Transition : pt3. Transexual. A court Case, And A Story In That's Life Magazine!

If any of you read my first story about my husband and his change, then you will understand that it was not only difficult for both of us, but that didn't even include the outside world. I was just getting to grips with the idea that my husband was no longer my husband, when he decided that he needed a job. I thought, 'Oh great, now we have to face the world'. He had worked over the years, but not in any particular trade or profession. Just bits of work here and there. But the trouble this time was the fact that, who on earth is going to employ someone who has decided that he no longer wants to be a he, but is now a she? I was still having trouble going to work myself. Just trying to explain all this to friends and colleagues was a nightmare. As I wrote before, after the shock of finding out about my husband, I had to take a long time off of work because my kidney decided to explode! Well nearly, but that's another story.

One Saturday morning, I am cleaning the house, when all of a sudden, Jake, I will still call him Jake so there is no confusion, comes rushing indoors. 'I have got the job!' 'Fantastic' say I. 'What Job?' now at this point I didn't even know that he had gone for a job. 'It's just a cleaning job, but it's a start' He says. I am a bit surprised, but tell him well done. I don't really care to be quite honest, all I can think about is how to escape this horrible fallacy of a marriage. He goes on to explain how and when he got the job. Great, says I, now he will be out from under my feet.

The day dawned when he was to go down and start the job. It was fine for about twenty minutes, then all of a sudden the front door springs open, Jake comes blundering in, in a flaming temper. What now? I think to myself.

'That lying B'''''''''d! I got there and he said I couldn't have the job! I think it's the way that I am put him off!' I remember looking at him and thinking, this is just the start, this is what my life with him or her is going to be like. I closed my eyes, and started praying for someone to GET ME OUTTA THERE! I could feel the panic coming on because of the hassle that this selfish ba''''''''''d was causing and going to cause.

'What do you mean? You said that you were going to start today, so how can he say you haven't got the job?' My brain starts going into overdrive. had Jake got it wrong? did he somehow think that the job was his, but in fact the interview was just that, an interview? But how would he know what time to start?

Jake started to get upset. 'I did try, and now he's throwing it in my face'. I can feel my brain churning round and round. Forget it, just forget it. But there was a small stubborn part of me that said, no, if you let this go, then it will always be like that. 'Phone him in front of me, I want to hear what he has to say' I said, still suspicious. Surely no one would do this, it wouldn't be allowed. So Jake picked up the phone and put it on loud speaker. I could hear it ringing. Then a voice came on the end.

'Hello, Simon here, can I help you?

'Yes it's me Jake, I want to know why you took the job away from me'

Silence. then, 'I rethought out the situation and decided that you were not suitable for the job'

'Why? is it the way that I am? is that it?'

'Of course not, you are just not suitable'

'But it's just a cleaning job, for Christ's sake!'

' I have said my piece, and that is that' He slammed down the phone. I looked at jake and he looked back at me.

'Take him to court' I said. WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? my brain does that sometimes. Jumps straight in, doesn't think about the consequences. But somewhere in my head I knew that if we let this go, it would happen again and again. Jake just looked stunned. 'Court?' he said stunned.

'Court' I said

We found a solicitor who was fascinated by the whole thing, and set up the day of the court case. I was still a bit reluctant to go, but as it was my big mouth that got us into it, I thought it was best that I show up and not stay at home, hiding under the bed. I wish.

The day dawned fine and sunny, but I was a quivering wreck. 'Just sit down until you are called and answer all the questions truthfully, and don't worry' The solicitor smiled, a bit sickly I thought. I looked around the room, it was just a small offside court room for small claims and disputes. I had to sit in the back row of wooden seats as Jake was down front talking to the solicitor. I suddenly noticed a movement to my right, and saw a little man, wearing a suit, shuffle in and sit next to me. he had a notepad and pen. Great, I thought, local bloody paper. I had forgotten that reporters always attended hearings. I tried to concentrate on the case, but my eyes kept slipping to his notepad. he was scribbling away and suddenly he got up, scooted towards the door, and I noticed that he was talking animatedly on his phone. I had a sudden intuition about what he was going to do. He was calling a photographer! Now I know this sounds dramatic, but thinking about it, I realised that he must spend his whole time coming to boring court cases, and when he arrived here, he thought that it would be the same old thing. Then he saw Jake. And the lights went on.

