(Don does a reverse & with Miri impulsively go shopping.)
Choices
Chapter 20
“What!” I practically yelled much too loudly and, after I realized how many heads turned, whispered. “You’re suggesting we go shopping for a dress for our son! Remember. You’re the one who wanted to lock the third floor door. You practically called Dr. Ellis incompetent because he complimented Jack’s hair. You thought I was bonkers for buying him panties. Now you’re all in. Typical!”
Don’t get me wrong.
Besides being shocked by my husband’s complete turnaround (I think in his pilot’s parlance it was called a ‘180’), I was elated, and not just a little skeptical.
I was the first believer and was happy to have Don as an ally. I just thought we needed to be careful and very cautious. Going dress shopping for our boy on the spur of the moment was, to say the least, throwing it to the wind, caution that is. Assuming we bought into the Carl Rogers self-actualization theory about Jack, and we did, then we were taking on such a very huge burden. If we continued on this path we rather inadvertently started down, our lives would be completely turned upside down. We had no idea what challenges lay ahead, only that they were daunting to say the least. I felt some restraint was in order; some time to think, and pray to The Controller.
But this was typical Don Roberts. He wasn’t ever one who went with popular thinking. He seemed to pride himself on almost always taking an opposing view of whatever subject was being discussed. And when he decided on something he was always a ‘man the torpedoes’, let’s do it, no holds barred type of guy. That’s why I called him ‘all in Don’. He took a flying lesson and the next thing I knew we owned a Cessna 180. I wanted a home of our own after living, no make that sacrificing, the first fifteen years of our marriage with my parents, and he buys the biggest pile of red bricks in Moundsville. It might be excruciatingly difficult to convince Don of a point, but when you did, watch out.
Don was also not much of a father. That sounds terrible but he was, as I have probably already noted, more of a child himself. He really didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to our children. Tim wants to rebuild the engine of Don’s 1950 Chevy pick-up. Sure, go ahead. The boy is only fourteen but do it. Brenda wants to visit a college she’s interested in, actually visit the college where a boy she’s interested in goes. Sure and the next thing I know he’s gassed up the Cessna and they’re off for four days. Jack, well I actually didn’t have an example for Don indulging Jack, not yet.
Don, the father, was also a complete failure at administering discipline. Actually I don’t remember him even trying. Not once.
So for Don Roberts it was easier, and typical, to be all in.
Just three hours before I almost made a scene right there in Walgreen’s, the father didn’t want to be seen in Wheeling with his son, the boy in tight pants and very girl looking hair. Now he was all for buying him a dress of his own. I was a believer but this was beyond the pale. I agreed we had to work with Jack and see where this went. I was ready to lay out a plan, decide how and when to talk to our other children. As an adult I instinctively knew we needed to give Dr. Ellis more time with Jack, before we went ‘all in’.
Of course, I loved shopping, but this was Wheeling, and shopping with a boy for a dress would be, well, social suicide, not to mention inviting the scrutiny of the moral police. It would be just plain pathetic, instantly sensational and front page news. It might even evoke a new psychological term, ‘sociopathetic’. We just couldn’t take him into a store and look at dresses.
Before we landed in Walgreen’s we had been with Dr. Ellis for well over two hours and I desperately had to use the Ladies Room. When we got off the elevator I headed straight for the one in the lobby telling Don and Jack I would meet them in Walgreen’s.
After all that Dr. Ellis told us my mind was spinning. I needed a cigarette and could use a stiff scotch but was not likely to get either right away (I tried not to smoke in public; it wasn’t ladylike.) I was trying to sort through all of what we had learned, how the session ended with my husband seemingly convinced his son would never be a typical boy and accepting it.
I felt we were living some strange Alfred Hitchcock story. What is this wanting to be the opposite sex? I went into the stall and pulled up my skirt and struggled with my girdle thinking about Jack wanting to be a girl, maybe even looking forward to growing up to become a woman. It wasn’t easy, I thought, and if he knew just what a woman went through, just to go to the bathroom, he might be cured. Maybe I should give Jack a lesson or two on what he would face, I considered. Boys had it so easy. Why would anyone want to go through this if they didn’t have to?
