New Walter's Life

 

My thanks to Monica Rose for proofreading and helpful suggestions.

This is a work of adult fiction so that's a caution that covers everything. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.

 

 

1

More than 30 years ago, in the mid-eighties, I bought half of a semi-detached house in a neighborhood of Portland while the other half was bought by a young woman named Dahlia after her divorce.  She had a seven month-old daughter name Laura.  I moved in with my maternal grandparents after they sold their home in Stacyville.  The new house was relatively inexpensive because it was just two bedrooms with a bath-and-a-half and backyard that faced a barren lot.   Five hundred feet away was I-95.  The very first thing I did was to plant a wall of firs behind the backyard to keep away the dust from the barren lot and the noise of the interstate.

Dahlia and I were good neighbors.  My grandparents were baby-sitting Laura while Dahlia sometimes helped them at home when I was away.  I was seven years older than Dahlia and we were friends but nothing romantic.  There was no click between us, or no spark or whatever.

Dahlia’s former husband was sending her monthly checks and that money was enough for Dahlia to stay at home a lot with Laura and work at a part time job.

Later, my grandparents passed away, one after another in just one year.  A year or two later, I decided to leave all my assets directly to Laura and her children because I had no other relatives.

Meanwhile, Laura had become a big girl and she was spending a lot of time with her boyfriend, Liam O’Connor.  Laura conceived at the age of fifteen and Dahlia was furious.  I tried to calm down both of them.  Everything ended when Laura went for an abortion.  It wasn’t the best way.  I actually never said directly, ‘Don’t do it’, so maybe that was my fault too.  Apparently, Dahlia insisted upon it while Laura’s boyfriend Liam pleaded to let the child live.

After the abortion, I never saw Liam at our home again.  Almost a year later, Dahlia started to drink.  First it was a beer and a couple years later, beer wasn’t enough.  Laura graduated high school and then community college.  She got a job as an accountant at the Brewery Company, a few blocks away from our home.  Some years later, Laura conceived again and gave birth to a cute daughter, Emma.  Laura never said who her daughter’s father was.  Dahlia died when Emma was four.

When Emma was nine, Laura began following in her mother’s footsteps – she started drinking.  Then there were innuendos about the old creepy perv and her pretty daughter. Later there were accusations.  If Laura was reporting to the police about me possibly molesting Emma the first thing that would happen is that I would be evicted.  Then Emma wouldn’t attend the school while her mom was drunk so the next most possible outcome was Emma getting put into foster care or an orphanage.  What was I supposed to do under the current impasse?

 

 

While surfing the internet, there are ads that are stalking you, no matter what site are you on.  It may be pizza, apparel, or car service.  In my case, it was an offer to escape a stalemate by means of a gatekeeper artifact.  At first, I simply ignored it while I thought it was kind of psychic.  At last, I called the number in the ad.  Let's say I was simply curious.  The thing was real or anyway I had nothing to lose.  The gatekeeper’s keeper (Narama was his name) didn’t offer a miraculous solution and didn’t ask for money.  Pay if you want afterward.

The gist of the artifact was parallel universes.  At some special key moment in their life, a person reaches an impasse, no matter in what universe they live.  Situations vary through universes so exchanging places with another self may help both of them to look at the situation from a different point of view and find the solution.

The gatekeeper artifact was highly intelligent though it was not a person.  It reads worries and hopes of people near it and replaces them with their respective selves in some other parallel universe.  So there comes the rule to activate the gatekeeper as far away from other people as possible to avoid causing them to slip to another world without their intention.

My Gramp worked as a forest ranger in the North Maine forest and I, as a child, spent all my summers with him.  Mountains and the forest were my Gramp’s life and passion.  He taught me about Willard Ridge – the place as beautiful as the outlying areas.  It was far away from water and land paths and it was secluded, especially at the end of April.  The forecast was for sunny days all over Maine, so we set the date for the coming weekend.  Narama and I would drive our cars to a foothill of the ridge and then hike up to the open space.  I would try to get to some sleep while Narama activated the artifact.  Afterwards, Narama would leave, not waiting for me to wake up.  I wasn’t afraid to stay alone for the night in the forest, it wouldn’t be the first time for me.

 

 

I felt the warmth on my right side and, gradually, consciousness returned after what felt like a long-long sleep.  I moved my hand to my face, rubbing it, and then I stretched.  Despite lying on the flat rock uncovered, I woke up fresh and brisk.  The high sun was shining through a rift in the heavy dark clouds.  So much for the sunny day forecast.  The weather smelt of rain and it might start minute now.  What can be worse than a spring rain in the mountains?  In summer, it makes every brook a stormy stream while in spring a rainfall over some soil still partially frozen triggers a mudflow.  Run!  Run down to the car and try to escape!

The slopes were not very steep and I felt good, much better than the day before, so I was back to the place I left my car in no more than forty minutes.  I was driving an old pink Vovo (the middle “L” was already gone when I’d bought the car twenty years ago).  It looked odd in the middle of the North Maine forest, but it was almost like a member of my family.  I liked this car (a lot) because of its reliability, its good mileage, and the ability to leave it unlocked without a worry and even with a key in the ignition everywhere in Portland – it’s pink and that says everything.

I had no time to even lighten my bladder while I jumped into the car and after a U-turn headed back.  It was drizzling already.  I was driving straight to the South to the T-crossing and the bridge over Yerxa Brook and turned left to the East till another T-crossing.  The new road was obviously the main one because of the absence of a grass stripe in the middle of it.  There were still no signs though I knew from the time I was coming here with my grandfather fifty years ago that this road was named Pinkham Road.  I could turn left toward Ashland though, with Moosehorn crossing closed, even visitors of Libby Camps were using Pinkham Road and after reaching Pinkham Road, Millinocket is closer than Ashland.  So I turned right to the south and later the road turned slightly till it went South West.  I was ready to turn left at the next T-crossing onto Telos road but there was a ranger’s car and a “No trespassing” striped tape across the road I wanted to turn.

“Where are you heading hon?” the ranger asked.  I wasn’t sure what he’d called me.  It couldn’t be “hon”, it had to be something else and I most probably didn’t hear it well.

“First to Millinocket and then to Portland,” I replied.

“Have you been at Bradford?”

“No, sort of on the North side of Willard Ridge,” I said.

“Chamberlain bridge is closed, miss, so you need go North till the…”

“I know the way.  First to the Johns Bridge then turn south to Russell and then to Allagash and at Southern end of Umbazooksus turn back east and come to Chamberlain Bridge from West after making additional fifty miles.”

“I’m impressed,” he said.

“Why not to turn back?” I asked.

“The gate and the road to it are closed for reconstruction,” the ranger said, “and will be closed till June.  So you’ll be home two hours late and…”

There was another car coming from the Northern side.

“Idiots,” the ranger muttered, “I’ve placed warnings and signs at every crossing.” He sighed heavily.  “Miss, at the bridge there will be another ranger, I want you to report to him just to be sure.  Drive careful.”  He tipped his hat slightly as he turned his attention to the car behind me.

I drove away while the ranger explained to the driver of the other car what direction he had to drive.  The first thing I wanted to explore is why the ranger kept addressing me with “hon” and “miss”.  My survival rule is ‘don’t question a person in the uniform’.  I’d simply followed that rule while now I wanted to know what was so girly about my appearance.  When I left my home yesterday, I’d checked myself in the mirror while I shaved.  My appearance was something in between Freddy Krueger and Dolph Lundgren.  I’m just sixty-seven years old and my hair is pepper’n’salt and I have it in a regular medium length cut.  I was never in my life mistaken for a female.

I was about to make a stop and take a look at myself but there was the same car following me and I guess the ranger ordered the driver to simply follow me and the drizzling was about to grow into the rain.  Something actually had happened to me because, while running down the slope, I was kind of jumpy and I was feeling funny.  I noticed that the other car was one of those luxury SUVs, all shining lacquer and chrome and there were three men inside.  Most probably new hunters after the weekend at Bradford camp.  Usually the hunter is the last living being I want to meet in the forest while the first day hunters were even worse.  Now, after I was questioned as a female, I didn’t want to meet those macho Homo sapiens one on three in the middle of the deserted woods.

So I was stuck behind the wheel for another fifty miles and that was no less than two hours because the road was dirt and the drizzle was here already.  The ranger was right – there were temporary signs at every crossing, even a minor crossing.  It was already three o’clock when I arrived at the Chamberlain Bridge.  I stopped at the crossing and the ranger with a handy radio came to me.

“How was the ride miss?” he asked.

“I guess okay,” I said, “next stop Millinocket.”

“Have a nice day and drive safe miss,” ranger said.

“Thank you, officer,” I replied.

And again, the same car was following me and, again, I was stuck for another fifty miles.  The good thing was that after twenty two miles of dirt and just beyond the bridge over the West Penobscot River, the road was paved.  So no more mud puddles, just plain twenty nine miles to Millinocket where I could get rid of my followers.  I stopped at the gas station and, before I went to the restroom while standing by my car, I’d noticed that I was much shorter than previously, judging by the view at my car’s roof.

There was a mirror in the bathroom and the moment of the truth.  I was a girl.  And a teenager.

 

 

2

I was a girl, in addition to being a teenaged one.  I’d checked myself in the mirror and later in the stall and there was nothing from the old me left, except maybe just my memories.  I splashed my new face with cold water and it helped me to come round to myself.  My hair was strawberry blonde in a boy cut.  Subway tiles three by six inches were used to cover the bathroom’s walls so, apparently, I was a little more than twenty tiles tall or in other words five feet and one inch.  It’s a significant drop from my previous six feet and two inches.  I wasn’t familiar with breast sizes, though I was sure mine weren’t big and were a rather modest size and there was some kind of plain cotton bra under my shirt.  When I tried to cup a breast with a hand, I found it sensitive so I guessed the bra was ok.  When I was in the stall, I’d noticed that my hands and the rest of the body did know what and how to do things properly.  So maybe I’ll get home somehow without problems.

Home…  Where is my home now?  Who am I?  I’m sure not Walter Barstin anymore, I’m not sixty-seven and I’m not a veterinarian orthopedic surgeon well known all over New England.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  I was probably no less than sixteen while I was driving the car though I looked younger.  I was dressed the same as my old self – jeans with a flannel shirt and faux leather jacket.  In my pockets I found just a car key, a small amount of cash, lip balm and Swiss army knife – everything the same as in the pockets of Walter except for the lip balm.  My old self kept the phone turned off behind Millinocket because there is no cell phone coverage and keeping it on is just a waste of battery.  ID and other papers I kept in the glove compartment (it’s locked using an ignition key) usually so I rushed back to the car looking for answers to my questions there.  In the car, I found a wallet and the phone and some other things like a pack of tampons and film with four Midol pills.  There was no makeup, so maybe I wasn’t of that girly type and the only pink thing was my pink vovo.  Being a tomboy was a quality I appreciated so far.  Being a girl was enough of a challenge for me because I’d never had a girlfriend let alone been married.

According to my driver license, I’m Amber Dahlia O’Connor instead of Walter Barstin.  I’m sixteen instead of sixty-seven.  Car insurance says vovo belongs to me.  My student ID says I’m a sophomore at Falmouth High.  Address book on the phone is showing a few names that are familiar while I’m not sure they are the same I’ve known.  There are Mom and Dad (I guess it’s the same Liam O’Connor as in another life), Nana (probably Dahlia), Sis (Emma), Granny Amber (probably Liam’s Mom) and SOB #2 (why to keep his number if he’s a SOB and who’s the number one?).  Kids spend much more time playing with their phones than adults so apparently pressing on the info icon beside the name you can get the picture of that person.  Amber actually had done the same.  I accidentally touched one such icon and found even more info.  So now I was certain that Mom was Laura, Nana – Dahlia, sis – Emma, Father – Liam.  Liam’s parents I’d seen once at Laura’s graduation in my old life, so I couldn’t be sure though who else if not the same Malcolm and Amber.

Smartphones have photo galleries and Amber apparently had taken a lot of pictures.  I spent more than an hour browsing her photo folder.  There were carcasses of wild animals with trophy parts cut off and the rest left in the woods.  This girl was doing the same I was doing in my life.

It was getting dark and I was still at the gas station in Millinocket and that’s another two hundred miles of driving.  Good thing that it will be highway this time so there will be time to relax and to think.

Really strange thing – there was no Walter Barstin among the others.  I mean among the others in Amber’s phone address book.  She was driving my car and living in the same house, so how it could happen that I wasn’t present?  At first, I was sure that an error occurred during my slipping into this universe and I was about to meet another myself.  I wasn’t so sure now.  Maybe in this universe, I or rather Walter, had died before Amber’s birth and his soul reincarnated into Laura’s daughter.  This scenario could explain a lot – Amber has born when there was no Walter anymore so no Walter in her phone, then all Walter’s belongings including his car, his half of the house and savings were left for Laura and her offspring.

Why wasn’t vovo sold?  It was old when I bought it and now… Now it’s almost thirty years old.  Maybe it’s some kind of nostalgia?  I was teaching Laura to drive on vovo and she liked it much more than Dahlia’s Honda.  And, on the other hand, it’s a really good car – an original Swedish steel with no rust after thirty years, good mileage, it has a combo radio both with cassette player and CD.  Anyway, I was happy to drive vovo and not some cheap Korean pile of rust.

 

 

“Don’t start in again Amb,” Emma snapped back after I greeted her and Dahlia while they were watching TV in the living room, “please…”  And then she ran upstairs.  I guessed I saw tears in her eyes.  I looked questioning at Dahlia.  She stared at me her eyes open wide.

“Have I said something wrong?” I asked her.  In my old reality, Dahlia was kind of a hugging person, so I was sure my hug was in place.  Dahlia shrugged and stepped back not allowing me to come too close for the hug.  I suddenly felt an anger rising inside me and an urge to say something evil and to run upstairs to my room, though it wasn’t what I usually did as Walter.

“Anyway, I’m glad to see you,” I whispered with a smile and then turned around and calmly went upstairs.

 

 

My room was the same as Walter’s.  After I’d bought this house, I’d rearranged the master bedroom on the second floor into two bedrooms (one for me and another one for possible guests) with the shared bathroom.  The room that was previously mine as Walter’s now was mine too while another (guests’) bedroom was occupied by Emma.  I presumed the bedroom on the first floor was Dahlia's and another half of the house was left for Laura with Liam.  I’d noticed that both entrances and driveways were left intact.

My room I found tidy and clean.  Probably the only clean room in the house while neither Dahlia nor Laura was tidy housewife.  My room looked almost the same as I’d left it a day ago with the same Shakti yantra on the wall and, instead of desktop PC, there was a laptop.  There was no sign that the room was a girl’s room.  I checked the closet and it was predominated by jeans and athletic wear and only a couple of skirts and one dress.  Underwear was all plain white cotton without lace or frills.  On the table and on the shelves were some books, mostly school related but also a few of my old medicine books.

The desk and bookshelf were the same as I (Walter) had and those were inherited from my grandparents and brought here after they sold their house in Stacyville.  They were oak heartwood handiwork with some secret places made to Gramp’s order.  One was very evident in the middle top drawer of the desk, arranged as a double bottom with a Pandora’s lock (both hands and left knee were needed to open it).  I never used it because it was too evident.  Another two secret places were arranged in the bookshelf and they were really secret.

Gramp used them to keep his savings back in Stacyville. He didn’t trust government and banks. “Cash is always cash, it survives any depression. And gold is even better.” He insisted I put some money into those secret places, so I placed twenty thousand in each of them and left it so. So now I checked those secret places and the cash was there (twenties and fifties). That was good while as sixteen years old, I had no stable income and as someone said, “Cash is always cash”.

While arranging this affair of slipping into a parallel universe, the artifact’s keeper, Narama, advised me to write a letter to my other self with all possible info and describe the problem I was facing.  I had left the letter in my PC.

I turned on the laptop and, after it had booted, I found a schedule of my classes with time and place and links to the latest assignments alongside with teachers’ names.  There was a plan of my school too.  There was also the full info about the school that Emma was attending.  I found a schedule of my out of school activities.  Another file had all birthdays and anniversaries of my new family and relatives and friends too.  I had all answers to almost all possible questions inside of laptop.  The problem was described in only few words: “My period was due seven weeks ago.  I’m pregnant.”

 

 

3

The clock was showing 04:00 when I woke up in the morning, the same as it was in the Walter’s reality.  I splashed my face with cold water then put on sweat pants and shirt and went outside for some stretching.  I noticed a light under Dahlia’s bedroom door when I was passing it on my way out.  Dahlia had two passions before she started to drink in my old reality - books and TV.  She was reading a lot and was sometimes up to early morning hours.  It was still dark and chill outside.  As Walter, I was doing more power-walking than running.  I enjoyed my new young body – all stretching exercises I performed without a hitch.  Running steps were light and bouncing.  I’d checked some MMA moves I’d learned as Walter and I performed them perfectly too.  It was good to have my skills intact.

I was back at home at half past five and found Liam’s truck with the “Portland Granite” logo on the door already started and prepared to leave.  There was a light under the garage door, so Liam was probably inside.  Good.  I wasn’t ready to meet him.

 

 

My first task was to rebuild a friendship with Emma.  It’s not so hard with kids.  Wafers with whipped cream for breakfast made a miracle.  I told her that I was sorry for anything I’d told her before (actually I didn’t know what I’d told her, but I was sure apologies were always in order) and that we are best sisters forever.

“Aren’t you angry with me?” she asked, frowning in confusion at me.

“Of course I’m not.  How could I be angry with my favorite lil sis?”

She cocked her head at me.  “Don’t you want to be a boy anymore?”

Boy?  What boy?  Huh… She thinks… Maybe Amber was not only a tomboy but she really was transgendered?  I was Amber, but I wasn’t.  An upcoming pregnancy was far too much for me to deal with and another problem was really unnecessary.  Maybe it would be nice to turn into something more accustomed but let's be realistic.

“No, no, no… I’m ok being a girl,” I replied.

“Wow!  Does Nana know?  May I tell her?”  Emma was jumping and clapping her hands for joy.

“I guess you may though she’s asleep still.  She was reading all the night.”

“I’ll check.  Maybe she’s up.”  Emma really wanted to run and tell.

“Be silent, don’t wake her up,” I tried to quiet her.

Good thing Dahlia still was sound asleep.  We were almost late and there was no time for explanations.  It’s impossible to say everything in two words.  I did know what Dahlia was.  After school, there will be a real interrogation for an hour or two.

 

 

When I was ready to leave, cramps started somewhere in my abdomen.  I wasn’t sure where exactly.  Most probably I did something wrong while stretching.  Crap!  Got a new body and I already had broken something.  I hastily called the doctor’s office and got an appointment.

Before leaving, I went to bathroom and, when relieving myself, I saw blood!  I had broken something really bad.  In the bathroom, I found tampons and sanitary pads.  I stuffed a tampon inside me and then placed a pad atop to be sure.

I drove Emma to school first and then went directly to the doctor.  Being all my life related to medicine, emergency and surgery both human and non-human, I myself never was on the patient's side.  My patients were young men and later dogs, cats, and horses, but never women.  So, I didn’t know what’s there so special.  There had to be something special and this something special was aching now.  There were no cramps anymore just a dull pain.

I was in the doctor’s office and the nurse handed me a disposable gown and left me to change.  A few minutes later, the doctor entered the room where I was already sitting on the edge of the examination table.  Dr. West appeared to be a woman a little younger than my old self.

