---

 
“I’m afraid I don’t have any further information for you, Mr. Simon. Our claims department is still investigating.” Chloe struggled to keep exhaustion from coming through in her tone.

“Okay, fine. Then I need to speak to your supervisor.” The man’s voice wasn’t unkind. Just impatient. Even the good ones were always impatient.

“He won’t have any additional information for you, sir. The investigation will take seven to ten business days, and –”

“I don’t have seven to ten business days,” he snapped.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Simon.”

The caller relented. “Alright. I’ll try calling in a couple of days. But I need this flagged as a priority.”

“I’ll make a note in the file, sir,” Chloe said dutifully. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

The man on the other end of the phone snorted, clearly indicating his opinion of her implication that she’d actually helped him with the issue he called about. But he didn’t press it. “No, thank you.” He hung up.

Chloe checked the clock. 2:00 a.m. where she was sitting, in the basement of her parent’s house, half a world away from the impatient Mr. Simon. Time to clock off, after the four-hour night shift she was able to squeeze in between . . . other duties.

The monitor showed that the twins were still asleep, mercifully. It was now Saturday, which meant she could rely on Mom to handle early morning duties with the kids, giving her a chance to sleep in a bit. It would be wonderful if she could get a solid six hours in. She pulled the headphones off, made a couple notations on her screen, and stumbled over to the couch. Within minutes, she was asleep.

~o~O~o~

Not four hours later, Maureen O’Neal was pulled awake by the sound of a baby’s whimper coming from down the hall. Knowing Chloe would still be down in the basement, she attempted to bring herself upright. She cried out weakly as pain shot through her skull and flashes of light played across her vision. The pain was so intense she felt nauseous.

“Oh, no.” It came out as a whisper. More, she couldn’t manage.

The sounds from the other bedroom doubled, as little Davy’s discomfort woke Alexis. Maureen groaned, but with a supreme effort, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Her stomach lurched as the room spun, then slowly stabilized.

She got to her feet and staggered, stumbling and hitting the doorframe. Lights flashed across her vision as if she were being stalked by demonic paparazzi. The image would have made her laugh – no photographer in his right mind would want to take her picture in her present state – but the very idea of laughing made her stomach protest.

Leaning heavily against the wall, she made her way down the hallway to the room where they’d set up the cribs. Both babies were starting to make more noise, and their proximity amplified it to jackhammer levels. “Hush, kids,” she said, but her voice was barely audible. “Hush.”

She made it to the bureau where the baby monitor was located, but could do no more. Finding the alarm button, she hit it, then she hit it again.

“Mom?” Chloe’s voice was thick with sleep.

“I need you, baby,” she husked.

“Mom, can’t I –”

“No! I need you right now!”

“Okay, coming,” her daughter said, resigned.

Maureen heard the thud of bare feet on the stairs from the basement, then Chloe was in the doorway. Her look of annoyance changed immediately to alarm and she rushed to her mother’s side. “Hey! Are you okay?”

Maureen nodded gingerly. “Just a migraine. But . . . it’s bad, honey. I . . . I can’t take the kids. I’ve . . . .” She ran out of steam.

“Of course not,” Chloe soothed. “Don’t you worry. Let’s get you back to bed now. I’ll take care of the babies in a minute.”

“Oh . . . okay.” Maureen couldn’t fight it. She let Chloe guide her back to bed, then took her medicine and drank the water her daughter brought.

“Sorry Mom,” Chloe said. “I’ll be back once I’ve got everyone settled.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Maureen said, closing her eyes gratefully.

Yeah, I’ll just turn my worry button off there, Chloe thought as she hurried back down the hall. God, I’m tired! She knew from long experience that her mother was likely to be out for the count all day; her migraines were fierce and tended to last twelve to twenty-four hours once they set in. There goes Saturday.

David was easiest to calm for short stretches, so she gave him a pacifier and went to work changing Alexis’ sodden diaper. At least they were both weaned now. As she worked, she made soothing noises at her often fussy daughter, but her mind was elsewhere.

Saturdays were her favorite days. Mom had a regular, nine-to-five type weekday job, so Saturdays she was usually willing to take the kids for long enough for Chloe to sleep in, and to do a bit of studying. She was hoping to take her GED in a couple of months, but at this rate that was a pipe dream.

Dad wasn’t usually around; he traveled a lot for work. He was coming home later this morning, but that almost certainly wouldn’t be any help.

“Okay, princess,” she said to Alexis. “You stay in your crib for a bit while I clean up your brother.”

“Ahm-ma!!!”

~o~O~o~
Jason O’Neil slumped back in the rear seat of the Uber. He hated taking red-eye flights, but he had a lot of work to do for a presentation he was giving on Monday and couldn’t afford to spend all of Saturday flying back from LA. He was going to need to get a couple hours of real sleep before he got started, though, or he would be too foggy to concentrate. Whatever dozing he’d managed in the so-called “premium economy” seats of his two flights hadn’t done him any good at all.

But he knew that rest was hard to come by in his once-quiet home. He could never entirely suppress his bitter resentment about that; it was at the back of his mind when it wasn’t curdling the front of it.

“Sir? Mr. O’Neil?”

Jason woke with a start. “Oh, sorry. Long flight.” He thanked the Uber driver, pulled himself out of the car and retrieved his bags from the trunk. Standing on the sidewalk, looking exhausted and feeling defeated, he could already hear the sounds of his crying grandchildren coming from inside. I’m only forty-five! Why do I feel so OLD?

He heaved the front door open and the noise redoubled. Chloe was in the living room with both kids, apparently attempting to comfort David, while Alexis was screaming in frustration and banging some toy or other against the coffee table. He snapped. “What. The. Heck?”

Chloe felt her shoulders slump, though she tried to prevent it. “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, without taking her eyes off of Davy, who’d just lost his balance and fallen. Nothing serious – his crying was more from surprise than anything else.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s got a migraine.”

“And you’re letting this . . . this . . .” Jason’s mind momentarily blanked. “This circus continue?”

“I’m trying –”

“Not good enough! Darnit, Chloe, pack ‘em up and take them somewhere!”

“Where? Daddy, I’m . . . .”

“I don’t care! It’s not raining. You’ve got a double stroller. Go!” With that, he stormed down the hall, leaving his suitcases by the front door. But when he got to the bedroom door, he slowed down, took a calming breath, and opened it as softly as he could.

The blinds and the thick curtains were closed and the lights were off; inside the bedroom it might as well be nighttime. Jason hoped his wife was asleep, but given the racket outside it seemed unlikely.

“Hey.” Her voice was weak; almost no power in it.

He was by the bed in a second. “Hey yourself.”

“Feel awful, you know?”

“You still look beautiful.”

“Liar. God, Jase, it’s bad.”

“I know, sweetie. I asked Chlo to take the kids somewhere. Once they’re gone, I’ll get you an ice pack.”

“Asked?”

“Yeah, okay. Told.”

“She’s trying, babe.”

“I know that. I just guess the whole personal responsibility thing hit exactly one party night too late.”

Maureen didn’t open her eyes, but a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Mo,” Jason said, instantly repentant. “You’ve got enough going on without rehashing everything.”

Her head gave the most minute of shakes. “What are we going to do, hon? We can’t keep on like this.”

His own vision started to blur. Despite his supportive words, the last two years had aged Maureen frightfully; she looked more like she was in her mid-fifties than her forties. She’d struggled with migraines all her life, but they seemed far more frequent now, and he felt like each one took a little piece of her away with it.

But he had no answers. One day they’d been making plans for what their life together would be like when Chloe went off to college, and the next?

“I don’t know, Mo. I just don’t know.”

 

---

 
Cat was cold, hungry, and tired. The bus stop shelter provided a little warmth, though he had no intention of getting on a bus himself. But it was a good place to hook up with buyers on a Saturday morning, when the office buildings downtown were all empty. Might catch some of the college kids, stumbling out for their first coffee. Not too promising, but Wayne had been pretty harsh about Cat’s bad sales numbers. Gotta up your game, man, or you’re out.

Behind his shades, he scanned the area for possible buyers. He saw the girl coming from two blocks away. Young, cute — that didn’t signify, one way or another. But pushing the stroller? Nah. Not likely.

Half a block out he saw her face and reassessed. He knew that look. He’d seen it on the faces of maybe a quarter of his customers — and almost all of his regulars. He saw it in the mirror, often enough. Baby girl, you look like someone who could use a little joy.

He uncoiled from the bench and stretched.

The bus arrived just as the girl got close, and the woosh of its air brakes startled the pair of babies in the stroller, causing them to start making noise. The girl’s look of despair, exhaustion, and simple frustration shot even higher. Yeah, girl, come to poppa.

