Magic is in short supply. Use it carefully!
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Bested!, by Carla Ann
October 2013
My cell phone rang as I stood on the busy street corner. I fished it out of the front pocket of my slacks. I was never one to use a belt clip. I saw the caller ID as I activated it and was not surprised to see that it was Lanie. As usual she was already fifteen minutes late.
"Hi. Don't tell me. You're running late because a herd of water buffalo stampeded on fifth street and caused a big pileup, so you had to detour over to seventh and got behind one of those smelly Metro buses."
"Haha Jamie! Close, my boss sent me to the cleaners to pick up her suit just as I was walking out the door. She's about as subtle as a water buffalo sometimes. Seems Mondays are the day all the mid level managers send their lackeys to get their laundry. The place had a line! Look, I'm sorry, I really couldn't help it. I'll be there in five minutes. I'll buy dinner tonight as penance!"
I should note that Lanie and I had grown up together and for as long as we could remember were best friends. We did everything together, and in high school started a tradition of having dinner together every Monday night. We often saw one another more frequently, but Mondays were our sacred time, when we had a meal, caught up with each other's dreary life, and generally poured out our feelings to each other. Most people thought we were siblings, we were so close. We knew each other's deepest secrets, what made us tick. We were alike in other ways too, desperately afraid the outside world would learn what we held inside, so we were both uncomfortable in groups, slow to make friends, and rather introverted. Our secrets weren't the same, but the result was, and it strengthened the bonds we had made and maintained since childhood.
"Just you try to get out of paying, you ditz! It's your turn this week anyway!" She giggled, then swore as I heard a horn honk through her phone.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, jerk! Oh, sorry, some guy in a beamer just cut me off. He's talking on his phone and didn't bother to signal."
"Lanie, you realize you're also talking on a cell phone while you're driving," I asked incredulously. The light changed and the other pedestrians walked off while I stayed on the corner.
"That's different! I'm female, I'm genetically predisposed for driving and talking on the cell phone at the same time! Look, gotta go, be there in one minute!" Before I could come up with a brilliant comeback she was gone.
I turned my phone off and stuffed it back into my pocket. A few moments later a short-haired young lady in a black pantsuit came zooming down the right lane in a red top-down Corvette, then abruptly pulled over against the curb, stopping alongside me, just short of the bus stop.
"Here's looking at ya, Kid," she said in her best Humphrey Bogart voice, which was pretty terrible but was funny nonetheless. It was also funny that even after years of practice it never got any better. I put my hands on the top of the door to steady myself, leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then leaned back to my previous position, and just watched as she casually finger combed her hair.
"Hello georgous," I returned in my best Streisand Jewish Bronx accent, it was the line from Funny Girl. She laughed, then bowed her head and closed her eyes for a second.
Just before she did that I thought I saw something in her eyes but before I had time to think about it, she raised her head, and with a twinkle in those same eyes said, "Luuusiiieey, I'm Hoooome!" Her Ricky Ricardo was excellent.
Well that caught me off guard! As I stood there trying to figure out why she had used that line, and how to counter it, we both watched as an old woman, entirely clad in black walk toward the bus stop. Though the weather was mild that day she clutched her coat tightly with one knarled hand, seemingly in a great deal of pain. Just as she reached the curb, a bus slowed, then pulled around Lanie's car into the bus stop.
The old woman hadn't stopped at the curb however. In fact, she had looked up at the bus as if to gauge its distance, then stepped off the curb straight into its path. I took off like a rocket, thankful my soles got a good grip on the sidewalk.
"LOOK OUT!" I shouted as I hurled my body at her. As I contacted her I instinctively wrapped my arms around her waist. My momentum carried us all the way into the next lane where fortunately there were no cars. We landed in a heap, and I heard a loud "oof". The bus driver hadn't even had time to honk, it happened so suddenly. As soon as he stopped he rushed out of the bus and ran over to us.
"Man, you move fast! I was sure she was going to end up under the wheels. Are you okay? I'll call 911." With that he ran back to the bus to get his phone. I was more concerned for the old lady, she was obviously in some distress, as she was turning very pale and sweating profusely. She looked at me, it seemed in anger, then changed to a sort of resignation, though she was still grimacing.
"Young man...Young man," she emphasized it the second time to make sure she had my undivided attention. Well she did, but I had noticed that Lanie was running over now, too. She arrived just as the woman began to speak, quietly to me.
"Listen to me. I have to tell you this before the police and ambulance arrive. I am old. I have no one...no wish to live. After nine hundred years my body is worn out...hard for witches to die...I felt the heart attack coming...." She paused to grimace as a wave of pain enveloped her. "...I decided...let it take its course instead of curing it. I stepped in front of the bus to ensure my heart couldn't heal itself and my body. "You interrupted...", she grimaced as she glared at me, "and you must pay!"
I was dumbstruck. Lanie looked as astonished as I, so I did hear her correctly. She claimed to be a witch, and she had just said she was going to curse me! She was obviously crazy, but I wasn't ready for her to be dead too. She might be somebody's grandmother. Just then she relaxed completely, and her eyes rolled back.
"Get her dress open! She's gone into arrest!" I hollered at Lanie as I shed my jacket and stuffed it under her neck. By this time Lanie had gotten her chest exposed so we swapped places and I started CPR. Lanie timed me on her oversized watch. We were still doing it when the EMT's arrived. I finally had to stop so the tech could get his paddles in.
"She's still got a weak pulse, thanks to you two, but it's irregular." he said as he swiftly worked. "CLEAR!" With that, he pulled the trigger, and she arched her back in the classic fashion.
"Pulse is steady! Frank, get the dolly." He was busy attaching the electrodes for the monitor, and soon they were hauling her away. By then, the police had arrived, and even interviewed the bus driver, so when I stood up it was my time to be interviewed by the police.
"Son," the grizzled sargeant concluded, "That was a gutsy thing you did. You were lucky that lane was empty or you both would have been killed. I hope the old lady makes it, but next time try to think of the consequences before you do something like that."
I asked him where they took her. By now our dinner plans were ruined, and I knew that Lanie was as interested in her well-being as I was. Soon we were at the hospital, where we found her behind a screen in the emergency ward.
"How did you get in here," she croaked. "This is a restricted area." She looked a bit better than earlier but not much.
"I told them you were my grandmother." She looked hard at me, then just nodded. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, then I saw that look of resignation again when she opened them. This time her eyes showed a lucidity that wasn't there before.
"I was wrong to say what I said earlier. You didn't interrupt me to satisfy your own needs. You were willing to risk your own life to save me from what you thought was a mistake. It's one of humanity's few good traits. In my line of work I don't see much of that, so you will appreciate why I didn't recognize your actions for what they were at first. I apologize."
"Please don't try to talk right now. Are you feeling better?" Her body looked a bit better but she was no less agitated than she was when she was lying in the street. She needed to tell me something and she wanted me to listen.
"I'm dying. It's taking longer because of you but I no longer hold you responsible for keeping me from my destiny. One of the constants in this world is randomness. Witches know that everything has the possibility to go very differently than planned. We also know that luck has a great deal to do with things. Much of magic is harnessing the two and directing them. You have a lot of luck-I can see it in your aura. If you learn to harness and direct that luck you will live a long and happy life. If you continue to fail, you will not." I opened my mouth to reply but she lifted her bony hand and pointed to me. "Listen! I'm not finished!"
"I will die tonight, but I am ready. Do not grieve or mourn, it is the way things should be. Thank you for allowing one of my last experiences with humanity to reveal the good in them.
"You have forfeited your dinner to come see me. That is not good, you must eat. Young lady, fetch my coat," she said to Lanie, pointing to a raggedy garment on a chair. Lanie handed her the threadbare item, and the old lady shakily pulled a small card from the pocket.
"There is a small chinese restaurant near where we met. You will go there and eat. It's where I eat on Mondays, and you will go in my place. Sit at the first table on the right. Order gin first. Yes I know that's not a chinese drink but that is what you will do. The owner will not charge for the meal. You," she pointed a bony finger to me, "will find luck there. It is up to you to make it good luck or bad. Remember, luck often comes in threes. You have experienced luck once tonight already and may experience it again. After tonight though, your next luck opportunity will be in one month. Depending what you do with the luck, you will either praise or rue the day we met. Now leave an old woman to die."
She leaned back, pressed the button on her pain drip, and closed her eyes. Lanie looked at me for a long moment, then motioned me out of the area. Reluctantly I turned and walked away. Tonight was just too strange. I was glad when we emerged from the hospital, and arrived at Lanie's car. I sat in the car and buried my face in my hands for a long while. If it had been anyone else with me I wouldn't have let them see the tears. Lanie put her hand on my arm and squeezed. It was typical of our relationship, she was the strong one while I was prone to emotional outbreaks.
"Oh Jamie. She said not to grieve. You barely met her. She said she was ready to die, and that really is what everyone does, eventually." She went on for a while trying to console me but I just felt miserable. Lanie finally decided enough was enough.
"Here's looking at you, kid!" This time it was as bad as always, but she added a goofy look on her face, so I had to laugh.
"Jamie, I just had an idea. The old lady was right. We haven't had dinner. How about we go to that place she said and eat. We can even drink a gin for her as a toast!"
That sounded like a good idea. As weird as tonight was, this would be a fitting end, and maybe somehow Lanie's suggestion would honor the old lady's memory.
We picked up the glasses in a toast. Neither of us could think of a word to say about the old lady, Lanie was right. We had barely known her. Lanie looked hard into my eyes.
"Here's lookin' at you kid!" God, that almost sounded good! I looked back at her then gave her my own reply, delivered just as straight.
"You look Maaavelous!" I said in a perfect Billy Crystal. Lanie's eyes widened, then we both downed our drinks. Something changed between us, but I swear I couldn't tell you what.
The meal was excellent. After we had satiated ourselves, and spent an appropriate amount of time in after dessert conversation, the old man who served us came by with the small plate that usually held the check. It was empty save for two fortune cookies.
"Esmi die tonight. You sit in her seat so she sent. You good people. You American. American like fortune cookie so I bring. No pay for dinner." He bowed slightly, then walked to the back, leaving us alone in the dining room once again.
"Well what do you think of that?" Lanie was obviously impressed.
"It can't be more weird than anything else that's happened today," I said, as I reached over and handed her a fortune cookie.
"Hey, maybe that's your 'luck'," Lanie joked. "Let's open them at the same time, okay?"
I laughed, then agreed.
"Oooooh wabba dobba ohhhhh," I said mysteriously while I waved one hand over first hers, then mine. When I stopped, we opened them.
"Oh, listen to this! 'You will soon meet your soulmate.' Well, that might be interesting!," she said excitedly. "What's yours say?"
"Uh, it's just a bunch of numbers. Maybe it's some kind of code." I was studying it, it looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place it. I showed it to Lanie.
"Oh, Jamie, those are lottery numbers! Maybe that's the winning number for tonight. C'mon, we've got just enough time to buy a ticket at the bookstand on the corner." She grabbed our jackets with one hand, then my hand with the other and jerked me out of my seat. We were walking along the street moments later. I decided to just play along, she was obviously having fun with this.
I copied the numbers to the paper, then bought a ticket, two minutes before the deadline. The clerk wished us good luck as we walked away.
"What now?" I asked as we walked along. She had her hand tucked under my arm, so people assumed we were a couple.
"Duck into that sports bar there. They have a TV tuned to the right station. They're doing the news now, the numbers will be drawn in a few minutes."
We walked in together, found a booth near the TV, and asked the bartender to turn it up a bit so we could hear it. He did that, then walked over to get our orders. Suddenly I had a great idea.
"We'll both have straight gin, water chasers," I announced. The bartender looked skeptically at me, then Lanie, whose gaze and smile confirmed it, then he returned a few moments later with our drinks.
"To old witches and luck!" I said, as we clicked our glasses and tried to drink the gin. It was just as hard as the first time. Stifling a cough, we listened as the girl on the screen read the numbers off the balls as they came to rest in the machine.
Well it was fun when the first two numbers matched my ticket, but by the time she got to the last one, I was almost catatonic. Every single number matched! I just sat there looking at my ticket, I was completely motionless. Finally, I looked up at Lanie. She was sitting there, eyes as big as saucers, with one hand over her mouth.
"Ohmigodohmigodohmigodohmigod!" It was very soft and very fast, and I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. Lanie was the first to recover.
"Quick, stuff it in your pants before anyone sees what just happened! And just SHUT UP!" she hissed the last part, which got through my addled brain. I did as she said, then we turned back to the TV as if mildly interested. I nearly peed my pants when the announcer said that there had only been one ticket issued with that number combination, so the entire fifty three million was mine! Lanie didn't have to tell me not to scream, my throat was so tight I couldn't talk anyway. A few minutes later the bartender came by again.
"Well, did you win?" When neither of us answered, he continued.
"Nah, of course not. Sometimes I think the whole thing's a sham. There's a fan at the bar that wants to see the game. Okay if I change the channel now?" I nodded but still couldn't talk.
"God, you're both turning blue! I thought straight gin was out of your league. Tell you what. I'll bring you some champagne I opened earlier. Nobody ever asks for that anyway, and if I don't use it it'll just go flat. And champagne with no bubbly is worse than cheap zinfandel."
Lanie called in sick the next day. Me? It wasn't much of a stretch, I was out of work anyway. She ended up taking the rest of the week off to help me get my head together.
She took me back downtown to a place recommended by the Lottery people. There we met with a financial planner and a lawyer, and set things up so my winnings wouldn't all go to the government for taxes. All that remained was to drive to the state capital and attend the formal picture taking ceremony. Having never won anything before I hadn't realized that in order to pick up your winnings you have to agree to interviews, pictures, and other PR stuff. Then, spend the next ten years hiding from friends, family, and old acquaintances.
After the ceremony Lanie rushed up on stage to look at the fake check they'd handed me for the photos. The money had been transferred earlier that day into my new holding account, but the check gave a sense of reality to the whole thing.
"Wow, Jamie, you're rich! I hope we can still be friends now. You'll probably want to run on and become a jet setter, and Monday I'll have to go to work and listen to my boss complain about the spot she got on her Pradas walking in from the private garage."
"Oh no you don't. Nothing changes between us. Yeah, you'll go to work on Monday and I won't but it's because I was out of work last week, before all this began. Things will be different, I just haven't figured out how, but nothing changes between us."
"Are we still going to Vegas at the end of the month? We've been going there for a week at Halloween since like forever. If we don't go I'll have to tell the boss I'm changing my vacation."
"Lanie, if it weren't for you this stuff wouldn't have happened. In fact, every time we get together my luck improves. And for the last six months while I've been looking for a job you've been helping me with the rent, and having me over for meals. If it weren't for you I'd be homeless by now. So yeah, we're still going on vacation, but I want to treat you to something really special."
The white stretch limo pulled up in front of Lanie's apartment, just as she closed and locked the door. The driver ran over and grabbed her suitcases before she could lug them down the stairs herself. I was standing by at the curb when she walked up and I gave her a sibling-like hug and kiss.
"A limo? Who are you and what happened to my cheap-assed friend Jamie? Where did you stash the body? And where are you taking me?"
"Haha! Just for that I'm not going to tell you. You did bring your passport?" The driver had stowed her bag and was holding the door, so we entered the limo.
"Yes, I brought it. C'mon, tell me where we're going! Nice threads, by the way," she said as she ran her fingernail down the seam of my Brooks Brothers casual slacks.
"No. I'm not telling. And thanks, same to you. It wouldn't look good to show up where we're going looking shabby, they might revoke our reservation."
"Well, when your best friend sends over five thousand in cash to buy clothes for a one week vacation, it does get your attention!"
I handed the limo driver at the Nice airport our luggage stubs, then watched from the limo when he emerged a few minutes later with our bags, destination Monte Carlo.
"Jamie, what is that long bag? Oh no, DON'T TELL ME you came all the way to Monte Carlo so you can walk the beaches with a metal detector! Twenty-eight mil in the bank and growing and you're gonna walk up and down the beach looking for broken earrings and bottle caps?" She humphed back in her seat, folded her arms angrily, and stared at me in disbelief.
"Relax, it's part of my costume, and I had an idea, and if it pans out I'll need a metal detector with a GPS on it. I didn't want to chance having to find one here. The typical tourist here has probably never seen one! Besides, it's just for one night. The rest of the time we'll be seeing how the other half celebrates Halloween. Besides, I'm going to help you to find your soulmate, like your fortune said. Might as well do it where everyone's rich!" She seemed to relax a bit, looked at me for a long moment, then slowly grinned.
"Yeah, that's right! Your fortune cookie came true that night, so why shouldn't mine?"
It had been a great few days, relaxing on the beach by day, playing at the casinos by night, or attending the parties hosted by the hotels. We had even attended a costume ball wearing rented costumes. Lanie had talked me into doing something really wild. She went as a Chicago gangster, and I went as "his" gun moll. The hotel concierge had fixed us up with a costume shop where illusion was paramount at any cost. I'm sure the bill could pay to light a small city. Between all the appliances we were wearing, and the makeovers by the shop's artist, we found it funny that while everyone at the party knew we were wearing costumes, not a single soul seemed to twig that we were also gender opposite. Well I always knew she was butch, but this was something else!
We were eating lunch in the hotel dining room. I was eating something that looked vaguely like sliced roast beef in a red wine sauce, and Lanie was pushing around some shrimp in some kind of salad. Neither of us could pronounce the name of what we were eating, but they were both very good, and went well with the wine. She obviously had something on her mind. Something big, and she was having trouble with courage.
"What is it? You've just about worn out that shrimp, pushing it around on your plate. C'mon now, out with it, we're best friends, and we don't hold back, right? R-i-g-h-t?"
She looked uncomfortable like I'd never seen her. She slowly put her fork down, then bowed her head for a second. The waiter started to rush over to remove her plate but I motioned him away. When she looked up she had obviously come to an unpleasant decision.
"Jamie, you're my very best ever friend. We've known each other since we were toddlers. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and I know it's the same with you. I know you've never been very good with the girls, in spite of my expert advice, and I can't seem to find someone either. Oh I know we laugh about it, but it hurts, you know? And well, now you're really rich, and I'm just the same, and I'm afraid something's going to change between us, and I think you see it too. And well, the last couple days we've been together nearly all the time, and we've gotten even closer, and I'm worried where things are going." She paused with her head down then looked up and continued with tears in her eyes. "Jamie you've always shared everything with me, but there are a few things I've never shared with you, and I'm afraid it's going to come out and you'll hate me, and if that happens, I'll, I'll..."
"Whoa, whoa, girl! Hey, lighten up! I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you! Look at me. Look at me! We are two of the most screwed up individuals we know, so we have to stay friends. Why do you think we're here, playing like we belong with all these plastic people wannabes? No matter where we go we aren't going to fit in, so we might as well be with each other. Hey look at me. I might never have to work again, but the only thing that's gonna change between us is that it's going to give me time to really help you find that special someone. I'll die a happy person if I can help you do that. And don't worry about me. I have a plan."
Lanie looked across the table with a stricken look, tears streaming down her face. "But Jamie, there's something you need..." I interrupted her before she could finish.
"No, there's nothing I need, and nothing you need beside a mate. We're here in goofyville because I wanted to give you the the vacation of a lifetime. We've been here all week doing all the stuff you've told me over the years you'd dreamed of doing and I wanted to see you enjoying yourself. Tonight, we'll do one thing I wanted to do on this trip, and you'll be there to do it with me. After that, we'll go home, and things will get back to our version of normal. No more angst about what might happen, or what one of us might have forgotten to tell the other, okay? .... Okay?!"
We exchanged a long soul-searching look into each others' eyes, hers wet with tears, and mine shiny but slightly more controlled. Finally she let out a big sigh, and nodded. When we finally left the dining room I put my arm protectively around her. Any who saw us probably thought she was my sister. And they would have been right about that. Wrong about me perhaps, but right about how we felt about each other.
The time was about eleven o'clock, in a bit it would no longer be Halloween. Lanie and I were both dressed in Halloween costumes again, this time she looked like a modern day Indiana Jones, while I was an updated version of Karen Allen's Marion Ravenwood. The costume people had thought I was crazy, and Lanie hadn't looked too sure herself, but I had been very specific. Anyone would have thought we'd left the party to walk on the beach. We had been walking around for about 30 minutes with a metal detector, playing fortune hunters. Considering the particular beach we were on, we looked decidedly out of place, despite the costumes. The near full moon illuminated the wisps of clouds high overhead. Only the small waves breaking on the beach made any sound, even the shore birds were quiet. I turned to look at Lanie, who was watching me curiously.
"Ready for the show? It's been a month, so today's my lucky day!" I told Lanie.
"What are you talking about? What show? Are we going to be out here long, I'm getting a chill!"
"Remember what Esmi said? She said I would have luck one month from the day she died. So I'm taking advantage of that, and hoping it goes as well as last time."
"Wait a minute Mr. Brain! She said a MONTH! she died on the first of October, so it's tomorrow, not today!"
"If you were nine hundred years old, and a witch, what calendar would you be using? I think she used a lunar calendar, and one month is 29 and a half days, hence today! Anyway, if it doesn't work, nothing lost. It's been a great vacation. At any rate, this won't take long."
I flipped a switch on the metal detector and the screen changed to a navigation map. A mechanical female voice said, "Proceed fifty feet west-southwest." A blue line appeared superimposed over the map.
I turned and we began walking in that direction. As we walked I flipped another switch, turning on the locator indicator. A soft beep could be heard every few seconds. Just as we reached the point on the map indicated by the little arrow, the beeper began to increase in rate, then suddenly became a standing tone.
"What is it?" Lanie asked. "Is there something under there? How did you know where to look?" Naturally she was full of questions. I reached over and pulled her waist until she was snuggled against me. I tilted the display, then pointed at the location.
"Look." She looked at the display, not comprehending, then back at me. I pointed to the display again.
"Look at the numbers. That's our exact location, longitude and latitude. Have you seen those numbers before?"
She looked at me questioningly, then turned her gaze back to the device. I reached for my wallet then showed her the strip of paper from my fortune cookie. Suddenly her eyes suddenly got big and she turned to me.
"Omigod, Jamie! Those are the same numbers that were on your lottery ticket!! How did you think of that? What's down there?"
"Well there's only one way to find out. Whatever it is, it's big, and metal, and not very deep." I turned off the noisy contraption, set it aside, then we both got on our knees and began to dig in the loose sand with our hands. Soon, we had unearthed it, a big silver platter and what looked like a silver gravy tureen, except it had precious stones inlayed into the metal at intervals.
"Lanie, hand me that tote bag I gave you earlier." I reached into the bag, and pulled out some metal polish and a polishing cloth. I took the tureen and bounced it against my leg a few times to dislodge the sand, then began to polish it gently. In a few minutes it was gleaming, except for one tarnished spot that didn't seem to come clean.
"Here, Lanie, you hold it so I can scrub it with both hands." I put a generous dollop of polish on my rag and started to scrub. A short time later the inside of the tureen began to glow, and suddenly we were surrounded by glowing smoke. Lanie was so surprised she dropped the tureen.
The smoke coalesced, sort of, into a sort of tornado shaped cloud, the bottom of the funnel seeming to emanate from the tureen. "Hey! Careful! That's my house you just threw down."
"S S S S o r r e e e e!" Lanie said instinctively as she jumped behind me.
"Now, which one of you rubbed my house? It does feel good to get out of there but you interrupted the reruns of American Idol! C'mon, tell me your wish, and let me get back to it. Oh, and you have to put me in a different location. That's the rules." He was standing, if standing can describe a lump of smoke with a face, with his translucent arms folded angrily.
"Uh, that would be me," I said, looking at the apparition. It just floated in air, waiting for me to do or say something else. It looked pretty angry too. I thought it would be thankful that I had freed it.
"Is that a genie?" Lanie whispered in my ear.
Just as I started to turn to say it the apparition became even more angry, as if someone had delivered the ultimate insult. Suddenly the sky went dark and clouds circled angrily overhead. There was lots of lightning in the clouds, and it looked to be building into a really big storm. The apparition just about doubled in size too.
"NNOO!!!" it suddenly bellowed as lightning boomed all around. The noise was deafening, and you could feel the percussion from his delivery. "I AM NOT A GENIE!! What do you think this is, Forty Days? I AM A DJINN! THAT'S D-J-I-N-N!! AND I AM NOT AMUSED! NOW GET ON WITH IT!!" While we understood every word, anyone nearby would have simply heard the rumbling of the thunder. Lanie was trembling. I squeezed her waist for reassurrence but I knew she was almost to the point of soiling herself.
"Now look here!" I responded back angrily. "I'm the one who rubbed your lamp, or bowl or whatever! I knew you were a Djinn, that's why the witch Esmi told us to drink gin, it was a clue. But she didn't say you'd be angry for letting you loose, all us humans have to go on are the Arabian Nights fables, so I expected three wishes and a grateful entity! Only one wish changes my plans considerably!" Well, I had to set him straight too, didn't I?
The floating visage changed considerably. He shrank down more to my size, and changed from the angry red to a more sedate lavender. He looked curiously at me, then asked softly, "You know Esmi? She sent you here?" He actually seemed touched.
"I met her. She's dead now, but she sent me here, sort of. Can we get down to business?"
The djinn resumed his imperious look, then said, "Very well, your wish please!"
"By the way, why is it exactly that I only get one wish? This is not what I expected!"
I heard shushing noises from the nearly apoplectic Lanie but I was not about to back down. What little I had read about djinns said I had to appear strong and not afraid, or they were likely to turn you into a toad or something.
"Oh, okay. The reason you only get one wish is because of all your American politicians. They're using so much smoke and mirrors to cover their tracks, it's put a world wide shortage of available magic. In short, all the available magic is going to PR" He resumed his angry floating thing with the arms folded. "So, your one wish, please? C'mon, hurry before the commercial ends." We could hear what sounded like a tiny tv inside the tureen playing a Ford commercial.
"Well, okay," I said thoughtfully. "Since I have to do everything in one wish, here it is. Now I know how you djinns like to stay to the letter of the wish but do something awful, and I know you don't care, but just know that if you do something like that I'm going to spend the rest of my natural days making you miserable. I think I'd probably start by baking that tureen..." I watched as he took on a look of horror, but I knew that he was bound to honor my wish, and neither he nor I could prevent him from doing just that. I just had to hope that I had him pegged. And I hoped he wasn't overly intelligent.
"Now don't do anything until I explain exactly how I want this wish to go." I stepped away from Lanie a bit. "My one wish, my only wish is that my best friend, sister, really, sees her fortune cookie fortune from exactly one month ago come true this very night, " I paused as I watched a look of complete surprise and horror fall across her face as she stepped back and started waving her arms. "My one wish is that Lanie meets her soulmate tonight, and gets married, right here on the beach, and before midnight. That's my wish."
The djinn looked at me with raised eyebrows. "You get only one wish and you give it to your friend? Are you sure?"
I was taken aback a bit. "Isn't that allowed? You didn't say there were conditions..."
"Oh nononono. There are lots of things you aren't allowed to wish for, but I was just surprised that you would want to give your wish away. The only reason I'm asking if you're sure, is because it's so unusual to find a human willing to do such a thing. After all, you could have asked for riches untold, or power, or...."
"Nope, just give me my wish, exactly as I phrased it." I then folded my arms in a mimicry of him.
"Well if you're sure, and given your deadline, and the paucity of potential soulmates on this deserted beach it's obvious you wish to be that soulmate, boy are you going to be suprised..." He stared at us for a long time, cross-dressed as we were. He then began to swell in size again, and he began to laugh in a ground-shaking rumble. Suddenly a part of the smoke that made up the djinn separated and turned a bunch of brilliant colors, enveloping Lanie. The laughter continued to gather in volume until you could see granules of sand dancing on the ground, and the smoke began to swirl faster and faster, ever faster, around us.
"My dear Lanie, you are about to be married! You need a beautiful gown!" With that suddenly she was dressed in a beautiful wedding dress, a bouquet in her hand, and we found ourselves to be standing in a white gazebo decorated for a weddings A sand crab had morphed into a preacher, complete with Bible in his hands. The Djinn continued,
"There's just one problem for you Janie, isn't there? We have to find your soulmate. Not just anyone, but someone who knows you through and through, and loves you anyway! And someone you've loved all your life but might not have even known it! But there's something else too, isn't there? A groom won't do it for you, will he? No, for you to be truly happy with your soulmate, you need a blushing bride! Well, we know who your soulmate is, don't we? All we have to do is make her your bride!" At that moment, all the swirling smoke surrounding Lanie widened to surround me too. In seconds it was over. I was now two inches shorter than Lanie, wearing the same gown as her, and clutching an identical bouquet. While her androgynous short hair looked much the same, I was now a blonde with wavy tresses going down my back. I instinctively knew that it was no illusion, I really did fill out that dress like that. We stood looking into each other's eyes. The Djinn wasn't finished, however. After a few seconds, he rumbled, "No, that isn't right, is it? He wanted you to be really complete, so that wouldn't really be Lanie, now would it?" Once again, the smoke enveloped Lanie, and a few seconds later she had morphed into a sort of composite of Tom Selleck, Leonardo DiCaprio, and maybe a bit of Robert Downey, Jr thrown in. God, he looked gorgeous in that white tux! "HAHAHAHAHA!!! Now, Jamie, you can be the soulmate, and spend the rest of your days servicing HIM in your shame! What a perfect combination!
Suddenly the smoke leapt back to the djinn, swirled around him once, then like the coriolis of water going down a drain, the djinn entered the tureen. Only an evil laugh remained to reverberate through us.
"Bwahahaha!! Enjoy your life Leonard and Jessica!! And don't try to bargain with djinn again! Next time it might turn out worse!"
Lanie, now Lenny screamed as he turned angrily to pick up the tureen, "You sick BASTARD! You turn us back!" He was angrily scrubbing the tureen with the sleeve of his jacket.
The laughter intensified, as the Djinn once more appeared in a cloud before us, but appeared to be drifting back into the tureen even as he spoke. "You silly humans! Don't you know anything? Anyone included in a previous wish can never again summon a djinn from his abode. And in fact, no one can summon me, until the silver of my abode is tarnished once again! So enjoy the fruits of your wish! Bwaahaahaahaahaahaa..." The last of the smoke disappeared as the echoing increased.
The echoing laughter finally faded, only for the preacher look at us and say in a sort of lispy English, "Shall we begin? Dearly beloved,..."
Lenny finally woke and stretched luxuriously in our heart-shaped bed. The djinn must have thought it part of his joke to change our room to the wedding suite. He probably figured it would just be the icing on the cake of my humiliation. Lenny looked at me lovingly. I had been watching him sleep for a couple hours already.
"Well, I can't believe you pulled that off so easily. I wonder how long it will take before that Djinn knows he's been had?"
I looked over at the tureen, sitting atop the platter, still just shy of being perfectly clean.
"I imagine he knows. That bucket he lives in has pretty thin walls." I reached over and slowly traced Lenny's chest with my manicured fingers. I gently kissed his perfect nose on his square face.
"So, Jessi, how did you know about me? It was the one thing I never told you, and yesterday at lunch I was so afraid you were going to propose and I would have to tell you that I could never marry a man. Then on the beach, when you made that wish, when you told the Djinn to find my soulmate on that deserted beach? I was horrified because I knew what he was going to do to you."
"Oh, Lenny, how could I not know you were lesbian? And you were so butch, even when we were kids."
"So those goofy costumes? That was just to give the djinn the idea, wasn't it?"
"Well I couldn't leave anything to chance, could I? I knew we loved each other but I had to become a woman before you'd see it. I wasn't expecting that you were really a guy. I was all prepared to be your lesbian lover, but this is much better, at least for me!"