"So what kind of emergency brought you here this time, Ms. O'Connor?"

“I broke something.  It aches and there is a blood here.”

“Let’s see…”

The nurse helped me into stirrups and, after a short examination, Dr. West said, “Everything is okay here.  Your hymen is intact and it’s the first day of your regular period, nothing to worry about.  When was the last one?”

“Err…” I started to count in my mind – a month is four plus seven due it will be eleven, “eleven weeks ago I guess.”

“Are you not sure?  I’ve said you before and I’ll repeat again – it will happen again and again because of your workouts and your diet.  Are you still on that diet?”

“Huh… Am I?”

“I’ve talked with your Mother and she confirmed you’re constantly fasting.  Have you had your breakfast this morning?  What was it?”

“Wafers with whipped cream,” good thing she asked about the only meal I had so I knew what to say.

“How much?” Dr. West continued questioning me.

“Eight,” I replied, “five for Emma the rest for me”.

“You say the nine-year-old is eating more than you?”  She frowned at me.

“Err… Emma’s almost ten,” I said, “and she’s still growing.”

“And you are NOT?”  The doctor's tone was beginning to sound like she was my mother or something.

“Err… I’m sixteen and girls at that age are already developed…”  Even as I said it, I knew that my excuse sounded weak.

“Developed what?”  Dr. West raised her voice.  “You are underdeveloped my dear – you are what, five feet and ninety pounds and your breasts are still at an A?”

“Five feet and one and a half inch and my bra is B,” I corrected her, “regarding the rest it’s maybe genetics…”

“What genetics?  I know your mother and both your grandmothers and all three are no less than five feet seven inches and their breasts are no less than a D cup.  What genetics?”

“Some artifact maybe…”

“You are that artifact young lady or rather it’s in-between your ears.”  Now she was definitely scolding me…

 

 

After the doc left, the nurse said I’d matured since the last time I’d been there.  “You’re much more composed this time,” she said approvingly.  I had had the urge to respond angrily to almost everything the doctor had said.  I’d noticed before that Amber probably was rather a hothead and I had to constantly calm myself down.

Now the good news was that I wasn’t pregnant.  The bad news was that periods are crap and I’ll have still up to five hundred periods in my future life.  It sucked.  Really!

 

 

The nurse had called the school and I could go directly to my second period class which was Science followed by Home Economics and then Algebra before lunch.  If I was just another girl from a parallel universe exchanging places with Amber, it would be fine.  But I wasn’t.  All I knew about sewing was how to stitch a wound.  Good thing it was just about seams.  Apparently, they’re different.

Later was a period for lunch and the student body rushed to the cafeteria to socialize and to have a snack.  There I found they had smoothies and some fruits that suited me, though I still wasn’t hungry.  Anyway, I was standing in the line and socializing.  There was no one I knew.  Real Amber surely knew most of them as those others knew Amber.  I tried to be polite and answered with a smile when someone was addressing me.  It probably was not the way Amber usually acted.  Others were polite too so there wasn’t even that internal urge to answer harshly.  I was sure that being a tomboy and being polite were highly compatible things.  I got my banana and ate it without even sitting down at the table.

After lunch, I had French and PE.  French was ok though I liked German more.  In the gym we were taught exercises with a ribbon.  I was kind of a professional at this.  I’d spent so much time in various shelters socializing homeless cats.  They socialize the best when someone plays with them.  It has to be non-aggressive play, usually with a ribbon.  Cats are very patient, so I had to be patient too and used different figures like circles, spirals and snakes or even throwing to prevent the cat from catching the ribbon at the first attempt.  After my show, the coach sent me away for stretching or whatever I thought was suitable.  Dr. West this morning had assured me there was no risk to doing reasonable stretches, so I was practicing side and center splits.  This body was good.  Maybe Amber was in gymnastics?

I was looking around for a bench when I noticed boys at the other end of the gym.  They were gathered around three ropes hanging from the ceiling and they were trying to climb up.  First, they were jumping and trying to grab the rope as high as possible and then were squeezing the rope between their ankles and trying to reach even higher.  The coach was nowhere to be seen, so I approached them.

“I’ll show you once, okay?”  They looked at me in surprise when I spoke up behind them.

There was snickering around and someone simply said, “Go!” and I showed them the way to climb up and then to climb down.  They were not snickering anymore.

“How did you do it?” one of them asked.

“I’ll show and explain,” I offered.  “First – don’t jump, simply raise your hands to reach high but before you do it put the rope to the left side and step your left foot on it while you put your right foot under it.  Second – pull up using your hands while your legs are apart letting the rope slip.  After you’re finished with pulling up, catch the rope with your feet and again it goes under your left foot and over the right one.  You don’t need to squeeze the rope with your feet hard while it’s tangled enough to keep your weight, so you can loosen your grip and use your hands just to keep a balance.  Then you reach higher and repeat the second step again and again till you are at the level you need to be.  And now the most important part – don’t slip down or you’ll burn your palms.  Use the same way to go down.”

When I was back on the floor there was some clapping while the girls’ coach shouted from another end of the gym, “Ms. O’Connor, I’ve sent you to stretch and not to flirt.”

‘No good deed...’ I thought to myself returning to the girls’ end of the gym, blushing profoundly.

 

 

After school, I was about to celebrate the fact that I wasn’t pregnant.  One problem had resolved itself.  How about buying a Riesling Late Harvest or even Ice Wine.  It’s Dahlia’s favorite and mine too, Laura’s still too young to appreciate… Crap!  Not too young for pregnancy while too young for wine!  Another five years!  It sucks!

 

 

4

My life wasn’t as intense when I was Walter as it was now.  Even with Laura’s drinking and her accusations, my weekly trips to Boston, and visiting shelters around the city, my daily routine was calm compared to what I had now.

When I got home from school, Emma had already told Dahlia the good news about me and Dahlia was waiting for me for a more detailed interrogation.

“Sorry Nana, please not today.  I’m so beat up and my period has started,” I pleaded.

“Period?  That’s good!  No, that’s wonderful.  It's worth celebrating,” Dahlia replied while I repeated and repeated in my mind that special mantra: “Nana, Nana, Nana…”  So many years I’d called her ‘Dahlia’ that now to change over to ‘Nana’ and watch for ‘Dahlia’ not to slip occasionally was a real challenge.

“I’ve thought about it too but haven’t found a way how,” I replied.

“How about pizza?  My treat,” Dahlia offered.

“Yeah!  PIZZA!” Emma shouted cheerfully jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

“So?  Which one do you like?”

“I’d like vegetarian with shrooms and blue cheese,” I said, “a little one if no one would split with me.”

“I want to split with you please,” Emma put in.

“Since when are you vegetarian?” Dahlia asked.  Oh crap, I’m not?

“Is it wrong?”  Was I giving myself away somehow?  Hello, I'm not really Amber but a stranger from another universe.

“No, no!  It’s not wrong.  I’m just curious why so suddenly.  And you aren’t so irritable.  You are the same but different.”  Dahlia was looking at me with her head cocked.

“Ah, this,” the best defense is a truth, anyway no one will take it seriously…I hope, “yeah, I’m the same I just slipped from a parallel universe in place of my old self.”

“I like your new self,” Dahlia said and hugged me tightly.  She was deeply touched and started to tear up.  I was starting to tear up myself too.  I’d noticed before that I was much more emotional now and if I could manage my anger though the tears were unmanageable.  Yes, honesty was always the best way to go, even when no one believed it.

“I really love the new you,” Dahlia said still sniffling, “so big vegetarian with shrooms and blue cheese for you two?”  Emma and I both nodded, “then I’ll take a big Hawaiian for myself, maybe someone will split with me too.”

 

 

Dahlia hoped that Laura would come to our side of the house for dinner though Laura was still in the office and she said she would be home later.  Laura was still depressed after some unmentioned outbursts in our family according to what Dahlia said.  I was still in the dark.

After dinner, Emma and I went upstairs to do our homework while Dahlia turned the TV on.  There wasn’t much to do, especially when it’s rather a review of old knowledge and not studying for real.

I was thinking about Amber.  Poor girl.  Really poor.  If she knew she wasn’t pregnant, she probably might have stayed in her universe and coped with her other problems.  Now she was in a world full of strangers as a man and, even more, an old man.  Sure, my body wasn’t as bad as it might be for my age.  But anyway.  Even if she was transgendered, to become a young man her age was one thing and it could be worth daydreaming even for me, but to become a man Walter’s age… It’s ok when you already are here and you have lived those sixty seven years but it is really freaky for a sixteen year old to become an old man, that’s the same as skipping more than fifty years of life – no experience good or bad, no development, no decision making…

I had still some unanswered questions.  Who is the SOB #2?  Well, #1 isn’t clear either.  It maybe Amber's father because he is ‘he’.  Why there was practically no info on the laptop.  I’d looked thoroughly for hidden and encrypted files and I’d found nothing.  In the only doc Amber left for me there was a line ‘See below’.  Where’s this ‘below’?  The document ended with this ‘below’ and there were no additional pages or hidden text.

Then it struck me that something must be literally ‘below’ the place where laptop was.  Maybe Amber had found that secret place in the middle top drawer?  First, I had to put a couple of thick books under my left foot in order to use my left knee to raise the drawer’s bottom up and then pushing with my left hand the left side of the drawer and with right hand pulling the front panel, I released the lid of the secret box.  Voila!  There was an envelope and tantō in a wooden sheath with double edged blade.  A few years ago, I was looking for something like that, but that urge later died out.  I guess the tantō was Walter’s purchase and not Amber’s.

Well, what’s in the envelope?  There was a single sheet of paper covered with neat hand writing.

 

 

For Amber.  Dear my other self, I’m not sure how to address you so let it be Amber.

Since I can remember, I knew I was different.  Not only had I felt as if I was a boy while really, I felt I was a grown-up man trapped in a child’s body.  My parents looked like kids and even granny sometimes was rather immature.

I’d tried hard to change something in my current life.  First, I followed Arnold Schwarzenegger’s path into masculinity – protein enriched diet and workout for muscle to be prominent.  I failed.  Instead of getting bulkier and growing muscles, I was getting more agile and now I looked like an underage girl.  In addition to this, Dr. West insists that this is my fault because all of my nearest female relatives are tall and busty.

I had two heroes – deceased neighbor Dr. Walter Barstin and my Dad.  I felt some strange connection to Dr. Barstin.  I’d never seen him and I’d never met him, but I felt there was something common between us whenever I’d read about him or his journal I’d found in this secret drawer.  Living in his room and driving his car soothed me.  I used every opportunity to visit those places mentioned in his journal and I guess I felt the same things he was feeling when exploring the forests of Maine.

Then I made a fatal mistake.  Dad persuaded me to go hunting.  I was reluctant at first but then I thought it was a superb possibility to stay with him without other females around.  Neither Dad nor I really were hunters, so I’d expected all animals would stay intact after our trip to the woods.  It was a weekend after Valentine's Day as we drove Dad’s Explorer to Chandler Lake Camps.  The ride took us more than six hours and after we arrived at the camp and settled in our cabin it was already dark.  Since us both were new to hunting there was a guide who was ready to show us how to do things right and because the hunting actually was a night hunting for coyotes, we went to the woods the same night.

The mountain forest in winter is something unreal and even more when you are there at night when the moonlight playing all shades of gold and blue – it’s a wondrous beauty.  The only obstacle preventing us from staying there too long was the cold.  The temperature was below zero and snow was crunching under our feet.

Then we noticed them.  First it was just one and then another two coyotes exhausting the hot air in form of small clouds that were disappearing a moment later.  They were in the moonlight and seemed gold.  I would be happier with a camera.  Two well-aimed shots rang out and two noble animals fell dead in snow.  The guide and Dad were happy – their hunt was a success.  I said nothing and I didn’t cry.  There was no scene and no tears.  Boys don’t cry.  I made a decision – I’ll be the man who saves lives and not takes them.

One hour later, we were back to the camp with our prey.  The guide said he would take care of the dead animals while we returned to our cabin.  The cabin was a mud-room, a living/bedroom with a king size bed and bathroom.  The day was exhausting so after showering, we went to bed immediately everyone on their own side.  When I woke up, Dad was already up.  I’d remembered the last night and that I was the reason of two coyotes shot and I hated myself.  I tried hard to keep tears from flowing.  I guessed I’d betrayed my hero.

In the bathroom, I found my period had just started, though my last period was just two weeks and a day ago and after I washed myself there was no more blood, so it couldn’t be my period.  It was like someone had assaulted me when I was asleep.  Who could it be?

The day after was a blur as well as all next week.  I didn’t want to live anymore.  Then I noticed that my period was delayed by one week, then another… I never did a test because I was ashamed to buy a kit but a delayed period was a sure sign I was pregnant.  I was stuck.  I couldn’t even kill myself without killing the child inside me.

I couldn’t control my anger and there were outbursts at school and at home.  Those who I loved most were the first victims of my anger and despair.  First there was Emma, then Nana and then Mom.  I confessed to Emma and that was the second mistake.  She spilled the beans and, in anger, I exclaimed that she was no longer my sister.  Mom first tried to soothe me while later she said maybe I was simply bitching around.  I don't know how I'll look in her eyes after the things I said that seemed proper to me at the moment.  Anyway, there was a big argument and Dad started sleeping in the garage.

 

 

Was Liam accused of assault?  Then it would be clear while Liam was living in garage.  But I wasn’t pregnant and my hymen was intact.  So Liam was innocent?

 

 

5

I guess there was one thing where Amber got an advantage over Walter.  In Walter’s accounts and cash savings, there was enough money to not work anymore and therefore not to interact with other people.  Or she could still be socially active though not work anymore.  And what I’d get?  I needed to attend school so I needed to get know my teachers and my fellow students.  It was good that I knew Emma’s teachers and some her friends and their parents too, so I needed only to readjust my knowledge to my new self.

The first disadvantage – period sucks.  Really!  Not only was that first day screwed.  The next day wasn’t much better either.

My other disadvantage was that Amber was a hothead.  It was not the result of her being unhappy.  She just was that way.  When I was interacting with other people, there always were those urges pushing me into a rash or rough response.  I had to watch my language.  Literally!  I had built a kind of inner supervisor who was constantly repeating “Language, young lady!  Watch your language!”  It was helping a lot though.  I couldn’t believe myself, but a polite teenager is a rarity and that politeness didn’t go unnoticed.  This way I earned respect from adults, my teachers included.

Laura was still an unsolved puzzle.  Her problem was not only with me but also Liam.  I don’t say ‘not me’, I’d say ‘not only me’.  I had to find a way into her soul, to find a way to redeem Amber’s lack of self-restraint.  In my way to Laura was Liam.  Not literally of course though, without questioning his behavior, I couldn’t get closer to her.  After Amber’s outburst, Liam went to live the garage.  Reading between the lines in Amber's letter, one could read the accusation that Liam had assaulted her.  Nothing was said directly.  Dr. West confirmed that my hymen was intact.  There was a question of pregnancy too.  If Dahlia was relieved by my period, then Amber’s pregnancy was a public secret.  Talking about pregnancy, the first question is – who’s the father.  Why Laura was convinced that the guilt was shared between Liam and Amber?

 

 

If I wanted some normal life, I had to gradually get into the student body.  Being an outcast in the school or college isn’t so good like some outcasts try to prove.  High school isn’t just an academic education.  Developing social skills isn’t less important than pure academic knowledge.  My social skills were developed, they were just in another social group and not high school students.

Wise people say that high school students are pack animals and they are right.  One can see all those packs in the cafeteria at lunch period.  I wasn’t hungry and I really didn’t need any food but I was coming to the cafeteria and taking a smoothie or banana and letting others get accustomed to me.  It was my way of socializing with the student body.

I was standing in line in the cafeteria.  Most packs were quiet eating or waiting in line while a group of jocks was showing each other some self-defense moves.  There were a lot of guffaws and some cursing.  It was almost my turn at the counter when there was a very specific crunching sound.  After I turned, I saw a tall boy with his hands on his throat and his eyes open in panic.  There was a void where his Adam’s apple should be, so he would die in two minutes and in another five minutes it will be irreversible.  An ambulance would not get here in time.  The time was too short even to call a school nurse.  I leant over counter and grabbed a knife from the other side and a thick smoothie straw.  I then jumped to the boy and tripped him to the floor.

“Call 911!” I shouted to anyone who was listening.

“Hold him tight,” I shouted to his friends, “do it!  Now!”

“You keep his head,” I shouted to the girl nearby me.

I fell on my knees and did a longitudinal cut on the inferior carotid triangle.  I thanked my luck that the tip of the knife was sharp.  Using my left pinky, I spread the hole and inserted the smoothie straw.  The boy began to breath instantly, he was trying to cough and maybe was about to say something.

“Calm down.  Don’t talk – it hurts.  Ambulance is on its way here.”  He really needed to stay still until help arrived.

I raised my eyes.  “What about 911?” I asked while I saw some students with smartphones in their hands.

“They ask what happened,” a girl in front of me said.

“Give me your phone,” I motioned and the girl obeyed reluctantly.

“We have a broken larynx here and I did an emergency tracheotomy in campus, the patient is breathing and almost stable while still in shock.”

“What’s your name, miss?” the dispatcher asked.

“Have you sent a car?” I was persistent.

“Yes, I have.  So, what’s your name again?”

“Amber O’Connor,” I replied.

“Amber, I want you not to leave the scene till the officers arrive for investigation and questioning,” the dispatcher said.

“I’ll be here.”

That’s my way to get gently into student body so to speak.

Later there were paramedics and then police officers and a lot of questioning.  Sure, I still had all my skills, my nature and my ideology.  As for the Walter side of me, I was proud of what I did – there was almost no blood visible, just on my left pinky, the whole procedure took sixteen seconds, as it was recorded by some students on their smartphones, that's my personal record by the way.  Officers wanted to call Mom, but I said I was sixteen and already an adult.  Anyway, someone had called her and after she was here we had got some privacy and there was a lot of hugging and a little of crying too.

As Walter, I didn’t have Mom or rather I didn’t remember her.  There was Granny as the only female in the family.  On the other hand, I was a boy, so I was naturally “assigned” to Gramp.  Then again, I was Walter in Amber’s body so Laura for me was like a daughter rather than my mom.  No matter how old you are, cutting someone’s throat is overwhelming emotionally and both the Walter and Amber sides of me needed someone to hug and to cry out the fear of failure.  Laura was here for Amber and I got to know she’s Mom for real.  That was all those emotions of having mom, the real one and the caring one and not only to prove her something.

Police thought at first it was kind of my retaliation with a boy.  Later, after speaking with the paramedics, they had completely changed their mind.  After all the questioning, I ended up in the principal’s office and he asked how I knew what to do and how to save the boy (he’s Ralf by the way).  I said I’d read about it in an old Emergency Medicine Handbook I’d found at home.  What else I could to say, that I had done this few times while serving in Vietnam more than forty years ago?

 

 

Well that was fate.  One thing was clear – Laura was on my side and I was her daughter and she was my Mom.  I personally felt this bond for real not only partially like a ‘muscle memory’.  And there was the first lesson in my new life.  I wasn’t on a mission.  Everything will come naturally in its own time if I will act naturally.  Before this morning, I was making plans about how to normalize relationship with Laura.  Apparently, no special plan of action was needed while everything came naturally.  The same as it was with Emma.  Those wafers were not something special because I was doing exactly the same thing every day in Walter’s life.  Then, while talking with Dahlia, I was so tired that I acted naturally.  And it worked.

