The Ghost of Tomorrow

Chapter 2: Home Truths

That night I had a vivid dream. You know, one of those dreams where
you think you’re awake until you wake up? In this dream, I woke up, and
grabbed the clothes that Mum had laid out in my bedroom to get dressed
into and went into the bathroom. Just a normal school morning. Only when
I took off my pyjamas, two things finally dawned on me. Okay, well
three. No four.

Firstly. I was older. Like 13 or 14. And I had long curled hair like
my future self had, only fuller and thicker. And my body was different.
I looked, and felt, like a girl. Which felt extremely weird and somehow
right at the same time. I didn’t miss the parts that were obviously
missing, and the parts I did have felt, well like they’d always been
there.

In my dream I turned on the shower and started washing myself, and
the tactile sensations were like nothing I had experienced before. My
sense of touch and my skin were both more sensitive than they had ever
been before. I reached up to turn off the shower, fumbled with the taps,
was hit with a blast of cold water and woke up with a shock and a deep
sense of regret.

When I was properly awake a sense of wrongness settled over me, and I
realised this was me missing what I had experienced in the dream. A
sense of certainty came over me. I was a girl. I’d always been a girl.
My body knew what it should feel like as a girl. I was Natalie. And I
had a task ahead of me that terrified me to the core. I’d have to tell
my parents, and soon. Thank whatever gods there were that I had Gavin.
I’m not sure I would have had the courage to do this alone.

I looked up to the alarm clock sitting on the shelf above my bed. I
pressed the light button and saw the dial was showing five in the
morning.

tzch tzch tzch tzch

The steady quiet pulse of the quartz clock ticking somehow filled the
room, and kept me awake. Dammit. I slipped out of bed and put on some
slippers. I might as well go do something useful. I quietly padded over
to the door and carefully turned the handle so it wouldn’t squeak.
Mariska’s room was on the other side of the second bathroom from mine
and she was a stupidly light sleeper. It wouldn’t do to wake her. I
carefully crept through the hall towards the living room door next to
Mariska’s door and across from the bathroom, and very
carefully pulled down on the handle. It had a tendency to creak.

Phew I’d made it into the living room where the bookshelves
with reference books were. Closing the door again with the utmost care I
turned to face the shelves packed with the volumes of a complete set of
Encyclopedia Britannica, a five volume set of “Geschiedenis van de Lage
Landen” that was a mandatory fixture in the home of any educated
dutchman, a stack of atlasses, and my goal: A three volume set of books
called “Knowing About Sex”. My parents had read through the first
volume: “A Baby Arrives” with me years ago, and I’d already read the
second volume, “Growing Up” that discussed puberty, earlier that year
because I was curious. I assumed they’d intended to discuss it with me
at some point. I felt a little guilty about jumping the gun, but they
hadn’t forbidden me from reading it. No book in the house was forbidden.
At worst, if mum and dad felt a book was a bit advanced they’d talk to
us about it if they saw one of us reading it. But even that was rare.
Most of mum and dad’s fiction books simply didn’t interest me yet, and
the non-fiction and art shelves in the Lounge around to the front of the
house were literally open books. I used to spend hours leafing through
the Tutankhamun exhibition book, looking at the gorgeous golden
relics.

So I reached out to the shelf, removed the box of books from their
place and carefully shook out volume III: “Achieving Sexual Maturity”
and put the box back before going to dad’s desk in the sunroom nook at
the front of the room and turned on his desk lamp.

Thirty minutes later, I closed the book again with exasperation. So
I’d learned a lot more details about how sex worked, why anticonception
was important, and why you probably shouldn’t have sex with someone you
didn’t care about, but there was nothing, not even a hint about what I
was feeling or what my ghost had told me yesterday afternoon. About the
closest thing I could find was half a page discussing how some men loved
men and some women loved women, which I’m sure was what my ghost had
been talking about when she’d told me to “Love whoever I liked without
shame”. Frankly, nothing in the book was particularly surprising, even
if the photos had been pretty explicit.

