I thought that’s the way it would go on, and I actually didn’t mind after I got into the routine. I knew what I had to do each day, and I felt comfortable being alone in the house with Miss Samantha. She was used to seeing me dressed as a girl, so it really didn’t matter anymore.
My mom came to visit a lot. Usually my dad was busy, so she told him he didn’t have to come. I think he was relieved that he didn’t have to make that long drive. The few times he did come, I was allowed to dress in my kilt, and Miss Samantha put foundation over my pierced ears. If he really paid attention he would have noticed.
He did notice my hair was getting longer.
“I think he needs to cut that hair, he’s starting to look like a hippy.”
“I think it’s darling,” said my mom, “That’s the way some of the kids are wearing it these days.”
“Well with that long hair and – what do you call it – kilt, you could almost mistake him for a girl. But what do I know, I’m just the father.”
“Tom, let him wear what he wants to wear. I think he looks fine.”
“If it were up to me, I’d give him a buzz cut and some jeans, and have him go chop wood, but everybody seems to be a lot softer these days, including the boys.”
My heart leapt when he mentioned that. I had a short fantasy about having all my hair cut off, and going off into the woods together to hunt or camp or chop wood, but at the same time there was a fear too. Didn’t he know how much time I put into my hair this week? Just the washing and brushing alone…I was lost in thought as my parents finished up their visit.
“Son, sorry I haven’t seen you in a while, but you look like you’re doing all right.”
“Okay, come here and give me a hug. I won’t be able to see you for a while. I’ll be off to the East Coast for the next few months during the weekends. I’ll call you though, and your mother will come up and visit.”
“Okay, bye Dad.”