You know what? That STUPID DJINN," projecting his voice at the tureen, "didn't have to change me, But this is my ultimate dream! I'm just glad I bought the red 'vette instead of the white one!"
After we both laughed ourselves silly, he told me one other thing. "You know, that Djinn didn't change everything about me..."
"Oh?"
"Well, remember earlier, when we were making love, and I was finished? Well evidently, while other guys can only manage once or twice, my stamina seems to recover almost instantly!"
"Yeah, the djinn probably thought that would just add to my humiliation. Oh, how wrong he was!"
He rolled over on me then, and, well, you don't need to know the details.
In a small town in Connecticut known more for its beautiful landscaping and mile long private drives than industry, a driver holds the door for a sharply dressed couple as they exit a black car and turn to enter their home. As the driver closes the door, the man stops and says, "Thanks Thomas. Take the weekend off. Take the car, and you and the Missus take in a show. Charge it to the account."
The couple then scurry inside to escape the cold night air. Entering the sitting room, the man turns a knob on the wall, and the lighting dims slightly while simultaneously the gas fire log ignites in the fireplace.
They turn to at each other in the firelight.
Meanwhile, a highly polished tureen now coated in clear lacquer against corrosion sits in the center of the rapidly warming fireplace mantel. A very unhappy Djinn attempts to turn down his thermostat to a comfortable setting. As he tries to tune out the laughter from the sitting room he considers, "At least it's better than that damned freezer they had me in last week. Pity the next poor soul to rub my pot!"
She says to the man, in a bad Humphrey Bogart, "Here's lookin' at you kid."
To which he replies, in a flawless Billy Crystal, "You look mahhhhhvelous!"
'Please, please, please just make me one or the other.'
Does God make mistakes? If not, does Heaven? And if so, how do they happen, and can they be corrected? Would you want them to be?
If your reality has ever caused you to form a request such as this, You might be wondering.
This is a feel good story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a comment.
Carla Ann
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to real people, places or events is coincidental and unintentional. This work may be printed for personal use but not otherwise reproduced in part or in whole to any other site or medium without express permission of the author.
I would like to acknowledge all the help from my dear friend Tiffany Shar. Without her help and encouragement, this story would never have seen the light of day. Also, to Jan S., for all the practical editing and advice, and also for encouraging me to consider joining BigCloset. You are a dear.
This is the first story I've ever posted, so please comment, but please be helpful and kind. Writing does not come easy to some, and I cannot hope to become better unless I know your thoughts.
Thank you,
Carla Ann
This story is complete.
The cabin pressure changed slightly as the plane slowed, and then banked into what could only be a holding pattern. Thomas Baylor woke as the pilot announced the delay, saying the flight would still arrive on schedule. His empty cocktail cup gone, he stowed his tray table and put away the notes on his team lineup for spring season.
He'd felt more than a little guilty about even going on the "executive getaway", but it had been a good vacation. Really a relaxed sales and networking opportunity for their biggest customers, it was promoted as a couples vacation. When his most troublesome customer cancelled at the last minute, it had left a lot of time to for him and Carol to rekindle the romance that had almost been forgotten in the midst of their busy lives. If it hadn't been for the nightly calls home to check on Bobby, it would have been a perfect second honeymoon.
He thought about poor Bobby at home with his sister Lydia, recuperating from the accident. He'd planned to send a co-worker on the trip so he could be home with Bobby, but Bobby had caught on and insisted they go, saying both of them, but Mom especially needed the vacation. Thomas was often surprised by his perceptiveness, for while it was true that they did need some time alone together, how would an 11-year old boy know that? It made him feel all the more guilty for some reason, as if he were taking advantage of his son's giving nature. Bobby had only been home from the hospital two days when he had told them he wanted them to go on the trip, and Thomas only agreed to go after the doctor assured them he'd be alright. Between the sales job he hated, and the part time college coaching job he loved, he knew he didn't spend enough time with Bobby. But something else nagged him. Something about Bobby's nature just didn't seem natural for a boy his age. Or any age for that matter. He couldn't put his finger on it, though he'd been trying for some time.
He looked over at Carol, that amazing, caring woman whom he'd met after losing Julie. Julie had been his first true love, but they'd broken up because she needed more than he could deliver at the time. Then Julie drove off that mountain in the fog and killed herself, forever preventing them from patching their relationship. Carol had been her best friend. What began as friends facing a common loss had blossomed quickly from the ruins of what had been before. Thomas never expected to fall for Carol, and never expected her to see so easily into his soul. For her part, Carol had never expected to be attracted to a hyper-jock like Thomas. She'd always dated the academic types, not that Thomas was any slouch in that department, either.
“You know.." Carol and Thomas said at the same time as they turned to face each other. They both stopped, surprised, then she chuckled and said, "No you go ahead".
"I was just thinking about Bobby. I realized this week I've been pushing him too hard to toughen up like other boys his age. He tries, but it just seems to bounce off or something, and I'm afraid he's starting to feel he's not living up to my expectations. I don't want him to feel like that. But I'm afraid I'm just not cut out to be the kind of father he needs ... He's just so different ... It's hard to explain." Carol's expression changed to concern as she saw him set his jaw in his trademark look of frustration.
"Whatever do you mean, 'not cut out to be the father he needs'?" Carol asked. 'Where was this going?' she asked herself.
"Well, you remember how excited I was when we first knew we were having a son. I looked forward to all the great things we could do together, and all I could teach him. I envisioned coaching his little league team, and campouts and going to car shows, all those things a dad does with his boy. But Bobby is just so different! He doesn't seem to be interested in the things I was at his age -- any age for that matter, and I'm kind of at a loss what to do," he paused and looked at her.
"And...?" her eyebrows had gone up, her concern evident.
"It's hard to explain...Here. Let me tell you what happened a while back. I haven't told you the full story before, because I wasn't sure what to think myself. You remember about six weeks ago when the flowers were just blossoming? I took Bobby over to the forest preserve one afternoon, remember? Well, the reason I did was to show him something. The Boy Scouts were there about four months before, thinning the forest for the county. There were a couple hundred of them there one weekend.They saved part of the timber for firewood, but someone had donated a couple huge coils of rope. So they built this really cool bridge over the creek entirely out of logs they had lashed together with the rope. They even cut planks with two-man saws for the floor. The Forest Preserve guys even drive their trucks over it now, it's that strong. It's quite a sight, so I took Bobby over there to see it, but I wanted it to be a surprise. The only thing is, I was the one surprised." He stopped and looked at her but she just returned his gaze, so he continued.
"From the parking lot, the path takes you through some trees, a clearing, and finally into the woods where the creek is. Just before you get to the creek there's a big meadow, maybe an acre,where the grass is about waist high -- almost shoulder high on Bobby. Well, we were walking together, talking about his school and having a good time when we got to the meadow, and just as the bridge came into view over the grass and wildflowers, I stopped and looked that direction. With all that color and the bridge peeking over it all, it was picture perfect."
"Bobby looked too, then his eyes got big, and he took off running! My own excitement turned to confusion when I realized he was running into the grass, not toward the bridge. Then I saw the butterflies, thousands of them, all different colors. Bobby could barely be seen by now, he was frolicking and dancing around in the grass, right in their midst. He was completely absorbed, and he was giggling like he used to when he was three! I was still in shock that he hadn't even noticed the bridge, when a lady passing on the trail with her dog stopped and watched him for minute, then said to me 'There's nothing like a meadow full of butterflies to bring joy to a little girl!'"
"Well! I was all set to get indignant and put her straight until I looked again and saw what she saw. Bobby was in his red shorts and faded blue T-shirt, sandals and with his shaggy hair in the midst of all that grass, and the way he was frolicking around, he did kind of look like a girl. So I didn't say anything, because you couldn't help but smile watching him. Then about that time a butterfly landed on his nose, and he actually squealed! The lady smiled and left then, and a few minutes later Bobby came running back, all bubbly and excited, and thanking me over and over for such a 'precious moment' - he actually used that phrase!" Carol visibly relaxed, and began to smile, envisioning the sight in her mind.
"I was so flabbergasted, I couldn't even say anything", Thomas said, "I just started walking toward the bridge again. When we finally got close enough that it dominated the view, he just turned to me and asked 'Why would anyone build something like that out of logs? It looks unsafe.' So I explained it's how the settlers built them, and they were strong enough for their heaviest wagons, and lasted for years. When I told him the Boy Scouts built it he just said 'Oh,' as if to say he still thought it was a condemnation or just wasted effort. It was such a weird experience for me, totally turned around and unexpected." He looked at Carol, but she just looked back expectantly, smiling now.
"Cabin crew, prepare for landing." the captain stated over the intercom as the plane began to turn again. Thomas paused as the stewardess walked by for final seatbelt check, then continued.
"We turned around then, and if I wasn't surprised enough already, this really did it. Bobby actually grabbed my hand, and held it until we got all the way to the park by the parking lot! Then when we got back to the park, we walked along the pond there. There were several boys with their dads running their remote control boats, but Bobby didn't even notice them. Instead he was totally engrossed watching a mother duck teach her ducklings how to find bugs in the mud along the edge of the pond. It was just a little unnerving, to tell the truth. And, when I read through his papers from the van the other day, I found a poem about the ducks, and an unfinished one titled "Joy", which has a reference in it about butterflies. There was also the beginnings of a watercolor of that meadow."
"Well, it sounds like Bobby had a wonderful time, and all because his dad wanted to spend some time with him. It must have meant a lot to him if he wrote two poems about the experience. What about you? Did you enjoy taking him?" she asked.
"That's just it! I did enjoy it. That look on his face in the meadow was pure ecstacy! But it was completely accidental. I couldn't have planned that even if I had known the butterflies were there! And that's the problem. I was looking for a bridge, and he was looking for butterflies! I can't figure him out, so how can I hope to provide him what he needs? And how can I give him confidence to compete with the kind of kids I coach? I mean, how many boys his age dance with butterfies and hold their dad's hand? It's really confusing! I've coached a lot of boys, and he's not like any of them." he finished, his frustration evident.
Carol laughed at that point. "Is that all? Of course you can't understand him! You're all physical, and he's all mental and emotional. You're complete opposites, but even if you weren't, he would still surprise you by seeing and doing things differently than you would have. It's part of being a child! In time you'll both find a way to meet halfway. Perhaps you should take him to the opera sometime, that's something you could share," she suggested, alluding to his passion for great music, which he learned from his own grandparents.
"You should know by now that kids don't come with a play book, Thomas. He'll find his own way. All we have to do is help him discover the right direction for himself, and give him a nudge from time to time. You're a great father, just like yours was, and Bobby adores you just like you did your dad and grandfather. Maybe he'll never have your strength or gift for athletics, but he's got your character, and that's your best part! And he's got lots of self-confidence, just in different areas. You ought to know, you've seen his poems--he carries them everywhere, even though the other kids make fun of him for it. It wouldn't hurt Bobby to know that his dad enjoys a little culture too, you know."
"Well, I guess, but the arts are not something most dads get passionate about with their sons. I've just been so afraid that since he's not interested in sports, I have nothing left to teach him. At least he seems to like baseball. Size isn't so important there. Maybe we can learn to relate over catch."
Carol laughed in that bubbly way he found so endearing, "Well, not if you continue to throw balls like the last time! He couldn't close his hand for a week!" She was referring to a few weeks before the accident. Tom had enticed Bobby into the front yard and then escalated their catch session until he was throwing fastballs like his last season in college. One blistering pitch Bobby had caught hard, right in the palm of his fielders glove, and it had bruised his hand terribly. The tears in his eyes showed the pain but all he said was "I'm a little tired, Dad. I think I'll go read a while." Thomas winced at the memory. He hadn't even congratulated him for getting in front of the ball like he had. Some coach. Some Dad, for that matter.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You know, he didn't even complain. I didn't realize he was hurt until the next day when his teacher sent him home because he kept dropping his pencil."
"Don't feel too bad about it. He didn't tell you because he didn't want to disappoint his dad. Bobby wants to live up to your standards so you'll be proud of him. But he's a little reluctant to play with you for fear of getting hurt. Don't forget that time you knocked the wind out of him with the football. You just have to learn how to play a little more on his level, that's all. He has trouble competing physically with kids his own age, so he's no match for a hundred and eighty pound sack of muscles like you", she said, smiling.
"I know he's a little underdeveloped socially and physically, but he's very bright and talented, and has a real gift for his writing and art, 'way beyond his years. It should be no surprise he pours all his energy into those things he's good at. You did, and you still do. He'll eventually balance out if we give him time."
Thomas looked thoughtful, as the jet touched down on the tarmac. "So, really ... Everything you've said is about being a good father. I just want to be his Dad." He started to try to explain but she'd had enough of this nonsense by now, and interrupted him with a shove on the shoulder.
"You already ARE his Dad, you numbskull!! Dad, Father, they're the same damn thing for cryin' out loud! Just lighten up a little, and cancel the order for his sky-diving lessons!" she managed to say before dissolving into giggles, followed shortly by Thomas' hearty laughter. It was as if something pressing down had been lifted, a longtime worry that just evaporated. The cabin lights came on just then, and Thomas chuckled to himself, thinking it was perfect timing, reminiscent of the way the sky gets lighter after a storm.
"OK then, good point." He said, as they both unbuckled and began to collect their things from the overhead bin. Everything for Thomas boiled down to a gameplan, and he had it in his head now.
"I guess the real problem is me. I just need to get to know the real Bobby instead of the one I expected him to be ... and no more pressure for sports unless HE wants to do something. And if he grows up to be a world class..." He waved his hand in the air searching for a word while handing Carol her shoulder bag.
"Fashion designer?" Carol baited him with a big grin on her face.
"Then I'll just stand in the back of the room and brag to the lighting and camera guys and say, 'Hey! Did you know that's MY son up there? He gets to spend all his time working with beautiful half-clothed supermodels!'" At which point Carol almost bruised him with a good natured slug to the arm.
"Oh you!" They didn't even notice the goodbyes from the stewardesses as they left the plane.
"I love the Aruba run!" one stewardess gushed to the other as they watched them walk up the ramp.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the passengers were that much in love?" the other one mused before the next passengers got to the door, and they turned their attention to them.
A Little Later.
In the pre-dawn quiet Bobby rolled over in his sleep, and came awake instantly, his head pounding like a hammer with each heartbeat. He had to pee too, so he got out of bed slowly, lest his nausea return. Knowing Aunt Lydia was a light sleeper and would be concerned if she heard him up at this hour, he slipped on his soft-sole slippers and robe and padded slowly and quietly to the bathroom, avoiding that squeaky place in the floor. Too dizzy to stand, he sat to do his business just as a fresh wave of vertigo hit him.
'When is this going to go away?' he wondered almost aloud. It had been three weeks since the accident that almost cost him his life. 'Sometimes I just wish I'd been killed before I do something really stupid. I'm a big enough embarrassment to my parents, better to be remembered as I am now than later, when the truth comes out and they find out how screwed up I really am. How's it going to look when it gets out that the son of the big coach hates sports and reads romance novels?'
Three Weeks Ago
Bobby had stayed after school to do research at the library. He was writing a paper on the architectural masterpieces in Chicago, and the school had some books that put the city library to shame. Unfortunately, you couldn't check out books from the reference section. Bobby hoped someday to see Chicago for himself. The buildings fascinated him, but only for their beauty, not any real interest in architecture. He was just leaving for home, when Bethany Fuller and her mom overtook him in the hall as they all made for the exit. Bethany was in his class, and unlike most of the kids, had always been nice to him, but he didn't really know her outside of class. She had friends. He didn't know how few, but he had none, so in his eyes she seemed wealthy in that department. At least she didn't have to eat lunch by herself every day. She was also cute. Pretty, really, except she was also a tomboy and it looked as if she did everything possible to disguise her looks. One thing they did have in common was that a lot of the kids picked on her too, in spite of the fact she was the school's best softball pitcher.
"Hey, Bobby!" she called out in that little Tinkerbell voice of hers that she hated, but always sent a shiver through him. "We're just coming from a softball meeting. Need a ride home?" Bobby didn't need a ride home. He was actually planning to jog the half-mile route home. That was one way he stayed in shape so he could outrun the bullies if need be, but she seemed to be genuine enough, and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to maybe be friends with anyone, especially Bethany! He couldn't figure it out, he was just drawn to her, like they were the same somehow.
"Sure!" He paused, looked at his shoes, then said a little embarrassed, "That is, if it's okay with you, Mrs. Fuller."
Mrs. Fuller could see an attraction between the two young people, and she'd heard Bethany describe Bobby as 'a really nice kid' to Kathy on the phone. Knowing neither had many friends, she replied, "Of course it's all right, Bobby! We do have to stop at the cleaners, but if it's okay with your mom, we can grab a cone at the Dairy Queen next door. Do you want to call her?" she said, offering her cell phone.
She watched as Bobby politely accepted the phone and made the call, noticing just how much like Bethany he seemed to be. He not only moved like her, but he was the same size and even looked a lot like her. She decided on the spot that Bethany was right. He truly was 'a really nice kid'. A touch shy and effeminate maybe, but in a charming way and very polite.
It didn't take long for Bobby to get the okay from his mom, with the admonition not to spoil his dinner, and soon after they were in the minivan, headed to the cleaners, about a mile in the opposite direction. After Bethany was buckled in, she turned to Bobby. “Oh, by the way, those papers that those guys stole from your notebook today? I saw where they threw them after they got tired of harassing you, so I picked them up after they left -- I figured you'd like to have them back”, she said, pulling a small sheaf of his poems and drawings from her notebook and handing them over to him while he returned her gaze guardedly.
'Is this a prelude to more teasing?' Bobby wondered.
“I hope you don't mind, but I read them too," she continued. "I was just trying to figure out why they were picking on you. They’re really good, you know. Those guys would be jealous if they weren't so stupid! You should enter some in the writing contest over at City Library. I’ll bet that one about the ducks would win. Did you do that watercolor of the pond, too?" Unfortunately, the conversation ended abruptly at that point -- they never got to share ice cream that day.
A few minutes earlier
Mike turned his cab-over tractor-trailer rig up the shady divided street, wondering why Dispatch had routed him this way. They had been very specific about it, and he knew his overwidth permit didn't allow deviation. The next street over was wider, and this one was not only narrow, there were trees in the center median and residential side streets all along it, and it made him nervous. He was a true professional and wasn't afraid of his oversized load, but there just wasn't enough maneuvering room for safety's sake to suit him. A fifty-foot steel high-tension pole is unwieldy to begin with. He could see the crane crew in the distance, and knew that he was almost there, if he could just make that last turn in about a half mile.
Hitting a slight bump, his microphone jumped out of the clip again, threatening to get under his feet like last week, when it lodged under the pedals almost causing an accident. Just as he reached down to grab it, things went to hell. A little red convertible came screaming out of a side street on his right, misjudging the traffic coming toward Mike and instead of completing their left turn, stopped broadside right in front of him, the rear of the car still partially in his lane. The teenage girls looked up in horror as their future seemed inevitable.
"OH GOD, NO!!" Mike's mind screamed at him even as he reflexively swerved to the right to miss the little car. Luckily, he just grazed them, tearing off their back bumper as the huge rig rolled over the curb, leaving deep ruts in the grass between the road and the bikeway. Then Mike realized that in altering his trajectory, he was now headed directly for a large underground power line vault, one of those ubiquitous green boxes you see along modern residential streets.
He also recognized the yellow sign next to it, indicating a high pressure gas pipeline. He instinctively knew that hitting the vault would probably get him electrocuted in a fiery crash. That wasn't the bad part. As a career big-rig driver he knew the risks, and took pride knowing he'd instantly sacrifice himself to keep other drivers safe.
No that wasn't it. He saw that if he hit that vault, he'd take the top off that pipe section too. There would likely be a very big gas explosion and fire, endangering who knows how many people. The whole neighborhood could go up in flames. Old newsreel images of the firebombing of Dresden in World War II flashed through his mind.
"N-O-O-O-O!!", he yelled, with a super-human wrench on the steering wheel. Pulling a muscle in his shoulder, he wrestled the big tractor back onto the road, where it promptly headed for the trees in the center median instead. The power pole on his trailer made a groaning sound as it flexed. He thought for a moment he might get it all under control before hitting the trees, but then he heard a loud bang that sounded like a gunshot.
The noise was but a prelude. The crazy gyrations had caused the rear chain binder on the big pole to snap. The huge column, all 28,000 pounds of it, was now in the process of separating itself from the trailer.
In quick succession, each and every chain snapped, leaving the pole to continue it's forward motion diagonally up the traffic lane, taking up the whole street, but not until after the small end (a "mere" six inches in diameter) ripped most of the truck cab completely in two, its own forward motion having been stopped by a tree.
The crumpling cab floor bruised and strained Mike's right knee and ankle just before the cab turned over on its right side. A metal shipping tag on the very end of the power pole sliced Mike's arm as it went through the cab. Amazingly, instead of being completely severed into two body parts, he was not seriously hurt. He'd even been spared his arm by mere inches.
The errant power pole was sliding, rolling and bouncing down the street, toward the intersection the Fullers' minivan was soon to occupy. It's tapered shape caused it to slowly turn so it became increasingly perpendicular to the road. The truck on its side, Mike watched helplessly as the minivan entered the intersection, only to be smacked and mangled by the pole, looking for all the world like a giant bowling pin hitting the ball and flattening it in the process.
Despite his injuries he was out of the cab almost immediately, though he had to crawl out what was left of the driver's window opening. On his injured leg, he just couldn't run and kept falling down. Adrenalin pushing him onward, he arrived just as the neighbors did, as if anyone could actually help. Relieved at least there was no fire, he passed out then. A small pool of blood was forming under his right arm.
It seemed to the gathering bystanders that everyone was still alive. The side air bags had all deployed making it hard to tell for sure. The very length and diameter of that huge column, the thing that gave it so much destructive mass, had also caused it to roll over the van like a giant rolling pin once the van had hit the curb and stopped sliding sideways. Had it not rolled over the van, its forward motion would have crushed it completely. The driver, probably the kids' mother was just coming to, but they were just going to have to wait for the fire department. Nobody was going open that van without specialized tools, though some guy was prying on the drivers door with a tire iron. It didn't even look like a van now.
Mike came to, his head cradled in some lady's lap, blood everywhere. He thanked her, looked at the mangled van, and realized how helpless they were to help the victims inside. He then got onto his good knee right in the middle of the street, and began to pray. He didn't even notice that within a few minutes he was joined by other neighbors. People of many faiths prayed their hearts out, hoping against hope there were no life threatening injuries. People were starting to notice that the passenger on the left wasn't moving. The passenger on the right, a girl probably, was very bloody, but seemed very concerned for her seatmate. Mike passed out again just as he felt someone wrapping something around his arm.
Enough people had seen the whole thing that the police later commended Mike for his skill and obvious self-sacrifice. The girls that caused the accident were arrested for negligence and reckless driving, cell phones still in hand. Mike, Mrs. Fuller, Bethany, and Bobby all found themselves in the hospital. Mike was released after sewing the gash on his arm and wrapping it and his leg. Bethany suffered a cracked rib, a deep cut in her right eyebrow, a couple bad bruises, and a very black eye as a result of the cut. Bobby wasn't as lucky. He had been riding on the left side where the pole had hit the car, and not having the benefit of the higher driver's seat head restraint or the door post reinforcement, he'd gotten smacked hard in the head as the roof caved in, the airbag already deflating. He was in a coma, with a broken rib which had punctured and deflated his left lung. He had lots of other bruises from the impact of the side of the van caving in. Mrs. Fuller was knocked unconscious and suffered a broken arm. It was a clean break, however, so they were able to set it, put a cast on and release her that same evening. Not that she went home, with Bethany still there. They were watching her for possible concussion or psychological trauma. She had been hysterical by the time the van had been cut open, thinking her seatmate had been killed.
The doctors were amazed the occupants were even alive after seeing pictures of the van. There wasn't much left of it after the fire fighters used the Jaws Of Life tools on it. They'd had to saw the whole left side off to get to everyone. A mobile crane drove over from the job site, and after lifting away the side of the van, removed the pole, now just a big hunk of bent steel. The doctors were initially very worried about Bobby's lung, but it was easily corrected by the surgeon. They weren't so sure about his head injuries, however. The operating scene had been interesting; one team working on his side while another was putting a drain in his skull.
Bobby woke up four days later with a throbbing headache, wires running from his head to a machine, tubes going everywhere including one running out the back of his neck and taped to the side of his head. He was terrified when he realized he couldn't move and something in his mouth prevented him from closing it or even talking. He was even more scared when his Mom grabbed for the call button and began yelling and screaming hysterically, "HE'S AWAKE! HE'S AWAKE! Oh Thank GOD!! MY BABY!! He’s come back to us!"
A nurse rushed in, took one look at the terror in Bobby's eyes and injected something into one of the hoses going into Bobby. He faded back to sleep just as the nurse told his mom that the doctor would be there in a few minutes.
When Bobby woke again, there were several ladies in the room. One of them must have been the doctor. Through his blurry double vision he located his mom watching anxiously from a chair behind all the white coats. She looked like she hadn't slept or changed clothes for days. He saw he wasn't even in a bed. It was more like some astronaut training contraption that could be tilted in any direction. He realized then he couldn't move because he was strapped down, not paralyzed, as he'd feared. The rest of the day was a blur, but Bobby finally learned from the doctor that the tube was there to prevent pressure from building in his skull, and the restraints were just a precaution until he came to, if indeed he actually did (that realization really got his attention). They'd been worried about seizures too, and had put an appliance in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue in two as a precaution. All the restraints were removed after the doctor checked him out, leaving him merely too sore to move. He was also moved to a room with a regular bed once they were certain he wasn't paralyzed.
Aside from the broken rib, they decided he should recover in a couple weeks. Bethany was able to go home a few days later, and came by to check on him before leaving. It amazed him that she actually seemed interested, even concerned with how he was doing. He had no experience with a non family member caring anything about him, especially another kid, and even more especially, a girl. He wasn't sure how to handle it, and it really embarrassed him that he didn't know what to say or do, much to the amusement of his parents. His parents, of course had misinterpreted the matter entirely, assuming he had a crush on her.
Bethany told him that she was basically okay and very lucky, that instead of losing an eye when the 'No Parking' sign had come through her window, the only permanent damage from her cut would be that she'd have to thin her left eyebrow rather severely from now on to match her right. She seemed almost disappointed that the scar probably wouldn't be visible. She laughed when she told him she'd asked her mother to call the scrap yard where the van ended up and ask if she could have that sign for a souvenir, but she didn't think her mom would do it. He thought to himself that she was almost as strange as he was.
The day Bobby left the hospital she was back to get her stitches out. He saw her coming down the hall with her mom, while they waited for Dad to bring the car around. It occurred to him again just how pretty she was under that tomboy exterior, eye patch, and awful hair. Then she waved at him, and it was as if an electric shock went through him. 'What IS it about that girl?', he wondered. Bethany's name was called then, so she turned and went into a treatment room, leaving Mrs. Fuller to continue over to say hi.
"Hi Bobby, Mrs. Baylor. Once again, I'm so sorry my driving skills are so poor. I still feel like I should have been able to do something."
"Hi! It's Carol. Please, especially now, after all everyone's been through. Bobby and I were just saying how fast it all happened, and how nothing could have prevented it. We're all so thankful no one was seriously hurt. I think that poor truck driver deserves an award, don't you? Did you know that after they wrapped his arm and leg he camped out at Bobby's door for two days before his wife came and made him go home?"
"Okay, Carol, please call me Barbara. No, I didn't know that about the truck driver. Poor guy, he checked in on Bethany several times, too. I'll bet this haunts his dreams for ten years. We seem to be lucky enough, we were sure worried about poor Bobby here. I guess we all have boo boos we can focus on though!" she chuckled as she pointed first to her cast, then the bandage on Bobby's head. "Well, I just wanted you to know, Bobby that Bethany and I are very sorry this was your introduction to the Fuller family. We hope you won't hold it against us, and we really do hope you will be up and around soon. Perhaps we can try for ice cream again. This time we'll take a bus!"
Bobby burst out laughing in spite of himself. It brought with it a fresh wave of nausea and vertigo. He closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning. Putting on a bright look he really didn't feel he said, "Thanks, Mrs. Fuller. I'd like that a lot. Please tell Bethany I hope she's well soon". He paused and looked up to Mrs. Fuller seriously, wincing slightly from the movement. After a moment he said, "She seems to be the kind of daughter any mother would be proud of".
The two ladies exchanged glances but Barbara recovered first. "Oh she is, Bobby. We're very proud of her. She's a bit too much tomboy for me sometimes, but I'm used to it and perhaps she'll outgrow it eventually. We're really proud of her, just the same." At a loss to respond further to Bobby's comment, she looked at her watch, stretched ridiculously over her cast. "Oh! Look at the time! Well, I need to check on her. Bye for now, but don't forget, we owe you ice cream!"
And with that, the nurse helped Bobby from the wheelchair into the family car, and he was on his way home, most likely facing another two weeks there before going back to school. His EEG was okay, but there was still swelling, and until it was gone there would be headaches, nausea and sudden dizziness. The bruises and the rib just added to the mess. At least the wires and the tube in his head were gone. The wound from the tube didn't hurt at least. Instead, it just itched where they'd shaved his head.
In the Bathroom
Bobby finished up, then flushed the toilet. He opened the medicine cabinet and took down the pill bottle, taking it downstairs to the kitchen where there was cold water. 'I've got a lot more empathy for drug addicts, now', he thought to himself. He wasn't due for another pill before morning, but he just had to do something. Just from going to the bathroom, he was now seeing double again, and knew he was thinking a little fuzzy. Opening the bottle and shaking a capsule into his hand he saw two, and didn't realize there really were two in his hand. Tossing the medication into his mouth he took a long drink of water and sat down at the table. He was half asleep but no longer sleepy, so he just sat there in the dim light, alone with his thoughts.
ALL his thoughts.
All her thoughts.
All HER THOUGHTS?!
'Oh damn!' he thought. 'Not now! I've got enough on my mind. I don't want to deal with THIS tonight!'
The big "this" was that Bobby had a big secret, one so terrible he couldn't share with anyone, but knew eventually everyone would know. He didn't understand it, but he knew it was true. He knew it would crush his dad, maybe his mom too. Bobby wasn't really a Bobby, or more formally, Robert. Perhaps Bobbi or Roberta, maybe, but that wasn't the name he knew was right. He'd known the truth as long as he could remember. And he could still remember some things from when he was in pullup diapers, so it had been on his mind a very long time indeed.
'It's bad enough I can't be strong enough for Dad, and I hate sports, except baseball, not that I'm any good. I can't even tell him about the sports, so how can I ever tell him I'm a girl?' Bobby pleaded silently to no one in particular, remembering his dad's shock and unease when he'd forgotten and allowed himself to behave naturally for a bit a few weeks ago at the forest preserve. 'At least I didn't go skipping down the path in front of him' he thought miserably.
'Besides, what can I do about it anyway? This body may not be much for a boy, but it sure isn't made for a girl! Please, please, please just make me one or the other.' Though he'd never dressed as a girl, or done anything girly in his life, he knew that all the other boys at school, and who knows how many girls, knew. Or at least knew he wasn't one of them. It's why he had no friends. He wasn't a real boy, and he wasn't a real girl, either. He existed in some no-man’s land in between, and it made him a complete pariah. 'That's a good metaphor for me', he thought sadly. 'I exist in the no-mans land.' Thinking of an old war movie he'd seen recently on TV, he thought, 'Too bad this isn't a battlefield, they send planes in to straffe the no-mans land don't they? That would be a good solution for everyone.'
