Part 7

“Here we go again. You old people all know best: what we should want and what we should do, and you never listen to what we have to say. You are all the same.”

“Hold on, gentlemen.” The doctor stepped in.

“Not a boy.”

“Okay. If I may. We have a bit of a generational conflict playing out here. Andy, if Lee were your dad or mom, what would you say – if it’s okay with you, Lee?”

“I want to hear it.” Lee agreed.

“Ah, so now you listen. Okay, here goes, both barrels, just for you: You never listen to me. I want to make decisions and it’s freaking you out. It was fine when I was ten and deciding what movie to watch. Now we talk about bigger things – colleges, dating, driving – suddenly I have no say. You are not listening to who I am or what I want!”

“Who are you, Andy?”

“I’m a girl. I’ve been fighting with this for months. I thought I was mad, and I was ashamed. I’m trying to figure out who I am, and all I hear is who I should be.”

“That must be frustrating.”

“That’s right, Doc. Right on! It is frustrating. I’m being judged by everyone around me.” Andy’s eyes traveled over the faces in the circle.

“We are all judged, Andy,” said Lee. “All you get is judgement from strangers. They don’t care enough to understand. That’s just life.”

“But I think that’s what Andy would like – some understanding. For people to step back and respect his decisions. Is that correct, Andy?”

“That’s right. Just give me some acceptance! So, what if I’m a girl? So what that I don’t want to study engineering: I can’t even comprehend basic algebra, how the hell am I going to be an engineer? Why would you try to fix weaknesses instead of feeding strengths?”

“Very good, Andy. Have you told your parents this?”

“They don’t listen.”

“Okay, Andy. I’m going to recommend some family therapy for you and your parents. This is to give you a space where you can talk to them openly like this.” The doctor jotted on the notepad. “Anyone else wants to share?”

“He says he’s a girl.” Jeff laughed scratching his head and glancing at his companions.

“Screw you, man.”

“Hey! Don’t make statements if you can’t take the criticism,” said Lee.

“You don’t get it man. People should be respected for their choices.”

“I agree,” said Lee. “Jeff here could be more polite, but you need to know politeness is not acceptance. It’s barely tolerance. It’s like when people say, ‘Bless your heart.’ It’s polite yet implying you are some kind of stupid. Don’t expect the world to bend to your will. It won’t.”

“I don’t care about what the world wants. I just want to be myself.”

“The world is indifferent, Andy. Killing yourself only destroys your parents. Nobody else will notice.”

“Shut up. Just stop educating me. Just shut up.” Andy’s voice rose.

“Okay, let’s stop here,” the doctor said. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow. Who else wants to talk?”

Lee sat on the bed looking toward a steeple. Andy lay on the bed with the notepad and a piece of charcoal, hand moving in swift strokes.

“Do you believe in God,” they asked.

“I’ve stopped asking.”

“I think there is. I’m working on my godlike powers – like Jesus did – to help people. Help myself.”

“How would you do that?”

“I have a book. It teaches you about powers in the universe, the elements, and how to control them so you can evolve into a better human, a god-like being on this earth. That’s what the prophets were – magicians. Then you can do anything: turn lead into gold, walk on water, heal people.”

“Your light is so bright, Andy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a book like that when I was your age. The words were so powerful, so compelling. I drained each sentence of meaning until I comprehended its full depth. I practiced too, and there were moments of magnificence. It was masterful.”

“Yes. Yes, me too,” Andy joined eagerly. “I know I can make things happen if I do it right.”