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Priscilla parked on the third floor of the ramp on Delaware St. She checked the dashboard clock and saw they were thirty minutes early. They were on the East Bank campus of the University of Minnesota. Across the street were the medical school administration offices in the Mayo Building. Robbie had been sullen for the entire drive. But then, sulking was his natural condition.

“Are you sure about this, Mom?” Robbie asked.

Priscilla shut off the BMWs engine, unbuckled her shoulder harness and turned to her son. Never one to show much affection, with the back of her right hand she gently stroked Robbie’s cheek.

“To be honest, no, I’m not one hundred percent sure about this. That’s why we’re here. To get the opinion of one of the foremost experts in this field of medicine. It’s a very big deal and we’re going to be careful. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know. Nervous, anxious, scared,” Robbie answered.

“Of course you do,” Priscilla said. “That’s natural. We should go. We don’t want to keep the professor waiting.”

Their appointment was scheduled for 10:00 A.M ., which meant Priscilla picked Robbie up from school. The two of them entered the waiting room at 9:43.

Priscilla tossed the month old People magazine she was paging through without reading onto the small table. She looked at her watch for at last the tenth time, the last one being three minutes ago, 10:55 and still no sign of the great man.

“Can we go, Mom? I’m bored,” Robbie said.

“No!” Priscilla replied sharply. “We’ve come this far, we’re staying.”

At eleven o’clock an assistant, a pretty young woman, probably a student, came out and got them. She led them back to the conference room where Priscilla assumed they were in for another long wait. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised when she heard a soft knock less than a minute later .

“Hello, I’m Doctor Friedman,” he said, introducing himself.

He was a short man and quite vain was the first thing Priscilla noticed. Barely five-nine even with lifts in his shoes. He wore an expensive Italian wool, three-piece suit, gold rimmed glasses and had manicured fingernails. But Priscilla had to admit he was quite attractive. An expensive hair weave with just the right amount of gray on brown completed the look.

Priscilla and Robbie were sitting in patient chairs. Friedman sat at a small table. He looked at Robbie with an attitude filled with dollar signs.

“So, Robbie, I’ve received all of the session notes from your school psychologist and the school nurse. I’ve reviewed them thoroughly and, I must say, in my opinion, you’re a classic case of gender dysphoria.

“But I want to know how you feel about it. How do you feel about your discussions with Dr. Brie on this subject? Do you understand what we’re talking about.”

“Yes, he does,” Priscilla quickly said.

“Robbie?” Friedman asked.

“Well…, yeah, I think, I guess. She explained it to me and the more I think about it, well, maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I, ah, I just don’t seem to fit in at all.”

“You feel isolated from other children your age?” Friedman asked.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Do you feel anxious in social settings?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Loneliness?”

Robbie nodded his head several times while tears began to develop in his eyes.

“Depressed?”

The tears started to trickle down his cheeks, his nose started to run and Robbie was barely able to say, “Yes.”

Priscilla reached into her Hermes handbag for Kleenex. Instead, Friedman beat her to it. He handed Robbie a box of tissues while saying, “It’s okay, Robbie. Let it out.”

Robbie quickly got a hold of himself, took a deep breath and Friedman continued .

“Okay, let me explain the process. We would put him on a hormone therapy regimen. There are two drugs we would use. Estradiol to increase estrogen and spironolactone to decrease his ability to produce testosterone.

“That will take some time. Usually, he will be on those drugs for two-to-three years. Depending on how it goes. Some people take longer, others shorter. We won’t know until we do it.

“We will also need to start him on puberty blockers. There are several different ones.”

“Are these shots I would have to get?” Robbie asked.

“No, no, pills,” Friedman said.

“Okay,” Robbie said sounding relieved.

“During that period, we will begin the transition. Let his hair grow out. Start wearing female clothes. Have you ever thought about that?”

Robbie hesitated, looked nervously about, then admitted he had tried on his mother’s clothes a couple of times. Especially her underwear.

Priscilla listened to this with, initially, a horrified look on her face. It lasted several seconds until she realized that was a for sure symptom that Robbie was in the wrong body. Or, so she convinced herself.

“Any questions?” Freidman asked.

“Surgery?” Priscilla asked.

“That’s several of years down the road. Especially for someone Robbie’s age. We will monitor everything very closely and make a determination later.

“I want you to make an appointment to see me next week. Go home, talk it over, think it through very carefully. If we are in agreement, we can begin the drug regimen then.

“Why isn’t his father here? Is he still with you?” Friedman asked.

“He lets me make the decisions,” Priscilla answered.

“I see, well, I’m going to insist he sign a consent form. I’ll let you take it home and bring it back next week,” Freidman said.

“That’s it for now,” Friedman said.

He looked at Robbie and said, “I believe you will become much happier. In time you will socialize more easily and with much greater success. ”

“You okay?” Priscilla asked Robbie.

“I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about,” he quietly replied. “Do you think it’s best for me?”

“Yes, I am certain of it,” Priscilla replied. “Look at me,” she told him. “Do you want to be happy?”

“Of course, Mother,” Robbie said.

“I have no doubt that this will do that for you. You are trapped in the wrong body. That can be corrected.”

Priscilla parked the Beamer in a lot filled with high end cars. She had taken Robbie back to school then hurried to meet her friends. There would be six of them. They were friends of a sort who belonged to the same organizations. They loved to think of themselves as progressive for that was who they were. The truly open-minded, tolerant ones helping to progress society away from the dinosaurs.

Their normal lunchtime restaurant was a very quaint, chic, French restaurant on the I-494 Strip in Bloomington. The Eiffel Brasserie. With today’s weather, a perfect seventy-two degree, calm, sunny spring day, they would dine outdoors in the patio area.

“Hello, everyone,” Priscilla announced when she arrived at their table. There was an empty chair waiting for her next to her best friend, Rebecca Forrest. Priscilla took it. She picked up the vodka martini Rebecca had waiting for her, held it up, said “Salute,” and downed a swallow.

“Well?” the woman across the table from her asked.

“Did you order?” Priscilla asked.

“Never mind that, what happened with the doctor?” the same woman insisted on knowing.

“No, we have not ordered. We were waiting for you,” Rebecca said.

Priscilla held up her martini again and announced. “He doesn’t know it yet, but Robert is about to become Roberta.”

The reaction around the table was very positive. From a simple “yes” to “marvelous,” and hearty “congratulations! ”

“This is so exciting,” one of them said, “Our very own trans to nurture and enjoy.”

“Are you sure about this?” another one asked. Her name was Barbara Bivens and she was a successful partner in a twenty-lawyer firm in downtown Minneapolis.

Priscilla leaned forward onto the table to look Barbara in the eye, “Yes, I’ve known it for years. He even admitted to trying on my underwear a couple of times.”

“I’m not sure that means a helluva lot,” Barbara replied.

Ignoring Barbara Bivens, Priscilla said, “We’ll be starting hormone therapy in a week or two. You know, I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

The server arrived with another round of drinks. After passing the drinks out, he started taking orders. While he did this, distracting the other women, Rebecca took this opportunity to whisper to Priscilla.

“Do you have to go back to the office or should I reserve a room?”

“I was hoping you would ask. Yes, a room for two would be lovely,” Priscilla replied with a seductive smile.

“Naughty girl,” Rebecca whispered. Then, using her phone, she made the reservation. She also ordered champagne and strawberries for two.