Time to pull out the big guns. Returning to the bookcase, I slid the
book back into it’s place and reached up to the Britannica Micropaedia
volume 10: T-Z. Going back to the desk, I put it down and started
leafing through it, looking for ‘transsexual’. Bingo! The index article
talked about a lot of what my ghost had been talking about, but it was
dry as dust, and all it really did was confirm what I’d already worked
out: What I was feeling was a real thing, it had been known about for a
very long time, other people had it too, and nobody really agreed on
what to do about it. It was cross referenced to “gender identity”, and
pointed to a long form article in the Macropaedia called “Human Sexual
Development”. I walked back to the bookcase again, pulled the relevant
volumes, and balanced them on my arms as I headed back to dad’s
desk.

thud

Oops. I’d been a bit clumsy in putting down the two heavy volumes. I
listened for movement, but I was across the room from the end that
Mariska’s room bordered on, surely I hadn’t been loud enough to wake
her? I started by leafing through the Micropaedia volume for “gender
identity disorder” first. Not particularly helpful either, other than
confirming that how I was feeling about my body right now was something
that doctors knew about. The term “Conversion therapy” did not sound
comforting at all. The index article also referenced the Human Sexual
Development article so I cracked open the volume with the red spine
labels and turned to the article.

It was huge. Pages of dense text. I checked the article contents to
see if I could find anything, and had just spotted both Gender Identity
Disorder and Transsexuality under the subsection header of “Sexual
Deviancies” when I heard the door to the Living room open and Mariska
walked in. Busted!

“Nick, what are you doing up so early? And why are you raiding the
Encyclopedia shelf?”

What the hell was I going to say now? I could close the books so she
didn’t know what I’d been reading but then she’d know I had something to
hide and she’d probably tell mum and dad. Best to come clean and hope
she’d be understanding. Other than being up early, I wasn’t doing
anything wrong.

“Sorry I woke you. I had a weird dream and I needed to look up what
was in it to know if it was real.”

Mariska joined me at the desk and looked over my shoulder at the open
volumes on the desk.

“Human sexual development? Nick, this is way too complicated for you.
Anyway, if you dreamt about sex, you should have tried ‘Knowing about
sex’ I know you’ve read most of that before.”

“I did. It’s not in there. I was looking for information about
feeling like you’re a girl and my body not feeling right. I think I’ve
found it, but I woke you before I could read the parts of the main
article talking about it. Look here, gender identity disorder and
transsexuality.”

Mariska’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “Transsexuality? Nick,
what on earth were you dreaming?”

So I told her about the dream, how I’d felt afterwards, and what I’d
worked out with Gavin yesterday, though I didn’t tell her that’s who I’d
been talking to about it. I didn’t mention my ghost and my meeting with
her at all. I’d seen the gothic monstrosity that was Sunnyside Mental
Hospital from a distance, and had no wish to see it from close up.

Mariska’s expression had softened as I talked her through what I’d
been thinking and feeling. I saw she was thinking hard before she
spoke.

“Nick, you have to talk to mum and dad about this. This is important,
and I can’t help you with this alone.”

I looked back at her, pleading.

“I know I have to tell them, but I’m scared. Mum is going to go
absolutely ballistic if I tell her this without more information and a
better idea of what we can do. Do you remember what happened when Mr
White told her I was retarded and should be moved to special education
back in Standard 1 because I’d been eating my workbooks? Dad laughed in
his face while pointing out I’d been reading the Hobbit under my desk
without him noticing, but mum barely slept for a week and was furious
about it. God only knows what she’ll think about this. Will you help me
make my case to mum that I’m serious and haven’t gone bonkers
overnight?”

“I’m not entirely sure you’re not bonkers, but you’re right. We both
need to think this through and get some better information than a
Britannica article before dropping this on mum.”

She thought for a bit.

“Put those volumes away. I’ll read them this afternoon after school.
And I’ll visit the university library tomorrow afternoon, it will be
wednesday, and I get off early because I don’t have sports. There should
be better information in the psychology shelves, I’ll ask the librarians
for help in finding any relevant journal articles. Now you scoot. You
should be able to get another hour’s sleep before we need to get up and
get ready for school.”

I walked over and hugged her. “Thanks sis, you’re the best. I’m sorry
I woke you and dumped all this on you.”

“It’s what big sisters are for. Plus you’ve just given me a great
idea for my 7th form project. I want to study psychology and this is
fascinating. Now get back to bed or I will tell mum
that you’ve been sleepwalking again.”

I quickly tidied up and slipped back under the blankets in my room.
Mariska really was the best.

---

When my alarm went off at seven thirty I almost wondered if I hadn’t
dreamed the whole thing, but Mariska caught up with me in our shared
bathroom and asked if I’d managed to get back to sleep again and hugged
me when I said yes had me realise that yes this was happening. Mariska
knew and we were getting ready to tell mum and dad as soon as we were
ready. I remembered then that I’d better call Gavin quickly to let him
know we only needed to work on our actual homework this afternoon in the
library.

I quickly dialled his number from memory.