I tried to get Jake's attention, but he was arguing with the job man. Then it came to an end. We had lost, not enough evidence. By the time the solicitor came to escort us out, I knew, now in a state of panic, that there would be a photographer waiting outside the building.

'Wait' I said, beginning to get twitchy. They looked at me strangely. 'This is going to sound weird, but I just know that there is going to be someone taking photos when we get outside'. The solicitor smiled, and spoke in a voice as though I was a child. 'Don't be silly dear, this is such a small case, that they won't even remember it, it's not worth reporting'. And she turned and sashayed away. 'Jake' I hissed, 'do as I say, when we get to the front door, put your coat over your head'.

'Now I know you've lost it' he moaned. 'Jake, if you don't do what I say, I will kick you out the door, savvy?' he shook his head and walked down the stairs. I crept down behind him, my head swiveling in all directions. Where the hell was he? I knew he was there. I can read people like a book, this was just too good to miss. We headed for the doors. I peered past Jake, and just around the corner of the building, I could see a man with a large reporters camera, smoking. He saw me, and just then spotted Jake going out the door. He scrambled for the camera. I rushed over to Jake and grabbed his jacket. Throwing it over his head, I yelled, 'PHOTOGRAPHER, QUICK LEG IT!' The solicitor looked alarmed and then quickly understood. 'Quick, this way' she said and started running down the street. I chucked my coat over my head, Victoria Beckham I aint!

Puffing and blowing, we made it to the car. 'Well' said the solicitor, 'It seems that you were right', I raised my eyebrows 'No shit Sherlock' I muttered. Jake started to laugh. I could have murdered him! 'Oh, ha bloody ha' I thought. I don't mind being famous, but this was taking the dooda! We eventually got home. Safe at last. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I knew it couldn't be the solicitor because she had gone home, amused, bemused and a bit startled. And wanting her money.

I opened the door. There was the little reporter standing there! 'Can I come in?' he said in a pleasant voice. For the next hour he kept on and on, trying to get us to tell the story, get a photograph and make himself bloody famous! We stuck to our guns. No way ho zay. Eventually he left. 'Thank goodness for that' I said. And tried to forget it.

Two weeks later, we got a phone call from That's Life magazine. 'Can I interview you?' evidently reporters have a communal pool of cases that they can go through to get a story. 'I will pay you of course', she said. Jake looked at me, I at him.

She was really nice, she took down all our details and we got to the payment part. 'We will pay you two hundred pounds' She said, smiling. Sod off, I thought, you want it, you pay for it. 'Six hundred' I say, Jake nearly dies on the spot! 'Well that is a bit much, we don't usually...' 'Six or forget it!' I stand, with my arms folded, a look of stubborn anger, and a small smirk of pride in my perseverance. 'You called us, you want the story, so you make it worthwhile' 'WHERE THE HELL WAS THIS COMING FROM?' I thought to myself. But I knew. I had had enough of the bullshit. Enough of the pushing and shoving, it was my turn.

She thought for a moment, and reached for her phone. After a brief conversation she said, 'Okay, it's a deal'. Jake nearly fell of the chair. After she had gone he said, 'How the bloody hell did you do that?'

'Stubborn I guess!'

Now I am useless in bloody high heels, the last time I wore a pair I nearly broke my neck. I remember it well, I was coming home from the pub, no, I wasn't drunk, well not really, and with me was one of my 'slight indiscretions!' and we had, well you know, on the way home. Saying goodbye I staggered halfway along the road and did not see the edge of the pavement, well I did see it, but it seemed to have moved from one second to the next. Honestly it did. And whoomp! Bum on the grass, skirt in the air! But that's beside the point. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was trying to sachay down the stairs to the green outside, as the photographer was waiting for me to join Jake, to take the photo for the magazine. I eventually managed to stagger outside, and there on the grass was the photographer, a bloody big camera, and this strange looking blue mirror backdrop thingy, that was getting caught by the wind, and was flapping around like a mad bat on steroids. I could see the eyes of the world on me. Well the whole block of flats at least, curtains were twitching, and the silence was deafening.

