I feel the world going dark and the Mother Superior squeezing my hands to keep me from passing out. I blink and look into her eyes, not comprehending for a second. Then her words echo in my mind, ”They are all missing…” All I can say is, “I have to get home. I have to take care of Mom. I am the man of the house while Dad is gone—it is my responsibility…” Mother Superior looks at me and says, “It is OK to cry, Sweetie. Let it go…” I look at her in defiance and say, “No, it isn’t. Men don’t cry. I have to get home…”

Right then the phone rings and M.S. answers. She hands me the phone. I take it and hear Mom say in a tearful voice, “Baby? Are you there? I am so sorry that I could not tell you myself. I can’t stay on the phone long, though. We all have to be available in case they call us with news. Tomorrow, I am going to fly to BC to be closer to the search area. Your sister and brother are going to stay with your grandmother here in town while I am gone. I need you to stay there and be strong for us, Sweetie. Go to church tomorrow and pray—the Mother Superior will help you through this. I will keep you up to date through the Mother since your cell doesn’t have a signal there.”

I say in a choked voice, “No, Mom! I need to come home. It is my duty…I am a man. I have to…” Mom breaks in and says, “Hon, there is no argument in this. The airline will only pay for me to go. There is nothing that you can do here. I know that you are well taken care of there—I know that I don’t have to worry about you, too, with the Mother looking out for you. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is—you need to be an adult for me, right now. Just pray that they find him. Pray hard for us! I have to go, Hon…they may be trying to call…”

I say goodbye and the line clicks on the other end… I hang up the phone and collapse on the couch. The M.S. comes over and hugs me. She says, “I am sorry, Joy. I have my gift, which is to physically heal. I have no special gift to help with emotional pain. I can tell you that if you let it out with a good cry, it can help tremendously. I know that you think that is beneath you—that it is something that only a woman is allowed to do; that it is a sign of weakness for a man. No one has to know. Just let it out…” I steadfastly shake my head and fight back the tears that so desperately want to come out. I say, “She doesn’t want me to come home. She wants me to stay. I don’t understand…” M.S. hugs me again and says, “It isn’t that she doesn’t want you home, Sweetie. Right now, she has to focus on them finding your Dad. There is nothing that you can do—any more than she can. You are both forced into waiting; and honestly where you wait is mostly irrelevant. You do have a support group here. One that is, I am sure, very willing to help you through this—if you give them a fair chance and don’t shut them out.”

M.S. gets up and gets a vial of pills. She takes one out and hands it to me with a glass of water. She says, “Take this. It will help you better work through this. You will need to take one of these pills a day—don’t miss any, though. Like always, I promise that they won’t harm you. I had not planned on giving you these, but, under these circumstances, I think that it is best.” I hesitantly take the tiny pill from her and swallow it with some water. I take the vial from her—it has no markings on it to indicate what the pills are—and stick it in the purse that was still slung over my shoulder from the ‘fashion show’. After a few minutes, I say, “I don’t feel any different…” She smiles sadly and says, “It will take some time for them to start working. In the meantime, go tell your friends what is going on. I am sure they want to know—and will want to help.”

I slowly make my way back to my room. I fight the tears all the way; determined not to give into them. I am so distraught that I don’t even notice that I am not stumbling in the heels. I make it up the stairs and hesitate in front of my closed door—I hear the babbling and giggling of the girls through it and almost bolt down the hall. I take a deep breath and open the door. Emily rushes over and hugs me as she says, “You are back! What did…?” She trails off when sees my face and then quietly asks, “Joy…ey? What is wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost!” I fight the tears harder as Emily sits me down at my desk and the girls gather around me. I sit quietly for a few minutes and finally tell them what happened.

