Not Actually a Boy, and Here Are the Reasons Why

When I said the other day that I was going to try to do a post every day in August, I was hoping to pull my daily readership back into the low (very low) triple digits, which is where it lives when I'm posting regularly. And then my article at Friends Journal about the Tiny Tornado's gender history went viral. I don't know how many total hits it's gotten, but nearly over 14,000 people have "liked" it on Facebook, and it's been reblogged and linked to all over the place, including at It Bets Better, which must have given it a big boost.

The article has driven traffic to this blog as well. I got nearly 4000 hits on Friday, though today we're down to a mere 1500 (so far). I figure today's decline marks the end of my fifteen minutes, and I'm trying to accept it with good grace. By tomorrow I'll be a has-been, and by Tuesday, I hope to be poised for a comeback.

The response has been overwhelmingly good, but of course we've had the usual assortment of judgment and ignorance, and one or two actual trolls. A favorite activity for commentators is explaining why the Tiny Tornado could not possibly be a boy. We have heard all of these theories before, and we're going to hear them again. Here's what I think of them as of today.

1. Sexism

This is a common theory. It goes like this: The Tiny Tornado, observing the sexism that is rampant in our culture and recognizing the limited options available for women, decides to be a boy to protect himself and to give himself more opportunities.

Why I love it: A child who is two or three is not imagined to know enough about his internal landscape to express a preference about his own gender expression, but is nonetheless somehow able to analyze and interpret the cultural landscape in a sophisticated way and make a rational decision to maximize his privilege within it.

2. He is emulating his older brothers.

Another popular contender. In this one, the Tiny Tornado is so enamored of his older brothers that he abandons his innate and biological sex and gender in order to be more like them.

Why I love it: The Tiny Tornado, an independent, assertive, confident, fashion-conscious, extroverted athlete who doesn't sit still even when watching TV, is almost nothing like his older brothers. If he were emulating his older brothers, he'd consider extended periods of "alone time" to be essential to his functioning; he'd sit still for hours on end, building with Lego, reading, or playing Minecraft on-line with friends. If he wanted to be like Word Boy, he'd be more interested in dissecting animals than in training them, and if he wanted to be like the Lego Savant, he'd have a passion for history. His older brothers are wonderful kids and well worth emulating. But the Tiny Tornado is a force unto himself.

3. He's never seen a girl playing hockey or wearing an oxford shirt.

In other words, he simply lacks role models for the kind of tomboy he really is.

Why I love it: The theorist imagines that ze knows what the Tiny Tornado has and has not seen, and also that something as minor as a girl playing hockey (which he owns a book about) or wearing an oxford shirt (which he has seen many times on the older girls down the street who dress very well) could shape a person's entire identity. It would be like diverting the mighty Mississippi with a popsicle stick.

3. He doesn't know that being a lesbian is an option.

To be fair, this is actually part of the gender pathway for many gender-variant kids. It is not uncommon, I am told by people who know a lot more than I do about these things, for a kid to approach puberty, begin to feel sexual attractions, become aware of lesbians and gay men through the media, and realize that they can resolve their sense of not-fitting by coming out rather than by transitioning.

Why it doesn't work for the Tiny Tornado: many if not most of our closest friends are in same-sex relationships, including TT's much-loved Uncle Toots, who is practically a third parent to him. In addition, the two women next door, who are the best neighbors in the world and also TT's mentors in the world of dog training, are an affectionate couple who love each other very much and are not exactly conventional in the femininity department.

4. He wore a Spiderman t-shirt the summer he was two, and wanted short hair.

Nobody actually thinks that wearing a Spiderman t-shirt and cutting his hair makes TT a boy. But they think I think it.

Why I love this: Because these people simply don't know us. I identified as a lesbian for much of my adult life, and have a whole string of butch lovers in my past (and maybe not only in my past). If there is one thing I know about women, it's that they can have short hair and shop in the menswear department. In fact, I'd say that one of the things I love about women is that they can have short hair and shop in the menswear department.

Also: although I currently have luxuriant curly hair, this is me in the summer of 2009, holding my newborn nephew. Why did I have that haircut? Because I wanted to. Am I a girl? Yes.

Su Penn, who identifies as a girl, rocks her buzz cut.

5. His parents are unable to imagine anything beyond the gender binary.

I'm being playful in this post, so I won't rant about how people seem to believe that transgender kids somehow have an obligation to be "ungendered" or "bigendered" that their non-trans counterparts don't share. I will say that I do my best to imagine what is beyond the gender binary because people I love live there. And maybe the Tiny Tornado isn't fully aware of the option to be both/and or neither/nor or "other," but he has encountered the possibility. Our kids met a both/and adult who was helping in the children's program at TransHealth, and meeting zer challenged all three of them in ways that we are still having conversations about.

6. His parents are pushing him, deliberately or subconsciously, into a male identity for self-aggrandizement or to further their own political agenda.

Yeah, OK, this one is totally true.

Ha, no. Just kidding. If anything, our love of GLBTQ people (including our own selves) and our sense that we would find it somewhat satisfying if one or more of our kids grew up to be G, L, B, T, and/or Q led us to hold back, to not take steps like suggesting male pronouns or a name change until the Tiny Tornado brought them up or was offered them by other adults, because we didn't want to push him. We were always supportive, I think, but we really forced him to be very clear with us. If you want to know more about just how slow I really was to let go of the bright, sassy girl I was sure he was going to grow into, you might want to read the story of the daisy dress in this post from last August.

I sometimes still feel a little sad when I see a black girl of 6 or 7 or 8, with her hair done up nice in braids and beads, wearing something bold like a purple skirt with red tights, and bossing somebody around. I thought he was going to be that girl. I love boys. I love being the mother of boys. I was going to love my daughter, though, just as much. I wanted that girl, no denying it, and letting her go grieved me, even as I celebrated the emerging little boy.

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How Do You Know He Won't Change His Mind?

I have a tremendous backlog of writing notes--at the moment, I have notes in three different notebooks, which is simply unacceptable to me. I'm going to try to write a post every day during the month of August; I did it in May of 2012 and enjoyed it very much. I hope to be able to retire two notebooks. So here we go, in Notebook #1, all the way back to June, when I was at the TransHealth conference and had the opportunity to attend a talk by Dr. Johanna Olson, who works with transgender youth at the Children's Hospital of Los Angeles.

Whenever I am involved in a conversation about young gender variant kids, somebody asks, "But how do you know he won't change his mind?" I've been asked this about the Tiny Tornado, and I've heard it asked at conferences and in on-line forums. The asker is generally concerned that such a young child is being allowed to make what seems like such a momentous decision. In addition, they imagine complications if a child chooses to live as their chosen gender for some number of years, and then remits.

I think these people would be interested to know that people who work extensively with trans and gender variant kids wonder about this, too: how can you tell, at age 6 or 7 or 8, which kids will revert and which kids will maintain their gender identity into adulthood? How do you choose an effective and appropriate treatment plan when you can't know a child's future gender with absolute certainty? Most kids, according to Dr. Jo, do grow through their gender variant behavior, and though many grow up to be lesbian, gay, or bisexual, only a minority of gender variant kids are trans. How do you know which are which?