He lay his head on the table, taking some comfort from the coolness, but the gut-wrenching emotions just continued to churn inside. Tears flowing like water, he wasn't sure if it was the headache or his heartache, or both and he was beyond caring which. He was getting so upset he knew he was going to vomit again, and he knew what that did for his headache. Anxious to avoid that vicious cycle again, he had to find a way to get calmed down.
'What does Dad do when he needs to calm down?' Bobby asked himself. Then he remembered all those times he'd heard his mom tell his dad after a hard day at work or school, "Thomas you're all worked up. Just sit down and relax. I'll get you a drink". 'Ah that's it! A drink!' Bobby figured it must be strong stuff too, since Dad drank rarely and never had more than one.
He got up as fast as his injured body could manage and padded over to the liquor cabinet, with all its bottles in various shapes and colors. Knowing nothing about liquor, having never paid attention, he did recognize the square bottle with the cut glass sides. Taking the large water tumbler he'd just used, and not knowing that whiskey is usually diluted with water or a mixer, he poured it full without ice.
'Eeeewww. Yuch! This stuff tastes awful' Bobby thought as he choked down the first swallow, with the fumes backing into his nose. 'Well, maybe this will turn me into a man, or at least a real boy.' And with that he determinedly sipped it like medicine until it was gone. His chest and mouth burning, he was already feeling sleepy and a little more light-headed by the time he got to the top of the stairs. 'At least', he thought, 'maybe now I can forget what a freak I am for a while.' He did notice his parents' door closed as he topped the stairs. 'Oh, good. I'm glad they made it home okay.'
At the same time, a few blocks away
Bethany woke suddenly as something silver on Bobby's left flashed and her whole world suddenly exploded with a crash and she saw something flying into her eye from the right. It happened at least once every night. Not really a nightmare, it was more a replay of the crash. Fully awake now, she decided to go pee.
Her sore rib was bothering her again. Being in the accident had been awful--while they sat in the van waiting to be cut out, she thought Bobby was dead, and it was her fault for inviting him in the first place. Even though she was covered in blood herself from her cut and could only see out of one eye, it was all she could think of. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing. It looked like the side of the van might be poking into his side but he wasn't even bleeding, which added to her concern he might be dead. She wanted to shake him awake, but was afraid that it might make whatever injuries he had worse.
He wasn't dead of course, but for several days it looked like he might be even worse off. He just wouldn't wake up. She probably drove the nurses crazy asking about him. She'd cried more than a little for him, and even went to the hospital chapel late at night to pray for him twice. Maybe he'll be okay now. She liked Bobby, though she wasn't sure why, and she was so very sorry he got hurt. She, at least got this cool scar on her face, even if it was hidden in her eyebrow. Too bad it wasn't across her cheek, like a pirate!
She got up, walked slowly to the bathroom, and relieved herself. As she sat there, she remembered that awful scene with her mother the day before over the fitting. She loved her cousin Sharon, but the thought of being her junior bridesmaid next month left her cold. She'd have to wear a dress. And not just any dress, a pink and white one, with lace and everything. The picture of it on her dresser made her shudder. And they'd probably want her to go to the beauty salon and get her hair done all prissy, and paint her fingernails, and maybe even wear makeup. 'Why can't I just wear pants, and stand by the guestbook?' she thought sadly. She hadn't intended to get into such a row with her mom. She really loved Mom, and knew she was in pain herself from her broken arm. As a tear slowly rolled down her cheek, she wondered again, 'Who am I, what am I really?'
'Girls are supposed to like all that frilly stuff, but all I want to do is ride my bike and play softball. Girl Scouts was OK for a while, like when we went to camp and hiked and told scary stories and stuff, but now, all we ever do is inside stuff, and stand around selling cookies. In a DRESS.' In her mind, the word dress had become associated with something unpleasant, like spoiled food.
She idly thought about her parents, so loving and kind and felt guilty. Finally coming to a decision she thought to herself, 'Okay, I guess I won't complain about the fitting tomorrow. I love Sharon and she deserves the best wedding in the world. She was always my favorite babysitter, and always fun. She played Pirates and Maidens with me, and always let me be the pirate. And I'll try to be nicer to Mom and go along with trying to be more of a girl. Maybe if I do, some of the girls at school will quit talking behind my back.'
'I just wish Dad were a little more like Bobby's dad. I see him and Bobby playing catch all the time'. She finished her business, took a Tylenol, and went back to bed. As she succumbed to sleep again, she began to pleasantly dream of being a field researcher, pack on her back, in the middle of some tropical jungle. Some previously unknown insect was crawling up her sleeve, just waiting for her to discover it and make entomology history.
A little Later
"Well Bethany Anne, it looks like you really did it this time. Really, you’ve outdone yourself."
Bobby heard the voice, but it didn't seem to come from his ears. He must be dreaming. He rolled over on his face.
"Bethany Anne, wake up. We have some things to clear up."
That voice again. He recognized it but it wasn't Mom or Aunt Lydia. Then it hit him. He rolled over and sat up with a jerk, pain be damned. Shock number one was that there wasn't any pain. Shock number two was what he saw standing right in front of him, or more to the point, WHO was standing there. It was Susie, that odd little girl in his class. Everyone liked Susie, but she was quiet and didn't seem to have any close friends. Bobby didn't recall ever seeing her outside of school. It was like she only existed at school. He could see in the dim light that she was pretty, but she had seemed so forgettable before.
"Susie!! What are you doing here?!!" Bobby shouted, then remembered the time of night. But while he heard himself, and she obviously had too, no sound reached his ears. It was pretty confusing. Even more confusing was the fact that he wasn't the least bit dizzy.
"Relax, Bethany Anne. I'm your Guardian Angel, and my real name isn't Susie, but it can't be pronounced using words, so we'll just continue using Susie. I've been with you from the very beginning. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I've been comforting you and keeping you from harm for a long time, and waiting until the right time. I'm older than I look," A small giggle escaped her lips. "and I know everything about you. Everything!" She paused for effect. "So you will please calm down now". It wasn't a request.
Bobby suddenly found himself completely relaxed, and it startled him. The whole sequence of events should have had him screaming and bouncing off the walls. "You're ... my ... my Guardian Angel? Really? ..." He pondered his short life for a moment, remembering how he used to marvel at his luck in dealing with the bullies. Sure, he'd been roughed up a few times, but never seriously hurt. And there was that time he accidentally rode his bike in front of that car ...
"You know ... I think I might believe you. There are times like I felt like someone I couldn't see was helping me somehow, like that last time Aaron and his posse beat me up. Right in the middle of it, I just kinda zoned out and they seemed to lose interest. Then they just walked away. It was like someone told them it wasn't worth it or something -- was that you? ... But ..." Bobby paused.
"But what?" the little girl smiled with the wisdom of a thousand years.
"Why did you call me Betha..." he trailed off, then said in a very small voice, " ... oh." Bobby was looking down, then slowly looked up to Susie with tears already escaping down his chin.
"Oh Yes, Bethany Anne. I know your secret name, and I even remember the day when you were barely four years old that you chose it. You were in the park watching a little girl your age in a blue pinafore on the swing! I even know why you chose it! Well, aside from the fact you know it's right for you, even you don't know the real reason it feels so right. At least not yet."
"But NOBODY knows that, I've never told ANYBODY! ... Why are you here? Why now?" Bobby was becoming quite confused.
"Easy. I wasn't quite ready to step in yet, but I had to. You just killed yourself. Take a look behind you," Susie said, as she non-chalantly motioned with a sweep of her hand.
"Wha ..." Bobby looked back and saw himself lying face up on the bed, but he was superimposed on himself from the waist down. "What happened?! Why am I dead? I mean, I've been pretty miserable, but I'd never do THAT!" He was surprised that he wasn't worked up about it, only incredulous.
"Oh no, not intentionally, I know. Well, first, you overdosed on your painkiller. There's a reason it says 'take one every twelve hours'. The doctor was already worried the dosage was too strong for your little body, and had warned your parents and aunt to watch you carefully for unusual symptoms. Well you jumped the dosage about six hours, which is just like doubling the dosage, and then, you doubled it again by taking two. I know you were seeing double from the headache at the time. Self medication isn't a good idea when you can't see and you're half asleep, because it leads to mistakes. You might have even pulled through, except that you compounded the error by following the pills with twelve ounces of eighty proof. You can't drink alcohol with most drugs, but a good kid like you didn't know that did you? And you drank enough whiskey to put an Irish longshoreman under the table! It was just a little too much, I'm afraid. It makes my job a bit harder, but we have a bit of time."
"Oh no. That awful stuff. The pill. Pills, I guess. What happens now, and why do you keep calling me Bethany? And why aren't I more upset about it all? And why isn't everyone in here, considering all the noise we're making?" Bobby looked across the room as Susie just stood there smiling in her pastel cotton dress and mary janes, her hair bow just slightly askew. Just like school. Just like always. It was so normal it was unreal.
"OK, here's the deal. I'm calling you Bethany Anne because that's who you are, inside, who you feel you were meant to be. You and I both know it. So just stop denying who you are, because you're right. You aren't upset because I told you to be calm. Angels don't have a lot of powers, but that is one we do have, because it's necessary sometimes. And we aren't making any noise at all. When you died, your spirit separated from your body, and we're in the spirit world at the moment. Well, I'm not, sorta, but you are. I'm kinda in several places at once. But never mind all that, you wouldn't understand, and it's not important anyway. We have to get busy, or we'll be taking you Home. And it isn't Your Time yet.
Bobby seemed even more confused. "Home? I am home. I'm in my own bed!"
“No Bethany Anne, not home. Home. You aren't due there for a good many Earth years, and your future children and grandchildren will need for you to be here for them. So let's get going. We can talk along the way". And with that, she turned and walked out the door.
"Wait for me!" Bobby jumped out of the bed and followed her. Or at least it seemed to him like he did. It was eerie when he looked back, seeing himself still in the bed looking asleep. He caught up with Susie just as she went out the front door. "Where are we going?" He was a little self-conscious about leaving the house in his PJ's.
Walking purposefully down the block, Susie explained it to him after a few minutes. "Ok Bethany Anne. We're going to a rendezvous, where you can be happy and grow up and be everything He intended for you in the first place. And, do you mind, I'm starting to get a headache of my own, seeing a girl in a boy shell". And with that she just sort of flipped her hand, as if it described what she meant. Bobby was stunned to see his pajamas and slippers morph into a pair of yellow overall shorts with a pink shirt and brown loafers, complete with ankle socks trimmed in yellow. It was exactly the outfit he'd seen Bethany in at the hospital. He instinctively knew all his clothes had changed, he could feel the straps from the training bra. Even his hair felt different, and he could tell the training bra wasn't all padding, either. Knowing he was somehow now a girl, he had no idea how or why. Just to make sure he (now she) reached up and touched the top of her head. Sure enough, there was the headband. Bethany Anne didn't need a mirror to know that it was white.
"There. That's better. Now you look the part. Please quit thinking of yourself as a boy. We know you never were."
Bethany Anne was truly shook up now. Despite Susie's earlier statement that he/she would be calm, the shock was just too much, and she stopped suddenly and sat on the curb. They'd only walked two blocks. Bethany Anne was just staring off into space, a dazed look on her face.
Susie stopped and turned back, then sat next to Bethany Anne, taking her hand and holding it in her lap as girlfriends do. After a few minutes of silence Bethany Anne finally looked over to Susie.
"Okay, I'm sorry," Susie said, "that was a bit sudden. I sometimes forget you can't see what's to be yet. Let me tell you a story, but first you have to know how things work at Home." She pointed up as Bethany looked at her quietly and nodded, scared and confused. "Scared?" she asked.
Bethany just continued to nod silently. She laughed gently and said, "Relax, we're not going there yet!" She paused before continuing, then chuckled. "You gotta admit it though. For the first time ever, you just feel 'right' in your skin, don't you?"
Bobby--Bethany Anne just looked at her earnestly, the truth evident on his — or rather her face. Susie giggled a little and said, "I knew it!"
"Home isn't like anything you've ever known here. Nobody from Earth knows what it's like because it can't be described in physical terms, at least three dimensional ones. Some of your Christian apostles caught a glimpse of what they perceived was there, that's where all that 'streets of gold' and 'walls of jasper' nonsense came from. It's so much better than that! When an Earth Soul reaches Home, it's always a shock to them, so for a period of time, say a hundred or so years of 'Earth time', the Soul is given a job to do, similar to what they did on Earth, with regular 'hours' and everything. On their 'day off' they use their new experiences to gradually get to know Home, and figure it out, experiencing parts of it as they learn how. It takes a while to get used to thinking in all those new dimensions, and it takes a little longer if they're not naturally good at math for some reason. Once they are ready, they usually move on to something else, in another plane of existence within Home. Some don't though, they just continue with what's familiar. He, the Great Master, isn't wasteful however, so the 'work' these Souls do is real, and always important, and that's part of the story." She stopped talking for a moment as she remembered another human misperception.
"Oh, there's something else you need to know. Your Book says that when you die, your 'old nature' dies with it, and you are completely 'cleansed'. Well, it's true, and about as good an explanation as possible in three dimensional, or 'physical' terms, but that's not really exactly like it is. What happens is, your Soul has to learn how to exist in the totality of Home, and all those parts of you that make you fallible as a human are incompatible with that. As a Soul becomes acclimated, those things are left behind, kind of like a baby graduating from diapers. But the process isn't instant. It's another reason for the acclimation process. Do you understand? It's important, because I can't go on until you do."
Bethany Anne had been listening intently to Susie under the streetlamp, oddly noticing how her fingers looked longer and skinnier than she remembered, and wondering where the nail polish had come from. "OK, maybe I understand, sort of. -- OHMIGOSH -- my voice sounds so different! Heaven is a wonderful place, but it's complicated so you have to learn how to live there. They give you a job until you do, and you change to fit in as you learn. You can keep your job as long as you like, but it's how you learn to be worthwhile for God. It sounds like the Catholics' description of Purgatory. OH NO! I'm Methodist!"
"Hey, that's pretty good!" she said with a laugh. "Only we don't use all those words. There are many worlds out there, even other universes, and dimensions, all with Souls equally precious, so we just call it Home, and the Great Master is known by many names. And no, Purgatory isn't the right word. That would be punishment, or at least, working off your sins, which is impossible. No, this is more like education. And Methodist or whatever, He loves each Soul, and just wants you to trust and love Him back. The how of it is less important". For once, she looked earnestly at Bethany, with only a hint of a smile. This was serious stuff, and Bethany Anne had to understand. It seemed she was following along, so she continued.
"Now I'll tell you the story. I think you'll be able to understand it now. Three years before you were born, a beautiful young woman by the name of Julie had a tragic car accident. She had gone to a ski resort in the mountains for the weekend, meeting up with some girlfriends. All month she had been in the dumps because she'd just broken up with her boyfriend Tom. She had been pushing him for a ring, but he was in the Marines, and just wasn't ready for the commitment. She knew he loved her deeply, but he wanted to get at least a year or two of college behind him first before committing to marriage. He became upset with her for not trusting him to do the right thing when it was time. It all kind of went sour, and he told her they both needed some time off. She felt she'd driven him away, and blamed herself. Your Mom was there that weekend too, because she was Julie's best friend. The night before they left for home, the six of them had a "hen party" in the bar. A lot of things were said, but two of the girls, no, not your mom, kept going on and on about how terrible men were. There were a lot of awful things said, and a lot of drinking."
"The boyfriend, by the way, didn't know about any of this. He was home on leave at his parents that weekend, visiting his dad who was in ill health. Had he known about Julie and her emotional state he would have moved mountains to be with her. He loved her so dearly and completely he ached for her, even though he'd been the one to call a time out to their relationship. It just wasn't the time to think about marriage, though he couldn't think of a future without her. He doesn't know what happened that night, and probably never will. It would have broken his heart to hear what those other girls said about 'all men'. He was a 'real man' of true integrity, after all. Those girls with the loose tongues in the bar had never met a 'real man' before." Susie stopped for a moment and studied Bethany Anne's face. Empathy for the troubled couple was written all over it, and a look of dread was beginning to form. Susie continued.
"The next day, everyone left the resort to go home. Julie wasn't a great driver, and though she wasn't drunk, she did have a hangover, and her little sports car didn't perform well on slick pavement. It was not a good combination. As she drove down the mountain, she drove into a fog bank that had descended against it. She was listening to a sad song on her tape player, preoccupied with the awful claims of her friends about how she'd been wronged, and was tearing up a little, blurring her vision. Between her tears and the fog, she misjudged a turn just as she hit a small patch of ice. Unfortunately a much bigger car had done exactly the same thing the night before, and damaged the guardrail. When her little car hit the rail, it failed, and she went over and died in the canyon below. Are you following so far, Bethany Anne?"
Bethany Anne sat, staring across the street. Her male-trained brain and boy experience allowed her to visualize the course of events perfectly. Her true nature allowed her to feel all the pain and hurt Julie must have felt and despite herself, felt so much empathy for the lady that it almost overwhelmed her. Tears flowing from her eyes, she looked up as Susie stood, stretching.
"That's a good girl. I knew you'd understand. It's written all over your face".
"It's so SAD! Why did he have to break up with her? She died because of it! Oh! ... That is so AWFUL!" Bethany Anne was becoming agitated, the tears now running down her cheeks. She wondered why Susie was telling her this story, and also why she didn't tell her to calm down like she had before.
"Remember, it wasn't his fault. She was the one pushing him for a ring before it was time. The rest was just an unfortunate confluence of events."
"But what has it got to do with me?" Bethany wasn't sure she wanted to know. But she knew she had to.
"Well, Bethany Anne, it'll be clear in a minute. Stay with me, I'm almost done." Susie walked across the street and sat on the bus bench. Bethany Anne was sure it hadn't been there a few minutes before. "Come over here Bethany Anne, I know you're in the spirit realm, but I'm still physical, sorta, at least for a while. It's uncomfortable sitting on the curb like that."
"Thanks," Susie said, putting an arm around Bethany Anne. "Now you know how Julie arrived at Processing. Her job on earth had been working in a library. She was a really neat person, lots of attention to detail, and all that. So her library job had been keeping all the card catalogs up to date. It's a big responsibility."
"What's a card catalog?" Bethany Anne had never seen one.
"A card catalog is an old system for locating the books, using paper cards. It was used for hundreds of years before computers. In fact, your own library didn't get their computerized card catalog until about the time you were learning to read. Card catalogs are great for keeping track of anything unique but similar and in great number. Anyway, Julie was familiar with card systems of tracking things so she was given the job of helping keep track of Inventory. Because of her experience, the presentation of that Inventory appeared to her in the form of cards. It really doesn’t look anything like that, but for someone just learning about Home, things always appear as something familiar. But before I tell you more about that, let me tell you what happened on Earth after Julie left".
"OK, but please hurry. This Julie sounds important to me somehow."
"Oh, she is, Bethany Anne, but you need to know what happened after her death."
"When he learned the news, the young man was devastated. He blamed himself for her death, and just couldn't accept that his Beloved was gone. He took a whole month off from the Marines, and spent most of it just staring at the back fence of his parents' yard. Not even his own Guardian Angel seemed able to help comfort him. Finally, after three and a half weeks, he took a drive about two o'clock in the morning. He just drove aimlessly for hours, not really thinking about where he was going. He stopped for breakfast, miles from home just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Guess who he saw at the coffee shop? Julie's best friend Carol. Oddly enough, she'd been doing the same thing as he, because she missed her best friend so much. They'd been like sisters."
"My MOM! Did she help him? Oh, I know she did, please tell me so! If anyone knows how to help heal a broken heart it's my mom!" Bethany Anne was really leaking tears now, feeling the pain not only for this Julie, but for her mom and Julie's boyfriend Tom.
“Yes, as a matter of fact it was her. She wasn't a lot better off than Tom, but they did sit together picking at their eggs and sipping coffee. They started by talking about how much they missed Julie, but gradually the conversation changed to questions about other friends, then each other, as neither one knew much about the other. Their common thread had been Julie, but before long they found a genuine interest in each other. Well to make a long story short, they discovered after a few weeks they were soul mates, and eventually got married. A baby was born 23 months after that."
"OMIGOSH! You just described my parents!! They said they met in a coffee shop, and you said his name was Tom! Dad used to go by Tom, and I was born two years after they got married! I never knew the whole story!"
"OK, I think you see where I was going now. Let me continue. Remember Julie? By the time you were born she was just getting the hang of her new job. Can you guess now what the word 'Inventory' means at Home? Let me answer that to save time. It means Souls. Julie's job was to keep track of new Souls about to be born. It's a very important job, and hard too but very rewarding.
When it came time to retrieve your Soul from storage she made a mistake. Remember, I told you a Soul new to Home takes time to acclimate to its new surroundings? Well to understand what happened, you have to know how Julie did her job. Julie's day sort of went like this, over and over. Cross reference a card number from a printed list, then pull the card from the card catalog. After checking it off the list, she then retrieved the Soul from storage and attached the card to it for routing, and put the Soul and its card on a cart. Every few hours another worker or angel would retrieve the cartful of new Souls, and leave an empty cart for Julie to fill. Now to her, the new Soul looked something like a small jewelry box in the store room, and they were kept track of by the card system. To another Soul it might have appeared differently. I suppose if she'd been an engineer, they might have looked like something on a big conveyor, and she'd be sitting at a big computer console full of knobs and gauges." Susie giggled. "But for her it looked like that. She was busy that day, retrieving Souls for about two weeks of production. It's a lot of Souls, and that's just for your solar system."
"As she was rolling the cart back 'up front', she was startled when an angel flew by, and she was distracted by the thought that she had always thought angels had wings. She bumped the wall and a couple Souls fell off onto the floor, getting separated from their cards. As she picked up one card, she read the back side and recognized the parents' names as her old friends. She was busy, but was happy that her friends had found each other and had obviously created a Soul as a result of their love. But that tiny distraction was enough to exhibit what you might call her 'old self', and she failed to follow protocol. She should have stopped and checked with her supervising angel, just to make sure the new Souls were okay, but she forgot. It wasn't a big mistake, but because of it she attached your card to the wrong box, and the other one was attached to one that was scheduled to be born two weeks after Bobby, ironically in the very same town!"
"Oh NO!! I got switched! It must have been with a boy, since I'm a girl, and Bobby's a boy! OH! ... It must have been even more awful for him, he's in a girl's body!” Bethany Anne paused, her brow deeply furrowed as she thought out the implications. "Bethany, from school! It's got to be Bethany! It IS Bethany, isn't it? Now I know why I latched onto this name, and I realize why everything just didn't seem to fit!! We got switched! That's why she's such a tomboy, isn’t it? Oh, what a DISASTER! I love my parents, and she loves hers! What am I going to do? What's Bethany going to do?"
Bethany Anne had now become even more distraught as the implications began to form in her mind.
After all those years of asking "Why?" she finally had the answers, but it just made her feel worse. She didn't know it was possible to feel this horrible. Susie just leaned over, and putting her arms around her, rocked her for a few minutes as she cried great racking sobs. Eventually Bethany Anne ran out of tears and wound down. It seemed as if hours had gone by. She turned quietly to Susie, the tears on her face reflecting in the streetlight.
"Does she know?"
As much as Bethany Anne hated being a boy, and wanted desperately to be who she was meant to be, she couldn't see any way for Creation to correct things without causing great hurt to her parents, and Bethany and her parents, indeed to their entire families. Not to mention all the problems trying to figure out how to resume life as Bethany.
And, what about Bobby? His body is dead back there, so Bethany couldn't take Bobby's place. Bethany Anne decided she couldn't take Bethany's place. It's just too awful and selfish to think about taking Bethany's body and forcing her-HIM into an early arrival at Home.
"No, she doesn't know," Susie replied gently. "The brain in a girl's body is wired differently so she doesn't realize yet -- but she suspects and 'he' would have eventually figured it out. She knows that she's not a normal girl, but she doesn’t know she’s actually a boy. In fact, I helped her own Guardian Angel hold her hand and comfort her a couple nights ago as she cried in bed for hours, wondering why she felt so wrong. She's done this many times, but it's happening more and more frequently of late."
"We didn't know you were going to kill yourself tonight. Angels working in the three dimensional realm don't always think to look into the future. If I'd been with you in the kitchen I'd have made you drop the pill bottle and make enough noise to wake someone up or something. Brenda, Bethany's angel, thought Bethany was okay for the time being, so she left for India to help the flood victims there, and isn't scheduled back for at least two days. There isn't an angel shortage, but the ones assigned there are tired, and need a little relief. But Brenda wouldn't have gone had she known about tonight. I was checking in on Bethany about the time you took that drink."
"I'm so sorry". Bethany Anne put her hands over her eyes and blubbered. "It was an accident. Really it was. I didn't know what I was doing. And now look at the mess I've caused! I can't be Bethany, I haven't the slightest idea how. Besides, who will she be? I'm dead, remember? O-h-h-h I'm d-e-a-d..." she continued to sob.
"Shhh, Shhh." she said as she pulled a tissue from the pocket of her dress and wiped Bethany Anne's tears. "It's OK. We're going to fix it, right now. You'll see. C'mon, we're here." Susie stood, and holding her arm out for Bethany Anne, pulled her to her feet, then walked across the street and into the next house, right through the front door. The family dog, sleeping with one eye on the door, didn't even stir. Rushing up the stairs, she turned left and burst into a bedroom. The perfect bedroom! It was all pink, with a canopy bed, and dolls everywhere! And cute dresses in the closet. They looked untouched, but a grimy softball uniform was draped over the chair, a well worn glove on the seat. And the room was unkempt, not dirty but kind of a mess. A girl was sleeping in the bed. Bethany Anne looked at her. She was cute but it looked like she had a terrible haircut, and a bandage over her eye. BETHANY! It was Bethany, from school! As Bethany Anne looked wonderingly at her, she stirred, as if she'd heard something.
"Who's there?" She asked, sitting up and rubbing her unpatched eye. Everyone heard, but no sound was made. "Susie!! What are you doing in my room? And who's this? W-a-i-t a minute! You're, ... you're ME!! You're even wearing the shortalls I wore to the hospital last week!! Hey, what's going on? ... Oh God, the doctor said there might be nightmares!"
Susie said "You need to calm down a bit, Bethany. We're going to tell you what's going on, and you're going to like it a LOT!"
Bethany instantly felt a calm wash over her, not of her own volition. "How'd you DO that?" She looked expectantly at Susie, who just giggled. Then she turned serious and looked hard at Bethany.
"Bethany, what's your full name?"
Bethany looked at the two carefully and warily. "Bethany Anne Fuller. 1205 Rocking Chair Lane. What's that got to do with anyth....."
"Tell us your most sacred secret, Bethany. And who you most admire, and why." Susie interrupted, leaving no room for argument.
Bethany looked at them carefully, convinced she was in a dream. OK, she'd play along. After all, she'd heard sometimes you could direct your dreams. Maybe she could at least achieve in her dream what she couldn't in real life.
"OK. You wanna know my secret truth? I hate being a girl. I hate everything about it, all that prissy stuff, the hair, the dresses, everything! Especially training bras! And don't EVEN get me started about periods! My life sucks except for softball! And even that sucks, because all I ever get to play with are girls, and they can't throw, and we can't even use real baseballs! I hate the Girl Scouts. All we ever do is sit around and sew and do lame stuff like basket weaving and making earrings. And have you ever listened to what girls talk about? UGHH! I just get SICK of hearing about the next fashion trend to come along, or the latest hair accessory at Claires! I want to join the Boy Scouts when I'm thirteen, and go backpacking and fishing and dig for worms. I want to play tackle football, and chop wood and use a rope and rappel down, over a cliff!" She was really on a roll now.
"You wanna know the real truth? I really wish I was Bobby Baylor over on the next street. Have you ever seen his dad, Coach Baylor? Bobby can do ANYTHING with him, his dad's such a jock! Having a real coach for your dad is just about the coolest thing ever! I know he's kinda small, but if Bobby only realized what a great dad he's got, he'd think he'd died and gone to Heaven!"
"And I know Bobby's tough -- did you see what happened to him when we got into that accident? Any NORMAL kid woulda got killed, but he's a survivor! Yeah, if I could trade places with him, I'd do it in a heartbeat!!"
"Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but I just don't fit them. My Mom, for instance. She wants me to be all girly girly. Well I just can't do it. And my Dad. Well. He's a great loan officer at the bank, but even I can throw a better pitch. No, Bobby would be a better fit here, the way he likes to read. Did you know he even paints and writes poetry? Pretty good, too, from what I’ve seen. (Bethany Anne, her eyes widening by the minute, blushed at the comment, unnoticed by the others). He's just too sensitive and nice to be a boy, and I'm all rough and tumble. Maybe that's why I like him. We're both misfits." Finally running out of steam, she looked at the floor.
"Like he'd want to trade with me though ..."
"Exactly. Well, I have news for you, Robert Allen. Today's your day. And no, it isn't a dream. We're here to correct a little mistake, and I think you know the one." Now it was time for Bethany's eyes to get big.
"But, wha ... what are you talking about, and who is this person that looks like me?"
"Oh, come on Bobby. You're a boy, at least inside. Yes, think about that! You really are a boy, aren't you? Doesn't that explain things?" Bethany-Bobby took on a wide-eyed look that slowly turned to one of comprehension. " ... That's right! Once you accept that, it becomes obvious, doesn't it? Problem solve it! You'll figure it out in a minute. But get out of bed, and let’s get going before we run out of time." Susie was starting to act a bit impatient. Of course, she knew what would happen next. They didn't. She was impatient, alright. She was about to see the culmination of almost twelve Earth years of preparation and work by herself and Brenda. This was SO exciting!
Bethany Anne had stood silently watching the exchange, eerily similar to hers earlier. She finally found her voice. "No wait, Susie, just wait a minute! I'm not sure I can go through with this. You can't just switch us like this, we love our parents and family, and we don't even know each other, let alone each other’s family! And besides, if I take over as Bethany, WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO BOBBY? HE'S DEAD!" Her questions had started out normally enough, but had crescendoed into a hysterical scream, with Bethany looking on with increasing confusion. Susie looked at the two girl lookalikes standing side by side, paused, then sat on the bed. She turned to Bethany Anne, the former Bobby with tenderness in her eyes.
"Oh that. ... I'm sorry, Bethany Anne, I should have told you. I was so focused on helping you achieve your dream, I guess I got excited and forgot you couldn't see the whole picture. I Guess I'm not as good in three dimensions as I thought. The truth is, it's going to be alright. I'm going to fix everything. But first, Bethany Anne, formerly Bobby Baylor, I would like to introduce you to Bethany Anne Fuller, soon to be Bobby, Robert Allen Baylor. You two felt a connection between you a few weeks ago, and now you know why. Why don't you give each other a hug?"
Bethany looked at her double, completely startled. Wide-eyed she exclaimed, "Bobby? You're Bobby? But you look just like me!"
Bethany Anne, looking back, said ruefully, "Hi Bethany. Yes, I guess I was Bobby. But I've always been Bethany Anne inside, even before I met you. And your story? About being a boy inside and wanting to do outdoor stuff, get dirty and all? Well I'm the exact opposite, even more than you guessed. I want to wear earrings, and lace, and wear cute dresses and shoes, and paint my nails, and allow myself to giggle sometimes. All of that stuff. I even know the names of all the Barbies, and I've read all the American Girl dolls' stories too! To tell the truth, doing some things that boys do just scares me. Susie said our Souls got switched, and we've been living each other's lives ... I sure hope she's a powerful angel, because this is a real mess, isn't it? How are we ever going to untangle it all and explain this to our parents? Oh, it must have awful for you, having to live in a girl's world when you're a boy!"
