Unhappy with the band he was playing with, Jack decided to quit and go back home. Jack's sister Jen knew the perfect way to allow Jack to be Jill, just like she'd always wanted to be, and set things in motion to make it happen.
Changing Keys
By Jillian
Okay, first of all, I’m a professional musician. Please note, I didn’t say rock star, or anything like that. I’m what most in the music industry refer to as a “sideman”, or “hired hand”. Those terms have always seemed a bit too polite to me. I generally refer to myself as a “musical whore”. My policy has always been that the kind of music didn’t matter, as long as the pay was good, and if it was steady, that was all the better.
The other thing that’s important for you to know about me is, I am transgendered. Not like a flaming drag queen or something, but more like a feminine spirit within a masculine body. Unfortunately for the most part my opportunities for letting my spirit run free, as it were, have been extremely limited over the years.
To begin with, I decided early on that I wasn’t going to be able to manage a complete transition to womanhood for a variety of reasons, courage and money being at the top of the list. Additionally, playing in road bands often means living in hotel rooms with a roommate for months at a time, and contrary to what a lot of people think, musicians as a group are not any more tolerant of alternative lifestyles than the rest of the world. In fact, a lot of musicians are almost reactionary in their approach to gender.
Most of the world believes that men should be men, and women should be women, and that’s that. A lot of the guys I’ve worked with over the years would include the addendum of “And don’t even think of taking so much as a tiny baby step in the direction of that line separating the two.”
I’d spent much of the past year and a half touring the hotel lounge circuit with a five piece country band, and while in many ways it was just as uncomfortable for me as all the other bands I’d worked with in this situation, I did at least have the luxury of usually having a room to myself, so I was at least able to indulge in a few rituals that helped me cope with my situation.
It seems when you’re a non-smoker, working with four walking chimneys, it only takes a little bit of whining to convince the others that you should be the one to get the solo room so you don’t have to breath the second hand smoke in the hotel room, and I made sure to take advantage of this option from the first stop onward. None of them thought to mention that after all these years playing in bars six nights each week and breathing the extremely thick second hand smoke that was invariably present I was probably just as nicotine addicted as they were, and I wasn’t about to raise this thought as it would have been counterproductive to my purpose.
This meant I could at least wear panties instead of men’s underwear and yes, sleep in a nightie, and I could have decent shampoo, conditioner, and body wash with me instead of having to use the same cheap junk the guys used for fear that it all be wasted in some testosterone driven playtime adventure. This is important for me, because frankly these things are what help Jill be more comfortable with having to be Jack to the rest of the world.
Now, if that were the only problem I had playing with these guys, I’d be set. However, since I couldn’t stand any of the four of them because they were basically disgusting to me, I had been looking for an “out” for a long time, and it finally came when we found ourselves heading back home for three weeks because of a couple of cancellations.
As soon as we were given the news of our return to what we called civilization, I informed them that they should use that down time to find a new guitar player, as I wanted to ‘pursue something else’. There, I’d made my escape, and had been able to pin it on ‘artistic differences’. How cheesy is that?
I should also mention that the last time I had been home ‘at liberty’, as the old vaudevillians used to say, I had finally taken the plunge, and in an act of what can only be described as daring for me, started on hormones. Now here I was, a year and a half later, and if it weren’t for my stupid beard, I was probably about as feminine as I was ever going to appear, short of extensive surgery. What all this means is, if I were ever to actually transition, the time would be now.
Going back home meant I was once again going to be staying with my sister, which was actually a pretty good situation for me. She had known and accepted my transgenderism from early on, so I knew that as long as I was there, there would be nothing to worry about as far as problems were concerned, whether I went through with transitioning or not. I called her to inform her of my imminent return, and when we got back in town I asked the guys to drop me off there, and told them I’d come over later to get my gear.
Now, my sister is a wonderful person. She’s the lead singer in a band called ‘Starlust’. They play heavy rock and roll covers and originals around town several nights a week, and make a good living doing it. She’s also the first person I ever confided my secret in, and amazingly has always been very accepting of me and my peculiarities.
I grabbed my two big duffel bags that served as my luggage, and got out of the van. The guys surprised me by climbing out, getting my gear out of the trailer, and even going so far as carting it up to the porch for me. Maybe they were a little pissed because I was quitting, I don’t know. Once all my stuff was unloaded and my goodbyes had been said, I made my way up to her door. Either she had been waiting for us or our arrival was announced by the noise of my stuff being carried up onto the porch, because by the time I got back there from saying my farewells she had the door open, welcoming me back.
“Welcome home, sis,” she said to me as I set down my bags and gave her a hug. She always calls me that in private, and I love her all that much more because of it.
“It’s good to be back. Guess you’ll be stuck with me for a while. I quit those guys,” I informed her as we released the hug and made our way to the couch and sat down together.
“It’s about time!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure how you’d made it this long with those jerks.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not either, but it’s over now. The bad part is, now I’m going to have to find a new gig.”
She looked at me for a second with a strange grin on her face before she spoke, “I might have an idea on that front.”
I eyed her suspiciously before saying, “And what might that be?”
She patted my hand and said, “In good time.” She got up from the couch and, as she headed into the kitchen asked, “Want anything while I’m up?”
“Sure, got a diet coke handy?” I shouted in her direction. I wondered what she was thinking?
As she returned to her seat, she handed me a can of soda, then once settled back in her place she said, “I missed you.”
Still feeling rather suspicious after the ambiguous statements a moment before, I looked at her and said, “I’ve missed you too, sis, but what did you have in mind?”
“Moi? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she feigned ignorance, but I could tell the cogs were spinning up in the old noodle.
Growing frustrated with her evasive answers, I finally asked, “What’s this idea you might have for my new gig?”
She took a sip of her soda, set it down on the coffee table, then turned to me and said, “Come play with us for a while. We need a guitar player, and you are one of the best I know.”
I looked at her as she started to grin at me. “I thought you guys were an all girl band?”
“We are.”
“Well? I am not exactly equipped for that,” I said in an uneasy voice.
She eyed me for a moment before speaking again, “Come on, we both know that deep down you’re more girl than half the female guitar players in this town. I happen to know for a fact that you can look pretty good when you try. Besides, we have a lot of work lined up and need someone who can step in on pretty much no notice; our last lead player got pissed off and quit in the middle of a gig.”
“Why’d she get pissed off?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Shelly making out with her boyfriend backstage just before we went on.” Shelly has been the drummer in ‘Starlust’ for longer than I can remember, and lives her life by the motto, ‘I never met a guy I didn’t make out with.’
“Ouch!”
“You can say that again. Listen, the truth is, she wasn’t all that good anyway, and even if she hadn’t quit, I’d be asking you to do this anyway.”
“But…but…”
“Uh-uh. No buts allowed. You need a gig. We have regular work. We all talked about this as soon as you called to tell me you were coming home, and the girls all think it’s a great idea. It’s not like they haven’t all met Jill before. And who knows, maybe you’re learn a little something about yourself in the process.”
I sat there, unable to move or speak, for what seemed like hours. Finally, I said, “Listen, can I think about this for a while? I’m having some trouble with this idea.”
“Sure, but please don’t take too long? If you decide to do it, we need a couple of rehearsals before Wednesday night.” She then got up from the sofa, and went into her bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room, which was to be my quarters for the night, since apparently what had at one time been my bedroom had been converted into the band’s rehearsal space. I sat there drinking my soda and thinking about what she had just asked me.
My mind went from being frozen still to whirring at a hundred miles an hour in about three milliseconds. “Wow!” I thought, “That was unexpected. How on Earth could I pull something like this off? There’s no way in the world I could pass well enough to do it. No way!”
My brain was doing laps at Indy at this point, “Okay, so I’ve been out dressed lots of times, and at least don’t get sneered at on a regular basis, but we’re talking about being up on stage playing for four hours a night! I don’t think It would work. Now, how do I tell my sister this without coming across like a complete heel?
“I don’t know where she got the idea something like this could possibly work. Yeah, ten years ago we looked like identical twins. But that was ten years ago, and we’ve aged in different ways, most of which in my case have not been kind to my illusion of femininity.
“My damned beard has really thickened up to where it had become almost impossible to hide. My skin, in spite of daily moisturizing, no longer has any kind of feminine glow to it. No matter how hard I try, I’m still going to look like a guy, so how in the hell is this going to work?”
Once I’d finished torturing myself with thoughts of my sister’s hare-brained scheme, I came to the conclusion that I was too tired to even bother getting undressed, so I just curled up on the couch and drifted off to sleep. For some reason, this dream invaded my slumber that night.
I’m standing on stage, playing a really cool solo. As the song progresses, I start to notice things, like what I’m wearing. As things become more clear to me, I realize that I’m wearing a pale pink scoop necked tee with a denim mini skirt, and a pair of leather knee high boots with a spiked heel. Then I notice that my fingernails are painted the same color as the top, and when I start to taste the lipstick, I also notice the rest of the makeup on my face.
I throw my head back as the solo continues and I feel the dangly earrings pull at my lobes. The solo comes to an end, at which point I finally open my eyes to see my sister approaching the microphone, and looking just past the stage lights I can make out an enthusiastic crowd as they applaud my efforts as soloist.
At one point I woke up, shook my head, and said to myself, “It’s been a while since I had one like that.” In order to help clear my head, I got up and headed for the bathroom, where I took care of some necessary functions, then splashed a little water on my face in an attempt to clear the images of my dream from my head. After a few minutes, I returned to the couch and soon find myself drifting back to sleep.
The next thing I knew, it was morning. As I started to wake up, I could hear my sister talking to someone in the other room, and I didn’t know why, but I decided to quietly lay there and eavesdrop.
“I talked to him about it a little last night. I don’t know yet whether he’ll go for it,” I could hear my sister say.
“Oh, come on! We both know that all it’s going to take is a little push in the right direction, and he’ll be ready to abandon ‘he’ for ‘she’ for sure. And as far as we’re concerned, it would save us from having to cancel a few jobs,” said someone who sounded like Shelly.
“That it would, and she’s really good. I don’t know that we would ever be able to find another girl who can play like that,” Jen said as she quietly walked toward the sofa where I was still laying down.
“Hey sleeping beauty, I know you’re awake, so why don’t you get up off your butt so we can get started. It’s going to be a busy day,” she said as she came up behind the couch and smacked my arm as I tried to ignore her and pretend I was still asleep.
I open my eyes, look up at her, and say,” What? Why in the hell do I have to get up? I want to sleep!”
“Well sleepyhead, if we’re going to get you ready to start playing with us, there are a whole lot of things that need to happen,” she said as Shelly came up beside her and joined in staring at me as I slowly wiped the sleep from my eyes.
As I sat up I said, “And who said I had agreed to play with you?” I was going to drag this out a little bit before I gave in. “They can’t know that I’ve decided to do it. No sense in seeming too eager”, I thought.
“Well,” Jen said, “Do you have a lot of alternatives lined up?”
“Um, frankly no. Not at the moment, at least.”
“Good, then that’s settled,” Shelly interjected, then turned around and headed toward the dining room table. Over her shoulder, she added, “You’d best get in here so we can get started.”
I got up from the couch and started walking toward Shelly as I said, “And what exactly do we need to get started with?”
When I got to the dining room I noticed that Shelly was messing with a machine she had set up on the table. I got the feeling that this was for me, and I thought I had an idea what was going to happen.
Shelly sat down in one chair, facing another, with what looked like little electric probes in her hands. “How about we see what we can do with that facial hair? Sit down.”
“Do you know how to use that thing?”
She gave me a look that told me I was treading on thin ice as she replied, “Of course I do. I come from a long line of hairy women. My sisters and I went together a few years ago and bought this kit so we could do each other’s hair removal.”
“So, is this going to hurt?” I have always been a bit of a whiny one, after all.
“Yes,” she answered flatly, “But at least it’ll eventually be over, and then, no more facial hair!”
I realized she was trying to cheer me up, and to be quite honest I should have been jumping up and down with excitement. After all, I had wanted to get electrolysis for a long time, but just couldn’t afford it, plus being on the road made such things difficult.
However, any excitement I might have been experiencing over the impending permanent removal of my unwanted beard was countered by apprehension over my lack in confidence in the skills of my amateur electrologist.
Of course, while my mind wandered through that little landmine, Shelly took the opportunity to get started while I was distracted. I felt her touch my cheek, and then “Yow!” I got zapped with an electric current that took me completely by surprise. It was at that point that I determined that my best course of action was to maintain contact with what was going on around me, so she’d be a lot less likely to surprise me again.
This torture session went on for what seemed like about three days, but was in reality just under two hours, at which point she declared that she’d done about as much for one day as would be possible, so she rubbed a soothing lotion on my face as the tenseness in my shoulders and upper back began to finally relax.
“With the amount of hair you have, this will take some time. We’ll keep at it, maybe do a couple of hours every couple of days, and see where we’re at after the first few treatments.”
“So what you’re saying is that I have a lot more of this to look forward to?”
“That’s about the size of it, girl friend.”
I looked her in the eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask my next question before finally just blurting it out. “So, why go to all this trouble for me? What’s in it for you?” There, I asked it. Now let’s see what her answer is.
She looked at me trying to figure out if my question was serious, or just the male part of me being a jerk. When she did respond, I could tell that she had decided I was serious. “If we’re going to be playing clubs together, I’d like for you to look as good as possible, that’s why. It’s not like we’re trying to convert a total newbie here.”
“We all know you’ve been more woman than man most of your life. I’m just trying to help you make the rest of the journey. Your sister is my best friend, and that practically makes us family in my book. I’m not doing anything for you that I wouldn’t do for any of my other sisters.”
“Well, I really do appreciate it. I’ve thought about having this done for years, but never could put the time and money together at the same time. Thank you,” I said as a tear started rolling down my cheek.
Jen jumped in and said, “Hey, none of that. You may be my sister, but there’s no call for getting all girly on us right this minute.” She said it in jest, of course, but it had the desired effect nonetheless, which was to stop me from balling my eyes out, costing us valuable time in our preparations for my debut with ‘Starlust’, which was now a mere four days away. And I hadn’t even played any of their material yet. Sheesh.
Shelly then said, “Listen Jill, go take a bath, shave your legs, and hurry up about it. The band will be here for rehearsal in about an hour.”
“On my way,” I said as I headed for the bathroom. I took care of my assigned tasks, more quickly than I would have liked, and then proceeded to dry my hair.
After that, I went into Jen’s room and got dressed. It was great to not have to squish down my little but obvious breasts by wearing a far too small sports bra. I did have a couple of nice ones, that I unfortunately had not really had the chance to wear before now, and I was darn well going to take advantage of the opportunity.
Underwear sorted, I knew this was neither the time nor place to dress up, so I just pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, then slipped on a pair of sandals. I did decide to put on just a touch of makeup…nothing flashy, just a little eyeliner and lipstick, but it felt so good to actually be able to do even that much after so many months in hiding.
About the time I emerged from the bedroom, the rest of the band started showing up. I had met all of them a long time ago, but who knew what their reaction to playing with Jill was going to be?
The first one I encountered was Annie, the bass player. We had actually worked together years ago in a top 40 band, but apparently Jen had filled everyone in on my situation, because the first words out of her mouth were, “Hey Jill. Long time, huh?” She then gave me a hug, and I knew that at least for today, everything was going to be all right.
Last to show up was Sarah, the keyboard player. Other than Shelly, whose drums were all ready set up, she had the least to do to get ready for practice, since her stuff was also set up in the rehearsal room and all she had to do was throw a switch and start playing.
It seems I would be the last one ready, but that was partly because I wasn’t sure which setup to use. I’d spent the last year and a half playing my country rig, obviously, which was a Telecaster with a Fender Twin Reverb, plus my PodXT for effects.
Now, for the first time in years, I was actually going to be playing heavy rock, and I had a few decisions to make. The easy one was the amp…it had to be my old Marshall Bluesbreaker. The only action it had seen in years was when Jen borrowed it a couple of times because her ’59 Bassman was in the shop, but I plugged it in, turned on the standby, and the tubes lit up, so I was a happy girl.
Obviously I was going to need the Line 6 Pod, but when it came to the guitar, I was in a quandary. The last time I got to play rock, I used this Yamaha neck through body Strat that sounds killer, but at this point looks a little dated, because of this very 80’s looking pointy headstock that nobody uses anymore.
The other choices were the hated Tele, and an old Gibson Les Paul Custom that I love like a member of the family, but generally don’t play much because it hurts my shoulder from the weight. In the end, I grabbed the Yamaha, tuned up and plugged in, and I was ready to roll.
Jen walked up to the microphone, which was hooked up to the monitor setup, and said, “I think everyone knows Jill. She’s consented to play with us, which is guaranteed to sound better than the last several guitar players we’ve suffered through.” There was a ripple of giggles that went through the room even though there wasn’t really anything funny said, then she called the first tune. “Sweet Child of Mine in A. One, two, three, four…”
I played the ever so familiar opening, and found that everything fell into place quickly. Not like perfect or anything, but certainly workable. We had four days to put together four hours worth of music, so perfect just was not going to happen. Since they’d all been playing together for a long time, and I knew what I needed to do, the morning went pretty smoothly, right up until it was time to start in on some of the band’s originals.
We took a break for everyone to grab something to drink and then returned to the rehearsal room. I couldn’t resist any longer, and asked, “What’s next?”
Jen looked at the others and said, “Guess it’s as good a time as any to take a stab at the stuff from the CD.” With that, Sarah reached over to her rack and started the CD player that she often used at gigs in between sets, in the clubs that didn’t have a DJ.
‘Starlust’ had done one CD, about six months ago, of all original material, most of which were songs Jen and I had written together a couple of years back when we were taking what I had thought was one last stab at playing in a band together. They sold it at gigs and in local music stores, and had actually had to order a second run from the Disc Factory because they ran out of the first batch.
I had of course heard it several times, as the first thing Jen did when they got the initial run back from pressing was send me one by overnight so I could hear it. It was pretty good, and I’m not just saying that.
The first song was called “Politics of Love”, and had the coolest Led Zeppelin kind of groove that you couldn’t help but boogie to when you heard it. I listened intently to the recording so I knew the roadmap they had laid out, and then was ready to give it a try.
You told me your secrets, and I told you mine
But now it seems lately we don’t have the time
We’ve been goin’ round in circles, lost in the rain
Lookin’ for some answers to what’s runnin’ round in my brain
As the song moved into the first chorus, I could feel a rising intensity that struck me as so cool. I couldn’t help but think that I wished I’d thought to write it like that.
Now what can I do, and what can I say
To bring you back to me
I’ve never understood how the politics of love
Can change the way you think and feel and what you do about it…
In between the end of the chorus and the next verse, it was my first chance to show off a little, the way they had laid the song out. For a moment I felt like I’d been possessed by the spirit of Jimi Hendrix or something, because what was coming out of my amp didn’t sound like anything I ever remembered playing before, and when I looked over at Jen, I could tell that she was thinking the same thing.
I kept all your secrets, but you told most of mine
I knew we had problems, but I thought that in time
We could make it better, work it out, alright
I don’t mean to mislead you, but can’t you stay one more night?
I was finally starting to feel comfortable enough with the song that I looked around at my new band mates, and if the impression I was getting was accurate, I guessed they liked what I was doing so far, because everyone was sort of half smiling with this half spaced out look on their faces, like musicians sometimes get when things fall in the groove and they start really enjoying the music. I know I was really starting to enjoy this experience.
Now what can I do, and what can I say
To bring you back to me
I’ve never understood how the politics of love
Can change the way you think and feel and what you do about it…
Following the second chorus, it was my place to ‘shine’, as the good ol’ boys I had recently been playing with would say. The song was turned over to me to solo out to the end, a la Hotel California. While I sort of had some ideas about what I wanted to play, they were going to take some working out, so I just sort of jammed out for a minute before signaling everyone that we should wrap things up. The ending would have been pretty tight, if it hadn’t been for me screwing things up.
Of course, the girls had it down, but I was half lost and sounded like it in my opinion despite how I was feeling about the song as a whole, which can be embarrassing when you’re playing your own songs. So we then listened to it again, and tried playing it again after that. It went much better, but still wasn’t where I’d like it to be.
Not wanting to waste the others’ time any more than I already had, I said, “Why don’t I sit down with the CD and work out my parts tonight, then we can try playing them tomorrow?” That idea was greeted with mostly affirmative responses, so we then moved back to the cover stuff. Some Fleetwood Mac, Pat Benatar, Cheryl Crow, not to mention about half a dozen Allanis Morrissette tunes dominated the afternoon, so that by the end of the day we had about two hours worth of stuff we felt comfortable enough with to plan on it being on the set list for our first gig.
While everyone was shutting down their gear, Jen went and ordered pizza for everyone to be delivered, so it turned into a girls night in, which didn’t wind down until late into the evening, when first Sarah, then Annie and Shelly all headed out so they could get some sleep before heading into work in the morning.
That left just Jen and I alone, well after midnight but neither of us sleepy in the least. We were sitting on the sofa having a little wine when Jen asked, “So, what did you think? Want to stick around a while?”
I was taken aback mostly because I figured it was more up to them than me whether or not I became a permanent member of the band, so I really wasn’t sure what to say at first. I did finally remember how to make some sound that vaguely resembled speech, and said, “I’m in if you’ll have me.”
“I think that’s a given, don’t you?” Jen retorted.
“How many of the originals do you usually do on a job?” I was curious what the ratio was. I’d played in several groups that had their own CD’s out, but most of them only played one or two songs from the disc when they played live, because they wanted to stay as familiar as they could.
“It depends on how well received the first one or two of the evening are. If they go over big, then we might expand and do as many as eight or nine of the songs live, whereas if they’re not well received, we’ll limit to two or three.”
“Gee, that was informative, sis.”
“You did ask.”
Exasperated, I finally said, “So I guess you’re telling me I should get to know all of them, huh?”
“Couldn’t hurt, and considering they’re mostly your songs it shouldn’t be all that hard either,” she giggled as she made her escape from within my reach, anticipating my playful attempt at a punch in the arm.
Okay, so I guess my late night was planned for me. It took me a few minutes to gather up everything I would need, but once I had my laptop, my guitarport, headphones, and my trusty Yamaha, I started working out the guitar parts for all the songs on the CD.
It really didn’t take all that long, and after a couple of hours, I felt like I knew them about as well as I was going to without playing them live with the band a few times. After getting everything put away, I changed into my nightie, tied my hair up with a scrunchie, and laid down on the sofa. I must have been tired, because I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow.
The next morning, I was again awakened by the sounds of Shelly and Jen talking loudly enough that I was sure their intent was to wake me. So I rolled out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got myself dressed casually again. When I came into the kitchen, I found the evil conspirators plotting my fate.
It seemed Shelly had decided that although she didn’t want to zap my face again today, she was most definitely interested in playing with her hair gun again, and decided to attack my chest hair this morning. Thankfully, there wasn’t all that much to begin with, and what there was had long since been lightened by the hormonal assault, so about an hour later, the torture session ended with her declaration that my front upper torso appeared to be pretty much hair free.
This was actually the first time either of them had seen me unclothed since I had started on the hormones, so they were a little surprised to see that I actually had almost B cups jutting out from my chest. They were pretty much silent during the electrolysis treatment, but once that was over, Jen decided she’d waited long enough.
“So, sister mine, I see you’ve done a little remodeling.”
As I slipped my top back on, I replied, “Well I wasn’t going to run around flat chested for the rest of my life like Annie, was I?”
This earned me a slap on the arm from Shelly, but a giggle from Jennifer. Just then, Annie arrived for rehearsal, followed closely by Sarah, and we were once again back at work.
We started with a run through of the original stuff, all of which sounded much better than any of them would have, had we tried them the day before. This made me pleased with our progress, thinking that maybe we would get through this after all. After a repeat of “Politics of Love”, which was one of my contributions, we did another one of mine, called “Let Go of Yesterday”, which sounded like it could have been lifted off of a Pink Floyd album.
Since working on the stuff from the CD had consumed most of the morning, we decided to take a little lunch break, then hit it hard again after about an hour total away from our instruments. First up was Natalie Merchant’s “Wonder”, which isn’t exactly hard rock, but we all love the song, so there.
We whipped through a few Avril Lavigne tunes, then got a little off the beaten path, for girl groups at least, by breaking out “With or Without You”, Van Halen’s “Jump”, and a personal favorite of mine, Stone Temple Pilots’ “Plush”.
The last song on the agenda this day was Janet Jackson’s “Black Cat”, which we played the heck out of on the first try, then decided we’d worked hard enough for one day and the girls packed up their toys and went home, leaving Jen and I alone for the evening.
After a bite of dinner, we thought we’d have a quiet night just the two of us playing together like we did when we were kids, so we each went and got our acoustic guitars…me my Epiphone J-200 and her an Ibanez Artwood that was the same body style as the one Clapton played on his MTV Unplugged special.
We found ourselves going back over some of our older originals…the ones that were too mellow to make the cut with the band. We wound up jamming all evening long, until her cell phone rang and we realized it was nearly midnight, so deciding that getting a little rest before the next day’s rehearsal, we got ready for bed and told each other good night with a nice sisterly hug. Just like the night before, by the time I lay down, I was already nearly unconscious.
Tuesday morning came way too early for this old guitar player, as Jen and Shelly practically jumped on top of me to wake me up. I guess Shelly was going to start in with round two of the facial electrolysis, so I got out of bed like a good girl, and prepared myself for another morning of pain.
Following my two hour shock therapy session, I headed into the bathroom for my shower, where I decided it had been a few days since I shaved my legs, and this seemed as good a time as any. That done, I dried my hair and got dressed, deciding today to be a little more girly. After my bra and panties were on, I never really had enough to need a gaff, I opted for a cute little t-shirt that I’ve owned for a long time but never really had the chance to wear much for obvious reasons, and a short denim skirt with flat sandals. Casual, but feminine. A little touch of makeup…after all, it was just the girls coming over to practice, not much need to tart up or anything…and I was ready to rock, And just in time, as the others showed up as I was exiting the bathroom.
Once practice got rolling, we decided that we should go through and figure out the set list for the gig. This served the dual purpose of making sure everyone was on the same page, and in case anyone (as in me) felt uncomfortable with any of the songs on the list, we could run through them again to try and iron out any rough spots.
It made for a full day, even though we really only played a few songs, but around 5 rehearsal broke up for the day, again leaving Jen and I alone for a sister’s night in. Tonight’s plan? A chick flick fest on TV, toenail painting, and salty snacks followed by chocolate ice cream. Sort of like a slumber party for two.
Wednesday I surprised my torturer by being up and showered before she showed up at our door. Knowing what was on the docket for the morning, I didn’t bother getting fully dressed after my shower, instead donning just panties and a robe.
She had me lay face down and proceeded to zap back hair, which I wasn’t entirely aware I had. But, she swore on Janis Joplin’s grave it was there, and since I believe in being thorough in all things, I let her inflict her abuse on me once again. As she was wrapping up for the day, she looked at me and said, “Ya know, we may be able to finish off your face in just a few more treatments.”
With enough sarcasm dripping from my words that a small child could have drowned, I said, “Great!” got up and went and got dressed. Practical was the order of the day because we were going to have to load into the club that afternoon, so jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers would be my uniform until show time.
Shelly it seemed owned the band’s PA system, not to mention the only van in the group, so it was pressed into service for equipment hauling. It took about half an hour to tear down everything that was set up in the rehearsal room, then another half hour to haul it out and get it loaded around the rest of the PA.
Then we all piled into cars, me riding with Jen, and headed out to the club. An hour and a half later, we were loaded in, set up, and ready for a quick sound check before we headed back home to get dressed for tonight. We played bits and pieces of three or four songs, and declared everything ready.
Back at Jen’s house, I found myself having a heck of a time figuring what to wear. For a moment, I thought to myself, “Why the hell am I having so much trouble? I never had any difficulty picking out what to wear on stage before.”
Then it occurred to me that I’d never intentionally tried to pass as a girl when playing before. This was a whole new world, and as exciting as I was finding it, I was also scared thoughtless, which might have had something to do with my inability to make up my mind concerning clothing.
I had finally narrowed the choices down to three different outfits, all of which were laid out on Jennifer’s bed. She came in the room to grab her shoes, having long since gotten dressed herself, since she obviously had a clue what she was doing unlike me, and reached down and grabbed one of the outfits and handed it to me, saying, “See, it wasn’t that difficult, was it?” After that, she grabbed her shoes out of the closet and left the room, leaving me standing there holding the outfit she had just selected for me.
I finally returned to some level of consciousness and started getting dressed. The outfit in question wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d expect a rock chick to wear, but then I’m not exactly what you’d call a rock chick, so after taking off the filthy t-shirt and jeans I’d worn for setup, I pulled on a different, more low cut t-shirt and a pair of overall shorts, the result being nice but casual.
My next quandary had to do with shoes. I only owned four pairs of girl shoes…a pair of pink and white sneakers, flat sandals, a pair of wedged sandals, and black high heeled pumps. Having momentarily regained use of my brain, I decided that I would have to be an idiot to wear the pumps with this outfit, even if I weren’t going to be on my feet for four hours plus, so they were easy enough to eliminate from the running. I didn’t really like the sneakers with this outfit under any circumstances, and I actually wanted to look good tonight, so contestant number two down. Finally it came to me that the flats were just too casual, so the wedges it was. They dressed up the outfit just a little without looking out of place…a perfect choice.
As I was entering the bathroom to use the mirror to apply my makeup, which obviously was going to be more pronounced that I would normally wear because we were going to be up on stage, Jen was just applying the finishing touches to hers, and she looked great. I said, “Maybe I don’t need any makeup at all. It’s not like anyone is going to be looking my way with you standing in front of me.”
She acted like she was going to punch me in the arm, then said, “That may be, but no sister of mine is going on stage looking like a washed out ghost. Need any help?”
“I’d appreciate you letting me know if anything needs changed once I’m done. Despite the fact I’m older than you, you’re a lot more experienced with female war paints.” She left the bathroom, leaving me to my task.
A few minutes later, I called her to come offer opinions, and she quickly said if anything, I was a little too understated. I tried to explain that I wasn’t really in a position to want to attract a man, so maybe understated was a good idea. She seemed a bit skeptical, but didn’t press the issue further.
We drove back to the club, entering through the back and met with the other girls in the storage room that had been temporarily assigned double duty as a dressing room of sorts, because it could be locked for storage of purses and such. At this point, we hadn’t seen what the crowd was like, but from where we were it sounded like they were large in numbers or enthusiasm, one or the other.
Shelly looked at me and said, “Ready for this?”
I let out a nervous laugh, then said, “I suppose.”
Jen jumped in, “Don’t buy the shy little girl thing. She’s ready.”
With that, we exited the back room and headed toward the stage. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, I happened to glance at the front row of tables, and suffered the shock of my life. Sitting there was Dave, the drummer from the country band I had just quit. I was trying to hide behind the PA speaker stack as Jen came up behind me and asked, “What’s wrong?”
I leaned close so she could hear and said, “See that guy sitting at that table up front? The one with all the empties sitting there?” I tried to peek around the speakers without him seeing me.
“Yeah, so?”
“He was the drummer in the band I just quit!” I hissed in her ear, trying to emphasize just how certain I was that my life was about to end.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, intending it to be supportive and at the same time prodding me on stage so we could start the set.
In as feminine a gait as I had ever been able to use, I followed my sister on stage and picked up my guitar. I tried my hardest not to look at Dave, instead turning around to look at Shelly, who was starting to count us in to our first song. “One, two, three four!”
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Does Jill get through the band's first gig unscathed? What happens with Dave? Jill makes some discoveries about herself when she least expects it. Thanks to Karen J and Angharad for their assistance.
Changing Keys, Part 2
By Jillian
You would have thought that once we started playing, my nerves would settle down some, but every time I dared look toward the audience, all I could see was Dave sitting there smiling at me. He knew!
The worst part of it was that all this nervousness was throwing off my timing, so I wasn’t playing nearly as well as I could have. By the time we were through the first song, I’m pretty sure I was sounding pretty much normal, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still scared silly.
The entire first set, I felt like I had chains weighing down my fingers and was afraid that’s how I sounded. To their credit, none of the girls said anything negative to me while we were on stage, and we ploughed through the set without any major incidents. For the most part, the crowd did seem to be enjoying themselves, at least.
As we came off stage after the set, Dave was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at me. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with just a touch of a chuckle in his voice.
When I got to the bottom of the steps, I grabbed his arm and immediately pulled him back toward the ‘dressing room’ for a quick chat. “Hi Dave. What are you doing here?” I said, trying not to sound panicked, but failing miserably.
“Well, I was actually here to wind down a little tonight. Imagine my surprise when the band comes on and there you were,” he said as I could see the wheels spinning in his head.
Knowing just how bad this could end up, I started to say, “Dave…”
“Hey, it’s not like this is a total surprise, although I wasn’t expecting to see you up on stage like that. I had my suspicions about you for a long time.” He interrupted me before I could complete my thought.
“Oh, really?” My panic started easing, giving way to curiosity.
“Really,” he continued. “You did always come across as not exactly manly. Although, knowing what you sound like when you sing, I’m guessing you don’t do any vocals with this group.”
I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so much in my life, but did finally manage to speak. “That would be correct. What do you want, Dave?” There, I got to the point. No pussyfooting around, there really wasn’t time.
“Oh, nothing. I just thought I’d hang around and listen to this chick band. I might even call the other guys to see if they wanted to come by as well,” he grinned like he was the cat that just ate the canary.
My heart sank even deeper. It wasn’t bad enough that one person I’d essentially lived with for the last year and a half just found out about me, but he was threatening to call the rest of them so they could all see the ‘freak’ in action. I thought, “How much further ‘til I hit bottom?” Trying to maintain some contact with reality, to Dave I said, “I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t do that. Please?” I was on the verge of crying at this point.
Dave looked at me for a moment, then smiled and said, “Nah, there’s really no reason to, is there? I mean, we all suspected there was something screwy with you all along. We just weren’t sure what it was. That’s not to say we didn’t have our suspicions. I mean, I did see your laundry on occasion when you were washing your things.”
“You mean, you looked through my things when we would stop at the Laundromat? How could you?” I was beginning to move past curious, blew through scared, and into pissed off territory.
“Hey, it wasn’t like we did it on purpose or anything. It’s just that, in all the time we were playing together, you never once brought a chick back to the hotel, and yet you always had panties and bras and stuff in your laundry. It was kinda hard to miss. We just figured you liked to play dress up, so we let ya have a room to yourself so we didn’t have to see it.”
So there it was. My great plan I had thought had secured me my private room all that time, and it turned out it was because they didn’t want to see my in my most comfortable state. I was relieved and sickened at the same time. My secret wasn’t so secret after all. I looked at Dave again, and said, “So, are you going to say anything?”
“Nah, I don’t see much reason in starting a riot here tonight. Just don’t expect to ever live this down,” he said and started chuckling again as he left the dressing room to return to his table.
I sat down on a beer keg, since there weren’t any chairs in the room. As I was going over everything in my head for the umpteenth time since we got off stage, I fought the urge to break down and start crying my eyes out. I knew that no good could come from that, but it was a battle I felt like I was on the verge of losing at any moment nonetheless. Once I finally started to settle down, I just sat and thought until it was time to go back on.
Just before time, Jen came over to me and said, “Hey sis, it’s time to go back on.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“What? Some jerk shows up and gives you a hard time, and you want to just quit? That doesn’t sound like the sister I know.”
“Well, say hello to the new me,” I replied with as serious a look on my face as I could muster. I was only able to hold it for a second before the seriousness started to fade.
She looked at me for a second, then said, “Whatever. Let’s get a move on, girls.”
Shelly surprised me by coming up beside me, taking my arm and pulling me up into a standing position. She gave me a little squeeze to start me walking toward the door, and said, “Nothing’s going to happen, you’ll see.”
I looked at her like she had two heads for a moment, then responded, “Yeah, right.” Once we were at the foot of the stairs leading up to the stage, we all looked at each other. All of a sudden, I felt a new resolve come over me. There was no way I was going to let him get to me like that.
As we got ready to start the set, we could clearly hear Dave shouting, “SRV! SRV!” Obviously, having played together for so long he was aware that I had done a lot of Stevie Ray’s songs at one time or another, but wasn’t going to be doing any singing tonight. I mean, I can look all right, and I can manage a semi feminine sound when speaking sometimes, but there was no way I would ever be able to sing and sound the least bit feminine, period. And since Jen didn’t do any of his songs, we had to try to ignore him. He did say not to expect him to let me live it down.
After the first song was done, Dave started in again with his “SRV!” chant. He carried on like this in between songs, and the longer it went on, the more certain I was that it was indeed intended strictly as a jab at me. However, I was long past getting worked up over his sad attempt at heckling, and we battled on womanly through the second set, and the third, all the while being treated to his “SRV!” chant in between songs. He even carried on some in between sets, and at one point I was certain the bouncers were going to come over and escort him from the premises, but that didn’t happen.
While on our break between the third and fourth sets, I finally spoke up, “I’m so sorry, guys. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to put up with that idiot Dave out there trying to get under my skin. I just wish I could shut him up.”
All of a sudden, Jen looked like a light bulb had come on over her head. “Maybe there is.”
I asked, “What are you talking about? I know you’ve never done any of Stevie’s stuff, and I’m sure not going to sing. There’s no way I could possibly sound even the least bit like a girl.”
Just then, Shelly seemed to catch on to what Jen was thinking, and said, “Nobody said anything about singing Stevie Ray. You know some of his instrumentals don’t you?”
“Well, duh. You can’t play guitar for a living without knowing some of those tunes.”
Jen then said, “Why not play one of them?”
Finally catching on, my face lit up as I said, “And I know the perfect one. It’ll maybe shut him up for a bit, and give us a chance to bring down the intensity for a minute or seven.”
Annie jumped in, “You’re thinking of digging out ‘Lenny’, aren’t you?” She was well aware of how familiar I was with that tune, since when we were in that band together before, that was my big feature song every night.
I looked first at Annie, then at Shelly and Sarah, and finally at Jen before speaking, “It’s a pretty easy tune for the band to play. You just have to watch for signals when to bring things to a halt.”
I was starting to get excited. Maybe Dave is drunk enough at this point he’ll forget why he was shouting for Stevie Ray all night long, and will shut up once we play it. I doubted that, but it was a possibility. On top of that, if I had to pick one song and say, “This is my all time favorite”, it would be ‘Lenny’.
I explained quickly that I would start things off by myself, then when I gave the signal, the band would come in. I asked them to exaggerate the dynamics a lot, because that helps make the song work. And finally, I told them to watch for my signal toward the end that would tell them it was time to drop out, allowing me to play it out to the end.
If it worked it would be a huge crowd pleaser. If it didn’t, we could expect to hear nothing but the crickets rubbing their legs together when the song ended. I dearly hoped it would be the former.
We climbed those steps one more time and made our way to each member’s respective positions to a smattering of applause, along with Dave’s by now seriously slurred chant of “SRV!” We started the set off with Van Halen’s ‘Jump’, and then as the crowds cheers subsided, Jen took to the mic to say, “You’ve been patient all night, so here’s one for that Stevie Ray fan over there.”
I started in with the jazz chord introduction, like Stevie played live, and then after I finally settled in to the main tune, I signaled the band to come in gently. It felt amazing, considering the fact that we’d never played the song together before, to hear the intensity rise and fall with each passing phrase. I dug deep and pulled out everything I could think of to throw into that song, and by the time I signaled for the band to drop out so I could play the sustained jazz chord ending, I felt completely drained.
Then it came time for the moment of truth. There was an instant of silence during which I was scared to death that maybe it sounded like crap. When the cheers began, a sense of relief washed over me and revitalized me, really. It seemed they really liked the song, and for the first time since the end of the first set, there was no chant of “SRV!” I looked down at Dave’s table and saw why. He had apparently left during the song, the jerk. Oh well, at least we might not have to be heckled for the rest of the final set.
Jen smiled at me in an attempt to bring me back to planet Earth, and then we picked back up with the pre-planned set list, closing with Alanis Morrissette’s ‘Uninvited’. As we walked off stage, cheers and calls of “Encore” assaulted us. But, as it was past 1am, and the bartender had already shouted, “Last call”, we were done for the evening.
Once we were gathered in the storage/dressing room, we engaged in a group hug; and to be honest more than a couple of tears were shed. As the hug was breaking up, the manager came into the room and paid Jen, who then promptly divvyed up the night’s earnings. While she was doing the math, the manager asked, “Did any of you know that jerk up front that kept screaming for the SRV?”
Feeling mildly confident in my ability to sound quasi-feminine, at least enough so to hopefully avoid detection, I replied, “Yeah, I used to play with him. Things didn’t end as amicably as they might have, and when he discovered I was playing with the band tonight, he decided to try giving me a hard time.”
“Well, if you’d played that tune earlier, looks like you could have saved yourselves a little frustration. What kind of jerk requests something all night long, then leaves in the middle of it?”
I really didn’t want to elaborate on that point, as there was a chance that doing so might expose me as a not exactly genetic girl. So I simply said, “The kind I’m glad finally left, so we could enjoy the rest of the gig.”
The club manager started to leave our ‘dressing’ room, but stopped and turned to face us from the doorway and said, “So, ya’ll are here through the weekend, that right?”
I stared at him blankly. The fact was, I had no idea when or where we would be playing, but it turned out I didn’t need to. Jen, who generally served as band spokesperson, said, “That’s right. Tomorrow, Friday, and Saturday nights.”
“Cool, I guess I’ll see you ladies tomorrow evening then,” he said as he exited.
I looked at Jen and jokingly said, “Nice of you to let me know the schedule. What if I’d had a date or something?”
She didn’t say a word, instead simply looking at me with an expression that was intended to convey, “Yeah, whatever.” I ignored her as I closed the final latch on my guitar case. I was ready to go home, but it seemed none of the others were quite on my schedule, so I took a seat on a beer keg and waited patiently for the other girls to finish getting ready to leave.
As I looked around the room killing time, I found that my eyes kept gravitating back toward Sarah. She was the one I knew least well of the band members, and for some reason there was just something about her that intrigued me.
What I did know was that she was very shy, despite being really pretty. The thought occurred to me that I might have to find out if there was a story behind that.
I noticed more than a few times, I’d look her way to find her looking at me, which I found quite disconcerting. I was having trouble reading her expression, partly because every time I caught her looking my way, she would quickly divert her eyes and look at the floor, or her nails, or basically anything but me. Somehow, that intrigued me all the more.
We played this little stare and divert game for a few minutes, until everyone was ready to head out. I was just about to make my way over to Sarah for a chat when Shelly came over to me and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, and be prepared for more pain.” She cackled as she walked away. Unfortunately, while I was distracted by the evil hair killer, Sarah left so I didn’t wind up getting the chance to talk to her.
On our way back home Jen was quiet, which suited me just fine, as I still hadn’t processed everything that had just happened. Once we arrived at the house, we both carried our guitars in and while she headed for the bathroom and started the shower, I sat down on the sofa, almost falling asleep instantly.
The next thing I knew, Jen was standing there in her nightie with a towel wrapped around her hair. She nudged me a couple of times and said, “Hey don’t think you’re going to sleep on my couch in those smelly clothes. Go get showered, so we can get rid of the smoke smell.”
I dutifully did as instructed, and while I was in the shower, my mind began wandering in directions it hadn’t gone in a long time. It seems that at least in part because of my gender issues, I never had really got around to figuring out just who or what I was interested in, sex wise. It just never really seemed all that important, since I wasn’t sure what I was, and without knowing that I didn’t think I’d have a lot of luck figuring out the other. Since it was easier to just not think about it rather than stir up the mud in my river of dreams, it had worked out that despite being in my late twenties, I was still a virgin, and frankly still had no idea what I might or might not be interested in.
That being said, there was one thought that kept returning to my mind that night as I washed my hair…Sarah. It didn’t click with me until later, but I seemed to have finally started to figure out where my interests lay.
By the time I got out of the shower and dried off, Jen had long since gone to bed and I could easily make out the faint sounds of her snoring waft out of her bedroom. I pulled on my nightie, pulled back my hair, and lay down on the couch, covering up with a blanket. Mere moments later, my snores were harmonizing with those of my sister.
I was sitting very close to Sarah at a table in the bar. There was a calm sense of peace that seemed to envelope us, blocking out the rest of the world. We were looking into each other’s eyes silently when a loud noise interrupted the moment from the other side of the club.
Dave and Mike, the front man from my old band, were making a fuss. Dave shouted, “Hey Jack, finally found a girl…besides yourself?”
Mike decided to add his own barb. “I figured you were a fag, but never considered the possibility that you were a lesbian!”
I made the mistake of taking my eyes away from Sarah for a moment, and was instantly assaulted by all the noises that had been previously blocked from my ears. In addition to the heckling from my former bandmates, there were a couple of drunks sitting close to us shouting, “Hey, why don’t the both of ya come on over and try it with a man?”
First I started to cry, then when Sarah looked into my eyes and saw my tears, she also began crying, until the sounds of our sobbing had drowned out the noises from the bar once again…
I woke up shaking my head to clear the foggy images that were fading from my memory as I began achieving a greater level of wakefulness. I got up and went to the bathroom, tended to some personal business, then returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa for a few minutes.
Suddenly, I felt the urge to pick up a guitar, and as I did so an idea for a new song began forming in the back of my mind. I strummed a few chords, trying to find the right feel, then once I found the perfect groove…a soulful waltz like tempo…the words just started flowing…
All I’m asking is a moment
And then I’ll let you go
And if you’ll give me that one moment
I’ll tell you something I think you should know
I could hear the entire band in my mind as I was scribbling down the words as quickly as I could, so as not to forget them.
Then if you don’t believe me
You know I’ll understand
But I’ve got these things just runnin’ through my brain
And if you’ll take my hand…
As I continued, the words came flowing out almost too fast for me to write them down.
I can show you all I’ve got to give
And all my hopes and dreams
We’ve each got our own lives to live
But sometimes I go to extremes
With each passing bar, I fell in love with this song just a little bit more.
And I hope that you’ll believe me
When I say I don’t want you to go
‘Cause It’s too strong, and it won’t let me be
And I wanted you to know
There was a rise in intensity, and while when I first started I had been trying to keep things quiet so as not to interfere with Jen’s sleep, by the time I reached the next section, all thoughts of keeping a lid on the volume were long since gone.
I can’t fight it any longer
I just had to let it show
‘Cause it’s growin’ so much stronger
That I might break down
Fall down on my knees
I just might lose control…
With a return to the first section musically came the realization of where this might have come from. I wasn’t certain how comfortable I was with that knowledge, but…
I’m not asking for a lifetime
I couldn’t ask that of you
But if you gave me a lifetime
I’d be thrilled to spend it with you
And then it was time to complete the thought.
And so tomorrow, when the morning
Comes shining through
Then you can look into my eyes and see
That what I say is true
As the final chord faded, I heard a shuffling come from the hallway. Looking up, I saw Jen standing there listening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She looked at me for a moment, then said, “Not at all. Good song. How long have you been working on that one?”
I looked at the clock, and replied, “About half an hour, from the looks of it.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Pity it’s not really suitable for the band.”
“True.”
She came over to sit beside me, and looking me in the eye asked, “So, who’s this about?”
“What do you mean? Does it have to be about someone?”
She started giggling just a bit, then said, “Well, I don’t suppose it HAS to be, but I’m betting it is. Who is it?”
I hummed and hawed for a minute or two, trying to wriggle my way out of this question when she asked, “It’s not that asshole, Dave?”
A smile escaped from my lips as I said, “No, it’s not Dave.”
“Well then, who is it? Is it someone I know?”
I started blushing uncontrollably. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my face had turned the color of a stop sign.
She said, “It is!” At this point, I didn’t have to say anything, as it seemed my body was intent on betraying my secret. After what felt like about three years, but was in reality only around thirty seconds, Jen asked, “Boy, or girl?”
I looked at her for a moment before replying, “Aren’t you the nosy one, little sister?”
“You better believe it sister mine. So?”
I looked her in the eyes for a moment, then made a decision. “It’s sort of weird to go through a year and a half of hormone treatments and start living full time as a woman only to find out you like girls. Well, a girl.”
“So, why are you so afraid to tell me it’s Sarah?”
I’m sure I blushed again, but tried to cover it up by saying, “What makes you think it’s her?”
“You mean besides the thirteen shades of red adorning your cheeks when I said her name? I take it you haven’t talked to her about this yet.”
“I really have no clue how to go about it. This is all new territory for me.”
“Well, I’m a little surprised, I have to admit. I had you pegged for going after some fireman myself.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
She patted my knee and got up from the sofa, “Ah, well, at least you have good taste.”
“Sis!!!”
She started to walk back toward her bedroom, and as she was doing so she said, “Well she is good looking! Not really my thing, but…” She stopped just before going back into her room, “Put that guitar away and try to get some sleep, would ya? There’ll be plenty of time to talk to your dream girl tomorrow. Imagine, my sister, the lesbian,” she started giggling at her own joke as she went in the room and closed the door behind her.
I set aside my guitar and did try to go back to sleep, but for some reason the Sandman just wasn’t cooperating. After a while, I did finally manage to achieve a state more or less like sleep, but let’s just say it wasn’t exactly restful.
I must have eventually managed to fall asleep, as the next thing I knew, Jen and Shelly were once again waking me up. It seemed Shelly wanted to inflict a little more pain on my face, and was getting anxious since I wasn’t awake yet.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to rise and shine,” she said as she poked my shoulder, not unlike prodding a possibly dead animal to see if it were in fact dead.
Still laying there with my eyes squeezed tightly closed, I muttered, “What time is it?”
Jen made her presence known by answering, “Just after noon, and if we can be up, so can you.”
I rubbed some sleep out of my eyes and asked, “We’re not practicing today, are we?”
As she was starting toward the table where she already had her toy set up, Shelly said, “No, but we could still get a little work in on your beard. Who knows, maybe after this all that’ll be left will be cleaning up the strays that didn’t die the first time?”
I had to admit that I liked that idea, although I felt pretty certain that she was being overly optimistic both about her skills as an electrologist, and the thickness of the hair follicles I had left. Prying myself up off the sofa, I followed her over to the table, trailed by Jen. “Funny, you say that same thing every morning, and from the looks of things we’re no closer to being done than we were before. We all know that the truth is this could take a very long time. Although, I must admit that I will be so glad when this is all over with.”
As we took our seats, Shelly said, “I understand. We’ve been doing a lot more hairs on you than I ever had done, and I know it’s not the most pleasant experience in the world. But the truth is, even after only a few days, it’s easy to tell the difference. Let’s just keep at it, and eventually, it’ll be all done.”
That obviously struck me as a much more realistic appraisal than her previous statement, and I couldn’t help but sense my mood soften as a result, even though she had already started with the zapping.
I zoned out for a while, and although I was aware of my sister and tormentor carrying on a conversation while my treatment was being inflicted, I wasn’t aware of the contents of that discussion until I happened to catch Shelly saying something about Sarah. I interjected, “Come again?”
“Oh, so you are still in there somewhere,” Jen teased.
“Yes, sorry, just sort of spaced out for a bit. It makes it easier to ignore the pain.”
Shelly then said, “What I was saying is that Sarah’s a sweet girl. Whoever winds up with her will be very lucky indeed.” I could see the twinkle in her eye, which told me Jen had obviously told her something about last night, and this was her way of subtly teasing me about it.
Trying to play along, I said, “You are right about that.” I felt my mind drifting away again, so I didn’t catch what the girls were saying after that. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I found myself trying to figure out what I was going to say to Sarah, assuming I ever got around to actually doing it. I envisioned any number of different ways it could go, ranging from innocuous to downright disastrous, and had just about convinced myself that I should just forget the whole thing when Shelly brought me back to reality by saying, “Okay, done for today. If we tried to do much more the redness and swelling wouldn’t go down by tonight, so…”
My head now firmly back in place, I said, “Thanks, Shell. Now, what’s for lunch?”
This prompted a round of giggles from everyone followed by my beloved sister telling me, “Go get a quick shower, and I’ll see what I can come up with.” This sent Jen rummaging though the fridge in search of something to eat.
She was still looking around, trying to make up her mind, when after a few more minutes of digging, she finally said, “Anyone just want sandwiches?”
Shelly replied first by saying, “Sure, that sounds fine.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any corned beef?” Jen knew I love corned beef sandwiches, and usually tried to keep some on hand when I’m in town.
“Well of course. I know how to take care of my sister,” she commented as she pulled things out of the fridge so we could build our own lunches.
Lunch eaten, we were all putting dishes and things away when Sarah let herself in the front door. Shelly looked up at her from where she was bent over the dishwasher and said, “Rather presumptuous of you.”
Sarah commented, “Well, if you’d rather…”
Shelly cut her off by saying in a really awful Mexican accent, “Keyboards? We don’ need no stinkin’ keyboards.”
I looked over at Sarah and in a burst of courage said, “Hi,” then looked away.
“Hi,” she replied, as she too suddenly took an immense interest in the tops of her shoes.
Jen quietly grabbed Shelly’s arm and dragged her out of the kitchen, back into her bedroom saying, “Why don’t you come help me with the flyers for next week’s gigs?”
As they left, I asked Sarah, “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” She walked on into the living room, with me following closely, and took a seat on the sofa. I then proceeded to sit next to her while I nervously tried to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. Apparently she was suffering from a similar malady, as we sat there looking at each other shyly for a couple of minutes.
I did finally break the silence, in the process chickening out on what I really wanted to say, when I told her, “You know, I’m really enjoying playing with you all. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoying playing this much. Thanks for letting me.”
She looked taken aback, and said, “Hey, I don’t remember us ever sounding so good. We should be thanking you.”
The silence settled over us again, as neither one of us seemed certain what they wanted to say next. That silence was broken by the sounds of Shelly coming out of Jen’s room, but as soon as she saw we were still sitting there quietly, she turned around and went back in and closed the door behind her.
Sarah looked at me for a moment, then asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong.” I became quiet again for a moment before finally starting, “This is kind of strange.”
“What?”
“Well, I like you, Sarah. Not just as a friend.”
“Oh,” she commented. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow indeed. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to figure me out, that I never really thought about who I might be attracted to.” I took a deep breath, then continued, “This is really the first time I can ever remember feeling any sort of…of attraction for someone. I have to say, I’d really like to get to know you a lot better, if you’d be receptive to the idea.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually told her that.
She looked me in the eyes and said, “I like you too. But, this could get awfully complicated, ya know? It’s like, I know that physically you’re still a guy, but you look like a girl. And, I’ve never been interested in girls.”
“Oh.”
I thought my heart would stop beating. Just as despair was about to wrap it’s claws around my soul and wring the life out of me, she surprised me by leaning in close and lightly kissing me on the lips. With that, my heart started to pound and my spirits soared.
Maybe I was being a little quick in my reaction, but I was ready to find out just exactly where things stood. I leaned in and brushed my lips against hers, starting gently, then building in intensity until she broke the kiss and sat back in her seat.
I looked at her for a moment before speaking, “Well?” I am a girl of few words, it seems, as I couldn’t think of a single other thing to say at this moment. My eyes began to water, as I awaited her next words.
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Sarah and Jill explore their feelings, and the band performs. Will they hear from Dave again?
Changing Keys, Part 3
By Jillian
As Sarah silently looked into my eyes, I tried to fathom what she was thinking. My mind ran through the gamut of possibilities, and I wasn’t sure if I should be thrilled or devastated by her indecision.
Finally, she spoke, “I don’t know. I will admit to having some feelings for you, but like I said, I’ve never been into girls. I know that doesn’t seem like much of an answer but . . . .” she allowed the thought to drift off into silence.
“Believe me, I know how weird this seems. I’m still trying to make sense of things myself.” I took her hand in mine and gazed into her eyes. “I sensed something between us this week, and especially last night after the gig. If I was wrong, just say so, and I’ll let it drop, okay?” There, I put it back in her court.
It wasn’t difficult to see the confusion swimming in her eyes as she processed all of this. I sat as patiently as I could manage as her heart and mind tried to make some sense of the situation. Several times, she looked like she was going to speak, but always stopped short.
Finally, I broke the silence, “Sarah, there’s no hurry. Take as much time as you want to think about things. I’ll be here when you have things figured out.” I released her hand, stood up, and started to leave the room.
“Don’t go,” she said as I took my first steps. I turned back to face her. “I’m not sure how to say this.”
I returned to my previous seat and looked into her eyes again. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”
“A couple of years, I suppose. Not that we’ve had that many opportunities to hang out together before this week.” It was true. She’d been playing with Jen for a couple of years, and whenever I was in town, I’d hang out with her band.
“I remember the day we met for the first time. I saw you as you walked into the living room that day as we were setting up for practice. I remember thinking, ‘He’s cute. A little feminine for my tastes, but . . . .’”
She took another deep breath, then continued. “We got to know each other, and I will even go so far as to admit to being attracted to you back then. In fact, I was almost gutted when I found out about Jill.”
I sat there in a stunned silence. This was all news to me. How had I managed to miss this? I decided to interject, “I had no idea.”
“Well no, you wouldn’t. I made sure not to tell anyone. I had just found what my heart was telling me might very well be the perfect guy, and then the next thing I know, I find out you wanted to be a woman.”
She looked away for a moment, then back into my eyes before finally settling her gaze on her hands in her lap. “I guess the truth is, those same feelings are still there, only they’re all jumbled up. There’s part of me that is just plain scared by the prospect of getting involved with you as more than a friend.”
I looked at her for, I don’t know, maybe a minute, maybe ten years. It was hard to tell at that point, as it felt like time stopped. I finally reached out and with my fingers on her chin, gently urged her to return her gaze to me.
“If I had been less self absorbed back then…” I let that thought die before restarting. “What if we just go really slow, and see what happens?”
She remained silent for what seemed like forever before finally responding, “Okay, I’d like that.”
I once again moved in closer to her and leaned in to give her another tender kiss. As our lips met, my contact with the outside world was gone for who knows how long, until I heard Shelly clear her throat and say, “Okay, break it up in here!”
We slowly pulled our lips apart and smiled at each other. It took a moment or so for the embarrassment to set in as we both diverted our eyes downward.
Jen was the next to speak, “Now that that’s settled, anyone want something to eat before we get ready for tonight?”
She and Shelly went into the kitchen to investigate the fridge, while Sarah and I remained seated facing each other. I don’t know about Sarah, but I was pretty sure that simply being this close to her could sustain me for a week or two at least, but finally good sense prevailed and I piped in, “I’ll take a sandwich.”
Sarah added, “Sure Jen. Whatever you have is fine.”
A few minutes later, we were all gathered round the dining table, having been joined by new arrival Annie. After sharing a small meal of sandwiches and chips, Jen returned to her room along with Shelly, while I took the rehearsal room to get changed. Annie had arrived dressed for the gig, and Sarah surprised me by following me into the rehearsal room to also get changed.
I suddenly felt very shy about changing in front of her, but her response to that was, “You don’t have any parts I’ve never seen before. Just a slightly different combination,” she giggled as she began changing her clothes.
I’m sure that were it not for the fact that my male parts hadn’t functioned in quite some time thanks to my hormone treatments, my reaction to seeing this lovely woman change in front of me would have been embarrassing, to say the least.
But, since that didn’t happen, I managed to refocus my attention to my task at hand, and began changing into a denim skirt and tank top. Once again opting for my wedge sandals, I looked up to see Sarah just finishing with her makeup, as I was ready to begin mine.
Not that I was going to wear much. The fact was, other than some lipstick and eyeliner; I wasn’t planning on wearing much more than a little powder to even out my face tone. I’ve always sweated a lot when playing under stage lights, so anything more than that bare minimum would be at best a waste and at worst would look like a bad joke.
Ready at last, Sarah gave me a quick kiss and we headed back out into the living room where the others were also ready to head out. We had decided to ride together tonight, since the parking was not the most accommodating.
So, we all piled into Shelly’s van and rode the thirty minutes to the club, where we parked in back and entered through the delivery entrance, which came in right beside our ‘dressing room’ door.
After unpacking and tuning the guitars, we were all ready to get started, although we still had a few minutes before we were expected on stage. We sat there for a moment before Shelly broke the silence. “Ya know, I was thinking maybe we should put ‘Lenny’ on the set list. It went over so well last night, other than with that jerk that left…”
Jen added, “Plus, it gives me a few minutes to rest my throat. Let’s put it in the fourth set, about halfway through.”
I simply nodded, knowing that at this point there really wasn’t much sense in trying to dissuade them, as it appeared they’d already made up their minds. Besides, why would I want to? As everyone got up to head out on stage, Sarah took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze as she moved in close and whispered in my ear, “Break a leg!”
We switched positions so I could have her ear, and I said, “You too.”
Never one to pass up an opportunity to give someone a hard time, Shelly chimed in, “Hey, none of that here. Keep your paws to yourselves!”
We couldn’t help ourselves, and both of us started giggling. It took a few seconds to regain some sense of control, by which time we were due on stage. Everyone filed out and toward the steps, me next to last in line just in front of Jen. As we climbed onto stage, we all took a quick glance at the crowd, and to my great relief, there was no Dave.
I half expected him to show up again just to give me a hard time. He had always been rather closed minded, but then again so were the other guys I had been working with. You know, the kind of people who think Rush Limbaugh is too liberal.
We quickly got plugged in, and after a brief tuning check were ready to get started. My sister and I had never been what you’d call conventional in any way, and that applied to song selection as well, which was in evidence right away this night when we started the proceedings with Janet Jackson’s ‘Black Cat’.
I know I was feeling much more comfortable than I had been the night before thanks to not having to contend with pissed off former band mates, and I’m fairly certain that feeling came through in the sound. Whereas the night before my fingers felt like they were weighed down with lead, this time they were flying as if they were practically weightless.
We concluded the first set with the first of our originals for the evening, playing “Let Go Of Yesterday”. I played the intro, and by the time Jen’s vocal started I was in full David Gilmour mode.
Long ago you said goodbye
After all this time you’d think I’d realize
That you’re not comin’ back again
It’s a fight that I can’t win…
This song was a unique combination of intense yet laid back, in a way not unlike Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”, and that’s the way I played it, with each line of the vocal echoed by a line from the guitar.
Yesterday is dead and gone
I can’t remember where I started from
I look in the mirror, I don’t know
Where it is I need to go…
The intensity grew as we moved into the chorus.
I’ve been wanderin’ through my life
No destination in sight
No reason left to fight…
Now I’m lookin’ for a way to let go of yesterday…
The guitar counterpoint to the vocal built until at the end of the chorus it broke into a singing solo that carried that intensity through a statement of the verse chord progression and gently eased back as the vocal returned for the next verse.
Since that day you said goodbye
I’ve been lost and I can’t figure why
Too afraid to look ahead
I was lookin’ back instead…
Again, the song began gradually building up the intensity of the vocal/guitar duet.
It’s time for me to move along
I’ve been weak but now I must be strong
Like gaining sight when you were blind
It took a while for me to find…
The second statement of the chorus brought with it a return to the full intensity of the first.
I’ve been wanderin’ through my life
No destination in sight
No reason left to fight…
Now I’m lookin’ for a way to let go of yesterday…
Again, the interplay between voice and guitar built until it overflowed at the end of the chorus, where the guitar burst into the same singing line I’d played the first time. The only difference came toward the end of the verse, where instead of letting it die down gracefully, I metaphorically pushed the pedal down a bit more, driving the song into one last statement of the verse.
This final verse carried in it’s lines all the angst, anger, sadness, and fear I’d carried around with me all my life, mixed with the joy and love of life I now felt having finally found myself. The song eventually returned to Earth as the flame gradually died down until all that remained was one sustained guitar note, supported by a soft organ chord that slowly faded to nothing.
As we climbed off stage after that first set, I felt like I’d been playing for hours already, I was so drained. But at the same time, I felt invigorated in a way that only reaching deep within and exposing your emotional self can bring.
I had seriously wanted to disappear into the back room to recuperate but that was not to be, as it seemed some of our ‘fans’ wanted the privilege of buying us all a round of drinks. We commandeered a table to the side of the stage, and the waitress brought us each our usual beverages of choice, mine being a diet coke. It’s not that I’m anti alcohol, rather that I find it easier to do my job well if I have my wits about me, and drinking tends to interfere with that.
A group of guys came over to our table to compliment us on the set, and no doubt try to make some headway on a more personal level. We politely chatted with them for a bit, then excused ourselves for a run at the ladies room before time to return to work.
Over the course of the evening, I did flub a few things, as I was feeling confident enough to try a few things I wouldn’t ordinarily do, but overall the band, and my playing in particular, sounded much better than the night before.
At least that was until about halfway through the fourth set, when we noticed a tussle at the back of the bar. I knew immediately who it was and what they were doing, but I suspect I was the only one in the know until one of them spoke up loudly enough to be heard over the crowd as they responded to the song that had just finished.
“You mean you quit the band so you could go be a chick?” was the first comment I could clearly make out from the altercation near the door. The voice was unmistakable. It was Billy Joe, the lead singer of ‘Kentucky Straight’. I should have been able to recognize the voice, as I’d heard it enough over the past year and a half. “I always knew you were a fruit, ya pansy!”
Dave was the next one I made out, as he shouted, “Yo Jill, where’s Jack?”
“Listen girlie, why don’t ya come take care of me after you’re done here?” I recognized that voice, but couldn’t place a name with it at the moment. “I always knew you wanted it.” Then it hit me. That was Terry, the bass player.
The confidence I had felt all evening long evaporated the instant I heard those voices. I was terrified they might decide to do something physical because they were so mad at me for quitting, leaving them in the lurch as they saw it. Not to mention the over the top homophobic responses I knew would be coming if I ever had to face them in a more private setting as Jill.
As soon as we knew what was happening, we started the next song as quickly as we could, and while we were all obviously distracted, we tried our best not to let it effect how it sounded. However, their continued barbs could still be made out in the background of the music…
“Oh, come on! Can’t you tell that’s a guy?”
“I oughta kick that damned faggot’s ass!”
“Yo Jack, why don’t ya come play with this?”
By the time we were well into the song, the verbal assault had stopped, replaced by the sound of tables and chairs being tossed around, and breaking glass. Eventually, the patrons in question were escorted from the premises, and by halfway through the song, which happened to be ‘Complicated’, they were no longer in the building. Despite that, I was still shaking hard enough that playing was, shall we say, difficult. All of a sudden, I had reverted to my form from the night before.
We finished out the evening without further incident, and retired to the ‘dressing room’, where we were eventually joined by the club manager. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. “So, what was that all about?”
He knew that we knew exactly what he meant, so playing dumb was not in our best interests. Jen was the first to find her voice in response, “They used to play with Jill. She quit their band to come play with us, and they’re kinda pissed off about the whole deal.”
“I gathered that part. It’s the other I’m having some trouble with. They kept going on about Jill being a guy.”
I finally found my own voice. After all, this was my mess, and I’d best own up to it. “Well, technically that’s true.”
“This isn’t a gay club,” he said with more anger than I’d expected. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Jen once again took on the roll of spokesperson. “We thought we were getting a great guitar player, who just happens to be one of the most feminine people I’ve ever met.”
I sat there unable to speak, and finally broke down in tears over his reaction. Sarah was immediately at my side, offering comfort as Jen and Shelly persuaded the manager to leave with them so they could talk. I don’t know exactly what happened or how long things took, but the next thing I was aware of was being held by Sarah, with Annie close by.
Jen and Shelly did finally return, and from the looks on their faces they seemed satisfied with the outcome of their conversation. It seemed that for once, logic had won out over homophobia, as the fact that the cash registers had been busier the last couple of nights than they had been in weeks was deemed more important than having to forcibly escort a couple of rowdy drunks outside because they took issue with the entertainment.
Jen had secured the assurance that the doormen would be informed not to allow Dave or Billy Joe back inside, so I could rest relatively easy in the thought that there shouldn’t be any more incidents like the one this evening. We packed up the guitars and headed out back to make our way home.
That ease I had so recently acquired was short lived, as we got to Shelly’s van and found that several of the windows had been broken.
“At least they didn’t slash the tires,” Shelly joked as we climbed in, brushing chunks of glass out of the seats so we could sit down for the drive home.
“I’m so sorry you guys. This is all my fault,” I said as I buried my face in Sarah’s shoulder and started crying.
By the time we got home, we were all numb from the cold. Annie said her goodbyes as soon as we got there and took off in her car on her way to her warm husband and equally warm bed, while the rest of us went inside to attempt to warm up a bit. Jen headed straight for the kitchen to make up some hot chocolate, Shelly and Sarah took seats at the table, and I disappeared into the bathroom to take a quick shower.
A few minutes later, I was back with the others, minus the bar smell but changed into my most modest girls sleepwear, as a piping hot chocolate was set in front of me.
I took one sip and smiled. When I looked around the table, I could see that the beverage was being met with similar greetings at all corners. We all sat there enjoying the taste and aroma in silence for a few minutes, until Jen broke the quiet by saying, “Jill, would you take care of anyone who wants a refill while I zip off to the shower?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Jen disappeared, wanting to restore herself to a more human state. Meanwhile, I went to the kitchen and got everyone refills. Once back at my place, I looked at the girls and said, “I’m so sorry. I never should have…”
Sarah cut me off, “Enough of that. You’re not the one who owes apologies here.”
“That may very well be, but…”
“She hasn’t started back in with the sorries, has she?” Jen piped in as she returned from the shower.
Shelly answered her question, “Well, duh. What did you expect? You are related, after all.” As she finished her statement, she got up from the table and headed, I presumed, for the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the shower running once again, and knew that Shelly was planning on staying the night with my sister.
I’d known for years that they would occasionally spend the night together, but never really felt it my place to ask if it was anything more than a platonic sleepover. Now, however, I was suddenly intrigued…and then a little grossed out at the same time by my own curiosity.
When Shelly emerged sporting her own nightclothes, Jen surprised me by asking Sarah, “Did you want to clean up a bit?”
“If it’s no trouble,” Sarah tentatively answered.
“Jill, why don’t you show Sarah where the towels and things are?” It may have been worded like a question, but there was no question in my mind that this was more than just a suggestion.
I led Sarah to the linen closet, and as I opened the door to retrieve a towel for her, she moved in close and kissed me on the cheek. I don’t know what overcame me at that moment, but I asked her, “Would you like to stay the night? I don’t really have a bed, but I’d be more than happy to share the sofa.”
She nodded her head yes, then we started giggling for a moment before some sense of sanity returned to us as I helped her prepare for her shower.
While she washed away the remnants of our evening’s labors, I thought about why I’d asked her to stay. I really hadn’t even cast a single thought toward sex, but I could understand how the invitation might have been construed that way. I came to realize that I simply wanted to get to know as much as possible about this woman, and thought we might be able to talk some more about things.
We ‘borrowed’ some sleepwear from Jen’s room, and while Sarah got herself ready, I gathered up everyone’s smelly clothes and carted them off to the laundry room. Once sorted, I threw in the first load and returned to the living room just in time to find Sarah exiting the bathroom.
Apparently, while I was preparing the laundry, Jen and Shelly disappeared into Jen’s room, leaving Sarah and I to our own devices. We converged on the sofa at more or less the same time, and took seats very close to one another.
“So, feeling any better now?” I asked.
“Much. It always feels good to get that smell washed off, ya know?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, the beginnings of a giggle bubbling it’s way to the surface. I stifled that urge, and asked, “Would you like to hear a new song I just wrote?”
She seemed to suddenly glow with pride at the notion that she might be one of the first to ever hear this new creation, and quietly said, “I’d be honored.”
I quickly retrieved my acoustic from the corner, then returned to my place, then proceeded to play for her ‘All I’m Asking’. If anything, it took on an even more delicate tone than it had the night before. Maybe that was due to the fact that I was now playing it in front of the person for whom it had been written. I tried not to come right out and tell her that part for fear the knowledge might seem a bit overwhelming.
Once the song ended, Sarah looked into my eyes for a moment, before looking away in what could only be viewed as embarrassment. I was fairly certain she knew she was the subject of this opus, but I was having great difficulty reading her reaction to it.
I asked, “What’s wrong?” as I set aside the guitar.
She looked back at me once again and said, “I told you how I had a crush on Jack a long time ago. You know, in a lot of ways, I miss Jack.”
I tried not to allow the intense sadness I felt at her statement show on my face, but I’m pretty sure I failed miserably. I finally managed to pull myself together enough to reply, “Sometimes I do too.”
“Do you ever have second thoughts about the course you’ve chosen? Why not go back?”
