In Between Codes

Chapter 10

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The afternoon was spent upstairs, continuing the cleaning marathon. Room by room, they worked their way through the house until only Tamy's bedroom remained. By then, Tamy's feet throbbed from the heels, and her mind was swimming with all the reminders and corrections her mommy had given her throughout the day—how to move, how to sit, how to carry herself with grace. She was exhausted, irritable, and on the verge of snapping. But Martha remained steady, focused, and—relentless.

Just as they reached the door, a delivery arrived—a discreet package addressed to Tamy. It was the packing underwear Samantha had ordered for her online, something meant to help her hide her male anatomy. Tamy's eyes lit up with curiosity, but before she could tear it open, her mommy placed a gentle hand on hers and said, "Let's wait until we're done cleaning first."

When they were done dusting and vacuuming Tamy's room, Martha turned to her with a calm but firm tone. "Now it's time to clean out your closet," she said. "We're getting rid of all the boy clothes."

Tamy froze. Her heart jumped, and she instinctively pushed back. "Wait—what? No, I don't think I'm ready for that."

Martha raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

Tamy hesitated, then tried to explain. "I'm still figuring things out. I don't know if I'll stay like this forever. I might go back to being... Tomy." Her voice faltered. The words felt distant, like she was clinging to a lifeline she wasn't sure she believed in anymore.

Martha gave her a look—half disbelief, half quiet challenge—but didn't argue. Instead, she nodded and shifted gears.

"Alright," she said gently. "But your closet is overflowing. If you want to make space for new things, you'll need to let go of some old ones. One in, one out."

She pulled out the bag of her recent shoping trip and the ones with clothes they have chosen from Laura's hand-me-downs and placed them on the bed. "We'll do a little triage. You'll choose what stays."

They began pairing items: a skirt with a pair of shorts, a dress with a set of pants, a blouse with a boy's t-shirt, her new panties with boxers. For each pair, Tamy had to choose.

She hesitated with every decision, her fingers lingering on the old clothes, her heart tugged in both directions. But one by one, she chose the feminine pieces. By the end, nearly half her closet had been cleared of boys' clothes.

Martha didn't say a word. She simply gave her daughter a quiet look—one that said, I knew you would. But she let the silence speak for itself.

It was Martha who broke the silence. "You've been such a good girl today," she said. "I think we deserve a little treat. Let's go to the mall and look for some new clothes."

Laura's hand-me-downs were an excellent stating point, but Martha insisted that Tamy needed to choose pieces that truly reflected her own style. Clothes that weren't borrowed, but chosen. Clothes that said this is me.

"And if you want," Martha added casually, "we can get your ears pierced."

Tamy blinked. "We'll see about that," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, though her stomach fluttered at the thought.

They each took a shower, steam rising like a curtain between the day's chores and the evening's outing. Then came the makeup—side by side at the vanity, brushing, blending, laughing. They styled their hair together, matching their styles, and when it came time to dress, Martha picked an outfit that mirrored Tamy's choices. They looked like a true mother-daughter duo, coordinated and glowing, ready to step out into the world.

On the drive to the mall, Tamy sat quietly, her thoughts swirling. The idea of replacing her boy clothes with new feminine ones felt like crossing a line she hadn't fully committed to. And the ear piercing—so small, yet so symbolic—made her pulse quicken.

But beneath the nerves was something else: warmth. Her mother's attention, her care, her willingness to indulge Tamy's journey—it was intoxicating. As Tomy, her mother had been loving, yes, but distant. Stern. Practical. Now, as Tamy, her mother was still strict, but there was a tenderness in her discipline, a pride in her guidance. It felt like being seen for the first time.

Once at the mall, Tamy got swept up in the moment. She tried on dresses that twirled, shoes that sparkled, blouses that hugged her gently. Her mother offered opinions, held bags, and smiled with approval. And when they passed the piercing kiosk, Tamy paused—then nodded.

She got her ears pierced.

By the time they left, her arms were full of shopping bags and her heart was full of something she hadn't expected: joy. Not just from the clothes or the earrings, but from the feeling of belonging. Of being wanted. Of being the daughter her mother had always dreamed of.

****

While Tamy slept, Samantha through the speakers, whispered the familiar affirmation she repeated non-stop every night.

"You are woman."

"You are a cheerleader."

"You are feminine."

"You are beautiful."

"You are your mommy's beloved daughter."

"You are a confident beautiful feminine cheerleader woman and your mommy loves you for it."