Goodbye, Debbie Fox

The last time I was with my friend Debbie we never laughed quite as much as we used to. We had a good time together as always, but not crazy giggling that usually characterised our get togethers. We'd decided to go to the Euro pride Mardi Gras in Manchester together. I'd only made up my mind I was going the day before, and I'm so glad I went now.

I called Debbie from motorway service station on my way to Manchester to tell her I’m running late. I said I'd see her in half an hour and she said she'd put the kettle on. As usual, I got lost after coming off the motorway at Bury—for some reason, I couldn't get my brain to read the map and directions to Debbie's new home. In a daze I headed towards her old house cos I knew the way there and eventually I had to call her again to come and get me from the petrol station opposite where she used to live. We both laughed as we acknowledged the hormones turn your brain to mush sometimes, and the simple task of following directions becomes an impossibility.

Debbie with her usual good humour drove out to meet me so I could follow her back. I can't remember now if we first hugged at the petrol station or if we stayed in our cars and hugged when we arrived at the car park behind her flat. It seems important that I should remember this but I can’t.

After we parked we gathered all my gear and went into the block of flats. A woman neighbour was leaving as we entered and she stopped to chat with Debs. It was typical Debs; she's only been living here a short time and already knew all the neighbours. She was proud that she had fitted in easily in her new home and life, I could see it and I was pleased for her.

She showed me round her new flat which was actually no more than a room. She had decorated it beautifully though. I could see all the little feminine touches she'd done, the curtains, the wall mirrors, the plants and pictures as you came in the front door. She'd even painted the tiles in the kitchen and bought saucepans to match. The best thing was her bed—it was on platform 5 feet in the air so she could utilise the space under it better. She also had her wardrobe under there and her PC with an office chair.

I was impressed she had made a big effort to make this a home; she told me several times how happy she was here to be able to finally live as herself. I remembered her old house where I'd stayed a few times and I'd slept in her infant son’s bed. That place was 10 times bigger than this tiny flat but we both agreed that at least the flat was hers, not "his." This was a fresh start, a new beginning. In time her family were sure to come round and accept her... and if they didn't, screw them! We laughed, but I thought about my own parents who had disowned me completely.

We spent the next couple of hours getting ready to go out, as you do. We both tried on different clothes and tried different hairstyles while we sipped at the bottle of wine I'd brought. These times are always the best I think, it's when you really get to know someone and feel comfortable with them. Getting ready to go out is almost better than actually going out. We did our make up together at the same time in the same kitchen mirror. We both were using tinted moisturizer, we laughed at the pre IPL and for my electrolysis days when we used to have to plaster our faces with heavy foundation. Now we spent almost as much time doing our make up to look like no make up, we congratulated each other on our hair, she was just beginning to grow hers long enough to look really good, and I'd had mine permed since we last saw each other a month ago. I told her she looked great and I meant it. She had a nice slender body and good legs. She was all sun-tanned and healthy looking. She refused to believe she looked passable though. She thought she needed Facial Feminisation Surgery badly. I told her she would get it if it meant that much to her, but really it's what's inside that counts. She joked about how Nikki would put her hand over the bottom half of her face and say she looked great, only needing the chin and mouth bit done (smile). Finally we were ready and it was time to go.

Debs had worked out the travel arrangements and it amounted to her driving us to the local tram stop and leaving her car whilst we got the tram. I'd never been on a tram before and I normally hate public transport but if Debbie said t was cool I believed her. So we managed to squeeze on to a packed tram heading for Manchester city centre. We found a seat together and chatted all the way in. I was a bit dubious about using public transport on a sat night but it was no problem. We both seemed to pass completely and I soon relaxed.

We finally arrived at the gay village, via a straight pub (I guess we both wanted to prove to ourselves we could use straight bars if we wanted). We did the usual bars and danced everywhere we went, even in the street. Debs loved to dance. We ate chips in the fast food place next to Napoleons bar and Debbie tried to match make two young gay guys who were sitting near us. Typical Debbie, she saw they were made for each other and went out of her way to facilitate it. They went off together smiling soon after.

We went into Napoleons for old times sake and danced with the trannies. Debs caught the attention of TF and danced with him; she so loved to dance! Everywhere we went Debbie started conversations with strangers. She always amazed me at how she could do this and everyone always responded positively to her. She'd done the same thing a month previously at my place when we got a taxi into the town centre. The driver looked the most awful unfriendly macho bastard you could imagine but within minutes he was chatting away happily to Debs while I looked on in amazement.

Anyway eventually the night ended and we went for the last bus back to Bury at 3:30 AM. The crowd on the bus were not as friendly as the one on the tram coming, but Debbie was relaxed. A lot of guys were drunk and arguing but no one bothered us. I thought we must be passing ok. You get worried when you are out with another TS 'cause it multiplies the likelihood of being read.

We were only a few minutes from our stop when disaster struck. This guy walks down the bus to get off. As he comes up behind Debs he starts playing with her hair and saying your wig's not very good darling. It was clear he had "read" Debs, he was drunkenly aggressive, challenging her to respond, and for the first time all night I felt vulnerable. I looked at Debs and she looked back at me and I could see the hurt in her eyes. She said nothing and the guy got off laughing.

It took the shine off the night a tad because we both realised how close we'd come to trouble and no one on the bus had made any effort to step in to help. We got back to Debs place soon after and had a cup of tea and a nice chat, we sat on her settee with our arms round each other reliving the night till I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and fell asleep. Debs then phoned Nikki in Thailand she told me about that in the morning.

The next day (Sunday) we got up at 10 AM. Debs made me tea & toast. We decided to go back to Manchester city centre to do a bit of shopping then go to the Euro pride again. I drove my car to collect hers and we went in tandem to the city and parked in a multi-story. We walked through the city together with Debs hanging on to my arm. She's never done this before but it seemed right and I was happy to be close to her. We spent ages in Primark looking at clothes, and Debs, thoughtful of others as usual, bought a couple of belts, one for her and one for a girl at work who she thought would like one. Then we went back to the village and looked for our friend Cathy on the union stands but never saw her. We had a giggle looking at the leather and dildos on sale at some of the other stands then watched a bit of the free music concert while we had some takeaway food in the open air. I decided to take a photo of her and called her name just as I clicked, I wanted a keepsake of this time and I knew if I asked her to pose she wouldn't, she never liked her photo taken. I asked her to take a pic of me and she did but her eyes looked far away and uninterested.

I suppose it was then that I first noticed we hadn't had our usual giggling fits we always had when we met up. It had been a great weekend but that was missing. we always had a chemistry between us whenever we had been together in the past which made us start giggling uncontrollably for no reason. She was the only person I ever did this with. She always made me happy and I really looked forward to being with her.

We walked back to the car park and again she held my arm along the way. Debs offered to lead me back to the motorway cos she knew what a dizzy bitch I was. I agreed, so although I would follow her out of Manchester we said our goodbyes in the car park. We had a hug and a kiss then both climbed in our cars. I followed her for 5 or 6 miles to the motorway, I remember laughing at her cos she was still dancing, even in the car to the music from the radio. We came to the junction where we would part. I pulled up beside her at the lights and we mouthed our goodbyes and waved at each other. The lights changed and she was gone!

That was fifteen years ago and the last time saw Debbie Fox, and I'm still so very unhappy about what happened the next day. I can hardly begin to say what I feel, but I thought I'd write down our last times together as a memorial. I'll never forget her.

PostScript: My dear friend Debbie Fox took her own life the day after I said goodbye to her in Manchester. She'd been unable to reconcile with her ex-partner an access arrangement to see her infant son, and her parents had refused to accept her transition.