“I…I can’t do this, Emma,” Michael muttered, emotion choking his voice. “The last time we did this I was in a suit and bowtie...” Emma rested her hands on his bare shoulders. “Hey, you don’t have to. We’ll can call the whole thing off if you want.” A tear trickled down his cheek. Her cheek? Ugh. Even though he longed to be called “she” and “her,” it felt strange. Wrong. Perverted was the word that came to mind. Most likely because it had been thrown at him so many times. Taking a deep breath, he tried to quell the panic. “W-What if they laugh? I look ridiculous, don’t I? Like a man in a dress.” Emma leaned close. Her dark eyes held a fierce determination that Michael couldn’t help but admire. “No one will laugh. You’re beautiful, brave, and you deserve to be happy.” He closed his eyes. “I’m just scared.” Emma smiled and pulled him close, her strong arms wrapping around him. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you.” He nodded again. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready. But would he ever be? And he couldn’t deny how he felt – how he’d always felt, even if it’d taken years and his wife having the sniffles to finally confront the truth.
It’d all started when Emma came home early from work because she was feeling unwell. Instead of finding her husband working in his home office, she found him making lunch—while wearing her dress and high heels.
Michael still remembered each heart-pounding second between when he saw her standing in the doorway, her mouth open, and when she finally found her voice.
“I love you, no matter what,” Emma had said. “You’re so pretty, my love.”
Those words shattered something inside him. The dam of denial and self-hatred crumbled, unleashing a flood of suppressed feelings. He’d always had inklings and doubts about his identity, but he’d always managed to dismiss them as “weird fantasies” or “fetishes.” Don’t all men wonder what it’s like to be a woman? He’d thought. Hell, being a girl just seems a lot more fun.
Emma’s love demolished all the self-doubt and finally allowed him to face his fears. His desires. His true self. But even though Emma was firmly by his side, reaching out to his family had been a disaster. His mother couldn’t understand why her son would so willingly renounce his “manhood.” His father bore an expression of pure disappointment, staring at Michael with cold, blank eyes as he muttered, “You aren’t a girl. You never will be.”
But Emma was a modern-day miracle worker. She’d stood up to his family, steadfastly defending him time and again. Eventually, as their love blossomed to new heights, they decided to renew their wedding vows – this time as two brides.
Michael raised his head to look at her. She was breathtakingly beautiful. “I know you’re here for me,” he said. “You’ve always been here for me. How’d I get so lucky?”
Emma laughed. “Wait, who said you’re the lucky one? I married the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Michael rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe her, of course, but he loved that she said it anyway. He took a deep breath and squeezed Emma’s hand. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
The ceremony was small – just a few close friends, and Emma’s sister officiating. As they stood beneath the canopy, Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Emma. Her ivory dress hugged her body perfectly, and her eyes sparkled in the sunset. His heart swelled with gratitude for the woman who’d become his rock.
“I, Emma, take you, Michelle, to be my wife,” Emma vowed, her voice confident and steady. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, and in joy as well as sorrow, for all the days of our lives.” A tear rolled down Michael - Michelle’s - cheek as she responded. “I, Michelle, take you, Emma, to be my wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, and in joy as well as sorrow, for all the days of our lives.” “Now you may kiss the brides,” Emma’s sister said. Emma cupped Michelle’s face gently, her thumb wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. As their lips met, the world seemed to vanish and Michelle felt truly real for the first time, as if her entire life had been a dress rehearsal for the person she was meant to become. “Hey, Mrs. Harrison,” Emma said softly, pulling away from the kiss with a grin. Michelle smiled back through her tears. “Hey, Mrs. Harrison.”