Angelo hugged the fluffy stuffed kitten tightly, caressing its sleek fur daintily.
He and Muffy, the name he had given the stuffed animal, had become almost inseparable in the last few weeks. Muffy was one of the few remaining links to his girlhood, and he refused to give it up.
"Mommy," he confessed to his foster mother, "I'm so scared. I just don't know how I can be a boy. I can only imagine how awful it'll be when I start high school. I really, really don't think I can do this."
Mary Elizabeth Dayton had found Angelo curled up on the couch, cuddling Muffy, his hair flowing across his face. She couldn't resist sitting next to him, gently running her hand down his slender, pretty arms.
He was dressed, in boy's shorts and tee shirt, but with the length of his hair, fair complexion and slim body, he looked very much like the little girl he desperately wanted to be.
Mary Elizabeth knew he would feel so out of place as a boy in a large high school. She knew how inadequate he felt as a boy, and she knew she had to strengthen his spirit so that he would be able to do what had to be done and start school as a boy.
"Angelo, my darling. I know you and you are strong. You managed to survive up until I found you. I know you'll do fine once you get to school. You'll find some nice friends, insure if it." As she said these words, she began to tear up herself, her eyes moistening as she fought off sobs that would only worsen Angelo's feelings.
Right now, as she hugged this tender, gentle boy she desperately wanted to let him dress himself in the prettiest outfit in the closet. But, she knew that she had to direct him away from such girly things and try to make him boyish enough so he could remain with her in foster care.
"Mommy, I hope you're right, but I just don't know. I'm so scared."
He began to sob aloud now, and Mary Elizabeth could do nothing more than hug him tighter. And that she did, embracing him warmly, with Muffy tucked between them.
After a few moments, she pulled away from Angelo and stood up, "Come on, get up from here. I need you to help me."
"With what, mommy? What do you want me to do?"
"Well, my son Dean is visiting us this weekend, with his family. They'll be here tomorrow, and you'll have to sleep in my room. We have to set up a cot for you. Dean and his wife will sleep in my office and the kids in your room. The house needs cleaning up too. "
At that moment, Angelo suddenly felt a shock of fear. He knew that Mary Elizabeth had three grown sons that all lived out of town. He began to wonder what she had told them about him and whether she had warned them that she had a foster child who might be a little different from other boys.
"Oh mommy," he said, wanting to ask her about what she had told Dean about him, but he didn't. "That's nice. I know you want to see them and your two grandchildren."
"Yes," she replied, knowing how fearful he might be about meeting her family. "And I want them to meet you and know what a marvelous boy you are."
"They won't like me."
"Why do you say that? I've told them about you, and they know how happy you've made me. They'll adore you."
"No, they won't. Your boys were big and strong and muscular and played football. And, well, look at me."
"No honey. I think they'll like you. And I know you'll like Dean's kids. Clara is seven and Jake is four."
Mary Elizabeth loved Angelo so much, as much as her own boys, and she was hoping they'd like him as well. Still, she knew Angelo was right. She too was concerned how her football-playing, masculine sons, and their families would take to this sweet, delicate boy.
Besides Dean, who sold insurance about two hours away in Colorado Springs, there was Daniel, the second oldest, who was a high school math teacher and coach. And Derrick, who was a senior at the University of Alabama and a football player. Dean was the only one married.
********
Dean and his family arrived late Friday afternoon, and Angelo busied himself helping his Foster mother prepared to feed them.
He suggested Mary Elizabeth visit while he did most of the preparation for supper, but Mary Elizabeth said, "No. I know you want to help, but you'd look too feminine. And you know I need you to be a boy now."
Angelo was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and a polo shirt. His hair was pulled back from his face. A few days earlier, Mary Elizabeth had taken him to her beauty salon, where she told her hair stylist to fix Angelo's hair in a boyish cut.
"You want me to cut this lovely hair?" the stylist had asked. "He has such a marvelously light, airy head of hair."
"Trim it, Sandra, so he looks less like a girl," she had told the stylist. "OK, but it's a shame. Most girls would love to have such lovely hair," Sandra said.
Angelo blushed. He was the only male in the salon that day, and one of the older women said, "Oh, you'd make a very pretty girl," much to Angelo's joy.
"Oh, mummy," he told Mary Elizabeth later. "I wish I could go there as a girl. Sandra's so nice."
"Well, you're now my foster son, Angelo. At least, until we can get CPS to back off. Remember that," she replied, mentally agreeing that Angelo could indeed be made even more beautiful after a trip to Sandra's salon.
