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Becoming Robin By Zoe Taylor How it all Began -/- The Girl Next Door   “Is this the Smith residence?” A professional-sounding female voice asked. “Yes ma’am,” I responded as politely as I could to make up for my earlier ‘oops’. “How may I help you?” “Is this Robert Smith? My name’s Sharon. I’m a 9-1-1 dispatcher.” I could feel the blood drain from my face. “What’s going on?” I asked, failing miserably at my attempts to contain the panic I felt welling up within already.

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Preface: This is a story I originally started over a year ago. I could never revise it to the satisfaction of myself or my proofreaders, and eventually I gave up on it. Real life got in the way, and I set aside writing entirely for awhile.

Recently I came "home"; I wanted to start writing again, so I revived the original project, but started re-writing from the ground up with mostly new characters.

I do want to thank three people specifically. First, I want to thank Angela Rasch and Holly Logan. I learned a lot from chatting with them, and they are invaluable resources for anyone who wishes to improve their writing.

I also want to thank Megan Campbell, whose ongoing serial, Sarah Carerra inspired a scene toward the end that wrapped up a final plot hole that kept me from finishing this. ;-)

On a final note, this is as close to finished as it's going to get. I may edit my later chapters again at some point, but I feel comfortable with where this stands as a first publish. It's 24 chapters long though, so I'm going to be publishing it in segments of 1-2 chapters at a time.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy my humble first offering to the Top Shelf!

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Chapter 1 - How It All Began...
The humidity hung in the air outside, an almost tangible, foreboding haze in the late evening, but I sat safely in my living room, enjoying my favorite pastime. For tonight I’d chosen a silk hunter green blouse with a black skirt, hose, and 2” patent heels. I always figured if I was going to dress like a girl, I may as well try and look my best.

I never understood my feminine pursuits. I did know that this was pretty far from normal ‘boy’ behavior, but I was always too afraid to talk to anyone about it, even Mom or my big sister Margie, so I just resolved to be very, very careful.

The day my life turned upside-down had started like any other. Mom and I had spent the day grocery shopping, and because the night shift at the hospital was spread thin, she had volunteered to work some overtime, leaving me to my own devices for the evening.

Summer vacation had just begun, and I planned to enjoy it for all I could. Ever a shy kid, I didn’t have many friends either: at least, not any that I would want to invite over. I always felt too afraid they might find out about my secret. More than that, I never really felt comfortable in a social situation with someone I hadn’t known my whole life.

I had just begun to get comfortable, sitting mostly upright with my legs curled beneath me. I had my favorite book in-hand, with a glass of chilled red cream soda sitting on the coffee table, under a well-used cork coaster.

The local DJ came up on the station the stereo was tuned to, yammering about up and coming singers when the phone rang, sending my book flying one way, and my feet the other. I barely managed to catch my balance to keep from toppling off the overstuffed furniture onto the hardwood floor.

I shivered a little at the resounding ‘click!’ from my shoes as I planted my feet, even as I reached for the offending appliance. I grabbed the stereo remote with my other hand, muting it first. Mom liked to call when she was away like this, so I naturally figured it was her calling to tell me to be in bed within the hour.

“Yes Mom,” I began, in the most dramatic, whiny voice I could manage. I wish I hadn’t. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t.

“Is this the Smith residence?” A professional-sounding female voice asked.

“Yes ma’am,” I responded as politely as I could to make up for my earlier ‘oops’. “How may I help you?”

“Is this Robert Smith? My name’s Sharon. I’m a 9-1-1 dispatcher.”

I could feel the blood drain from my face. “What’s going on?” I asked, failing miserably at my attempts to contain the panic I felt welling up within already.

“In a few minutes, there’s going to be a police officer at your door, Officer John Mitchell. I want you to stay on the line with me until he gets there, alright?” Now I knew something was wrong.

About this point I realized I was still dressed. I quietly thanked myself for having never experimented with makeup, my strawberry red toenails aside, as I raced upstairs.

“Robert? Are you still with me?” Apparently she hadn’t heard me cursing under my breath as I nearly tripped on the last step, on my way to frantically change.

“I’m still here. I just got out of the shower and needed to get my clothes.” I lied, but it was at least only a half-lie.

