Running
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Thomas Begley was only 12 years old when he and his father decided to run. It was Tom’s decision. He was close to his father James, and had never been able to accept being in the custody of his mother since his parents separated. James had tried to fight for custody because Tom wanted him to, but sadly the outcome was determined by money. James’ ex-wife Maureen Taupin, had plenty. Or more particularly her family, who never liked James, were very wealthy. They were prepared to pay any price to separate James from Tom.

Tom knew that a boy should love his mother, but is his case he simply did not. She was moody and distant. She was scheming and manipulative. She was everything his father was not. She was everything that he did not want to become.

“She will not let us get away,” James told him. “She will do everything to find us. We will need to become invisible. We will need to make sacrifices to be invisible.”

“I understand Dad,” said Tom – a sensible young man and very mature for his age. “I will be leaving my friends behind. As long as we are together, and we can stay in touch with Pop and Gran, I am OK with whatever we have to do.”

“Well, we need to look at a disguise,” said James. “I can change my appearance, but it will be harder for you. I have an idea but I don’t think you will like it…”.

“Anything to get away Dad,” said Tom. He felt like crying but held it in, as he said: “She wants to stop me seeing you all together. She always gets what she wants. I will do anything.”

“Ok,” said James, taking his son by the shoulders. “To hide yourself completely, you are going to have to disguise yourself as a girl.”

He could see Tom’s face, first shocked, turn to a slight smile. Tom said: “I could do that. For a while, anyway.”

They would need time to prepare. James had to find a place to build a new life, and put some structures in place there. He needed new identities for both of them. More than one, in case they needed to escape again. He needed to plan.

Tom needed to prepare himself for his new identity. He had some drugs to take to hold back his impending puberty, and he would not be cutting his hair until after the Easter Sunday with his grandparents (James’ parents – his Pop and Gran), or so he said. That was still two months away. He had some time to think about his disguise and how he would pull it off.

Tom was a naturally curious and observant person. He had never really been too concerned with girls, but he now took it upon himself to become interested in what they did and how they acted differently from boys. He made some friends with the girls at his school. When he said to his mother: “No Mom. I don’t want a haircut. My girlfriend Maddy likes it a bit longer”, she believed that he did have his first girlfriend. She was happy with that.

In fact Maddy was his girlfriend, sort of. They hung out together. They talked. Or at least she talked and he listened. He listened and he watched. He could do her actions and say her words in front of the mirror in the privacy of his own bedroom. It was so girly. He was pleased that he was becoming really good at this.

His old friends were all boys. At that age some of them understood his sudden interest in girls, or at least they thought they did. Together, they still did all the things that boys did. Mainly sports. He wondered how much of this he would miss during the time he would be in disguise. Of course there were sporty girls like Kay. He watched her too. Sporty girls were not like Maddy, who could be best described as a girly girl. He could not do Kay in front of the mirror.

He decided that Tamzin would be more like Maddy than Kay. That was the name he had chosen for himself. It sounded a bit exotic. Tamzin.

The hardest thing was that he would need to leave all his friends behind without saying goodbye. He knew that, and he knew that it would be difficult. Maybe he could find a way to make contact with the guys later?

***

“I hope that you have good news,” snapped Maureen, pointing at the chair.

The perpetually sad face of Hans Logan was unmoved, but he decided to remain standing.

“Let me explain what we have done,” he said. “Focusing on young Thomas we have looked at school enrolments in this and 10 other states, focusing on boys with solo fathers where that information is available. My men have checked 23 leads. All negative. Despite it being unlikely because of your son’s sociable character, we have to face the possibility that he is being home-schooled.”

He noticed that Maureen squirmed uncomfortably, her face darkening even further. He continued: “Regarding James Begley, we have looked closely at his known friends and associates, but can find no ongoing communication with them. That is not to say that it is not happening, but we are doing the best we can. What we do know is that he is in contact with his parents.”

“Those assholes,” muttered Maureen, deriding two of the nicest people you are ever likely to meet. “They should have been arrested months ago, for their part in this thing.”

