Delivering Love

Chapter 1: The Uniform

A Transgender Coming of Age Romance

Written by
Ariel Montine Strickland

Will Lucy be able to win over Patrick with kindness and in the process find both herself and unconditional romantic love?

Tina asks Timothy to be a temp, so that she can keep her delivery job. But Timothy has to literally replace her as a girl, so that things will go well while Tina is out.

"Delivering Love" Copyright 2025 Ariel Montine Strickland. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1: The Uniform

Timothy's fingers trembled as he adjusted the auburn wig in the mirror, tilting his head to examine how the soft waves framed his face. The afternoon light streaming through his bedroom window caught the strands, illuminating them with hints of copper and gold. He'd spent three paychecks from his weekend job at the movie theater on this particular piece-100% human hair, the stylist had assured him, showing him how to care for it properly.

"Not too much product," he whispered to himself, mimicking the stylist's instructions as he gently worked a small amount of leave-in conditioner through the ends. "Natural movement is key."

His bedroom door was locked, as always during these private moments. His mother Jennifer wouldn't be home from her postal route for another hour, and his sister Karen was at soccer practice. These stolen afternoons were sacred-the only time Timothy could truly be himself.

On his bed lay the sundress he'd found at the thrift store last month, tags still attached. He'd told the cashier it was for a drama club costume, the lie slipping easily from lips that had grown accustomed to creating elaborate fictions. Next to it sat a padded bra he'd ordered online using a prepaid card, delivered to the convenience store's package pickup service rather than their home.

Timothy turned sideways, studying his reflection. At seventeen, his shoulders were narrower than most boys his age, his features softer. Still, there was an angularity to his jawline that made him wince. He traced a finger along it, imagining it gentler, rounder.

"One day," he promised his reflection.

His phone buzzed on the dresser, startling him. Tina's name flashed on the screen-his best friend since elementary school, the only person who knew. Not because he'd told her, but because she'd simply looked at him one day last year and said, "You know you can tell me anything, right?" And somehow, in that moment, he knew she already understood.

Timothy let the call go to voicemail, not wanting to break the spell of the afternoon just yet. He carefully removed the wig, placing it on its stand before reaching for the dress. The cotton was soft against his skin as he slipped it over his head, adjusting the straps on his shoulders. The padded bra beneath created the illusion of a gentle curve, and he smoothed his hands down the front of the dress, watching how it skimmed his body.

For these brief moments, the discord that hummed constantly beneath his skin quieted. The persistent feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with how the world saw him-how he was forced to present himself-faded to a whisper.

His phone buzzed again. Voicemail notification.

With a sigh, Timothy picked it up, pressing play and holding it to his ear.

"Tim, it's Tina. Call me back ASAP. I have a proposition for you, and before you say no-which I know you will-just hear me out. It's about my summer job. I need Lucy to cover my route. They'll never know it's you."

Timothy froze, the phone still pressed to his ear. Lucy. The name his mother had once told him she'd picked out before he was born, if he'd been a girl. Named after his grandmother Lucile.

How did Tina know that name?

The voicemail continued: "My back surgery is scheduled for next week. Doctor says I'll be out for at least six weeks, maybe the whole summer. I can't lose this job, Tim. The pay is too good, and honestly, I think... I think this could be good for you too. Call me."

The message ended, leaving Timothy standing in the middle of his bedroom, dress swishing around his knees, heart pounding in his chest.

Lucy.

The name resonated inside him like a struck bell, clear and true.

A soft knock at his door nearly sent him jumping out of his skin.

"Timothy?" His mother's voice. She wasn't supposed to be home yet.

"Just-just a minute!" he called, already frantically pulling the dress over his head.

"No rush, honey. I just wanted to let you know I'm home early. And I left something for you in your closet. Tina asked me to drop it off."

Timothy froze again, dress half-off, listening to his mother's footsteps retreat down the hallway. He finished changing with shaking hands, pulling on basketball shorts and a t-shirt before approaching his closet with trepidation.