“Because the life I have as Jill is so much better than anything I ever experienced as Jack. That is, of course, ignoring those jerks I used to play with. Before, I never felt like I belonged anywhere or with anyone. I feel like I belong here with Jen and all of you. Especially you.” I tried to communicate with my eyes just how deeply my feelings ran for this woman. Whether I succeeded or not, I couldn’t tell.
She stared into my eyes for an eternity before finally speaking, “I don’t understand how I’m feeling about all this. I know you’re technically the same person you were before. I can see the same caring, loving nature, and even physically, though there are some differences, you’re still basically the same as you were before. I already told you how I felt about you before, but for some reason, there’s just something in the back of my head that’s making me hold back. I’m sorry.”
She scooted away from me to the other end of the sofa, leaving me in stunned silence. I looked at her and felt a few tears escape my eye, then more and more. I fought the temptation to flat out bawl, and managed to remain silent as the tears rolled down my cheeks for several minutes. I knew I dared not turn my gaze away from her, for fear I could no longer control my desire to bellow in pain and sorrow.
She was looking directly at me, and I could see that she too was crying silently. We sat there like that for what seemed like days, just staring at each other as we silently cried in longing.
I was shocked when Sarah finally broke our silence, saying, “I hope you don’t hate me, but I just don’t think I can do this. I do love you…like a sister.”
I knew this was a possibility, so why was I surprised? Did I really expect her to ignore the fact that I was turning myself into something she’d never been attracted to, just because I loved her? What could I say?
Finally, I just said, “I love you too,” and then we drifted off to sleep, curled up at opposite ends of the sofa.
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Jill and Sarah both learn something about each other. Jen and Shelly prepare a surprise for Jill, and the band gets through another night at the club.
Changing Keys, Part 4
By Jillian
Jen and I were sitting at the children’s table in her room, having a tea party with her favorite dolls and my teddy bear. She was wearing her best party dress, while I had squeezed myself into one of her others that had a little more room in it. We were having fun until our mom came in the room, “Jack! What do you think you’re doing?” was all she said.
I got up from the table and started running for my room, removing the dress on the way. I slammed the door shut, threw myself on my bed, and started crying my eyes out…
Jen got up in the middle of the night to visit the bathroom. While up, she realized she should probably check on the laundry, so everyone’s things would have a chance of being clean and dry by morning. Once loads were changed over, she started back to her room while Shelly tended to her necessary business.
As they returned to the bedroom, they began to hear a faint crying sound emanating from the living room. Having a fair idea who it was coming from, they both made their way to Jill’s side…
“I’m home,” I shouted as I came in the door, having just got off the school bus. The house seemed empty, so I headed straight for my bedroom. ‘Maybe there’s time for a little girl time,’ I thought as I climbed the stairs.
As I entered my room, I was shocked into reality to find my mom standing by my bed with the contents of my bottom dresser drawer…not to mention the very back of my closet…laid out in front of her. Everything…my panties, bras, hose, my one dress, nightgowns…all of it laying there with her burning holes in it with her eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?” she said, barely restraining herself from completely exploding.
“They…they’re…um…” I stammered.
“How many times must we go through this?” she asked, holding up a handful of my delicates. “Where did you get these?”
“I…I bought them. With…with my lawn mowing money,” I finally managed to stammer out as I lost control of my tear ducts.
She gathered up all of my things and carried them out of the room with her, saying, “No son of mine…would dress like a sissy.” She stormed out the door and presumably downstairs where she disposed of my beloved things.
Despair overtook me, and I fell to the floor unable to hold myself up as my body was wracked with sobs…
Jen immediately sat right next to Jill as she was shaking from the intensity of the sobs as they escaped her still sleeping form. Jen wrapped her arms around her sister and held her tight, in hopes that this would allow her to awaken and not feel so alone.
Meanwhile, Sarah was also waking, and as she did so Shelly led her out of the room to allow the sisters some time alone. They made their way to the dining table, where they took seats.
“Sshhh, it’s all right sister mine,” Jen gently repeated as she held the crying form of her sister.
I finally awakened enough to realize where I was, and the tears began to subside.
After a moment or two, Jen asked, “Was it the same one? Do you want to talk?”
“Yes, the same one. Remembering when we were kids and how much I loved the times when I got to be a girl like you. It almost made the other times bearable.”
“Right up until mom decided to put an end to it,” Jen added, demonstrating little love for their departed mother.
I once again started to tear up, in response to which Jen held me tighter.
In the other room, Shelly was asking Sarah, “What happened?”
“I, uh….”
“Listen, she only has those dreams when something bad happens, and I don’t mean putting up with a couple of hecklers at a gig. So I’ll ask you again, what happened?”
“I…don’t know if I can…”
“That’s more or less what I thought. So, you’ve been carrying around a torch for almost two years, and because the person you profess to love has changed the clothes they wear, you change your mind?”
“It’s not exactly like that.”
“Oh, no? Then how is it?” Shelly became a little more agitated. “From what I can tell, about the only thing that’s changed is the clothes. Even when dressed as Jack, man is not a word I would ever have used to describe him. That, and the fact that she’s a lot more comfortable with herself than he ever was.”
“You make it sound like I’m shallow,” Sarah responded, her voice full of shame.
“Yeah? Well maybe there’s a reason for that,” Shelly retorted.
Sarah slowly began to cry.
Back in the living room, Jen was still comforting the person she had come to think of as her little sister. Jack was her big brother, but Jill…
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jen asked.
“I don’t know,” I said between sniffles.
“I take it things didn’t go as you’d hoped?”
“You could say that,” I replied, finally regaining some control.
Jen looked toward the dining room for a moment, trying to decipher what she should or should not say, then said, “This may just be a little strange for her. You know how I told you that I thought she might be interested? That wasn’t just a guess.”
“What do you mean?”
“She had been harboring some pretty strong feelings for Jack for a long time. Like all the time you were gone this last tour. Saying she’s shy is quite an understatement. It may just take her some time to figure out that you’re still that same person. I don’t think she gets that the only thing that’s changed is clothes,” Jen tried to reassure Jill. “Give her some time, okay?”
I sat there in my sister’s arms, feeling safe, which was still an unfamiliar sensation for me. I eventually managed to convince myself that Jen was right, and finally managed a, “I don’t know if I can, but okay, I trust you. If you say so, then…” I allowed the thought to drift away unfinished.
After a few minutes of silent cuddling, during which I finally regained some control over my emotions, I asked, “Jen, can I ask you something?”
“You mean besides what you just did?” Jen giggled at her joke. “Sure, anything, you know that.”
“Um, how long have you and Shelly…?” I wasn’t sure how to finish the question.
“You aren’t nearly as observant as I used to give you credit for, are you?”
“Hey! That’s not fair!”
We both began giggling. Once we had settled down a bit, Jen answered, “Okay, I’ll admit it. We’ve been together off and on for a long time, as in years. We love each other, but we also still enjoy a little man candy from time to time.” With that, Jen began blushing furiously, which gradually evolved into another giggle fest.
Meanwhile, Sarah was slowly regaining control of her tear ducts, and managed to ask, “Have I screwed things up permanently?”
“I don’t know. The only way to find out is to try.”
“But I still don’t know if I can,” Sarah said, nearly starting to cry once again.
“Listen, pull yourself together and go back in there and talk to her, and I don’t mean the shy little thing you usually do. I mean really talk to her. She’s still the same person you’ve said you loved, and if you give her a chance, she’ll prove that to you.”
In a burst of courage she didn’t know she had in her, Sarah rose from the table and returned to the living room, where Jen was still taking care of me, like she always did.
“Jill, can I talk to you for a minute?” Sarah asked, making her presence known to me.
I looked up, took a deep breath, and finally said, “Sure.”
Jen got up and said, “I think I want to go back to bed.” Looking toward Shelly still sitting at the table, she then said, “What about you, Shell?”
Shelly got up from the table and said, “Absolutely,” as she followed my sister back to bed.
I watched them leave, then as Sarah sat down beside me once again on the sofa. The first words out of her mouth, even before she was sat down, were, “I’m sorry.”
Making an effort to put on a brave face, I replied, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
She cam back, “Yeah, I do. I haven’t been telling you everything yet. When I said I had been interested in you when you were Jack? That was something of an understatement.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I dreamed about you every night you were away. I had this whole relationship built up in my head, and when you came back and I saw that you had changed, I wasn’t sure how to respond.”
“I get the feeling you thought I was someone I never was. You knew about Jill, even back then. Why is it such a surprise now?”
“Yes, I knew about Jill, but in my mind you had always been Jack. I figured you were just a cross-dresser. I thought I could live with that, but this…”
“But this is a little more than you had bargained for,” I completed the sentence.
“Well, yes and no. I still have these feelings for you, and I think I’m starting to understand that no matter what clothes you wear, you’re still the same person. The person I fell in love with.” She looked into my eyes for a moment, then diverted her gaze to her hands in her lap.
I watched as she did this, then said, “But…”
“I think I’m going to need some time to think about things. If you can’t give me that time, I’ll understand, but…”
“…I’ve got nothing but time,” I interjected. “Hey, it’s not like they’re banging down my door.” I then smiled and looked at her as she finally raised her gaze back up to my eyes.
She smiled back at me, and gave me a hug into which I melted like ice on a summer’s day. We sat there gently holding each other, neither saying a word, and eventually returned to sleep in that position.
The next morning I awoke to the sounds of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen, and discovered that we were still entwined, but had somehow managed to make our way to a reclined position, wedged together on the sofa. It might not have looked very comfortable, but to me it was heaven.
“Are you two ever going to wake up?” shouted Jen over the din of her attempts at cooking.
I slowly worked my way off the sofa, trying not to disturb Sarah if at all possible, and once I was clear said, “If we must. What’s got you up and around so early?”
“Well sister dear, we need to go get the window on the van fixed, and someone I know and love is in dire need of a wardrobe update.”
I stumbled into the kitchen so we could carry on this conversation at a more subtle volume level. Once there I said, “Unfortunately, by the time I pay for that window, I won’t have any cash left for shopping.”
Shelly popped around the corner and said, “Don’t be silly. We’ll all pitch in on the window. You need some new clothes.”
“Does that mean we don’t have to play with your torture machine today?”
“Correct. You are hereby given a pass for the day.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,” I said as I went to get dressed.
By the time I finished making myself presentable, Sarah had also risen and was in Jen’s room getting dressed. She emerged a few minutes after me, ready for the day to come.
As we ate, I asked, “Where exactly were you thinking of going shopping?”
Sarah said, “Shopping? Why didn’t anyone tell me? I want to go!”
Jen smiled and said, “You must not have been completely awake yet when I mentioned it before. Jill is in dire need of a wardrobe update, so we were going to hit the mall for a while. You can come along if you like. It’ll be fun.”
Sarah smiled back and said, “Count me in!”
Shelly chimed in with, “If we don’t get a move on, we may not have time for the mall, because we’re not going anywhere until the van window is fixed.”
“Ooh, I forgot about that for a moment there. We may not have time for much shopping after all,” Jen said, disappointment obvious in her voice.
Shelly responded, “It won’t be that bad. I’ve already called the auto glass place and told them what we need. By the time we get there, they should be ready to begin the install. There are advantages to having friends who know their way around a car.”
“What Shelly is saying in an uncharacteristically subtle fashion is that one of her many male friends works at the auto glass shop,” Jen said, trying to get Shelly’s ire.
“Are you saying I lack subtlety?” Shelly was obviously taking the bait my sister was dangling.
“Well, you ARE a drummer,” immediately came Jen’s reply.
After we all broke out laughing for a moment, Shelly responded, “That’s why you love me.”
“Is that why? I thought it was that thing…” Jen let the thought go unfinished as Sarah and I gasped, with shocked looks on our faces.
“No, that’s why I love you,” Shelly retorted.
As the room broke out in a fit of giggles, we reached the conclusion that we were done with our breakfast, so we all took our plates into the kitchen, cleared them into the garbage disposal, and stowed the dishes in the dishwasher.
It was a rather chilly autumn morning that was accentuated by the unwanted ventilation from the broken van window as we made our way first to the auto glass shop. Shelly pulled straight into the bay and jumped out to greet her friend who would be taking care of our problem today as the rest of us climbed out of the back. It was rather obvious to all present that Shelly planned on paying for this with something other than cash, as she kissed her friend deeply, then left him to his work.
We found the waiting room and fixed ourselves coffee while we waited. Once we were settled in, Jen addressed Shelly, “I take it I’ll be sleeping alone tonight?”
“If you are, that’s your own fault,” Shelly retorted.
I don’t know why, but I had never expected girls, and especially my sister, to carry on this sort of conversation. While at first, I felt a bit uncomfortable listening to these sorts of exchanges,; by now I was starting to get used to it, and actually found them rather humorous. To that end, I let a giggle escape me as I listened to them carry on there in the waiting room.
Shelly’s friend had obviously been prepared for our arrival, as it seemed he had all the necessary parts on hand, ready and waiting. As a result, we barely had time to finish our coffees before it was time to head out for our day’s shopping.
Shelly was very friendly indeed with her gentleman friend as we boarded the ‘Shelly-mobile’, and we could overhear her telling him he could pick her up at the club at 1am. I guess that meant we weren’t riding together to and from the club, huh?
We arrived at the mall, parked the van, and made our way inside. Jen must have thought she was in charge of this expedition, as she immediately led us toward Victoria’s Secret.
“I don’t need underwear. I have plenty,” I balked as we reached the entrance to that shrine of sensuality.
Shelly immediately asked, “But do you have any ‘nice’ underwear?”
“It’s all in decent condition,” was all I could think to say.
Jen added, “Yes, but if you want to woo the lovely Sarah over there, don’t you think you need something a little sexier than white cotton?”
I think Sarah blushed almost as much as I did in response to that question. Nonetheless, we followed our fearless leaders inside and began browsing through the wisps of silk and lace. I don’t know exactly what came over me, but I caught myself picking up things and holding them up for Sarah’s approval.
To her credit, she managed not to turn completely crimson, and eventually became more engaged in the safari. I still had the feeling Jen and Shelly weren’t telling me everything regarding their interest in seeing the two of us become a couple, but decided to go with the flow for the time being, and didn’t ask.
After some encouragement from everyone present, I did finally consent to a couple of purchases, and we were on our way. Similar scenes transpired over the course of the day, until mid afternoon when we all realized we were hungry, so we meandered toward the food court, each making our selections then reassembling at a table so we could dine together while we dissected the day’s events.
“I really like that new top you picked out. I think it’ll look fantastic tonight,” Sarah gushed.
“Absolutely. Wear those new jeans with the ankle boots you picked out,” was Jen’s contribution.
Shelly looked at her watch, then blurted out, “You know, we really should be heading back. I hadn’t realized how late it was.”
We finished up with our food, then gathered up the day’s haul and made our way back to the van. After a short drive home, we disembarked and went inside. As we entered the house, Jen started acting suspiciously. She suggested I take my new purchases back to my closet in the rehearsal room. I shrugged and, with Sarah’s assistance carried my substantial booty back there to put it away.
As I entered the room, I was stunned to see that it was no longer an empty rehearsal room, but rather now contained a queen size bed, dresser, and vanity. I looked first at Sarah, who was as surprised as I was, then felt my sister put her arms around my neck as she came up behind me.
“What? You think Shelly’s the only one who has gentleman friends willing to do favors for her?”
“But, how?” was all I could think to say.
“Shopping wasn’t just so we could get you some much needed clothing. We had to get you out of the house while this stuff was brought in,” Jen replied.
I looked first at her, then at Shelly, who said, “We can’t have you sleeping on the couch forever, can we?”
I turned around, grabbed my sister, and proceeded to hug the stuffing out of her. “You are a tricky one, aren’t you?”
Sounding a bit like she was struggling to speak because of the intensity of my hug, Jen said, “We would have done it sooner, but since Friday was the first day Jimmy and Bobby could get off work to move the furniture in, it had to wait until now.”
“Thank you, sis,” I said through newly forming tears of happiness.
I then released Jen and grabbed Shelly, giving her a hug equal to the one I’d just bestowed upon my sister. “Thank you Shell. You’re a great friend,” I said to her.
“Hey, all I did was drive,” was her response.
I looked around the room…my room…and smiled. “You shouldn’t have,” I said to no one in particular. A silence settled upon the room.
Jen broke that silence by saying, “Sarah, can Jill ride with you tonight? I need to run Shelly home so she can change, and then I’ll be going to Jimmy’s after the gig to pay for all this moving work he and his brother did while we were out.”
Both Sarah and I blushed a bit before Sarah responded, “Sure, that’s fine.”
Sarah and I sat down on the edge of my new bed as Jen ran to her room and changed outfits in world record time. She then headed out the front door with Shelly in tow. We were surprised by just how loud the door slamming shut was, and both of us jumped slightly at the sound.
It suddenly occurred to me that Sarah didn’t have a fresh change of clothes here, so I asked, “Do you need to run home to change as well?”
“No, I have something in the car. You weren’t the only one who got to buy new things today, you know,” she responded shyly. She then smiled, and went out to her car to get her new outfit.
While she was gone, I changed into my new outfit. The jeans fit like a glove, the ankle boots were gorgeous, and the new top was very pretty as well. The only drawback was that since I didn’t have a strapless bra, I had to go without because of the spaghetti straps. This was a strange, unfamiliar sensation as ever since I’d sprouted I had always worn something to either squash or lift whenever I was going out.
I scooted out the bench and sat down at ‘my’ vanity, where I first brushed out my hair, then started to put on a little makeup. As usual, I wasn’t really all that interested in using a lot of war paint, but a little bit can go a long way toward making an ugly duckling look like a swan, if you know what I mean.
While I was working on my eyes, Sarah returned from her car and started changing right there in front of me. For a brief moment, I was surprised, until I realized that there was nothing odd about girls changing clothes in the same room.
Sarah asked to use my vanity, so I went to the kitchen and got a can of diet coke to drink until she was ready to leave. As she emerged from my room, I felt that same odd sensation I had been getting whenever I saw her. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it felt good to me.
“Are you sure you don’t mind providing taxi service tonight?”
“Not a problem. It’ll give us more time to talk,” she said as she took my arm and led me out the front door and into her car.
I climbed in the passenger seat after stowing my guitar in the back, and once she too was in the vehicle, we set off toward the club.
“You know, I’ve always wondered,” Sarah began, “How exactly did Jen wind up with that house?”
“Okay, it’s like this. Our mom sold the old family home once Jen and I were both out playing for a living, and took the money from that sale to buy a smaller place, because she didn’t think she’d need all that room anymore, you know. When she died, she left the house to Jen.”
“Well, what about you?”
“I was pretty much persona non gratis in our mom’s eyes. I think she might have preferred if I’d never existed, to tell you the truth.” In spite of years of steeling myself against such things, I began to tear up while talking about my mom and how she had always treated me. “Of course, Jen more or less stuck it to mom when she went and had a lawyer change the deed on the house so that we are listed as joint owners.”
“If this is a sore topic, tell me, but what about your dad?”
“He was killed in a car crash when I was two, and Jen was just a couple of months old. Of course, it could just as easily have been called a fishing accident.” I nearly laughed at that thought. “He had gone fishing that day, which for my dad meant he’d take a boat out for 12 hours or so, loaded with massive quantities of beer, and drink himself into a stupor while pretending to fish until the beer ran out. Then he’d head home. That night, he missed a curve and went head on into a huge outcropping of rock. They said he died of blunt head trauma.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Sarah nearly cried as she said it. “I had no idea.”
“Of course not. It’s no big deal, really. No need to apologize.”
“You said your mom was not exactly happy with the way you’ve chosen to live your life?”
“That’s an understatement if ever there was one.”
“Did she ever do or say anything that might have led you to believe that she really was proud of you or your sister?”
“I honestly can’t remember a single time when I felt anything from that woman other than scorn and disappointment.”
We pulled up to a stoplight, and Sarah took the opportunity to look deeply into my eyes. What I saw in hers struck me as possibly the saddest thing I’d ever seen. I thought that maybe I needed to change the subject a bit, away from the bad things I’d been through before, as they were obviously having an adverse impact on her. And myself.
“Sarah, can we talk about something else for a while?” I asked as we pulled away from the light.
“Sure,” she replied.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked after a few minutes of silence caused by uncertainty concerning better topics of conversation.
“Well, if you’re up to it, I think I owe you an explanation.”
“For what?” I asked, completely puzzled.
“For the way I’ve behaved and reacted to you since you came home,” she responded. Taking a moment for a deep breath to clear her thoughts, she began, “I know that maybe it seems like I’m fighting my feelings for you because of your change. The truth is that’s only a small portion of what’s getting in my way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I realize it might seem like I’m having trouble reconciling my feelings for you with the fact that you used to be, at least in my eyes, a man, and now you’re a woman. I’m not having that much trouble with that idea, now that I’ve gotten used to it.”
She continued, “More than anything, the problems I’m having are related to some personal baggage I’d rather be rid of, to tell you the truth. I’m sorry if I made you think I wasn’t interested in you, because to be honest, I am.”
“Do you feel like you could tell me about it?” I asked, desperately wanting to know and hoping I could do something to make it better.
“This goes back a few years, before I met your sister. I had been living with this guy. At first, he was such a sweetheart, doing things for me, bringing me flowers; all sorts of things that really made me love him. Unfortunately after a while, things started to change. He became really jealous, like if I talked to or even looked at another guy, he’d go nuts. He started not letting me go to gigs without him, because he was afraid I might talk to someone.”
“Wow,” was the only thing I could think of to say.
“At first, I was kind of flattered. But then he started getting worse, and it kind of scared me. Then one time, he thought I was being too friendly with a patron one night, and when we got home, he hit me.”
She gulped, trying to contain the tears I knew had to be forming in her eyes, before continuing. “I was shocked. He’d never given any indication he might do something like that. I was going to pack my things and leave when he said he was sorry, and that it would never happen again. Like an idiot, I believed him.”
“Eventually, he started getting more violent, until one time, I can’t even remember what started it, he got mad at me and was cursing and hitting, and throwing me around the room. He hurt me bad enough that I wound up going to the emergency room, and they admitted me into the hospital. I was afraid to tell them what had happened, and wound up making something up about a car accident.”
“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” was all I could say. Had we not been driving down the road, I’m sure I would have had my arms wrapped around her, trying to provide some comfort.
“When I got out, he was much better for a while, but then eventually things got worse again. It wasn’t until he hit me in the parking lot of a club I’d been working at that the truth came out. One of the bouncers saw him hit me, and ran over to my defense. He tackled him and held him down until the police got there and arrested him. While he was in jail, I moved my things out of his apartment, and tried to move on. Unfortunately, that experience has made it nearly impossible for me to trust anyone since.”
“I must say, I think I can understand that. The only thing I can tell you is I promise never to do anything to hurt you,” I said as we parked the car behind the club. Before we got out to go in, I reached out and gave her a hug, and a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, Jill. You’re the first person I’ve told any of that to. I hope you don’t hate me now,” she said as we got out of the car.
“Sarah, how could I hate you? That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about,” I replied.
I retrieved my guitar from the back seat and followed Sarah in through the back door, turning into the ‘dressing’ room, where I unpacked and tuned my old friend. Just as I was completing those tasks, Annie arrived and set about doing the same with her bass.
The first thing Annie said, once she was ready to go on, was, “Frank will be coming by later. Do you remember him, Jill?”
Well, of course I remembered her husband. The question was, would he remember me? And furthermore, would he accept me as I am now? In the end, I just said, “Of course I do. How’s he been?”
“Oh, busy as always. He’s been doing well at the dealership. In fact, he sold like four cars just this past week.”
“Wow!” I said with more enthusiasm than I really felt. I knew from previous experience that her Frank was a good salesman, but on the negative side, car salesmen frequently aren’t the most trustworthy of individuals. For that reason, I knew I needed to be wary.
Just then, Jen and Shelly arrived amidst a flurry of activity, as it was nearly time to go on. Jen got out her guitar and made a token attempt at tuning it herself before finally just handing it to me and allowing me to take care of it. To her, it made great sense to do it that way, because I was much better at it.
We took to the stage, and played an inspired first set. Our break was spent accepting kudos from the assembled crowd, who all seemed quite impressed with our performance. Free rounds of drinks were being delivered every time we turned around, which basically meant that I was working on a serious caffeine buzz from the unending supply of diet coke being handed to me.
I was pleasantly surprised when not only did Frank remember me, he came up to me and gave me a warm, friendly hug when we joined he and Annie on one of our breaks. It struck me that while there were a lot of people out there who treated me like a pariah because of my change, not everyone was like that. It was my hope that those people could continue to make dealing with the others more bearable.
The rest of the night went much like the first set, with no unwanted disruptions, no major train wrecks, and no former band mates intent on complicating my life more than it was already. In short, it was a great night.
Once the final notes faded and the last of the evening’s patrons had been safely sent on their way, we were joined in the dressing room by the manager, with the evening’s pay in hand.
“Good one tonight, ladies,” he said as he handed the cash to Jen, who immediately began distributing it amongst the rest of us.
“No problems?” Shelly asked.
“Nope. Just friendly people drinkin’, just the way I like it,” he responded. Then before he turned to leave, he added, “Here’s to another good one tomorrow. G’night.”
We all offered similar parting words, and soon were going our separate ways. First Annie left with her husband, then Shelly took off with her auto glass guy, whom I never did catch the name of, and finally Jen headed out for her ‘appointment’ as well.
I closed the last of the latches on my guitar case and said, “I’ll see ya out at the car in a minute,” to Sarah, who was going to make a quick pit stop before we headed out.
I went out the back door, and was immediately hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. I dropped to the ground, and felt kicks and punches being landed all over my body as I curled up in a ball, trying to protect myself from serious injury.
With my eyes covered so as to avoid injury to that sense, I couldn’t see for certain who it was that had attacked me, but the small amount of conscious thought I was permitting myself told me I was pretty sure who my assailants were. As the beating continued, my only thought was of survival.
With one last swing of the bat, which connected with my groin area; my attackers took off, leaving me bleeding and nearing unconsciousness not ten feet from the back door of the club.
As contact with my surroundings was fading, I heard a scream followed by several sets of footsteps coming toward me. The last thing I heard was Sarah saying, “Jill?”
Then everything went black.
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How extensive are Jill's injuries? And what will become of her assailants? Thanks to Karen J for her assistance in the preparation of this story.
Changing Keys, Part 5
By Jillian
Blinding light…pain…black…
Knock, knock! Came the sound from the door, followed by Dave’s voice, “Dude, you about ready?”
I began rushing around madly, removing my feminine articles of clothing in a flurry and pulling on a plain terrycloth bathrobe before opening the hotel room door. “What is it? I know it’s not time to check out yet.”
“Sorry, I just thought you might wanna go get some breakfast before we have to head out.”
“Thanks, but I’m not much of a breakfast person, ya know?”
“I hear ya. It’s way too early for me too, but Billy Joe figures if we can all force down a meal before we head out, we should be good for a solid four or five hours before we have to stop again.”
“I guess I can see that. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you guys down in the restaurant, okay?”
“Sure,” Dave responded before turning around and heading down the hall.
I watched him walk away for a few seconds before closing the door, leaning back against it, and sliding down to sit on the floor while letting out a huge sigh…
“Do you know where you are?” the voice penetrated the fog surrounding my brain. The pain was beyond excruciating, and before I could even form a thought in response to his question, I once again passed out...
“I wish this fit,” I said to myself as I removed the dress from its place in my sister’s closet so I could hold it in front of me.
“That probably would look nice on you, if it were big enough,” my sister’s voice startled me and I hurriedly hung the dress back up in her closet.
I blushed furiously, and without looking at her said, “Sorry.”
She giggled and said, “At least you didn’t stretch it out.”
I couldn’t help but join her in giggling…
The pain as I slowly regained consciousness was overwhelming. There wasn’t one thing that hurt worse than any other, because my entire body felt like I’d been run over repeatedly by a Sherman tank. I started to make out some of the conversation taking place around me.
“The injuries are pretty extensive. We really need to start treatment as soon as possible,” said a voice I didn’t recognize.
“Do whatever you have to,” I heard Jen say, then she started to cry.
‘Was I really hurt that badly?’ I wondered. I then let a groan escape, which got everyone’s attention.
“I’m Dr. James. You’ve been pretty severely injured, and we’re going to take you in to surgery to fix you up, all right?”
With all the energy I could muster, I quietly croaked, “Okay.”
Suddenly the bed moved and as we made our way toward what I presumed to be the operating room, I once again lost my battle with consciousness...
“Come on, ya queer. I know ya want it,” came one of the taunts being bombarded upon me as I made my way toward my locker.
“Stuck up faggot bitch!” came another barb.
I opened the locker, placed a couple of textbooks in and removed a couple of others, then slammed it closed as I prepared for my next class. As I walked toward my next class, the comments continued until I was seated in my next class, and probably well beyond.
I sat there as the teacher droned on about whatever…I was paying absolutely no attention…trying to think of a way to not continue being the object of everyone’s ridicule…
As I walked down the hall toward the boy’s room, a couple of football players grabbed me by the arms and dragged me into a supply closet. “We’re gonna give you what you want, sissy!” one of them hissed.
The other one, who was standing behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down into a kneeling position. The one in front of me undid his fly and pulled down his pants and underwear. “You know what to do,” was all he said, as he forced himself into my mouth…
‘Where am I?’ was the first thing I thought as I began waking up. Lying there, strapped down with tubes sticking in me all over the place, I started piecing together what had happened to me. The club! Who was that? “Ohh,” I let escape me. There were sounds of rustling papers, then footsteps, and I felt someone take my hand.
“Jill?” It was Sarah!
Then someone touched my other hand, and Jen said, “Welcome back, sis.”
I finally started to open my eyes, but was blinded by the intensity of the light in the room. “Ahh, bright…” I managed to utter as my eyes fluttered closed again. My visitors released my hands, as Sarah reached to close the window blinds while Jen tracked down the call button and used it to alert the nurse that I was awake.
Sarah retook my hand in hers, “There, that should be a bit better.”
Taking the other one Jen added, “The nurse should be here any minute.”
I slowly opened my eyes, and realizing that it no longer was causing any kind of discomfort to do so, looked at first my sister, then Sarah. “Wha…what ha…happened?” I managed to whisper.
“There was an incident behind the club,” was all Jen would tell me at that moment.
I looked closely at her, and realizing I was not going to get much more information from her, I turned my attention to Sarah. I stared into her eyes, and saw concern and fear filling them. I’m fairly certain she knew the answer I was pleading for with my eyes.
She finally responded, “You were jumped on the way out of the club. I don’t know who did it, but there are quite a few of us who would really like to find out.”
Just then the nurse came in to check on me. “I see you’re finally awake. I was wondering if we were going to have to bring in a Prince Charming or something,” she joked as she checked my vitals. After entering them in my chart she left the room.
“Fat lot of good that would do,” Jen offered, laughing as she said it.
“You were saying?” I whispered. I had actually tried to speak more loudly, but the whisper was the only sound I could make without it hurting…too much.
Sarah and Jen looked back and forth at each other for a minute, I assumed trying to figure out just exactly what to say, when a man in surgical scrubs entered the room, followed closely by the nurse who had just left.
He opened my chart, looked over it for a moment, then wrote something down in it before addressing me. “Good, I see you’re awake.”
“I see you’re observant,” I whispered back. I don’t know if he actually heard what I said, but when Sarah and Jen started laughing, he joined in with them.
Once that peel of laughter died down, he continued, “We had to do a lot of work on you, and we’re going to need to talk about a few things. Do you feel up to it now, or would you rather rest a while?”
I was tired, but I was also curious, so I whispered, “Now is fine.”
“Ladies, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?” he asked my visitors.
“We’ll go get something to drink and come back in a few minutes,” Jen said as she and Sarah gave my hands one more squeeze each before leaving the room.
Once they’d left, the doctor asked, “First, how long have you been taking hormones?”
“About a year and a half,” I struggled to reply.
He made a note on the chart, and then asked, “And who is the prescribing physician?”
I was ashamed to admit that I’d ordered them off the Internet and self dosed instead of going to the doctor to have things done properly. I managed to respond, “Not one.”
He seemed to understand what I had thought but hadn’t voiced, and said, “That would explain why your levels are all out of kilter. That was a very foolish move on your part. What were you thinking?”
I started to cry as I whispered, “Sorry.”
He looked again at the chart and said, “According to your blood work, I’d guess you’ve been taking estradiol and aldactone. Anything else?”
“No sir.”
“You were probably taking what you had read would be the normal dose for HRT, is that correct?”
“Yes sir,” I was still silently crying, I felt so ashamed of myself.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll order some more blood work to determine your proper dosage, then we can get you back on HRT,” as he said this I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
“I’m going to order a phych evaluation, and recommend regular therapy with someone who has some experience in the treatment of transgendered people.” I actually smiled when he said that.
He came over and sat on the edge of my bed. “Now, as for the reason you’re here,” he said, suddenly seeming much more serious. “The beating you took was pretty extensive. Let’s see, three cracked ribs, some abdominal bleeding, severe contusions all over, a fractured larynx with a tear in the vocal chords, and,” he continued the list of injuries, “two ruptured testicles.”
I lay there, stunned by the enormity of what had been done to me by my attackers. The doctor continued with his explanation of my treatment. “We found the bleeder and repaired the tear in your stomach, had to put in some extensive reconstructive time on your larynx and repaired the chords, so eventually you should be able to speak normally again, although you may sound a little different than you did before. Probably a bit higher pitched, and very gravel-ly,” he said, chuckling at his newly made up word.
“As for the testicles, we performed an orchiectomy to remove the damaged organs, and closed the scrotal sac, trying to preserve as much of the tissue as possible for any potential future ‘after market work’ you might have done,” again with the laughing at his own joke. I must admit, that one was kind of funny though.
“Your penile tissue is extremely bruised, and even though the damage was rather extensive, we decided to attempt to preserve the tissue in the event you decide to pursue SRS. Your arms and legs are heavily bruised, but don’t appear to have sustained any serious damage. All in all, you were pretty lucky. If it hadn’t been for your friend finding you so quickly and calling the ambulance, you easily could have died from the internal bleeding.”
I smiled, knowing that I now owed Sarah my life. “Hopefully I’ll have a long life to pay her back for her efforts.”
“Now, I know your official ID says ‘Jack’, but I’m assuming from how your sister and friend address you that you would prefer to be referred to as ‘Jill’, is that correct?”
“Yes, doctor. Thank you,” I whispered, growing even more hoarse with each uttered sound.
He must have noticed the change in the sound of my voice, as he decided to wrap up this session. “Now then, Jill, it is time for you to get some sleep. It’s going to take several days at least before we can even talk about discharging you, so for now just lie back and relax, okay?”
“Okay.”
As the doctor got up from his seat on the edge of the bed to leave, Jen and Sarah returned, bearing flowers. Sarah took them to the window and set the arrangement on the sill, making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t be likely to be knocked off accidentally.
“Hi,” I whispered, sounding more like an overly exhausted Lauren Bacall with each passing syllable. ‘I could live with this voice’, I thought.
Jen looked at me and said, “I assume he told you about everything, correct?”
I just nodded, as my throat was starting to feel like it was on fire.
Sarah looked into my eyes and said, “You get some rest, okay? We’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”
I obviously didn’t need much convincing, as I was quickly back asleep…
I am sitting on my bed, guitar in hand, with my headphone amp and portable CD player strewn in front of me. As I teach myself the guitar parts to Guns ‘n Roses CD “Appetite for Destruction”, it occurs to me that this is the one and only place in the world where nobody seems to want me gone from their world. When I’m playing my guitar, I am at peace.
Sitting here, doing exactly what I’m doing at this moment, is the one and only form of recreation allowed me by the outside world. The rest of the time, I’m looked down upon as being less than everyone else. So much so, that sometimes I start to believe the same thing. But when I’m playing guitar, all of that goes away. That’s why I do this same thing nearly every day after school, all evening long until mom says it’s bedtime, and then sometimes I’ll keep working past then. Maybe if I can become a good enough guitar player, people will accept me and start to treat me just like everyone else…
Every night, I sit down with a different CD and work until I’ve learned all the guitar parts on the recording. Some nights, I might even do two…
“Why did I answer that ad?” I ask myself for the thirteenth time since I got in the car to drive over here. After sitting in the car for a few minutes, unsure what to do, I get out, unload my guitar and amp from the back seat, and carry them up to the front door.
I knock, and when someone answers the door, the say, “You must be Jack. Come on in, the guys are set up down in the basement. Go on down and get your gear set up, then we can get started.
Once everyone is ready, someone calls out a song title…”Welcome to the Jungle”…and the drummer counts it off. I start in with the opening guitar part, then as the rest of the group comes in I discover a feeling I’ve never known before; that being the feeling of making music with other human beings.
As we work our way through song after song, all of which I know very well from my nightly practice ritual, I start to believe I’ve found what it is I’m supposed to do with my life. For the first time, I actually feel like I belong somewhere, and I decide that I like that feeling a lot…
I opened my eyes and saw that it was dark outside. In the faint light I could just make out Sarah asleep in one chair, while Jen was asleep in the other. I tried to move, but was immediately stopped by an intense stab of pain in my ribcage.
Moving as little as possible to avoid any further pain, I located and pressed the call button. A moment later, a nurse came in and asked, “Do you need anything?”
“Water please?” I managed to say it loud enough to be heard.
She poured a cup from the pitcher on my side table, inserted a straw, and held it for me to take a couple of sips, saying, “Here you go.”
Once I had swallowed a little water, my throat began to feel a little better and I said, “Thank you.”
She set the cup back on the side table beside the pitcher and asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“No thank you. I’ll be okay,” I told her as my consciousness began to fade yet again…
I’m approaching the rehearsal hall when I hear people speaking inside. For some reason I decide not to barge on in, and opt to stand just outside the door where I can listen in on the conversation.
“Dude, we gotta cut him loose. It’s embarrassing, man.”
“But he’s the best we’ve found, period. How in the Hell do we go about replacing him?”
“I don’t know, but the guy is such a pussy. Nobody’s gonna take us seriously with a wimp like him around.”
“I hate to do it, because the guy really can play. But you guys are right. He makes all of us look like fags or something.”
Standing outside the door, I start crying silently. I decide to not even acknowledge them, and I turn around and leave, never to return…
The sunlight was streaming in through my hospital room window, shining directly in my face as I awoke again. Jen was sitting up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, while Sarah was still slumped, asleep in the other chair. Before I had even had a chance to wish my sister good morning, a nurse came in to check on me.
“Ah, you’re awake,” she said with far too cheerful a voice to be allowed near me before noon, “How about we try some breakfast this morning?”
Without even waiting for a response she left, and a moment later returned with a tray of food for me. It consisted of a cup of chicken broth and a small bowl of jello. Upon surveying the morning’s offerings, I nearly told her ‘no thanks’, but realized it was going to be baby steps on the way back toward eating real food, so I took the offered tray gratefully and began sipping my broth.
As Sarah began waking up, Jen said, “I need to go tend to a couple of things, now that you’re awake. I’ll be back in a bit, all right?” She came over to my bedside, bent over, and kissed my cheek.
“I’m sure I’ll find some way of keeping occupied,” I said to her.
“Okay, then,” as she returned to her full upright position, then continued, “I’ll see you later. Love you, sis.” She then turned around and left the room.
I turned toward Sarah and said, “You know, you really don’t have to stay with me all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but…”
“Don’t be silly. So tell me, do you often profess your love for someone, then dismiss them like that?”
“I suppose I did sort of just do that, didn’t I?” I began to blush furiously. “I didn’t mean it like…”
She cut me off, “It’s okay.” She moved her chair closer to the side of my bed. Once settled again, she reached out and took my hand in hers. “Jen filled me in some on what was going on as far as your injuries, but I wonder what your take is?”
“I’m grateful things weren’t a lot worse than they could’ve been, and I think I owe some of that to you.” I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it lightly. “I hope you don’t mind?” I added as an afterthought.
As I returned her hand, still clasped in mine, back to it’s previous position, she reached forward with her other and then was holding mine sandwiched between hers. “A couple of days ago, I might have. Now, I think I’d mind if you hadn’t,” I felt my heart leap at her words.
“From what the doctor just told me, in a way they actually did me a favor. I had done something very irresponsible that very easily could have threatened my life. Now,” I continued, “I’m going to get the chance to correct my mistake.”
Thinking about the rather vague nature of my last statement, I don’t think she felt like it was the time or place to pursue more in depth information, so instead she simply looked into my eyes and smiled.
“I know I’m not the person you envisioned being with. No doubt, things are seeming a bit strange for you about now.”
“Like I said, I’m starting to become comfortable with things. I look at you, and I see the same person I met so long ago and felt such strong feelings for. In some ways, maybe being the way you are has actually helped me get past some of my own demons.”
She then leaned down, lifted my hand, which was still clasped in both of hers, and kissed my fingertips. Once she had lowered it she continued, “Don’t get me wrong, things will no doubt still feel sort of strange from time to time. But I think things will work out.”
“I hope you’re right, because I really do love you,” I told her. “Maybe it seems strange to say that, given the circumstances, but I do.”
She smiled at me, “I love you too.”
Just then my sister returned. As she entered the room she saw us and asked, “Do you want me to come back?”
We all began to giggle at that, but I had to stop immediately as the pain returned in both my throat and ribcage.
Sarah looked at Jen as if she knew exactly what she had been doing and asked, “So did you get everything taken care of?”
Jen pulled her chair closer to the bed and sat down on the opposite side from Sarah, then replied, “Oh, yes. Everything is set.”
“What?” I asked.
Jen quickly responded, “Oh, nothing really. Just some band business.”
“You found a replacement for me already?” I was disappointed, but knew that this was a business and they needed to continue working.
“Not yet. I don’t really want to, if you must know. Obviously, we had to cancel Saturday night.”
Having just occurred to me that I had no idea even what day it was, or how long I’d been unconscious, I decided to ask, “How long…?”
“It’s Monday,” Sarah offered.
So I’d slept through the weekend. “When’s your next gig booked?”
“This Thursday, Friday, and Saturday back at TC’s,” Sarah jumped in.
“In a way, I’m glad I’ll be missing that one,” I said before I realized it. It was true, I wasn’t looking forward to returning to ‘the scene of the crime’, but I didn’t mean to let them know that.
“Not to worry, they’re putting on a little extra security, and besides, by then the problem will have been dealt with,” Jen said with an air of confidence that made me wonder just exactly what she meant.
“What do you mean? Dealt with?”
Sarah quickly jumped in before I could ask any more, “Never mind, all right?”
“Does this mean I’m out of the band?”
Jen snickered as she said, “Well no! You’re easily the best guitar player we’ve ever had. We’d have to be stupid to do something like that, and even Shelly’s not blonde enough to be that dumb. Besides, I kinda like having my sister around all the time.”
At that moment a police officer entered my room, “Are you, uh, Miss Tucker?”
I looked at him and was pleased by how good it made me feel to be addressed as ‘Miss’, and said, “Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you officer?”
“Just following up on your case, uh, ma’am.” It was obvious he was aware of my condition, but to his credit was trying to be polite about things. “Now that you’re awake, can you tell us anything about your assailants?”
‘Well yeah, I can tell you exactly who it was’ went through my head, but to him my response was, “It was dark and I was hit as I came out the door. I was so worried about trying to protect myself I didn’t even bother trying to see them. I’m afraid I’m not going to be of much help.”
As I said this, I could see Jen pleading with her eyes to not tell the police anything. I finally began to understand her earlier exchange with Sarah, and since I didn’t want to get either of them in trouble, I decided the best course of action was to tell the police nothing useful.
“Well, if you happen to think of anything that might help us find the persons that did this, please give me a call. Here’s my card.” Professional all the way, even in the face of dealing with someone he probably had nothing but distaste for.
“Thank you officer,” I replied.
Jen took the offered business card, “Yes, thank you.”
Sarah didn’t even look at him. Instead, she stared into my eyes. I could think of a lot worse things in this world.
The officer then turned around and left without another word. I suspected he knew that we weren’t telling him the whole story, but by the same token, I don’t think he was all that concerned about getting to the bottom of things in this case. At least he hadn’t been a complete jerk to my face.
Once he was gone, Jen spoke again, “Well, it looks like we may need to find a sub for you for this weekend. I guess we’d best head out so we can get busy on that front.”
She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then turned to leave. Sarah said, “I’ll be out in a minute, all right?”
Jen replied, “Sure,” and left the room.
Sarah bent over me and gave me a kiss that sent my heart flying loop de loops around Venus before finally returning to my chest, then simply said, “I’ll see you later.” She then quietly walked out of my room, leaving me alone for the first time since my beating.
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As Jill is on the mend, things begin to change, but is it for the better? As always, Karen J and Angharad's assistance in preparing this for release is greatly appreciated.
Changing Keys, Part 6
By Jillian
I spent the next several days lying in bed watching as a flurry of activity went on around me. Doctors and nurses came and went, frequently sticking needles in me to either put something in or take something out. It happened often enough that I started to feel like a pincushion.
All of the girls came by to see me, and Jen and Sarah probably spent almost as much time in the hospital as me. I did something I hadn’t in years, which was read the morning newspaper. I suppose I thought since I was going to be staying in one place for a while I ought to know what was going on.
On Tuesday morning, there was an article about a group of musicians who were beaten rather severely outside a downtown nightclub. All four victims, who were identified as members of the band ‘Kentucky Straight’, were in intensive care for treatment of the injuries sustained. The assailants were unknown, as there were no witnesses save for the victims, and none of them had been able to ID their attackers. The police were unsure what to make of the attack as no money was taken; and rather than stealing the instruments they were carrying, they were instead smashed.
As I read the story I knew who had been behind the attacks as well as why. I didn’t pursue that thought however, as I didn’t want to bring any more trouble to Jen than I had already. Instead, I just moved on and tried not to think about it.
Tuesday also saw my first visit with the psychotherapist. I might have been more nervous had I known she was coming, but then when was the last time someone complained about not having the chance to get nervous? We talked, or at least she talked while I whispered, for about an hour after which she arranged to continue on Thursday and to my great relief she at least provisionally approved the continuation of hormones, pending evaluation by an endocrinologist.
It turned out one of the victims of my attack was my Yamaha guitar. While I was being beaten, so was it; someone took it out of its case and smashed it against the side of the building until the neck broke off. As Jen was telling me this, I found myself overcome with sadness, as if I had just lost a good friend. Maybe I’m a little too attached to my guitars, but for years they were my only friends other than my sister, so I felt like I was somehow justified. This knowledge also helped me understand why my old band mate’s instruments had also been destroyed.
Sarah and I talked a lot about our feelings, and I think we figured out a few things. All in all, things were looking up in that department. That in itself was nearly enough to make me feel well enough to get out days before I was allowed.
Wednesday Shelly tried to smuggle in her torture device, but one of the nurses put a stop to that particular exercise because it could interfere with the operation of some hospital equipment. While I acknowledged that the electrolysis was a necessary part of my continuing transition, that didn’t mean I liked it in any way, shape, or form.
Shelly on the other hand appeared to be enjoying it immensely, which for some reason made me wonder about her and my sister’s activities together. I quickly shook that thought out of my mind for fear I might actually find out, and that would be way too much information.
By Thursday morning, I was back on regular food, was up walking around the ward several times a day; and as long as I didn’t cough or laugh, I didn’t even hurt all that much. After the psychologist and I had our visit the endocrinologist was next to come calling. Following his dissecting of test results from somewhere in the vicinity of three pints worth of blood over the last few days, I was officially put on a properly prescribed dosage of estrogen.
When he made his rounds Thursday, Doctor James’ first words to me were, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in leaving us tomorrow?”
I barely let him finish his question before I answered, “Well, yeah!”
“Good. You’re doing pretty well, all things considered, and I think we can probably arrange for your discharge after rounds tomorrow.”
“Cool,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to contain my excitement.
“There will be some restrictions on your activity, like no lifting or stiletto heels for at least four weeks,” he joked. I don’t think he realized most of his jokes weren’t terribly funny, but considering he had brought me back from the brink of death, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
“I think I can live with that,” I said, unable to suppress a smile despite the awful joke I was still suffering from.
Just then, Sarah came in the room, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. I can come back in a few minutes,” she said as she started to turn around to leave.
The doctor stopped her, “No need, we’re pretty much done here. I’ll leave you to it then.” He then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Sarah watched him leave, then came over to her usual spot beside my bed and gave me a greeting kiss. “Good morning,” she said as she pulled her chair over right beside the bed and took a seat.
“Yes, it is,” I said, smiling from ear to ear. I could honestly say that this was probably the best I had felt emotionally in years and a lot of that was because of Sarah.
Jen arrived then; once she too was settled I told them, “Well, I had some good news this morning.”
Jen was the first to ask, “Really?”
“If things go according to plan, I should be out of here after the doctor comes by tomorrow.”
Sarah instantly broke out in a huge smile, “That’s great!” she said as she jumped up and kissed me again. I couldn’t help but think, ‘I could get used to this.’
“Good news at last,” Jen added, and gave my hand a squeeze.
As had become our custom, Sarah accompanied me on my walks around the halls, only leaving my side when she needed to tend to personal business or if the doctors asked her to.
We had taken several walks Thursday, and by evening I was feeling quite tired. When dinner was brought in, they actually brought an extra tray for Sarah, for which we were very grateful.
After dinner, we watched TV and chatted until visiting hours were over. As she prepared to leave for the night she said, “You know, if you had told me a month ago that I’d be in love with a woman, I probably would have laughed at you. Heck, two weeks ago even.”
“So, you think of me as a woman?” I don’t know why, but this was one topic we hadn’t explored this week, and suddenly I was beyond curious. I also had suddenly become a little teary-eyed for some reason.
“Of course I do. When you first came home, I obviously was still thinking in terms of Jack. In a way, I think that was a big part of the problem I was having with the idea of a relationship. I didn’t understand that you’d always been Jill inside. I tried to convince myself that this was just some silly game or something. But the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve started to understand a lot of things, not only about you, but about me as well.”
The nurse stuck her head in the room, “Sorry, but visiting hours are over,” then left as quickly as she had arrived.
Sarah looked at her watch and hissed, “If I don’t get out of here pretty quick, I’ll be late for the gig. I’m sorry.” She kissed me good night, and whispered, “I love you.”
I thought I was going to float off the bed at those words. It wasn’t the first time she’d said them, but they always seemed to have that effect on me. I whispered, “I love you too, but why are you whispering?”
She said, “No reason,” and giggled. She stood up, and as she started backing away from the bed, said, “See you in the morning.”
“I’ll be waiting anxiously,” was my response. Moments later, she was gone from my sight. I was tired enough from the increased walks and physical therapy sessions that once I’d taken care of my daily maintenance in the restroom, I lay down and was quickly asleep…
I’m outside the club, by Sarah’s car. I look toward the back door of the building and see Billy Joe, Dave, Terry, and Mick the keyboard player all hiding around it, waiting. The door opens, another me comes out of the building, and is attacked by the four of them.
I run toward them, shouting, “NO! Stop!” but no one acknowledges my presence in any way. I try to grab hold of one of them to try and stop them, but can’t, my hands go through him as if I didn’t exist.
I feel the pain caused by each blow, and continue to stand there trying to interject myself into the attack in some way to no avail. I whisper, “Why?” and suddenly everything stops.
I say, “Why?” again, this time more loudly, and without moving or looking toward me I hear Dave reply.
“You pervert! For a year and a half we needed you to earn a living. Once you decided to quit, the reason for putting up with you and your queer ways was gone.”
Once again I asked, “Why?” this time pointing at my body lying motionless in the middle of the ongoing attack.
This time, the voice replying belonged to Billy Joe. “Because we hate you. We hate your faggot ways, and we hate the fact that you made us put up with them for so long.”
“But I wasn’t doing anything to you. Why hurt me?”
It was Terry’s turn. “You put our lives at risk! You quit, leaving us to find a replacement without notice? After we put up with you and your disgusting perversions? And you ask why we hate you? Why we want to hurt you?”
Suddenly, the action started anew. I could feel every blow just like I did the night it happened. The only difference was I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what was happening…
I started crying in my sleep, gradually building in intensity until I apparently was screaming. At least that’s what I did when the nurse woke me by grabbing me by the shoulders and gently shaking. I could feel the tears on my cheeks, and could still feel the fading pain from every blow I had endured as I pulled myself back to wakefulness.
I didn’t sleep all that well the rest of the night, and I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult to tell that fact from one look at me the following morning. I was in mid breakfast when Sarah arrived, and the first thing she said as she entered the room was, “What the heck is wrong with you? Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”
As she walked around the end of the bed toward what had become her usual spot in the chair right beside my bed, I replied, “Not much, I’m afraid. I had a bad dream and just couldn’t get back to sleep after that.”
Once good morning kisses had been exchanged and Sarah was seated at my side, she asked, “Was it like the ones you had that night we slept on the couch?”
“Well, yes and no. It was like I was watching myself being beaten. I could see it as if I were someone else, but still felt the pain from every blow. It was strange, even for me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear as she gave me a gentle hug, trying not to make my ribs hurt.
“Not your fault. How was the gig?”
“It went all right. I missed you. So did everyone else.”
“Does that mean I still have a job?”
“Maybe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye that usually indicated some sort of mischief.
“So where’s Jen?”
“Bored of me already?” She tried to look hurt but only managed incredibly cute.
“Of course not. It’s just that I think I’m getting out today, and I could use a ride. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to take me home.” It sounded silly even as I was saying it.
“Not to worry, all has been arranged.”
When Dr. James came by, I was changed into street clothes, had all my belongings packed, and was ready to leave. “Not so fast. I need to take a look at how you’re healing first.”
He poked and prodded, and when finally satisfied that all was left in my recuperation was rest then working my way back to health, he signed off on my escape.
A nurse’s aide brought in a wheelchair…hospital regulations, everyone being discharged must ride to the door in a wheelchair. I don’t think anyone other than the insurance company knows why, but that’s another topic entirely…and we headed for the exit.
Once in the lobby, Sarah went to bring the car around front and the nurse’s aide waited with me for her return. As the car pulled up in front of the door, I stood up and said to her, “Thanks for the ride,” and started toward the exit.
By the time I had made it outside Sarah had gotten out of the car, come around to the passenger side, and opened the door for me. She helped me sit down and once I was settled inside she closed the door before returning to the driver’s seat for our journey home.
As we chatted about this and that during our journey, I found myself thinking how easily I could spend the rest of my life with this woman, if she’d have me.
When we pulled in the driveway, she said, “We have a surprise for you,” then got out and helped me out of the car.
“What? You mean more than the bedroom?” I asked as we walked toward the front door of the tiny house.
“More like something we completed,” she answered as she led me toward my room.
As we entered I saw what she was talking about. They had installed guitar hangars on one wall of the room, and suspended from them were all my friends. My J-200 hung nestled between the Les Paul Custom and Telecaster. As I went on down the line, there were long lost relics form my misspent youth…the BC Rich Warlock with the pink fish scale paint job, the old Fender Strat that I’d intentionally beat up to make it look like Stevie Ray Vaughn’s, and the Kramer Eddie Van Halen model with all the white stripes over the red body.
I wasn’t even aware most of them still existed, and began tearing up as I remembered with fondness each one of them. I turned to Sarah and asked, “How?”
Just then, Jen and Shelly entered the room with Jen answering my question with, “Mom had them down in the basement, believe it or not. I never figured her for a packrat, but there ya go.”
I hugged the stuffing out of all of them, saving Sarah for last and sneaking a kiss in the process. She didn’t seem to mind.
We retired to the living room and spent the afternoon chatting about nothing in particular, watching ‘Oprah’ and ‘Dr. Phil’, and eating a pizza we had delivered for dinner. After spending the early evening in similar pursuits, the three of them went into the bedrooms and got ready for work while I watched some television.
When they were all ready, Shelly asked, “Do you want to come along?”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty tired,” was my response as I gently tried to yawn.
Sarah chimed in with, “Oh, come on. When was the last time you went out somewhere when you weren’t working?”
I had to admit to myself that it had indeed been a very long time, as in years. I also had to admit that with each passing day I was finding it harder and harder to deny Sarah anything. “As long as you promise not to embarrass me or anything,” I said, reluctantly agreeing to the excursion.
All of us, with the exception of Annie who was riding with her husband, made the trek in Shelly’s van. I must say I found the trip enjoyable snuggling up alongside Sarah in the back seat, right up until we pulled in behind the club to get out. I was suddenly hit by what must have been a panic attack…there was no other way of describing what I experienced.
As the girls disembarked from our transport I started shaking, unable to move. Sarah was the first to notice, and she returned to my side to comfort me while I attempted to calm down. Once I was back under control somewhat, she said, “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen here.”
I was a little surprised at how much better I felt after hearing those words; and I was able to get out of the van and walk with the others inside the club. The first thing I noticed was just how busy the place was. It was absolutely packed, to the point that where there had been a dance floor the week before, there now were extra tables set up. Every seat was taken, and people were standing all around the building. ‘Why are there so many people here tonight?’ I thought.
As we went into the ‘dressing’ room, I asked, “What’s going on?”
At that moment, the club manager, Tim, came in the room. “Oh good, you’re here tonight,” he said to me.
“Why is that good?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Because the fundraiser will go better if they see who it is we’re raising the money for,” he replied.
I was obviously still several steps behind here, as I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Before I could ask, Jen offered, “Listen, Tim and the club owners decided to offer up this weekend as a way to raise some money to cover the hospital bills. So last night, tonight, and tomorrow, all the bar proceeds will go into the fund, along with a couple of donation stations that are set up around the club.”
“Wow!” was all I could think to say at that moment. Then I came to my senses, turned to Tim and said, “Thank you so much.” I gave him a hug, which while he looked a little uncomfortable, he managed to return in kind.
After Tim left I asked, “How…?”
Jen jumped in, “…Did we do this? Easy. Shelly went around putting up flyers in music stores all over town saying we were trying to raise money to cover your hospital costs after the beating last week. I was amazed by the response myself last night, and with you here tonight should be even better.”
“Shelly,” I started, “How can I ever thank you?”
As it was almost time for them to go on, Shelly asked, “I know you’re not up to playing all night, but would you be up to playing a couple of songs each set?”
I broke out in a smile that could have lit up the entire room and said, “I’d love that, but what about my sub?”
They all just looked at me, smiled, and laughed. I didn’t know what was so funny, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.
We walked out and received a thunderous ovation the likes of which I couldn’t ever remember hearing before. I looked around the room and recognized a lot of faces as belonging to other local musicians, and I realized they had turned the weekend into a jam session, which was why they weren’t worried about hiring a substitute for me. As we approached the stage, my eyes filled with tears.
We climbed the stairs and assumed our usual locations on stage, all accompanied by ever increasing applause levels. I was crying freely at this point, then saw that my old beat up ‘Stevie Ray’ Strat was sitting there on a stand, just waiting for me. I had no idea how it got there, as the last time I had seen it was earlier when it was hanging on my bedroom wall. I picked it up and the crowd began to die down. The girls all looked at me as if waiting for me to do something.
I finally got my tears under control enough to think, and decided to start playing. I began the jazzy opening to ‘Lenny’, which instantly hushed the crowd. I led the girls into the body of the song, and as it progressed I seemed to be reaching for things, both technically and emotionally, that I rarely attempted. I hoped I made it.
When we brought the song to it’s gentle close, the warmth of the crowd’s response overwhelmed me, once again I was in tears. The next thing I knew Mike, a guitar player I’d worked with off and on for years as Jack, came up with his guitar in his hands and leaned in close.
“Ya know, you don’t make a half bad chick,” he said in my ear. I couldn’t help myself, I gave him a huge hug before exiting the stage.
At the bottom of the steps Tim was waiting for me, and he escorted me to a reserved table right in front of the stage where I was instructed to sit and enjoy the evening’s entertainment. As each musician came off the stage after playing their bit, they were led over to sit with me for a moment; I bet I must have said ‘thank you’ about fifteen thousand times just over the course of the first set. I was amazed by the acceptance these people, many of whom had known me before, were showing me that night.
After they had completed that first set, the girls came and sat with me while a full band took the stage to do their part. At that point, I think a lot of the bands were using the opportunity to audition for the owner and manager of the club in hopes of getting some bookings themselves.
We wound up sitting through most of the evening as band after band took to the stage to play a few songs each. As they came off, they would each come by the table to shake hands and offer well wishes; by the time we returned to the stage near the end of the night, I was absolutely exhausted, even though I hadn’t really done anything.
It seemed Jen was intending for me to show off a bit for the extra large crowd, as we started off with ‘Wonder’ followed by ‘A Change Would Do You Good’. Then we took off and played ‘Let Go Of Yesterday’ before finally ending with ‘Black Cat’. From the sheer volume of the response, you might have thought we were playing to a packed concert venue instead of a small nightclub. It made for a thrilling night, to be sure.
We stood there and waved for several minutes as people cheered, tossed flowers on stage at us, and treated us like real stars. We weren’t allowed off the stage until well after ‘last call’, and only exited stage left as the club’s staff began forcibly escorting patrons from the building.
Instead of retiring to the dressing room as would normally have been the next step, I went out front and made a point of finding each and every person working there and thanking them personally for everything they had done that evening on my behalf. I was a little surprised that nobody showed the least bit of discomfort when I gave them each a hug; it was definitely a good kind of surprise.
The girls and I sat at our table from earlier and each enjoyed a beverage of some sort before heading out. When we were ready to leave, Tim came over and offered to personally escort me to the van, for which I was grateful. Even though I knew that those responsible for what had happened the previous week were unable to make a repeat appearance, I was still a bit wary over the prospect of going out into a dark alley late at night. He helped me up into the van, where I took my seat once again beside Sarah.
During the drive home, I laid my head on her shoulder and was out like a light. The impression I got was that she didn’t mind too much as by the time we pulled into our driveway, she too was sleeping, with her head resting on top of mine. I wish I had a picture, to tell you the truth.
There was never any question of whether Sarah would stay the night. We all took turns washing off the evening’s bar goo, shared some hot chocolate, then retired to the bedrooms, Shelly with Jen and Sarah with me.
As we snuggled together under the covers I said, “You know, I could get used to this.”
“Well, I should hope so,” she replied as she kissed the side of my neck and giggled.
“Mmmm,” I intoned. “Keep that up and you’ll be lucky if I ever let you leave.”
“Promises, promises.”
We drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, content in the thought that all was right with the world.
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Just when things seem to be looking up for our heroine, Jill and Sarah have a misunderstanding. Then to top it all off, a ghost from Jill's past adds to the turmoil. Thanks to my good friend Karen J for her assistance.
Changing Keys, Part 7
By Jillian
To say that Saturday morning we all slept in would be an understatement. Since it had been so late when we got home from the club and cleaned up, it’s safe to say that nobody got to bed before 3am, and while I don’t know for certain about Jen and Shelly, I do know that Sarah and I did not go straight to sleep.
What all that means is that it was well after noon before any of us dared peek our heads out from under the covers. What it doesn’t mean, however, is that I got a pass from Shelly’s little box of horrors. I think Sarah was feeling rather sorry for me by the time I could convince Shelly to stop for the day, but at least there were two hours worth of hairs that would never see the light of day again.
As I was getting up from the electric chair, Shelly started to give me her standard ‘we’re almost done’ bit, but I cut her off. “Don’t even start, Shell. We both know the end isn’t in sight for this little project, and your bit about ‘almost done’ doesn’t help.”
“And I thought you were grumpy before we started,” she said, making cat claw gestures at the same time.
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m just not feeling very well today,” I finally offered.
“Gee, I can’t imagine why,” added Jen. Sarcasm is her native tongue.
“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the afternoon?” Sarah asked as I sat down beside her on the couch.
I took her hand in mine and said, “Whatever you want.”
“Yuck!” said Shelly as she was putting her machine away.
Sarah thought for a moment or two before saying, “It’s a lovely day out. Why don’t we all go for a walk in the park? I know Jill needs to get out and a bit of exercise won’t hurt any of us.”
“Ooh, that sounds like a good idea,” added Jen.
“That’s settled then,” Sarah finished. “What say we all go get dressed, and we’ll go for a nice leisurely walk?” She was the first to get up and go to change.
She had obviously planned on staying last night, as she had not only something casual for during the day, but also already had her things for tonight’s gig. I followed her into the bedroom and pulled on some jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers, then pulled my hair back in a scrunchie. By the time I had returned to the living room, the others were also dressed in a similar fashion.
We walked the half block to the local park, then started our official stroll around the park. There were lots of kids about, playing all sorts of games and we just watched them for a while.
Since I was still fairly weak, I had to stop periodically to rest, and it was during one of these rest stops that a little girl started looking intently at me. This went on for a couple of minutes before she finally worked up the courage to come up to me.
“Are you a man?” she asked.
Wow, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I know I looked a bit flustered for a second before I managed to regain some composure and responded, “I used to be.”
She looked at me for a while with the strangest look on her face, before she finally just shrugged her shoulders, turned, and walked away.
Sarah saw the stunned look on my face, and even though she hadn’t overheard the exchange between the little girl and myself she could sense something was wrong. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
I looked at her for a moment and said, “That little girl just asked me if I were a man.”
I could see a brief look of sadness come over Sarah’s face. Whether it was because I wasn’t one anymore and that fact made her sad, or because she was concerned what my reaction to the little girl might be, I don’t know. Whichever the case may have been, she took hold of my hand and gave it a squeeze.
I flashed her a brief smile before standing up and pulling her up along with me. I said, “I’m a bit tired. How about we head back home?”
She stood there next to me, still wanting to make some unknown hurt go away, before saying, “Sure,” then taking the lead on our way back to the house. Jen and Shelly quickly joined us in our return trip, and before long we were home.
Saturday night at the club went very much like Friday had, with the exception that I knew what to expect. I played with the girls for a few songs to begin the night, then individual jammers started sitting in, one at a time.
I was sitting at the front center table again when I was surprised to see Dr. James walk up on stage to play. He actually was quite good, and the crowd’s response to his performance was enthusiastic. After just one song, he left the stage and came by my table to say hello.
“I didn’t realize this was for you,” he said as he took a seat beside me.
“My sister and friends arranged it with the club owner to help with the hospital bills,” I replied. “What brings you out?”
“I never miss a jam session when I’m off work. This is my relaxation,” he said, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him more easily.
I switched positions so he could hear me and said, “You play pretty well. How long have you been at it?”
“Nowhere near as good as you. I’ve been playing most of my life, but I’ll never be that good. Guess that’s why I’m a doctor instead of a musician,” he cracked a huge smile as he made fun of himself.
“Well, I think you did great,” I said earnestly.
“Thanks. It was fun. I’ve never gotten to play in front of quite so many people before. That was a little nerve wracking.”
“You kind of get used to it.”
“Not me. I’ll never get used to it.”
The band ended the song they were playing, and Sarah came down to sit with me, so there must have been a keyboard player come up. She walked up beside me and gave me a kiss, then to the doctor said, “Hiya, Doc! What’s up?”
“Oh, just relaxing a bit and talking to one of my favorite patients,” he said to her as he patted my hand.
She responded, “Well, it’s good to see you outside the hospital. Having a good time?”
“Yes, very much so. I was just telling Jill I’d never played in front of a crowd this big before. It’s scarier than my first open heart surgery, to tell you the truth.”
“What? This? This is just playing in front of friends. Nothing scary here at all,” she tried to convince him.
“For you maybe, but for me?” he said. “I think I’ll stick to surgery. It’s easier on my nerves.” He then turned his attention back to me, “Jill, I’ve got to get going, because I have to work tomorrow.”
“On Sunday?”
“Hey, I did some of your surgeries on Sunday,” he responded.
“I suppose you did.” I didn’t know that, but I suppose it only made sense, didn’t it?
He stood up and slung his guitar, in it’s gig bag, over his shoulder. “Well, good night, ladies.”
We waved goodbye as the next wave of jammers came up to the table to ‘pay their respects’. He made his way toward the door, and was gone.
“That was a surprise,” Sarah said as we shook hands with the new arrivals.
“Yeah, but kind of a pleasant one, ya know?” I replied.
It turned out that I got to sit out the vast majority of the evening as there were lots of guitar players in attendance, until about the middle of the last set when we took back the stage to finish out the night.
Just like the night before, we weren’t allowed to slink away to the dressing room. Instead, we were expected to hold court for well wishers to come by and say their good nights and so on. By the time we had tended to those duties, it was well after 2am, and we were all exhausted.
The girls started packing up everything, which took a lot less time than it could have, and some of the door staff volunteered to help carry stuff out to the van, since we were girls, after all. Never wanting to turn down volunteer help, we allowed them to do all the heavy lifting, while we just worried about packing up guitars and cords and such.
Again, we all returned to the house afterwards and following showers and changing into nightclothes, we gathered in the living room for hot chocolate. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to catch up to all of us, and in fact I think everyone at some point started to doze off while still sitting there. We eventually retired to the bedrooms, and in no time at all snoring reverberated throughout the house.
The next few days were a little tense, and it took me a while to find out why. Shelly brought over her hair gadget and worked on my face on Monday for a couple of hours, and Sarah spent quite a lot of time with me, mostly at home. Now that I was getting used to sleeping in the same bed as her, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to sleep alone again any time soon, and I decided to broach that subject with her Monday evening.
“What would you say if I asked you to move in?”
“What? You mean here? Wow!”
“Was that a good wow, or a bad wow?”
“Surprised, mainly.”
I couldn’t help but think that was an evasive answer if ever there was one. “Do you not want to?”
She looked incredibly uncomfortable before she said, “Listen Jill, can we talk about this later? I really need to go take care of a couple of important errands.”
“Okay,” I replied. The stunned look on my face was surely obvious to anyone with eyes.
She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then left. I wandered around the house for a few minutes before I ran into Jen in the laundry room, hanging up things out of the dryer.
Jen looked up from her task, “Hey, what’s up?”
“I’m not exactly sure, to tell you the truth.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, I think I just screwed something up. I asked Sarah what she thought of the idea of moving in, and frankly her reaction wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.”
Jen suddenly gave me her complete, undivided attention. “Why? What happened?”
“After I asked her she said wow. I asked if that was good or bad, to which she just said ‘surprised’. Then she said she had some errands to run and took off,” I then paused for a moment to let that torrent soak in. “Now I don’t know what to think. Did I screw up here?”
Jen grabbed hold of my elbow and began leading me toward the dining table. “Come with me,” was all she said along the way. Once sat, she finally began, “You know that this past weekend was more or less a charity thing to cover the hospital bills?”
“Yeah, and I’m glad, since I really had no idea how I would ever pay for all that otherwise.”
“Well, it’s like this. The band didn’t take pay for the weekend, so that went into the pool as well.”
“I didn’t know that. So how is everyone going to get by? I know there isn’t another booking for this weekend…”
“Now I think you’re starting to catch on. Sarah is trying to come up with rent money that was due a couple of weeks ago for her apartment. She’s been late often enough that they’ve already told her they want her out if she can’t pay it by this Friday. The errands she was telling you about probably have something to do with that.”
“And she assumed that I knew all about this problem and thought I was just asking her to try and help?”
“That would be my guess.”
“I suppose it would help her out. So what’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess I’d say it has something to do with not wanting to be in a position of owing you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know that, and you know that. She’s so caught up in her worrying about this she probably can’t see it.”
“Now I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t. Maybe you’re guilty of rushing things, but other than that, I don’t think you did anything wrong. How were you supposed to know she was having problems? You’ve been cooped up in a hospital room for the past week.”
“So, what do I do?”
“That’s up to you really. Listen, give it time. I know she loves you, maybe she’s just not ready to take that plunge.” Once she finished making her statement, she got up from the table and returned to the task of folding laundry.
I sat there for quite a while lost in my thoughts. What did I do wrong? What can I do to fix this? How do I convince her that my question has nothing to do with any problems she might be having financially?
I kept coming up with questions. The problem was I didn’t seem to have any answers on hand. The longer I sat there, the bigger the list of questions got even though I still had yet to find an answer to any one of them.
I eventually noticed it was after midnight, I was still sitting there thinking, and there was still no sign of Sarah. Maybe she decided to stay at her place tonight? I hoped I’d be able to get to sleep with her gone. Had I really become that attached to her already?
Succumbing to exhaustion, I finally gave in and went to bed. That’s not to say I got much rest because the truth was I spent much of the night alternating between worrying about Sarah, just plain missing her, and berating myself for asking her to move in even though I don’t think I ever wanted anything quite so much in my entire life.