In a whirlwind of chaos I threw on a baggy T-shirt and jeans then bolted back down the stairs. Faded, worn out sneakers in one hand, and the phone in the other, I moved to the window by the door, brushing the venetian blinds and cream-colored curtain aside. A squad car sat with lights still flashing in our driveway; a tall, portly man in a police uniform waited at the door, preparing to knock.

“He’s here.” I spoke into the receiver as evenly as I could, as I opened the door.

“Alright, sweetie, I’m going to go ahead and let you go. You take care.”

“Excuse me miss.” The officer began the moment I pulled open the art-deco-etched door. Ordinarily I’d frown, clear my throat, or some other attempt at putting on a masculine façade, but I was just too worried to care right now.

Ever since I started letting my hair grow, everyone had been calling me ‘Miss’ or ‘young lady’. It’s not that I minded, really, but pretending to be offended got old a long time ago, plus I had bigger problems right now. In retrospect, the fact I wasn’t wearing socks, with those bright toenails probably didn’t help my case.

“Is my mom okay?” I interrupted him. I could tell after I spoke, that he put two and two together and realized his mistake, though neither of us really cared to correct it by this point.

“Your mom was in an accident. When they took her in she was in critical condition.”

The phone, my sneakers, and quite possibly my jaw, hit the floor at the same time. Officer Mitchell, to his credit, attempted to diffuse the situation before I could have a total nervous breakdown right there in the doorway.

“The paramedics advised that she was being rushed into surgery, but I don’t have any more information about her condition.”

“H-how did it happen?” I stuttered in a quivering tone. My hands were already shaking at this point.

“We have investigators on the scene trying to determine that right now.” I could tell he was holding something back, but I had a more relevant concern right now.

“I have to get to the hospital!” I wailed. What can I say? I’ve never made a very good ‘boy’.

“That’s why I’m here, actually. I was patrolling that neighborhood when the call came through so I was the first on-scene. I ran her license and registration after they loaded her up, and notified the 9-1-1 dispatch to call ahead and let you know I’d be coming, and under the circumstances, offer you a ride if you wanted.” He paused, offering me a genuinely sympathetic smile.

Mitchell was a gritty street cop of the finest bad detective novel category. His haggard, dark face reminded me of the guy from the Lethal Weapon movies who always complained about his younger partner. I didn’t really have time to dwell on it though. He turned, motioning a hand toward the waiting squad car.

“Can I get some things first? I’ll just be a second,” I pleaded, to which he nodded, turning to return to his car. I dashed back inside.

It didn’t take me long to get what I’d gone in for, though. I snatched my empty purple backpack from my room and threw my mp3 player, a couple of magazines, and most importantly my cell phone inside, zipping it up even as my bare feet sprinted across the upstairs carpeting.

I was back downstairs and out the door, sneakers and backpack in hand, in record time. I half-heartedly planted my feet in my sneakers, a nearly worn-out old pair of cross-trainers with a hole beginning to work its way into the material above my big toe.

As I sat in the passenger side of the squad car, a light drizzle began to collect on the windshield. I couldn’t help but sigh as I silently stared out. Off in the distance, a clap of thunder rumbled. It was going to be a long night.

As we neared the hospital, I dug out my cell phone. I put off this call for as long as possible because I just didn’t want to say the words. My half-sister needed to know what happened, though. She was the only family I had.

“Margie?” I said meekly. I was almost in tears, as a sleepy voice answered.

“Robert? Do you know what time it is here? Wait a minute. Are you crying?” Her tone suddenly took a much more serious, and concerned pitch. “What’s wrong?”

“I-it’s momma. She’s been in an accident.” I stuttered out. As the squad car rolled to a stop outside the hospital, I completely lost it. I handed the phone to Officer Mitchell, and proceeded to bury my face in my hands. I could still hear my sister’s voice frantically over the phone as the officer accepted it.

“Robert?! What’s going on!?”

“Hello?” He began, “Ma’am, this Is Officer John Mitchell with the thirty-second precinct, San Francisco Police Department. Whom am I addressing?”

“Oh my God. What’s going on? Is Robert okay?! And Linda?!” He winced, pulling the phone away from his ear as she harped frantically.

“Ma’am, please calm down. Robert’s okay. He’s here with me. Linda Smith was in a car accident, and has been rushed into surgery. I’m at the hospital now with her son Robert.”

