My Awkward Phase

She embraced me like I was a little doll. She was redolent of fertility, like the scent of vineyards at harvest. Cuddled and coddled, I got aroused. I was embarrassed, but she was happy.
“You’re so cute.”
“Not too small?”
“Perfect, pretty.”
“Help me.”
She rolled on a condom that draped like damp poncho. She straddled me, lay atop me, moaned delight.
“Papi, Si, si, mas.” Yes, Papa, yes, more.
The warmth and scent of her flesh tore down the wall of impotence that the Spiro had built, waves crested, a tide rushed forth.
“Sorry, I couldn’t stop-.”
“I was greedy.”
She pulled off and inspected the ill-fitted condom.
“Only a few drops.”
“I think you weren’t meant to be-”
“I feel like a girl.”
“I saw that middle school. It attracts me. With you I feel-”
“I wanted to be you even in 8th grade. I fantasized myself with your eyes, face, and body, coveted by all, belonging to none.”
She stroked her finger around the contours of my face
“It’s possible.”
“I can’t reconcile it with my ambition.”
“You must be true to yourself.”
“I want to be more famous than my father. He helped find HIV’s viral cause but failed to find the cure. Transsexuality could prevent me from-”
She shook her head.
“Not worth it, to live a lie.”
“Will you help me?”
“I’d love to, though my life’s a greater lie than yours.”
Her family’s facade of stability was false. She had been sexually abused by her uncle and on Sundays had fended off the predatory advances of her pedophile priest. Serial dating was escapism. Jock boyfriends used her for casual sex, and gangsters treated their girlfriends like whores. I was a beacon in a nightmare existence. Why hadn’t I known? Was I that arrogant?
I took her home at 2:00 a.m. I missed my exit from the freeway, like I‘d almost missed the turn that made her part of my life. I’d been so oblivious. But could I be transgendered and her lover? Maybe I was gay: a male-to-female transsexual who loves girls.
I awoke at 4:00 a.m. the next morning amid a nightmare. I was at school, and all the gangsters, dopers, jocks and even the art room crowd were screaming "Kill the tranny", as Marta pointed mockingly at me.