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The Times of Her Lives

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Sometime in early March, 7:30ish am, Manville, New Jersey…

”Honey?” Ellie MacDonald poked her head through her son Rickie’s bedroom doorway.

“Would you mind getting the recycling bins from the curb? It’s really coming down heavy right now and I’m worried they might be buried by the plow.

She wasn’t keeping track of him, but her curiosity still pulled her in one direction. She glanced over to Rickie’s desk; spying his open laptop. The display was lit with soft, welcoming pinkish colors. The same site every day.

She sighed. He really wasn’t small compared to boys his age, but he did have a ‘soft’ face. And having just turned thirteen, everything felt so confused. Although her own struggles were getting better, she still wondered just what it was that she had done or failed to do that urged him to a softer side.

He noticed her glance past him and considered closing the laptop. But he had nothing to hide, and apart from his mother’s occasional lapse into misplaced guilt, he felt at least safe if unfulfilled. She noticed him noticing her and spoke.

“Babe? Dr. Kelly called. She has an open hour tomorrow at three, and even if it isn’t a snow day you still should go.” He nodded.

“ And I…. I think…would still be okay if I tag along?” Rickie feared failing her almost as much as she felt like she had failed him. Ellie was slowly coming to the realization that it was more of her confusion and the sheer newness of it all rather than any misgivings Rickie might have had.

“I…” he hesitated. In all of the new questions both asked themselves and even each other, nothing was ‘off the table’ treatment-wise. The fact that Ellie actually helped him pick out his therapist with a willingness to see his gender issues as the primary focus of his therapy spoke volumes about how far she had become determined to walk alongside her son’s journey; regardless of her own fears and doubts.

He nodded; faster than slow, but still cautiously.

“Here’s an idea? I’ll make another pot of coffee and when you come back inside, you can read some of what you’re working on to me…okay?” He nodded again and hopped off his bed. He grabbed his Rutgers jacket and headed out, but not before kissing Ellie on the forehead.

“You’re the best,” he said. It was always a bittersweet moment whenever he said those words since they spoken first by his late father…. Richard MacDonald Senior; the Daddy who blessed both of them with that endearment. Ellie nodded slowly and bit her lower lip. As Rickie walked to the front door, she looked up and sighed.

“Either of you two has got anything? I’m all ears.” If God in his heaven and Richard Senior were planning something, it would have to be huge, since everything was looking more and more each day like the biggest damn Mother of all Deos ex Machina was safely under wraps until the MacDonald climax was revealed….

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Outside…

Unlike most kids in eighth grade…most boys? Most girls? Everybody? Rickie’s taste in music ran a bit left of eclectic. Jazz. Beatles. Irish Harp. If his hearing in his left ear was better, he might have sung the lyrics to a Tegan and Sara hit. As it stood, despite the falloff in his left ear, he had gotten the vocal ‘scoop’ down pat., but still left humming most of the song.

“All I wanna get is a little bit clo-se-ur-urrrr!”

Some days were better than others, but more and more, he needed the words in front of him when he listened online. Another thing that needed change, since they had only just the other day qualified for Medicaid to supplement the abysmal insurance offered through his mother’s job. They finally got approved somehow for his Cochlear Implant.

He titlted his head as his earbuds played another song.

“Just to be with you…just to be with you,” he sang.

Between the uptick of the storm and the unabated wind and the inattentiveness of the County guy driving the truck that plowed the road for the third time in two hours, Rickie didn’t notice the driver missing the dogleg turn just before their driveway.

The plow truck skidded headlong onto the front yard; sending recycling bins and Rickie MacDonald Junior into the brick steps to the front door. Oddly enough, everything seemed to go an almost satiny black and Ruby Red...

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Melbourne, Australia, 1928…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fM5tf3tddlI

Jane blinked a bit as her eyes got used to what felt like a harsh light... She heard someone groaning, and it took a bit of looking around to try to discover who was in distress; only to realize it was she.

“Jane? Dear girl, whatever is the matter?” asked the handsomely attired woman sitting in the chair across from her. All the girl could manage in response was a half-smile and another groan; albeit with much less intensity.

“There, there, Jane. . I am so disappointed for you, what with all your plans to bless Annabeth on her birthday. I’m afraid there’s no party in your immediate future. With such a bonk on your head, I think it best you remain home today. I’ve already spoken with Annabeth’s mother, and she assured me that her daughter was so much more upset over your accident than postponing her party.”

Phryne leaned closer and tapped the girl’s knee, evoking a reflexive ‘ow’ which in turn sent a shock of pain from her neck around to her brow.

"Quelle déception, ma douce fille." Phryne half-frowned and eyed the girl up and down,

"Une belle robe neuve et enfin de très jolies chaussures...granted the heels are not very tall, but still every bit as elegant. And just the thing to cause any boy to stare, n’est pas ?"