In spite of my lack of sleep, I got up early Tuesday morning and got ready to go to my appointment with the psychologist. When 10 am rolled around I knew I could wait for Sarah no more so I went out, climbed behind the wheel of Jen’s old clunker of a car, and drove myself to the offices of Dr Janet Filo, PhD. It didn’t occur to me until I pulled into the parking lot that this was the first time I had ever driven as Jill. Just as well, since had I thought about it before I probably would have had to add ‘bundle of nerves’ to the list of items for discussion this morning.
“And who are you here to see this morning?” the receptionist asked just after sliding open the opaque sliding glass.
“Dr. Filo. I’m Jill Tucker, and I have a 10 o’clock appointment.” I then turned around and took a seat on the couch, picking up a six month old issue of Cosmo to peruse as I did so.
I was about halfway through an article describing how to achieve the perfect sexy eye look when the receptionist startled me, “Miss Tucker? The doctor will see you now.”
I returned the magazine to it’s previous resting place and followed the receptionist through the door and down a winding set of corridors before being ushered into an office to wait for the doctor. It was while I waited that just how tired I really felt hit me, and I started to yawn but stopped when the pain in my ribs decided to remind me of my injuries.
Just then Dr. Filo opened the door, asking as she entered the room, “Something wrong?”
“I made the mistake of trying to yawn,” I replied.
She took a notepad off the top of her desk and came around to sit next to me in the armchair facing mine. “Are you not sleeping well?”
“I didn’t last night, but that was an unusual case.”
“How so?”
“I’ve become quite used to sleeping with Sarah, and she wasn’t there last night. I tossed and turned all night long. Fact is, I winced from the pain in my ribs on quite a few occasions.”
“And Sarah was missing because…?”
“Doc, the truth is I’m not entirely sure, but it basically comes down to a misunderstanding that I’m hoping to clear up as soon as I see her again.”
“First please call me Janet. Titles like doctor tend to force a wedge between us that can interfere with what it is we’re trying to do. Now, is this anything you’d like to talk about?”
“Dammit Janet!” I quipped mimicking the line from that song in ‘Rocky Horror’ and breaking out in a fit of giggles until the tenderness in my ribs made their presence felt once again. I eventually got myself back under control and noticed the doctor looking at me with a smirk on her face that told me she was a woman of good humor, but that she was trying to maintain an air of professionalism.
I finally restarted the conversation. “Well, Sarah…and the rest of the band I work with…played this past weekend for free to help raise money to cover my hospital bills, and in the process Sarah has found herself in danger of being evicted from her apartment for non-payment. I didn’t know anything about this until after our problem transpired, but the gist of it is that I sort of asked her to move into my sister’s and my house with me. I actually thought she’d think it was a great idea, so I was stunned when her response was so cool. After she left I talked to my sister, telling her about the whole incident. She’s the one who informed me about Sarah’s financial problems, and how she was on the verge of eviction.
“I was still a little confused by her response until Jen suggested that maybe Sarah was hesitant to accept my offer because she might think it was made out of pity for her situation instead of for more personal reasons. That happened early yesterday evening, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since to explain my motives.”
“You’ve not had a lot of experience with relationships before, have you?”
“That obvious, is it?”
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant…”
We chatted about the Sarah situation, my nightmares connected to the attack, how things have been since I got out of the hospital, and more various other topics than frankly I could remember over the next hour before she glanced at her watch. “Oh, it would appear we have run out of time for today. How about if we pick back up on Thursday?”
“All right,” I said as I got up from the chair and shook her hand to thank her for seeing me. I then left the office, following the exit signs to try and find my way out of the maze of offices I found myself in. Once I emerged back into the main floor hallway I found the elevator and headed back out to the parking lot.
I climbed in behind the steering wheel, started the engine, and set the heater full blast to take the chill out of the air before I set back out. In the few minutes I spent waiting for the warmth to return feeling to my fingers, I reflected on some of my just completed conversation with Dr. ‘You have to start calling me Janet’ Filo.
After a few minutes of allowing the car’s engine and defroster to warm up I put it in gear, backed out of the parking space, and started on my way back home. I must admit that my mind wasn’t exactly focused on the task at hand, as it kept wandering back to what had transpired with Sarah the night before. I was basically making the trip on autopilot right up until I heard the siren.
The sound caught my attention, prompting me out of my trance as I looked at the rear view mirror which revealed a police car with it’s lights going sitting on my bumper, waiting for me to pull over and face the music.
I pulled off the road into an empty parking lot, then took the car out of gear and turned off the engine. While the officer was approaching my window, I checked to make sure I had the vehicle registration and my driver’s license on hand. He wrapped on my window and I lowered it, saying without even looking up, “Good morning officer.”
I then looked up to see that I had just been pulled over by none other than good old Tommy Robinson from high school. Tommy was one of the pigs who had on occasion harassed and taken advantage of me, and I had prayed to God every day that I’d never meet him again…I suppose that meant the answer to those prayers was no.
Tommy started to say, “Do you have any idea how fast you were…wait a minute, you look awfully familiar…I’m sure I know you,” he stammered as I reluctantly handed over the required paperwork.
“Holy crap!” he exclaimed. “Jack Tucker,” he sneered as he looked back and forth from me to my license. “As queer as ever.”
I sat there silently crying and cursing myself for my stupidity in not paying more attention to what I was doing. “Hiya Tommy,” I finally managed to say.
“That’s Officer Robinson to you, faggot,” he snarled back. “I oughta run ya in, but then I’d have to fill out a bunch of paperwork. I guess you’re gettin’ off lucky today, freak.” He finished filling out the citation, and as he was handing me my copy, he added, “Have a nice day,” and started cackling like a hyena as he turned around and returned to his patrol car.
I sat there still crying as he drove off, leaving me in no condition to drive the rest of the way home. Over the next fifteen minutes or so my emotions drifted from fear to anger to sadness, ultimately coming to rest in a depression that brought with it sheer exhaustion.
I finally got my tears under control enough to make the trek the rest of the way home, paying special attention to make sure I didn’t do anything that might attract the attention of any more police officers.
I pulled in the driveway and let go a huge sigh as I put the car in park and turned off the engine. Making my way to the front door, I swear it felt as if my feet were encased in lead, they were so heavy. I entered the house to find that I had the place to myself, so I headed straight for my bedroom, plopping into bed where I intended to spend the rest of my miserable life.
The next thing I remembered was the sound of my sister’s voice shouting, “Hey! Wake up!” as she shook my shoulders trying to rouse me. As I opened my eyes the tears began flowing once again, and as I rolled over to face Jen she grabbed hold of the ticket, which I was still clutching in my hand.
“Obviously you’ve had a great day,” Jen’s voice dripped her normal sarcasm as she looked at the traffic citation.
“Can I just start the day over?” I asked as I tried to pull a pillow over my head and return to sleep.
“‘Fraid not,” Jen countered. “The girls are going to be here for band practice in just a little bit.”
“No,” I moaned.
“Come on. Playing always makes you feel better.”
She was right about this at least. However, at that moment I doubted anything would make me feel better, ever again.
Just then another voice entered my room. “Jill? Are you all right?” It was Sarah.
“I’ll just leave you two to it then,” Jen stated as she got up and exited the room post haste.
Sarah came over and sat on the edge of the bed as I rolled back over to face her. “Can we talk?” she asked once she felt she had my attention.
“I suppose,” I allowed, on the brink of crying yet again.
“Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was all wrapped up in my own problems, and for some stupid reason I thought you were asking me just because I was about to get kicked out of my apartment.”
“I didn’t even know anything about that,” I protested.
“I know that now. Jen talked to me about a lot of things this morning.”
“The offer still stands.”
“That’s good, because I have a carload of clothes and nowhere to put them,” she tried injecting some levity into my dark little world.
I sat up and wrapped her in a gentle hug saying, “Welcome home.” I then kissed her and she kissed me.
“I take it your day hasn’t gone so well?”
“Let’s just say I ran into a ghost from my past that I would rather never to have seen again.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Maybe later, okay? Right now I’d like to just forget about the whole thing; pretend it never happened.”
“I can do that.”
With that, the love of my life comforted me until the rest of the band showed up for rehearsal.
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Has Jill seen the last of that ghost from her past? As she tries to find her way she encounters another hiccup. Thanks to Karen J and Angharad for their invaluable assistance.
Changing Keys, Part 8
By Jillian
Tommy had me pinned against the wall off in a corner beside the restrooms. “Where you think you’re going, faggot?”
“Sorry Tommy, I’m late for class.”
“You ain’t gettin’ away that easy. In there,” he pushed me into the boy’s room as he said it, following behind me.
As I was led into the big handicapped stall I pleaded, “Please? If I get another tardy I’ll have to do an in school suspension.”
“So? That’ll give ya time to do my homework for me, won’t it?” He undid his fly and pushed me to my knees in front of him.
I tried to allow my mind to wander anywhere but here as I did as he bade…
I woke up from my nightmare needing to visit the little girl’s room, so I carefully disentangled myself from Sarah trying not to wake her in the process, then stumbled my way toward the facilities. On my return trip I noticed Jen sitting up in the living room reading. I joined her on the sofa and said, “I think I owe you an apology.”
She looked up from her book, removing her reading glasses and saying, “I’m sure you do for something, but would you care to enlighten me as to what you’re apologizing for? Just so I can keep track.”
“I probably should have asked you before inviting Sarah to live here. I’m sorry.”
She closed her book and said, “Oh, that. No biggie. I mean, it’s as much your house as it is mine.”
“Only because you gave it to me.”
“Is it your fault mom was a pig? I don’t think so.”
“Still, I guess I should have let you know beforehand.”
“That’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Okay then, spill time. What’s wrong?”
I closed my eyes for a moment before I spoke again. “Running into Tommy Robinson really shook me up.” I then opened my eyes again to look at Jen before I continued, “It dredged up a lot of feelings I had thought I’d buried a long time ago. And now I’m feeling like I need to constantly look over my shoulder to make sure another ghost from the past doesn’t rear its head.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“But that doesn’t make it acceptable, does it? How can I get on with my life if I keep running into people and things that make me relive awful moments I’d much rather forget?”
“But you can’t forget them. And for that matter, you shouldn’t. Those things, as bad as the memories are, helped shape you. They made you the person you are now, and they will continue to influence your life, helping you make decisions,” she paused for a second before adding, “Those things are a big part of you. You don’t want to lose them.”
“What if I said I did? What if I wanted to start over with an absolute clean slate? No baggage, no preconceptions, nothing. Like I was born yesterday.”
“Sorry sis, but it can’t be done. And it shouldn’t.”
As I sat there I saw a tear roll out of Jen’s eye, then another and another. I then realized that I too was crying again.
Jen was first to get her eyes back under control, and said, “You are such a chick!” She then started to giggle.
I looked at her and my tears began to dry up, replaced by a soft chuckle that grew into a giggle, until my ribcage reminded me that it still wasn’t better yet. Once I was back under control, I said, “Thanks sis.”
She began to look more seriously at me and asked, “So what are you going to do about this little problem with officer jerk off?”
“What’s to do? I’m not really in a position to be able to press the issue, am I? If I make a fuss, he probably won’t be the only one treating me like that. Hopefully, if I let the whole mess drop, it’ll go away. I just have to avoid running into one Tommy Robertson is all.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you’d be well within your rights to file a complaint against him.”
“I just can’t imagine any good coming from something like that. If it becomes a more frequent occurrence, that would be a different story, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose I see where you’re coming from with that. But if it happens again and you try to let it slide, I’ll kick your butt myself, understand?”
“Yes,” I allowed resignedly. Then I brightened a bit and added, “Thanks again.”
She slipped her glasses back on and as she was opening her book back up, she said, “Any time.”
I gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then left her to her date with Ann Rice and returned to bed.
I must have fallen back asleep straight away because the next thing I remember is Sarah nibbling my earlobe in an attempt to wake me. I moaned, part in pleasure and part in frustration, as she continued her ministrations until I finally stirred.
“About time you woke up. Much longer and you would’ve had a little hicky on your ear,” she teased.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I responded as I rolled out of bed and ran for the bathroom in search of a hot shower.
She chased after me saying, “What do you mean, ‘wouldn’t be the first time’?” I swear for a moment she sounded rather jealous. Part of me really liked that.
I was in the shower with the water running already before I replied, “When I was younger I had this little kitten that wasn’t completely weaned when I got her. She was very clingy, and in fact sometimes as I slept she’d climb up onto my shoulder and suckle on my earlobe. Other than the hicky, I thought it was adorable, except for the times she got her teeth caught in my earring hole,” I couldn’t help myself and started giggling as I remembered the incident.
“Oh, that’s cute. Whatever happened to her?”
“She ran off a few years ago when I was out on the road for the first time. Jen looked for her and so did I once I got back in town, but we never found her again. I cried like a baby for days after, much to my mother’s ire. She was always giving me a hard time because I wasn’t exactly a manly man.” I turned off the shower and opened the curtain while reaching for a towel. “Jen says she just thinks the cat couldn’t stand living with our mother.”
Sarah handed me one and said, “Poor baby, though from what I’ve heard about the woman, your sister might be right. Have you thought about getting another kitten now that you’re not going to be traveling so much?”
As I dried myself off I thought for a moment before replying, “I don’t know. Roxy was such a special kitty to me, I don’t think I could ever just replace her like that.”
“So it’s not just guitars you get all possessive about, huh?”
“Nope. You’d best get used to it,” I said as I tried to steal a kiss. It didn’t matter to me that her mouth was full of toothpaste. She allowed a quick smooch before returning to the task of getting herself ready for the day. She climbed in the shower while I brushed my teeth, then we both found our way back to the bedroom to get dressed.
When we joined Jen in the kitchen for breakfast I found out that today we were going to go check out the new Guitar Center that had just opened in our area. “Great,” I said when she informed me, “I need some new strings anyway.”
Just then, Shelly came in toting her little box of horrors and I wound up getting zapped for about an hour before we could get ready to leave for the music store. As she was putting her toy away, Jen asked, “You coming with us?”
Shelly looked at Jen and asked, “Where?”
“Guitar Center!” Jen and I answered in unison, then started giggling.
“Cool,” she replied.
We came to the conclusion that it might be fun to get a little more dressed up before we went, just to sort of play with the store’s sales staff. After all, they would all be younger guys, mostly single, and susceptible to influence at the hands of a pretty girl. So while Jen and Shelly got ready, Sarah and I returned to the bedroom so we could change into something a little more task appropriate.
Once everyone was ready, we all piled into Shelly’s van and made the trek to Musician’s Mecca.
I should probably point out that for musicians, and in particular guitar players, Guitar Center is the biggest and most powerful store chain in the industry, sort of like Macy’s, but instead of clothes they sell instruments and accessories.
In my previous life I probably would have made this journey in whatever I happened to pull out of the closet…probably just jeans and a t-shirt…but since I began my transition I had started to understand a bit more about the power women have in the marketplace. That’s why we all dressed up a bit more than was probably necessary. Short skirts, nice tops, heels and just the right touch of makeup was in evidence all around as we walked into their huge showroom.
As we dispersed, sales staff were on us like vultures on fresh road kill, and who could blame them? A bunch of young guys standing around a music store might be used to seeing other young…and not so young…guys coming in to ogle the merchandise, but they certainly wouldn’t be used to seeing many girls, especially dressed up like we were. This meant we had everyone’s attention in a big way.
The fact that none of us were here to buy anything more than some guitar strings or drumsticks didn’t matter; the rarity of a bunch of girls who not only knew what they were doing, but also dressed up was enough to ensure the finest service ever rendered in that fine establishment, and we knew that would be the case. That’s why we did it.
I’ve never deluded myself with thoughts that I was anything more than just a passable woman. Jen on the other hand had maintained the striking good looks we had inherited from mom, and on more than a few occasions she had been said to look like a young Elizabeth Taylor. Ah, if only…
As my sister and I made our way to the guitar wall, we were practically assaulted by this kid barely out of high school wearing a nametag that declared him to be ‘Mark’. He was obviously new…it was a newly opened store after all…and was still a bit lost amongst the myriad of toys about which he was expected to have expert knowledge.
It might have been a bit evil, but we monopolized that poor kid’s time for nearly an hour just trying out guitars, amps, and effects before finally heading over to the accessory counter to pick out a few sets of strings. I liked Mark. He made an effort to actually be of help, which frankly set him apart from most music store staff I’d dealt with over the years. In a way I felt rather guilty for not buying a big ticket item, but at least we bought enough strings for them to add up to a little bit of a commission.
After we retrieved Shelly from the drum room where she was playing with the electronic kits we all went in search of Sarah, who we found in the keyboard room playing with a Korg Triton 88 key workstation. When she saw us she bid farewell to the keyboard salesman and joined us on our way out the door, looking back wistfully at that big silver machine. At least I knew for certain she understood about my attachment to guitars.
We decided that a bit of clothes shopping was in order, and even though none of us had the money to really buy much, we spent a ridiculous amount of time browsing and trying things on. Following a quick bite of early dinner, we all went back to the house for an evening in with DVD’s and popcorn.
At bedtime, as Sarah and I were getting changed she blurted out, “How can you let him get away with treating you like that?”
I stood there a moment before responding, “If you didn’t know me and you heard that I was filing a complaint against a police officer, who would you be inclined to believe more, the cop or the tranny who’s never held a real job?”
“I guess when you put it that way…” she let the thought drift away unfinished as we crawled into bed. Within seconds her arms were wrapped around me, and for the first time since we got up that morning I felt completely safe.
Thursday morning meant another appointment with Janet. This time Sarah volunteered to do the driving, for which I was extremely grateful as I was terrified of a repeat performance of Tuesday. We sat there in the waiting room flipping through the painfully outdated magazines until I was led back for my appointment. I sort of felt sorry for Sarah, leaving her there in the waiting room with nothing by those ancient Redbooks and Cosmos. Ah well, I suppose she would have to make do.
Janet was already in her office when I was led in, and before I could even take a seat she had come around from behind her desk and taken a seat in one of the big armchairs. For the briefest of moments I toyed with the idea of sitting down behind the desk, but then sanity once again took control of my mind and I sat down in the armchair opposite the doctor.
“How have you been?” she began immediately.
“I’ve been worse,” I replied. “I’ve been better as well, but…”
“Anything you’d like to start with?”
“Well, on my way home from here on Tuesday I was a bit spaced out as I was driving and the next thing I knew I was being pulled over for speeding.”
“I imagine that was fairly traumatic given your legal identity.”
“You can say that again. It was only made worse by the fact that the officer involved knew me back in school. Very well.”
“As in…?”
“As in he had been abusive toward me both verbally and physically on a semi regular basis all through high school.”
“So what happened?”
“He made a slew of derogatory comments along the lines of ‘queer’ and ‘faggot’, wrote me a ticket and left. By that time I was in tears, and it was quite a while before I was able to get myself back under control enough to drive the rest of the way home.”
“Did you file a complaint against him? That would be well within your rights.”
“I know that in the eyes of the law we’re all equal and all that. But in the real world it doesn’t always work that way. If I do anything like that it won’t only be him giving me a hard time. I’ll have the entire police force out gunning for me. I just can’t do that. I can’t put my friends and family through that.”
She sat there writing a note to herself before she continued, “I can see your point, but I want your assurance that if you have any more problems with this particular officer you’ll file a complaint against him.”
“My sister already made me promise,” I said, smiling as I did so.
The remainder of the session was spent talking about how I reached the conclusion that this was the right path for me. When my hour was up, I was ushered back out to the waiting room where I rejoined Sarah and we left hand in hand for our return trip home.
The rest of the day was devoted to band rehearsal, which was uneventful other than for the fact that I found I had to sit through much of it because of my ribs hurting when I stood up holding my guitar. I knew it would definitely be a while before my Les Paul saw a stage again.
Friday started much like many other of my days had of late because I was once again at the mercy of Marquis Shelly de Sade and her special toy box. I swore afterward that if she tried to tell me this project was almost finished one more time I might have to use her machine on her in an area that would be at least as sensitive as the face. For once she heeded my warning and didn’t say it.
It was late afternoon when Jen asked, “Hey, anybody want to go out tonight?”
Shelly was the first to respond, “Well yeah! Where’d you want to go?”
“I’d heard about this new club I thought we could check out, maybe even sit in and then talk to the owner about bookings,” she said by way of reply.
That was my sister, always working. She called Annie to fill her in on the plans and we all set about getting ready for an evening out.
To say I was apprehensive would be an understatement. I’d never really enjoyed going to clubs. In fact, I used to joke that the only way to get me in one was to pay me to be there. Everyone would laugh when I said it, but that was really the way I felt about it. Sarah on the other hand was really excited by the prospect, so I did my level best to make sure I didn’t act as a wet rag.
As I was putting the finishing touches on my face, Annie and her husband arrived at the house so we could all ride together in the van. Apparently parking where we were going was atrocious, so ride sharing was a necessity.
Since I was the last one ready, once I emerged from the bathroom we all headed directly to the ‘Starlust-mobile’ as it was sometimes jokingly called. Shelly had even gone to the trouble of getting personalized tags that said ‘STRLST’ on them.
The drive to this new place didn’t take long, and as we pulled into a parking space, Jen spoke up, “Okay, any volunteers for designated driver?”
“I’ll do it,” I offered. I was never much of a drinker anyway, so nursing diet cokes all night was fine by me.
There was quite the line outside the club. It extended halfway around the block, in fact. Fortunately it was relatively warm out for that time of year, and the line was moving rather quickly. As we approached the door however, I began to get nervous.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked when she noticed me being a bit upset.
“I just remembered my ID,” I said by way of explanation.
“Don’t sweat it. Most of the time they don’t even check girls,” she said trying to ease my fears. To a certain extent, it worked.
She was of course right and we sailed through the door with little more than a collection of leers from the door staff. We found our way down front to a big table and everyone took seats. Before we were even completely settled, the waitress was there to take our orders. I was actually impressed. This looked like a very nice place.
Jen leaned over to me and spoke into my ear, “Look who’s playing?”
As she pointed to the stage I saw my friend Mike up there wailing away. As he ended his solo, he smiled and winked at me so I waved back. At least I knew I had one friend besides the girls.
The end of the set came and Mike made his way directly to our table where he promptly asked as he took a seat beside me, “How come you didn’t bring all these girls around when you were a guy?”
“They knew I was hanging out with you and probably didn’t want to get groped by a lecherous toad,” popped out of my mouth before I knew it. He looked at me and I turned as red as a stop sign. That broke the silence as everyone broke out in a fit of laughter.
The waitress brought over a beer for Mike, for which he thanked her. Once his attention had returned to our table he asked, “You ladies want to sit in? It’s a safe bet that the guys wouldn’t mind taking a few songs extra break.”
Jen jumped in, “Sure!”
“Okay, let me go arrange it. You can start the next set.” With that he was up and on his way to confer with his cohorts.
“What do you want to play?” asked Annie.
“Why don’t we start with ‘A Change Will Do You Good’, then something like ‘Wonder’ before Jill does ‘Lenny’? Then we can finish with ‘Politics of Love’,” suggested Shelly. By the time Mike returned to confirm that we would start off the set, everyone had agreed to the song order and all that was left was to get up and do it.
A few minutes later we were climbing on stage. When the crowd noticed the band was different…and all girls…we had their complete attention. Jen approached the mic and said, “Hi, we’re ‘Starlust’ and Mike and the rest of the guys have been kind enough to let us come up and play a few songs for you tonight.” She then turned away from the mic and said loud enough for all of us to hear, “One-two-three-four!”
We started into the song, and everything just seemed to fall right into place. The more we played this one the more I liked it, which I guess is understandable since I really like pretty much everything I’ve heard by Sheryl Crow. By the time the song was over the crowd was really into it and their applause at the end was warm and loud. If anything, the Natalie Merchant tune went over even better than Sheryl Crow had and by it’s end they were practically on their feet.
Next up of course was my solo, which I started into before the applause died down. Once they realized I was playing the audience quieted down fairly quickly so they could listen. I had their complete attention by the time the rest of the band came in, and by the time I had finished with the statement of the ‘melody’ you could have heard a pin drop if we had stopped playing suddenly.
I played my heart out on that song and by it’s end felt completely exhausted. I know Jen realized just how tired I was because she took a moment to do the emcee thing, which gave me a moment to catch my breath.
“We’d like to thank Mike and the guys, the management, and of course all of you for permitting us to share with you these last few songs. We’d like to close with one from our CD. It’s called ‘Politics of Love’.” Shelly counted us in and we tore into it. She must have been channeling John Bonham or something because the drums sounded huge. The song grooved along like any good Led Zeppelin song would as we played out on an extended guitar solo once the lyrics were over.
The crowd seemed to love us, at least if the enthusiasm and volume of the applause was any indication. Mike’s band came up to replace us and we left the stage, returning to our table where the waitress had delivered a free round of drinks.
We sat through Mike’s band’s set and I don’t think it was an exaggeration to say that we got a much better response from the crowd. As they were finishing up their set, Jen and Shelly took out to try and find the owner or manager about possibly booking us. Sarah, Annie and Frank, and I remained at the table and were shortly joined once again by my buddy Mike. He complimented us profusely on our set and we chatted about this and that and nothing at all for a while until I found that I needed a visit to the little girls’ room.
I excused myself, winding my way through the throng of people until I got near the restrooms. That’s when one of my worst nightmares became reality once again.
“Hey faggot, the men’s room is that way,” slurred none other than an extremely drunk Tommy Robinson.
“Please leave me alone Tommy,” I asked him as pleasantly as I could.
He backed me into a dark corner by the restroom door and blocked me in with his body. “You know you’ll never get away with it,” he snarled, trying to sound intimidating. It worked.
“With what? What am I trying to get away with?” I had a fair idea what he was meaning, but wanted him to confirm it for me because I had just decided to file that complaint against him. I most assuredly was going to include this encounter.
“With this lie you’re livin’, that’s what,” he said. “You’re goin’ ‘round tryin’ to convince the world you’re a woman when you’re not.” The more he spoke, the more scared I became. Somehow that just deepened my resolve.
“I’m not lying to anyone. I’m not hurting anyone either,” I said, summoning every ounce of courage I could muster.
Just then someone tapped him on the shoulder, to which Tommy turned around. It was Mike. After he knew he had Tommy’s attention, he said, “You’re bothering the lady.”
“That’s no lady! That’s just a queer in a dress…”
“I know exactly who and what she is. She’s a lady and you need to leave her alone.”
“And just who’s gonna make me?”
Mike was then joined by a couple of his band mates followed up shortly by some of the door staff, who escorted Mr. Robinson from the premises.
As Tommy was being led away Mike turned back to me and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Just a little shaken, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Mike led me back to my table, asking along the way, “Who was that guy anyway?”
As I sat down at the table I said, “Just a ghost from the past.”
Jen hadn’t been aware of what had transpired just then and she stared at me trying to coax information out of me.
Mike looked at me for a moment before saying, “If you’re sure?” He then headed back up on stage for their next set.
Before the band started back in, Jen looked at everyone in our party and said, “I think it’s time for us to go.” She stood up as a sign to the others that she was serious and we should all follow, period. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance to the idea and in very little time we were all walking out the door and piling into the van.
Jen looked at me standing beside the driver’s door and said, “I don’t think you’re in any better shape to drive than the rest of us.” I don’t think I could have argued the point at that moment, not the least reason being that I was still an emotional wreck following my latest run in with our local constabulary.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked my sister.
“Yeah. All I had was a wine cooler. I’ll be fine.”
I went around and took the front passenger seat while Jen climbed into the driver’s. “I have a stop I need to make, if that’s all right,” I said.
Jen didn’t even ask where I meant. She just drove us directly to the police station. When we got there, we all got out of the van and went inside, where I headed straight for the desk.
“Excuse me sir. Who do I see about filing a complaint against one of your officers?”
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Jill stands up to that ghost from her past, but is that the only source of problems facing her? Some good news eases some of her fears. Thanks to Karen J and Angharad for their assistance.
Changing Keys, Part 9
By Jillian
After being led into a large room with a number of desks spread about, most of them practically buried in piles of file folders, I was introduced to Captain Gibson.
“What can I do for you?” He asked after I took a seat opposite him.
“I need to file a complaint against one of your officers, Tom Robinson.” I replied.
“What’s he done now?” he shot back, seeming agitated that he would have to deal with this situation.
“On Tuesday morning, he stopped me to issue a ticket, and while he was writing it he made numerous derogatory remarks about me.”
“In what way?”
“He referred to me as ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’, and made comments related to our shared past.” I said as I fought to keep the tears from starting.
“Shared past?”
“Yes. We went to high school together. At the time I was known as Jack Tucker. He would regularly make abusive comments toward me, bully me, and on several occasions forced me to...” I found myself unable to even say it as I broke down. I did finally get myself back under control and was able to continue, “When I tried to report the incidents to school officials, I was ignored.” I paused to take a few deep breaths.
“I was intent to let the issue of Tuesday’s incident die until tonight when I was out with some friends to listen to a band at Windham’s, that new club that just opened up. He stopped me on my way to the restrooms, cornered me, and made threatening comments while he held me against a wall. One of my friends happened to come to check on me and saw what was happening. He intervened, and the door staff escorted Tommy from the club. We immediately left and came straight here.”
“I assume you were attired as a woman when these incidents occurred?”
“Yes. I am currently being seen by a therapist and a doctor in treating my gender issues.”
“And do you have any legal ID as a woman?”
“Not yet. I have requested that my doctors fill out the appropriate forms, but paperwork takes time.”
“Don’t I know it,” the captain joked. My fears started to ease as I warmed to this genuinely nice man. “Listen Miss Tucker,” I was thrilled to hear him address me as ‘miss’, “You aren’t the first citizen to have a problem with Officer Robinson, although if I have my way, you may be the last. I can promise you disciplinary action will be taken.” He stood up from his chair, came around the desk, and sat on the edge of it right in front of me.
“I’m sorry you’ve had these problems. I can tell you that these charges are being taken seriously and his days of using his position to intimidate citizens are about to come to an end. If you have any further problems with him, call me directly.” He gave me his card after writing his private cell number on the back. “This way you can get hold of me any time, day or night.”
“Thank you sir, “ I said as I stood to leave. I reunited with everyone in the lobby and we headed for home.
“With all the excitement I didn’t get a chance to tell everyone that we got a booking while we were there tonight. Weekend after next, in fact.” Jen informed us as we were driving home.
“Cool,” said Annie.
“So how many weeks in a row do we have booked?” I asked, since it seemed I was the only one who was still in the dark about our schedule.
Shelly was the first to reply, “Well let’s see. We’re at TC’s again next weekend, Windham’s the next, then the Silo the two weekends after that and then back to TC’s.”
“Great!” I said as she rattled off the upcoming schedule. I was hoping by the time we got through those dates I might finally be back to normal in the ribcage area. They were, of course, still rather sore.
Despite my emotional exhaustion, I tossed and turned all night and I was afraid I was keeping Sarah awake in the process. That was until I noticed her snoring. Around 3am I gave up, climbed out of bed, and went in to watch some late night TV on the couch. I have no idea when I finally fell asleep, but it was late enough that I’d made it through almost all of ‘The Notebook’. I was actually surprised I fell asleep during it, considering how much it was making me cry.
After that, things more or less settled into a routine for the next few days. Electrolysis, band practice, shopping, band practice, therapy session, more band practice…nothing out of the ordinary at all; at least, until the next Thursday.
I got up and around so I could make it to my therapy session on time, and I did in spite of the awful traffic I had to navigate through on the way. Janet surprised me by being ready to see me as soon as I got there, and the first thing she did as I entered her office was hand me the forms so I could go get my driver’s license changed.
After our chat I went and stood in line at the license bureau for about an hour before I got to have my picture taken for my new license. A few minutes later, there I was, with my new license with my new name, and even marked as ‘female’. I was in shock, in a good way.
On my way home I could barely contain my excitement. I was so giddy in fact that I nearly lost control of the car a couple of times. Fortunately for me and everyone around me, I was able to keep from doing any damage to my or anyone else’s property, and when I pulled in the driveway at home, I jumped out of the car and ran inside as fast as my cute little ankle boots would take me.
“Hello? Anyone home?” I called out as soon as I was inside. Sarah made it to me first and I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed her and gave her a big kiss, then after I released her from my embrace I held out my new driver’s license and started jumping up and down with a huge smile on my face.
Jen came up to me, looked at my license, and said, “Good news. Hey, that may not be the only good news for you today.” She held up an envelope from the courthouse. “Actually, truth be told I think this could have come at pretty much any time this past week. I’d kinda forgotten to check the mail,” she said blushing. One look at the package and I knew exactly what it was. My official name change papers!
As I stood there, officially and legally Jill Tucker, female, I couldn’t help myself. I started crying at the same time I was laughing. The girls walked me to the couch where I sat down to take a few minutes to get control of my emotions.
After a few minutes I was again able to speak without breaking out in tears of joy. “Kevin works fast, I guess,” I said as I opened the envelope from the court.
“When did you apply for the name change?” Jen asked.
“Maybe I did forget to tell you about that,” I said. “Right after you talked me into joining the band, I called an old school friend who’s a lawyer now. I explained about my transition, and asked if he’d be willing to handle the name change paperwork.”
“I take it his answer was yes?” Commented Sarah.
“I didn’t expect it to come through quite so quickly. Maybe this explains why it was so easy to get my new name on my driver’s license. Kevin must’ve made sure the change was implemented in all the state’s computer systems somehow.”
Ever the practical one, Jen asked, “So how much did all this cost?”
“The filing fee was sixty, I think. Kevin filled out and filed the paperwork for free, believe it or not.”
“Good friend,” Sarah said, looking rather impressed.
“Yeah, he said he still owed me for getting him through Senior English. Now we’re even,” I said through a smile that was threatening to swallow my entire face.
Sarah threw together some lunch for all of us, and we were enjoying an early afternoon of doing absolutely nothing when the phone rang. Jen got there first and answered it.
“Hello? Yes, just a moment,” she said into the receiver. Then she turned her attention to me and said, “It’s a Captain Gibson asking to talk to you?”
I made my way to the phone and immediately took it from my sister. “Yes Captain.”
“Miss Tucker? I just wanted to call and tell you that Robinson’s initial hearing is over, and he’s been suspended pending further investigation.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Yes it is. Now, don’t be surprised if you get a subpoena to appear before the Board of Inquiry as a witness.”
“I won’t sir. Thanks for letting me know where things stand.”
“No problem, miss.” With that, he hung up on his end. I stood there for a moment still holding the receiver to my cheek before finally lowering it into its cradle and returning to my previous activity.
“So?” Jen impatiently asked.
“Tommy’s been suspended until after a board of inquiry can hear the case. It seems I may have to testify.”
“That’s good, right?” Sarah asked.
“Of course it is,” Shelly jumped in.
I thought for a moment before adding my response. “It is as long as he doesn’t decide to come after me.”
“He wouldn’t, would he?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him though.”
The somber mood that descended over us clung to the air for the remainder of the evening. No matter what we tried to do, it wouldn’t go away. It even followed us all to bed, as evidenced by the fact that none of us seemed able to get any sustained sleep time.
Friday morning came far too early for my tastes, but I was up anyway having spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. Sarah at least had eventually managed to drift off and not wanting to wake her, I got out of bed with as little disturbance as I could manage and found my way into the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee before stumbling into the bathroom to take my shower.
By the time I emerged, still sleepy but somewhat refreshed, Shelly had joined me in cavorting amongst the living. After I retrieved the morning paper from it’s normal resting place hidden between bushes in the front yard, we sat in the living room talking about nothing in particular and draining the contents of the coffee pot for a couple of hours before signs of life started being heard from the bedrooms.
Since we had a performance that night, we really didn’t do all that much during the day. I had managed to talk Shelly out of a session with her box of tricks, so instead of devoting the entire morning to indulging her Sadist tendencies we got to just relax.
About noon we loaded up all the equipment and hauled it to TC’s. As we were unloading the van and carrying stuff inside, I made a couple of discoveries rather quickly. The first was that my ribs were still way too sore to carry much of anything, so I was pretty much useless until it came time to actually hook stuff up. That I could do, so I did. The other was that I was still having a lot of trouble trying not to get freaked out every time I stepped out that door into the alley.
By about 1:30 we had everything hauled in, set up and ready to rock. After triple checking that we had everything we could possibly need for the evening, we headed back home to relax before we got ready for the evening’s gig. During the journey back to the house I dozed off; no doubt lack of sleep was a contributing factor in my impromptu naptime.
Unfortunately all was not peace and light when we got home. It seems someone decided to do a little volunteer landscaping while we were out. What appeared to be a truck had driven through the yard repeatedly, digging trenches with it’s tires, the end result being that what had once been my mom’s favorite perennial flower bed was now just a mess of tire ruts torn in the yard.
My list of suspects seemed to be growing exponentially, but I decided that the best course of action was to call Captain Gibson to report the incident. Operating on the assumption that this was Tommy’s handiwork, I left a message on the captain’s voicemail and then retired to my bedroom to try and nap a bit more.
After determining that my best laid plans were not to be, I gave in and got up, joining my sister, et al, in the living room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” asked Sarah as I entered the room.
“No, I must’ve used up my allocation from Mr. Sandman in the van.”
“Well then get your buns over here and keep us company,” ordered Shelly.
Not wanting to incur her wrath, I hurried along to take my place beside Sarah. “So what have you guys been up to?” I asked.
“You’re looking at it,” said my sister.
“You know, you didn’t really fill us in on what happened when you called that police captain,” Shelly blurted out.
“Didn’t I? Sorry, all I could do was leave a voicemail.”
As if on cue the phone rang. Jen answered, “Hello? Yes captain…” she held out the phone to me and I took it.
“Thanks for returning my call.”
“So someone decided to redecorate your front yard?”
“It would appear so. Whoever did it must have had a fairly big truck, judging by the size of the trenches left by their tires.”
He paused for a moment, seemingly writing something down. “I’m filling out an incident report. Unfortunately, we can’t say for certain it was Robinson’s doing, but we can at least make mention of it during your testimony. By the way, have they served your subpoena yet?”
“No, but we were out for a while this afternoon.” The doorbell rang, and Sarah got up to get it. “That may be it now,” I said to the captain.
Sarah returned with an anticipated summons to appear. “It was just delivered.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll be seeing you on Monday morning then.”
“I suppose so.”
“If there are any more problems, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Sorry I wasn’t able to take it personally this time.”
“That’s okay sir. Thank you for being so attentive. And so pleasant.”
“Not a problem.” With that he hung up, as did I. I then took a moment to look at the subpoena. It said I was to be at the courthouse on Monday morning at 9am. “I guess this means no electrolysis on Monday then,” I grinned at Shelly.
“Then I guess we‘ll just have to do an extra long session on Sunday.” After she said that, she began cackling evilly. Sometimes Shelly worried me.
Following a period of serious vegging in front of the TV and a quick bite of dinner, everyone retired to their rooms to get ready for the evening. I decided to be brave and packed my Les Paul as well as my Strat, since they sound so different from each other and added an extra guitar stand so the LP would be safe when not in use.
The half hour ride back to TC’s was uneventful, and when we arrived we all piled out of the van and made our way inside. I still suffered from a bit of anxiety as I walked across the alley on my way in, but once in the ‘dressing’ room I began to calm down considerably.
As I was unpacking my guitars and checking to make sure they were in tune, Tim the club manager came in. “Ladies, good to have you back again.”
“It’s good to be back,” Jen replied.
Shelly then asked, “How’s it look out there tonight?”
“Not bad. No records or anything, but as long as you keep ‘em here it should be a good night.”
“That’s what we do,” I said as I closed the latch on my last guitar case.
Tim looked at me for a second before commenting, “Ya know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever actually heard you speak.” He then started laughing as he left the room to attend to other business.
Over the course of the night, I switched to the Les Paul for a few songs each set, but it was obvious to me that my ribs were still not up to the extra weight. However I did love its sound, so I suffered through the pain every once in a while when the song needed that extra beef.
By the end of the evening, I was absolutely exhausted. It was all I could do to carry my instruments back to the dressing room and put them in their cases, and I had to sit down after I did it. Maybe I was trying to do too much too fast. All I knew was that I loved playing that Gibson enough that I would need to continue working my way back to health so I could include it in my playing rotation.
Sarah, seeing just how tired I was, helped me when it was time to leave by carrying one of my cases for me. To me, that was a sign of true love.
The ride home was silent, as I think everyone was as tired as I was. We pulled in the driveway, wandered into the house, and took turns at the shower trying to wash away the bar smell. Then we gathered in the dining room for our traditional hot chocolate before heading to bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I hope I didn’t keep Sarah awake.
The next morning Shelly woke us by turning on the light and saying loudly, “I let you off yesterday. Today you’re not quite so lucky.”
I looked at her as if I was trying to cast a voodoo curse on her, but finally gave up and went and sat down at the table so she could ply her ‘trade’.
After two plus hours of aforementioned torture, I was released to get ready for the day. Upon my return Jen grabbed me and while pulling me toward the front door said, “There’s something you probably should see.”
She opened the door and I knew immediately what she was talking about. The big evergreen bushes that hid that ugly green utility company box in the middle of our yard and provided the paperboy with such an inviting target every day had been pulled out of the ground.
My first order of business was to reach for the phone. I dialed Captain Gibson’s cell number. He answered on the second ring, “Hello?”
“Captain Gibson? This is Jill Tucker.”
“Please, call me Gerry.”
“Okay. I’m sorry to bother you again, but last night we had a little more trouble.”
“What happened this time?”
“Some bushes in our front yard were pulled out of the ground somehow.”
“He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Stupid, but persistent.”
For some reason this brought to mind one of my mother’s favorite sayings; ‘the persistent shall inherit the Earth’. I always thought she meant it as an important life lesson, but wasn’t sure exactly why it jumped in my head at that precise moment. Returning to the moment, I asked, “Is there anything we can do to stop this?”
“Let me call a judge to get a restraining order against him. Then, if he should decide to play vandal anymore we can pick him up for violating that order.”
“Okay. Listen, Gerry? Thanks.” I said as I hung up the phone.
The remainder of the day was uneventful other than my attempts to replant the bushes, as was the gig that evening. We were well received, played pretty well, and I even felt a little less tired than the night before. All in all, it turned out to be a good night.
Since I wasn’t really able to do any lifting I was relegated to cord duty, gathering and wrapping up all the assorted cables we had strewn across the stage and packing them away in the old duffel bag we used for such things. I did carry a few smaller things out to the van, but I was regretting that decision by the time I got out there and was grateful that once again the door staff offered to help with the really big stuff.
As had become something of a tradition for us, after arriving home we all showered and had a cup or three of hot chocolate before turning in.
For reasons beyond my comprehension I woke up early Sunday morning, so I went outside and picked up the paper from where it had nearly knocked over one of the bushes I had just replanted the day before. Once inside I put on the coffee and started thumbing through the news.
Everyone gradually emerged from their hibernation and joined me in a leisurely morning with the paper and coffee. It wasn’t until afternoon that Shelly decided it was time for another session with her face charger, so I wound up attached to a chair for much of the afternoon while she tested my pain threshold. We ordered in pizza for dinner and spent the evening watching movies before everyone decided to turn in early.
I was awakened Monday morning by the unfamiliar strains of the alarm clock bellowing out it declaration that it was time to get up. I fumbled my way into the kitchen to start the coffee, then to the bathroom for a shower, which I hoped would help me achieve consciousness. Fortunately for me, and all those involved in my upcoming day, said shower did the trick and I was feeling almost human by the time I poured myself a mug of that wondrous black liquid.
Sarah arose shortly after I did and commandeered the shower as soon as I vacated it since she had planned on accompanying me to the courthouse. We managed to get ourselves ready and out the door before 8:30 and since we didn’t encounter any major catastrophes on the way we were able to find a parking space within walking distance and got to our assigned hearing room with minutes to spare.
On our arrival Captain Gibson greeted us. “Ladies, thank you for coming this morning.”
“Hopefully we can achieve some good today,” I said as I tried to project as much confidence as possible.
“Your testimony will just be the icing on the cake,” he said. I hoped he was right.
Precisely at 9 o’clock the door opened and we were ushered in to take seats in the gallery. By the time we had settled in, the door was closed and a panel came in through another door behind a long raised desk. Once they were seated, the man in the middle, who wore a police dress uniform much like the one Captain Gibson had on this morning, banged a gavel.
“This meeting of the Board of Inquiry is hereby reconvened in the matter of Patrolman Thomas Robinson’s fitness to continue as an officer of the court and member in good standing of the police force of this fair municipality,” he intoned, sounding extremely important.
“We have previously examined extensive evidence and heard from the defendant’s representatives by way of cross examination thereof. We now wish to hear the testimony of one of the plaintiff’s whose charges are under consideration. We therefore call to the stand Jill Tucker.”
I rose from my seat and walked, more slowly than I think I ever did before, toward the witness table. My feet felt like they were encased in lead, and I don’t think I was ever more glad than when I finally made it to the chair and took a seat.
Someone held out a bible in front of me and uttered those words we always hear in the movies. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
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Jill demonstrates her bravery in standing up against one of her tormentors and works to move on with her life. This is the conclusion of the story.
Changing Keys, Part 10
By Jillian
“I object!” shouted Tommy’s attorney.
“On what grounds?” shot back the prosecutor.
“That this witness is lying to the board concerning his identity.”
The board member sitting in the middle looked at me and asked, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
I cleared my throat and began, “Your honors, I used to be a boy named Jack Tucker. I’m not anymore.”
Mr. Myers, Tommy’s lawyer piped up, “Have you in fact had surgery then?”
“No, I have not.”
“Then aren’t you legally still a male named Jack Tucker?”
“No I am not. My name was legally changed to Jill, and as a person who is actively being treated for gender dysphoria, my driver’s license lists me as female.”
“Objection overruled,” came from the man in the middle.
The prosecutor cleared his throat. “Now then, Miss Tucker. Could you tell us what transpired between you and the defendant on Tuesday the 18th of this month?”
“I was on my way home from my appointment with my therapist, Dr. Janet Filo. Unfortunately, I had apparently allowed my attention to wander and Officer Robinson pulled me over for speeding.”
“And when he recognized you, what happened?”
“He started calling me the same kinds of names he used to call me when we were in high school.”
“Names like?”
“Queer, faggot, things like that.”
“And at this time, how were you attired?”
“Excuse me?”
“What kind of clothes were you wearing when the officer pulled you over?”
“Casual. Jeans, a top, that sort of thing.”
“And did he threaten you?”
“Not so much verbally, but then he never really did.”
“To what do you refer?”
“Tommy had always been abusive toward me, not only verbally but physically as well.”
“Objection!”
“Overruled.”
Following the interruption, the prosecutor continued, “In what way?”
“We went to school together most of our childhoods. By the time we were in high school, he would take any opportunity afforded him to be mean to me. He eventually reached a point where he expected me to do his work for him and would hit me if I didn’t do it, and…” I had to stop to compose myself before I could go on. “…and he would sometimes drag me into the restrooms and make me…” I started crying too much to continue.
“It’s all right miss. Take your time,” the prosecutor said softly to me. “Whenever you think you’re ready, please continue.”
It took me a few moments to regain control of my emotions. Once I had more or less stopped crying I continued, “He would sometimes make me take him in my mouth and…” I lost it again.
Once I again managed to compose myself, I added, “All I’ve ever wanted was for him to leave me alone.” At that point the tears became so profuse there was no way I could continue.
Coming to my rescue, the prosecutor said, “That’s all right miss.” Turning to the Board he then said, “No further questions at this time.”
The prosecutor returned to his seat, and the panel turned their attention to Mr. Myers. “Your witness,” the gentleman seated in the middle of the dais said.
Rising from his seat, Mr. Myers walked toward where I was seated and stood directly in front of me. “Now then, MISS Tucker,” he placed a heavy exaggeration on the word ‘miss’. “When did you complete the process changing your name and legal identity?”
“This past week.”
“So it’s safe to say that when my client pulled you over, in the eyes of the law you were still male?”
“I suppose so.”
“There’s no supposing to it…”
The prosecutor cut him off by jumping up and shouting, “Objection!”
“On what grounds?” asked Mr. Myers.
“Relevancy.”
“Sustained.”
“How could this not be relevant?”
One of the members of the Board, who had until now been silent, said, “Mr. Myers, this is not a regular court of law. This is an internal police tribunal, and if we deem a line of questioning irrelevant, then that’s the end of it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your honors.” Clearly flustered, he took a deep breath and tried to begin anew. “MISS Tucker,” he said, again emphasizing the word ‘miss’, “Is it not your contention that Officer Robinson behaved in an inappropriate manner during this traffic stop?”
“And then again during another encounter, yes.”
“Now then, MISS Tucker,” this was getting old rather quickly, “Isn’t it true that you have harbored negative feelings toward the defendant for several years associated with the alleged abuse during your time in school together?”
“It is probably safe to say that, yes.”
“So what is to make this Board believe you’re telling the truth concerning these events? How are we to know you didn’t just make all this up to try and settle an old grudge?”
“It happened!”
“MISS Tucker, please. There is no need to get upset. I’m merely pointing out that you have no proof such an incident occurred.”
“Not the traffic stop, no. But…”
“And what do you mean by that, MISS Tucker?”
“At the nightclub there were witnesses who saw how he was treating me. They intervened and then escorted him from the premises.”
“Who might these witnesses be? Have they been summoned to these proceedings?”
“An old friend of mine, Mike Bishop, and the door staff who were working at Windham’s that night. I don’t know their names. And I don’t know if they were subpoenaed or not.”
“So you’re saying that if we talked to these individuals, they would corroborate your version of events.”
“Yes.”
“I have no more questions for this witness.”
Before I could be dismissed, the prosecutor jumped up and said, “Redirect.”
“Continue,” came a voice from one of the members of the Board.
“Is there anything you’d like to add to this, Miss Tucker?”
I thought about it for a moment before saying, “If I thought I was the only person who had ever had a problem with Tommy’s behavior, I wouldn’t want him to lose his job. I’d just ask that he please leave me alone. An apology would be nice. That’s all I want really. But from what I’ve been told I know I’m not the only one he’s harassed while on the job. That’s why I’m here. Someone needs to stand up to him, and I guess since nobody else has done it, I’m going to have to be that someone.”
“Thank you Miss Tucker,” said the gentleman sitting in the center of the dais. “Will there be anything further?”
The prosecutor answered, “Not at this time. However, we reserve the right to call more witnesses as the situation dictates.”
“So noted. Now we will be taking a short recess before hearing from the defendant.” The panel rose from their seats, prompting everyone in the room to stand up as well, and walked single file out of the room the same way they had entered.
As I stood up, Captain Gibson and the prosecutor came up to me and said, “Good job today Miss.”
“Thanks. I just hope it was enough.”
“With everything else, I’m sure it was,” said the prosecutor. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call before we come back from recess.” He then left me standing there with the captain. We started walking toward the exit and were joined by Sarah.
“You did great,” she said as she gave me a hug and kiss.
“Thanks, but I think you’re a bit biased.”
“Well, DUH!” she said as she slapped my arm.
Outside the hearing room, Captain Gibson asked, “Do you two want to stay for the next part? If so, you can sit with me in the gallery.”
“Thank you, Gerry,” I said. “I just don’t know that I’m up to listening to him right now.”
“Understood. I’ll call you after to let you know what happens.”
“Thanks,” we both told him. We then left the courthouse and headed back home, content that we’d tried to do something good today.
When we arrived home, we joined Jen and Shelly in the living room. “So are you going to tell us what happened?” Shelly is not exactly a patient person sometimes.
“It was a lot like a trial, except instead of one judge there was a panel of people and no jury. The prosecutor asked me questions, then Tommy’s lawyer did the same. I walked out still alive, so it couldn’t have been too bad,” I tried to make light of the morning’s proceedings.
Sarah came to my rescue, “I think you were very brave this morning.” She then leaned over and kissed me.
Jen commented, “Do you two need some time alone?”
“Maybe later,” I said. Everyone broke out in a fit of giggles after that.
As we were about to move the living room around to make room for band practice, we heard a crashing sound as a brick came sailing through the picture window, shattering the glass and scattering it around the room. Everyone dove for cover as the shards of glass rained down upon us, and by the time we had managed to return to standing positions to look out the hole to see who had thrown the brick all we could see was a puff of smoke from where they squealed their tires on their getaway.
“Somehow I doubt Tommy had anything to do with this,” I said as we began the process of cleaning up the glass.
“Why do you think that?” asked Jen.
“Because he’s probably still at the courthouse,” Sarah answered for me.
Shelly said, “He could have had someone do this for him.”
“But would he?” I asked. No one seemed to have an answer to that one.
We spent nearly an hour picking up bits of broken glass, until it got to the point we could use the vacuum to get the rest. While Sarah tended to that task, I hung an old blanket over the broken window in an attempt to preserve some warmth.
“I guess we’re going to have to call someone to fix this, huh?” I asked, not expecting anyone to actually answer.
Shelly went over to the phone, dialed it, and waited for an answer on the other end. “Hey…I need a favor…Yes, actually, it would be the kind of thing I’d pay you back for in that way…Some idiot threw a brick through out front window, and we need a new pane of glass put it before we freeze our cute little buns off…I’ll see ya in a little bit then.” She smiled as she hung up the phone and turned to us to say, “Problem solved.”
It was a couple of hours before Shelly’s friend could make it over to take care of the window, and another hour and a half after he came by before he returned with the new pane of glass, which pretty much meant no band practice today…it was just too chilly, and besides none of us were really in the mood.
Around bedtime, Jen stuck her head into Sarah’s and my room and asked, “Do you think those jerks could’ve had something to do with the window?”
“I suppose. I hadn’t really thought about that, to tell you the truth,” I said as I changed into my nightie.
“They know where you live, and I’m sure they’re ticked off enough at all of us to do something like this,” Jen commented.
“If it’s them, what do we do? Phone the police?” asked Sarah.
“I don’t think we want to open that particular can of worms, do we? No, I think I know a better way,” answered Jen. That reply made me very nervous all of a sudden.
“I think we should wait and find out before going off and doing something rash, ya know?” I offered by way of making peace, at least temporarily.
“We’ll see. For now, I have a date with a vampire,” as Jen left the room, holding her book, Sarah and I settled into bed for the night.
My last thought before I fell asleep that night was a whispered, “I love you Sarah.”
She responded with a whispered, “I love you too Jill.”
We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Tuesday meant another visit with Janet, so I got up and around just in time to get to my appointment. Obviously, mornings just never were my thing.
We talked a lot about my court experience the day before, as well as how I was doing with the new hormone dosage, how things were going with Sarah, and on and on. I swear, sometimes sessions with Dr. Filo felt less like therapy than they did a gossip session. As far as I was concerned, that was a positive.
Late Tuesday afternoon, I’d been crashed on the couch reading when the telephone ringing brought me from my trance. I ran to answer it, reaching there on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Miss Tucker? This is Captain Gibson.”
“Yes captain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It’s safe to say you won’t have to worry about Tom Robinson for a very long time.”
“What? I thought that hearing was just to determine whether or not he could continue to be a police officer?”
“The Board of Inquiry is a little more than that. They have the authority to hand down prison sentences, when such is called for. And since Robinson and several of his cohorts have just confessed to several counts of wrongdoing in hopes of cutting down on their prison time...”
“You can’t be telling me...?”
“Well Miss Tucker, it’s safe to say that your testimony would have gotten him fired on it’s own, but when we discovered some of his felony activities, we shot clean past dismissal and wound up at ‘doing time’.”
“So, Tommy’s gone? Really?”
“On his way to a maximum security detention facility, and in part it’s thanks to you and your courage.”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“When you came in that night to file your complaint, the investigation that triggered stirred up a hornet’s nest of officers engaged in extracurricular activities. My only regret is that we didn’t find out about all of them sooner. This city owes you a huge thank you.”
He couldn’t see me blush, but everyone in the room could and they were really enjoying watching my embarrassment displayed all across my face. “Thank you captain for being so nice to me throughout all of this. I hope I’ll never have to deal with police again, but if I do I hope those officers are as nice and understanding as you have been.”
“Thank you ma’am. Take care.”
I stood there listening to the silence coming through the receiver for a couple of seconds before I heard the click that told me he had hung up on his end. When I finally put down the receiver, I could tell from the looks on everyone’s faces that they knew what the call was about, and wanted details, lots of details.
To celebrate, Sarah and I actually went out on a regulation eat hot food and go to a movie date. Throughout the evening I was a bit distracted, as I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the question I intended to ask Sarah that evening. I nearly did it at dinner. I stopped in the middle of forming the words as we parked the car at the theater. And I was so preoccupied during the film I can’t even remember what we went to see.
During the drive home, I was very quiet. So much so that it started to concern Sarah and finally at the end of the evening, she said so.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as we pulled in the driveway back home.
“Sorry, I guess I’ve been a bit preoccupied this evening.”
“You guess? I’m a lot more certain than ‘guess’. Now what’s wrong?”
I turned to look into her eyes and waited until after she turned to return my gaze before I answered, “There’s been something I’ve wanted to ask you all evening, and just hadn’t been able to get the words out.”
“Yes…” she said expectantly.
“Okay, here goes. Sarah, you know I love you very much.”
“And I love you too.”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that a life without you in it isn’t really worth living, so I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.” There, I said it.
As she sat there looking at me tears started streaming down her cheeks, mirroring the ones raining down my face. For a moment it was difficult to decipher whether they were happy or sad, but then she began smiling and leaned toward me as I did the same. We began to kiss, softly at first before becoming more passionate.
As we broke momentarily for air, she said, “Yes.” We then started our kiss anew, eventually deciding that our best course of action would be to take our activity to the bedroom.
Once behind the closed door of our bedroom, I took her in my arms and began planting kisses on her lips, eventually expanding the scope of my lips’ exploration to include her earlobes, neck, and points south. We undressed each other, all the while continuing our kissing as if it were more important to our survival than air, because at that moment it was.
We gave ourselves to each other in ways we never had before, and became one in more ways than I thought possible. As we finally drifted off to sleep protected in each other’s embrace, I knew for the first time what Heaven surely was like.
Thursday morning my eyes popped open and when I looked at the alarm clock I said, “Crap! I overslept!”
I jumped out of bed, took the fastest shower of my life, threw some clothes on, and was out the door in under fifteen minutes. I didn’t even stop to wake Sarah and tell her goodbye, I was in such a hurry.
As I was headed out the door, Jen stopped me for a moment. She gave me a hug and said, "You know, I'm really glad you're my sister."
I started tearing up as I replied, "Me too. You're about the best sister a girl could have."
After another hug and a wipe of tears, Jen said, "You'd best get going, and be careful."
I turned and headed out the door. As I was unfortunately prone to doing, I had some difficulty keeping my mind on the task at hand. When I should have been focusing on driving my mind kept wandering, thinking about how lucky I was to have found as much happiness as I finally had.
My sister had been better to me than I could ever have expected. She would have been well within her rights to more or less tell me to go away and never come back, but she didn't do that. Instead she had been supportive of me...more so than I deserved, really.
Then there was Sarah. I loved her more than I ever thought possible. And to think that she had actually accepted me, for me?
I shouldn’t have been driving so fast, but I didn’t want to be late to my appointment with Janet. As I was crossing an overpass, I hit a patch of ice unexpectedly and the car spun several times, slammed into another vehicle and eventually going over the shoulder and down an embankment. We rolled over and over, sometimes one on top of the other, before finally coming to rest in a culvert.
As I began to take inventory of my injuries I became aware of several things all at once. I was fairly certain I had numerous broken bones, blood was running from my forehead into my eyes, and while I could feel very intense pain everywhere, I couldn’t move anything other than my eyes. As I directed my vision outside my car, I saw staring back at me Dave and Billy Joe from ‘Kentucky Straight’ trapped inside the van that had joined me in that tumble. They both looked to be injured at least as badly as I was, and at that moment I asked forgiveness for every bad thought I’d ever had about them. They didn’t deserve to die here, any more than I did. It seemed the universe had other plans.
I whispered the name of my beloved, “Sarah,” one last time as there was a burning flash accompanied by searing pain, then nothing.
Epilogue
Mike Bishop walked up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, the group that was supposed to perform here tonight, ‘Starlust’, won’t be able to do so because of the death of their guitarist, my good friend Jill Tucker.” He stepped away from the mic for a moment, trying to clear the tears from his eyes. He then looked at the table down front where Jen, Sarah, Shelly, Annie, and her husband sat, inconsolably in tears already. He finally was able to continue.
“Jill’s car went over an embankment Tuesday morning after presumably hitting a patch of ice on an overpass. Her band mates are here with us this evening, and I hope you’ll join me in offering condolences to Jill’s sister Jen and her friends Sarah, Shelly, and Annie for the passing of a brave and lovely person whom I am proud to have been able to call a friend. She most assuredly will be missed.” As he looked in the direction of 'Starlust's' table, he caught sight of both Jen and Sarah mouthing the words, "Thank you" to him.
Again he stepped back from the mic in a vain attempt at regaining control of his emotions. “We’d like to start this evening with Jill’s favorite song.”
He began playing the introduction to ‘Lenny’, and the band followed him into the song as they conveyed a sense of loss and sadness in every note. His solo culminated in a stinging, powerful outburst of emotion that would have made Jill proud indeed. As the song was brought down to it’s close, instead of applause it was greeted with a moment of silent prayer.
The End
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In music, the word cadence is used to describe a point of resolution. Another way of putting it is that it's a point in a song where it sounds like it could stop without leaving the listener hanging.
For those who might wonder what became of some of the characters from my story Changing Keys, here's a look ten years into the future. There are minor TG characters, but that's all. Hope you all enjoy it.
Cadences
By Jillian
“It doesn’t seem like it’s possible,” sighed Annie.
Sarah, who had been silently crying, disagreed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I swear I feel as if a hundred years have passed. By the same token, sometimes I think she was here just yesterday.”
As the sun began to peek over the horizon, a silence gripped the group. As they did every year, they had gathered at the gravesite to honor their fallen sister. The sky grew slowly brighter and the only discernable sound was the occasional semi truck driving along the nearby highway.
The silence was broken when Shelly said, “Ya know, I’ve never seen a sunrise as beautiful and peaceful as it is here.”
Jen retorted, “Like you’ve seen that many sunrises?”
Looking indignant, Shelly responded, “Of course I have. It’s just that they’re usually when I’m on my way home from partying all night.”
This prompted a round of gentle laughter to ripple through the group. As it died down, Sarah took the lead, saying, “We love you and miss you Jill. I hope you’re in a good place and I’ll have the chance to join you there someday.”
The laughter that had so recently graced the cemetery was replaced by the sound of weeping, as the group paid their respects on this, the anniversary of the death of someone who had been a friend, a band mate, a lover, and a sister…Jill Tucker.
Following Jill’s death, Jen lost interest in music. She went through the motions of performing for a while because that’s what she did for a living, but everything that made playing special for her was gone, as if it had died with her sister. She eventually went so far as to take a ‘day job’ at the local ‘CD Warehouse’ and other than a few special occasions had stopped performing in bands entirely.
She was still extremely close with two of her old band mates in particular. Shelly, with whom she had always had an on again, off again romantic relationship, which had in recent years become a full time monogamous one.
Then there was Sarah, who had been Jill’s life partner. Following the accident that had taken her, Sarah changed her last name to Tucker in part to help her feel closer to her so recently departed soul mate. For her part, Jen had made sure to give Jill’s half of the house they shared to Sarah and they had lived together as sisters ever since.
Sarah had found a ‘calling’ where she could help others like Jill be whom they felt they needed to be and following the recent completion of her PhD in psychology had begun the process of setting up a practice, offering counseling services to those with gender identity issues.
Jen, who had struggled with finding a way in which she could also do something to help make the lives of others like her sister better, quickly offered to serve as receptionist and office manager for the new practice. That’s how she found herself making coffee and straightening magazines as they waited for the first patient of the day.
A buzzer sounded and in walked an extremely nervous looking young man. He tentatively made his way to the reception desk, where Jen had so recently returned having fulfilled her early morning office duties.
He spoke, fear and shame obvious in his voice, “Hi, I have a nine o’clock with Dr. Tucker?”
Jen tapped a few keys on the computer and then asked, “Jason Burns?”
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, sounding terrified that someone knew his name.
Sensing his extreme discomfort, Jen tried to ease his fears, “She’ll be right with you. Would you like some coffee while you wait? I’d be happy to get it for you.”
There was something in her voice that helped calm the young man because he visibly relaxed as he replied, “Sure, that’d be great.”
Jen got up from her desk and headed for the coffee maker. As she started to pour she asked, “Do you take cream or sugar?”
“Both, please,” he responded as he too found his way to what passed as a kitchenette to retrieve his coffee.
She turned to give him his cup and asked, “So is this your first time seeing a therapist?”
“That obvious, is it?”
“Nah, you just seem sort of nervous.” Trying to reassure him she added, “There’s really nothing to be afraid of. Sarah hasn’t actually shrunken any heads that I’m aware of and I’ve known her a very long time.” She tried to make sure he realized she was joking by giggling a bit. He nervously smiled and returned to the waiting area where he took a seat. He tried flipping through a couple of magazines, to no avail and then just drank his coffee while looking like he might expire from nervousness.
Just as he finished his coffee, Sarah poked her head out the door to her office. Seeing the young man and noting how obviously nervous he was, she came out into the waiting area and before he’d even noticed she was there, held out her hand and asked, “Are you Jason? I’m Dr. Tucker, but please call me Sarah.”
He reluctantly shook her hand and rose from his seat. “Nice to meet you, Sarah,” he offered.
“If you’ll follow me, we can get started, okay?” She led the way into her office, closing the door behind them once they had entered. “Why don’t we sit over here?” she asked, directing him toward the sofa.
He tentatively sat at one end of the couch and Sarah at the other. While he was looking straight ahead, Sarah had turned to face Jason. When he didn’t offer up any comments, she began by asking, “What brings you here, Jason?”
He glanced toward her then stared at his own lap. It took him a moment or two to finally muster a response. “Well,” he quietly began. “I, um…”
Interjecting to try and get him to open up, Sarah said, “That’s okay. Why don’t you just tell me a bit about yourself?”
It took a while, but eventually Jason began talking and before too long had even started to open up to her about his deepest secret…cross-dressing. As their session was drawing to a close, Sarah said, “You know, you really aren’t the first person to ever feel this way. It’s more common than you might think.”
She paused to read his response to what she was saying before continuing, “If you came here looking for a cure, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. But if you’re interested, I’ve very much like to help you become more comfortable with this aspect of your life.”
She then concluded with, “No one says you ever have to share this part of your life with anyone else, but my hope is that if you feel good enough about this aspect of yourself you won’t be afraid to tell someone you’re on an intimate level with about it. So why don’t we pick this back up next week?”
He let out a huge sigh and said, “Sure. Do I see the woman out front about setting up the next appointment?”
The salon business had been kind to Shelly of late. She had always worked in a shop, even when she was playing all the time, but in recent years she had ‘retired’ from the band business, calling it a ‘young girl’s game’ and had devoted herself to her work as a stylist.
She had taken the time to get her certification in electrolysis and now that was proving to be about half of her business. Her time with Jill had influenced her in a huge way, as she made a point to offer huge discounts on services for those who were seeking treatment for transgender issues. Since the community had become aware of her discount policy, the majority of her client base was TG.
“So what’s on your agenda after this?” she asked of Joanne as she zapped facial hairs for her client.
“I have a therapist appointment this afternoon. Other than that it’s a day off, which of course means shopping!” Joanne effused.
“You’re seeing Sarah Tucker, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Joanne replied as she winced from a particularly painful zap.
“She’s good, and I’m not just saying that because we’ve been friends forever.” Both of them began to giggle a bit, though Joanne was having trouble doing so while also holding still and occasionally jumping a bit from the jabs of pain.
“You two used to play in that band together, didn’t you?”
“Yes, along with Jen her receptionist and Jen’s sister Jill.”
“That’s the Jill that…” Joanne began but faded out, not entirely sure how to say what she was meaning.
“That tonight’s charity concert is named after, yeah.” As she said it, Shelly felt a wave of sadness wash over her.
Annie had gotten home from the sunrise gathering at Jill’s gravesite just in time to see off her husband Frank and the kids, then made her way to bed. Unlike the rest of the girls from ‘Starlust’, she was still actively trying to make a living as a musician. She’d been playing with Mike, who had played all of Starlust’s remaining jobs after Jill’s death, for the last two years.
You might think for her the upcoming reunion performance would be no big deal, but the truth was she was so excited she was nearly jumping out of her skin. While she normally played for money, this night was played for something else entirely.
When she rose about midday, her first order of business was to call Mike to confirm that everything was going to be ready for the evening’s performance. Once she was convinced that things were ready and there was nothing to worry about she got up and headed for Guitar Center to make sure they had the flyers about the charity show in a prominent place so they would have a chance at as big a crowd as possible.
Looking at the stack of flyers beside the register, she asked, “Have there been many of these picked up?”
“Yeah, more than I expected,” replied the manager as he checked out someone who came in for guitar strings. “You’ll see we also put one up on the door,” he added.
“That’s great. Thanks,” she said as she looked toward the front door and saw where he had taped one of the flyers up. “Be sure to come out tonight. It’s for a great cause and the band is outstanding.”
“I remember when you guys were working around town. Good sound, and a great stage show.”
“That’s us. I think we really could’ve been big time if it hadn’t been for the accident,” she added just before offering her farewells and heading out.
After doing the same at several area record and music stores it was time to pick the kids up from school. As they climbed in the van, Tommy, her oldest asked, “Do we get to come tonight?”
Turning to look at him in the back seat before pulling the vehicle back out on the road, she said, “I don’t see why not.” They rarely got to go hear mom play, but this was one of those times when they were being allowed to stay up late. They were seriously stoked.
Mike and Annie’s band was supplying the PA and lights for the charity show, since they would be playing the following night at the same establishment. That’s how he and a couple of the other guys from the group found themselves setting up equipment that afternoon.
“Anybody remember how to rough in EQ for girl singers?” Jimmy, the guy who was going to be running sound that evening, asked.
Mike threw in, “Well, you can drop everything below 100hz to nothin’ for a start.”
“Gee thanks,” Jimmy shot back sarcastically.
Things continued in that vein for almost an hour, until everything was ready to go. As they put away everything that would not be needed that night, Jimmy asked, “So how’d you wind up with those guys anyway?”
Mike was heading back toward the stage with a couple of beers in hand, which he set down on a table before taking a seat and gesturing for Jimmy to take the other one. After they’d each taken a drink, he replied, “Way back when, I had this really good friend…a guitar player…named Jack. He was Jen’s brother and over the years we’d played together in a lot of different bands.”
He took another sip and continued, “I’d always suspected there was something a little different about Jack, but figured ‘he’s a good player and a nice guy, so who cares?’, ya know?”
“So…?”
“This Jill person the concert is honoring? That was Jack.”
Jimmy nearly choked on his beer as the light bulb went on over his head. When he found his voice he asked, “So that’s…”
“Yup. When Jill died, I filled in for her while the band played out it’s bookings. It was a good enough band I probably would’ve stayed with them, had they decided to continue working. But, they took the death really hard. Annie’s the only one of them that still plays regularly.”
“How many years have they been doing this ‘reunion’ charity thing?”
“Every year, on the anniversary, so this is the tenth one.”
“And you’ve played with them every year?”
“Well yeah. It’s the least I can do for friends.” He downed the rest of his beer while looking at the stage.
Shelly had been removing curlers from her customer’s hair for some time and while to most everyone in the shop she seemed to be listening to her client babble about some television show, the truth was that she’d been thinking about old friends…some still living, others dead…and the task that lay ahead of her that night.
The band had been essentially in retirement for nearly ten years, other than their annual appearance at the fund raiser, but after two weeks of rehearsals they were sounding almost as good as ever.
While she still spent a lot of time with Jen and Sarah since she lived with them after all, it had been quite some time since she’d seen Annie and in that respect she was really looking forward to the evening’s festivities.
What joy she found in reuniting with old friends however was tempered by the sadness of the anniversary they would be recognizing. The decade that had passed since Jill’s death had been hard on all of them, but each was finding her own way to get through it.
Sarah was used to long days, but this one felt different. The anniversary had forced her to think about the loss of her soul mate. All those years since Jill had been taken from her and still a day didn’t go by without her feeling the need to cry.
After shedding a few tears, she forced herself to regain control of her emotions and prepared herself for her next task. A buzzer sounded and she pressed a button on the office intercom, “Yes?”
“Your four o’clock is here,” came a voice from the other end of the machine.
She took a deep breath to ensure she’d gotten herself back under control and then said, “Thanks, Jen. Send her in.”
As she waited for her next patient, she took several deep cleansing breaths to calm her emotions. By the time the door opened, she was once again ready to do her job.