“We are checking their mail. They receive regular postcards, all sent from here in the city. From mailboxes all over the city. It would seem safe to assume that they are not living here but are using somebody to drop the cards. He is mailing them to somebody here who is re-mailing them. Then we have detected some phone contact, but only from burner phones. It seems that on occasions somebody slips a burner phone to either his mother or father in a public place, and they receive calls from another burner, for a few weeks. I have taken the step of arranging a break in to collect a phone and clone it. We tapped two calls and then the burner was replaced.”

“You have tapes of those calls?” asked Maureen. She wanted to hear her son’s voice.

“I can send you the sound file,” said Hans, “but we have been through the transcripts and background noises very closely for location clues and there is nothing. They know you are doing everything to find them, you know. We are up against somebody very cautious and quite resourceful.”

She nodded, even though she disliked her ex-husband being complimented. Then she asked: “Where is his money coming from? You know that I made sure he collected almost nothing from our marriage, and I engineered his dismissal from the broking house?”

“Sadly for you,” said Hans, “he has skills. He has enough money to trade in the markets he knows. He could open his own accounts or use anybody’s account. And he could just meet a guy in a bar and sell a market tip for cash. I am afraid he is clever enough to fund his escape.”

“Well I will always have more money than him,” smirked Maureen. “You know that I will pay whatever it takes, so try something else. I want my son found and my ex-husband punished for what he has done.”

***

“Good morning Daddy,” Tamzin chirped, positively bouncing onto her stool at the breakfast bar. Her father, now Jake Hollander, had set her bowl out with a choice of cereals and other foods.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he said, scratching his beard. For a man who had spent his life before now clean shaven, this disguise was positively irritating, a point he had made often before when his daughter had complained about a life in disguise. There was no complaining from her now.

“Have you got something special on today?” he asked. “You are looking very pretty.”

She was. She had washed and conditioned her blonde hair and put a slight wave in it with a curling wand. The side parting was held with a clip with a lace bow. And she had just a hint of makeup. Some mascara and just maybe a little fairly neutral lipstick. She was wearing a dress that seemed quite mature. She was still only 13, but her friends at school were all experimenting like this.

“Baseball trials, Daddy,” she said. “Me and the girls are going down to watch and support some of the boys. The season opens after Easter.”

“Easter,” said Jake. “Has it been a year already?”

It had been a harder year for him. They had worked out that Tammy could visit her grandparents with his sister and her husband. But for him even having grown the beard and lost the weight, he could be too easily recognized. They had taken a huge risk in him going to his sister’s place for Christmas. His parents had been followed there. He and Tammy had arrived there a day before and had to wait for 3 days after Christmas before the team watching the house left. It had convinced him that Maureen would not let up. He looked at Tammy and knew that they would never find Thomas now. The risk to them both was him.

Tammy ate her breakfast while he went through the morning market reports. Then she asked him: “Daddy, could I please grow some boobs?”

It was so unexpected, Jake had to double check: “Did you just say you wanted to grow boobs?”

“It’s just that everyone else is starting to get them, except me. I know this is just a disguise, but, well it needs to be a good disguise. I don’t want anything that can’t be fixed later. It’s just that without some boobs, I am worried that people will ask questions.”

“I am sure we can do something,” said Jake. “There will be pills or injections or something. If that’s what you want, then I can arrange it. You understand that we are still at risk but one day, when you are old enough, you don’t need to be in disguise. For me I have committed the crime of abduction, but for you there will be no consequences when you reach the age of 18.”

“I still have 5 years to go,” she said. “I need to fit in.”

“Leave it to me sweetie,” he said. And then, scratching his beard again he complained: “God I hate this beard.”

“Perhaps you should trade in the beard for some boobs too,” joked Tammy. “It’s really easy being a girl. And fun too.”

***

“I was convinced that they were there last Christmas,” remarked Hans Logan. “So I was much more watchful this Christmas.”