I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation from Margie’s side, but between sobs I did manage to catch the gist of it based on Officer Mitchell’s responses. When he finished, he stared at the phone long enough to find the End button, then passed it back to me.

“Your sister says she’ll be on the next flight out. Meantime, is there anyone you can stay with?”

I just shook my head. “Our neighbors are getting their house renovated while they’re in Europe, and the house on the other side’s been up for sale for months. I don’t really know the people across the road that well…” I trailed off, trying my best to dry my eyes and put forth some semblance of an appearance of male pride.

The funny thing is dressing like a girl was one of the ways I dealt with stress. Everything just seemed easier to deal with for some reason. Unfortunately I didn’t want to risk being stuck at a hospital wearing panties under my jeans for an extended period where someone might notice, so I’d changed into boxer shorts while on the phone with the dispatcher earlier.

He nodded, “Well, maybe they can get you set up with a cot in her room if you want once she’s out of surgery. You want me to walk you in?”

I just shook my head as I opened the door. To my credit, I managed a weak “Thanks.” as I closed the door. I know it was rude, but I was just too upset to care.

Mom was in surgery for several hours. I had brought a couple of magazines to keep my mind occupied, but unfortunately blew through those in no time, so I found myself just sitting in the third floor waiting room after awhile, staring out at the dreary night sky as rain continued to pelt the odd car passing by on the street.

Margie called me twice, first to let me know she was on her way into New Haven, then to let me know her flight schedule, and twice hospital staff asked me if I needed anything, but other than that, I was largely uninterrupted. I expected for a hospital this size, that there would’ve been at least one or two more people in the empty waiting room. I glanced at the clock on the far wall. The generic, black numbers-on-white-face declared it midnight.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew there was a gentle hand on my shoulder, and a young woman standing over me. Between the haze from my restless nap in a stiff hospital waiting room chair, and the way she was standing, with the fluorescent light casting her and her blonde ringlets in a slight silhouette, I mumbled softly. “Are you an angel?” I stared for a moment or two, letting my eyes adjust as she smiled and knelt in front of me.

She smiled at my question, “Robert? I’m Kelly. I’m a med student graduate and intern here,” she began. I couldn’t help feeling that name sounded familiar somehow. “I worked under your mom.” A slender hand with hot pink nail polish, I observed while trying not to look like I was staring at it, reached out to push the hair out of my face. “Linda’s out of surgery now. We’re going to move her to a room in the intensive care ward. Normally we don’t allow anyone under sixteen, but I managed to get them to look the other way.”

I smiled faintly. I could have hugged her. “So she’s okay now?” I asked, hopeful.

Her frown suggested otherwise. “I’m afraid not, sweetie. The damage was pretty bad.” I think she could see that I was about to break down because she leaned in and put her arms around me. I just put my head on her shoulder, sniffling as I tried not to completely lose it.

As she pulled back again, she continued. “She’s in a coma. The doctors are monitoring her brain function, but wanted to hold off on anymore tests until they get her stabilized. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing when she’s going to wake up. It could be a couple of days, a couple of weeks…” She cut herself off at that point, apparently sensing that saying “months” would be a bad idea.

“I can take you back to see her if you want. Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight, though?”

I shook my head. “My sister’s flying in from Connecticut to be with me, but I don’t have anyone else.”

I watched the ringlet-laden ponytail bounce as Kelly crooked her head ever-so-slightly. She wanted to say something, I think, but whatever it was remained unspoken. Nodding instead, she offered her hand.

“You can stay in her room then, but just for tonight. When your sister arrives, the doctors are going to want to have a word with her too.”

“Hey…” I said meekly, as I accepted her hand, pulling myself up and grabbing my backpack.

“Mmm?”

“You said you’re an intern, right?” I asked, as she began leading me through the winding corridors, glassed-in half-halls, and other intimidating areas.

“That’s right. I’m working on certification though.”

“So… Why are you telling me all this instead of one of the doctors?” It took her a moment to answer, as she led me down a long hallway to the nearest elevators. The hum of machinery seemed almost ear-shattering in comparison to the silence that pervaded us. Why hadn’t she answered yet?

