Going up the steps to Georgina's apartment, my heart weighed heavy. Guilt felt like it was dripping from me, how Ambrose was probably walking to the club now alone. How I had bailed on him, betraying him further by failing him as a friend. But this was a subject I could not talk to him about, that he would not understand no matter how good of a friend he was.

It seemed like there was only one person in the world who would understand my feelings, and that person was behind the door of the third floor apartment I was currently making my way to. I knew she'd understand, because she was like me. She seemed like a shining hope in an ocean of fear. A blessing to massage my fears away, introduced to me at just the right moment. Strange how fate is.

My fist knocked on the door five times. Immediately, I heard the sounds of shuffling from within, as if she had been waiting for me. The chain lock slid, and a second later I was looking in the face of Georgina, her blue eyes peering at me curiously. She shifted and scratched her arm nervously. Her long, light blue, sleeveless dress swept the floor as she stood back to let me in.

As I walked in, she went to her kitchenette immediately as was custom with us. The slight mermaid fishtail train of her dress weaved back and forth as she walked in tiny steps due to the constriction of her knees by it. I began to feel under dressed. As she was heating milk on the stove, I realized I was not wearing even one piece of female clothing. I felt a blush heat my cheeks. My white t-shirt was old, too large for my frame. My loose jeans were ill-fitting, tied to me by a thick black belt. My sneakers were grubby as ever, old and rotten looking. Even my hair was tied back in a low ponytail, masculine in style. My embarrassment grew at the further realization that Georgina had not said a word about it. Elegant as ever, she had treated me the same as any other time regardless of my clothing.

The heavy smell of chocolate filled the apartment as she stirred in cocoa powder to our hot chocolates, finishing quickly and with grace. She set them down on the coffee table in the familiar bone china tea cups which she always used for us. Nervously, I sat up and put my elbows on my knees fidgeting my hands together.

She sat in her velvet red chair, and began sipping her hot chocolate delicately. It was up to me to start to talk. Her eyes kept peeking at me, knowingly. She knew I had something to say.

I took a long deep breath and during it she put down her cup on the table, staring at me with rapt attention.

"I don't know what to do," I said, immediately regretting it. My body started to shake, small trembles. It felt like the pink rose patterned couch was shaking, not myself. My nervousness was overtaking me and I couldn't control it anymore. Like these six words had unleashed something that I couldn't take back no matter how I tried.

She continued to stare at me, her eyes soft and caring. Not a word left her mouth, still waiting for me to speak.

I sighed again, tightening my hands into a fist ball and trying desperately to get my ever shaking body to stop trembling. But I couldn't get it to stop. It caused my voice to come out like a quaking little lamb.

"Ever...since...I was a little b-...little..." I breathed carefully, looking down at the white carpet, "I've liked girl's...cl...clothing..."

"Drink," Georgina ordered. My eyes flicked up to her to see she was pointing at my cup regally, her slender finger from a hand resting on her own knee. Incredibly, her long leg seemed to be crossed over her other in that tight dress, causing a beautiful yet strong sight. The small elevation of her foot revealed many layers of her aqua rimmed, white tulle underskirt.

"I'll spill it, Miss," I whispered shamefully, "I'm shaking...too much..."

"I trust you. Drink it," she answered back, her stare unwavering.

My heart jumped at this command. My breathing changed, just realizing she trusted me with this horribly staining drink even though I had destroyed her photo album at our first meeting, which seemed like ages ago somehow. When did we become like this?

"O-okay..." I stuttered, leaning down to pick up my cup.

As promised, the brown stuff went over the lip and began dripping down the china like staining orbs of Satan. The only thing I could think of was her white carpet, plush and under my sneakers.

"Maybe take the saucer with you next time," she whispered helpfully.

It caught me off guard and my sudden smile confused my head. Thankfully, the chocolate drips fell on my shirt instead, and before I set the cup down again I brought the saucer under it to make sure none got on the carpet.

But the smooth milk went down my throat like a coating of warm love. It filled my stomach, causing my core to warm. The taste rose something child-like out of hiding, a small happy light. I closed my eyes and felt like I was in my grandma's house, the chocolate smell mixed with love.

"Looks like it helped, didn't it?" Georgina's voice drifted to me.

"Si," I sighed.

"Now tell me what you were saying."

