That evening, I trudged my feet across the cobblestone road, rubbing my eyes and thinking about the hard day of work I had just gone through. Many people would argue that being a tailor, pager, or stonemason might be harder than simply working at a candy shop, but I don’t think they’ve ever made the candy before. It’s tougher than you think. It was worth it though. After all, I had quite a strong sweet tooth, so it was really the perfect job for me. I approached the front door and stuck a smile on my face before walking in.

“Welcome home, dear,” greeted Mum. Her warm smile at the end of the day when I came home made it all worth it. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” I shrugged, throwing off Dad’s old coat that I hated so much. Even if it hid most of my body, it made me look like a stone statue with the blocky wide shoulders it gave me. I normally had quite a scrawny body, so Dad liked the extra bulk it added to me.

“Good, good.”

“I brought home something for you two,” I smirked, reaching into my coat and taking out a couple paper bags.

Since I helped make the candy, my boss didn’t mind if I took a bit home every week. Dad liked the sugar wafers the most, and Mum preferred sugar plums, so I brought them the treats every so often. Mum worked so hard and deserved it, and at least it kept Dad happy enough to not immediately jump to anger when he saw me. I’d go as far as to say that it contributed to his decision to let me stay.

“You should go give your father his treat,” Mum suggested, pointing to the back door. “He’s in the back chopping wood.”

“Oh…” I knew this was really just Mum’s way of trying to get me and Dad to spend some time together. She meant well, but me and him just didn’t see eye-to-eye and something always goes wrong. We were probably beyond bonding at this point.

“Chin up, honey,” she smiled, chopping some potatoes. “He’s in a good mood.”

That wasn’t saying much since Dad’s good mood was like a normal person’s slightly annoyed mood, but you have to take what you can get with him. I put my coat back on and headed out the back door with the bag in hand, sighing and dragging my feet. It was so cold out in the New York wintertime. I already couldn’t wait for it to get warmer.

Our house was small, but we had a nice backyard for Dad to work. He was a handyman and construction worker around the town, so he couldn’t cast metal or make furnishings as intricate as a carpenter, but the man could fix and cobble together just about anything with enough wood. You wanted a shed? He could make it. You want a fixed wall? He could fix it. Sometimes he would even try to make weird little structures in the backyard and take them apart later. He acted all gruff and manly, but he was a really odd guy once you watched him long enough. Though, his towering statue, tight muscles, and stubbled face would probably intimidate you too much to want to find out. I thank God every day that I couldn’t seem to grow body hair and got a set of soft facial features from Mum.

“Ah, good of you to join me, boy!” Dad heartily laughed, setting his axe down and taking a rest on a tree stump. “Did Matilda send you out to help?”

“I, uh, actually brought you something home,” I said, handing him a bag of wafers, which he took with a smile before putting it in his pocket.

“I appreciate all the treats you bring me, but we’ll have time for that after dinner. Why don’t you chop some wood for me? I need a break.”

“Uh, actually, I-”

“Here,” he insisted, holding out his axe. Hesitantly, I grasped the handle and felt my body get yanked down as soon as Dad let go. He thought it was rather funny though, and let out another deep, hearty laugh. “I know you and I aren’t exactly cut from the same cloth, boy, I’ll make a man out of you yet!”

I don’t know why Dad still had his obsession with trying to make me into his idea of what a man should be. He could have sent me out to do nothing but chop wood for years and I’d probably still be just as unsatisfactory in his eyes. I didn’t have Dad’s natural goliath strength so it took most of my muscle in my entire body just to sling the axe onto my shoulder. The proud look on his face as I raised the tool and put my entire weight into slamming it down was immediately wiped off when the thing missed by a solid half a foot.

“Come on boy, chop the log, not the grass,” he criticized. “Put your back into it!”

“I’m… trying…” I panted, heaving the axe up again.

Desperately, I squeezed my eyes shut and haphazardly threw the axe head towards the log with as much force as possible. Before it could hit the ground though, Dad shot his hand out and caught the handle. When I opened my eyes, I realized that if he hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve cleaved the axe right into my foot. The look he gave me was giving off the vibes that he wanted to cut my foot off himself.