"B...boys ?"

"With such a pretty dress and silk stockings? I daresay your dance card would have been full! Your sweet Annabeth told her mother to tell me to tell you she’s already planned the party to go on next Saturday ."

"D…d…dance ?" The girl began to shake ; still perhaps reeling from the blow to the back of her head, but it was so much more than that,

" B…Boys ? Dancing ?? ?" She did not sob, but nevertheless she began to cry.

"Jane ? It’s fine. Annabeth is going to drop by later this afternoon. She‘ll be by to check in on…what was her mother said ? "

Mr. Butler walked into the parlor with the tea cart.

"If I recall, you mentioned that Miss Annabeth referred to Miss Jane as her Petite… ?"

"Ah… ‘Ma petite amie !’ Oui c'est exactement ça !" In hearing those words, the girl lowered her head; looking almost shameful. Her crying resumed as almost silent sobs. Phryne got up and sat down on the settee next to the girl.

"OH my dear child…Mon cher enfant précieux? I did not mean to tease." Jane raised her head ; looking almost lost. Everything was so confusing and the pain at the back of her head was only just then abating.

"With such a lovely frock and you... well you’re only just now beginning to blossom, and naturellement… well, not so naturellement…" Jane dropped her gaze to her chest; noticing no big change.

"Not to worry, dear girl. The boys will just have to be patient," At the word ‘boys,’ Jane wince in near dread, leaving the two of them somehow not surprised at all

The girl looked almost relieved as if she and Phryne came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"You…You know Mac’s my dearest friend in the entire universe… "

The girl seemed to gain an inkling of where Phryne was headed. Her own half-frown brightened only a little bit.

I only say this as a precaution sweet child. Whichever goddess made you, you are perfect. Incomparable! But perhaps you and Mac might have a spin in her auto… private… as she tells you how she has had to navigate being…dare I say? Sapphic ?" At the last word, the girl burst into tears as she sobbed into Phryne’s shoulder.

"Shhh, my sweet Jane…It will be alright." Phryne said as she rocked the girl in her arms. A very odd feeling of relief came over the girl even as the tears had become comforting. But at the same time, the room began to spin. Although still seated, the girl felt like she was careening toward a growing haze. She came to an abrupt stop, which was entirely odd since she hadn’t moved...

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Östra Sjukhuset - Sahlgrenska University Hospital, Gothenberg, Sweden, 2009…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fccRlpFuLo

'Lisbeth? I can’t help you if you won’t tell me everything.’’

Annika shifted her weight in the office chair, her closed coat barely covering the baby inside her.

"Uh…When ?" Lisbeth pointed to the woman’s stomach.

’’In a couple of months." she said as she sidled the chair toward the girl, whose legs dangled over the side of the hospital bed. Small talk was getting them nowhere. Annika thought about cursing her brother out; Mikael was nothing else if annoyingly persistent, especially when he knew he was right.

She stared at the nearly bare legal pad, wondering how she could possibly break through to the girl. So adamant for someone so tiny. Annika might have continued her musing but for the very loud sounds of what Annika instantly recognized as gunshots. In mere seconds the hallway outside the room was filled with yelling.

"He has a gun," followed quickly by,,

"He’s heading for her room." Annika wasted no time and jammed a cart under the door handle. Seconds later the handle moved as someone on the other side of the door tried to open it to no avail.

Annika grabbed Lisbeth by the hand and helped her limp to the bathroom. She closed the door behind them. Lisbeth stared at the door as if she could see past it to the hallway outside. Another loud gunshot was accompanied by shouts and the clatter of the weapon as it hit the hallway floor. Annika sighed in relief.

Lisbeth sighed as well. Overwhelmed, she sat down on the closed toilet…not merely in relief mixed with confusion, but with an underlying almost inexplicable sadness as she realized two things.

First and perhaps more urgent was that someone wanted her dead but second ? Who was this Annika woman and who was this Lisbeth the woman kept calling her ? She almost needn’t have worried, since she felt the room spin…

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Stable Mews, London, 1968…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8OyQ3e9SqY

The dapper man smiled warmly in welcome.

" As you have been told, Miss. King, your position here is secure…for the time being." The young lady stood nervously almost at attention.

"Oh, bother, Miss King. It’s just bloody protocol, and besides, I have the final say." he paused, leaving Tara to question silently with a raised eyebrow.

"You have the position, Miss King," he said as he stood up. He straightened his tie and smiled.

"I‘ll be back in a few; just need to pop out for a moment." The man grabbed his Bowler from the hat rack and headed out without another word.

Tara turned and started to walk up the staircase, but she was met by a very attractive lithe creature dressed in a yellow jumpsuit who was descending the stairs.