I made a mental note to talk to Jack about that. If we were going to let matters progress I should even show him what I go through, just to go out of the house. Hair, makeup, stockings, hooks, clothes; everything had to be perfect and while he may be all dreamy about a girl’s slip or dress, it mostly wasn’t fun. Maybe some reality would cure him. I told myself to ask Don what he thought. Sure I loved getting dolled up and loved being a woman but there was that monthly problem and sex can be, well… What was I thinking? Jack’s a boy. He has boy parts not girl parts. He’s not going to have periods or grow up, get married and have sex like a girl and I shouldn’t have been thinking it.
I pulled myself together, washed my hands and applied some fresh lipstick. I stared at the woman in the mirror. I liked what I saw. I wasn’t Loretta Young beautiful but I was definitely attractive. I still turned a few heads and men often flirted with me. I liked to dress well and could afford it.
I looked closer at the image. What was this girl–boy thing? I had never questioned my own existence before; never questioned who I was, what I was; never thought about self-actualization. It was a given. I was who I was; a woman, married with three children. Simple. End of story. I tried to think about what it would be like; being a boy, or man actually. The thought made me laugh out loud; it was silly, ridiculous. ‘Why did Jack feel this way’, I then wondered. I had never really known anyone who questioned who they were, at least not as a man or woman. Now I was the mother of a child who adamantly was questioning who he, or now I had to consider, who she was.
Boys are boys, girls are girls. That’s clear from birth. We give them a male or female name, toys to match and we dress them appropriately to their sex at birth and it all works out. Except this time it didn’t; this time everything is upside down. Why me? Why Jack? Were we really going to be indulging parents? What was wrong with us?
I heard the door to the Ladies Room open and a young mother brushed in with her daughter, seven or eight, a little younger than Jack. The girl was wearing a cute dress with full skirt, long sleeves and white collar, and black Mary Jane’s with white socks. She had shoulder length hair. I saw a little of Jack in her. I couldn’t control my next thought. Maybe it wasn’t a girl at all; maybe the mom had a boy like Jack and she just let the child go out dressed so perfectly as a girl. At eight or nine and with long hair who could really tell. The thought almost made me ill. Almost in a panic I rushed out of the ladies room and found my husband and my son, like the children they were, sitting together blowing bubbles through their straws into Cokes.
* * *
We ordered club sandwiches, Jack tomato soup and grilled cheese, and after we were served, we started talking about what to do. Don immediately started pushing the proverbial envelope without hesitation.
“What’s next?” He began.
Jack was sitting next to Don. He looked at his Dad, then over at me, waiting for an answer.
“Let’s think about this and talk at home later.” I suggested but sensed something more than the coffee was brewing.
I watched my son. He hardly looked like a boy but wasn’t dressed like a girl. I imagined how he would look if he were wearing a dress right that moment and concluded that no one would really be the wiser. No, he didn’t have the long hair the girl in the ladies room had, but the face, and the way he sat with his hands perfectly folded in his lap, was so unlike any boy I knew. But that is what scared me and that is why I had to be on guard for any full speed ahead approach. For me it wasn’t a matter of belief but a matter of protection. Some faith is rewarded, some persecuted. Being open and blatant invited persecution. We had to find a way to survive in Moundsville, at least until we had more answers.
Jack looked back at his Dad. “Miri, we are in this now.” He pitched. “Dr. Ellis was clear about our choices. Either we put the kibosh on Jack with something like that aversion crap or we give him, uh,” Don paused and looked at Jack, “uh her some latitude.” Jack actually blushed and I almost choked on my sandwich. Don ‘My Son Will Never Be a Sissy’ Roberts was actually using the feminine pronoun with Jack in public. I was literally in disbelief and moved ‘circle the wagons’ to the top of my metaphor list.
“Look Miri, we don’t have an alternative now.” Don continued leaning across the table whispering, trying not to let Jack or anyone else hear him. “I’ve not always been a good father to this kid, Miri. I took Tim fishing, twice, and I dote on Brenda all the time. But this one, for whatever reason, I’ve just almost ignored. You know that. I don’t know, maybe I somehow knew he was different and I was afraid. But dammit if he’s going to be girly then I’m going to be in her corner.” He concluded mixing pronouns. I had a feeling that the future would bring a lot of pronoun confusion.
“She needs a sign from us. She needs to know we are with her.” Don said confidently, this time being consistent with pronouns, putting his hand gently on Jack’s shoulder. I got the distinct feeling that I had been set up. Don obviously preempted me when I was indisposed in the ladies room, bonding with Jack, the girl. Now he was the good father and I was the problem. How quickly had our roles reversed. I called a time out and sent Jack to look at magazines and then started in on my ‘all in’ husband.
