The Need

by Andrew Neiderman

  “That’s what I’m here to describe.” I put out my cigarette.

  “Please do.”

  “The place for me to begin would be the time of my first menstruation, when it finally came over me to metamorphose,” I said. He sat back, his face suddenly caught in a web of seriousness—his eyes no longer smiling, his mouth no longer twisted in derision. His skin was taut and his shoulders stiff. He looked like he was holding his breath and I didn’t blame him. I didn’t blame him one bit.

  “We were living in Los Angeles. As you already know, my mother was working as a model, doing magazine advertisements and some television commercials.

  “There were a number of Androgyne scattered throughout the area, although we didn’t move here specifically to be amongst them. They are literally everywhere in the world, moving amongst the inferiors, undetected, unnoticed, and not remarkable in any obvious way. Once we move into an area, however, it doesn’t take long for the rest of our kind to locate us or us to locate them.

  “We had a home in Brentwood and I attended junior high school there. As a preadolescent, I was gangly, uncoordinated and far from graceful, somewhere between a tomboy and that neutral state inhabited by females who have not yet developed anything sexual about them.”

  “Somehow, I’m having the most trouble believing that part,” Detective Mayer said. He couldn’t help flirting.

  “Nevertheless, it’s true. Are you going to let me continue?” I asked petulantly.

  “Oh, by all means.” He folded his arms across his chest and sat back.

  “I was always a good student, friendly, outgoing. Other students invited me to their houses and parties. I had many friends and a few close girlfriends, but all that began to change the day Alison entered my school.”

  “Alison? Another…” He waved his hand.

  “Yes. From the moment she stepped into the homeroom, I knew she was one of us. She looked about the classroom, sifting through the curious faces, just the way all of us did when we first confronted a new environment, and settled on me. Our gazes locked; she smiled and we knew.

  “My other friends, the inferiors…” His eyebrows went up. “Sorry. It’s just habit. The normal girls … grew immediately jealous of the close relationship Alison and I quickly developed. Right from the start that first day, we were side by side almost everywhere. We were inseparable. I ignored any invitation that didn’t include Alison, and I brought her into any conversation or activity that involved me. Those who were close to me before became resentful, and soon Alison and I found ourselves ostracized. But the fact that it didn’t seem to matter to us both annoyed and intrigued my old friends. Soon they relented and drifted back, accepting Alison almost as much as I did.”

  “Considerate of them, or should I say stupid?”

  “No, they weren’t in any danger. Not yet anyway. Alison was closer to her first menstruation. She had long, light brown hair, rich and thick,” I said, recalling. I couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “It was already at the state an Androgyne’s hair would be, for most of our physical characteristics were extraordinary. It was why so many of us became models, actresses, entertainers. I knew that Alison’s hair took almost no preparation. Like my mother’s, it would always look fresh, neat and healthy,” I said. “She would make up things to answer questions from her admirers, tell them she used an egg shampoo or whatever.”

  “That wasn’t fair. Why didn’t she explain how God created you guys first and then…”

  “Her complexion had the same qualities, richly healthy, as smooth and as clear as alabaster,” I continued, raising my voice and flashing the fire in my eyes at him. “Remarkably, there were never to be any of the adolescent skin problems for us Androgyne. It gave credence to the belief that we were indeed God’s favorite, God’s perfect creations.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Christie Brinkley isn’t one of you, is she?”

  “No.”

  He pretended he had been holding his breath.

  “Okay. I just had to know. Sorry.”

  “I have to tell you about Alison. It’s important to your understanding of all this.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Go on. Please.”

  “She was two inches taller than I was, with a body that had already begun to develop its feminine curves. But she also had a look in her eyes that suggested a more mature sophistication. She was quieter, more thoughtful, and balanced in a way when it came to boys that made most of us envious. There was a definite sense of control about her, control over herself as well as over others.” I sighed.

  “I will never forget the day after Alison’s first conversion.”