True to what Angelo expected, Dean was a monster of a man, though now his body had grown a bit fleshy. Even so, Dean had obviously been a strong, dominating athlete at one time.
Angelo's slender hand was dwarfed when the two shook hands. Dean's grip, however, was gentle though firm, and Angelo, remembering that a man should have a firm handshake, did his best to respond in kind.
"Nice meeting you, Angelo," Dean said. "Mother has talked an awful lot about you."
"We're getting along great, aren't we, Angelo?" Mary Elizabeth said with a smile.
"Yes, Mom," he responded, careful not to use the "mommy," which he knew, sounded more girly.
Dean had a smooth, rounded face with sparkling eyes, much like his mother's. His wife, Constanza, was a short, dark-haired woman with a compact body, which accentuated firm hips and breasts. She wore loose shorts, which exposed her solid, well-tanned legs. It was apparent she, too, was athletic.
Their daughter Clara, even at seven years old, had all the appearances of growing up to be a tall, strong girl. She had her father's fair complexion. Jake, their son, appeared small for his age, dark-haired and wiry, and constantly on the move.
Angelo remained silent as the Dean's family brought in their luggage and shared family talk, so typical of families who are reunited after several months of separation. It was apparent the family was close and loving.
Angelo felt a pang of jealousy, recognizing that he had never found such warmth and love in his early life. Yet, Mary Elizabeth was welcoming him to become a part of the Dayton household, perhaps even to experience the love and warmth he now saw before him.
"I must not disappoint them," he thought to himself, vowing to try to act like a boy, a real boy.
Jake soon busied himself with the trucks and construction set that Mary Elizabeth brought out of the closet where it rested between visits. Derrick, her youngest son, had last used the toys and she kept them around just for little Jake.
Angelo joined the boy on the floor, moving the construction toys around, to the glee of the younger boy. He giggled and Angelo enjoyed the boy's laughter, purposely moving the toys in a manner to excite the child.
His attention was interrupted by the rather frantic yells of Clara, "Grandma, grandma. What happened to Barbie? She's got different clothes."
The young girl, now dressed in cute pink shorts and a white and cream tank top but no shoes, ran into the living room, carrying two Barbie dolls, one wearing a long formal gown and the other a white wedding dress.
"Grandma, grandma. Last time I dressed them for the beach. They were going to meet Ken," she explained, excitedly. "Now they're all dressed up."
"Oh," Mary Elizabeth exclaimed. "Are you sure Clara?"
"Yes, grandma. Somebody's been playing with these dolls. They're all different."
Angelo's cheeks reddened, realizing he had been playing with the doll collection that Mary Elizabeth had maintained in the bedroom for her granddaughter's visits.
"Grandma," Clara persisted. "These are my dolls."
"Yes, honey, but you know you must share your toys," her mother, Constanza, said.
Mary Elizabeth was silent, and Angelo knew she didn't want to tell her son's family that it had been Angelo who had been playing with the dolls.
"Clara," Angelo said, still seated on the floor, playing trucks with Jake. "I hope you don't mind too much. I dressed those Barbie that way."
Everyone in the room, except Jake who was making truck noises, looked at Angelo in surprise.
"But you're a boy," Clara said and Angelo blushed.
"I know, Clara, and I'm sorry. I just felt like making Barbie all pretty."
Mary Elizabeth was quick to the rescue. "Yes, shortly after he moved in, he was bored and the only things to play with were the dolls. He and I had lots of fun dressing them up."
"Oh grandma, Angelo," the child said. "That's OK. I think you made the dolls so pretty."
The matter seemed to be forgotten as Angelo returned to playing trucks, the family continued their conversation and Clara went back into the bedroom carrying the two Barbie's.
As the supper was ending, Clara said to everyone, using a loud voice, "Can Angelo play dolls with me now?"
"Well, I don't think he'll want to do that," her father, Dean, said quickly.
"He played with Jake before," Clara persisted. "Why can't he play with me?"
"Well, I don't think Angelo wants to play dolls?" Dean said.
"He did before. Remember how pretty he dressed them?"
"Oh that's all right, Mr. Dayton," Angelo said. "I can play with Clara if she wants me to."
"Really, you're sure?" asked Dean.
"I'm sure Angelo will enjoy playing with Clara for a while. Won't you, dear?" Mary Elizabeth said.
"Yes mommy . . . er . . .er . . mom."
Dean gave Angelo was quick, strange look, as if to wonder about what kind of a boy this slender, pretty looking child was.
After supper, Angelo ended up playing with both children, with Jake bringing his trucks and construction equipment into the bedroom, while Angelo and Clara went about dressing and undressing the Barbie Dolls.