Will it be the same at school?  Here I couldn’t be so sure as at home.  The school was still an alien territory for me.  Then I remembered that even soldiers that were accustomed to seeing blood and wounds and death were getting sick while I was performing in campus surgery.

For Ralf, the injury wasn’t very serious and I made a cut far enough below his larynx so I expected him to be back to school no more than a week later.  I had to check on him though.  The best way was to visit him at the hospital.  In my adult life, that would be the best way.  I wasn’t sure there would be no side thoughts when I came to the hospital.  Anyway, I rode to the hospital the same day.  First, I made a stop at the mall and bought him a Get Well Soon card and a flower.  The flower was a miniature hyacinth in a pot.  I prefer live flowers and not cut ones.

When in the hospital, I remembered that I didn’t know Ralf’s surname.  The nurse at emergency was friendly enough to find out the boy with the broken larynx was Ralf Harrison and she’d shown me to the ward and to his room.  There were two girls and two boys sitting in the corridor.  I recognized the first girl as the one who’s phone I used to talk with the dispatcher.

“Are you waiting in line guys?” I asked.  They didn’t answer and turned away.  Sure, they thought I was the cause of Ralf’s injury.  I opted to wait with them till someone came out from the room.  Too many visitors aren’t good.  Almost at the same moment, the door opened and three people came out.  They were an adult woman, a man in scrubs and another girl.

“You?” the girl almost shouted in my face.  I didn’t know her, but she most probably was Ralf’s girlfriend.

“I’m sorry…” I started.

“O’Connor?” interrupted the man in scrubs.

“That’s me,” I confirmed.

“Mrs. Harrison,” he turned to the woman, “please meet the girl who saved your son’s life and his voice.  She acted like real combat medic.”

I was one by the way, in some distant universe some forty years ago.  The woman instantly wrapped me in a hug.  I couldn’t hug her back while there were the card and the hyacinth in my hands.

“I saw it on TV at six o’clock news,” the man said, “have you considered medical studies, Miss O’Connor?”

“Yes, I have,” I confirmed.

“Are those for Ralf?” Mrs. Harrison asked pointing at the flower and the card in my hands, “come and give them to Ralf herself.”  She led me into the room.

It was a single bed room.  There were already some ‘Be well’ cards and a few flowers too.  Ralf was in a bed with his throat heavily bandaged staring at the door when we entered.

“Hi,” I managed to say.  “These are for you,” I showed him the card and the flower and turned to put them where the rest of the cards were already placed.  All my life, I was a little shy around strangers and especially those of the opposite gender.  Now all strangers were of the opposite gender.

“Hi,” he whispered back, “and thanks.”

He waved his hand to his throat and said, “It’s a proof you’re not the real Amber O’Connor.”

 

 

6

“The first person who said that about me was my Grandmother yesterday,” I replied with a giggle, “and I told her exactly the same thing I’m about to tell you – I’m my other self from a parallel universe and I exchanged places with the Amber you’ve always known.”

“Yeah… It has to be exactly how you say,” Ralf whispered, “the Amber O’Connor I’ve known for years would never do what you did for me.  Amber would rather kill me instead of save me.”

“Ralf!  What are talking about?” his mother raised her voice, “how dare you insult the girl who saved you?”

“Mrs. Harrison, I have to insist all of you leave the room now,” the man in scrubs intervened, “Ralf needs to rest and his vocal cords are still very sensitive.”

He gently shooed us from the room into the corridor where Ralf’s friends were still waiting.

“Would someone explain me what so terrible happened between Ralf and Amber?  Sandra, do you know about it?” Mrs. Harrison asked turning from me to other guys and then again to me.  I could make a presumption that something happened and Amber was unable to act immediately so she as a real hothead promised to kill Ralf.

The promise to kill or wish for someone to die is usually a common thing between kids.  I’ve heard such things from Emma and from her friends more than once.  Kids are kids and the next day they are usually best friends again.  In Amber’s case, Ralf probably had done something much more serious comparing to what kids usually do and I had no idea what it was or could be.

“If Ralf has anything to say, I guess he’ll confess sooner or later, while I think that I have proved that I’m really an adult already,” I was sure my answer was intelligent enough to calm Ralf’s mom down.

“Sure, sweetie.  You’re right,” she replied, “I’m not blaming you.  I’m just curious.”

 

 

I had no idea what Ralf was talking about.  I hoped there were not too much those secret moments in Amber’s life.  This time I guessed I’d answered the best way I could.  The next time might be not so successful.

Maybe I had to check Amber’s Facebook account, I heard young people wrote a lot there.  I did it when I got home the same night.  I found that Amber actually had sixteen friends and all of them were some tree huggers and fighters for animal rights.  There were some friends’ requests too – eight from yesterday and another nineteen from today.  I accepted them all while at the moment I had no prejudice about anyone of them and all of them were strangers to me.

I had to learn to do this entire Facebook thing from my phone like any other kid.  I guessed I looked weird to other kids doing nothing while there was the possibility to pat the Smartphone.

 

 

Period sucks.  It’s the third day already.  How long does it last?

 

 

Right before the lunch there was PE.  And again, it was the same ribbon dance.  Why they don’t teach kids something useful?

“Ms. O’Connor, you may do your stretches or whatever you want if you do not flirt with boys like on Monday,” coach said.  And again, I was blushing profoundly and I was feeling like a pervert.

Someone had practiced gymnastics and left mats there, so I used them to practice dives and backward rolls and some other parkour elements I had known when I was younger but was unable to practice as I got older.  With this young body, life promised to be more interesting.  I was aware that other students could see me as alien if I did my work out too seriously, so I stretched a little and then rested and compared myself to other girls.  I was accustomed to Emma and Laura and Dahlia though both Dahlia and Laura now stood some six inches over me.  Now I was looking up while talking with them instead of looking down as it was in Walter’s life.  In gym class, there was only one girl as tall as I was or rather as short as I was.

The gym uniform was loose still most girls were showing prominent busts and hips while I looked like a middle school student.  I didn’t envy them, but I did wonder if my underdevelopment was caused by Amber’s fasting or by genetics?  I wasn’t starving by the way, so it could be genetics really.

Most girls in my classes looked older than me.  But I didn’t wear any make-up so it’s a possible cause maybe.  I didn’t have any jewelry either and didn’t have my ears pierced.  Talking about make-up, I had no idea how to do it and I wasn’t sure I wanted it.  To be honest, I was looking rather like a lil sis of those at high school.  At least I wasn’t ugly.

The next was a lunch period and I’d noticed that now I was rejected by the seniors.  Couldn’t say that about all seniors, but the pack with Ralf’s girlfriend, Sandra, wasn’t among my friends for sure.

This time, I allowed myself more than just a smoothie, taking a salad and I sat down at the empty end of a table while the other end was taken by a group of girls.  We exchanged smiles and I was at ease while there wasn’t that awkward moment of them standing up from the table after Sandra’s clique outright turned their backs to me.  I’d been exchanging smiles and nods with some other kids.  Those were mostly my new friends on Facebook.  To be a Facebook friend probably wasn’t the same as real friendship.

 

 

According to Amber’s classes, the time on Wednesdays after school was devoted to extracurricular activity and, to be more precise, volunteering at a pet rescue shelter.  There are several shelters in Portland and one of them was close to my home, though this one is only for cats and it’s provided by an older lady (she’s actually a little younger than Walter) who’s a little weird and extra demanding.  She preferred volunteers to come in the morning before school, she didn’t allow holding her pets in hands or stroking them without latex gloves and without supervision.

I was rather happy Amber was signed to the shelter on Summit Street instead.  The shelter was kind of coed both for cats and for dogs.  This part was exactly what I wanted because I’d expected to take Emma with me.  There was almost no serious work around the cats, just cleaning litter boxes.  Socializing of wilder animals usually was the duty of regular staff.  Dogs were much more demanding because they didn’t have litter boxes.  Sure there was a backyard for their natural business but walking with every dog individually was almost the only way for them to socialize and keep them in shape to be adopted.  That was the problem.  Large breed dogs are usually friendly or unmoved by other dogs though they are too strong for one high school student to walk more than one dog.  Small breeds usually are aggressive against other dogs, especially big ones, and especially when they are walked by a single person.  The best solution was one kid, one dog and a chaperone with another dog.  On the other hand, this might soothe kids’ craving for pets.

There I was with Emma.  While I and another girl from school, Liz, cleaned litter boxes, Emma was petting kittens and, shortly, we three left to walk out the first three dogs at Oat Nuts Park.  Liz thought that it was smart to bring a little sister with me and she considered bringing her younger brother who was the same age as Emma next week.  Liz was one of the kids who had befriended me on Facebook.  We chatted about nothing and everything at the same time.  While we were walking the second set of dogs, I sat Emma on the bench in the park and re-braided her hair into two tiny braids.

“I can’t believe what I see,” gasped Liz.

“Exactly what you don’t believe?” I asked looking around.

“You, braiding Emma’s hair so quick and yet perfectly and you being a tomboy all the ten years I have known you.”

“Me too,” quipped Emma.

“What ‘you too’?” I asked.

“I can’t believe you did it for me Amb,” Emma said pulling first one braid in her face then another trying to take a look at her hair.  “You've never done this for me.  Ever.”

“Tomboy… Unbelievable…” muttered Liz as we resumed walking, “I was sure tomboys are against everything girly.”

“Err… It depends… Braids suit Emma… Uh… She’s a girl so why not, huh?”  Oh Oh.  I've just done something completely un-Amber.

“And you’re not?”

“What?” I didn’t understand what Liz was asking.

“I’m asking about being a girl,” Liz explained, “You are a girl too, aren’t you?”

“Ah, this… Sure… I have what I’ve got and I have no notion about being not a tomboy.”

It was good that we were back to the shelter because I was afraid I would say something I would regret later.  It was the third day of me being Amber.  I still thought of myself as Walter.  I had my memories.  I had my memories of raising Emma since she was a toddler.  Everything girly suited Emma very well.  In my life, I’d bought most of her dolls and stuffed animals.  In my life, her mom first was working a lot and later she was drinking a lot and Emma could be alone or with me.  In this life, her mom was working a lot.  On Monday and yesterday, Laura was back from her office at eight, just an hour before Emma’s bed time.  So, in this universe I was here for Emma too but this time as Amber.  The being for Emma part hadn’t changed.  The only part that had changed was me.

After we got home, I found that neither of our parents was at home.  Dahlia was watching TV.  I made pureed broccoli soup and some salad.  Dahlia was kind of astonished by me making dinner and then urging Emma to help me clean the kitchen before we could go do our homework.  I was doing the same things that I had done as Walter.

 

 

Homework wasn’t that bad since I was only repeating what I had done years ago.  Next, I turned on my laptop and launched Facebook.  Liz apparently made a short movie with her Smartphone of me braiding Emma’s hair.  She put the movie on her page and tagged me.  The movie had already more than a thousand likes and I got another bunch of followers.  Was that good?

Now that I was already into the third day as Amber, I continued exploring my room.  Almost everything there was in the open.  Only my clothes were in the closet including my underwear while the chest of drawers was inside of the walk in closet too.  Then there was the desk.  The top drawers were used the same way I had used them as Walter.  I found writing tools, rulers, pencils and notepads there.  Going down, there were drawers with my contracts, agreements and other documents while now there were some studying stuff like herbarium, then something like a scrap book about deceased Walter Barstin from this universe, that another and not me.

In the bottom drawers, I usually had some pharmaceuticals I needed for sheltered animals.  I found some pills in bottles and capsules there too.  Suddenly, it dawned on me that this desk was Amber’s desk and there should be no medicines.  I had seen Midol in the bathroom cabinet.  In the bottom drawer, there were some already empty bottles and boxes and some leaflets.  There was still a half-full box of Andriol Testocaps and almost a full bottle of Methyl-Med pills.  Both were the strongest testosterone medication on the US market.  The empty bottles and boxes were from Methyl-Med, Turobol (another though not so strong testosterone medication) and Exemestane (Estrogen blocker).  I wasn’t sure how long Amber had been taking those pills.  If she was taking one pill a day, it should be more than two years – from when she was thirteen.  It’s no wonder she was so skinny and short.  The real miracle was that she had breasts and her period sometimes.

What about me?  How will this body react to abstinence of external testosterone intake?  Even if I decided to stop using those medications gradually, I didn’t know what dosages Amber was using.  There was no way I could ask the doctor for advice.

 

 

7

Have I mentioned that having a period sucks?  The fourth day and no sign it’s about to end.

 

 

In between my early morning run and breakfast, I measured myself because I planned on doing some shopping after school and needed my sizes.  With all of Amber’s hormonal experiments, I was stuck somewhere in the children’s sizes with my 30AA-25-30 which said I was twelve years old according to charts.  It will be ok for now.

And no, I wasn’t getting into becoming a girly girl.  I did need some plain leggings for being at home, something more comfortable than boys’ jeans.  And again, another no, it wasn’t a girly thing to wear leggings, while so many women of all ages were wearing them all around.  Most probably this apparel was more comfy than anything else.  I haven’t met a man in leggings, so Amber probably was sure to have no leggings in order to make her more boyish.  I wouldn’t complain.

Another thing I needed, and I couldn’t find in my closet, was a swimsuit.  It was strange with all those excellent beaches and cozy lakes around.

During breakfast, Dahlia and Laura were there so I asked them if they or maybe Emma needed something in the mall while I was about to do some minor shopping after school.  I told them what I was about buy myself and that caused some funny and confused looks from both adults.

“You’ll need some new panties too, which I don’t believe you have,” Laura said.

“I have half of a drawer stuffed with panties,” I replied, “why do I need more?”

“The panties you have will show panty lines when they are under leggings,” Laura explained.

“Ewww… Thaaat’s sooo gross,” Emma commented.

“You wear leggings and I don’t see lines,” I said, pointing at Laura.

“That’s the gist of what I mean,” she said turning her back to us and patting her butt, “there is nothing to show.”

“What?  You wear NO panties?”  My mother didn't wear panties?  My Walter brain was having an even harder time grasping the idea.

“Yuck!” Emma commented again.  I think that I agreed with my little sister.

“Hey!  I’m your mom no matter what,” Laura complained.  “And you,” she continued pointing her finger at me, “are wrong!  I’m wearing a thong.”

“I need a thong too!” Emma shouted.  “May I go to the mall with you, puleez?”

“You don’t need it,” Laura said, “yet.”

“Why not?” Emma pouted.

“Your butt is too small to show panty lines,” Dahlia explained.  “But…” she said raising her finger as if she was about to say something very important slowly turning her finger towards Emma, “you-need-a-new-swimsuit!”

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” Emma was now happy jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

"Did your idea of a swimsuit come out of the blue?" Laura asked.

“I was thinking maybe we could visit Reiche pool on Sunday,” I said, “it’s an indoor pool and swimming is good for… Nana’s back,” I almost said ‘Dahlia’ again.

“Will you be ok with all that water around?” Laura asked nervously, “If you are not ready, you don’t need...”

“I guess I’ll be ok, really,” I assured her.  Apparently, there was another iceberg on my way I didn’t know a thing about.

“I’ll go with you,” Dahlia said, “come home after school and we’ll drive together.”

It's good that Dahlia offered to go along.  I wasn’t sure about what swimsuit was the best for Emma and I didn’t know a thing about thongs.

 

 

Being at school was changing with every day.  More and more people were noticing me and I guessed they were probing me first saying “Hi” and smiling and waiting for my response.  On Monday, there were the first couple of probes.  The amount of ‘Hi’s’ was increasing with every day.

Liz and her friends were chatting with me; thus I was presenting myself as a sociable person.  There wasn’t much to talk about because of my lack of any experience about fashion or music or sports or boys or cheerleading.  So, my part was usually to just nod my head and smile at almost everything that was said and sometimes gasp when other girls were gasping.

When they started talking about hair, I instinctively tugged at my hair over forehead and found it was almost an inch in my eyes.  I made another mental note to go to the barber at mall and trim my hair.  I’d noticed before in Walter’s life that some females were kind of telepathic.  One of the girls, Mel, turned to me “Don’t dare you to cut your hair.”

“How did you know?” I asked confused yet not denying her assumption was true.

“My older bro is doing the same whenever we talk about hair.  If it gets in his eyes, he goes to barber’s the same day.”

“Then why I can’t go to the barber too?”

“You’re not her brother.  Girls go to the salon,” another girl, Ronnie, replied, “S-A-L-O-N,” and all the girls broke out into giggles myself included.  Then a bell rang, announcing the start of the school day.

 

 

In my old Walter’s reality, I was used to going to the barber and I was used to bringing Emma with me too.  There was a guy, Leon, a little younger than Walter who was looking like one of dwarves from that old Disney movie about Snow White.  While trimming my hair, he usually was quiet and taciturn.  When Leon was playing with Emma’s hair, he made her giggle non-stop.  I actually never got to know what he was talking to Emma about while I was sitting in the waiting room.  I wanted to bring Emma to Leon in this universe too and maybe be lucky enough to know how he made her so happy.

After some consideration, I wasn’t sure about the need to trim my hair today.  My current boy cut was probably Amber’s attempt to reject everything girly.  I, as Walter, was accustomed to a short or middle cut.  But I was no longer Walter and I felt relatively comfortable in Amber’s female body.  A male body would be nice but it wasn’t worth all that struggle and self-mutilation.  I didn’t consider myself as transgendered for being so comfortable in girl’s body.  It was probably due to my age that there were no benefits of being a male.  As Walter, I had superb health for my age.  Then again, because of that age, my joints were getting stiff and bones were getting brittle too.  My skin had become thin and I had bruises from years ago.

 

 

The fourth period was lunch again and I found I was a very social member of the student body while I ate with Liz, Mel and Ronnie.  During lunch, I unintentionally had mentioned my forthcoming trip to the mall and the girls got very excited.  I did remember that Emma and her friends liked the mall like it was kind of amusement park.  I thought it was because they were still young.  I was wrong because my friends were excited too.  I told them what I needed and that after school I still need come home and then go to the mall with Dahlia and Emma.

“I know you’re a tomboy, so you definitely will need my help,” said Mel, “so we’ll come too and meet you there.”

“Our help,” corrected Ronnie.

“Who’s Dahlia?” asked Liz.

There was that girly talking when another girl was starting her sentence while the previous girl was just finishing her and there was no place for me to squeeze a word in.  So now I had to answer them all at once – “Ok.  We’ll meet in the mall.  She’s my grandmother.”

“Who?” Ronnie asked.

“Dahlia.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you calling your grandmother by name?” questioned Ronnie.

“I guess it’s like a habit,” I said, “and I’m addressing her as Nana by the way.”

I’d planned the shopping in the mall for no more than an hour and I said so which caused them bursting out laughing.

“I just need three things and I don’t expect there to be too much people in the mall.  I know my sizes, so maybe twenty minutes for each thing would be more than enough.  And then I need another hour or two for groceries,” I tried to explain my timing.  I really needed a lot of time for all my groceries.  I’d checked the fridge and pantry and I had a list what food I needed and what cleaning supplies too.  I guess I’d mentioned before that neither Laura nor Dahlia were into this housewife thing.  I didn’t say this to the girls though.  I mentioned a few things from my list and those words sounded alien to them, so I had to explain what it was and why I needed them.