Well, according to Dr. Jo, trans kids tend to have a constellation of characteristics that gender variant kids will not share. They will tend to have most of the following characteristics:

• There is an early onset of gender variant behavior; age 2 or 3 is common (and in parent support groups, many of us had stories of kids asserting their gender preferences before age 2).
• The child experiences body dysphoria, which is to say, their body seems wrong to them. The Tiny Tornado, for instance, was never willing to call his genitals anything but a penis, and he still has anxiety about the possibility of someday growing breasts.
• The child has a consistent self-articulation around gender; their assertion of their chosen gender is, to quote Dr. Jo's PowerPoint slide, "tenaciously clung to, unremitting, pervasive, insistent, clear, and acute."
• The child engages in cross-gender play extensively or exclusively. A child identified as male will play only with dolls and his big sister's kitchen set; a child identified as female seeks out trucks and building toys.
• The child cross-dresses, either in daily life if allowed, or in pretend play.
• The child chooses playmates who share their preferred gender.
• The child either does or does not tend to engage in rough-and-tumble play.

I can hear you saying, "But some of those things fit me, and I'm not trans!" Me, too. I went through a stage in late elementary school when I preferred to wear my older brother's hand-me-downs over wearing my own girl clothes, and I was pleased if I was mistaken for a boy. This lasted a year or so. This list is explicitly making a distinction between a kid like me, who engages in gender variant behavior for some period of time, or in some circumstances, and a child whose gender identity is lasting and engages multiple areas of their life.

You may also be uncomfortable with the stereotypical elements of those last four items on the list. So is Dr. Jo. Nobody wants gender identity to depend on stereotypical behaviors. We all want kids to feel that they can engage in any kind of play, and with any playmates they choose, regardless of their gender. But anyone who has been a parent knows that it's not as easy as you think to create a generation of freewheelers, and, for now at least, it seems to be true that consistently crossing lines on gender stereotypical behavior is meaningful if it occurs in a context where other items on that list are also present.

Given the difficulty of predicting a child's future preference, Dr. Olson said that the tendency is to intervene cautiously, avoiding engaging in irreversible treatments prematurely. Social transition, which is what the Tiny Tornado has done by living full-time as a boy, is both the most effective treatment for young kids, and completely reversible. I had a friend once express her concern that we were making such an "irreversible" decision at such a young age--TT was not quite five. My response was that all we'd done was buy him boys' underwear and start calling him "he," and that these things could be reversed with a trip to Meijer and the letter "s."

Puberty suppression is also a completely reversible treatment. The use of hormone blockers delays puberty; it doesn't cause a child to enter puberty as the "other" sex. Discontinuing puberty blockers without engaging in cross-sex hormone replacement therapy simply allows the child to enter puberty as their biological sex later than they would otherwise have done.

Even the use of HRT is partially reversible, depending on how long a person has been using hormones and at what doses. Only sex-reassignment surgery (also called sex-confirmation surgery) is irreversible in all cases. So you can see that practitioners, children, and families have lots of time to develop an understanding and make good choices.

I have pages and pages of notes from Dr. Jo's presentation, but I think I've hit the highlights, and given myself something to point people to when they ask me this classic question. We can't know for sure he won't change his mind, but we can make a pretty good guess based on what we know about him, and about other trans kids.

I'm going to close with a semi-random collection of bits and pieces that didn't make it into the body of the post.

• By age 6 or 7, kids generally have internal gender constancy.
• Dr. Jo says, "You can't make a kid trans." This is also an answer to a question--or is it an accusation?--I've heard from time to time. So there.
• Gender Dysphoria is not, in and of itself, a psychiatric diagnosis. Well-adjusted trans kids do not necessarily need psychotherapy.
• It is hard to know how many kids are remitters--revert to their assigned gender--in part because, in most research, those who can't be followed up on are classified as remitters. Dr. Jo commented, for instance, that one Dutch clinic reports all clients they lose track of as remitters, because they assume that any trans youth who does not remit is still in treatment with them. For this and other reasons, she suspects that the reversion rate is overstated in the available research.
• Among adult trans people, about 1% express regret. Dr Jo says that this is often due to the difficulty of reconciling a new life when older, and she hopes that as this first cohort of effectively-treated trans youth grow up the rate will be lower.
• Social transition is a pretty strong predictor of persistence; kids who undergo social transition are about five times more likely to maintain their gender identity into adulthood.

 

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Our Visit to the Lurie Children's Hospital Gender Clinic

At TransHealth in June, I had the opportunity to hear Dr. Jo Olson speak. She is director of the Transgender Youth program at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, which until very recently was one of only two programs in the US dedicated to treatings trans youth; the other is in Boston. Recently, the Lurie Children's Hospital in Chicago has begun to work on creating a gender clinic as well; not officially open yet, the clinic already has around 75 patients, from age 4 to early 20s. Chicago is only four hours from us, so I was excited to learn about the Lurie clinic, and assumed the Tiny Tornado would be a patient there someday.

But when? I went to Dr. Olson's presentation with a burning question: at what point should we make contact with a gender clinic? The Tiny Tornado is years away from puberty, and has no behavioral or psychological problems. Should we get started early, or wait until it's time to consider puberty blockers?

Dr. Olson talked about many other topics of interest to me, and I learned a great deal. In fact, I have another blog post to write about all the notes I took in her presentation. But as I listened and took notes and found little nooks and crannies in my brain to store all the new information, I was still thinking: When do we take the Tiny Tornado to a gender clinic?

Dr. Olson's presentation ran over, and she had said nothing about this. I raised my hand, but others with questions were called on first. The answers to their questions were long and complicated. I raised my hand more forcefully, but I was in the very back of a large and crowded room and went unnoticed. Dr. Olson began to mention more often how much the session was running over. The people leading the next session in the room began to mill about near the door, looking cranky. Dr. Olson was about to wrap things up, and she hadn't answered my question. "I am not letting her out of here without answering me," I said to myself. "I will tackle her in the hallway outside if I have to."

I didn't have to. In the middle of the very last question she took, she digressed to say that she often doesn't see kids until they're in crisis in one way or another. "If I had my way," she said, "I'd have these kids in my clinic at 4, 5, 6, 7, get to know them, have a baseline, have the chance to avert some of the crises."

I had my answer. And as soon as we got home to Michigan, I called Lurie and made an appointment to visit the children's gender clinic.

Raider, the Tiny Tornado, and I drove to Chicago yesterday for our appointment. The clinic has two pediatricians and a psychologist on staff, and will be adding another doctor in the fall. We talked mostly with Dr. Gales, but we also met the clinic director, Dr. Garofalo; the staff psychologist, Dr. Chen;and the friendly, efficient, and quick-witted administrative person who helped me set up the appointment, Jen Leininger.

Everyone was very welcoming, and they seemed delighted to meet the Tiny Tornado. We ran through a short version of the Tiny Tornado's gender history with Dr. Gales, and it was such a relief and pleasure to be with someone to whom nothing had to be explained. I realized partway into my recitation that I am always, when talking to people about this, braced for conflict, or for the rude question I've answered a hundred times before, or prepared with an overabundance of evidence to make my case. With Dr. Gales, we just had to hit the highlights, and he listened openly and nodded in a "Yep, that's about what we'd expect," kind of way.

