I was crying even harder as everyoneleft leaving me to my tears.I had cried myself out when the doctor came and examined me, doing whathe could. He left some salves for the irritation and called the hospitalfor more tests to be run by the specialists. Those tests began,practically a lifetime of tests and experimentation with nothing andeverything being normal but borderline for a boy or a girl. The medicoswere perplexed with some even offering to do radical mastectomies oreven sex changes. I refused both. I was a male with the body of a woman,almost!That afternoon of my birthday I was so beyond mortified as friends andfamily came over to help celebrate. I know they all saw my bra and mybreasts yet never said a word. I became withdrawn from the festivitieswhen my best friend Kyle who was a few years older came over and satnext to me."Edie, we've known each other for years and years. We've slept in thesame bed when I stay with your family. Your mom and dad feel responsiblefor what is. He gave me a ten and two ones. Noticing his expensive watch and jewelry, the suit he was wearing and the briefcase he carried, I could tell he wasn't poor. I returned to his table and put a quarter down in front of him and walked away."Hey, I meant for you to keep the change," he said, yelling at me as I wiped down the next table. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with me ignoring him. He got up and came over to me. "Don't you want your tip?" A quarter isn't a tip," I said. "It's an insult. Keep it." God damned uppity waiters," he mumbled. "Why don't you go to school and do something with your fucking life instead of working these minimum wage jobs and then complaining about it."That was it. It had all been wasted. A year off the job and ten fucking months of therapy were about to go down the fucking drain. I stood up and looked down at him, my six foot four inch, two hundred forty pound frame dwarfing him. "I have a degree asshole," I said. "It's in criminal justice. Until a year ago I.
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