The Ghost of Tomorrow

Chapter 3: Coming Out

I don’t remember what we had for dinner that night. I know I needed
to tell mum and dad my story after we’d finished the dishes, but my
heart was pounding in my chest all through the meal. After dinner, Mum
and Dad had moved to the Lounge to watch TV while their dishwashers
cleaned up after the meal.

I’m not sure how I got through drying the glasses and plates without
dropping one. Mariska saw I was nervous and squeezed my hand. Marit had
picked up on my tension but obviously had no clue. While I was putting
away the last plate, she mumbled something about practising her violin
and retreated to her room. Mariska, who had headed off to her room to
pick up our papers the moment she’d finished wiping down the counter,
came back into the kitchen.

“Ready sis?” she asked.

“No, but we’d better get this over with before I lose my nerve
entirely.”

“Courage. We can do this. You know they love you and they’re not
going to disown you.”

“You know that’s not what I’m afraid of.”

Mariska nodded sympathetically. Then we both took a deep breath
before Mariska opened the door to the lounge and walked in with me at
her heels.

I saw dad look over at the two of us as we came in, and saw his
expression change from the usual casual glance to an intent look. Mum
also had spotted that something was up, because her full attention
focussed on first Mariska, then me.

Mariska started talking as she walked over to the TV. “Hey mum and
dad, can we turn the TV off for a bit? Nick here has something really
important to tell you. He needs our help with something that’s been
bothering him for a long time.”

I saw both mum and dad nod, and I spotted that mums knuckles had gone
white as she gripped the armrests of the armchair she’d been sitting in.
Mariska turned off the TV, and we both moved to the couch across the
coffee table from our parents and sat down. Mariska nudged me.

Slowly, reluctantly, I started to talk.

“You know how I haven’t been happy at school since the summer
holidays? And how I couldn’t figure out why? I was doing better with my
schoolwork, and I wasn’t being bullied any more since I threw that one
guy over my head when he rushed me in the playground?”

They both nodded. This had been worrying mum a lot.

“I think I know why I’ve been feeling all wrong since the beginning
of the year. It’s nothing to do with other people or how people have
been treating me. It’s my body that’s been feeling wrong.”

I told them about the dream I’d had 2 nights ago now, and how I’d
felt afterwards.

“So that’s what’s been happening. When I try to be a boy, everything
feels bad, like walking around with sand in your shoes. The moment I
tried to imagine what it would be like to feel like a girl? Everything
clicked. What’s that long word for when you suddenly realise something
that’s been staring you in the face but you just couldn’t see it?” I
said, looking at dad. I didn’t dare catch mum’s eye yet.

“An epiphany?” Answered Dad.

“Yes, that’s what happened. The moment I realised I’m not a boy but a
girl, everything inside me started making sense again and I felt better.
But I need your help.”

Mariska took over at this point.

“I found Nick with a stack of Encyclopedia volumes in the living room
at 5 am on tuesday morning, looking like he’d barely slept. I couldn’t
get him back to sleep until I promised I’d help him look into it, and
from what I’ve found? This is real, and he’s not making this up. I went
to the university library this afternoon and found this article in one
of the latest psychology journals.”

As Mariska kept talking, I glanced over at mum and froze. Her
knuckles were bone-white on the armrests of her chair, and all of the
colour had gone from her face. My heart started racing. This was all
going wrong!

“ARE YOU BOTH TRYING TO TELL US OUR SON IS TRANSEXUAL?! DO YOU KNOW
WHAT DOCTORS DO TO KIDS LIKE THAT! STOP! STOP! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!
THEY’LL TAKE HIM AWAY AND LOCK HIM IN A ROOM UNTIL HE SAYS HE MADE A
MISTAKE!”

The sound of mums screaming hit me like a physical blow, and I
lurched back, before launching myself off the couch, my heart in my
throat and my head pounding in terror. The next thing I knew I was in my
room with my face buried in my pillow, trying to block out the sounds of
mum’s meltdown two rooms over. I have no idea how long I was hiding
there before the noise died down.

A minute later, there was a knock on my door. I still couldn’t talk,
but I made an sound that hopefully sounded like a yes. I felt rather
than heard mum walk into the room. She sat down on the bed next to me,
and started stroking my back gently. I could hear she’d been crying.
After a while she started to talk to me in dutch.

“Het spijt me, ik had niet zo moeten reageren. Ik was behoorlijk
geschrokken en wist niet echt wat ik zei. Ik beloof je, hand op mijn
hart, geen geschreeuw meer. Ik ga alleen luisteren” [translation:
“I’m sorry, I was surprised, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I
promise to listen to you and not shout anymore tonight”]. Mum was
gently turning me over and pulling me into a hug. We sat there together
for a bit, holding each other until I stopped sobbing into her shoulder
and started to feel a bit calmer. “Kom maar lekker mee naar de huiskamer
zodat we allemaal de rest van jouw verhall kunnen horen”
[translation: “Do you think you can come with me to the lounge so we
can all hear the rest of your story?”], she finally suggested. ¹

I shrugged, and turned to the right out of my room, heading down the
hall back towards the lounge. Marit’s head popped out of her own room’s
door, saw me, and looked like she was going to go back inside again when
I heard Mum behind me say “It’s okay, you should come and hear this too”
to her.