  “Conversion?”

  “When she changed from female to male for the first time.”

  “Oh. Of course. I forgot.”

  “I had gone with a few friends to the pier in Santa Monica. It was a magnificent spring day, the sky almost cloudless. The ocean was peppered with sailboats and motorboats, some of the sailboats so still against the horizon they looked painted there, like tiny splatters of white against the light blue canvas. My three friends and I were wandering about, playing the carnival games and watching the young men play volleyball on the beach.

  “I had called Alison that morning to ask her to come along, but her mother, Beatrice, told me Alison wasn’t feeling well. There was something in her voice that made me suspicious. She wasn’t very specific about what was wrong with Alison. Usually she spoke to me eagerly in a friendly tone, inquiring about my mother and our lives; but this particular morning she was abrupt. Soon after I cradled the phone, my other friends arrived and we went off to Santa Monica.”

  “Nice there,” the detective said. “I like sitting out on the patio at the Cafe Casino and…”

  “It was a busy day at the pier,” I said pointedly. Now that I had actually begun, my need to tell my story had become almost as overwhelming as sexual desire. I would force him to listen if I had to, I thought.

  “Yeah, it’s a busy place.”

  “As usual there were tourists from all over the United States and many places in the world. Many were sunbathing. Most were wandering about like we were, taking pictures and generally people-watching. There is a cement bike and roller skating path along the beach that runs south for miles and miles. This day there were veritable traffic jams.

  “We walked alongside the bike path, wandering aimlessly, one or the other of us providing a continual monologue about other friends or family, talking about television and movies, dreams and wishes. When one of us took a breath, someone else picked it up immediately. We were like relay runners passing words between us, afraid of any intermittent moments of silence. The stories and fantasies were woven into a fabric that each of us wrapped around herself. Secure in our cocoon of friendship, we giggled, we sang parts of songs, we stopped to stare at a handsome young man in a tight bathing suit, his tanned sleek body glimmering like polished stone.

  “Two of my friends, Paula and Denise, had experienced their first menstruation months before. They had well developed bosoms on the way so their bodies had already made the transition from asexuality to femininity. As the young man moved about in the sunlight, his narrow hips turning this way and that, his suit snugly drawn over his buttocks, I saw their faces redden, their eyes narrow. I could almost feel the quickness in their breath. The shell of their sex had opened and their imaginations turned their fantasies into soft fingers exploring the wet, fresh, throbbing essence within.”

  Detective Mayer blew through his teeth and loosened his tie.

  “My other friend, Gretta, babbled about renting roller skates and kept asking us why were we just standing around when there was so much to do. Hers was a different sort of energy, an energy searching for form and meaning, a loose explosion of desires and wants diffused, spread widely about, groping for some purpose. Finally we relented and headed toward the rental skate concession. It was then that I first saw him.”

  I paused to light another cigare
tte. Detective Mayer was impatient—a good sign.

  “Him? Who?”

  “I knew immediately that it was Alison; that she had undergone her first conversion.”

  “She had become a boy?” he asked, grimacing.

  “Yes. Instinctively I was afraid for her, afraid that these other friends would see the resemblances and somehow discover the truth. I was shortly to discover that there was nothing to fear, that the inferiors lacked the sensitivity and the insight. If they saw resemblance between the male and female identities of an Androgyne, they did not find it remarkable. People everywhere had people who resembled them in some way or another, and there were relatives, etc.

  “For me, of course, it was different. My heart hesitated and then began beating madly. When he smiled, it was Alison’s smile—warm, loving, vulnerable. His hair, although much shorter, was the same rich texture and color. He had Alison’s hazel eyes and small, but congruous nose. All his facial features were in perfect proportion to one another, just as any Androgyne’s were. Like Alison, his cheekbones rose just under his eyes, deepening them, drawing attention to them. His skin was darker, but just as healthy and clear. I thought he was an inch or so taller.