“Are you sure you are fifteen?” Liz asked, looking at me as if I were some sort of strange creature.  I'm sure she was joking.

“I’m sure I’m not,” I replied, “because I’m sixteen.”

“How?  We all are fifteen,” said Ronnie.

“Really.  That's weird.  I’ll ask Nana about it.”

The good thing – the school bell it helped me escape another questioning without answers.

 

 

After school I went home just to pick up Dahlia and Emma.  We decided to drive The Pink.  The Pink and not Vovo was my car’s name in this universe.  And we needed it because of the grocery shopping after the mall while Dahlia’s Civic had actually no room in its trunk.  The first stop was Macy’s and we had to meet other girls at the Northern mall entrance.

After we entered the mall, on the left side, there was a store with empty windows and I saw all three of us like in a mirror.  There was Dahlia maybe a little hunched but still an attractive tall woman in her early sixties with two girls.  One was Emma I knew, a cute little girl, and another girl some two or three inches taller than Emma, still kind of an ugly duckling of teenager, just a moment before her blossoming into a young woman.

I was this girl.  It was kind of a shock.  I envisioned myself in my mind as Walter – an older man towering over Dahlia by seven inches.  We had no full-length mirror at home and even with those mirrors we had, I never was a self-admiring person.  I only looked at myself when I had a problem shaving, like if I felt some hairs left and I needed to remove them.  Or if I wasn't sure if my hair was parted exactly over my left eye.  I didn't have to shave now and my hair did not require too much attention after a shower.

My brain told me I was that girl and my eyes told me the same and my new body with its agility and period was telling the same thing while my mind told me I was Walter.

I probably was standing and starring at us in the glass a little too long.

“Something wrong?” Dahlia asked.

“No.  It’s ok, just trying to put up with new me.”

“You’ve changed so abruptly.  It might be hard on you,” Dahlia said in response.  She probably thought I was changing from tomboyish or even transgendered into some kind of girly girl.  Even if so, it required my mind to adjust to the new me.

“I’ll be ok,” I said.  I had no other choice than to be okay, no other possibility than to do it worth living.

 

 

8

Ronnie and Liz were there already with Ronnie’s mom, Linda.  She told us to call her Linda and not Mrs Palmer.  There were six of us and I already knew what I wanted while the others were looking around.  I found the section with leggings and as I was used to do as Walter when I wasn’t sure, I asked a sale’s lady.

 “I need a pair or two of leggings for working around the house, the colouring not showing the dirt as much as possible.  I need the size for a twelve year old even though I’m really sixteen.”

The sales lady, with a name tag ‘Wendy’, looked a little astonished and was looking for someone over my head and then I heard Dahlia answering her, “Everything okay, she’s sixteen, she’s kind of a late bloomer.”

She led us over to a display table.  “We have this camo pattern in classic olive colour, they are on sale and I know some customers saying they’re really comfy.  But they're thin and you need a tunic to cover your butt."  She pointed to another table.  "There are similar leggings from the same manufacturer, but the colouring is pink-lilac-red-white-black in a chaotic geometric pattern and, though they are thin as that camo, because of the pattern, there is nothing to see through.”  I immediately liked this girl, I mean lady, as I was a girl myself now.

“Take them to the changing room,” ordered Dahlia, “check if they really are snug enough and that they don’t feel and look yucky.”

“I don’t have proper underwear,” I complained.

“What that could be?” wondered Wendy.

“A thong,” I replied.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” said Wendy, “the lingerie section is over there nearer the entrance on the right side.  Go grab a seven pack in your size and come back.”

That was ok for me.  I found a pack of cotton thongs in assorted colours ranging from white through nude to light pink and ran back to Wendy’s rack.

“Aren’t you the fast one?” Wendy smiled at me.  I guessed she’d forgotten I was sixteen and acted as if I was twelve as I looked.  She took a nude thong from the pack and gave it to me along with the leggings and ushered me to the changing room.

“After you change come back here to show us,” Dahlia said.

Before this shopping trip, my cotton bra was the only really feminine garment I was wearing.  Now, the thong and leggings were another step into femininity.  Have I mentioned my period ended today when I was at school?  Without that bloody mess, I was a human again.  I put on the thong and then the camo leggings.  They felt weird.  I mean the thong.  The leggings were snug, really snug.  I went back to Dahlia and Wendy.  While I was changing, they found a very long shirt with long sleeves and scoop neck in olive colour that matched the camo leggings.

“Put that tunic on too,” Dahlia ordered.  I turned my face to the wall and quickly changed my tee for the tunic and turned back facing them.

“Next time, use the changing room.  There are only us girls but regardless,” said Dahlia.  She looked at me as I stood there in the tunic and leggings.  “I think this is okay.  Look at yourself in the mirror.”

I turned to the mirror.  What I could say.  There was the same girl again.  “It’s me, it’s me,” I said to myself.  I guess the tunic and leggings looked good.  I turned one way and another and then tried to bend down and see if my butt was really on display.  Actually, my bottom wasn’t as round as Laura’s and I wasn’t sure about see through.

“Ok,” I said, “it’s really okay.  We can go then...”

“No way,” Dahlia said, “go change into that pink thing.”

“Do I need to?” I thought it was a waste of time to check the same thing only a different colour.

“Yes, you do,” insisted Dahlia.  She made a shooing gesture to send me back into the changing room.

Well, I went back to changing room and changed into the geometric patterned leggings.  And there was a surprise, not a very pleasant one.  These leggings were not snug enough and I felt and could see a loosening around the knees and hips.  I came back and showed it to Dahlia and Wendy.  Dahlia had that expression as if to say, “See?  I told you,” on her face.

“Bad news is,” Wendy started, “that’s the only last pair in this colour.  But I can offer you jeggings that are not thick and really not see through.  Take them and come back.”  She gave me another piece of clothing and I turned around, heading to the changing room.

“Wait!” Wendy said.  “Take this light blue too.”

I changed back into my tee as I thought the olive tunic was no way coordinating with denim coloured leggings, no matter if they were dark or light blue and then changed into the light blue jeggings.  I liked the light blue washed denim more by the way.  They felt good, better than the camo leggings.  I went out to show to Dahlia and Wendy.  They both approved of how the jeggings looked.  I then changed into dark blue jeggings and they too were approved.

I changed back and Wendy rang up all my new things and put them in one big bag and Dahlia paid for it to the tune of fifty-three dollars and I felt weird about having her do that.  Usually I was paying for everything I was buying and sometimes I helped Dahlia and Laura and was paying for them too.  Now Dahlia was paying for me.  I had to look into the mirror again and remind myself I was Amber a schoolgirl, not Walter and that Dahlia was my Nana.

“Thank you, Nana,” I said hugging Dahlia.

“You are welcome sweetie,” said Dahlia hugging me back.

 

 

I had leggings with tunic and thong and I had spent an hour and a quarter to get it.  I was running out of my time though it wasn’t still a real Zeitnot (time trouble for you non-chess players).  I needed a swimsuit and I needed to find Emma and the girls.

They found us instead.  And they had a reason.  They were in the dress section and were trying them on and they found a dress that was really a very light denim button down shirt dress with a faux leather belt and Emma looked good in it, if not to say pretty.  They wanted or rather insisted upon buying this dress for Emma, and for me too, so that we could be dressed like the sisters we were.  They soon had Dahlia on their side too.  The dress was on sale for seven dollars and as Ronnie’s mom Linda said it was a sin to pass by if it fit.

So I was ushered again into the changing room where I stripped down to my undies and put on the dress.  Well, it was a shirt dress and it felt like a...  shirt.  I felt like I was wearing a shirt without pants, what was true, and I felt nude.  I looked in the mirror and there was the same cute girl in some cute dress with a hem just above her knees.  She looked okay.  And what I had to do with it?

“Hey, are you okay in there?” I heard Liz through the closed door, “we're waiting...”

“I’m coming,” I said back and opened the door.  The good thing was I had changed in front of Ronnie and Liz for PE classes, so she too was accustomed to see me nude as I was now.  The worst was to step out and to show myself for others.

“You know, I have one dress in my closet, but I don’t remember myself wearing it,” I said to Liz, “this is the first one.  I feel so naked and so exposed.”

I suddenly felt tears welling in my eyes.  It seemed like Dahlia was instantly there, hugging me and then dabbing my eyes with tissue.  I don't know why it happened.  Probably it was a part of being a girl.  I calmed down eventually and Dahlia bought those dresses for Emma and me and now we had only swimsuits left on the to-buy list.

 

 

There was a problem with girls’ swimsuits.  Again, they are not the same as with men’s trunks.  As a man, I needed more time at checkout than actually getting my trunks.  Now, I wanted my swimsuit in one piece and I wanted it elastic and snug.  No frills, no hearts and no mermaids.  That could be good for Emma.  But she wanted it in two pieces – bikini as she said.

As Emma was a girly girl, shopping for her was no problem – the more frills the better, pink background and small hearts all over it.

There was another sale’s lady, Claire, in the swimsuit section and she started with checking my size.  She got some swimsuits that were similar to what I liked and ushered me to the changing room.  She got me undressed there and checked the front and the back view.

“I see you’re well developed for your age,” she said, “you are what, twelve?”

“She’s sixteen,” Dahlia said.

“Oh my...” gasped Claire.  “I’m so sorry.  I’ve was confused by your size.  I guess this one will suit you the best as it has a built-in padding.”  She offered me a piece in laguna green.

I changed into it and there was really some padding so my breasts were prominent, actually they looked bigger than what Liz or Ronnie had.

“Do I really need my breasts so visible?” I asked.

“They are not too big for your age,” Dahlia said, “they rather look like your real size to me.”

“You see,” started Claire, “the material is very tight and with a high percentage of Lycra, it will make you flat chested.  I mean really flat chested as without any hint of breasts.  Anyway, you might try this one without padding.”  She handed me another piece in bright lilac with pink trimming.

I changed into it and I liked it more despite of its girly colouring.  It was even tighter than a previous one.

“No, no, no,” said Dahlia.  “You look like you’re eleven or twelve in it.”

“Try this one,” said Claire, “it’s not so tight and the padding is thinner.”

This actually was the best.  The padding was there but on the outside, it felt like it was my own breasts.  It was in navy blue and without trimming what made me look more like an adult.  I checked tags before I left the changing room and found that the first two swimsuits were eighty-five dollars each and that was a discounted price.  The last one was twenty-four.  That one really was good.  Dahlia said it looked good and Claire approved it too.

 

 

Now with my to-buy list completed, I was two hours late.  We’d spent three hours in the mall.  Thank God we found everything at Macy’s and didn’t need to walk all over to various stores.  We had a quick coffee and ice-cream break and were ready for grocery shopping in Hannaford.  Good thing it was on the other side of the street.

I reduced my grocery to-buy list to cleaning supplies because it was already seven o’clock and both Emma and I still had our homework to do.  We were late for dinner, so we were back to the mall and took some Chinese home at Panda Express.

 

 

While approaching our home, I turned into the driveway behind Laura who was overworking as usual.  She and Dahlia both were workaholics when they weren’t drinking.  They were not heavy drinkers in this reality though Liam and Laura in this reality were heavy smokers.  Smoking probably was the reason Laura and Liam occupied a separate half of the house.

While ordering our food at Panda Express, we all were starving so we took more than we could eat and it was enough for Laura and for Liam.

I saw the light in the garage and offered to invite Liam too.  I was sure Liam was ostracized because of me and it was selfish to keep the situation as it was.  I wasn’t ready to confront or even to talk to Liam one-on-one and today’s situation with everyone present was perfect.  Emma was sent to invite Liam to join us at our little after-shopping-fest, so he couldn’t reject the invitation.

There was some awkward silence at first but Dahlia used her position of the oldest in the house and passed food boxes for everyone after she ushered everyone to sit at the table in dining room.  Liam was seated between Emma and Laura but in front of me.  Liam exchanged some pleasantries with Emma and Laura though Laura wasn’t very outgoing.

“How are you,” he asked quietly as he glanced at me.

“I’m fine,” I replied.  I felt it was the moment suited the most to rebuild what was ruined earlier.

“Actually, I’m not.  Not now.  Still.”  It was so difficult to admit the truth about myself even if it wasn’t me exactly, but it was the same Amber sitting in front of others, as far as they knew.  “I know I have caused a lot of grief for everyone in this room.  I have almost caused our family to be destroyed.”  There was the same girly thing again – tears started to well.  “I’m sorry.  Really.  I so much love you all.”

 

 

9

Adults, especially Laura and Liam, were careful when talking with me.  Probably because of Amber’s recent outburst and they didn’t want to test my self-control.  Let's say after my apology, there were some hugs and the peace in the family was restored for now.  I found out later that Liam returned home from the garage that night.

Emma and I had cleaned the dining room afterwards and then went upstairs to do our homework before bedtime.  The day for me was kind of exhausting.  I wasn’t accustomed to changing clothes so often and at so short notice like it was in the mall at Macy’s.  Good thing Emma and I were allowed not to model our purchases for Laura and Liam because of the late hour.  Emma wasn’t happy about it while I was ok.

My homework was already done and I was about to turn on my laptop and study what I could do with that Facebook thing when a thought occurred to me.

I remembered a young cat at a shelter we had named Snotty because her nasal septum was broken.  She was so small (two and the half pounds only) that we assumed she was no more than six months old.  Sure, we had given her antihelmintics, to kill any parasitic worms, though her intestines remained puffy. I had a portable Telemed Ultrasound scanner and a quick investigation showed that she was pregnant which was unbelievable considering her age and size.  The only possible solution was an urgent hysterectomy which I did the same day in shelter while there was a clean examination room suited for minor surgeries.  Usually, I prefer a lateral cut for shelter cats while there is no need for extra protection afterwards, but this case was a complicated one, so I did a frontal cut that left Snotty in a protective gown for almost ten days.  The thought that had popped in my mind was that I’d seen Snotty yesterday and she was without a protective gown, so she was still pregnant and would die during delivery because of her age and size.  In Walter’s universe, I’d assumed delivery was due this Friday-Sunday.  Today was Thursday.

I called the shelter using my cell phone.  There was a retired police officer Ronald Kena and he usually was on duty every night.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kena?” I said into the phone after my call was answered.

“Yes, it’s me and...” Ron was actually kind of sluggish and I remembered it was a pure hell to talk with him in an emergency.

“I’m Amber, a volunteer from high school,” I introduced myself not waiting for him to finish his question.  “Could you check Snotty, a black little kitten in the third block, cage number three slash eight.  And take a phone with you.”

After almost a minute, he was at the cage.  “Huh, she’s ok, I guess...”

“Is her stomach puffy?” I asked not waiting for Ron to finish.

“Huh...  As you say so...  Um...  I think it...  Um...  Is...”

“I’m sure we have an emergency here,” I replied.  “Please call Mr. Brook, say it’s an emergency.  I’m coming.”  I hung up the phone before Ron could answer me.  Mr. Brook was actually an owner of the shelter.  Previously, he was a trauma surgeon and then a car accident and serious damage of his left hand made him retire.  He was still very active, he had some money, and he had some connections at city hall so the animal shelter was established.

I grabbed some money from my cache and ran downstairs.  Dahlia was watching TV.

“Nana, there is an emergency at the shelter.  I have to go.  I’ll call you in a while,” and I hurried out not waiting for her to complain or stop me.

 

 

It was nine o’clock and traffic was low, so I was at the shelter in fifteen minutes and Ron confirmed he had called Mr. Brook already.  The very first thing was to palpate Snotty’s guts.  She was puffy or swollen and there was no movement inside as it had to be with small kittens inside before delivery.  Her weight was the same – two and half pounds.  Her nose was hot and dry and she wasn’t purring like I remembered she was doing, when she was in someone’s hands.

Meanwhile, Mr. Brook came into the room with his wife, Helen.  Actually, he couldn’t drive himself and Helen was his ride.

“I came only because of you Ms. O’Connor,” he said.

I just stared at them astonished, not sure why I was so important.

“My son is a head surgeon at the Medical Centre Emergency Room and I had seen an uncut version of you performing a tracheotomy in campus using a chef’s knife.  Palmar grip and a single accurate cut reveal the professional,” he explained.  In Vietnam, for all my surgeries, I’d used a M7 bayonet similar to the chef’s knife.  While I wasn’t authorized to perform any surgery, it often was the only way to save a limb or even someone’s life.

“So, what’s the emergency, Ms O’Connor?” Helen asked.

“Amber, please,” I said.

“You can call me Helen and him Tim,” she said and I almost said ‘I know’ but managed to keep my mouth shut.

“This cat, Snotty, has been here almost three weeks.  After her arrival, she was treated with antihelmintics and precautionary antibiotics because of a nasal infection,” I wasn’t sure about it, but it was a standard routine and I used info I remembered from my previous universe.  “On arrival, her weight was two pounds and five ounces and her intestines were puffy, so it was assumed she had worms.  Now her weight is two pounds and eight ounces, her intestines are still puffy despite of two rounds of antihelmintics and two weeks of doxycycline.  Today, her nose is dry and hot and she’s despondent.  Palpation shows her intestines similar to flatulent but not hard so it’s not gas and palpation shows no liquid either.  You are a doctor, so try yourself.”

Tim and then Helen both palpated Snotty and Tim shook his head.  “I agree with you that it can’t be gas or liquid, but I can’t say what it is.”

“I assume it’s a pregnancy and because there is no movement, the kittens may be dead,” I said.

“What’s your suggestion Amber?” Helen asked.

“Surgery.  An emergency surgery,” I replied.

“Emergency surgery...At ten at night...It’s only Vince...”  I knew Vince from my universe and he was a good surgeon but a greedy one too.  “We once had an emergency dog surgery so he’d asked one and a half for it, but we had X-Ray already done,” Tim said.

“One and half thousand?” I asked just to be sure.

“Yeah...  Thousand...  But he will request an ultrasound just to increase the price, so most probably two thousand.”

“I have one,” I said and both of them shook their heads no.  “Or we can look what you have in your veterinary room.  You have it?”

“Yes sure, it’s required in the shelter,” Tim said, “but...”

“You can do it and I’ll assist you.” I offered.  “We can’t wait till the morning and it would be the same emergency without an appointment.”

“Let’s do it,” offered Helen.

 

 

Tim sure couldn’t do it with one hand, so I did the surgery while he and Helen were assisting me.  The kittens were stillborn and necrosis of the placenta had started and the uterus was infected.  After surgery, Helen volunteered that she and Tim would wait for Snotty to wake up while I was ushered home.

 

 

It was ten past one in the morning when I came home.  Nana was waiting for me in the kitchen.

“Wanna raspberry tea?” she asked.

“Sure, thanks Nana.”

“Am I entitled to an explanation?” Dahlia asked.

"There's a new cat at the shelter and her healing wasn't progressing and I thought that she was pregnant instead of worms while no one else was thinking she was pregnant because she was only as big as a kitten herself."  I wondered how I managed to say so much in one sentence.

“When you said you’re sure of being reincarnated Dr. Barstin, I thought you were insane.  Now I see that you’re probably right,” Dahlia said.

“Anyway, I’m proud of you,” she said taking me in a hug.  “But next time,” she raised her index finger and then pointed it at me, “call me, I worried all this time.  Thank God your parents didn't notice that your car was gone.”