Bethany was silent for a moment, then looked up. "Now I know why I envy you so much, Bobby -- uh -- Bethany Anne. I guess we really are connected, aren't we? As bizarre as this sounds, I know Susie's right. It explains everything, doesn't it? ... You're right, this is going to be hard. This must have been even more awful for you than me. I'm so sorry for you!"
And with that the two mixed up kids, each part girl and part boy, a potpourri based partly on their real being and partly on biology, felt the emotions, and did what was natural for girls to do. They embraced, then kissed each others' cheek. At that moment, Susie saw the small spark, and the briefest of multicolored auras form over them, and knew He had done His work. As they separated there were now no longer two girls in the room. It was now Bethany Anne in her long nightgown, and Bobby, in his pajamas and slippers. The girl in the nightgown had swapped places. Susie was excited but a bit sad, as she knew it was time to complete her work.
The two children stepped back from one another, a look of complete and utter astonishment on their faces.
"OHMIGOSH!!" they both said at once, then laughed. Bethany Anne was the one to continue, and as excited as Bobby was he knew it was polite to yield the floor to the girl.
"I know everything about you!! I have all your memories, all your experiences, everything! And I still remember my other self, too! Oh, I feel so CONNECTED to you!"
"I KNOW!! It's the same with me! Oh Bobby! Bethany! WHATEVER!" He laughed as he rushed over to her and hugged her again tightly, lifting her off the floor and swinging back and forth, as if she were a giant Raggedy Ann. Her legs swung from the movement and caused her to giggle. "I know everything about you, too, all your joys and troubles. All those hidden things we couldn't share with anyone. We're such a mess, aren't we?"
He cried, and laughed at the same time. "Do you think we can be each other? I'd sure like to try," he said.
Their mood was evident to Susie, watching silently from the edge of the bed. It alternated between extreme euphoria to sadness, and back, as they felt the joy of finally being at peace, while at the same time feeling each other’s hurts from living their crossed lives. Tears were everywhere. They alternated, saying things like, "Oh that time at your aunt's house when she rolled your hair...," or "Remember Christmas that year when you got the train instead of the baby doll ... ."
And there were also giggles from things like, "Oh that was SO funny when you made your cousin go on the roller coaster with you and she got so scared she threw up on her mom!" and, "I'll bet Coach Baylor -- my dad, really wondered about you dancing around in that meadow!"
Susie let it continue for a few minutes, until finally their emotions had run their course. They calmed down, then turned to Susie, who barely had time to conceal her own tears of joy. Being an angel was SO rewarding! Bobby was the first to start the questions.
"What now, Susie? Are we really switched? Can we stay this way? And are we going to remember any of this? Please tell us, we've got to know".
Susie knew the time had come. She couldn't put it off any longer.
"OK, you two. Yes, and no. Sorta. Let me explain. First of all, you aren’t quite switched. Not quite yet. But Bobby here just needed to stop thinking he was Bethany, and the same with Bethany Anne. The only thing that had to happen was for the Great Master to enable you both to remember what is consistent with the proper body so you can resume life in the correct role. You had to combine your beings for just a blink for that, so the Great Master could allow you to share memories ... "
"OK, so that wasn't really necessary either. I could have done it myself, but I just love it when the Great Master gets involved!" Susie paused for a second, realizing she was gushing. She tried to compose herself then continued, "He really does love to get personally involved, you know, and when he merged you, the whole of Creation felt the 'power surge' from His love!" Susie was still misty-eyed, very uncharacteristic behavior for an angel, and she knew the kids had noticed it. "Oh bother! Well, anyway it's done. Right now you both know EVERYTHING about the other. No twins were ever so close as you are right now. But it's only temporary. By morning neither of you will consciously remember your former lives. It has to be that way, I'm sorry. But it's the only way to be fair with your love to your real parents."
"Everyone will notice something different about you, because Bethany Anne, you're not really a tomboy, and Bobby, you want to be just like your Dad in every way, even though you’ll never be his size or particularly athletic. The changes in your personalities will be evident almost immediately, because both of you are now comfortable in your skin. One important thing WILL remain. You two are connected Souls now, and though you won't know why, you'll be able to anticipate each others' actions, and feel each other's emotions, like twins only more so. And though you won't remember your previous lives, there will be times where you learn something about the other and it will be like déjá vu, or you’ll remember your ‘other self’ in a dream.
Each of you will forever carry a large part of the other, because of having lived for a while in each other's body. One really cool thing, whatever things you struggled with before may remain, but you will retain all those things you're great at, too, and so will your 'other self'. So Bobby, you'll still be able to appreciate and write beautiful poetry and paint, but Bethany couldn't do that before, and she'll soon discover that talent too. And Bobby will soon find that he has a real talent for jewelry making, dancing and calligraphy, because those are things Bethany has always loved and excelled at. Oh, another thing. Since Bethany Anne lived in Bobby's body with all that male conditioning, she'll be able to problem solve with the best of the boys, and Bobby will be able to understand girls on an emotional level most boys never even guess! It will be really fun for you two to discover that you can share in so many things! And Bobby, when you get into high school you'll find that all those clueless guys that pick on you now will start coming around and asking you about girls and relationship issues, and you'll know how to really help! You and Bethany Anne might even have careers as matchmakers. You're going to be one popular guy in a few years," she giggled.
"I think you're going to become best friends, like two peas in a pod."
Susie loved a happy ending, but didn't want to spoil it for them. She wouldn't, and couldn't tell them that after years of being very best friends, their love would someday blossom and they would eventually marry and become grandparents to over 20 grandchildren!
"Well, now if you two have just about drained your tear buckets, I think it's time to go. Bethany Anne, after all is pretty sleepy".
Bethany Anne, the former Bobby, was suddenly so sleepy she could hardly hold her head up.
"Wow. I guess you're right," the new Bethany said. "Maybe I should get back in bed, before I fall down right here." As she pulled her covers back, she noticed she was already in bed, lying on her side with her back to them. Neither child had noticed before.
"That's right Bethany Anne. That's your body. Just climb in, and snuggle up behind, and go to sleep". Bethany Anne was on autopilot now, nodding as she climbed into the bed.
Before Bobby's eyes, the two images just sort of melted together, just like the two images in a pair of binoculars, as they came into focus. Just as they did, a small pink aura blinked. Susie giggled to herself, knowing that auras were always blue. The Great Master DID have a sense of humor!
"Sleep tight, my little friend. Tomorrow promises to be a bright day," Susie said quietly as she bent over to kiss her on the cheek, smiling an enigmatic smile.
She straightened and turned to Bobby, but as he looked toward Susie he saw, not little Susie the schoolgirl, but a beautiful young woman in a flowing white gown.
Looking at the amazed stare from Bobby, she said "Well, I figured this is more like a young man's vision of a proper angel." She winked and grinned. Bobby tried to suppress a laugh, but failed.
"C'mon, Bobby. Time to go." Then she turned and walked out the room and down the stairs.
Bobby paused for a second, looking at Bethany Anne's backside. He reached over, straightened and smoothed her covers and bent to whisper in her ear. "Bye for now, sweet Bethany Anne, I hope we can always be friends." He bent over and kissed her on the cheek, the action thrilling him through and through, especially when she stirred slightly in her sleep and smiled. He then turned and headed down the stairs. At the moment he knew, of course exactly what Bethany Anne thought of him, what's not to be excited about? He tingled all over. Susie was waiting with a smile at the front door.
"Ready? OK, here we go!" And opened the front door with a flourish and stepped ... into the entryway of Bobby's house!! "Well, I didn't figure there was anything to be gained from walking two blocks, was there?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. Bobby just followed silently, shaking his head. In his room, he saw Bobby -- no that wasn't right. He saw HIS body lying there, flat on his back. Susie turned to him, and said, "OK Bobby? This is going to be a bit different, since you accidentally killed yourself. And it's been a full minute and a half since you died, so we have to do this now. You can't just put yourself back in like Bethany Anne. I have to do it for you."
Bobby was stunned as he suddenly remembered the night, or at least remembered what his Bethany Anne double had experienced. It seemed like hours since Susie had first appeared in his bedroom. He started to open his mouth but was interrupted before he even formed the thought.
"Never mind!! No, we're in the spirit world, and time and your sense of reality has little meaning here. But for reasons you won't understand a bit of 3rd dimensional time has slipped by, so I have to 'put you back' now. Just relax. You're going to get sleepy now".
Her words weren't even out of her mouth before Bobby was half asleep. Susie reached over, and picked up Bobby like a doll, as if he weighed nothing. In truth, he did weigh nothing. Souls, after all, are completely outside the realm of the physical world. As Susie moved toward the bed, what was the essence of Bobby shrank and began to glow, until it was a mere spark of light in her hand. 'All right then. In you go', she thought as she dropped the spark onto his forehead. The spark extinguished just as the faintest of blue blinked over his entire body. Susie then bent over him, and kissed him on the cheek, running her hand over the top of his head as she did so, pushing the bandage off. She then ran her other hand down his left side, as if to smooth his pajamas. 'You've sufferred enough from your injuries, I think little one. You'll rest easier now', she thought to herself. She then straightened up, and sliding her sleeve back, exposed a small wrist chronometer, which looked like nothing more than a woman’s wristwatch. Pulling the stem out, she set the time one minute, forty seven seconds back. As she pushed the stem back in, she heard Bobby take a deep breath, then groan.
Stepping back into the shadows, she watched, but began to slowly dissolve away before she saw the fruition of her work. "Marlene!! Please, not NOW!!" she yelled.
Bobby rolled over and tried to curl into a ball, his stomach in knots. Oh, he felt TERRIBLE!! Suddenly, he threw the covers back and rushed to the bathroom, where he vomited up the entire contents of his stomach. He continued heaving long after nothing was left, for what seemed forever. The smell was awful. Finally, he straightened, rinsed his mouth twice and brushed his teeth. "Oh man! That's the last time I'm going anywhere NEAR Dad's liquor cabinet!" Bobby thought, as he slowly made his way back to bed, rubbing his neck where a tube had so recently exited his head. He was feeling better already, and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He hadn't even realized that he had inadvertently flushed all the painkillers from his stomach.
Somewhere Beyond The Three Dimensional Realm
"Well, to use Earth vernacular, welcome back to the 'Working World', 'Susie'. Enjoy your vacation?" As Susie's form filled in, she decided to revert back to the little girl version she'd been playing for so long. She felt it more in keeping with what she wanted to say.
"Hi, thanks 'Marlene'. I knew you'd be the one on duty. The least you could have done is given me another day, so I could see the fruit of my labors. I'm a Level III Worker Angel you know, not some rookie. I know how to get back on my own when an assignment is finished."
"Don't call me Marlene. You know my name. You can see how it comes out like all the angels do. On the Soul Reviewer."
"It's not the same, and you know it."
"Of course not. You can get it in all six dimensions! It's much better!"
"No it's not! Look. I know you never had a three dimensional assignment, so you can't understand. There, time is important. Everything flows, creating anticipation. Personal experience is so much more real than capture and playback. Don't ask me why, it just is. You have no idea what it's like to actually feel emotion, for instance."
"Well never mind, it's done. That was supposed to be such a simple assignment, correcting switched Souls. Get in, make the switch and get out while the little sentients were still infantile. What happened?"
"Look, you just don't understand about humans. This was my thirteenth assignment among them. Their psyches are so precious, but also fragile. You have to wait until the time is right or you can damage them permanently. I wasn't wasting time, though I won't tell you I didn't enjoy living among them while I waited and watched".
"Well you were gone so long you missed two other opportunities on Earth. But since you have such a penchant for living in three dimensions, I've saved you a nice juicy one. Same backwater corner of the cosmos, too. In fact it's on that moon two planets out from Earth, in the same solar system! Europa, I think your humans call it."
"Oh no! Not the worms! Why they're barely sentient, and they move so slowly, I'll be gone a hundred years Earth time! And juicy is right, those underground swamps are positively oily!"
"Don't exaggerate. 'They don't move that slow. But I bet next time, you don't drag your feet on your assignment! Now get going! If you hurry, you can squeeze in enough time to watch the fruition of your work on the Soul Reviewer".
Insisting on staying in three-dimensional form just to irritate Marlene, Susie slowly walked out of the room muttering about having to be a worm after being a cute girl for so many Earth years. Just as she walked through the door, where Marlene couldn't 'see', she turned and did something very natural for the precocious eleven-year old girl she appeared to be, but very uncharacteristic for an angel. She stuck her tongue out at Marlene!
Marlene, stuck in her three-dimensional presentation until Susie left the room, chuckled to herself after she left. She had seen the display of petulance! The three dimensional realm was kind of fun, maybe that's why humans seemed to be The Great Master's favorite beings in the Cosmos. Susie was a great Level III angel, and would someday promote up to take her place she was sure. But Susie had spent so much time on Earth, she had become a little impudent, just like all those humans there. Marlene decided not to tell her that not only had she been to Earth, she'd completed more assignments there than Susie, and in fact had been working directly with Susie for the last eleven, almost twelve Earth years, as Brenda, Bethany's angel.
Susie didn't need to know that she was in fact 'Brenda', or that someone very high up in management had assigned her to help Susie, an indication that it was very important to restore these Souls. So 'Brenda' hadn't gone to India as Susie thought. In actuality, her assignment to monitor Bethany ended when Susie initiated the steps to complete the assignment, so she'd returned to Home and resumed her duties here. Yes, Susie was talented, but she had a lot to learn.
Marlene chuckled again as she remembered Susie's words, "You have no idea what it's like to actually feel emotion." Indeed!
In One House;
Barbara Fuller rose from bed, tossed on her robe, and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't been looking forward to this day, especially after that huge fight she'd gotten into with Bethany the day before. Today, just after breakfast they would be heading over to that specialty shop in the mall to get Bethany's lingerie, and then later over to the bridal store to get fitted for her junior bridesmaid gown. Bethany had left no doubt in her mind the day before that she wasn't going to make it a Mother and Daughter day. In fact, unless she changed her attitude, it was probably going to be a very long and difficult day for both of them.
Resignedly, she picked up the coffee carafe with her good hand to fill it with water, when she heard crunching behind, coming from the table. Turning, she was shocked at what she saw. No, she was more than shocked. She couldn't describe her feelings. There, sitting at the table, casually eating Rice Krispies was her daughter Bethany, wearing, of all things, a pretty lavender jumper and a very feminine blouse with puff sleeves. And she had rollers in her hair!!
"Hi Mom. I woke up early, so I decided to try setting my hair. I don't think I did a very good job. I don't think this haircut works very good for me anymore. Do you think I can get it trimmed or cut today? As short as it is, I'll probably have to get a pixie cut, but I've been thinking about letting it grow out after. Maybe you can help me figure out something that would work."
'Gosh' thought Barbara. Bethany, up already, and she sounded positively perky. Unheard of. And asking my advice on hair–anything for that matter! It was just too much for Barbara. She sat down across from Bethany, and studied her to see what she was up to this time. Bethany wasn't going to get out of the fitting, and Barbara wasn't about to take any guff from her, either. And she most definitely was not going to be mocked! Bethany in a dress, can you imagine? But she didn't look like she was pulling a stunt, she just looked like she was eating breakfast. In a dress! And wait! There was something else. She'd polished her nails! At a complete loss for words, she didn't realize she was staring.
"MOM, W-h-a-a-a-t? ... The dress? Oh. Well, Mom, I thought about it last night. A lot. You know what a tomboy I've been, but it hasn't really gotten me anywhere, has it? I mean, none of the girls like me except Sherry and Kathy, and I think they might be gay. I mean, that's okay for them I guess, but it's not me. The boys are all afraid of me because I beat too many of them up in third grade, I think. After thinking about things I just began to wonder what I was trying to prove. That a girl can be as tough as the boys? D-u-h! All girls are as tough as the boys! I guess I was just trying to defend being different. And after thinking about Bobby, I realized I didn't need to prove myself all the time. After all, he's different, and he just goes along and does his thing, in spite of what everybody else says about him. And you know something? Everyone teases him but all the smart kids really respect him for his talents. Maybe if I didn't have such a chip on my shoulder all the time the other kids might learn to look past my differences, too."
"And Mom, I'm really sorry for the fight yesterday. You and Dad are great parents, and you deserve a better daughter than I've been. Sharon's always been wonderful to me, the least I can do is help make her Special Day the best it can be. I guess what I'm saying is, maybe it's time for me to try becoming a real girl, if I can just figure out how. It would be nice to have friends, but mostly I just want my parents to be proud of me".
She had said it so earnestly, so matter of fact, that Barbara knew she wasn't playing games. Something had changed in her. What was it? Was her baby girl finally becoming a young lady? It sure seemed so. Bethany, meanwhile had turned her attention back to her cereal, as if the conversation was nothing out of the ordinary in any way. Barbara couldn't think of what to say. Her daughter had taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn overnight, and acted like nothing had happened. She realized she was still staring, so she got up and walked back to the counter, partly to hide her emotions. Then she turned back in time to see Bethany walk over to the sink and rinse out her bowl and spoon, placing them in the dishwasher without prompting. Another first.
"Bethany?"
"Yes, Mom?" Bethany was now right beside her.
“Has something changed? You seem a little...different"
Bethany tossed her head back and laughed. "Well, Yeeeaaah! Aren't you a little different? There's nothing like having your car squashed flat with you inside to make you take another look at your life, is there? I'm just dense, I guess, it took a few extra days for me to wake up!" She laughed again, as her mom finally chuckled a bit, then she turned to go upstairs. Just as she was leaving, her father John stepped through the door, stepping aside with a startled look on his face.
"Hi Daddy!" Bethany chirped in her little Tinkerbell voice as she paused to peck him on the cheek. "Mmmm you smell good! Is Barry up yet? I want to beat him to the shower before he uses all the hot water!" Then she turned to go.
"Bethany!"
"Yes, Mom?
"What happened to your eye patch?"
"Oh, that. When I got up this morning, it itched, so I took it off to wash my face. Then I noticed all the swelling was gone, and my black eye is almost gone too, so I left it off. See? There's just a little yellow left. I'll be able to cover it with a little blemish cover. My bruises are all gone too, and my rib doesn't hurt hardly at all! Can you believe it? I feel GREAT!" She turned to leave, but stopped again. "Oh Mom? Dad? Can you call me Bethany Anne from now on? There's another Beth at school, and she answers to Bethany too, so it's just easier if everyone uses my full name. Besides, it's much prettier when you use my middle name too ... You guys are good name choosers, y'know? Most kids are ashamed of their real name, but I like mine. It just feels so right! I'm going to get ready. See you in a bit."
John watched her bouncing up the stairs as light as a feather, nothing like the thunderous clop clop he was used to. He turned questioningly to his wife, and pointed up the stairs, mouthing the words Bethany Anne.
"I don't know!" She laughed. "But I'm not complaining! Let's just hope it's not a phase!"
In another house two blocks away;
Bobby heard a noise, then felt the sunlight on his face. What a dream he'd had last night! He'd been dead or something, and something REALLY weird had happened after that, as if being dead wasn't weird enough. It all kind of faded when he tried to remember. He sat up to see his mom putting tee shirts and underwear in his dresser.
"Sleep well, Bobby? How's the head? I see your bandage slipped off last night. You look much better, and you have some color in your face finally."
"Isn't it kinda early to be doing laundry, Mom? How was the trip?"
"I was up to see your Aunt Lydia off. It's a long drive home for her, remember? You’ll have to call her in a few days to thank her for staying with you, you know. The trip was fine, there's a whole other world out there. I hope you're not in school next time, maybe you can go too -- you'd really have fun ... You didn't answer my question."
"I feel great, Mom! No headache at all! Even my rib feels good, no more than a bruise unless I push on it. Can I go to school today? I want to work on my report, and I need to get outside and get some air. Being cooped up all the time is driving me nuts!"
"Well, Bobby, even if the doctor said you could go to school, today isn't a good day. It's Saturday! But if you want to get out for a while, maybe we can catch Doctor Wilson after her rounds, and she can check you over. She said to call as soon as the headaches stopped."
"OK, yeah! That sounds good. Saturday, huh? That means Dad's home, right? Maybe I can help him do something in the garage after the doctor. Maybe we can put together that birdhouse kit if he wants to set up the saw."
"Well, take it easy ... "
"Somebody mention me?" Thomas came into the room smelling of shaving cream as he wiped his face with a hand towel. "How ya doing, Sport? You look a lot better than the last time we saw you. You even look better than last night, when we got home. You were asleep."
"I feel great, Dad. I feel better all over, and I don't even have a headache. In fact, that place on my neck, you know, where they tried to suck out my brain? Except for a little itch, it feels fine!" He laughed with his dad at the joke. It was a reference to a late-night "b" horror flick they'd laughed through together a few weeks before. Some aliens had landed behind this kid's house, and they reprogrammed people by sticking a long needle into their brain. Dad had said it was a cult classic, whatever that is. It sure was an awful movie, you could even see the zippers on the 'aliens' costumes.
"That's great son. Your Mom and I have been real worried about you. Glad to have you back. Now I'm going to go get some of that coffee I smell!" As he turned to leave, Bobby spoke up.
"Dad? Later today, do you think we could do something together? A little catch, maybe?"
"Oh, sure! You know me, I'm always up for playing ball! And I promise not to break your hand again, like last time." Thomas wasn't sure he should have added that last part.
"Oh, that's OK, Dad, next time you start pitching, I'll just wear a catchers mitt." he said, laughing. "A metal one!" he said as Thomas joined in the laughter. "After lunch, then, after Mom and I see the doc?"
"It's set! I'll make sure to have the lawn mowed, so we'll have plenty of time!" He turned to leave.
"Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"Do you think you could teach me to pitch like you? I mean, your fastball is so hot, it could peel paint!"
Thomas was so surprised he just answered the question as it was posed. "Of course, Bobby. It's all in whipping the arm and wrist, kind of a trick, really. But we'll have to be careful. You're still growing, and that kind of throwing can damage your joints if you're not careful, so we'll need to take it slow, OK?"
"Sure, Dad. You're the coach!" Thomas turned and left, confused as hell. What was that all about? Then he made a decision he’d count as his proudest parenting moment for years, when he knew he’d done exactly the right thing. He returned to Bobby’s room and said, “Son? I hope you don’t mind, but they found some papers in the van after the accident that were in your handwriting, some with watercolor illustrations. They’re very impressive! It would make me very happy if you could show me some more of your work sometime. I knew you wrote poetry and liked to draw, but I had no idea you were so talented. You keep this up, people will say you're a modern day cross between Henry Thoreau and Claude Monet! I particularly liked that poem about perserverence! In fact, if you want to copy it to clean parchment, I’d like to frame it and put it on my wall at work. They're on the desk downstairs. I’m a fan of Elizabeth Barrett Browning too, you know”.
"Uh, ... sure Dad."
Seeing the shock on his son’s face, he just grinned and walked out of the room. He stopped for just a second at the door and pointed to the latest Danielle Steele novel that Bobby had accidentally left out on his nightstand. "Hey, that's a good one. I really liked the part when the guy finally gets to kiss the girl on the beach, alone in the moonlight! Kind of reminds me of last week, with your mom!" he said with a wink. He could be heard reciting "How do I love thee, let me count the ways..." as he descended the stairs.
Meanwhile, Carol had finished storing the clothes and picking up, and had been standing there taking in the conversation quietly, allowing herself a contented, private smile. Wordlessly, she turned to leave too, so Bobby could dress in private.
"Mom?" Bobby asked quietly, a little unsure of himself.
"Yes, Bobby?"
“Was he teasing me?”
“I don’t think so, what do you think?”
“Well, it didn’t sound like it ... but I didn’t think Dad knew anything about that kind of stuff.”
“Well, I don’t think you ever let him know that you did either, so now you’re even! Maybe now you’ll have more to talk about,” she smiled pleasantly.
“Thanks, Mom.” Bobby wanted to change the subject. He loved his writing and art and enjoyed the stories he read, but it would take some getting used to, talking to Dad about it.
"Do you think it would be okay if I called Bethany today, you know, just to check on her? She got pretty beat up in that accident too, and I feel like it sort of connected us somehow. I can't explain it. Besides, she's about the only kid in school who's ever been nice to me, and I really am concerned about her. But I don't want to do anything improper, or make her parents mad or anything".
Carol sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her son's innocent face, finally returning to normal after all this time. "Why Bobby, I think it's a great idea! And no, I don't think her parents would think a thing about it. Mrs. Fuller likes you, did you know that? Bethany doesn't have a lot of friends either, you know, and she's got to be feeling pretty bad with that black eye, and all those bruises. Girls need to feel pretty. Maybe you can reassure her."
Bobby burst out laughing. "Mom, you don't know Bethany very well do you? She’s such a tomboy, she's probably already posted pictures of her black eye on MySpace! But you're right, she is kinda pretty, in spite of herself". Bobby started to blush, but Carol judiciously ignored it.
"Well, call her right after breakfast, but don't talk too long. We have a lot to do if we're going by the hospital, and your dad's really looking forward to playing catch today. I'd hate to see him disappointed."
"Thanks Mom. I know. And I will ... Mom?"
Carol had stood to leave, thinking the conversation was over. Bobby, still sitting on the bed, was motioning with his finger, like he wanted to whisper a secret. She leaned forward. As soon as she was in range, he grabbed her neck and hugged tightly. "I love you. You're the best mom a kid could have." Carol managed to mumble something halfway intelligible, then escaped to her own room and buried her face in a pillow before the tears started. She'd come so close to losing him, and now it was like he was even more precious than he was before. She wondered what she ever did to deserve two perfect men in her life. It was just overwhelming, and breakfast got started a little late that morning.
Just a Bit Later
"Hello? Mrs. Fuller? It's Bobby -- Bobby Baylor. ... Much better thanks. My headaches are all finally gone, and I'm breathing better. It doesn't even hurt to laugh," he laughed. "How is your arm? ... That's great, I hope you don't have to wear a cast very long. It must be hard, sleeping with it and trying to take a shower. I called to check on Bethany. Is she there, and may I speak to her please? ... Oh thanks ..."
"Bethany? It's Bobby! What do you mean you had a feeling I was going to call -- I just thought of it myself!? Well, anyway, how are you doing? Does your rib still hurt? ... No? Me neither! ... No, it hurt like heck yesterday, and today, it's almost like it's just a bruise. I even took some of the tape off. Now THAT hurt! They could use that tape in the space program! How's the black eye, still look like Cyclops?" (laughing) ... "You took off the patch? Great! Is it still black and blue? ... No? Awesome! ... What? No, Mom and I have to go see Doc Wilson. Mom said I might be able to go to school Monday if the doc says it's okay. ... Where? ... When? .. One O'clock at the mall? Maybe, I'll check--hang on." (yelling) "M-O-O-O-M!! Bethany and her Mom want to know if we can meet them in the Food Court at one O'clock. -- Bethany's getting fitted for her wedding dress!" (laughing loudly) "OK? Thanks, Mom!"
"All right Bethany, I guess we'll see you there! ... NO! ... No, I wasn't making fun of you. I'd never do that, I get teased all the time and I know what it feels like. It's just that I've never seen you in a dress, and it just seemed kinda funny, and well, you're going to be in a wedding, so it's a wedding dress! Oh forget it. I guess it wasn't so funny, was it? But I think you'd look really pretty in one." (blushing a bit) "I just thought you hated them, and weddings are so-o-o fancy, and you're always griping to Sherry and Kathy when you have to dress up. Oh crud, don't be mad at me okay? ... What? You're looking forward to it? NO! ... REALLY? RIGHT NOW? I didn't even think you OWNED any dresses, and I SURE never thought I'd hear you say you're wearing one just 'cause you felt like it! ... You WHAT? Are you getting it permed too? Well they can't cut it much shorter, but I bet it's going to look really nice! What time? Oh, too bad. I'll have to wait till Monday to see how it comes out." (turning red, now)
"Wow! I guess being in that accident must have changed us both. You won't believe this. I just asked my Dad to teach me how to throw fastballs this morning! ... Yeah, me, little Bookworm Bobby! Weird, huh?" (giggling on one end, and laughing on the other)
"Something else. My dad asked me to copy one of my poems on parchment so he can hang it in his office -- I didn't even know he knew about my poems. It's really neat that he asked me, but I'm a little nervous. His office is like real fancy and my handwriting isn't so good ... Really, you have all the stuff for that? ... Real calligraphy? ... You'll show me how? You think I can learn it? That's great, maybe I can help you with math or something."
"What, my report? Oh, it's still about the same. I still need to do some research, so I have to get busy on it, 'cause it's due in a week. ... Sure, I'd love for you to partner with me on it. Is it okay for us to do that? ... Wow. Ms. Waters actually suggested it? ... Oh yeah. I forgot you missed a week too. ... No, really! It would be fun to do it together! Which building's your favorite? ... The Chicago Library? Wow. Mine too!! I love all those gargoyles hanging out over the street! ... Yeah, they're called gargoyles. ... No, I didn't know you chose the Library for your whole report! What a coincidence! That's the only building I still need to research! Cool huh? Looks like with my part and your part all that's left is the writing part to make them one report, and we're both pretty good at that."
"Yeah, we can talk about it some more later. ... OK, I gotta go too. See you at the mall! OH, Hey Bethany? This is going to sound a little weird, but I'm kinda glad we were in that accident, you know? Somehow I feel like it connected us, like it was meant to be or something. ... You too? Yeah, I can't explain it either. I even wrote a poem about it that I’ll have to show you -- I'm not sure it'll make sense to anyone else."
"Bethany? Thanks for being my friend. It means a lot to me that you didn’t laugh at my poetry or my watercolors. Can I call you Bethany Ann? I don’t want to insult you or anything, but I think it sounds real pretty and it seems to suit you better ... Really? With an ‘e’ on the end? Super! OK, bye, Bethany Anne with an ‘e’, see you at one!"
-Fine-
I was so proud of my pink tractor! It cost a lot to wash it, especially with the set of doubles I was pulling today, so I wasn't a happy camper. Normally I'm pretty stoic about these things, it's just part of being a trucker. I decided the real reason for my lousy mood was that after 10 hours of fighting the wind and nearly empty trailers jostling around I just wanted a break.
The good news is that I was rolling light. Most of my load was Styrofoam plates and cups that some company back east had ordered for a big picnic. They had contracted them to be printed with their logo out west somewhere. Why they didn't order them locally is just one of those mysteries about how really large companies operate. I had been called to pick up the load in Salt Lake City after the original driver sucked a valve on his Mack. So, I was making really good time and not using much diesel. But the other side of the coin is, trailers and fifth wheels, and especially my tractor, were built for a lot more weight, so now I was bumping along as if I didn't have any springs. I was so light in fact, that my tag axle wheels weren't even on the ground. At least I wore a loose skirt today, my normal work jeans would have rubbed me raw by now.
I rolled through Laramie with barely a slowdown, and in a while flew by the Lincoln Highway Pass visitor center and started down the legendary long drop into Cheyenne. If I had been in a better mood, this would have been the high point of my run, it's always pretty through here if you like desert mountain country. The sun had set behind me and the lights of Cheyenne were lighting up the horizon now. I rounded a corner and came up fast on a heavily loaded rig pulling some kind of dozer on a long lowboy. He wasn't over width or length so he didn't have escorts. Truckers generally don't care much what they haul, as long as it stays put on the trailer. He was going slow in the safety lane, no doubt so his speed wouldn't get away from him on the steep grade. I didn't have that problem of course, I could probably stop as fast as the cars whizzing by in the inner lane. Even though he'd been an inconvenience being where he was, I felt bad as I whipped by him knowing the air concussion from my rig would rattle his teeth. I continued down through Cheyenne, to the east side. I pulled off east of town at Campstool Road, where one of my favorite truck stops is located. I liked the place because the pump islands are paved, and the hands there regularly clean the handles on the pump hoses so you don't smell so bad after fueling. The smell of diesel on my hands is one of my least favorite parts of trucking. I went inside to settle my account and order a shower, then pulled around back where I could park for the night.