“Christmas is a terrible time for me,” said Maureen, more angry than sad. “As if it’s not enough that have to endure a second Christmas without my son, the boy tortures me as he did last year, with a Christmas card.”

She threw it on the table. He picked it up. He could see immediately that it was generic and too common to be traced. She had not kept the envelope with it, but he knew it would be postmarked in the city and tell him nothing. In it, under the inane greeting Thomas had written: “Mom, seriously thinking of you this Christmas and hoping that you are well. Dad and I are happy and doing great. Please do not hate us. Tommy.” He noticed that his handwriting had developed as would be expected. But it seemed more looped and flowing. Almost effeminate.

“Can I keep it?” he asked. “Maybe some things to be checked or compared with last year’s card.”

“The dagger has done its work,” she said. “Keep it.”

Hans continued with his report to her, the first that month: “So this year Christmas was at the Thomas’s grandparent’s home. Of course they were both there, and there was James’ sister Suzanne, and her husband Oliver, and their two children, both pre-teen. This time Oliver’s sister Joanne Hollander was also there, with her teenage daughter Tamzin. I think that Suzanne and Oliver must be quite involved with this young girl because we have seen her at the house before, with Suzanne.”

“I am not interested in their family,” signed Maureen, “Just my own.”

“We are just looking for connections. Oliver and Suzanne live in a house big enough to conceal secret guests. I think that last Christmas at their house James and Thomas may have been there. But your ex in-laws live in a small house, too small to hide anybody. My team kept watch. There was nobody else there.”

“So you conclude that Thomas was not there for Christmas?” she asked. “Will I ever find my son?”

“James is clever,” observed Hans, with a hint of admiration not well disguised. “But I am hoping that after time he will get complacent – he will slip up and make visible contact. We need to be there. I have to say that this means constant attention, and that costs money.”

“You know I will pay,” she said glumly. “I have no other choice.”

***

“Good morning,” said Hans Logan. It was hardly that. It was an overcast and cold January day. She recognized him immediately, and was first immediately concerned that Hans might recognize her. She needed to close the door on him as soon as possible. He said: “My name is Hans Logan and I am a private investigator working on a Family Court warrant to resolve a custody battle between James Begley and Maureen Taupin. I think you might know them, Mrs Hollander.”

“Please come in out of the cold,” she heard herself say. She knew that Hans Logan worked for Maureen Taupin, and that he was lying to her. He was not working for the Family Court. She was lying too. She was not Joanne Hollander. It was a huge risk. She might be found out at any moment. Her disguise seemed so thin and fragile. Yet curiosity was stronger than fear, or even good sense, at the moment.

As she took his coat she said: “I have to tell you that I only know about the custody battle from because my brother is married to say James Begley’s sister. I do hope that the whole thing can be sorted. Would you like some coffee?”

Hans accepted her invitation to the kitchen and a warm cup of coffee. She had made a batch of chocolate brownie the day before and reached up to get container down. She was wearing dark brown leggings over long and shapely legs, and a thick woollen knitted sweater with a crazy patter. Her hair was coloured red and was set on top and curled at the back and sides. Her clothes were modern but her hair and make-up were almost from another time. Even in that shapeless top she had a shape that was alluring and sexy.

“This is delicious,” said Hans. “You are obviously a great cook.” It was not only the brownie, the kitchen was neat and well equipped. The pantry door was open and showed neat boxes of exotic ingredients. There was a past making machine on the bench for preparing the evening meal. (You husband is a lucky man,” he added.

“Well that makes him a fool for leaving, almost 5 years ago now.” She smiled at him. “And it’s not as if baking is all I have to offer.”

To his own surprise he smiled back. Hans Logan rarely smiled. Somehow the warm coffee, the rich brownie and the smile on this lady’s pretty face, brightened his day.

He felt that he needed to pay her further compliments: “The coffee is great too. Just what I needed. It’s freezing out there.”

“You are very welcome Hans. Can I call you Hans?” she asked. Then: “I have to admit an improper motive. I really do want to know more about this battle between James and Maureen. And poor Thomas, stuck in the middle. Terrible for a child. How will the Family Court resolve it?”