“What! You’re suggesting we go shopping for a dress for our son?”
That’s exactly what he was suggesting. After I reminded him of his previous hard position and contrasted that with his complete turnaround, he challenged me.
“Why not? Look at him, her. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before but dammit he’s never going to make it as a boy or a man. Let’s go get her a dress, one that she can call her own.”
“Don, we can’t waltz into Stone and Thomas and let Jack try on dresses. You’ve completely lost it. Don, I’ve shopped there with Brenda, many times. People know me and they know I only have one daughter.”
“We’ll tell them she’s our niece.” He proposed.
“No!” I said emphatically. “Don, I haven’t thought this through and obviously neither have you. I thought that today we were going to hear how we get Jack from thinking girl all the time to actually somehow accepting being a boy, at least partially so he can survive. Now all of a sudden we are advised to just let him, or her, explore this. I’m not against that but I just don’t know how that will work. I really love Dr. Ellis and I trust him but, well, we have to go slow, Don.”
“And besides,” I added trying to counter his suggestion. “I doubt you’re prepared to see Jack in a dress. It’s a shock. It was for me and I know it will be for you.”
“Perspective, Miri. It’s just a matter of how you view it. If I don’t think about Jack as a boy, don’t focus on the obvious, I could easily handle that kid in a dress.” He pointed to Jack looking rather androgynous holding the recent copy of Teen Magazine. I did that. I ignored the obvious the previous Saturday in the privacy of my own bathroom with Jack nearly naked when I trimmed his hair, even when I caught a glimpse. Trying not to focus on the obvious hiding underneath a dress in the girl’s department of Stone and Thomas would, no doubt, be more difficult.
I actually thought Don was bluffing and that he would never be that bold. He was a gambler, gambled with stock, invested in a down real estate market. But he made money at both and was able to pay cash for our pile of bricks, our home, and I don’t think he borrowed any money to buy the Cessna. I had played poker with Don both literally and figuratively, losing everything but my panties during the literal experience. I was so tempted to call his bluff but I knew that I would lose big and just couldn’t risk it. But he continued, pushing.
“Miri, I know you want to.” He continued. “Admit it. You loved doing Jack’s hair Saturday and while you claim you were forced into buying the panties she’s probably wearing right now, you loved doing that, loved doing something almost sinful. It was powerful, wasn’t it, buying panties for your little boy?” He chided me enjoying making me sound like, and feel like, a sinful debauching mother. “You even bought the bra too and now she’s wearing it. Wouldn’t you like to see her try on a fancy dress? Who would ask any questions?”
I stewed for much too long. I didn’t know if Don was serious, or just pushing my buttons. I could never win with Don when he completely put me on the spot but he was at least partially right. I did enjoy fixing Jack’s hair and I did like buying him the panties and bra. Was that so wrong? Was it my fault that this child was like this? I was just being a mother, wasn’t I?
“I don’t like you when you see through me.” I finally answered. “Who would ask questions? Anyone who knew us, who knew Jack. Don, I’m on a first name basis with half the people at Stone and Thomas. Somebody would know the girl with us is Jack. And I’m starting to think you are getting some kind of kick here too. Either something about a sissy son is perversely exciting you, or you’re trying to rankle me.” I charged. “Of course I enjoyed fixing her hair and buying the panties and bra, and I would enjoy shopping with, uh. You know she has a name don’t you?” Don’s confident intimidating expression changed indicating Jack didn’t tell his father her name. “She goes by Becky, Don. Get used to it.” Now I felt I was gaining the upper hand.
“Anyway we are not taking our whatever, boy, girl into a store and try on dresses. Not today and not for a long time if ever. We have so much to figure out and we need to take this one step at a time. Here’s what we are going to do. I’m going to buy a tube of Brylcreem and fix his hair like a boy. We are going and look at dresses in Stone and Thomas, just look. You and Jack are going to pretend to be miserable doing it. And on the way home we are going to set some rules about what he can do and what she can’t.” I dictated, intentionally mixing pronouns.
He grinned, figuratively folding his hand. “You win. But we have to do more than just look. I practically promised her a dress.” I do not understand how or why both Don and I so easily could use the female pronoun with our son but it began that very day.
“Oh, so that’s it. Did you lead her to believe she would get to try it on?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well she isn’t.” I told him standing to end the discussion. Don paid for lunch and soon we were out on the street heading for the big department store.