“Hi Joanne, how’ve you been?” she asked of the person entering her office.
“Pretty good really. And yourself?” she asked.
“Good,” Sarah said as they made their way toward the seating area. “Have a seat and we’ll get down to business.”
Like most of the patients in her practice, Joanne was contemplating transition. She lived most of her life as John, but desperately wanted to become Joanne for real. She had been coming to see Sarah for counseling for nearly six months and had been spending most of her non-work time as Joanne.
The two of them sat facing each other on the couch. This was Sarah’s preferred position for talking with her patients because she felt it made it seem more like friends talking. Making them comfortable was of the utmost importance when trying to get people who have been hiding things their whole lives to open up.
After some chit-chat to help her re-open the connection between them, Sarah asked the question she’d been leading up to for the last several weeks, “Have you given any thought to your Real Life Test?”
There was a long pause as Joanne thought about her answer, “I think I’m ready.”
“That’s great news!” Sarah effused. “So when do you think you’ll be ready to start?”
“Well, I have talked some with my boss. His position is ‘If I can get the job done, he doesn’t care what I wear to work’. Of course, he doesn’t necessarily speak for my co-workers.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good. I’d be worried if it didn’t.” Sarah reached out and grasped both of Joanne’s hands. She looked into her patient’s eyes and said, “You know it’s going to be hard. You know there are going to be people who just can’t accept what you’re doing.”
Pausing to allow that thought to sink in, she then continued, “You have to remember that you’re strong enough to get through this. You are a beautiful woman and it’s time you let the world see that.” She paused to look for a reaction.
When she had gotten a feel for how her previous statement had been received, she went on, “Don’t deny yourself what you’ve said you want more than anything out of fear.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, Sarah was fighting to suppress her own tears. Here she was encouraging this fragile person to take a chance that she knew full well had the potential to end up badly. She only had to look at her own life to know that.
Annie was getting ready for the evening when she was interrupted by her son. “Mom?” entered Tommy.
“Hey, sweetie,” she replied as she gestured for her son to enter. “What’s on your mind?”
“We get to go tonight, right?”
“Yes, I double checked with the manager and he says he’ll set up a special place for you kids and your dad right down front.”
Tommy’s eyes got wide and he exuded, “Cool!”
As Shelly finished up with her last client of the day, she was filled with a jumble of emotions. Sure, she was excited about playing again; there’s a kind of high when you’re playing in front of a crowd that’s unlike any other.
By the same token she was worried about how things were going to come off. Musicians are generally their own worst critics and she was no exception. All the little and not so little things that could possibly go wrong with the performance ran through her head. It was little wonder that she was nervous.
The butterflies seemed to multiply in her stomach as she drove home. Her nerves got so bad she actually got a bit nauseous.
Once that wave passed she wandered into Sarah’s room for a moment. She stood there staring at Jill’s old guitars, remembering how they had surprised her by fixing up the room for her, with all her ‘toys’ as she called them displayed on the wall. As all those memories flashed through her mind she began to settle down and remember exactly what the evening was all about.
Nerves back under control she made her way to her room and got changed for the concert. Then she turned on some music in the living room and just chilled while waiting for Sarah and Jen to come home.
As their session continued, Sarah found she had an increasingly difficult time focusing on what Joanne was saying. Instead her mind was wandering to a world of ‘what ifs’ and ‘whys’. She tried to cover her meanderings, but it had to be assumed that Joanne noticed.
Once her time with Joanne was up, she said her goodbyes before getting her things together so she could go home. On her way out the door she asked, “Ready Jen?”
“Yup,” she replied as she grabbed her purse and coat. As they pulled the door closed behind them, Jen added, “Oh, Kyle called. He said he’s sorry, but he and Cindy won’t be able to make it tonight. He’s got some competition he has to leave town for tonight.”
“Ah, the pitfalls of being a working musician. Remember those days?”
“Far too well.”
They walked out of the office together and got into the car. Along the way home Sarah found herself once again drifting off into that netherworld that was her memories.
“How am I ever going to make it through this tonight?” Sarah asked as much of herself as her companion.
Jen replied, “I don’t know. I always dread going to this thing, but I always love it once we’re there.”
“So is Shelly meeting us at the house?”
“Yeah, she was finishing up with her last about an hour ago, so she might even be there already.”
The remaining trip home forced them to drive by the spot where Jill’s accident had taken place. As they neared it, neither one seemed able to carry on a conversation, so they lapsed into silence for several minutes until finally after they’d passed the spot Jen said, “You know, I think she’d be really proud of you.
“You’re working so hard all the time to help others like her and as if that weren’t enough you organize this fundraiser every year. I know I’m proud of you,” she concluded, looking at Sarah with a mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes.
Sarah found it impossible to respond and as the silence grew longer all she could do was nod as she fought back the tears that yet again threatened to envelope her.
Once they arrived home Sarah headed straight for her bedroom, where she changed into something a little less office friendly before sitting down on the bed to look at the guitars on the wall. They had been Jill’s and ever since her death they had been displayed in the room they had shared as a sort of shrine.
Jen’s thoughts roared through her mind as she sat there, ‘God Jill, do you have any idea how much I miss you? The only thing I’m certain of in this world is that you know how much I love you,’ as tears overtook her.
As she slowly regained control of the waterworks, her thoughts continued, ‘Tonight is the charity thing at the club. The last few years, we’ve managed to raise a lot of money to help kids through their gender issues. The fact is, that’s the only good that’s come out of all this, but I’d still trade it all for a chance to have you back with us.’
Not realizing that she was speaking she said, “I miss you so much,” and lost control of her tears. She then stepped back from the grave to try to compose herself.
Sarah’s thoughts too rumbled, ‘I love you, Jill. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t say that at least once. Sometimes remembering our love is the only thing that keeps me sane.’ She was having some difficulty controlling her emotions and found that the flow of tears interrupted her train of thought.
Once her emotions were back under control she finished getting ready for the evening before sitting down on her bed and looking at the ‘shrine’ that graced her bedroom wall.
After studying the guitars hanging there for quite some time, she selected the Strat and put it in it’s case to get it ready for it’s trip that evening. Once the last latch was closed, she carried it into the living room where she joined Shelly, who was impatiently waiting on the other girls to be ready.
“About time,” Shelly commented dryly.
“Yeah, it’s tougher deciding which guitar to take than it is picking the right dress,” Sarah commented, tongue firmly planted in cheek.
Once Jen had joined them, they all made their way to the car and headed out. During the drive, the three of them were surprisingly subdued. This became even more obvious the closer they got to their destination.
Rather than entering through the front, the girls parked around back and as they were headed toward the door were stopped in their tracks by a ghost from their pasts.
Sarah was first to speak, “It gets me every year. I can’t just walk past the spot, ya know?”
Jen and Shelly both hugged their friend in a show of support. It was Shelly who managed a response first, “I know what you mean. This spot…I know it’s not where she…but…” unable to complete her thought, she finally allowed silence to overtake her.
After standing there looking at the spot on the concrete they knew to be where Jill had been found near death following the beating she took at the hands of those ‘ex-friends’ of hers, the three made their way to the back door of the club.
Waiting for them at the door were Frank and Annie. Once inside away from the cold, they all exchanged hugs.
Greetings dispensed with and the winter’s chill dispatched, Annie said, “It looks like a full house tonight.”
“Is Mike here yet?” Jen asked.
“Yeah, he’s been here since a little after noon setting up.”
Shelly then said, “Cool, then we’ll be able to start up soon.”
They all found there way into the storage/dressing room that they had been in so many times before. They were greeted by Mike, who saw them come in and gave each a hug.
“It’s been too long,” said Sarah as she returned his hug.
“That it has,” he replied. “So are we starting with ‘Lenny’?”
Shelly jumped in at this point, “Yeah. It’s only fitting that we start with Jill’s favorite.”
Silence again descended upon them as they waited for time to go up on stage to begin the evening’s festivities. Little was said before nine when they gathered for a quick moment of silent prayer and headed for the stage.
Mike went on first by himself, as he was assuming ‘announcer’ duties for the evening. He carried Jill’s old guitar on stage with him and set it on a stand over to one side of the stage. He approached the mic and a silence that was rarely heard in a nightclub fell over the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for coming out this evening. As you know by now, tonight you will be privy to a reunion of one of the finest bands I’ve ever heard. Plus, at the same time you get to help raise money for Full Spectrum, which is a phenomenal charity as I hope you’re all aware.
“I had the privilege of knowing Jill Tucker, to whom tonight is dedicated, and I can tell you a better musician you will not find anywhere. More important, a more loving person you will never find.”
He paused for a moment before concluding, “So please dig deep tonight folks, so we can raise a lot of money to help those like Jill find their way. Now, for your listening pleasure, I give you ‘Starlust’!”
Climbing the steps they could see that it was indeed a packed club. Sarah found herself overcome with emotion at the sight, knowing the reason. Once everyone had settled in with their instruments, Jen approached the microphone and said, “Good evening everyone.”
“So you know, our hosts have graciously offered up tonight’s entire door, plus all the bar profits to ‘Full Spectrum’, which is an area organization that helps people with sexual orientation and gender identity issues, through a number of different physical and mental health services. I’d like to thank you all for coming out to help support this cause.”
Once she stepped away from the microphone, she looked over at Mike who began the opening strains of the Stevie Ray classic ‘Lenny’. He played it with everything he could find within himself and when the band came in behind him, memories flooded into the minds of each of them.
Sarah recalled the incredible love she felt for Jill and Jill for her. She nearly had to stop playing as those memories brought her to tears mid-song.
Jen too was having some difficulty playing thanks to the lifetime of memories she had with Jill that ran through her heart and mind. As the song progressed each of the girls had some trouble playing their best, as they were all flooded with images from the past.
The ensemble’s deficiencies aside, whether real or imagined, the audience response was enthusiastic to put it mildly. They then launched immediately into the old Janet Jackson tune “Black Cat” to liven things up a bit. It too was greeted quite positively, as was everything they played that first set.
As they came down from the stage for their first break Shelly commented, “This used to seem a lot easier.”
Jen added, “Tell me about it.”
Only Mike and Annie seemed to have made it through that first set without feeling utterly exhausted, which was as much indicative of the fact that they had been actively playing while the others had been semi-retired. They sat as a group with Frank and the kids to try to catch their collective breath and re-hydrate themselves.
The kids in particular were thrilled to get the chance to sit with people they considered ‘rock stars’ and the star treatment they were giving everyone in the group seemed to do as much to eliminate their exhaustion as the rest did. By the end of the break everyone was feeling refreshed and ready to get back to it.
The second set went much the same as the first, with the exception that everyone managed to keep their emotions under control a bit better. That meant that they managed to get through the entire set without anything more than minor hiccups. Maybe it wasn’t quite up to the standard they had set for themselves all those years ago, but it was good.
Between the second and third sets, some of the crowd came up to the girls to compliment them on their performance. One group in particular that surprised the girls included one man they recognized as having been a member of the country band that had attacked Jill behind the very club in which they were playing.
Apprehension gripped them as one by one the girls slowly began to recognize him. Fortunately, any thoughts that he was present to cause trouble were dispelled quickly as Terry said, “Ya know, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough for what we did to Jill.” Tears began trickling down his cheeks as he stood there waiting for the girls of Starlust to respond.
Did he expect them to absolve him? If so he was disappointed, as they couldn’t accept his apology and each in their own way ignored his presence. Annie and Mike simply looked directly at him silently. Shelly looked off toward the restrooms and eventually walked away without acknowledging him at all, while Jen and Sarah simply looked at their respective feet.
After a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence, Terry said, “I get it. I don’t deserve any kind of forgiveness. I know that. All I can do is offer my apology as honestly as I’m able.” After saying his peace, he slinked off into the crowd.
The remainder of the break was spent in silence, until just before time to return to the stage Sarah looked up from her drink to be greeted by her new patient from that morning, Jason Burns. He didn’t approach the group, but when he knew Sarah had seen him, he offered a small wave before wandering off into the crowd.
The third set went smoothly. Encouraged by their earlier performance the ensemble played with more confidence, which translated into a better performance. Their success began feeding itself, until by the end of the set they were sounding more like the band of old.
The fourth and final set of the evening was something special. Not only did each individual play with infinitely more confidence than at the start of the evening, but each of their musical voices joined with the others, creating something greater than the separate parts. They created real music.
By the time they reached the final song of the evening Sarah, Jen, and Shelly were all visibly saddened to know that their performance was almost over. Mike and Annie felt the same thing, though theirs wasn’t quite as visible to onlookers.
As Natalie Merchant’s “Wonder” began a bit of that sadness that had gripped the band seemed to spill over into the audience, as if they too knew that the magic to which they had been privy was about to come to an end.
When that final song came to an end the audience response was beyond enthusiastic. When Jen said, “Thank you all so much. You’ve been absolutely lovely this evening in your support not only for us but the Full Spectrum organization and it’s been a pleasure to play for you. We all hope to see you next year and thank you again for your support for this incredibly worthy organization.”
The crowd noise surged once again at the end of her speech, bringing another round of tears to each of the girls’ eyes. When they finally made their way down the stairs, they were greeted by more applause, thought this time it was somewhat different because of it’s source.
Several ladies stood near the steps to greet the band. The fact that Sarah, Jen, and in some cases Shelly knew each of them made their appreciation all the more precious.
“I can’t tell you how much this all means to us,” said Joanne as she came forward and gave each band member a tremendous hug.
If the girls thought they were done with the tears before that, they were proven wrong. By the time they’d each been treated to similar demonstrations of affection and appreciation from these ladies, everyone…band and audience alike…was weeping profusely.
As the last of the patrons filed out of the club, the band took up residence at a large table near the stage and were being served a last drink each. Mike was the first to speak, “Ladies, as always it’s been a true pleasure to spend the evening in your company.”
For his momentary lapse into sappiness, he was pelted with peanut shells from all around the table before Sarah became serious and spoke, “Guys, I can’t tell you how much your support here has meant to me.”
“We couldn’t do anything else, sis,” said Jen as she leaned over and gave Sarah a hug.
There was a chorus of agreements offered from around the table, followed by a final toast by Shelly, “In many ways, Jill helped us all find a cause to support and Sarah has helped us figure out how to do that. Here’s to both of you,” she said as she lifted her glass into the air. “To Jill. You were the greatest friend, band mate, lover, and sister anyone could have asked for. We will all always love you.”
Everyone raised their glasses and silently took a drink before setting them down on the table and slowly making their way toward the exit. No one needed to say anything about playing again next year. They all knew they would, for Jill and all the other Jills out there who needed help to become who they should be.
This is a rarity for me...a short story. It's my contribution to Short Story Month. I hope you all enjoy it.
By Jillian
I slowly stood up and started toward the podium, my feet feeling as if they were encased in concrete. Once finally there I surveyed the faces of those gathered and saw the same tears in their eyes that I was losing my battle against at that moment. Turning my attention to my right I saw the arrayed flowers surrounding the urn and photo, which caused me to nearly fall apart as the tears readily rolled down my cheeks.
It took a few moments, but eventually I regained enough control over my emotions to start, “I wish I could tell you my sister had led a full and happy life. I wish I could say that,” I paused to once again get my emotions under control.
“Jessica,” I began again, “Was not exactly what you’d call a happy child. The reasons for that are well known by most in this room, but suffice it to say that for the first fourteen years of life Jessica was my brother Steve. My little brother,” I reached up to wipe away the tears.
“I tried my best to protect Steven, just as any older brother would. It was not an easy task. He was a great kid whom I absolutely loved spending time with, but Stevie was always small and rather feminine in both his looks and mannerisms. Unfortunately, this made him the preferred target in school and sometimes at home as well,” my voice began to break as I finished the thought and I had to stop for a moment to collect my thoughts.
After wiping away more tears I continued, “Our father frequently made a point of denigrating him publicly for not being ‘a man’. And that was nothing compared to what Stevie had to endure at home. While things rarely became physical, I can’t in all honesty say that my younger sibling was never beaten for being the person he was. I regret not doing more…” again the tears brought me speaking to a halt.
I turned and looked again at Jessica’s picture, “I’m sorry sis, but I know I failed you so many times. I should’ve protected you from Dad and the idiots at school. If I had it to do over, I’d…” unable to complete the thought I again paused to attempt to stop the flow of tears.
“When Jessica finally came out to the family, it was a less than civil environment around the house to say the least. I thought Dad was hard on her before, but once she had announced to us that she wanted to be allowed to be Jessica he flipped I guess you’d say. Fact is I know that that one time I was able to protect her and if I hadn’t I’m afraid to think about what might’ve happened. After that, Dad pretty much left her alone. Of that, at least I’m grateful,” I finally returned my attention to the gathered mourners.
“While she wasn’t actually allowed to ‘be’ Jessica most of the time, at least the abuse more or less stopped at home. It wasn’t until after high school that my sister finally was able to be herself. She left home right after graduation without leaving anything other than a goodbye note. It actually took me months to track her down and when I did, I tried in vain to convince her to come back home. I know she had her reasons, but…” once again I paused to collect my thoughts.
“It wasn’t until our father died that she came back home. I missed her so much…” again the tears stopped me in my tracks until I got them back under control. “If anyone thinks everything was rosy after her return, you’ve missed the mark. Mom was still having a difficult time, having just lost her husband then seemingly losing her son. It took her a long time to realize that Steve was never really there and it had always been Jessica.”
“I think what bonded us together more than anything was our mutual love of music. I wish I had her talent, to be quite honest. I could sit and listen to her play for hours, moved to tears by the performance. I suppose it was only natural that she made music her business...” I turned to the funeral director signaling that he should start the recording I’d brought with me. “This is one of her own compositions. I thought it fitting that it be played here,” I stopped talking so everyone could listen to the music.
While Jess worked mostly in rock bands, her own writing was far different. What it could best be described as was New Age, a little like a mix of Will Ackerman and Michael Hedges with just a hint of Leo Kottke thrown in for good measure. The particular piece we listened to was called ‘American Lullaby’. It was a short little bluesy piece which drew the listener in through its sheer emotion and simplicity. Even if there had been anyone on hand who hadn’t been crying before, this would have pushed them over the edge.
It took me some time after the recording to be able to continue, which was probably just as well since it seemed I was not the only one having difficulty. Once I felt able to continue, I again approached the podium, “I know that most of you here had accepted my sister’s transition, but I also know there are a few who hadn’t. To those extended family members,” I stared directly at one of our aunts who had never been anything but derisive toward Jessica after she began her transition. “Your inability to accept that my sister was never meant to be anything other than just that, my sister, has cost you more than you know.”
I swept my gaze over the gathering and spied a few other relatives who had also been less than supportive, “You missed out on getting to know an absolutely beautiful person, both inside and out, who would go to the ends of the Earth to help anyone who asked.” Again I had to pause to compose myself before continuing, “Despite the fact that it was that very trait that caused us to be here today, I for one would not have wanted one thing to change about her.”
Once again I turned to look at the picture and wiped a few more tears away. “Sis, you touched so many lives with your generosity, your music, and your spirit. I’m lost without you.”
Returning my attention to the gathered mourners I said, “I find it hard to believe that someone could accept help from another person, then turn on them like that…how a person could be capable of doing that to another human being? Particularly one who had just helped them? I don’t think I’ll ever be able…” my tears finally got the better of me and I stepped away from the podium, returning to my seat. As I dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, that night replayed in my mind for the millionth time…
…“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” Jessica said as she gave me a hug.
“Like I’d let my sister go to one of those things alone,” I replied, returning her hug.
“Still, you didn’t have to come. I know how rough things have been for you at work lately. The last thing you needed was for me to keep you out half the night,” she began to release the hug as she gave me a peck on the cheek.
I stifled a yawn as I said, “Forget about it.”
“You know better than that,” she giggled.
I looked at a nearby street sign and said, “Well, this is where we have to head our separate ways. Good night, Jess.”
“Good night Mark,” she replied before turning the corner and heading toward home.
I watched her for a moment before heading off in the opposite direction. I’d barely taken ten steps before I found myself turning around to see Jessica as she was offering some spare change to a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. As she leaned over to drop the change in his cup, the man quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed her several times as he took her purse.
“No!” I screamed as I took off running toward her. Before I could reach where she was, her assailant had managed to disappear into the night.
I pulled out my cell phone as I ran, dialing 911. “My sister’s just been stabbed,” I shouted into the phone just as I reached her side.
As I knelt beside her I scooped her up into my arms and held her as I tried in vain to stop the bleeding. I stayed there in a pool of her blood cradling her fading body until the paramedics arrived and pried her out of my grip. They tried to take her vitals, but determined that she was already dead.
“No,” I wept quietly as I watched it happen. The tears were flowing freely as they awaited the arrival of the coroner, who placed her in a body bag and loaded her body into his vehicle for transport to the morgue…
...I quietly muttered, “No…” as my very soul ached for my sister. How could I go on without her beautiful light shining on everything she touched? I pondered that thought for who knows how long.
When I finally was able to pull myself out of my grief induced introspection I noticed that most of the mourners had found their way to the door. A few that remained were gathered around my mother, trying to console her. A few others were gathered around Jessica’s picture, chatting about her. And one young lady whom I didn’t know was sat beside me, mirroring my grief in her eyes.
“You know, she loved you very much,” she finally said as she took my hand in hers. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I was Jess’s neighbor. She and I used to spend hours talking over coffee and most of the time what she wanted to talk about was you.”
She looked me squarely in the eyes and continued, “My name’s Alicia, but most folks call me Allie.”
I took in this young lady’s appearance and was instantly drawn in, “Hi Allie. I’m sure we must’ve met before, but I must admit that I don’t remember. More’s the pity.” I gave her a weak smile, trying to convey my thanks for her help in my hour of need.
“Let’s go get some coffee somewhere so I can tell you some things about your sister you may not know,” she said as she stood up while continuing to hold my hand.
There was something about her than told me I needed to spend some time with this young lady, so I slowly stood up and replied, “I’d like that.”
I've dabbled in Maddy Bell's GabyVerse before. This story was first printed in the second "Gaby and Friends" anthology last year and is currently being posted on Maddy's site. I hope you enjoy it.
A Gaby Fanfic by Jillian
Keith Davis had been with Sports World magazine for just over two years as a copywriter, and he still held out hope that one day soon he’d get his chance to do a feature. The magazine had whole staffs of writers covering baseball, football, basketball, hockey, golf, and even soccer. But one sport they were lacking in coverage for was cycling. In fact, the only writer who had ever done a story about it had retired the year before and management didn’t seem too torn up about not having anyone assigned.
Keith was a fairly smart fellow, and after studying long and hard the areas of strength and weakness in the magazine’s operation, he determined that his best chance to ever get a feature story would be to become a cycling expert. He started reading everything he could about it, bought a race bike and started riding himself every day. He even started riding to and from work, weather permitting, hoping that immersing himself in the sport would help him gain some insight that he could then turn into a top notch story, and maybe even a career. There were of course plenty of people who thought he was crazy tooling around Manhattan on his bike all the time, but he just shrugged off the occasional strange comments knowing that these were all just strangers and it didn’t matter what they thought anyway.
One Saturday he found himself watching television coverage of the Atlanta Winter Classic, and was captivated by the performance of this precocious girl who was staying toe to toe with the best riders in the world. The commentators said her name was Gaby Bond, and that she was the daughter of World Champion cyclist Jenny Bond. The longer he watched the coverage, the more certain he became that what he was meant to do was to write a feature about the two generations of Bonds combining to dominate the sport for years and years to come.
The following Monday morning Keith was in the office even earlier than usual, and was in the managing editor’s office the moment he arrived. “Sir? I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I had a great idea for a feature article over the weekend.”
“Who are you? Do you work for me?”
“Yes sir, Keith Davis. I’m a copywriter right now but...”
Mr. Tompkins, the managing editor, cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “Davis is it? What are you on about? No, let me guess. You want to be a feature journalist, is that right?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you think you have a can’t miss idea for a feature story for ‘Sports World’ magazine?”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Forget it. Go back to proofing the box scores for next month’s issue and leave me alone.” As Mr. Tompkins said this, he was pushing Keith out of his office. Once he had pushed him clear of the door, Mr. Tompkins slammed it shut.
Keith dejectedly shuffled his way back to his desk and started the tedious task of fact checking college basketball box scores for the upcoming issue. The next day, Keith again marched into Mr. Tompkins’ office, and again found himself shown the door. They continued this little dance every morning for two weeks before there was finally a change in the routine.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Mr. Tompkins sighed as Keith once again entered his office. “Okay, so what’s this great idea then?”
Keith walked into the office and sat down in the chair facing Mr. Tompkins’ desk and spoke, “I want to do a feature on the Bond girls…”
Tompkins cut him off, “What? Like the girls from the James Bond movies? Not exactly Sports World material, is it?”
“No sir. Jenny Bond, defending World Champion cyclist and her daughter Gaby. She’s the youngster who was riding alongside Lance Armstrong in Atlanta and asked for his autograph during the race. My research tells me she’s the defending British junior champion. Like mother, like daughter.”
“So you’re thinking of a ‘Future of Cycling’ kind of thing, eh? I understand you’re something of a cycling expert. That why you’re wanting to do this piece?”
“Well maybe just a little. I got interested in the sport just recently because I was looking for a way to make myself more valuable to the magazine. Maybe earn a promotion from the copy desk, up to writing features.”
“I’ll concede that if we get the timing right, it might work. Do you think you can have it done in time for us to run with the Tour de France coverage? Otherwise, our readers won’t give hoot about it, ya know.”
“I think so sir. I’ve got a little more research to do, then I’d need to do the interviews.”
“And where do I have to send you for those?”
“England sir.”
“England? Christ! Can’t you just make a few phone calls, ask a couple of questions, and be done with it? No, I don’t suppose you could. Not for a ‘Sports World’ feature, could you? Okay, I’ll give you this much. Think you can get everything you need over there in a week? I don’t want to have to pay to put you up across the ocean for months while you piddle around, ya know?”
“Yes sir, I can get all the interviews done in that timeframe.”
“Okay, then I’ll give you a tentative okay on the story. I want to see what you’ve come up with before I pay for a plane ticket and hotel though.”
“Yes sir,” Keith said, barely able to contain his excitement. He jumped up out of his chair and reached for Mr. Tompkins’ hand to shake, “Thank you sir, I won’t let you down.”
“You better not son,” he replied, releasing the younger man’s grip and returning to the paperwork on his desk.
Keith left his boss’s office and made a bee line for his desk, where he pulled some legal pads out of a drawer, turned to his computer, and started trying to do some research for his story. He barely moved all day long and ten hours later as he looked up to find that he was the last one in the office, he decided he’d done enough for one day. He shut down his computer, put his notes away, and headed home knowing he needed to hurry if he wanted to ride his bike home because it was starting to get dark.
During his ride home, he was thinking about some of the information he had found that day. Mrs. Bond’s resume was fairly well known, even amongst non-cycling people, but Gaby’s experience seemed to be far more limited. And who was this Drew he kept reading about connected to Jenny Bond? Some reports listed that British title as belonging to Gaby, while others said it was Drew. Were they both national champs?
The next day being Saturday, Keith decided to get out and go for a real training ride. He bundled up of course because it was still New York in March, which meant it was bound to still be pretty cold.
After what for him was an extremely strenuous 25 mile ride through city streets and much of Central Park, Keith made his way back home and nearly stumbled through the door, he was so exhausted. After a long hot shower and fresh clothes, he felt human again and got busy compiling lists of questions he thought he’d like to ask each of the Bonds.
Hours later, having spent a lot of time tracking down photos of the Bond family at various events, Keith decided it was time to turn in. But it seemed that while his body was trying to sleep, his brain couldn’t stop going over some of the things he’d found today.
Everywhere he looked Keith had found lots of pictures of Gaby with her mother and sister…in Paris at the end of the Tour Feminin, with her mother and father in Atlanta, the whole family together in Germany…the list went on and on. The strange thing was, while he found lots of race results that listed Drew Bond as winner, he was hard pressed to fine photographic examples of the boy’s existence. What was going on here? Was Drew an alias for Gaby so she could race against stronger competition? Or was it something else? This was something he had to figure out, because it could make or break the story.
Sunday meant a ride with his cycle club, which took them a little way onto Long Island before returning to Manhattan for roughly a forty mile round trip. The pace was far more relaxed than his training ride the day before, so even though he was tired when he got home, the exhaustion he felt was nothing like he experienced previously. However, by the time he got back home it was almost time to eat a bite of dinner and unwind a bit before bed. This meant there wasn’t any time for research.
Bright and early Monday morning, Keith was at his desk in ‘Sports World’s’ offices preparing to make a couple of phone calls pertaining to the story. His first call was to the Bond residence in a little town in Nottinghamshire called Warsop. He dialed the number and waited several rings before someone answered.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is either Mr. Or Mrs. Bond available?”
“Whom may I say is calling?”
“Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ magazine.”
“Just a moment…” There were sounds of the phone being set down, steps and muffled voices in the background, then more steps before the sound of the receiver being picked up again signaled that a voice was about to be heard again.
“Mr. Davis? Jenny Bond here. What can I do for you?”
“Mrs. Bond, I’m doing an article for my magazine about the ‘Royal family of cycling’, and I was wondering if it would be possible to schedule some interview time with you, your husband, and Gaby for sometime next week?”
“Well, I’m not a problem and Gaby will be easily enough tracked down, but my husband is currently in Germany working and would probably be easier to get hold of there. When did you say you wanted to do this?”
“Some time next week, ma’am.”
“How about a week from today, say mid afternoon. You can start with me, and then talk to Gaby if that will be all right.”
“Perfect. Thanks for your time.” As he hung up the receiver, Keith started to get a strange feeling about things.
‘She never once mentioned Drew, even though I said it was about the family in cycling. Does that mean anything?’ he thought. After a few minutes of struggling with all the different scenarios floating around in his brain, he decided that he probably wasn’t going to reach any viable conclusions until after the interviews were done at least. So he turned his attention to his next phone call of the morning. He looked up the number for the offices of Biggs Manufacturing.
“Hello, Biggs Manufacturing.”
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Diane Biggs please?”
“One moment sir,” came the voice of the older lady who answered the telephone. He was placed on hold for a minute before there was a click on the line, and the person he wanted to speak with was on the line.
“Miss Biggs?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“My name is Keith Davis, with ‘Sports World’ magazine. I was wondering if you might have a moment to answer a couple of questions?”
“If you tell what this is about, I might.” Diane responded.
“Fair enough. I’m working on a feature about the Bond family and their place in the annals of cycling history.”
“And what do you think I’ll be able to tell you?”
“Well, you were a team mate of Gaby’s in Atlanta. I’d just like to get an idea of what she’s like from a teammate’s perspective.”
“Gaby is a great young rider with a lot of talent, but probably her greatest gift is her ability to know what’s going to happen before it happens.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She can look at the riders around her and tell what they’re going to do even before they do it. It’s like she has an innate ability to read even minute changes in body language that might signal something’s about to happen.”
“For example?”
“Early in the Atlanta race, she’s the one that told our team we needed to pick up our pace and get to the front just as the pro teams put on a push to open up some space between them and the amateurs in the field. If it hadn’t been for that, we would have been left behind with the rest of the pack. And the whole autograph episode was just sort of a diversion to prevent the pros from taking off on a sprint at the feed. It kept us in the hunt, and as a result we took the team prize.”
“Really? Interesting.”
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? And those aren’t the only examples. During training rides we’d deliberately try to keep her in the dark about when sprints would be coming up, but she always knew and got the jump on us every time. When we’d ask how she did it, she’d say something like ‘you were all looking back to check traffic’ or something like that, or ‘everyone slows down going into a dip, so I took advantage of it to get the jump’. We learned things about tactics riding with that little girl that we never would’ve figured out otherwise.”
“Great. Thanks for taking a few minutes to chat with me.”
“You’re welcome. You happened to ask me about one of my favorite subjects, so it was easy.”
“Well, thanks again. If I have any other questions, would you mind if I contact you again?”
“Not at all. It’s been a pleasure.”
Once Diane hung up the phone on her end, Keith found himself scribbling away furiously trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything in his note taking. He eventually hung up his phone and returned to his computer to do some more research.
After lunch, Keith had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Tompkins to discuss his progress on the story. As he walked into Mr. Tompkins’ office, he saw that his boss was on the phone and was directly him silently toward the chair in front of his desk. Keith sat there a few minutes while Tompkins wrapped up his call, then turned his attention to the young writer.
“So how goes it, Davis?”
“Pretty well. I’ve arranged an interview with Jenny Bond for this coming Monday in Warsop, England, followed by one with Gaby. I need to call Mr. Bond in Germany to see when he’d like to talk. I’m actually hoping I can get him in the day before talking to the Bond girls.
“I just did a phone interview with Diane Biggs, who was a teammate of Gaby’s in Atlanta, and she had some great things to say about the kid. I have a few other people outside the family to talk to, most of which I should be able to do over the phone. George Muller, the Apollinaris team director is another one I’d like to talk to, but I’ll probably try to catch him at the same time I talk with Mr. Bond.”
It turned out that Sunday worked well for both Mr. Bond and Mr. Muller, so that meant Keith would be going to Germany before England. After confirming the interview schedule, he sent an email to Mr. Tompkins letting him know what his travel plans would be and asking whom he should contact about booking flights and hotels for the duration. He was directed to someone in the business office who handled travel arrangements for the magazine, and by the time he left late Monday afternoon, everything had been taken care of.
Again Monday night Keith had trouble getting to sleep as his brain refused to stop running through the facts he’d uncovered so far about the Bonds. He was becoming more convinced by the minute that there was something odd going on concerning Gaby and Drew. He just wasn’t sure yet what that something odd was going to turn out to be. With any luck it could make this story a real eye opener.
Over the next few days, Keith spent a lot of time on the phone talking to various people who had had interactions with the Bonds. He talked to a couple of other members of the Grottoes team Gaby had ridden with in Atlanta, a representative of the British cycling team, and a couple of members of Team Apollinaris.
One of the highlights was on Thursday, when he spoke with Lance Armstrong about the incident in Atlanta.
“Mr. Armstrong?”
“Yeah.”
“Keith Davis with ‘Sports World’ magazine. Do you have a moment for a question or two?”
“Not long, but shoot.”
“It’s actually about Gaby Bond, sir.”
“Now you’ve got my attention.”
“What were your impressions of her when you met in Atlanta?”
“Well, she rides a lot like her mom, very aggressive. Doesn’t hold anything back. I admire that. And on top of that, she’s spooky smart on the road, like she reads other riders’ minds or something.”
“How so?”
“Her whole autograph seeker routine was just a delay tactic. She knew even before we got to the feed what we were planning, and did that to keep us from carrying out the plan.”
“You know, you’re the second person who’s mentioned that incident.”
“I’m not surprised. It was an inspired bit of tactics. Not that it’ll ever work for anyone again in my lifetime,” Lance began to chuckle as he said this.
“Thanks Mr. Armstrong for talking with me.”
“Anytime. So is your rag finally gonna start covering cycling?”
“That’s my hope. This is my first assignment away from the copy desk.”
“Well, good luck kid,” with that Lance hung up the phone.
Friday afternoon Keith was called into Mr. Tompkins’ office for a final ‘pep talk’. “So Davis, you all ready for your trip?”
“Other than needing to finish packing tonight, yes sir.”
“Found anything newsworthy so far?”
“I have some suspicions, but so far haven’t found anything for certain.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Well, it’s all speculation at this point, sir. Recorded race results make reference to not only Gaby, who we saw ride in Atlanta, but also a boy named Drew, who is listed as his age group’s defending National Champion in Circuit and Hill Climb. However, I haven’t been able to find anyone to talk to me about Drew, and in fact I’ve found some reports that actually credit those titles to Gaby.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Tompkins mused.
“That’s what I thought sir. I’d really like to figure out what’s really going on here. The other thing that I want to figure out is just why Jenny Bond isn’t training with her team yet? She missed the preseason mini tour because of ‘illness’, and still hasn’t rejoined Apollinaris. Her husband however is working for them as director of their new youth development program, and he’s spending a lot of his time in Germany while his wife and kids are in England. It’s just all a bit odd, if you ask me.”
“Get to the bottom of this, and it should make a pretty good story. Might even get you the cover.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now get out of here. You’ve got a busy next few days, you probably ought to turn in early tonight so you can start out fresh for your trip tomorrow.”
“Yes sir. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Just don’t let me down.” Keith was dismissed as Mr. Tompkins returned to his work.
Friday evening he finished packing, and then settled in with his laptop to do a little more background research. Just as he was getting ready to call it a night, he found birth records for the Bond children, and what he found there just added to the confusion. It seems there were records for a daughter, Juliette, and a son Andrew. No mention of a Gaby anywhere he looked. This fueled his curiosity even more, and instead of retiring as he had intended he found himself back at his research much of the night.
Keith had narrowed things down quite a bit by the time morning arrived. It seemed the first mention anywhere of a Gaby was at a charity event at Christmastime just over a year ago. Since then, Gaby has been much more prominent in media reports than Drew ever was. While he knew he was onto something big, he wasn’t in any condition to try and decipher anything right then, so he set his alarm to get him up in plenty of time to get to the airport and crawled into bed for a few hours of well deserved sleep.
He barely made it in time for boarding, and as soon as they were in the air, he found himself back asleep again. There was a changeover in Paris, and the flight attendant woke him just in time to fasten his seatbelt for landing there. On board a smaller commuter flight to Bonn, Keith did manage to stay awake for the final leg of the journey. After breezing through Customs he caught a cab to the hotel, got checked in, and was once again asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
‘Okay, so maybe sleeping so much was a mistake,’ he thought to himself as he woke up about four o’clock Sunday morning. After trying in vain to get back to sleep, Keith decided to get up and ready for the day. He made some extra effort to make sure he looked professional, since today would be his first ever face-to-face interviews, and he wanted to at least look like he knew what he was doing.
After breakfast in the hotel restaurant, he got a taxi to Apollinaris headquarters where he was eventually led to the office of George Muller. As he entered the office he said, “Herr Muller, thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure young man. And please, call me George.”
“Thanks, George. As I told you before, I’m working on a story about what I’m billing as the ‘Royal Family of Cycling’, and wanted to talk to as many people associated with them as I could so I could get a good well rounded picture of what Jenny and Gaby are like.”
“The Bonds are one of my favorite subjects, so fire away.”
He took a seat opposite George and took out a recorder and a steno pad. “I hope you don’t mind if I record this?”
“Not at all. Now, what would you like to know?”
“To start with, how did you discover Jenny?”
“It’s not so much ‘discover’ in her case. When she was younger, she was on the verge of climbing into the world-class ranks before she took time off to have the kids. She continued riding competitively, although not as seriously as before, for several years until the kids got a little older.
“She then decided to take another shot at the big time, as it were. We’d seen her at numerous events around England and were quite impressed, but it wasn’t until last spring that we decided to make the offer.” He paused for a moment to take a sip of water before continuing, “the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Now as for Gaby…”
George cut him off, “Ah, the wunderkind.”
“I remember the announcement that your new youth development program started with her as the first member. Was there any one thing that caught your attention about her? I mean, aside from having a famous mother?”
“Gaby rides like Jenny,” George said with some pride. “They both have this ability to see things during a race that they can use to their advantage. If anything Gaby’s even a better tactician than Jenny. And along with her youth Gaby brings a certain amount of recklessness to her riding.”
“Recklessness?” Keith raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Well, maybe that’s not the best way to describe it. She is always riding right on the verge of being out of control. That can be very good, and it can be very bad. When it goes well, it puts her in a position to win, but when it isn’t going so well…”
“Gotcha,” Keith jumped in. “And you say these are qualities that make her a great rider?”
“Absolutely. Jenny isn’t quite as close to being out of control as Gaby, but they have very similar styles.”
“Interesting. I just have a couple of more questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” George again took a sip from his bottle of water.
“Is there a reason why Jenny isn’t training with the team right now?”
George thought for a moment before saying, “She’s been ill and is trying to rebuild her strength before climbing back into the fire as it were.”
“And lastly, there are rumors flying around that she’s actually been undergoing cancer treatments. Would you care to comment on that?”
“As I said, she’s been ill. I can’t say anything beyond that.”
“Thanks George for taking some time to chat with me. Where can I find Dave Bond?”
“He’s probably in the garage. There were several wheels in need of truing as I understand it, and he was going to be working on that most of the day. Is he expecting you?”
“Yes he is.”
“Well then, it’s right this way,” George said as he got up and showed the young reporter out of his office.
Keith wandered into the garage and saw someone off in a corner working on bike rims. He assumed this was Mr. Bond and walked up to him. “Excuse me, Mr. Bond?”
The gentleman looked up from his task and after eyeing him for a second responded, “Guilty as charged. What can I do for you?” He started to wipe his hands on his coveralls, but the stopped and just said, “I’d offer to shake your hand, but as you can see I’m not really in a position to do that at the moment. Sorry.”
“I’m Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ sir. We spoke earlier in the week about me coming by to ask you a few questions?”
“Ah yes, the journalist who wanted to talk about Jenny and Gaby as I recall.”
“Yes sir,” he said as he again pulled out his steno pad and recorder.
“Please drop the sir. It’s Dave.”
“Actually, you’re included in this as well. It seems there are quite a few cyclists who swear you are an absolute magician at setting up a bicycle perfectly.”
“Who’s been spreading that kind of horse manure? All I do is talk to the rider and make adjustments until it’s right. No magic here I’m afraid.”
“Well Maria Pinger and Tina Porsche might disagree with you there.”
“So it was those two, eh? I’ll have to remember to change their chain tensions for tomorrow’s practice session as punishment,” Dave began laughing as he said what he obviously had intended as a joke.
“Something tells me they might not appreciate that. So tell me, how exactly did you become a bike mechanic? It’s my understanding you hold a degree in Archeology from Cambridge?”
“True. Well, it all started from trying to keep Jen’s bike in good working order without spending huge amounts of money on new kit. We were rather poor when we first got married. She was racing and I was still harboring dreams of making a living working dig sites. I quickly found just how ridiculous that idea was, and found a job working in an office that paid just enough for us to live on. Then the kids were born and Jenny cut back her riding schedule. She took a job teaching at Warsop College and that’s how things stayed for quite a few years.” He momentarily directed his attention back to the wheel he had been working on, making adjustments here and there until it spun perfectly true.
Keith was amazed at just how quickly Dave had been able to correct the wheel, “Wow, how did you do that so quickly?”
“Oh, it wasn’t that fast really. I’d been sitting here studying it for nearly a half hour before you came up. It just occurred to me I’d best finish up before I forgot what I’d intended to do to it,” again, Dave chuckled.
On a more serious note, Keith asked, “Is it difficult being separated from your family like this?”
“More than you can imagine. Last year Jen was the one living in Germany while I stayed with the kids in England. We decided that wasn’t something we wanted to live through again, so I took this job thinking we’d be able to be together. And the truth is, long term it will be better for that very reason. Unfortunately in the short term we’re still separated by the Channel and half of Europe.” Dave started to get a sad look on his face after he said this.
“So why are you apart right now, if that was the idea behind taking the job?”
“Jen is currently rehabbing, and the kids wanted to finish the school year in England before making the big move.”
“Yes, I’d heard she had been quite ill. Rumor has it she had cancer. Would you care to comment on that?”
“Not really, no.”
“Sorry, but if I hadn’t asked I’m sure my editor would have strung me up.”
“I understand. I just don’t feel comfortable saying anything about Jen’s illness. I don’t think it’s my place, and I will respect her privacy until she tells me otherwise.”
“It’s my understanding that Gaby takes after her mother in a lot of ways.”
“You can say that again. That child scares me to death sometimes.”
“So is it safe to say she’s an aggressive rider?”
“Oh, yes.”
“It’s been said her mother is the same way. Is that true?”
“Yes and no. Jen can be reckless at times, but she usually rides a more controlled race. Gaby goes at it wide open all the time. Sometimes it pays off, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Like in Atlanta?”
“Yes. Her aggressiveness kept her in that race even though there was no way in the world she should have been able to stay with those professionals like that. However, you might also want to remember that she passed out at the finish line and had to be revived by paramedics.”
“In America we call that ‘leaving it all on the field’.”
“That about sums it up I think.”
In talking with Dave, Keith decided not to spring his theory about Drew being Gaby for fear it might cause him to tell Jenny not to talk to him the next day. So instead he avoided saying anything about Drew and just stuck to talking about Gaby. “There are beginning to be a lot of people in the cycling world who believe Gaby could easily be as good or better than her mother. What do you think?”
Dave looked at Keith for several seconds while thinking before he answered, “I’m almost afraid to answer that one. Jenny is the reigning World Champion. Will Gaby one day also hold that title? It could certainly happen, but I’m not going to make any predictions because I don’t want to put any undue pressure on my child. That would be a guarantee of failure. No, I think I’ll just say that both are extremely talented riders and I love them both very much.”
“Very diplomatic. Ever consider tackling Middle Eastern peace?” Both gentlemen chuckled over that joke. Once the laughter subsided, Keith asked Dave, “Is there anything you’d like to comment on that we haven’t covered? I know that’s rather unusual, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway.”
“No, not really. Plus, I really ought to be getting back to work here.”
Keith started to hold out his hand to Dave before pulling it back when he realized with Dave’s greasy hands he would be reluctant to shake with him. He then just said, “Thanks for taking some time to talk with me. I’ll be meeting with your wife tomorrow, and then I’ll be returning to America to start work on the article.”
“Any time, son,” Dave said before returning to his task. Keith slowly walked away, looking over his notes as he did so.
He then returned to his hotel to get some sleep before his flight in the morning. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
Back in his hotel, Keith started sorting through the notes he had taken during the day’s interviews, comparing them with his earlier research. It was while looking at the notes from his time with George Muller, the Apollinaris team director that it struck him.
“He said that Dave had tried to convince him that Gaby was actually a boy named Drew, but he didn’t believe him. So, my suspicions were correct.” After going through the rest of the day’s notes, he picked up the telephone and dialed Mr. Tompkins’ direct line.
After a couple of rings, someone picked up on the other end. Keith started, “Mr. Tompkins? Davis here.”
“Davis! Found anything Earth shattering?” he said with more than a little sarcasm in his voice.
“Maybe sir,” Keith replied.
“Oh really? Like what?”
“I want to make sure my suspicions are correct before I say anything sir,” Keith stated.
Tompkins shot back, “You damned well better! This isn’t some trashy tabloid where you can get by with half-truths and speculations. This is ‘Sports World’ magazine for Christ sakes. We set the standard in this industry.”
“Yes sir, I know. And before I put anything in writing it will be absolutely confirmed.”
“Good! So is this going to be something our readers will be interested in?”
“Sir, if I can prove what I suspect, it will be the biggest story of the year.”
“Keep me apprised then. When do you head for England?”
“In the morning. I’m flying into Manchester, then taking a rental car to a little village called Warsop for my interviews with the Bonds.”
“Don’t let me down on this, son. I took a big chance on you.”
“I won’t sir, I promise.” Keith listened to the line click and go dead on the other end before hanging up himself. He then returned to going over his notes, then got out his recorder and listened to the tapes of the day’s interviews once again to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
It was nearly midnight Bonn local time when he finally turned in to try and get a few hours sleep before his flight in the morning.
The next morning, Keith barely made it to the airport in time to catch his flight. After landing and making his way through the maze of security checkpoints one must navigate when entering another country, he fumbled his way to the car rental kiosk and after some forty-seven kilos of paperwork, was eventually on his way.
It took him a while to get the hang of driving on the wrong side, but eventually Keith had managed to pilot his rental car from Manchester airport to the village of Warsop. Having arrived a couple of hours before his scheduled time with Mrs. Bond, he decided a visit to Warsop College might be a good idea.
He made his way to the Headmaster’s office, where he asked if he could speak to the person in charge, who he found out was a gentleman by the name of Woods. After a few minutes he heard, “Mr. Davis, is it? Please come in.”
Keith stood up and followed the voice into the office where he met Mr. Woods. They took seats on opposite sides of the desk. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Woods. I’m Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ magazine.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m doing a story about the Bonds, sir. Since you are so familiar with the family, I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions?”
“I don’t see why not. Ask away.”
Keith took out his recorder and notepad. “I hope you don’t mind if I record. I wouldn’t want to mess up a good quote,” he chuckled.
“Not at all.”
“I understand Mrs. Bond has taught here in the past?”
“And is right now, actually?”
“Really?”
“Yes. It seems she wanted something to keep her busy while she works on regaining her strength. We had an opening and were thrilled when she was willing to help us out.”
“I imagine the whole school is rather proud of the Bonds then.”
“Yes indeed. They’ve brought a great deal of honor to this old institution.”
“So, do the students follow cycling?”
“Not too closely, but whenever either Jenny or Drew has faired well in competition, we make sure to acknowledge it in assembly. I believe they deserve the recognition for their talent and hard work.”
“What about Gaby?”
“Pardon?”
“You mentioned Drew, but what about Gaby? Do you mention her performances as well?”
Flustered, Mr. Woods took a second before he could come up with his reply. “But of course. Did I fail to mention her? I’m sorry, old age, memory the first to go and all that,” he tried to brush aside the interrogation, hopefully rescuing everyone’s reputations. “Actually, she was just mentioned this morning in association with our cheerleading squad’s appearance at a competition over the weekend.”
Trying not to get too excited about what he thought he had just learned, Keith calmly replied, “Yes. I think we all know what that’s like from time to time.” He looked at his watch and feigning surprise blurted out, “My goodness, I didn’t realize the time. I have another appointment soon. I hope you won’t mind if I cut things short here?”
Breathing a sigh of relief of his own, Woods said, “Not at all. I understand perfectly.” He stood up and offered his hand to the journalist, “Feel free to contact me again should you have any other questions.”
Rising to shake his hand, Keith replied, “Certainly. Thank you for your hospitality.” He turned and walked out, deliberately trying not to show his excitement as he did so.
Once out in his car, he got the recorder out and listened to the portion of the tape where Woods had failed to mention Gaby. He seemed most shaken by the mention of her name. “I wonder why?” he said to himself as he sat there thinking.
A little later, when he pulled up outside the Bond residence he sat there in the car for a few minutes collecting his thoughts. This was the most important moment of his journalism career, and he was going to do his darnedest to make sure he didn’t screw it up.
Keith grabbed his trusty old backpack that served as his “briefcase” and made his way to the front door. After ringing the doorbell and waiting the longest thirty seconds in history, the door opened and there stood Jenny Bond.
“You must be Mr. Davis. Welcome. Won’t you come in?” she asked as she swung the door wide open for him to enter.
As he stepped across the threshold he said, “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Bond. And please, it’s Keith.”
“Oh, please call me Jenny,” she replied as she led him toward the sofa before taking a seat in the chair facing him. “I’ve never known ‘Sports World’ to pay all that much attention to cycling. How exactly did you wind up doing this story?”
“By choice actually,” he started. “I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but I’ve been with the magazine for three years and this is my first feature assignment. I’d been working on the copy desk, sprucing up press releases for print and proofing various scores and such. When I realized my best chance of getting a good assignment involved having some expert knowledge that was unique, I started looking for a sport that had been more or less ignored in the past that we didn’t really have anyone covering. It didn’t actually take all that much to figure out that something like cycling would be my best bet.”
“And you chose to come talk to me? I’m flattered. I doubt there are many of your readers who would even have a clue who I am,” Jen commented.
“Well, you and Gaby. It seems her little stunt with Lance in Atlanta has garnered a fair amount of interest in the sport,” Keith admitted. “I thought it might be good to take a look at two generations of cycling stars. Speaking of which, will she be joining us any time soon?”
Jenny chuckled nervously before speaking, “Soon. Cheerleading practice.”
“Good, that’ll give us a chance to talk awhile about your career then,” Keith began. “It’s my understanding that the road to becoming a champion has not been what you’d call a straight path. How did this all come about?”
Jenny chuckled again, this time more sincerely before replying, “When I was younger, I rode for the National team. I thought I might actually have a chance of turning pro, but when the kids came along it was better for them that I not be out traipsing around the globe. I took a teaching position here at Warsop College and raced weekends, mostly local.”
“So what prompted your return to a higher level of competition?”
“Once the kids were old enough I started training harder and eventually attracted some professional interest. After I signed with Apollinaris, I found myself being pushed beyond anything I’d ever done before and I loved every minute of it. Then I won the German title and after that the Tour Feminin. All of a sudden I was the one everyone else was chasing after. I was lucky to have won the Worlds.”
“I think your opponents would probably tell a different story. They’d probably say that you ride like a madwoman possessed.”
“I believe any race worth riding is worth trying to win.”
“You do have a reputation for being extremely aggressive out there.”
“As I said, I ride to win.”
“A trait that apparently young Gaby shares with you.”
“You could say that, yes. That child is more reckless than I am though. Over the years I’ve figured out my limits and try to stay within them, if just barely.”
“As opposed to Gaby, who pushed herself so far past her limits in Atlanta that she passed out at the finish?”
“Exactly. I worry about that, but it does me little good.”
“I take it that wasn’t the first time?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She has a tendency to push her body past its limits.”
In an obviously sarcastic tone, Keith added, “And of course, you’ve never done that?”
In as angelic a tone as she could manage, Jenny responded, “Why, of course not.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before she broke out laughing.
“You obviously still deeply love the sport and yet, you’re not currently racing. Why is that?”
“I’ve been ill and am just now beginning to recover enough to train.”
Keith looked at Jenny for a moment as if trying to decide something, then proceeded, “There are rumors about that suggest this illness is actually cancer. Care to comment?”
Jenny turned very pale for a moment, sitting there unable to speak or move. When she finally regained the ability to produce intelligible sound, she said, “I suppose it was bound to come out eventually, wasn’t it? Yes, that’s true. I was diagnosed during the World Championships, had surgery at the New Year, and have just recently been declared cancer free. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster.”
“Yes, I imagine so. Do you plan on returning to racing?”
“Oh, yes. By summer I hope to be back up to a level where I can compete.”
“That’s rather quick, isn’t it?”
“My doctor might say it is, but I’m anxious to return to cycling, plus I’m looking forward to living in the same house as my husband again.”
“I spoke with him yesterday at Apollinaris racing HQ. It’s my understanding that he took the job with Apollinaris for that very reason. Is that correct?”
“Definitely. We’ve lived apart the majority of the time for the last year or so, and neither of us care much for it to tell you the truth. When I’m ready to return to the team, the kids and I will be moving to Germany. But don’t for a moment think he doesn’t deserve that job. He’s easily the best there is at race setup.”
“That’s exactly what Maria Pinger and Tina Porsche had to say as well, so I’m inclined to accept it as fact. The impending move has to be rough for the kids though.”
“Yes, there are some difficulties we’re working our way through.”
Keith paused for a moment to jot down some notes in his pad and checked the tape recorder, deciding to swap out tapes. Once everything was back up and running, he continued, “Sorry about that. If I don’t bring home recorded evidence my boss might think I’m taking a vacation on the company dime,” he laughed at his own joke. “Now then, any regrets?”
Jenny sat there for a long time thinking, not saying a word. When she finally did speak her voice was shaky, as if she was on the verge of tears. “You could say that. I’ve made so many mistakes in the last year, I’ve lost count.”
“How so?”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”
Seeing what he thought might be the opening he’d been waiting for, Keith decided to pursue the point, “All right, let’s back up a bit, shall we?”
Jenny just looked unsurely at the reporter. Undeterred, he continued, “Is it safe to say that you in some ways regret not pursuing your riding career when you were younger?”
“I suppose, but then I wouldn’t have had the privilege of raising my children.”
Keith then asked, “You were very anxious to make the jump when Apollinaris made their offer last spring?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I may have rammed it down my family’s throats. Until then, we’d always made decisions as a family, and I made that one by myself.”
“Was your family opposed to you joining the tour?”
“No, not at all. They were far more supportive than I ever had a right to expect.”
“So what you’re saying is you feel guilty about having left them alone like that?”
“Yes, there is that.”
“Is there something else?”
Jen sat there thinking again, trying to determine if she really wanted to give voice to the things she had been contemplating for so long. Finally she started, “When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I tried to hide it from my family. I even made up a story about meeting someone new and leaving them so they wouldn’t find out about it. It was so stupid, really.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that one out for the longest time now.” She took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh, then continued, “I convinced myself that I was trying to protect them from it, but in truth I think I was trying to ignore the problem. A bit like an ostrich when it buries it’s head in the sand as a way of hiding from danger. If I didn’t admit to the problem, I could ignore that it existed and carry on just like before. That was the theory anyway.
“I couldn’t have done that had I been at home with my family, because they wouldn’t have allowed it. What really happened though is that I nearly destroyed my family.”
“So what prompted your return home?”
“My doctor told me I had about six weeks to live. When he said that, the only thing I could think of was that I needed to come home and make things right with my husband and children. Until I came home and saw their faces, I was ready to die, or so I thought.
“When I came through that door and told them what was happening, the love and acceptance they showed me…love that I don’t know that I deserved, frankly…made me want to live again.” As she paused, took out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes to try to prevent crying more than she was already, Jen added, “Fact is, I know I don’t deserve them. I can’t let myself do anything that would hurt them ever again.” As she said that she finally lost control, crying openly for some time before finally regaining control of herself.
When she finally had calmed herself a bit she said, “I’m sorry about that.”
“No need,” he said by way of trying to comfort her.
Just then the front door swung open and what sounded a bit like a herd of bison came thundering through the door toward the stairs. Jenny shouted at the source of the sound, “Gaby? That reporter is here, and I imagine he’d like to talk to you.”
The sound calmed noticeably as the teen came slowly into the front room to greet Jenny and the reporter. Keith stood and offered his hand, “Gaby? I’m Keith Davis with ‘Sports World’ magazine. Would you have a few minutes so we could talk?”
Gaby looked at him, then at her mum before replying, “Could I get a quick shower first. We had a hard practice, and I’d like to remove a bit of the smell. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. I’ll be ready whenever you return.”
As Gaby headed upstairs to get cleaned up Jenny asked, “Would you care for some tea?”
“Certainly. Thank you.”
Jenny went straight to the kitchen and put a pot on to boil, returning a few minutes later with the pot and three cups on a tray. “Here we go. I’m sorry I didn’t think to offer sooner. Where are my manners?”
“That’s all right,” he said. As he took his first sip of English tea, Gaby re-entered the room, this time in jeans and a top with still damp hair and in stocking feet. Upon noticing her return, Keith said, “Welcome back.”
Gaby took a seat on the sofa next to her mum and said, “Sorry for keeping you waiting like that.” She reached over and poured herself a cup of tea, then settled back into her seat as she took a sip.
“You know, I didn’t realize the resemblance was quite that striking before. The two of you both present quite a combination. Beauty with a killer instinct.” Both Jen and Gaby blushed furiously at the compliment.
Jenny was the first to recover from the sudden attack of bashfulness to respond, “I’m fairly sure you’re exaggerating quite a bit, but thank you nonetheless.”
Keith looked at the two of them sitting there for a moment before he continued, “Now, I’m sorry to have to do this, but I’m afraid it’s time we got down to business.” He turned his attention to Gaby and said, “Tell me, do you prefer being called Gaby or Drew?”
Jen jumped up from her seat on the sofa shouting, “I think it’s time you leave!”
Flustered, thought not unexpectedly so, Keith looked calmly at her and said, “Ma’am, I figured this out just from what I found researching on the Internet. I can guarantee that if I figured it out, there will be others. I’m offering the both of you the chance to tell your side of the story. If a tabloid gets hold of it first, that’s not so likely to happen.”
The anger that had been written all over Jenny’s face softened, turning into concern, then resignation as she looked at her child and said, “It’s up to you.”
Keith also turned his attention to the youngest Bond, awaiting an answer. Unfortunately for the longest time one was not forthcoming, as the only thing coming out of Gaby/Drew was a steady flow of tears.
Once finally somewhat under control, Drew said, “The truth is, I’m not sure anymore.”
Jenny sat back down beside her child and placed her arms around him. As she cradled him she whispered, “There, there. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
“How? How can it be all right? I’m not even sure who I am anymore.”
“I know, sweetheart. It’s not fair that you have to deal with this. But life isn’t fair. We can wish it were all we want, but that’s just the way it is. Just remember that we love you always and that nothing can ever change that.”
Oblivious to the reporter’s presence, Drew looked at his mum and said, “I want to be Drew more than anything. But it seems like the whole world…even my own body…wants me to be Gaby. I don’t know what to do?”
Jenny looked deeply into her child’s eyes and solemnly swore, “Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a gifted athlete. I see an intelligent young person who has an incredibly caring spirit. I see a person I’m proud to say is a member of my family. Nothing else matters, does it?”
Drew’s mind was spinning in a million different directions so fast that he couldn’t stop it to think about anything, so he just stared at his mum silently. Jenny looked back at him, trying to think what to say to make all the hurt go away, but she too was having problems thinking, her mind was racing so. Unable to find the answers they sought, she sat there looking at him for another second before finally concluding, “I don’t have any answers for you, but I promise we will find them together. No matter what it takes.”
The two of them held each other, openly crying, for several minutes without interruption. Unable to prevent his own thoughts from joining in the race started by Drew and Jenny’s, Keith eventually cleared his throat and softly asked, “Would you prefer I came back another time?”
Jenny and Drew both looked at him, then back to each other. For some time neither of them were certain what to do or say, but eventually Drew seemed to reach some conclusion as he found his voice, “No, now is fine. What would you like to know?”
Jenny jumped in, “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Drew replied, “I’m sure. He’s right, it’s bound to come out at some point and at least now we have a chance to tell things from our side instead of the tabloids just making it up as they go along.”
Jenny thought seriously about the situation and having finally come to the same conclusion as her son said, “All right.” She then nodded toward Keith.
First acknowledging the supreme sacrifice that was just made by both Bonds, he looked at Jenny and gently smiled while slowly nodding his head to indicate that he appreciated the gravity of the situation. He then turned his attention back to the younger Bond and asked, “How did all this come about?”
Drew looked at his mum before starting, “Christmas before last, mum and Jules…she’s my sister…were going to ride a costumed charity event on the tandem when Jules got hurt and couldn’t ride. Mum asked me if I’d take her place, riding with her on the tandem instead of on my own.” Drew paused for a moment and took a sip of tea to calm his nerves before continuing.
“As I said, it was a costumed event. We were Xena and Gaby.”
“…And you were Gaby. Hence the name,” Keith commented.
“Correct,” replied Jenny.
Drew then continued, “Anyway, we won! We had to stay in costume for the newspaper to get the pictures, and then later had to appear again for the presentation of the check to the charity. I’m not sure why exactly but everyone said it didn’t seem right to do that as me, so I was Gaby again.”
“But that’s just one incident, perfectly explainable. I don’t see how that one incident could have led to this point by itself, so what happened after that?”
“Gaby didn’t make another appearance for awhile. At Easter, my friends and I had planned to do fancy dress for the disco. We all went as Manga characters. It took some coercion on their part, but in the end we all went as female characters.”
Keith started, “I’m not sure I see…”
“The others didn’t want to say ‘Here’s Drew in a dress’, so I had to pick out a girl’s name and Gaby was the first one that came to mind. I took first prize at the disco. My cousin Maddy had put my name in the contest as ‘Gaby Thomas’ to hide the fact that I’m me, but when I won I had to figure out how to collect the prize.”
Keith added, “Which then meant another appearance as Gaby?”
“Yes. I had to dress up and open a bank account as Gaby to cash the check.” This prompted a surprised look from Jenny, who hadn’t known that part of the story.
Drew returned Jenny’s look before continuing, “Then a few days later, Mr. Woods asked to see me. He had evidently discovered that it was me at the disco, and had the idea that he’d like me…or rather Gaby…to be the model for the school brochure. It paid a lot of money, just to pretend to be someone else for a few days. The school paid for new girls’ uniforms for me, as well as breast forms and a complete makeover.”
“I have to say, if I’d never seen you I might be having some trouble believing all of this. That being said, I think you’re one of the loveliest young ladies I’ve ever seen, as weird as it sounds. Sorry, but it’s true. The question remains, how did you get from there to riding in that race in Atlanta as Gaby?”
“Well, as you can tell I’m not exactly what you’d call the manliest, am I? Truth is most of the time when I meet people; I don’t know, they just assume I’m a girl. Plus, after that Christmas photo in the paper, it seems every time I get a mention in the press it’s as Gaby the girl, not Drew the boy.”
Jenny, who for some reason was feeling rather confrontational, decided to interject, “It’s not as if you’ve done anything to dissuade them from thinking that, have you? It’s almost as if we can’t go anywhere or do anything as a family without you doing something that prompts a ‘Gaby’ moment. You fall in a puddle, or scrape up your side so you can’t wear trousers, or just forget to bring a change of clothes.” She shook her head in frustration for a moment before completing her thought, “Truth is, you’ve probably done more to solidify that thinking than anything.”
“I suppose you might be right,” Drew said somewhat dejectedly.
Keith asked, “How’s that?”
“Okay, here’s an example. Just before one of my first time trials last season, I was over at Mad’s and we were working on costumes for a Con. I had on my breast forms and makeup and just forgot what time it was until it was almost too late. I tore out of there and got to the start just in time, not realizing I was still all done up like a girl. After that, a lot of the other cyclists just assumed I was a girl.
“And that doesn’t even begin to get into the number of times I had accidents where I wound up in a skirt because my boy clothes were ruined, or I injured my leg in a race and couldn’t put on a pair of pants. The list of occurrences is rather incriminating. I mean, after people have seen you in skirts a few times they start to assume you’re a girl.”
“And the name?”
“Maddy started coming with me to the weekly Tuesday time trial and mistakenly referred to me as Gaby where John the starter overheard. He started calling me Gaby after that and lots of other folks just picked up on it. Even some of the people who know I’m a boy, like John, think of ‘Gaby’ as a sort of nickname now.”
“I still don’t follow how that led to Atlanta?”
“I, or rather Gaby, got drafted into being a cheerleader when we started forming the group, and when the exchange trip to America was planned, the cheerleading squad was entered in a big competition over there. In order to avoid a lot of uncomfortable questions it was decided that it would be easier if I just spent the whole trip as Gaby, rather than trying to change back and forth for cheerleading.
“I joined up with the Grottoes bike crowd and they invited me to ride with their team in Atlanta. That’s how Gaby wound up riding in that race.”
“I’m sorry for prying, but is that what you were talking about earlier? About not knowing who you are anymore?”
“That might be a part of it, but there’s a lot more as well. All that time as Gaby sort of acclimated me to acting like a girl without thinking about it. I’m pretty sure even more strangers think I’m a girl now than they did before. But I’m also having some physical things…” Drew’s voice faded, as he couldn’t finish the statement.
Keith looked at Drew for a moment seeming rather confused, then turned his attention to Jenny, who eventually explained, “Drew’s having some hormonal problems and one of the side effects is that his body is developing a definite female shape, including breasts.”
Drew blushed so brightly that had it been dark you could probably have read from the glow. “Mum!” he whined.
Keith offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any embarrassment.”
Drew’s face started returning to a more normal color, then he said, “That’s all right. It’s not your fault, it’s my body’s.”
Turning to address Jenny, Keith said, “It seems your family is dealing with a number of substantial issues at the moment.”
“I’d have to agree on that, Mr. Davis.”
“Keith, remember?”
“Keith,” Jenny replied.
“Knowing what I do now, I don’t really want to write the ‘tell all’ article that we seem to be heading toward. However, you do realize I can’t just ignore all of this, don’t you?”
She looked at him for a moment before replying, “I do. That doesn’t mean I want it all to come out. I don’t want anything to hurt my child, and I’m afraid this is going to do that.”
“I promise to try as much as I can to prevent that from happening. And I’ll make sure your side of things comes out.”
“I suppose that’s all we can ask, isn’t it?”
As he packed his things back into his bag, Keith said, “Listen, I probably shouldn’t do this, but if you give me your email I can send you the draft of the article for you to look over. That way at least you won’t be blindsided when it hits the stands.”
Jenny wrote down an email address on a slip of paper and handed it to the reporter saying, “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Keith took it from her and replied, “Thank you for your hospitality. And your openness. I hope I can prove to you that I deserve the trust you’ve shown me this afternoon.”
He headed toward the door and just as he was opening it to leave, he turned and said, “My editor may want to have a photographer take some shots for publication. You,” he said directing his comments toward Drew, “might want to think about whether those pictures will be of Drew or Gaby. No pressure here, but just so you know, Gaby has a quickly growing fan base in America. Stunts like the one you pulled on Lance in Atlanta tend to draw attention to you, so keep that in mind.” After he opened the door and started to leave he turned again and said, “Thank you for seeing me today. It really has been a pleasure meeting you both.” He then exited, pulling the door closed behind him.
After watching the journalist leave, Jenny sat on the sofa and began comforting her younger child. Many tears had been shed, as they both worried about what would become of the story they had told the reporter. They hoped nothing too awful would come of it, but then they weren’t too sure.
At one point, Jenny tentatively asked, “Drew?”
“Yes mum?”
“Are you going to be all right? I mean if all this comes out?”
“I think so. It’s not as if his magazine has a huge readership in Britain.”
“True, but once the story breaks, there are bound to be other more local publications pick it up in one form or another. They may not be as respectful of our family’s privacy as Mr. Davis has been. We all need to be prepared for this. It could get a bit nasty.”
Drew looked at his mum for a while silently before responding, “I know. I know.”
Once Drew was more settled, Jenny reached for the telephone and dialed Dave’s number in Germany.
On the third ring he answered, “Hello?”
“Luv, I think we have a problem…”
Meanwhile, Keith Davis was driving back to Manchester where he was going to check into a hotel for the night, as the first flight home wouldn’t leave until early the next morning.
Once settled in, he picked up the phone and after requesting an outside line for a collect call, he listened as the phone on the other end rang.
“Tompkins,” barked the voice at the other end.
“Davis here sir. Just wanted to check in with you to let you know that I have everything I need and will be returning home tomorrow. I could have a first draft on your desk by the middle of next week.”
“Good, find anything interesting?”
“You could say that sir. This could prove to be a big one.”
“Just don’t let me down, son. I want to see you in the office as soon as you’re back on American soil, understand me?”
“Yes sir,” Keith replied then listened to the line click dead on the other end. He then replaced the receiver in its cradle, lay back on the bed, and instantly fell asleep.
The following morning as he took his seat on the plane and fastened his seatbelt for takeoff, Keith’s mind raced through everything he had learned on his trip. On one hand he knew for certain that anything other than a complete botched job on the final article was bound to result in him establishing his career as a feature writer. But on the other hand, he knew with just as much certainty that if he failed to handle this thing just right this story could destroy the lives of several well-intentioned and lovely people.
Would it be possible to write the story and not destroy the Bonds? Or was there no way to tell the facts without hurting this family? Those were the thoughts that swirled through his mind as the airliner hurtled across the Atlantic on it’s way back to the New World. Despite the hours of mindless travel, he was no closer to the answers he sought when the plane landed than he was when he left the Bond residence.
Exiting the terminal at JFK, he took a taxi directly to the magazine’s offices in Manhattan, where he went straight for Mr. Tompkins’ office. He knocked the simply reached out and opened the door. Taking a seat opposite Tompkins, who was sat behind his desk, he waited for his employer to end the telephone conversation he was in the midst of before speaking.
“Mr. Tompkins,” he said as his editor hung up the phone and turned his attention toward the young writer.
“Davis! Had a good trip?”
“Yes sir, I think we got some gripping stuff for the article.”
“Good, good. Well, don’t just sit there. Get busy writing. Now shoo!” Tompkins then reached for the phone again while Keith stood up and exited the office. He stopped by his desk for a moment to pick up some more notes for the story, then left the office and hailed a cab to take him home.
Now that he knows all about Gaby, it's time for Keith to write his article. But how will he do it? And what will happen?
A Gaby Fanfic by Jillian
Keith had stared at his blank computer screen for nearly an hour trying to solve his dilemma. Should he tell the world everything he had found out in the last few days, or would it be better to keep some things quiet?
Exposing Drew/Gaby would undoubtedly spark his career. He’d suddenly be a star in the journalistic world for digging up such a sensational story, but at what cost? Was it worth harming that wonderful young person who only wanted to figure out who he was? The more he thought about it, the muddier his thoughts became. Meanwhile in Warsop, the Bond household was stewing over these same questions, though from a slightly different perspective.
Jenny had more or less resigned herself to the fact that the truth concerning her cancer was going to come out. While she didn’t like the idea of the whole world knowing, she knew she’d live through it, whatever happened.