“Well, we need to encourage James to come back to Court to help us,” said Hans. What I really want to know is whether you have been in contact with him.”

Joanne wondered how to proceed from here. Should she lie and say she had no idea where James was. Or should she try to throw them off.

“Can I talk to you in confidence?” she asked Hans. “I don’t want to get into trouble – concealing a fugitive or something like that?”

“I am not the police,” said Hans. “The only objective of the Family Court is to find a resolution to a dispute between parents, not arrest or punish people. I am just a PI. I have no powers.” And when he could see she was still not convinced, he added: “Of course I will respect any confidence”.

“Well”, she said, “I have met James and Tommy since they took off. They are doing really well, but I am not sure where they are living. I do hope they can sort things out. If I see them again maybe I should have James call you? Have you got a card?”

“Yes, I will give you my card,” said Hans. He found one and put it on the kitchen bench near some other papers.

“Would you like some more coffee? She said it and it seemed like she did not want him to leave. Then he saw something next to where he placed the business card.

“Do you invest in stocks and shares?” he asked, pointing to the Market Report lying in a basket of magazines.

“I am getting some friendly advice,” she said, coyly. “It seems to be pretty good advice. I think I have added some value to my original investment. To be honest, I really don’t understand it. All those number and graphs. I am happier in the kitchen.”

“That advice wouldn’t be from James Begley would it?” asked Hans. He was almost worried that she was going to answer yes.

She seemed to read his mind. She said: “I can assure you that he is not advising me on investments. I think he is a good father, but he is not my type. He is short and chubby. I prefer a taller, stronger guy. More like you, Hans.” She found herself smiling at him flirtatiously. It seemed like a stupid and reckless thing to do, but it was already done. He smiled back.

She helped him put on his coat and then turned him round to face her and brushed something from his shoulder. He looked at her. He wondered whether it was possible for a man to fall for a total stranger within less than 30 minutes.

“Maybe you should just keep that card I left,“ he said. “Just call me when you next hear from James.”

“And for no other reason?” she asked, still flirting in the face of danger.

“I have come a long way, but if you are ever in the city, maybe call me. We could meet for a drink.” He was almost embarrassed that the words had spilled out. He was sure that it sounded more like a forlorn hope than a pick up line.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I have your card.”

As the door closed behind him he no longer noticed the cold.

***

“Mom, you are crazy,” said Tammy as she put the last few curlers into Joanne’s hair.

“I have decided I need to get out more,” said Joanne. “One man turns up on my doorstep and I practically throw myself at him. And he is your mother’s private dick! I think maybe I am crazy, but there is something about that guy… seriously Tam, it was like I was getting unnatural feelings.”

“So it’s not just me then,” said Tammy smiling at Joanne in the mirror.

“OK, so it must be the hormones,” said Joanne. “The shots and the pills have not only given both of us big busts, but have turned us into man-lovers.” They both giggled.

“So you call him and what do you say?” asked Tammy.

“So my options are to not call him at all; call him and say I have not heard from James or anybody about James; or call him and tell him that James and Tommy have moved to Australia, or Canada, or somewhere big enough for him to get lost trying to find us.”

“Or call him and go on a date with him, and charm him into dropping the manhunt,” teased Tammy.

Joanne seemed to wonder for a moment before saying: “I think I could charm him, but there would be one big obstruction to our romance and that is sitting between my legs.”

“Welcome to my world, Mom.” It was said in humour but Joanne could see that it hurt. She now had a much better appreciation of Tammy’s dilemma. Tamzin Hollander was one of the most pretty and popular girls at school but she carried that secret. With Joanne’s help and plenty of tape she could tuck enough to wear a swimsuit, but only briefly. She was now 15 and boys were in pursuit.

“Don’t get too caught up in this … Tommy.” It was the first time Joanne had used the name for almost two years.

Tammy seemed to have become suddenly very serious. She said: “Mom, I still have years to go, living like this. But already I am wondering if I can go back.”