'Okay, over here, over here, that's it, now just stand stiill there and smile at each other'

I looked at Jake and thought, 'Smile? what the hell had I got to smile about? I am going to have my picture in a bloody magazine, (sorry to keep swearing, it's a Brit thing!) and all the world is going to know that I have got landed with a rather strange man!

'Sorry, sorry, can you get nearer please? okay we'll try that again' He must have seen my scowl, don't look good on paper, I can curdle milk with just one look.

'This isn't working, can we go on your balcony?'

'Oh bloody great, a close up!' I had just dyed my hair and it had come out too blonde, I looked pale and insipid, vanity was at work.

Eventually I managed to climb back up the stairs and head for the balcony. He took his photos and eventually got the best shot, or he thought so at least, I didn't, I thought all of them were crap, but anyway, he decided that he had got the one that he could use and with a smile said 'Oh, just to let you know, you will get paid after the article has been published, bye then' and of he went. Crafty. Really crafty. So in other words, if we didn't like the article, or the pictures, and then we complain, we don't get paid! So we waited in trepidation, until the day arrived when we were splashed all over the magazine.

'What do you think?' Jake said, after flicking through the That's Life magazine.

I was horrified. 'I look bloody awful!' 'Is that all you can say? what about the article itself?' Jake looked amazed at my shallow outlook on the whole thing. Well you gotta have some sort of vanity or else everything falls to pieces, I thought.

I took the magazine and read every word. It was to sickly and flowery, I thought. She had made my words sound so sweet. And I aint sweet! But then looking at the whole story, I realised that actually she had got it right. The only difference between her and me was the fact that I was bitter and twisted and she saw it how it was. A marriage that had gone wrong, but two people caring enough to try and make something work out of it. 'So the world knows' I mumbled 'So the world knows' Jake replied.

I walked into the pub, got myself a drink and started to walk towards my table. Nobody seemed to be taking any notice, or so I thought.

'HI, I SAW YOU IN THE MAGAZINE, YOU AND JAKE' , I turned to see who was yelling at me, supposedly trying to get over the music. 'So, Shelley, how are you? okay?' I looked at her, another bitch with an itch. 'AHHH, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU STILL LOVED HIM, SOOOO SWEET' she looked at my with her flat face and narrow eyes, wearing the leather jacket that she so often slagged me off for wearing. (She had said I looked like a witch with my leather jacket, leather buckled boots and mini skirt, and enquired where was my broom? ha ha, I told her, at the top of my voice of course, that I only used a hoover, it was so much more up to date, and the power between my legs...well) Now she always wore one. Jealousy, a funny thing.

'I NEVER KNEW THAT YOU FELT LIKE THAT ABOUT EACH OTHER' her eyes narrowed, waiting for the red face, that never came.

The pub went silent. Like it always does. I turned to her, and then surveyed the pub. 'YOU DIDN'T ACTUALLY BELIEVE THAT CRAP, DID YOU? I TOLD THEM WHAT TO SAY, THEY PUBLISHED IT AND I GOT A THOUSAND POUNDS! SO WHO ARE YOU SNEARING AT? IF YOU WANT TO BE A BITCH, TRY BEING A CLEVER BITCH LIKE ME!' Then I leaned over towards her, and whispered, now f.....k off!

Game set and match to me.

Thanks to That's Life magazine for being so nice, and I didn't really get a thousand pounds so you don't have to sack anybody! That was just for show in the pub!

These are not in chronological order, this happened in 2001.

Even though this was quite some time after the events in the first part of this story, it took years for my husband to become a complete woman, so even though a few years had gone by, at the time this happened it was still difficult to face the world every time he made another change.