Drew on the other hand was completely terrified of what might happen if his story was exposed. Once everyone knew about Gaby, would he ever be allowed to be just plain old Drew again? Or would he be forced to become Gaby full time, whether he wanted to or not? Maybe it wasn’t logical to be thinking this way, but that didn’t prevent him from doing so nonetheless.
And beyond the personal issues an outing was bound to bring up, there was the question of both of their cycling careers. Would he ever be allowed to compete again? Or would he be shunned forever by his sport before he had a chance to make his mark? And lastly, would Drew’s predicament harm his mum’s riding career? These were all questions that swirled around the household as they anxiously awaited word of what was to happen.
It’s not that the thought of exposure had never occurred to either of them. It had always been a vague concern in the back of their minds before Keith Davis had shown up asking questions. His appearance served to crystallize those concerns and bring them to the forefront and even though they knew they couldn’t really blame him for their predicament, there was in the back of each of their minds a little voice that whispered, “What if…?”
For his part, Keith was in turmoil himself. He found that he cared for this family more than he expected he would and didn’t want to do anything to harm them. But he also had to balance that desire against his obligation to his boss, the magazine, and at least in his mind that vague monolith ‘journalistic ethics’.
As the hours ticked away he found he was no closer to an acceptable resolution and briefly contemplated scrapping the whole idea. However, each time his mind wandered in that direction he reminded himself why he started this project in the first place. He just hoped he could find a way to do it without doing too much harm to the Bonds.
Eventually he said, “I suppose I’d best get started. There’s no way to know how it’s going to turn out otherwise.” Once he finally started typing the story came out almost faster than he could think. Although he admitted the story had to be written, he regretted being the author before it was done. Even with multiple re-writes trying to hone the story both for journalistic and personal reasons, he was done in a matter of hours.
Cycling Royalty
By Keith Davis
In America, cycling doesn’t really have much of a personality beyond our king, Lance Armstrong. That’s not to say we don’t occasionally embrace other athletes when they do something to capture our attention.
Such was the case in Atlanta this past February, when a young British rising star stayed pedal stroke for pedal stroke with Armstrong, even going so far as to ask for an autograph mid race. For Americans this was our first exposure to this youngster’s antics, though it turns out that in Britain they had already started to recognize this young genius in the making.
The offspring of reigning World Champion Jenny Bond had in the same season that mom won not only that World title but also the Women’s Tour de France, collected Youth National Championships in Circuit racing and Hillclimb, thus prompting some European journalists to dub them ‘Cycling’s Royal Family’.
This might make you think that the Bond family was just one of those lucky ones that everything works out for and nothing ever goes wrong. The truth is, nothing could be further from the truth.
The very week she won that World Title, Jenny Bond was diagnosed with cancer, which nearly took her life a scant few months later. She is now said to be cancer free and is working her way toward a return to racing. When asked about the whirlwind her life has been since, Mrs. Bond replied, “It’s been a bit of a roller coaster.”
There is more than title defenses driving Jenny Bond to push herself toward a return to racing. Her husband Dave has recently taken a job as Youth Development Program Director for Apollinaris, the team Jenny raced for last season, and is currently commuting between the family’s home in England and the team headquarters in Bad Neuenahr, Germany.
When asked about living apart she said, “I’m anxious to return to cycling, plus I’m looking forward to living in the same house as my husband again.”
For his part, when asked about the difficulty of living apart from his family Dave Bond responded, “More than you can imagine. Last year Jen was the one living in Germany while I stayed with the kids in England. We decided that wasn’t something we wanted to live through again, so I took this job thinking we’d be able to be together. And the truth is, long term it will be better for that very reason. Unfortunately in the short term we’re still separated by the Channel and half of Europe.”
Another part of the Bonds’ roller coaster ride this past year is due to the youngest member of the family, Gaby. The aforementioned dual National champion cyclist, Gaby became famous overnight in America as the result of her performance in the Atlanta Winter Classic, where she finished with the lead group, comprised of the world’s best professional riders including the king of American cycling, Lance Armstrong.
When asked about the young Bond, Armstrong offered, “Now you’ve got my attention… she rides a lot like her mom, very aggressive. Doesn’t hold anything back. I admire that. And on top of that, she’s spooky smart on the road, like she reads other riders’ minds or something.”
When asked what he meant by that, Armstrong replied, “Her whole autograph seeker routine was just a delay tactic. She knew even before we got to the feed what we were planning, and did that to keep us from carrying out the plan.”
“It was an inspired bit of tactics. Not that it’ll ever work for anyone again in my lifetime.”
Apollinaris team director George Muller concurs, “Gaby rides like Jenny. They both have this ability to see things during a race that they can use to their advantage. If anything Gaby’s even a better tactician than Jenny. And along with her youth Gaby brings a certain amount of recklessness to her riding.”
When asked to compare the two, Dave Bond said, “Jen can be reckless at times, but she usually rides a more controlled race. Gaby goes at it wide open all the time. Sometimes it pays off, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
With all this talk of Gaby it may be surprising to learn that the beautiful young lady seen riding alongside Lance in Atlanta is not all that she seems. Prior to a year ago, Gaby didn’t exist. She began as a costume worn by the Bonds son Drew for a charity race he participated in with Jenny a year ago last Christmas.
The costume was so convincing no one even had a clue they were seeing a boy. Later, the Gaby character was again given life for another costumed event and eventually through a series of chance circumstances Gaby became a well known figure in her own right.
Drew, who looks far more like a young lady than a young man, is in fact the holder of those championship titles, though in many circles even those accomplishments are credited to Gaby. As for his looks, Drew suffers from hormonal problems, which are causing his body to develop femininely rather than male, and as a result he finds it easier at times to present himself as a girl publicly.
The student exchange trip, which brought young Bond to America, enabling him to ride in Atlanta, was one such instance. As a member of a cheerleading group that as part of the trip participated in and actually won the East Coast Cheer and Dance Championships, Drew decided that, though harder on him, it would be easier for Gaby to be the one making the six week trip rather than risk exposure through changing back and forth between personas. And that’s how it was Gaby and not Drew riding in the Atlanta Winter Classic.
Having seen Gaby both during the race and at various functions after, I found it difficult to believe what the facts were telling me was the truth. Because put simply, you would expect that a boy pretending to be a girl would look like a boy pretending to be a girl. Such is not the case in this instance.
Perhaps it’s a result of the aforementioned hormonal condition, but even when presenting as a male, Drew Bond looks like a lovely young lady trying to look like a boy. This has no doubt on occasion worked to his advantage in leading opponents to underestimate him on the road, but that in no way undermines the considerable talent he possesses.
Jenny Bond had a season for the ages a year ago. With luck, maybe she’ll be able to enjoy more successes of her own. But whether she can or not she can trust that in the person of her child, her legacy in the sport of cycling is secure. Whether ultimately that child is known to us as Drew or Gaby makes no discernable difference, because boy or girl, young Bond is a brilliant athlete and more, a caring, sensitive human being.
The reigning queen may or may not be able to continue, but the sport of cycling can rest assured that the Bond clan will be represented. Whether we should call the heir Prince or Princess is of little import, so long as we can continue to enjoy the ride.
As he was editing what he’d written, Keith fought back wave after wave of guilt. He’d never intended to ruin anyone’s life, but given the content of this article that seemed inevitable.
When the phone rang he quickly looked at the clock and realized he’d been up all night working as it was nearly 7am. He picked up the receiver, “Hello?”
“Davis? Tompkins here.”
“Yes sir? Is something wrong?”
“You could say that. We need all hands in the office in one hour. Be there,” before Keith had a chance to respond, his boss had hung up.
“I wonder what the problem is?” He asked. “Did I get scooped?” He ran in and took a shower, dressed in mere minutes, and was on the streets of Manhattan on his bike before 7:30.
Just before eight he opened the main doors into the magazine offices and was greeted by a throng of nervous staff members. He looked toward Tompkins’ office and could see his editor in the midst of a heated telephone conversation.
Not intending his question for anyone in particular he asked, “What’s going on?”
The receptionist, a girl named Carly for whom Keith had forever harbored a bit of a crush replied, “I heard a rumor that we’ve been sold.”
“Sold?”
“From what I’ve heard, one of those huge publishing houses is buying out our publisher. It’s safe to say everyone’s a bit on edge.”
Turning his attention away from Carly, Keith looked in the direction of Tompkins’ office just as he was coming out.
The room suddenly became silent as the mass of employees waited to find out why they’d all been called into the office early.
Tompkins began, “Some of you may have already heard that our parent company is being taken over by Time Warner. I’ve called you all in to let you know that it’s true.”
There was a spattering of applause rise up from the crowd, which Tompkins quickly squelched. “You may not think that’s such great news when I tell you the rest of my news.” He paused for a moment to let the ominous nature of that statement sink in before continuing, “It seems we are to be merged with Sports Illustrated.”
The applause sprung up once again with that tidbit. Tompkins raised his hands in an effort to quiet the crowd. “Some of us will be offered positions with SI, while others may be given jobs with other publications. And there will be some who unfortunately will be let go.”
The silence that greeted that last statement was deafening. “On your desks you should find envelopes which will contain either your new assignments or your severance. This is all effective immediately. They want us all cleared out of this office by five o’clock today.” Once his announcement was done, Tompkins turned around and went back to his office, where he set a box on his desk and began packing up some personal items.
Keith looked around the office and saw the stunned faces looking back at him. He couldn’t really explain it, but for some reason he wasn’t sad about the news. Maybe it was because he felt he’d been given a second chance concerning the Bonds’ story. Since he hadn’t turned in his draft, as far as SI was concerned the story didn’t exist, which meant he didn’t have to ruin those poor peoples lives after all.
When he made his way to his desk he instantly found the envelope and upon opening it learned that he was to be assigned as a copywriter for Parenting magazine. He found a box under his desk but disregarded it as it would be too difficult to take on his bike. He got his backpack out and started packing up his personal items. Less than an hour later, he was ready to leave when Tompkins called out his office door, “Davis? Got a minute?”
Keith made his way toward his former boss’s office and before he’d had a chance to sit down was asked, “So, I guess you won’t be getting that big chance after all. Sorry son. That’s just the way things go sometimes.”
“I know sir. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“I hadn’t gotten to ask you when you got back. Find out anything interesting?”
Keith thought for a moment and decided this would be an easy way out of his predicament, so he replied, “Didn’t really pan out, sir. Just a bunch of unsubstantiated rumors that turned out to be false.”
“That’s what I figured,” said Tompkins. “Too bad, I thought you might be on to something.”
“Me too, sir. So what’s next for you?”
“I’m being offered early retirement with fully vested pension. My wife would kill me if I said no,” he began to laugh.
“I’m being assigned to ‘Parenting’,” Keith said as the laughter, which he had joined in with subsided.
“Kid, I know you’re a little down about things right now, but trust me. You’re a good writer. You’ll get another chance. I’m sure of it.”
As both men stood up Keith extended his hand toward Mr. Tompkins, who took it as they shook. “Thanks for the opportunity sir,” Keith said as they parted.
“Don’t forget, you’ll get another chance. Just hang in there. Now go get your crap packed up before they start throwing us out on the curb.”
Keith left the office and returned to his desk, where he picked up his now full backpack and headed out the door toward the elevator. Once in the lobby, he went to the security guard’s desk and was allowed into the locked closet where he had always stored his bike.
“Looks like I won’t be back,” he said to the guard.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“We were sold and they’re shutting down ‘Sports World’. Merging with Sports Illustrated and closing our offices.”
“Sorry to see ya go. You folks were good to everybody in the building. We’ll miss ya.”
“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Keith said as he rolled his bike out the door onto the street. Once outside he mounted up and pedaled his way home.
Twenty minutes later, he was pushing his bike through the door to his apartment. Once the door was closed behind him he took off his backpack and set it on the sofa, then headed over to his desk where his computer was still displaying his story about the Bonds.
He momentarily considered just deleting the story, along with all his notes and research documents, but then decided against that idea. He saved the file first on his hard drive and then to CD, then opened Outlook and clicked on the ‘Write Message’ button. He put in Jenny Bond’s email address and started trying to figure out what he wanted to say:
Jenny,
I have what for you may be considered good news. I was informed today that my magazine has been sold and is being merged into Sports Illustrated. I had not completed the story yet, and now have no intention of doing so. I just wanted to let you know that you have nothing to fear from me.
I will warn you that much of what I found in preparing this article was easily found. You and your family might want to consider preparing for the inevitable.
I’ve made a CD backup of my research and the draft of my story. I’ve attached to this email a copy of said story so you can have some idea just exactly what you can expect to eventually come out, because with a story this big, it’s not going to be a matter of if, but rather when.
Good luck to you in your rehab and impending return to racing. To your husband Dave, who I immensely enjoyed speaking with, and to Drew, whoever he ultimately decides to become, my best wishes.
Keith Davis
Jenny read the email three times and the article twice before she managed to unglue her eyes from the computer screen. She was visibly breathing a sigh of relief upon discovery that her family’s lives weren’t about to be turned upside down by the contents of that story.
As she closed the document and got up from the screen, she looked around the empty room. Yes, they had dodged the issue this time, but how long would that luck hold out? Like he said, there’s no way this doesn’t come out eventually.
She called Dave and informed him of the news, and when Drew and Juliette came home they were filled in as well. On the surface, things in the Bond household more or less returned to normal. But in the back of each of their minds was forever more the thought that it was now only a matter of time before their world would be turned upside down for real.
Monday morning Keith pedaled his way to the offices of ‘Parenting’ magazine to begin his first day of work. With each pedal stroke, he hoped he might possibly be wrong this time and the Bonds might never have to worry about exposure. But each time, reality would shove it’s way back in and remind him that it would in fact only be a matter of time before their lives became the cover story they seemed destined to be.
The End
Now, on with the show...
A Fanfic by Jillian
Based on “Easy As Falling Off a Bike” by Angharad
Auntie A inadvertantly challenged me to do this, so blame her...it is also being written 'live', so excuse any mistakes please. I won't be updating this nearly as frequently as Angharad, but more will be forthcoming.
Now, on with the show...
A Fanfic by Jillian
Based on “Easy As Falling Off a Bike” by Angharad
Stella had been after Cathy to take her out and show her what it was she did with her dormice, so one night they went out along with Simon to introduce her to zoological field research, Cathy style. All was going well until as they were surveying the last nesting spot for the night it began raining. It came down harder and harder until they had no choice other than to retire for the night and head home.
Not far from the car Cathy slipped in some mud and fell, taking her fiancé with her. Once back at the vehicle, it was decided that they would huddle under the blanket Cathy kept in the boot and Stella would drive. It didn’t take too long for the lovebirds to drift off, leaving Stella to her own devices.
The rain was coming down so hard that Stella could barely see past the tip of her nose…and she was inside the car! Add to that the pre-dawn darkness that was conspiring to make it seem as if the car was completely cut off from the rest of the world and it would become easy to appreciate just how isolated she was feeling. Cathy and Simon were fast asleep in the back seat, oblivious to the raging storm.
As they tried to make their way home, Stella was stunned out of her relaxed state by a thud. She slammed on the brakes, causing the others to fall forward slamming into the back of the driver’s seat.
Cathy reached wakefulness first and shouted, “What was that?”
Simon quickly followed that up with, “Cor Stella! Give us a little warning next time!”
Somewhat shaken, Stella ignored Simon and responded, “I don’t know Sis.”
The three of them climbed out despite the rain and made their way to the front of the car, where they saw a man lying there on the road.
Simon quipped, “My God Stella, you’ve done it again!”
Stella shot daggers at her brother with her eyes and said, “It might be you next, brother dear.” This had the desired effect, as Simon quickly ceased his smart aleck posturing.
“What are we going to do about him?” Cathy asked, trying to bring the conversation back to reality.
Stella bent over the man and performed a quick check, finding that he seemed to be completely out of it. “Simon, will you give me a hand getting him in the car so we can take him to hospital?”
He assisted her, buckling the stranger into the passenger front seat for the journey. As they all piled back in to recommence their trip, something strange happened.
“What the…” blurted Simon as they watched the stranger begin to change in appearance. They sat there stunned into silence as the man’s features gradually shifted until he bore absolutely no resemblance to his previous self.
As they observed the spectacle before them, Stella forgot all about driving the man to the hospital and they found themselves sitting there silently observing this man. Once his appearance ceased changing Stella reached over to check for a pulse.
“Stella?” asked Cathy tentatively.
Just as tentatively she replied, “I’ve no idea.”
The rain let up just as the sun began making it’s appearance for the day. As a result, our weary travelers found themselves able to see the landscape around them for the first time. What they saw left them very puzzled.
Sitting back a little way from the road was an old-fashioned police box with it’s door slightly ajar. As if this weren’t a strange enough sight all by itself, they could see some light emanating from within.
Cathy was the first to notice the light, saying, “What on Earth is that doing there? I haven’t seen one of those in years!””
Incredulously Simon replied, “You’re asking me?”
Before the conversation could carry on any further, the stranger’s eyes popped open and he took a huge breath, shocking the intrepid trio into silence. He turned to face them and asked, “Right, what’s going on here?”
“We were sort of hoping you would know,” said Cathy as she stared at the stranger.
He suddenly popped his door open and tried to get out before realizing he was strapped into his seat. Quickly taking a look at the buckle of his lap belt, he released it and opened his door.
Just as quickly, Cathy jumped out of the car and intercepted the stranger before he had a chance to wander off on his own. “Wait!” she called. “Where are you going? And just who are you exactly?”
He looked directly at her for the first time and said, “Oh, you’re Lady Catherine Cameron!”
Caught off guard, Cathy slowly responds, “Umm…not quite yet.”
Ignoring what she had just said he ploughed on, “Pleasure to meet a fellow scientist. I’m called the Doctor.”
Confused, Cathy asked, “ Umm…Doctor…?”
“No, just the Doctor.”
Simon caught up to them and asked, “What’s going on here, babe?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
The Doctor carried on, “Actually Cathy, I’m here to help you.”
To Be Continued…
Just who is the ‘Doctor’ character, and what does he want with Cathy?
A Fanfic by Jillian
Based on “Easy As Falling Off a Bike” by Angharad
Simon asked, “Help with what? The dormouse survey?”
“In a manner of speaking,” replied the Doctor.
“I still have no idea what you’re on about,” stated a rather confused Cathy.
The Doctor headed toward the police box and said, “Come with me. All will be revealed.”
He got to the open door and walked into the box. Our trio watched as he did this and stood around looking at the police box wondering what they should do.
Their dilemma was resolved when the Doctor poked his head back out the door and said, “Well, aren’t you coming?” He then returned inside but left the door ajar.
Cathy was the first to comment, “I think he’s expecting us to go in there with him.”
“That’s absurd,” whined Stella. “We’d be packed in there like sardines.”
“Besides,” Simon added. “Why?”
Cathy looked at the siblings, sighed, and then said, “Well, I have no idea either. But there’s something about him…” She left the thought unfinished, but decided to go ahead and see what was inside the box.
After walking into the police box, she poked her head back out and with a stunned look on her face beckoned to the others, “This sounds strange, but come in. You’re going to want to see this.” She then returned inside to wait for the others.
Simon and Stella looked at each other and shrugged, then they made their way to the door. After a momentary pause, they decided to poke their heads inside. What they found could not have been a bigger surprise.
The sight that greeted the Camerons upon entering the police box was unlike anything they had ever experienced. Inside, the box was much larger than it appeared from the outside, not to mention that it obviously featured technology far more advanced than anything any of them had ever seen or even dreamt of.
Stella found her voice first, “Wha…?”
“This is the Tardis,” stated the Doctor as if it were the most normal thing in the world for them to be seeing what was now before them. “Now to business. Your mammal survey is of far greater importance than you could possibly imagine.”
“I’m not sure I understand?” asked Cathy.
“It’s been a very long time coming, but if done correctly the outcome of these surveys could shape the way humans interact with other species. Is it not true that a number of these species are rather endangered?”
“Well, yes.”
Stella jumped in, “What does that have to do with anything?”
The Doctor smiled benevolently and replied, “Handled properly, young Lady Catherine here could prove to be a powerful voice for this planet and all it’s creatures.”
“But how…?” Cathy began.
“You could say I know things. I’m a scientist.”
Simon interjected, “Come off it! What is all this?”
“I’m just a field scientist. I don’t even have my PhD yet. What can I do?”
“You’re far more than you let on,” the Doctor began.
“You can say that again,” add Stella dryly.
The Doctor continued unfazed, “You were approached about working on a nature show with the BBC?”
“How do you know about that?” Cathy asked.
“Has Des said something to you?” Simon chipped in.
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
Cathy continued to look confused as she said, “I still don’t understand. I told Des no. Or hadn’t you heard that part?”
“There will be other opportunities. You must take advantage of them.”
“I don’t think I want to…”
Stella interrupted, “I’ve been telling you. The camera loves you. People love you. You can use that to advance your message.”
Cathy looked at Stella somewhat perturbed, then turned back to the Doctor, “But what have you to do with any of this?”
“I want to make sure you follow through with your work.”
“I’m sure there are others just as qualified,” Cathy started. “I don’t have anything special.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Simon added with a wink.
“I think you’re biased.”
“Perhaps,” he grinned. “But I’m correct nonetheless.”
Cathy grew frustrated, “I have no credibility.”
“No one has more credibility in this area than you,” the Doctor countered.
“Oh?” she retorted. “Think I’ll still be that credible when it gets out about me being a transsexual?”
“That, my dear,” said the Doctor. “Will be little more than a momentary blip. Newsworthy for a few days, then it’ll blow over. The fact is, the notoriety might even help spread the message.”
Cathy began feeling sick, “I don’t like any of this.”
“Through that door,” said the Doctor, pointing across the control room of the Tardis.
“What?” asked Cathy still feeling rather nauseous.
“The loo,” replied the Doctor.
Cathy headed toward the door he had just indicated and made her way to the facilities. In her absence, the Doctor addressed the siblings.
“I had hoped she’d be more receptive to the idea, but it appears that was not to be. We need to convince her that this is the right thing to do,” he said to Simon.
“You obviously know very little about women if you think we have a chance of convincing Cathy Watts to do something she doesn’t want to do.”
The Doctor took his place beside the console and said, “I had hoped it wouldn’t have taken this, but…” he reached out and flicked a couple of switches and pushed a few buttons, which caused the light column in the center of the console to begin moving up and down while a sound unlike anything Cathy, Simon, or Stella had ever heard before.
When the sound started, Cathy came rushing back into the control room asking, “What is that noise?”
The Doctor looked at her and said, “Take a peek out the door. Tell me what you see.”
Cathy went to the door and opened it, revealing what appeared to be a vast nebula so close she could almost touch it. “What? How?”
“Do I have your full attention now?” asked the Doctor.
To be Continued…
Does this Doctor character really have a clue? Or is he making it up as he goes along????
A Fanfic By Jillian
Based on Angharad’s “As Easy As Falling Off a Bike”
“But…” Cathy spluttered.
“Yes, yes, I know,” stated the Doctor. “Now close that door so we can return to the business at hand.”
Cathy slowly closed the door, not wanting to take her eyes off of what she’d just seen. She then turned to face the others. Addressing Simon and Stella, she asked, “Did you see that?”
Both Camerons found themselves in a similar state to Cathy, as if what had just transpired had completely overloaded their thinking capacity. They did finally manage to nod their heads yes in response to her question, but neither of them seemed able to form coherent thoughts at that moment.
“Come back over here Cathy,” instructed the Doctor. “Maybe I can shed a little more light on what’s going on here.”
She quickly made her way to beside the Doctor, who then began, “Put simply, the Earth is nearing a critical time. The proper balance must be maintained, or the consequences could be catastrophic.”
“Yes, we’ve known that for a long time,” responded Cathy.
“I don’t think there are many who grasp the full implications.”
Simon finally regained the ability to speak and said, “How did you do that?”
Ignoring Simon’s question, the Doctor carried on, “Thus far, nature has been able to adapt to the changes man has visited upon it, but things are reaching a point where that may no longer be the case. That’s why it’s so important for you to get the message out that the planet can’t afford to allow any more species to become extinct.”
Simon jumped in by asking, “What are you talking about?”
Finally acknowledging his presence, the Doctor replied, “Each time a creature ceases to exist on your planet, the delicate balance that is the Earth’s ecology is thrown out of whack. If things get bad enough, the entire ecology could fail.”
Cathy completed the thought, “Which would mean the end of our world as we know it.”
“Precisely,” added the Doctor.
Cathy continued addressing the Doctor, “But what can I do? I’m a field biologist.”
“Oh, come on,” moaned Stella.
The Doctor again manipulated controls on the console, causing the center column to come to life. When it stopped moving, he said, “Now go take a look out the door again.”
Stella, being the closest, went to the door and opened it. The sight that greeted the travelers was quite alien. “Where are we?”
The Doctor replied, “Exactly where we started, only a million years in the future.”
“But…” Simon began.
“Yes, I know,” interrupted the Doctor. “That’s not possible. Isn’t that what you were going to say?”
“Well…”
Cathy joined the conversation again, “How can this be? We were on the outskirts of Portsmouth. That looks nothing like what it should.”
“And that is because dormice became extinct less than 50 years after I picked you lot up.”
Cathy looked saucer eyed at Simon and Stella, whose faces mirrored hers. They then all turned their attention back to the Doctor, who stood waiting patiently for them to make the logical next step.
“So you’re telling us…” Cathy began.
Stella interrupted, “…that we’ve just traveled? Through TIME!?”
The Doctor grinned and replied simply, “Yes.”
The three of them resumed looking at each other, trying to find their voices. Meanwhile, the Doctor began manipulating the console once again.
When the column came to rest, the Doctor crossed to the door he had previously sent Cathy through and left the others alone so they could digest what they had just experienced.
It was Simon who first broke the silence, “So are we all going to wake up and find that this is some sort of weird dream?”
“I suppose that would make more sense than any other explanation,” retorted Stella.
“Other than for the fact that we’ve all just seen the exact same thing,” added Cathy.
Simon looked sheepish for a moment before a sly grin overcame him and he said, “Are we sure? I mean, maybe we’re not all really here.” As he said it he realized how ridiculous it sounded.
“So am I a figment of your imagination, or are you one of mine?” smirked Stella.
Cathy giggled and said, “I just had a vision of you as Kris Kristofferson in ‘A Star Is Born’.”
“Ha ha, very funny. I suppose you’re Barbra Streisand?” Stella said, trying to suppress a laugh of her own.
Simon took on a very determined look as he said, “Well, I’m not going to stand around here idly and just accept this hallucination or whatever it is as reality.” He then stormed toward the door in pursuit of the Doctor.
“My hero,” Cathy cooed, then resumed her giggling joined by Stella.
Simon wandered for what seemed like forever trying to find the Doctor and when he did at last locate him, he found him trying on different outfits of clothes. Not sure what to do, he silently watched him for a bit.
First, he put on a coat with a ridiculously long scarf and floppy hat. After looking at himself in the mirror, he muttered, “No, tried that already.” He then removed those things and went in search of something else.
Next he tried a velvet smoking jacket and ruffled shirt, but shook his head and removed them once again. He then put on a corset and Victorian dress, at which point Simon could remain silent no more.
“Umm, what are you doing?”
“Trying to find myself, young man,” responded the Doctor in a condescending tone.
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to get on with things, all right?”
“Yes, of course. Head back to the control room and I’ll join you there in a moment.”
Simon started to leave, but stopped and turned to face him again, “That’s all well and good, but I haven’t a clue where that is?”
Obviously frustrated by the interruption, the Doctor said, “Go out the door then turn left. Then left, right, left, left, over the bridge, left, left, right, up the stairs, left, left, right, then down the slide. Left, take the lift to the very top, then right.”
“How about if I just follow you?”
To be continued…
The Doctor reveals some interesting facts about Earth, it’s history, and it’s future as he helps Cathy come to terms with her destiny…
A Fanfic By Jillian
Based on Angharad’s “As Easy As Falling Off a Bike”
After removing the dress and corset, the Doctor quickly searched for something different to wear before settling on a leather bombardier’s jacket with a Flying Tigers insignia painted on the back and a white silk scarf.
As he looked at himself in the mirror once again, he muttered, “Jack would love this jacket.” He then set out for the control room with Simon close behind.
After several minutes of wandering down countless corridors without any sign of an end in sight, the Doctor stopped dead in his tracks and Simon bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” Simon muttered.
“Where were we heading again?” the Doctor asked, looking confused.
“Control room, I believe you said,” responded Simon growing irritated.
“Ah, yes.” The Doctor then set out again, leading Simon down hallways, up stairs, and around corners, pausing each time they passed a door to open it and take a peek inside. They looked in ornately decorated bedrooms, an ultra modern sitting room, a prehistoric cave, and what from the echo sounded like it must be a huge space that was completely devoid of light.
Eventually, Simon’s irritation got the best of him and he snapped, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Of course!” the Doctor replied as he came to a halt in front of yet another door. He opened it and to Simon’s great surprise they saw John Lennon sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar, singing away. The Doctor muttered, “Sorry,” and closed the door again. They then started back on their way.
Meanwhile, back in the control room Stella said, “You’ve nabbed purse snatchers and saved babies from burning cars. Why are you so hesitant to do this?”
“Well, they’re not like the same thing at all, are they?” she countered.
“No, but…”
“But nothing. Those things I did were reflex. They needed to be done and I was there. Nothing more,” Cathy explained. “This is something that would intentionally draw attention to me, and your family. Do you really want that?”
“Oh come on! We’ve been around the block a time or two. Dealing with the press is old hat. And I promise that Simon and I will help you deal with them.”
Just then the Doctor and Simon opened the door and came into the control room. Stella turned to them and asked, “ Where have you been?”
Simon stated, “He got us lost.”
“Did not!” whined the Doctor. “I knew where we were all along!”
“Then why’d you feel it necessary to open every door we walked past?”
Much of the Doctor’s usual bravado having evaporated he timidly said, “No reason.”
“Ha!” Simon shouted.
Returning to normal, the Doctor directed his attention to Cathy, “So tell me Lady Catherine, are you ready to begin?”
“Not even on a bet!”
Stella interrupted, “But she’s going to do it anyway.”
“Good, good,” said the Doctor.
Cathy stared at Stella and hissed, “Thanks ever so much for your help…not!”
As the Doctor looked at various dials and gauges on the console, Simon went over to Cathy and took her in his arms. She melted into his embrace and asked, “What are we going to do?” Simon didn’t say anything in response, but just continued to hold and comfort her while her mind spun at breakneck speed.
The Doctor went to the main entrance doors and opened them, allowing everyone to see that they were once again where they had begun their journey. “Right, the first order of business is to get in touch with this Des character and see if he’s still interested in doing the documentary.”
Simon offered, “That’s simple enough. I’ll give him a call. I think it’s safe to say he’s probably still interested.”
“Yes, but is that in the show or your fiancé?” interjected Stella.
“A bit of both, I’d say,” commented Simon.
“I still don’t know about all this,” whined Cathy. “Here I was hoping to live a simple life doing my research and…” she allowed the thought to trail off unfinished.
“Cathy,” urged the Doctor. “This is just an extension of your research.”
“Hardly,” retorted Cathy. “My little furry creatures are my research. All the rest of this?”
“Catherine, if the rest of this as you put it isn’t done, your furry little creatures won’t be around anymore for you to study.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier, you know.”
The Doctor took a gentler tone, “I know. But if something is important, it’s rarely easy. Is it?”
Simon cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to step outside to make that call to Des.” He then went through the door with Stella following close behind.
“Doctor?” Cathy began tentatively. “Why me?”
“Why you indeed,” the Doctor retorted. “You have the scientific credentials for your word to carry some weight. You are an attractive young woman.”
“Well…” interrupted Cathy.
“Yes I know, I know,” commented the Doctor. “You are about to be wed to a nobleman, which gives you some celebrity. And most of all, you’ve proven yourself to be of exemplary character under fire. In short, there is no one better suited to the task.”
“I still don’t know,” she countered. “What happens when my secret gets out? Won’t that undo everything we’re working toward?”
“That’s why you need to be preemptive on this point.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, although she thought she might already know.
“I mean tell the world yourself before someone else does it for you.”
“I don’t think I can,” she sighed.
“Of course you can, Mua ’dib.”
“Gee, I’ve never been called a mouse shadow before,” Cathy giggled.
“Yes well, it does seem to work a lot better as a science fiction novel.”
Stella overheard the conversation and asked, “What do you mean?”
The Doctor sighed before saying, “Let’s just say Frank played a little loose and fast with the facts.”
Cathy looked stunned as she replied, “What? You mean the whole ‘Dune’ series is true?”
“Not the whole thing,” the Doctor said.
“It can’t be,” a bewildered Stella added.
“Well, that’s sort of why he came back in time to publish. In the future when it was written they thought it was a load of rubbish.”
Simon came back into the Tardis saying, “Everything is lined up. We will meet Des at the Beeb this afternoon to do an interview where we’ll tell the world all about you, then you’ll start pre-production on the first of what he hopes will be many installments.”
“We?” asked Cathy skeptically.
“You didn’t think I was going to let you go through all this alone did you?” asked Simon. Cathy headed straight for Simon who then took her into a gentle hug.
“This is happening quite fast, “Cathy said on the verge of hyperventilating.
Before they realized what was happening, the Doctor had closed the door and begun manipulating the controls once again. The column came to life for a brief moment, then came to rest for a second at which point the Cameron’s car appeared in the control room.
After another round of button pushing and lever pulling, the Tardis again came to life. This time when it came to rest, the auto no longer appeared in the Tardis and following yet another quick jump the Doctor made his way to the door.
Stella asked, “What was that all about? What happened to the car?”
“I brought it with us. Thought you might need it,” said the Doctor as he led the way outside.
When they exited the Tardis they found themselves in Bristol at the BBC studio. Standing waiting by the door was Des with a huge grin beaming from within his beard.
As the troupe approached, Des said, “Cathy! Great to see you again.”
Simon said dryly, “Good to see you too, Des.”
Ignoring his friend, Des led the group into the studio where they would be shooting the interview. As they waited for the crew to finish up their preparations, the Doctor led Cathy aside for a moment.
“I should probably tell you, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” he confessed.
“What, like that wasn’t the future?”
“No, that bit was true,” he stated. “It actually has nothing to do with what we’ve discussed thus far.”
“What? And is it relevant?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he muttered. Then he spoke a little more clearly, though still quiet enough to prevent others from hearing, “You see, when I was a student I made this horrendous mistake in my astrophysics class one day and destroyed the planet Glis Minor.”
He paused before continuing, “I felt rather guilty about this, so I borrowed a Tardis and went there just before the end and collected as many of the indigenous beings as I could. The planet was inhabited exclusively by these little rodents, so there I was with all these mice running around the ship. I searched for a planet with an identical ecology and found it here, in England.”
Cathy interrupted, “Are you telling me what I think you are?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Dormice were originally of non-Terran origin. I still feel rather guilty about what I did to their home world, so when I found that they were in trouble here I had to come help.”
“So all my research is for nothing?” Cathy asked, starting to feel a tightening in her chest.
The Doctor said more loudly than he intended, “Not at all.” Then in a lower voice, “Your work has been of great interest to me. That’s why I’m here. It was your work that brought their plight to my attention.”
To be continued…
The plot thickens...or is that the gravy???
By Jillian, A Fanfic Based on Angharad’s
“Easy As Falling Off A Bike”
There was a huge crash and the studio walls began to collapse around them. The Doctor and Simon led Cathy and Stella out as quickly as they could, barely escaping injury when the ceiling caved in and the entire structure exploded as they ran out the door they had so recently entered through.
“What the bloody hell was that?” shouted Simon over the din of the approaching emergency vehicles.
“An attack, I’d say,” commented the Doctor.
Cathy looked at them both rather bewildered before saying, “But who? And just as importantly, why?”
Stella added, “What could possibly be the reason for all this?”
The Doctor looked closely at the ladies and replied, “It would appear someone doesn’t want you saving our little friends.”
“But who could that be?” asked Simon.
There was another, bigger explosion after which the Doctor led them further away from the building in search of safety from the now raging fire. After watching the firefighters work feverishly trying to salvage the structure
\ to no avail, it was Cathy who asked, “What’s going on here, Doctor?”
“Erm, yes well…” he stammered.
Before he had a chance to complete his response, there was another great crashing sound coming from the building. After several more crashes, not to mention another explosion that shook the entire surrounding area, something emerged from the rubble.
They looked much like Komodo Dragons that could walk upright on their hind legs. Standing well over seven feet tall, to say they presented an intimidating image was quite the understatement.
Upon seeing the creatures, all color seemed to drain from the Doctor’s face as he muttered, “Oh, no.” Then in a stronger voice he said, “Everyone, run!”
Once ensured that everyone else was well on their way to safety, Cathy touched the Doctor on the shoulder to break his trance, saying, “Come along.”
Reluctantly he complied, shouting, “Get to the Tardis!”
The Doctor was the last one through the door, after which he quickly closed it and made his way to the console. Before he had a chance to dematerialize the ship, Cathy interrupted him, “What were those things?”
Again the color drained from his face as the Doctor turned to face Cathy and said, “Bogrons…I’m not certain what the purpose of their appearance may be, other than that it can’t be good.”
Cathy countered, “You’re holding something back. What is it?”
The Doctor stared silently at the console for a moment before finally managing a response, “Glis Minor wasn’t the only casualty that day. That planet ran into another one, named Boge. Bogrons used to call it home.”
“So you helped some Bogrons as well escape the collision?” asked Stella.
The Doctor hesitated before replying, “No. They’ve had the ability to travel through space for thousands of years.” The pause that followed seemed to emphasize the things he hadn’t said.
“They can’t possibly know you’re the one responsible, can they?” asked Stella.
Lacking some of his usual air of certainty, the Doctor replied, “I don’t know.”
Cathy then spoke, “We can’t let them do anything, can we?
Simon then asked, “What are they doing here?”
As if on cue, the communications terminal on the Tardis’ console came to life. “Doctor, this is Ly-shen, the Bogron commander. My people have been tracking you for nearly 900 years. Now that we’ve finally found you, we will be retaliating for what you did to our home world.”
Cathy asked, “What’s he mean by retaliate?”
The Doctor silently signaled for everyone to be quiet so they could hear the rest of the message.
“Your fondness for these Earthlings is well documented, so our retaliation shall be to destroy the planet you love so dearly…Earth.”
To Be Continued…
So what will be our heroes' next move? And is the Bogron's presence all it seems to be?
A Fanfic by Jillian, based on Angharad’s
“Easy As Falling Off A Bike”
“Doctor!” Cathy shouted. “What are we going to do?”
Without even looking up at her, the Doctor began flipping switches on the console until a large video screen in the corner came to life showing the exterior of the Tardis. He panned the image left and right, trying to ascertain whether or not we were surrounded. He needn’t have bothered as they soon could hear the pounding on the outside of the ship.
As the Bogrons struggled in vain to gain access to the inside of the Tardis, Simon asked, “Isn’t there something you can do? Shoot them or something?”
“Shoot them?” replied the Doctor incredulously. “That would go against everything I believe.”
“I thought you were here to save the Earth!” shouted Simon.
“Simon,” interrupted Cathy. “Calm down. We’re safe in here, so please just give him a chance to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“A-ha!” said the Doctor suddenly. He pulled a lever on the control panel and suddenly the pounding stopped.
“What did you just do?” asked Cathy.
“Indeed, do tell,” added Stella.
“A simple force field,” replied the Doctor smugly. “It repelled them and should keep them away for a bit.”
“So what’s next?” asked Cathy. As she asked it she realized that once again the Doctor was paying no attention to her at all. Frustrated, she turned to address Simon and Stella. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”
“None,” answered Stella. Simon simply shrugged.
“I don’t care at all for standing around here doing nothing. Any ideas?” asked Cathy.
Out of nowhere the Doctor said, “I knew there was something that didn’t seem quite right about all this.”
Returning her attention to the Doctor, Cathy asked, “What’s that?”
His air of certainty returned, he said, “There is no way Bogron technology could have brought them here now. When their planet was destroyed they did have simply space travel, but nowhere near advanced enough to have brought them this far in nine hundred years.”
He paused before adding, “Even if they came straight here.” He then returned to the control panel and started turning knobs while looking at a monitor screen.
“What now?” asked Stella.
“Just as I thought,” commented the Doctor. “No signs of craft on the surface or in orbit.”
Confused, Simon asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means, dear boy,” replied the Doctor. “That whatever means they used to arrive is currently cloaked.”
“So?” asked Stella.
Cathy responded, “If they’re trying that hard to hide something, they must have something up their sleeves.”
“Well stated,” beamed the Doctor. “I might need to keep you around for a while.”
“I don’t think so,” commented Simon.
“Quite right,” said the Doctor. “If you came with me, then who would save your little furry creatures?”
“But how do we find out what they’re hiding?” asked Stella.
“Cloaking systems invariably have weak points. Usually there is a cycle that dips for a nanosecond as it re-cycles. If I can scan during that period…” the Doctor let the thought trail off.
Completing it for him, Cathy said, “Then you can see what it is they’re hiding.”
“Exactly!” beamed the Doctor.
After a few moments of button pushing, lever pulling, and knob turning, the Doctor had set the Tardis scanners to continually search for anything out of the ordinary. It took three complete scans, but it did eventually find a point where there was a blip.
“There it is,” commented the Doctor. “Now all we need do is narrow the scan field and wait.”
“Will this really work?” asked Simon.
“Of course,” the Doctor replied indignantly.
Defensively Simon said, “Sorr-ee.”
Nearly an hour later, the scanner detected another blip. Having already narrowed down it’s location, the Doctor was able to see through the cloaking device. What he found did nothing to easy his concerns, “Oh dear,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cathy as she made her way to beside the Doctor.
“Just as I feared,” he commented, oblivious to the fact she had just asked him a question.
“What is it, Doctor?” Cathy implored. “Doctor?”
To Be Continued…
The Doctor along with Cathy, Stella, and Simon finally discover who’s behind this attack on Earth…
A Fanfic by Jillian, based on Angharad’s
‘Easy As Falling Off a Bike’
“Doctor!” Cathy shouted.
Still ignoring her, the Doctor once again began manipulating controls sending the Tardis into action. After a second, the center column abruptly stopped which drew the attention of the Doctor.
“Not the Helmut Regulator again!” he said exasperatedly before going around the console and banging on it. Once again, it sprang to life.
Simon, after watching this exchange, commented, “Is this thing safe? I mean, is there something wrong with your Flux Capacitor thingy?”
“Oh, don’t bother,” said Stella. “He’s not listening anyway.”
“Helmut Regulator,” the Doctor said as he looked up at Simon. “Not Flux Capacitor. That’s a completely different part of the ship.”
“I thought that was from ‘Back To The Future,’” Stella rang in.
“Yes, that’s right,” responded Simon.
“And you’re no Marty McFly,” Stella couldn’t resist taking another jab at her brother.
“Hey,” Simon responded indignantly. “I can play guitar.”
“I’ve heard you,” said Stella. “No, you can’t.”
“Okay,” Cathy rejoined the conversation. Trying to return things to the business at hand, she went on, “Where are we going then?”
“To have a look around that ship,” responded the Doctor. “I’d like to know what they’re really up to.”
“Who?” asked Simon.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the Doctor replied enigmatically. He then went to the door and began to open it, “Everyone stay close and don’t wander off.”
Simon couldn’t resist saying, “What does he think we are, children?”
“When you’ve been alive over 900 years, everyone is a child.”
“Point taken,” said Stella.
They all followed the Doctor out of the Tardis and into what appeared to be a dimly lit cargo bay full of strange looking bed-like machines. Before anyone asked the Doctor told them, “Suspended animation. That’s probably how the Bogron came.”
Cathy quietly asked, “Any idea who it is helping them? And why?”
“We’re about to find out,” said the Doctor. Just then, an alarm sounded and strange red and green lights came on. A rush of heavy footsteps drew near, stopping directly in front of the group.
“Halt!” the creature in front ordered. As he stood there, his nostrils flared and the bumps on his rather large forehead pulsed slightly as if he were quite agitated.
“I didn’t really expect that,” said the Doctor. “So what brings you to Earth?”
“We are here for the Glory of the Klingon Empire!” the same one spoke gruffly.
“Yes, yes. I know all that,” the Doctor replied dismissively. “But why Earth?”
The rest of the Klingons came forward and grabbed the party, leading them toward the brig. Once there they pushed everyone in and activated the electronic shield and started to leave.
“When will we see the Commander?” asked the Doctor.
The one who had spoken before turned before exiting and said, “When he is ready.” He then left, locking the bulkhead door behind him.
Once alone again, Simon asked, “What are we going to do now?”
The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver and walked over to the panel. “Be out of here in a jiffy.” He turned it on and in just a moment the force field was down, freeing the captives.
“Now what?” asked Cathy as they all made their way to the bulkhead door.
Simon decided to try brute force, pushing and hitting the door a few times to no avail. Then the Doctor again activated the sonic screwdriver and they heard a loud clunk as the lock was released.
“The bridge,” said the Doctor. He walked out of the brig into the dark corridor, where he turned in the opposite direction from which they had so recently come. “Quiet, everyone,” he said as they slowly walked toward what they assumed was the bridge. As they neared their intended destination, several Klingons grabbed them from behind.
“Commander,” barked one of them. “The intruders seem to have escaped their cell. But we have recaptured them.”
A Klingon wearing a more ornate uniform approached the Doctor and asked, “What do you want?”
“To be quite honest,” started the Doctor. “We were hoping to find out why you’re here doing what you’re doing.”
“For the glory of the…” he began.
The Doctor cut him off, “The glory of the Klingon Empire. Yes, we heard that one already. Now seriously, why are you here?”
A smug look came across the commander’s face as he began, “Humans have been a thorn in our side for long enough. We want to erase them once and for all.”
“But why travel back in time to do it?”
“Revenge is a dish…” began the commander.
“Best served cold,” finished the Doctor. “Yes, I know that one as well. So you’re plan is to strike while the Earth can’t protect itself? Not only that, you’re not even doing your own dirty work, are you? Rather cowardly, don’t you think?” The Doctor knew the reaction his last thought was likely to raise. It was exactly what he was counting on.
“You fool!” the commander shouted as he struck the Doctor’s cheek.
To Be Continued…
Cathy and the Doctor must find a solution to their problem once and for all...but will they do so in time to save the Earth??
A Fanfic by Jillian, based on Angharad’s
‘Easy As Falling Off a Bike’
“Are the charges all in place?” shouted the Klingon commander.
“Not quite, sir,” answered another. “As of their last report, the Bogron still have five left to set.”
“Tell them to hurry,” said the commander. “I want to be done with this mission and back home to revel in my glory.”
Under his breath, Simon commented, “A bit full of himself, isn’t he?”
“Watch it, Si,” hissed Stella.
Cathy looked at the Doctor, who returned her glance as if saying, ‘Hold on.’ The Klingon guards who were still holding them had allowed this to pass unnoticed.
“Take them back to the brig,” ordered the commander. “But don’t kill them…yet. I may still want to question them.”
The guards then escorted the prisoners back toward their cell. Again, they seemed oblivious to the frequent glances back and forth between their captives. As the journey continued back into the bowels of the ship, the continued lack of attention paid by the guards allowed the Doctor and the others the chance they needed.
As they turned into another corridor, the Doctor caught sight of the Tardis. He silently signaled to Cathy, who then did so with Simon and Stella. Cathy then began crying and clutching her abdomen, which brought everyone’s attention to her. When the guards were occupied with their apparently ill captive, the Doctor was able to reach into his jacket and withdraw what turned out to be the futuristic equivalent of a taser.
He quickly disable the guards, whispering to the others, “Quickly, to the Tardis!” They all ran as quietly as they could toward their ship and managed to all get in and close the door behind them before the next batch of Klingons reached them.
“What was all that?” asked Cathy once they were safely inside.
“The Klingons are a very militaristic race who in the future find themselves engaged in a bitter war with Humans,” replied the Doctor. “Somehow they seem to have traveled back in time with the intent of destroying Earth, thereby eliminating their enemy before they would have ever met.”
“Wait,” said Simon. “You mean ‘Star Trek’ is real too?”
“Not entirely,” stated the Doctor. “I did manage to persuade Gene to alter a few things when he started writing.”
“So you knew Gene Roddenbury as well?” asked Stella.
“He traveled with me for a while.”
Cathy then asked, “So what, he decided to make a television show about his adventures with you?”
“Something like that,” admitted the Doctor. “Now, back to the business at hand…”
“What can we do about this plan of theirs?” asked Stella.
“Yes,” added Simon. “It may not seem like much, but I am rather fond of our little planet.”
“As am I,” replied the Doctor.
Cathy offered, “Doctor? Is there any way to remove the explosive devices without the Klingons or Bogron knowing?”
“It could be tricky, but yes,” replied the Doctor.
“And I know exactly where to put them,” added Stella.
The Doctor set the Tardis back in action, placing it in an orbit exactly opposite the Klingon ship. Then with Cathy’s help they began scanning the planet for the explosive devices as well as the Bogron warriors who might still be on the surface.
Once all the devices were located, the Doctor started programming the Tardis to materialize around each device, picking it up and storing them deep within the ship until they all had been retrieved.
They also did the same thing with the Bogron before transporting everything back to the Klingon cargo bay, where the bombs were deposited seconds before detonation. The Tardis had barely dematerialized from the cargo bay when the bombs exploded, destroying the Klingon ship in the process.
“Doctor?” asked Cathy after they watched the ship explode. “Is there somewhere we could take the Bogron where they could live?”
“There are any number of suitable planets,” he replied. “Would you care to help choose?”
After selecting a new home for their guests, the Doctor set the coordinates and took them to their new planet. They dropped off the Bogron, then set a return course for Earth.
During the trip home, Cathy, Simon, and Stella decided to do a little exploring. Eventually, they found themselves in a huge room with pictures of all sorts of people hung on the walls. They spent several minutes browsing the pictures, until the Doctor made his presence known.
“These are all the people who’ve traveled with me over the years,” he said, letting the others know he was there.
“All these?” asked Stella.
Cathy then asked, “Why are these two portraits larger than the rest?” indicating two pictures side by side which were twice as large as the rest.
The Doctor was silent for a moment before he answered, “This one,” indicating the one on the right, “was my granddaughter Susan.”
“What about her?” asked Stella, indicating the other larger portrait.
“That’s Rose.”
Cathy asked, “What happened to them?”
The Doctor was silent, unable to bring himself to answer the question.
Eventually Stella asked, “You loved her?”
He was still quiet, though tears silently trickled down his cheek. Noticing this, Stella got Simon’s attention and led him back toward the control room, leaving the Doctor with Cathy.
“So, Lady Catherine,” the Doctor began. “How do you fancy a bit of travel?”
“I think I’ve had quite enough, thank you. I’d just like to get back to my furry little aliens, if you don’t mind?”
“Fair enough,” replied the Doctor. “I’ll just return you to Bristol then, so the three of you can collect your car.” He then exited the portrait room and made his way back to the control room, where he returned the Tardis to the television studios in Bristol.
Once they’d arrived, the Doctor said, “Cathy, Stella, Simon, it has been a privilege having you along. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”
“Doctor, it’s been a pleasure,” said Simon as he shook the Doctor’s hand.
The Doctor moved closer and in a low voice said, “You take care of her.”
“I will, I promise.”
The Doctor then turned his attention to Stella, “Lady Stella, you bring honor to the Royal family.”
Stella, for once moved to the point of being unable to find words, gave the Doctor a gentle hug before joining Simon.
Finally, he turned to Cathy, “You would be welcome to join me if you’d like?”
She blushed furiously before replying, “I’ve many things left to do here. Not the least of which is planning a wedding!”
“Well, I promise we will see each other again,” the Doctor said as he embraced Cathy. “Until then, Lady Catherine?”
“Until then.”
With that, he opened the Tardis door and watched as the three of them exited the ship. Once outside, they watched as the Tardis dematerialized in front of them, returning them to the real world.
“That was quite an adventure,” sighed Stella. “Even for you,” she directed at Cathy. Cathy promptly stuck her tongue out at Stella, then turned toward the car.
At that moment, Simon also looked in that direction before shouting, “What?”
The Doctor wandered back to the portrait room, where he picked up a picture of Simon, which after a moment’s thought he hung next to portraits of Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart and Rose’s friend Mickey. He next took a picture of Stella and hung it between Sarah Jane and Tegan.
Lastly, he picked up a portrait of Cathy. After several minutes of deliberation, he hung her between his granddaughter and Rose. He stood there staring at the pictures for some time before finally leaving the portrait hall and returning to the control room.
The End???
Fugue, Part One
By Jillian
Chapter One
Tanya had barely entered the reception area of her doctor's office when she heard her name called. After making her way to the front desk she asked, “You called me?”
Looking up from her computer screen, the receptionist replied, “Yes, Miss Taylor. The doctor is ready for you.”
“Thanks,” Tanya responded as she reached for the door knob. After passing through the door and into the hallway she found her way to Dr. Sanchez' office.
She gently knocked a couple of times before gingerly opening the door and entering the office. As quietly as she could, she headed for the sofa where she usually sat for their sessions and then silently watched as the doctor tended to some paperwork.
As soon as she was finished writing some notes in another patient's chart, the doctor joined Tanya, sitting directly across from her in a leather wingback chair that just screamed 'shrink'. As she did so, she took a moment to open her note pad and lay a couple of pens with it, just in case she needed to make any notes for when she would be filling out charts later.
“So, hows the world been treating you?” the doctor asked Tanya, with a smile.
Shifting slightly in her seat, Tanya responded, “If I complained, no one would listen.”
“Why do you say that?”
Thinking for a moment, Tanya said, “Nothing. I was just kidding.”
“Nope,” Dr. Sanchez argued. “Not buying it. What's wrong?”
Sighing, Tanya admitted, “I just feel like I'm not making any headway toward my goal.”
“Of course you are,” Dr. Sanchez argued.
“Okay,” Tanya began her response. “Let me put it this way then. I feel like I'm stuck on a plateau of sorts. I'm not going backwards or anything, but I'm not making much progress either.”
“I don't necessarily think that's the case.”
Tanya took a calming breath before stating, “I'm just tired of not being able to live my life the way I want to.”
“All right,” Dr. Sanchez responded. “Let's look at this from the other side for a moment. What is standing in your way? What's preventing you from reaching your goal?”
After thinking for a moment Tanya replied, “Fear, mainly.”
“How so?”
“I'm afraid of what would happen with my work and I'm particularly afraid of what would happen with my family.”
Dr. Sanchez made a note on her pad then looked directly into Tanya's eyes and calmly said, “Face those fears, then.”
Shaking her head, Tanya responded, “Easier said than done.”
“Let's take them one at a time then.” Dr. Sanchez asked, “Why haven’t you talked to your family about this?”
Looking rather defensive, Tanya asked, “Why? Why do you think?”
“I don't know,” countered Dr. Sanchez. “That's why I asked.”
Tanya stared at the doctor for a moment before finally saying, “Look, I've always know how my father thought about people like me. It's not like he ever hid his prejudices or anything.”
Making another note, Dr. Sanchez asked, “Does he know?”
“I don't think so,” Tanya replied. “At least he's never said anything specifically directed toward me. I just know how he used to gripe about all the 'weirdos' he had to deal with in his job.”
“Well,” she started, “I think my mom would probably be okay with it, but my dad and brother? No way.”
“What makes you say that?”
Pausing for a moment to compose her thoughts, Tanya finally replied, “They’re very much ‘men’s men’, ya know? Bobby’s a police detective and Dad’s an ex-cop too. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard them talk bad about ‘those damned trannies’ as they put it.”
“And how does that make you feel?” she asked. “When you hear that kind of talk?”
“Part of me is embarrassed because secretly I'm wondering if they're talking about me. Then I get a little angry, first at them for acting that way, then finally at myself for one, letting them get to me and two, for caring about what they think in the first place.”
“Sounds like you actually have a pretty good handle on that one then. The doctor then let a little grin creep onto her mouth as she continued, “Other than the whole letting your anger get the better of you, that is.”
She took a sip of water before continuing, “Mom sort of knows, I think. I mean, she knows I’ve always been feminine. She even knows I used to dress up in her clothes when I was a kid, but we’ve never, ever talked about it. I’m kind of afraid to broach the subject with them.”
“What is it you’re afraid of? Are you really that scared that they’ll disown you? Become violent?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, I really am. Well, not the violent part, but you know what I mean. I’m seriously afraid that I’d lose my family forever and I don’t think I could stand that.” Taking a moment before continuing, she finally added, “And let’s not even start talking about what would happen with my work.
“I don’t think I’d lose all my gigs, but I’m pretty sure at least some of them would drop me. Some of these places aren’t exactly bastions of forward thinking, if you know what I mean.”
Tanya paused again, waiting to see if the doctor had another question, but when she realized there wasn’t one coming she continued, “I guess I’ll just have to continue with the status quo for the foreseeable future.”
“Is that what you really want to do?”
“No, but I’m afraid of what might happen if I go down that road.”
Making a note on the pad in her lap, Dr. Sanchez said, “But we’ve been down this road before. There’s no way to know what would happen before taking that step.”
Looking at her patient for a moment, Dr. Sanchez eventually said, “You know, you are more passable than most other GID patients.” Deciding to press forward she continued, “It may seem a little out of place for me to be saying this, but I suspect if you’d actually talk to them they might surprise you.”
Feeling a little bit like a child who'd just been chastised, Tanya reluctantly responded, “I know, I know. I’m working on it.”
“So let’s do this,” the doctor said, wrapping up the session. “Try to talk to them. I think if you could do that, then there would be no barriers to you moving on to the next step.”
Staring at the doctor for a moment, Tanya eventually replied, “Okay, I'll try Doc, but...” She let the thought die away uncompleted.
Seeing Tanya's increasing discomfort with the direction of their discussion, Dr. Sanchez decided to shift topics a bit, saying, “I just took a look at your blood work and everything seems fine,” the doctor said as certainly as she could. “Feeling all right? Any problems with mood swings?”
Tanya seemed a bit uncomfortable with the question before finally saying, “No worse than usual, I guess. I mean, at this point I should be used to it, right?”
Grinning, the doctor commented, “Well, HRT does tend to do that. Have you given any more thought to starting your real life test?”
“Every day, really. Unfortunately, I just can’t bring myself to broach the subject with my family and until then…” her voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
As both women stood up and started toward the office door, Dr. Sanchez said, “I'll see you next week at our regular time, all right?”
Tanya said, “Thanks.” With that she walked out the door and headed home to get ready for work…
Chapter Two
Charlie was barely inside the door to his apartment before he reached for the answering machine to listen to the message the flashing light told him was waiting.
“...Charlie, this is Carla. Just wanted to check what time you want to pick me up tonight? Call me back, okay?”
He immediately picked up the receiver and after looking at the notepad by the phone to check on the number, returned Carla's call.
On the third ring she answered, “Hey there.”
“Carla? This is Charlie, returning your call.”
“Hey Charlie. Yeah, I was wondering what time you'd like me to be ready and also should I dress up?”
“Dress up? Yes,” he replied. “We have reservations for seven, so how about if I pick you up around six thirty?”
She exuberantly responded, “Absolutely! I'll see you then. Now, I'd probably best get off of here so I can get ready.”
“I'll see you then. Bye,” Charlie said, ending the call. After replacing the receiver he said to himself, “Best get a move on, then.”
On his way back out the door, he looked at his watch and commented, “Three hours.” He then hurried to his car and drove to a nearby thrift store.
Charlie had a myriad of rituals that he always went through when preparing for one of his “dates”. First on the list was a trip to the thrift store, where he bought slacks and a dress shirt that he intended to wear that evening. Once those articles of clothing had been acquired, he would then return to his apartment to begin his preparations for the evening's festivities.
Many of these 'rituals' made perfect sense to anyone who happened to find out about them, like the long shower which included multiple shampoos plus conditioner, or his habit of brushing his teeth twice and using mouthwash both in between rounds and immediately after to make absolutely certain that he had fresh breath. Then again, some seemed a bit more unusual, like his habit of shaving off every hair below his ears followed by using a pumice stone to remove as much dead skin as possible from his body.
Those little eccentricities, while seeming just a bit odd to most people, were in fact born out of his desire to maintain anonymity while pursuing his 'quest'. He reasoned that by minimizing the possibility that he might leave behind physical evidence linking him to his activities, he decreased the chance of being discovered.
He pulled on the clothes he had purchased just a few hours previously. As was often the case, he'd even gone so far as to buy a pair of shoes that could easily be disposed of at the end of the night. So after adding those to his outfit, he stood in front of the mirror fussing with his hair one last time before moving on to the next phase, which consisted of confirming that his vehicle was ready for the evening's activities.
Climbing behind the wheel of his restored Cadillac Coupe de Ville, he began going through his ritual checklist. Under the driver's seat, he first reached down in front to confirm a length of rope then between the seat and the door he felt for his rather large knife. Then above his visor he pulled out the cloth rag he intended to use as a gag, if necessary.
For several minutes he carried on checking on his numerous hiding places to ensure that absolutely everything was ready. When finally satisfied, he set out on his way to pick up his 'companion' for the evening.
As he pulled out of his parking space he said to himself, “This is gonna be great!”
Chapter Three
Bob was sitting at his desk filling out the mountains of paperwork that went along with the job of being a police detective when his shift commander stuck his head out of his office door and called, “Taylor?”
Bob looked up from his work and as he rose from his desk, he replied, “Be right there, Cap.” He made his way into his superior’s office and asked, “What’s up?”
Looking up from his own pile of papers, the captain said, “Just wanted to check in with you on that murder investigation. How’s it going?”
Bob started, “As if there was any doubt before, I think it's safe to assume we're dealing with a serial killer here. Everything has just been too similar.”
“Do we have anything useful yet that might lead us to the killer?”
“So far, the only connection we’ve been able to find between the victims has been the fact they’re all trannies, Cap. I mean, it wasn’t until the third and fourth victims that we knew these were anything other than simple random murders where the victims just happened to be transgendered. And even now we're having some difficulty being able to find anything else that connected them. In each case, the mode of killing was just different enough that it took a while to tie them all together.”
Bob took a moment before continuing with the impromptu briefing. “After going back over all of the evidence we have been able to find DNA evidence at all of the crime scenes, but so far nothing has shown up in any databases linking it with a known perp.”
“Any ideas?”
“Well, the biggest question right now really is how he’s finding his victims. At the moment I'm thinking of staking out establishments that are known to cater to these types of individuals, then I thought I'd check out some of the personals papers and boards to see if maybe that’s how he’s doing it, but…” Bob stopped short of completing that thought, waiting for the captain to add something to the conversation. When nothing proved to be forthcoming Bob added, “If there isn’t anything else, sir, I’d like to get back to it.”
“Yes, of course,” the captain said as Bob turned and left the office, returning to his desk to complete his paperwork.
Chapter Four
Carla was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when the doorbell rang. She quickly took one last look in the mirror wishing she looked more feminine before heading for the door to greet her gentleman caller.
Opening the door she smiled and said, “You must be Charlie.”
He looked her up and down before responding, “That would be me. And you’re Carla.”
“Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked as she swung the door open fully and stepped aside to allow him to enter.
Without speaking he smiled and walked into the apartment, handing her a small bouquet of flowers as she closed the door behind him.
“Thank you so much!” she gushed as she sniffed them.
“You’re welcome,” he replied as his smile seemed to morph into something more closely resembling a sneer.
Taking the flowers into her kitchen, she found a vase and ran some water into it before placing the bouquet into it. Carrying them into the living room, she set them down on the coffee table, saying, “Make yourself at home. What can I get for you?”
Sitting down on the couch, he said, “A beer?”
“I’ll be right back,” she stated as she returned to the kitchen to get their drinks.
As he watched her leave the room, Charlie thought, ‘This will be a good night.’ Then before she came back carrying their drinks he made sure to turn back so she wouldn’t know he’d been watching her as she left.
“Here ya go,” she said handing him a glass of beer.
“Thanks,” he said as he took it from her. He took a long draw from the glass, then returned his attention to his date, saying, “I made reservations for seven, so we have a few minutes before we have to head out.”
Sitting down next to him, Carla took a sip of her drink as she watched Charlie take another drink of his. ‘Wow’ she thought not believing her luck in finding a man who appreciated girls like her. She then asked, “So where are we going?”
Finishing off his drink he responded, “Antonio’s, if that’s all right?”
“Great!” she said happily. After taking another sip of her own drink, Carla got up and picked up his empty glass from the table where he’d just set it, saying, “Just let me get my coat.” Taking the glasses back to the kitchen, she placed them in the sink.
Charlie rose from the couch and made his way back to the door as she retrieved her jacket from the coat rack. Helping her on with it, they then left the apartment on their way to the restaurant.
Chapter Five
Since leaving her therapist's office, Tanya had been unable to focus on anything other than what they'd discussed during her session. It certainly wasn't that she didn't want to go down that road. Far from it. In fact, she couldn't think of anything in the world she'd like more than to be able to begin her real life test.
Unfortunately, every time she got anywhere near seriously considering going ahead and doing so a little voice in the back of her head started throwing out all the negative arguments she'd ever thought of on the subject. She'd been over this subject in her head so many times she thought if someone could eavesdrop on her thoughts they'd probably think they'd tapped into a championship level debate, she'd become so familiar with all of the arguments both for and against.
It was in the middle of yet another one of these silent debates that Tanya found herself drifting off into la la land before being rudely interrupted by her phone alarm which told her it was time to start getting ready for work. “Is it really that late?” she asked herself before heading into the bathroom to start getting ready.
Tanya was staring at her image in the mirror as she removed her makeup, thinking, ‘I need to hurry up if I’m going to make it.’ Once satisfied that all traces of her feminine self were removed, she went to the closet and took out her male clothes and quickly got dressed before heading out to work, picking up her guitar case on the way out the door.
Gently placing the case in the back seat of his car, Tom then climbed behind the wheel and began his trek to work.
Chapter Six
Carla began nervously thinking, ‘This isn’t the way to Antonio’s’ as Charlie pulled his car into a secluded alley way and turned off the engine. “What’s…” she started to ask, but before she was able to complete the thought he had his hands around her neck and began choking her.
He sneered at her as he said, “This won’t hurt nearly as much if you don’t fight.” She hit as his arms and tried to kick him, but quickly lost her battle with both her assailant and consciousness.
Continuing to grip her neck until all life had left her body, he then reached across the car and opened the passenger side door as he carelessly pushed the body out into the alley. After pulling the door closed he calmly started the car and drove off, confident that he’d again rid the world of one of ‘those’ people.
Chapter Seven
Tom sat in his car for a few minutes before going inside. Just to be certain, before getting out he flipped down the vanity mirror on the sun visor and checked to ensure there were no little flakes of mascara still hanging around his eyes. Once satisfied, he got out of his car and pulled his acoustic guitar out of the back seat and the small portable PA system out of the trunk before making his way to the club entrance.
He entered the club and felt his heart sink as he saw how few people were there. ‘Ah well,’ he thought as he unpacked his beloved J-200. ‘Maybe a few more will show up later.’ He wasn’t, however, counting on that.
After setting up and making certain the PA was working properly, he made his way to the bar where his drink was waiting for him even before he had reached where the bartender stood. Picking up the glass and taking a sip, Tom said, “Ah, you remembered.”
“Not hard,” replied the bartender. “Not many come in here and drink nothing but diet coke.”
“Fair enough,” Tom added. “Things been this quiet all evening?”
“All week is more like it.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Wiping at the bar with a bar mop, the bartender responded, “Not your fault. It’s always slow this time of year.”
“Yeah,” commented Tom. “We’ll just have to see if we can do anything to keep the ones that are here interested.”
“Sounds like a plan,” finished the bartender before turning his attention to someone sitting at the other end.
Tom then returned to the stage area where he settled in to begin his first set. He played a couple of tentative notes on his guitar to check the tuning, then without saying anything to the assembled audience began playing his first selection of the night.
As he played the introduction, he couldn’t help but notice that the nearly empty bar seemed even more depressing than usual. It was nights like this when he had to inwardly say ‘to hell with it’ and just play for himself.
He sang the opening lines of his favorite Robben Ford tune, “My, my, my…Baby, you’re my cup of tea…My, my, my…Lovin’ what you’re doin’ to me…” and maybe he was imagining things, but he would swear the old drunks sitting at the bar acted like they actually noticed what he was doing for once.
The idea that someone was actually paying attention pushed him to give that little bit extra; not that he would have just phoned the gig in. As much as anything he had this pride thing going that pushed him to do his best no matter what. That being said, it was always easier to be motivated if others were paying attention.
If only that attention could’ve lasted. Before too long even his mind was wandering, mostly mulling over things he’d been discussing with his therapist earlier in the day.
Chapter Eight
Detective Taylor ducked under the yellow tape marking the crime scene under investigation and made his way toward the other gathered officers. As he approached, he noticed several glancing toward him before returning their attention to the work at hand.
Addressing a uniformed officer with sergeant’s stripes on his arm, Detective Taylor asked, “So what do we have here?”
Looking up, the sergeant replied, “You’re the detective.”
“Gee thanks, Sarge.” Turning his attention to the medical examiner knelt over the body, Detective Taylor asked, “Doc?”
Standing up and turning toward the detective, the medical examiner replied,“Looks like number five, Bob.”
Feeling his stomach churn at that news, he responded, “So she’s…?”
“Packin’ a little somethin’ extra under her skirt? Yeah.”
Bob added sarcastically, “Never would’ve guessed.”
“Yeah well.” Zipping the remains in a body bag, the medical examiner added, “I’ll have a complete report for you after I finish the post mortem, but I’d say the preliminary evidence is pretty conclusive. Any leads yet?”
Bob frowned before saying, “Nothing solid. I mean, so far all we know is that all the victims were trannies. There’s no telling why this guy’s doing this. Maybe he’s a frustrated fruit who’s jealous that he can’t look as good as his victims. Or maybe he’s some zealot who thinks he’s doing God’s work by ridding the world of some perverts. I guess we won’t know until we catch the guy.”
The medical examiner, with Bob’s assistance loaded the body onto a gurney and rolled it over to his van where they loaded it into the back. Once the doors were closed, the doctor said, “I’m going to get a little rest after I drop this one off at the morgue. It’ll probably be afternoon before I have a report for you.”
Bob shook the doctor’s hand and replied, “I’ll stop by your office some time tomorrow afternoon then. Here’s hoping this guy made a mistake and left us more evidence this time.”
“Yeah, here’s hoping,” added the doctor before going around the van and climbing into the driver’s seat. Seconds later he was leaving the scene.
Bob stood there silently for a few seconds watching the van pull away before returning his attention to the sergeant. “Any other evidence?”
The sergeant turned his attention back to the detective and said, “’Fraid not. The crime scene is pretty clean. You won’t get much help here.”
Disappointed, Bob responded sarcastically, “Great.”
Chapter Nine
As Tom wandered into his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the blinking light on the answering machine. After setting down his guitar case he made his way to the machine and hit the playback button: “Hey little bro, we still on for lunch tomorrow? I know it’ll be real late when you get in, so call me when you rejoin the living in the morning, okay?”
“Guess it’s a good thing Bobby called,” Tom said to himself. “I’d forgotten all about lunch tomorrow.” With that he began stripping off his clothes as he wandered toward the bathroom where he started the shower running and got his things together while the water warmed up.
He washed and conditioned his hair and used a lovely smelling moisturizing body wash before getting out of the shower and patting himself dry, then blow drying his rather long hair. Finally, hair pulled up into a ponytail tied up with a scrunchie, Tom…or as she usually preferred, Tanya…slipped into a nightgown and curled up with a book for a few minutes before heading off to bed.
Once in bed, she couldn't help thinking about all of the things she'd discussed with her therapist earlier in the day. Her mind was racing, causing her to have problems getting to sleep so she simply lay there with her mind running at something just short of mach two while she stared at the shadows cast by the tree outside her window onto the ceiling. It was a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Cynthia stumbled through her apartment door, kicking off her high heels before the door was even closed. She swayed unsteadily as she made her way to the bathroom, gradually stripping off her club clothes along the way. By the time she was facing the large lavatory mirror a string of overtly sexy clothing was strewn about the small apartment.
“You know,” she began talking to herself as she applied cold cream to her face, “Sometimes I wonder if I'm getting a little old for the club scene?” She then washed the cold cream off before rubbing in her moisturizer and brushing out her hair.
Once her hair was pulled back and loosely braided, she removed the chandelier earrings and returned them to her jewelry box before turning her attention to the least comfortable part of her bedtime preparations. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and quickly yanked off the tape that had been holding her small but clearly defined male genitalia safely tucked away where it could remain undetected through all but the most diligent of searches.