  “Of course his shoulders were wider, firmer, and although he had Alison’s narrow waist, he had thicker hips and far more muscular legs. He was wearing a cutoff pair of khaki shorts and a beige athletic shirt, so that the tone of the muscularity in his chest and arms was easily discernible.

  “Standing there in the shadows of the roller skating concession, he wasn’t all that different from so many young, handsome men on the beach at first sight. The girls looked at him and giggled, but none of them saw anything extraordinary about him. As we drew closer, my heart began to pound.

  “‘Hi,’ he said. The girls looked at him and at me, curiosity mixed with envy. I could read their thoughts in their eyes: Why had he chosen me to speak to when there were two others in our group who were obviously more desirable? His eyes sparkled with excitement. I sensed his great need to confide in someone his own kind. I could almost feel the frustration.

  “‘Hi,’ I said.

  “‘You going to roller skate?’ he asked, the hint of disappointment clear in his voice. My friends looked at me. Paula started to order the skates.

  “‘None for me,’ I said suddenly. His smile widened. ‘I’ll see you guys later,’ I added. I didn’t look back when he and I started away. I knew just how shocked they were, and I didn’t want to hesitate long enough for them to ask questions. He said nothing to me until we were a good distance from the roller skating concession. He gestured toward the ocean and we crossed over the beach toward the water.

  “‘I had to come find you,’ he said. ‘As soon as it happened, I had to come find you.’”

  “Meaning, the conversion?” the detective asked quickly.

  “Exactly. ‘Alison,’ I said turning to him.

  “‘No, Nicholas,’ he replied. ‘It’s funny how the name just came,’ he said. ‘I asked Beatrice about it and she said my identity was always there, latent, waiting. I just knew that was my name.’

  “‘You must tell me everything,’ I said excitedly. ‘I want to know every detail.’”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Detective Mayer remarked. He leaned toward me, my story having captured him.

  “‘I will,’ he told me. ‘I want to; that was why I came looking for you as soon as I could. I’m just bursting with excitement. And it’s so strange, so thrilling.’ He stopped and turned to me.”

  For a moment I wondered if I could go on describing the event. I pictured Nicholas standing right before me and the vivid memory seized my breath.

  “What happened?” Detective Mayer asked impatiently

  “He said, ‘When I look at you now, I see you in an entirely new light. I see things about you I never had noticed and I feel so different about you. I’m even a little embarrassed,’ he added and laughed.

  “‘Don’t be,’ I told him. ‘When my time comes, you’ll be the first to know about it too, and I promise I’ll tell you every detail.’

  “He nodded, the smile folded into his face, his eyes already gazing out at the sea as if the memories and the words were inscribed on the sheet of blue sea water.

  “‘You knew,’ he began, ‘when Alison’s period first began.’ I nodded, already fascinated because of the way he made reference to Alison as a separate being, you see. ‘She was frightened, at first,’ he said. ‘She knew what it meant, what was soon to come. She went to Beatrice and Beatrice told her to be patient.’

  “Then he turned to me and laughed.” I assumed Nicholas’s posture, the way he threw back his head and lifted his arms.

  “‘Be patient. My God, can you imagine going to sleep every night and wondering if tonight was the night she would have the urge to become male and then become male?’ he asked.”

  “Yeah,” Detective Mayer said, “I can see why he or she … whatever, would be a nervous wreck.”

  “I told him I thought about it, of course, but knowing it was impending…

  “‘Yes, exactly,’ Nicholas replied. He continued. ‘So, deliberately, frightened of what would happen, she forced herself to think only feminine thoughts … concentrated on new ways to do her hair, her makeup, thought about new dresses, thought about boys, did everything possible not to think like a male, everything to avoid male thoughts.’

  “‘But could she do that?’ I asked. Two children, no more than five, a boy and a girl, went running past us, laughing at the way they splashed one another as they ran through the water. For a long moment, Nicholas watched them. His eyes were already filled with a fully mature Androgyne’s hunger. The soft, innocent children of inferiors were akin to a delicacy. To stroke them and hold them close was a titillation, like running the dull edge of a knife across the throat of a lamb or a calf.”