Unfortunately, in this country drivers start early and quit early, so the yard was already full of rigs. The only long pull-through lane was at the back of the lot, past the paving, and it was too short for my whole rig. I'd have to drop the trailers and park the tractor elsewhere. I pulled forward until the front trailer was in position, then hopped out to disconnect it. I cranked the landing wheels down to take the weight off the skid plate, and then climbed up on the truck frame and disconnected the air brakes and lights. After I jumped down and straightened my long skirt I realized I had a problem!
The lot wasn't paved back there, so it wasn't real level either, and the right wheels of my tractor were low, while the same wheels of the first trailer were a little high. As a result the kingpin was in a bind and when I yanked the release it wouldn't budge. I struggled with it for about ten minutes with no luck, all the while regretting my attire too. If I'd worn pants today, I might have been able to put a bit more back to it, but as it was I didn't want to drag my skirt on the oily ground.
As I stood there wondering what to do, the driver pulling the dozer pulled into the last lane next to me. His lane was even shorter than mine, but plenty long enough for his lowboy trailer. He was driving an old long wheelbase twin screw Peterbilt classic, probably built in the early eighties. It didn't even have a sleeper, but it was ideal for short to medium runs pulling heavy loads such as his. When I was very little my dad had one of those.
He walked around my tractor about that time, not too tall, and thin, lanky even. He was quite fit, and with his cowboy hat, he looked like he'd be more at home on a horse. I was surprised by his perfectly white tee shirt. Hygiene doesn't seem to be a priority in this industry. He paused to look at my tractor, letting out a low whistle in admiration. Not that it looked its best.
"Evenin' Miss!" he said, tipping his hat. "That sure is one fine piece of machinery you got there! Freightliners are tough machines too! You went by me so fast I wanted to get out and see why I was stopped! Looks like you got a spot of trouble though, I hate that lane. Popped a tire once in that very hole," he said, pointing to the low spot my tractor was sitting in. He lifted up an old six-cell Mag-Lite flashlight and bent down to investigate where it was jammed.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I just wanted to get here, have a shower eat dinner. I didn't mean to buzz you like that but I have almost no weight and I couldn't see piddling down the mountain in the truckers lane. I have to drop my trailers but the kingpin's jammed. I don't want to park out on the road." I didn't elaborate because he was old enough to be my dad and I could tell he'd been doing this a long time. "That sure is a big flashlight!"
He grinned and held it up. "This old thing? My wife gave me this the last Christmas we were together. Back then you had to buy 'em at the police supply. The cops liked 'em 'cause they doubled as a helluva a billy club. But I like it because I can thump the tires with it. Costs an arm and a leg for batteries though!" he laughed. "Well Miss, this ain't never gonna work. Why doncha roll yer gear back up three or four inches, and I'll be right back."
I figured he was going to suggest that I just park out on the access road, but I looked over to see him pull a shovel off his trailer and walk over to the fence. In a few minutes he returned with a large flat rock which he dropped by my tractor. He left and returned with another a few minutes later.
"Now, little lady, back up a foot or so and I'll drop these into the holes. I think it'll be enough we can unhook you then." I climbed in the cab, fired the engine and did as he asked. He placed the rocks, then I carefully pulled forward onto them. I sure didn't want one of the rocks to break and take out a tire.
While I set the brake and put the tractor in neutral he ran around and started cranking the landing gear again. After he got the pressure off, he grabbed the kingpin lever and gave it a mighty heave. When it released I saw my tractor shake. He'd cranked the trailer wheels down enough to start to lift my tractor! He grinned at me, gave me a thumbs up and shouted, "Now how 'bout you park that beauty and let's go eat!"
I pulled forward about fifty yards to the shorter lanes, shut my rig down, then grabbed my shower bag from the sleeper. Since he'd treated me like a lady I decided to stuff another skirt in the bag rather than the pants I had packed earlier. He was waiting and helped me down from the cab. I noticed his backpack too.
As we walked in the door I said to him, "I'm going to get a quick shower, but I'd like to buy you dinner for helping me."
"Well Miss, no need to buy my dinner, but I sure would appreciate some dinner conversation. Maybe you could tell me how a young lady your age has such a fine machine! But you're right, let's get this road grime off first, huh?" He walked up to the counter just as the announcement came over for my shower.
I finished my shower and decided in a rare show of vanity to put on some makeup. I tied my hair back into a ponytail, then proceeded into the restaurant. I saw him sitting at the counter with coffee in front of him. As I got near, he jumped up and grabbed his mug. "Let's get a booth. We're both done for the day, so let's kick back and visit a while," he said. "All those guys at the counter want to talk about is construction delays and diesel prices."
We found a quiet booth, and soon after we were enjoying soft drinks and eating our salads. "So what's a nice girl like you doing in this mean business?" he started. So I told him to tell me his story first. I always found other truckers' stories fascinating, especially the older guys.
"Well I grew up on a farm in Nebraska, and learned to drive machinery before I was ten. I drove tractors, hay bailers, even got to drive a combine once, when the crews came through from up north. Mostly though, Dad would drive the harvester, and I'd drive the collector truck next to him, then drop the trailer and pick up another when it got full. Eventually we bought a beat up old truck and started hauling our crops so we could get better prices. Then I met my beloved Mary, and I was smitten!" My heart jumped at the mention of that name, but I had no time to reminisce as he continued.
"We got married shortly after we met, but there weren't much work. Dad wanted us to stay on the farm but we all knew it couldn't support another family. So we moved out and I found work wherever I could. I worked at manual labor, as a mechanic, and as an electrician for the local 'lectric coop, but mostly I found work driving. It seems that's what I do best. Eventually we found ourselves in Oklahoma where I drove during the week, and worked on an old International tractor I'd bought on weekends. I got it running, then made enough money with it to buy a partnership with another driver on the rig I have now." He paused, then picked up his water and drank the entire glass. Pardon me, Miss. Talking about this is gonna be kinda hard." I could see his eyes starting to glisten a bit.
"I'd picked a bad partner I guess. Phil was a good guy but he was a gambler. We were making good money but it seemed that every run, he'd lose his half before we got home. If it wasn't roulette in Reno, or the slots in Vegas, it was poker at nearly any truck stop. Eventually he got desperate, and broke into my truck safe and gambled away my share of the last run too. I was so embarrassed, I had to call Mary and have her wire enough money for us to get home. You know, in a small town, how news gets around. So when we got back, Mary and I agreed, and we bought out Phil's interest from our meager savings.
By now we had a family too, and the payments on the truck continued whether I was on the road or not. Little Kenny was the light of my life though! I guess he could hear my Peterbilt coming because every time I drove in he'd meet me at the truck with his teddy bear and jump into my arms. We'd play all the time I was home. It's funny looking back, I'd always want to play football or baseball with him but he'd usually talk me into playing checkers, or Chutes and Ladders. Once we even had a tea party with his teddy bear! He loved to fish too, and he loved to just sit and listen to me telling road stories. I'm sure I told him some real whoppers, too! But always too soon I had to leave. After buying out Phil, it seems I was hardly ever home.
One day after a three-coast run, I came home and the house was empty. No one knew where they went." Tears were running down his face then, as he said, "I never found out what had happened. And," his voice shook, "I never found them. Kenny was only six." He let out one sob, then blew his nose and wiped his eyes. I put my hand over his and looked into his tear filled eyes. Mine were full too.
"I'm sorry Miss. I'm not usually like this. By the way, what's your name? Mine's Bob."
"I guessed," I ventured before I thought to edit my thoughts.
"What? How could y.."
"Y..You look like a Bob. I'm Kimberly," I interrupted. "Please continue...that is if it's not too painful." There's just something about this man, I thought. Could it be?
"Well, there's not too much to tell, really. I sold the house in Oklahoma, and over the years just kept the old rig going. I stay on the road mostly and bank my earnings. I did buy a lot in Wyoming and had a cabin built on it. I try to spend a week there every year. It has a creek along the back property line where I can fish, but I kinda lost interest in fishing after I lost my boy. So now I just drive. Right now I'm movin' a dozer for a friend."
Sometime during our conversation our salad dishes had been picked up, and our meals delivered. His turkey burger, and my soup. He obviously knew the dangers of the poor eating habits truckers get into. We ate in silence for a while. I was about finished when the waitress came by and asked if we wanted dessert. I didn't our want dinner to end yet, so I asked if they had cherry pie. But when I asked, it came out a bit like "cheery pie". Where'd that come from? Bob shot me a glance, so I told the waitress to just bring a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Bob then ordered a bowl of the same.
"I wondered if you saw me, I stop to eat here pretty often, and their food is pretty good. But their pies are the worst!" he chuckled.
"Thanks for the warning. I like this truck stop a lot and often get a shower here, but I usually keep greens and soup in my sleeper and eat in there." I noticed Bob's eyes glaze over a bit as he looked off in the distance.
"Did I say something wrong?," I asked.
"No, it's just that my Mary used to make the best cherry pie you ever tasted. She won the bake off at the county fair with her pie one year! And it was little Kenny's favorite too! When he was just two, I remember after dinner he'd run into the living room and holler, 'Daddy! Daddy! Mommy has cheery pie!', then he'd drag me by the hand into the kitchen where the three of us would have a piece. Such good times," he smiled. My stomach tried to flip but I just smiled. I had to be sure.
"Now, my little lady Kimberly, please tell me your story. And especially about that beautiful rig!"
"Well, my story isn't too happy either, but I'm doing better. Trucker families must have similar stories, because mine is pretty similar to yours I guess. Daddy was a long-haul trucker too. Mommy and I lived on a farm in Oklahoma until I was six but I still remember when he came home. I could hear his jake brake as he slowed to pull off the highway and turn to come down our dirt road. I'd run out in the yard while he shut it down, and jump into his arms as soon as he hit the ground. He'd spend the whole time he was home playing with me. I loved him so, and so did Mom.
Sometimes he'd bring me a present. Once, he brought me a doll in blue overalls. I know now that it was just a cheap truck stop toy but it was worth everything to me. You know the kind of toy. They put overalls on them and they're a boy, or a dress, and they're a girl. I just knew that the doll he gave me was a girl though, and I called her Mollie Dolly. I carried her everywhere! Later, I begged Mommy until eventually she made a dress for her.
"Mommy was a great cook too. And when Daddy was home she went all out. I know she was lonely when he was gone but she always told me it was just tough times, and soon the truck would be paid off and Daddy wouldn't be gone so much. I know she worried about him too, I could see the look in her eyes when we watched the news and there was a story about a wreck somewhere.
This was before cell phones and cheap long distance, so Daddy didn't call home often, but in the winter he'd try to call when he was driving through an area with bad roads. I remember that worried look in Mommy's eyes though, and it gave me nightmares sometimes, like when we saw an overturned truck on the news. So, she'd let me sleep in her bed with her on those really tough nights.
"When I was about six and a half, we got a call in the middle of the night. I was terrified, and I screamed, just knowing something had happened to Daddy. It was much worse than that, as it turned out because it changed my life.
"Mommy's Aunt Frieda, who lived in Kansas, had suffered a stroke. Mommy was her only living relative, and so we had to pack the car and leave immediately so Mommy could go tend to her. Worse yet, she had no way to tell Daddy where we went, but she hoped we weren't gone long. We hadn't even told the neighbors. We stayed in Aunt Frieda's house for three weeks. During the day Mommy let me stay with a neighbor that had a girl my age, while she went to the hospital. Finally, they released her to Mommy's care.
"Mommy made arrangements to move Aunt Frieda in with us in Oklahoma. Of course she'd never be able to live on her own again, so Mommy had an estate sale and liquidated her assets and put the house up for sale. Frieda wasn't happy, I know but she finally accepted the inevitable. She was reduced to her bedroom furniture, some pictures, and a thick envelope of cash which we'd bank for her in Oklahoma.
"Mommy eventually got the old station wagon packed and ready for the trip home. I tried to help pack the car but truthfully I was probably more in the way than anything. We went to bed that night, and we were going to leave in the morning.
"Aunt Frieda was sleeping in the recliner in the parlor, because Mommy had shipped her bedroom furniture and a few pictures ahead to our house. She was a smoker, and sometime that night she must have lit her blanket on fire. Mommy had woken up to get a drink of water and smelled the smoke. She ran downstairs and grabbed Aunt Frieda and pulled her into the living room, then ran back upstairs to get me. The noise had woken me so she saw me on the stairs and she yelled that we had to get out of the house. Fortunately, she'd closed the door to the parlor so the flames weren't in the living room yet.
"I helped Mommy get Aunt Frieda outside because she still couldn't walk right, then we heard her little doggie yelping inside. Aunt Frieda was frantic and almost got away from Mommy to go get her dog, but Mommy told her she'd do it. She ran back inside, and that's the last I ever saw of her. The whole house just sort of exploded. In the end all that was left was a bit of the roof." I was crying now. "I'll never forget that awful image." It was my turn to break down, but I confess that I sobbed longer than Bob had.
"Oh my Lord, you poor little thing! Please forgive me, I had no idea the tragedy you suffered. I apologize for even asking about you. Let's talk about something else." Bob looked stricken, and I saw that he had tears running down his face. I think I was beginning to love this old man.
"No, no. it's okay. I've never told the whole story to anyone else, and I'd like to tell it if you don't mind. It's not pretty though."
"Well, if you're sure," he said kindly. "I would like to hear what happened."
I reached over and grabbed a couple napkins and smeared the rest of my mascara off. I took a drink of water, then just stared out the windows for a long time, watching the trucks coming and going. Bob just sat there looking into my face. To his credit, unlike most guys, he didn't talk. Eventually I continued.
"No...no one even knew who Daddy worked for, or where he was at. There was just no way to contact him. Aunt Frieda was sent to a nursing home after her burns were treated, but she had another stroke soon after, and after that she couldn't even talk. I was sent to live in an orphanage for about a month before being fostered out. I grew up going from place to place all over the upper Midwest."
"That had to be hard. But you seemed to turn out okay, you must have been placed in a good family eventually," he volunteered.
"Actually, the opposite is true. The sad fact of that system is there are too many kids and not enough foster parents, so the system relies on foster parents that in effect run group homes, and they live off the income instead of using the money for the kids' expenses like they should. The best case scenario for a kid there is to get ignored. There's lots of abuse in those homes, and sexual abuse too."
"Surely, no one did that to you," he said with a shocked look.
"No, a guy tried once when I was nine. I'd admitted to him I liked pretty dresses, so a few days later he dressed me up in a party dress, then started getting really touchy, and not in a nice way. I hit him with a lamp and ran away. I got caught, of course but I was marked as a runaway, and it's like a catch 22. Once you're a runaway, things happen to you that make you have to run again. I lost count of the foster homes I was in." I shook my head sadly.
"I became a really angry, moody loner. I had a lot of issues going on then besides losing my family, and I was little and acted very girly, so I got picked on. A lot, by the girls as well as the boys. About age ten one of the other angry moody loners I knew introduced me to pot. After that I was stoned a lot because it deadened the pain. When I wasn't stoned I was stealing things to sell to buy more weed. I spent a lot of time in the City library just to avoid interaction with other people.
Then about age twelve I found out my dealer could get other kinds of drugs. Prescription drugs. So I switched over. I had done lots of research in the library and knew what I wanted so after that it's what I got from him. These drugs didn't make me high. In fact they had the opposite effect. They settled me. And I stopped skipping school and started getting good grades. But the drugs were expensive so I fudged my age and got an afternoon job.
I started bussing tables in a tea shop, and then later I waitressed at different truck stops. I never had any extra though, because every week I had to give some to my foster mother." I felt my mouth settle into a grim expression but I didn't care at that point.
It was getting later, and the restaurant had closed the section we were in. I could tell the waitress wanted us to pay the bill and leave so I stood up and grabbed the check before Bob could react.
"Hey, I wanted to get that!" he exclaimed. "After all, I made you cry, I want to do something."
"No bother, let's pay this and go to the lounge," I said.
I wanted Bob to hear the rest of my story. If things happened the way I thought they might, it might lessen the blow. We made our way down the hall, and after stopping at the restrooms, we entered the deserted lounge. The TV was blaring in the corner but Bob picked up the remote and turned it off. We picked up old trucking magazines that were strewn on a couch so we could sit.
"So please continue, you must have eventually got on the right track..." Bob mused.
"Oh yes, actually those illegal prescription drugs were my savior, even though it turns out I'm lucky I didn't give myself cancer," I said. "But I'm not finished."
"The drugs I was taking did exactly what I wanted them to do. They helped my body, making the changes I wanted. But eventually my foster mother saw me in my bra and panties and I couldn't hide the changes in my body. So, being the loving Christian person she was, she freaked out and threw me out of the house, and dumped all my stuff in the yard. So I was homeless again. I ran, and got caught again. Every couple months it would happen, I'd barely have time for my school and shot records to catch up to me and I was off again!" I laughed but there was no humor in it.
"Oh my gosh! How long did this go on," he asked.
"When I was sixteen, I got caught stealing some fruit, and the officer that caught me told me I had two choices: one, he could arrest me for thievery and because of my history I'd go to the state facility for young offenders, or two, he'd personally pay the grocer for the fruit, and I could go live with a friend of his. He wouldn't elaborate on the second option but he said it would definitely be my best bet. I took a leap of faith and trusted him, and took him up on the offer. I'll be eternally grateful to him.
"It turns out his friend was an older single lady that rented rooms in her house. The deal was, I became her live-in housekeeper, and helped her cook for the other three boarders. A condition was that I had to stay in school and get good grades. She gave me an allowance and taught me how to be a real lady. And, she found me a doctor that, after reading me the riot act for over an hour, put me on regular prescriptions to deal with my problem. I stayed there for two years, and she's still my dearest friend. Everything I know about being a woman I learned from her. My real mother will always be Mommy to me, but I call her Mama Betty."
"And then?" he asked.
"Well, from the time I became a teen, I began to think more and more of my daddy. I wanted desperately to find him, or at least find out what happened to him. So I hung out and waitressed at truck stops a lot. Of course, I had no idea of what he looked like now, and it was doubtful that he still drove the truck I knew. I eventually attracted the attention of one of the mechanics. He liked to show me how to do things, and I liked to learn. He even taught me how to tune a diesel by ear. Like yours, for instance. You have an injector misfiring," I smiled with conviction.
Another trucker entered the lounge and walked over to pick up the TV remote. Then he noticed we'd stopped talking and were looking at him. "I'll just come back later," he said as he left the room. Bob turned back to me.
"How could you tell that," he asked, shocked. I just spent $150 in Reno finding out that injector has a broken spring. They didn't have the right one in stock or they'd have fixed it then. They said it wouldn't hurt the engine but until then it would run a little lean and I should take it easy."
I answered, "Coming down that grade, your exhaust didn't smell right, then as I went by I heard it."
"Well it sounds like you missed your calling, hon. Why are you on the road?"
"As I said, I guess I'm still looking for Daddy. And, I'm a loner, though lately it's more like I'm just lonely," I told him. "That's not likely to change soon though, this isn't a business where you meet a lot of guys who want to settle down."
"And the boyfriend?"
"Well Timmy and me, we got pretty close, but eventually he needed more than I could give him. I actually wanted that too because he was a really decent guy. But it just wasn't possible. I had to have some surgery to fix some stuff down here first," I said pointing down.
"Oh yes... Yes, of course," he was obviously flustered at mention of female trouble.
"Well, to finish my story, I took advantage of a career program that paid to train me as a driver. When I graduated I got paired with Maude Maddley for a year. She's the toughest driver in the US, but I learned the ropes from her!" I laughed.
"Oh gawd, you drove with Mad Maude? You're lucky to still have any skin!" he laughed heartily. "I swear, she's tough as nails. All the young drivers are afraid of her!"
"Well, she's got a soft spot for girl truckers, I suppose. Driving with her was the best experience in my life. Not only did she give the self-confidence to stand my ground when I know I'm right, she taught me things like how to check my load, and weight distribution, and tires from a practical standpoint. Most importantly, she taught me how to keep my logs, and how to keep my books. she always said that hauling hazardous loads or pulling any kind of tank wasn't worth the risks, so I don't. And I learned to never try to fudge my logs, or skimp on maintenance, because both will cause you grief eventually. I learned from her that you really can make a good living out here, but you have to watch every penny. "
"Ain't that the truth. I've seen truckers come and go, but very few make it. They'll buy a new rig, get careless and go bankrupt, then end up leasing it back to some trucking company only to become their chattel property. They end up driving for peanuts," he said, sadly shaking his head.
"That's how I bought my Eddie! I heard a guy one afternoon talking on the phone to his finance company, trying to figure out what to do, because he was four months behind on his payments and about to lose his rig. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he told the company he'd call them back. I offered him two thousand dollars cash and told him I'd take it off his hands. I never dreamed he'd take me up on it. But we called the finance company together and I offered to pay the backlog of payments if they'd transfer the loan to me. The poor trucker, Eddie was his name just wanted out by then and we all agreed. So it was a done deal. I was in the middle of a solo run I had to complete, so I had the local dealer come and get it. I told them to service it and paint it pink, and to have it ready in a week. I wanted to remind all the other truckers that I'm a girl!", I laughed.
"There's not much chance anybody's gonna make that mistake!" he laughed. "And, so?"
"I named the tractor Eddie to remind me what a great break I got, and not to get careless. And Eddie's been good to me. Because I got him on the cheap and he's almost new, I only have to take the loads I want, you know, money makers, and always with reasonable deadlines. I have a good reputation with the yards, so I get lots of load offers." I stopped then, and smiled at Bob.
"Well that's about it. I've gone from a useless druggie orphan to a working girl, to a reasonably successful businesswoman! Not bad for a girl of 24, huh?" I saw Bob get a startled look on his face.
"What?"
"Well my little Kenny would be 24 now. And your story sounds so much like what might have happened to him, if you were a boy I'd probably be ready to call you my son!" he exclaimed.
"Well, you better not! Come on, I have something to show you," I said as I jumped up suddenly and started for the door.
He follow me out to my tractor, covered in mud as it was. He stood there in the moonlight as I reached into the outside storage and brought out some glass cleaner and paper towels. I began spraying the bottom of the door, and when it was soaking wet, wiped it with a towel. Underneath all the grime, in white script it announced, "Giddy Up Go!"
"Does this mean anything to you," I asked. The look on his face was just one of complete...something.
"Well...It's a phrase from an truckers song from the 60s. I taught it to my Kenny, and he'd always holler it over and over when I drove in. I guess a lot of truckers taught their kids that," he said sadly, and looking a bit lost. I was sure now though.
"Wait just a second. I have something to give you," I said, as I unlocked the door and climbed into the seat. I reached up to a suction clip I'd put on the windshield and pulled down an old worn photo. It was a guy standing next to a shiny Peterbilt hooked to a set of doubles. He was holding a small child in overalls, who was in turn holding a doll with a blue dress by its arm. Both were grinning madly. I climbed out and handed it to him, noticing the slight shaking in my hand. "Here, I'd like you to have this," I said, gauging his reaction.
He studied the photo for a long time, then slowly looked up at me.
"It's...me and my Kenny. I used to have that same photo in my cab. I nearly wore the damn thing out, but one day the wind caught it and blew it out of the cab. Where did you get this?"
"My Mommy...Mary gave it to me when I was six", I said, uncertainly.
'Then....You...but... But Kenny was a boy." He was looking at me very strangely now.
"No...Daddy. I was never a boy," I said, barely above all the yard noise..."Giddy up go?" I said quietly in a little childlike voice.
We stood there for a good two minutes just looking into each others eyes. I could see a thousand emotions play out on his face, and I'm sure he probably could see the same on mine.
"I...I think...I need to go to bed," he said finaly, slowly turning and walking back to the motel block of the truck stop. I could see his slumped shoulders in the moonlight. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.
"You're right, it's time for bed." I muttered to myself, tears again running down my face. I hadn't known what to expect. But of all the things I could have imagined, nothing could have prepared me to see him just turn and walk away. When I looked up he was almost to the building.
"And it wasn't Teddy at that damned tea party," I screamed after the retreating form. "It was Molly Dolly!"
I slowly climbed into the cab and made my way through into the sleeper. As I undressed I played back the evening in my mind. So I'd finally found him, what did I expect? He's a trucker, after all. My brain told me I should be happy just to know that he's still alive. Anything more would be just too much to expect. I put on my girliest nightgown, but it didn't help. Sleep escaped me that night but the tears flowed easily.
I looked at my watch and saw that it was 4:30AM. I decided that I needed to get away from here, so I dressed, fired up my tractor, and began to back across the lane toward my load. I saw in the mirror that Bob's rig was gone already. Figures, what a perfect end to a perfect night.
After hooking up, I pulled out onto the frontage road where it was level and double-checked to make sure that I was coupled up right and all the lights were lit, then after releasing the brakes, I rolled up onto the interstate at full throttle. When I realized I was going over 85, I came to my senses and slowed down to the speed limit. No use killing myself. After all, I was alone before last night, I can be alone now. With any luck I'll be in Indiana tonight. Maybe in the future I'll only take loads that keep me off I80, I thought bitterly.
It had been three weeks. I'd dropped my load in Ohio. After some downtime to do some driveline maintenance and front brakes, I picked up a load that took me all the way to Miami. There, I'd traded it for a forty-five foot refrigerated trailer headed for Dallas. I had just dropped that at some packing plant, and picked up a heavy load of steel bound for Arizona.
I stopped for fuel in Abilene, and was just pulling out of the fuel island when an old Peterbilt tractor suddenly pulled across my path, effectively blocking me in. Long wheelbase. Twin screws. Bob, I realized as the driver jumped out and walked to my rig.
"Kimberly, we have to talk," he shouted over all the noise as I rolled down my window. "Please? Let's pull around back so I can speak to you!"
Well there wasn't much I could do, blocked in as I was so I nodded. I followed his tractor around back and pulled into the lane next to him. I jumped to the ground and turned to face him just as he was coming around his tractor.
"You still need to fix that injector," I opened.
"Never mind that. Kimberly, please forgive me. It was just too much to take in at once. I reacted badly. It takes an old guy like me longer to process things, and you have to admit, you gave me a lot to process! How could I know?" He just looked at me pleadingly.
"You were gone when I woke up," I said acidly.
"I know," he said loudly, his voice full of guilt. "I had to get that dozer delivered to the construction site by six AM. I came right back, but you were gone. I thought I'd lost you forever, but about a week later I saw you fly by on I75 south of Lexington, Kentucky. I was about to bobtail it home. I chased you instead but lost you again somewhere near Orlando. Luckily I caught a flash of pink headed north before I got to Miami but it took till now to catch you! I've been chasing you for two weeks, and...well this old bucket of bolts is no match to yours when you put your foot in it!"
"You've chasing me in a bobtail tractor for two weeks? Are you insane? You're lucky to have any kidneys left!" I exclaimed.
"You may hate me, and I deserve it. But you need to see something. And I need to give you something," he said as he rushed back around to his tractor. It had been washed in the last few days but as old as it was, it gleamed in the afternoon sun. As I walked around the front fender he was standing next to the door. He stepped aside just as I got there.
There, painted on the door, a bit chipped and faded but still legible, it read, "Giddy Up Go!" I knew then in the bottom of my heart, that since it was still there on his door and not painted over, that he'd accepted me. He quietly gave me a piece of paper, which I saw, was a copy of the photo I'd given him so recently. On the back it was signed, "To Kimberly, Love, Daddy."
I just melted. As I stood there bawling my eyes out, he quietly told me, "I'm so sorry. I gave up hope of ever seeing you again. And all those years that I did hang on to that withering hope, I never dreamed it would be like this. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but this one about killed me. Please forgive me," he whispered. He just stood there then, tears in his eyes and such a sad expression I had to laugh.
"Giddy Up Go, Daddy," I cried softly as a ran to him and threw my arms around his neck. "Giddy Up Go!"
It's been a hectic couple years. After Daddy and I parted so I could deliver my load, we met up at the cabin in Wyoming and spent a few glorious weeks fishing and just catching up on life. We fished, played checkers, matchstick poker, and I cooked for him. We even took a few day hikes, though the altitude prevented us from going far.
When it came time for our vacation to end, I took Daddy for a drive in Eddie, my tractor. He was amazed at how quiet and smooth it was, and was impressed by its automatic transmission, which he had always considered was for sissies. He was blown away by the sleeper. It's pretty much a self contained apartment in there, with a two burner propane hotplate, refrigerator, sink, and even a shower and potty, in addition to the double bed. It even has heat and air conditioning. I explained to Daddy that it didn't have big holding tanks, so I showered at truck stops but otherwise it kept me safe and healthy on the road. I also showed him all the electronics, from the satellite radio, the pre-pass system to the GPS tracking, and navigation system, and I was surprised he knew all about the technology.
Then I made my play. I asked him to just park old Giddy Up Go, and partner up with me and Eddie. He argued that he couldn't drive a pink truck, but I pressed him, and finally he relented. But he told me I had to rename my tractor because a pink tractor named Eddie was just wrong! I asked him if he had a suggestion, and he grinned and replied that it was already painted on my door!
So these days, we still take the loads we want, he drives Giddy Up during the day, and I do the night driving. The boredom of just watching the white lines is gone. These days while one of us drives, the other visits and sightsees, or we'll listen to an audio book together. We always stop by ten pm to be safe.
He always insists on getting a bed at the truck stop, so I can have my bed. Daddy takes a lot of ribbing from the other drivers over "his" pink truck, but he just grins and tells them all he's not the owner, just an employee. Then he tells them they're just jealous 'cause he has the prettiest partner on the road! And he means it too because he insists I'm the image of my Mother.
We both know it won't last forever. Since we found each other, Daddy said his wanderlust is starting to fade, and his farming roots are starting to resurface. So he's casually looking for a patch where he can grow organics for the premium grocers. He's not in a hurry. He tells me we still have a lot of years to catch up on first.
I'd like to settle down and adopt a couple kids someday. There are so many out there like I was who just need to have someone believe in them and set some boundaries. Mama Betty did that for me, so I would like to make a tradition of it and pay it forward.
Who knows, maybe I'll find Timmy, my mechanic ex-boyfriend? We stopped a few weeks ago at his truck stop and asked about him, and they told me he'd bought his own rig and was driving now. If I found Daddy, maybe I can track him down too?
Well, time to put my boots on and begin my shift, Daddy just pulled into the rest stop. I was just redoing my ponytail so I could wear my new cowgirl hat when he hollered, "C'mon girl! Get on up here! Time to Giddy Up Go!"
Please have a listen.
Giddy Up Go, by Red Sovine and Tommy Hill - recited by Red Sovine (Yes, I know the pictures were not taken in the USA. There are truckers all over the world, after all!)
And, Pretty Please, write a comment?
Thanks ever so much!
by Carla Ann
2019, All Rights Reserved
A Short, light Interlude
The breeze from the distant sprinklers felt cool as we walked along the path. In spite of the ample water, summer had taken a toll on the grass, and it was starting to thin and turn brown in spots. School would start next week, so the park wasn't as crowded as usual. Most of the parents likely had their school-age kids in the stores, or were squeezing in a last-minute family vacation.
The path curved slightly, revealing the playground ahead. I could feel little Jimmy's excitement as he pulled my hand.
"Be patient, Jimmy. We'll be there in a moment, sweethart," I admonished him, mindful of the bundle of unbridled enthusiasm and energy that is a three-year old.