 

 

The next day I was drowsy.  Not all day long, but just when I was running and stretching or rather when I was trying to do it.  I actually snoozed almost an hour before my shower and then washed myself thoroughly and noticed that my legs were hairy.  Not very much, but some anyway.  The colour of my body hair was the same blonde and it wasn’t noticeable when dry while visible when wet.  Good thing I’d noticed it now and not when it was too late in the pool.  As Walter, I remembered both Dahlia and Laura having the body hair problem because both of their hair was dark brown.  Emma and I had some of the O’Connor blonde hair genes.

I was still a tomboy so maybe it was okay for me not to know how to shave and ask Mom for help.  Wow!  I actually thought about Laura as Mom.  Liam still was Liam and Dahlia – Dahlia but at this moment, Laura was Mom.

I had a much shorter workout this morning, so I made pancakes for breakfast and shortly, the entire family was in the kitchen.  After Liam left for work I simply asked, “I need to shave my legs.  Any idea how to do it fast, inexpensive, and painless?”

“Oh...  Thanks for reminder.  I need it too, so I’ll make an appointment for waxing where I usually go for us both or three,” Laura said.

“Don’t count on me, I prefer shaving,” Dahlia said.

 

 

At school, I was still a little drowsy and then there was geometry that had me wondering how much I’d forgotten, which turned out to be not too much actually.  Later was drama and lunch period afterwards.  At lunch, I was again with my new friends to whom I’d announced I would be going to the salon with mom today.  All the girls said I needed my ears pierced.  I insisted that I didn’t need it which challenged a new discussion to start – ‘BOYS’.

Okay, I was a boy more than fifty years ago and, anyway, I did know nothing about boys apparently.  First thing I didn’t know was what made a boy ‘cute’.  Actually, what it was for a boy to be cute.  From my personal experience I did know jocks, nerds, geeks and dorks.  Put jock and dork into one person and you got a bully.  Ah, and there were invisibles or outcasts too and I was one of them by the way.  According to girls, I was wrong.  Not that wrong about what boys were but wrong about what boys were like.  And this ‘like’ was a special girls’ lore.  Lunch eventually ended and we went off to our classes and I had history – a class suited for musing about all that ‘boys’ knowledge.  Actually, I’d decided that I didn’t need it at the moment while maybe later it...

 

 

When driving home it dawned on me that today I’ll go to the salon for the very first time in my life.

 

 

10

I’d noticed during breakfast that Mom was very excited at the thought of taking me with her to a salon.  It was like she relished that moment of her – Mom, and me – daughter, being together and doing something what was very feminine and it was the first time for me.  In other words, it was like my initiation.  With all previous Amber’s tomboyishness, it was the first time of mother-daughter intimacy.

That intimacy struck me the most.  It was real.  I hadn’t thought about it before and apparently bikini zone wasn’t just the area around bikini.  We both were in the back room and we both were given robes and were undressing in front of each other.  In gym, I was changing in the corner turned away from other girls.  Looking at them was kind of creepy.  In my previous life, I’d seen Laura nude more than once when she was still a little girl and Dahlia was changing her.  She was an adult now and I couldn’t turn away or otherwise I would spoil the intimacy of the moment.

 

 

I’d expected waxing to be something painful, so it wasn’t a surprise at all that sting.  Then the time came for the bikini zone mentioned above what actually was a Hollywood wax.  Maybe that whole idea of shaving wasn’t smart after all or maybe there are swim trunks for girls like ones for boys.

 

 

I was hairless all over below my eyebrows and I felt very special.

 

 

After the salon, Mom stopped at Ricettas where we had salad and garlic bread.  Not that we were hungry, just a quick snack and Mom’s way to extend our time together.  Mom really savoured this mother-daughter thing.  We were now the same.  We both were sore and we both were ready for the pool on Sunday.  I’d remembered Amber’s letter to myself where she’d written that Liam-dad was her hero, not mom.  I, as Walter, had no parents and once I had experienced the loss I was bound very closely to my grandparents, both Gramp and Granny.  In this new Amber’s life, I wanted to restore and keep a bond with both Liam and Laura.

I’d remembered Dahlia having this girl time with Laura when she was my age.  It ended abruptly after Laura got pregnant and things were never the same again.  I didn’t need to be that observant to notice that this bond was important for Dahlia and no less than for Laura.  Both of them had lost a lot after the rupture of this bond.  Now I experienced that very special bond and savoured every moment of it like mom did.

After salad, Mom ordered coffee for herself and a smoothie for me.  As we were sipping our drinks, she was playing with her phone like usually young people do.

“I’ve shared this video too,” she said suddenly.

“What video,” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“You braiding Emma’s hair,” she said and handed me her phone to see.  There was the same video Liz had taken on Wednesday and below was Mom’s comment ‘MY GIRLS’ in caps.  There was the same ping in my brain ‘you’re this girl’ and that strange feeling of everything being okay but tears welled up in my eyes.  I’d managed to keep calm this time, I didn’t want to spoil my time with mom.  And it, the time, was great and important not only for me but for Laura, my mom, too.

“You seem so natural in it,” mom said, “as if you were braiding Emma’s hair your whole life.”

“It was as if my hands knew what to do,” I replied.

“This week you revealed two talents I didn’t know you had ever,” Mom said.

“All this is very new and unexpected for me too,” I didn’t say what I had in my mind though.

“Um...  By the way...  Some lady, Helen Brook, called this morning after you’d left for school and said Snotty’s okay and recovering.”

“Ah...  Thanks.  That’s good news,” I said.

“Don’t want to tell what it’s about?” she asked.

“It’s about a kitten in the shelter,” I started.  I made a decision to tell the truth.  Sure, I could say just part of it and part of the truth to keep unmentioned and say what wasn’t really the truth or rather the white lie.  But everything would come to the surface anyway and on the other hand there was nothing reprehensible in what I did.

I told Mom the whole story except the part that I, as Walter, had already performed a surgery on Snotty in another universe.

“How were you so sure the surgery was needed for the kitten to survive?” Mom asked.  “After the surgery was over everyone would be sure.  But you were sure before that.  Why?”

“The signs,” I said ‘and knowledge from another universe’ is what I didn’t say, so I tried to explain it in plain words.  “A. She was hot and it was after the course of doxycycline which indicated the secondary infection.  B. She was puffy but not hard, so it wasn’t an ileus.”

“What is an ileus?”

“It’s a disruption of the peristalsis of the guts,” I tried my best to not use scientific terms.

“And peristalsis?..” Mom wasn’t sure about it so I demonstrated with a straw pushing a smoothie out with two fingers.

“C. This puffiness wasn’t the kind of liquid where you press one place and it immediately flows to another place.  D. It couldn’t be helminths or worms because she was given medication twice already.”

“So complicated?” Mom wondered.

“No.  Sure not,” I said, “mostly it was an intuition and the fact she was hot after antibiotics.  So, the only possible outcome was to wait for sepsis to parade in full glory.”

Suddenly, I felt like I was Walter again and like I was tutoring Laura.  The feeling wasn’t new and it was okay by itself.  What was wrong was that I was losing that Mother-daughter bond and it was like failing to be real girl Amber and tears were welling again and I couldn’t keep the frustration inside anymore.

“Hey baby!  Why the waterworks?  What happened?” Mom worriedly took my hands in hers.

“I feel I’m losing you and Dad because of my being a smarty pants,” I sobbed.  “After it’s settled at least I’m ruining my family again.”

“What are you talking about, baby?  We are proud of you, both of us and especially your dad because you are his only child.”

An expression of grief on my face was changed into one of shock at that statement.

“Nana said she had told you everything,” Mom whispered.

“I guess she had,” I tried to rescue the situation, “but my brain probably had gone haywire then.”

“Promise me you will not tell it to Emma.”

“I promise.  I’m not kind of the pest anymore,” I stated.

“Well...Dad is your father.  His parents live in Westbrook and more than ten years ago his mom, Granny Amber, suddenly felt bad.  It got worse with every day and she was taken to the hospital where her gallbladder was removed.  Meanwhile, dad and I were going to dad’s father, your grandfather Malcolm, supporting him and helping around the house.  He wasn’t that old or weak, but he was that kind of old-fashioned man and was helpless at home when alone.

“One day, dad stayed with Granny Amber in hospital longer than usual and I went to Grandfather Malcolm alone.  That day, I did his laundry and I remember only that I’d passed out unloading the dryer.  After I recollected myself I was on the couch in living room and I was kind of drowsy.

“After I came home, I realized that my pantyhose and panties were gone.  The next day, when I visited Malcolm together with Dad, he explained that I’d passed out and probably urinated so he removed my underwear and laid me on couch.  That was the first and the only time I had passed out and I had the feeling that something was wrong.  Call it intuition, but I did a pregnancy test and it was positive.  Dad and I were planning to have another child and we wanted this child to be born in the spring like you so we were waiting for a proper time to come.  You know when Emma’s birthday is.”

Emma’s birthday is on sixteenth of July by the way.

“Are you really sure about Grandfather Malcolm?” I asked.

“I’m sure that dad isn’t Emma’s father while we had no sex for almost a year.  I’m not a vegetable, I know who I am in a bed with.  The only time I wasn’t sure about was when I’d passed out at Malcolm’s home.  After Dad threatened him with a court order and a DNA test Malcolm confessed that he’d used zolpidem on me and raped me while I was unconscious.”

 

 

I’d checked my phone and phone numbers in it and I’d found that SOB #2 was actually Grandfather Malcolm.  Well, one puzzle was solved.  Actually, two puzzles.  Another one was a key for Amber in my old universe to deal with Laura.  I guessed in that another Walter’s universe, Laura was raped by Malcolm too.  That was the reason why Laura distrusted another old man, Walter.  On the other hand, Amber there will be in Walter’s body though she’s Laura’s daughter anyway and the rape probably will be not the only key helping her deal with Laura.

 

 

11

On Saturday, I had some time for myself so I went to the barber shop I knew from my previous life.  As I had inspected my hair earlier it needed to be trimmed because of split ends.  I was looking for Leon, the barber I’d mentioned earlier.  The shop was in the same place as in another universe, though there was no Leon and never had been.  In another universe, I’d known Leon for more than thirty years and now I felt like I’d lost someone.  I knew his name and he knew my name though we weren’t friends, he just was the barber and I was his client.  Nothing special but anyway I was feeling a loss.  I allowed another barber to trim my hair.

 

 

I was used to being myself as Walter and I really did not see myself from inside who I really was now.  Almost all of the time, I had seen myself as Walter because of all my experience and knowledge.  I had to remind myself who I was to avoid very possible embarrassment.

At home and at school, I naturally was expected to be sixteen.  Under some special circumstances, I was expected to be sixteen even for some people who didn’t know me as it was last Sunday when Forest Rangers had seen me behind the steering wheel and had assumed I was sixteen.  Then there was the shopping trip, when other adults had seen me as being twelve or thirteen years old.  I could cope with being a teenager.  Teenagers are like little adults, they just have considerably less experience.  Kids and tweens are like different species and they are treated by adults very differently.  Adults are kind of protective, if not over protective with kids.

At the barber shop, it was a usual thing for kids without adults to come.  No one mentioned my age or wondered what a kid was doing there alone.  My next stop was the farmers’ market though.  People there were looking not at me, but above me.  As if they were looking for someone who was responsible for me.  When I was addressing someone directly they were responding leniently as if I was a kid.

Not only adults were treating me as kid.  I treated myself the same way after I came home and started cleaning the house.  When I was Walter, I didn’t need a ladder or a chair to step on to reach upper shelves and the top of doors or windows.  The first floor was eight feet high while the second floor – seven.  As Walter, I was six feet and two inches so, naturally, I could reach everything without stepping on the chair.  The most that I needed was to stand on were my tip toes.  As Amber, I had to keep the chair by me.  The chair alone wasn’t enough.  Even on the chair, I couldn’t reach as wide as I could as Walter.  So for the simple task to sweep the upper shelf, I had to step on the chair, then step down, move the chair a couple of feet then again up, and again and again.  I had to do that four times.  Whereas Walter, I swept dust in two or three motions, I needed four relocations with the chair and three minutes instead of ten seconds.  That’s only one shelf.  After I finished my room, I was exhausted.

As Walter, I usually needed an hour or two to clean my half of the house every week.  This time, I spent more than six hours and had cried a few times because of my helplessness and Nana’s room was still left untouched.  Common areas like the stairs, the kitchen, and the dining room were very dirty, if not to say squalid.  I hoped the next week would be not so exhausting.  Or maybe I could persuade Emma to help me next time.

 

 

I was too exhausted for social activity and I had still a few hours until bedtime.  Emma was at a sleepover, Nana was with her friends at bridge club, Mom and Liam were in their side of the house kissing.  Maybe… Why not?

I was in my room and was about to review the contents of my desk more thoroughly than I did a few days ago.  First thing I examined were boxes, bottles, and leaflets before I dumped all of them into a garbage bag.  Based on what I was throwing away, I could say that Amber was on pills since she was thirteen.  I’d read a little about induced hormonal imbalance during early puberty and it proved what I was or what Amber was.  Puberty had stopped.  In Amber’s case, at thirteen, puberty probably was at its second year.  After she started DHT or estrogen blocker, actually no matter which one, the progression of puberty stopped.  Dosage wasn’t enough to kick in male puberty though it was sufficient to stop female puberty.  So my body’s development was now at the age of thirteen and would resume because I had discontinued the DHT and Exemestane.  Dr West predicted that I should develop breasts up to a D cup like my Mom and both Grannies.  I didn’t envy them because my current AA was enough for me.

Well, one drawer was completed so I moved on to another lower drawer on the opposite side.  There was something like a scrapbook or journal with some press clippings glued in.  I did remember Laura had one when she was younger in that another universe and later Emma started one too.  This scrapbook wasn’t so fancy like I had seen.

I first thought it was about Dr Barstin but then I noticed that most press cuttings were from the near past like two or three years old.  Most of them were about various ecology cases.  Then there was “Falmouth JH student saved a kid and drowned herself”.  There were pictures of the kid, the rescue team and Amber.  It happened three years ago early December and the junior high school student actually didn’t drown.  The rescue team had broken the ice down the stream by driving their car onto the ice while the girl was sucked under the ice.  She was already dead after paramedics had taken her to the hospital but, because of hypothermia, the doctors were able to bring her back to life.  What wasn’t in the press but was written by Amber’s hand was that she stayed in the hospital till Easter and it was almost five months.  The next September, she started eighth grade in Junior High over.

It explained a lot.  Why I was sixteen while my friends were fifteen.  Why Mom was so frightened when I offered a visit to a public swimming pool – Amber sure had to hate water.  I liked that scrapbooking idea at the moment, though I wasn’t sure I was about to write my own scrapbook.  I continued flipping pages…

“Pet massacre place near Presumpscot Falls found.  Falmouth HS students suspected” I never enjoyed this kind of reading even as Walter and now, when I was Amber, I started to sob just after the first few sentences.  What was in the paper wasn’t very informative, probably because all suspects were minors so no names and no pictures.  Below Amber had written by hand: “Arnie admitted that it was them: Arnie, Ralf, Thomas and Chris.  They were proud of it.  They had pictures and videos on their phones.  They were my friends, my buddies.  I’d promised I’ll kill them all.  Sandra, Connie and Sheila didn’t back me.”

Poor, poor Amber… She was fifteen.  Almost drowned when she was thirteen… Stop! She couldn’t take pills when she was in the hospital.  So most probably Amber started taking pills when she was twelve and then there was a five months break with no pills but it was hypothermia related when development of puberty was delayed.  Then I actually was a twelve years old like the size charts were indicating.  And I was wondering where I’d lost a year.  Actually not a big problem if I’m not planning to bear children in the near future.  I hope everything will stabilize in two or three years when I’ll be graduating High School.

Further in this scrapbook I’d found a handwritten story of Malcolm raping Mom as told by Nana.  There was mentioned that both Emma and Granny Amber didn’t know whole story.  After this record was single handwriting how Amber had found Narama.  I guess his address was the same as in my universe and his phone number looked familiar too.

I’d got a lot of info.  I knew the names of the Ralf/Sandra groups now so I explored Facebook.  Facebook is a good thing.  I got to know all of them.  Not only pictures but likes and preferences too.  And… Thomas and Sheila were already among my friends.  I never offered my friendship on Facebook to anyone while I only accepted friendship inquires sent to me by others, all inquiries.  By the way only Arnie, Ralf and Sandra were seniors while other four were juniors.

 

 

Sunday’s weather wasn’t suited for outdoor activities – drizzling rain and relatively chill for the last weekend in April.  On the other hand, it suited me because I still had no sense of what clothing is good for what.  So I went with the same jeans, flannel shirt, and faux leather jacket as I did every day the last week.  And I had my swimsuit already on because I still wasn’t comfortable around naked females.

Emma and I had orange juice while the adults just drank coffee because it wasn’t good idea to eat before the swimming pool.  Then we all piled into Dad’s (you should congratulate me, it’s the first time I thought about Liam - Dad) car and headed off to Bracket street.  At the swimming pool, adults at first were all frightened and watching me and later, when there was no hysteria and no fit, they all relaxed.  Anyway, they watched me more than Emma. Meanwhile, I showed Nana some exercises in the deeper end of the pool.  That was my goal for this trip by the way and now this goal was completed and I could simply enjoy the swimming.

The swimming pool itself wasn’t something special.  I was special.  I was in my one piece swimsuit with high cut leg openings and I felt girly.  I almost forget I was Walter.  Adults were smiling at me and boys… Well, boys were ogling and smiling too.  With all my already developed (rather underdeveloped) female features, I looked like some tomboy, kind of twelve or maybe thirteen.  I could be with kids in their puddle with warm water or with adults in the main swimming pool.  Even dressing up in the changing room afterwards wasn’t SO awkward as it was at school changing for gym.

 

 

The next entertainment after the swimming pool was restaurant.  That wasn’t something posh, just a new place called Bao Bao Dumpling House on Spring Street, which was three blocks away from the pool.  Our family was assigned a booth.  After we were seated and made orders for drinks, Mom, Nana and Emma went all together to the restroom.  Dad and I were left alone.

“Don’t you go with the rest?” Dad asked.

“Don’t need,” I replied.

“It’s like a meeting or conference room,” he said with chuckle.  “Oh, don’t you need repaint?”

“I don’t know how even if I want.  I guess I wasn’t interested when Mom offered and now…” I was considering – was it true what I was saying?  “I know next year there will be a cosmetology class in HomeEc, so not everything’s lost.  Start saving money now, Dad.  I guess it’ll cost you a fortune with all of Emma’s and my paint.”

“No worries, hon, there’s enough money saved already for your paint and dresses and anything else.”

“Dresses? I have already two and…  Oh…  One of them is like Emma’s so we may consider going out like sisters.  Don’t know when…”

“Next weekend?”

“Yeah… Next weekend… is… is… May Day, Kennebunk Festival, May pole dancing?  What do you say?”

“Let’s wait for the quorum… There they are,” Dad said standing up and letting Mom, Nana and Emma back behind the table in the booth.  And yeah… they were repainted, even Emma.

“So, Ladies, there’s a proposition about next weekend.  A festival in Kennebunk and Amber will wear the new dress and will be all girly…”

“DAD...”

 

 

12

Monday morning was not as cold as it was on Sunday though the rain was still drizzling.  I ran my preferred miles and did some stretches.  When I was back home, Liam was out of the house into his car and we said our ‘Hellos’ and then I gave him a peck on his cheek.  It was so good to have a full family, to be a part of it.