We had one fun moment when we were talking about TT's first haircut--the mohawk he got just before he turned three--and I delivered my usual rant about "But I learned how to do the hair! The oiling, the combing, the parting, the braiding--all for nought." Dr. Gales, who is black, said, "Well, if my partner and I end up with a girl, I'll call you. I've been terrified about the hair thing. I know nothing!" I was like, "Oh, heck yeah, I can hook you up. I have resources."

Dr. Gales talked to TT for quite awhile. He reassured TT, who worries about his body betraying him and growing breasts when he gets older, that he has nothing to worry about, that his body is not going to change for a long time, and there are things the doctors can do to make sure it changes in the ways he wants. He told TT, "It's your job right now to enjoy turning six, have fun in kindergarten, keep growing. I don't want you to worry about this at all."

We've been telling TT for some time that there are doctors who can help him grow up as a boy, if that's what he continues to want. Now those doctors have names and faces. TT hasn't wanted to talk about the appointment with us, but he smiled broadly and nodded when asked during the appointment if he was glad to be meeting them. Though Dr. Garofalo commented that he doesn't think they'll necessarily be TT's doctors long-term--this is an "exploding field," he said. By the time TT is 11 and likely to be encountering puberty, there may well be someone closer than Chicago working with transgendered kids ("though doing it well," Dr Garofalo said, and shook his head).

Dr Gales also told TT that he's a "trailblazer." TT is part of a cohort of young children--there are several others, as young as four, who are patients at Lurie as well, and others elsewhere in the country--who are the first ever to have access to quality care for gender dysphoria at such a young age. Dr. Gales told TT that, as they help him, they will also be learning from him, and what they learn will help them do even better with the kids who come along later. This kind of went over TT's head but it meant a lot to me. The Tiny Tornado has been a lot of people's "first," including the staff at his school, and most of our friends and family. Although people have been overwhelmingly supportive and positive, he will continue to be in the position of educating people by his very presence, and by the conversations that we need to have in order to make sure he's treated appropriately and has the support he needs. This isn't always easy and, although we've encountered very little, there is always the possibility of judgment or hostility.

In addition, I've struggled with my conscience over my decision to share TT's story on my blog, on Facebook, and, soon, in Friends Journal. But you know, writing about my life is what I do. It's my talent, my gift, my ministry, and, about some things, my obligation (it's also my pleasure). If TT really is among the first kids to have care from a young age, then he might not have the luxury of perfect privacy. Partly just because I'm his mom, and this is what I do. If he wanted a more private type of mom he should have arranged with God to be adopted by a different family. But partly because he is a very resiliant, self-assured, powerful child and, it seems to me that we might have a job to do, one that would be impossible for a different kind of kid and a different kind of mom. Certainly Raider has commented that one thing we bring to, say, the parent support groups at TransHealth is our totally calm assumption that the Tiny Tornado is OK as he is, and that things are likely to work out fine.

This was one of the interesting things about our talk with Dr. Gales: we did not require the usual degree of parent education or reassurance. "I do affirm everything you're doing," he said, and that was nice. The next time anybody gives me trouble about it, I have a board-certified pediatrician with expertise in this area to back me up.

I mentioned seeing Dr. Olson at TransHealth, and Dr. Gales said that not only do they know her well, but there are so few doctors doing full-time work with trans youth that they have a conference call every week. The group of them are seeking NIH funding to do some research into treatments and best practices, and it's possible that TT will be part of a research study at some point. Like Dr. Garofalo, Dr. Gales commented on how fast the field is growing, suggesting that, by the time TT reaches puberty, there may be more treatment options than just hormone blockers. That will be interesting to see.

As well as being a trailblazer, we get to be followers as well. Dr. Gales mentioned that they have a female-to-male teenager in the clinic who is dealing with his school around participation sports--the hormones he is taking are technically banned substances. This has been something I've thought about many times, with TT being as athletic as he is. What if he wants to participate in team sports when he's older? It's good to know we're not going to be the first family facing that issue, and I am holding the young man we heard about in the Light.

In some ways, not much happened in the meeting. We chatted, we smiled, the Tiny Tornado fist-bumped everybody on the way out. But we accomplished our goal: we made the connection. We made the possibilty of medical assistance more concrete for TT. We established a relationship so that, if problems come up, we're not scrambling to find help. I feel surprisingly buoyed up, and less alone, although I would not have said before yesterday that I felt alone on this journey.

We'll go back next summer. At some point, we'll start going every six months. Eventually, there will be decisions to be made. It's good to know that there are people out there dedicating their careers to figuring out how to help us, and other families like us, make them.

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My letter to Philadelphia Yearly Meeting's Education Committee

A lot of my friends and loved ones are part of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, and many of them are struggling with PYM's recently formulated policy requiring that attenders at PYM youth events be housed and use the bathroom with their "biological gender." PYM's policy can be read here. The policy about activities with "intimate aspects, such as sleeping room assignments, using bathrooms and changing clothes" is not in keeping with the spirit of inclusiveness the Education Standing Committee is explicitly striving for. A number of my friends are also considering responding in writing to the policy, and many will also be part of the conversation about this policy at PYM's upcoming annual sessions. Some of my friends are finding this policy very painful, and some are quite angry about it. It has been helpful to us to share our thoughts and what we've written, so I am posting the letter I sent to the committee earlier this evening. I did not feel angered or hurt by the policy, perhaps because I am confident that as trans Friends and their loved ones and allies share their Light, the policy will not stand as it is written for long.

 

To the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting Education Standing Committee:

Dear Friends,

I recently read your policy on welcoming trans youth. I was struck by the clear desire to welcome and support trans youth, and by the committee's humility in recognizing that they are in need of further Light. In that spirit, I am responding to your invitation to write although I am not a part of PYM; I am a Quaker who lives in Michigan. However, I am also the parent of a 6-year-old who was assigned female at birth but socially transitioned to living full-time as a boy at age 4, and I wanted to introduce you to him as an example of the kind of trans youth you might someday find joining you at PYM youth events.

Our son has been at every FGC Summer Gathering since he was born, for the last two years attending as a boy. Although there are people who remember him from before his transition, most people who encounter him at FGC are not aware that he was assigned female. My oldest son, who is 12, has friends at the Gathering whom he has known since toddlerhood. When our six-year-old reaches that age, so will he, and most of his friends will know him only as a boy. Imagine the confusion and discomfort that would be caused if, in that setting, he were expected to room with girls and use the bathroom with them. It would be painful for him, and disorienting to adults and children alike who know him as a boy. It would be little different than asking my oldest son, assigned male at birth and affirmed male in his gender identification, to room with a girl when he reaches high school age, and use the girls' bathroom.

The thing that trans youth of all ages need most from us is affirmation of their chosen gender, and any act that undermines their sense of themselves can be painful and damaging. Many people without experience of trans youth have concerns about bathroom use, but I have had the opportunity to meet a number of other parents of trans kids of all ages, and have heard of very few problems when schools and camps have allowed young people to make their own decisions about which bathrooms they are most comfortable using. For instance, I know a ten-year-old girl, assigned male at birth, who changes in the girls' locker room of her public school, and has done so over a long period of time without incident. This kind of support is tremendously important to trans and gender-nonconforming kids, and it carries very little risk.