“Locke household, this is Georgina speaking, how may I help you?” I
heard Gavin’ little sister answer the phone.

“This is Nick Plasbeek speaking, may I speak to Gavin please?” I
answered in my best telephone voice. I always hated this little verbal
dance. I was terrified of people going off script.

“Hey! Gavin, Nick is on the phone for you!” I heard her yell before
the headset at the other end of the line clattered down violently
against something. I winced at the sudden sound. A few moments later I
heard the headset being picked up and I heard Gavin answer in a quiet
voice.

“Natalie, is everything okay over there?” he whispered.

“Hey Gavin, everything is fine. I just wanted to say we only need to
do our regular homework at the library this afternoon. I’ll explain
later. How are you getting there?” I asked.

“Mum’s driving me there after school. Shall I ask if she can pick you
up at your place on the way?”

“That would be great. Mum and dad won’t let me bike to the Library
alone yet. Ill be home by three thirty at the latest.”

Gavin thought about this. “No need to hurry, we’ll probably be at
your place at around a quarter to four. We need to drop off Georgina at
a friends house first.”

Excellent. Gave me plenty of time to get changed out of my school
uniform.

“Thanks Gavin! I’ll see you at school!”

“See you there Natalie.”

I felt warm inside at hearing this. Gavin really was the best friend
anyone could ask for.

The rest of the morning was the usual rush to get ready for school.
Mum had breakfast ready on the table, and the whole family slid into
their seats at eight o’clock sharp. Marit and Mariska both immaculately
dressed in their Girls high school kilts and blazers, and me in my grey
Ilam primary shorts, short-sleeved shirt and jersey. I’d always hated
the uniform, but this morning it felt like I was wearing boredom
personified. I grabbed a couple of weetbix and the milk before my
sisters could beat me to it. As I poured it over my bowl of weetbix I
told mum my plans for the afternoon.

“Gavin and his mum are picking me up here after school so we can
finish our group project at the library. Is that okay?”

“Of course schat, I’m glad you’re finally learning not to
leave things to the last minute for a change. You’ll be back at
six?”

“I think so? Gavin didn’t say, but he has dinner then too so we
should be?”

“I’ll ring Daphne later to check. Eat your weetbix, you’ll be
late.”

I practically inhaled my weetbix, which had gone soggy while we were
talking, grabbed my backpack with my lunch from where mum had left it
ready by the counter, and waved goodbye as I headed out for another day
of school.

---

My mind wandered as I followed my usual route to school. Other than
the tricky crossing of Riccarton Road at the exit of Bartlett Street
where I was supposed to get off and use the pedestrian crossing, but
where I actually timed crossing halfway and then cycled upstream on the
median strip like a salmon before shooting another gap into Mona Vale
Avenue, there wasn’t much traffic and I could zone off as I navigated
through lower Riccarton, through Deans Bush and towards Ilam school on
the boundaries of the University of Canterbury campus.

As I cycled, I was thinking about the feeling of being a girl, and I
imagined I was wearing the blue summer dress that was the girls uniform.
I could feel the bottom of the dress ripple over my thighs in the wind
before realising I was still in my boys shorts. For a moment there I’d
felt what it was like to feel my hair tied back. I realised that I’d
ignored my body most of the time. And I knew why. It felt
wrong. Not “I want to rip my skin off” wrong, but this quiet
sensation of mismatch, like having sand in your shoe.

My life had become like one of those optical illusions where at first
you’re looking at the picture of an old woman, but then something had
twisted and now you couldn’t unsee the young woman staring out
at you. How had I been missing this? It was so obvious.

I crossed Clyde Road at the school crossing and headed down Kirkwood
Ave towards the back entrance to the school, joining the flow of kids
arriving and walking their bikes up the drive. A brief memory of the
first time I cycled to school flashed through my head and I flushed with
shame. I’d been so excited to arrive by bike I’d cycled up the path
until another kid had yelled at me for breaking the rules.

Gavin was sitting at his desk next to mine when I walked into class
and sat down next to him.

“Why are we only doing our project at the library? What happened?”
Were the first words out of his mouth.

“And a good morning to you too.” I answered, before ducking as he
glared at me.

“Sorry. I got up early and found what I was looking for in the
Encyclopedia before Mariska caught me.”

Gavin looked startled at that. “Mariska? How did you talk your way
out of that?”

“I didn’t. I told her what I was looking for and why. She’s agreed to
help me get ready to tell mum and dad.”

“You did that and you’re here and not in the back of the wagon to the
funny farm?”

