Chapter 3

The chalk squeaked. Marilyn's stomach ached. She didn't know if it was from the class or the session with Dr. Tripp. She hated bringing up all that stuff; it wasn't her, not anymore. Other students listed barriers to self-determination.

"Gender," Marilyn said.

"I think we have that," Professor Dingman pointed to where he'd written about how women have a more difficult time claiming their own decisions.

"No," Marilyn forced back the heat in her voice. "People are told what gender they are, and we're supposed to just live with it."

"Yes, right." The professor pointed at another hand and the discussion moved away from her. The class wrapped up and the students escaped.

"Hello," a girl said behind Marilyn. She turned and looked down at a girl with ebony skin and hair clinging to her skull like felt.

"Hi," Marilyn didn't want to step back, or sit down again, but she hated staring down at people. Maybe it was time to go back to flats. They made more sense with the amount of walking she had to do.

"I love your scarf," the girl said, "it looks like something from my country. May I?" She reached out to touch it.

"I don't like taking it off," Marilyn put her hand to her neck.

"Ok fine." Instead of being angry or leaving the girl smiled and white teeth flashed at Marilyn. "I'm supposed to wear a scarf, so I can cover my head." She pulled a scarf from her purse and demonstrated, covering up the fuzz on her skull. "I have so many scarves, but I don't wear them now. I don't have to cover my head here." She handed the scarf to Marilyn. "You wear it. We make the designs in Uganda, but here they are just designs."

"Are you sure?" The material lay soft and weightless in her hands. "At least let me buy you coffee."

"Ok," the girl said as they left the classroom. "I have time before my next class."

"This is my last class," Marilyn said, "I'm taking an extra year to do my courses."

"I'm Birungi." The girl gave Marilyn another brilliant smile.

"Marilyn." They walked into the hall and sat at a table. "You stay here and I'll get us coffee." Birungi nodded and sat while Marilyn went to stand in line. She returned to the table with the coffee and creamers and sugars.

"I forgot to ask how you like it." Marilyn put the tray on the table. Birungi put milk and sugar in her coffee.

"At home milk and sugar are rare." She gave Marilyn one of her quick grins, "Here they are not special, but I still like them."

They sat in silence drinking their coffee. The babble of conversations surrounded them, but didn't touch them.

"Hi, I'm Anna." Marilyn lifted her eyes to the blonde girl who had talked about women's issues in the class.

"Marilyn."

She sat down in an empty chair.

"What's it like?" she asked, "Not knowing what you are and having to decide?"

"I know who I am," Marilyn frowned at the girl.

"But you had to decide to change, right?" Anna leaned forward. "You had to take hormones to grow breasts and all that, right?"

"What I am now," Marilyn clenched her teeth, "is a woman."

"But -"

"Excuse me," Birungi put a hand on Anna's arm. "You are upsetting Marilyn, my friend."

"God, I thought from what you'd said in class you'd want to talk about it." She jumped to her feet and walked away.

"Thanks," Marilyn sipped her coffee. The dark bitter flavour eased the tightness she hadn't known was there. Birungi reached up and adjusted the scarf around Marilyn's throat.

"We all have our scars," Birungi said, "we must choose when to speak of them, or not."