“Yo, Cat!” A scraggly looking guy hopped down from the bus’s back entrance and hustled his direction. “How you been, man?”

Cat wasn’t familiar with the old saying about birds in the hand, but he understood the concept. “Yo Danny. What’s happ’nin’?” He wasn’t worried about the girl. He knew that look.

She’ll be back.

~o~O~o~

It was almost noon and the kids were hungry and cranky. They’d been startled by that bus, and Chloe hadn’t managed to get them calmed down.

Shit, Chloe thought, I’M hungry and cranky! She hadn’t showered or had anything to eat. No coffee. She’d barely had a chance to throw on a clean top when she maneuvered the kids into the stroller, grabbed the diaper bag, and headed in the general direction of downtown.

She was so frazzled she could barely think. I’ve got to get a bite. And I need to get them out of the stroller. And eating something. There was a coffee shop ahead with an outdoor patio; it looked pretty empty at the moment. Not too surprising; it was a cool April day and most people preferred to be indoors. There were just two women having a chat close to the street, and what looked like some college students in puffer jackets around a table by the entrance to the indoor area.

Chloe felt a stab of jealousy that almost caused her to turn away. That should have been me. I could have been there with them. But a vast gulf separated her life from theirs now, and always would. A high school drop-out with two babies and no prospects . . . .

Becca was just finishing her coffee when she saw the girl with the double baby carriage approach, then hesitate as if uncertain. The girl looked exhausted and terribly, terribly young. What were the kids’ parents thinking, letting her babysit when she looked like that? She’s about to fall over!

The sound of her companion’s chair scraping the pavers startled her. “Sorry, Bec. Let’s talk later, ‘kay?”

Becca smiled, knowing that look. “Okay, superwoman. I’ve gotta run, or you know I’d help.”

In two strides her friend was at Chloe’s side. “Hey, hon,” she said softly. “Come on in. No-one here’s going to bite. Let me help get you settled.”

Chloe was momentarily startled. “Uh . . . Okay.” She allowed herself to be led into the courtyard area.

“Inside or out today?”

“Out . . . outside,” Chloe stammered. “The kids . . . .”

“Yeah, gotcha,” said the mystery woman. “Let’s get you settled here, and I’ll snag a couple high chairs from indoors, ‘kay?” She eased Chloe down onto a seat and dashed into the coffee shop, reemerging with a high chair in each hand before Chloe had even responded to her question.

“Great, thanks,” Chloe managed, starting to get up to take the chairs.

The woman waved her back down. “Relax, hon. You look wiped. I can get ‘em transferred if you want — done it a million times.”

“Really, you don’t have to . . . .” But as before, the thing was almost done before Chloe had time to formulate a response.

As she was moving a very solid David into the chair, the woman looked at Chloe and said, “how do you like your coffee?”

“Strong.” It came out almost without thought. “I’m sorry . . . I mean, I was going to order a latte.”

“Got it — latte with an extra shot. Can the kiddos do yogurt?”

“Yes. I mean . . . .”

But the woman was already gone. The babies were kicking their legs, but they knew that high chairs meant food, and waiting was not on their list of favorite things — or even tolerated things. Chloe grabbed her massive Diaper Bag of Holding from the bottom of the stroller and started rifling through it for foodstuffs.

Just like that, the woman was back with a couple cups of yogurt. Good stuff, too. She handed a cup to Chloe then sat next to Alexis. “Jen will have your latte in a minute. Want me to take care of her?”

Chloe shook her head, as if to clear some brain fog. “Do I know you?”

“Nope,” the woman said cheerfully as she opened the yogurt. “I’m Gayle. . . . Hey, girly-girl! Open wide!” She sent a spoonful of custard past the mouth Alexis opened without hesitation.

“Wait . . . I’ve seen you on television. You’re. . . .” Chloe paused, suddenly unsure how to finish her sentence.

“Gayle Storm, writer, trans activist, and all-around pain in the ass? Yep. That’s me to a ‘T’ — very much to a ‘T.’” Two more spoonfuls followed the first.

Davie began to kick and whimper, seeing his sister eating while he wasn’t. Chloe quickly stopped gawping and got with the program. “So you’re . . . trans?”

“Most people clock me off the bat, but I’ll give you a handicap, seein’ as how you’re distracted and all.”

Chloe flushed. If she’d been paying attention she certainly would have read the woman, who had a sharp nose, a bit too much jaw, an obvious if not crazy Adam’s Apple, and a somewhat husky voice. But Gayle’s whirlwind had kind of taken her aback.

“I never met anyone who was trans before.”

Gayle’s attention stayed focused on Alexis, who was cooing in delight at the yogurt, but she grinned at Chloe’s assertion. “I bet you have, you just didn’t know it. Not everyone was gifted with a neon sign for a face!”

“I’m sorry! You don’t—“

“I do!” Gayle gurgled at the baby — who cheerfully gurgled back — before adding, “don’t worry about it. I haven’t for years.”

“Why are you helping me? I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you don’t know me.”

“Looked like you needed it, that’s all. Oh look, here’s your coffee.”

“Here you go,” a cheerful looking girl said as she deposited a sixteen-ounce to-go cup on the table in front of Chloe, along with a ham-and-cheese stuffed croissant that immediately caused her mouth to water. “Enjoy!” She turned around to head back.

“Wait,” Chloe said. “Can I have the check now? I might need to scoot in a hurry.”

The girl turned back with a smile. “Gayle paid at the register. You’re all set.” She was back inside before Chloe could react.

Chloe shook her head. I feel like I’m moving underwater or something, and everyone else is going regular speed!

“And what’s your name, sweetie pie?” Gayle was making silly faces at the giggling Alexis as she scooped the last of the yogurt from the sides of the cup.

“Lecks!” Alexis responded cheerfully.

“That’s Alexis,” Chloe said, happy to be on firmer ground. “And this fine boy is Davy.”

Gayle beamed at each baby in turn before giving her attention to their mother. “Leaving out someone important, aren’t you?”

“Who . . . Oh! Me! Yeah. I’m Chloe. Don’t know how important I am, though.”

“Are they yours?”

Chloe nodded. “Yep. For better and for worse.”

Gayle touched Chloe’s wrist for a brief second. “Then you're the most important person in the world, aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

Gayle inclined her head towards the two babies. “In their world, anyway. Right?”

“I guess that’s right.” Chloe gave a tentative smile. It felt like it had been a while since her face muscles moved that direction.

“You have some toys or something in that monster bag?”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

“Pass me a couple. I’ll keep ‘em occupied while you have your lunch. Or breakfast. Whatever you want to call it.”

Chloe wanted to protest, but the siren song of a moment’s peace won her over. “Could you? I hate to ask, but I’m desperate for a bite.”

“No worries, Chloe.”

Chloe took a rushed and enormous bite out of the hot croissant and lifted the cup.

“Woa, there, girlfriend!” Gayle laughed. “Slow down — There’s no rush!”

True to her word, Gayle played with the babies for five blessed minutes while Chloe watched and got something in her stomach. She felt herself relaxing. Whatever else Gayle was, she sure as hell had a way with kids.

But she knew it was time to get back on duty. “I can’t thank you enough — that was the best! We’ll let you get back to your day now.”

Gayle smiled. “If these two are like my younger sibs were — and my darling niece is! — they’re gonna want to be changed, then run around for a bit. If you’re up for some company, I’ll give you a hand.”

“Look, you’ve been really nice. But I don’t want to take up your whole day or anything.”

“Chloe.” Gayle’s look was suddenly intense. “If you don’t want company I’ll buzz off. But I’m all tapped out for writing today, my plan to overthrow the government and the patriarchy this afternoon kind of fell through, and I actually like kids. What do you say?”

“I . . . well . . . yes. It’d be great to have some company. If you’re sure?”

Gayle rose, laughing. “Am I sure? My friends would tell you I’m always sure. Of everything, all the time, know what I mean? ‘Often in error but never in doubt.’ That’s me.” She gently pulled Alexis out of the high chair and held her, squealing, level with her eyes. “Booo!”

Ali wiggled and made cheerful noises in return.

They got both kids back in the stroller and made their way towards Sutton Park. Chloe said, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m kind of out of practice talking to anyone who isn’t a baby.” She added, with the barest hint of a frown, “’cept for my folks, of course.”

Gayle was pushing the stroller, so she didn’t have a free hand to offer comfort. “I’m guessing you friends kind of vanished when the babies arrived, didn’t they?”

