[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.I mean there were some dirty looks, especially the first few times I appeared on campus.But I like to believe by, I guess, a week or two after Thanksgiving, I was passing.Passing completely.You know, I was invisible.I didn’t ever want to be one of those pre-ops who wears his wanna-be gender on his sleeve.CARLY BANKS: For some transsexuals, and for Dana Stevens, that moment when they first “pass” in public is almost an epiphany.STEVENS: It was a Friday afternoon, and I emerged from a grocery store in Burlington with a big brown bag in each arm.Out of the blue, this very distinguished older man—a retired banker, I imagined—raced over to me and insisted on carrying both of my bags to my car.He even opened the front door for me, once I’d placed my groceries in the back! You could have knocked me down with a feather.No, I take that back: You wouldn’t have needed a feather.You could have knocked me down with a puff ball: a dandelion puff ball.Poof! And I would have been on my knees.LINDA WERTHEIMER: When our series continues tomorrow, Dana Stevens leaves Vermont for Colorado, and prepares for sexual reassignment surgery.Chapter 9.CarlyIT WOULD HAVE BEEN SIMPLE TO GET ON A BUS any Friday in autumn and go home for the weekend.It takes a mere two hours and forty-five minutes for even a slow-moving motor coach to slog between Bennington and Middlebury.But I didn’t.I didn’t want to get into the habit of going back to Bartlett anytime I got homesick or depressed, or fell into a panic because it just seemed like there was more work than I could handle.Besides, I would have felt a moral obligation to invite my roommate to join me if I went home, and there was always that off chance she might say yes.Not likely.But it was possible.And the idea alone of having to entertain June Ramsey for a weekend in Bartlett was torture.June and I were simply not meant to live together, even in the context of college.She was very smart and—when she wasn’t hopelessly unhappy—she may have been very nice.I’ll never know about the second part, because I don’t think I ever saw her in the mood to smile.The problem was that she was all wrong for a place like Bennington.It was obvious she came from gobs of money—which, actually, is pretty normal for the place—but she didn’t belong at a school in which a third of the students do really scary things to their hair and most of the faculty don’t know the meaning of the word requirement.She was from a ritzy suburb of Boston, and she would have been much better off at a college that had lots of mandatory freshman courses, embarrassing hazing rituals, and parties with guys in blazers who served everyone gin and tonics.The only reason she’d wound up at Bennington was that she fancied herself a poet, and there had been two high-profile poets in the English Department there when she’d been choosing a college in high school.Unfortunately, one of them had left by the time June arrived, and the other was taking the year off.And so she was miserable.A couple of times I tried taking her with me to the battery factory not far from the college gates.As part of a film course I was taking, I was making a documentary on the closest thing Vermont had to proletarian factory degradation, and I thought June and I might become friends if we left the environment of our dorm room.Nope.She was every bit as angry and irritable off-campus as she was on it, even when I let her do whatever she wanted with the college camcorder I was using.By Columbus Day, it seemed, the only thing we talked about was whether she should try and endure a second semester at Bennington or transfer to another school.In any case, I didn’t go home until Thanksgiving break.The school shut down the Friday before the holiday and didn’t reopen for ten days.I wasn’t sure what to expect from either of my parents that week.I knew that both of their lives were in chaos, but they’d both been so secretive and coy on the phone that I didn’t know exactly what was going on.Certainly I had inklings: I knew, for example, that my dad and Patricia had begun to see a couples counselor, but my dad hadn’t said who had initiated the sessions.And while I figured he would have told me if he or Patricia were about to move out, on the bus home I began to fear that they’d begun sleeping in separate bedrooms, and they would both be unbearable to be around.Likewise, I knew that my mom and Dana had split up at some point in September, but it didn’t sound like their breakup had lasted very long.I had the impression that once more they were an item.Yet my mom had also said she had some news to share with me about Dana, but whenever I’d tried to press her for details, she had vehemently refused to tell me a thing on the phone.My suspicions? At first I’d surmised they were going to get married, but my mom had denied it.Then I’d asked if he was sick—cancer or MS or some weird hair thing that gave him rainbow-shaped eyebrows—and she’d said that wasn’t it either.But she had paused, and so I’d wondered if I was getting close [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]