I'd like to offer you three resources as well. TransHealth is a free conference that takes place every May or June at the Pennsylvania Convention Center. The conference has been invaluable for our family; it is where I have had opportunities to meet other families, as well as to hear from doctors and therapists who work extensively with trans youth. You mentioned that some adults would be educating themselves about trans issues; I encourage Friends to review next year's conference program when it becomes available and attend any sessions that seem useful (and perhaps one or two that seem challenging).

It might also be useful for you to know that the right to use facilities consistent with a person's affirmed gender is afforded civil rights protection in some places. You can find a comprehensive list here. Colorado's Division of Civil Rights recently ruled that the state's anti-discrimination laws, which prohibit discrimination against transgendered people, apply to a first-grader whose school had not been allowing her to use the girls' bathroom. The decision included the opinion that asking the girl to "disregard her identity while performing one of the most essential human functions constitutes severe and pervasive treatment, and creates an environment that is objectively and subjectively hostile, intimidating or offensive" (quoted in a New York Times article about the case.).

Finally, an article about my son's gender development will appear in the August issue of Friends Journal. Trans and gender nonconforming kids follow all kinds of paths; this is just the story of his so far, but you may find it interesting.

I will be holding you in the Light as you continue your work.

Su Penn

 

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Sex, Birth, and Singing Alto in the Sacred Harp

My partner Raider is an extraordinary lover. When we were first together, he would take me to bed with no thought but my pleasure. He spent weeks and months exploring my body and listening to what it told him. In quiet persuasive whispers he got me to give up all the secret wishes I'd been harboring, and then he made them come true. He was like a guide leading me into my dark secret places, and sex with him was like psychoanalysis, spiritual revelation, deep epiphany. Every time. I could tell you about the orgasms I had with him, and how they started deep in my body, centered in my womb, and spread out from there, pulling all my muscles into one great clenched fist, and then letting go. I've always thought I was so good at giving birth because he helped me find the muscles in my deep core, got me acquainted with the iron earth. But after awhile, I didn't always want to have sex with Raider. Nobody wants to have a life-changing experience every time they go to bed; who can stand to be that in touch with her deepest parts, bodily and spiritually, day after day? Sometimes you need a break. So we had to learn to have sex that was merely very good, that was satisfying but didn't leave me drenched and mind-blown, that didn't have me staggering through the next few days, dazed and happy but unable to balance my checkbook or safely drive a car.

This is exactly why, although singing alto in the Sacred Harp is one of the things I love best, I don't do it at every opportunity. There's a local singing twice a month, but I only go occasionally. There's a larger one two hours away; I make it once or twice a year. I love the Sacred Harp, but I don't trust it. It's too powerful. Singing the Sacred Harp reminds me of the time I was bodysurfing in big waves in Hawaii and got tumbled about when I missed my timing; I made it to the beach safe and sound, but when I stood up in the shallows, the water had taken my swimsuit off.

Mary Rose O'Reilley says in The Barn at the End of the World that the six elements of a Sacred Harp alto are rage, darkness, motherhood, earth, malice, and sex. The trebles, by contrast, "sing a descant line composed of ecstasy, light, purity, jet contrails, and self-surrender." O'Reilley isn't wrong, except about the malice, perhaps--she seems to have encountered a meaner and more self-interested brand of alto than I have. The altos tend to take the grounding line, the steady drone that keeps a song on the earth. We tend to sing the notes that give the harmonies their rough edge, and we do it sometimes by staying still while the other three parts move around us. Sometimes the altos are holding a steady, solid note and the music shifts around us and I hear a buzzsaw digging into lumber, I see the invisible whirling blade that, one time, took off the end of my father's thumb, I taste the sudden spurt of blood.

Singing alto in the sacred harp isn't for the dainty or squeamish. It's loud and raw. It helps to have had some really good sex, or to have given birth a time or two without anesthesia, to know where the womb is with its hidden muscles, the strongest in the body, some say, but locked away and not for you to command. Singing Sacred Harp has something in common with sex and birthing: all three are done better if you can set aside self-consciousness, modesty, and concerns for propriety, if you're willing to lay it all out there.

It helps, too, to have grieved a time or two. You can see that right in the music, that it was created and sung by people for whom death was always present. The Sacred Harp birthday song goes like this:

Youth, like the spring, will soon be gone, by fleeting time or conquering death.
Your morning sun may set at noon, and leave you ever in the dark.
Your sparkling eyes and blooming cheeks must wither like the blasted rose.
The coffin, earth, and winding sheet will soon your active limbs enclose,
Will soon your active limbs enclose. (Morning Sun, 436)

We sing it as a joke, but the people who originated this music weren't making fun of death. They were living side-by-side with it.

That's one of the dangerous things about the Sacred Harp, to my mind: the way you take on someone else's religion for a few hours or a couple of days at a time, belting it full-out like you're a believer, too. I always feel, when I sing, like I'm pushing at an invisible membrane between me and some woman not that different from me, who sang this music a hundred and fifty years ago, who struggled with her husband to make a go of a farm with poor soil, who had buried a baby, say, as well as two kids at once the year cholera came through. A woman who carried all of the hard work of her days, all of her losses and disappointments, to church with her, whose church was her only consolation.

Sacred Harp was a teaching tradition, originally, and we still call a short sing a lesson, an all-day sing a school, and a group of singers a class. It's not just the music we're being schooled in, though; it's the lives and faith of the original singers, the times they lived in, the God they worshipped.

Mary Rose O'Reilley writes, "The trebles have by now burst the bounds of earth. They will all call in sick on Monday." She writes, "The singing over, we drop like birds who have been buffeted to the edge of the oxygen zone. We have barely escaped with our lives." And that's the thing, that's the answer to why I don't show up twice a month at my local singing and drive two hours every month to the singing in Kalamazoo, why I go to only some of the conventions, and often for only one day. It's not just to save my voice, though that gets raw enough after awhile. It's to save my life, the life I'm living now and love, the one I could lose if that membrane ever ruptures and I'm not just getting a view of another life, another faith, but dropped into the middle of it. I don't want to find myself face-to-face with the God of that gray woman; I like the God I have, so much friendlier, more loving, less capricious. The God I have lets me keep the things I love best.

I walk away from a Sacred Harp singing sweaty, hoarse, wrung-out, and with a sense of having narrowly escaped being turned into something else, someone else. It's a good thing there's not an altar call in the afternoon, in place of the Memorial Lesson, or after four hours of singing to God with my whole heart, I'd be on my knees in the center of the square, accepting Jesus as my personal savior.

Convicted as a sinner, to Jesus I come,
Informed by the gospel for such there is room.
O'erwhelmed with sorrows for sin I will cry,
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. (The Rock That is Higher Than I, 496)

It's like a kind of Russian roulette, every time I sing. I never know when the hammer will come down and boom! I'l be on the other side of a change I can't easily come back from. I carry my songbook into the square and settle myself in the second row of altos. Today, I have decided, I'll take my chances.

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Six Months in the Public Schools

So, the Tiny Tornado has been a public school student for six months now, and that seems like a good time to take stock. My older two, who are almost 12 and almost 9, have been homeschooled straight through, so I am now qualified to talk at least a bit from both the perspective of a homeschooling mom and a public school mom.