That job done, Cynthia slipped into her favorite sleep shirt and climbed into bed, practically falling asleep before her head hit the pillow...
To Be Continued...
By Jillian
Chapter Eleven
Tanya was roused by the sound of the telephone ringing. She slowly became conscious enough to reach over to her bedside table and answer it, “Hello?”
“Why are you still asleep, bitch?” Cynthia’s sarcastic yet far too cheery voice berated her friend.
Grinning to herself, Tanya answered, “Well I did work last night.”
“Yeah? Well you were supposed to meet me at my place for breakfast, or had you forgotten?”
“Sorry,” She apologetically replied. Then glancing at the clock radio she muttered, “Crap! I really am sorry. Maybe you could come over tonight? I’ll make us a nice dinner.”
Following a brief pause during which Tanya began to worry that she’d hurt her friend’s feelings more than she’d at first realized, Cynthia said, “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook this time...but you’ve got to go shopping with me tomorrow.”
Giggling, Tanya responded, “It’s a date! See ya this evening.” As soon as she was off the phone with Cynthia, Tanya took a moment to find her ‘Tommy’ voice before calling Bobby.
On the second ring he answered, “Detective Taylor.”
Nervously she said, “Bobby, it’s me.”
“Hey little bro,” responded her brother. “Usual place about noon?”
As some of her nervousness abated she managed to answer, “Sure, I’ll see ya then.”
“Okay,” Bobby replied. Continuing, he added, “Later. I have some work I need to get through first.”
Hopefully she asked, “Do you want to reschedule?”
He responded dismissively, “Nah, I’ll be needing a break by then.”
“Noon it is then,” she said, bringing the conversation to a close. “Later.”
Once off the phone, Tanya said to herself, “I have a little over an hour to bring back Tommy for lunch with big brother.” She headed for the bathroom, removing her nightgown along the way.
Chapter Twelve
Bob climbed out of his car and quickly made his way into the police station. Reaching his desk he noticed the medical examiner’s report waiting for his perusal. After thumbing through the documents, he picked up the receiver on his desk phone and dialed the medical examiner’s office.
After two rings someone answered, “Medical Examiner’s office.”
“Yeah, is Doc Andrews available?” he asked.
“One moment please,” the voice on the other end replied.
After sitting on hold for a couple of minutes a click announced he doctor even before he said, “Detective?”
Bob replied, “Yeah, it’s me Doc. Got anything for me yet?”
“I’m afraid not. Whoever this guy is, he sure knows how to leave a clean crime scene.”
Barely containing his frustration, Bob commented, “Why couldn’t he slip up just once and leave us a little something?” Then in a more calm, professional voice he added, “Thanks Doc. If by some stretch you happen upon anything, give me a call asap.”
“Will do.”
Once the doctor had hung up the phone, Bob slowly returned his handset to its cradle. Looking at his watch, he said to no one in particular, “I’d best head out. I’m supposed to meet Tommy in a few.”
Grabbing his suit jacket, the detective left the station en route to his prearranged lunch with his little brother.
Chapter Thirteen
Once parked, Tommy checked his reflection in the vanity mirror as he always did to make sure he hadn’t missed any makeup, feeling silly as he realized he hadn’t put any on that morning. Satisfied, he got out of his car and headed toward the restaurant for his lunch meeting with his brother.
As he entered, he scanned the room and spotted Bobby sitting at a booth toward the back. Making his way in that direction, he saw his brother wave. Tommy smiled and returned the gesture as he crossed the last few yards, joining him in the booth.
He’d barely sat down when a waitress came up and asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Looking up at her he replied, “Just a diet coke, thanks.”
“And what about you? Need a refill yet?” she turned toward Bobby and asked.
“I'm good for now.”
“Be right back with that,” she said before leaving them alone.
Turning his attention to his older brother, Tommy asked, “So how’s things?”
“Busy,” Bobby responded. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about this serial murder case?”
Briefly looking concerned he replied, “Even I don’t live deep enough in a cave to have missed that. How’s that going?”
Frowning, Bobby answered, “Not great. Unless we get real lucky, it’s going to take a while.” Then changing subjects he asked, “How’s everything with you? I know you’ve been working quite a bit.”
“Yeah,” he replied in as close an approximation of a masculine chuckle as he could manage. “Actually, tonight’s my first free one in about three weeks. After this, I have another two weeks before a night off. ‘Course, I’m not complaining. There are a lot worse ways to make a living.”
“Got that right,” his brother agreed. After a brief pause he asked halfheartedly, “I take it then that you haven’t been seeing anyone?”
Tommy looked at his brother for a moment unsure if he really wanted to breach the subject before finally deciding to deflect the question. “Not really,” he responded uncomfortably. Further conversation was interrupted by the return of the waitress.
“Here are your drinks. Are you ready to order?”
Bobby answered first, “Sirloin steak for me, medium rare, with baked potato and side salad.”
Turning her attention to Tommy she asked, “And you sir?”
“Grilled chicken Caesar salad.”
“I’ll have those for you in just a few minutes,” she said as she left the brothers alone.
“How do you survive on that?” Bobby asked his brother.
Indignantly, Tommy replied, “Hey, there’s meat on it! Besides, you ordered a salad too.”
Smiling because he knew that he’d pushed his brother’s buttons sufficiently Bobby added, “Yeah, but you never seem to eat anything else!”
Not wanting the subject to continue, Tommy said dismissively, “I don’t want to pudge up like you, big brother!” To lighten his comment, he quietly chuckled.
They continued talking about little if anything through the remainder of their meal, until they were preparing to leave when Bobby reminded his brother, “Don’t forget to call Mom this weekend. Her birthday is…”
Cutting off his brother, Tommy said, “Sunday, I know. Don’t worry so much, okay? I’m a lot more responsible than you seem to want to give me credit for sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied. Sensing that he’d pushed the ‘big brother’ thing beyond the accepted threshold, Bobby said his goodbyes and they parted company.
It wasn't until Tommy was safely back in his car that he allowed himself to take a deep cleansing breath before saying, “We now return to our regularly scheduled life,” followed by a light giggle.
Tommy spent the entire drive home listening intently to Sheryl Crow's “Detours” CD. Always a huge fan of her work, he found this one to be her least accessible recording from a pop perspective, despite what he thought were several outstanding songs. That being said, “Gasoline” from this disc was one of his all time favorite songs of hers.
Arriving back home, he began the process of transforming back into Tanya. Unable to stop thinking about her just completed visit with her brother, she asked herself in frustration, “When am I going to tell him? Life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to do this back and forth thing all the time.” Without an answer to her question, she returned her attention to the task at hand.
Once she was ready she then went to the kitchen and got some salmon out of the freezer to thaw for dinner with her best friend Cynthia. After putting together a quick marinade for the fish, she put it all into a Ziploc bag to let it, as Emeril said on tv, get happy before making up another for the new potatoes. With all that done, she settled in with her book for some much needed relaxation…
Chapter Fourteen
Detective Taylor was seated at his desk going over the M.E.’s report on the latest victim in the vain hope that something would jump out at him that might lead to solving the case. Louder than he intended, he said to no one in particular, “We don’t even know where he’s finding his victims. All we know is that none of them have any priors.”
Continuing his musings as he went and refilled his coffee mug, he noticed a copy of the local ‘alternative’ newspaper lying on the counter. “I wonder…” he muttered as he picked up the paper and started to flip through to the personals section.
Taking it back to his desk, he began scanning the ads until he found several ‘girls’ looking for ‘friends’. He then found the phone number for the publisher and placed a call.
On the second ring someone answered, “'Open Magazine'. How may I direct your call?”
“This is Detective Robert Taylor. I need to speak to someone in classifieds.”
“One moment please…” he then heard a click followed by several seconds of silence.
Eventually there was another click on the line followed by, “James Humphrey. What can I do for you detective?”
Clearing his throat, Bob stated, “I was needing some information about some of the ads in your personals section.”
Pausing for the briefest of moments, James finally said, “Sure. What can I tell you?”
Knowing the information he wanted was going to be difficult to acquire, Bob pressed on getting straight to the matter at hand, “I need names and contact information for the people who’ve placed some ads.”
A longer silence preceded the response this time, “I’ll need to check with my boss before…”
Cutting him off, Bob said, “Then transfer me to your boss, please. This is in reference to an active murder investigation.”
“One moment please…” he was then placed back on hold. While waiting, Bob made note of all the ads he wanted information on.
When the line was picked up Bob heard, “Stanley Grant. How can I help you detective?”
Bluntly, Bob stated, “I need names and contact information for several of the 'personals' in connection with a murder investigation.”
Rattled, Mr. Grant tried to stall, “We don’t generally give out that sort of…”
Again interrupting, Bob said, “I’m well aware of that, but I have a serial killer on the loose and I’m trying to figure out how he’s finding his victims. If any of them have been running ads in your paper…”
Mr. Grant slowly responded, “Understood. Can you fax me the page, circling the ads in question? I’ll pull the info you need and fax it back in a couple of hours.”
With a satisfied grin, Bob said, “That’ll work. What’s the fax number?”
After making note of the number, Bob circled the ads he wanted the information on and then faxed the pages. “Now, we wait,” he said to himself.
Chapter Fifteen
As Cynthia approached the apartment door she wondered whether she should simply let herself in or ring the doorbell like a guest normally would. After all, she’d been given a key to the apartment long ago so she could take care of the plants when Tanya was on the road working.
In the end she decided to ring the doorbell, but after waiting a couple of minutes she came to the conclusion that the hostess must still be getting ready. She then reached into her purse, coming out with the door key, which she used to let herself in.
Before the front door had even closed, Tanya came around the corner to let her guest in only to find that she had let herself in. “Ya know, most guests just wait for their hostess.”
“Why should I do that when I have a key?” asked Cynthia giggling.
Tanya tried to work up a little indignation before responding, “Common courtesy?”
“We both know I’m a rude bitch, so why should I pretend otherwise?”
“Fair enough,” Tanya said humorously, all but defeated. Changing the subject she said, “Dinner’s almost ready. Shall we?”
Cynthia helped Tanya serve the dinner before taking a seat while her friend opened a bottle of wine and poured glasses for them both. As they ate the conversation turned to their plans for later in the evening.
Cynthia first broached the subject saying, “I heard things are supposed to really be hoppin’ at the club tonight.”
“I don’t know if I want to go out tonight,” Tanya unenthusiastically responded. I mean, I’ve been working every night lately and I don’t know that I want to spend my night off at the same kind of place I’ve been working.”
“But this is different. It’ll be fun, you’ll see,” Cynthia practically begged.
After a moment Tanya replied, “Let me think about it for a few, okay?”
Chapter Sixteen
Bob had spent the last half hour going over the information he’d received from the paper, finding that three of the five victims had in fact been running ads looking for dates.
“Okay, but what about the other two?” he asked himself.
Remembering the transgendered club downtown, he thought his next step should probably be to stake it out to see if they might find anything. He called over to Sergeant Parker. “Hey Sarge, wanna pick up some overtime tonight?”
Rubbing at the 5 o'clock shadow on his chin, Parker asked, “What ya got in mind?”
Handing him a camera, Bob replied, “A stakeout.”
“Oh, joy,” Parker chuckled. “You get to call my wife and tell her, ‘cuz I ain’t doin’ it.”
Smirking, Bob countered, “Ah, come on Sarge. We both know she won’t complain about you not being under foot this evening.”
Laughing, the Sergeant conceded, “Fair enough.”
Pausing long enough for the laughter to die down, Bob asked, “So you in?”
“Sure,” answered Parker. “Where and when?”
After arranging the particulars, Bob decided that the next step might be to place a decoy ad in the paper. Picking up the phone, he again called the publisher. When the receptionist answered, he asked for Stanley Grant.
After a moment on hold, the publisher answered, “Stanley Grant. What can I do for you?”
“Detective Taylor here. Turns out that information has been a big help. Thanks again.”
“No problem, detective,” he said, the relief evident in his voice. “You didn’t call just to tell me that, did you?”
“No, I had an idea I wanted to bounce off you,” Bob began tentatively.
With just a trace of uneasiness in his voice, the publisher said, “Fire away.”
Noticing Mr. Grant's discomfort Bob began, “Nothing bad, I promise you. It seems that three of the five victims did indeed have ads running in your paper, so I was thinking we could try placing a decoy ad in next week’s edition to see if we get a bite.”
As the relief washed over him, Mr. Grant responded, “Absolutely. Anything we can do to help. Just fax me the copy for the ad and I’ll make sure it’s in there.”
“Great,” Bob replied. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
After ending the call, Bob put together the copy for the ad and took it to the fax machine. He was then on his way back to his desk when he heard his name being called.
“Detective Taylor?” called the Captain from behind his desk as he saw the officer walk by his door.
Sticking his head in his superior’s office, Bob said, “Yeah Skip, you need me?”
“You got any leads?”
Entering the office Bob replied, “Maybe. Three of the victims were running personals ads in that alternative rag, so I contacted them about placing a decoy ad. I’m not sure what to do if we get a bite, but that seems to be our best bet. I also thought we might stake out that tranny bar downtown and take pictures of everyone going in and out. Who knows, we might get something.”
“Sounds like you made a little progress today then. When you doing the stakeout?”
Bob replied, “Tonight. Sergeant Parker will be going with me. We’ll need one of the unmarked cars.”
“You got it.”
Turning to leave the office, Bob added, “Seems like the closest thing we have to a lead, ya know?”
“Yeah,” the Captain replied. “What time you planning on setting up?”
“I checked out the location earlier and found a spot where we’ll have clear vision of the entrance to the club as well as a fair amount of the surrounding area. I thought I’d have the car parked there before things get busy down there. The Sarge is about the best photographer we’ve got, plus I figured an extra set of eyes couldn’t hurt.”
Looking at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, the Captain said, “Good. Well, I won’t keep you from it then. I expect a full report in the morning.”
“Yes sir,” Bob replied before leaving the Captain’s door.
On his way to his desk he bumped into Sergeant Parker again, saying, “You ready for an exciting night of perv watching, Sarge?”
“I guess so. Hope it’s more interesting than Janet’s pot roast that I’ll be missing,” he replied.
“I hope you aren’t disappointed,” Bob continued. “I’m having a car placed within the hour, then we’ll be dropped off a couple of blocks away by a patrol in a couple of hours. Why don’t you bring the donuts and I’ll get the thermos of coffee?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Seventeen
It took some doing, but eventually Cynthia convinced Tanya that her night off would be better spent out having fun, as opposed to lounging around the apartment reading and going to bed early. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Tanya realized her friend wasn't about to take no for an answer, so she agreed to accompany her if for no other reason than to avoid an argument she knew she had no chance of winning.
As they strolled down the street on their way to a club that catered to ‘special’ girls like themselves, Tanya grumbled all the while, “How do I let you talk me into things? I was just going to relax at home tonight and the next thing I know, you’re dragging me out…” she eventually let the thought go unfinished.
Cynthia replied, “You’ll have fun and you know it.” Seeing the beginnings of a scoff on Tanya’s face she continued, “Besides, maybe one of us will get lucky tonight,” she grinned suggestively.
“Yeah well, have fun with that,” Tanya said in response.
“Spoilsport,” Cynthia said, sticking her tongue out at her friend.
They reached the entrance to the club as their exchange wound down. After waiting in line for a couple of minutes, both girls were promptly ushered into the throbbing mass of humanity that was at that moment frequenting the establishment.
Chapter Eighteen
“Nothin’ so far,” sighed the sergeant as he put down the binoculars.
Raising a camera with a large zoom lens to his eye, Bob commented, “Yeah, but the night is young.” He continued to look through the lens as he took pictures of every person they saw entering the club. After a couple of minutes, he lowered the camera and sat there in stunned silence.
“Something wrong?” asked the Sarge.
Bob turned to look at his companion but couldn’t seem to find his voice to respond. After a moment, he finally said to himself, “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“What?”
Regaining his composure, Bob answered, “Nothing. Really.”
“Sure,” said the Sarge. “I believe that.”
Bob looked at his partner for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to try convincing the man he was wrong but knowing all along he had hit the nail on the proverbial head. Deciding withdrawal was the more prudent action, he silently returned his attention to the mass of humanity that was descending on 'Slipper'.
Despite his attempts to do otherwise, he couldn't take his mind off of the earlier sight. As soon as he saw her, he knew without a doubt he'd just watched his brother enter the club in drag.
He'd known that Tommy had experimented with cross dressing when they were kids, but had assumed that it was just a phase that he had grown out of. Now he knew for certain that his previous thoughts on the subject were wrong, so he absentmindedly watched the scene across the street while he tried to figure out what he would say to his brother when next they met.
Chapter Nineteen
Tanya was sitting at the bar nursing a glass of wine when Cynthia came bouncing up and asked, “Would you mind going solo for the rest of the night?”
“Found a gentleman friend have you?”
“Yes indeed-y,” Cynthia bubbled.
“Go,” Tanya replied. “Have fun.” After giving her friend a kiss on the cheek, Cynthia floated off toward her new friend, disappearing into the mass of patrons leaving Tanya alone.
Watching her friend wander off with that stranger, Tanya couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going to happen. Trying to ignore that thought, she looked at the glass of wine in front of her and took another sip. Nursing her drink for several minutes, her thoughts were broken by the sound of a man sitting down next to her.
“Hi,” he said as she turned her attention to him. “Are you alone tonight?”
Smirking at him, she replied, “It would appear so.”
“You know you don’t have to be,” he offered playfully.
Looking back at her glass, she replied, “I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight. Sorry.”
He smiled sadly and said, “Oh well, nothing ventured…”
“Thanks anyway,” she said as she lifted her glass and took a drink. She then watched him get up dejectedly and walk away, in search of someone else.
After finishing her drink, Tanya grabbed her handbag and found her way back outside. Without looking back at the party raging inside the nightclub, she began her trek home.
Chapter Twenty
Still sitting in the car with binoculars trained on the entrance to the club, Bob watched as Tanya exited the building and turned toward home. Bob felt his stomach twist into knots as he followed his ‘brother’s’ progress until ‘he’ could no longer be seen through the darkness of the night.
His attention was returned to the job at hand as his companion said, “Here comes another one, only it’s not alone.”
Catching sight of the couple as they made their way toward a car parked not far from the door, the detective raised his camera to his eye just in time to snap a few pictures of the couple as the gentleman opened the car door for his companion and helped her take a seat. As the man made his way around the car to the driver’s side door, Bob managed to take a couple more pictures of him before the man climbed behind the wheel and drove off.
To Be Continued...
By Jillian
Chapter Twenty-One
Tanya wandered into her apartment unaware of the fact that her secret, which she’d tried so hard to hide from her family over the years, had been discovered. She undressed, removed her makeup and got herself ready for bed, all the while unable to shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
Once in bed she realized that sleep was still some time away, so she picked up a book and tried without much success to read. Each time she started to get into the story, her mind wandered back to Cynthia. The questions swirled around her mind so quickly that they left no room for any other thoughts.
Eventually she was able to stop thinking about Cynthia long enough to finish one page of her book, at which point she gave up on the idea of staying up and reading. As she turned out the light and drifted off to sleep that same momentary sense of concern for her friend she'd had ever since they parted company swept over her yet again, although she didn’t know why. After dismissing that feeling, sleep finally enveloped her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What a nice car!” She gently stroked the leather of the seats and practically purred with pleasure.
As they drove away from the club, Cynthia couldn’t help herself as she gushed,
“Like it?” he asked as he drove on.
“What’s not to like?” she replied. After a couple of minutes riding in silence, Cynthia asked, “Where we going?”
Charlie remained silent as he continued to drive on, an evil grin splashed across his face. If Cynthia had been able to see it, she might’ve been concerned. Unfortunately for her she could not, so she simply rode on in blissful ignorance.
They spent the next ten minutes or so chatting about nothing in particular while he calmly drove her further away from the part of town with which she was familiar. Unfortunately for her, it took her some time to realize this.
At one point she looked around as they drove on, trying to figure out where they were. She’d lost her way some time ago and was beginning to feel concerned that she had no idea where they were or where they were going.
Eventually the car pulled into an alley where Charlie parked and turned off the engine. He then turned toward Cynthia and began lightly caressing her cheek. As she began to think that her concerns were for naught, he reached behind her head and roughly grabbed her by the hair and pulled her toward him.
“Ow!” she yelped as he yanked on her hair. “Not so rough!”
Without responding, he began pushing her head down toward his lap while his other hand began the task of unfastening his pants. Cynthia struggled to get away, to no avail.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.
“Away from you!” she shouted back.
He redoubled his efforts to hold her by way of response, which after a moment subdued her struggling. As her mouth drew near his crotch he ordered, “Don’t even think about biting!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Looks like last call, boss,” yawned the sergeant as he took pictures of the last of the patrons exiting the nightclub.
“Yeah, I think we can call it a night. If anything’s going to happen tonight, it isn’t gonna be here,” replied Bob. “What do ya say we get out of here and download the pics in the morning?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Bob started the car and drove back to the station, where he dropped off his associate. “Go get some sleep, okay Sarge?”
“Ya don’t have to tell me twice,” chuckled the sergeant. “I think I’m getting a little old for this crap.”
“You and me both,” Bob agreed.
“I’ll see ya at roll call in the morning,” the sergeant said before turning toward his car.
“Good night then,” Bob called to him as he watched his friend.
As he waited for his partner to get in his car and drive off, Bob found his mind immediately wandered back to seeing his brother earlier in the evening. He was somewhat repulsed, but upon reflection he had to admit that he wasn't all that surprised by Tommy's attire.
He remembered the first time he found his brother dressed in their mother's things. Tommy stood there as if there was nothing wrong while Bob freaked out completely. To his credit, rather than beat up his brother or verbally abuse him, he'd simply told him to change out of those things before they got ruined.
Unfortunately for Bob, that wasn't the only time he'd found his brother in attire more appropriate for a sister. As they made their way through their teen years it became a fairly regular occurrence, despite Bob's obvious discomfort with the situation. In truth, it wasn't the clothes that had surprised him as much as the fact that Tommy had actually gone out in public dressed like that.
Once Sergeant Parker was on his way, Bob decided that late or not it was time for a little brother to brother chat.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The patrolman was cruising his usual beat when he happened to see a set of taillights tearing down an alley much too fast. He backed up and turned to go down the alley himself when he happened upon the unmoving body of a young woman lying against a dumpster.
Jumping out of his patrol car, he ran to check on her. Finding that she still had a faint pulse, he immediately called for an ambulance and tried to stabilize her while waiting for the paramedics to arrive.
He rushed back to his car and got a blanket and first aid kit out of the trunk, quickly covering the victim with the blanket in order to hopefully avoid shock. He then took some gauze from the kit and after using some distilled water to moisten the material he gently tried to clean away some of the blood in order to get a better idea of her injuries.
As he did his best to tend to the victim, the ambulance arrived. Once the attendants were on the scene they began working at warp speed trying to stabilize her before loading her into the back of their vehicle for the trip to the hospital.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The pounding on the door woke Tanya, followed by shouts of, “Come on Tommy. Let me in.”
Instantly recognizing the voice of her big brother, she quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on a big, fluffy bathrobe over her nightie. Finding her ‘Tommy’ voice she replied, “Be right there.” By the time he found his way to the door, Bobby was letting himself in with his key.
He was barely inside the door before beginning, “What the hell were you doing at that club dressed like that?”
Tanya ignored the question for a moment asking, “What time is it?”
“A little after three,” Bob responded. “Now answer my question.”
Trying to look and sound as innocent as possible, Tommy responded, “What’re you talking about?”
“Don’t give me that crap, little brother. I saw you all decked out walking into that club with your ‘girlfriend’ earlier tonight. I swear, I thought you'd finally outgrown all that crap. Boy, I was wrong, wasn't I?”
Stunned by the revelation that he’d been found out, Tommy found it difficult to respond at first. When he finally was able to say something, he softly cried, “I never really did a very good job of hiding how I am, at least not from you. Not from Mom and Dad either, really. Apparently you haven't been paying enough attention lately to notice yourself, but I plan to transition. Now you know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bob queried as irritation crept into his voice.
As tears rolled down Tommy’s face, he shouted, “What do you think it means?” Then he silently looked directly at his brother as he contemplated the answer to Bob’s question.
Eventually he let out a huge sigh before saying in the smallest voice he’d ever produced, “I’m Transgender. Whether you've wanted to accept it or not, you've always known. I'm going to go all the way. Have the surgery.”
Bob stared at his brother trying to determine just how to respond to what he’d just heard. As the seconds ticked by, the silence became ever more difficult to overcome. Before he’d said anything, the sound of his cell phone shattered the quiet that had enveloped them.
Taking out his phone, Bob flipped it open and said, “Taylor…Another one? At the ER…you mean this one’s still alive?” Looking at his ‘brother’, Bob’s facial expression went from one of disappointment to sadness as he continued his conversation, “You sure? Okay, I’ll see you there ASAP.”
Closing his flip phone, Bob again directed his attention to his sibling standing before him. Despite the knowledge that this was his brother, he had trouble seeing this person as anything other than a woman and that disturbed him.
Finally shaking loose of those thoughts for a moment, he regained a bit of professional detachment and said, “We have another victim, only this one seems to be hanging onto life, albeit by a thread. I have to go, but we’re going to get back to this.”
As Bob turned to leave, Tanya said, “Bobby, believe it or not I’m still the same person I’ve always been.”
Standing with his hand on the doorknob, Bob faced his sibling once again and replied, “That may be, but…” Unable to finish the thought, he just turned and headed out the door.
After staring at the door for a moment as a flood of tears began to fall in a vain attempt to wash away the ache in her heart, Tanya returned to bed even though sleep was not likely to be revisiting her for some time.
She sat there crying until exhaustion forced her to lay down, but still sleep would not return. Sobbing into her pillow, she realized exactly what her course of action should be.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cynthia was rushed to the operating room where the surgeon scrambled to repair her numerous injuries. Bob arrived at the hospital moments after they took her in and spent the next hour going over the details with the officer who had found her.
It was nearly three hours later when the doctor emerged from surgery. When Bob saw him, he immediately identified himself, “Hey Doc, I’m Detective Taylor. I understand your patient is likely the latest victim in a case I’m working on. What’s the word?”
“There was a lot of internal bleeding from the beating she sustained. We think we’ve repaired most of the damage. Now all we can do is wait to see if she regains consciousness.”
“Do you have an ID?”
“No, she didn’t have any on her. It seems the perpetrator took her purse and any ID documents with it.”
“Can I see him?”
Noticeably irked by the detective’s unwillingness to acknowledge his patient’s obvious gender of choice, the doctor somewhat testily responded, “Not for a couple of hours. Hopefully by then she’ll have come around and then you can ask all the questions you want.”
Once the doctor had returned to his duties, Bob turned to the patrolman who’d found the victim and asked, “Are you going to stick around here or do you need to get back to your beat?”
“I should probably get back to it, sir.”
“All right, have a good rest of shift. Don’t forget to complete your incident reports when you get back to the station. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Bob next turned his attention to the duty nurse in post op. Once he had her attention, he asked, “Could you let me know when the patient comes around? I have a few questions that need answers.”
“Yes sir, just let me make a note of your number.”
He handed her a card saying, “Here’s my desk line at the precinct as well as my personal cell number. Please let me know if anything changes?”
After looking at the card for a moment she wrote the contact information in the patient’s chart before moving on to the next patient.
Bob headed home, barely making it inside the door before collapsing from exhaustion on the couch.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After less than an hour's sleep, Tanya awoke with a feeling of dread pressing down upon her chest. Worried that she'd not heard from Cynthia yet, she grabbed her cell phone and tried calling her friend only to have it roll to voice-mail.
She tried calling Cynthia’s cell phone over and over, hoping against hope yet still getting no answer. There in the middle of the night and knowing from her brother's departure that there had in fact been another attack, she couldn’t help but fear for her friend. Maybe it was irrational, she tried to tell herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d had earlier that something bad had happened to her dearest friend in the world.
Knowing that there was no way in the world she’d be able to sleep until she knew her friend was all right, Tanya decided to try to read while she waited for Cynthia to return her calls. After staring at the same paragraph for nearly an hour, she eventually nodded off.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Several hours later as the sun came up, Bob, having gone home for some much needed shut eye, was awakened by his cell phone ringing. He fumbled with it trying to open the flip phone as it continued to ring. Finally, he managed to answer it.
Yawning, Bob grumbled, “Yeah, Taylor here…”
The voice on the other end said, “Bob, it’s Parker.”
“Sarge, what’re you doin’ up at this ungodly hour?”
“Looks like the victim is coming around.”
Suddenly feeling much more awake, Bob said, “Oh, really? I’ll be right there.” After closing his phone, he quickly dressed and headed for the hospital.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlie was pacing back and forth in the living room of his dingy apartment, mumbling, “Idiot! Idiot!...” repeatedly as he struck his forehead with his hand. “Careless! How could I almost let myself get caught like that?”
As he started to calm down he began thinking out loud, “Have to be more careful. Can’t get caught. The work is too important…”
Once done berating himself for his carelessness, Charlie logged onto his computer and went straight to Open magazine’s online personals section where he browsed the ads to see if there were any new ‘girls’ for him to contact. Spying one new ad, he clicked ‘respond’ and typed a note:
Hey! Just saw your ad and wanted to know if you’d like to get together. If so, call 867-5309.
Later, Charlie
Clicking ‘send’ he then shut down his computer and wandered into his bedroom where he flopped down on the bed without bothering to take off his clothes.
Chapter Thirty
Bob made his way to the ICU nurses’ station just as Sergeant Parker was coming out from beside one of the beds on the ward. Turning his attention to the Sarge, he asked, “Anything?”
“Nah, she just woke up. I haven’t had a chance to ask anything yet.”
Bob followed his colleague to the bed in question and instantly recognized the person lying there, despite the substantial swelling and bruising that was doing its best to disguise her identity. Without even saying a word to the patient, he turned around and went to the waiting room where he took out his phone and dialed his sibling.
After two rings, a groggy voice answered, “Yes?”
Without identifying himself, Bob said, “Tommy, your friend from last night is in the ICU.”
Still not completely awake, Tanya asked, “Bobby?”
“I’m guessing you’ll want to get down here.”
Finally clicking into gear, Tanya replied, “Yeah, I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
Bob then flipped his phone closed without even saying goodbye and then returned to the patient just as she was beginning to respond to the nurse’s attempts to communicate. “Any chance we can talk to him?”
The nurse testily barked back, “Give me a few minutes with HER, then maybe.” She then returned her attention to her patient, checking her vitals and noting them on the chart.
Then she asked her patient, “Do you feel like talking to the police?”
Cynthia croaked, “Yeah, I think so.”
“Here's your call button if you need anything,” the nurse told her as she pointed to a panel built into the bed's side rail. “I'll be back in a bit to see how you're doing.”
Not even addressing the detective, the nurse then left Cynthia’s bedside and returned to the nurse’s station. Bob watched the nurse leave before turning to Sarge and shooting him a ‘What the…’ look.
He then faced Cynthia and asked, “Can you tell us what happened?”
She tried to sit up so she could face the officers, but the pain prevented her from doing so. After exhaling a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she said, “Well, I met this guy last night at the ‘Slipper’ and we really seemed to hit it off. Eventually he asked me if I wanted to go to his place, which I was all for at the time.”
She paused a moment so she could lay back down and said as she began to close her eyes, “Can we continue in a little bit?”
Sergeant Parker replied, “Sure. We’ll be back in a while.”
Before the officers had turned to leave, the doctor entered the room and said, “I think you should come back later so my patient can get some rest.”
Bob responded, “We were just leaving. Do you have any more information for us?”
“Come with me,” said the doctor as he left the room.
“I should probably get back to the precinct,” said the Sarge.
“Yeah, I’ll stick around here to see if I can find anything else out,” replied Bob as he watched his colleague leave. He then followed the doctor to the nurse’s station where he asked, “Do we know anything more?”
The doctor looked in the chart and said, “Her name is Cynthia Henderson, she’s…”
Bob interrupted him asking, “But what’s his real name?”
Looking sternly at the officer the doctor continued, “That is her real, legal name. She’s 24 years old and has been undergoing treatment for gender dysphoria for the last six years.”
Appearing somewhat chastised, Bob responded, “Okay, sorry. Can you tell me anything new about the attack?”
“Not really. While it seems the attacker’s ultimate intent was to kill her, he appears to have been interrupted by the patrolman who found her before he could finish the job.”
“Has she said anything about being able to identify him?”
“Not as of yet,” the doctor replied. “She’s been in and out of it ever since she was brought in. He beat her up pretty thoroughly, what with the internal bleeding we had to go in to stop, plus the broken ribs, fractured cheekbone and nose, not to mention the severe bruising around her neck where he was choking her.”
Somewhat disappointed, Bob said, “Well, thanks, doc. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come back when she wakes up again so I can ask a few questions.”
“Not a problem,” said the doctor as he turned his attention to another patient.
Bob then headed toward the elevators on his way back to the precinct to look through the photos from the previous night’s stakeout.
To Be Continued...
By Jillian
Chapter Thirty-One
Tanya exited the elevator and started toward the ICU nurse’s station, her heels seeming incredibly loud in the otherwise quiet area. Reaching the desk, she asked the first person she saw, “Do you have a Cynthia Henderson here?”
Looking up from the chart she’d been studying, the nurse asked, “Are you a relative?”
With some irritation she said, “About as close as you’re likely to find. She was disowned by her family years ago.”
Sighing, the nurse replied as she pointed toward the bed behind the curtain, “Yes, right over there.”
“Thank you,” Tanya said as she headed toward her friend. Pulling back the curtain, she found Cynthia lying there bandaged and bruised. Her first thought was, ‘I was afraid something like this might happen.’
Approaching the bed, Tanya took in the full extent of Cynthia’s injuries. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down upon her friend sleeping. Pulling a chair next to the bed, she sat down and took Cynthia’s hand in hers as she quietly cried.
Tanya was brought back to reality by the sound of her friend’s voice saying, “Hey bitch. What’s up?”
“You’re awake? You’re awake!” she said as she wiped tears from her cheeks.
“You might want to do something about the raccoon eyes thing,” Cynthia joked.
It really doesn’t do a thing for you.”
A nurse entered, responding to the voices coming from the bed. “Oh good, you’re awake. I’ll go tell the doctor.” She then left as quickly as she’d arrived.
“So what happened?” Tanya asked as she gripped her friend’s hand tightly.
“I guess maybe that wasn’t one of my better choices,” she replied. “He seemed like such a nice guy at the bar, but…”
Discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, who directing his attention to Tanya asked, “Could you give me a few minutes with my patient?”
“Oh sure,” she said as she stood up to head for the waiting room.
“You can come back in a bit. I just need to check a few things.”
“Sure Doctor,” Tanya said as she exited the area.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bob had been staring at the photographs for well over an hour. Granted, some of that time had been wasted looking at the one's of his sibling, but most of it had been spent trying to get a clear close up of the man who’d left the club with Cynthia the previous evening.
Sitting back in his chair, he put his forefinger and thumb on either side of his nose as he closed his eyes trying to relieve some of the tension that had built up in him over the past few hours. First, he’d discovered things about his ‘brother’ that he never wanted to know and then there was the potential for the first real lead in his case. As much as the latter should’ve energized him, he found that the former was making it impossible for him to feel good about anything.
As had been the case all morning, he found his thoughts wandering back to his discussion with Tommy earlier. What on Earth could make someone think like that? No matter how many times he tried to go through it, he simply couldn’t come up with an answer that made sense to him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sergeant Parker’s voice asking, “What’s this?” as he picked up the pictures he had laying on his desk. Looking at them more closely the Sarge recognized one of them as their suspect, but then he looked at the other photo and said, “Who’s this?”
“What?” Bob said defensively.
“This one,” Parker said holding out the photo of Tanya. “I remember, last night when we saw this one walking into the club you got all rattled. What’s the deal? You know her or something?” he asked, chuckling.
Finally, Bob replied, “You might say that. You could say we grew up together.”
“Interesting,” commented the Sarge. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not really,” Bob deflected.
Sitting down on the edge of the desk, the sergeant said, “’Fraid not, ol’ buddy. This one’s got you rattled pretty good, and I want to know why...”
Taking a deep breath and letting out a long sigh, Bob eventually replied, “You gotta keep this just between you and me.” Pausing for a moment, he then quietly said, “That’s my little brother.”
“Ouch,” Parker replied.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“So, did you know about this before?” he asked before adding, “I mean, he looks pretty good.”
“Hey!” Bob chastised his friend and partner. Further conversation was interrupted by the ringing of Bob’s cell phone. “Taylor here.”
On the other end, the doctor replied, “Yes detective, this is Dr. Sanders at the hospital. I thought you’d like to know that our patient seems to be awake. If you have any more questions, you might want to head over.”
“Great,” Bob enthused. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Okay, no arguments,” Tanya stated. “You are never leaving a bar with someone you just met ever again. Understood?”
Looking at her friend, Cynthia replied, “Yes mom.” Then looking toward the curtain being pulled open, she called out, “Hey Detective.”
As Bob walked up to the bedside, Tanya looked at him and said to her friend, “I see you’ve met my brother.”
Looking back at Tanya, Cynthia said, “No shit? Your brother?”
“Afraid so,” said Bob. Handing a photo to her, he asked, “Is this the man who did this to you?”
She looked at the photo for a moment and shuddered before saying, “Yes. Have you caught him?”
“No. This is a surveillance picture taken last night as you were leaving with him.”
Tanya took the picture from her friend and looked at it before adding, “That’s the guy I saw you leaving with last night all right.” Then directed toward her brother she asked, “How’d you get this? Oh wait, that’s right. You said you were there last night.”
As she was saying this, Sergeant asked Bob, “So you weren’t kidding me earlier, were you?”
Looking at him, Tanya asked, “What?”
“He had a picture we’d taken of you last night on his desk and when I asked him who you were, well…”
Bob then said, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Bobby, I know you’re ashamed of me and all,” Tanya said to her brother. “But really.”
“Can we talk about this later?” Bob asked his ‘brother’.
“Sure,” she replied.
Directing his attention again toward Cynthia, he asked, “And you’re sure this is the man?”
“Absolutely.”
“By any chance can you remember the car?”
“I won’t forget that one any time soon. It was an early ‘70s Cadillac Coupe Deville. Black, fully restored.”
“Excellent,” he said. Bob then took the photo back and handed it to the Sarge saying, “Let’s put out an APB on this guy and his car.”
“I’m on it,” he said, taking the photo and leaving the bedside.
Once Parker was gone, Bob directed his attention back toward Tanya and asked, “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Just a sec,” she replied. Then to Cynthia she said, “Sweetie, I know you could use some rest and I really need to get some sleep before work tonight, so I should probably be going, okay?”
“Okay,” she responded.
Returning her attention to her brother, Tanya asked, “What do you want to talk about?”
“Not here,” he said. “Come down to the cafeteria with me for a minute, okay?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charlie crawled out of bed, noticing the flashing light on his answering machine. Hitting the play button, he listened to the message, “Hey Charlie. It’s Sandra. I got your message. Sure I’d like to go out with you. Are ya busy tonight? Call me back.”
He looked up her number where he’d written it down the day before and picking up the phone, he dialed. On the third ring, she answered, “Hey.”
“Sandra? It’s Charlie.”
“Charlie!” she enthused. “I’m glad you called.”
“Listen, tonight would be great. What say we meet at the bar at the Hilton around 8?”
“Awesome!” she said happily. “See ya there!”
Hanging up the phone, he thought, ‘Excellent! Another one.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bob and Tanya sat across from each other drinking coffee in silence for several minutes before Tanya said, “You wanted to talk?”
Putting his cup down, he nodded saying, “Yeah.” Taking a second to compose his thoughts, he asked, “What’s the deal here?”
“What do you mean?”
Gesturing toward the way she was dressed, he said, “With this.”
“I think you know by now.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“Why?” she repeated his question. “Well, my doctor says that most likely when I was still in utero my brain got hit with estrogen at some point when it should’ve gotten testosterone, which feminized my brain patterns.”
“Oh, come on. You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care if you believe it or not, Bobby,” she hissed.
After pausing for a moment to let tempers calm back down, Bob asked, “So what do you call yourself?”
“Tanya,” she replied.
Pointing towards her chest he asked, “Are those real?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that, but yes they’re real.”
Furrowing his brow, Bob then asked, “So how do you…?”
“How do I what?”
“You know,” he gestured to his own chest. “Hide them?”
Grinning, she replied, “Very painfully. It involves Ace bandages and heavy clothes. Not pleasant and I don’t plan on doing it much longer.”
“What does that mean?”
Taking a deep breath, Tanya said, “I’m going to start my real life test soon.”
“Again, what does that mean?”
“It means, big brother,” she started, “That I’m going to start living full time as a woman.”
“As in all the time?”
“As in all the time. I know this is probably freaking you out, Bobby. Sorry.”
Looking at his new ‘sister’, Bob said, “It’s just that the only thing I know about this stuff is from the streetwalkers and drag queens we’ve picked up. It’s all kinda weirding me out a little.”
She looked at him sadly and said, “Yeah, I know.”
“So what about work?”
“What about it?”
Bob took a second to word his question better, “What’s going to happen with the clubs you’ve been playing when you...you know...change?”
“It’s entirely possible I could lose work, but I won’t know until I try.”
“Heavy,” Bob finally responded.
Tanya then added, “I’d been thinking about maybe making the change at the clubs gradually, but then again maybe it’d be better to do it all at once. What I’m wearing now would probably be okay ... as long as I go light on the eye shadow,” she grinned.
After thinking for a second, Bob said, “Just let me know if you have any problems.”
Taken aback, Tanya smiled wanly as she responded, “I didn’t figure you’d approve.”
“Who says I do,” Bob replied. “But this is family. If they mess with you, they’re messing with me too.”
She looked at her brother with a new-found fondness in her eyes as she started to cry and said, “Thanks Bobby.”
He reached out his hand and took hold of hers across the table. After sitting in silence for a while as she got control of her tears he asked, “So do Mom and Dad know?”
“Dad, no. Mom, sort of. She knows I’ve always been different, but I don’t think she knows completely.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“Sunday,” she admitted.
“At Mom’s Birthday? That sounds like a disaster in the making.” After taking a drink from his by now cold coffee, a sly grin found its way onto his face as he asked, “So does this mean I have to call you ‘little sister’ now?”
Looking into his eyes, Tanya replied, “I’d like it if you did.”
Thinking about it for a moment, Bob finally responded, “I don’t know about this.”
Tanya sadly said, “That’s what I figured.”
Bob then continued, “But I’ll try.”
The smile that suddenly appeared on Tanya’s face lit up the room.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bob walked into the ‘Slipper’ as the staff was setting up for the evening. Heading directly to the bar, he took out his badge and placed it next to the photo directly in front of the bartender. “This guy look familiar?”
Picking up the photo, the bartender said, “I don’t know, let me take a look.” After staring at the picture for a few seconds he responded, “Not really, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I memorize the face of every guy that wanders in here.”
“Can we check with the other staff? Especially anyone who was working last night?”
“Sure,” the bartender replied. “Why don’t I get you the manager and he can put you in touch with anyone who worked last night.”
“Great,” said Bob.
The bartender walked around the bar and headed into the office with Bob following closely behind. Opening the door, he announced, “Jimmy, there’s a Detective Taylor here to see you.”
Before looking up Jimmy loudly muttered, “What do the cops want?” Then noticing that the aforementioned officer was already in the room, he said more loudly, “What can I do for you Detective?”
Walking up to the desk, Bob held out the photo and said, “I’d like to speak to your staff to see if any of them recognize this man? You know, like is he a regular? If there’s a particular day of the week he comes by most often, that sort of thing.”
“Sure, whatever you need,” Jimmy said as he handed the photo back to the detective. Directing his attention to the bartender he then said, “John, make sure the detective has a chance to speak with everyone on staff. Anyone who isn’t here tonight let me know and I’ll get him numbers and addresses so he can contact them.”
John the bartender led Bob back out into the bar where he began introducing the officer to everyone on staff.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tanya tried to take a nap, but with so many different thoughts racing around her head she eventually gave up on that as a bad idea. Instead, she found herself deeply engrossed in her book. Loosing track of time, she was startled back into reality by the alarm she’d set going off to tell her it was time to start getting ready for work.
Wandering into the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and decided that she was going to fully commit to her transition and begin her real life test. So after examining the outfit she’d worn to the hospital she decided that it would be the perfect way to make the change without shocking too many people. After all, she reasoned, the jeans and camp shirt weren’t all that different from what she’d normally have worn as Tommy.
Of course, that’s not to say there wasn’t anything different about her current look. One only had to go so far as notice that her small but noticeable breasts were prominently displayed to know that. Add to that the bolero jacket, heeled ankle boots and far more feminine than usual jewelry, not to mention the expertly applied makeup, and the whole image screamed ‘girl’.
Satisfied that her appearance made her gender clear to all without being overly frilly, she gave her hair a cursory brush and touched up her makeup, saying to herself, “Here goes nothing,” before grabbing her guitar case and heading out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As Bob left the club ‘Slipper’ his cell phone rang. Flipping it open he answered, “Taylor.”
“Find anything?” asked the Captain.
“Hey Cap. Some of the wait staff recognized our guy from the photo, but other than tell me that he was a regular nobody knew anything. Sounds like this might be a good place to keep an eye out for him.”
“Good work. I’ll send over an unmarked car and have a couple of guys man the stakeout tonight.”
Bob offered, “I don’t mind taking tonight.”
“No, Bob,” the Captain countered. “You’ve been at it for several days without much sleep. I’d rather you get some rest tonight. We know who we’re looking for now, so let somebody else sit in a cold car this evening.”
“Come on, Skip. This is my case. Do you really think I want somebody else making the arrest?”
“Listen Bob,” the Captain ordered. “Our guy knows he had a close call last night, so I’d be surprised if he tries the same spot again for a few days. The stakeout is just in case.”
Slowly Bob relented, “Okay, you’re the boss.”
“Nice to see you finally remembered that,” the Captain joked.
“Let me know if anything happens.”
“Will do,” the Captain replied. “Now go get some rest.”
Bob closed his phone and headed for his car.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
As Tanya parked her car, out of habit she flipped down the visor and looked in the vanity mirror. She checked her makeup and fluffed her hair, flipping the visor back into position as she got out of the car. Getting her guitar out of the back, she then wrestled her small portable PA system out of the trunk and headed inside.
Before she reached for the handle to open the door she took a deep cleansing breath and said to herself, “Here goes.” Once inside, she hauled her equipment directly to the stage area and began the process of setting up.
Her progress was delayed by the approach of one of the waitresses, who after looking at her closely addressed Tanya, “Hey there. You changed. Do you have a new name to go with the new look?”
Reaching out a hand she replied, “Tanya. Tanya Taylor.”
“Cool. Nice to meet you Tanya,” Connie responded. “Need anything?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine for now. I’ll come up to the bar to get my soda once I’m done here.”
“Okay,” the waitress said as she returned to her duties. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Great,” Tanya replied as she returned her attention to hooking up the PA system.
Once everything was ready, Tanya made her way to the bar where they already had her Diet Coke waiting for her. “Thanks,” she said to the bartender as she picked up the glass and took a sip.
Then the manager came out of his office and headed straight for Tanya. ‘Uh-oh,’ she thought.
“Got a second?” he asked her as he directed toward his office.
Tentatively she responded, “Sure.”
Following him into the office, she watched him sit behind his desk and stood there uncomfortably for a moment while he looked at her warily. When the silence became too oppressive, she asked, “What’s up?”
“You,” he replied. “What’s with the new ‘look’?”
“Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know,” he stated. “Can’t say I’m thrilled with this change, but I’ll leave it be as long as I don’t get any complaints.”
“I can’t imagine there being any. In the past I’ve gone pretty much unnoticed and the few that have spoken to me thought I was a girl before.”
He clasped his hands together with index fingers raised and pressed them to his lips for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she began, “For example, Connie just asked me if I’d finally gotten tired of my ‘tomboy’ look.”
“Okay,” he finally responded. “But if there’s any problems,” he said barely disguising his discomfort with the situation, “you’re outta here, got it?”
“Got it,” she replied before turning and exiting the office. Once back in the bar proper, she headed directly to the stage where she was met by Connie, the waitress from before.
“What did he want?” she asked.
“Guess I’ve been put on notice,” Tanya said. “If anyone complains about me, I get fired.”
“Wow, really?” she asked.
Pausing for a moment, Tanya finally replied, “Can’t say I’m shocked. I knew there’d be some fallout from this.”
“What prompted the change?”
Gesturing to a nearby table, Tanya led Connie over and took a seat where she then responded, “This isn’t something new. I’ve been on hormones for several months now. The only thing that’s changed is that my brother found out about me, so now I don’t really have any reason to hide who I really am.”
“You mean your brother, the cop?”
“The one and only.”
“How’d he take it?”
“Hard to tell just yet,” Tanya answered. “But at least I think he’s willing to try, which is more than I expected.”
“Cool,” Connie enthused. “He seems like a nice guy, from when he’s come in to see you.”
“He is. He’s just kind of conservative, I guess you’d say.”
Getting up to go back to work, Connie offered, “Well good luck. And have a good show.”
“That’s the plan,” Tanya said as her friend walked back toward her customers, leaving her to stew for a few minutes in her thoughts.
Chapter Forty
Charlie entered the lobby of the hotel and first made his way to the front desk. Once he had the clerk’s attention he asked, “Any chance of booking a room for the night?”
“Certainly, sir. Will that be cash or credit card?”
Pulling out his wallet from which he removed two hundred dollar bills, he placed the money on the counter and said, “I seem to have forgotten my ID.”
Smiling conspiratorially the clerk said, “That’s not a problem sir,” as he took the money and handed Charlie a key.
Charlie then smiled as he took the key, turned and headed toward the bar where he was supposed to meet his ‘date’. Walking in, he scanned the room for the ‘girl’ who’d sent him her picture earlier to make finding her easier.
Spotting her sitting alone in a booth, he headed straight toward her and slid into the other side of the booth saying, “So I take it you’re Sandra?”
Holding out her hand in a gesture of friendship, she replied, “That’s me. And you must be Charlie?”
“Must be,” he joked as he took her hand and gently kissed the back of it.
“Such a gentleman,” she cooed.
Seeing that she already had a drink in front of her, he turned toward the bartender and asked, “A beer, please?”
“So Charlie,” Sandra started, “Have you lived around here long?”
“Just a couple of months. Before that I was back East.” The bartender brought a glass of beer over and placed it in front of Charlie. He looked up at the man and said, “Thanks.”
After taking a long draw on his drink, Charlie asked, “What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve lived here for a few years now,” she replied. Grinning she added, “Can’t imagine going back to that little town I grew up in at this point.”
Sandra finished her drink and instantly Charlie was signaling for the bartender to bring her another. Joking, she asked him, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Smugly he looked into her eyes and replied, “Maybe. Would that be so bad?”
“Only if you expect me to drive home tonight,” she countered.
“Not a problem,” he said. Pulling his room key out of his pocket he added, “I mean, this is a hotel after all. Last I heard they were in the business of providing lodging.”
“Looks like you planned ahead.”
“Always, my dear,” he offered, still holding out the room key.
To Be Continued...
By Jillian
Chapter Forty-One
Tanya sang, “Sittin’ on the dock of the bay, Watchin’ the tide roll away, Sittin’ on the dock of the bay, Wastin’ time.” At the moment she sang that last line she happened to look toward the door as her brother walked in the club.
She started whistling the coda melody and as she ended the song she said, “Thanks. I’m gonna take a little break, but I’ll be back in just a few.” Climbing down off the raised stage, she said, “Bobby, what’re you doing here?”
Walking up to her he replied, “Hey little b…sis. Sounds good.” Gesturing toward a table, he led her over where they sat down opposite each other. “I didn’t realize you meant you were doing it quite this fast. Any problems so far?”
“Not other than the manager telling me if he had any complaints he’d fire me.”
“And have there been any?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Grinning, Bob commented, “Can’t ask for much more than that.”
“Oh, you could ask,” she countered. “But chances are nobody would listen.”
Laughing, Bob said, “Well, your sense of humor hasn’t changed.”
“What did ya expect? For me to all of a sudden turn into Mary Tyler Moore or something?”
“I think we covered earlier that I don’t have any idea what to expect.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded.
At that moment Connie came over to their table and asked, “You guys need anything?”
“Yeah,” Bob responded. “I’ll take a draught and my sister will have another diet coke.”
“Be right back with those,” she said as she left for the bar.
Tanya then said, “So back to my original question. What are you doing here?”
“Do I need a reason to come see my sister?”
Looking as though the light bulb above her head just turned on Tanya said, “Ah, they told you to go home and get some rest, so of course you come hang out in a bar instead of getting the much needed sleep you’ve been depriving yourself of for the past several weeks.”
“Hey,” Bob complained, “You’re not Mom, so you don’t need to sound like her.”
Tanya laughed so hard at that comment that she found it difficult breathing for a couple of minutes. When she did finally get control of herself once again she said, “I’m not sure whether to be honored or insulted.”
“Take it however you want.”
Connie then returned with their drinks. As she set them on the table she said, “You know, it looks like you’re having a lot more fun up there tonight than you usually do. It’s cool to see.”
“Thanks, Con. I think you could be right.”
Bob added, “From what I heard, I don’t think there’s much question, is there?”
“Not really,” Tanya smiled at her brother.
“Do you need anything else?” Connie asked. “’cuz if not I should probably get back to work.”
Bob chuckled and said, “No, I think we’re fine for now, but thank you.”
“Okay then, I’ll be back to check on you a little later,” she said as she headed back to the bar to tend to her next customer.
As Bob watched her exit intently, Tanya interrupted his thoughts saying, “You know, she has a bit of a crush on you big brother.”
“On me? Naw!” Bob attempted to counter.
“Think about it for a second, will ya?” Tanya continued. “You don’t really think she goes to all the trouble of bringing me my free drinks when she could be tending to paying customers? That only happens when you’re here. She’s hoping you’ll ask her out, I bet ya almost anything.”
Bob sat silently staring at his drink before him. Finally, he said, “You said ALMOST anything.”
“Yeah well, I’m not about to give up being Tanya over a stupid bet, no matter how sure I am.”
Looking at his sister, Bob argued, “I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” Then to add emphasis he added, “Really.”
Tanya flashed her brother a smile that was intended to remove any doubts he may have had about this being right for her. He noticed and returned the smile, then glancing toward Connie as she served drinks to a table of obviously inebriated gentlemen he asked, “Really?”
“Okay, so I’m not a mind reader, but she’s not exactly trying to hide her feelings. You’ve just been too dense to pick up on her signals.”
“So what should I do?”
Laughing Tanya asked, “You’re asking me?”
Laughing as well, Bob responded, “Well yeah. I mean, you seem to know a lot more about how she thinks than I do.”
“That wouldn’t take much, brother dear.”
Blushing, Bob mumbled, “True. So what’s my move here?”
Thinking for a moment, Tanya eventually said, “For you, I’d say direct is best. Just ask her out to dinner, or lunch, or whatever she can manage. I can almost guarantee you’ll get a positive response.”
Looking at her watch, she realized it would soon be time to get back to work. Just as she started to say something to Bobby about that, he noticed Connie heading their way.
Connie handed Tanya another glass of diet coke saying, “I figured you could do with a refill.”
“Absolutely. Listen, I’ve got to get back up there for my next set, so I guess I’ll see you guys later,” she said as she got up and started toward the stage.
“Connie?” Bob started nervously. “Would it be out of line of me to ask you to dinner sometime?”
She sat down in Tanya’s recently vacated seat and replied, “Not at all. Unfortunately, I work most every night.”
Mentally noting that once again his ‘sister’ had been right, Bob then asked, “What about lunch? Maybe tomorrow?”
Smiling, Connie responded, “I’d like that. Where would you like to meet?”
“I could pick you up,” Bob offered.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she argued.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Bob countered.
“Fair enough,” Connie smiled. Tearing the back page out of her order pad, she wrote something on it and handed it to him saying, “Here’s my address and phone number. What time were you thinking?”
“What if we said I pick you up a little before one? That lets you get some rest after your shift tonight, plus it puts us on the back end of the lunch rush.”
Standing up she replied, “Sounds like a date. Are you sticking around much longer tonight?”
“No,” Bob replied. “I’d best get on home. I mean, I’m supposed to be getting some rest tonight…at least that’s what my Captain told me to do,” he grinned at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow then,” she smiled before heading back to work.
Bob gulped down the drink she’d just brought, then got up and headed toward the stage. Catching Tanya’s attention, he smiled and waved before turning toward the door and leaving.
Chapter Forty-Two
Charlie helped Sandra, who between her drinks and the drugs he’d slipped into them was barely staying on her feet, off the elevator and down the hall to his room. Struggling to keep her up while opening the door, he finally managed to get both of them into the room where he deposited her rather unceremoniously on the bed.
Staring at her barely conscious form laying there, he thought about how best to do things. Usually he was rushed, working quickly in the car before dumping the body and taking off as fast as possible without attracting attention. But tonight would be different.
After his close call the night before, Charlie had come to the conclusion that it would be safer if he took care of his business somewhere less public, hence the hotel room. He’d even assembled a collection of ‘toys’ he thought he might try out on tonight’s victim. One thing was certain; he planned on enjoying himself as much as possible.
Opening up his case he took out ropes and tied Sandra to the bed frame, then stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied a kerchief around her head over her mouth to prevent her from spitting the rag out. That done, he went into the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes, replacing them with a change he’d picked up at a thrift store earlier before going back out to the bedroom where he could see his ‘guest’ starting to stir.
He stood over her until it appeared that she’d achieved some level of consciousness, at which point he laughed evilly and told her, “We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight!”
Chapter Forty-Three
“So did he finally ask you out?” Tanya inquired of Connie while waiting for the manager to pay her for the night.
Connie had thought she’d try not to tell Tanya anything about her date the following day with her brother, but when asked directly she found it impossible to hide the smile, accompanied by profuse blushing, that erupted on her face. Seeing this, Tanya deduced, “I take that as a yes.”
Connie’s excitement overflowed as she said, “Tomorrow. It’s just lunch, but since I work evenings that seems like the best option”
“True. Just don’t get too upset if he gets a call from the precinct in the middle of the meal. I swear their Captain must have some way of knowing when there’s food in front of his officers because there’s almost always a call during the meal.”
Nodding in acceptance, Connie asked, “So what exactly is it that Bob does? I mean, is he a uniformed patrolman or…”
Tanya stopped her friend and replied, “He’s a detective with the Homicide division.”
“Wow!” Connie enthused. “That’s…”
Tanya interrupted her saying, “A lot less glamorous than it sounds, believe me. I won’t tell you anything about his current case, but suffice it to say that it’s the reason he found out about me.”
Furrowing her brow, Connie asked, “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, Tanya replied, “He was on a stakeout at this place a friend of mine dragged me to last night. A few hours later, he’s knocking on my door all pissed off. It took quite a bit of talking to sort things out, but we’re hopefully on our way to an understanding.”
Glancing toward the bar Connie said, “Looks like Harry is just about ready to hand out the ‘alms for the poor’.”
Laughing, Tanya turned to see the bar herself and replied, “About time. If I had to wait much longer then I’d crash on the spot for sure.”
“You and me both, sister,” Connie said while patting Tanya’s shoulder.
Chapter Forty-Four
Charlie was clearly pleased with himself as he washed himself in the hotel shower. He’d discovered several advantages to using hotel rooms, particularly as he stripped off his bloody clothing before climbing into the aforementioned shower.
But cleaning up afterward wasn’t the only plus he’d found that evening. The privacy offered by the room enabled him to ‘expand’ his horizons, for lack of a better term. Unlike his previous victims, with whom he been rushed because of the threat of discovery hovering over his head at any moment, this time he’d been able to take his time, doing things he’d never tried and thus exploring and indulging his own desires in ways he’d never been able to before.
Once he had everything cleaned up, he climbed back into his suit and exited the bathroom, pausing to admire his work before tossing his room key onto the top of the dress and heading out the door. He put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob and allowed the door to close behind him as he casually headed toward the elevator.
Chapter Forty-Five
“I hope you realize if I didn’t love you so much there’s no way in hell I’d have dragged my butt out of bed this early to come see you,” Tanya said as she entered the ‘cubicle’ area of Cynthia’s ICU bed.
“Hey, bitch,” Cynthia greeted her friend. “You’re just in time. Doctor Hottie just told me I’m being moved to a regular room this morning.”
“Wow, that’s great news. Guess that means you’re gonna survive?” Tanya teased.
“Of course,” Cynthia responded. “If I didn’t, what would happen to you?”
“Well, for starters I could sleep later,” Tanya joked.
Cynthia smirked and then stuck her tongue out at her friend before adopting a somewhat more serious tone as she asked, “How’d last night go?”
“Better than I expected, to tell ya the truth,” she replied. “The only problem I had was from the manager, who said if anybody complained about my ‘new look’ he’d fire me. Nobody complained.”
“Like they would’ve. I’ve always told you you’re a much better looking girl than you could ever be a guy.”
“Yeah, I know. The real shocker was Bobby came by for a while and we talked while I was on break.”
“How rough was that?”
“Not at all. That was the shocker part. I think he may finally be starting to accept me.”
“That’s great, sweetie.”
“Sweetie?” Tanya asked puzzled.
“Yeah,” Cynthia said. Then she began to laugh as she added, “But if you’d prefer I can continue to call you ‘Bitch’ instead.”
“That’s okay,” she replied. “I’m sure this kinder, gentler Cynthia is only a temporary aberration.”
“That’s a safe bet,” Cynthia giggled.
An orderly arrived with a wheelchair saying, “Time to move.” He parked the chair next to the bed before helping Cynthia to her feet. Once she was seated and ready to go, he silently started wheeling her out of the ICU.
Following behind while carrying her friend’s things, Tanya waved goodbye to the nursing staff at the station saying, “Thank you.”
A short elevator ride later, Cynthia was deposited in a semi-private room where Tanya dutifully put her friend’s things in the provided cabinet before taking a seat next to the bed. Joking, she finally said, “Guess you’re moving up in the world.”
“Yeah, but only one floor,” Cynthia responded before dissolving in a fit of giggles that brought on a rather loud, “Ow!”
“I guess laughing is still on your ‘proceed at own risk’ list, huh?”
“Would appear so,” Cynthia yawned.
“Looks like you’re getting kinda tired. Why don’t I get out of here for a while so you can get some rest, okay?”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“I’ll let Bobby know about your room change so he doesn’t have to bother the staff to find you if he needs anything.”
“I’m surprised. He’s kinda hot.”
“He also may be spoken for quite soon.”
Looking half asleep, Cynthia joked, “Decided he can’t live without me? It’s a common problem.”
“You wish,” Tanya replied. “He’s been dancing around this waitress at one of the clubs where I’ve been working for a while now and last night he finally got around to asking her out. You’da thought she was a pimply teenager being asked out by the captain of the football team or something.”
Cynthia laughed again before grabbing her side and saying, “Ow!”
Making her way to beside the bed, Tanya leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek while saying, “Get some rest. I’ll see ya later.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Bob pulled up outside Connie’s place and parked his car. Turning off the engine, he sat there in an attempt to defeat the nerves that were threatening to make him run away as fast as he could. “Why am I so nervous?” he asked himself.
Finally getting his nerves under control, he got out of the car and made his way to her apartment, where he knocked on the door.
“Just a minute,” he faintly heard from inside before he was greeted by the sounds of movement from within. As the door finally opened, Connie said, “Heya. You’re a little early.” Opening the door, she gestured, “Come on in.”
“Sorry,” Bob offered as he followed her into the living room. “I have a habit of being early. It drives some people crazy.”
“I’ll survive,” she responded cheerfully. “Have a seat. I’ll be a couple more minutes and then we can head out.”
“No hurry,” he replied as he sat down on the couch…
Arriving home, Tanya noticed the flashing light on the answering machine and immediately pressed ‘play’. The first message was from one of the clubs she regularly played, “Hey, it’s Jake from ‘Brewhaus’. Listen, there’s no easy way to say this, so…I’ve heard some things and, well, I’m gonna have to cancel your gigs here. I just don’t think our crowd is going to be very tolerant of someone with your new ‘lifestyle’. Sorry.”
The next three messages were just like the first, from more of the places Tanya had been playing. By the end of the last one, she’d lost two regular nights each week as well as three weekends’ bookings. Surprisingly, the previous night’s club was not among the cancellations.
As she sat on the couch she sighed, “That was quick.” The longer she thought about what had just happened, the worse she felt until tears started streaming down her cheeks and her body became wracked with sobs…
Bob held Connie’s chair for her to sit before going around to the other side of the table and taking his place. The waiter then handed them menus and asked, “May I get you anything to drink?”
Looking at Connie in a gesture that said ‘ladies first’, she took the hint and looked up at the waiter saying, “Diet Coke, please.”
Then Bob said, “Dr. Pepper.”
“Would you like a few minutes to look over the menu?” asked the waiter.
“Yes, I think so,” replied Bob.
Once the waiter was out of earshot, Connie asked, “So do you prefer Bob or Bobby?”
Grinning, he replied, “Tom…I mean Tanya is the only one who calls me Bobby, but I’m not too bothered either way.”
Looking intently at him for a moment, Connie then said, “Bob seems so serious and Robert is just way too formal. I may have to join you sister in calling you Bobby, if ya don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he responded, smiling all the while.
“Speaking of your sister,” Connie continued, “She mentioned that you’re a detective?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “But trust me, it’s nothing like on TV.”
“Still,” she countered, “It’s gotta be more interesting than being a cocktail waitress.”
“I don’t know about that, but it has its moments.”
Looking more closely at the menu, Connie asked, “So what’s good here?”
Bob embarrassedly admitted, “I rarely get beyond steaks anywhere I go, but I’ve heard the pastas are pretty good.”
“Okay,” Connie said. “So how’s the steak?” she grinned.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The cleaning crew had passed by the door several times throughout the morning, but now that it was past checkout time they had little choice but to ignore the ‘do not disturb’ sign and go on in. Using the pass key, one of the ladies opened the door and barely got three steps inside the room before they saw the mutilated body tied down to the bed frame.
When she realized what she was seeing she screamed and ran from the room eventually huddling into a ball in the hallway sobbing hysterically. Another crew member looked into the room then using the two way radio they used to communicate with the front desk told them, “Call the police. We have a dead body in room 348.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Bobby,” Connie said as she cut a bite of steak on her plate, “You still haven’t told me anything about what you do.” She took her bite and slowly chewed it while awaiting an answer.
“Mostly,” Bob began, “I sift through mountains of information in search of that one little bit of evidence that might mean something to whatever case I might be working on at that moment.”
“Just as an example,” she asked, “What kinds of evidence have you gone through this week that might be relevant to your current case?”
“Okay,” Bob lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, “For example, I'm working on what we're assuming is a serial murderer. Before this week we had pretty much nothing to go on, but after digging around for what seems like forever, I found out that one of the methods the killer is using to track down victims involves the Personals section of an alternative newspaper called ‘Open’.”
“That sounds like it could be a huge breakthrough,” she gushed.
“I hope so,” he responded. His cell phone chose that moment to ring, so he took it out of his pocket and looking at the caller ID said, “Figures.”
“Work?” Connie asked.
He nodded his head as he flipped the phone open and said into it, “Taylor.”
On the other end, Sergeant Parker replied, “Bob, looks like another one. But it’s a little different this time.”
“Different how?”
“This time we found it in a hotel room. Our guy took advantage of the privacy to have more fun with this one.”
“Okay, where?”
“Downtown Hilton, room 348.”
“I’ll be there quick as I can. If the CSI guys get there before me, just put ‘em to work, okay?”
“You got it.”
Bob flipped his phone closed and said, “Duty calls.”
Connie responded, “If you need to get over there, I can get a ride home. No problem.”
“Not exactly the best end to a first date,” Bob said dejectedly.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” she said. “Now go catch some bad guys. And if you get a chance tonight, swing by the club and see me.”
“Count on it.”
Bob stood up quickly followed by Connie, who before he had a chance to turn for the door had moved in closer and placed a kiss on his cheek saying, “That’s all you get for now.”
Bob smiled widely and said, “I’ll see you later.” He then headed toward the door, leaving Connie standing in the middle of the restaurant.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Entering the hospital room, Tanya asked, “So how do you like your new accommodations?”
Cynthia replied, “Better than where I was before, but they still suck.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Cynthia countered.
Sitting on the end of the bed, Tanya pouted, “I am too.”
“Okay, okay.”
Turning more serious, Tanya asked, “So are you feeling any better?”
Becoming indignant, Cynthia replied, “Better than what? Than yesterday? Yeah, but then that wouldn’t take much. Anything more than that? Well, then you might be being a little too optimistic.”
Feeling chastised, Tanya relented, “Okay, point taken.”
After a moment or two, Cynthia asked, “Anything else new in your world?”
Beginning to grin, Tanya said, “You could say that. I officially started RLT yesterday.”
Pleasantly shocked, Cynthia gasped, “Really? Kewl!”
Losing some of the joy she’d exuded mere seconds before, Tanya countered, “Yes and no, but since Bobby knows I decided there really wasn’t any reason to not do it. There’s already been some backlash from it. I lost two of my weeknight gigs plus three recurring weekends. I just have this fear that this isn’t the last of the troubles over this.”
“Well, I hope you’re proven wrong,” Cynthia said while feeling like she was sitting on pins and needles.
Chapter Fifty
Bob pulled up at the front entrance to the Hilton and ran in heading straight to the elevators. Boarding the first available, he pushed ‘3’ and waited to arrive.
When he got to the third floor, Bob saw immediately which one was the room in question as the hallway around it was jammed full of officers, all looking for that one little shred of evidence that would tell them who was responsible for this series of gruesome acts. He slowly made his way to the room, stopping along the way to check with each of his men to see if any of them had found something useful.
When he finally entered the room he couldn’t help but think that the injuries and indignities suffered by the previous victims were in fact mild by comparison to those inflicted upon this latest victim. Whereas most of them up to that point had been strangled and in some cases beaten rather badly, the poor soul he saw lying on top of the bed before him would no doubt have considered herself lucky if that had been all that had happened to her.
While she too had been beaten and strangled, before getting to that point she had been tied and gagged, raped and cut just deep enough to draw blood repeatedly for an unknown period of time that no doubt felt like an eternity. Really the only thing they knew for certain was that her death had come as a welcome relief from everything that preceded it.
Spotting Sergeant Parker talking to someone from the medical examiner’s office, Bob headed directly toward his friend and partner. When he was finally close enough to speak without being overheard by everyone in the building he commented, “Looks like our guy’s decided to up his game.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Parker responded. “Before, I thought we might be dealing with some religious wacko who just thought these people were evil or something, but after this I don’t think there’s any doubt just how sick this puppy is.”
“Got that right,” he agreed. Then addressing the medical examiner Bob asked, “How long do you think it’ll take to get a full workup on the body? Including if you can find some DNA evidence with the rape kit?”
As he zipped the body bag closed, he replied, “Give us until at least tomorrow afternoon. There’s a lot of stuff to go through here.”
“Sure thing,” said Bob as the medical examiner gathered up his tools and specimen bottles. Then the M.E. loaded the bag onto a gurney and wheeled it out of the room toward the elevators.
Gradually the officers vacated the room until only Bob and Sergeant Parker were left alone. They began methodically going back over the room, looking for anything that might have been missed before.
As he got up from the floor where he’d been looking under the bed, Parker concluded, “Looks like we got it all. Not even a dust bunny left under there.”
“All right then,” Bob responded. “Let’s head out.”
To Be Continued...
First, I'd like to apologize for the delay in posting this part. Real life has kind of dominated my time of late, so the next part may be slow in arriving as well. Thanks to all those of you who have stuck with the story thus far.
I'd like to take a moment to thank Angharad, Karen Taylor and PB for their support and proofing skills.
Fugue, Part 6
by Jillian
Chapter Fifty-One
When Tanya returned home after spending the day with Cynthia in the hospital, she found herself at a loss about how to spend her evening. As it happened, her entire weekend's worth of work had canceled so there she was at home on a Friday evening for the first time in longer than she could remember.
She popped a plate of leftovers in the microwave and took a peek at the answering machine to see if any more jobs had canceled. Thankfully there were no messages, so after retrieving her dinner she took a seat at the dining table and ate her meal, all the while thinking about her parents and the fact that she needed to talk to them about her change in status.