  “Jesus,” Detective Mayer said.

  “‘Oh, no,’ he told me, ‘she couldn’t prevent the inevitable. One night, perhaps the third night into her menstruation, she had her first male thought.’ He blushed after saying this and I knew it was a special moment. But there was more, something else.”

  “What?” Detective Mayer demanded.

  “‘She thought about you,’ Nicholas told me, ‘about kissing you … on the lips…’

  “For some reason I couldn’t quite fathom, the thought of Alison kissing me passionately on the lips did not disgust me. I was rather flattered. ‘Then what happened?’ I asked him.

  “‘She started envisioning other girls,’ he said, ‘thinking about their bodies, their lips. One morning, on the fifth day, she hesitated to put on any lipstick and she knew, it was coming. Then, last night…’

  “‘Yes?’ I demanded. I was barely breathing. All the sounds of the other people … the laughter of children, the shouts of friends, the music from stereos and convertible car radios faded. It was as if Nicholas and I were the last two people on the face of the earth.

  “‘She thought about being a male,’ he replied. ‘First, she thought about his face and how it would differ from her own, his hair shorter, his eyebrows thicker. She lost the graceful turn in her neck and the smoothness in her shoulders,’ he said putting his hands on his own shoulders, ‘and then she felt the tightness in her upper arms and the firmness in her chest and stomach. Her waist was wider and her buttocks larger.

  “‘She thought it was only something going on in her imagination, like any other fantasy … becoming this movie star or that, this rock star or that; but then her hands moved over her thighs and suddenly, she felt it … Nicholas had emerged; he was hard, excited, throbbing,’ he said softly.

  “For a moment after he told me this, I couldn’t speak, but I remember every detail about that moment. Terns circled above us, hoping for us to toss out some food. Off in the distant sky, a commercial jet began to climb to its flight path.

  “‘What did you do?’ I finally asked him. He shook his head and continued walking.

  �
��‘I screamed,’ he told me. ‘Beatrice came to calm me and it was over … my first conversion.’ He stopped and took a deep breath.

  “‘How do you feel now?’ I asked him.”

  “Probably had a bad hangover, huh?” Detective Mayer said.

  “No. He told me he felt good. He felt great … excited. ‘I feel like running along this beach for miles and miles and then … taking off my clothes and running into the sea. Afterward, I’d like to lie on the sand and wait for you,’ he said.

  “He made me promise we would always be friends; we would always trust one another and love one another. But I turned away from him. He sensed something was wrong.

  “‘What is it?’ he asked. I wondered if I could get him to understand what I had felt.

  “I felt so immature. Here he had gone through his conversion and I was still like a little girl.”

  “Some little girl,” Detective Mayer said. “Let me understand this. You were feeling sorry for yourself because you hadn’t yet changed into a boy?”

  “Yes.” The detective did understand. There was hope. He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

  “I was not yet complete. It would be like all your friends had become men, but you remained a boy. How would you feel?”

  Detective Mayer nodded, thoughtfully.

  “So what did you do?” he asked.

  “I told him to go on off and explore. I knew he was anxious to do so. Then I ran off before he could see my tears.

  “I didn’t find my friends. I went home and locked myself in my room, cursing and crying over my slower development. Finally, my mother came to my door and knocked softly. When I opened it, she saw my bloodshot eyes and we talked.

  “She embraced me and comforted me and told me again how it had been for her just before she had had her first conversion. She had been lonely, too; she had felt left out and freakish. She kissed away my salty tears and we went out for pizza.

  “Later, when we returned, Alison called. It was so strange hearing her voice after seeing her as Nicholas. It seemed like I had dreamt it all. But she talked about Nicholas, in the same way he talked about her, as though he were someone separate, someone we both knew.