The first thing to say is that the Tiny Tornado is in an excellent school with an excellent teacher. I like and respect the principal so much that I am sorry that he won't be able to continue at the same school next year. The school has plenty of resources, and good music and gym teachers. The building is clean and in good repair. Teachers change their bulletin board and hallway displays regularly, and the effect is one of a busy school where students are engaged in a variety of activities.

I've only been disappointed in two of the staff. I volunteered at a book fair, and got to spend some time with the librarian. At least on the day I was there, she was cranky with the kids who came through the library; she seemed to expect the worst of them; and she spent some time talking with a teacher about her class in very negative terms while the students, sitting quietly on the floor waiting to be released to explore the book fair, could hear them. OK: I have been disappointed in three of the staff, since I should count that teacher as well. As a parent, I think that it's important for kids to overhear us sharing the good things we notice, and expressing our high expectations. I think it's also important that they not overhear us venting our frustrations. For instance, when Raider comes home from work I might tell him, "The Lego Savant was a big help today! He took out the recycling without being asked, and organized the other kids to pick up the living room floor." If the Lego Savant is sitting nearby reading a book, it's just fine with me if he overhears this.

But if we've had a challenging day, and I've maybe disciplined the kids--say I took away the TV for the afternoon because they were fighting over it all morning--I think it's important for the kids to know that, once the discipline has happened, or once we've worked out a disagreement, it's behind us. I turned the TV off for the afternoon: they don't need to keep being punished for it. I might need to rant to Raider about the rough day I had, but I'm not going to do it where the kids can hear me. At least, I shouldn't do it where the kids can hear me.

The teacher's conversation with the librarian was like that. She'd had a rough morning with her class, and rather than letting it go, chose to have a loud conversation about it with the librarian where the kids could hear her do it. I think this sends a terrible message to kids. It says that whatever disciplinary action was taken for their behavior was not enough, that the incident isn't really put behind them. It suggests that the teacher sees them in negative terms, that she expects bad behavior from them. I also think it's wrong to poison the well: a student who is struggling in class may find a change of environment to be a new chance to shine, and a new adult as an opportunity to form a positive connection. For how many "bad" kids has a librarian, a gym teacher, an art teacher, a coach, been the one adult who saw them differently? For how many kids has the library or the art room been a refuge? Children should not be preceded into a new environment by the suggestion that they are troublemakers.

I was quite distressed by this teacher's behavior, and I hope it was a lapse brought on by stress and not a habit. But I was also bothered by the librarian's willingness to engage; she might have said, for instance, "Tell me about it later! Let's get these kids ready for the book fair!" But from watching the librarian interact with kids for the next two hours, I would not expect her to have that kind of sensitivity. She was suspicious of their motivation and behavior; she questioned the buying choices they made as she was helping them check out (if you don't want the girls buying the Justin Bieber photo books, don't put them out. If you put them out, let them buy them in peace! Say, "I hope you enjoy it!" Not, "I'd have hoped you could make a better choice. Is that how your mother wants you spending your money?").

The other weak staffer is the art teacher. At the beginning of the school year, I was actually quite excited by the projects I saw on the wall, and that the Tiny Tornado brought home. The kids painted great big sheets of paper in interesting patterns, then used them for the background for themed art that incorporated painting and collage. They were bright and arresting, and if they were a bit cookie-cutter (everybody make a house! everybody make an elephant!) the medium was at least interesting, and provided a chance to explore different textures and techniques.

And then the next set of projects went up. And they were big splashy colorful painting-and-collage projects. And then the next one. And the next one. As far as I can tell, all the art that the children have produced so far this school year has been in this same style. Maybe I simply don't understand what the expectations are for elementary school art, but I'd have liked to see some variation. And for the Tiny Tornado's sake, more opportunities to work in three dimensions.

One day in the hallway, I was admiring some really impressive clay sculptures in a display case. The art teacher passed by, and I said, "Are these all student work? They're very good." He said that they were indeed student work, from past years. I was pleased. I was happy to think of the Tiny Tornado working with a teacher who was capable of getting that quality and variety of work from students, and who would give them the opportunity to do it.

My bubble was burst when the art teacher said, "They did those with the previous art teacher."

Who is she, I wonder, and where is she teaching now?

As far as the Tiny Tornado's own classroom goes, there can be no complaints about the teacher. TT's class is "Begindergarten." This is a special class for kids who are old enough for Kindergarten but whose parents didn't think they were ready for it. So: 20 kids. 17 of them boys. Most of them perfectly nice, reasonably well-behaved kids like the Tiny Tornado, who just need a little time to mature. A handful of them: handfuls.

The teacher is a young woman in her second year of teaching. She is full of enthusiasm and good cheer. She handles her kids' behavioral challenges appropriately and affectionately. She and the school practice catching kids in good behavior. I have seen her, in the middle of a loud and chaotic process of transitioning from one activity to another, see through all the movement and noise in the room to catch a kid who can almost literally never sit still in his one fleeting moment of perfect behavior, and call him out on it to the whole class ("I see Aidan sitting quietly, ready to get started! Good job, Aidan!").

The classroom is extremely well-organized, and her days seem very well-planned with activities the kids enjoy. My only concern about Miss N is that, as a former teacher myself, I worry that she is going to burn herself out. Sometimes I joke that I'm glad TT got her early in her career, before she learns to temper her enthusiasm and manage her energy. But, sincerely, I hope that she makes a productive transition to being a slightly-less perfect teacher who can stay in it for the long haul.

That said, I think that an excellent classroom in an excellent school is a perfect case study for what is wrong with public education, as well as what is right about it.

Even in the Begindergarten, this school district places a strong emphasis on academics from an early age. There is almost no activity--not even during class parties on holidays--that doesn't focus somehow on phonological awareness, alphabet knowledge, or math skills. They've done some really cool projects. For instance, recently the kids each drew a winter scene, framed it in brown construction paper like a window frame, and then the teacher added a picture she took of them from the back, as if they were looking out the window. These came out very charming.

They also came out mostly all alike. All the projects are cookie-cutter projects; there's no room for variation. If the kids are gluing together pre-cut pieces to make snowmen, the snowmen will have two eyes, a carrot nose, and buttons just like the model the teacher showed them. If a child wants his snowman to have three eyes, he will be told to do it like he was shown. The activities they do have a surface purpose: to practice the letter M, to count as high as 12, to make a little snowman. But the underlying purpose is also always to produce work that matches the model, to do it the way they have been told to do it.

The kids seem to enjoy the work they do; when I'm there helping with centers, they're having fun. And they are definitely experiencing multiple approaches to learning things: they might do a measurement project, a count-the-little-bears project, or a make-a-book project, each focused on a similar numeracy skill. But as they do each project, they are expected to do it exactly as they are told to do it. There is very little time in the classroom for children to make choices about how they will spend their time or what they will do. All the kids seem perfectly happy whenever I'm volunteering in the classroom (except poor B, who is temperamentally never happy: if they're doing centers, he wants to be doing morning meeting. If his group is at the math center first, he wants to be at the puzzle center. When he gets to the puzzle center, he doesn't want the puzzles that are available, he wants the firefighter one another kid has already started. And so on. I'm actually impressed with how Miss N and her classroom aide are supporting B in the classroom, and I hope he grows into a sunnier disposition, poor kid). But I can't help but wonder about the long-term effect of thirty-five hours a week, of "Do exactly what you're told. Produce exactly what you're told to produce."