Chloe’s laugh was bitter. “Got that right! It’s like I’m contagious or something.”

Gayle shrugged. “You faced it early, but it’s pretty normal. People who have babies just don’t have much in common with people who don’t.”

Chloe thought about the group of college kids back at the coffee shop, talking about their classes and whatnot. “No, I guess not. But all the moms I see — they're so much older. And . . . and they look at me, and I just know what they’re thinking. Fuck-up. Loser.”

“Do they think that? Or do you?”

Chloe’s shoulders slumped. “Sometimes, yeah. Lots of times. I mean, I love my kids. I do! But sometimes I just wish . . . .” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t say the words, and she felt the tears start to well up.

They had reached the park, and Gayle bumped the stroller onto the thick grass that was bright with the light green of springtime. Once they were ten or fifteen yards from the edge, she stopped and pulled Chloe into a hug. “I know, hon. That doesn’t make you a bad person, okay?”

“Doesn’t it? I mean, if I hadn’t messed up, I’d be free — but they wouldn’t even be alive!”

“Shhhhhhh,” Gayle soothed. “Regrets are part of being human, girlfriend.”

Girlfriend? That was the second time Gayle had used the term. Chloe wondered whether she meant it, or whether it was just an expression. It feels like forever since I had a girlfriend to talk to.

Alexis started fussing — natch — so they pulled the kids out of the stroller. Chloe occupied Davy while Gayle expertly laid out the changing pad and got Ali a fresh diaper. “Okay, girly-girl,” Gayle said, bringing her upright. “Let’s see how your walking is coming.”

They switched up. Davy took more time, for the usual reason, but soon they had both of the kids changed, dressed, and ready to explore, bouncing with that peculiar toddler gait that seems to be as much vertical as horizontal. The kids had a bee’s attraction to the blooming flowers, the early daffodils and ground-hugging crocuses, so they staggered determinedly in that direction.

Chloe and Gayle followed closely. “They look a lot like you,” Gayle observed.

“Do they? I’m so close, I guess I don’t see it.”

“Your coloring for sure. Same hair, same eyes. Same smile!”

“Well . . . good.” The last word came out a bit more forcefully than Chloe intended.

Gayle gave her a sideways look. “So . . . dad’s not in the picture?”

Chloe shook her head angrily. “No. When Kevin found out I was pregnant, he . . . he wanted me to get an abortion. Said he’d pay for it.”

Gayle touched Chloe’s arm in sympathy, but said nothing.

“I . . . it’s . . . I just couldn’t, you know?”

“Not a choice I’ll ever have to face,” Gayle observed.

Chloe was momentarily startled. Gayle didn’t look very feminine, but interacting with her it was easy to forget. “I, ah . . . I’m religious, you know?”

Gayle smiled. “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”

“Well, no, I’m not. But, you know . . . .”

“I’m guessing your church has a few choice things to say about people like me?”

Chloe recalled plenty of pointed sermons from the O'Neil's pastor on the manifold “errors” of modern society, very much including LGBTQ+ “lifestyles.” “Yeah. I guess.”

“Well, cheer up — I’m not contagious either, so you’re at no risk!”

Chloe had been bracing for a very different reaction, so she couldn’t help but crack up. When she stopped giggling, she said, “Yeah, look. My church isn’t exactly big on sex before marriage, either. I’m not gonna be throwing stones, okay?”

“‘Judge not lest you be judged?’ I like it. Maybe if Jesus had said something like that, people would get off our backs.”

“He did. Matthew, chapter seven, verse one.”

“Yeah,” Gayle said dryly. “Imagine that.”

Again, Chloe laughed. “Walked right into that one.”

They spent some time chasing giggling kids through a maze of bushes. When they found their way back to the grass, Chloe said, “I don’t want to sound like I’m ragging on my church. The ladies collected baby clothes for me when I was in my last trimester. It was a big help right after they were born.”

“Not so much after?”

Chloe shrugged. “It’s not their fault, really. People are busy. I’m, like, non-stop with this, right? It’s a bottomless pit. No one can be there for all of it. Well . . . Mom and Dad. But even with them . . . .” Again her voice trailed off.

“You’re still living with them?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You know, I was s’posed to be off at college now — I was planning to go away. Maybe out to Boston, or down to Florida. Someplace different. Ah, ah, ah, Davy! Not towards the road!”

The little boy dutifully turned back and lurched in his mother’s direction.

“Anyway,” she continued, “getting pregnant was the end of all that. I missed most of the last year of high school. When they were born, we made my room into the nursery. I slept in there at first, but mostly I sleep down in the basement now, so I don’t wake up every time one of them gurgles.”

“How’s that working out?”

“It’s hard. Mom wants to help. I guess they both do. But they’re old, you know? They raised my brothers, then I came along four years later, and they figured they were done. And Mom . . . she gets migraines, like today, and . . . I mean . . . it’s not fair, you know? They raised me right, and I knew better, but I screwed up, and now they’re paying for it!”

“Ah-ma?” Davy was looking at his mother, concern furrowing his tiny features. “Ah-ma OH-kay?”

Chloe scooped him up and cradled him against her chest. “I’m fine sweetie. It’s all good.” She gave Gayle a wistful look. “I’d better head back. They should be ready for an afternoon nap soon.”

Gayle looked at the poor girl, struggling with adult responsibilities she hadn’t wanted and wasn’t prepared for, and her heart went out to her. “Chloe . . . my apartment’s not ten minutes’ walk from here. I’ve got a Pack ‘N Play for when my niece is visiting. Come on over and we can put the kids down, then you can catch some sleep yourself.”

“I don’t know . . . .”

“No, but I do. Call your folks, tell them where we’re going — I’ll give you the address. When we get there, I can put the playpen in the second bedroom with you, and you can lock the bedroom door. You’ll be completely safe.”

Chloe flushed crimson. “I didn’t mean that. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything!”

“You only just met me, and these are your kids. You shouldn’t trust me. Or at least, you should take safeguards.”

“Okay, I . . . I guess I see that. But really, I just meant I didn’t want to be any trouble.”

“Get this through your head, girlfriend. Every person on earth is trouble. You, me, the kids, your folks, everybody. They just are. It doesn’t mean they aren’t worth it.”

“You think that we’re worth it? That . . . that I’m worth it?”

“Yeah, I do. Crazy, right? But I’d kind of like to get to know you better.”

Chloe felt the prick of tears yet again. “Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, you silly goof!” Gayle popped up from the grass and chased a squealing Alexis. “I’m comin’ for you, girly-girl!”

 

---

 
Becca was in the coffee shop’s courtyard again, at her usual seat, idly sketching the flowering trees across from her — the early cherry in pink, and the Bradford Pear in white and green. The magnolia in front of the house across the street was older and more stately, magnificent in its peak. Her hands were flying across the page.

“Hey, girl!”

It took a second to penetrate— it always did — then Becca broke into her shy smile. “Gayle! I didn’t expect to see you this early in the day!”

“Can I join you?”

“Always.” Becca flipped her pad closed and dropped it in her bag, making room for her friend. “I saw you on TV last night.”

Gayle grinned. “Sounding deranged, as usual?”

Becca shook her head, causing her dark hair to float. “Never. You stayed calm, even when they were shouting at you. I don’t know how you do that.”

Gayle gave her friend a fond smile. Becca was always so shy, so reserved. She had never had the family support that Gayle had always been given. “Bec, honey, I can’t even draw a straight line. So maybe we’re even.”

“I don’t know about that,” Becca replied. “I can’t make a living out of drawing. Anyhow . . . I’m so glad we’ve got someone like you who can explain things to people. You had the facts, and the science.”

“And they had the votes. As usual. But damned if I’ll make it easy on them!”

“I know. But be careful, okay? Some of those people . . . .”

“Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke,” Gayle said flippantly. But seeing the worry in her friend’s eyes, she decided it was past time to change the subject. “Anyhow, enough about my crusades. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” Becca replied. “Work’s work. We’re a little slow just now, but Alan’s got a big rewiring job we’ll start next week. Drew’s wonderful, of course. We’re, umm . . . we’re thinking of sharing an apartment.”

Gayle’s eyes grew wide and she beamed. “No kidding! Really?”

Becca nodded, looking almost embarrassed.

“No wonder you weren’t interested in moving in with me!” Gayle giggled.

Becca spoke quickly, softly, and, of course, earnestly. “I would have jumped at your offer otherwise— it was so sweet of you!”

“I’m teasing, hon. You know I’m happy for you.” Becca still looked uncertain, so Gayle pressed the point. “Honest. You two are so good for each other, it’s practically unfair to the rest of humanity.”

