Chapter 13

Dr. Poklopsy’s office was tiny and cramped and lacked air conditioning. For Mila this wasn’t necessarily a problem, except when he asked her questions she did not know how to answer. In those moments, she felt exceptionally claustrophobic in his office, and would take little gasping breaths to spare the oxygen in the room. His face would stretch into its perturbed expression and he would scribble on his prescription pad. Then she would shuffle off to the pharmacy window, grateful to be away from him.

The weather was particularly stifling the day she finally had a breakthrough. She couldn’t breathe, but this time he wasn’t letting her go. She was a koi in a pond, her eyes darting back and forth as she sought escape, but he kept her there, searching for answers to his endless line of questions.

Finally, in a bout of frustration, Dr. Poklopsy said, “You are a boy. Do you understand me? You are a boy. You have male anatomy just as I do. That is why your facial hair is growing out.”

Horrified, Mila’s hand flew to her face. Indeed the scruffy scraggle of a beard was there. Shocked tears prickled her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“You used to take medicine. Something to suppress the hormones. Perhaps you took estrogen, yes?”

Mila shook her head. “No. No. I... It’s just... I had this problem when I was thirteen. Mama got me special vitamins. I took special vitamins and it went away.”

“There, you see?” the doctor said as though it were obvious. “You are a boy. The hormone levels are changing in your body and finally your suppressed system can mature into an adult male.”

“I don’t want to mature into an adult male!” Mila sobbed, the tears coming easily to her face. “I... I’m a girl! I’m a girl!”

“You want to be a girl!” he insisted.

“Mama hates boys! Boys are wicked, and men are evil!” Mila recited for him.

“Aha!” the doctor shouted triumphantly. “Now we are getting somewhere! Because of your mother’s aversion to men, you wish you were a girl.”

“She said I’m a girl,” Mila said desperately.

“Your mother said this? When did she say it?”

“Always,” Mila answered, wiping the tears from her scruffy cheeks. “Always... I’ve always been mama’s little girl...”

She hung her head, confused and ashamed. Why was she so ignorant? Why had her mother made her like this?

“Are you sure I’m not a girl?” she asked the doctor quietly.

“Yes, Milo,” he answered just as softly. “I am sure.”

She drew in a deep breath and said honestly, “I don’t understand. Why would she tell me I’m a girl if I’m not one? Didn’t she know that I’m a boy?”

“It’s unlikely that any parent could not know the gender of their own child, however, in your case, perhaps there are extenuating circumstances. Does your mother suffer from any sort of mental instability or deficiency?”

Mila shook her head.

Poklopsy made notes on his yellow pad and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You’re quite certain of that?”

She nodded. He went on, “Perhaps there was something else. Some incidence relating to your desire to be a female. Perhaps your mother was supporting that in you.”

Mila shook her head again, vastly bewildered. “I don’t know.”

“Did your mother call you Mila at home?”

“Yes.”

“Did she call you Mila in public?”

“We never went anywhere together. I stayed in the house all my life.”

The doctor looked momentarily shocked. “What do you mean? Were you incapacitated in some way?”

“No.”

“What do you mean you stayed in the house? You were home-schooled?”

“Yes, but... I never went anywhere. Mother wouldn’t allow it. She was always afraid someone would see me.”

“Good Lord,” Poklopsy mumbled, scribbling furiously on his pad. “Can you ever remember a time, perhaps when you were very small, that your mother referred to you as Milo?”

Mila considered it, but genuinely could not locate such a memory inside her mind. “I don’t think so.”

The psychiatrist, to his credit, looked dumbfounded. Slowly he arranged his thoughts in his mind, then spoke them aloud. “So... it’s your belief that your mother perpetuated your masquerade as a woman.”

Mila shook her head. “I... don’t know. Why would...”

“Yes?” he said, urging his patient to make the discovery.

Mila’s voice faltered as she continued, “Why would... why would she do that? Why would she... Why?”

“Why would she what, Milo?”