The Tiny Tornado has learned a lot. This cannot be denied. He knows all his letters, is making big progress in matching letters and sounds (and can now identify consonant sounds at the end of words as well as the beginning!), can write all his letters, can count past 20 (though it's hilarious when he gets to 20-10 and 20-11), can recognize numbers into the teens. He is ahead of where both his brothers were at the same age, because we didn't do much systematic instruction when the Older Two were 5.

I am neutral on whether this is a good or bad thing. Both of the Older Two are perfectly numerate and literate now, which suggests that it is not necessary to spend hours and hours in direct instruction when kids are young. On the other hand, the TT was developing an interest in letters and numbers before he started Begindergarten, and has enjoyed learning them this year. It hasn't been stressful or negative, and his progress spares me the years of anxiety I suffered about whether the Lego Savant, now a voracious reader who devours multiple novels a week, would ever learn to read. As far as I can tell, TT's classmates seem to be enjoying themselves as well.

One area of flexibility in the classroom is that the kids are welcome to be where they're at: at a journal-writing center, for instance, some kids will dictate, some kids will write with spelling help, and some kids will write using their own mix of correct and invented spelling, and this is OK. This ameliorates much of the concern I might have had about the relentless emphasis on academics for what is essentially a class of pre-kindergartners. But I wonder what it will be like next year, when they move on to kindergarten or first grade. Last year, at the kindergarten information night, I was very uncomfortable with the academic expectations for kindergarten, though I suspect I'll be less concerned now that TT will have had a year of what is essentially Kindergarten Readiness. Still, I plan to visit a nearby district I've heard good things about, and consider whether I might be able to send him there under Schools of Choice.

I have heard a lot of criticism of the district from the parents of kids in middle and high school, from young adults who recently graduated from the district, and from the one or two kids I've met while they were attending the high school, about the effect that academic pressure has on the students. The district is affluent--at least 3 of TT's classmates are the children of doctors, for instance, and other parents are research scientists at the university. I hear that there is quite a bit of class-based tension at the middle and high school levels, and that it can be an uncomfortable setting for students whose families don't vacation at ski resorts or buy late-model cars for sixteenth birthdays.

Our decision to send TT to school was made pragmatically for the family: I needed childcare, and he needed stimulation. I am happy and relieved that it has worked out so well. Although I miss the wonderful open-ended art projects he used to bring home from his Reggio Emilia-inspired preschool, I am pleased with his academic progress (and so is he). Having some first-hand experience of the public school reinforces my belief that it would have been terrible for the Lego Savant (all those people around! all the time! never a moment to yourself! never a moment to think quietly!), and OK for Word Boy, who is more adaptable and inclined towards traditional academics. Though I think it has been good for Word Boy, who thinks too much of other people's preferences, not to be reinforced in his tendencies. I could do a whole nother post on that. Maybe I will sometime.

I've never imagined that the Tiny Tornado would stay in school long-term, and I continue to hope that's true, though it's not clear how my plans to become a Speech Language Pathologist will affect our homeschooling in another few years. I continue to be concerned about how factors like the pressure to conform, and the relentless beat of academics, will take their toll as the years pass by. The Tiny Tornado wants to homeschool for first grade, or possibly even this next year for Kindergarten. For my part, I very strongly do not want him to continue in this district past elementary school. We'll have to see what time brings.

 

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Fan Fiction: A Little Essay, and a Pride & Prejudice Story

I have been interested for a long time in fan fiction, particularly slash fiction, and have whiled away the occasional evening reading it on-line. One of my favorite reads of last year, in fact, was a novel-length piece of Harry/Snape slash fiction which I have, sadly, lost the link to. The thing I liked about it was that the writer gave her characters motivations that fit with the way they were written in the canonical universe. Harry was drawn to Snape, for instance, because he was the only person who could see Harry as he really was.

Fan fiction is an interesting world to dip into. A piece of fan fiction may be a brief as a paragraph describing a conversation that took place off-screen, or a fully-formed romantic story, or an entire novel. You can find fan fiction for every TV show or series of novels that has a following. I've even found fan fiction for the TV show Joan of Arcadia, which I watched on DVD a few years ago. I recently came across some extremely well-written Aubrey/Maturin fan fiction as well. Fan fiction can be faithful to the original, or, as with slash fiction, it can put characters in situations their creators never would have thought of. It can bring in new elements; some of the Aubrey/Maturin fiction I read set them in a magical universe. It can even bring universes together. For instance, at this link in the crossovers section at fanfiction.net you can find Pride & Prejudice crossed with everything from Jane Eyre to Anne of Green Gables, Yu-Gi-Oh, and X-men: Revolution. I'll have to go back there later and see if there's anything good.

I have been joking about writing my own fan fiction for several years. I often write it in my head after I've spent time with an engrossing story. This is the first time I've actually done it. I just seemed to be inspried this week. I set out to write a Darcy/Wickham slash, but my story ended up having no sex in it. I guess my mind just isn't as bent that way as I imagined. I might have to do a companion piece of flashback slash; it just wouldn't fit right in this one.

For someone who has never had any talent for writing fiction, I think I did a pretty good job here. I like my dialogue, and I particularly think I managed to make my characters behave like they would in the book: Jane thinks the best of people, Lydia is heedless of social norms and blurts things out (thus driving the plot for me, just like she did for Austen herself); Lizzie is smart and inquisitive, and Wickham is shameless. I am especially pleased with the conversation between Jane and Lizzie, and I like Lydia's line about the cuckoo very much--that was a lovely bit of inspiration. I am disappointed that the plot starts with Elizabeth's curiosity about Georgiana Darcy's behavior but there's no payoff; what does Lizzie think by the end of the story? Who knows? And a writer with more self-control would have had less exposition up-front.

You are welcome to read it. You'll like it better, I think, if you're familiar with the book. I want to be clear about one thing: I wrote this as a self-indulgence during a very busy week nestled in a series of challenging months, for my own amusement and my friends'. If you like it, I'm glad to hear you say so, though it's not necessary. If you don't like it, you are welcome to say that, too. Just not to me. This is not a writer's workshop, and if anybody tries to give me "feedback" I will call down the wrath of Cthulhu on your ass. Consider yourself warned.

At one point I couldn't see any way for my characters to get out of the situation I'd put them in except to have Wickham suffer an unfortunate but too-convenient accident. My friend John S. and I had a playful conversation about it on Facebook that showed me a way out. Thank you, John, with all my heart. Writing this was the most fun I've had in a long time.

I WROTE THE DARN THING, SURELY YOU DON'T EXPECT ME TO COME UP WITH A TITLE TOO

"I must say, I was astonished by Georgiana's behavior this evening," Elizabeth Darcy commented to her husband as she brushed her hair before bed.

"Were you?" he answered in some surprise, looking up from the book he was reading as he waited for her. "I saw nothing out of the ordinary in her behavior."

Elizabeth said, "But that is precisely what is so astonishing! Confronted with Wickham, she showed no consciousness at all. Indeed, she greeted him like a lost friend of her childhood, and I overheard her commenting to him in the course of the evening on the strange coincidence that has, for the past several years, had the Wickhams leaving everyplace just before we arrive."