“Actually, I volunteered to deliver the news. I went to college with your sister, Margie, and Linda was kind of like a second mother to me. We keep things professional during work hours, but I still respected her a lot for being able to raise a son while doing this job.” She paused, adding a moment later, “Oh, please don’t take that the wrong way. I just meant--” I gave her a small smile.

“It’s okay, Kelly. I know what you meant. How’d you go to college with Margie though, if you’re still not certified?”

She gave a wry smile in response, “That’s my fault. I didn’t originally want to study medicine. I wanted to study meteorology, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I wanted to actually help people, so mid-way through I changed my major and started fresh.” I nodded. I don’t think I really understood a word she said at that point. I was just so numb, and I wanted some human connection. I did vaguely recall Kelly now, but I’d only met her once, just before she and my sister left for their backpacking trip across Europe a few years ago.

The rest of the night, into the next morning passed uneventfully. Nurses would come in and check this machine or that tube, and Kelly came in to sit with me before running off again. For my part I spent most of the next day asleep. I hadn’t slept much that night, and what little rest I did get was fitful at best.

Around two in the afternoon, I awoke to another hand gently nudging me. I rubbed my eyes as I yawned, slowly sitting up on the cot that was my temporary bed.

“Hi kiddo.” My sister offered in a comforting tone, as she put her arms around me. I squeezed her waist, burying my face in her shoulder. By this point, I had cried all I could. I didn’t have anything more to cry, or so I thought.

“Hi Margie,” I responded quietly. While I got our dad’s black hair, Margie was blessed to have her mother’s fiery Irish red. Between the two of them we both inherited rich, jade eyes. Her hair was a lot longer than I remember it being, though we hadn’t actually seen each other in a few years, so she could’ve said the same about mine, and shortly did.

“Wow, you’ve really grown. And check out that hair,” she said in a playful, but soft tone. As she sat on the cot beside me, she quietly gazed at the battered, unconscious form in the bed beside us.

Tubes ran this way and that, with wires hooked to monitors on both sides of the bed. Her face and arms were heavily bandaged, with another bandage circling behind her head.

Margie shattered the awkward silence that had fallen over us. “I spoke with her doctors before I came in, but it took seeing it for myself for it to sink in.”

I leaned into her. “How much do you love me?” I asked quietly.

“What?” She gave me a puzzled look.

“Enough to stay here until she wakes up?” I gave her my best impression of a sad puppy.

“I wish I could. I have my own business to think about though. I thought I’d just come out here and stay with you for a few days to make sure you’re taken care of, but… Robert, the doctors say it could be awhile before she comes back to us.”

I shut my eyes tight as I buried myself in her shoulder again. “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t just stay here in the hospital, and I can’t go home by myself, plus the neighbors are in Europe, and I don’t even know the other people across the road because they just moved in and—“

“Robert, slow down!” She interrupted, softly but firmly, as she hugged me closer to her. “I didn’t say I was going to abandon you. I said I couldn’t stay.”

“But what else is…” I trailed off as what she was implying began to seep its way into my thick skull.

She seemed to sense my understanding, and nodded. “I know this isn’t an ideal solution, but there’s nothing either of us can do for your mom right now. Linda and I were discussing letting you come stay with me for the summer anyway, so it’s not really abandoning her, either. She wanted this for you.”

She was right, and I knew she was right. Still I felt like I was abandoning her. Finally, with a heavy sigh, I rose from the little cot, walked over and kissed her forehead, whispering, “Mommy, if you can hear me, I love you. Margie’s going to take me to stay with her while you get better, so don’t worry. I’ll be okay. You just get better, and come back to us.” I couldn’t believe I just called her ‘Mommy’. I haven’t done that since I was five.

Margie approached me from behind, placing her hands on my shoulders as she kissed the top of my head – no difficult task for her, as her 5’10” frame easily dwarfed me at 5’4”. I got dad’s hair, but she got his height.

Packing for the flight was considerably more difficult than it sounds. Not only did I need to pack enough boy clothes to get by, but there was no way I was abandoning my girl persona, either. A day and a half later, I was on my first airplane ride, bound for Alpine Springs. Margie promised I’d like it there, but I wasn’t so sure. The Bay was all I’d ever known. I resolved to take things a day at a time. This was all entirely temporary as far as I was concerned.

