(Eunice, you are out of your frimping mind. I’ve had most of a century to appreciate girls; do you expect me to change overnight? The time I’ll feel like a queer is the first time some man kisses us. I’ll probably faint.) (Poor Boss. Doesn’t know whether he’s A.C. or D.C. Never mind, dear, Eunice will coach you—as I do know how to kiss a man.)
(I imagine you do.) (Was there salt in that one? Never mind, I know how. He faints. Boss, you claimed you had done everything. Everything?) (See here, little snoopy, I am not going to give you any excuse to call me both ‘butch’ and ‘pansy’ in the same sentence. You can have my memoirs later. But, Eunice, speaking of butch, is that what Winnie is? She certainly responded.) (More ‘sweetheart’ than ‘butch’ is my guess, though she may stroll both sides of Gay Street. But if you were asking ‘Is she a Lez?’ then I would bet anything she’s not. Ambi, sure, but much more interested in men. Haven’t you watched her? Sparks.)
Winnie returned with a nightgown in each hand. “I think these two are the prettiest, Miss Smith. I thought—”
“Winnie.”
“Yes, Miss Smith?”
“No ‘Miss Smith.’ I mean you are not to call me ‘Miss Smith.’ Not after kissing me. Or did I get the message wrong?” (Butch.) (Shut up, Eunice. She’s going to help us.)
The nurse said nothing, blushed.
Johann said gently, “That’s answer enough, dear. So call me—no, damn it, I don’t want you to call me ‘Johann.’ I need a new name. Winnie dear, what girl’s name is closest to ‘Johann’?”
“Uh, ‘Johanna.’
“Mmmm, yes. But there is already a ‘Johanna’ in my family. Got another?”
“Well . . . if you called yourself ‘Joan’ and gave it the two-syllable pronounciation, it would be almost like ‘Johann’ except for the ‘J’ instead of the ‘Y’ sound.”
“Perfect! You’ve named me. I think that makes you my godmother. Do you mind being godmother to an old, old man who has just been reborn as a woman?”
Winnie smiled. “I’m flattered.”
“So call mc ‘Joan,’ not ‘Miss Smith.’ Uh, I need a middle name. ‘Eunice.’ “ (Why, Boss, now I’m flattered.)—(Yes, beloved. Now shut up.) “ ‘Joan Eunice Smith.’ Winnie, do you know why that’s my middle name?”
The nurse said slowly, “I’m not supposed to know.”
“Then you do know. It’s for the sweet and gracious lady who gave me this wonderful body—and I hope she can hear rue wherever she is.” (I can, Boss!) “Put down those gowns and come here and name me with my new name.
Name me formally, for it’s all the christening I will ever have. Then seal it.”
Almost timidly the little redhead came close to the bed, bent over her patient. She said softly, “I name thee ‘Joan Eunice’ “—and kissed her.
Perhaps Winnie intended to make it a formal peck; Joan Eunice did not let it be. Both women were leaking tears before it was over.
Joan patted the nurse’s cheek and let her straighten up. “Thank you, dear. I’m Joan now. Joan Eunice. Hand me a tissue and you need one, too.” (How was that one, Eunice?) (Butch, your technique is improving. I felt that one clear down in our toes.) (Who the hell are you calling ‘Butch,’ Butch? My name is Joan Eunice.) (No, you’re Joan and I am Eunice and collectively we’re Joan Eunice and I’ve never had a nicer present, Boss. Joan. And I know you’re not a butch but you had better cool it with our godmother. Unless you mean business.)
“Which gown do you like. . . Joan?”
“Winnie, I don’t know first verse about women’s clothes. What do you think?”
“Well…this Cretan design is rather extreme. But you have the figure to justify it.” (No, Boss! Take the one with. the high neckline.) (Eunice, I thought you were proud of our bumps? They don’t really sag.) (It’s not that at all. Trust me, Joan; I know what I’m doing.)
“You may be right, Winnie. But it may not be the right gown for doctors and lawyers. I had better start easy, with the high neckline. Help me, please.”