Becca was a sensitive soul and she knew Gayle had been alone for a long time – too long. She didn’t doubt Gayle’s good wishes for an instant, but there was something in her voice, something subtle, that suggested that she was not quite as blithe about the subject as she was projecting. “Gayle . . . is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Becca was never one to press. “Sorry. Just had a sense something was on your mind.”

Gayle looked away, then down. Then, finally, back at the friend who was patiently waiting.

“Yeah, okay. Remember the girl with the two babies who came in last time we were here?”

Becca nodded. “Yes — looked like you were getting ready to swing into action.”

“Her name’s Chloe . . . she’s a really sweet girl. And she’s trying so hard to be the best mom she can be. But, God, Bec, she was still seventeen when they were born! She had her whole life planned . . . .”

Once launched, Gayle described Chloe, the kids, and their life in detail. Becca sat silently, watching her friend intently. Hearing everything she said – and all the things she wasn’t saying.

Oh, Gayle, you’ve got it BAD.

“She didn’t even know about the state’s support services and mentoring program they run out of the library! I hooked her up with them, and I think that’ll be good for her. And she’s been coming over most days for a few hours. I help her out with the kids, a bit. Sometimes I give her some time to study for her high school equivalency test. And we talk a lot. Most ways, she’s so young . . . others, she’s older than I’ll ever be.”

Becca let Gayle continue to talk. Finally, when she paused to sip her already cool coffee, Becca asked, “It’s love this time, isn’t it?”

Coffee came out through Gayle’s nose and she started to cough, though she stopped before Becca became alarmed. “What?”

“I’ve seen you rescue lots of people. It’s what you do; I know that. But I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“‘Lots of people!’ You’ll be putting me up for sainthood next!”

Becca refused to be diverted, choosing instead to wait Gayle out. She had more patience in her pinkie than Gayle ever had or ever would have, and she knew it.

Gayle wagged a finger. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“It’s not about me, Gayle. Not this time. If you aren’t comfortable talking, I understand. Completely. You know I’ve been there.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gayle sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. Every time I see her, I just want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the whole world.”

Becca’s shy smile returned. “And maybe sneak a kiss while you’re at it?”

“Not helpful!”

Becca leaned forward, earnest again. “But isn’t that what’s bothering you? It’s not that you want to help — that wouldn’t worry you — it’s that you're attracted to her.”

Gayle pondered that for a minute or two, which was, after all, more time than she spent pondering most things. “You’re right,” she finally confessed. “That is what’s bugging me.”

“But why? Why is it a problem?”

“She needs a friend, Bec. Not a frickin’ troll!”

Becca looked like she’d been punched. “What are you saying? That you don’t think anyone could love you? Just because you’re trans?”

Gayle immediately saw the quicksand. “No! No, Becca, that’s not it, and you know it. Lots of trans people have good relationships, just like you and Drew. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why not you?”

“Let me count the ways. You make a pretty girl — don’t blush, you know it. I know it. God knows Drew knows it. I know what I see in the mirror every day, and it’s not that.” Becca opened her mouth to say something, but Gayle held out a hand to stop her. “And, as far as I know, Chloe’s into guys, which is how she ended up with twins.”

“But you haven’t asked her.”

“No.”

Becca sat back, looking at her friend, probably the strongest and most decisive person she’d ever met. Someone who would leap into the lion’s den for a friend — or even someone she’d just met. A tireless advocate for the trans community. Suddenly looking as lost and uncertain as . . . well, as Becca herself had been, not so very long ago. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay. Honest.”

“You think?”

“I do. But, Gayle . . . .”

“I knew there was a ‘but.’”

“You’ve got to let her inside.”

Gayle dropped her head into her hands. “Fuuuuuuck!”

~o~O~o~
“Mrs. Ryder called earlier.” Maureen was getting some dinner ready. The babies were napping, and Chloe had just come upstairs after getting in an hour of study.

Chloe’s guts clenched. “What did she want?”

Reacting to Chloe’s tone, Maureen said, “Listen, honey. You know it’s not fair to be blaming her —“

“I’m not,” Chloe said sharply, cutting her mother off. “It’s just that she never calls with good news.”

“Well . . . she wanted to tell me that Kevin is thinking seriously about medical school, and . . . .” Maureen stopped, seeing her daughter’s eyes squeeze shut. “What?”

“Mom, Gayle’s right. We need — I need — to get a lawyer.”

“Gayle, Gayle, Gayle! That’s all you talk about these days! Gayle said this, and Gayle said that! But 'Gayle' doesn’t know Tammy and Bill Ryder, and we do. We can trust them!”

Chloe took a deep breath to keep herself from snapping back at her mom. “Gayle’s a friend, Mom.” The first friend I’ve had in forever! And, unlike YOUR friends, she isn’t in Kevin’s corner!

“Your father and I haven’t even met her!”

“I’m almost twenty, Mom! You don’t need to vet my friends anymore!” It came out a little more vehemently than Chloe intended; there were good reasons she hadn’t told her parents much about Gayle – or introduced her. I can’t face that just now.

“I’m not asking to. But this is important, and I don’t think outsiders have any business poking their noses in our business.”

Chloe stopped herself from another outburst. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “You’re right; it is important. Forget about Gayle for a minute. Can we just maybe have a cup of tea and talk about why I might need legal help?”

Maureen looked at her daughter suspiciously, but . . . it wasn’t an unreasonable request, and she was being pretty adult about it. Something she herself had always tried to encourage. “Okay. But I still say . . . .” She stopped herself. “Okay. I’ll make some tea.”

A few minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table, steaming mugs at their sides. Maureen decided she’d let Chloe say her piece. “So, what’s this all about?”

“I know the idea was that we could just do this with an informal understanding. Kev would be able to earn more if he got a college degree, so we’d be better off waiting ‘til then before getting any sort of child support. Now he wants to go to med school —”

“Doctors make a lot more money,” Maureen interjected.

“I know that,”Chloe snapped, but then stopped herself again. “I know,” she said more calmly. “But it’ll take years longer, and who knows what he’ll decide after that? We’ve — I’ve — got no control over what he does.”

“He’s not interfering with your decisions about the kids,” Maureen pointed out.

“Because he doesn’t care about them.”

“What a thing to say!”

“Mom. He hasn’t even tried to see them. Not that I’m complaining, but he hasn’t.”

“Well, he’s been busy . . . .”

Chloe closed her eyes again. Even after everything that had happened, her mom couldn’t seem to get the image of a ten-year-old Kevin Ryder out of her head. She always thought of him as the “good boy” he’d been back then. Somehow, Chloe felt her mom even blamed her for seducing him. Her parents – and, she knew, the Ryders – had urged her and Kevin to “do the right thing” and get married, but they’d both refused.

“Can you please trust that I know Kevin as he is today better than you do?”

Maureen bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue.

Yeah, I’ll just bet you do!

She knew that wouldn’t be productive, and her daughter was trying to tell her something important. “Okay, Chloe. But what aren’t you telling me? Why don’t you trust Kevin to do what he said? He hasn’t denied they’re his kids.”

Chloe had never told her parents about Kevin’s suggestion that she get an abortion. Maybe I should have, but it would kill them. How much can she take? “He’s never acknowledged them in writing. And . . . he has said things to me privately . . . .” His hurtful words echoed in her head.

“Baby,” Maureen said carefully. “What kinds of things has he said to you privately? What are you worried about?”

I guess I have to share this part, at least. “He thought I might have slept with other guys too.” It was barely a whisper, and Chloe braced herself for the question that would cut her to the core.

It didn’t come. “What?” Maureen was incredulous. “”You didn’t even look at another boy since you were, I don’t know. Twelve? He actually said that?”

“Yeah.” Chloe’s voice was shaky; she’d been sure her mom wouldn’t believe her. “He did. He couldn’t very well deny that we’d . . . well, done it Not after his parents came home early during that party and caught us. But he was looking for an out.”

“Tammy and Bill both said —“

Chloe cut her mother off. “I know what they said. But we’re talking about Kevin, not his parents.”

Maureen sat back in her chair, trying to reconcile everything she knew about Kevin Ryder from what her daughter was telling her. It just didn’t seem to fit. “Baby . . . You never said anything about any of this until you started talking to this Gayle person. You barely even know her.”

Again Chloe felt a flare of anger; she hadn’t even realized how close she’d come to the end of her rope before Gayle had stepped into her life. “I told you. Gayle’s a friend. We talk. And, yeah, she’s helped me think about stuff.”

“Maybe,” Maureen said dubiously. “But are you sure she isn’t just, you know . . . .”