“Just go,” Dad spat, effortlessly lifting the axe and splitting the wood in one swift movement. I gulped as the wood chunks flew apart and the axehead embed a few inches into the tree stump

“Dad, I just-”

“I said go!” he barked, making me scurry back to the house as he wildly swung at the next log. When I stumbled into the kitchen, I threw my coat into the rack, panting and trying not to cry.

“Oh dear,” Mum said in surprise. “Are you alright?”

“I hate it when he tries to mold me into his ideal son,” I bitterly coughed. “I can’t wait for the day when he gives up.”

“Adam,” she said sternly. “You know your father loves you very much. He just…”

“Has a hard time showing it?” I finished. “Mum, you can only tell me so many times before I stop believing it…”

“Honey…”

“Do you need me to help with anything?”

“No, I should be done before the hour is up.”

“I’ll be in my room until then,” I mumbled, dragging my feet upstairs and into my bed.

Like a priceless treasure, I savored my time alone just laying on my back in bed. When I was by myself, there was no pressure to find a wife or have kids. Nothing to make me feel like I’m a failure at just existing. Nobody to belittle me for not fitting their image of what I’m supposed to be. Better yet, it also gave me an opportunity to recover from my fatigue from work and being a disappointment to Dad.

I could also hear pretty much everything in the house from the top floor because of how the wood creaked when tread on. The walls and floor weren’t nearly as thick as we would like you to believe. As Dad’s boots stomped through the back door, I could hear his gruff voice complaining.

“You should have seen him, Matilda! Either he wasn’t trying or he isn’t fit to be a man.”

“He’s trying, Mark. You know he’s not like other young men his age. God didn’t make him to swing an axe, cast iron, or carve wood.”

“What am I supposed to do? Wait until living on the streets is his only option? Send our boy to the asylum to be studied? Wake up, Matilda… Either I teach him to be a man or he’s dead in the water.”

“There’s got to be another option for him, honey…”

I just sighed and turned myself over in bed. My life would be so much different if I was born a woman like I felt I was supposed to be… None of the wood chopping, none of the pressure to go court a partner myself, and no being called a disappointment of a man. I could stay home all day with Mum, wear all the dresses I wanted, and maybe even have kids of my own… Imagine me becoming a mother! That’s probably one of my wildest fantasies…

“Adam!” Dad bellowed from downstairs. That stupid name snapped me right out of my fantasies. God, I wish I could just replace it already. “Supper time!”

“Coming!”

I was surprised about how fast time managed to slip by while I was daydreaming. I could often get swept away in the fantasies of shedding my skin as a man and become a full woman, but I knew they were just that. Fantasies. Still, they were as close as I was ever going to get to a happy life.

As I came down the stairs, the smell of fresh bread wafted into my nose. Mum was always such an amazing baker, and made some extra loaves to sell off. Sometimes she’d even give a few to neighbors who weren’t so well off. Dad blamed her need to take care of everyone and keep them happy on the fact that she couldn’t have any more kids than me or it could’ve possibly killed her. So the family with 5 kids down the road might as well be part of ours.

We had a really nice dinner set up on the table. Roasted chicken, bread, and steamed vegetables. I silently slipped into my seat and grabbed my plate, scooping some vegetables onto my plate. I especially loved potatoes.

“Eat some chicken too, sweetie,” Mum insisted, putting a hunk of meat on my plate. “I didn’t make all this just for you to eat potatoes and collard greens.”

“Mum…” I didn’t really want the large amounts of meat. It was something I associated too much with masculinity to like.

“Eat your meat and maybe you’ll get some muscle like a real man,” Dad commented.

“No arguing at the table,” Mum scolded. “Or the apple pie might find its way onto a neighbor’s table tonight.”

“Matilda, you know I’m just trying to toughen him up…”

Dad always thought he had the upper hand until Mum threatened the apple pie. Her desserts could bend anyone’s will to whatever she wanted, even someone as stubborn as him. Honestly, Mum should really have her own bakery.

“Nice words at the table, Mark.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “You’ll be happy to know that I talked with another friend about possibly having you marry his daughter.”

“Dad… You’ve tried this already…”

“This one won’t go missing. She’s a bit of an older and more mature woman. I figured you could use someone to take care of you-”

“Mark, don’t patronize the boy,” Mum frowned.

“Dad, I don’t really want to-”

“Then what are you going to do?” Dad growled. “You’re not a Hawthorne, Adam! You’re not going to live with us for the rest of your life. I’ll make sure of it! You need a wife! A child! A real man’s job!”