* * *
Chapter 2 - The Girl Next Door
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I never thought I would be so happy to see an airport terminal, even if it was just to change over to another flight. I had never flown before, so in addition to everything else on my already jangled mind, I also spent the entire flight skittishly jumping at every little thing. Naturally, we experienced heavy turbulence over Kansas. Talk about terrifying.

I’d never seen Alpine Springs, not even a picture. Margie talked about it a lot in her letters and when we’d occasionally talk on the phone, but I don’t think anything could have prepared me for just how green everything was.

Margie, it turns out, lived in a suburb of a suburb. A number of large two-story brick houses arranged cul-de-sac, with a scenic pine forest just a stone’s throw away awaited.

As we unloaded my suitcases from the cab, I could hear strains of an electric guitar from the house next door’s closed garage. Margie must’ve seen me staring because she grinned and nudged me.

“That’s the Jones’. You met their eldest daughter Kelly already, but they have a daughter your age too.”

I just rolled my eyes and pretended not to hear her. Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that didn’t like girls. I’d just come off a bad, typical high school drama relationship before school let out, and wasn’t ready to take the plunge again yet. It didn’t help that it took me a month to work up the courage to ask Andrea out, only to be dumped for the captain of the wrestling team. She used me to make him jealous, and all I got out of the deal was a black eye.

“First room on the right upstairs will be your room. I’d let you use the other bedroom, but I’ve been using it for storage, so it’s a real mess in there.”

Margie had always been a little sloppy, but at least it had evolved into organized sloppiness. By that I mean that I peeked inside her storage room when I carried my things upstairs and it looked like a tornado had blown through, repeatedly, but the rest of her home was neat and well-kept.

“Oh, by the way!” she called from the bottom of the stairs, just as I reached for the door handle to my new room, “That room used to be a nursery, I think - fair warning. I was going to redecorate this summer, but I haven’t had time yet.”

“What does that…” and then I saw it. Pink, and a veritable ocean of it. Plush pink carpet, pastel pink and sky blue wallpaper, and a white closet door with a little pink heart doorknob completed the look.

If I had any masculinity in me at all, this would’ve seen to its destruction. Thankfully I didn’t, and just shook my head as I put down my suitcases.

“I need to get back to check on the store. Will you be okay by yourself for a few hours?” Margie asked as she poked her head in the door. I could tell she was scanning my face for some sort of reaction to the sea of estrogen she’d just dropped me into; I couldn’t help feeling it was a sympathetic, apologetic search. For my part, I would’ve done it in lavender.

I nodded as I sat on the edge of the bare, metal-frame twin sized bed. It was better than a cot, at least. Not by much, though.

At this point it had been three days since mom’s accident. I felt incredibly guilty that all I could think about on the flight was when I’d be able to dress up again, but it was wonderful self-therapy. Things just seemed easier to take in stride with even the smallest touch of femininity. Sensing an opportunity, I reached out for my girl suitcase. I waited for the sound of Margie’s car leaving, and immediately set to work unpacking. After hanging up a couple of dresses and tops, I decided it was safe to go ahead and change.

When my dad passed away, he left both my sister and me a considerable sum of money. I was actually surprisingly frugal, though. I learned to watch for sales online and only buy what I felt I could, though that was mainly to avoid raising suspicions. It’s nothing that could rival a real girl’s wardrobe, but I managed to get by.

I’d noticed a large privacy fence around the side and back yards of each house as we pulled up earlier. I had made up my mind then and there that this would probably be the one chance I’d ever have to enjoy being a girl outdoors, and I wasn’t about to miss it, so changing out of my boring old boys’ clothes, I slipped into a simple bra and panty set (Not like I had a lot to fill out the former, but still) and from my suitcase, pulled my favorite sundress, draping it over my shoulders.

It was a cute white number with a red floral print and spaghetti straps, perfect for the warm, sunny day. I topped it off with my two and a half inch heeled strappy white sandals, smiling to myself just a bit as I realized I’d never taken off the strawberry red toenail polish, though by now it had begun to wear, and lost its luster. I’d have to change it if I got a chance.

At some point earlier in the year, I did splurge a little on something that wasn’t clothes. I’d seen an adorable little diary in my recommended list at my favorite online book store. The soft pink outer binding was decorated in butterflies and other little patterns. The best part had to be the heart locket closure though. I just had to have it, and of course, when I packed, I took it with me!

