RANSVESTIA

Bitter tears flowed down his face. The lad could not stem their flow. Nor did he try. He beheld that this was the real Jason sobbing back at him from the looking-glass, not the lively sprite that others knew who roller-skated and played ball and ran with the neighborhood boys. But, what could he do about it?

In despair, he removed the beloved slip, struggled again with the bra and, stepping about more gracefully in the slippers, replaced the items in Edith's drawer. Torn by his dilemma, he slumped on the bed and buried his face in the coverings.

Many questions fought for attention: How could such a deep feeling seem so unattainable—so unacceptable? Was there any way his innocent dream could be realized? Why was he so alone in this overwhelming wish?

His mind remained a battleground of conflicting thoughts and desires. He made a supreme effort to sort matters out clearly, but order would not come to his head. Thoroughly upset by what was taking place within him, he made his way to his sister's bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, soaking and re-soaking the wash cloth, hoping that the chill would awaken him to the point where some logic would return.

As he reached for the towel and began to dry, he saw her long, lovely sleeping gown hanging in its place behind the door. For as long as he could recall, Jason had admired it-perhaps even coveted it. In his peculiar distraction, he rubbed its softness against his cheek, longing to remain forever in this moment. He wished never to leave this new-found world of femininity. Tonight, his life had changed and he knew that things would never be the same again. As if in a trance, he removed the nightgown from its hanging-place.

Carefully, lovingly, he slipped it over his head, adjusting the ribbons and their bows at his shoulders and felt it slither to the floor around his body. Calm returned; this was where he belonged. Un- invited though he may be, Jason knew that tonight, he had stepped across the threshold and into a place from which there was no return.

The garment swirled about him as he strode brazenly to his own room to savor this new image of himself in his own familiar place. It was as if he wanted to flaunt his new person to the objects of the masculine life that could never be the same as it was just hours ago.

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