Once her plate was rinsed and placed in the dishwasher along with the silverware she'd used, Tanya grabbed her cell phone and took a seat in the living room on the couch. After staring at her phone for nearly fifteen minutes, she flipped it open and pressed one of the speed dial numbers.
On the second ring someone picked up on the other end saying, “Hello?”
Taking a deep breath, Tanya responded, “Hi Mom.”
Concerned she asked, “Tommy? Are you all right?”
“Yes, I'm fine,” Tanya dismissed. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“You don't sound fine, but yes, of course dear,” her mother replied. “What seems to be the matter?”
After another deep breath followed by a sigh, Tanya answered, “I sort of need to talk to you about some personal things that will have an impact on you and Dad.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” her mother asked, concern dripping from her voice.
“You know how I've never exactly been the manliest of guys, right?”
An almost audible smile in her voice, Mom responded, “I've sometimes felt that was one of your best qualities, dear.”
With audible trepidation Tanya got to the point saying, “You know I've been struggling with things.”
“Is this about your dressing up?” Mom asked.
“Wow,” Tanya started. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that. I've been seeing a therapist who specializes in gender issues for a few years now.”
Jumping in, Mom asked, “So, is my daughter finally going to introduce herself to me?”
With a nervous giggle, Tanya responded, “I suppose I should've known you'd know. You always did.”
“Well, yes,” Mom laughed.
“You've probably noticed some changes over the past year or so? Well, some of those have been because I've been taking hormones.”
“I suspected as much,” Mom interjected.
After a brief pause Tanya continued, “My doctor and I have decided it's time to start what they call the real life test. That means living full time as a girl.”
“Are you ready for that?” Mom asked.
“Yes, very much so,” Tanya replied. “Really, my biggest concern is how Dad will take the news.”
“I can see that,” Mom responded in a much more serious tone.
After another deep breath, Tanya asked, “Does he know?”
“About you? No, not really.”
Sighing Tanya asked, “How do you think he'll respond? I'm trying to figure out if I can come Sunday or not?”
“You'd better come,” her mother scolded. “I only get to have my whole family together on rare occasions and I'm looking forward to Sunday.”
“I'm just afraid of how Dad will...” Tanya started.
Cutting her off, Mom stated, “Don't worry about him dear. He may bluster, but in the end he's really a lovely man.”
Tentatively, Tanya responded, “I hope you're right, Mom. I hope you're right.”
“So, we'll see you Sunday afternoon then?”
“Absolutely,” Tanya replied. “I just hope you're...”
Again cutting off the younger woman, Mom stated, “Trust me, sweetheart.”
“I'm trying, Mom,” Tanya stated. “I'll see you Sunday. Love you,” she said then hung up without even waiting for a reply.
To herself, Tanya said, “Hope this isn't a big mistake.”
Following several cleansing breaths, she got up and made her way to the bedroom thinking she might like to do some reading before bedtime.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Charlie was still riding the high he'd gotten from his exploits the night before, but it was beginning to occur to him that he'd taken a major step that would be hard to take back. Always before he'd simply taken his 'dates' into some dark alley where privacy was for the most part non-existent and therefore had always needed to work quickly in achieving his goals.
Those time constraints had dictated what he could and couldn't do, but this last time he realized how much more satisfying it was to have some privacy and more or less unlimited time to do what he wished. The only real downside he could see was the expense involved in acquiring the room where he could conduct his games in private, but the more he reflected on the advantages of renting a room for his activities the more he realized that he'd just have to find a way.
With that in mind, he started up his computer and went directly to 'Open Magazine's website. Clicking his way to the personals section he began browsing, hoping he might luck out and find his next 'date'.
Spotting a new listing that looked like an excellent choice, he quickly rattled off an email reply to the ad. By the time he hit send, he could barely contain his excitement over what he planned to do with 'her'.
“Now,” he said to himself, “All I have to do is find the right place.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Bob had spent the last few hours trying to get caught up on paperwork, losing track of time along the way. When he 'came up for air' he was startled to see that the afternoon had already given way to evening.
“Well,” he said to himself, “Maybe I should pack it in for the night?”
“What's that?” Sergeant Parker asked as he walked past Bob's desk.
Looking up at his friend, Bob replied, “I think I need a break.”
“Does the word 'duh' mean anything to you?” Parker joked. “Seriously, why don't you head on home for a while? I can almost guarantee the world won't fall apart just because you take a little time for yourself.”
After thinking for a moment, Bob stated, “You may be right, but if you tell anyone I said that I'll deny it vehemently. I'm out of here for a while.”
“Good,” Parker chuckled. “I'll see you in the morning.” He then went on about his way leaving Bob alone.
Standing up from his desk, Bob grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his desk chair and after putting it on he headed toward the exit, saying good night to his fellow officers as he passed them on the way to the door. On his way out the door he thought about the fact that he was going to be off duty for the evening and knew exactly where he wanted to spend the hard earned spoils of his week. He wanted to see Connie.
Once in his car he headed directly toward the club where Connie worked, wondering exactly what he would say to her when he got there. Unfortunately, the closer he got to the club the more muddled his thoughts became.
No matter what he tried to think about, Tanya kept coming back to the front of his thoughts. He wondered if this was going to really be permanent and if that meant anything had to change in their relationship, not realizing that by simply accepting that his sibling was a girl rather than a boy it had already changed.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing swirling around in his head. He found himself flitting back and forth between his new found sister and his new friendship with Connie. The easy part was admitting that he liked her. The hard part was figuring out just how much.
Ever since they'd met the previous evening, he actually had trouble thinking about anything other than her. She'd monopolized his dreams both sleeping and waking and he was starting to think of her as something more than just a friend. The question that then remained was whether or not she felt similarly.
What if she didn't? It had been a long time since he'd opened up to someone like that, mostly out of fear of rejection and he wasn't all that certain he'd be sturdy enough emotionally to handle that. This would lead him back to thinking about Tanya and the circle would start all over again.
His thoughts kept spinning around like that all the way to the club. It got so bad that once he'd parked in their lot he found that he was so consumed by fear of her rejecting him that he couldn't open his car door for several long minutes.
“This is stupid,” he said to himself after sitting there for some time. “I'll just go in and see her, maybe get to talk to her for a few minutes when she's on break.”
When he finally got out of the car he headed into the club to see Connie. Spotting a corner table that was in the process of being vacated he crossed the room and sat down even before Connie had a chance to clear and wipe it.
When she turned around from another table she'd been serving, the first thing she noticed was Bob. A wide smile erupted on her face as she said, “Hey Bobby. You know Tanya isn't playing here tonight, right?”
With a smile that mirrored hers, he responded, “I know. I came to see you.”
The look in Connie's eyes said everything that needed to be said. Before she had a chance to voice a response, Bob said, “I know you're busy tonight, but you do get a break don't you?”
Finally speaking, Connie answered, “Of course.”
Jumping in before she had a chance to say anything else Bob asked, “Come see me when you go on break?”
Smiling even wider she replied, “I don't have to stay away until then do I? I'll go get you a beer to tide you over.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bob said, then watched her go back to the bar to get his drink.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Cynthia was feeling restless just laying there in her hospital bed. This was really the first night since the attack that she felt 'normal' and not being able to be out and about was driving her crazy, to put it mildly. Unfortunately, her strength was still sorely lacking limiting her activity level to a large extent.
She had already tried getting up to take a stroll around the ward, barely making it back to her bed after one circuit. While her head would like nothing better than to repeat her walk over and again, she knew that her physical strength was still lacking far too much to actually do it.
That's why she found herself in deep thought this evening. She usually tried to avoid such activities, but without her usual physical activity to distract her mind she couldn't help but take a look at her life. To say she didn't care for some of what she found would be a monumental understatement.
Thinking objectively about her life prompted her to seriously want to make some changes, but knowing how to actually go about that was in many ways a mystery to Cynthia. That said, there were a few things that were obvious even to her.
The first thing that came to mind was the whole club scene. Even without the introspection that was currently being thrust upon her, Cynthia had for some time been seriously thinking about walking away from the life of a party girl. Maybe this would finally prompt that change.
Deep thought time was interrupted by the arrival of a nurse who said as he entered the room, “Good evening. I'm Terry and I'll be looking after you tonight.”
Smiling, Cynthia responded, “Hey there. Need me to do anything in particular?”
Returning her smile, Terry said, “Not at the moment. I just need to check your vitals for now.” He then looked at the machines she was still attached to and made some notes in the chart he was carrying.
“Everything looks good,” he commented as he finished his task. He looked her in the eye for a moment, then turned to leave.
Thinking he wouldn't hear her, she whispered, “I know you can't be including me in that.”
He stopped before he got to the door and turned back toward her. “Sure I can, and I am,” he returned, smiling broadly at her.
It was difficult telling which was brighter, the glare from Cynthia's smile or the glow from her reddening cheeks.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Bob smiled broadly as he watched Connie make her way toward his table again. That smile grew even bigger when she set two drinks down on the table and pulled out a chair to sit opposite him.
“I've got fifteen minutes or so,” she said as she picked up her glass and made a toasting motion in Bob's direction.
“Cool,” he replied as he picked up his drink and copied her motion. After taking a sip, he set his glass back down and said, “I'm sorry if I caught you off guard or anything. I actually had trouble thinking about anything other than you all afternoon and thought that maybe seeing you tonight might help. I'm sorry to say, all it's done is make me think about you even more,” he grinned at her.
“Well,” she started, “If you really think that's something that you need to apologize about...”
Jumping in, Bob hurriedly said, “Not at all.” He then got a more serious look on his face and added, “If you find any of this gets uncomfortable for you, please...”
“Hey,” she interjected. Smiling widely she continued, “Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about.”
“You'd best be careful, before I go and fall in love with you or something,” he responded.
Both of them raised their glasses in toast and smiled at one another before taking drinks, never taking their eyes off of each other.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Tanya had tried everything she could think of to get to sleep, all to no avail. She'd read for a while, even switching to an old college textbook in the hope that it would be boring enough to put her to sleep. Unfortunately, all that managed to do was frustrate her. She'd tried warm milk, a glass of wine and even taken a dose of Benadryl hoping one or all of them would relax her enough to let her get to sleep. Unfortunately, as 2am rolled past she found herself still wide awake and staring at the clock on her nightstand.
Of course, it wasn't as if this bout of insomnia wasn't well earned, what with all of the upheaval in her life of late. Starting her RLT, coming out to her family and employers, seeing her best friend nearly lose her life and have to spend a fair amount of time in the hospital...any of these could easily have caused her to have trouble sleeping, but not content to simply have one reason, she had to pile all of them on top of each other.
Having resigned herself to the fact that sleep was not intending to make it's presence known anytime soon, she turned on the television and found an old movie she hadn't seen in ages. That settled, she sat back and tried to lose herself in the film.
She was finally drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at the door. Returning to a wakened state, she made her way to the entryway and peeked through the peep hole. Recognizing her brother, Tanya quickly opened the door and let him in.
“Sorry,” Bob said as he crossed the threshold. “I was hoping we could talk.”
Closing the door after her brother had made his way past her, Tanya said, “Why not? I haven't been able to get to sleep all night. What's on your mind?”
He looked at her for a moment before responding, “Connie.”
Grinning, she commented, “Really? So you finally noticed, huh?”
“What do you mean, 'finally'?” he asked.
“Oh come on,” she replied in an exasperated tone of voice, despite the huge grin she couldn't get rid of, “You can't tell me you didn't know before. She's been practically throwing herself at you for over a year!”
He studied her for a moment before responding, “What? You've been a girl for like ten minutes and you think you're entitled to do the whole 'duh' thing?” He then started to grin as he continued, “I suppose you could say I've been a little preoccupied.”
Any further comment was delayed as he noticed Tanya giggling at him, to which he responded by trying to give her an annoyed look while failing miserably. When she was finally able to get herself back under control she tried to adopt an indignant stance as she said, “Okay, I've been a woman my whole life, not ten minutes. Just because you and Dad never acknowledged that fact...”
Cutting her off he responded, “Hey!”
Before he could form more of a comment she retorted, “Never mind, that's not important any more. Why'd you come to me?”
Uncomfortably he said, “Like you said, you're a girl so I thought maybe you could help me get a handle on things.”
Smiling, Tanya looked at her brother with a pride she hadn't felt for him since she was much younger and wanted more than anything in the world to be just like her big brother. Without thinking, she walked up to him and hugged him.
While he was obviously uncomfortable with the embrace, he made every effort not to react negatively. Despite his efforts to disguise his reaction, she eventually came to the realization that she was making him uncomfortable.
Releasing him from the hug, she stepped away and mumbled, “Sorry Bobby, I didn't mean...” As her embarrassment grew she found it increasingly difficult to complete her thought.
Holding up his hand and smiling nervously he responded, “No need. I mean, I'll freely admit that I'm having some trouble getting used to things, but we are family, after all. I love ya even if I think you're making a mistake.”
Looking her brother in the eyes, she responded, “You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that.” She stepped up to him and took him in a tender hug, realizing in that moment that her family might just be able to accept her after all. Resting her head on his shoulder she found herself both smiling widely and on the verge of tears at the same time, thinking her life was falling into place at last.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Charlie rolled out of bed and found his way to his computer. After turning it on, he wandered into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee while it started up. By the time he returned it had just about finished, so he took a seat and a sip of his drink as the start up process finished.
Once ready, the first thing he did was open up his email program, checking for new messages. He sat there impatiently as it downloaded new messages, hoping that at least one would be in response to one of his messages from the previous night. Unfortunately, he had no such luck as the only things he had received involved penis growth, which he promptly disposed of before then getting up from his seat to go in search of breakfast.
Following several minutes of fruitless searching, he gave up on the idea of finding something better and retrieved a package of pop tarts from the cabinet, which he took with him as he returned to the computer. After settling back in he started his browser and pulled up one of his favorite 'personals' websites in search of new 'friends'.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Bob couldn't stop yawning as he made his way into the precinct building. Each co-worker he passed greeted him with a 'morning' or 'hey Bob', but he could manage little more than a grunt in acknowledgment.
“What the hell was I thinking staying up all night?” he asked himself as he sat at his desk to begin pouring through the reports on overnight activity. While reading those reports, he reached over to his desktop workstation and turned it on.
When the antiquated computer finally finished it's boot up process he first opened his email client to check for any new messages, then moved on to his browser to check each of the now three different newspaper websites where he'd placed bait ads.
The last stop on his internet journey was 'Open' magazine. He logged into the account that had been set up for him in order to check for reply messages and was rewarded by a promising response.
Printing off a copy of the message to put into the case file, he mused absentmindedly, “Now what?”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Cynthia looked up from her breakfast upon hearing the door to her room open just as Tanya entered. Smiling at the sight of her best friend, Cynthia commented, “A little early for you, isn't it?”
As she made her way to Cynthia's bedside, Tanya responded, “I suppose it is, but then my best friend went and got herself stuck in the hospital, so in order to be a good friend I have to stop by every day until she gets out in an effort to prevent her from losing her mind and going postal on the nursing staff.”
“Wow,” Cynthia replied, “You really think I'd do something like that?” She did her best to look hurt as she then continued, “Thou dost wound me. I'm a civilized young lady.”
Laughing, Tanya retorted, “I'm not even sure where to begin responding to that.”
“Hey!” Cynthia responded indignantly. For a moment they looked at each other silently, but eventually neither one could hold it in any longer and they broke out laughing hysterically.
As the laughter finally began to fade, Bob came walking into the room. Tanya was the first to notice his arrival saying, “Bobby. Didn't expect to see you this morning.”
“I could say the same of you, dear sister,” he quipped.
Unable to keep out of things, Cynthia interjected, “I see relations have improved since last we all met.”
Returning her attention to her friend, Tanya replied, “I guess you could say that.” Then once again looking toward her brother she continued, “We've worked a few things out, haven't we dear brother?”
Smiling he responded, “Yes ma'am.”
A brief silence was broken by Cynthia asking, “So what brings you by this morning, detective? Other than the opportunity to spend time with a pair of stunning ladies?”
“I guess you could say I wanted to let you know that we haven't let this case fall to the wayside,” he tried to reassure them. “Fact is, I have one case and one case only and I'm going to keep going until it's done.”
“I do appreciate that,” Cynthia responded.
Tanya interjected, “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Looking at his sister for a moment, he replied, “I don't know.”
“Well,” Tanya stated, “If you think of anything please let me know. I want to see this creep caught.”
“I know,” Bob tried to reassure them. “Me too, believe me.”
At that moment an orderly entered the room with a wheelchair saying, “MRI express.”
Looking first at the orderly, then at her guests Cynthia said, “Looks like that's my cue.”
Tanya replied, “We'll head out for now, but I'll be back later. Can you think of anything you need?”
“Not unless you have a cute hunk hidden somewhere you'd be willing to share,” Cynthia quipped.
“No,” Tanya started, “But if that changes I'll let you know.”
The orderly lowered the bed rails and helped Cynthia out of bed and into the wheelchair, taking her on her way toward the imaging department. Bob and Tanya watched as Cynthia was wheeled out of the room before turning their attention to each other.
Bob found his voice first, tentatively asking, “How serious is your offer of help with the investigation?”
Looking him in the eye, she responded, “I'd be willing to serve as bait, if you're thinking along those lines.”
“I won't deny that the subject is being considered, but I wouldn't ask that of you,” he said. “Besides, Mom would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”
“I'm offering, you're not asking. Besides, she doesn't need to know, does she?” Tanya asked.
“I doubt we could keep it from her,” he replied.
She then continued, “So don't say anything about work tomorrow when we're home.”
Mildly surprised, Bob asked, “So, you've talked to her?”
“Last night,” she answered. “Not that there was much in the conversation that surprised her. Of course, Dad's response should be entertaining.”
“That's one way of putting it,” he sniped.
After a moment, Bob then said, “I can't let you take the risk, you know.”
Looking intensely at her brother Tanya said, “Bobby, I want to help. I really do. You and Dad have spent your lives taking risks trying to catch bad guys, but I've never felt like I made a difference like that. If I can help catch this monster, maybe...” she allowed the thought to fade unfinished.
“Let me think about it, okay?” Bob finally replied.
Chapter Sixty
After leaving the hospital, Bob returned to the office where he once again reviewed the ad responses trying to figure out which one, if any, had come from his suspect. In truth, he devoted most of his afternoon to that very pursuit.
Toward the end of his shift, his thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Parker, who asked, “Any progress?”
“Not as such, no,” he replied. “Got a few possibles, but nothing concrete. I've got the geeks trying to track down physical locations for all the responses, but they haven't found anything for me quite yet.”
“Sounds like that might take a while,” Parker commented.
“It will, but hopefully not too long,” Bob responded. “Maybe if we...” he stopped mid thought.
Sensing his associate's uncertainty, Sergeant Parker asked, “What?”
Thinking for a moment, Bob finally decided to confide in his friend saying, “My sister wants to help with the investigation by serving as the bait for our guy.”
“Well, that's good,” Parker said.
“Is it?” Bob replied. “That would mean risking her life and I'm not sure I can do that.”
“We are talking about the same one we saw on that stakeout, right?”
“Yeah. She wants to make a difference or something like that.”
“Pretty noble for a weirdo,” Parker commented.
Suddenly looking at him with a bit of anger, Bob countered, “That's my family you're talking about.”
Feeling chastised, Parker said, “Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it.”
“I know.”
To Be Continued...
by Jillian
Chapter Sixty-one
Tanya had barely stepped into the room when Cynthia practically shouted, “Hey bitch!”
“I take it you're feeling a little better?” Tanya asked as she approached her friend's bedside.
“What makes you think that?”
Smiling, Tanya answered, “The return of your sparkling personality.”
“Maybe I just like you,” Cynthia countered. “Or maybe I'm just a wonderful, loving person.”
“Yeah, right,” Tanya smirked.
“Anyway, what prompted this? I mean, two visits in one day and all.” Grinning, Cynthia then continued, “They said I might get out of here in the next couple of days.”
“That is good news,” Tanya commented. Sitting down on the edge of the bed she continued, “Do you want to come stay with me for a couple of days after they send you home? I mean, chances are they aren't going to want you staying alone for the first few days.”
Looking uncharacteristically meek she answered, “They did say something about that.”
“I figured as much,” Tanya giggled. “So what do you think?”
“I'd hate to be a bother,” she responded.
“Nonsense!”
“Well,” Cynthia smirked, “If you insist.”
Tanya could only hold in the laughter for a few seconds before it erupted from her, joined immediately by her friend. It took a few minutes, but eventually they began to calm down.
Once they had more or less returned to normal, Cynthia adopted a more serious look and said, “Thanks.”
Smiling, Tanya responded, “What are friends for?”
“Now,” Cynthia then changed the subject, “What the Hell are you thinking offering to be bait for the police?”
“I'm thinking somebody has to do it, so why not me?”
“It sounds way too dangerous,” Cynthia countered.
“I'll have Bobby watching my back the whole time,” Tanya responded. “This is my chance to 'save the world'.”
“I still don't like it.”
“Listen,” Tanya countered, “This guy hurt you and is still out there hurting others. He's targeting our...family...and somebody has to do something.”
“But why you?”
“Because it's important that this guy is stopped and I'm in a position to be able to do something about that.”
Tears began to form in Cynthia's eyes as she started, “No!”
Interrupting her friend Tanya countered, “He hurt you! He's killed too many of our sisters and if he's not stopped he'll keep killing us. I don't want that blood on my hands.”
“But Tanya!”
“Listen, all this concern for my well being is touching, but it's a bit out of character for you, don't you think?”
Cynthia attempted to give her friend an angry look, but after only a second or two found she couldn't hold it and could only smirk.
Chapter Sixty-two
Bob sat listening to his cell phone as the other end of the connection rang and rang, then just as he was about to break the connection the ringing was interrupted by a female voice asking, “Bobby?”
“Hey Connie. I was wondering if you'd be interested in having an early dinner before you have to go to work?”
“Interested yes,” she replied. “Unfortunately I have to be at work early tonight, as in like about an hour.”
“Oh,” he said dejectedly. “Would it be all right if I came by tonight and hung out? Maybe keep you company when you're on breaks?”
“That is without a doubt the best offer I've had in hours,” she said with a grin so big Bob could hear it in her voice.
“Do you need a lift?”
“I don't need one, but I'd like one,” she replied, still audibly grinning.
“I'll see ya in a bit,” Bob said just before they broke the connection.
Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of Connie's place where he parked and jumped out of the car, making his way to her door. He rang the doorbell, but barely had to wait five seconds before she answered it, coming out and kissing Bob on the cheek before continuing toward his car, quietly giggling all along the way.
Running up behind her, Bob caught up just as she came to a stop by the passenger door which he opened. “Allow me,” he said in what he hoped was his most charming voice.
“Of course, kind sir,” she replied. He held the door open for Connie as she got in, closing it once she was settled in her seat.
Once he'd circled around the car and had climbed into the driver's seat he said, “Thanks.”
“What for?” she countered. “You're the one doing me the favor.”
“Not the way I see it,” he replied. “Any time you're willing to spend with me is...”
She cut him off saying, “Oh, come on!”
He grinned at her and said, “Seriously.”
Despite her attempts not to do so, she broke out in a huge grin.
Chapter Sixty-three
Charlie wandered into 'Slippers' having parked his car far enough away from the club that he felt there was little likelihood of being seen by the police, who no doubt were closely watching the club. Inside the door, he made his way toward the dance floor so he could get a look at the early evening crowd before finding his way to the seating area.
Once he'd found an unoccupied table he was quickly approached by a member of the wait staff who asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Your name, for starters?”
She smirked at him and said, “Linda. Now, would you care to order?”
Looking at the 'lady', he smiled and responded, “A beer would be great, Linda.” Then after the briefest of pauses he continued, “And maybe your phone number.”
Laughing, she said, “I'll be right back with that beer.”
He leered at her retreating form as she made her way to the bar to fill his order, mumbling to himself, “This could be a fun night.”
While she was at the bar, he strained to listen in on the conversation she was having with one of the other waitresses. As far as he could make out it seemed she was without transportation home thanks to her old car's water pump. With that in mind he began to formulate an approach he hoped would work.
By the time she returned with his drink, he'd managed to put together in his mind how he was going to approach hooking up with her, so going for broke he asked as she set down his drink in front of him, “So what would it take to convince you to spend some time with me after your shift tonight?”
She looked at him and laughed, “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind.”
Smiling he responded, “Just getting to know one another in a quieter setting.”
Unsure why exactly she was considering his offer, she conceded, “Let me think about it. I've still got a couple of hours before I can get out of here, and by then I'm probably going to be ready to fall into bed for a good night's sleep.”
His smile widened as he said, “I couldn't ask for much more than that, could I? I'll stick around until you make up your mind. Hopefully, you'd decide to take me up on my offer.”
Chapter Sixty-four
Tanya had the look of someone overwhelmed by frustration as she stared at her open bedroom closet. She was trying to decide what to wear the next day for her return home, but was having a great deal of difficulty picking something.
Holding up two skirts, she lifted the one in her left hand as she said to no one in particular, “This one's really cute, but my father would kill me if I walked into his house in it.” She then lowered that one and raised the one in her right as she commented, “Maybe a skirt isn't the best idea after all. Jeans. That's what I'll wear, jeans.”
A look of concern descended across her face as she next began, “But...” She looked at both skirts again before taking them back to the closet and roughly hanging them up before stalking over to her bed and flopping down on it.
As she stared at the ceiling, she mused, “I suppose I could just go as Tommy. Dad would like that.” After a moment of silence, she then let out her frustration shouting, “Aaargh!”
After a moment or two, she sat back up and again stared into her closet as a somewhat glassy-eyed expression overtook her face.
Chapter Sixty-five
Bob looked up to see Connie setting two drinks down, “Break time?”
She grinned as she sat down opposite him and said, “Finally.”
“Rough night?”
Connie took a sip of her drink and responded, “Just busy.” Concentration flashed across her face as she then asked, “Are you too bored? I could find a ride home if you wanted to...”
Interrupting her he said, “Nonsense!”
“I know you're not a heavy drinker or anything. And this guy playing tonight isn't nearly as good as your sister,” she said with a smirk on her face.
“I'll grant you that,” he replied. “No, I'm just kind of relaxing here. It's actually been kinda nice having a little time to just shut down.” He then picked up his bottle of beer and took a long swig.
“Well,” she laughed, “I'm glad you've been able to make good use of your time.”
He started laughing and couldn't help but snort beer out of his nose. That only made it worse as they both found themselves laughing uncontrollably.
Chapter Sixty-six
“Last call!” came the voice of the bartender over the house PA system. Charlie looked toward his waitress and raised his hand in a sort of wave which carried the message, “I'd like another” while also saying, “I'm waiting for you.” She acknowledged him and headed for the bar to get his last drink.
When she returned he asked as she set down his drink, “So where would you like to go after you get off?”
Laughing she replied, “I don't even recall agreeing to go with you.”
“You hadn't yet,” he quipped, “But you were just about to.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren't ya?” she responded.
Smiling he offered, “I get that it's late and you're probably exhausted. I also happened to overhear when you were telling someone that your car is broken down. How about if I just offer to drive you home?”
“How did you...?” she began before pausing and breaking out in a smile. “Oh, never mind. Thank you for the offer, but really...”
Cutting her off he said, “I know you have to stick around to close. Believe me, I don't mind waiting.”
“You're sweet,” she responded.
“Not at all,” he said. After a brief pause he continued, “Go. Get your work done.”
As he watched his latest conquest's retreating form he grinned and said to himself, “This will be fun.” With each passing moment the things he'd like to do with her played through his head like scenes from a movie as his grin slowly grew larger.
Chapter Sixty-seven
Bob watched as the staff herded the evening's patrons toward the door so they could close for the night, but soon found his mind wandering in unexpected directions. First he caught sight of Connie as she led a thoroughly intoxicated gentleman to the door and even helped him out the door. As she left his field of vision he began wondering where things were headed between the two of them.
By the time she had returned to help with closing, he'd begun to explore the idea of letting their relationship progress toward something more serious and as he did so he began to realize just how much he liked the idea. Somehow that led to him thinking about his family, and more specifically Tanya's situation.
He'd begun to accept that he now had a sister, as odd as it seemed to him, and he was wondering what he could do to help their father accept Tommy's change. Unfortunately, no matter how he looked at things he couldn't see any way they could influence their Dad's views on the subject of transgendered people. After all, he'd been a beat cop when trans people simply weren't accepted into general society and that was his point of view as well.
He was suddenly brought out of deep thought as Connie came up beside him and asked, “Are you about ready to get out of here?”
Looking up he smiled and responded, “I figured that you'd have to close up shop. You all done?”
“I finished up my stuff and don't need to help with anything else tonight, seeing as I have such a special guest with me this evening.”
“Well,” Bob said as he stood up from his seat and grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair. “In that case, your chariot awaits.”
Connie slipped her arm through his offered elbow and replied, “Thank you, kind sir.” They both then chuckled as they headed toward the door.
A comfortable silence settled about them as they made their way to Bob's car. When they reached his vehicle Bob first went to the passenger side and without saying anything opened the door and held it for Connie, whose smile over his chivalrous action nearly overshadowed her obvious exhaustion.
After ensuring she was settled, Bob closed the car door and made his way around to the driver's side. He climbed in and started the engine, looking over at his passenger.
Before putting the car in gear he asked, “So would you prefer your place, or mine?”
Smirking, Connie replied, “Feeling rather sure of yourself tonight, aren't you?”
“Not at all,” Bob countered, “If you want to spend some time together, I thought we could go to my house. If you would rather just go home and get some sleep, then...”
Interrupting him Connie argued, “That's not what you said.”
Laughing, Bob said, “Maybe not, but it seems to have woke you up.”
Shaking her head as she tried not to laugh herself, Connie responded, “Oh, shut up and take us to your house already.”
Chapter Sixty-eight
Charlie pulled up in front of Linda's apartment building, then turning to look at her he said, “Looks like we're here.”
“Yes, it does,” she replied. “Thanks again.”
“No problem,” he started, “Now, about this getting to know one another thing...”
She smiled saying, “Care to come in? I could make us some coffee or something.”
“I'd love to,” he responded perhaps a little too quickly. If she'd remembered the pictures the police had been showing around the club earlier, or been more observant of the way he constantly looked at her as if she were the first meal he'd had in weeks, she might have been more leery of offering that invitation. Then again, she probably wouldn't have accepted the ride in the first place, had those been the case.
As Linda began to get out of the car, Charlie jumped out of the driver's seat and quickly ran around to the passenger door, grabbing hold of it as she stepped out of the way so he could close it. He then offered his elbow for her, which she accepted by slipping her hand through the opening so he could escort her to her door.
When they reached her front door, Charlie quietly stood beside her while she dug in her purse for her house key. Once she found it she looked at him and said, “Thanks so much for the ride. I'd invite you in but...”
Cutting her off he jumped in, “Sounds great. Don't mind if I do.”
“No,” she started, “I really need to get to bed.”
Charlie quickly responded, “Best offer I've had in a long time.” He then grinned at her, hoping she would give in so he wouldn't have to force his way in.
She looked at him and sighed saying, “I'm really exhausted. Is there any way I could give you a rain check?”
He forced a grin and said, “Sure. No problem.” After the shortest of pauses he then asked, “Any chance I could use your restroom before I go?”
Linda appeared to relax a little as she replied, “Certainly, come on in.” Once she had the door open she stepped inside followed by her guest, saying, “Down the hall. First door on the right.”
“Great, thanks,” he responded before heading in the specified direction.
While he was in the bathroom, Linda closed the front door before making her way into the kitchen where she reached into the cabinet for a glass, then after a moment got out a second. “What am I thinking?” she asked herself before taking the glasses to the ice maker and filling them both with cubes.
Charlie emerged from the restroom and found Linda in the kitchen rummaging through her liquor cabinet. He asked, “What's this?”
Turning to see him she replied, “Well I can't very well send you on your way without a proper thank you for the ride, can I?”
Laughing, Charlie responded, “Who am I to argue? Got any Scotch?”
“Of course,” she said before fishing a bottle of Scotch out of the cabinet and pouring some in each glass. She then handed one glass to her guest and picked up the other for herself.
Raising her glass in toast she said, “Thank you kind sir for gallantly providing me with assistance in my time of need.”
Touching his glass to hers he countered, “It was my pleasure.” The two of them stood there drinking from their glasses for a moment, looking intently at each other as they did so.
Charlie finished his first and set his glass down on the counter before moving in close to Linda, who was clearly surprised by his forwardness. She started to protest, but before she could actually say anything he had placed one hand to her mouth to silence her objections while his other reached around and pulled her close.
“Now,” he started, “Why would you want to fight?” He then began to guide her toward the bedroom as she struggled in vain against him.
As they entered the bedroom, he said, “Stop fighting and this will go much easier for you.”
“Oh yes,” she retorted, “Not fighting will make it so much easier for you to kill me.” She then kicked at his knees several times in the hope that she might be able to get away from him.
“Ouch!” he shouted before striking her hard across the face, then throwing her onto the bed. Climbing on top of her, he commented, “This will be fun.”
Before she knew what was happening, he had slipped a portion of electric cord around her neck and was tightening it as he kneed her repeatedly in the groin, knocking what little fight she had left out of her. As her resistance faded, he continued to tighten the cord cutting off her ability to breathe.
Once the life had left her body, Charlie returned to the kitchen to grab a knife which he then brought back to the bedroom and started by cutting the clothes off of his victim. Next he proceeded to mutilate her body but cutting off her genitals. “There's a nice present for you,” he snarled as he finished his 'surgery'.
As he stepped away from the body and went to the bathroom to begin cleaning up, he couldn't help but feel somehow unsatisfied. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he needed more. He just wasn't sure what would fulfill that need.
After cleaning the blood off oh his hands and removing the outer clothes he'd worn to keep from being stained when he left, he took one last look at Linda's body. “I let it happen to fast this time,” he mumbled. “I need to make it last longer.”
On his way to the front door, he remembered the glass he'd set down on the counter in the kitchen and returned there to retrieve the glass so he wouldn't need to worry about the possibility of leaving fingerprints somewhere that might lead the police back to him. Once done he headed out the door and made his way home to plan his next conquest.
Chapter Sixty-nine
Bob woke up to find the other side of the bed empty. He smiled as he first smelled coffee brewing, then heard pans clanging together telling him that Connie was in the kitchen. That thought made his smile grow bigger as he allowed himself to consider the possibility of waking up to her every morning.
He got out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe as he wandered into the kitchen where Connie was putting the finishing touches on their breakfast. When he saw her he couldn't help but say, “I need to wake to this more often.”
Smiling Connie responded, “Play your cards right and we'll see what we can do about that.”
Bob came up beside her and reached into the pan on the stove, picking up a bit of scrambled egg which he popped into his mouth. After swallowing he told her, “Good stuff.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied.
Bob got out two plates from the cabinet and handed one to Connie before dishing some of the eggs on his plate. While Connie did the same, he got forks out of the silverware drawer, then got coffee cups out and handed one of each to her before pouring a cup for himself. Once they'd finished dishing up their food and drink, the two of them carried their breakfasts with them to the small kitchen table where they each took a seat and began consuming their meals.
In between bites, Connie asked, “So, what do you have planned for today? Do you have to work?”
“Only if something happens on one of my cases. No, today is my Mom's birthday and we're supposed to be getting together at my folks' house.”
“Will Tanya be there?”
Bob took a sip of his coffee before responding, “I suppose so, although it's liable to be a bit exciting.”
“Why's that?”
“Well, my folks have yet to meet my sister as it were and I'm not exactly sure how things are going to go.” After a brief pause he continued, “If you're looking for some excitement you could come along.”
“To tell ya the truth, I wish I could,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I'm supposed to work this afternoon.”
“On a Sunday?” Bob asked.
“Yeah,” she answered. “I'm kind of managing the club today. Not that I get any extra money for it, but...”
“Well, after the excitement is over maybe I could come by and fill you in on all the gory details.”
Smiling she said, “I'd like that a lot.”
Chapter Seventy
Tanya sat in her car looking down the street at the house that had been her childhood home as she tried to summon the courage to actually go inside and face her parents as her true self for the very first time. She'd been doing just that for nearly twenty minutes and knew that soon they'd be wondering where she was, possibly even going so far as to come looking for her.
She nervously took one last look at herself in the rear view mirror before finally working up the courage to face her fate. “All or nothing,” she said to herself as she opened the car door and climbed out.
After straightening her skirt, she began walking up the driveway toward her first face to face encounter with her parents as Tanya. With each step her apprehension grew at the same rate as the perceived weight of her high heeled boot encased feet until she finally found herself facing the front door to her childhood home.
She took a deep breath and muttered, “Here goes,” as she raised her hand to the doorbell and pressed the button. Fighting the urge to run, she stood anxiously waiting for a sign from inside. After a few seconds she could clearly hear someone walking across hardwood floors toward the front door, each step echoing louder than the previous in her head.
Nerves obviously had taken their toll as she held her breath while the door slowly swung open, revealing Tanya's mother looking nearly as anxious as her daughter. Neither one seemed able to make a sound as they stood there looking at each other for what seemed hours, but more likely was mere seconds.
Finding her voice first, Tanya's mother tentatively asked, “Tanya?” as she continued to stare at her new daughter.
Finally able to respond, Tanya replied, “Hi Mom. Happy Birthday.”
After the briefest of hesitations, Tanya's mother opened her arms and stepped forward toward her daughter saying, “Welcome home, sweetheart.” She enfolded her daughter in a tender embrace before leading her inside as she added, “It's so good to finally see you.”
Blushing, she smiled and said, “You too, Mom.”
As they started to release their embrace, her Mom held Tanya at arms length and added, “Now, your father has promised me he won't make a scene, but as you probably knew already he's having some issues with these changes.”
“I expected that,” Tanya responded. “Would it be better if I didn't stay?”
“No,” she replied emphatically. “My day, my rules and I want my daughter to be here.”
“Okay, but if things get too bad I'll leave.”
Cutting off her daughter she interjected, “You will not!”
At that moment their greeting was interrupted by the approach of an older man coming into the living room from the kitchen. As he drew nearer he looked at Tanya and making no effort to disguise his disappointment, said, “Ah, you're here. Wasn't sure you'd make it.”
“Yes, I'm here Dad. Thank you for allowing me to come today,” Tanya offered in her most conciliatory tone.
“Don't thank me,” he grunted before turning to leave the room.
After watching her father walk away, Tanya looked back at her mother and said, “I suppose that could've gone worse.”
“Doesn't mean I approve of his behavior,” her Mom responded. “I think I need to read him the riot act for treating our daughter this way.”
Trying to calm her mother, Tanya said, “No Mom! This is a lot for him to have to take in. It's bound to take time for him to get used to the idea.”
“Only because he never paid attention when you were growing up.”
“Mom,” she started, “Thank you so much. Let him have a little time, okay?”
“Okay,” her Mom relented.
Bob came in the front door and as soon as he saw Tanya he asked, “I take it things didn't go all that well?”
Turning her attention to her brother she replied, “Could've been worse, I suppose.”
Mom asked, “I take it you're acquainted with your sister?”
“We've talked a bit.”
“Well, I'm glad you two are working at getting along. That means a lot to me, son.”
“I know Mom and I promise you I'm trying.”
Mom gave Bob a hug and said, “I know and thank you.”
“Mom,” Tanya interjected, “Bobby's been great about things. I actually think in time we might get along better than we ever did before.”
“That's wonderful, sweetheart.” Mom then continued, “Now what are we going to do about your father?”
“I really didn't expect him to accept me,” Tanya stated.
“Well I did,” Mom countered.
“He go out there?” Bob asked as he pointed toward the back door.
Their Mom answered, “Yes and could you go talk to him?”
Tanya interjected, “Maybe I should just go.”
“No!” Mom stated vehemently. “You will not! This is my first chance to spend time with my daughter and I won't let him take that away from me.”
“I'll see what I can do,” Bob offered. He then headed out the back door to talk to their father.
Watching her son as he made his way out the door their Mom said to Tanya, “Looks like you two are getting along all right.”
“I've been very happily surprised,” Tanya commented. “When he first found out, I fully expected him to react exactly the same way Dad has. Then somehow he managed to prove me wrong. He's really trying very hard. I can honestly say I know for certain that he really does love me. Not his little brother playing dress up, but me.”
by Jillian
Chapter Seventy-one
Bob looked out the back door toward the old shed where he saw his father sitting on the family's rather old riding lawn mower. He went out the door and as he started walking toward the shed he asked, “You okay, Pop?”
Looking up, his father replied, “Guess that depends on what you call okay.”
“Listen,” Bob started, “I know it's weird. Trust me, I know. The thing is, now that I've kinda gotten to know her...”
Pop interrupted, “Her? That's my son in there!”
“I know where you're coming from, really I do,” he responded. “The thing is, we've had some time to get to know one another and I kinda understand a lot of things about her that I didn't before.”
“Again with the her!”
Trying to calm his father, Bob said, “Yeah, well, I have to think that she and her makes a lot more sense than he and him does anymore.”
“But,” he countered, “You're born one or the other. There's no switching sides.”
“Sorry Pop, but I think this time you may be wrong.”
Looking at his son with a part perturbed, part confused expression, he stated, “Listen Bobby, in all these years I've yet to meet anybody who could convince me that these gender bender types are anything other than koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs.”
“I don't know Pop,” Bob countered. “Until recently I woulda agreed with you 100 percent, but now I've spent some time tryin' to understand all this and I gotta say...”
Interrupting his son he asked, “What? You goin' soft on me here, boy?”
“No, course not,” Bob replied. “I'm just kinda startin' to understand a little about why some folks might believe the way they do.”
“You better not let the FOP guys hear ya talkin' like that. They'd have your shield for sure.”
“You may be right about that, Pop. However, that doesn't mean I'm not starting to accept the idea that I might have a little sister instead of a brother.”
Looking at his son while shaking his head, Pop responded, “Well, I will not accept any such ideas.”
“Pop!” Bob chastised his father. “You know as well as I do that Tommy always had something different about him. We've even known what it was that was different.”
“Doesn't matter,” Pop argued.
“But it does. You were willing to accept Tommy even though he was 'different', so what's so different about Tanya?”
“What's got into you?”
Bob took a deep breath and let out a low sigh before responding, “Listen, whether we like it or not that's still the same person and the sooner you and I accept that, the better things will be.”
“Son,” Pop countered, “This is just too odd. People aren't supposed to change teams like that!”
“That's just it, Pop,” Bob responded. “I don't think there's any 'changing teams' going on here at all. She's always been a girl. We just didn't know it until now.”
“This is too weird.”
“Believe me, I know exactly where you're comin' from. I've just started to realize how gutsy is is for her to do this.”
With an obviously confused look on his face Pop asked, “What're you talkin' about?”
“Think about it,” Bob began, “Despite knowing exactly what our reaction was going to be, she came here today like this. She spent hours trying to explain things to me even though we both knew I was never going to really understand. That took a lot of guts. You gotta at least acknowledge that.”
Pop shrugged before finally saying, “I don't know. Maybe.”
“Pop, I don't approve any more than you do, but I have to think it's our place to support her whether we think it's right or not.”
Looking skeptically at his son, Pop asked, “What else is goin' on here?”
Bob returned his father's stare for a moment before replying, “It has to do with this case I've been working on. You know about about the tranny killings, right?”
“I read about them in the paper, yeah.”
“Well, we're having some difficulty getting many leads and Tanya's volunteered to serve as bait for us.”
A sudden look of concern crossed Pop's face as he digested what Bob had just told him. After a few moments, he said, “I'm surprised. I never thought he had it in him.”
“Yeah well,” Bob started, “Fact is we both underestimated her for a long time.”
“What's with this 'her' stuff?” Pop asked.
Bob said, “That's one of the things I came out here to talk to you about.”
“What is it?”
“Listen, we don't have to agree with what she's doing, but it's only right to at least respect her choice by using her girl name or female pronouns.”
Pop looked intently at his son before saying, “That's goin' to be easier said than done.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bob answered. “But she deserves that much, I think.”
Chapter Seventy-two
Candy knocked on Linda's door for the third time, mumbling to herself, “Where the Hell are you? Surely you didn't forget about shopping.”
When there was still no response from inside, Candy dug around in her purse for her keys. Once she'd located the key ring, she picked through them until she found the spare key Linda had given her a few months before so she could get in to water the plants while Linda had been out of town.
She let herself in the apartment and called, “Linda?” Unsure why there was still no response, she wandered into the kitchen where she found one half empty glass sitting out on the counter. Picking it up, she could easily see that it had been Linda's thanks to the shade of lipstick stain on the rim.
Setting it back down she quietly asked, “Why would this still be out on the counter? She never leaves dirty dishes out like that.” After a moment, she headed down the hallway hoping to figure out what was going on.
As she passed Linda's bedroom, she got her first sight of the body sprawled out on the bed. The incredible amount of blood all over the bed had dripped onto the floor where it appeared to have been pooling for quite some time.
Startled by the scene she was witnessing, Candy let out a sudden scream as she uneasily backed away from the bedroom door until she was once again standing in the living room. Clearly shaken by what she'd just seen, it took a few minutes for her to regain her composure and have the presence of mind to call the police.
Following several deep breaths, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, which she immediately opened and dialed 911.
After barely a single ring the call was answered, “911, what is your emergency?”
Candy stammered for a second before blurting out, “My friend is dead. In her apartment. I just found her. What do I do?”
“What is your location?”
She eventually managed to tell the operator where she was so the appropriate services could be dispatched. Once her call to 911 was complete, she found her way to the sofa where she allowed herself to break down and began to cry uncontrollably.
Chapter Seventy-three
Tanya sat at the kitchen table with her mother, drinking iced tea and chatting. “What if he never comes around, Mom?”
“He will, sweetheart,” Mom countered. “Just give him time.”
“I'll try,” Tanya responded. “But what if he...”
Mom cut off her new daughter, saying, “You can't think like that. I know that sometimes you think of him as some horrible ogre, but he's really not like that at all.”
“You could have fooled me,” Tanya mumbled.
“Now,” Mom chastised. “Don't be that way.”
“Then how do you want me to be, Mom?” she asked agitatedly. “I mean, did he or didn't he run out the back door the moment I came in?”
Slowly, Mom responded, “I guess you could say that, but...”
“But nothing,” Tanya interrupted. “It's not like I expected anything different. Maybe I should just go.”
“No!” Mom Countered. “It's my birthday and I want you here.”
The conversation was halted by the sound of the back door opening and closing once again. Both ladies looked toward the sound, holding their breath while they waited. After a few seconds, Pop followed by Bob re-entered the kitchen.
“Boys,” Mom greeted them.
Pop fidgeted for a moment before saying, “Listen, I know I kinda overreacted.”
Mom piped up, “I'll say.”
“Mom!” Tanya chided. Directed toward Pop she said, “It's okay. I do understand.”
“I know you do,” Pop responded. “I'm sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
Bob interjected, “Pop and I had a long talk.”
Tanya interrupted, “I do understand that you don't necessarily approve of what I'm doing.”
Pop responded, “And I appreciate that. You're right, I don't approve, but that's not what's important here.”
Mom picked up the thought saying, “What is important is that we support you in this despite whether or not we approve.”
Smiling, Tanya answered, “That's all I could ask.”
“I've done my best to convey that to Pop,” Bob commented. “He just needed a little time to absorb things. Not unlike someone else we know.”
Tanya responded, “You know how much I appreciate the fact that you're willing to respect my choice. It's more than a simple 'thank you' could possibly cover.”
Mom smiled and said, “Now, how about we have a little dinner?”
Chapter Seventy-four
“No, we were supposed to go shopping this afternoon. I hadn't heard anything from her which was kind of odd, so I decided to come over and check on her,” Candy stated, visibly shaken as she sat answering the police officer's questions.
The officer made some notes on a small pad of paper before looking back at the witness and offering, “I'm sorry to have taken so much of your time. We have your contact information, so if the detectives need anything else they'll be in touch.”
Candy looked blankly at him for a moment before the officer said, “I can't think of anything else we might need from you at the moment, but as I said, the detectives may have more questions later on. Again, I'm sorry for your loss.” He extended his hand as they stood up, adding, “If we need anything else, we'll be in touch.”
After escorting the witness to the door, the officer turned to one of his colleagues and said, “Looks like we'll be interrupting Detective Taylor's day off.”
“Well, you can make the call, 'cause I sure as Hell ain't doin' it.”
Chapter Seventy-five
Bob's cell phone rang as he took a last bite from his dinner plate. He pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open, and said, “Taylor.”
From the other end he heard, “Detective, it looks like we have another victim in your case.”
Bob's face fell as he listened to his telephone before responding, “Can you text me the address? I'll be there ASAP.” After flipping his phone closed, he turned his attention to his mother and said, “I'm sorry Mom. It looks like I'm going to have to go back to work.”
Tanya interjected, “Everything all right?”
He responded to his sister as he rose from the dinner table, “Looks like we have another victim.”
Tanya's face fell as she listened to her brother. She also rose from the table and followed him to the front door, where she said, “Be careful, okay?”
“I will,” he responded. He opened the door, continuing, “I'll talk to you later. We need to catch this guy before...”
“I know,” she interrupted. “Talk to ya later.”
She watched as her brother headed out the door and down the driveway to his car. She didn't close the front door until she'd seen him climb into his car, after which she herself turned around and returned to the dining table.
Surprisingly, when she'd gotten back to the dining room she found her father sitting at the table alone looking intently at her. “Where's Mom?” she asked nervously.
“She had something to take care of,” he replied. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure, Pop,” she answered. As she returned to her seat at the table she asked, “What's up?”
He stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat and saying, “Listen, you know there's no way you were going to come here today and not have a serious sit down with me, so it's either now or later.”
Tanya took a sip from her iced tea sitting in front of her before responding, “I know. I just don't feel like listening to you try to talk me into changing my mind.”
“I know that,” Pop began, “and believe it or not, I can respect that.”
She stared at him, unable to respond for a moment. When she finally found her voice again, all she could manage to ask was, “Huh?”
“It's like when you told us you wanted to try to make a living as a musician,” Pop started. “I believed you were making a mistake, but I had to respect your right to make that choice.”
“And you did,” she responded. “I've always appreciated that and I hope I've been able to communicate that.”
“You have,” he replied. “Now as for...this,” he indicated Tanya's appearance, “I think you're making a huge mistake.”
She looked at him on the verge of tears running down her cheeks. After trying for a moment to verbalize a response, she simply swallowed and let the tears flow.
Pop took in her nonverbal response for a moment before continuing, “Over the years, I saw a lot of 'girls' like you and not a one of 'em had any kind of success in life. Not at work, not in relationships...” He paused for a second before concluding, “They all had really hard lives and I just hate to see you go down that same road.”
After wiping the tears off her cheeks, Tanya said, “Pop, I tried for a long time to be the person you wanted me to be. I really did.” The tears, which had never really stopped since they'd begun the conversation, increased until she was barely able to squeak out the last part, “I just couldn't do it anymore.”
Pop looked at his new 'daughter' for several seconds, debating how best to respond to what he'd just heard. Eventually he decided to offer something of an olive branch and soothed, “I know that, sweetheart. I didn't say I wouldn't respect your choice. I will, but I'm still going to tell you what I think, and I think you're making a mistake. Okay?”
As she slowly brought her crying back under control she smiled and responded, “Okay.”
She eventually got up from her chair, circled around the table and gave Pop a hug saying, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he answered as he too began to cry.
Chapter Seventy-six
Charlie continued to mentally beat himself up over his lack of restraint the previous night, mumbling to himself, “How could I let things get out of hand like that? I had a plan.” He looked at the knife and glass which he'd brought home with him, wondering if he should dispose of them.
Eventually he decided that the best course of action was to destroy the evidence, so he took both items and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher. After closing the machine and starting it he stated, “Now there's no way they could possibly connect them with last night, even if someone found them.” That tended to, he began to relax a bit and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.
As the hot water pelted his body Charlie began to think about what might happen if he were to ever get caught. Oddly though, it wasn't thoughts of how he might be treated in police custody that preoccupied him. Rather, he wondered if there would be anyone else to come along to carry on his 'important work'.
“Surely,” he rationalized, “I can't be the only one who believes that what I'm doing is important. God's work even.”
He continued to allow his thoughts to swirl through his twisted logic until it occurred to him that the water was getting cold. Following a quick rinse to ensure he had removed all traces of soap he turned off the shower and climbed out, grabbing a towel and beginning to dry off in the process. Despite getting repeatedly lost in his thoughts, Charlie eventually managed to get himself ready for his day.
Chapter Seventy-seven
As Bob entered the apartment one of the uniformed officers greeted him, “Hey detective. Sorry to interrupt your day off.”
“I don't think it was your fault. If I find out it was...” he allowed the statement to trail off before grinning at the young officer. Everyone who overheard their exchange chuckled for a moment before Bob asked, “So where's the victim?”
Pointing in the direction of the bedroom, the officer said, “Through there in the bedroom.”
“Thanks,” he said as he headed in the direction the other man had indicated. When he entered the room, he quickly noticed that the scene was different from previous victims.
Looking up from the bed, the medical examiner noticed him entering and said, “Hey Bob. This one's different.”
“Different how? Not one of the 'girls'?”
“No she's a t-girl,” he answered. “What's different is the way the murder took place.”
“How so? I know this isn't the first one he's done with a knife.”
The medical examiner replied, “It's like he was rushed or something. Usually there's a lot of buildup before the climax, but not this time.”
“So do you think someone interrupted him and he rushed the act, or what?”
“I'm not sure, other than to say that the evidence indicates nowhere near as much of his usual buildup.”
Thinking for a moment, Bob asked, “Any chance this isn't the same guy?”
“It's hard to say really, but I'm inclined to think it's the same guy as before because of how little evidence was left behind. Just something caused him to finish her off before he'd intended.”
Looking first at the body lying on the bed, then at the doctor Bob responded, “Okay. Just make sure to get lots of pictures for the file.”
As he left the room, he mulled over what the doctor had said. 'If he was somehow rushed then chances are he's feeling frustrated. I'd be willing to bet he's going to go out looking for another victim tonight.'
Pulling out his phone, he called the precinct. When his call was answered he said, “This is Detective Taylor. I need to speak with the watch commander.”
“One moment sir,” he heard before the line went silent for a moment.
There was a click followed by the voice of the captain, “Johnson here. What can I do for you Detective?”
Getting right to the point Bob said, “I'd like authorization to set up a stakeout at that tranny bar tonight.”
The Captain responded, “Kinda late notice. Any reason?”
Following the briefest of pauses Bob replied, “Call it a hunch. I've got a feeling our guy's going to be hunting tonight.”
“What's the plan?” asked the Captain.
Bob cleared his throat before answering, “I'd like to place two teams outside ready to apprehend the perp, should he show himself.”
After a moment during which he was obviously deciding if he was going to authorize Bob's request, he said, “You got it. Is there anything else you need?”
“Not really, no. Other than maybe a wire with recording. I have someone who will go inside and try to ID our guy in the bar.”
“I know you don't have any officers playing dress up,” the Captain commented.
Bob hesitated before responding, “No, I have one of the regulars who's willing to help us out.”
“Does he know what he's getting into?”
“She does.”
“Okay,” the captain said. “You've got whatever you need. Good hunting.”
The line went silent then disconnected, so Bob dialed another number.
This time as soon as the call was answered he stated, “Tanya, I'm going to need you to go in tonight.”
Chapter Seventy-eight
As Tanya hung up the phone, her mother asked, “What was that about, sweetheart?”
Startled by the unexpected question, Tanya said, “Mom! Don't sneak up on people like that.”
Laughing, her mom said, “I don't sneak! So?”
Giving her Mom a mock glare, Tanya asked, “So what?”
Following an exasperated sigh, her mom replied, “So what was the call about?”
Feeling flustered, Tanya lied, “Nothing. It was just a friend wanting to chat. I told her I'd call her back later.”
Staring knowingly at Tanya, Mom commented, “I don't think so.”
Trying to change the subject Tanya said, “I'm sorry if I ruined your birthday.”
Mom smiled as she responded, “No sweetheart, you haven't done anything of the sort. In fact, having you here has been the best present I could've asked for.”
Staring at her on the verge of tears, Tanya said, “Well, I don't really believe you, but thanks.”
Changing the subject Mom asked, “So how'd your talk with your father go?”
“Well,” she said trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. After a moment she couldn't hold it in any longer and smiled as she said, “Better than I expected, to tell the truth.”
Mom returned her smile as she asked, “Then I take it you two are at least on speaking terms?”
“Yes...at least,” she said as she began to giggle. Before long they were both convulsed in a fit of laughter.
“He does love you, you know,” Mom offered as the giggling subsided.
“I know,” Tanya replied. “I just hope he can be as non-judgmental in practice as he seems in theory.”
“I don't think you have anything to worry about.”
Tanya paused for a moment before responding, “I hope you're right.”
Chapter Seventy-nine
As Bob climbed the steps and entered the precinct he was approached by Sergeant Parker who said, “Taylor, I have the detail arranged and everyone's waiting in the call room.”
“Good,” Bob responded, “I'll be there in a minute. Did you include Tanya's picture in the packet?”
Looking less than thrilled, the Sergeant replied, “Yeah I did. Is this the only way?”
“It's our best chance to catch this guy. The fact that you have a problem with the kind of people he's been killing shouldn't change anything and the same can be said of Tanya, because she volunteered to help us get him. Besides, she's...yes I said she...my sister so don't let your personal feelings get in the way of doing your job.”
Looking down the sarge said, “Yes boss.” With that he turned and walked away.
As Bob watched him leave he said to himself, “I hope he doesn't let his feelings mess up the whole operation.” As he continued toward his desk, he continued to mull over his friend and his distaste for his sister and everyone like her.
Opening the file which held copies of all the documents that had been handed out to the task force waiting for him downstairs, he made some notes about what he wanted to include in his instructions. When he was done, he picked up his notes along with the file and headed for the stairs so he could address the troops.
At the bottom of the steps he peered into the room and made mental notes about the team members he was familiar with, as well as those he didn't know so he could be sure to look up their service records before the operation. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room and headed directly for the podium at the front of the room.
“Tonight we catch this guy,” Bob said as he stood up in front of the room full of officers who'd been assigned to the evening's detail. “We're sending in someone who won't stand out as out of place to act as bait and our top priority after catching our suspect is to keep her safe. I know the Sarge has already gone over individual assignments, so I won't waste any more of your time on that right now. Any questions?”
A younger looking officer raised his hand as asked, “How will we know which one is the decoy sir?”
“Her picture is included in the packet you've all been given concerning tonight's operation,” Bob responded. He paused and after clearing his throat he continued, “This isn't some cop we're putting in harm's way here. It's my sister who's volunteered to help us catch this guy, so I'd appreciate it if we could do everything possible to ensure her safety. Anything else?”
The room was silent for a moment while Bob waited to see if there were any more questions. Once he was certain there were none he concluded the meeting by saying, “That's all. You've got a few hours before we need to get everyone in position for tonight, so go have a good meal, get some sleep...whatever you need to do to make sure you're on top of your game tonight. Dismissed.”
As those in attendance started filing out of the room Sergeant Parker came up to the front of the room and commented, “Interesting how you left out the part about your 'sister' being your brother.”
Glaring at the sergeant Bob responded, “Not relevant, Sarge. Now leave it alone.”
Defensively the sergeant said, “Okay, okay.”
Softening his stare Bob asked, “Are you going to be able to do your job without letting your personal feelings get in the way?”
“Of course,” Sarge replied a little indignantly. “I'm a professional.”
“Okay,” Bob responded as he watched his friend turn and leave the room.
Chapter Eighty
“Where've you been?” Cynthia whined as she watched her friend walk into her hospital room.
As she strode toward the bed Tanya replied, “My Mom's birthday, remember?”
“So you actually went? Like that?” Cynthia asked.
When she reached her friend's bedside, Tanya pulled a chair over by the bed and took a seat, responding, “Well yeah. I talked to my Dad and everything.”
“And you lived to tell about it.”
Tanya smiled as she said, “Believe it or don't.”
Cynthia gave her friend a penetrating stare as she asked, “I assume since you aren't balling your eyes out that he was a lot more sympathetic than you thought he'd be?”
Grinning Tanya replied, “Oh, he made it clear he thinks I'm making a huge mistake, but at the same time he promised to respect my right to choose how I live my life. I actually think in his own way that's a ringing endorsement.”
They both dissolved in a fit of giggles before eventually Cynthia got herself back under control, at which point she asked, “So what's next?”
“Well,” she said somewhat guiltily, “I'm meeting up with Bobby later.”
“If I didn't know better I'd think he was starting to accept you.”
“That'll be the day.”
“So how'd he talk you into helping him with his case?”
Feigning shock Tanya responded, “I don't know what you mean.”
“I know you, remember?” Cynthia started. “You have this look in your eye that tells me you're trying to hide something from me.”
In response to her friend's comment, Tanya blushed bright red as she tried not to smile.
To Be Continued...
by Jillian
Chapter Eighty-one
“Where are you?” Bob practically shouted into his cell phone as he left yet another voicemail message on Tanya's phone. After disconnecting the line, he directed his attention toward Sergeant Parker sitting next to him in their unmarked car and asked, “What time is it?”
The sergeant looked at his watch and replied, “A few minutes til eight.”
Staring out the front window Bob muttered, “Where are you, little sister?” The words had barely left his lips when his cell phone range. He flipped it open before it had completed one time through the ringtone and said, “Tanya, where the hell are you?”
She replied, “I'm in my car on my way to the club. I should be there in a couple of minutes.”
“You're late,” Bob commented.
“Like I said, I'm almost there.”
Forcing himself to calm his tone he said, “Meet me around the corner from the club so I can get you ready to go in.”
Tanya responded, “I'll be there as soon as I find a parking space.”
Bob flipped his phone closed and turned his attention back to the sarge and said, “I'll be back after I get her ready to go in.”
“See ya in a few,” the Sarge replied.
Bob climbed out of the car and crossed the street, going around the corner of the building where he'd planned to meet up with his sister. He had stood there in the shadows trying to be invisible for a moment until Tanya came walking by.
Sticking his head out of the shadows he hissed, “Over here.”
Startled, Tanya nearly jumped upon hearing the unexpected voice. Quickly regaining her composure, she replied, “Don't do that to me!”
“Sorry, I was just trying to avoid being seen,” he replied. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small quarter sized device and hands it to her, saying, “This will let us know your location at all times, so even if we were to lose visual contact we can find you easily.”
Taking the device from her brother, Tanya said, “I'm not sure I like the idea of you losing visual contact.”
Softening from his usual 'professional' demeanor, Bob commented, “I understand, but if we stay too close we may spook him before we have a chance to get him. Hide that somewhere on your person, like maybe in your bra or something.”
“It doesn't look like it would be very comfortable stuffed in there,” she commented.
He looked at her kind of funny and asked, “Isn't that just padding in there?”
She became indignant and said, “Not that it's any of your business, but no, it's not just padding. That's all me and they're kind of sensitive.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled before clearing his throat and saying more 'officially', “Just hide it in your clothes somewhere.”
“I'll figure something out,” she replied before reaching inside the top of her dress and hiding the device in the side of her bra. Once that task was done she looked at her brother and asked, “Are we ready to do this?”
“Yeah, everyone is in place,” Bob responded. “I’ll be right over there,” he said as he pointed toward the unmarked car parked across the street from the alley they were in. “We’ll stick as close as we can without being noticed.”
Handing her a photo of their suspect he continued, “Our best bet is if you can get this guy to leave the club with you. We'll be able to grab him more easily that way than if we were trying to do it inside with so many civilians in such close proximity.”
Tanya looked intently at the photo as if committing it to memory. “Bring him outside,” she said, confirming her instructions. “I'll see what I can do.” After handing the photo back to her brother she ran her hands down her dress to smooth it out and asked, “Do I look all right?”
Bob rolled his eyes and said, “Geez, you've been a woman for what, a week? And you've already started with those trick questions?”
“Bobby, I've always been a woman,” she replied indignantly. “You just didn't know it before.”
Holding up his hands in a sign of surrender he said, “Okay, okay. How about we get things going?”
“Okay,” she responded. “I'm guessing we don't want to both leave this alley at the same time.”
“That would be correct. You go on in and I'll give it a minute or so before I head back to my post,” he said. As he watched her walk away and turn toward the entrance he quietly said, “Good luck.”
Chapter Eighty-two
As Charlie prepared to head out for the evening, he asked himself, “What am I doing? No way should I be doing this.” Despite his acknowledgment, he continued getting ready to go out.
Before he left his apartment, he picked up a bag he'd placed by the door and looked inside to confirm that he had everything he anticipated needing for the evening. Once certain, he exited and climbed into his car.
As he drove toward 'Slipper' the anticipation which had been building up in him since the previous night grew to the point that it was nearly visible in his every action. By the time he reached his destination, he was actually shaking.
“Get yourself under control,” he murmured as he parked the car. Before getting out of it he sat there for a minute taking slow, deep breaths to try to calm himself. Once he had managed to calm himself he climbed out of the car and started toward the club entrance.
As he entered the club, the excitement he'd tried so hard to control again bubbled up to the surface. Even before he'd made it through the door he began scanning the bar for potential 'companions'.
He approached the bar and said to the bartender, “I'll have a beer, thanks.”
The bartender reached into the cooler for a glass and asked, “Tap or bottle?”
“Bottle,” he responded. “Just whatever kind you grab first.”
“You got it,” the bartender said as he again reached into the cooler and first replaced the glass, then pulled out a bottle which he handed to Charlie saying, “Here ya go.”
Charlie took the bottle and said, “Thanks.” Taking a sip, he resumed looking around the room for someone with whom he could satisfy his desires.
Chapter Eighty-three
Bob took a drink from the thermos lid cup and said, “I see you still suck at making coffee.”
Parker looked at him and smirked as he replied, “Next time you can make your own then.”
“I never said I could do any better,” Bob admitted.
“I've tasted your coffee,” Parker retorted. “Trust me, you can't.”
“You know,” Bob teased, “I could run you for insubordination.”
Parker smirked, “No you can't.”
Bob gave his associate a hard stare for a moment hoping to make the Sarge question whether he was right or not. After a minute, he gave up on his halfhearted attempt at intimidation. Trying to redirect things back to the business at hand, Bob asked, “How's the tracking signal?”
Parker looked at the receiver before replying, “Good strong signal. The techno-geeks said the location should be accurate to within ten yards and it says she's inside the building.”
Bob smiled and commented, “Thanks for saying she. I know you have some problems with all this. Hell, so do I but it's important for us to respect the life choices of someone who is risking their own life to help us out here.”
Parker dismissively responded, “Just don't make a big deal about it, okay?”
Again smiling, Bob said, “You got it, Sarge.”
Chapter Eighty-four
Tanya had been in the club for nearly an hour as she looked around the bar yet again from the vantage point of her table located on a raised platform that overlooked the dance floor and bar area. She was trying to find the man whose picture she had memorized while attempting to not be too obvious about her search.
She scanned the club yet again and nearly missed seeing her quarry, but just managed to catch a glimpse of him standing at the bar nursing a drink. Her first instinct was to head straight for him, but thought better of that idea and decided to just keep an eye on his movements for a moment before approaching him.
As she watched him she couldn’t help indulging the contradictory thoughts that raced around her head. On the one hand she had to admit that she understood why so many girls had been willing to go with him. After all, he wasn’t exactly repulsive looking. However, she found that thanks to the information she had been given prior to the evening it took every ounce of will power she could muster to not run as far away from him as she possibly could. In the end, she pushed her personal feelings, both good and bad, aside and returned to the next step in her mission.
It didn’t take long to determine that he hadn’t ‘hooked up’ with anyone yet, so she made her way over to his location at the end of the bar. She stepped up to the bar and waited for the bartender’s attention while stealing glances at her target. Whether he noticed her looking at him was unimportant, as he was quite obviously interested in her.
As the bartender turned her attention to the end of the bar, Tanya spoke up, “I’d like a glass of white wine please.”
Charlie jumped into the conversation saying, “Put that on my tab.” He then held his hand out and introduced himself, “I’m Charlie.”
Tanya took his offered hand and responded, “Tanya.”
He flashed her his best smile and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Tanya.”
Fighting her nearly uncontrollable desire to throw up, she forced herself to smile back before asking, “Are you here with someone?”
“No, I’m on my own…for now at least,” he said as his eyes flashed a predatory look in Tanya’s direction. After a brief pause, he asked, “What about you? Are you spoken for this evening?”
Doing her best to make him think she was interested she replied, “All by my lonesome. Join me?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” he grinned as he took a sip of his drink. Looking around for a moment he spots a table and says, “There’s one. Come on.”
While Charlie led Tanya toward the table he intended to commandeer, she thought, ‘That was easier than I expected.’
When they reached the table he pulled out a chair for her and said in a laughable English accent, “Milady.”
She took the offered seat and watched as he took his place opposite. After a brief couple of seconds during which they each settled in to their places, Tanya started, “So Charlie, what do you have in mind now?”
“Well,” he started, “I thought we’d have a few drinks, dance a bit and see where that takes us.” The bartender returned with the previously ordered drink, placing it in front of Tanya.
Picking up the glass in a ‘toast’ gesture, she commented, “You seem to have a good handle on things.” Looking him in the eye, she smiled as she took a sip of her drink.
Chapter Eighty-Five
“You’re kinda antsy tonight,” Parker commented as Bob shifted in his seat yet again.
“I am not!” Bob snapped.
Parker stared at him for a moment before his lips began to curl into a smile and a chuckle rumbled up from his belly. “You wanna rethink that?” he asked in between chuckles.
Frowning, Bob said, “You mean you’re not worried about someone we just sent in there as bait for a lunatic who’s killed who knows how many times?”
“He’s not gonna do anything in the bar, is he?”
“That’s just it,” Bob replied, “He’s been changing his M.O. lately. We don’t know what to expect since he’s upped the ante.”
The sergeant watched his friend and colleague without responding for a couple of minutes. Just before he was about to say something to break the silence, he heard Bob clear his throat.
“I wish we could’ve set her up with the audio wire,” Bob complained for the umpteenth time as he sat in the car waiting.
Looking at his friend, Parker replied, “No need, is there? I mean there isn’t really anything he could say that would incriminate him more than his actions, true?”
“Yeah, but…” Bob started before allowing his thought to go unfinished.
“Careful there, boss,” the Sarge teased. “You’re gonna make everybody think you care or something.”
Bob stared daggers at his partner, saying nothing for a few moments. When he did speak, all he said was, “Family.”
In a conciliatory tone Parker responded, “Fair enough.”
Chapter Eighty-six
Tanya excused herself from Charlie’s company to make a visit to the restroom, where she slipped into the first available stall closing the door behind her. Pulling her cell phone out of her purse, she typed a quick text message and sent it to her brother saying, ‘Contact made. All well, T’.
“There,” she said to herself as she returned the phone to her purse. Straightening her dress, she opened the stall door and continued, “What next?”
Stepping out of the stall, she went to the mirror and checked her hair and makeup. Opening her purse again, she pulled out her lipstick and did a quick touch up before returning it to her bag.
Her attention was suddenly drawn to another ‘girl’ who was also touching up her makeup when she asked Tanya, “Who’s that guy you’re with tonight? He looks like quite the catch.”
Tanya looked at the other occupant and replied, “He’s all right, but we did just meet. His name’s Charlie.”
Cattily her new friend commented, “Well, if you’re not that into him maybe you should step aside and let someone who is have a chance.”
“I don’t think so,” Tanya replied.
“Hmph,” her companion huffed as she turned to leave the restroom.
Once she was alone, Tanya said to no one in particular, “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” When she was finally satisfied everything was as it should be, she exited the ladies room.
On her way back to their table, she mused, “Brother mine, I hope to high heaven you’ve got my back.”
As she approached from behind Charlie, she could see he was lustfully watching all the girls in the general vicinity of their table. For a brief moment, she thought about blowing up at him for drooling over other girls when they were supposedly together for the evening, but didn’t as she feared it might jeopardize the mission.
She slid back into her chair asking, “So what do you have planned for me now?”
Chapter Eighty-seven
Bob was startled by the text notification from his phone, saying, “Geez,” as he pulled it out of his pocket. He quickly read the message from Tanya and smiled as he put his phone away again.
“Important?” Parker asked.
“You could say that,” Bob replied. “She’s made contact.”
“Good,” Parker responded. “Maybe we can actually finish this thing tonight.”