Hanging inside was a uniform-khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt with a delivery service logo embroidered on the chest. A small envelope was pinned to the collar.

Timothy opened it, unfolding the note inside.

"Forgot to return this-thought you might need it. Love, Mom."

Below his mother's familiar handwriting was a postscript: "P.S. Check the collar."

Timothy turned the collar over in his hands. There, embroidered in small, neat stitches, was a name: Lucile.

His grandmother's name. Almost Lucy.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, uniform clutched in his hands. His phone buzzed again-another call from Tina. This time, he answered.

"Did you get my message?" Tina asked without preamble.

"I did," Timothy said, voice barely above a whisper. "And the uniform."

"Your mom dropped it off yesterday. She's cool, you know. Cooler than you give her credit for."

Timothy's throat tightened. "What exactly are you proposing, Tina?"

"I told you. I need someone to cover my delivery route while I recover from surgery. The supervisor never comes around-I just pick up the packages from the distribution center and deliver them around town. Most people don't even know what I look like-I'm just the delivery person."

"And you want me to do it... as Lucy?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I think you need this, Tim. A chance to be yourself without the pressure of everyone who already knows you. No one will know it's you-they'll just see Lucy."

Timothy's fingers found the embroidered name again, tracing the letters. "I don't know if I can."

"You can," Tina said firmly. "And I think you want to."

After they hung up, Timothy sat for a long time, staring at the uniform. Then, slowly, he stood and walked back to the mirror. He picked up the wig, settling it carefully on his head, adjusting until it framed his face just right.

Then he held the uniform up against himself, studying the reflection.

Lucy looked back at him.

His phone pinged with a text message. From his sister Karen: "Mom's watching your TikTok drafts. She knows."

Timothy's heart stopped. The drafts he'd never posted-videos of himself trying on makeup, practicing feminine mannerisms, whispering the name "Lucy" to himself like a prayer. He'd thought they were private.

Another text followed quickly: "She's not mad. She's waiting for you to tell her your truth. We both are."

Timothy sat heavily on the edge of his bed, uniform still clutched in his hands. They knew. They'd always known.

His fingers traced the embroidered name on the collar again. Lucile. His grandmother's legacy, somehow now becoming his own.

The next morning, Timothy woke before dawn. He showered, shaved meticulously, and then stood before the mirror in his bedroom, wig in hand. Today would be his first delivery as Lucy.

He'd texted Tina late into the night, getting all the details-where to pick up the packages, the route, the regulars she delivered to. "There's a system," she'd explained cryptically. "You'll figure it out. Just pay attention to the notes."

Now, as the first light of day crept through his window, Timothy-no, Lucy-prepared to step into the world.

The uniform fit perfectly. The wig settled naturally around her face. The light makeup she applied-just enough to soften her features-completed the transformation.

When she emerged from her bedroom, her mother was waiting in the kitchen, two mugs of coffee on the table.

"Good morning," Jennifer said simply, pushing one mug toward Lucy.

Lucy stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering.

"Mom, I-"

Jennifer shook her head. "You don't have to explain anything to me. Not until you're ready."

"How long have you known?"

A soft smile crossed Jennifer's face. "A mother knows her children, Lucy. I've been waiting for you to find your way."

The name-her name-spoken aloud by her mother sent a shiver through Lucy's body. Not rejection. Not anger. Just acceptance.

"I'm covering Tina's route for the summer," Lucy said, voice steadier than she expected.

Jennifer nodded. "I know. I helped her arrange it."

Of course she had. The uniform with the embroidered name hadn't been an accident.

"Are you scared?" Jennifer asked.

Lucy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

"Good," her mother said. "The important things in life should scare us a little. That's how we know they matter."

She stood, crossing to Lucy and adjusting the collar of her uniform with gentle hands. "Your grandmother would have been so proud to see her name carried forward by someone as brave as you."

Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not brave."

"You're about to be," Jennifer said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now drink your coffee. You have deliveries to make."

Lucy traced her fingers along the embroidered name on her collar.

Lucile. Lucy. Her name. Her truth.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.