What happens next takes me completely off guard. These girls, the ones that have been trying their best, in my opinion, to humiliate me, Shauna front and center, all pile on me in a supportive group hug. While I am still fighting to keep my eyes dry, all of the girls around me have huge black trails of mascara running down their faces from the tears freely flowing down their faces. At first I am put off by this display of emotion; after all, a group of guys would never fall apart like this. But the longer it lasts, the more I realize the pain they are feeling—for me—is heartfelt; the more it sinks in, the less uncomfortable I become with the situation. A single tear escapes my eye and trails down my cheek as I gently extract myself from the group. I take a deep breath and decide to be honest with them. I say, “Girls, I appreciate your concern. To be honest, this is completely foreign to me—being in such an emotional…but very caring…environment. As a guy, I really want to run right now… I am supposed to be stoic and shoulder this like a man…and because, well I HURT. I know you think my Dad, like other men in my town, is some sort of monster—yet, here you are grieving with me at his disappearance.” I take a shaky breath and continue, “I guess I thought you would be…happy…about it…”

Shauna looks stricken and says, “Look, Joy…and I am not calling you that out of spite, right now… For better or worse, you are one of us. You are in pain. We are here to help. End of discussion. Now, what can we do?” I look at her and shrug. I quietly say, “I have no idea. I am even more helpless right now than when you started poking holes in me…at least I could have fought back at that. I am mad at mother for not letting me come home… Don’t get me wrong; I am beginning to understand that you are a surrogate family, of sorts, while I am here…and the M.S. is being really great—she gave me some sort of medicine that is supposed to help me process this… Oh, by the way, don’t let me forget to take it…one a day—she says it is important—what do I know…it is in a vial in that purse over there… Anyway, I just want to get away from here…even if it just for a day or two…have a home-cooked meal…and feel like I am at home… Is that too much? I don’t know…”

I don’t notice Shauna quietly step out into the hall as Emily and the other girls start removing my makeup and brushing out my hair. Before I know it, I am in a soft, warm nightgown and being put to bed. Emily is in the chair beside my bed and says, “We will take turns staying with you tonight. You let us know if you need anything. You will have to get up earlier than you are used to, to get ready in the morning. It takes a girl longer, you know—but you need to attend mass tomorrow…”

I don’t sleep well, but, true to their word, I am not alone one minute all night long. I startle however when Shauna quietly shakes me and says, “Joy, it is time to get up. We are going to help you get ready for mass…and when that is over…you are going to come home with me to my house. Mom is expecting us for lunch…the Mother Superior has excused us from class for the next couple of days while you stay with my family.” I look at her, shocked…I can’t believe she is doing this for me…maybe it IS just because she feels guilty, but it is sweet, none-the-less… I give her an awkward hug and go to take a hot shower. A few minutes later, I come out and Shauna giggles as she shows me how to properly wrap my body in a towel to cover my breasts…and how to wrap my hair in a towel like a turban. She then sits me down at my vanity and says, “I am going to do your makeup much heavier than would be normal for this time of day—or for church. But…you look like a zombie, right now, with those bags under your eyes…” She gets busy right as Georgette comes in and starts working on my hair. Both Shauna and Georgette look perfect…there is no telling how early THEY got up to get ready, so that they could get ME ready… Of course, if they just let me be Joey then none of this would be necessary—and I would be missing out on this…wonderful care… Oh…this is so confusing… Dad, please come home…my world is upside down right now…you can fix it…you can make things like they…are supposed to be…?

A little less than an hour later, I am standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. I am in the second most conservative outfit that the girls picked out for me yesterday. Shauna had vetoed my most conservative one, because it is black and she insists that we are not going to a funeral service… The dress that I am in is electric blue, comes to just above my knees in a swooped hem line. It has a scoop neck that is too low for church, so Gwen has loaned me a ‘camisole’ that hides my ‘breasts’ in a complementary manner. The blue sets off the color of my dyed strawberry blond hair beautifully. The makeup, while heavy, is not garish. I can’t believe it. I look like a really pretty girl…one that I would not recognize as me in a million years… And…somehow…I am not freaked out about it…

Emily clears her throat and says, “Joy, you look beautiful…and no one is going to know…about, well…they just won’t… We need to go. Mass starts in fifteen minutes…” I sit through mass, surrounded by the ‘squad’ and am grateful when Father Brown says a special prayer for “Joy’s” Dad…and our family… After a tight hug from M.S. and another emotional group hug from the squad, I get into Shauna’s car and we take off on the two-hour drive to her family home—in directly the opposite direction of my own… I had thought about trying to convince Shauna to just take me to MY home, but knew that she would be unwilling to go to my hometown…and that Mom would be furious if I did, as well.

