Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2285

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2285
by Angharad

Copyright© 2014 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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In bed, I related what Danni had said about being the brain’s sister. Simon made the bed shake he laughed so much—well, I suppose it was quite funny. “Da Bwain,” he kept saying in a mock New York accent.

“So it’s footie tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, I don’t know if she’s looking forward to it or dreading it.”

“It had to come, and let’s face it, she’s a jolly good little player—or was.”

“What d’you mean, was?” I asked defensively.

“She’s going to be different now, isn’t she? No testosterone gushing about making her competitive and aggressive. Then we don’t know if the surgery has altered her physical capabilities to do overhead kicks and so forth or if there’ll be psychological effects of trying to hide her talent so they don’t guess her past.”

I’d been feeling quite positive about her doing sport tomorrow and now felt rather apprehensive. I hoped she was sleeping well. I went to put the light out and instead decided to check on her. Simon wondered where I was going but I just shushed him.

I opened her bedroom door just a crack to see her, she was fast asleep so I went in to check on her. She seemed peaceful enough and I threw some more of the blue energy around her to keep her safe. Simon was standing at the door when I turned to leave and made me jump for a moment.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.

“I could ask you the same,” he replied once we were back in our own room.

“I was just checking she was all right, it’s my job.”

“Job?” he cocked an eyebrow but still didn’t look like Roger Moore.

“Yeah, I’m her mother, remember?”

“Ah, I thought that was a way of life.”

“So what were you doing there, following me I suppose?”

“No, I knew where you’d gone—after spending half an hour talking about her, for you to suddenly disappear anywhere but the bathroom meant you had to have gone there. Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“If you start smoking a pipe, I’m off.”

“No thanks, tried that at school—to make me look sophisticated.”

“And?”

“Throwing up every time I lit it up wasn’t quite the image I was trying to convey.”

I chuckled and he gave me a Paddington hard stare which made me laugh even more.

“You wotten wabbit,” he exclaimed before laughing as well. “So you’ve heard one of my adolescent confessions, how about one of yours?”

“Um,” I tried desperately to think of something equally amusing. Nothing was coming which didn’t mean I didn’t have any funny memories but rather I couldn’t think of one.

“C’mon, you’ve got to have some confessions.”

I shrugged and waved my hands about nothing was coming, “I stole one of my mother’s bras that she was going to put in the rubbish.”

“That’s hardly funny, is it?”

“I’m sorry.” I now felt rather sad.

“How old were you?”

“When?” I asked trying to stop my eyes from betraying me.

“You took the bra?”

“About ten or eleven.”

“Did it fit?”

“It went round my chest twice, would have been okay if I’d had one boob on the front and the other on the back.”

He gave me a peculiar look, “I don’t think I could imagine the most lovely body I know being deformed like that.”

That did it, the tears came and he held me. “I’m sorry,” I sniffed trying to stop them but it seemed to make things worse.

“Was life that difficult?” he asked gently.

“Sometimes,” I uttered gaining some control over my emotions. I was trying to work out why I started to cry then I remembered.

“Cathy,” he said squeezing me.

“Yes,” I replied to his squeeze as much as his voice.

“You just blanked me, what happened?”

“Did I? Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing—it was a long time ago.”

“So tell me about it.”

“Nothing much to tell.”

“So it won’t take very long then, will it?”

“All right. I was just starting high school, I was eleven, small and possibly a bit effeminate.”

“Unsurprising in a girl.”

“I was supposed to be a boy, remember?”

“No, you were never a boy, they just tried to make you live as one.”

“Yeah, okay, they thought I was a boy. It was about the time of the bra incident, a boy called John Bunce who had a sister decided to bully me. Like I said, I wasn’t very boyish, I tended to have longer hair than most boys and my nails were longer and shaped—I liked to keep them that way. Also they discovered I wasn’t very good at sports—unless you count running away from bullies as one.”

“Carry on, please.”

“He brought one of his sister’s training bras into school and as he sat behind me, he popped it into my satchel with just the end of it hanging out. As soon as the teacher left our classroom he drew attention to it which of course provided entertainment for the rest of the class. They insisted I wear it. When I refused they forced it on me and I had to sit there for two hours with them all sniggering at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t there and had you been you might well have succumbed to the herd instinct. I was different and they knew it, and those of us who are different they attempt to drive out or destroy. They made me wear it for a whole week on the threat of being beaten up if I refused. The following week he brought in some panties and they made me wear those, taking my own underpants and chucking them out of the window.”

Simon held me close and stroked my arm.

“I went home that evening and my mother caught me admiring myself in the bra and panties and demanded me to tell her where I’d got them. She didn’t believe me when I told her what had happened and confiscated them.”

“This is the same woman who taught you to knit and sew and keep house?”

“Yeah, as long as I wasn’t in women’s clothes she seemed to cope. I think she thought I was gay or something and was probably trying to sublimate my sex drive or hide it from my dad.”

“She didn’t think to speak to the headmaster?”

“That was old Murray, and you know how we got on—he tried to drive me away, instead I’d learned to fight back or do my own thing. Besides, if she had spoken to anyone it would have made things worse and I made up a second story about finding them in a hedgerow obviously blown off someone’s line. She punished me by making me wash the dishes and clear up the kitchen after dinner every night for a week.”

“So the punishment fit the crime, eh?”

“Yeah, she made me wear one of her pinnies while I did so and my dad make snide comments about his sissy son.”

“At least he came to see the error of his ways—finally.”

“I hope so,” I said wiping a tear from my cheek.

“Oh I think so, on one of the few occasions when I met him, he told me to look after his daughter.”

“Did he?” I gasped the tear returning but this time from a memory of affection.

“Yes he did,” he said holding me tightly.

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Comments

Danni dreams on

Podracer's picture

Perhaps of kicking the winning penalty ;) The other Wattses (I count Simon in that) have their lives too in all their colours. I guess we will only get to see fractions of them no matter how many pages this saga has. Heh - the bits we do see are absorbing enough.

"Reach for the sun."

I love

these episodes when we have Cathy and Simon chatting, Its so nice find out so many little snippets about Cathys early life, All the little details that go to make her the strong woman she is, As for Simon, Well you would have to say smoking a pipe ended up in just the right way, I have never been quite sure how anyone could put a pipe in their mouth, light up and actually enjoy the noxious smell that emits from them... Still everyone to their own i guess and i guess in the scheme of things a pipe is marginally better than a cigar...

Kirri

PS.. Not going to take a chance on upsetting the server by posting a reply to Angs blog question, I think though she would probably know what i would say :-)

I love

these episodes when we have Cathy and Simon chatting, Its so nice find out so many little snippets about Cathys early life, All the little details that go to make her the strong woman she is, As for Simon, Well you would have to say smoking a pipe ended up in just the right way, I have never been quite sure how anyone could put a pipe in their mouth, light up and actually enjoy the noxious smell that emits from them... Still everyone to their own i guess and i guess in the scheme of things a pipe is marginally better than a cigar...

Kirri

PS.. Not going to take a chance on upsetting the server by posting a reply to Angs blog question, I think though she would probably know what i would say :-)

Sometimes

Simon can be very caring and insightful , other times he's a bloke.Cathy still hurts when she remembers past troubles which shows the depth of her feelings for them.Another good thought provoking episode,please keep it up.Thank you.

devonmalc

This chapter blessed me . 2

Thank you for this ensightful episode. It shed a bit of welcome light on our insecurities.

Gwen