“I didn’t tell her everything. Just the part about me being
you know what. Did you know she want’s to be a psychologist after
finishing high school? She promised me she’d find everything she could
in the University library tomorrow afternoon. Which means we can
actually finish our school project on time for a change.”

Gavin nodded. “You have the coolest sister ever, you do know that,
right?”

“She’s a pain in the rear when she’s taking over from mum, but she’s
always looked after me too. You know how it is?”

Gavin and Georgina were latecomers in his family, his other sisters
were years older than he was. He nodded back in understanding.

We chatted quietly before the bell rang and classes started for the
day.

---

Gavin and I spent morning tea break playing tag in the playground
with a random selection of kids, just burning off energy after morning
lessons. At lunchtime, after we’d finished eating our lunches sitting on
the steps of the veranda outside the classroom, he was in a quieter
mood.

“Show me where it happened yesterday.” he asked.

We walked slowly over the field towards the coppices of trees on the
open boundary line. When I got to the spot where I’d met my future ghost
just 24 hours ago, I looked around and sat down, gesturing to Gavin to
join me. The spot looked and felt perfectly ordinary in the noon
sun.

“Here.” I said, fingering the koru pendant while I tried to feel if
there was anything out of the ordinary about the place. “This is where I
was sitting when I saw her appear over there.” I said while gesturing
towards a smaller line of saplings over on the Student Union side of the
boundary.

Gavin followed my arms movement and looked around. “It’s a peaceful
sort of place. I can see why you came here. It’s a good place to just
sit and think.” he said.

“I’ve been doing a lot more thinking since yesterday. Last night, and
on the way to school this morning. I’m sure about all this. I don’t want
to be Nick any more. I want to be Natalie.”

I told him about this morning’s dream, and how I had found myself
slipping into feeling like I was a girl while cycling to school.

“So how are you going to do this?” Gavin asked.

“I need to tell my parents as soon as possible, but i’m really
worried about how mum’s going to react. I can tell she’s been worrying
about how i’m doing at school, and she gets really scary when she
panics. That’s why I’m so happy Mariska didn’t try to talk me out of
this and is going to help.”

“I hope she will,” said Gav thoughtfully. “She might have changed her
mind since this morning?”

“She’s always taken me seriously when I’ve come to her with problems
before. I do know she won’t just blab to mum and dad without warning me
first. But she’s at orchestra practise tonight so other than at dinner
tonight I won’t be able to talk to her today. I’m sure she’ll let me
know if she’s changed her mind though.” I babbled a bit nervously. This
was a little more serious than talking about Marit using me to run her
errands for her!

“You won’t be able to talk to her after her practise?” asked
Gavin.

“I’ll be asleep by then. I usually go to bed at eight thirty on
weekdays. She’s not back until nine.”

“I forgot how much sleep you need.”

“I just hope I can sleep at all. I’m going to be a total wreck
otherwise.” I replied.

“Can you tell me what you mean about feeling like a girl? How is it
different and how can you feel that?”

I spent the rest of lunch trying to explain to Gavin how I could
imagine sensations, and surprising both of us in the process. I’d always
assumed everyone could do that, and he had never imagined it was even
possible. Apparently this is another way I’m just weird. Who knew?

---

The rest of the day flew by. I hurried home from school, but Mariska
hadn’t gotten home by the time Gavin’s car pulled into the drive to pick
us up for our library expedition to do actual real homework. The white
angled marble facade of the Library on the corner of Oxford street was
as welcoming as ever, and we were soon immersed in books. I was dropped
off at home just before dinner, project ready to be handed in next
day.

Mariska was home by then but was in a hurry to get ready for
Orchestra so I couldn’t talk to her privately. The dinner table wasn’t
the place to bring up our conversation of that morning! Before she left,
she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I left you a note on your bed.
Sleep well!” before kissing me goodnight as she headed out the back
door.

As soon as we were done with washing and drying the dishes, I ran to
my room. I didn’t see any note at first, until I looked under my pillow
and found a carefully folded piece of notepaper.

Hey N, I’ve looked over the materials you showed me this
morning. You might be on to something. You really do come up with the
most fascinating problems. Get some sleep tonight, don’t fret about
this, I’ll be going to the university library tomorrow afternoon, and I
had another idea I can check at the same time. We can talk before dinner
when you get home from sports. Love, Mariska

I felt a tightness I’d been holding in my chest all afternoon since
lunch unclench, and felt a deep wave of love for my sister. She really
was amazing. I picked up my copy of the Fellowship of the Ring and was
soon immersed in the story of Frodo and his friends trip to
Rivendell.

Go not to the Elves for council, for they will say both no and
yes.