“Mark, that’s enough!”

“Don’t fuel his attitude, Matilda. He’s got to realize his place in the world one way or another.”

Without thinking, I rolled my eyes. Could my life really just be boiled down to “marriage, work, kids” and nothing else? Unfortunately, Dad just barely caught my attitude and stared daggers at me.

“Don’t test me, Adam,” he warned. “I ought to throw you on the streets right now.”

“Dear, calm down,” Mum whispered in Dad’s ear, setting a gentle hand on his arm. “Adam, how about you tell us why you don’t want a wife? When you were little, you talked all about how you wanted to start a family.”

“I wasn’t that excited for one,” I mumbled, taking another bite of food to avoid having to answer more questions.

“Well, that’s not true! I remember you talked about how you wanted a son and two daughters! You even had names for them. Jacob, Elenore, Mary-”

“I know how I felt, but that’s when I was a silly child. I’m not the same person anymore.”

“Son, do you feel too inadequate to be a father?” Dad sighed, clearly trying his best to be understanding but missing the mark by a mile. “Adam, we don’t all feel like we’ll do well with our children, but-”

“It’s not that I think I’ll raise my children,” I interrupted. Dad was going to hurt his legs leaping to conclusions so often.

“Ohhh, I see what this is about,” he nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Son, if you’re afraid and need the talk about how to pleasure a woman again, I-”

“I’m done with dinner,” I declared, pushing my plate away and jumping to my feet. The last thing I needed today was Dad telling me how to make babies. Again. I would rather starve.

“Adam, honey, sit back down,” Mum begged.

“Let him go,” Dad snarled as I walked up the stairs. “Go ahead Adam, run away from your problems! They’re going to catch up one day!”

My feet trudged back up the creaking wooden stairs and guided me through my bedroom door. I took a sliver of wood out from under my bed and wedged it under the door. Since the only doors with locks in our house were the ones that led outside, I had to get creative when I didn’t want to be intruded upon. It wasn’t going to hold for long if someone did try to force their way in, but it would buy me time.

“Ugh, I hate him,” I bitterly growled.

I bit into a biscuit that I had managed to swipe from the table before storming off. Mum’s baking was truly too tempting to pass up. Still… Dad’s talk of trying to make me a father upset me more than he could possibly understand. I didn’t want to be a father. I didn’t even want to be a man. If only I was just born a woman…

*   *   *   *   *

I later woke up with red, tear-stained eyes. Yeah, I cried myself to sleep. I’m aware of how pathetic it is. Dad reminds me how pathetic I am every day. I glanced out my window at the oppressively dark sky, dotted by shining stars. Oh, how I love looking at the stars out of that window… I wish I could’ve been born as one of those. Is it weird to want to be born as a star?

Looking over at the still-wedged door in anxiety, I reached under my bed and took out the corset that was neatly hidden away in the shadows. It was just my little secret, and nobody was going to know about it, lest they take it away from me. Carefully, I tried my best to put on the tight corset all by myself, which was a lot easier said than done.

“Adam?”

I heard Mum softly knock my door, which made my heart leap out of my chest. It must’ve not been as late as I thought. I tried just standing completely still so as to not make a sound, but nothing seemed to fool her.

“Adam, I heard you moving around. And I can see your candlelight burning from under the door.”

“I-I don’t w-want to talk,” I stammered. “Dad made h-his point clear.”

“Adam, please,” she sighed, twisting the doorknob and trying to force the door open. “Don’t make this hard for me.”

I dived behind my bed right as Mum managed to force the door open. Every step she took towards me while I cowered made me feel like I was going to sob.

“Stop!” I cried.

“Adam, what’s gotten into-”

Mum paused as soon as she laid eyes on me. Who knew what she was thinking, staring down at her loving son on the floor, his waist wrapped in a corset. I could visibly see her trying to form words, but they all seemed to melt off her lips in a fit of pure shock.

“I… Adam, what’s… What’s this?” she asked, eyes jumping from seam to seam on my clothing.

“Um…” I really couldn’t explain myself. “Please don’t tell Dad…”

“Mark is out at the bar with some friends,” Mum said, gingerly holding out her hand. “Can we talk downstairs?”

“I… I guess…”