After I showered, I’d checked the weather and – yes – rain stopped, the sun was shining, and outside wasn’t as chill as it was in the early morning.  With warmer weather, a new problem arose – what to wear?  I didn’t say I needed something new – my closet was full.  I wasn’t sure how to coordinate things.  As Walter, I would wear the same jeans with a shirt and I would keep my jacket in the car.  If temperature rose higher, I would roll shirt sleeves up.

Then I thought, maybe I could do the same as I’d seen some girls were doing – jeggings and tank top kind of undershirt and the same shirt instead of the jacket.  Well… No mirror to check the result.  No mirror… Maybe Nana has one in her room.  Well, later... 

Another problem I was facing now – where to put everything that previously was in my pockets?  There were two pockets over my breasts and they were good for ID and my driver’s license.  What about the rest?  Jeggings had actually two back pockets that were too small to put anything in while the front pockets were just decorative seams.  Ok… While at school I could keep my phone, wallet, tampons, Midol and Wenger in my backpack.  I had a delicate chain for keys but I guessed key chains were not in accordance with school dress code.  Car and home keys went into the backpack too.

At school, the backpack was ok.  I’ll look stupid although going everywhere with a backpack especially when I was with a car.  I was sure Mom or girls at school already had some solution.  That could wait.

I put on canvas or rather denim tennis shoes to complete my outfit and went downstairs to the kitchen.  I had almost an hour till I had to leave for school so I started wafers as I did last Monday.  This time I made more batter, expecting Nana and Mom to be joining Emma and me.  Dad was at work very early as he did every Monday.

Mom was the first because she was in a hurry.  She had a meeting every Monday before work hours.  I noticed she was carrying a handbag though it was too big for me.

“Have you something similar that is not so big and not leather?” I asked.

“Do you need a purse?” Mom asked back.

“I’m not sure what name is correct,” I replied.

Meantime Nana came into the kitchen, “Good morning all!  Oh!  O-ho-ho-ho… At least you have emerged from your gruff shell, haven’t you?”

“Really!” Mom was excited too.  “I’ve noticed there’s something different but couldn’t put my finger on it.  I see now why you need a purse – you have no pockets anymore.”

“So what about it, erm, the purse?”

“I have one that’s good for you,” Nana said, “it’s denim with a key chain strap sewed inside of denim hose and it’s kind of cute.”

We both went to Nana’s room and she found the purse in her closet.  As I’d predicted, there was a mirror on the closet door and I could admire myself in it.  Well I guessed I looked ok.  Not as curvy as most girls in my grade but ok.  Tennis shoes and Nana’s purse had denim of almost the same shade and they were light blue like my jeggings so I was dressed quite in an ensemble.

 

 

Emma was quiet about my appearance all morning and while driving to school but at least she said “You are different today” and when we hugged for goodbye she whispered into my ear “My sister is cute”.

 

 

My new friends at school did notice my new appearance but they didn’t pay too much attention to it.  They were busy chatting about their weekend.  I’d noticed a strange thing – I was more girly at home with my family while with those girls I felt more like Walter.  They were babbling at high speed and about so many various themes that I was unable to catch who said what.  The same thing continued during the lunch period.  I wasn’t complaining because I hadn’t much to say about my weekend or otherwise I’d had to go into all details and it would add another voice into the chorus of girly gaggle.

 

 

After school, I wanted to check Snotty the cat in the shelter.  Emma’s classes were over an hour ago and she was brought home by her friend Nat’s Mom.  I was driving the same road as usual when something in the car plopped and the car suddenly pulled to the left into the middle of the road.  I managed to keep the car near the right shoulder.  I got out of the car and, as I’d predicted, the front left tire was flat.

I got two rubber wedges from the trunk.  There was a complete wheel replacement kit too.  First I needed to loosen screws while the car wasn’t lifted yet.  I got the wrench and wrench handle extender and… There was a problem – I’d forgotten what direction to turn the nut to loosen the screw.  I’d never had such problem before.  I remembered some nurses complaining there were no arrows on container lids and they were not sure what direction they had to turn the lid to open the container.  Then I remembered that almost all screws are right-handed and right-hand-rule might be applied.  Even then, every time I was about to put the wrench on the nut I’d double checked what direction to turn it.

Problem number two – my strength wasn’t enough to loosen all five screws.  I’d loosened two bolts while the other three… I tried to stand on the extender – nothing.  And number three – this road was secluded.  I could call Dad, Mom or Nana but I didn’t want to.  I’d never in my life called for help with flat tire.

While I was contemplating what to do a car passed at high speed and then suddenly stopped screeching its tires and a young man jumped out.  I knew this man… Yes! He’s Thomas.

“Grow up at least you two!” Thomas shouted while he was turned to someone in the car.

“Leave that bitch alone!” someone shouted from the car and then Thomas slammed the car’s door.  The car took off screeching its tires again and leaving a smell of burned rubber behind it.

“Hi,” Thomas said casually as he’d approached me.

“Hi…”

“Let me…” and he tried the same as I with no avail.  “Have you a can of WD-40?”

Really, how could I forget about WD-40?  The spray was in the trunk in a special compartment for small things to prevent the rattle.

“Here it is,” I gave him the spray can.  He spread it over the screws.

“Five minutes to wait,” Thomas said.  “You know, it’s the first time we’re able to talk since THAT incident.  Before you say something I want to say that I’m really very sorry.  It had to be a prank.  Ralf and I were sure Arnie had found those videos on the net.”

“I’m not…” I started.

“Wait.  Let me finish,” Thomas interrupted me raising his hand and turning its palm to me.  “I know, even as a prank it’s very really very stupid and inexcusable.  We placed those terrible videos on our phones and showed to the girls including you.  You were the only who reacted.  Other girls probably were too shocked.  Only the next day, we found out that those videos were not from the net, they were original recorded by Arnie and Chris while they were torturing those cats.  More than once.”

I didn’t know what to say now and I wasn’t sure what Amber really said back then.  There was that awkward silence.  Thomas meanwhile started to loosen the lug nuts on the wheel and he succeeded at first attempt.  Then he used the screw-jack to lift the car and changed the wheel.  In less than ten minutes the job was done.

“Where are you heading?” I asked him.

“To the shelter on Summit Street,” he said, “but I can walk, it’s not so far away.”

“Oh… me too,” I replied, “I mean I go to the same shelter too.”

First we drove in silence until a couple of minutes later I said, “I’m sorry too.  I was wrong saying what I’d said.  I’d be happy to take my words back.”

“I understand you,” he said, “and I’d said probably the same as you or even worse and maybe did something too…”

“We were young and hotheads,” I said.

“And now?”

“What now?” I asked.

“You said we were young and hotheads so now we are old and calm like Buddha?”

“Maybe not old but grown-up.”

“Yes, you are really right,” Thomas said.

The rest of the ride we sat in silence.  Thomas probably thought I was a girl, so I was supposed to start the conversation or keep talking.  I’d remembered from my Walter life a nurse, Yola, from Vince’s clinic who was very good at assisting me.  I’d brought her a couple of times with me to Boston and she was babbling all two hours to Boston and then all two hours back to Portland non-stop.  Not all girls were so chatty but I hadn’t met one who could stay quiet for long.

Back to nowadays.  I didn’t know what to talk about.  I knew nothing about the pack of Arnie, Chris, Ralf and Thomas and girls.  I knew that Sandra was Ralf’s girlfriend.  Didn’t that mean that all girls the same way were paired with boys, Amber too?  Unbelievable considering Amber’s transgenderism.

On the other hand, I was scared by my inability to remember what direction the bolts had to be turned.  Was I losing my Walter’s experience or was that just a part of woman’s life like period?  Will I lose my ability to provide surgeries?  I had some plans regarding this but now I couldn’t even consider me forgetting how to cut or to stitch in the middle of the surgery.  I needed some training.  I needed to be sure about myself.

 

 

13

Snotty the cat was doing well so I left the shelter less than an hour later.  It wasn’t my day and there were enough student volunteers cleaning litter boxes and walking dogs.  Then I had something to do at home urgently.  That was my ability to cut.  I’d found a chicken in the fridge and practiced a dissection with carving knife.  When the body is dead and cold, it’s actually different then a surgery of a live being, but the moves are the same and they have to be no less accurate as during the surgery.  I surgically removed the chicken’s gall bladder while it wasn’t needed anyway.  I was happy with myself.

 

 

It was half past five when Mom called my personal mobile phone and asked if I was okay to meet her at the same salon as few days ago at six.  I answered I was okay and drove away.  I didn’t know what was planned though I could predict it was something about make-up.  When talking with Dad on Sunday I’d mentioned about my lack of any knowledge on that subject and he had talked to Mom most probably.  I wondered why it had to be at the salon and not at home.  After all that thorough waxing and my hair still being short, there probably wasn’t a lot of things to do that required a visit to the salon.

Mom was waiting for me in the parking lot and, after I’d exited The Pink, we had that sort of female light hug with our cheeks touching and air kiss and proceeded to the salon.

“It’s about your angry look,” Mom started.

“I’m not,” I protested.

“I know, dear, I know.  That’s not you, that’s your look or rather your eyes or, more precisely, that’s how your eyes are positioned.”

“I haven’t noticed they are something special,” I replied.

Meanwhile, we were inside and Mom went to receptionist who said that Marcia was waiting for at the third station.  Both Mom and I knew what direction to go and we didn’t need someone to escort us to Marcia’s station.  Marcia was older than Mom but younger than Nana.  After all ‘Hi’ and ‘Hello’, Marcia looked intently at my face.

“You were here on Friday,” she said, “I remember your face, it’s very special.”

“What’s so special about it?” I was confused.

“Do you know what makes Huskies to look so cute?” she asked out of the blue.

“Their angry look maybe?” I wasn’t sure still what direction we were moving.

“Exactly!” Marcia exclaimed.  “They look angry though they are not and because they are so soft and fluffy they look very cute.  People on the other hand, if they have the same angry look, they’re neither fluffy nor soft and they look angry.  Even if they are not.  Like you.”

“But I’m really not angry.”

“I said ‘they look’, young lady,” Marcia corrected me.  “Your eyes are squinted and it seems to others that you are kind of angry and captious.  That look is enhanced by your steep arched bushy eyebrows too.”

“My Dad has similar eyes,” I said.

“So what do you  suggest?” Mom interrupted us.

“The first, and the main thing, is to reshape your eyebrows,” Marcia said.  “Moving the arch to the center of the face and softening it will make your eyes look opened wider.  That’s about the eyebrows.”

“What else?” Mom asked.  By her tone I could say she hadn’t expected something else that needed correction on my face.

“Her eyelashes are tangled,” Marcia replied.  “It’s not a big deal to brush them and then straighten with a hot press.  Even without mascara, it will help for lashes to look fuller and longer and, eventually, it will add to the overall look of wider opened eyes and softer expression of her face.”

Reshaping of my eyebrows actually was another waxing followed by manually removing some loose hairs with a pair of tweezers.  The brushing and straightening of lashes took another fifteen minutes so we were over in less than an hour.  Mom paid and tipped Marcia and then when we were about to leave she suddenly asked, “How about earrings?”

“Those hanging and dangling?” I asked drawing in the air the circles below my ears with index fingers.

“Yes, about them,” Mom nodded.

“For some special occasions they seem good,” I considered aloud, “but I don’t want them for everyday.”

“For everyday, there are studs that are almost invisible,” Mom explained, “just to keep the holes from closing up.”

“Then, please, do it, if it’s not much money for one day.”

“Sure sweetie,” Mom said.

A young girl receptionist was listening to our conversation, the grin on her face growing instantly and at last she said, “You are what, thirteen, no more, but you talk like an older man of sixty or something, actually like my grandfather, it’s so funny to listen to you.”

“Exactly, young lady,” I replied, “I feel exactly so.”

And all three of us burst into the giggles.

I was sure those studs were kind of medical thingies and that there were no other choices.  Instead, the choice of the pair of studs took me more than twenty minutes before I found titanium ones.  Titanium because most implants are titanium based and that’s because titanium alloys are really hypoallergic and I didn’t want any reflectory distant reaction somewhere in my guts.

 

 

Meanwhile, Mom called Dad and found out that Nana made the chicken (dissected by me with the gall bladder removed) so we had a choice of leftovers at home or something in town.   We chose something in town and had another Mother-daughter night out.

Once in the restaurant, I admired myself in the mirror in the bathroom.  Yeah… My eyes looked bigger and the expression on my face was kind of surprised.  Mom stepped out from the stall and came to the sink too.  She washed her hands looking at me in the mirror.

“What?” I asked with a chuckle.

“You look so different.  And I mean SOOO different,” and she smiled at me.  I smiled back at her and watched as she reapplied lipstick.

It was already late.  Actually, it was a little too late for some serious dinner, so we each ordered a salad and then smoothies instead of coffee and dessert. 

We spent the time mostly in silence.  We really had talked less than it was few days ago.  There was a feeling of the closeness between us like we were lovers and didn’t need words.

“I was eleven when my ears were pierced,” Mom said and I almost said ‘I know’ because I’d remembered it from my life as Walter as one of those important moments in every teen’s life.

“A year later during a sleepover at friend’s home was the very first make-up,” she said with a chuckle.  “You had to see us.  We were so colorful.  When Mom came to pick me up she had to sit down – so hard she laughed.”

“Who could say then that you will use rather restrained makeup years later?”

“You think my makeup is restrained?” Mom wondered.

“In a way, sophisticated,” I assured her.

 

 

It was already after nine when we came home.  I had just enough time to go through my homework and then brush my teeth and…

Wasn’t I giving up too quickly?

Amber really was the same Walter from this universe.  And Walter was like me.  Not exactly the same, but very similar.  We both had enough money but were abstemious.  We drove the old car and lived in a semi-detached house in some distant neighborhood.  Up to 1968, our lives were identical when I was drafted and he simply continued his medical studies.  He was alpha, not macho, but alpha.  He was a leading surgeon in the field of orthopedic microsurgery, he had a bunch of apprentices and was a professor at Harvard.  He was killed at the top of his career because he had no survival instincts and I wasn’t killed because I had all possible survival skills.  There was a shooting at the grocery store and I had to drop down flat on the floor where water was and fish were from an already broken aquarium.  The Walter from this universe moved to a dry place and was shot.

Walter died at an age when his masculinity probably was something important to him.  And, all of sudden, he’s a baby girl and others said what he had to do.  And everything was very wrong.  Up to the last moment in his Walter life, he was a decision maker while now all decisions were already made by others.  Walter’s soul for sure was rebelling against this new order.  To restore the old order, he had to become alpha male again.  I’m not psychologist nor am I experienced in all those karmic things, though I was sure about the roots of Amber’s transgenderism.

I on the other hand, was never an alpha.  So maybe I’m not giving up, just adapting to the new life?

Tuesday morning, I made oatmeal – porridge for breakfast.  I’d expected some protests and was ready to scramble eggs for the most displeased ones but no one complained.  In Walter’s life, I’d made porridge, and not only oatmeal, more than once in a week.

Cleaning after breakfast took us forever because Emma and I probably were kidding too much and were almost late to school.  We were not late really but late enough to have to go directly to homeroom without chatting with Liz, Ronnie, and Mel and my new appearance wasn’t properly discussed.  They all had noticed sure during one class or another, but there wasn’t an occasion or not enough time to get us all in one place and discuss it.

There was a lunch period at least and the first thing was a thorough inspection of what was done.  I had to admit that the girls were almost professionals in makeup while they’d determined everything what was done to my face including the lashes’ treatment.  At least, or was it the first, it was my pierced ears.

“You said on Friday ears’ piercing isn’t in the foreseeable future and you have them with studs on, wait… Saturday – one, Sunday – two, well on the fourth day,” Mel was really agitated as she said this.

“There has to be a boy involved,” Ronnie said and it wasn’t a question.

“You’re blushing!” Liz exclaimed.

I felt I wasn’t blushing but after she’d said I was, I suddenly felt a heat flushing over my face.

“Oh, girl!  I can see it’s a real thing,” Liz gushed.

“Who is he?” Mel asked.

“Wait, no questioning!” Ronnie interrupted.  “There is a proven way, ok?  Paul… Pete… Mark… George… Roger… Andrew… Chris… Thomas… Yes!  It has to be Thomas.  Have you seen her eyes and sudden blush all over her?”

“It has to be Thomas Quinn, the junior.  I saw him glancing at Amber,” Liz declared.

“Why, very handsome boy and kind of cute too,” Mel said and other two just nodded vigorously in agreement.

What?    Spend less than an hour with a boy and said no more than twenty words and we were declared an item?

The end of lunch period ended my inquisition by those three.  Ha!  Classes were over and they were waiting for me at the parking lot.

Apparently, not everything had been found out yet.  How did it start?  Helped to change the flat tire?  Oh!  Oh, that is so romantic!  Damsel in distress on the deserted road helpless and scared… Mel’s eyes were almost wet…

 

 

I was home at least.  And Thomas was still in my mind.  I wasn’t really Amber so I really knew him less than an hour and all my experience with him was that of him changing my flat tire.  So what happened to me, or what happened to Walter, that I was still thinking about him?

Well, Thomas was neat and tidy unlike many unkempt boys his age.  He was polite not only with me but in the shelter too.  He was tender and caring for pets at shelter and attentive to an older man there who was refilling cats’ litter boxes.  And yeah… he was really handsome and in a way a cute too as Mel had said.  What was happening to me? Why was I thinking about the boy?  Thinking about a boy this way…

 

 

14

I’d done what homework I had to do and then launched into Facebook.  There were some friendship inquiries and one of them from Ralf.  Now I was friends with Ralf too, at least in virtual realm.  On Facebook, there is a right column that shows when your friends are online browsing Facebook.  When you click on your friend in that column a messenger window opens.  I clicked on Ralf and typed: “Hi.  Friends again! How are you?”

His answer came almost immediately: “Hi.  I’m fine, friend.”

“When are you back to school?”

“TMR.  Can’t wait.  People say you are different.  Want 2 C.”

“Who says?  Thomas?  We talked yesterday.  I know the truth.”

“I’m sorry.  I had to say I was sorry months ago.”

“I’m sorry too.  If I wasn’t such a hothead we could stay friends.  I said it to Thomas too.”

“Haven’t talked with him after this weekend.”

“If it wasn’t Thomas that said I was different then who?”

“Sandra.  She said UR kind of more a girl now – purse, makeup.”

“Isn’t she pissed at me?”

“Oh, no!  She was scared.  She said she saw you jumping over me with a butcher’s knife raised.  After you left from the hospital, she was still in shock.  Nurse gave her sedatives and doc had to explain her that you had not intention of killing me and rather saved my life.”

“She’d turned her back to me other day in cafeteria so I was sure we wouldn’t be friends for long.”

“I know.  She said it the same day.  She was embarrassed.”

“When you see her, tell her I’m sorry and want her to be my friend again.  OK?”

“I see her right now.  She reads what we type over my shoulder.”

“Hi Sandra!  Have you forgiven me?”

“She asks forgiven what?”

“Slitting your boyfriend’s throat.”

“She says THX and I say the same.”

“NP.  When is your prom btw?”

“This Friday.”

“Cool.  Will meet you tomorrow if you’ll talk with me.”

“Sure.  CU.”

“Bye.”