“Why would she lie to me?”

“Yes!” the doctor cheered. “Excellent question. Why would your mother tell you a blatant falsehood about your gender?”

“I don’t know,” Mila said, spreading her hands expansively.

“Let’s examine your childhood for a bit. Was there any experience at all that you can recall that had a significant impact on your mother’s mental well-being?” he probed.

“My father’s death,” Mila said at once. “Mother was always very...wistful after that.”

“Wistful,” the doctor repeated, making a note of the unique word.

“Yes,” Mila said. “And after Michael ran away.”

“Who’s Michael?” Dr. Poklopsy asked quickly.

Mila sucked in a breath and shook her head. She hadn’t thought of him in years. “No... I... he’s... he’s my brother.”

“Your brother? I’m intrigued. Go on,” he spurred her.

“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Mila said, discontentedly rubbing the hair on her chin. “He ran away when I was only a child. I think I couldn’t have been more than six at the time.”

“And how old was he? How old was Michael when he ran away?”

“Seventeen or eighteen, I think. No, wait...” she said, forcing her brain to find the information. “He had to be eighteen; I remember counting the candles on his birthday cake.”

Her mouth hung slack for a moment, her eyes glassy with the distant memory. “He never saw it.”

“He ran away on his eighteenth birthday?” the doctor said incredulously.

“Yes, I think so,” Mila said, slightly disturbed. Her hand trembled as she forced her fingers to stop petting the fuzz on her face. “Eighteen. I missed him terribly. He said he’d come back for me, but he never did.”

The doctor was writing furiously now, filling up the pages and flipping to the next one within seconds. He wrote like a man possessed and quite ignored Mila until the entirety of his thoughts was on the pages.

“So it was your mother,” he said finally, setting his pen on the pad. Mila simply shook her head. The doctor smiled. “We’ve made excellent progress today. Same time next week?”

Mila agreed with a little nod. She got to her feet but did not leave. “Um...”

“Yes?” he prompted.

She glanced between the man and his prescription pad longingly, trying to work up the courage to ask him.

“If there’s nothing else, I have other patients to see,” he said, returning to his usual brusque manner.

She nodded, fighting herself down. “Um...”

“Yes?” he repeated, this time more irritably.

Gathering all of her courage, Mila said softly, “It’s just...”

“What?”

Her fingers reached up to touch her hairy face and she felt her throat tighten. “I don’t like this. I... I don’t want it...”

His brow lined as he listened.

“Please don’t make me go out there like this,” she begged him quietly.

“I can’t make it go away overnight,” he said, still annoyed.

She nodded, her face resolute, but her eyes rebelliously tearing as she started to go.

“You could shave it,” he told her.

She tried to respond, but couldn’t speak for the thickness of her throat.

“Wait,” he said abruptly. “Are you saying... you’d rather be a girl?”

Mila nodded. “I think so.”

“This is a very grave decision, Milo,” Dr. Poklopsy said. “I don’t think you fully understand the ramifications of such a decision. From what you’ve told me, you had that decision thrust upon you, and that’s not right. I think it would be best for you, for the time being, to adjust to manhood, and see if it doesn’t work for you. If not, I can refer you to a specialist who can help you transition to womanhood. Do you understand?”

Mila nodded, but it was not the answer she’d been hoping for.

“Wait,” he said again, this time more kindly. He picked up his phone and called for a nurse named Rodrigo. When the man arrived, the doctor spoke briefly with him in the hallway before introducing him to Mila. “Rodrigo is going to help you feel better about your appearance. Do as he says, and see if that doesn’t make you feel better. Same time next week.”

He closed his office door leaving Mila and the male nurse alone in the hallway.

“No need to be scared,” Rodrigo said. “The doc told me all about your situation, and it’s okay. I’m gonna help you. Come on.”

Mila smiled gratefully. She didn’t know what the two men had planned, but for the first time all month, the hospital finally freed itself from claustrophobic to cozy. She gladly followed the nurse.