“I have to say, this is quite a different way of dressing for you.” Mom said, very calmly. “So, I take it that this means things have changed?”

“Yeah, it’s time Emily started to live a real life. I have to face it, Mom; I’m never gonna be ‘me’ again.” I found that I didn’t have any tears left to cry. I was kind of numb, now, and it surprised me that I almost didn’t care anymore.

Mom hugged me, and smiled with wet eyes. She just held me for a long time without saying anything.

Grandma looked at me very seriously. “Emily, I understand what you’re doing, and I approve, but being a girl doesn’t mean you have to start doing girly things, you know. It just seems like maybe you’re being a little over-the-top.”

“I know, Grandma, but I need to make a statement, even if it’s only to myself. Wearing skirts may not be a daily thing for me, but I’m going to do my best to be comfortable in them. I’ve got a lot of things to get used to that I never thought I’d be interested in.”

“Well, I know this is important to you, but remember, there are many different kinds of girls out there. You’re allowed to choose what best fits the way you feel.”

"I know Grandma," I told her. "Well, gotta go change-be right back, okay?"

I went to my room to think. Was I going too far? I knew lots of girls who rarely wore skirts, and who looked very good. On the other hand, business wear for women generally means a skirt, and most formalwear was a dress of some kind. I wanted to fit in, and be comfortable doing so. I think I need to talk to Debbie about this.

Of course, she might be a little too much for me, with her mini-skirts and heels. When we were dating, she would wear these pleather pants that were so tight you could almost tell if she shaved that day. As I guy, I had loved them, but you couldn’t get me to wear anything like that. No way, no how!

Then there was the subject of makeup. It’s something that most people expect, and just like a skirt, is almost mandatory in business, or in formal situations. Could I get used to that, too?

I changed tops, and threw on one of my favorite T-shirts, a black one with the “Bat-logo” on it in yellow. I was feeling a little less than heroic, but I had to do it. I went back to the living room to see if Mom was busy.

“Mom?” I called, but she didn’t answer. I figured that it was no big deal, she must have gone on an errand. I went to the kitchen to start something for dinner, and found Grandma on the floor, unconscious. I rushed to her and dropped to my knees.

“Grandma? Are you all right?" I said, remembering my first aid training, but as soon as I touched her I knew she wasn’t well. I focused, and pushed my energy into her. I somehow knew what she needed immediately, and I willed it to happen. I gave her all the strength I could, and got her stabilized, but she needed to see a doctor, and fast.

I pulled out my cell-phone and punched in 911, keeping a hand on Grandma’s arm at all times so that I could monitor her condition. I did my best to tell the operator clearly who I was, why I was calling, and where we lived. In minutes I heard the sirens.

I told the EMT’s what I knew, without going into details that I wouldn’t have normally known. An ambulance arrived just a few minutes later, although at the time it seemed like it took much longer. As they loaded her into the ambulance, I told them which hospital to take her to, and I called my Mom.

“Hello?”

“Mom, it’s Ga-Emily, where are you?”

“On my way home, honey, what’s up?”

“Grandma had a small heart attack, I did my best to help her, and she’s on the way to Eastside right now.”

There was a short silence, and then Mom asked me in a strained voice if I was all right.

“I’m fine, but a little drained. I’m gonna grab a popsicle for some quick sugar, then head on over to the hospital. Are you coming home, or heading to Eastside?”

“I’m on my way to Eastside, honey. I’ll see you there, drive arefully!”

"Got it, Mom.”

“I'll hang up and call Dad. Love you, sweetheart.” Her phone clicked off, so I went inside, got my popsicle and made sure everything was locked up. I called Debbie and told her what was up, then climbed in to my truck and went to Eastside General (A HealthyFirst! Facility).

It didn’t take long to get there (yes, Mom, I drove carefully), and when I got there Grandma was doing fairly well. She was in a regular room, and as I walked in, she and Mom were talking, which kind of surprised me.

“There she is!” Grandma said. “My hero!”

Huh? (Yes, I know. Real Intelligent)

“Thanks to you stepping in and opening up the blockage, the damage was minimal, and I’ll only be in the hospital for observation. The doctors couldn’t even tell what happened for sure. The theory right now is that it was a ‘cardiac event’, but no one wants to commit to anything.”

“So there’s no long term damage?” I asked, amazed.

“Well, that’s why they want to keep this monitor on me.” She pulled out a small gray box with wires running out of it and into the pocket of her gown. “This is connected to sensors on my chest, and it transmits the readings wirelessly so I can move around while they keep an eye on my heart.”

“When I came in, the doctor was here,” Mom said. “He looked a little confused, but he said if everything continues to look good, she can go home tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful!” I had been very worried that we could have lost her-after all, I had no idea how long she had been on the floor. I was so glad that I had tried to help Mom out with dinner.

Mom smiled at me. “Sweetheart, we are both extremely proud of you, so tomorrow, your real training begins. I’ve been trying to decide how I wanted to start your lessons, and now I have a few ideas.”

“Umm, could we add some lessons in being a girl? I think I’m doing well, but there are things I do need help with, like cosmetics and learning how to take better care of my hair.”

“I think you’ve been more than successful so far, but yes, I will be happy to help you. In fact, I’ve been itching to do some mother-daughter things with you.” She smiled. “Some of my ideas may sound a little crazy, but there are reasons.”

“What...kind of ideas?” I asked, cautiously.

“Well, for example, to help you feel better about your body, I was thinking about dance lessons, and more specifically, ballet.”

Me, in a tutu?

Kill me now.