* * *
“Hold still!” I commanded. I had not calculated how difficult it would be to re-style Jack’s hair in public. I almost pulled him into the ladies room (the same one where I saw the little girl with her mother and thought how easy at this age it would be for a boy to look like a girl) but thought better of it, and then found a relatively quiet corner of the lobby. Still I felt the prying eyes of people coming and going. After applying a heavy amount of the Brylcreem goop to his hair, I combed it like I had done before. I still had trouble seeing the boy. Don was right, it was perspective and I was quickly losing any perspective that my child was anything but a girl. How was I going to stay neutral?
I lectured Jack while we walked to Stone and Thomas hoping Don would also get some benefit. I told them that for the time being, actually for the rest of Jack’s life, he would have to hide this truly unique thing he felt. (I fortunately didn’t have to think about pronouns using the neutral ‘you’.) At school he would have to hide how he felt inside.
“I’ve been doing that.” He noted.
“And whatever space we are able to give you, you’ll just somehow have to ignore that you are not exactly like other girls.” I said trying not to let people on the street hear me.
“I’ve been doing that, too.” He answered.
I instructed Jack to pretend to be miserable in the store while I looked at dresses and suggested he rub his right eye if I held up something he really likes. He thought the game would be fun and almost pulled me onto the elevator leading up to the second floor and the girls’ department.
Of course, as soon as I started looking an older sales lady, one I had dealt with many times before, approached.
“May I assist you?” She said rather formally. “Uh, Mrs. Roberts, isn’t it?”
“Yes, thank you for remembering. How are you?”
“Just fine. Are you shopping for your daughter?”
Without thinking I almost turned to introduce Jack who, fortunately, was trying to look sad standing behind his father. But I caught myself.
“Oh no. My niece is coming to stay with us for a while. I shouldn’t tell you this but my brother can’t seem to hold a job, and they are losing their home. Well, what could we do? Becky is going to live with us through the school year and poor thing, she just has nothing to wear.”
I didn’t have a brother much less a niece. I had no idea I could fabricate such blatant lies so quickly. It was rather fun though.
“And is that your husband and…” She asked looking over to Don and Jack who were now sitting in chairs trying to look uninterested.
“Yes.” I answered quickly before she mistakenly called my child a daughter. I doubted she would but in that split second I had to interrupt. “My husband, Don and my son, Jack.”
“And your niece, Becky, isn’t with you?” The sales lady pried glancing toward Don and Jack.
“She’s coming Friday. I wanted to have something to surprise her.” I continued lying.
“Of course. Yes, take something home and if it doesn’t fit, bring her in Saturday and we will make her look wonderful. I’ll be here. It is so nice of you to do that for your family.” She said validating my sin.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Don, up from his chair, looking at a rack of dresses and sensed disaster. He was being far too aggressive for a man, a father and was boldly looking at dresses more appropriate for his real daughter, the one already through puberty. He would take a dress off a rack, hold it up, obviously so Jack, resisting getting off the chair, could see it, and then he would put it back. He paid no attention to size. I worried he was drawing attention so I took over this process.
I motioned for him to join me and whispered to him to control himself. I went through several dresses and after rejecting a few found a very sweet but basic dress. It was stylish but not too dressy. It would be a nice dress for school but if it became Jack’s it likely didn’t have anything remotely academic in its future, except perhaps being worn while our Becky did her homework on the third floor, or maybe in her room. It was dark blue with mid-length puff sleeves and a full skirt. It had a tight neck line with a cute white color. It buttoned in the back to the waist.
Jack beamed and I frowned. He understood and called over to me.
“Mom, I’m tired, when are we going home?” He rubbed his right eye and tried to look bored. What an actor, or should I say actress.
I showed the dress to Don and we looked at each other. Don tried not to look at Jack and nodded his head. I checked the size. I went through the rack and found a size six and hoped that would be close enough. I told Jack and Don to stay there while I took the dress to the sales counter. The dowdy sales lady came over and I asked her to hold it while I looked further but then instinctively asked.
“Do you think a size 6 is right for an eleven year old?”
“For an eleven year old? I doubt it.” She responded. “Is your niece a small girl or, uh large? She would be at that age where girls start to grow faster than boys and start to change.” She said quietly.
“I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving but she is smallish, not tall. I don’t think she’s started yet. She’s about the same size as Jack.” I said too quickly looking over at my son.
“Stand up Jack.” I commanded so the sales lady could evaluate his build and height. “Yes, I would say they are almost exactly the same. That will change soon.” I added and then chuckled.