"Okay, Miss," I nodded, opening my eyes. She was smiling at me grandly, pleased. My own smile formed again, further surprising me. It shocked me how just a simple drink could calm me so much. Even though I wasn't fully relaxed, I felt I could speak better than before.

"I have a problem and I don't know what to do about it," I started to gush. Knowing she was looking at me, listening to me, brought me courage which I did not think I had before, inside of me. "I've liked girls' clothes since I was little. I always wanted to wear those dresses with sashes that girls wear to church, you know the ones?"

Georgina nodded, clearly understanding what I was talking about. Of course she did.

I went on. "I saw a little girl wearing one on the train not too long ago. It made something deep inside creep up again, something I haven't felt for a long, long time..." I paused, thinking. "See, my dad wasn't the best to me and my mom. Before he started drinking he was this great guy. But then his father died and things went bad. Really bad. I was five. You have to understand, Georgina, my real name isn't Ruiz. That's my Mama's last name. My real name is Luis Silva, and that's my father's name, too. But I couldn't stand any of that name anymore after what he did to me and my Mama. I took my Mama's name as my name because I hate that man. I hate that man, Georgina." I was shaking anew now, but not out of nervousness. Out of anger, from deep within, some place I had not tapped for a long, long time. I took my cup and saucer into my hands, drinking from the cup with slow sips, feeling the sweetness in my mouth, comforting me. I swallowed, closing my eyes, feeling the warmth spread in me again.

I put the cup and saucer back on the table and continued, Georgina staring at me with her eyebrows in a pose which caused her face to look soft and welcoming.

"See, my father...my father would get drunk sometimes. He wasn't the kind who was loud and obnoxious, yelling and everything. He didn't throw things around, things like that. He would drink and my Mama and I would both see him drinking, and he'd get quieter. Then late at night, see...u-um..." My voice cracked and my shaking came back all at once. At this, Georgina's mouth opened slightly, and she offered her hand to me over the table. I took it gratefully, and her hand squeezed mine assuringly.

"He'd...he'd come into my room...and...touch on...me..." I whispered, feeling like I was going to black out.

Slowly, Georgina left her chair and half circled the table, her hand never leaving my hand. Her warm body pressed to mine and she was hugging me as I began to cry silently.

"It's okay," she barely whispered to me, giving me courage. I sniffed loudly in the quiet, startling myself. She didn't loosen her hold on me, and my body filled with her warmth.

"...I didn't...I didn't know why he touched on me. Like, why would he touch on me? I don't understand. But after the first few times, he started to tell me I couldn't tell my mom. Then as he kept doing it...he told me he'd kill me if I ever told my mom... I didn't know what to think, how to react. I didn't get why he'd tell me that. Why would my dad tell me he wanted to kill me? But I'd just lay there, trying to be as still as possible, staring at my wall, because he told me to. I got so scared, knowing his touching me was something to kill me over. I tried to tell myself I was a caterpillar and he was leaves on a branch, that his touch meant nothing more than the leaves on a branch touching the caterpillar. The leaves wandered places, but that was the wind moving them there, that it wasn't him really. It had to be something else, because my dad...I tried to tell myself so many things... He used to read me The Very Hungry Caterpillar, that's why I thought that. Like, it was our special book, so you know...I don't know..." Remembering The Very Hungry Caterpillar made it feel like a volcano was erupting in me and before I knew it I was sobbing, rolling in tears, unable to control the movements of my body. Georgina began to hug me tighter as I lost any control I had, trying to stabilize me. It's like she knew exactly what to do.

"I tried..." I choked, "I tried to look happy, you know? I tried to smile, act like nothing was happening. Smiling became my number one thing to do, trying to act like nothing was wrong in front of my Mama. But like...then things got worse. Like, he started to get violent. He'd say things to my Mama which made her look down at the ground. He'd always say them in Spanish, too. He always spoke Spanish, so proud to be Puerto Rican. He said using English at our house was forbidden. But his saying those things to my Mama made me hate Spanish. It made me hate being Puerto Rican, because he loved being Puerto Rican so much. I began to hate him so much." I sniffed and coughed, and Georgina gestured to my cooling cup of cocoa. I nodded. She brought it up to me silently, and I took the cup in my hands. I drank a few long sips, feeling soothed once again. She took the cup back and set it on the saucer. I breathed deeply, my throat cleared of tears from the liquid.