The Darcys had arrived that afternoon at Heatherhill to begin a long-planned visit with her sister Jane and Jane's husband Charles Bingley. The Wickhams, who had been imposing on the Bingleys' good humor and excellent larder for even longer than usual, should have been gone before the Darcys arrived. Indeed, Jane had assured Elizabeth in a letter written as recently as three days ago that they would be. That they were not gone was the reason for Darcy's cold demeanor throughout dinner and a long evening of whist and lottery tickets. Darcy was out of humor with the Wickhams, of course, but also with Charles Bingley, whose tractable nature he approved of only inasmuch as it allowed him to be the superior in their own friendship.

The Bingleys, sympathetic and easy-going, had been at the mercy of her sister Lydia and Lydia's shiftless husband since the early days of their marriage. Bingley could never bring himself to go so far as to tell Wickham to go, and the Wickhams had long since been inured to hints, no matter how pointed, or how frequently made. Jane's tendency to make the Wickhams feel welcome by ordering especially good dinners, and by improving Mrs. Wickham's wardrobe during her visits, only made matters worse. Mrs. Wickham always brought out her most out-of-style gowns, those which were badly mended, or those from which intractable stains could never quite be removed, during the early days of a visit, to inspire Mrs. Bingley to suggest a visit from her mantua-maker.

Since the arrival of three unwanted, overlooked, and ill-mannered Wickham children, Jane's sympathy had been especially engaged. She could not help but notice the improvement in the Wickham children after some weeks in the care of her own daughters' governess, and, while she might perhaps have been made indifferent to the fate her sister's own choices had wrought for her, she could not be indifferent to the well-being of children who could not in any way be blamed for their parents' ill behavior.

Mr. Wickham had always been able to use his considerable talents for charm and flattery to secure invitations to the country homes of new acquaintances, and if the Wickhams' tendency to long outstay any welcome meant that a second invitation was rarely proffered, there were always new bachelors or young couples looking to fill out a country party.

That ended with the arrival of the children. The Wickhams had no settled home of their own, no nurses or maids or governesses with whom the children could be left, and there were few who would tolerate the invasion of an entire family. That, and the Wickhams' spreading reputation, had long meant that only Lydia's sister Jane, and her doting mother, would offer them a refuge.

Mrs. Bennett was now herself a dependent. Through the compassionate intervention of his wife Charlotte, Mr. Collins had allowed her to stay on at Longbourne for well over a year after the death of her husband, and Mrs. Bennett had seen both of her remaining daughters married from that house. But she had made her removal to Surrey with her daughter Mary upon Mary's marriage to a rector with a modest living, and their home being too small to admit guests had made the Wickhams desperate for invitations to the Bingleys' home, and nearly impossible to pry loose once they had arrived.

Thus, the arrival of the Darcys to find the Wickhams still in residence. Elizabeth, who had endured many visits over the years, and retained some affection for her youngest sister, felt confident of her own ability to enjoy her visit with Jane in any case, and she was even confident that her husband, when he accustomed himself to the situation, would show something more like the cheerful, open demeanor he normally wore in the Bingleys' company.

Elizabeth's concern had been all for Georgiana Darcy, who at just fifteen years of age had been prevented at the last minute from eloping with George Wickham only through her brother's intervention. Surely it could not be comfortable to be with him again, and in the company of a wife whom he had also seduced away from her family at a tender age, and only married because her brother had once again intervened.

But Georgianna seemed perfectly happy to find the Wickhams at Heatherhill. Indeed, of everyone in the drawing room that evening, only Miss Darcy had seemed entirely at ease. "I would not have expected her to have the self-possession," Mrs. Darcy said. "Georgiana has every pleasing quality of character, but she is so easily mortified. I would not have thought her capable of it."

Darcy replied, "Perhaps her engagement to Mr. Winter has increased her confidence. She may previously, confronted with Wickham, have felt that she was still the naive girl with whom he took such liberties, but with her marriage to a most eminent and respectable gentleman less than two months away, she must think of herself as a grown woman who need not be concerned with the follies of her girlhood. In any case, Wickham will soon be gone. Bingley has assured me that he will put them out by Saturday."

Elizabeth laughed. "You mean he has agreed to allow you to do so."

Darcy could not help smiling. "It may be something rather like that. I am surprised Wickham did not choose to go; he must have known I would not tolerate their presence here."

Elizabeth was thoughtful. "I do not think they have anywhere to go. Nothing more than rooms, in any case. I know that it troubles Jane greatly to think of them taking the children out of her care. Perhaps the Bingleys have, for this reason, been less forceful than they otherwise might have been."

Darcy smiled again. "The Bingleys have ever been less forceful than they might have been. I have tried time and again to convince Bingley that the fact of the Wickhams having worn out their welcome in every house in England but this does not give them leave to become permanent residents. He is too soft." He paused a moment. "But I am not. Come to bed, Lizzie."

 

 

Elizabeth returned to the subject the next evening, in the drawing room. She and Jane had settled down to needlework, with their chairs pulled close for comfortable conversation. "Jane," she essayed, "do you not find Georgiana's behavior extraordinary?"

"Miss Darcy?" Jane replied, glancing over to the table where that lady was engaged in a hand of cards with the Wickhams and Mr. Bingley. "Her behavior is always above reproach."

"But it has not always been so, Jane," Elizabeth replied. "Surely you recall her near-elopement with Mr. Wickham?"

Jane said, "I confess I had not thought of it. It was so long ago it hadn't come to my mind."

Elizabeth said, "But now that you have recalled it, do you not find it strange that she should be so comfortable with Wickham?"

"I do not find it strange at all, Lizzie. People do not always think of the past. It may be as far from her mind as it was from mine."

"You cannot believe it! It is not in Miss Darcy's nature to be so composed in such a circumstance!"

"Lizzie!" Jane said, "This is gossip. If the parties involved do not care to rehearse the events, it is surely not your place to do so. In any case, why should it trouble you? Surely, since Wickham is here, it is better that Miss Darcy be comfortable than otherwise."

Elizabeth sighed. "As usual, you are right, Jane. But I confess it does trouble me. I cannot stop myself from puzzling over it."

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy can put your mind at ease?"

"I have spoken to him already, Jane. He cannot give an explanation. Or he will not."

 

 

The gentleman of whom they spoke had withdrawn to a writing desk in the corner of the room, explaining that he had some urgent letters of business to write. There were in fact no letters to be written, and the paper in front of him remained blank, the pen forgotten in his hand. He was as troubled in his mind as his wife, and with better reason: he knew the reason why Georgiana Darcy had no consciousness around Wickham. She had never had any dealings with Wickham but those of blameless friendship, and she had no memories of him except those of a girl who had enjoyed the friendly attentions of a boy she looked up to as a friend of her brother. Her near-elopement had been a fabrication of his own. The story was faithful to Wickham's character; he had not exaggerated that. But he had told Elizabeth a story that he hoped would engage her sympathy, in place of the truth, which he feared would drive her from him forever. Even now, were it to come to light.

He was interrupted by Wickham himself, who, the card game having broken up, seated himself nearby. "We have not had a chance to speak since your arrival," he said.