Chloe waited, but her mom just left the sentence unfinished. “No, Mom, I don’t know. Suppose you tell me?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady!”

“Alright!” Again, Chloe worked to calm down. “Alright. I didn’t mean to snap. But I really don’t know what you’re suggesting. What do you think she’s doing?”

“It’s like she’s filling your mind up with questions. Doubts. We’ve — your father and I — we’ve tried to make things safe here for you and the kids. I just worry.”

“Worry about what?”

“Oh, baby girl. You’re a mom now. You should know — the worry doesn’t have to attach to anything. Moms worry about everything.”

Chloe reached out and took hold of her mom’s hand. “Yeah, I get that, for sure. And I guess I get that the worry doesn’t go away. But I’ve got to grow up sometime, and growing up means asking hard questions. Doesn’t it?”

Maureen sighed. “I guess so.”

“And Gayle’s right about one thing — with the questions I’ve got, I’m going to need to talk to a lawyer.”

“We’ve been friends with the Ryders for — gosh. Close to twenty years.” Maureen shook her head sadly.

“I’m not talking about suing anyone,” Chloe said. Yet. “I just need to find out what I need to do to protect the kids. And me, I guess.”

“You?”

“Mom, what happens down the road if ‘Dr. Kevin Ryder’ decides he doesn’t think I’m a fit mother for ‘his’ kids?”

“Wait . . . a minute ago you were saying he didn’t care and was looking for a way out!”

“I know, Mom. But the point is, right now, I’ve got no control. No security. If he acknowledges the kids and if he honors his parents’ promise, maybe someday there’ll be some money for the kids. But if he does that, will he fight me for them? I just don’t know. And I might need to file things sooner rather than later to protect myself and the kids.”

Maureen sat with that for a minute. “Okay, sweetie. Let me talk to your dad.”

 

---

 

Chloe woke up slowly, feeling groggy. She heard the sound of voices — no, just one voice — coming from the other room. Gayle. She rubbed her eyes and immediately checked the Pack ‘N Play where the babies had been sleeping. Empty.

She pulled herself up and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Didn’t get a shower this morning — again. Oh well. The clock said six thirty, so Gayle had let her get an extra hour.

She cracked the door and saw Gayle on the couch, Alexis on one side and David on the other. “Jeep comes out — Sheep shout!” She turned the page. “Sheep cheer. Oh dear! The driver sheep forgets to steer.”

The kids giggled as Gayle showed them the picture.

Gayle looked up, caught Chloe’s eye, and smiled. But she turned another page and read, “Jeep in a heap. Sheep weep.”

The sight of the wrecked jeep was apparently just what the kids were waiting for; they broke out into fits of giggles. Then Davy spotted Chloe. “Mah-mah!”

That got them both going, so Chloe would need to cuddle them both. They could be terrors, but there sure were times . . . .

Gayle rose and gave Chloe her place on the couch. “Here, girl — you finish the book, will you? Let me check on dinner.”

“Wait — you cooked?”

“Yeah — you said your folks were doing a church thing tonight, so I figured you might want something.”

Chloe shook her head. “Are you some kind of angel?”

“You might want to withhold judgment on that ‘til you’ve tried my cooking,” Gayle warned.

Chloe laughed and then, at her kid’s urgent insistence, returned her attention to the travails of the sheep in a jeep. Two more stories later — there were sequels, and Gayle had them all — it was time to eat.

“You got a second high chair?”

“It’s a loaner,” Gayle explained. “My brother said I should try it out while they’re taking Haley out to Colorado to visit Kayla’s folks.” She lifted Davy up and slid him into the chair — a clever design that latched on to the table.

Chloe put Ali into the stand-alone chair and slid the tray in place, while Gayle served up the simple dinner of chicken, rice and broccoli. In the kid’s case, the meat and vegetables had been chopped, mixed with the rice, and served in sturdy plastic bowls with big plastic spoons.

The food was nothing special, but Chloe didn’t mind. Simple food suited her just fine — especially if she didn’t have to cook it. By the time they had eaten and done a quick clean of both the kitchen and the kids, it was past eight and getting dark.

“I’d drive you home,” Gayle said, “but I’ve only got one car seat.” Gesturing toward the double-stroller, she asked, “Those things don’t pop out, do they?”

“‘Fraid not. It’s fine, though. It’s a nice evening, and it only takes twenty minutes to walk. They’ll be out cold by the time I’m home.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

“We’ll be fine, honest!”

“I’m sure you will — ‘cuz I’m gonna see to it!”

Chloe laughed. “Are you always this pushy?”

“Booyeah, girlfriend!”

Chloe laughed again, and found herself thinking how much she had laughed, these past few weeks – and how long it had been, before that. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly serious. “I’d like that.”

By the time they’d gotten both kids changed and into onesies (so they could be poured into bed upon arrival), and gotten everything and everyone out to the street, it was completely dark. But there was a full moon, and it was the sort of town with lots of lights. Gayle pushed the stroller while Chloe strolled at her side.

After a block or so, they picked up their conversation from earlier in the afternoon. “So, the lawyer is pushing for a formal agreement?”

Chloe nodded. “Yep. And she suggested we do a paternity test if Kevin wants to try to wriggle out of it.”

“But that will mean going to court.”

“Only if he fights it. If he’s willing to do an agreement, we don’t need to, like, sue and stuff.”

“What do your parents think?”

“Super unhappy, of course. They’re tight with Kevin’s parents, who are also kind of big deals in their church. They’re worried this will, you know, blow up somehow.”

Gayle clenched her teeth. She couldn’t believe the O’Neils were being so short-sighted, but it absolutely wasn’t her place to say so.

They’d gone another half block when Chloe chuckled. “Alright, Gayle. It’s not like you to be quiet!”

“No shit,” Gayle growled. “It sure isn’t. But this is a family thing, and I’m not family. You guys have to hash it out.”

Chloe absorbed that as they walked further. “Funny,” she said after a half block more. “You feel like family. Closer than my brothers, for sure!”

Gayle’s heart sank. “Like sisters?”

She’d gone on a few paces before she realized that Chloe hadn’t followed. Turning, she saw her friend looking at her strangely.

“Does it feel like sisters . . . to you?” Chloe’s voice was soft.

You are so beautiful, Gayle thought. Standing there in a pool of moonlight. And you don’t even know it. How can you not know?

Chloe closed the distance between them, standing near enough to touch. “I want to know. Is that how you feel?”

“Why?” Gayle whispered.

Chloe looked at the woman who had rescued her, cared for her kids, listened to her dramas and her nonsense, and who seemed — for the first time ever — to be unsure of herself. “Because I want you to kiss me, and I wouldn’t want to kiss a sister.”

“But I’m —“

“Uh uh!” Chloe wagged a finger, then pointed to her lips. “Here. Right here.”

Gayle brought up both hands and framed Chloe’s cheeks before bending down and planting the softest kiss upon her lips. “Like that?”

“Good start — real good start! Maybe a bit less sisterly?”

This time the kiss was deeper, more passionate, and left no doubt about the nature of their respective feelings. “Much better,” Chloe breathed.

Gayle felt a bit dazed and inhaled deeply. The heady fragrance of azaleas in full bloom did nothing to clear her mind. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you walked into Gordon’s.”

“Really? I’ve wanted you to do it since I tasted your chicken.”

That managed to lighten the mood. Gayle laughed and slipped an arm around Chloe’s trim waste. “Take a handle?”

“Sure thing!” And they walked arm-in-arm, pushing the stroller with one hand each.

After a while, Chloe said, “Gayle . . . why did you wait? Was it the kids?”

“You know better than that! I love the kids. I just . . . well. I mean, relationships don’t come easy for transwomen.”

“But you do like girls, right? I mean, that was a really good kiss!”

“Always have. But I didn’t think you did.”

“Oh.” Chloe tapped her index finger on the stroller they were pushing. “I guess I can see why you’d figure that. I was as boy crazy as the next girl back in school; didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe you don’t see me as female?” Gayle tried to keep her tone neutral, but her heart was pounding.

“I hadn’t really thought about that either,” Chloe said reflectively. “Honestly, I was just thinking about you, and how much I wanted to kiss you. I wasn’t checking boxes.”

Gayle started to chuckle, and somehow couldn’t stop.

“What?” Chloe laughed, unable to keep from joining in. “What did I say?”

“It’s only what I’ve been preaching for, God, I don’t know? Ten years, maybe? Since I was fifteen or so? That we should stop caring about labels, and start caring about people.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They kept walking.