"Then, like..." I went on, sighing deeply, "one night he came home and he was already drunk. He usually drank at home, and we could see him getting drunk, right? But not this time. I was about seven, I remember. I was really sick, I can't remember with what but I was really sick. I was throwing up a lot. My Mama was with me in the bathroom, comforting me. I was upset because I knew I would have to miss school the next day since I was sick. I really loved school, wanted to do a lot, but. My father came home, and he started yelling in Spanish, yelling for me. 'Luis, Luis, where are you Luis, get here, oruga' and I vomited because he made me so nervous and my stomach felt like shit already. I knew what he wanted because he said oruga. I started to shake and cry and vomit and saying 'no' into the toilet. I just remember my Mama staring at me in horror, because suddenly she knew. I don't know how she knew, but she did. I'll never forget her face. I never want to see that face again. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but my father heard it. The lock didn't work that great on the door, so she sat in front of it looking at me with that face, still. I couldn't really move, I felt so weak. Then my dad started to pound on the door because he heard it close, yelling for me, calling me oruga, which is 'caterpillar' in Spanish. He kept pounding on the door, yelling louder and louder. My Mama looked at me like she was failing me, like she was this great failure. I was laying on the floor, staring at her, unable to do anything. He began hollering like a diablo. He said if I didn't come out of the bathroom he'd kill me, that my Mama wasn't home and she couldn't protect me."

Georgina started to rub my back, comforting like a grandma would. Like my grandma would. It reminded me of the second part of what happened to me, comforting me. I took a deep, deep breath, the very air shaking in my lungs.

"But then, there were these police sirens. Coming through the window in the bathroom we could see that blue and red. My Mama started crying, really crying. My father started shouting about 'who called the fucking cops, who called them, this is my fucking family, who the fuck called the cops'. The cops broke the front door down and we heard them yelling at him to step away from the bathroom door. My Mama crawled over to me and scooped me up into her arms. This lady cop started knocking on the door, calling my name. She started saying, 'Luis, Luis, you in there? It's okay, it's safe. My name is Emily Welch.' I'll never forget that lady's name. My Mama started calling to her, saying we were both inside, that I was very sick and needed a doctor. Miss Emily opened the door and started radioing for help. After that it was just a blur. I can't remember much, just riding in the ambulance."

I breathed deeply again, trying to steady myself. Telling this part made me feel overwhelming relief, like a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Georgina didn't stop rubbing my back, the gentle rhythm of it steadying me more than I could myself.

"After that, we stayed with my grandma, my Mama's mom, my Nana. She was so nice to me. She lived across the city in this nice neighborhood, not like where we were living before. She had an actual house. It felt bizarre to have all that space for just us. I felt like a...a Princess...a...anyway..." my breath caught at the word 'Princess'. Georgina didn't change what she was doing. A feeling of nervousness spread anyway.

"Well...see...since I was in a different part of town I had to start going to a different school. I think it was February or something. I remember being really upset that I had to start at another school. I wanted to go to my old school. My grandma told me it was going to be okay, that she went to that school when she was a little girl. I remember that first day like it was yesterday, you know? I remember...because that's the first time I met Ambrose."

Georgina nodded, a small smile on her face, recognizing the happy importance of this for me. I started to smile a little myself, unable to stop the emotion even though I was so serious.

"My grandma brought me to the door of the classroom and all the students were staring at me like I was crazy, because I was crying buckets, wailing like a baby. Forever because of that kids called me 'cry baby'. The teacher made me sit up front, too, which wasn't good either. But I get why she did. She wanted to make sure I could learn better, because I entered so late. I didn't get why at the time. I felt like she was torturing me, punishing me. I hated that school. But at lunch, that all changed, because this little skinny Puerto Rican kid like me slapped me on the back and made me cry. He sat next to me and told me his name was Ambrose and told me I didn't need to cry, he was just saying 'hi'. He asked me if I was Puerto Rican, because there were no Puerto Ricans at that school and I said I was. He offered me half his sandwich to make me stop crying. When I bit into it was the most awful, awful thing. I think it was like, peanut butter and birthday cake frosting. I wanted to know why his Mama made that sandwich, and he said he didn't have a Mama. I didn't know what to say."

My words were flying now, gushing out of me like a river. Georgina was still, listening. It felt so good.