"Hurry Mommy! I wanna swing! And don't call me sweetheart. That's for girls!" I smiled at the last part. Gender identity starts early with kids. Even though he loves his apple-scented bubble baths, it has to come from a bottle with Spiderman on the label.
A few moments later we arrived at the playground. He pulled loose and took off running. I knew his interest would soon shift from the swings to the slide, or the fort, or another contraption, so I took up station on a bench that provided a view of them all. From here I could monitor not only him but his interaction with the other kids. While he was occupied I took out my phone and began to clear messages from my in-box.
"I swear they must breed," I muttered to myself.
I saw the boy as he entered the park from the opposite end, following the path to the playground area. He had that size and build, and face that made placing his age hard. He looked maybe twelve, but I'd guess maybe older, possibly thirteen. Like us, he was a frequent visitor, though when I thought about it I realized I hadn't seen him since June. What made him memorable was how he looked so miserable all the time, almost as if he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. He seemed to watch the smaller children with envy, as if he wanted to join in but was prevented by some invisible fence. He just seemed to be carrying an invisible weight on his narrow shoulders.
Today though I almost didn't notice him, because he didn't look anything like like the boy I was used to seeing. His demeanor was completely relaxed and his posture very straight. And, he was dressed in powder-blue shorts with a pink square-neck tee with cap sleeves. There were two small bumps on his chest, not that unheard of on young teen boys with dietary issues or slight hormonal imbalances, but there were strap outlines under his top indicating a training bra. He was wearing white sandals, and even had subtle nail polish on his hands and toes. His hair was pulled back into a clip at the back of his head, then hung freely to his shoulders. As he turned his head to watch one of the kids, a silvery reflexion from an earring glinted in the sun. My mind struggled to grasp what I saw. If he hadn't come from his usual direction and sat on the same bench as usual, I would only have seen a typical pre-teen girl just entering puberty.
I struggled to understand what I saw. Why was he dressed like this? Before today, he always looked like an outcast, a pariah even. Was this some kind of disguise so the other kids would play with him? Was he a danger to them?
As a parent my mind was having trouble reconciling what I "knew" from all those parenting and women's safety courses I'd taken over the years. Safety classes always told you to be alert for anyone who looked out of place, or exhibited unusual behavior, and this was anything but "usual" behavior. But here this boy was, just sitting there on the bench by himself, and behaving exactly like the well-mannered young lady he appeared to be at the moment. In fact, I seemed to be the only one who had even taken notice of his arrival. Should I be worried for my Jimmy, in the playground mere yards from him?
There seemed to only be two possibilities. Either this child is a very disturbed person or someone who was here to cause trouble. The boy that shot up that school back east was about his age, wasn't he? But even if he isn't here specifically to cause trouble, he's got to be disturbed, and mentally ill people are so unpredictable, right? My mind churned on the possibilities and all I could come up with were bad potential outcomes for my son playing nearby. I suddenly wanted to run over, scoop Jimmy into my arms and leave, but something held me back. I finally realized that this something that held me back was the image before me. It was the complete normality of a young 'tween girl taking in some sun on a late summer day. Looks aside, I still decided that this child might be dangerous. I decided to take a wait and see attitude. I chuckled nervously to myself. Maybe he's going to a costume party later. As if!
I pretended to return attention to my phone, but I held it in a position where I could watch this boy-girl in my peripheral vision. I had the speed dial for 911 ready, and I gauged my ability to take him-her out if he tried anything untoward with Jimmy. He-she stood up at that moment and I began to panic.
"Hey Mommy, watch this," Jimmy yelled. I turned my head to see Jimmy launch himself down the big slide. He wasn't quite big enough for that one, so I watched nervously until he got to the bottom safely, only to run around to the steps again. He was obviously going to do it again. I was torn between walking over to be closer to him in case he needed protection, and letting him have the space to push his limits a bit. If I ran over to Jimmy now, he'd think that I was being overprotective. I turned back to look at the boy-girl and he was sitting again, talking on a pink, bespeckled cell phone he'd removed from the small backpack now at his side. I could just hear him over the background noise.
"Hi Mom. I left Suzy's just a bit ago...Not much really. Brenda was there too and we've been making bracelets. I decided to stop at the park for a bit, to watch the littles play but I'll be home in about an hour. I promised to make Daddy his favorite casserole tonight and I want to check in case we have to go to the store first. Maybe, if we have time, you could show me how to make pie crust? Great!...Of course I'm being careful! Really Mom, that stuff doesn't happen to me anymore; the bullies are afraid of catching girl cooties or something...Okay I'll see you in a bit. Love you too, byee!" So, the parents know about this? How can they be okay with it? He's quite the actor though, that voice is simply musical!
He-she put the phone in the backpack and pulled out some yarn and a baggie of colored metal objects. My attention was riveted on him-her as he-she expertly manipulated the yarn between fingers and crochet hook. After a few minutes of this I turned to see what Jimmy was up to. I panicked when he was nowhere to be seen!
I jumped up and began to scan the area. Just as I was about to scream for help, I spotted him. He had left the playground area and run over to the adjacent flower garden, and he was returning at a run holding a handful of colorful flowers he'd purloined there. I was thinking how to gently tell him he shouldn't pick the flowers in the park when my worst fears were realized. He abruptly changed direction and ran directly to the boy-girl I had been watching with such apprehension. I realized that no matter how fast I was I couldn't intercept him. My panic riveted me to the spot as the scene unfolded before me.
He-she was obviously surprised when Jimmy suddenly appeared in front of "her". "She" laid "her" work in "her" lap, looked up and smiled as he shoved the improvised bouquet at "her". I was approaching adrenaline overload as I watched, helpless to affect the outcome should it go bad.
"I pick these for you. You're pwretty, and I'm glad you quit p'tending to be a boy!" he said, holding his arm out straight. What did he just say?
"Awwwwwww...!" She (and it was now obvious this was no boy!) said with that curious upward inflection that young girls learn. She accepted the flowers, bringing them to her nose and inhaling deeply for Jimmy's benefit. "That's so nice! You know what? I'm glad I don't have to pretend anymore too! Can I give you something?" Jimmy nodded timidly as the girl gently set the prized bouquet aside, then picked up the baggie and started picking through it.
"This will take just a minute. Can you wait that long?" she asked as Jimmy nodded excitedly. "There it is, I've been saving this for someone just like you!" She extracted something shiny from the baggie, then picked up her project, and did something with the shiny bauble.
"I'm Jimmy, and I'm fwee!" he said proudly, as he tried to wait patiently.
"I thought I heard your Mommy call you Jimmy. That's a good name, and I'm glad to know you, Jimmy. I'm Amy, and I'm almost fourteen," she said conversationally as she worked. Moments later she reached for his arm and deftly fastened a multi-colored bracelet to his wrist.
"There! What do you think?" I expected an indignant explosion from him for such a girly adornment but instead, he studied it for a second, then quickly jumped on the bench and kissed her on the cheek! He then turned and started to run to me, but she cried "Wait a second!"
"I like flowers, but it's a long walk home and I'm afraid they'll be ruined by the time I get there. Do you think your Mommy would like them?", she asked, as she put them in order and tied yarn around the stems to make a proper bouquet of them.
"Oh! Yeah! Fank you!" He said, taking them and running back to me, flowers in one hand, bracelet on the opposite arm. The smile on her face was precious as she enjoyed Jimmy's excitement. Just as he arrived, I saw her putting her things in her backpack, preparing to leave.
He arrived in a rush, then repeated his earlier action with the flowers. As I took them, he held his wrist up and said proudly, "Amy mak'd me a bracelet! See, it's got Buzz Lightyear on it!" I looked at the yarn and bead creation, and sure enough one of the beads woven into it had the very recognizable Disney character imprinted on it. Apparently the presence of Buzz Lightyear negates all that pink, lavender and turquoise yarn! I looked over and smiled at the girl, but she had already started down the path towards her home. This time it was obvious from the way she moved that she must be older than I thought earlier.
"She used to p'tend to be a boy but she's really a girl. She wasn't very good at p'tend," Jimmy said authoritatively.
One of the benefits of being a parent, is that very occasionally you're blessed with the opportunity to see the world through your child's eyes, without all the filters and prejudice we adults normally apply. Suddenly I understood it all.
I had badly misjudged this young lady, and for what? My own warped sense of order? When did I become so inflexible in my views? Why should I have a problem with someone who just wants to be? I suddenly realized how courageous she must be just to be herself. It hadn't occurred to me earlier that being different doesn't always equate to evil or dangerous. When you are different it must be terrible to be surrounded by such ignorance as mine but thank God I can sometimes get a glimpse of the real world through Jimmy's eyes. An idea began to form in my head. We needed to hurry though; she was almost out of sight.
"Come on!" I grabbed Jimmy's hand, and as fast as Jimmy's little legs could run we rushed over to catch up to her. She stopped when she noticed us coming.
"Pardon me, Miss, Amy is it? I'm Jessica Simmons, and I see you've met my Jimmy. I've seen you several times here in the park and it's obvious you love kids. My Jimmy here seems to have made a connection with you. We love him to bits but sometimes parents need a break. My husband and I like to go out to dinner by ourselves occasionally. Do you babysit?"
Common sense took hold then, and I had just opened my mouth to begin backtracking and babbling on about interviews with her mother, responsibilities, etc. when she abruptly set her backpack on the ground and pulled out a small spiral binder. She flipped it open and immediately began writing quickly. Fortunately I had the sense to shut up before I began.
She started talking as she wrote, "Well, it depends on my mother. She's really protective. OOPS!!" She blushed bright red. "I mean, I'm only allowed to babysit my baby cousin Jenny right now but I've been pestering her to let me babysit more. Daddy says I'm caught in a "catch-22" of inexperience, whatever that means." She tore the page from the binder and handed it to me. Her name, address, and phone number were written in green in a pretty script, along with another number. "please call her. Oh, her name is Barbara. Sorry."
"What is this number?" I asked.
"Oh, that's a course on home safety I took at the fire station two months ago. Lots of girls and some boys take it. I think the boys took it mostly because they had a policeman come in a couple times to teach self-defense. Anyway, Daddy said I should always tell people about taking that course. He says it shows I'm serious about home safety and keeping kids safe. It's also registered with 911 so if I call, they'll know I've had a little training". She replaced her binder then hefted the pack.
"Well, I really have to go now, Mommy gets worried if I'm late. Thanks so much for being so nice to me, and I hope I can babysit Jimmy soon!" She she turned and briskly walked away.
"Amyyyyyyyy!!" Jimmy called as I studied the neat writing that seemingly indicated a far more mature teen than I had first thought.
Amy turned to face us, though she continued walking backward. Jimmy was waving furiously with a big grin, his bracelet sparkling in the sun. All three of us laughed as I added to Jimmy's efforts, though not quite as enthusiastically.
"Byeee!"
As we watched her profile recede into the distance, I couldn't contain my curiousity any longer.
"Jimmy, what do you think about the bracelet?"
"Oh Mommie! It's the coolest!" he said, seemingly noticing for the first time the way some of the colored bead reflected the sun.
"Well, what about the pink yarn?" I asked, truly wanting an honest opinion, and hoping he didn't think I was trying to direct his answer.
He stopped walking and looked down. After a few seconds I became worried that I had embarrassed him or communicated something negative about it to him.
Finally he looked up. "Mom, Amy's a girl. She was making that bracelet for a friend, and she's prob'ly a girl too. So 'cours it's pink! Duh! But she changed her mind and gave it to me. Aaaand, she even put Buzz Lightyear on it! So that makes me her frien' too! B'sides if I didn't take it she woulda had her feelings hurt. So this way is better! When we get home I'm gonna put it on my cork board so all my friends can see that I have a girlfrien!" He looked up at me, as serious as a three-year-old gets.
"Can I do that Mommie?"
I was beyond surprised by his mature response. I was just beginning to realize how rich and surprising true parenting can be. That's twice today I realized that there's a lot more going on in kids' heads than most adults can imagine. "Of course you can be Amy's friend, although she's a bit old for a girlfriend, and you're a bit young for that anyway. But we'll see if she can babysit once in a while. Okay?"
"Yay!", he exclaimed as we walked back to the van amid rocket noises, various explosions, and lots of laser flashes from those magic Buzz beads.
Mistakes can happen at the North Pole too. Damn computers!
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any and all references to names, products, toys, persons, etc. are entirely the work of my demented imagination. This is also set in the same plane (universe) as Bobby and Bethany. For lack of a better term, I'll call it the CarlaVerse for now
No toys were injured or kept up past their bedtimes in the making of this story.
Pleeeeeze leave a comment!
My apologies for my tardiness. I wanted so much to post this before Christmas but real life intervened. I hope you enjoy nevertheless.
"That's right. Now just put the batteries back in, the springy part goes against the fat end of the battery. Got it? Good. Never mind screwing down that screw for now, just put the dress back on and fasten the Velcro. Check it now. Oh good I can hear her chattering and moving her arms. Looks like we got it!...Well, yes I'm required by law to tell you to screw the screw back in but unless you're worried about your little girl eating the batteries you really don't need to. Besides, you're going to be putting in at least one more set of batteries later today anyway, you can trust me on that. But you didn't hear that from me...Thank you! Is there anything else I can help you with? No, well then thank you for calling the Cathy Cuddly Hotline. I'm sure your little girl will make a terrific mom for her new Cathy, and from all of us at Cathy Cuddly, have a safe and Merry Christmas. Good night."
I broke the connection and looked around my cramped apartment. It was shabby alright, the floor lamp provided the only light, discolored as it was by the torn lampshade. My bed sagged over at the side of the room, unmade.
The clock on my cable box showed that it was 2:00AM Christmas Day. I guessed I could finally call it a night, the last call had been preceded by at least a twenty minute lapse. Anyone who was still doing gifts at this hour would just have to wait until after Christmas. I dialed back into the office and transferred the hotline so it wouldn't forward to my apartment, then shut down my laptop. Without it the Smartjack wouldn't work, and my phone was gauranteed not to ring. Callers to my employer would be politely directed to leave a message to be returned by one of Cathy Cuddly's Helpful Elves on December twenty sixth.
I never intended to become a Cathy Cuddly Helpful Elf. With a Masters in Computer Science I had been a young lion in the dot com industry. But with the bust following the boom came unemployment, and in the end my telephone skills and knowledge of little girls toys finally landed me a job on a helpdesk. That was good, I could do the job from home. My car had repossessed months ago.
Walking into the kitchenette I noticed that something smelled sour like rotten trash again. Guess I'd have to call Norm again, that's the third time the birds had built a nest in the roof vent and now all the sewer vapors for the building were coming out of the broken vacuum breaker under my sink again.
Geez it smells bad in here!
I quickly grabbed the rest of my sandwich from the fridge and the bottle of cheap Merlot I had picked up on the way home.
My Christmas Eve celebration. Hah!
As I turned to go back into the "living room", or "other room" as most people would say, once again I twisted the faucet handle, unsuccessful at stopping the incessant dripping. I retreated to my threadbare couch and pulled the fleece blanket back over my legs. Norm was saving on heating oil this month too.
He's going to have to turn it up at least a bit, the outside walls are starting to sweat again.
I poured wine into the empty tumbler on the beat up coffee table and turned on the TV to "It's a Wonderful Life." The TV station was alternating it with the original Miracle on 34th Street over and over for the next two days. I let it play even though I wasn't interested.
Clarence the Angel had gotten it wrong in the movie. It really would have been better to never have been born for some people. Maybe not for George, but some. Me, for example.
I downed the wine with my sandwich and poured another glass almost emptying the bottle. I should just go to bed but I didn't want to face the morning. It would be another Christmas totally alone in a crappy apartment, a perfect complement to my hopeless existence. I could feel the wine beginning to have an effect, I was getting sleepy and more depressed by the minute.
Perhaps if I drink enough it'll kill me.
I immediately heard Peggy Lee singing "Is that all there is" in my head. Guess maybe not. I'm not ready to face 'that final disappointment' either.
I looked around to see if there was something to read, finding only the helpdesk scripts on the end table, and numerous catalogs for various dolls and other toys. My one indulgence. Rather unsteadily I stood and closed the distance to my dollhouse and looked inside. Rommy and Delia were still in the kitchen, no doubt still talking about the cute new boy down the street. Rommy had one foot on the umbrella stroller at her feet, nudging it every so often so her litle sister Connie wouldn't wake. Off to the side at a bigger table sat Lucy, a very cuddly nineteen inch doll, having a tea party with Snuggles the Bear.
I had rescued Lucy from the dumpster at Cathy Cuddly, she'd been tossed when her machinery failed and she'd been returned. I had done a bit of surgery and removed her mechanics. Now she didn't move on her own, or talk in that ridiculously chattery way her programmers had chosen. Instead we communicated telepathically, as most dolls do with their mommies. I picked up Lucy, she was wearing the same outfit as yesterday. I retrieved the blue jumper from her wardrobe and carefully dressed her, adding baby blue tights, mary janes and a cute hair bow.
"That's better! You are SOOO cute! How about coming over to the couch and keeping me company for a while?" Back to the couch I headed, Lucy on my arm. I poured the rest of the wine in the glass and started to drink.
"No, I'm afraid you can't have any of this Lucy. It's for big girls. I'll get you some hot chocolate in a few minutes, ok?" That seemed to satisfy her, Lucy pretty much went along with everything I said. She was a lot better than all those people out there beyond the door to my apartment, and she never seemed to be bothered by my seeming misuse of pronouns. She knows her Mommie, in spite of how I look. Together we turned our attention back to the TV.
"My life's crap but at least I have you. Merry Christmas, honey!" I reached over and pulled out the Fedex box under the cushion. Inside I knew there would be a pretty pink party dress, some lacy socks and a pair of white shoes for her. She smiled at me but I could see she was too far gone to do more so I just set the unopened box on the coffee table and let her cuddle to me. "Okay, sleep, honey. We'll open it in the morning." She snuggled a bit tighter to me as I turned my attention back to the TV just in time to see the whole town show up at George's house and shower him with more than enough money to make the missing deposit. It started to get a bit fuzzy...
It was much warmer now, and very comfy. I thought I heard a noise. Kind of like a scuffling but quiet, like someone was putting something away quietly. I opened my eyes and looked around but there was nothing to see except a pinpoint of light across the room. The liquor store sign across the street must have broken. It's just staying on. It usually blinks. As my eyes adjusted to the miniscule lighting, I reached up to brush something from my face and I saw a tiny hand on a pudgy little arm moving toward my face, with what looked like a pink scrunchy worn as a bracelet. The something in my face turned out to be hair of some kind.
"OOPS!" a quiet voice uttered in the room. "You weren't supposed to wake yet! Nobody is actually supposed to see me!" Someone really big and red and white was moving quickly to my bed. My bed? He quickly tugged the covers up and tucked me in as if I were four.
"Are you....." I started to ask but heard a breathy high pitched voice full of wonderment instead.
"Shhhhh!!" He stage whispered. "Ah I see you're awake. I guess I better explain, you probably still think you're Charley." Huh? What the heck's he talking about? Funny, nothing seems particularly out of place, and I'm not afraid. Weird. This is familiar. My bedroom. My toys. My furniture. But it can't be. I wonder if this is another alcohol induced dream. At least this one isn't scary. No one's chasing me. In fact this is about as close as possible to my ultimate dream, if only it could be true.
"First, no you're not dreaming. But before your mind gets fully in gear, let me apologize. We had a computer glitch."
"A 'put'r gl..?" a little voice started to ask but was cut off. Hey. that's what I was thinking.
"Well not a computer like you know it. This one runs North Pole Central Operations. It was put in place and turned on before people were using electricity. Normally it works pretty good, but sometimes, like all computers it makes mistakes."
"Mistakes?"
"Well, yes. Normally it runs all the toy making operations, and logistics. By two hundred years ago there were just too many kids for me to deliver to personally, so the computer took over and it now teleports the toys into the households. It took our elves a lot of years to get it right, the hardest part was doing a hologram that could materialize solid enough to eat cookies, and another to leave sleigh tracks and reindeer footprints on the roofs. It took a big load off, so now I can concentrate on the special kids that need a little something extra, like you!"
He sat on the edge of the bed and lay his big hand on my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hands even through his mittens and my thick quilts.
"It can do some other neat stuff too. One year, nineteen forty something or other I think, give or take ten years, we actually got a whole day ahead of production, so the elves animated a snowman for some kids. That was fun, but they made the mistake of letting Frosty be seen by an adult, in this case a traffic cop. Luckily nobody believed the poor guy when he went to the tavern after work.
"Another time they turned a special velveteen rabbit into a real live little bunny. Someone wrote a story about that, I think, but if so they put it into a different setting. Anyway, we deliver a lot of books every year about a velveteen rabbit. Normally though we just use any leftover processing power to give kids sweet dreams. There's never too many of those," he said with a wink. The crows feet around his eyes just magnified the sparkle in them. I giggled in spite of myself. This has to be a dream.
"But in your case things got a bit mixed up. Your letters to Santa got waylaid and ended up in an error log. See, whenever a kid writes a letter to Santa, as soon as it's sealed the computer gets it and puts it in the appropriate input queue. Don't ask me how, 'cause I don't know. My job is to make kids laugh and feel good about themselves, and generally spoil them. I leave the details to the elves. Those guys are the technical pros. Anyway, the computer kept getting letters from this male kid in the orphanage named Charley but it kept trying to put it in the girls input queue. It didn't help that they were signed Caitlin, it just confused the matter. Unfortunately that log file only gets reviewed and purged every twenty years or so, so it was just this year we found it.
"I was shocked and floored by your requests. Not that I hadn't seen requests like this before, or it was anything beyond our capabilities, we've even dealt with similar requests in the past. But I was shocked the system had lost you. Oh child my heart goes out to you. All those years of hopelessness in that terrible place, and no one even acknowledged the real you. Then to find yourself living a lie in a dead-end life with no friends and no prospects for improvement. I'm so sorry we failed you!"
"Are you sure this isn't a dream?" Again, a little voice quietly asked. That voice. It keeps echoing my thoughts. Strange.
"No, child. This is real. The problem is, you still remember Charley. I hadn't gotten to the part where we could have you let go of that yet. It makes things a bit more complicated but it'll be all right. I'll just have to explain first.
"Here goes. First things first. I read your first letter, the one you sent when you were four? Well your writing wasn't so good then but luckily everyone at the North Pole is fluent in pictures. That's when you asked to be turned into a girl, and bring you a dolly. You were so sweet, you said that if either one was too much to ask that you'd be happy if you just got either. Unfortunately that was the year the orphanage took a wooden train they'd gotten from Toys For Tots, and gave one car to every male child so everyone could have something to call their own. I looked back through the GoodOrBadCam logs for that year and was heartbroken and appalled to see that you waited for all the other kids to go to sleep so you could put that paper towel dress on your toy boxcar and cuddle 'her.' You called her Katie. But I felt even worse when I saw the entry for the next month and found another letter from you thanking me for the wonderful gift. It's not often I weep for my children but I shed quite a few tears over you.
"The very next year we got another letter asking for pretty much the same thing, again with pretty much the same result. Somehow the computer just didn't process things correctly. That last letter at age fourteen was pretty disturbing though. Please, never ask Santa to, how did you put it? 'Just take me out,' I think you said. Surely you know I could never do anything to end life!"
Oh god I had forgotten that. That was the year I got beaten so badly. I was just so thoroughly disillusioned I wrote that letter as a protest of some kind. I just wrote it out then threw it away. He was still talking.
"Anyway, I was so shocked by this I took up matters with The Powers That Be. Grand Master Himself even got involved. And it turns out there was an elegant solution. Seems the very night you were born an unwed lady in the next delivery room lost her baby daughter in a miscarriage. The Angels saw this was going to happen so to avoid the extra paperwork the child's Soul was never planted in her body. That way, when she didn't survive, her Soul didn't have to be retrieved. For all intents and purposes, she's still waiting to be born, and she will be I've been assured. So anyway, we just went back then and put you in the body, and Grand Master fixed whatever was wrong so you could be born. You should feel very special, young lady! Grand Master doesn't like to fiddle with time in this plane.
"There are limits to what the human experience can take however, so for the last four years the 'Charley' part of you has been asleep and hasn't been an active part of your personality. Now that you're four again, you'll be able to integrate everything okay. So we've dropped you into the past and you'll live those same years all over. Except hopefully it will be very different now. I think it's s a good solution, since you wrote that first letter when you were four. It's up to you to make it better!"
"But, what happened to Charley?" I asked, not really caring but curious.
"Well, he simply ceased to exist tonight, twenty years in the future. It was pretty easy, in your original timeline the computer mailed a letter of resignation to Cuddly Cathy yesterday, and over the next few days a few isolated ATM withdrawals will occur across the country as if he's traveling. He had no friends so that's not a problem, and Norm will be glad tomorrow when he comes to fix the sink and finds an empty apartment. You paid the rent up for six months so he'll be able to double rent. That will appeal to his greed. Charley's stuff is sitting outside several charities, and his laptop is now sitting on the desk of the womens shelter where it will replace the one that just wore out. I made sure there's a big red bow on it. The only other detail is your income taxes. The computer will submit them and that will be that. By the time you would have retired Social Security will have long forgotten Charley. Right now there's a four year old boy in the next city named Charley, but it's been assured to me that you'll never cross paths with him. As for you, Caitlin, you had a normal childbirth four years ago and will no doubt grow up to be as wonderful a girl as you are now. You're sure cute enough!"
I tried to sit up but somehow the tucking in Santa had done prevented me from moving. I got a glimpse of the pink flannel nightgown I was wearing, but that was the extent of it.
"Now little girl, I need to finish up here and get along. I need some milk to drench my parched throat. I think that's the longest conversation I've had in fifty years. About all I usually ever say is HoHoHo!." With that he bent over and kissed me on the cheek. He smelled a bit like cinnamon and chocolate chip cookies. I could see some crumbs in his beard.
"By the way, Caitlin. You'll go to sleep here in a minute, and when you wake, your memory of Charley will fade by the end of the day. Maybe as you grow up you'll see something in the news and feel a little déja vu but that's about it. You know Charley was a fake anyway, a role played by an actor. Well that role is finished. Now you can put your efforts into better things, like playing house. Good night, little one, and Merry Christmas." I saw him step back and touch his nose as he muttered "HoHoHo...." and he dissolved into mist. As he dissolved I discovered I just couldn't hold my eyes open a second longer.
I woke again to the sounds of dishes clattering. I looked and saw the bedroom door was open now, and a lady was in a kitchen apparently preparing a big meal. Sunlight streamed through the windows, though the windows were frosty around the edges. The lady turned and walked my way. Oh my gosh! It was her! The lady from the next apartment, the single one who was so sad looking all the time, scraping to get by and just looking defeated all the time. Just like me. Only she looked much younger now, and this was a house, not that terrible apartment. She just seemed to glow in her happiness. I sat up and when I looked at my surroundings the shock of it all was just too much. I passed out.
"Hey, wake up, Christmas Girl!!" You're gonna have a big day today! First, let's go see what Santa's brought you, then you can get dressed in your new green velvet dress and get pretty. Grandma's coming for dinner and you're going to get to meet her for the very first time!" She rushed into the room and lifted me up and squeezed me to her breast like a little doll. Wow, I guess I'm pretty little huh? Mmmmm this feels sooo good and she makes me feel so safe!
She put me down. My gosh she's so tall! We walked hand in hand to the living room where a bargain basement artificial Christmas tree stood, covered in homemade decorations, and strung with popcorn. A single string of lights was threaded carefully through the branches, disguising the fact that it was only about a third long enough for the job intended. The living room was furnished rather sparsely in old furniture and it was clearly the habitat of someone on a very challenging income, but it felt more like home than anywhere I had ever been. Despite the used furniture and the cheap window coverings, everything was spotless and very neat. Under the tree were a few presents, and two stockings hung on the wall by the door. I recognized the one that read Caitlin in child's letters. I remembered laboriously forming those letters a few weeks ago. My excitement was growing, and it was so much fun being with Mommie. She's always so happy! I wanted to hurry and open my gifts so I could see her open the one I got her. Mrs. Wilson next door had taken me to a really fancy store last week and helped me pick it out. I had spent my whole savings of two dollars and fifty four cents to buy her a new wool coat. My savings weren't quite enough but Mrs. Wilson had paid the tax on it, and the store giftwrapped it for free. That was real nice of them. Wait a minute. There's something wrong with that. Two dollars isn't enough for.... I shook my head to clear it but only succeeded in getting hair in my face.
"Hey, are you playing like a wet dog?" Mommie asked, laughing. "We can put your hair up later. come on over here and see."
I sat down and crossed my legs in front of the tree and studied the packages. Almost all of them were for me, I saw the name Caitlin on the tags. Mommie came in and sat next to me on the floor handing me a spillproof cup with hot chocolate inside. I turned to her and just couldn't help myself. I leaned over and gave her a bear hug.
"You're the bestest Mommie in the whole world! I'm so glad you picked me to be yours!"
Mommie laughed as if what I said didn't make sense. "Silly girl," she squeezed. "I didn't pick you! God knew we were made for each other and He gave you to me! And I'm Soooooo glad He did!" We both giggled as we separated. She began scrounging through the presents looking for one. Finally she picked up a box wrapped in red and green foil paper with a big bow on top. The tag could be read from where I was sitting. It said "To Caitlin, with love from Santa" Mommie handed it to me and said, "Well! Let's see what Santa brought!"
I started to carefully remove the ribbon, but Mommie was having none of that. "Go ON GIRL," she cried excitedly. "Just rip it open!" Taking her cue I started doing just that. Under the paper was a plain white box, like the ones used by department stores. I removed the cover and separated the tissue paper. As I peeled the paper back my eyes involuntarily went wide in my excitement. Inside was a Cathy Cuddly, wearing a pretty pink party dress, lacy socks and white shoes. And a very small smudge on her face that looked very familiar and didn't look like it would clean off. Could it be? I turned her over and separated the folds in the back of the dress, and sure enough, there was an extra seam the factory hadn't put there. I quickly put the dress back as my smile threatened to tear my face.
Oh, Santa! I couldn't help holding her to my breast. "Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou Santa! This is the bestest Christmas EVER!" Looking to Mommie I announced, "Her name is Lucy, Mommie! Mommie, meet Lucy. Lucy, meet Mommie!" I had Lucy curtsy for Mommie. "She's really special!"
"Oh child, I was hoping you wouldn't notice. Santa told me he had to go on a budget this year and was giving a few kids reconditioned toys. At least he gave her a new dress. But I shouldn't have worried, you're always so easy to please. I know Santa really appreciates that! Now let's go into the kitchen and get some breakfast. I want you fed and all prettied up before you meet Grandma. Now that Grandpa is gone she really wants to meet you!"
"Okay Mommie. I really really want to meet her too!" Mommie turned toward the kitchen as I held Lucy to my breast and hugged her one more time.
I stood up but before following Mommie I held Lucy so I could look deep in her face. I was going to tell her how happy I was for both of us. There, in her deep green eyes, I saw Santa. He winked and I heard in my head, "Merry Christmas, Caitlin. I hope you bring as much joy to others as you have to me. Oh, and bye Charlie!" He put his finger to his nose and just winked out of Lucy's eyes again.
Suddenly the sun coming through the windows seemed so much brighter. I hurried to the table to see what Mommie had made. There were so many smells coming from the stove! She turned to me and grinned, "Okay my big Christmas girl! I made your favorite, Mickey Mouse pancakes with sugar sprinkles. Oh and here, let's drag your old high chair over so Lucy can sit too. I've made enough for all of us!" As the three of us sat and ate we all just giggled. Mommie and Lucy are so much fun!