I walked back into the lounge, where Dad was still sitting in the
same armchair and Mariska was sitting on the couch. Dad was reading
through one of Mariska’s articles as I walked in. I hopped onto the
couch and leaned into Mariska. Marit sat down on the other armchair and
Mum sat down next to me on the couch.

Dad looked up at me and smiled sympathetically at me. Then he looked
over at Marit, who still had no idea what exactly had happened. The next
couple of minutes were spent telling Marit what I’d just told them, and
explaining that Mum had panicked because from what they already knew,
people like me weren’t treated well by both psychiatrists and most
people. He then also explained that Mariska had been very clever and had
talked to one of the psychologists from the psychology department about
me, and that they were a lot more supportive. I looked over at her in
surprise. She hadn’t even told me that!

Then he turned to me. “After we managed to calm your mother down and
she went to get you, Mariska told me you’d already picked a name for
yourself. Can you tell us what it is?”

I turned to look at mum. “I decided I’d like to be called Natalie,
because that’s the name you picked out for me. I know I said last week
that I didn’t like it, but it’s been growing on me.”

Mum’s eyes teared up as she reached over and hugged me so tightly it
felt like she’d never let go.

Marit finally said what was on everyone’s mind.

“So now what?”

By the time we were done talking, it was well past my bedtime.
Nothing had been decided, other than that we’d try out letting me be a
girl at home for the time being. Dad said something about finding a
supportive psychologist via the university. Mum walked me to bed, helped
me into my pyjamas and tucked me in. Then she surprised me by kissing me
tenderly on the forehead and saying “Goodnight Natalie.”

I woke up early on Thursday morning. When I got out of bed I saw that
Mum had laid out two sets of clothes on my chair. My usual jeans and a
sweatshirt, and a skirt and top that I recognised as having belonged to
Marit at some point. There was matching girls underwear there too. Where
mum had pulled it out from was a mystery. I’d often dug through the
cupboard in Marit’s room where mum stored hand-me-downs, but had never
found clothes of my sisters that would fit me. Apparently she had a
second clothing stash somewhere I didn’t know about? There was a note
folded on top of the clothes in mum’s handwriting.

After last night, I think we could all use a rest day. You can
sleep in if you want to. I’ll call school and let them know you’ll be
away today. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with. Sorry again for last
night. Love Mum

I took the skirt and the rest of the matching clothes to the
bathroom, quickly showered, and got dressed. After getting annoyed at
the obvious bulge in my new underwear, I worked out that if I tucked my
bits back and pulled up the panties, everything would look flat and
normal, and it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Then I looked in the mirror
and huffed. My hair, despite being at a point where Mum would normally
cut it, looked wrong. Not nearly girly enough. I went to Mariska’s room
and knocked.

“Kom binnen”. I could hear her slightly distracted voice
from behind the door reply. I went in. She was already dressed, and
reading a book while sitting on her bed. A favorite activity of mine
too. She looked at me and did the tiniest of double takes. “What’s up,
squirt?”

“Can you help me with my hair?”, I asked with just a hint of
desperation in my voice. “It looks wrong somehow”.

Mariska took a good look, and considered my appearance for a bit. “Do
you mind if I ask Marit to help too? She’s better at dealing with
shorter hair, you know I’ve always worn mine long.”

I nodded.

Five minutes later, both of them were tugging and pulling and
fiddling with hairclips until they were both satisfied. I looked into
the mirror above Mariska’s dresser. They’d changed the part on my hair,
and clipped back the distinctive “wings” my hair inevitably developed
when it had been left to grow too long between being cut, and while not
anywhere near perfect, I could see a young girl in the mirror instead of
an annoying little brother.

“You really do need to get a haircut”, said Marit. “Not to make it
short, but it needs a better style. When was the last time you’ve been
to a hairdressers?”

“I don’t remember ever having been? You know Mum always cuts my
hair.” I answered.

Mariska piped in at that point. “Mum stopped taking you to the
hairdressers when you were still a little kid. You used to scream and
refuse to sit still. So she did your hair herself, when it got too long.
This is about the longest I’ve ever seen it, you can almost put it into
pigtails”.

“Good. I want to grow it out much longer than this.” I said with a
note of finality in my voice. I remember what I looked like with long
hair, my ghost’s curls were beautiful.

“Ontbijt is klaar!” I heard mum call from down the hall.

“Natalie, race you to breakfast!” Marit called out as she pushed past
me and slipped out the door and ran down the hall.

“Hey, no fair!” I called after her, then jogged after her. No point
in running, that race was lost before I started.

Time to see what new surprised awaited me at breakfast

1. In the interest of clarity and sanity, the rest of the
   Plasbeek family dialogue at home and in other Dutch-speaking spaces will
   not be in Dutch. Even if they will certainly be speaking it at
   home. We’re a fully bilingual household.↩︎