“Well, I think a size six is too small. She would be an 8 or perhaps a 10.” With that the overly helpful sales lady returned the size 6 I had picked out to the rack and brought back both a girl’s size 8 and size 10.
“Hold these up to your son. I’m sure he won’t mind.” She said looking at Jack standing with his arms folded in front of him. She smiled almost mischievously probably getting some pleasure out of tormenting a boy like that.
“Come over here Jack.” I said trying not to make eye contact with him. He did and I held each dress against him. I watched him try to hide his excitement and was proud he did.
“Maybe he sould try one on.” I teased looking at the sale lady and laughing.
“Oh I don’t think that would be appropriate, or allowed.” She said clearly thinking I was not at all serious. “I would go with the ten.”
My unpredictable husband was enjoying himself. I gave him a wink and found my way to the girls’ undergarment area. Something came over me and I couldn’t just buy a dress, especially after the story I fed the sales lady. I picked out a cotton full slip, also size ten. It had lots of lace trim around the bottom of the slip’s skirt and on the straps. It also had darts, small ones that would accommodate the beginning of breast development. Becky could wear her bra with it perfectly. I then picked up two pair of white socks and three pair of cotton panties. Becky was going to be able to dress as if she were going to school even though I doubted that would ever happen. Finally, I picked out a sweet nightgown. It was long with no waist and high neck. It was nylon but not frilly.
I took my armload to the counter where the sales lady patiently waited.
“Will that be all?” She said warmly. “We have some winter dresses on sale already and your niece can’t wear this dress much until spring.” She suggested trying to increase sales. It worked. She showed me what was on sale and I ended up with two long sleeve dresses and a pair of leggings. I was out of control.
With my pile of things on the sales counter I pulled my Stone and Thomas charge plate out of my purse and handed it to the sales lady. She took it and fit it in the imprint press and placed a sales receipt form on top. She made the impression and started to write up the items handing the charge plate back to me.
“Thank you, Mrs. Roberts.” She said as she wrote. I felt Don standing behind me. “Jesus, Miri.” He whispered. “I really only promised one dress. What about stockings and shoes? Another bra?” Don’s sarcasm was his strong suit. I put my hand on his lips and turning away from the sales lady told him.
“Don’t temp me. It was your suggestion but she’s too young for stockings, or even a bra. You should know better than suggest I go shopping.”
I was both acting and thinking just like the mother of an eleven year old daughter. In that store at that moment I had unconsciously switched Jack, the son, to Becky, the daughter. She was too young for a bra, at least for the one I let her have and that she was wearing. I turned and quickly headed over where the bras were and picked up a 30 AA Teen Form training bra (appropriately called Lucky Start) and added it to the pile, giving Don a tempting smile.
Of course Jack was excited but behaved himself. He pretended not to be interested but I knew better. The sales lady put the accessories in one bag and the dresses each in a paper dress bag. When she finished she handed the bags to me and looked at Jack, then at me. I fell into a moment of guilt and defensiveness.
“He can’t wait to see his cousin. They’re the same age.” I blurted out.
“That’s so nice.” She cooed. “I’m sure they will have fun playing together. Have a nice day.” She added as we made our escape.
* * *
A cloud of guilt hung over me on the way home. Jack sat in the back seat clutching the bags of girl things we bought for his alter self, Becky, as if someone might take them from her. For the longest time no one said anything and then it seemed we all wanted to talk at the same time.
“Are you happy?” Don spoke first, looking into the rear view mirror at his child, who had fished my hair brush out of my purse and was trying to remake her hair without success due to the vast amount of crude oily glop clinging to each strand.
“You know this doesn’t mean you can just dress as Becky all the time, don’t you?” I told her, him.
“Right.” Don added, returning to his natural pragmatic state. “I know we got carried away, Jack, and we want you to enjoy the clothes and have fun, but, uh, well, there are two problems, as I see it.”
“Yes, daddy. Today was almost how I thought it would be.” Jack said responding to his father’s first question. “And I know mommy that it will take a while for people to get to know Becky.” She said responding to my restriction. “Maybe next year I can go to school as Becky.”
“What!” Don and I yelled in unison, both turning toward the back seat to look at the eleven year old.