I grabbed my diary and the purple sparkly ink pen I’d stowed with it then headed downstairs. Though the upstairs, like my new bedroom, was carpeted, the stairs and first floor were all solid hardwood, resulting in a spine-tingling experience as each foot-fall echoed through the house. I could get used to living here, even if it was just temporary.

I opened and stepped through the sliding glass door onto the back patio, immediately spotting a large old tree in one corner of the yard. To my great joy someone had hung a two-person porch swing from one of the sturdier branches.

I smoothed my dress with my left hand as I sat on the swing, turning to swing my legs up next. It took me a few minutes to find a comfortable position, but once I got myself situated, I turned my attention to my diary. I really shouldn’t have kept the key in the lock like that, but it was just easier to keep up with that way. After leafing through several past entries, I set my pen to the page and began to write.

Before long I was fully engrossed in my writing. The rest of the world melted away as I feverishly scribbled, verbalizing all my pent up frustrations.

A few stray tears began to stain the page as I continued. God, I needed a good, hard cry. I hadn’t given myself that luxury since the hospital for trying to ‘be brave’. That was another of my problems, though. I’ve always cried so easily. There were times when I was younger, where I can remember running off to my room, throwing myself on my bed, and crying myself to sleep into my pillow. I was pathetic.

My emotions finally got the better of me, and I just couldn’t write anymore. My eyes were stinging, to the point that I couldn’t see a thing, so I just closed and locked my journal, pulling my knees up to my chest and burying my face in them.

A chill ran down my spine as I heard something close by. Soft footsteps on grass were quickly followed by a concerned female voice. “Hey, are you okay?” I didn’t know what else to do, so I grabbed my journal and bailed off the swing, sprinting as fast as my sandals would allow straight back inside. I barely caught a glimpse of a bewildered sea of blonde whirling around as I ran past.

“Hey!” She practically yelped in surprise, but I didn’t even stop to close the door behind me. I shot through the kitchen and up the stairs, practically slamming the bedroom door and pressing my back against it. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” I kept repeating to myself. “That did NOT just happen. Oh my God! Oh my—“ But my incoherent denial was interrupted by a sound downstairs. Footsteps! Crud! I bolted for the closet, closing the door behind me. Even through the two doors and two sets of walls, I could hear someone moving about and calling. Soundproof, this house was not.

“Hello?” The voice called in a distressed tone. I just pressed up against the back wall, sliding down to the floor and hugging my knees to my chest. I was too terrified to do anything else. I hadn’t touched Robert’s suitcase yet, so the only thing hanging above my head were a couple of dresses and tops.

I started sobbing uncontrollably again when I heard the bedroom door open. Why didn’t I lock the doors when I ran inside?

“Um… Hello? I didn’t mean to scare you!” The girl called. Crap, crap, crap!

Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the closet door, but the voice stayed silent. Another knock, and this time she spoke. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize. It was like, totally rude of me to sneak up on you like that, and I’m really, really sorry. If you want to be alone, that’s cool. I just wanted to see if I could help.” She paused, “Hello?”

I swallowed hard, trying to stop sobbing, but that just made things worse. Apparently she heard me.

“Okay, I know you’re in there. Listen, my name’s Allison. Allison Jones, but you can call me Ally.” She knocked again. God, she was persistant!

“Okay, I can take the hint. I’ll leave you alone. But if you feel like you want to talk come over to my house, okay? I live right next door, east side.”

I don’t know if it was the leg cramp I was getting from sitting in that awkward position, or if I was just really, really desperate to talk to someone my age. Maybe it was even temporary insanity, but I swallowed hard, stood, and pushed the door open.

A fairly attractive blonde-haired girl, I’d guessed about two inches taller than me and about my age, wearing a hot pink tank top and denim shorts, had just sat down on my bed.

She turned to face me, seeming to size me up for a moment before standing and taking a step closer, offering her hand. “I’m really, really sorry. I knew through my sister that Margie had a sibling my age. I guess you must be her sister?”

“It’s complicated,” I muttered, as I walked past her and collapsed on the bed. As I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands, I felt a sudden, warm hand on my shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Really, you can talk to me. I won’t bite.” She cooed, as she sat beside me.