"I asked why he didn't have a Mama, and he said he didn't know. He said he never had a Mama. So I said he needed to stop eating sandwiches made of that stuff, because it was bad for him and he started laughing at me. I swear to god it was the kindest laugh I've ever heard in my life. He wasn't even offended. He didn't seem like he was seven either, I don't get why, but he was. So, ever since then I'd get my Mama or my grandma to make him a sandwich, too. I'd give it to him every day and he'd always give me the same surprised smile, like he didn't really think I'd do it. He started coming over to my grandma's house, too, after school. One day, my grandma brought this monster of a machine out of the closet and we were both amazed by that machine. She told us it was a VCR and we were going to watch movies. That's the day I saw Miss Audrey Hepburn for the first time, in Roman Holiday. She was a Princess in it. I asked my grandma if Miss Audrey Hepburn was really a Princess and she said she thought so. I was so amazed. There was a real Princess on the screen. I watched her like she was magic. She was so elegant, pretty. She was so skinny, like a ballerina. Her voice was sophisticated and beautiful. I'll never forget that experience. My grandma must have seen how much I liked her, and my grandma loved her, so we'd watch all of her movies, at least the ones my grandma had recorded from TV. My favorites were Sabrina, Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's...so many of them. I remember singing the songs from My Fair Lady all through the house. I'd twirl around, dancing, imagining I was wearing those dresses from all of her movies. It made me feel so wonderful. My grandma saw me doing this of course."

I sighed and smiled. Georgina eased off of me, holding my hand between us now, knowing I was okay. She remained silent, still hearing out what I had to say. She was so patient. Our hot chocolates were long cold now, but she didn't move to clear them away, just focused on me.

"One Halloween, I think I was nine, she made me this outfit from Breakfast at Tiffany's. It was this cheap material, fake rhinestone tiara, things like that. As she worked on it all October, me and Ambrose would watch from the door of her sewing room. His eyes lit up as he watched her on that old sewing machine. She saw him there and offered to show him what she was doing and the rest was history. Ambrose became such an amazing dress maker thanks to her. She taught him everything she knew. He makes all of our stuff on her old sewing machine, too. But anyway. She made me that dress and I was astonished by it all. How did she know my dream? Was she playing? On Halloween, I dressed in that famous black dress from scene one of Breakfast at Tiffany's. I felt so special, so pretty, gorgeous. My grandma took pictures of me and Ambrose. Ambrose was wearing this black suit to go with my outfit. But he snatched that tiara off my head and I started crying when he started wearing it, saying it was my tiara and he had to give it back, that he wasn't the Princess, I was. My grandma started laughing at us. I remember she told us to stop fighting, made us strawberry milk, sat us on the couch to watch TV. Then about fifteen minutes later she came out of her sewing room with this construction paper tiara with a string around the back and Ambrose's eyes lit up. We both wore tiaras that night and we were so proud of ourselves. I really think that night is why we love competing for tiaras even today..."

I stopped here, remembering how Ambrose was probably on stage now without me. Competing for a tiara without me. Remembering how much it meant to us to compete against each other stopped me in my tracks and made my breathing shake again. But I swallowed this feeling, knowing what I was doing was very important. I had to tell someone about this thing inside of me, tormenting me. I had to.

"I remember during that time at my grandma's house, my Mama was studying a lot, reading books and writing things down. Even late at night she did that. I kept asking her why she was doing that and she kept trying to explain she was in school, she was going to be a nurse. I told her she was too old to go to school. She laughed at me. I know now that I was being extremely rude to her, but she forgave me because she loved me. One day, she took me in the car during a school day to this room with a lot of bright colors. She sat in a room with me and this woman came in. She had on glasses and this sort of skirt suit. She asked my Mama to leave the room and I got scared. My Mama said she'd be right outside the door and that the lady wouldn't hurt me. With my Mama out of the room, the lady started asking me a lot of weird questions. She gave me this white doll, calling him Billy, and asked me about my father. She was very nice about it. When I told her about The Very Hungry Caterpillar she smiled to me. She said she knew about what my father did and not to be scared. She just wanted to know what had happened, what he had done specifically. She asked me to show her on Billy what he'd done to me. I showed her and she was still smiling at me. I found it odd that she was still smiling. I told her so, and she said, 'I'm just trying to make you comfortable, sweetie' and I started crying. She wanted to know why I was crying and I told her I did the same thing for my Mama, smiling to make her think I was okay. She said that was okay, that a lot of kids do that, because they're scared. Then I got scared because I suddenly thought about what if they told my father I told her all of this and I got really panicked so she brought my Mama back inside the room and she hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay, that he couldn't hurt me anymore. She said he was going to go to prison and he'd never get out, that I was safe. I felt really conflicted. I didn't want him to go to prison, because he's my father, but I hated him so much. I didn't know what to do. My Mama told me it wasn't something I had to think about, it wasn't my fault either. She said my father was sick, he had to go away and it was nobody's fault."