 

---

 
Chloe shut off the light in the bedroom. Davy was definitely out like a light. Ali’s eyes were closed, but her little lips were still smacking, like she was thinking about food. That girl’s ALWAYS thinking about food! Still . . . she should sleep now.

It was eight o’clock, but with the solstice in just a couple weeks it was still light out, and some of that seeped past the heavy shades. She only had about an hour or so to study before her shift started, but she was reluctant to make the trek down to the basement. She’d have to go past the living room, where she’d left her parents when she’d taken the kids off to get ready for bed.

Things were pretty tense right now. Kevin’s parents had been incredibly offended at the idea that some sort of written agreement was required, and after a couple of days they sent Jason a stiff little email saying that Kevin wouldn’t sign one. Not the one the lawyer had drafted, and not any other kind of agreement either. They’d decided to dress his refusal up in church clothes, naturally. “We’ve always followed the Lord’s injunction to let our ‘yes’ mean ‘yes’ and our ‘no’ mean ‘no,’ and we thought you did too.”

Whatever.

Jason and Maureen had been unhappy with the Ryder’s attitude, but they’d been downright frosty with Chloe for causing trouble. Make that, “more trouble.” She’d been walking on eggshells ever since. Her only source of relief was the time she was able to spend with Gayle.

Of course, that brought its own sources of worry. Gayle had urged her to be upfront with her parents about who she was seeing, but hadn’t pushed because she “wasn’t family.” I just can’t deal with that right now, Chloe thought, for probably the hundredth time.

She heard the sound of the TV coming from the living room, and knew that increased her odds of getting downstairs without an argument. With a sigh and a tightening of her gut muscles, she stepped out and closed the bedroom door behind her softly. As she passed the living room, she said, “I’m going to head downstairs. See you in the morning.”

Her mother looked her way long enough to say “good night,” but the delivery was without affection. Her dad’s attention stayed fixed on the TV.

Gayle glanced at the screen to see what they were watching and was unsurprised to see it was local news. What was surprising was that some reporter was interviewing their pastor. Just then the screen cut away to some talking heads in a newsroom. “And joining us this evening to discuss this important topic is local author and trans rights advocate Gayle Storm.”

The screen split to show Gayle, clearly joining the conversation by Zoom from her apartment. “Thank you for having me.”

Chloe’s “Oh!” of surprise came out before she could stop herself.

Maureen looked from her daughter’s surprised face to the TV, and the lightbulb went on. Rising from the couch she said, “Oh, my God! That’s ‘Gayle?’”

Chloe stood stock still, frozen in terror.

Jason glanced away from the screen, annoyed, until what his wife had said suddenly broke through. “Are you kidding me? That’s your new ‘friend?’”

“That’s who’s been poisoning your mind! Turning you against your friends! Isn’t it?” Maureen’s voice rose, overriding the television.

“Mom! Dad! Stop! The babies just got to sleep! Can we talk about this like adults?”

Jason snapped, “I’ll stand up and cheer the day you start acting like an adult, but I’m not going to hold my breath!”

“What were you thinking?” Maureen still hadn’t gotten her voice under control. “We trusted you!”

God! Chloe thought, hopelessly, it’s all happening again! Just like that horrible night of the party when Kevin’s parents found us in bed! I can’t do anything right! “You don’t understand. Please! Gayle’s a good person! She’s –”

Jason cut her off. “You know better. You were raised better. You know how we feel about all this woke nonsense. That person is a menace.”

Alexis’ sleepy voice broke through the cacophony of voices, both real and electronic. “Momma?”

Before Chloe could use this distraction to escape, Maureen said, “I’ll get her settled again. Jason, talk some sense into your daughter — quietly!” She stalked down the hall and went into the nursery.

Jason sat, retrieved the remote and shut off the TV. First the Ryders, now this! How do I REACH this kid? Trying his best to keep his voice down and his temper in check, he said, “Sit. Talk to me. You knew we wouldn’t approve of you hanging out with some trans person. Why did you hide it from us?”

“Okay,” Chloe said. She wanted to sound okay. To sound mature, and not like the errant child they always saw when they looked at her. But she just didn’t have it in her.

She sank into one of the living room chairs. “Gayle’s just been really nice, and I knew you wouldn’t understand, and . . . and I just didn’t have the energy to fight about it. Okay?”

“You deceived us, and you snuck around behind our backs.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Oh, come on. You said it yourself. You knew we wouldn’t approve, so you didn’t say anything. That sounds like sneaking around to me.”

“I’m not sixteen anymore. I am old enough to choose my own friends.”

“What about your children, Chloe? You’re indoctrinating them to accept that trans lifestyles are just fine, and that’s supposed to be okay?”

“Seriously? Do you think they understand the difference between men and women? Or that only girls get to wear dresses? They’re eighteen months old!”

“That’s not the point,” Jason said firmly. “Your mother and I have done our best to help you raise those two kids. You can’t ask us to do that, and then pretend we don’t have any role in deciding how they’re brought up. We’ve got values, Chloe. We thought you shared them!”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve got to stop seeing this Gayle person,” Jason said. “She’s not good for you, and she’s a bad example for the kids. This has got to stop.”

“No! You can’t ask me to do that! You can’t!”

Maureen came back into the room. “She’s asleep again. . . . Honey, your father’s right. It’s for the best. I know it’s hard, but you’ll understand in time.”

Chloe looked at her parents with despair. They were good people, and they loved her, and she’d hurt them horribly. She wanted so badly to stop hurting them. But . . . “I can’t, Mom. Dad. I can’t. I love her.”

“What?” Maureen asked weakly.

Seeing the shock on his wife’s face, Jason wanted to scream, but couldn’t risk waking the kids. His anguish and fury came out nonetheless. “Damn it, Chloe! Stop it! Can’t you see you’re killing her?”

Chloe stumbled to her feet. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Look, I can’t do this right now, I need to get ready to work!” Before they could say anything else, she charged down the stairs, barely able to see through her tears. Mercifully, they didn’t follow her.

It was easily five minutes before she got herself to the point where she could even see. When she finally could, she fished out her phone and sent Gayle an urgent, desperate text.

Their back-and-forth was intense and lasted until Chloe was almost out of time. She’d been afraid to call, much as she wanted to, for fear that she’d be overheard, so she poured out the news in short blasts.

When she was done, she typed, Sorry. Gotta log on 4 work.

K. R U & kids safe?

Chloe had no trouble answering that one. Yes.

I love you all.

Love you, too! So much

Then we’ll make it work.

K. But I don’t know how

Trust me

Chloe saw her first work call come up on the screen. She frantically typed, I do! Gotta go bye, before taking the call.

Back in her apartment, Gayle leaned back in her chair — the comfortable one she used when she was writing. The glass of wine she’d poured for herself after she’d finished the local news hit sat untouched on her table; she just looked at it. Am I ready for this? Is she?

But her mind’s eye could only see Chloe as she’d been that first night, standing in a pool of moonlight and mystery. Welp. I guess we’re both gonna find out!

She closed her eyes and considered the whole tangled mess the way she approached her advocacy work. Putting herself in other people’s shoes, trying to imagine the world from their perspective. Seeing the relationships between people like lines in a communications grid, figuring out where they crossed. Finding the pressure points. Assessing contingencies and planning for them . . . .

It only took a few moments. Then Gayle reached for her phone, a look of intense focus on her sharp features.

 

---

 
Chloe was awake, but didn’t want to get up.

I am SO done, she thought. Stick a fork in it.

She could hear sounds coming from the kitchen above her; someone was clearly up. No sounds coming from the baby monitor, so the kids were still sleeping. No way I can rely on Mom to deal with them this morning. I need to get up.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text.

Come on, she told herself. Rolling off the couch, she went over to the desk and retrieved her phone from the charging pad. As she expected, the text was from Gayle: Hey beautiful. Nice morning to take the kids to the park.

Chloe sent back, ???

Trust me

I do but whats going on

See you soon

????

No response. Chloe was about to call Gayle when she heard Davy on the monitor. “Fuck!” she muttered as she dashed upstairs.

The noises from the kitchen were her father, who looked grim but collected. He stopped her just long enough to say, “Take care of the kids, but we’re going to have a serious conversation later.”

“Okay, Dad,” she said, happy to escape, but knowing the reprieve would be a short one. And what's Gayle up to?

By the time she had the kids changed, dressed and fed, it was 8:00 o’clock and Maureen was up as well. The atmosphere was so tense that even the babies could sense it, and they were cranky.

“Mom, can you watch them for a couple minutes while I grab a quick shower?”

“Fine. Go.”