The doorbell rang. Mommie got a surprised look on her face and before she could stop me I ran to the door and threw it open. There on the porch was a lady in a fur coat doing her best to hold more packages and gift bags than any one human being should be expected to be capable of. I stopped dead in my tracks. She was so pretty! "Are, are you a movie star," I asked shyly, shivering barefoot in my nightgown as I heard Mommie hurrying over.
"Oh Heavens NO! Oh you must be Caitlin! I'm your Grandma!" She abruptly dropped all the packages and held out her arms. Before I knew it she had wrapped them around me and hugging me tight, lifted me clear off the ground. The fur of her coat all but enveloped me. "Oh, I've waited SO LONG to meet you!" Mommie arrived about then and rushed up, joining in what was now a group hug. Even though it was still freezing on the porch I no longer felt cold. I saw that Mommie had tears in her eyes, and Grandma did too.
"Oh Mom, I'm so glad you came. You can't know how I've longed for this day!"
"Shush dear, you knew I would come as soon as certain obstacles were removed," Grandma replied gently. "C'mon, let's get these packages inside. I want to know all about what's been going on in your lives, and I really want to get to know my granddaughter! It is my solemn resolve to spoil her completely!"
"Oh Mom, don't you dare!" Mommie laughed as we all picked up various bags and packages and moved them from the porch to the tree. Mommie took Grandma's coat then Grandma sat on the couch. Mommie went to the kitchen to retrieve hot drinks for all of us. Of course, I ran to the kitchen to get Lucy, then ran back to Grandma, where I sat next to her and cuddled. I knew I didn't have to ask, and I knew she already loved me. I held Grandma on one side and Lucy on the other, and Mommie sat in her chair and picked up her knitting. I think they were talking about something to do with Grandpa, who had died. Grandma uses some big words. I'll have to ask Mommie later what "bastard" means... All of a sudden I got sleepy. As I lay my head on her lap my head just seemed to turn into cotton. I felt so warm, so soft and so loved...
"What was that?" Grandma asked Mommie quietly.
"What was what?" Mommie asked.
"Caitlin mumbled something in her sleep," Grandma returned.
"Oh. She said Thank you Santa, this is the Bestest Christmas Ever," Mommie giggled. "Well I guess the presents can wait a couple hours, I'll just put her back in her bed."
"Oh no you don't. She stays here in my lap and that's that! We'll just sit and visit and when she's ready we'll continue. Besides, this really is, how did she say it? The Bestest Chrismas Ever!"
Please don't forget to comment! Would be writers need your thoughts!!
Thank you, Carla Ann
You've worked hard and reached the pinnacle of success. Now you have lost everything but the trappings of that success. You're presented with one last opportunity to reclaim that which means the most to you. If you do everything correctly, things just might turn out okay. But if you botch the opportunity, it could permanently set a course for final ruination. The risk is high. What would you do? Would you hesitate before doing it? This is what Thomas did.
Warning, there are a couple intense memories here.
And lest we forget, pleeeez leave a comment. :-)
The man in booth three was on his way down. He was doing a good job of hiding it but she'd seen it enough times to know the spiral had already started. She wondered if it was financial or family, or both. Perhaps he could pull it together, whatever it was. She'd seen him a few times at lunch over the years, and he was strong, this one. Sometimes they conquered their problems, but more often the strongest and highest flying ones crashed the hardest. She hated to see people suffer, and hoped he'd succeed. She'd seen too much suffering working the evening shift at the hospital cafeteria, which is why she worked for her cousin Benny now. At least the suffering here in the financial district wasn't usually fatal.
"Here's your check, Hon. Just pay up front. More coffee?" She was slightly overweight but motherly and smiled tiredly, as if it did matter to her if he'd met his caffeine desires. Not wasting motion, she picked up his empty plate while waiting for his answer.
Tom smiled politely, though he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He wasn't sure what he was in the mood for, but he was sure it wasn't sitting around the half empty coffee shop near his office at 8:30PM. He was only here because he had been driven here by hunger, and most of the restaurants people would expect to see him frequent were not places where you would go by yourself, especially in the evening. At any rate, he couldn't justify staying in the office any longer today.
"No thanks, Angie is it?" He'd picked up the name from her name tag out of habit. Always make eye contact, always remember their name. Essential in business and life. "I should be getting on home." 'Though I have absolutely no idea why,' he thought to himself. He took in her simple uniform, stained from hours of delivering greasy fare to the masses of nameless and uncaring customers and thought back to his own humble beginnings. He knew he could never be unkind to someone because of their station. Not everyone escapes like he had. She looked as exhausted as he felt.
"Well you have a pleasant night, then. And a good weekend. I'm sure whatever it is you're so deep in thought over will work out," Angie smiled again, a bit bigger and even more genuine this time, as she turned toward the kitchen and other duties. He'd actually said her name! 'Yes,' she thought as she walked away, 'I really hope he finds his way.'
'Pleasant night. Not very likely,' he idly thought as he removed himself from the booth, and dropped an obscenely oversized tip on the table. Perhaps she could get some new shoes at least. 'Great, it's drizzling again, perfect,' he thought as he walked to his car. He thought briefly of stepping into the tavern on the corner knowing booze would help dull things, but caught himself before even changing direction. 'No. Never again,' he thought. He hadn't been there since that night.
He completely missed his own driveway, he was so deep in thought. As he drove to the end of the block to turn around he remembered his shock and anger today when his arch nemesis Steven Jacobs, the only other man in the City he considered his equal in the business world, flatly refused to continue the meeting with him until he got his life together and could concentrate on business. He'd said that Tom was so unfocused he was afraid he'd be accused of taking advantage of him! Were his personal issues affecting him so badly that others had noticed? What was it that waitress had said again?
Pulling into the circular driveway at home he saw the the automatic lights were out of whack again so the house and grounds were completely dark save for the big chandelier over the front entry. 'Looks like nobody lives here anymore. How appropriate.'
He parked in the four car garage under the tennis court and shut off the car. As the door was going down he looked across the empty space and saw his old Harley sitting under a tarp in the far stall. The custom fairings and pipes just peeked under the green material of the tarp. 'How long since that's seen the light of day?' he wondered. 'Not since that last club ride with Carol', he decided as he turned toward the door. 'I wonder if I'm even still a member.' He dragged his briefcase off the passenger seat of the little German two seater and punched his code into the alarm pad.
As he entered the house and hung up his damp trench coat, he was disturbed by the eery quiet; only the muffled ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall broke the silence. Tom sighed, tossed the mail on the kitchen bar atop the previous accumulation, and continued on to the bedroom. Just being in the empty house was like taking an elevator ride to a dank and dreary basement. He felt his mood changing from depressed to hopeless.
He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes and socks, putting them away more out of habit rather than any sense of order. Looking around, the place was neat but dusty. As he loosened and removed his tie he decided he was too tired for a shower, so he just changed from his suit into his old cotton pajamas, again, out of habit. 'Funny,' he thought to himself. 'You'd think I'd just revert to the slob I was in college, now that I'm alone again. Carol taught me too well.'
He looked casually around the room. Even after two years, it still had her feel. From the bedspread and shams, to the lampshades and the doily on the nightstand she was still very much present. Well why not? He hadn't changed a thing. Her clothes were even still in the closet and dresser. It had taken over a year before he could even face getting rid of any of her things, then after delivering the half-filled bag of discards she'd set aside herself to the Goodwill, he'd just kind of forgotten about it.
After a few minutes of just looking around the room, seeing it for the first time in a long time, he turned and walked back to the dresser carrying the pocket junk he'd dropped on the bed. He dropped it into the box she'd provided him so long ago. He picked up the frame with their photo, the one taken by the hotel photographer in Waikiki on their 15th anniversary. They looked so happy then, their love indestructible and able to conquer anything life could throw at them. 'Anything but cancer,' he bitterly thought. 'At least she didn't suffer long.'
The picture frame was covered in dust, as was the dresser. Carol would never have permitted a speck of dust to survive in her home. The queen of their home, she had ruled her domicile with quiet grace and elegance. But when it came to cleanliness, "nazi" would have been a better description. Dust was simply verboten.
He went into the master bath and emerged shortly with a dust cloth and spray, dusting all the furniture in the room. He saved the photo for last then placed it tenderly on the dresser. On the opposite end of the dresser he dusted the studio portrait of her, identical to the one on his desk at work. Well, now it was in a drawer so he wouldn't have to look at it when he was trying to work. Returning the photo to the dresser, he noticed once again the contented look the photographer had captured. It almost exuded her presence.
"Feel better, dear? I'm sorry I haven't been more attentive. I feel like I haven't been much of anything since you left." Realizing he was talking to the photograph, he sat on the edge of the bed again, and buried his face in his hands. After a minute or so, he heaved a great sob as tears poured down his face. 'God I miss her! I feel so lost; she always knew what to say, what to do. And now...'
He got control of himself after a few minutes, then went into the den and slumped down into his big leather recliner, the one Andy had convinced Carol to get him for Christmas so long ago. Out of habit he hit a button on the custom remote. The big HDTV lowered from the ceiling and the sound system came to life as the lights dimmed to a comfortable viewing brightness. Had the shades been up they would have come down. Anyone observing would think he was actually watching the boxing match, but he was lost to it, just letting the light and sound wash over him. All he wanted right now was to not feel, and to not think. Sometimes the background noise helped. Had he even noticed the program, he would have changed channels. Fighting was the last thing he wanted to see or remember.
After a time he got up and walked into the large kitchen. He reflexively opened the big Sub-Zero refrigerator to grab a beer, though he wasn't thirsty. Aside from some beer and bologna and a few cheese snacks the wire shelves were empty. He'd tossed all the accidental chemistry experiments into the trash weeks ago. He wasn't hungry but he opened the freezer to retrieve some chicken wings he'd bought last week.
He noticed for the first time in weeks the dozen or so divided Tupperware containers with various pre-prepared meals in them. He hadn't eaten them, so they were still here. Experience told him each one would be different but containing something tasty and well suited to freezing and reheating, complete with at least two vegetables each. Smaller containers contained re-heatable desserts, all of it in reasonable but healthy portions. 'Andrea,' he noted to himself. She had kept a supply handy for those nights when he'd work late, which had gottten to be more and more frequent leading up to that night. 'God, Andrea, even after all that, you made sure I would still have meals, didn't you?' Vaguely angry and frustrated, he grabbed the box of wings and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the bottles in the refrigerator. He just tossed the whole box into the microwave and set it to cook.
He looked at the even coating of dust on the kitchen counters. 'God this place is getting dirty, Carol would kill me.' Opening the undersink cabinet he extracted the spray cleaner, then pulled a kitchen towel from a drawer. As he started to clean, he noticed the cute froggie embroidered into the towel. He was wearing a chef's apron and holding a spatula. 'This is Andrea's work, she was always into the cutesy stuff. Why she spent so much time decorating things that will just get dirty, I'll never understand.' Seeing the dirt build up on the towel, Tom dropped it into the laundry chute and switched over to paper towels. 'Even if it is silly there's no sense ruining it' he thought. Just as he finished cleaning the sink tops, stove and kitchen dining table, the microwave signaled with a beep. He looked at the dust on the array of hanging pots and utensils over the island. 'Later,' he thought. Grabbing a plate, he dumped the contents of the box onto it, picked up his beer and carried it to the table.
He walked back to the bar and picked up at least six weeks accumulation of mail and began to sort through it. He knew there wouldn't be any bills. Sal had taken care of all that stuff for years. Almost all the mail was round-file fodder, but he began looking through it, remembering the enjoyment Carol and Andrea used to get from doing so.
He thumbed through the sale papers trying to see what they had found so interesting but was only stopped for a moment when he opened the one from the home improvement place and read through the tool section. He wasn't into that kind of stuff, but it was mildly interesting to look at the pictures. Having exhausted the larger pieces, he started going through all those endless credit card offers that just seemed to come from nowhere. Buried in the bunch he found an envelope addressed to Andrea.
'That's funny, she isn't old enough for her own credit cards,' he thought to himself as he opened it. Inside, he was surprised to find, not a credit card offer, but the first statement from a cell phone provider. He knew she'd carried a cell for years, as all kids do, but until now she'd always used one of those pay as you go phones, preferring to spend her sizable allowance on material and craft supplies. This was an honest to god 'real' cell phone, with what appeared to be a modest bundle of services. He didn't even look for a call history, it wasn't that kind of statement. Feeling a little guilty for opening her mail, he folded the statement, returned it to the envelope and put it back on the bar in case she returned. "if only she would," he muttered to no one in particular.
Returning to the kitchen, he gathered up all the paper and tossed it into the recycling bin. He sat again at the table and tried to eat a couple wings, but as spicy as they were they just seemed tasteless. At any rate, he wasn't hungry, having just left the diner so it all ended up in the trash. He dropped the plate into the dishwasher and started it, rewashing everything else that was in there. Some of the dishes must have been washed repeatedly a couple dozen times by now. 'Maybe I'll empty it tomorrow,' he thought to himself. 'It'll be my big Saturday project.' He grabbed his beer and started back to the den but changed his mind.
Having noticed by now the state of the house, he picked up the cleaner and paper towels, deciding that cleaning was better than TV anyway. At least it was something. TV allowed you to think. As he was about to set his beer on the coffee table in the formal living room, he imagined hearing Carol's voice reminding him to use a coaster. She'd really been death on him until he learned, how could he forget? Reaching into the coaster caddy, he pulled out the little white crocheted circle on top and started to set the beer onto it. He stopped to examine it. It was handmade, with a cute repeating design around the outside edge, in light purple. 'Andrea. She loves lavender,' he said to himself. A vision of a pretty girl in a lavender room happily sewing under a bright breezy window formed in his mind. After a few seconds he shook his head as if to clear it, and began to dust in earnest.
As he dusted he continued to discover things he hadn't noticed before in the room, little feminine touches that make a house a home. The antique looking tatted doily on black velvet framed on the wall. The handmade quilted table runner on the entry hall table. The family pictures of the Paris trip, arranged in a collage the shape of the Eiffel Tower on the wall. The crocheted afghan on the back of the love seat. The embroidered accent pillows on the couch. The combined effect of it all was to give the place a homey, comfortable feel. Inviting. Lived in.
None of this was Carol's doing. Carol was a most feminine woman and a superb decorator, but her style was more using wallpaper or tapestries, or a well placed vase on an antique table. Area rugs were a big item with her. She'd loved little homey touches like these but had no talent for them. No, this was not Carol's room. It could only be Andrea's work. Looking around, everywhere he looked he saw handmade accents or adornments, most of them at least with a hint of pink or lavender. 'Definitely Andrea,' he concluded. 'When did she make all this stuff, and why am I just now seeing it?' He decided he'd have to try to avoid this room too. There were too many reminders in here. Instead of a sense of satisfaction at the now clean room, he just felt worse.
He detoured through the kitchen to dispose of the dirty paper towels and his empty beer bottle. He continuing on to the den, the only other room of the huge house he'd been in for months. He continued dusting the den but it took less time, as it was furnished much more sparse. He almost ruined the pool table before he stopped himself from spraying it with cleaner. 'Oh duh. The vacuum,' he remembered. Opening a cupboard and pulling out the hose the unit activated. Tom realized he didn't actually know where the machine was located, only that every room had outlets for it.
Eventually he returned to his easy chair and clicked over to a movie. He saw it was one of Carol's favorite romantic chick flicks. It was painful to watch but he didn't change it. It just seemed to be too much trouble. Everything was beginning to seem like too much trouble. 'What's the point of all this,' he wondered, 'if there's no one to share it with?'
He'd been sitting there for a while when he began to feel a chill. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after ten. 'Yeah, the thermostat went to night setting,' he remembered. The temperature controls were accessible from his universal remote too, but instead he reached under the table next to his chair for his old lap blanket. He pulled it out only to realize it had been replaced with a quilt.
He'd never seen this before. Surprised, he examinined it. It was exquisite, obviously handmade. It had all kinds of outdoor images in the prints of the fabric. In tans and browns and greens, the piecing was arranged so it formed an uncanny, almost photographic image of a deer sampling the grass at the edge of an alpine meadow. He'd seen this image before! Where?
He turned it over to examine it and found no clues, noting only the intricate decorative stitching that held it together. Plainly evident on the lighter fabric of the back, the stitching formed outlines of fish, deer, howling coyotes, bears and other mountain animals. It was a real piece of art, this quilt. Whoever had made it had put a lot of time and love into it. It was also made specifically to be a lap quilt, being rather too large for a baby quilt and too small for a bed. He turned it over again so the 'deer side' was on top, and pulled it over his legs. He suddenly realized that the deer scene in the quilt looked a lot like a picture he and Andy had brought home from an Idaho camping trip when he was nine. 'Happier times,' he thought.
Looking up at the wall, the photo was still hanging there, confirming his thoughts. He stood and took the quilt over to the pool table and laid it out so he could see the entire image at once. It was uncanny. The little streaks and animals and flowers in the various prints of the fabric melded together at a distance to form patterns in the bark of the trees, or shading in the ground, or even grass. He noticed a small label in the corner. Looking closer, he saw it wasn't a label at all, but simple, elegant hand embroidery.
Tom reacted as if he'd been slapped. He stumbled back a step as the significance of that label took hold in his brain. Andrea had made this for him, put it in 'his' room, and he'd never even acknowledged its presence until now, over two years later. Shocked beyond words he turned and began to take in the room, a single tear starting to run down his cheek.
This was his room, and it was all masculine. From the pool table to his elliptical machine and weight bench, to the huge HDTV and sound system there was nothing even remotely feminine in it. Yet, when he began to look around he noticed feminine influences everywhere.
Aside from the quilt, the coaster caddy on the table contained hand painted ceramic circles bearing images of various animal paw prints. There was a painted picture of geese on the wall in their trademark delta pattern. The frame had hand-painted Native American symbols around the border that inset the picture. On another wall hung a large cross-stitched picture of two gray wolves at night. 'How many thousand stitches must be in that?,' he marvelled. The liquor cabinet in the corner had a quilted runner atop it, sporting some kind of sewn-in image of a smiling bartender in an Irish pub drawing a pint of Guinness. He noticed the hand towel hanging from the pool cue rack had outdoorsy accents. There was a crocheted cover for the cue chalk so it wouldn't mark the table. Someone had added a fringe to the stained glass shade over the pool table, making the whole corner of the room kind of old-timey. There were candid shots of him on his last 5k race, next to the treadmill. Even his golf bag in the corner had knitted booties on each of the clubs. Looking closer, he saw that each one had a little golfing leprechaun stitched into the fabric.
Some woman had decorated this room to perfectly suit his tastes, but it wasn't the least bit feminine. It couldn't have been Carol, some of this stuff wasn't here when she died. Tom plopped heavily down in his chair again, looking around in amazement. The only answer was that Andrea had done all this. And he hadn't even noticed, not even a few minutes ago when he had dusted. What HAD he noticed? This obviously had taken her a long time to do, and she had no reasons of her own to have done it. Did she? She had spent all her time in the kitchen or her bedroom, so when HAD she done all this, and why?
Again, he got up from his chair, and walked down the hallway to her room. He opened the door. It hadn't been opened for over two months, not since the day after that awful night, when he'd discovered she'd left. He entered the room and ignoring the slightly musty smell, looked around. It looked neat, but it clearly wasn't her room any longer.
Gone were the curtains and sheers around the window. There were no stuffed animals on the bed, now it was covered with a plain forest green bedspread instead of the flouncy pink one, incongruent with the lavender walls. The bedside table and dresser tops were bare. Her reading lamp and doilies were all gone. There were faint outlines on the wall where her pictures had once hung. It was a large room, big enough to accommodate a separate sitting area, but she'd had a large cutting table and no less than three different sewing machines there with a big work light. It was all gone too, replaced by a faint echo on the hardwood floor.
He looked in the closet, and found only two empty hangers in there, a single green plastic crochet hook on the floor near the back, and a little boy's baseball cap on the shelf. He remembered the cap-he'd bought it for Andy at a Mets game even though he hadn't wanted it, then made him wear it all day. No wonder she left it behind. What hurt the most was the realization that the only things missing were things she had bought herself. All her furniture was still here except for the small makeup table she had bought. A blank area along the wall attested to that. There was an air of finality that came from being in this room, as if by leaving her furniture she had abandoned and left behind everything their small family had ever been. It felt very empty in here. His eyes started to fill again as the significance of it hit home yet again.
"God Andrea!! Why did you have to go?" he suddenly cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried for a minute to imagine all her things back in the room, as if by imagining it he could make it come to pass. He knew, of course why she had gone, and he knew she wasn't going to return. He finally turned, switched off the light and closed the door quietly behind him. Feeling very old and completely defeated, he slowly returned to the den, pausing only to lay the crochet hook next to the cell phone statement as he walked through. He grabbed the quilt and scrunched it to his chest, and slumped into his chair. He just stared as the credits scrolled up the screen, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.
He realized the short guy in the green sport coat hawking knives wasn't the movie, so he switched it off. He spread the quilt over himself and reclined the chair, knowing that going to bed wouldn't be any more restful. Looking back up, he switched the entertainment center back on and pressed the button labeled "Music" on the remote.
When the menu of playlists appeared on the TV, he scrolled down until he saw one labeled "Eclectic Jazz - Easy Listening." 'Ah, yeah. Dad's old stuff. That should be okay.' He selected it, set it to shuffle and turn off after an hour. He didn't need to turn off the lights, they would dim automatically over the next hour. In a moment something soft and soothing started to emanate from the speakers. Soon he was just alone in the semi-dark with his thoughts, the soft jazz providing some relief for his pain. He let the music wash over him while the tears leaked slowly from his eyes and down his face. To the world he may be one of the most successful men in America, but he just felt lost, defeated, totally alone.
'Can this get any worse?' he wondered.
As if in answer to his nonverbal question he heard the sustained sounds of a vibraphone set on slow tremolo begin a sad intro. Four bars later Chet Baker's trumpet was heard sorrowfully playing. Tom didn't remember the song, only that it was old, from the be-bop era. This had been his dad's favorite stuff, and it was almost like he was speaking to him. The trouble began on the second verse, with the sound of Baker's velvet voice. It only took a second before Tom remembered that Baker had been a master of the hopeless torch song, and this was one of his most desperate. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, hoping he could endure it:
"What'll I do, when you are far away,
And I am blue, what'll I do-o-o?
What'll I do, when I am wond'ring who,
Is kissing you, what'll I d-o-o-o?
What'll I do, with just a photograph,
To turn my troubles" <CLICK>
Tom had almost broken his finger on the remote. The next song was a soft instrumental. "God, Carol! If you're looking down, please help me," he cried openly, eventually fading into silence as the music played on quietly. He was about to fade off into unconscious nothingness when another vocal began, this time it was Mel Torme.
"She was too good to me,
How can I get along now-----
So close she stood to me,
Everything seems all wrong now----
She would have brought me the sun----,
Making me smile, that was her fun-----"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Tom shouted as he leaped from the chair. Looking to the ceiling he continued, "LIKE I DIDN'T ALREADY GET THE POINT!" He threw the remote at the TV, which had no effect at all.
"When I was mean to her,
She'd never say go away now----" <SNAP!><POP!>
When throwing the remote hadn't stopped the music, he'd lunged for the wall, yanking the cords out with great ferocity. There had been an unsatisfying snap and a flash of light as one cord shorted out before losing its connection. He picked up his crystal Rotary Club Man of The Year award and threw it as hard as he could, shattering it into the dart board and knocking it to the floor with a loud crash. Stumbling out of the room as fast as his legs would work, he headed anywhere to get away. He found himself in a guest bedroom before reorienting himself and aiming again for own room.
As he passed the dresser he turned his head to the photo of Carol, and wailed loudly, "I'm sorry I failed you. I tried, I really did! Please forgive me, but this time I don't know how to fix it!" He ended up atop the bed in a fetal position hugging Andrea's quilt, wracked with sobs and wishing dearly that he was four again, when Mommie could come in and comfort him and make everything right. Exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell into a fitful sleep while his mind replayed the events of the last two months over and over. It was the lowest moment of his life, even lower than the night the angels took his beloved Carol from him.
Sometime later, consciousness returned. Tom wondered what had woken him. He felt something was different. Something had clicked in his mind while he was asleep. He didn't feel quite as hopeless, though nothing had changed. But there was something. What was it? He struggled to identify it. Something about the mail. Suddenly inspiration hit, and he sat bolt upright.
Rushing back to the kitchen bar, he picked up Andrea's cell phone statement. He looked at the date, and saw it was over two months old. Dumping the recycling bin onto the table, he used use both hands to feverishly rummage through the mess of paper. He verified there was no other correspondence from the company. 'That can only mean one thing,' he thought. 'She must have paid it and changed the billing address or there would be a dunning letter by now. If she'd cancelled the service, there would be a final statement.' Going back to the counter he studied the statement intently, finally decoding a phone number buried in a long string of numbers.
Leaving the mess, he rushed into the bedroom to get the cordless phone. As he punched in the numbers, he looked at Carol's picture and pleaded to it, "Please don't let me screw this up too."
Tom heard ringing, then a click and silence. A few seconds later, he heard a sleepy "Hello?"
"Andrea? Is that you? It's me, D.."
"Yes, I know who it is, I have caller ID," she spat, now fully awake. "How did you get this number?...What do you want?"
"Andrea, I.."
She cut him off. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Have you been drinking again?" The last part stung bitterly. He almost never drank, but he was very drunk that night, the night before she left, and it was the only reason those words had been exchanged.
"Andrea, I'm sorry. I know it's late, honey but I have to talk to you."
"Can't it wait until morning? It's 2AM for cryin' out loud, and I have to work in the morning. Besides, the last time we 'talked' you did almost all of it and you said enough to last me a lifetime."
"Andi, please!"
"Andi? Oh so now it's Andi? Only my two closest friends call me Andi, and only after asking me permission. And I don't remember you ever asking me, so let me ask you. Is that Andi with an "I" or Andy with a "Y"?
"Please, honey, I only made that mistake once. Of course I meant with an 'i'. Let's try to get beyond all that for a while. I've been worried sick about you! When you left you didn't leave me any way to get hold of you, and you're too young to be out on your own. You're only seventeen."
"I'm almost eighteen... Listen. Please hear this because I only want to say it once. You yourself signed my emancipation papers almost two years ago when I graduated high school. You yourself said I might need to look out for myself when you were out of town and couldn't be there for me. I know the school graduated me early so they wouldn't have to deal with me but the fact is, I had a 4.0 average and enough credits so they couldn't stop me anyway. And I've been at the university a whole year now. I have.."
"Wait! I checked, you haven't touched your trust fund, and the university doesn't have a student named Andrea Billings. So where"
"I filed a legal alias and I'm registered as Andrea Sellers, Grandma's maiden name. Mom wanted me to protect myself from any bigots from my high school that might try to track me down. And I'm using my scholarship and working. Turned out to be handy when it came to cutting ties didn't it?" He gritted his teeth as the full horror of how permanent her leaving might be. He hadn't considered she might have even abandoned his name.
"Andrea, I looked everywhere for you. I couldn't.."
"Let me continue. I have a scholarship, grants, and a job at the research lab. I'm quite capable of being on my own. And I don't need you complicating my life by trying to make me something I'm not."
"Andrea, are you living somewhere safe? Because if"
"I'm fine. It's none of your business, but I'm sharing an apartment with another student. And no, you can't come visit. She's recovering from a sexually abusive father, and she can't deal with men. In fact, all six of the apartments are all girls. The lady who owns the place only rents to girls, and most of them are lesbians and/or recovering from some kind of abuse. Men aren't allowed here."
"Are you..."
"No! ... I'm not... Either... Though some terms don't apply very well to people like me. I'm just here because it's cheap and safe. And I can ride a bike to class and work. The landlady took pity on me. Says I remind her of her niece."
"Andrea, I'm really sorry about how everything went to hell. About that night..."
"Look, don't start! You said some really awful things to me. How I'd killed your son. How you can't stand to look at me. How my presence in the house is disruptive. How you can't ever relax when I'm around and"
"Andrea!! Please, PLEASE!! I know EXACTLY what I said that night! That conversation is etched in my memory like stone and I can't believe those words ever escaped my mouth. I was drunk! And I was in pain..That wasn't me talking, it was the booze."
"But you must have been thinking them or you couldn't have said them! And don't get me started on pain! I've known who I am since I was four and all I ever got from you when I tried to be me was pain, until Mom put her foot down. And I was fourteen by then! And just when things were starting to...were starting...she got sick...and *sniff*...and..."
"Andrea." Tom said softly, trying to keep the tremors from his voice too. "...I miss her too. Remember we were married over twenty years. It's like a part of me is gone...I can't stand to think I've lost you too, it feels like my heart's been ripped out, especially since you've gone. Please come back, I know we can work things out."
"Look, my cell phone is going dead. *sniff*... I have to get off now."
"Andrea WAIT!" Tom winced and clinched his teeth waiting for the dreaded click but after a few seconds he realized he'd bought a tiny bit of time. He started to continue but decided on a different approach.
"...Honey, I know you don't want me to know where you are and I don't blame you. But we can't leave things this way. If your cell is really going dead, please call me back from a regular phone. Go through the operator and reverse the charges--she can block the caller ID so I won't know your number. And I promise I won't try to track you down later. Please? We really have to talk...I really need to talk. Please?"
"*Sigh*...I'll think about it. Goodbye." The click that followed sounded like a cannon in Tom's ear. He just looked pleadingly at Carol's picture.
"You always told me to give her some space, to let her have the ball. Well, it's in her court now, honey... Please make her call back...please...," he trailed off in a whisper. He looked at the illuminated clock on the bed stand, then closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts.
He looked at the clock. Five minutes. He looked pleadingly at Carol's picture, then off into space again.
The clock. Nine minutes now. He sighed heavily and just closed his eyes.
Eleven minutes. The tears were starting down his cheeks, but he was determined not to call her. He wouldn't try to badger her, not any more. 'Oh god, I've blown it and she hates me,' he thought. He began to wonder if it was worth trying to go on at all now.
**Brrrrii...** Tom snatched it before the first ring finished, grabbing it so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Andrea? OH thank..."
"I have a person to person call from an Andrea Billings, will you..."
"YES! YES! Thank you OPERATOR!" He said a little too emphatically. He heard some clicking then the quiet background hiss of a normal phone call.
"...Andrea, are you there?"
"Yeah... Sorry, I didn't want to wake Kelly, and it took a while to find the long cord and string it out to the balcony in the dark. Then I had to get some clothes on and get my jacket. So what did you need to say that was so important that it can't wait until morning?" Thankfully, Tom noted, the anger had seemed to lessen in her, leaving a sort of resigned tone to her voice. Her voice suddenly changed to one of fear and concern. "You're not sick are you?"
"No no I'm okay. Andrea, I just found your number a few minutes ago and I couldn't wait a second longer. I had to tell you one more time that for better or worse, you are my child--no scratch that. You are my daughter, and I am your father. And I love you more than life, and we're all each other has now that your Mom is no longer with us. I know that whatever is in the past is done and can't be changed, and I hope we don't ever have to revisit it ever again. I know I don't want to. Come back home, please?...Please?"
"...I can't...I have a new life now. I've moved on, and I'm away from all the baggage I left there. And I don't mean just at home. You know that no one new would guess I was ever a boy, so it's better for me. After that last year in school," (Tom could hear the shudder in her voice) "...well let's just say this is a clean break for me. And besides. From what you just told me, it sounds like you want me to be a substitute for Mom. Well I'm not her, and I won't pretend to be." Tom didn't say anything for a moment as her statement sunk in. He heard sniffling on the other end. After a minute or so of silence she whispered, "God how I miss her."