I sighed again, catching my breath. It was so quiet in the apartment now I could hear my own heartbeat, beating fast in my chest. It felt like my blood was bubbling. The clock over the fridge was ticking away and I couldn't tell the time on the Roman numerals. But Georgina didn't say anything about how late it was getting, so I hoped it was okay. She certainly didn't move to do anything but sit with me when I paused.

"I'm sorry, am I going on too long?" I asked, getting concerned despite how she was acting.

"Not at all," she assured in her breathy voice, rubbing my back again. "Tell me anything you want."

Her caring made me cry again and she asked if I wanted a tissue. I nodded, and she brought me tissues quicker than I could say "thank you". She sat next to me gently again and offered me the box. I accepted them gratefully and set the box on my knees, taking one and dabbing my eyes. I felt so glad I wasn't wearing any make-up tonight because I was crying so much. But something felt off, seeing only tears on the tissue. It felt dizzyingly weird.

"Anyway, soon after that, my grandma got sick. I think I was like, twelve or something. My Mama was working as a nurse at this clinic, so I was home with my grandma in the afternoons after school. She was kind of weaker a lot, going to the hospital frequently. I was really scared because her body was changing, getting skinnier. She wouldn't eat as much. Sometimes we'd be sitting on the couch together watching Audrey Hepburn movies and she'd be staring into space like her eyes were dead. I was so fearful, I didn't know what to do. One day, I told her I was scared of what was happening to her and I was confused, and she just smiled at me like always. She took my hand without a word into her sewing room and opened the closet. She told me she was about to tell me a secret and she wanted me to know. I was still really scared, and I listened to her like an adult because of the fear, thinking she was going to tell me she was going to die. She got on her tip toes and brought down this small black box from the top shelf, and sat me down with her on the couch in that room. Then she opened the box and my world changed. In that box were those pearls I always wear, the ones I call my 'Mama's pearls' and you'll hear why. But she lifted those beautiful pearls with those diamonds out of the box and I recognized them immediately from Breakfast at Tiffany's. She grinned at me and told me they were Audrey Hepburn's pearls, real Princess pearls. She fastened them around my neck and told me that when she was younger, she went to a movie premiere in Manhattan and she slipped to the front of the crowd with her friend. She said they were really close, like me and Ambrose. She and her friend were watching Audrey Hepburn like she was a goddess, coming down the red carpet. She said it was the most exciting moment of her life. As Audrey Hepburn stood in front of her, talking to this guy with a microphone, someone bumped into Miss Audrey and in the confusion her necklace slipped right off her neck. The one I was wearing around my neck right then. My grandma panicked when the necklace slipped off of Miss Audrey's neck, falling to her knees and grabbing it. She totally intended to give the necklace back, that it would have been the most important moment of her life to speak to Miss Audrey Hepburn and give back her necklace, but Miss Audrey was pulled away like in a current and she was suddenly gone, and my grandma was there in the jostling crowd holding Miss Audrey Hepburn's necklace going bug eyed to heaven."

I started laughing, remembering how my grandma told me this story, so full of life and joy. Like she wasn't even sick. Like maybe she was still young, that girl who had found the necklace so long ago. I smiled to myself, then looked at Georgina. Georgina was giving me a small smile, holding my hand tightly still.

"During the time my grandma was sick, I was going through my own thing. I turned thirteen, and I started having these feelings. I didn't know what to do with them really. It turns out, Ambrose was having the same feelings and when we found out we were having the same feelings we both felt such relief. We had this crush on this one classmate of ours, Marc. Ambrose told me, pinky swear, that neither of us could go out with him, because we both liked him. I agreed. But I did often wonder why I liked boys. I was a boy, so. But having Ambrose there, feeling the same thing, to vent to, made it okay, I think. He was a boy, too, who liked boys. One day I asked him if he'd ever go out with me, because I was experimenting with this strange feeling and I didn't understand romantic love, and he told me 'ew no, you're my best friend' and we laughed together. I felt the same way about him. I think we were really lucky, being so similar, both being Puerto Rican and liking boys. Ugh, but, like...I had this other thing he didn't know about."