I tilted my head slightly to catch a glimpse of her expression. She looked genuinely concerned. I heaved a sigh, and proceeded to tell her about my mom’s accident, and how I’d just been dragged across the country to live with my sister until mom recovered.

“If she recovers,” I added meekly, starting a whole new round of waterworks.

“Hey, hey,” she tried to console me, holding me close to her. “It’s okay. You said she works at the same hospital right? So don’t you think they’d like, have even more reason to help her get better?” She had a point. Curse you, logic.

I nodded, beginning to calm down a little, as she continued. “So, that’s why you freaked out, huh? Anyways, hey, I don’t even know your name yet.”

“Ro--” I stopped short, “-bin.”

“Robin,” she giggled. “I like that.”

I just offered a weak smile. What else could I do? I was trapped by my own stupidity.

“Anyway Robin, I don’t want to just leave you alone like this now that I know what happened. You want to come over and hang out until your sister gets back?”

Oh, crap! I forgot about Margie! How in the heck was I ever going to explain all this to her! I started to shake my head, but I could see the pleading expression in Allison’s eyes. This complete stranger really was scared of leaving me alone. This was a new and interesting experience for me.

Robert didn’t have any real friends. Classmates, sure, but no one he could just hang out and watch TV with. Now, Robin had been here less than an hour and already had a new friend willing to sacrifice her afternoon for her.

“Okay,” I finally relented, “I just need to change shoes.” I commented quietly as I reached down to unbuckle the strap of one sandal. My hands were shaking badly, so Allison reached out to help.

“These are some really cute shoes.” As she gently peeled one sandal off, she suddenly paused, grabbing my hand. “Holy jeeze. Your fingernails are awful! “ She paused again and offered a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out I could work on them if you want though. I do my friends’ nails all the time.”

As she chattered away, I reached for my feminine suitcase, producing a pair of gladiator-style flat brown sandals. I didn’t interrupt her, so she just kept chattering, moving on to my choice of shoes.

“Practical, but fashionable: I like.” Allison commented as she stood, offering her hand. “We’ve got a killer entertainment room in our basement. You’ll love it.”

I just nodded, as I slipped my other sandal into place. I reluctantly took her hand as I stood, releasing it as quickly, as we left ‘my’ room. I was both surprised, and thankful, that she didn’t say anything about the nursery motif.

As I walked downstairs with her, an overwhelming sense of guilt began to wash over me. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, and she turned to face me. I wanted so badly to tell her the truth right then and there, but I couldn’t. As much as I was afraid of what I was getting myself into, and as guilty as I felt about dressing and wishing I could be the girl she seemed to have assumed I was, I also desperately needed to not be alone right now either. I think she sensed my unease, though it was apparent she misinterpreted the reason, as she stepped around in front of me.

“… Listen, Robin, I know you probably think I’m totally shallow for just inviting you over out of the blue like this, but the truth is, I’m really scared for you, and I don’t want you to have to suffer alone like this. My big sister used to be really, really depressed all the time. I saw how she suffered. I know you have every reason to be upset, but the principle IS the same.”

I offered a weak smile in return, “Thanks, Ally. That’s not the half of what’s bothering me, though, but I’m… I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” I winced as my stomach rumbled quite loudly.

Allison giggled, “Mom’s making tacos, and she always makes way too much. Come on.”

Her soft fingers wrapped around my forearm, gently tugging me toward the door. ‘I have to ask what lotion she uses,’ I thought to myself as I followed her., ‘assuming she doesn’t hate me when I finally work up the courage to tell her the truth.’

“Your big sister’s Kelly, right?” I broke the silence, as we stepped outside. She stopped for a moment to smile at me.

“Yeah. She should be home this weekend. Actually she should’ve been finished with college stuff a couple of years ago but decided to change majors so she’s just now getting to a transition internship program, but she promised she’d have this weekend off to come home.”

“That’s good. I want to ask her how Mom’s doing.” I offered simply. She looked back at me with as much a reassuring smile as she could manage.

I knew how close I was to Margie, and I began to wonder what Allison and her sister’s relationship was like. Were they as close, or maybe closer? Did being sisters instead of brother-and-sister matter?

So many little, unimportant things crossed my mind that day, but they kept me from thinking about my grief, which was fine with me.

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