"Me too," Tom whispered after a few seconds. "...Andrea,...can I tell you a little about your Mom? Maybe if I tell you some things you won't hate me so much, and we won't have to be enemies. Your Mom loved us both very much, and this thing between us would tear her apart. We have to end this fighting. It doesn't honor her memory. Besides, the very last thing she asked me to do the day she died, is to take care of you and keep you safe, and try to make you happy. I made her that promise willingly and gladly and I meant it. I still do. I love you honey, I always have and I want you to come back. At least back into my life, even if you can't come back home. Christ, how can I do any of that when you didn't even leave me a way to find you?"
"But if you love me so much, why did you say those things? They hurt so bad I felt like I'd been put through a meat grinder for weeks. Sometimes I still..."
"Andrea, please... hear me out...." Tom paused to collect his thoughts, and having nothing good come to mind, he finally whispered, "You said some pretty hurtful things that night too. Just because I'm a guy and don't show my feelings well, it still hurts the same... can we just start over? Please?" Hearing only silence, Tom took that as a sign to continue.
"Your Mom and I married in college, as you know. We were on a very tight budget, but we were smart and I was lucky and got fast-tracked right away. Before long, your Mom was able to quit her job and become a fulltime housewife, something she'd always dreamed of. Soon, I was earning more than we ever dreamed and it was apparent that we could easily start a family. Your Mom wanted three kids, a girl, another girl, and a boy, in that order. I didn't care, I just wanted her to be happy. My main fear was that I could learn to be an effective father, given the schedule my job required. I know I was lousy, but I did try."
"You were always at my plays and concerts," Andrea noted. "I think you did a pretty good job, considering..." she wondered to herself why she had said that. She had always resented how much time he spent away from home.
"Let me continue, honey. I want to explain. It took us several years and thousands of dollars paid to specialists before your Mom became pregnant. We had almost given up hope by the time you were conceived. We were of course ecstatic! Your Mom was so sure you were a girl, she had me paint the nursery pink, and started buying all kinds of girly baby things. Back then, predicting the sex of the baby was still a bit iffy. But she insisted you were a girl, she just knew that you felt like one in her belly, and no one told us different. Imagine our surprise then when you were born and were male. I got good-natured ribbing from the guys at work for weeks over it. Your mom, however still never believed it.
But there were other problems. It turns out that the reason it was so hard for her to conceive is because of an abnormality in her uterus, one that had escaped detection until after she was pregnant. Had the doctors known, they would have advised her never to have children at all. In fact, our first doctor advised an abortion right away as soon as they detected the problem. Carol was so mad she fired him on the spot and found another doctor. But the strain of pregnancy did prove too much, and her uterus was damaged, resulting in your premature birth. It's probably why you're so little. She had a bad infection and they had to do an emergency hysterectomy immediately after you were born. She was on the critical list for several days--we weren't sure she would even live. Since she couldn't nurse, that's why you were bottle-fed. She was really disappointed by that. Of course we couldn't have any more children."
"I never knew that," Andrea softly declared. She had never heard any of this before. Sitting outside her apartment in the predawn, the stars shone still in the cold night sky, clear now that the storm had moved on. She pulled the zip up on her jacket, and wrapped the afghan tighter around her legs. She needed to hear the rest of this.
"We never told you because we didn't want you to think it was your fault. Your mother was disappointed of course, but just told me that you were such a precious gift it was fine. She said we'd just be that much closer, since there would be fewer of us it would concentrate the love. I told her we could adopt more children but she wouldn't hear of it."
"I'm so sorry! I blamed you all those years because I didn't have any brothers or sisters. I thought you were selfish, just wanting a trophy wife and a trophy kid, without a real family! I didn't know."
"It's okay, I know I deserved that. Anyway, when your Mom recovered, we set out to become the family we had wanted. But your Mom became a little despondent knowing she wasn't going to have the daughter she'd always dreamed of. She knew in her heart what you have always maintained but the physical evidence couldn't be denied. What happened sounds kind of incredible, but it did happen. She began to dress you in all that girly baby stuff she had accumulated, and soon she was even going into town with you dressed like that. Other times she would have you dressed as a boy, and eventually the ladies in the stores around town just assumed you were your own twin. One day they'd see Andy, and the other days "Ann". I didn't like it but I went along with it, reasoning to myself that your mom was just working out her own extreme disappointment over not getting a daughter, and knowing a baby doesn't know the difference anyway."
"Your Mom continued to do this until you were almost two. You didn't seem to care one way or the other between dresses and pants but others were beginning to ask questions so I finally had to talk to her and she stopped. Later, when you were in elementary school, and wanted to play with the girls, and you snuck your dollies to school in your backpack, and kept telling everyone you were a girl, I got the idea that it was because Mom had conditioned you to be one. I've since learned how preposterous that notion was, but then I didn't know any different. So I embarked on a mission to toughen you up and make you into a boy. I'd take you on camping and fishing trips, car shows and ball games, anything to keep you away from home and her influence. Because as soon as I would turn my back you'd be in your room playing house with all those stuffed animals."
"I remember that. I had to play with my animals because you took away all my dollies."
"Yes I did. Mom kept insisting you were a girl but I just couldn't see it. Looking back, you never did a boyish thing in your life. I'd take you to a game and you'd be more interested in the entertainment on the scoreboard and doing the chicken dance than the game. I'd take you camping and you fried cookie dough over the fire. I'd fish while you picked wildflowers. But I was just so uptight and concerned I never connected the dots. It completely escaped me. Your Mom knew. I think you were probably about ten when I started to get concerned with how it looked to my business partners. I was afraid for my image. God, what an ass I was!"
"I remember when Mama bought me a sewing machine for my tenth birthday. I was so proud of it but you went ballistic!" she chuckled.
"Yeah. I did. I was so ashamed. But I wasn't sure what I was ashamed of."
"Mom told me later she'd promised not to buy me dresses anymore, but she knew I was a girl. So she got me that sewing machine and took me to the dealer and paid for lessons. And she took me to the fabric store and let me buy anything I wanted. As soon as I made a few craft things and mastered basic sewing, I started making my own clothes. So all the dresses you found when you raided my closet? I had made them all myself. I had to, Mom didn't know how to sew."
"I really hated you when you blamed Mom for them, and I hated you even worse when you grabbed my scissors and cut them to shreds. You don't know how many hours I had put into them, cutting and fitting and sewing. I know now that you just saw those clothes as a broken promise, but you were wrong and to me you were shredding my identity. Mommie hadn't broken her promise, we had just pulled an end run around your game. If it hadn't been so awful at the time, it would be kinda funny now, wouldn't it?"
Tom was appalled by the memories, so different now that he could see beyond his stupid motivations of the time. He had been nothing short of abusive to his daughter and hadn't even realized it. She had every right to hate him thoroughly and completely, but she was merely explaining it away as if it were a series of misunderstandings! He resolved that somehow he would make things right for her.
The conversation continued from there, each confiding things previously hidden from the other, exploring past events in their lives from each other's perspective.
"...Yes, dear. I really screwed up. After I grabbed you and hauled you down to the barber and had your beautiful hair turned into a buzz cut, your Mom wouldn't speak to me for a week. When she finally did, she warned me that I would lose you if I didn't wise up..." Tom paused as the horror of his past actions caught up to him. He whispered, "She was so right, and I was so wrong...I'm so sorry it took so long to see the real you."
"Oh that haircut! I was so hurt and humiliated, I couldn't go to school for a week. I just stayed in my room for two days crying. The only thing I could do was sew, and it was hard with my vision so blurry...Dad, I have a confession to make. You were out of town the whole week after that, but I immediately set out to replace my wardrobe. I started that very night making things from material I already had, and later, when I ran out of that, I started making clothes for my girlfriends.
They all got into the act, and always made sure there was enough leftover material from their projects for me to make something for myself as well. Before long I had an even bigger wardrobe, and this time, Mom could safely say she hadn't even bought the material, because my friends paid me in material. Before long, I was hanging out in town with them in my new wardrobe. Until my hair grew back, I wore an old wig of Mom's. She took me to the salon and had them refit it for me and cut it. They wanted to order one made for a kid my age but she said no because she couldn't buy it and keep her promise. And she made me pay for having it cut and styled from my savings."
"You want to know the funny part though? It didn't even matter. With that buzz cut, even when I wore boy clothes somewhere besides school everyone still assumed I was a girl and my hair had fallen out. One lady saw me at the mall after school and even stuffed twenty dollars into my hand and told me to go buy a pretty scarf. She said she admired my bravery and that she just knew I would recover!"
"Oh no! What did you do?"
"Well, I couldn't hurt her feelings, could I? So I thanked her and then did just as she asked! Suze and Lexi and I each got a new scarf, and we wore them out of the store. Later that day, we walked right by that Lenny jerk, and he didn't even recognize me."
"...Andrea, I have to confess something too. When you were thirteen, I was away in Ohio for a couple weeks to open a new plant. Things went well, and I came back a couple days early. I wanted to get home and take you fishing that weekend for a real guys only outing. But as I drove through town that afternoon I saw three girls walking down the sidewalk carrying grocery bags, and laughing and cutting up as they do. I instantly recognized that the girl in the center was you. That's when I realized you were never a boy, and your mom was right from day one."
"Really? You saw me on the street and recognized me? Everyone, even Mom always insisted that I looked completely different than when I was trying to be Andy, even before I started to develop. What gave me away?"
"Andrea, a parent can spot their own kid from 200 yards in a crowd. I don't know what it is. Vibes or something. Maybe it's all those subtle things like how you hold your head, or walk or move your arms. It doesn't matter. But I was so shocked I pulled over and just watched for a couple minutes. There was nothing, and I mean nothing about you that even suggested boy. All I could see was a pretty young teen girl with her friends. I realized then that when you were dressed as Andy, I only saw a boy because of the clothes and what I wanted to see. Funny, even then, people called you Miss even when dressed as Andy. I just couldn't figure out why until then."
"I knew there was no point being home that weekend. It would only spoil things. So I got a room in town and called your mother. I asked her to join me for dinner, and it was then I told her what I had seen, and that she'd been right all along, and to get you into therapy so you could begin the journey to become the beautiful young lady you are today. Two weeks later Mom started to take you to Dr. Ardenne. I wasn't really happy about it, but I knew it was the right course of action. Dr. Ardenne must have too, because she started you on pills after just a few weeks. But I guess after all those years of fighting for a son, I just couldn't break out of the habit. Even though I encouraged your mom to help you then, I continued to fight it. I had a real battle going inside myself, and I let you get caught in the crossfire."
Silence. An occasion sniff on both ends of the line. Finally,
"Daddy? Please don't be mad? I started seeing Jessica when I was barely twelve. She had already sent me to an endocrinologist and put me on blockers a long time before you saw me on the street. The pills she put me on then were my hormones. She wouldn't put me on them until you both signed. We just didn't tell you about all the previous visits. Mom told me that breaking her promise to you was the absolute hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, so be sure that you never found out. She said if you knew it would kill her. But she told me that she knew in her heart that if I was forced to be a boy for much longer something terrible was going to happen to me, and losing me would kill you both. She made me fully understand that love sometimes forces you to make terrible choices." Soft sniffling followed, turning into soft sobs.
"Andrea?...Andrea, I know. I know. And it's alright."
"H- H- How do you know?" she softly blubbered.
"Remember the last couple weeks in the hospital, when I wouldn't leave your mother? Nearly every time you came to see her she was asleep, but there were times when she was awake. I wanted her to know I was at her side all the way. She was very weak but she had a lot on her mind she wanted to tell me, and almost all of it was about you. It was painful for her to talk but she told me everything. Made me understand. And I got it. All of it. And I promised her to take care of you, and I will if you'll let me. Always. Or at least until I'm too old, and then I still want you in my life, if not to take care of me, at least to come see me..."
"...Daddy?.....Thank you for telling me. I'm glad Mom told you. It hurt her terribly to keep that secret from you. She told me that you and I were the only things in her life that were important."
Tom chuckled to himself. Andrea asked, "What?"
"Well, it's just this. In the business world, I'm feared, my instincts are pretty well known. None of my business associates ever dared try to pull anything on me because they knew that I would find out, and they didn't want to risk what I might do in retaliation. Nobody wants to be in my gunsights. What I've never been able to figure out is how you pulled that off. Did you pay for your therapy yourself?" Laughing could be heard from the phone.
"No," *giggle* "That was so easy! Remember Mom's housekeeper and cook, Consuelo? There never was a housekeeper, or a cook either for that matter!"
"But who cooked for all those parties and"
"Catered!" she laughed.
"But there were all those cancelled checks written to Consuelo Flores! Are you saying Consuelo was your therapist? The one time I met your therapist, she looked decidedly European, and I know her name wasn't Consuelo!" Tom said rather exasperated.
"Daddy, Jessica's mom lived in Mexico when she was born. Jessica's middle name is Consuelo, like her Godmother. Her mom remarried later, and her new husband adopted Jessica. Hence, her maiden name, Jessica Consuelo Flores. Later, Jessica met and married a french guy, Jacques Ardenne. They both did their postgraduate studies in France, and that's where she picked up the slight accent. She may look and sound French, but she is most decidedly American, with dual citizenship in Mexico."
"Andrea, how do you know so much about her?" he asked.
"Daddy, I've been seeing her for six years. After all this time, we’re friends too. And friends talk."
"Okay, so those years, your mom paid for your therapy and disguised it as housekeeping? Who did the cleaning and cooking?" he wondered.
"Oooooh, Daddy," an excited voice bubbled. "It's such a shame you were so clueless! We did the housework together, but for us it was just fun! Every day when I'd get home from school, I'd change, finish my homework as quick as I could, then join Mom. You should have seen us! We'd put on our short shorts, tie our blouses above our belly buttons, put a scarf in our hair, and start cleaning. I swear, we looked like an old I Love Lucy episode! We'd take that sound system of yours, put on some oldies and crank it up, and just rock all other the house! It was so much fun boppin' around, backing up Elvis or Buddy Holly, using our mops and brooms for guitars, or our spray cleaner for mikes! Sometimes my girlfriends would come over and join in. It got so silly sometimes, we'd all just collapse on the floor in a tangle laughing our guts out! I even made Mom and me poodle skirts for our impromptu sock hops. She found some of those old fifties pointed bras and some angora sweaters somewhere. Other days, we'd spend the whole afternoon in the kitchen trying out new recipes. Sometimes Mom spent all morning at the gourmet grocery collecting stuff for us to cook!" She stopped rather abruptly, then tried to continue, "It was so much fun," she choked. "...but that was...that...was before she got sick..." *sniff*
"Well, it's nice. Most of them are two bedrooms, but Kelly's and mine has three. We're on top of the landlady, she has three also. I have my sewing machines in one bedroom so I pay more rent. But girls all over campus come and pay me to use them, so it almost covers the extra I have to pay. If I run short I can always make scads of money putting quilts together. The lady at the quilt shop in town could keep me busy day and night if I wanted to do that. I just can't use the big quilting machine after six oclock because the landlady hears the vibrations and can't hear her TV *giggle*"
"You took that huge machine and put it in your apartment? How did you even move it?"
"Daddy! It comes apart, y'know! I did have to put it in storage for a couple weeks until I found this apartment though. I'm even teaching Kelly how to do it. She told me she really likes it, but not to tell her friends. It seems that lesbians don't like people knowing that they enjoy doing domestic things, haha."
"Heh. Sometimes I wonder why you're majoring in Pre-Med. Maybe you would be happier studying art."
"No, Daddy. Crafts and sewing are what I do for enjoyment. My destiny is in physical therapy. It always was. I want to help kids with cerebral palsy and MS. I want to make a difference."
"..."I know, Andrea...I miss her too. It's like, when she left, all the life went out of me....Andrea, about that terrible night? Can I explain something?" Tom waited until she spoke.
"...Please Daddy, I don't want to talk about that. I have to put it all behind us. Please don't try to defend any of what you said. I have to end that hurt once and for all. With or without you, but I can't take any more of it. Please, okay?"
"Andrea, I said a whole lot of terrible things that night. But the ones that hurt you the most, I think you misunderstood what I meant. It doesn't excuse it, but you need to know. If you can't accept me after I tell you, well I'll just have to live with that. But you have the right to know. So please hear me out?" Hearing only silence, he continued.
"Sweety, I accused you of a lot of things that night. I want you to know a deep dark secret I've held and never told anyone before. I'm so ashamed. Almost from the day you were born, I was jealous of you. Your mom loved me deeply, but it was nothing like what she shared with you. And every time I saw you together, it was palpable how close the two of you were. It's silly I know, I never felt like I had to compete for you mom's affections, but when you and her were together, I felt less important to her somehow. And now that you're grown, you are the spitting image of your mom when we first started to date. You look like her, you think and act like her, and you even have her terrible temper! That night when I said I couldn't look at you, it was because every time I did, I saw your mother...You've forgotten but that awful night was the anniversary of the night I asked her to marry me."
"I missed her so much that day and the pain was so great, I went to the bar across from my office and I got as drunk as I could, hoping I'd just pass out...or at least dull the pain until that day was over. I was so 'way beyond driving, I took a taxi home. It took me several minutes just to unlock and open the door I was so messed up. Then the first thing I saw inside was you standing there in a dress very much like the one your mother was wearing the night I asked her for her hand. It almost caused me to have a flashback right then."
"I walked into the room and you got onto me for being drunk, and late for dinner and not even calling, and before I could start to explain, I just snapped. All those years I had tried to make you into something you weren't crashed into the image standing before me, and while I knew in my heart I was looking at my daughter, part of my brain had me standing there in front of your mother. The next thing, I was yelling at her for going away and leaving me here all alone, and I was yelling at you for being yourself, and for being a daily reminder of your mother, and I even accused you of killing off Andy."
"Of course you killed off Andy. Andy was just a mirage that existed in my tiny brain, and you knew that until I could see past it I'd never be able to see Andrea clearly. But alcohol does weird things to your senses, and I couldn't keep any of it straight. To tell the truth, I did mean all those things, but it's not what you thought. And I said them all in a very hurtful way, but I was really just trying to hurt the hurt. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me, my little Andrea..." Tom collapsed into sobs, repeating softly, "please believe me..."
Soon his sobs were echoed from the other end of the line.
After a minute or so Andrea softly said, "I believe you...Thank you...*sniff*...I know you never ever did anything intentionally to hurt me...I'm sorry I couldn't be your little boy...I really am. But I sucked at boy."
In spite of himself, Tom had to laugh. Smiling through his tears he said, "Yeah, you really did. You really sucked as a boy. Especially that time we went quail hunting and when the guide and I turned our backs you took his shotgun off the tailgate and unloaded it, then threw our ammo bag in the creek!" Hearing laughter on the other end, he allowed himself to laugh harder.
"Hey, it wasn't a complete waste! We had a nice picnic and we got some really great pictures! We would never have gotten back in there without his four by four. Besides, the guide wasn't even mad at me after he tasted my pita sandwiches. Of course he had to get over the sprouts instead of lettuce, but he liked them."
"Well if I'd known what you were going to do, I'd have just hired a photographer with a Jeep!"
"Sorry, Daddy, all the way up that mountain I was thinking how those poor birds hadn't done anything to us, why should we shoot them? You know Mom wouldn't have let us bring wild game home anyway. You remember what she did when your partner gave you that venison roast!"
"Don't remind me," Tom laughed. Boy was she mad that Fred killed Bambi, and expected us to enjoy eating her!
Tom and Andrea continued to replay their times together, this time not with hurt and anger, but with laughter at the charade it had been.
"What about the time I dumped all our fish out of the live well back into the lake? We had to drive 20 miles back to town so we could eat that night!" she replied between giggles. "And when we got back all our gear was wet from the tent collapsing in the thunderstorm while we were gone. We shivered all night, haha!"
He countered, "Or the time we went swimming at that hotel and I made you take off your shirt, then I stormed off with it and left you at the pool by yourself when I saw your tan lines? I still remember that angry woman that brought you to the room wrapped in a blanket, threatening to call the cops for leaving my daughter by herself! She said she found you crying because you lost your top!"
"I had forgotten that! Boy was she mad! I couldn't believe how mad she was. I didn't tell her I was so mad at you I kicked the planter and stubbed my toe, and that's why I was crying! I didn't dare try to tell her I was supposed to be a boy. I'm just glad I was able to convince her my friend ran off to get me a shirt."
"Yeah, otherwise, I'd have wound up in jail! Then you put on that lavender T shirt so she could have her blanket back, and I was soo embarrassed later taking you to the restaurant, and all we got was smiles," he chuckled. "Your Uncle Jake is right. You may have looked like a boy then but as soon as you moved the game was over. Everyone just assumed you were a tomboy. How could I not see it?"
"...Daddy quit beating yourself up over that. I really enjoyed every one of those trips we took together. Each and every family vacation was wonderful, but when it was just the two of us, well that was really special in its own way. I know that most of the time I embarrassed you and you and I argued over petty and stupid stuff. But never once did I ever think that you didn't love me or didn't want to be with me. Gosh! You have no idea how proud I was when we got to go somewhere for a couple days, and you'd take me halfway across the country in that corporate jet. How many kids can say their dad took them to the ballgame yesterday, only it was four states away? Most guys that could even do that would take a customer instead of their own kid."
"Well, I did my share of that too, Andrea. I just can't help feeling so guilty about being away so much."
"Daddy, st-o-o-o-o-p! Thanks to you I got to hike the Grand Canyon rim to rim, and get chased by a bear in Alaska, see the caribou migration in Canada, a volcano in Hawaii, gosh I can't even remember all the neat things we did. And every time you were there right beside me to show me what it was all about. You might have been gone a lot on business, but you more than made up for it when you were home. But of all the things we ever did together do you know what was the most fun?"
"What's that dear?"
"It's when the three of us would go to the mall and skate at the ice rink! I think I was the only kid in town whose parents both regularly made a family day there. I was so proud! Even when you'd flinch at my white skates and leggings, haha."
"Yeah, me too. Your mom loved to skate. Those were fun times."
"Oh, Andrea. What would I ever do without those memories? I really miss you."
"I miss you too Daddy." Silence followed, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Andrea finally asked, "Are you eating okay?"
"Yes, dear,...well no. The food you left me is still in the freezer. I haven't been home much since you left and I've been eating at all the greasy spoons close to work. The quiet gets to me at home....Hey wait a minute! Aren't I the one that's supposed to be asking that question? Although I already know the answer, you're the one that can turn a can of soup into a gourmet meal."
"I guess. But it's really hard to cook for just one, and Kelly, my roomate? Well she doesn't eat much. I'm helping her get over an eating disorder. Still, I'm always throwing away stuff."
"No, there isn't a boy. Not yet anyway. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about all that. I mean, I'm a girl, but I just don't go all wobbly in the knees every time a hunky guy walks by. Considering my past, I'm a little afraid of guys anyway. Jessica and I are still working on that. But I'm okay with things as they are. Besides, until I get my surgery next year, I still feel a bit uneasy about it all. The girls in the other apartments have tried to get me interested in girls like them, but that's just not my thing either. Maybe I'll just join a convent after college!"
"Well honey, I'm sure things will work out for you. I think you'd make a great mom. And the guys just all go gaga over you. I've seen it time and again. Have you at least dated?"
"Well, a couple times in a group. The real problem is that compared to the other kids here I look like I'm twelve. And college guys are used to taking a girl to bed by their second date. So things don't get far, ever. We do go to this dance club once in a while though on Friday nights. A lot of the kids there just want to dance, so that's pretty fun."
"...Oh, I don't know. After your Mom left us, it seemed that I just didn't have any life left in me. I was completely numb, and I was just going through the motions. I had already stopped all the travel, your mom had wanted me to be close so I could help when there were problems with your school or others in the community. But since I seemed to always be picking a fight with you, I just started working more and more hours. I made sure that by the time I got home I'd be too tired to do anything but eat a little and go to bed. I even quit watching TV. That last night when I told you I couldn't relax around you is because I always found myself using you as a punching bag to work out my own problems. Guys need a sparring partner once in a while, and you are anything but a fighter. I'm so sorry, Andrea, as tough as it was for me when your mom left, I know it was even tougher for you. I should have been there for you. You've been even more alone than me."
"No Daddy, I should have tried a little harder to understand. I've had to grow up a lot this year, and I realize now that the world doesn't revolve around li'l ol' Andrea. It's hard to realize that when you're in the middle though, you know? And there's something else..."
"What's that, hon?"
"That awful night, when I screamed at you and told you you'd made my life a Steven King movie and you should wear a mask because you were the Freddy Krueger of fathers? Well, I couldn't believe I even said that. I just wanted to say the most hurtful thing I could think of. I wanted to stick the knife in and twist it, and I did. I was horrified when I saw the look on your face. I knew we couldn't continue like that, and if I stayed I was afraid I would do it again. I couldn't bear to see that look on your face again. That's why I left."
"The stupid thing is, I was just mad because you were late and I had burned the casserole trying to keep it warm. I should have known something was wrong when I saw you were drunk. I've never seen you drunk and crying except when Grandpa died. I started the fight that night, and what I should have done was give you hugs and a cup of coffee."
"You told me I wasn't a fighter but that's not true. I hate fighting with all my heart, but I'm really good at it. I've had to do it most of my life, at least until I was able to be Andrea all the time. But daddy? NEVER try to fight a girl. We never fight fair. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me?"
"Andrea, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, I guess, what?"
"Tonight when I was dusting the den, I found all kinds of homemade things in there. Everything in there accented the room or me perfectly, so I know you didn't buy them. When did you make all that stuff?"
"Oh Daddy, I've been making stuff and putting it in there for years. Call it stupid but I just wanted so badly to be your little girl. All my girlfriends got along great with their dads, and I just wanted to too. So I thought if I made stuff and gave you little presents like that you'd eventually be able to see beyond Andy and see Andrea. I know it was kinda desperate, but I really did do all of them for love. I'm always making stuff anyway, so they aren't that big a deal. You can get rid of 'em if you don't like 'em."
"No no, Andrea!....Andi, they're beautiful and I love each and every one! Please forgive me though, I just never really noticed any of them before. I'm such an ass. I just found that beautiful quilt tonight, and it's over two years old! How could I be so blind? I.."
"Daddy! It's okay. You did notice. That's all I wanted. You told me I killed Andy. Can I just be your little Andrea now? I still need a daddy, and I always wanted you to be mine.....Will you?...Do you want to?" *sniff*
"Andrea! What a silly question! Of course I want to! The question is, will you still have me?"
"...please, I would like that more than anything..." she whispered.
"There's just one thing," Tom said, conditionally.
"What's that?" Andrea asked in a frightened tone.
"How did you manage to turn a photograph into a quilt, and turn it into a piece of art at the same time? I want to know all the details!"
"Wellll,,,,," Andrea giggled, in a relieved voice, "It wasn't trivial, but first I scanned it, then..."
Tom blinked as a pinpoint of light flashed across his face. Looking toward the source, he realized it was sunlight, penetrating a small hole in the blinds. Shocked, he saw it was after 6:00AM.
"Oh Andrea, it's after six! I've kept you up all night, and now you have to go to work! I'm so sorry, I can't seem to get anything right."
"It's okay, I'll just call in and cancel. I was just going in to help Billy do the injections. It takes a while to inject 200 rats. But he's not expecting me anyway, I was just returning the gesture. He came in last week and helped so I could go to a concert. He's really nice that way."
"Rats? Okay, too much information. Really, Andrea, why work at all? You know that you can use your trust fund for anything you need or even want. There's enough in it to buy a house, for cryin' out loud. And why ride a bike when you can drive the Saab? Don't tell me about gas, the answer to that is the same too."
"Daddy, I sold the Saab."
Tom sat straight up from his reclining position on the bed. "WHAT?!? You sold it? Whatever for? That car's custom built! It's worth.."
"Dad! I know what it's worth. Okay I'm sorry I sold your baby. You gave it to me to do with as I pleased, but everywhere I went in it everyone frowned at me like I was just a spoiled little rich girl, which I guess I am. When I left I was so mad at you I didn't want to leave any traces for you to find me, so I called Sal and cancelled the insurance on it and after I sold it I bought a five year old Beetle. I was afraid you'd track me down through the motor vehicle department. Please don't be angry, I needed the money for my apartment and other expenses. And my vee-dub is a pretty good car, even if I hardly need one. Besides, the guy that bought the Saab can affor d it and he's taking really good care of it. I see him polishing on it almost every day."
"You see it every day? Where is it?"
"You know I said my apartment has a bunch of lesbians living here? Well the place across the street has a bunch of gay guys living there. Some of them have really nice rides. And a lot of them are really huge, buff guys. The guy I sold it to is one of those really huge buff guys, and now he has the nicest ride of the bunch. And he and all his friends watch out for us girls. Sometimes Danica in the next apartment and I go over and sample cheese and wine with them on their patio by the pool. It's kinda nice to just be friends and know none of them are going to try anything ...
Look Daddy, Kelly is going to be up soon, and if I'm here she's going to want me to go run with her. So I better go and at least take a shower and wash my face. Okay?"
"Well I'm glad to know you're safe, at least. Andi, could I see you? I know you said I can't come around, but could you come see me? Maybe go out to dinner or something? I really miss you, honey."
"Yeah, I'd like that. Maybe I will come by the house. It's probably a real wreck by now, haha!"
"Actually, it's still just like you left it. Except everything is covered in dust. And it echos like a tomb in there. And I really messed it up last night. I tried to dust and really made a mess of things. I even used *Old English on the mirrors! You wouldn't believe the streaks!"
"HAHAHAHA! Well you never were one for housework. Okay, how about tomorrow, Sunday afternoon? I'll come over about one, and show you enough so you won't embarrass yourself to the housekeeper you're going to hire, then we'll go out to Salvatores after. That sound good?"
Tom noted instantly that Andrea had deliberately suggested his favorite restaurant, the one where all his cronies hung out. If he wouldn't take her there, it would take her a lot longer for her to be convinced that things had changed. Well it was about time he started showing off his daughter! After all, how many of them had such a smart and beautiful and talented daughter of seventeen already in her second year of college?
"Excellent! Bring a nice dress to change into okay? Maybe that blue one? And comfortable shoes, in case you might consent to a dance or two with your old man? Remember Tony, the maitre' D? He asked about you just last week. He said he hadn't seen you in ages... Andi...I know this isn't going to be easy for either of us. Stick with me honey, I'm trying. Okay?
"....Okay...Daddy!.....Oh Daddy, I'm going to hang up now....just...just..."
"Just what, dear?" he asked softly.
"Just...thanks."
"For what dear?"
"This...well...this...this...it's just that this is the first time you ever really talked to Andrea...Thank you...Daddy.." **sniff**
"Well it's about time, isn't it? Goodbye, sweetheart, take a nap today, okay?"
"Sure Daddy, see you tomorrow. Bye," she said softly before breaking the connection.
Tom gently laid the phone in its cradle. He grabbed a tissue from the bedstand and blew his nose. He noticed his PJ top was stiff with dried tears and the sweat from under his arms. He felt like he'd just run a marathon, and smelled like it too. As he moved to the dresser to get things for a shower, he stopped and lovingly picked up Carol's photo. He smiled, then brought it to his lips and kissed it.
"Thank you, dear. I couldn't have done it without you. Stay with me okay? Teach me to become her Daddy? Don't ever let me screw up with her again...I miss you..."
He carefully replaced the frame on the dresser and headed off to the shower. That was going to feel so good, but nothing like the sleep he knew would follow. Perhaps he'd polish up the Harley later today and see if would start. As he turned toward the bath, he made himself a mental note to spread some Old English on all the mirrors downstairs before Sunday.
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*Old English is a wood furniture polish with silicone oil. It leaves furniture very shiny but is very difficult to remove from painted surfaces or glass.