"Ah… You must be Miss King." The woman extended her hand in greeting.

"Emma… Mrs. Emma Peel, " she said cordially, leaving Tara feeling more than just a bit awkward."

"I’m more than relieved that I'll be leaving our Mr. Steed will be in capable hands."

Tara glanced back over her shoulder at the front door. Was she attracted to the debonair gentleman she had just met ? Something almost ethereally external was saying no even as she returned her attention to Mrs. Peel, whose path she was blocking. She stepped to the side, but the stairway was narrow enough to force them to squeeze against each other.

"I’m sorry," was all Tara could say as she felt the woman ease past her. She thought she detected the smallest hint of Imprévu.

"I’d love to stay and chat, but my husband is picking me up."

Tara went to reply, but the perfume’s lingering scent, which only moments before was an almost gentle wisp, turned heady and Tara felt things becoming hazy. As she felt herself slipping away, she found herself wondering what being a wife would be like… to such a woman as Emma Peel…

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Mobile Army Surgical Hospital #4077, South Korea, 1952…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIGYLBVjYZA

Margaret stared at the fiberboard closet in the corner of the tent. After a couple of years of almost stubborn insistence on adhering unwavering to rules and regulations, her resolve had finally nodded reluctantly to personal expression. The closet door was open, revealing her uniforms and a few ‘civilian’ dresses hanging idly in anticipation of some not-as-yet-define R&R destination.

She shook her head in disappointment. For all of her change, she was left with no one. A long term relationship had been followed swiftly by a short marriage defined by her husband’s betrayal. Mixed in the interim were brief, romantic dalliances destined to go nowhere. Friendships were fine in their own way, but she longed for the comfort only a warm, sustained hug-filled relationship could provide.

“Why,” she asked herself; knowing it was her choices that set her on this almost inexorable path.

She heard a soft knock on the tent-frame accompanied by an even softer voice.

“Major?”

She turned toward the voice

“Major?” the voice repeated. Margaret turned to find Lt. Richelle MacDonald; a nurse on loan from the 8063rd.

“Before you say another word, Lieutenant, I must remind you that even with your rotation out at the end of the week, you are still required to wear your hair in a proper hairdo."

“But Major Houlihan?” the young Canadian attempted to interject.

“I really don’t care how they do things in Vancouver or wherever you’re from.

“Begging pardon, Major, but it’s Halifax, but that’s not what I…”

“Very well, Lieutenant, but this better be good; return to the Commonwealth or no.” Margaret said impatiently. As far as nursing went, Lt. MacDonald was one of the best nurses she had served with, but she invariably mixed compliance and skill with an odd vibe Margaret could not lay a finger on, as the saying goes.

“One moment, Major?” Richelle said as she retreated to the front of the tent; pulling the gate-like door closed and pulling the door flap down.

“Lieutenant? You have exactly ten seconds to…” Margaret’s words were cut off as Richelle strode quickly and gathered Margaret in her arms; kissing her deeply.

“Lieu…mmmm” Margaret cooed as the two continued to kiss. Neither woman heard the whistle of the mortar shell that impacted only a few yards from the tent.

“Lieutenant MacDonald? Richelle?” the young nurse heard until she passed out…

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RWJ University Hospital Somerset...

Ellie stood at the nurses station of the ER. A kind looking woman in scrubs walked over and offered her hand.

“Hello. Mrs. MacDonald? I’m Dr. Cabrera, the attending neurologist. We just got the results for Rickie’s EEG and MRI. Nothing other than a very painful bruise on the back of the neck and a concussion. An overnight stay at bare minimum, I’m afraid. For observation.”

Ellie nodded almost reflexively even as Dr. Cabrera finished.

“You’ll probably be able to come early afternoon. Like I said, we're positive it’s a concussion based on the tests. We’ll prescribe something for pain. Ellie looked past Dr. Cabrera almost absent-mindedly

“I’m sorry, you just said something about a prescription for pain. Anything else?”

“Ice packs should do the trick, but either way Rickie is going to have that nasty bruise on her neck. Your daughter is very fortunate. One inch either way? She’s one lucky girl...

To be concluded...

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All AI portrayals are modified pictures of yours truly

Title - AI Self-Portrait Painting - PortraitAI

One - AI - Jane- Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

Two - AI -Tara King -The Avengers

Three - AI - Lisbeth Salander -The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest

Four - AI - Nurse - M*A*S*H* TV show

Closer
by Tegan and Sara
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9e9NSMY8QiQ

BWU
by Tegan and Sara
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEFWES1hn1M

Theme from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
composed by Greg J Walker

Trailer for The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest

Theme music for The Avengers Television Programme
composed by Laurie Johnson

Theme from M*A*S*H Television show
composed by Johnny Mandel