I wasn’t experienced in all those abbreviations.  Good thing they didn’t overuse them.  Though texting Liz and Ronnie or Mel was even worse while they used those codes a lot and I wasn’t sure about their meaning quite often.  Anyway, I managed to contact them mostly through Facebook messenger about my old friends and me.

 

 

In my not so short life as Walter, I got to know a lot about people – what they do so special that they are so different.  I knew what it was to wear a skirt or dress from the observer’s point of view sure.  I knew the differences and odds.  When in a skirt, raising your hands up doesn’t raise the skirt’s hem while in the dress, it depends on how high the dress wearer wants to reach and sometimes it could be up to a foot.  Then, no matter dress or skirt, the knees have to be kept together while sitting if the hem is above the knees and even when the hem is at your ankles, it looks much better when your knees are together.  The same thing about getting in and out of the car.  And the same about squatting and bending over.

I’d kind of agreed to be in a dress on Sunday.  I needed practice to not only feel comfortable in it but also not to embarrass myself and my parents.  My closet wasn’t very full.  There were some jeans, a couple of shorts, shirts, tees and a couple of jackets too.  And two dresses – one was that shirt dress that was bought last week and the other was dressier.  I didn’t know how and when it appeared in my closet.  And no skirts and or even a skort.

I needed a skirt.  And I supposed there was something that went with it as it was with leggings that I needed thong and tunic with them additionally.  Someone in the family probably had a skirt my size suited for everyday and the school.  I didn’t want go shopping especially for something I very possibly will not wear too much in the future.

 

 

Before heading to the kitchen to make dinner, I’d checked the basic steps of May pole dancing on the web.  Some twenty years ago, Dahlia, with Laura and I as Walter, were at Kennebunk May Day festival.  I signed Laura up for the May pole dancing competition.  She was assigned to a team of eight and won something too.  I’ll need to teach Emma those steps and maybe Mom too…

For dinner, I planned potatoes baked in the oven in sunflower oil with a lot of onion and garlic and, for carnivores, I’d bought some fresh pork, Bratwurst to be baked separately in the same oven.  Smell already some twenty minutes later was stronger than of barbecue attracting everyone who was at home.  And everyone was at home.  After dinner, while washing dishes, I had an idea and wanted discuss it with Mom.

“So if Emma and I both are about to wear the same dresses on Sunday maybe I could to practice beforehand?”

“What do you mean by ‘practice’?” Mom asked.

“To wear a skirt or dress at home and for school maybe… But I have none.  What I thought are skirts actually are some shorts.  Maybe you have something I can borrow?”

“Who are you and where have you hidden my daughter’s body?” Mom laughed.  “Well, I have some from a time when I was your age and before pregnancy.  Come with me, they are somewhere in the boxes in the guestroom closet.”

‘They’ almost all were too big.  Mom, even as a teenager, was taller than me and her hips were more prominent.  Too big actually wasn’t so bad while they could be adjusted easily though not on such short notice.  I selected some I liked and then Mom pulled out another two or three and she said it will be good practice for me.  And here I hoped Nana or Mom would do all the needed altering.

There was one that fit.  It was classic straight denim, almost three or four inches over the knee, skirt.  The material was soft and light with high Lycra percentage.  The skirt accentuated my hips though there was actually nothing to accentuate but the elastic material hugged my bottom and made it visually more prominent. 

“Wasn’t it too short for you?” I asked Mom.

“I wasn’t so restrained as I’m now,” Mom chuckled.  “And it’s not the shortest skirt in my possession by the way.”

“ I’m not sure I can go to school in it,” I said.

“Why not?  Your fingertips are at its hem so the skirt’s length is in agreement with the dress code.  I hope it hasn’t changed,” Mom said, “the dress code, I mean.”

“If it’s good for me it sure has to have been too short for you.”

“Really sure,” Mom agreed.  “But I wasn’t so modest a girl like you.  And not only I, other girls too.  I don’t understand how you manage to stay so calm all the time.  We girls were experimenting on the verge of appearing like whores under the influence of all those hormones.  Not always.  Usually we were in jeans as girls nowadays.  But when in skirts… Skirts had to be short!”

 

 

We were back to Walter’s half of the house as Mom said, “This skirt is so elastic that you don’t need to smooth it while sitting down, maybe only when you remember to create an illusion.  When you get out of the car…” she contemplated something in her head and then asked out of the blue: “Do you have any pantyhose?”

“No, I don’t.  Why?”  I had socks, thin and thick and some athletic knee socks too.  And no hosiery.  I didn’t need anything like that and I wasn’t sure I needed pantyhose now.

“It’s not summer outside,” Mom said, “and the temperature is sixty or something.  In pants, it’s okay but in a skirt, it’s chilly still if not cold.”

“May I borrow something from you or Nana?”

“No way!” Mom answered.  “We both wear C while for you the A is too big probably.”

“Then maybe Emma’s?  I guess pantyhose are stretchy enough to fit me.”

“I don’t think Emma has something that suits you,” Mom complained.  “The only not patterned pantyhose she has is white.  Anything else is in flowers, butterflies or fairies.  Even in white pantyhose you’d look like Emma’s mate, maybe year or two older but anyway.”

“So what?  Shopping trip to the mall again?” I whined.

“Is shopping so bad?”

“Maybe not.  But it takes sooo long and it’s probably too late anyway.  Ah…”

“We may go to Hannaford, it’s open till eleven and you don’t need anything fancy just pantyhose for girls in nude.  Let’s go?”

“Ok.  I just tell Nana or she’ll worry,” I said.

 

 

Hannaford wasn’t as secluded as I’d expected it to be at such a late hour of 9 P.M.  We went directly to the hosiery and apparel section and I stood in front the shelves filled with various pantyhose.

“Those are for ladies,” Mom said pulling me to another shelf, “your size is still a girl.”

On the packages were actually teenagers almost my age, but pantyhose were the kind of what Emma liked and not girls of my age.

“Those are what we need,” Mom pointed at package without a picture on it.  It was why I didn’t notice it in that sea of colorful packages.

“Your size is Child’s Large,” Mom said.

Pantyhose were packed two pairs in package.  “It’s because kids tear it so quickly,” Mom explained.  “By the way, show me your hands.”

I did and she examined my nails for a moment.  “Don’t you file your nails?” she asked.

“No.  Why?”

“You’ll tear your pantyhose with those sharp edges.  You need a nail file, the glass one because it prevents the nails from becoming rugged.”

So we went to the toiletries’ section.  Mom found the glass nail file while I found a little box of latex gloves for if my fingernails still had sharp edges.  I’d remembered one of nurses complaining about rugged fingers and fingernails after using disinfectant and she used latex gloves and she kept a pair of them in her handbag.  Or should it be purse?  Is there a difference?

“Maybe you need nail polish too?” Mom asked.

“Why?”

“To make your fingernails look pretty,” she replied.

“Who will see it?”

“Anyone who will look at your hands.”

“Huh?”

 

 

We spent two hours at Hannaford almost up to closing time.  Maybe I have to go back to being a tomboy?

 

 

15

Wednesday morning, Mom was up early and I thought there was some emergency at her work, apparently there was not.  She was up to help me with my nails and then with pantyhose and get me into my ‘new’ skirt.  So she’d shown me how to file my fingernails.  Actually, she did the entire job.  She said I’ll do it all by myself next time.  I didn’t argue with her about that.

So I was making breakfast in this new skirt and everyone greeted me with kind of “Oh!”  It was good that there were no comments about me emerging from somewhere… It was like just another day for Nana though.  That one by Nana was okay but I wasn’t emerging so… Maybe it was true for the old version of Amber but not for me.  On the other hand, who did know about it?

“You’re still a little clumsy,” Mom said, “though I guess it will be okay for your first time.”

 

 

I was sure it wasn’t okay.  At school, there were almost no ‘oh’ that one could expect.  My friends from both groups, that is my ‘old’ friends from the Sandra-Ralf pack and my ‘new’ ones from the Liza pack interacted with ease as if they were friends without my presence between them.  I felt kind of abandoned.  Then Ronnie literally pushed me a little away from others and whispered, “Your tomboyishness is more visible when you are in a skirt.  I guess it’s your first time.”  She was oh so right!  It was the first time for Walter and most probably for Amber too.  The manly behavior, posture and manners were ingrained in this brain and this body.  All the girliness that was present was that of natural physics of the body like the straightening a cat’s elbow to spread its claws.

Well I did know for sure now I was clumsy.  What next?  With that entire hormone imbalance and estrogen percentage growing, I’d become more emotional.  In other words, I was on the verge of tears.  Ronnie noticed and other girls too.

I, on the other hand, felt like a real pervert – an older man that occupied a girl’s body and pretended to be her, trying to deceive the rest of the world.  Everything that I was doing was a sham, imposture.  One the simplest single garment revealed my true self, unveiling me to the world and separating me from my family and friends.

 

 

The next thing I did remember was I in a hospital bed and Mom was sitting behind it reading a magazine.  I wasn’t restrained so maybe it wasn’t a nuthouse.  There was a window and I could say it was daytime outside.  Still or already I wasn’t sure.  I tried to sit up and my head felt funny.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Mom said.  “Don’t hurry to sit up.  The dizziness is because of sedatives.”

“What happened?” I was curious.

“Doc called it emotional breakage,” Mom replied.  “Probably it was my fault too – I was pushing you when I had to hold you on.”

“Pushing what?”

“You.  From tomboyiness into girliness.”

“You did what I’d asked you.  You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“I’m your Mom.  I’m here for you.  Or rather I had to be here for you and I wasn’t.  And that wasn’t the first time.  When I was pregnant with you, I was considering an abortion.”

“You were fifteen… ”

Anyway, it ended in a hug and both of us crying.  This is the way we were found by the doctor who entered the room a little later.

“Hello Mrs. O’Connor, Amber, I’m Doctor Samuel Jenkins specializing in endocrinology.  Amber’s blood shows no abnormality but extremely high level of female hormones and testosterone almost at zero level.  That by itself can’t cause emotional breakage though it’s a perfect background for such.”

“What’s causing this abnormality?  Can it be cured?” Mom asked with concern.

“I guess it’s almost already cured though I’m not sure it’s okay for me to talk with Amber in your presence ma’am,” Doc said.

“Oh…” Mom said, “I’ll wait in corridor then.”

“No Mom, please don’t leave,” I said, “I’ll have no secrets from you anymore.”

“I’m sure you aren’t taking any birth control pills.  Am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Have you been on some medication for a long period of time?”

“Yes.”

“Have you abruptly stopped its intake week or two ago?”

“Yes.”

“Was it some aromatase blocker?”

“I guess it was?”

“Do you remember its name?”

“It’s been Exemestane though I stopped taking it last year I guess.  The last one I’ve been on has been Andriol.”

“That explains much,” Doc said.  “I’d like to prescribe you some herbal sedatives to keep your emotions under control but there is another doctor in line who wants to speak with you and with you Mrs. O’Connor.  One last question Amber, are you still keen to return to the pills?”

“I’m over with it,” I ensured him.

“Well, then I step aside for Doctor Cess,” he said and left.  They interchanged some words at the door and then the living copy of Sigmund Freud entered the room.

 

 

“Well, hello ladies.  Mrs. O’Connor, Ms. O’Connor.  I’m a psychiatry doctor and my name’s Olaf Cess, people call me a shrink and it’s okay with me.  I’m on shift here today and if you prefer a female doctor, just say so, there is Doctor Goldsmith too.”

I looked at Mom and she wasn’t about to say something so I said myself, “We are okay with you, there is no need for another Doc I guess.”

“Well then… So first, I need to talk with you alone, Ms. O’Connor, then only with you, Mrs. O’Connor and at last with both of you.”

I was about to start saying I had no secrets from Mom but Doctor Cess raised his hand interrupting me, “It’s not about secrets or something Ms. O’Connor, there is a method and procedure I have to follow.  You may share all the info with your mother afterwards.”

Mom went to the cafeteria and left us two in the room.

Well… His questions were embarrassing though I’d to admit he had done his homework.  His knowledge of my background was impressive for an ordinary psychiatrist on shift.  He knew about Ralf’s tracheotomy, about Snotty (?) – though he’d said he and Brooks were friends.  And he knew about Thomas helping me on the road.  Again, the story was told at the shelter and Timothy Brook sure knew it.  Nothing was a secret, but try to imagine the doctor who gets all that info in like two hours about the patient who may decline his service in favor of another doc.

Later, I took a few tests on his tablet PC and he talked a little about me ignoring my transgendered condition.  He said that I’ll go through the same tribulations as if I was forcedly feminized but it was possible with my determination, his counseling and family’s support.

More than an hour later, he left me and went looking for my Mom.  They both were back to my room some thirty minutes later.

 

 

I was released to go home the same day.  There was no danger to my life or health and there was nothing doctors could do.  I wasn’t accustomed to the high estrogen level in my body that caused the emotional swings to reach drastic level.  There was nothing to do actually, so mild sedatives were prescribed to keep the emotional swings under control.  Another factor that caused my emotions to swing was my decision making – both Ralf’s tracheotomy and Snotty’s surgery.  Those had been pure male conduct and female incertitude came later, pushing emotions to the extremes.  The third factor was I myself forcing my femininity both in clothing and in behavior.  The clothing part was still unnatural for me and I had to get accustomed to it gradually.  While the behavior made me feel gay though there was nothing homosexual in it.

So what’s next?  Go easy without an excess force and keep things at even keel.

Let’s say that my first really girly attempt failed.  The rest of the week, I was back in my jeggings and flannel shirt and an additional feminine detail was dark brown pencil every morning over my brows.  I had the same pencil in my purse and was checking my brows every time I was facing the mirror and reapplying it if needed.  What next steps to take I wasn’t sure and I guessed Doctor Cess wasn’t a pro in the field of femininity so I decided to rely on my Mom as she had a huge practice and wasn’t so extreme as my peers.

Then again, the weather was getting worse and worse and, on Sunday, the rain was pouring non-stop which made our outing to Kennebunk not that impossible but purposeless.  So no dress on Sunday, while this time the skirt over tights and the trip to the public pool as the week before.

 

 

Period sucks, really!  It started much too early, but both Doctor Jenkins from the hospital and our family’s GP Doctor West were of one opinion that it’s because of my former hormonal games.  Anyway it sucks…

 

 

One event left unmentioned – Senior Prom.  I didn’t know a lot of students especially seniors.  I knew some students from my grade, but not all of them.  And I knew those juniors who were the part of the Ralf-Sandra pack.  Seniors of the pack were Sandra, Ralf and Arnie.  Sandra and Ralf was an item so it was a sure thing that they went to the prom together.  Arnie asked Sheila but she rejected him and Arnie went without a date.

Already on Saturday, Facebook was overloaded with seniors’ photos from the prom.  I knew two seniors and they both were outstanding.  I didn’t know the terms to describe how they were dressed, especially Sandra.  Well, Ralf’s tux was in dark terracotta color and instead of a neck tie or bow tie, he had a silk scarf wrapped around his neck because of the scar I had left on his throat two weeks ago.  Sandra’s dress was champagne (not sure but some girls had mentioned this color in their comments) and in the front, it was more than an inch above her knees while in the back it went almost to the floor.  The dress material was ruffled but it wasn’t meant for me to understand how.  Sandra’s a tall girl, so she in her dress looked youthful and impressive at the same time.  What else… It was sleeveless but not on straps just like normal with sleeves though like sleeves were cut off and it looked good while it wasn’t showing too much skin and it wasn’t frumpy.  Maybe there were more important details but I didn’t notice them and so they went unmentioned.

School life flowed as if nothing had happened after the senior prom.  Seniors and other students were attending their classes, taking tests, making projects, doing homework and waiting for summer vacation.   I was doing exactly the same as all others.

Alongside with my studies, I was moving towards femininity, gradually taking small steps.  I tried and it worked to wear a skirt to school at least once a week.  Then every day I was applying some darkening to my eyebrows.  I tried to polish my fingernails with transparent polish to make my nails harder and helping to keep my pantyhose safe.  Then, two weeks later with Mom’s help, I made the full nails routine.  First it was sinking my hands in a bowl with warm water, then cuticles were cut and nails filed and at least light pink nail polish was applied.

I was considering not waiting for cosmetology classes to start next year and start makeup lessons at home this summer.  Apparently, not only Mom but Nana too, was experienced in makeup and she said it was okay for her to teach Emma and me some basics.   And the basics weren’t so simple either.  Eyes alone were eyebrow, eye lid, eye liner, shadow around the eye and eye lashes while eye lashes themselves included straightening, elongation and coloring.

A tomboy’s life was definitely simpler.

In social life, I was with my friends from Sandra-Ralf’s pack and with Liza’s pack.  Those names were only arbitrary for me to somehow differentiate my friends.  Those two packs were friendly, though they tended to hang out inside their own pack.  So I was hanging out with them in the mall (btw I was sure it was activity suited for girls Emma’s age but apparently even seniors where hanging out in the mall and windows shopping) and it was a very new experience for me not only interacting with my peers but with adults too.

Another field of social life was my esthetic preferences – music genre, bands and groups, books, movies and actors.  There was complete emptiness.  Actually, there was something left from Walter but I couldn’t share it with others.  Something I shared only with Thomas.  My music was all from the late fifties what was left after my parents – all of them 45rpm singles.  Some music was on a few LPs too, bought by me back in high school.  As Walter, I digitized them and burnt onto CDs and those CDs were in my car.  I had a few CDs with mantras like one CD filled with Ganesha mantra and another with Mahamrtyumjaya Mantra and some others too.

When Thomas asked what music I had in my car, I just shrugged and let him look for himself.  He didn’t laugh at what I was listening and he knew some songs as well as a couple of mantras too.

I was spending more time with Thomas than with any of the girls.  I felt good in his company.  It was engrossing to talk with him in almost any field or at least in any field that was interesting for me.  I wasn’t absorbed in fashion or modern music or new movies or TV shows so I wasn’t interacting with girls because I was more of a listener of what they were discussing.  On the other hand, what was interesting for me was terra incognita for them.  Thomas was different.  All those girly things sure weren’t on his field.  And, like me, he never mentioned any sport.

 

 

16

Thomas was a friend and I felt at ease with him, while I was a little restrained with the girls.  I was telling him what I got to know about makeup and consoled myself that probably by the time for prom (that will be two years later), I’ll be able to do my makeup.

“Amber, will you go with me to the prom?” Thomas asked out of the blue.  First, I was sure he was talking about my prom two years from now, then it  dawned on me that next year he’ll be senior and HIS prom will be next year.  Anyway it was far, far away.

“Sure, why not!” I replied though I wondered why he was planning so early beforehand, but in a year I sure will make myself a respectable girl, so really why not?  “Is that kind of your strategic planning one year before the prom?”

“I’m talking about Junior Prom, it’s two weeks from tomorrow,” Thomas said.

“Huh?  What?  I have nothing to wear,” was the first excuse that came to my mind.

 

 

Two things kept going through my mind.  One was that Prom wasn’t a year away…And the other was that I really didn’t have any idea what to wear.  And what it is a Junior Prom?  Is it as posh as the senior one or what?  I didn’t have any shoes.  The only ones I had were flip-flops and several pair of athletic wear and one pair of white tennis shoes on white sole what were kind of formal.  Makeup… Mom sure would help but if I needed to repaint myself later?  I wasn’t ready for such challenge.  That was an opportunity to make a big leap into girl’s life for sure.  I’d need to talk with Doctor Cess.