Jason watched his daughter retreat to the bathroom, then gave his wife a searching look. Their conversation the prior night hadn’t settled anything. In the end, he had simply held her for almost an hour as she wept quietly, before finally falling asleep.

Maureen caught his glance and shrugged. What can we do? Alexis tugged on her slacks and held up a dog-eared copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

“Okay, sweetie,” she sighed. It’ll keep them busy for a bit. She sat herself down on the couch with a grandchild on each side, and started going through the picture book with them, taking just a moment to catch Jason’s eye. “Jase? Coffee?”

He managed a tired smile. “Sure thing, hon.”

Chloe was as quick as she could be in the bathroom, but she looked like a wreck and just knew that wouldn’t do. A half hour later, she was clean, her hair was dry, and she was wearing fresh underwear, pants and a top. It didn’t make her problems disappear, but it sure helped her to face them.

She couldn’t help noticing that her parents looked as bad, and as worn out, as she did. I can’t keep doing this to them! “Listen — I know we need to talk. But let me take the kids to the park and run off their energy for a while. When they’re down for their morning naps, we’ll talk, okay?”

Jason looked at her suspiciously. “I don’t want you seeing Gayle.”

“Dad. I will be back in a couple hours. We can hash all this out then. I promise.”

“She’s right, Jase. Not in front of the kids, okay?” Maureen’s voice was thin and tired.

“Alright,” Jason almost growled. “But don’t think we’re going to change our minds.”

Chloe decided that would have to be good enough. It took fifteen minutes to get the kids ready and bundled into the stroller, but she finally managed. Once the house was no longer in view, she shot Gayle a text. On my way.

Good, Gayle replied. I’ve got a surprise for you.

Fifteen minutes later, Sutton Park was in view. She had picked up her pace when a creepy guy started following her back on Appletree Boulevard, and had made good time.

It was technically still spring, but the trees and shrubs had shifted to the deep greens of summer, and the well-watered grass was lush. Chloe could see Gayle squatting on the grass, talking to a dark-haired young woman who was making chalk drawings on the paved path that wound around and down to the playscape. Chloe waved and Gayle rose, smiling, to beckon her over.

Gayle called over as they got close. “Hey Ali! Davy! Come meet Becca!”

The dark-haired woman rose, smiling shyly. “Hi!”

Chloe did a double-take as she looked at the drawing on the pavement – a magical forest scene with rabbits, foxes, a lion . . . . “Oh my goodness!”

“Let’s get the kids out,” Gayle urged. “Bec wants to show them how to do chalk drawings!”

The next few minutes were taken up with getting Alexis and David out of the stroller and introducing them to someone new. Ali was pretty outgoing, but Davy tended to be shy. Something about Becca, a girl whose first instinct was always to step back, reassured him. Soon they were sitting on the grass next to her as she showed them all the creatures in her sketch.

Gayle guided Chloe over to a bench, close enough that the kids would feel secure. “How are you doing?”

“I’m a wreck,” Chloe confessed. “You were right – I should have told my parents up front!” It was all she could do to keep her voice down, and keep any sign of distress from reaching Ali or Davy.

Gayle shook her head. “Don’t worry about that. The most important thing is that all of you are safe. The next most important thing is, you have options.”

“But I don’t,” Chloe disagreed. “I can’t take care of the kids on what I make working part-time for a call center, and as long as I live with Mom and Dad, they control me!”

“You can live with me. All three of you.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide. “Gayle . . . I love you. I can’t believe you’d offer that. But how could I? I’d just be a burden. You don’t know what it’s like, dealing with all three of us, all the time.”

“I'll find a way to make it work. My friend Matt has access to a moving van. He can be at your house with a half-hour’s notice, and we can have you packed up and out in two hours.”

Chloe shook her head. “My parents would never allow that.”

“You’re not a minor anymore. They can’t stop you from leaving.”

“They’d call the cops!”

“I beat them to it. The duty sergeant is a friend of mine – Donna Craft. I gave her a heads-up last night that we might need help today, and why.”

Chloe was alarmed. “What? You made a report to the police?”

“Nothing like that,” Gayle assured her. “This was just an informal call to a friend. A sort-of warning flare in case something happened. I do it all the time when we’re planning rallies and have any reason to think that there might be trouble.”

“Holy Moly,” Chloe said, reverting to the gentle language of her youth and causing Gayle to smile. “You’re serious!”

“Absolutely. But Chloe, I'm not trying to force you to do anything. You need to do what’s best for you and for the kids, and only you know what that is. I just want to make sure you know that you do have options. And that I love you – and Ali and Davy – and will respect whatever choice you make.”

Chloe couldn’t speak, she was so overcome with emotions. She reached over and grabbed Gayle’s hand, twining their fingers together. But her eyes were on her kids, sitting with their legs splayed in front of them, earnestly marking up the sidewalk with hunks of chalk that they clutched in their tiny fists. Becca was talking to them, but her voice was so low Chloe couldn’t make out what she was saying.

The minutes passed in silence; the only sound the woosh of traffic on the street nearby, and the monotone buzz of a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. Chloe’s reverie was finally broken by a blue jay’s raucous scolding, and she sighed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Gayle asked, uncharacteristically softly.

Chloe kept her eyes focused on the kids, but made no move to release Gayle’s hand. “I loved Kevin so much when I was younger. I never saw him for what he was, until it was too late. But what you and I have had, these past few weeks – I’ve never felt anything like that. I want to believe it’s real. I want to believe I could move in with you, and everything would be wonderful.” She lapsed into silence, watching Becca patiently help Ali pick another color.

Gayle was just as glad that Chloe was not looking at her; she knew she wore her heart on her sleeve. This isn’t about you, Gayle, she told herself sternly. “I sense a ‘however’ coming.”

Chloe nodded. “I’m . . . I’m not ready. Not yet. And honestly, I really don’t want to keep hurting my parents. It would kill them if I did something like that.” She finally looked at Gayle, seeing the pain she couldn’t hide. “But I don’t want to stop seeing you, either!”

Gayle put her other hand on top of their clasped fingers. “I understand.”

“Do you? Can you?” Chloe shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know how to fix this! Gayle – do you believe in prayer?”

“After a fashion.” Gayle’s smile was crooked. “I do a mean Hail Mary.”

~o~O~o~

After Chloe and the kids left the house, Jason and Maureen went back to the kitchen table, despondent. “What will we do if she refuses, Jase? We can’t just kick her out!”

He shook his head. “While she lives here, she’s got to follow our rules. I don’t care if she’s sixteen or sixty.”

Maureen shook her head. “I remember when I was carrying her . . . our miracle baby. Thought we’d never have another, with all the trouble I’d had with the twins’ birth. And I could feel God’s presence. Like I was cradled in the palm of His hand. And now . . . Nothing. It’s like I’m dead to Him.”

Jason took his wife’s hand, but had no words. He felt the same hollowness at his own core, and had, ever since that awful night two years ago, when Bill Ryder had called him in tears. “Jason . . . Jason, I don’t even know how to begin to tell you this . . . .”

Just then, the doorbell rang. It didn’t occur to Jason to ignore it. People knocked on your door, you answered it. Life goes on.

When he saw who was there, he felt a wash of intense relief. “Pastor Hecht! The Good Lord knows we need you! Please, please come in!”

Alvin Hecht was not a demonstrative man, but his parishioner’s evident distress touched him deeply. “Thank you, Jason. Is . . . Oh, good morning, Maureen. So good to see you both.”

Maureen had jumped up as soon as she heard the pastor’s dry and distinctive voice. “I’m so sorry, I look like a fright! Can I . . . would you like some coffee? Tea?”

“You look fine, really. And I’ll join you in whatever you’re having.”

“Come sit down, then, I’ll get a cup.”

Once they were all served and sitting at the table, Maureen said, “what can we do for you, Pastor? It’s not like you to drop in so early.”

“Put that aside for a minute,” he replied. “Based on your greeting, Jason, I’d say my arrival was well-timed. What’s troubling you?”

Jason and Maureen shared a look. After twenty-five years of marriage, three kids and four grandchildren, they needed no words to communicate understanding. He’s family. They poured out the story. First in a trickle, then in a flood.

Alvin listened carefully, both to the words and to the anguish behind them. When they were done, he laid a hand on each of theirs. “You have got to stop blaming yourselves. You raised a beautiful child. A good child.”

“How can you say that?” Jason asked. “After all she did?”

“I welcomed your daughter into the church. I’ve taught her, and watched her grow up. You two are maybe too close to this to see it. Maybe too ready to view Chloe’s mistakes as a reflection on you.”

“Mistakes!” Maureen shook her head. “Having sex at seventeen isn’t just a little slip up!”