I started to squirm unintentionally, knowing this secret inside of me. This secret I had told no one. Georgina's grip on my hand tightened and the feeling radiated up my arm. She looked at me with strange eyes, non-threatening, but unreadable. It scared me a little bit.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, my voice smaller in my confusion.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes," she said, looking down at her lap.

"Are you tired?" I gasped, looking at the clock that I knew I couldn't read, but instinctively.

"No, no, really. Keep going, please," she said, her thumb sweeping the back of my hand.

"Okay, Georgina," I whispered unintentionally. She kept looking at her lap, not looking at me. I laid back on the couch, trying to relax. She kept her position, her elbows on her knees, but her hand traveled with me, still holding mine.

"I remember one day neither my grandma nor my Mama were home. I felt this overwhelming urge. I wanted to feel pretty. I kept passing the mirror in the kitchen and feeling really upset. It was this thing inside of me, making me feel like I was crumpling from the inside. I didn't want to see myself. I had felt this ever since I could remember, really, but then...I don't know why, but I couldn't stand it. Maybe it was because it was so quiet in the house and I was thinking about it, like really thinking about it. I thought about that Halloween when I had dressed up as Miss Audrey Hepburn, how great I had felt, how pretty. How my grandma had been so proud of me and Ambrose was there. So I went to her sewing room and saw all these dresses. I think she was a seamstress, you know, working on dresses for other people. There was this really grand one, a white one, with big puffy sleeves and the biggest skirt you've ever seen. It was covered in sequins and rhinestones, bows all over it. It was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen in my life. Before I really knew what I was doing, I was putting it on myself and looking at myself in the mirror in there and twirling around. I found a veil and pretended I was bride-"

Georgina's grip intensified, pinching my hand and I gasped sharply, jerking away.

"Georgina?" I gasped, staring at her. "Georgina, what..."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her lip was out like a child's. Mascara was rolling down her face in the tears. Before any of it could get on her dress I had pulled a tissue out of the box on my knees and held it at her chin.

"Georgina...are you okay?" I whispered delicately to her, dabbing her face gently with the tissue. But the tears kept on coming and coming, silently. "Georgina?"

Her mouth opened, and her breath came out shakily. She shook her head, her hands going over her face. Her shoulders began to bounce in her quiet sobs, and she curled over herself.

My hand found her shoulder and I hugged her sideways, feeling how frail her body really was. Had I gone too far? Told her too many sad things? Guilt washed over me, and my own tears sprung to my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her.

"N-no..." she gasped in between her sobs, "No...don't..."

"I'm sorry, I won't-" I began, but she interrupted. Her hands uncovered her face and she stared at me straight on, her eyebrows peaked, revealing the most sad face. Her wet hands from her tears went on my shoulders, gripping them tightly in dear caring.

"No, Louise," she said, her voice shaking delicately, "I'm okay. I'm okay. It's just...the wedding dress...you're...you're describing my life. Do you understand? ...I know how you feel. I know. The wedding dress...when I was that age...I spun in a wedding dress, too...I did..."

"Oh," I squeaked, fresh tears bubbling in my eyes. "Georgina, I..."

She took me in a grand hug then, holding me close and tightly.

"I know," she whispered in my ear, "you don't need to tell me. You don't need to be ashamed. I know you're a woman like me. I've known since I first met you. I've always referred to you as a girl in my head, whenever I thought about you. Don't worry. I'll keep your secret, okay?"

I couldn't speak now. I was crying too hard. All I could do was nod vigorously into her shoulder and she hugged me even tighter.

"You can talk to me about...anything," she assured me, hiccupping in her tears. "I understand. Don't worry about it."

She began rubbing my back and all I could do was cry like a child, like she was my grandma and I was her granddaughter.

Later on that night, I stumbled into the subway. I stumbled onto the train. I cried on and off, blubbery tears like in a cartoon. People stared at me with wide eyes. I didn't care. I couldn't believe I had finally told someone about my feelings, of wanting to be a woman. I couldn't believe I didn't have to keep it all to myself anymore, that there was actually someone out there who understood, someone who I had known about for so long. How my dream had come true, how this person I had looked up to since I was fourteen years old was my good friend and understood exactly what I was talking about, what I was going through.

I couldn't believe my life, how fortunate I was. I cried and cried. And I was so grateful. So very lucky.