was on the wall that we had better find new jobs within the company or find something else outside.
I also realized that given a choice, management would rather have me work on the crap tasks instead of putting me in front of potential customers.
My transition was
now
my
real job
.

I started boning up on my programming skills. I brought in some books for the languages I learned and installed compilers on my machine. The computer that had served to write collateral materials, communicate with sales people, prepare forecasts, marketing requirements, and engineering requirements would now be utilized to help Cindi brush up on her engineering. I didn’t know how long I had.
No matter how I looked at it, time was short
. It was fairly distressing to know I was in an empty job. It was going nowhere and it would soon be eliminated.

For a week or so, things were peaceful as I kept myself occupied. I went to my office every day and with rare exceptions never left it. Every morning, Dan would poke his head in my office door and say

“Good Morning Cindi Anna Jones” in a sing song fashion ala Robin Williams in the movie Good Morning Vietnam.

The entire floor would get together every morning at ten to socialize and eat a donut.
That was the way of the large company who purchased us. I was able to socialize some.

In the beginning, people would talk to me to be courteous or to show that they were unbiased in their opinion. Some showed great support.
But after a while, the newness of it all wore off and everything settled in to normalcy. I would socialize at ten every morning. I would have several very pleasant discussions. It didn’t matter what any individual thought, as a whole, they seemed very accepting.

But everything was about to change.

“How dare you send me a check with the name “Cindi Jones” on it,” she demanded.
Charlene had just received the child support and alimony check I sent her. “I can’t have a check coming to me in that name,” she went on.

“Look Charlene, that is my legal name. If you wish to get money from me, you’ll have to cash my checks. I can not maintain a bank account under David’s name. It is not legal.”

Charlene was furious. This was the first time she would have to acknowledge Cindi. She needed the money. She had to countersign the checks from Cindi.

I attended church that weekend beaming from ear to ear.
I had finally “come out of the closet” as they would say.
From their perspective I was as different to them as they were to the straight people that dished out the gay bashing. They had never known a transgender person.
My friends were all very happy for me and very supportive. Pastor Bruce even acknowledged me from the pulpit. During refreshments, everyone came to me and t
old me how proud they were
.
Many
had a keen knowledge of what I had been going through. Some had become dear friends. They were all so polite around me. I stayed until the end as I always did.
And Pastor Bruce (as he always did) asked me to take home any refreshments that I wanted.
I collected up the rest of the pound cake and cookies in a sack and took them home.