“It’s a sin, and a serious one,” Alvin agreed. “It’s also a common one, as you know. Probably true of most young people in the church. Most older people too, for that matter.”

This was not what Jason expected to hear from his upright, God-fearing pastor, and he couldn’t keep his surprise from showing.

“Jason,” Alvin said gently, “I’m a theologian by training, but being a pastor means trying to understand people. We all make mistakes. We all sin. And, somehow, we all have to find a way to get up and keep going. I’d say Chloe’s done pretty well that way.”

Jason shook his head. “But that’s what we’ve been telling you. She’s gone and done it again — now she's running around behind our backs with this . . . this transsexual!”

“An abomination!” Maureen added, agreeing.

“Hmmmm. Have you actually met this person?”

“Certainly not!” Jason said. “Chloe knew how we would feel about someone like that!”

Alvin gave them a crooked smile. “Would it surprise you to know that I’m very well acquainted with Gayle Storm?”

“I assumed you’d know her. I mean, him. Or . . . God, I don’t even know what word to use!” Maureen said. “You’ve done debates.”

“And did a good job, too,” Jason said, nodding emphatically. “I was so proud to see you defend Christian values!”

“Yes,” Alvin replied. “Gayle’s arguments, in my view, defy tradition and represent clear error. But you can’t simply define Gayle by her errors, any more than you can define Chloe that way — or me, or anyone else.”

Jason gaped. “Pastor . . . What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t believe in shunning someone just because they’ve made a mistake, or have erroneous beliefs. My job is bringing people back to God; I can’t do that by chasing them away.”

“You’ve preached that gay lifestyles, trans lifestyles —“

“Are inconsistent with the Gospel,” Alvin finished. “Yes. Gayle disagrees with my interpretation of scripture. As a Christian, it’s my duty to give witness, not to pass judgment. If you had met her, or if you’d read her book, you would know that she is as serious about her own search for God as I am.”

“Her book?” Maureen said, making it a question.

“It’s called ‘TRANScendance,’ and it’s about her personal journey to hold on to faith. It’s actually quite good – even some original work with primary sources.” Alvin smiled. “Full of tyro mistakes, of course, and the theology isn’t going to change the minds of any serious Bible scholar. She was all of twenty-three when she wrote it, and it shows.”

The pastor’s description made Jason even more worried. “Then . . . well. It sounds dangerous.”

“Dangerous? No. I think her theology is wrong, and unlike Gayle, I have decades of study and centuries of tradition to back me up. But anyone who seeks the Divine with Gayle’s intensity and passion should be encouraged, and I do. Who knows? I may convert her yet.”

Jason was confused. “Shouldn’t we fight wrong ideas?”

“Of course – by presenting the truth, as revealed in scripture. Forcefully, but also lovingly. That’s what Jesus did. And unlike me, Jesus knew the mind of God.”

Maureen decided it was time to bring the conversation back to the here-and-now. “What do you think we should do? What would you do if Chloe were your daughter?”

“I would trust her.”

“Trust her!” Maureen shook her head.

“Yes,” Alvin said, emphatically. “She’s almost twenty and she’s been raising the kids for eighteen months now. Doing a good job, from everything you’ve said and I’ve seen. She isn’t a child anymore. If you raised her well — and despite your self-doubts, you absolutely did! — you’ve got to trust her to make her own decisions as an adult.”

“But what if she wants to hang out with this Gayle person?” Jason asked. “The babies might grow up thinking that it’s okay for a man to pretend he’s a woman!”

“I’ve been around long enough to remember how you used to feel, when your mother, rest her soul, tried to fix how you were raising the boys.”

Jason flushed. “That was different!”

Alvin shrugged. “It was, and it wasn’t. Living with Chloe and the kids, you’ve kind of naturally slipped into a co-parenting role. But like I said before, Chloe’s an adult, so you need to let her be the parent. And maybe you both wouldn’t look so haunted, if you just stepped back and let yourselves be grandparents, the way you are with Mike’s two girls.”

Maureen found herself nodding slowly. “I guess I can see that. But she lives here. How are we supposed to deal with . . . with ‘Gayle?’”

“She might surprise you. If it would help, I can introduce you.”

Suddenly it all clicked for Jason. “That’s why you’re here! She put you up to this!”

“She asked me to pray about it.” He chuckled. “She asked pretty forcefully, but that’s Gayle. When you get to know her, you’ll understand.”

“I notice you call Gayle ‘her,’” Jason said.

“I also call her ‘Gayle.’ It’s a courtesy. Do I believe she’s female? No. In fact, when I think about Gayle and Chloe together, what I see is a guy and his girl. Gayle doesn’t see it that way, of course, and I have no idea how your daughter sees it. I’m sure God’ll sort it out, but in the meantime, it doesn’t cost me anything to be polite.”

And, I’ve got a better chance of catching flies with honey!

Jason looked startled, then thoughtful. “I . . . guess?” He looked a question at Maureen, and again they reached a wordless understanding. “I guess I would appreciate it if you introduced us.”

“Excellent,” Alvin replied, beaming at them. “Why don’t you shoot your daughter a text, and they can come home early?”

“Now?”

“Don’t let this fester,” he admonished. “Just a little warning, though. She comes on strong. Like a full-force Gayle.”

 

---

 

“That’s everything—everything I can find, anyway!” Chloe took a last look around the living room to see if she’d missed anything in her last sweep. The room was cleaner than it had been in years, and the bright sun of a perfect April afternoon made the windows sparkle, showcasing the vibrant new blossoms on the Prairiefire Crabapple in the backyard. “I . . . can’t thank you enough. For everything.”

“If you missed anything, we’ll give it to you Thursday,” Jason said dryly, his broad smile taking any sting out of it. “Or Tuesday. Or maybe we’ll even drive the ten minutes to drop it off at your apartment.”

The apartment was larger and considerably nicer than Gayle’s old residence — something that became feasible when Kevin’s court-ordered paternity test resulted in a written agreement that included some immediate child support. The amount was modest, but the Court would increase it when Kevin’s earning potential rose. His parents were making the current payments, since they still wanted Kevin to devote himself to his studies.

“You know we’re always here if you need us,” Maureen added. Her eyes couldn’t quite hold in the tears, but she was smiling without restraint.

“I know . . . It just feels so strange to finally leave.”

Maureen pulled her in for a hug. “We’re so proud of you, honey. Your GED, a new job . . . now, your own place.”

“Our own place,” Chloe corrected, smiling.

“I know!” Maureen said.

“And you know we’re happy about that, too,” Jason added. “Even if it took us a while to get there!”

Chloe laughed. “You weren’t going to get any peace until you did!” She stepped back from her mom and beamed at them both.

I never, ever thought I would be this happy!

The door flew open, the result of Gayle maneuvering it with her shoulder while somehow holding a bottle of champagne and four flutes. “That’s it! The van’s ready. My folks need us to pick up Ali and Davy in thirty-eight minutes, so let’s make this quick! Go, go, go, people!”

Maureen laughingly grabbed the glasses, while Gayle ripped off the foil, then opened the bottle with more zeal than finesse.

“Let me,” Jason said, relieving Gayle of the bottle. “Someone with your temperament has no business handling champagne!”

In a moment, he had the four glasses poured and distributed. Gayle was first off with a toast. “To parents . . . and to grandparents!”

They all raised their glasses and drank, then Jason proposed a toast in response. “To respectful disagreements!”

Maureen shook her head. “To family!”

Chloe was last. Her heart sang and her eyes shone as she raised her glass in both joy and thanksgiving. “To new beginnings — for all of us!”

— The end.

~o~O~o~
Author’s note: I would like to thank my dear friend Joanne for beta-reading this story. I should like nothing better than to share a glass of wine with you, my dear. Some day.

My title was inspired by two very different songs, and the lyrics of both found their way into the chapter headings. The first is Van Morrison’s Full Force Gale, a song with uplifting lyrics and a cheerful, joyful vibe. It’s a beautiful song about redemption — and, very specifically, irresistible redemption.

The other is the far darker American Storm, by Bob Seger. Like Springsteen’s Born in the USA, its powerful, anthem-like chorus serves as a contrast to its difficult subject (for Seger’s song, the cocaine epidemic of the 1980s). It pays to listen to the lyrics, which describe the dealer on the street who is always there, ready to make everything better, for a price. What Gayle offers instead is simple human connection – kindness, friendship, and, finally, love. It is, in the end, the antidote to the kind of despair Seger describes with such raw force. She is the “American Storm” we need.

May 6, 2024
— Emma Anne Tate

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.