When I was a young girl, my family put me in Radley Sanitarium. Apparently, I wasn't the first child to be abandoned in that Hell hole. My first week there was very peculiar. I met a boy named Charles, and we became good friends. Charles and I became friends insantly. We would joke as children that when we got older we'd switch bodies.
"Bethany, I wish I had your hair." Charles would say to me.
"Charles, I wish I had YOUR HAIR." I'd say back.
We'd go back and forth like that for hours. The first few days were basically the nurses telling me what I needed to do in a day, taking blood samples, settin up appointments with the psychiatrist, and getting the right prescriptions scheduled. We all got a sheet of paper with our schedules. They tried to make them seem fun, like being in this place was a choice, a resort. They tried to remind Charles, me, and the other abandoned kids that we weren't alone and our families cared, they just wanted us to be healthy. What a bunch of bullshit. My family dropped me here. I was forced to build my life. That week I decided I wanted to start over. I didn't want to be Bethany Young, I wanted to be a boy with goals, ambitions, and happiness.
As Charles and I were scrapbooking one day, I opened a magazine to a beautiful boy. I wanted to be him. His name was Wren Hensley. Wren, what a beautiful name. Charles suggested Brett, Brandon, or any other B name she could think of. I didn't like the B names. I wanted a unique name, but not one that was difficult to pronounce. I made a whole page of Wren Hensley surrounded by hearts and other beautiful boys. I wasn't attracted to them in a homoerotic way, I simply admired them. I was very much attracted to women my entire life, even while I was one.
"Bethany, it's time for your appointment." A friendly nurse said.
I walked up the hall and saw a familiar girl talking to a woman who looked like Charles' mom but with dark hair. She looked a lot like the familiar little girl I had seen. She was probably 10, I was 15. I continued walking down the hallway and sat in front of my psychiatrist. We didn't exactly get along. He was sure there was something seriously wrong with me and that I was in a permanent state of psychosis, I disagreed. I felt like a king!
"Hello Bethany. How are you feeling today?" he asks. It's a test. I know it's a test.
"I'm good... er, fine. Good? Which one will not get me penalized?" I ask.
"Bethany, darling, you aren't in trouble. We're simply here to talk."
"Well, I did learn one thing..."
"Oh? Would you mind sharing?"
"I want to become a boy... And change my name... To Wren."
"Wren? Wren Young?"
"No, Wren Kingston. I want a reminder that I feel like a king today."
"Well, I will certainly consider it."
"Consider it?! It's my life!"
"I am aware, Bethany. But given what recently happened with Mrs. Cavanaugh..."
"Oh my God! I didn't push her! Why am I the only one who seems to remember Charles is a bully and a liar?!"
"Strong words coming from his best friend... I believe you, Bethany. But we are still investigating."
"There's nothing to investigate, in fact, we aren't friends anymore! Not if you don't get me on some testosterone immediately! And you might think that means nothing, but that means Charles will be ALL your problem. I won't even lift a finger when he hurts all of you."
"...Fine, you win. I will start you out on a low dose of testosterone, we'll see how you react and gradually increase it. I'll have the Rosewood Courthouse fax me a name change request this afternoon. Anything else?"
"Yes, I want pre-med classes to become a doctor at your expense and a letter of recommendation for Oxford University."
"I meant anything else you'd like to talk about, but fine. Nothing else."
I stand up, and we shake hands. I go to the nurses station and knock on the glass window of the wood door. The nurses answer politely, asking me what I need.
"A haircut."
"Oh Bethany, honey, we don't do that. We aren't allowed to have sharp objects near patients. But every month a woman comes in and gives haircuts. She'll be here in 2 and a half weeks."
"I know. I've been here since I was 7. I just thought you might have a way to speed it up. Sorry."
"Of course you do, Bethany... I'm sorry."
"It's Wren."
"Excuse me?"
"My psychiatrist is getting the name change request this afternoon. My name is Wren Kingston now."
"Oh, okay sweetie. Why don't you join the other girls in the TV room?"
"I'm not a girl. But fine."
I walk over and sit next to Charles. He has an evil grin, as usual. Why does he get the good body and nice treatment out of fear? At least now I can use him to my advantage. But I still just can't get over why he's grinning.
"What the hell are you so happy about?" I finally ask.
"Geez, what's got into you? Your guy is on TV. That Wren character you love so much!" Charles says.
"Wren Hensley? Everyone shut up!" I yell.
I hear his voice. It's English. Very English. That's what I wanted.
"Charles, this is the voice I want. I have to tell you something. The psychiatrist is going to give me testosterone. And let me change my name. He's even getting me some pre-med classes and a letter of recommendation for Oxford. Oxford, Charles!" I exclaim.
"Wow, that's great... Why would they give you all that? I have to practically beg a nurse for another cup of Jell-O."
"I... um, I guess just good behavior."
"You sure it's not a bribe to keep me under control?"
"...Okay, it is. But you know what? I'm not sorry, Charles. Look, you can finally become Cece! You can scare this dude into getting what you want. Tell him you want to get smart, get estrogen, and some meds to keep your mind sane."
"Keep my mind sane? Bethany, that's so rude."
"Oh grow up, Cece! See how good it feels? I'm officially changing my name to Wren Kingston. Please only refer to me as that."
"Wren? Like the character? Where's your British accent?"
I test out a few different accents, we laugh and choose one. Charles tells me he is ready to finally be female. He tells me we'll go on this journey together. Study together, transition together, like the best of friends. For a moment, I forget I'm so mad at him because of Marion. The familiar girl shows up again. She sits in front of us, her eyes look exhausted.
"Are.. Are you okay?" I ask her, keeping the accent.
"Yes. No. I don't know. Who are you?" she replies.
"My name is... Wren. This is Cece. Who are you?"
"Spencer."
"Hi Spencer. Do you know why you're here?"
"My mom couldn't keep me. She was supposed to give me to my other family, but she said I needed to go here first to forget her. It didn't work though."
"Oh. Well, Cece and I were abandoned here by our parents too. We can help you. We're your friends, Spencer."
"Why would she just leave me here? I'm not crazy..." Spencer says, she begins to cry. I sit next to her and put my arm around her.
"No one really knows, but we're here."
"Wren, where are you from?"
"Oh, uhh... London."
"Your voice is so... comforting. Perhaps when you go back to London I'll visit you one day."
"I'd really enjoy that, Spencer."
We smile at each other. I notice Charles sighing very melodramatic. I glare at him. How could he be jealous of a 10 year old girl? I was 5 years older than her.
"Girls, boys, back to your rooms!" A nurse yells. This one isn't as nice.
We get up and walk down the hall. Charles waves as he goes into his room. Then Spencer. I'm the last one. They keep me in a room alone. I sit on my bed and pull my sketchpad out. I open up the sketchpad and see my drawings of Charles' mother, but now they look horrific. I know Charles did this. He's never forgiven his mother for abandoning him. I think mine probably had her own reasoning, so I don't really talk about it. I look over in my mirror, I pull my hair up and cover it with my hands, imagining my face as a mans. I don't like it at first, but I know it's not accurate. I do love the British accent though. I haven't broken character since Charles and I first tested out my accents.
I open a new piece of paper, and sketch myself in a doctors uniform as a boy. My badge says "Dr. Kingston", my hair is short, dark, and curly. I put my sketchpad back under my mattress, and shut off my light. I climb into bed, and slowly drift off to sleep picturing my male self.