Darcy answered coolly. "I do not see that we can have anything to say to each other. Except perhaps, farewell. How progresses your packing?"

Wickham smiled. "Although Mrs. Wickham is eager to return to London, we cannot possibly take our leave until we have secured lodgings. I hope to make enquiries soon regarding townhouses to let."

Darcy scoffed. "You mean to let a townhouse? I had not heard that you had come into a sum of money."

"I have not," Wickham answered. "But one never knows. I have been thinking of your father lately."

Darcy made to rise. "You can have nothing to say to me about my father."

Wickham rose, too, and stood firmly before Darcy. "No, indeed, but I had some things I wished to say to him before he died, and never had the opportunity. Mrs. Darcy has always been a sympathetic friend; perhaps she will lend me an ear. But I did not come to speak to you of that. The ladies have proposed a game of charades, and sent me as their emissary to invite your participation. Will you come?"

 

 

"Bingley," said Darcy to his friend over a late glass of port that evening, "Wickham means to ruin me."

"Ruin you?" replied Bingley. "Indeed not. He is too busy ruining me. I was going over my accounts on Tuesday, and they are absolutely dismal. So long as you stand firm on barring them from Pemberley, you have nothing to be concerned with."

"I am serious, Charles," Darcy said. "He means to blackmail me."

"He has revived that old scheme? It was never a good one. Schoolboy buggery is shocking to nobody. If a gentleman can be ruined for it, no one in England is safe."

"It was shocking to my father," Darcy said. "As you well know. He was unbendingly severe on the practice. And it will be shocking to Elizabeth. She has no notion of such things."

"No more has Jane," Bingley agreed. "That is what he threatens? To tell Mrs. Darcy of your pederasty if you do not pay a sum of money?"

"Exactly. And I cannot pay, that is very plain. I would be at his mercy forever. But if I do not pay, he can ruin me with Elizabeth. I had no notion I could love a woman as I love her. She has made my happiness, which I thought lost forever. I could not bear to lose her." He turned to look out the window.

Bingley laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It speaks to the perversion of Wickham's character that he never could see how sincerely you cared for him. He threatened to tell your father about your affair in an attempt to secure a portion of your fortune, but I could have told him you were prepared to lay it at his feet, were he only to say the word."

Darcy smiled bitterly. "I had a scheme to pass our youth abroad together, to marry at the last possible decent moment, and, with no regard whatsoever for my future wife or her feelings, to carry on as we had been as soon as I had gotten myself an heir. I was remarkably naive, as well as shockingly callous."

"Many women would have willingly entered into such an arrangement, provided they were given the same freedom," Bingley said.

"True," said Darcy. "But not Elizabeth." He sighed. "I suppose I should have anticipated this threat. I did not realize how desperate Wickham had become."

"I could have told you," Bingley said. "Mrs. Wickham has unburdened herself most thoroughly to Jane with regard to their means and prospects. But I did not consider it could affect you in any way."

"Do not trouble yourself. I cannot think of any way in which being forewarned would have aided me," Darcy said.

"You should rest now," Bingley said. "Only hold him at bay for a few days, perhaps with a false promise of payment that must be secured, and we will come to some resolution."

 

 

No solution, however, presented itself to either Bingley or Darcy, and over the next few days Darcy grew increasingly despondent, while Wickham reveled in his discomfort. The ladies, however, merely attributed Darcy's sour mood to the presence of the Wickhams. "Lord, Lizzie," said Lydia Wickham to her one day as the sisters walked out together, "I would not be married to your husband for ten Pemberleys. He is always out of sorts."

"What are your husband's plans, Lydia?" Elizabeth replied. "He must have some notion of where you will go next. You cannot stay at Heatherhill forever."

"I do not know where we will go," Lydia replied. "I would love to go to London, but it is so dear. We were in Portsmouth last, and la! such society is there among the sea officers' wives. They are not so puffed-up as the ladies you encounter in London, being at least some of them from common stock. And housing can be had very cheap. But we cannot go back there until the Otter sails."

"The Otter?" Jane said. "How can the sailing of a ship possibly affect you?"

"There are two officers on board who have called Wickham out. One for cheating at cards, and the other for having relations with his wife. But once the Otter sails, she will be gone for months, and we can go where we will."

Jane said, "How could they accuse him so?"

Lydia laughed. "Oh, they are entirely in the right. But of course he will avoid the engagement if he can."

Jane said, "Lydia! How can you be so unfeeling!"

"I have been married to Wickham these nine years, Jane," Lydia replied. "I have been much in the world. Besides, what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

Elizabeth was shocked in her turn. "Lydia, you can't mean it!"

Lydia said, "I do indeed mean it. I cannot even tell you for certain that Wickham is the father of our youngest. But it makes no difference. So long as I am married the child is not a bastard. And I daresay Wickham has laid his share of cuckoo's eggs."

 

 

Elizabeth unburdened herself to her husband that evening. "I had no idea Lydia had grown so coarse. She speaks unfeelingly of another man fathering their youngest child, and of Wickham being challenged on grounds of honor as merely an inconvenience to her housekeeping. I should not be surprised--indeed, I am not surprised--but I am disappointed. One hopes for better. I thought Jane perhaps could have had some influence."

Darcy said, "Wickham has been called out?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "by two men, both officers of a ship called the Otter."

"Do you know their names?"

"No, Lydia did not specify."

"Is the Otter presently at sea?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth was taken aback by his urgency. "No, she is at Portsmouth. It is the reason they cannot go back there."

"I must go to Portsmouth, Elizabeth. I shall leave at first light. You must say that I have been called to London on a financial matter. I shall be back as soon as may be possible, and in the meantime you must not be alone with Wickham, or allow him to put a letter into your hand. Do you understand me?"

"No," Elizabeth said. "I do not understand you at all."

"Then let me ask this instead: will you follow my instructions? Will you trust me, and follow my instructions without deviation?"

"I will," Elizabeth said, "if you tell me that by my doing so all shall be well."

 

 

Darcy returned nine days later, and on the tenth day, the Wickhams departed Heatherhill, saving the children, who remained in the care of their aunt. "I daresay we will be back soon," Lydia said as she mounted the carriage. "We always have such a jolly time." In response to this, Darcy and Bingley looked stern, and Wickham came as close as he ever had to showing consciousness, letting an expression almost like embarrassment, or fear, flicker over his features for a moment before rearranging them into their customary expression of ingratiating charm.

He was at some pains to maintain his composure. Darcy had paid their fare on the post-chaise to Portsmouth, and the cook had put up a basket of food for their journey, but he and Lydia were taking their leave with no money in the world but what Jane had slipped her sister in their leave-taking. He had sent off two letters of apology to the gentlemen in Portsmouth in the previous evening's post; this, and the money Darcy had paid them, had persuaded them to drop their claims of honor against him. But in his pocket was a list, and in Darcy's pocket an identical list, of other men he had cuckolded, which Darcy had been able to compile during his stay in Portsmouth, from intelligence the officers provided and through his own additional inquiries.

In his mind was the promise that Darcy had made him: that if Wickham again threatened his marriage, or indeed so much as returned to Heatherhill, he would contact these gentleman by clandestine means, inform them of their injuries at Wickham's hand, and offer a generous sum to the one who succeeded in killing him in a duel.

 

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