Becoming Marilyn

Chapter 10

We put some slow music on and danced. I like dancing, but when she started feeling me up, nothing happened. She made me put my hands on her and still nothing happened. She even took her dress off and kissed me. I didn't want to be kissing her.

'What is wrong with you?' she said to me. 'Don't you want me? Are you gay after all?'

'I'm not a lesbian,' I told her.

'You can't be a lesbian, you're not a girl.'

'Yes, I am.'

'What are you talking about?'.

'I'm a girl,' I said, 'really.'

'You're nuts,' She put her dress back on and left. She never talked to me again.

I sat and stared into space for the longest time. Then it was like Marilyn came and sat down inside me.

It's time she told me.

Yeah, I know. That's when Robert finally left. He just faded away like a ghost and I was Marilyn,

"Very good," Dr. Tripp said, "but that's our time for today. I'd like to hear more about you becoming Marilyn next week."

"I told you I am Marilyn."

He laughed, and Marilyn tensed up.

"Nobody just is, Marilyn," he said, "we spend our whole live becoming."

"Becoming what?"

"Who we are."

"That doesn't make any sense." Marilyn packed her purse and stood up.

"The most important things often don't." Dr. Tripp looked down at his notes.

Marilyn shook her head and left to catch the bus.

A poster on the bus shelter caught her eye.

'So Sing Already', a new live talent show. If you think you can sing, come out and audition. First prize is a record deal and a national tour.

Marilyn turned away from the poster to board her bus as it pulled up. As if, I don't need that hassle.

***

"It is important to have clear goals and objectives." Professor Dingman wrote the words on the board. "Goals are longer term and have a broader sweep. Making the world a better place by healing one person at a time. is a goal. It doesn't have any time limits, it's hard to measure if you've achieved it, but the process is clear. By healing people, we make the world a better place.

"An objective might be to provide quality mental health care to the people of North Seattle by opening a low-cost clinic. This is measurable, we know how many people use the clinic, we may also be able to learn our effectiveness by interviewing past clients of the service. It is local; we are putting this clinic in North Seattle, and we know who our clientele is."

"Excuse me," a secretary stuck her head in the door of the room. "Is Marilyn Johnson here? I have a message that she is to phone home. It's urgent."

Marilyn scrambled out of her seat and followed the secretary. She didn't notice Birungi and Anna following her until they got to the door.

"Look, we'll wait out here," Anna said, "but if it's bad enough to pull her out of class, she needs some friends."

The secretary shrugged and showed Marilyn where she could make the call from.

"Hi, Mom," Marilyn said, "what's going on?"

"I want you to know he's going to be OK, but your Dad had a heart attack."

"But he's OK?"

"Yes, he's in the hospital, but the doctors say he'll be fine." Her mother stopped talking and Marilyn wondered what news was worse than her father's heart attack.

"He got laid off when things got slow," her mom said, "the insurance is saying we didn't pay the premiums. We thought his company was paying them, but they didn't. We've talked to other people and they're in the same boat, but lawyers move slow and courts slower. In the meantime, we've had to sell off everything we could to pay the bills."

"Use my University money," Marilyn said, "I'll get a job and figure something out."

"That's just it," her mom said, "we already used it. We're going to have to sell the house and move down with Brent if they'll let us. We need your special fund."

"It's OK, Mom." Marilyn tried not to scream into the phone, "Taking care of Dad is more important than whether I have a p***s or not." She tried to ignore the shocked look on the secretary's face.

"I'm sorry, dear." Her mom sounded like she was fighting tears. "I know what this means to you."

"It will be OK." Marilyn tried to believe it and make it true. She'd been looking forward to the surgery and finally having something like the body she knew she should have.

"Brent's calling," her mom said, "I'll talk to you later." She hung up and Marilyn stood listening to the dial tone. The secretary took the phone from her hand as her friends took her arms and sat her down. Someone handed her a glass of water and Marilyn gulped it back.

"I hate calls like this," the secretary said, "I'm Ms. Chisolm."

Marilyn looked at her. She wore a loose blouse and pants THAT did little to hide her size, but her brown eyes glistened with tears. "Now I want you to know your fees are paid to the end of the term. So is your housing, so you don't have to stop classes and live on the street. There is a student employment center if you need to look for a job. If you have a problem, any problem, you come and see me and I'll try to help you figure it out."