Soon, Angelo and Clara had set up a scenario with a household out of some shoeboxes and brackets. Angelo was curled up on the floor engrossed in dressing one of the dolls when Dean entered the room.
"My, aren't you children playing nice!" he said. Angelo got up abruptly, realizing that he must have looked so girlish at that moment.
"Oh, Clara and Jake are fun to play with, Mr. Dayton."
"Well, Angelo, you've been so much fun for them."
As it turned out, the visit of Dean's family was a truly enjoyable weekend until the family was about to leave.
For most of the weekend, the family seemed to accept Angelo as he was. Both Clara and Jake seemed to adore him, always pestering him to play with them.
Sunday morning, Angelo slept in, not arising until well after 10 a.m. He could smell coffee and breakfast cooking in the kitchen.
As he lay there wondering when to get up, he heard his foster mother, Dean, and Constanza talking in the kitchen.
"But he's such a sweet boy." It was the protesting voice of Mary Elizabeth he heard first.
"Oh, mother." It was Dean's voice, rising. "There's something wrong with that boy. You see how much he likes playing with dolls."
"Dean!" Mary Elizabeth protested again.
"He's hardly a boy at all. You said he's 14?"
"Yes, but he's small for his age, son."
"My god, mother, he's like a 12-year-old girl. See how weak and delicate he is?"
"Dean, that's enough. He's had a tough life. No father and his mother died last year."
"And you, mother, seem to enjoy treating him like a girl. Having him play with dolls. My god."
Angelo couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had so enjoyed Dean and his family. They seemed so nice, and now they were making fun of him.
Angelo buried his head in the pillow, not wanting to hear anything further. He began to cry. Mary Elizabeth would be angry with him now. He had disappointed her son, Dean.
He stayed buried among the bedclothes until his foster mother sent Jake in to rouse him and tell him to get up.
He dried his tears, washed his face and put on jeans and a Dallas Cowboys jersey and walked into the kitchen, trying to be brave and look more like a real boy.
"Well, that's more like it," Dean said sarcastically, obviously seeing the football jersey. "That's my boy. Glad to see you're a Cowboys fan."
"Oh yes, Mr. Dayton," Angelo said, perhaps a bit dishonestly, since he cared little for football or the Cowboys. "They're my favorite team."
Dean's family left in the early afternoon, with both children hugging Angelo tightly.
"I think Angelo is fun," prompted Jake.
"Yeah," added Clara. "He's cool. We had so much fun together."
Dean and Constanza said their goodbyes more stiffly and Angelo knew he had been a failure to Mary Elizabeth's son and daughter-in-law.
Mary Elizabeth was saddened by Dean's reaction to Angelo; she thought he would have been more understanding, but it was apparent all he saw was a weakling and a sissy, and in his masculine thinking, that made Angelo truly a pathetic being.
"All that boy needs is a little discipline and some exercise. He's such a weakling. Our Clara could probably beat him up. I'm worried about you being disappointed by getting too close to that boy. If only he was more masculine," Dean had said.
The conversation about Angelo ended on that note, but it was hardly reassuring to Mary Elizabeth. Her joy at raising Angelo was again deflated.
She could tell, also, that Angelo must have sensed the disgust Dean had expressed. While the boy had truly enjoyed her grandchildren, he was obviously fearful and tentative around the adults. Could he have heard their breakfast table conversation, she wondered?
"Mommy, I'm sorry. So, so, sorry" Angelo said after Dean's car pulled out of the driveway and headed for home. He began sobbing, his slender body shaking uncontrollably, as he stood there, looking out the living room window.
Mary Elizabeth felt so much sorrow for this child, a girl really, who was no doubt fully aware that his future would be a difficult one.
"Mommy," he said through his tears. "I'm bringing you so much shame. And I love you so much. Why can't I be a boy like your sons were? A real boy? Instead of being like I am."
Mary Elizabeth hugged him tightly now, letting his tears moisten the front of her blouse.
"Honey," she said finally, as his tears lessened, "We need to get you ready for school tomorrow. Let's get ourselves cleaned up. Remember, we need to find you a book bag while we're out."
Angelo knew he had to stop crying. He had endured much disappointment in his life, but he had always been able to stand up to it and meet it head-on.
"Mommy, let's get a backpack with the Cowboys' symbol on it," he said. "I think I'll have to begin to like football."
Mary Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She knew that Angelo's natural desires would be to get the girliest backpack available, complete with pink bunnies or a 5SOS emblem; yet, he was making a firm effort to give the appearance of being a boy.
"You're my brave boy," was all she could say.