Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family by Amy Ellis Nutt Read Free Book Online

York City who had allowed their young son to go to school dressed as a girl. The parents were reported to the police and arrested, and the child, at least temporarily, was taken away from them. Kelly was a hypervigilant mother, so she was keenly aware of all the ways her children could be wrested away. She’d let Wyatt grow his hair out and occasionally wear a feminine shirt or blouse, which meant that Wayne and Kelly sometimes found themselves getting into awkward conversations with strangers. If they were eating out someone might comment on the twins and ask, “How old are your son and daughter?”
    “Oh, they’re four,” Kelly would say, not bothering to correct the questioner.
    When they were at McDonald’s they usually let the kids tumble around in the play area. When it was time to leave Kelly or Wayne would have to call out, “Wyatt, Jonas, it’s time to go!” That’s when Kelly and Wayne would notice the puzzled looks on other parents’ faces. Kelly ignored them. For Wayne, though, every public encounter with a stranger’s confusion jabbed at him. People weren’t just judging Wyatt; they were judging him and Kelly.
    What does it matter? Kelly would say. It isn’t anyone else’s business, and we don’t have to explain our situation every time we meet someone. Who cares?
    But it did matter, and he did care.
    One night, before the move, the Maineses were invited over by Jean Marie and her husband, Roscoe, to see the improvements they’d made on their house. Wayne and Roscoe were cut from the same cloth—they both grew up loving sports, hunting, and enjoying what they called “rustic carpentry”—building things without the need for absolute precision. Wyatt was playing with Leah when the two of them tumbled downstairs, giddy and flushed and both wearing dresses, heels, earrings, and full makeup. Everyone laughed, even Wayne, but it was a tight laugh, and it caught in his throat. Roscoe invited Wayne out on the porch for a beer.
    “What am I going to do?” he said to Roscoe.
    They both knew what he was talking about.
    Roscoe looked at Wayne, not sure what to say, and took a swig from his beer.
    “I don’t know, Wayne. I don’t know.”
    “Kelly thinks I’m a jerk, but I just don’t know what to do.”
    The two men were quiet, unable to think what more they could say to each other. Wayne’s pain and confusion were palpable, but they were Wayne’s to bear, and as he stood there next to Roscoe he let the cool night air wash over him.

CHAPTER 5
Down East
    “D own east” is how many people refer to Maine, although to Mainers, down east is more specifically the coastal sections of rural Hancock and Washington counties, from Penobscot Bay on the west to the Canadian border on the east, with the Atlantic Ocean defining the southern side of the region. Spiritually or culturally, down east means you are never far from the sea, with islands, peninsulas, coves, and bays giving the jagged coast of Maine its distinctive character. The origin of the term “down east” dates to the time of the sailing ships. When traveling from Boston to Maine, in a northeasterly direction, ships were often rewarded with a wind at their backs, which meant they were sailing downwind. Likewise, on their return trip to Boston, these same ships would often be sailing upwind, which is why Mainers often say they’re “going up to Boston,” though geographically Boston is about fifty miles to the south of Maine’s southern border.
    A New England ethos runs deep here. Generations of the same families have refused to be dislodged by bad weather, bad business, or bad fortune. Mainers make do, no matter what, and it’s not hard to understand why. Battered by the push and pull of ancient glaciers, beaten by the wind and weather, the coast of Maine is as ornery and stubborn as the people who settled it. Generations of the same families populate the rural cemeteries and the property records of Maine, where anyone not born in the