The smell of laundry detergent will always remind me of my sister because I was sitting in a pile of clean clothes when she tried to explain to me what a transsexual was. I was about nine-years-old, and she was 18. My dad was “it,” whatever “it” was, and that “it” meant that his relationship with my mother was ending. My sister wasn’t crying, and I was oblivious to what her news truly meant, so the exchange seemed relatively business like.

“Mom is leaving? Because dad is becoming a woman?” Strange news. My sister sat cross-legged on the floor and stared at me.

“Haven’t you noticed anything different about our dad, compared to other dads?”

I pondered. “Well, he’s nicer than a bunch of them.”

She smiled, because it was true. “Anything more… on the surface?” I pondered harder.

“He, um, wears mommy’s outfits?”

“Bingo.” My sister leaned back against the wall and stared into space. More than a few moments of silence made me uncomfortable, so I rose to go and play, but she called me back. “Hey, I’m not even close to done.”

I fell dramatically back onto the pile of clothes. “Dad wants to get surgery to make him more like a woman, and that’s why mom is going away.”

I played with a balled-up sock. “Why does mom not like that?” My sister slammed her head against the wall abruptly.

“Mom has her reasons. I think she thought that she could change him, or had changed him, I don’t know. She’s very angry.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s always angry.”

My sister laughed. “Well, now we know why, don’t we?”

Her face got serious again. “How do you feel about this?”

I shrugged. “I don’t care. I think it’s no big deal. Did you know that Billy Gross’ dad jumped off the bridge on Wednesday? At least daddy’s not a bridge-jumper.”

She smiled faintly again. “I’m happy about that, too.”

Then she got serious again. “There are some other things we have to talk about. You know what dad does for a living, right?”

“He’s a governor!” I knew that, everybody knew that, and I was filled with blind pride whenever the fact was mentioned. She slowly laid herself down, with her back on the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

“Yes, he is. And as the governor in Alabama…there isn’t a whole lot of tolerance for this kind of thing.” Now she looked a little more upset. “People are going to be pretty mean when this hits the press, and it will have to hit the press. People are going to try to lie to you, and tell you that something is wrong with dad, or us. You have to promise me you won’t listen to them, okay? Promise?”

She had lost me somewhat there, but even I could sense the desperation in her voice, and for the first time, I saw how tired her eyes looked. I promised. “Good.” She leaned against the washing machine and sighed. I tried to get up again, but for the second time, she stopped me. “Kid, there’s more. Sit.” I had to pee now, but she had scared me back into he cooling pile of clothes. She really took her time with the next part.

“Damien, Grandpa is going to be very upset by all of this. Do you know why?” I had no idea what was going on anymore, so I shook my head. Her lips tightened. “Grandpa is very religious, and religion usually isn’t friendly towards…being different. He won’t be able to accept his son for being what he is, so we may not see him very much anymore.” I was definitely fine with this, Grandpa gave me the creeps anyway. He always talked about dumb things, and got angry for no reason.

“That’s fine.”

“There’s just…just one more thing. And this one is a very big secret, so whatever you do, you can’t tell anyone this next part.” I was starting to feel exhausted by these revelations, but I nodded. “When I was 15, I got pregnant. You were pretty young, but don’t you remember a ton of fighting, a few years back?” I remembered, but I lied and shook my head. She had a strange look on her face. “At the time, dad had made a lot of friends by saying he hated people who killed babies who haven’t been born yet, so he wanted me to keep the baby. So did mom. I was so young, I had no idea what I wanted, so I listened. But soon, we saw that having a pregnant 15-year-old daughter was far worse than getting rid of her baby. So they changed their minds. But it was already too late, I was past the point when they can get rid of it without getting in trouble. We had kept it quiet pretty well, waiting until the latest possible moment to announce the news, so nobody knew. They decided that getting rid of the baby would be the only option.” She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes.

After a few deep breaths, she continued, waveringly. “I was taken to a scary country, where a man could take care of it for a price. But it can be dangerous, and there was a problem. Do you remember when I was sick for a while?” This I remembered like it was yesterday. She was stuck in bed for months. I nodded. “Well, we made up a reason why I was sick, so the press wouldn’t get suspicious. But recently, a reporter found out, and after a while, he discovered everything. So, all of this shit is going to hit the fan at once. Dad’s a tranny, mom’s leaving, Grandpa’s going to hate us, and people are going to say some bad things about me, too. It’s going to be rough time, for a while. But I needed you to know that it’s all on the surface. None of it matters, and none of it has anything to do with you. I’m sorry that you had to hear all this at once, and I’m sorry that it all came from me, but you needed to be aware before it all went sour.”

I put my hand on hers, because it felt like the right time. She kissed me on the forehead and pulled me in for a hug. “We are going to be fine.”

And we were. Things got pretty bad for a while, and we were surrounded by a ton of anger, but my sister and I made it through all the bullshit. My dad didn’t though. After his term ended, he sank into a pretty deep depression and committed suicide before any surgeries took place. My mother became an alcoholic, and she and my sister have been estranged for years. I lived with all three of them, sporadically, and grew up faster than I should have.

However, my sister is the greatest person I know, and I doubt that I could possibly have learned so much respect for her if I had lived an “average” life. All the problems we solved together were simply sacrifices to our relationship. I’m just finishing college now, and my sister has some beautiful children of her own. But whenever I miss her, I just walk past the laundry room and breathe deeply. I think of that day and remember what she and I had respectfully been through, both alone and together. And it’s like she’s in the room.

Or, you know, I call her.