I had already paid my debt to Narama that artifact keeper.  So maybe I could ask him to escape from this?  I shook my head at the though.  No!  I’d already said ‘Yes’ to going with Thomas, so there was no retreat.

Mom… Sure, Mom would know what to do. 

I waited until it was just the two us before I said, “Mom? I guess I’m in trouble.”

“Are you pregnant?”  I wasn’t sure how to take her question.  Was she afraid that I was pregnant or hoping that I was?

“What?!  Why, no!  It’s that Thomas has asked me to go with him to the prom and I’m sure that it’s next year and I said yes and he says it’s Junior Prom and it’s on Friday two weeks from now and that is seventeen or rather sixteen days away ’cause today is too late already for anything and I have literally nothing to wear and I even have no shoes too and I still don’t know how to do my makeup or how to repair it when it’s smudged or something and I’m not sure how I will look  beside him ’cause he’s five-nine and I’m five-one and I may look like a kid with an older bro…”

Mom put her hands up as if she were fending off an attack.

“Stop!  Please, stop.  It’s not the end of the world, honey.  There is nothing to worry about.”  She smiled gently at me.    “First, Junior Prom is NOT that real Senior Prom.”

“But it’s a prom anyway and I will need the dress and the shoes and I’ll be supposed to know how to wear them.” I was panting because of the worry and excitement.

“Calm down sweetie.  Junior Prom is more like seasonal school dance.” Mom soothed me.  “By the way, do you know some dances?”

“Huh?”

 

 

Dancing dances… I had never been to a dance in my life as Walter, simply because I was an outcast in high school and then after the army in college, I was almost ten years older than my mates and I needed much more time for studies to keep myself on the proper level.  But I wasn’t a hermit and I actually wanted to have friends and a girlfriend too.  It just turned out that my life and circumstances were not letting me.  I had some music inherited from my parents and then we got a TV in early sixties, so I watched shows with my grandparents too.  In the school library, there were some teen magazines too, so cutting a long story short, I really did knew some modern (modern by the mean of early sixties) dances and a little waltzing too.

The names I could remember were ‘strolling’, ‘nitty gritty’ and, sure, ‘the twist’.  Those dances had the same moves both for boys and for girls as much as I remembered.  Another thing was waltz.

 

 

“So what about dances?” Mom insisted.

“I guess I know few and maybe even waltz too.”

“Waltz?  Are you sure?”

“We can try it,” I offered.

“Let’s go to the other half of the house, we’ll have a living room for ourselves.”

We went outside to go round the backyard and then to the other side of the house.

“It’s so simply to make the door” I offered.

“One of you may get married soon and live here so it’s for the privacy.”

So much privacy for themselves and no outcome…

Then we were inside and found Dad in the living room reading a book, with some music playing in background.

“Amber says she knows the waltz, so we need to give it a try,” Mom said.

“Oh?” Dad said.  “Well…” he said then got up from sofa and came to stand in front of me, bowed his head, and offered me his hand.  He was the same height as Thomas and I felt like a dwarf in front of my Dad.

“I’m like a gremlin beside you,” I said, “and I thought I would try with Mom…”

“Your shoes will give you another two three or even four inches,” Mom said.

“Huh?”

“With your Mother, one of you would dance wrong,” Dad said while he took my right hand in his and put his right hand on my waist while I put my left hand on his shoulder.  Mom meanwhile found and put the proper music on.

“Let me lead,” Dad whispered, “That’s right… good… wow…”

I let him lead the dance and it was easy ’cause I knew what the next move would be.  I’d never thought in my life that my first dance would be with a man and even more with my Dad.  We were twirling and I was almost floating above the floor.  The music ended and we stopped.  Dad bowed his head to me and I curtsied and there was some applause too from my Mom and from Nana and Emma who were standing in the door.

 

 

We, and I mean my Mom and I, decided that my dress had to be not that really posh prom gown but rather something a little fancier than for church or family meeting and that I would wear sandals with two inch heels and will stay relatively safe in them.  I had nothing of mentioned above and I was in the mall with Mom and other times with my friends both from Sandra and Liza packs and we were mostly windows shopping and I had tried a couple of dresses that someone in the pack liked.

There was one very particular dress but no one from both packs approved it or rather none of them had pointed at it so I didn’t try it and I thought I’ll try it when I would come back with Mom and see if she would approve it.  I was probably an old fashioned a little.  And I mean an old fashioned in Walter’s terms.  That dress reminded me that I still had my memories of my Mom, that’s Walter’s Mom.  It was not short and not long, no more than an inch above the knees (or at least no more than the inch above the mannequin’s knees in the window).  The color was the very light shade of lilac.  It was sleeveless and it wasn’t tight so not showing what I really hadn’t.  At least it had two or three underskirts of very thin white material.  Those underskirts made the skirt to look wider while the waist looked narrower.  I liked it on mannequin though I wasn’t sure how it would look on me.

I had no shoes for the Prom because Mom said I had first to buy the dress and only then to match up my shoes to it.  So first of all, she bought me the classics for the girl my age and stature – white Mary Janes with a one inch heel.  I was wearing those shoes to school every day now and I was getting used to the clatter of the heels over concrete pavement or hardwood floor.  The very first day in Mary Jane heels was rather comic while I tried to keep going on the balls of my feet, not allowing the heels to clack.  To the end of the day, I was accustomed to that constant clatter already.  My trying to produce as little noise as possible was a great practice for me ’cause I’d found the right way to walk in heels.

Mom was at first a little reluctant about that dress but then, when I put it on, it really was as long as to my knees and made me look a little retro.  With my hair still on the short side and in a dress that was feminine but not that girly girlish feminine, I looked kind of tomboy with one foot still in old tomboy life while another one was already stepping into femininity.  As I really was.

 

 

It was Monday of Prom week and we (i.e.  Emma and I) were about to go to the mall after school to take my new shoes.  We had found those shoes on Saturday when we were shopping for the dress with Mom.  So now after school, I had to take Emma and go to the mall where we had to meet Mom and go to the shop where the color of the shoes had to be changed to match the color of the dress.  The shoes had some places open and the toe closed, there were some narrow straps (a little too much to my liking) and a three inch heel.  First I was afraid I’ll be unable to walk in them but then, after I tried them, they were almost good.  My practice in high heel Mary Jane shoes probably was significant for my ability to walk in three inch heel shoes.  Walking in those shoes in the shop wasn’t so bad so I hoped after some practice at home I would be okay.

The weather was good and warm so Phys Ed was outside in the stadium where we had the running short distances like one hundred meters for boys and sixty meters for girls.  I wasn’t the best though I was among the best.  After the class was over, I headed from the locker room, not back to our school building, but I was cutting behind the bleachers directly to the parking lot.  That area behind the bleachers was usually secluded and it’s some twenty feet wide and framed by the blind wall of the main building on the other side.

When I stepped through, there were three large boys who had cornered another smaller one.  There was some cursing and punching and small boy’s face had some bloody smudges on it.

“Hey!” I said with a raised voice while I was trying to attract as much attention as possible.  Other students usually ignored bullying, both when I was a kid and nowadays too.  Maybe if the boys from my grade would pass through, those bullies would go away.

“What do you think you are doing?” I tried my voice to sound commanding.

“Go away bitch.  Don’t you see the men are talking,” one of them snarled.

“It doesn’t seem like talking to me,” I still tried to sound commanding while I got closer to the group.  “You are hurt,” I said to the smaller boy.  “Come with me,” I said taking his hand in mine.

One of the bullies jerked my shoulder to the back.  “Didn’t I tell you to go away, bitch?” growled another one who looked like a head bully in this group.  Then the second one came up behind me and now two of them were holding my hands and turned me to face their boss.

“I see you don’t understand polite language,” he continued approaching me, “I have no choice but to give you a lesson.”

When he was less than three feet away from me, I used my constrained hands as support and literally walked up his front till I reached the level of his face where I put my left foot behind his head while with right foot sole kicked his face with full force several times.  The boy’s face was instantly turned into a bloody mess.  He was holding it in his hands and screaming like mad.  I was back on my own feet while those two bullies were still holding me, but not so tight.

The one on my right was wearing pants with a loose waist so when, the boys eased their grip, I quickly dipped my right hand into his pants and grabbed one of his balls.  One ball is more than enough when you know what to do.  I knew.  And the second bully was screaming a moment later.

If the third boy wasn’t stupid he’d run away but he was.  And he tried to attack me in a leap of all of his two hundred pounds with his fist aimed at me.  Classic first season attack in every self defense school.  He ended with his face thumping flat against the wall.  He didn’t scream while he passed out in peace.

“I thought you’d be in the nurse’s office already,” I said to the smaller boy taking his hand in mine, “come with me.”

“Ms. O’Connor, Mr. Brody!  To my office now!” the principal ordered approaching from behind the corner of the main school building.

“Was he hiding behind the corner and waiting for me to do the entire dirty job?” I mumbled under my breath, which made the boy giggle.  Yes, giggle, he was a kid, maybe some two or three inches taller than me.

“My name’s Amber,” I said extending my right hand to him, while we were walking to the principal’s office.

“I know,” he said, “we have all the same classes except for Home Economics.  My name’s Eric.”

We shook our hands.  So he was one of those invisibles no one notices in the class.

“Sign-up for self defense class,” I offered, “the name doesn’t matter, any is better than nothing.”

While walking to the principal’s office, I called Mom to tell her that I was in some trouble and that Emma’s probably still waiting for me in the parking lot.  There was no wonder then that after we arrived to the principal’s office and were waiting for him to come back, my Mom appeared some fifteen minutes later and then both Eric’s parents too.

 

 

17

In this event, the old Walter’s knowledge and training were acting in unison with Amber’s fast reaction.  I remembered similar situations from my Walter’s life when I was waiting for Emma near her school and walking behind the fence of the campus.  There were two bigger boys harassing another little one.  I couldn’t intervene even if I was on the other side of the fence with them, so I extracted my phone and started recording.  I wasn’t sure if even this was legal for me to do but it helped.

 

 

The principal was late because there was ambulance to take those three goons to the ER and the police were called too.  As always, there were some kids that have everything or almost everything on their smartphones, so when we (Eric, I and our parents) were invited into the principal’s office together with two police officers, he had three full records from various angles of this incident.  Those records were played on the principal’s PC and I could see that I really flashed my panties to that first jerk and… Well, I was wearing that button down shirtdress and practicing walking in high heels and what I did was the only way in this situation when other two had my hands locked.

“I’m sorry kids, but according to school rules, all participants of the fight have to be suspended.  So I suspend you two for the minimum of three days.  I’m calling a school board meeting because of this incident and I hope to convince the board to allow me remove suspension records from your files,” he said.  “Ms. O’Connor, I know you are invited to Junior Prom, so feel free to attend because it’s on Friday and your suspension days are from Tuesday through Thursday.”

Then the police officers wrote down our statements and took Eric to the hospital to get his ripped lip documented.  The poor kid was bleeding all this time and holding some tissues to his face and not allowed to go to the nurse’s office.

 

 

Emma was taken home by Nana and after all statements were written down and everything was said, we were free to go three hours and twenty minutes later than we’d planned.  We could have gone directly to the mall, but Mom had promised Emma to take her with us and ‘shopping’ was still so important to Emma that we decided come home first and take Emma with us and go in one car.    We suited the action to the word and were home fifteen minutes later, kidnapped Emma and went to the mall in Mom’s car.

It was already late afternoon and some jams formed at exits from turnpike because traffic was getting heavy.  It took us an hour and a half to reach the mall.  It was good that we were not looking for anything special so we went directly to the shoe shop where my shoes already waited for me.  Then we spent some time letting Emma walk the aisles and windows shopping with no particular aim.

 

 

At home, I checked Facebook and found some videos that were not taken by police.  Those were mostly short fragments from various angles.  The episode where my panties could be flashed was recorded from behind me and the jerk’s face was visible.  Another video was as I dipped my right hand in the boy’s pants and grabbed him causing a scream.  The third episode with the last boy trying to hit me was recorded from behind me too and no details were clear from it.  Anyway, all movies were removed shortly by Facebook staff probably because of their violence.

 

 

Three days for myself without school!  That’s great.  First things to do – to practice those new high heels and then remember dance steps.  The Waltz – check.  I’d danced with Dad and now I had to repeat the same steps in high heels and without Dad.  Well.  I succeeded.  Then the rest.  The Stroll – check.  It’s the simplest among those I knew but it required the partner to use the same steps so no chance of strolling.  Sigh… The Twist – check.  I could dance it in flats and in high heels too and I could dance it in front of my partner even if the partner didn’t know it.  The same could be said about the Nitty Gritty with one difference that the Twist was very easy to learn and my partner (It’s Thomas!  Why do I say partner?) could learn basic moves during Prom.  The Swing at last and no ‘check’ here.  I could dance in trainers or other flats or even in socks but I didn’t dare to try in high heels.  Then I needed Thomas to know this dance at least at the beginner’s level while I couldn’t dance it solo like the Twist or Nitty Gritty.  Sigh… It’s a good dance but not this time.

I was over with dancing and it was four - the time when Emma was brought home by her friend Nat’s mom.  We both put on rubber gloves, those for scrubbing, and went to the other side of the road and, fifteen minutes later, had two plastic bags full of nettles and one small plastic bag with sorrel.

Still in the same rubber gloves nettles were washed and chopped then diced potatoes and carrots added.  Cooked for twenty minutes and then the most important and secret part – take an egg and make very small holes on both ends and blow the content into the boiling soup while stirring and you have the soup whitened and the egg shell suitable to make a Christmas tree decoration.  Another trick is to keep those shells safe until the winter.  As a solid food part, young fresh potatoes (not peeled) together with sliced onion wrapped individually in the foil and baked in the oven.  For carnivores, I did the same as the potatoes to wrap an icefish but I couldn’t find icefish so I’d bought something similar and, since no one complained, it was probably good.

 

 

Wednesday was Nana’s free day and I thought it was a good time to learn the basics of makeup.  Mom surely wanted to be my teacher but, a – she was in the office till 4 in the afternoon and b – Amber might ignore Nana as too old for makeup but I wasn’t one hundred percent Amber and I knew that Nana was Mom’s teacher years earlier.

First comes priming the skin – a thick liquid matching skin tone.

“No,” Nana complained, “first comes eye makeup because eyes don’t need the same priming as you say and when applying color to your eyes, some speckles may fall on an already made face.”

“So mascara and eyebrow pencil is first and then priming over the face?”

“Nah.  Eyebrows go separately.  Pluck unneeded hairs first and then apply pencil.  And you are ready for eye makeup now.  First do eyeshadow and then eyeliner and last is mascara.”

“How I know what color shadow to use?” I wondered.

“Usually, girls experiment with various colors for various light environments like day, evening, club or stage.”

“While experimenting, I might be wrong.  What then?”

“Then you use different colors next time.”

“But if I go somewhere and I see my makeup is all wrong how do I repair it?”

“You don’t repair it.  Young girls are allowed to experiment and to look like clowns sometimes.”

“And if…”

“Then you go to a salon,” Nana had obviously lost her patience with me.

The lesson itself followed.  I was to do every step exactly as Nana had shown me several times except of eyebrow plucking.  Even if ignoring the color, it was a hard job.  Not hard like hard, but hard like skillful, especially when I had no skills.

I have wasted a ton of cotton for cleaning already, I was tired, if not to say exhausted.  “Do I really need all of this?  What if we omit some steps like shadow, powder, blush or lip liner? How do I remember what to put on let alone what color?”

“Well, let’s take a break,” Nana said, “or rather let’s make dinner.”

“Hurray!”

 

 

The next day, I was a little more skillful and after we cut out some operations, the complete process became more bearable.  It was noon and I could do my makeup from beginning to the end.  But…

I was working with my face while sitting on a low chair in front of the low table with an enormous mirror.  Anyway, I was sitting and it was easy to reach for everything I needed.  The next task was to repair my lipstick and mascara in the bathroom on high heels with what I needed in my purse.  To make a face from scratch is one thing, while to repair it is much harder.  Especially lipstick – remove carefully not touching around the lips and then apply and blot not smearing.  Practice made perfect, well, maybe not perfect but acceptable for sure.  Anyway, makeup wasn’t my favorite thing to do and I wasn’t sure it would ever be.

 

 

Friday… Three days without school wasn’t as great as I thought before.  It was the same study just much harder.  At school, I knew almost everything what we were studying and, except for Home Ec, I was repeating what I knew before.  At home during those days, I was studying makeup and studying really hard.  And practicing too.

The very first thing at school was to go to principal’s office as I was told on Monday.  The principal wasn’t there and the girl in the adjoining office told me that the record of my suspension would be removed from my file as well as from Eric’s file too.

Then back to freedom and since there was a little time left to the bell, the girls gathered into a bunch for a chat.  While we were babbling a boy, the one who’s ball I’d tormented on Monday passed by.  “Bitch!” he hissed.

“Oh, nice to meet you, I’m Sheila and she’s Connie,” Sheila replied pointing at Connie and it all sounded like the boy had introduced himself as Bitch and all girls erupted into laughter while the boy blushed beet red.

“Welcome to the girlhood honey,” Connie said trying to put her hand on boy’s shoulder.  The boy shrugged and then quickly retreated.  Probably everyone in the school had seen the videos of the fight and the episode with my hand in his pants and him screaming.  No one knew what was done and I didn’t tell, so it seemed like both his balls were probably torn away.  Or this was what the bigger part of student body was sure about.

 

 

Junior Prom was held in the school cafeteria unlike Senior Prom that was at a country club.  Junior boys and girls left after school to prepare the cafeteria for the evening.  I volunteered to help but my offer was rejected and so I went home.

At home, I checked again and again if everything was done that had to be done.  Shaved – check.  Jewelry – check, Mom had bought me a titanium herringbone necklace and bracelet with matching earrings.  After I’d so thoroughly looked for titanium studs, she was sure titanium was my favorite.  Pantyhose – check while today it would be not plain nude pantyhose for kids but thin sheer Italian in XS size.  Dress – check.  Shoes – check.  Makeup – check while Mom helped me.  I did it myself and Mom was saying what was better for me.  It was the primer, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencil and lipstick – everything in almost natural colors so it didn’t look like I was painted too much.  Purse – check though it wasn’t really a purse but I’d forgotten its name.  I’d got that thing from Nana and I’d remembered it from Walter’s life too.  Inside were lipstick and eyebrow pencil, Midol, tampon and ID.  I didn’t need my driver’s license, I wasn’t driving tonight.  Perfume – check, Diesel Zero Plus Feminine I’d remembered from Walter’s life because I had bought it for Dahlia for her 50^th birthday.  Then it was very new and extravagant in its color and form reminding me of a fire extinguisher.

Everything checked.  It was kind of cliché – it happened so many times in so many families of parents seeing their daughter off to her first date.  With one ‘but’ although.  It was the first time for me and I was very nervous and I felt like Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady before the embassy ball.  I had to wait in my room and let Dad talk with Thomas while I was ‘polishing’ my makeup, then my great entrance and Mom taking pictures with her camera.  It’s so boring when it happens not with you.  At the same time it was very exciting – I was experiencing moments and social events I didn’t have an opportunity to go through in Walter’s life.

Something had been building up in me all week.  It was when I was walking out to Thomas’ car on his arm that I finally realized that I was not Walter anymore, he was just a memory.  I was Amber, the girl, and this was my life.