On the drive, Shauna tells me about her family. She is an only child, something I think I envy her for in a way… I laugh as I tell her that siblings are a mixed bag of blessings and curses. I already know some of the other stuff…about her Aunt… As she talks about her family in such a doting manner, I realize that family is very important to her…and the rest of her family…and my former…hate…no extreme dislike…for her melts another several degrees… Then, I start to tell her about my family…how my Dad’s main focus is to provide for us…to treat my Mom like a queen while she takes care of us kids and our home. I let her know that Mom has never given ANY indication that she regrets having gotten pregnant with me and moving to our town. Then, in a moment of weakness, I tell her, “You may not believe this, Shauna, but I don’t always agree with every value and moral in our town. My Dad loves my Mom and every one of us kids; of that, I have no doubt. My Mom loves us, too—and I do not in a moment believe that she really regrets any of her family choices, but I can’t believe that there are not better ways… That being said, is having a real family all that bad? You know, one where there is a real parent at home… There are sacrifices, sure…but, coming home from school to a parent…not an empty house while both parents are working…is…somehow special…” Shauna glances over at me as she pulls into the driveway of our destination and says, “I could not agree more…and do you know that my DAD decided to stay home while I was a kid in school while MOM pursued her career…? I am only saying…there are options…if everyone is open to them…” I smile and say, “Well, I will give you that my hometown is not generally open to new ‘options’—the OLD way is ALWAYS the best one… And, yes, old-fashioned values ARE the old ways… Change is not well accepted…”

We get out of the car, my heart pounding. I know they KNOW I am ‘the project’, but I still feel like a freak… Shauna’s Mom, Jen, hugs me as we enter the front door and makes me feel so welcome that I forget all about being nervous, though… Her Dad, Jeff, is no less welcoming… We have no more than gotten into the living room, a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, when my cell phone rings…it startles me, since I am used to it not working at the college… I turn red and struggle to find it in the purse that Shauna gave me to hold all of my ‘essential’ stuff… Amidst profuse apologies, I finally find it and see the call is from Mom. I step back into the hallway and answer it…

The first thing that Mom tells me is that there is still no news on Dad’s plane…then she tells me that M.S. had told her that I had come home with Shauna. She says, “I am so glad that you have found friends to help you through these trying times, Hon. Believe me, you will eventually realize what a blessing that is… Now, tell me a bit about Shauna and her family…I need to thank them for taking care of my baby…” I groan and tell her that I can take care of myself and that I really have not met them to speak of, yet. She presses me for what I know and I say, “OK, OK…Shauna is at college with me…her Mom, Jen, seems really nice. Her Dad, Jeff, also seems nice, but…” I hear Mom gasp loudly as she breaks in to my explanation and ask, “Wh…wha…what is their last name, Dear? And where do they live? Tell me…quickly…” I roll my eyes at her impatience and say, “McMillan and Hope, why?” There is dead silence on the other end. I look to make sure I have not lost the connection…it is still very active…five full bars…when I hear, “Jo…y, please put me on with…Shauna’s Mom…” I say, “OK…GEE…just give me a sec…”

I go into the living room and timidly go over to Mrs. McMillan. I say, “I am really sorry to interrupt, but my Mom would like to speak to you…” I hand her the phone… She says, “Yes, this is Jen…and you are Joy’s Mom?” I hear very clearly what my Mom says, “Jenny? Hello, Sis…it has been a long time…”