I felt for Frodo in that moment. At least my own Wizard had been
blunt and direct in her council to me. Even if my own quest felt just as
scary as his was.

When mum came looking for me to put my lights out and get to sleep, I
was already deeply asleep, a smile on my face, the Fellowship lying on
my bed beside me, open to the chapter ‘In the house of Tom Bombadil’

---

Wednesday at school was deeply annoying. We only had half a day of
school, but we had sports in the afternoon after school, and since it
was still summer season for a few weeks yet, that meant softball for me.
I’d tried cricket, but gave it up as a bad idea after being hit in the
eye twice by a cricket ball while batting, once badly enough to have mum
take me to the hospital for x-rays. Not that softball was any better. I
couldn’t hit a ball to save my own life, so was always being pitched
out, and I couldn’t catch or throw them any better. I’d been practising
both with my sisters in our backyard for years, but I could never figure
out why I was failing. What did “keep your eye on the ball” even mean?
If I did that, I got hit. If I did the sensible thing and ducked when a
fast moving small object headed in my direction, I got yelled at. And
somehow my arms and shoulders would never hinge right so any ball I did
throw either fell short of where I was aiming, or went off in a random
direction entirely. It felt deeply unfair that most kids I knew could do
these things effortlessly before they even started school in the first
place.

So after an afternoon of mostly standing out of the way trying not to
mess up my team’s efforts to win, I headed for home.

Mariska was in the kitchen when I came in through the back door. She
glanced over at mum’s back, who was making a glass of milo for me, and
signed at me not to ask questions yet. I took the hint and drank my
milo.

“I’m going to do my homework.” I heard her tell mum as she walked out
of the kitchen and headed down the hall to her room.

“I’m going to go get changed and read until dinner.” I told mum
myself.

I quickly changed out of my sports clothes, then quietly knocked on
Mariska’s door.

“Come in.” she called.

Mariska was sitting on the nook that dad had built into the bay
window in her room. There were neat stacks of paper sitting in front of
her on the cushions.

“Close the door and have a seat over here squirt.” she said,
smiling.

I curled up against a cushion next to her in the window. Mariska
really did have the best room in the house. I could look all the way
down the drive and across to the park from here.

I turned to Mariska, full of questions. “So, did you find anything
useful?”

Mariska smiled back. “It took some doing, but I did. Most of the
stuff in the Library about gender identity disorder is old, and what the
researchers say you should do sounds completely horrible and wrong. It
reminds me of how they still talk about gay people being sick and having
bad role models growing up, and we both know that’s just wrong. So I
ignored that, and found some newer research from the US. Get this.
They’re talking about the importance of taking kids like you seriously
and not blaming the parents for not raising them right. And from what I
could find, there’s a group in Amsterdam at the Vrije Universiteit about
to start a long term study on helping kids like you by allowing them to
transition, and stopping them from going through the wrong puberty.”

“That’s amazing!” I said, while thinking score one for my
Ghost She’d said exactly the same thing. She’d also mentioned Opa
Plasbeek too. “Do you think once we’ve told mum and dad about all of
this that we could ask Opa for help?”

Mariska looked a little surprised at that. “That’s … actually a
really good idea. Assuming Dad can convince him this is real and that
we’re serious. He’s a bit old, I have no idea how he’ll react to the
news.”

She went on. “So. You’re sure about this? You want to tell mum and
dad?”

I looked at her seriously. “Of course I do. You know how much I hate
keeping secrets, and I’ll need their help anyway. And I’ve barely been
doing anything else other than think about this. Gav and I have been
talking about how I’m feeling for days now, and it’s only getting worse.
The sooner I can be Natalie here at home the better. School is driving
me bonkers. You know I haven’t been happy for months, and I’m finally
beginning to understand why.”

Mariska looked back at me, studying my face carefully.

“Tonight after dinner then?”

I nodded. “Tonight after dinner.”

“How do you want to start?” She asked.

“Can you let them know I’ve got something to tell them? I’ll tell
them my story, and you can fill in the blanks with all this.” I said,
waving at the circle of papers around us.

“Sounds like a plan.” She said seriously, before leaning over and
hugging me.

“You’ve been really brave about all this. I do have one last
question. What do you want us to call you?”

“Natalie”

I saw Mariska’s eyes widen in understanding. She’d been at the table
during that conversation on my birthday too.

“Good choice. If that doesn’t calm mum down a little, nothing
will.”

Aan tafel!

I hear mum summon us to dinner. Mariska gave me a final half-hug as
we headed for the kitchen.