“Don, watch the road!” I almost screamed seeing a bus coming toward us out of the corner of my eye. He corrected in time while I tried to regain my composure. This was the problem I had feared. This self-actualization thing Dr. Ellis talked about seemed actually, association noted, to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, or perhaps better stated, a faith-fulfilling prophecy. Your child claims to ‘actually’ be the sex opposite from the one at birth, and then somehow convinces you it’s true. You become a believer, and the next thing you know you are buying dresses and using the feminine pronoun. And the child starts thinking the dream is being ‘fulfilled’ and plans on a complete switch, at home, school and church. Miracle or blind faith, I didn’t know but there was not going to be a complete switch. That miracle could not happen.
It was all too much for me and reality came roaring back in a stream of verbal consciousness. “No, no, no, and no. Becky will not be going to school, or church or out of the house.” I started, invoking the third person to the boy in the back seat. “Becky has to stay in the shadows. Jack goes to school and Jack has friends, boy friends, friends who are boys who have no idea about Becky. Jack plays basketball and marbles or whatever else he does with his friends. Becky can have time to herself. Becky doesn’t get to have friends. What am I saying? This is crazy.” I realized that I was rambling.
“Don, are you listening? Are we really doing this? Did you just talk me into buying a dress for Jack?” I charged.
“Three dresses, a slip, a nightgown, panties and leggings. I only suggested one dress.” The driver responded factually.
“Becky.” The child in the back seat spoke up also correcting me.
“Right. Rebecca Katherine. Why didn’t you tell me you had a name before, a girl’s name? And where did it come from?” I asked turning completely turnaround facing the child in the back seat who now had her hair brushed forward covering half of her face. “And how am I supposed to keep the names straight?” I asked rhetorically of neither Jack or Becky.
“Becky comes from Becky Thatcher from Tom Sawyer. Her name was Rebecca but Tom and Huck called her Becky. She’s pretty and really liked Tom. She’s such a girl but goes out and does stuff with Tom and Huck.”
“Oh!” I said trying to process another revelation. I felt like I failed as a mother. So many things about this child I didn’t know and should have.
“And Katherine is from Katherine Hepburn. I just love her movies. She’s sassy and beautiful. I’m going to be sassy and beautiful when I grow up.” She announced.
“Just don’t be sassy yet.” I mumbled then continued the stream of verbal nonsense allowing doubt to creep back into my conscious thinking. Don drove so much more cautiously than he acted in the store.
“Jack, this Becky thing, well, it doesn’t happen. Moms and dads don’t let their boys do what we are letting you do. It’s, uh it’s bizarre. And if it wasn’t for Dr. Ellis we probably wouldn’t either. Dad and I just don’t know why we are doing this, allowing you to explore this Becky thing. Maybe we shouldn’t but we are, and you have to believe in us as much as we believe in you. And we do believe, both of us. But I’ve told you no one else is going to. You have to trust us and listen to us and help us. I don’t know what your brother and sister will say but we have to tell them, have to convince them. Dr. Ellis told us things that are terrible, about what could happen and if anyone found out about Becky and that we are letting her run around the house in a dress, well, that would be the end. And we don’t know what’s going to happen. We don’t know how you can be Becky in the future. Maybe things will change, I don’t know. Maybe, when you get older, this won’t be so important, once you start, uh, once you start changing.”
“Mom, I’m not going to change.” Came a meek reply from the back seat.
“I meant once your body starts to change, like Tim’s.” I reminded him, her. It wasn’t as if my third child was oblivious to the changes boys, and girls, go through beginning at about his age, but it was obvious he didn’t like the topic.
“Maybe I won’t become like Tim.” She answered me, this time more forcefully. It sounded as if she considered it a choice, and I suppose we had given her every reason to believe there was a power that could make certain miracles come true, as well as insulate her from becoming what she dreaded. I decided not to argue with her but saw so clearly how thin the ice was that we had skated onto with the girl in the back seat of our car.
As we approached our home that afternoon after a day of enlightenment and indulgence, dark clouds rolled in over the Ohio Valley and seemed to hover over Moundsville. To me they were an ominous sign from God the Controller, direct to me, that before we could bask in sunshine and warmth there would be darkness, storms, hardship and sacrifice as well as a deep freezing cold.
It was so easy to be frivolous and indulging for a couple of hours in Wheeling but I knew there would be an unrelenting price to be paid in Moundsville. The child in the back seat of our Oldsmobile was oblivious to the clouds and the storm threat. She seemed not to notice the cold wind swirling outside. But Don and I did and our moods concurrently went from confident optimism to resigned gloom as we pulled into our driveway.