“I want you to be happy sweetheart, that’s all,” said Joanne. “Even with all the sex change options, you know you could never be a real woman. You could never have a family. I just worry you could not be happy.”

“And what about you Mom,” said Tammy with tears in her eyes. “You have always said that even I am of age and can come out of hiding, you might have to stay in this disguise forever. If that were me I really wouldn’t mind it. If I had to stay a girl forever, I would. I am not sure I like facing the choice.”

Joanne’s eyes moistened a little too, and she hugged her daughter.

“We really are just a couple of soppy girly girls aren’t we”, said Joanne. Tamzin could hardly argue.

***

Joanne had her arm hooked into his as they walked, her heels clicking on the pavement. Her freshly shaved bare legs enjoying the balmy summer evening. She said to him: “Dinner was perfect. This evening has been great.”

He spoke without looking at her: “I sort of … don’t want it to end. Rather than walk you to your hotel, I wonder if you would like to come up to my apartment. It is a few blocks away, but it is such a nice evening, we should walk there. Only if you want to.”

She had been out with men before, and she knew that this was the point where she could go no further. She spluttered a little, saying: “I am so sorry. It’s been wonderful, but I don’t think that I can …”

He stopped and turned to her. He held her gently by her arms and he said: “I know who you are.”

“I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t think I understand.” But she thought she did. She thought that, despite her best efforts, he knew. He knew who she was.

“I know who you are.” He said it again. “I know who you are, and I don’t think I care.”

“If you know who I am then you wouldn’t be inviting me to your apartment,” she said looking at him. She felt faint and very vulnerable. She knew he could sense that.

He pulled her to him and kissed her. Not aggressively. Tenderly. Warmly. A kiss that demanded she return it. Before she knew what she was doing her hands were holding his head, locking their mouths together. It was passion. Her first passionate embrace as a woman.

When they parted she could see his face in the dim light of a street lamp. The same look she had seen all night, but now it made sense. He knew who she was but he didn’t care.

“Ok,” she said. “How far away is your apartment?”

They walked for a while longer. She held his arm as before, but tightly now. Things were different. If he was going to turn her over, he would not have kissed her. That kissed changed everything. She asked him: “How long have you known?”

“That first time you came, three months ago when we met for a drink in your hotel. I followed you the day after and watched you post the cards. I had assumed that you had a relationship with James. Then I had a sudden thought that you might be James. I was … well, shaken by the thought. I did not really believe it, but I needed to rule it out as a possibility. But I couldn’t. You know, in this business we say that once you have ruled out every possibility, what is left is the truth, no matter how improbable.”

“And you invited me out tonight? Despite knowing?”

“When you called me yesterday I was sure that I could not be attracted to you knowing who you are, but I was wrong. I am somehow more attracted to you. I am not sure if that makes me gay. If it does, I really don’t care.”

“This was just a disguise you know” she said. “But I don’t think it is anymore. In fact, I think you have just proven to me that it isn’t. If that makes me gay, I don’t care either.” And then a little further on she asked: “So will this stay a secret?”

“That Hans Logan is in love with a tranny?” he said with a smile. “I certainly hope so.”

“No, I mean, you work for Maureen,” said Joanna. “What will you tell her?”

“The search continues,” he said. “I keep looking and she keeps paying.”

“You know that Tommy is gone forever too?” she asked. “Just like James. She’ll never see either of them again.”

“That is exactly how I want it,” he said. “It is what she deserves. Now here we are.” They climbed the steps to his apartment block

Once they were inside she kicked off her heels and shed her drop earrings. Her hair was up – sheer sides and a mass of curls on top. Hans moved behind her and bent down her now shortened height to kiss her neck. She unbuttoned the front of her dress to allow him access to her breasts, and he accepted the invitation. With a rake’s skill he unclipped her bra to allow them to jiggle free. She gasped a little as he made contact with her nipple, and then she giggled playfully.

“I have never let anybody get this far with me before,” she said. “But I want you to know that whatever I am, I am yours …”

The End