“That’s the plan.” Bob raised the camera with telephoto lens to his eye and stared at the club entrance, hoping that the end to this case would come very soon. After a few minutes of staring through the lens he sighed and lowered the camera to his lap.
Parker broke the silence saying, “Ya know, staring at the door isn’t gonna make them come out any sooner.”
“And your point is?” He asked as he briefly looked toward Sergeant Parker. After a moment,
Chapter Eighty-eight
“So what do you think? Ready to get out of here?” Charlie asked as he finished off his beer.
Tanya took a sip of her drink, they giving him a sly smile replied, “What do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he started, “How about my place?”
Forcing herself to grin she responded, “Sounds like a plan.”
Charlie got up from the table and held his hand out to Tanya, who took hold and stood up herself. Well aware that there would be no way to hear each other amidst the throngs pulsating throughout the club, they continued to hold hands as they began winding their way through the crowd toward the entrance.
When they finally emerged into the relative quiet of the city night, Tanya breathed a sigh of relief saying, “The noise in there was rather intense.”
“It can get that way,” Charlie agreed. Pointing down the street he added, “I’m parked down here.”
Plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile onto her face she said, “Lead on.”
He pulled her close and forcefully kissed her, then with his arm around her waist started walking toward the corner where they turned toward his car.
Chapter Eighty-nine
“Heads up. Somebody’s coming out,” said Parker, directing Bob’s attention toward the club entrance.
Bob raised the camera and started snapping pictures as he said, “That’s them.” He quickly put down the camera and picked up the radio mic saying, “All units, suspect on the move. Stay sharp.”
He resumed watching through the camera lens just as Tanya looked briefly at the undercover car before following the guy she’d left the club with up the street. Again keying the mic he instructed the officers on his detail, “Stay close without being seen. We need to be able to control the situation at a moment’s notice.”
When the couple rounded a corner and started down the side street, Bob told his partner, “Follow, but try to stay out of sight.”
“Yeah, I know how to do it,” Parker grumbled. “As memory serves, I taught you.”
Laughing Bob replied, “You did at that. Sorry, I’m just a little on edge.”
“I’ll let it slide this once,” Parker allowed as he pulled the car out of its parking space and slowly drove in the direction their quarry had gone. As they approached the street the two of them had turned onto he questioned, “Follow close?”
Bob, who was dividing his attention between the street and the display screen which indicated Tanya’s location, said, “No, go past and circle around. That should give them time to get on the road. We’ll track them to his destination, then swoop in. We don’t really have a lot of evidence just yet. Don’t want to spook the guy too soon.”
“Right,” the sarge replied. Then he asked, “Got a good signal on the tracker?”
“Yup,” Bob responded. He then keyed the mic on and ordered, “Stand by to move.”
At the next intersection they turned the opposite way and circled around the block, coming back around to where they’d started. When they got there, Parker looked over at Bob, who simply nodded indicating they should turn the other way this time.
As they turned in the direction the couple had gone Bob added, “Don’t let them get too far ahead, but try to stay far enough back to avoid getting noticed.”
Parker simply smirked as he looked at his partner, eventually saying, “You got it boss.”
They slowly cruised up behind the couple as they neared the suspect’s vehicle. When he saw that they were just getting into the car, Bob ordered, “Circle again. That should give them time to get on the move.”
Parker calmly drove them past the couple and turned when they arrived at the next intersection. Once he’d completed the turn he looked toward Bob, who appeared to be deep in thought worrying about his sister.
Chapter Ninety
Charlie opened the passenger door to his nicely restored Cadillac and said, “Milady?”
Tanya couldn’t help but giggle as she replied, “Thank you kind sir.”
As she stepped toward the car door she glanced at the street just long enough to see a car passing. Looking more closely, she caught sight of her brother. Momentarily locking eyes with Bob, she quickly turned back toward Charlie and forced a smile before she sat in the car and swung her legs in, struggling to hide her anxiety as she thought about Cynthia sitting in this very spot before he attacked her. Fortunately for her, he showed no signs of noticing her discomfort.
After closing the door, Charlie circled around the car to the driver’s side door. As he opened it he quietly said to himself, “Let the games begin.” He smiled at Tanya as he climbed in and started the engine.
Putting the car in gear, he looked at her and asked, “Ready?”
She forced a smile and responded, “Absolutely.”
He pulled out of the parking space and began their journey toward his selected location for Tanya’s demise. Once they had taken their place in the flow of traffic, he began periodically glancing at his companion as he visualized all of the things he planned to do to her. With each passing moment he allowed his thoughts to show in the form of a growing evil grin which he made no attempt whatsoever to disguise.
Of course, his grin didn’t go unnoticed by Tanya. Despite her anxiety, she did her best to remain calm so as not to tip off Charlie about what would soon be happening, just as he was attempting to disguise his ulterior motives. Instead, she tried to give the impression that she wasn’t paying all that much attention to the goings on around her.
She nonchalantly asked, “Where are we going, by the way?”
He again grinned evilly and replied, “I have a place not far from here.”
“Great,” she smiled at him before returning her attention to the sidewalk as she silently prayed that this would be over before the night was up. Realizing her omission, she then hoped as an addendum that she’d come out of the evening safe and sound.
As they continued to cruise down the road her anxiety continued to rise, nearing a fever pitch she was certain Charlie would notice. In an effort to disguise her nervousness, Tanya looked toward her companion and offered a stiff smile.
To be continued…
Fugue, Part 10
By Jillian
Chapter Ninety-one
Bob picked up the radio mic, keyed it on and said, “Suspect turning north on Oak. Units take parallel positions and await further instructions.” Returning the mic to its cradle, he looked toward Sergeant Parker and asked, “What do ya think, Sarge?”
Without taking his eyes off of the road Parker queried, “About?”
Bob clarified, “Our chances?”
The sarge briefly stared at the dark street thinking. Eventually, he cleared his throat and replied, “This ends tonight. Whether he leaves in cuffs or a body bag is up to him.”
For a moment Bob thought about his partner’s statement before responding, “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but…” He drifted into thought before silently turning back toward the road staring into the darkness. After a few seconds he shook his head and returned his attention to the computer screen displaying the tracking signal. While studying the screen he mumbled, “What was I thinking asking my own blood to do this?”
Parker knew his partner’s question wasn’t intended for his ears, but couldn’t help responding anyway saying, “You’re a cop. Your father was a cop. Your grandfather was a cop. It’s in your blood. And in,” he paused momentarily before continuing, “Hers too.”
“Thanks,” Bob responded. “I understand how difficult it is to refer to her like that, believe me. But that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty about risking her life.”
“I think I can understand that,” Parker said.
“Oh,” Bob interrupted as he returned his attention to the tracking receiver. “They’re turning again.” He then picked up the microphone and after opening the line stated, “Heading west on Eleventh. Maintain distance and stand by.”
“Not much longer now…I hope,” Parker commented as he turned onto Eleventh Street.
Chapter Ninety-two
Tanya blankly stared ahead trying to keep her rapidly expanding anxiety from pushing her into a full blown panic attack. As she calmed herself, her thoughts went to the tracking device she had concealed in the side of her bra, thinking, ’Not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I hope it’s at least working.’
Her thoughts were interrupted when Charlie said, “Almost there. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” He then let out an eerie chuckle that sent chills down Tanya’s spine.
Doing her best to disguise her discomfort she asked, “What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he replied through what struck Tanya as an incredibly evil grin. He then reached around and pulled her closer to him as he came to a stop at a traffic light. At first he just rubbed her shoulder trying to get her to relax, but before the light had turned green his hand had migrated down to her side where he happened to touch the tracking device she had hidden in the side of her bra.
“Speaking of surprises,” he said as he traced the device inside her bra. “What’s that?”
“I…I don’t know,” she stammered nervously.
A honk from behind alerted Charlie to the fact that the light had once again turned green, so he drove through the intersection ordering, “Get that thing out!”
She tried to play innocent asking, “What thing?”
As anger overtook him, he roughly pulled her tight to him and hissed, “This was going to be fun, but now I’m too mad to enjoy it!”
Shoving her angrily into the passenger door, he growled before turning his attention to the road. “Just wait,” he murmured cryptically.
As he pulled to a stop at the next light he once again grabbed her roughly and pulled her tight to his body. Once he had her firmly in place he brought his hand around her front where he gruffly reached down the front of her dress and inside her bra where he grabbed hold of the device and pulled it out. Holding it up in front of her face, he barked, “This thing!”
She looked at it wide eyed as her mouth opened and closed a couple of times without any sound coming out. Charlie looked at the device for a moment before raising his voice asking, “It’s not a microphone, so what is it? Some sort of tracking device?”
Before she managed to respond, he shouted, “Well?” When she didn’t respond he cracked his window open and tossed the tracker out onto the street. To press his point further, he struck her across her mouth causing her to yelp. She raised her hand to her lips and when she pulled her fingers away saw the blood on them.
Tears began to well up and streak down her cheeks as the severity of her situation became clearer to her. She began to sob, but through the tears she managed to ask, “Why?”
The moment the light turned green he stomped on the accelerator, causing the tires to squeal as he pulled away from the light. Speeding down the street he snarled, “By the time they figure out where we’re going, it’ll be too late for you, bitch!”
Chapter Ninety-three
Bob tapped the screen on the tracking receiver and said, “Crap! He must’ve found the tracker.”
“What?” Parker asked.
“The signal’s stopped moving,” Bob responded. “In fact, we’ll be coming up on the location in just a second.”
“So you think he found the device?” Parker asked as he slowed the car down.
Bob replied by asking, “Can you think of a better explanation?”
The Sarge thought for a moment before saying, “Not really, but what do we do now?”
Bob glanced at the screen again and said, “Stop!” When they were stopped he jumped out and ran around the car, starting to look at the pavement with the small Maglite he pulled out of his jacket pocket. After a moment, he bent down, picked the unit up off the ground and ran back to the passenger side of the car.
Once he was again sitting in the car, he picked up the radio mic and keyed it open saying, “All units, suspect’s last known location near Central heading westbound on Eleventh. Suspect driving a black early 1970’s Cadillac Coupe De Ville. Pursue and apprehend.”
Replacing the microphone, he turned his attention to Parker and mused, “This becomes the highway further on, doesn’t it?”
Parker didn’t say anything, so Bob took his partner’s silence as agreement and eventually ordered, “Hit it. Let’s see if we can catch up to this guy.”
“You got it, boss,” the sergeant said as he put the car back in gear and stomped on the accelerator.
Chapter Ninety-four
Tanya looked at Charlie, terrified as he drove into the night. They sped along, approaching the edge of town before she managed to find her voice and asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
He laughed as he responded, “You wouldn’t want me to spoil the surprise.”
Courage began to swell within her as she defiantly said, “I don’t really like surprises.”
He continued to hold onto her tightly as he laughed heartily before replying, “That’s rich coming from a goddamned tranny who’s working with the cops.”
She struggled trying to free herself from his grasp, but he held on too tightly. Snarling she countered, “They know what you look like. They know your car too. You can’t get away with this.”
“Oh, really?” he mused as he turned off the main drag they’d been on and started down a barely noticeable country dirt path. “And what makes you think that?”
“They’ll be coming,” she responded with far more certainty than she actually felt.
He cut her off yelling, “They won’t find you until it’s too late! And they won’t find me at all! Once I’m done with you, I’ll be disappearing.”
“It’ll never work, you know,” she argued, hoping to delay his plans.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he commented as he continued to drive along the dark country road.
The road became more difficult to traverse and while her captor’s attention was drawn away from her Tanya discreetly reached into her purse and found her cell phone. Quietly she flipped it open, knowing that she had left the text messaging app open when she had put the phone away earlier. From memory of the keypad she typed ‘GPS’ and hit send, assuming that her brother would understand the somewhat cryptic message.
Chapter Ninety-five
Sargent Parker slowed the vehicle as they drew near the city limits. Turning toward Detective Taylor he asked, “What’s the next move, boss?”
Before he could respond, Bob’s cell phone signaled the arrival of a new text message. He looked at the screen and after reading and then re-reading the message he slapped his forehead and muttered, “Of course.”
Hearing something but unsure what had been said, Sgt. Parker asked, “What you say?”
Rather than responding to his partner’s question, Bob took the radio mic in hand and after keying it on spoke into it saying, “Dispatch, car 213. Track location for cell phone number 645-329-7015 and let me know ASAP.”
The dispatcher’s voice came over the radio in response saying, “10-4 car 213.”
“What was that about?” an obviously confused Parker asked.
Holding up his own cell phone, Bob stated, “GPS. She still has her phone on her.”
Parker responded, “Oh yeah, cell phone location tracking for 911 calls.”
“Exactly,” Bob answered as he put his phone away.
“Think it’ll work?” asked Parker.
“It has to,” Bob replied.
Noticing his partner’s concern, Parker offered, “We’ll get there in time.”
Bob looked back at his friend and said with far more conviction than he thought, “I know.”
Following a brief silence Sarge started, “You know, I’m almost afraid to admit this, but your brother…”
Cutting off his friend, Bob interjected, “Sister.”
“Okay, sister,” Parker responded. “Anyway, I was just gonna say I’m impressed. She’s got some guts.”
Indignantly Bob asked, “What did you expect?”
Sarge hemmed and hawed for a moment before finally responding, “I don’t know what I expected, to tell you the truth.”
“Yeah, well…” Bob said before his thought faded to nothing. Eventually, he managed to say, “Listen, thanks.”
“No problem,” Parker responded somewhat shyly.
At that moment the radio came to life as the dispatcher’s voice came through the speaker saying, “Car 213, the requested number is on Morton School Road approximately 2 miles east of highway 32.”
Bob once again grabbed the microphone and responded, “10-4 dispatch. Car 213 in route.” He reached out to replace the microphone and looked toward Sarge, who was putting the car back in gear.
They sped along for several minutes until they reached Morton School Road, where Sergeant Parker turned off the highway without slowing down, nearly winding up in the ditch before he regained control of the vehicle.
Bob looked at his partner and croaked, “In one piece, if ya don’t mind?”
“Yes boss,” Parker replied.
Chapter Ninety-six
Charlie turned off the dirt road and pulled up beside an obviously abandoned farmhouse, turning toward Tanya and growling, “Don’t even think about trying to get away.” He quickly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her across the seat as he climbed out of the car.
Stumbling as she tried to get to her feet as he dragged her out of the vehicle, she struggled to ask, “What are you going to do?”
He chuckled as he replied, “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Once he had her on her feet, he began pulling her toward the house.
Struggling against his grip, Tanya argued, “You don’t have to do this!”
“What,” Charlie countered, “You think I can let you go now? Not a chance.” Again he began dragging her toward the house while she struggled to escape his grasp.
“No!” she argued as she tried to pull away yet again. Despite her efforts, the harder she struggled to free herself, the tighter his grip became.
As they drew near the front porch he snickered, “You might even enjoy this!” He quickly mounted the steps and wrangled his captive toward the door.
“Somehow I doubt that,” she responded as they reached the door. Making yet another effort to fight against her captor, Tanya tried to grab hold of the door frame to prevent being dragged inside. Unfortunately, her efforts proved to be for naught as with one final tug he pulled her inside and slammed the door closed behind them.
Throwing his captive to the floor, he began to chuckle evilly as he loomed over her. She looked up at him with terror in her eyes as she waited for whatever was to come next.
As he removed a switchblade knife from his pocket and clicked it open he said, “Now the fun begins.” Tanya began trying to back away from her captor to no avail as he closed in on her while brandishing the knife.
Chapter Ninety-seven
As they neared Tanya’s last known location, Parker began to slow the vehicle so they could scan the area hoping to see a clue as to her location. After a few minutes Bob pointed to their left at an old abandoned farmhouse and asked, “Is that car the same one?”
Parker looked in that direction and replied, “Could be. Should we call for backup?”
The question hadn’t even been completed before Bob grabbed the radio mic and said, “Dispatch, car 213 requesting backup approximately 2 and a half miles east of Highway 32 on Morton School road.”
The radio squawked, “10-4 car 213.”
Bob replaced the mic as the Sarge pulled the car to a stop behind the Cadillac in question. Once they’d come to a halt, Bob ordered, “You take the back, I’ve got the front.”
“Aren’t we gonna wait for the backup?” Parker asked as they both exited the vehicle.
“That might be too late,” Bob replied. They both removed their weapons and chambered rounds as they approached the house as stealthily as possible.
Bob quietly ascended the stairs and tiptoed across the porch as he approached the front door. He paused for a moment at the door to allow his partner a chance to get to the back door before kicking the front open and leveling his weapon into the room.
The sight that greeted him was that of their suspect kneeling over Tanya, one hand lifting her skirt while the other held a knife to her throat. Without even taking a moment to identify himself as a police officer, he took aim and fired a round into the side of the man’s head. His body fell to the floor, the knife clattering onto the hardwood.
As she moved away from the body as quickly as she could, Tanya cried, “Bobby!”
“Are you all right?” he asked as he approached her.
She jumped to her feet and flung her arms around his neck as she replied, “Yes! You got here just in time!” As the words left her mouth, she dissolved into tears.
Parker came rushing into the room from the back, trained his weapon as the suspect before realizing the man was dead. He looked toward his partner and asked, “Everything okay?”
Bob looked at the sergeant and replied, “Yup. Thanks, Sarge.” Both men then holstered their weapons while Bob continued to hug his sister.
The moment was disturbed by the sound of approaching sirens, prompting Parker to say, “I’ll give them a heads up and request a meat wagon.” Without a comment in reply, the sergeant went out the front door to meet the new arrivals.
Once Tanya was able to regain some control over her emotions she loosened her grip on Bob’s neck and said, “Thank you, Bobby.”
“I think I should be thanking you,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“A bruise here and there, but nothing worth mentioning,” she answered.
“Still,” Bob responded, “I think we should get you checked out at the hospital anyway.”
The sergeant returned with several other officers in tow, saying, “M.E.’s on the way, along with an ambulance.”
Tanya looked at the new arrivals and said, “I don’t need an ambulance.”
Bob responded, “That’s not open to debate.”
Parker added, “You go with her. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Thanks, Sarge,” Bob said as he began leading his sister out of the house.
When they reached his car, Bob commented, “I’m proud of you, sis.” In response, Tanya again flung herself at her brother and began crying anew.
A few moments later the ambulance arrived followed closely by the captain, who immediately made his way to Bob’s side.
“Hey Cap,” Bob greeted his commanding officer.
“Taylor,” he responded, “I’ll need to see you in the morning, but for now take our hero here in and get her checked out.”
“Yes sir,” Bob smiled. He turned to Tanya and asked, “Ready?”
“I told you,” she argued, “It’s not necessary.”
“You heard my boss,” Bob responded. He cracked a smile as he continued, “I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
They started toward the ambulance, but Tanya pulled up short and said, “My purse! I left it in his car.”
“I’ll get it,” Bob offered as he quickly headed toward the old Cadillac. Opening the passenger door, he reached in and picked up her bag from the floorboard then ran back to his sister’s side and presented it to her saying, “Here ya go.”
As she assumed possession of her purse she reached out and gave her brother another hug, offering, “Thanks, Bobby.”
“Don’t mention it,” he replied before leading her toward the back of the ambulance, saying, “Up you go,” when they arrived at the door as he offered his hand to help her up into the back of the vehicle.
Once they were seated in the back, Tanya turned toward her brother and said, “Thank you, Bobby. If you hadn’t got there when you did…” allowing her voice to trail off without completing her thought.
“I should be thanking you,” he countered, “But I’m glad I got there in time too.” As he again grinned he continued, “Otherwise Mom would’ve killed me.”
She slapped his upper arm as the ambulance attendant closed the door in preparation for heading out.
Chapter Ninety-eight
The peace of the night was broken by the ringing of a telephone, which was joined a few seconds later by a bedside lamp being turned on before the phone was answered, “Hello?”
“Hey Mom,” Bob’s voice came through the receiver. “ I know it’s late, but figured you’d want to hear that Tanya’s fine but on her way to the hospital to be sure.”
“Oh my god!” Mom wailed. “What happened?”
Bob replied, “She got a little beat up while on the undercover, but we got the guy and I just wanted her to get checked out to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”
“I’ll be there in less than a half hour,” she responded.
“You don’t have to,” he argued.
“Are you serious? My baby is on her way to the hospital? There’s no way I’m not coming,” she stated.
Reluctantly Bob joked, “Okay, but if she gets mad it’s your fault.”
“See you there. Thank you for calling Bobby,” she ended the call.
Rolling over to look at his wife, Pop sleepily asked, “What?”
“We need to get to the hospital,” she answered.
“Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Bobby’s taking Tanya to the hospital,” she replied. “He says she’s fine, but we need to be there.”
“Okay,” he grumbled as he crawled out of bed.
As he made his way to the closet she continued, “Don’t take too long.”
He opened the door and started pulling items of clothing out, then stopped and turned back toward his wife and replied, “Gotcha.”
She then joined him at the closet and pulled out something for herself to wear. As they both started pulling clothes on she added, “And please try to be nice to your daughter.”
He grumbled under his breath, “Whatever,” but then a little louder he replied, “Yes ma’am.”
Chapter Ninety-nine
Bob led Tanya into the emergency room, heading directly toward the sign in desk. The young lady behind the desk looked up at them and asked, “May I help you?”
Bob spoke first replying, “My sister needs to be checked out.”
“And what seems to be the problem?” the girl asked.
Tanya jumped in saying, “Nothing.”
Before she could continue Bob pulled out his identification and showed it to the nurse as he interjected, “She was involved in an incident this evening and needs to be looked at to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”
Handing Tanya a clipboard, the girl said, “Please fill this out and return it to me, then we’ll get you in to see a doctor.”
As Tanya took it from her, Bob responded, “Thank you.”
When the girl turned her attention back to her computer screen Bob led his sister toward the waiting room chairs where they took seats and Tanya began filling out the paperwork. After filling in the basic contact information she paused with the pen hovering over the paper.
Bob looked at her and noticing her hesitation asked, “What’s wrong?”
Looking up from the clipboard she replied, “No insurance.”
“Oh,” he started. “Don’t worry about tonight’s visit. The PD should pick up the bill. After all, this visit is directly related to your work assisting us.”
Slowly she responded, “I wasn’t expecting anything like that.”
“I know,” Bob said. “Even if the department wasn’t picking up the tab tonight, you wouldn’t need to worry about it. I’d pay it out of my own pocket before I let your wallet take the hit.”
A grin began to appear on her face as she said, “Careful, people might start to think you cared or something.”
“Well, you are my sister,” he replied.
Putting down the clipboard in a chair beside her, Tanya reached out and gently hugged her brother saying, “Thank you.” Once she had released him she returned to the papers she was working on filling out and filled out the rest of the forms.
After completing the paperwork, she returned the clipboard to the nurse behind the desk, commenting, “Probably takes longer to fill out the papers than it does for the rest of the visit.”
Glancing at the papers, the nurse joked, “You may have a point there.” More seriously she continued, “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”
Returning to her seat, Tanya asked, “When they take me back, could you go up and tell Cynthia that we got the guy?”
“Why don’t we go up together after the doctor checks you out,” he countered. “I bet your friend would rather hear it from you.”
“Uh huh,” she responded skeptically. “I think you’re just afraid to go see her on your own.”
“Not afraid,” he countered. “Just not all that comfortable.”
Appearing hurt Tanya asked, “Why?”
“Well,” he started, “She’s…well…you know…”
“Bobby, I thought we were past this,” she whined.
Indignantly he responded, “Past what? It’s just that…”
Cutting him off she asked, “Like me?”
Defensively he said, “No!” More calmly he continued, “You’re different.”
“Different how?” she probed.
“You’re my sister. That’s how,” he responded.
Smiling at him she said, “Thank you Bobby, but really there’s no difference between me and her.”
He stared at her for a moment before pointing to his head and saying, “Maybe up here.” Moving his hand to point toward his heart he continued, “But here?”
Looking him in the eye she asked, “Small steps?”
Nodding he replied, “Something like that.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the nurse calling, “Tanya Taylor?”
Standing up, Tanya stepped toward the desk and asked, “Yes?”
Walking around the desk toward the door leading to the exam rooms, the nurse offered, “Come this way.”
Bob stood up and asked, “Do you want me to come back with you?”
Waving him back to his seat she responded, “That’s not necessary.”
He returned to his seat as he watched his sister go through the door. Even before the door had closed behind her, the entrance opened and in rushed their parents.
“Is she okay?” Mom asked as they made their way to the waiting area.
“Yeah,” he answered. “They just took her back for the doctor to check her out.”
Sitting down on either side of their son, Mom asked, “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath he responded, “She went in as the ‘bait’ in a sting operation. Our target took the bait and we were tracking them, but somehow he found the tracking device and disposed of it en route.”
Anxiously she asked, “Then how…?”
“We used her cell phone to track their location,” Bob started. “It took a little while to find them, but we got there before anything happened.”
Smacking his arm, Mom said, “How could you risk your sister’s life like that?”
Dad jumped into the conversation saying, “Now Mary, don’t be too hard on the boy. He was just doing his job, plus this is the first time Tommy’s ever shown any real guts.”
She barked, “Tanya. She’s your daughter now. Don’t forget it.”
Feeling chastised, he replied, “Yes ma’am.”
Turning her attention to the nurse Mary asked, “Is there any chance I can go back and see my daughter?”
“Certainly ma’am,” she replied as she moved toward the door. Opening it she directed, “Straight ahead, third room on the left.”
“Thank you dear,” Mary responded as she walked through the door.
After watching his mom go back to check on Tanya, Bob turned his attention toward his father and said, “Pop, are you gonna be able to deal with Tanya’s change?”
“You mean Tommy?” he asked.
“Pop,” Bob responded, “Whether you approve or not, I don’t think you’re gonna have much choice other than to accept this. And for the record, I’m not so sure this is a bad idea after all.”
“What?” Pop countered. “You can’t tell me you’re okay with all this turning into a girl stuff?”
“I didn’t say that,” Bob answered. “However…and this is a big one here…my little brother never showed any real courage or backbone his entire life.”
“That’s not true!” Pop argued.
“Yes it is and you know it,” Bob said. “The difference is, she just risked her life to catch a really bad guy and she did so voluntarily. She practically begged me to let her do it.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I gotta admit that maybe this isn’t such a bad thing.”
“Well, I can’t agree with that at all,” Pop replied.
Bob’s face fell as he said, “Obviously nobody can force you to think differently, but I really think it would be a good idea if you at least remembered to respect her right to pursue the life she wants whether you agree with that choice or not.”
“I’m trying, son,” he responded.
Chapter One Hundred
Tanya had been playing with her cell phone when she heard the door open, prompting her to look up just in time to see her mother entering the exam room. Surprised she asked, “Mom? What are you doing here? I mean, I knew Bobby called to let you know what was going on, but…”
“You didn’t really think I would allow you to go through this alone,” she replied.
Dismissively Tanya said, “It’s nothing, Mom. A couple of bruises, that’s all.”
“I never should’ve let you volunteer to do this.”
“It’s not like you had a choice,” Tanya countered. “This was my choice and for the first time in my life I’ve managed to do something that Bobby respects.”
“It’s not the first time,” Mom started, “But I know what you mean. Your father is proud of you for this as well.”
Anxiously she asked, “Did he say so?”
Mom responded, “You know him better than that. He’s very old school; keeps his feelings to himself. But I can tell.”
“Well, I hope you’re not just saying that, but…” Tanya’s thought faded as she found herself unable to voice it.
“I’m not just saying that,” Mom responded. “Give him some time, sweetheart.”
A knock on the exam room door brought their conversation to a halt as it opened and in walked a young man wearing scrubs and a lab coat. Approaching the exam table he introduced himself, “Hello, I’m Dr. Hamel.” Looking down at the file he held in his hand he asked, “And you’re Tanya Taylor?”
“Yes doctor,” she shyly replied.
“Are you sure you’re old enough to be a doctor?” Mom blurted out before realizing she’d actually said it out loud. She quickly retracted her question, offering, “Sorry.”
Grinning, the doctor responded, “I swear to you, I am old enough, but thank you ma’am. Are you her mother?”
Offering her hand Mom said, “Yes, Mary Taylor.”
He shook her hand before returning his attention to his patient, asking, “What seems to be the problem?”
Without allowing Tanya a chance to respond, her mom started, “She was attacked…”
Tanya cut her off, chastising, “Mom!” Redirecting her attention to the young physician, she responded, “I was in a little incident earlier and my family insisted I come get checked out to make sure there’s nothing big wrong.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” the doctor started, “What kind of incident?”
“I was helping my brother,” she stated. “He’s a police detective and had asked me to assist him with an investigation.”
“Sounds intriguing,” the doctor chuckled.
“Yeah well, I was the bait in a sort of sting operation,” Tanya attempted to downplay.
Again Mom interrupted, stating proudly, “They caught a serial killer.”
“Mom!” Tanya whined. Returning to her attempt to understate things she continued, “I was in a bit of a tussle when we caught him. Picked up a few bruises here and there, nothing serious, but my brother and his commanding officer wanted me to be checked out to make sure, that’s all.”
“So, a bona fide heroine,” the doctor said, seeming impressed.
“Not really,” Tanya said humbly.
“Well,” the doctor began, “Let’s have a look at you so we can get you home to get some rest, shall we?”
As he started looking at the bruises on her forearms, Tanya said, “I should probably tell you, I’m transgendered.”
“Really?” the doctor asked, seeming surprised.
“Yes,” she replied. “I hope that doesn’t change the way you treat me, but I figured I might as well be up front about it.”
“Well, as your physician it makes no difference to me,” he offered. As he continued his examination he asked, “So what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a musician,” she replied.
“Cool,” he responded. As he finished looking at the marks on her arms and legs he asked, “Now, are there any areas of soreness other than your arms and legs?”
“No,” she started. “They got him before he had a chance to do anything more than wrestle with me a little.”
“Well good,” he stated. “If you find you’re stiff or sore, I’d suggest taking some ibuprofen. I don’t think you’ll need anything stronger than that.”
“Thank you doctor,” Tanya said as she shook his hand once the exam was over.
“Yes,” Mom added. “Thank you very much.”
“It was my pleasure,” he responded as he then shook hands with Mom.
They watched as he left the room before Tanya stood up from her seat on the exam table. Before she’d managed to even take a step toward the door, her mom stated, “He was cute.”
Giggling, Tanya replied, “Yes he was. Now, can we get out of here?”
To be Continued…
By Jillian
Chapter One Hundred-one
Bob’s attention was drawn to the sound of the door opening and heels clicking on the tile. When he looked in that direction he saw Tanya and their mother returning from the exam rooms. He nudged his Dad, who then also looked in their direction.
Standing up, Bob asked, “Everything all right?”
Tanya grinned and said, “Nothing a little Motrin won’t cure.”
“Good,” he added as he nudged his Dad to say something.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Dad reluctantly offered.
Tanya smiled at his words and quickly ran up to him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. After a moment, she whispered, “Thank you Daddy.”
After a moment, Dad pulled back and held her at arm’s length studying her appearance for a second. Pursing his lips he asked, “Do you plan on dressing like this all of the time?”
“You mean in women’s clothes? Yes,” she replied with a confused look on her face.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he stated. Gesturing to her skin tight mini-dress and heels, he continued, “I mean like this. I ask because if you expect me to attempt to accept you as a daughter, I expect you to dress and behave like a lady. Not some common tramp.”
Bob jumped to his sister’s defense saying, “These clothes were part of her cover tonight Dad.”
Tanya thought for a moment before adding, “That’s true, Daddy. I can guarantee I know how to be a lady and frankly prefer dressing and acting in that fashion.”
Dad let her words sink in for a moment before responding, “Good. I expect you to dress and behave properly when you come to dinner again tonight.”
“Yes Daddy,” she beamed. Turning so she could once again address the others she continued, “Now, I need to go visit a friend who’s upstairs. Bobby, can you come with me?”
He looked at his watch before replying, “I’m afraid not. I need to get to the precinct for a meeting with the captain. Sorry, I know I’d said I’d try to go with you.”
“That’s okay,” she stated. “Mama, when do you need me there to help get dinner together?”
“Nonsense,” Mom responded. “You may be my daughter now, but you’re still a disaster in the kitchen. Just be there by six for dinner.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said before turning toward the elevators and leaving her family.
Directing her attention toward her son, she stated, “And you, young man, need to bring your lady friend with you this evening.”
“Lady friend?” Bob asked innocently.
“Yes,” Mom started, “You know, the young lady you spent the night with this week?”
Stunned, Bob blurted out, “Wait, how did you…?”
Smiling, Mom said, “I thought so. Bring her with you so we can meet her. Six o’clock.”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.
Dad interjected, asking, “Do you need a ride anywhere?”
“No, thanks Pop,” he replied. “My partner is supposed to be bringing my car by. Besides, I’m going to have to give Tanya a ride back to her car once she’s done here.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “Well, I guess we’ll see you this evening.”
Chapter One Hundred-two
Cynthia was lying in bed dozing when she was disturbed by the sound of the door to her room opening. Looking in that direction she caught sight of Tanya entering and chirped, “Hey, Bitch!”
Smiling, Tanya responded, “Hey Cyn. How’re you feeling?”
“Lots better, really,” she said. “In fact I think they’re gonna let me out of here tomorrow.”
Taking her friend’s hand, Tanya beamed, “That’s great! Need me to come pick you up?”
“Well, duh,” she replied.
“Oh, I have great news,” Tanya offered. “You don’t have to ever worry about that creep again. They caught him last night.”
“So you were able to help them catch the guy?” she asked.
Tanya symbolically buffed her nails and stated, “Yup.”
Sitting up Cynthia asked, “So what happened?”
Joining her friend by sitting on the edge of the bed she responded, “Well, I can’t really talk about it, but I can tell you he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
“So you mean, he’s dead?” she asked.
Suddenly looking sad Tanya involuntarily shuddered as she replied, “Yes.”
Cynthia took her friend’s hand in hers and looked into her eyes with concern as she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she stated. “Maybe a little shook up, but I’ll be fine.”
“Well, don’t try to be tough about it, all right?” Cynthia begged. “Talk to someone if you need to. If nothing else, talk to me, okay?”
“Okay,” Tanya replied. Looking at the room’s clock, she suddenly jumped up off of the bed and said, “I’ve got to get going, before my family decides to abandon me here.”
“Go,” Cynthia encouraged. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay,” Tanya said before starting toward the door. Before opening it to leave, she turned back toward her friend and said, “Love ya, Cyn. I’ll see ya later.”
Opening the door, she exited the room and headed down the corridor toward the elevator.
Chapter One Hundred-three
Tanya exited the elevator and made her way back to the emergency waiting room, where she found her brother sitting waiting, playing a game on his smartphone. As she approached him, she asked, “Don’t you have to be in your boss’s office in a couple of hours?”
“And yet I wait here patiently for you to come back downstairs so I can give you a ride to where you parked your car,” he smugly retorted.
“Okay, okay,” she responded. “Let’s get going then.”
He got up from his seat and started toward the exit, Tanya following. As they passed through the door he asked, “So how’s your friend?”
“Great,” she replied. “It looks like she’ll be getting out later today.”
“That’s good,” he commented as they walked toward his car.
“Yeah,” she stated. “I’ll be coming back as soon as I can run home and get changed.”
“Change?” he asked. “Why change?” When they got to his car he used his key fob to unlock it and opened the drivers’ door.
Opening the passenger side, Tanya said, “Aside from the fact I got the evil eye from Dad for this outfit? It’s impractical, uncomfortable and inappropriate as daywear goes.”
“You’re such a girl,” Bob said as he climbed into the car.
Tanya followed him getting into the vehicle, commenting, “Thank you for noticing.”
Joking he said, “You’re welcome.”
As they backed out of their parking space, Tanya asked, “Now, do you remember where I parked?”
Chapter One Hundred-four
After dropping off his sister at her car, Bob steered his vehicle toward the precinct house. Stewing over what was about to happen left him so distracted that he didn’t notice much of the trip, leaving him surprised when he realized he’d just pulled into his assigned parking space.
“I wonder how much trouble I’m gonna be in?” he asked himself as he climbed out of his vehicle. With some trepidation, he walked into the building and found his way to his desk where he took a seat to await his appointment with the captain. While waiting, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Connie.
On the third ring she answered groggily, “Hello?”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize how early it was,” he responded.
“Bobby?”
“Got it in one,” he chuckled.
Stifling a yawn she asked, “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing wrong,” he replied. “I was actually calling to see if you were available for an early dinner this evening?”
Yawning again, she said, “Yeah, I’m actually off tonight. What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” he started, “My Mom has requested our presence at six for a family dinner.”
“Our?” she asked, suddenly seeming much more awake. “But…” she stopped, not certain what to say.
“It’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll pick you up at 5:30, okay?”
Again finding her voice, she asked, “But what should I wear?”
“Nothing fancy, it’s just dinner at their house,” he stated. “So, 5:30?”
“Just dinner at their house? There’s no such thing as ‘just’ dinner at the parents’ house,” she whined. Thinking for a moment, she sighed before continuing, “5:30.”
“Great!” he enthused. “I’ll see ya then.”
“Okay,” she admitted. “Just remember that you owe me for this one. I can’t believe you roped me into dinner with your parents.”
“Taylor!” the captain shouted from his office door, interrupting Bob’s phone call.
Bob held up his hand to signal his commander that he was on his way as he said into the phone, “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you later, okay?”
“5:30,” she stated. “I’ll see you then.”
The line went dead, so Bob returned his cell phone to his pocket as he stood up and made his way to the captain’s office. Once at the door, he knocked twice to announce his presence.
The captain looked up from his desk and ordered, “Come in.”
Bob reluctantly entered the office and stood beside the chair facing the desk, waiting for permission to be seated. Finally, the captain stated, “Take a seat.” Bob sat down and nervously awaited what he feared was about to be a serious dressing down.
“So fill me in,” the captain began.
Bob cleared his throat and stated, “We tracked the suspect to an old farmhouse and signaled for backup, but knew there was no way they’d get there in time to prevent the attack. So I ordered Sergeant Parker to go in through the back while I took the front. When I got to the door, I kicked it open and saw the suspect over his victim.
“Eyeing a clear shot, I aimed and fired, striking the suspect in the temple,” he paused briefly. “He then fell off to the side, dropping the knife he had been holding to his victim’s neck.”
The captain stated, “So you kicked open the door, announced yourself as a police officer and seeing that the suspect wasn’t relenting, you aimed and discharged your weapon, fatally wounding the suspect.”
After a brief moment of silence, Bob responded, “I don’t honestly remember…”
Cutting him off, the captain ordered, “No, you announced yourself as a police officer.”
“But…” Bob began.
“No buts,” the captain interrupted. “It was a clean shoot, so no admin leave called for. If you didn’t identify yourself as an officer, then there would be an extended IA investigation. So…” he held out the last word for a second, trying to lead Bob into saying what he wanted.
Catching on, Bob responded, “Yes, I identified myself as a police officer and ordered the suspect to move away from the victim. When he didn’t respond, I fired killing the suspect.”
“Good,” the captain said. “It’s a clean shoot, so after you take a couple of days off you’ll start back in.”
“Yes sir,” Bob replied.
“Oh, one more thing,” the captain continued, “I’m permanently assigning Sergeant Parker as your partner.”
Smiling, Bob said, “Thank you sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No,” he began, “Get the hell out of here and relax for a couple of days.”
“Yes sir,” Bob stated as he saluted his commander. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly, “I meant to ask. Is there any way to add my sister to my medical plan?”
“I don’t know,” the captain replied. “Let me check on that and get back to you, all right?”
“Thank you sir,” He stated before he turned and left the office, heading directly toward the exit.
Chapter One Hundred-five
Tanya pulled her car into the driveway and shifted it into park before shutting off the engine. Flipping down the vanity mirror, she checked her makeup before exiting the vehicle and walking toward the front door.
The door swung open as she stepped up onto the porch and her mother stepped out to greet her with a hug, saying, “Sweetheart! You look lovely.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Tanya replied as they entered the house. Once inside, she removed her coat and hung it on the rack by the door before turning back to her mother and asking, “Is Bobby here yet?”
“No, but he should be here any minute,” she responded.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Oh, he’s in the living room watching television, I think,” Mom answered. “Would you like to give me a hand in the kitchen?”
“I thought I was a disaster in there?” she teased.
“You are,” her mother laughed, “But I still hope to someday correct that problem.”
Thinking for a moment, Tanya said, “Let me go say hi to Daddy first.”
“Good luck, dear,” Mom stated before heading toward the kitchen.
Tentatively, she walked toward the living room, where she saw her father half dozing while watching TV. When he didn’t notice her at first, she cleared her throat before saying, “Hi Daddy.”
Looking up, he noticed her standing in the doorway and commented, “That’s more like I would expect a daughter of mine to dress.” Standing up, he walked toward her and she toward him until the lightly embraced.
“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered into his ear.
“I love you too,” he replied, “Even if I do have serious reservations about some of your life choices.”
She stepped back from the embrace and looked him in the eye for a moment before a sly grin graced both of their faces. She stated, “Well, you might as well get used to it, because this is what ya got from here on out.”
“That’s kind of what I thought,” he responded dejectedly.
“Tanya!” Mom shouted from the kitchen.
“Oh!” Tanya started, “I told Mama I’d help her in the kitchen.”
“You’d best get in there then,” Dad said more brightly. “Because I’m getting hungry and want my dinner sometime soon.”
“Yes sir,” she replied before exiting toward the kitchen. Once she made it there she asked, “What would you like me to do?”
Handing her a bag of carrots and a peeler, Mom said, “Peel these if you will.”
“Sure,” she responded. Taking the proffered items, she found her way to the trash can and started her task
The monotony of her task was interrupted when the front door burst open and in wandered Bob and Connie. Mom, who was the first to respond to the new arrivals said, “Bobby! I’m so glad you could make it.”
Turning her attention to the young woman by his side, she asked, “And who might this be?”
Tanya interrupted, saying, “Connie!”
“Hey Tanya,” Connie responded.
Laughing, Mom said, “I take it you’re Connie then?”
“Yes ma’am,” she replied.
“So, how did you two meet?” Mom asked.
Connie responded, “I work at Spencer’s Bar and Grill, where Tanya plays sometimes, and one night Bobby came by to hear her play and we sort of hit it off.”
Bob jumped in saying, “I’m going to go on through to see Pop.”
“Good idea, dear,” Mom said before watching him leave the ladies to join his father in the living room. Turning her attention back toward Connie, she asked, “So tell me, how is your employer dealing with Tanya’s recent changes?”
Connie looked toward Tanya before replying, “Well, my boss says that as long as there aren’t any complaints and business doesn’t fall off, he doesn’t have a problem with how anybody dresses.”
“Well that’s good,” Mom offered.
“Yes,” Connie continued. “It’s just a pity most of the clubs around town aren’t quite so open-minded.”
Mom stated, “Tanya had told me that a few of her regular bookings had cancelled her.”
Tanya interjected, “Mom! Do we really have to talk about this right now?”
“What?” she asked. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“Well don’t,” Tanya stated. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get back out and hustle some more bookings. I’ve been in this position before and probably will be again. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Mom questioned. “Just how do you plan to pay your bills without a full schedule of jobs? Not to mention things like medical bills?”
“I have a little saved up,” she replied. “Plus, I plan to fill my calendar back up fairly quickly. As for the medical bills…” she allowed the thought to go unfinished.
Connie interjected, “Actually, I…” she stopped herself when she realized she wasn’t supposed to mention what she was about to say.
“What?” Both Tanya and her Mom asked simultaneously.
Trying to dismiss her faux pas, she said, “Nothing. I had a brain fart.” All three ladies burst out in a fit of giggles
In an attempt to regain some control, Mom said, “Girls, why don’t you come give me a hand finishing up this dinner?”
Connie responded, “Yes ma’am.”
As the three of them settled into various tasks preparing the meal, Mom commented to Connie, “So I gather my Bobby is quite taken with you.”
“Why would you say that?” Connie asked, surprised by the statement.
Smiling, Mom replied, “He hasn’t brought a girl home for a family dinner in years. Bringing you here today is like declaring you a part of the family.”
Stunned, Connie couldn’t speak for a moment. When she was finally able to respond she smiled and said, “Well, he is a pretty special fella.”
Toward Tanya, Mom commented, “Looks like he’s not the only one who’s smitten.”
Tanya responded, “You may have a point there, Mama.”
“Now all we have to do is find you someone,” Mom mused.
“Mom!” Tanya protested.
Once everything was ready, Mom instructed the girls to carry all the serving dishes through to the dining room while she went to the living room to call the boys in to eat. Sticking her head through the doorway, she called, “Gentlemen, dinner is served.”
Rather than waste time responding, the men jumped up from their seats and practically ran to the dining room, barely avoiding knocking Mom over in the process. By the time she had recovered from her near miss with the herd of wildebeest, they were already seated and waiting impatiently for her to tell them they could start loading their plates.
Taking her own seat, she called out to the younger girls, “Come have a seat so we can start dinner before these two start to waste away like little Ethiopian children.” Giggling at that description, Tanya and Connie made one last trip from the kitchen and after setting down their final loads took their seats.
While the girls filled their plates, the boys began devouring what they’d already piled onto their own and quickly the room descended into near silence as everyone was too busy eating to speak.
Chapter One Hundred-six
“Miss Taylor,” called the receptionist as she stepped through the door into the waiting room. Tanya closed the magazine she’d been thumbing through, stood up and followed her into Dr. Sanchez’s office.
The doctor looked up from the file she’d been perusing and smiling, said, “Tanya! It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
Tanya crossed to the chair she usually occupied during her sessions with the doctor and as she sat down she replied, “Busy is probably the best short answer.”
Dr. Sanchez got up from behind her desk and circled around to the chair facing her patient. Sitting down, she asked, “So what’s been going on?”
Tanya took a deep breath before replying, “Well, let’s see. I introduced my parents to the real me, played several gigs, helped my brother catch a serial killer…”
The doctor interrupted her, asking, “Wait…what was that?”
“Oh,” she started, “I helped my brother catch a serial killer.”
“I thought that’s what you said,” she stated. “How exactly did you do that?”
“I was the bait,” Tanya said in a matter of fact like tone.
“Wasn’t that rather dangerous?” the doctor asked in a stunned tone of voice.
Pondering her question, Tanya responded, “I suppose it was, but it wasn’t just about me. This guy was attacking the TG community…including one of my best friends…and I was in a position to be able to help capture him. On top of that, it was a chance to do something the men in my family could respect. I couldn’t not do it.”
“On the subject of your family,” she started, “How did it go when you came out to them?”
“I’ve had more enjoyable root canals,” Tanya joked. “Mom was fine with it, I think, but then again she probably had a pretty good idea what was coming. As I’ve said before, I suspect she knew all along.”
Pausing for a second before continuing, she then said, “My brother walked in on me in my nightgown when he came by my apartment in the middle of the night and that’s when I finally decided to just introduce ‘Tanya’ to my parents.”
“Why did that prompt you?” she asked.
“Well,” she began, “I was afraid of what Bobby would think. When he discovered me, we had a long talk and even though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with my changes, he was at least open minded enough not to judge me too harshly. At that point I realized that there was no reason to continue putting it off.”
“That’s a rather interesting line of reasoning,” she commented. “I find it fascinating that you were more afraid of your brother’s reaction than you were of your parents, though.”
Tanya opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times before she was able to begin speaking, “Bobby’s always been a fairly big part of my day to day life; even more so than my parents. I think I was afraid of losing him. Once I knew he wouldn’t abandon me, I, ah…” her voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Dr. Sanchez probed.
Pausing a brief moment to collect her thoughts, Tanya continued, “I knew I at least had my brother in my corner,” she stated. “I didn’t feel quite as alone, I guess.”
Shifting topics, the doctor asked, “How exactly did you become involved in helping your brother?”
Smiling, Tanya responded, “Bobby was trying to catch this guy…you know, that guy who had been going around attacking girls in the T community? Well, that was his case and he wanted to send someone into the club scene who might catch their suspect’s eye. There wasn’t anyone on the police force that could believably pull off being Trans.
“I knew he was trying to catch the guy that attacked my best friend Cynthia,” Tanya continued. “When he told me what he was planning to do, I volunteered to act as the ‘bait’. I felt like it was the least I could do for my brother, not to mention the community.”
“That’s a rather selfless position,” she stated. “Probably more than most would’ve been willing to do.”
Thinking about that, Tanya smiled and said, “Maybe you can blame my family for that. I mean, my brother’s a cop, my dad was a cop, my grandfather was a cop…you get the idea.”
“So you think this was maybe your way of following in your family’s footsteps?” she asked.
She thought about that question for a moment formulating her response before she said, “Maybe?”
It was the doctor’s turn to smile as she asked, “Did your work with your brother have an influence on how your father sees you?”
“Definitely,” she stated. “At least I think so. I think I earned some respect in both my father’s and brother’s eyes.”
“So what happened that night?”Dr. Sanchez probed.
Taking a deep breath and sighing, Tanya responded, “They believed that their prime suspect had been finding some of his victims at ‘Slipper’s’. In fact, they had surveillance photos of the man they believed to be responsible, so before I went in they showed me those pictures to help me find him.”
Frowning, the doctor asked, “Rather dangerous, don’t you think?”
“I suppose it could have been,” she said. Deciding not to let the doctor know just how dangerous it had actually been, she continued, “In the end they were able to get him. That’s all that matters, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I would think you would’ve been worried for your safety,” the doctor stated.
Tanya admitted, “I was, but I also knew that Bobby wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”
“Why are you trying to downplay what happened?” she probed.
Looking guilty, Tanya meekly asked, “What makes you think that?”
“Aside from all of the non-verbal cues you’re giving off?”
Tanya looked at the doctor trying to decide how much detail it would take to satisfy her. In the end, she opted to go with the truth. “Okay, you asked. I went in hoping I’d find him and get him to try something so Bobby would have something concrete to go after him with.
“I lucked out,” she continued. “I found him and managed to control my emotions well enough to convince him I wanted to go with him. We left the club and he was going to take me somewhere planning to kill me.”
“I would imagine you were terrified,” Dr. Sanchez interjected.
“I knew we wouldn’t get too far away from the police who were tracking us, but then he found the tracking device and tossed it out the window,” she finally managed to say.
Shocked, the doctor said, “You must’ve been terrified.”
Nervous laughter escaped from Tanya’s mouth as she responded, “You could say that.”
Probing further, the doctor asked, “So what happened next? You’re here, so I know your brother got there in time to save you.”
“Well,” Tanya started, “This guy got rid of the tracker, but didn’t think to get rid of my cell phone. You know how they all have GPS built in to aid 911 responders? Bobby ran a trace on my number and used the signal to find out where he took me.”
“I know that he took you to an old farm house outside of town,” the doctor stated. She then asked, “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, she responded, “I will admit that at this point, I was terrified. He had me sprawled on the floor with him over me, holding a knife to my throat when Bobby broke down the door, came in the room and shot him in the head.”
“Oh my God!” Dr. Sanchez exclaimed. Then more calmly she asked, “And how are you doing in the aftermath of all this?”
Smiling once again, Tanya responded, “Better than I might’ve expected really. Maybe a couple of nightmares, but nothing too bad. I’m not losing any sleep or jumping hysterically at every odd sound, so overall I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”
“I’d have to say I agree,” commented the doctor. Glancing at her watch, she exclaimed, “Oh! We’ve run over.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tanya responded.
Standing up, Dr. Sanchez said, “Don’t worry about it. We made a lot of progress today.” Walking over to her desk, she continued, “So I’ll see you next Monday at our usual time?”
Smiling as she stood up, Tanya replied, “Absolutely.”
Chapter One Hundred-seven
The ringing of the telephone interrupted Connie’s thoughts. She reached for the receiver, lifted it to her ear and spoke into it, “Hello?”
“Hey, Con,” came Bob’s voice from the handset, “How ya doin’?”
She couldn’t help the smile that broke out across her face as she replied, “Pretty good. Yourself?”
He chuckled as he said, “I’m going a little stir crazy. I guess I never should’ve taken the captain up on that time off.”
“Well,” she responded seductively, “If you’d come over here I could help alleviate your boredom for a while.”
“Of that there can be no doubt,” he commented. “Actually, the reason I called was to see if you were free for dinner tonight?”
“That kind of depends on when this evening you were thinking,” she responded. Continuing, she stated, “I have to be at work this evening by seven.”
He paused to make her believe he had to think about when they could go out. When he thought he’d waited long enough he asked, “How about now?”
“Now?” she asked. “You mean like heading this way now to pick me up?”
“No, I mean now,” he replied. “Come look out the front door.”
A smirk began growing on her face as she walked to the door, opened it and looked outside. When she saw him standing beside his car, looking directly at her house waving with his free hand she whined, “Bobby!”
He closed his phone and started walking up the sidewalk toward the front of her house. As he approached, Connie said, “Stinker!”
When he reached her front door he asked, “Do you want to go?”
Giggling, she answered, “Sure.” Reaching her arms around his neck, she pulled his face down closer to her own and slowly kissed him gently.
Chapter One Hundred-eight
Tanya pulled her car into a parking space, put it in park and shut off the engine. Reaching up, she pulled down the vanity mirror and checked her makeup, deciding to touch up her lipstick before going into the club.
She climbed out of the car and opened the back door, reaching in and picking up her guitar case. Locking up the car, she made her way inside the nightclub.
As she stepped inside, she looked toward the bar and upon spotting Connie, she gave a little finger wave as she headed toward the stage. Once there, she unpacked her guitar and after checking to see it was in tune, placed it on its stand and flipped on the power on the PA system. Those tasks completed, she made her way over to the bar.
Connie looked up from where she was working behind the bar and greeted her friend, “Hey Tanya. All ready?”
“Absolutely,” she responded. “How’ve things been around here?”
Connie took out a large drink glass, scooped some ice into it and added diet coke before placing it in front of Tanya. Once done, she replied, “Fairly busy, actually.”
Taking a sip from her glass, Tanya asked, “So how do you like working behind the bar instead of waiting tables?”
Laughing, Connie said, “I don’t know about it being instead of since I still have to serve tables part of the time, but I like it a lot actually. And not just because I can wear athletic shoes to work in instead of those damn heels.”
Tanya added her own laughter to Connie’s for a moment before asking, “Will you and Bobby be at Mom and Dad’s for dinner tomorrow?”
“Well, duh,” she answered, then added, “Like your Mom would take no for an answer.”
Giggling, Tanya nodded her head in agreement before asking, “Just when is that idiot brother of mine going to get around to making an honest woman of you?”
“What makes you think I’d say yes?” Connie countered.
She stared at her friend seriously for a moment before losing control and laughing loudly. It took her quite some time to calm down, but once she did she replied, “Maybe because you continue to see the lummox despite his substantial short fallings?”
Smiling, Connie responded, “Okay, I guess you’ve got me there.”
Glancing at the clock, Tanya said, “Looks like it’s about time to start.”
Connie reached over and refilled her glass before adding, “Oh, the boss wants to talk to you in between sets about adding another night each week.”
Picking up her glass, Tanya replied, “Cool. I’ll talk to ya later.” She turned away and began her trek toward the stage. After climbing onto stage, she sat on the stool she’d placed center stage and picked up her J-200, double checking that it was in tune.
Looking up at the assembled crowd, she leaned into the microphone and said, “Good evening. Welcome to Spencer’s. I’m Tanya Taylor and I’ll be playing until two o’clock this evening. If you have any requests, please let me know. If I don’t know the specific song you want, I’ll try to come up with something suitable.”
Without any further words she began playing an instrumental arrangement of “Something.” She couldn’t suppress the smile that erupted on her face as she looked upon the crowd and reflected on how much her life and changed as she continued playing.
The End
This isn't exactly what I think was intended by the February music challenge, but it is very much musically inspired. So without further ado…
As is often my practice before bedtime, I was relaxing listening to some music when a thought struck me. The music in particular was Johan Sebastian Bach's three part inventions. I know that might seem like an unusual choice for someone who has spent the better part of the last 30 years playing rock, blues and country in bars, but I've always found that Bach relaxes me. Maybe it's the mathematic precision, or the fact that most of his work has been held up as examples of how to correctly do things in music theory classes since, well since it was written so I've been intimately familiar with it for the vast majority of my life. Whatever the reason, there's something about Bach that let's my mind relax.
Back to my story, as I was listening to the way the parts intertwine while still maintaining identifiable identities, I realized that my life is very much like those inventions. I can easily identify multiple aspects of my life that seem to exist apart from the others, yet without all of them I wouldn't be complete.
The first part that comes to mind is Jill. The truth is that Jill exists mostly in my soul, but makes her presence known throughout my life. She influences every thing I do and decision I make, usually without my being consciously aware of that influence at all. I guess you could say that Jill is the soprano voice in the invention that is my life.
The bass, on the other hand, is me as husband and father. Like Jill, my role in this aspect of my life directly affects every single thing I say or do. Sometimes me Jill and me husband and father may conflict with each other, but even when that is the case I'm forced to accept that I couldn't be who I am without either one of them.
Adding further color to things is me the musician. This part of my life may not dominate each and every decision like the other two, but it definitely brings color to what otherwise would no doubt be a passionless existence. Fact is, without music I fear that the conflicts between the other aspects of my life would soon drive me past the point of no return. So even though being a musician doesn't necessarily influence all the decisions I make, it does offer me emotional release that makes it so I can continue to exist despite the battle between being a family man and Jill.
In Bach's inventions, the different parts wind in and around each other, sometimes conflicting and other times complimenting one another. But always, the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts. That's where the real comparison comes in.
Me Jill could maybe exist apart from anything else, just as me the husband and father or me the musician might be able to do so. But put them together and I become a much more well rounded person, in ways other than my waistline. The thing that really brings that idea home is the fact that I wouldn't want to try being me without all those individual parts feuding for dominance.
As number 15 in B minor comes to a close, I realize I'm getting rather sleepy. That was the whole reason for listening to them in the first place, after all. So off I go to let Jill, the musician and the husband and father in me move their never ending conflicts to my subconscious for a while so I can get a little rest. Goodnight to all the parts of me.
by Jillian Marie
This story is a fanfic based on Maddy Bell's Gaby series and has been available on Maddy's website for a while now, but I haven't really been able to get a feel for what readers thought of it. So I've decided to post it here and hopefully there will be a few souls willing to share their opinions. I'll be posting the subsequent parts daily until it's done. Thanks.
“Here it is, yet another early Sunday morning, and again we’re driving halfway across Britain for a bike race,” Dave muttered to himself as he piloted the trusty camper down the highway. He looked over at Drew, asleep beside him, and was nearly overcome with a maelstrom of emotions. Pride, first and foremost, not only for the boy’s successes, but even more importantly for the honorable character and loving nature he so easily displays toward others. That pride, however, is tinged with a great deal of concern for the boy’s future. Here he sits, thirteen years old, a dual National Champion, and yet to look at him, you’d be more likely to take him for a weakling, if you happened to think he was a boy at all.
That’s the other thing; it would be hard enough if he just looked a little girlish, but on top of that, it seems he’s constantly being “persuaded” to dress accordingly. Oh, he puts up a token protest to begin with, but soon gives in and so easily takes on the personality of a teen girl that it quickly becomes difficult to see a boy there at all. And it seems to get easier to talk him into it each and every time it happens. He doesn’t seem all that inclined to start these episodes on his own, as far as I know, but it certainly doesn’t take long for Maddy or one of his other friends to get him into a skirt. You would think that by now he would have learned to pack an extra change of clothes when he was going to be out for any extended period of time, wouldn’t you? How many times has he been “forced” to borrow girls’ clothes because he forgot to bring a change for after a race, or because of some accident when out away from home for a day?
I wonder what all that the doctor was saying, really means? It’s certainly unusual for a thirteen year old boy to not produce any testosterone, and frankly the doctor seemed fairly concerned, although his hesitancy with starting treatment seemed a bit odd, didn’t it? Wait and see, then run a battery of tests. Why not run your tests now, so the situation can be cleared up sooner? It’s all very frustrating.
Then there’s the part about the iron deficiency. Yes, it’s true that many others have similar problems, but it is still a predominantly female condition. The iron tablets do seem to be helping, at least he isn’t fainting nearly as much. “…hormonal profile similar to a menstruating female…” the doctor said, or something like that, wasn’t it?
Maybe the medical condition explains why he looks so much like a girl, even without really trying. You would swear that Gaby and Maddy were twins, to look at them. Of course, Jen’s mum did point out that the women in her family always have all looked very similar. He does look a lot more like Jen than me, and she looks a lot like Maddy’s mum Carol. And they all look a bit like Jen’s mum, so maybe there’s something (to) in that. But that doesn’t completely explain Drew, because the men in her family don’t look anything like the women, and he looks so much like the women, rather than the men.
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“I do so hope all this will get cleared up soon,” Dave said to no one in particular, but then caught himself as Drew began to stir from his nap.
Next thing Dave heard was Drew yawning, “Nearly there?”
“Sorry kiddo, it’ll be a bit yet,” he replied. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a bit. It’s going to be a long day, and you’re going to need all the energy you can get.”
With that, Drew mumbled, “’kay,” and promptly drifted back to sleep.
“How does he do that?” Dave wondered aloud. “That child could sleep through anything.” After a moment or two of silence, he returned to his musings.
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When John suggested accepting the invitation to ride in Liverpool, he said it would be a good ride, plus a chance to give the locals a thrill by showing off the National Champion jersey. Just show up, ride the event, and don’t worry about where you place. After all, it’s not really a Juniors event even, so he’ll be riding against competitors who are older, bigger, stronger, and in some cases at least, more experienced. Really, a good showing is all anyone could reasonably expect of the child. But that’s yet another way in which he’s just like his mum. “Why race if you don’t race to win,” is how she puts it.
So he’s been training even harder than normal the last couple of weeks to prepare for this afternoon’s event on top of his cyclo-cross training, logging even more miles than usual, and pushing himself to his absolute limit. It’s a wonder he doesn’t make himself sick sometimes. And this morning, he tells me as he got into the camper, “I think I’ve got a good shot at it today. I feel good. I feel ready.”
________________________________
As his thoughts ran over all of this yet again, Dave couldn’t help by feel those strong emotions one more time.
_______________________________
Drew dreams of one day winning the Tour, but will that really be possible? If it turns out this whole hormone thing isn’t going to clear itself up, what do we do? Would they even let him race if he’s taking hormone replacement therapy? And if they don’t, what are the chances he’ll actually be able to keep up with all those other boys whose bodies are already ballooning from their pubescent hormone surges? Without it, will he continue to be basically a prepubescent boy, or given his hormone profile, will he start taking on more of the appearance of a girl? He’s already easily the smallest rider in his age classification. At some point, he might not be able to compensate for all those deficiencies with technique and tactics. Sometimes it’s simply a matter of power, and without the extra muscle mass his competitors are developing, the day is fast approaching when he may not be able to keep up.
If Drew’s hormones are more like a girl’s, does that mean he might start looking even more like a girl than he does already? I mean, those hormones are what cause girls to develop breasts, and he’s already got a bit of that shape, in his hips, bum, shoulders…almost everywhere really. He doesn’t even have to try for people to think of him as Gaby. They stop him all the time, referring to him as such, even when he’s just standing there in a t-shirt and jeans. It’s only those who know him as Drew who see him as such. When he’s made up as Gaby, she positively stops traffic. Absolutely gorgeous is probably the best way to put it, to tell the truth. From what I understand, there are boys who fancy Gaby, and frankly who can blame them? But wait, that’s my son we’re talking about!
_______________________________
“Okay kiddo, we’re nearly there. You’d probably best start waking up,” I said out loud, breaking the silence that’s been facilitating these musings. “Did you remember to take your iron tablets this morning?”
“Yeah, shouldn’t have any problems today.”
“Good, it wouldn’t do for our champion to pass out during the race, now would it? Now, where’s that check-in?” As he looks around for their destination, Dave looks over at the stretching figure that is his son. All the emotions that have been warring within him this morning well up, and manifest themselves and a single tear begins to form in his eye. “Here we are, kiddo. I’ll get the bike ready, you get changed, alright?”
With that Dave climbs out of the camper, while Drew slips into the back to get into his skins. In moments, he’s checking brake cables, tire pressures, and slipping a dab of oil on the chain, just to be sure. When Drew makes his appearance from the back of the camper, he asks, “Everything okay?”
“Seems to be, son.”
“Okay, I’ll just take it out for a little warm up spin, then.” And with that, Drew pedals off, leaving Dave to once again marinate in his thoughts. It doesn’t take him long to find himself right back where he left off.
“Unflappable,” the single word escapes his mouth before he even realizes he’s speaking. He then watches as Drew sets off for a bit of a leg stretch.
_______________________________
How can he do that? Go from being asleep to this lionhearted competitor in mere seconds? It’s not really that surprising though, when you really think about, is it? Just one more way in which he’s just like his mum.
Now there’s a sore subject. What the heck is really going on with her? Before the contract to ride professionally, we were happy, weren’t we? I certainly thought so. I still believed that as recently as a few weeks ago even. And yet, she drops this bomb on us about leaving us for some guy she’s met in Germany? I just don’t get it. How can she throw away all those years we were happy together? Is it possible I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did all this time?
__________________________________
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you view things, Dave’s emotional wanderings are again interrupted by Drew’s return. “Dad, can you take a look at the linkage for the front shifter? It’s really sluggish when I try to get it to change to the big ring.”
“Sure, let’s have a look,” and with that, Dave slips back into bike mechanic mode. After a brief examination and a quick adjustment to the cable, he pronounces everything tip top once again as the wunderkind goes through his pre-race stretching routine.
____________________________________
He even copies her warm-up routines, stretch for stretch. I don’t suppose that should be any surprise though, should it? Everything the child knows about his sport, he learned from her, so why wouldn’t he use the same routine? If it’s good enough for her, well…okay, I need to stop this right now. Can’t be going about getting all maudlin standing here waiting for the race to start, can I? I mean, what good would that do anyone? None whatsoever, that’s what.
____________________________________
“Participants report to the start please,” comes blaring from the public address system’s speakers, and Drew retrieves his bike from his father and heads for the start.
“Good luck, son.”
“Thanks Dad.”
____________________________________
I wish I could figure out a way to communicate with that child more. It seems as if whenever we’re together, he’s either sleeping or preparing for some bike thing, and talking with the old man isn’t exactly anywhere near the top of the to-do list. I guess that’s teenagers for you, eh? He’s such a contradiction. Confident, yet shy at the same time, not unlike the physical contradictions the child presents. Drew is all boy, and yet at the same time he seems more like Gaby a lot of the time than he does Drew. It’s not intentional or anything like that, which is probably why appearing as Gaby comes so naturally to him. It doesn’t seem to take any effort at all for others to see Gaby, but Drew requires so much effort on his part just to be noticed as a boy. And even then, it’s hit and miss at best, as if Drew is the put on act that he doesn’t do very well.
___________________________________
“Best head over to the start,” he muttered, and with that Dave was walking toward the start line for the race. “It’s a bigger field than I expected. Hope he’ll be alright.”
___________________________________
There’s really nothing to worry about though, is there. Some people just have a gift for certain things, and Drew’s is cycling. Any other sport he’s tried, he’s average at best, but put the child on two wheels, and he becomes a real force to be reckoned with. He’ll do well today, he always does. What other racers have to think about just comes as instinct to this one. There they go, let’s see it’s five laps, isn’t it? It’ll be interesting to see where he is when they complete the first lap.
I shouldn’t have left Juliette at home today. Of course, dragging her to today’s race would have presented it’s own set of problems, wouldn’t it? She was really getting rolling with this whole teen rebellion thing even before their mum dropped her little bombshell on us. Since then, well, she’s really been something. I wish I knew what to do to help her deal with all this, but I really have no idea where to even begin. I know Carol’s been trying to help, but she’s always been so much closer with Drew than Juliette. I guess that’s understandable, isn’t it? As if it weren’t enough that Drew and Maddy are thick as thieves and practically identical twins, their little romance has if anything made them even closer, so Carol naturally is going to be closer to Drew. But she has been a big help so far with Jules. Not that that young lady is doing much to cooperate with us of late.
Here they come. Well I’ll be, he’s hanging in there with the older riders without even looking like he’s working that hard.
_______________________________
“Come on Drew, keep going!”
________________________________
I guess the real test will be further into the race, if he can keep up with the stronger riders.
It seems like both of the kids have been trying to hold in a lot of anger since Jen’s phone call, and I have to admit I don’t blame them. It hit us all as a shock. I still don’t understand what’s going on with her. Obviously if she was really that unhappy before, you would have thought I’d have noticed, wouldn’t you? I kind of had an inkling something wasn’t right when she was home for those charity events, but that was the first clue that anything was wrong, and the truth is, this was the furthest thing from my mind. I just thought she was feeling a little under the weather, tired from all the travel and work or something. Guess I have to assume that I don’t know her half as well as I thought, but even now, I can’t shake the feeling she’s not telling us everything. There’s more going on than her having a new man in her life, I’m sure of it. I don’t know why I’m so sure, but I am.
I just hope all this doesn’t hurt the kids too much. Jules is so angry, she may not ever be able to forgive her mother for this. And Drew, my goodness, the sun rises and sets by what his mother does and says. How is this going to affect him? To top it all off, with all his racing commitments, I’m not really sure how I’m going to be able to give them both the time and attention they deserve. I don’t want to short change either of them, but Drew, because of all the travel on weekends, just requires much more of my time. I hope I don’t wind up alienating Juliette in the process.
All that anger. I truly believe that, if it had been an available option to her, Juliette might have seriously tried to hurt her mother physically when Jen called to tell us about her new friend. Drew was hurt, but Jules was just plain mad. I hope she can manage to open up to me soon, if not me then someone…Carol, her Gran, someone. If she doesn’t, I’m afraid of what she might do.
Two laps in, and that child is still right there with the big boys. Though I must say, he’s starting to look as if it’s taking a bit of effort. He won’t quit, that for sure. You know, now I think about it, I don’t think his mum has ever seen him race. Strange, huh? He’s practically worshipped her his entire life, strived to be just like her, and she’s never watched one of his races. I realize that there were a lot of reasons for that. She would often ride on the same day, and would take the time during Drew’s races to spend some time with Juliette, but it never dawned on me that she was missing this. I wonder if that thought’s ever occurred to him? Is that part of the motivation? If he does well enough, maybe she’ll come watch him one day? I never thought about it like that before. With all that’s happening now, will he lose interest in racing? I do hope not, because he has such a talent for it. An absolute natural.
If I can’t get this worked out with Juliette, maybe her Gran would like to take a crack at it. They have their half term break coming up; she could maybe go up for a visit, just the two of them, try and work out a little of that anger. Maybe I should make a call to see if that’s a possibility.
Of course, I must admit that I understand where that anger is coming from. I’ve even felt overcome by it a time or two myself the last few days. Oh Jen, why? Have I not been supportive enough? Or am I just not exciting? I’ve loved you with every fiber of my being for longer than I can remember, and I thought it was a two way street, but now I just don’t know anymore. I mean, even after all this I still love you. Will you ever come back? Will we ever be a family again?
What on Earth does that boy think he’s doing? Past the halfway point, and he’s actually leading the race? Amazing! He is looking a bit worse for wear at this point, though. I hope he doesn’t make himself pass out again. That child just doesn’t understand that a bike race isn’t worth nearly killing yourself over. He doesn’t seem able to hold anything back, like he needs to go full steam every second. That determination is what’s going to carry him through his life’s endeavors, as long as he doesn’t let our family problems take too much out of him.
Even here, the whole Drew/Gaby thing is rising up. Half the crowd keeps referring to “that young girl riding with the men up the front”. In racing skins, pedaling away for all he’s worth, they still see Gaby. Why is that? He doesn’t have breasts or anything, he’s not wearing makeup or have his hair done up in a feminine style, so what is it they see that makes them think that? Is it just that his hips and bum look a bit girlish, or is there something more? Something I’m missing? Maybe I should take a more objective look sometime.
If their Gran agrees to have Juliette visit over the break, I’ll have to talk to Frank about taking an afternoon off to run her up there. Things have been quite busy at the mill, and it may be difficult to arrange, although at least for the most part there isn’t nearly as much travel involved with the cyclo-cross schedule, and days like today aren’t going to be commonplace for a while, at least. So hopefully, we’ll be able to work something out. I’m not sure how we’d make it if it weren’t for Frank. He’s been great to me, allowing me to juggle schedules when necessary to take care of family things. I just hate to ask too often, or he may become less willing to help. I’d hate to do anything to that friendship.
It’s odd, most of the people I count as friends now, except for Frank, I’m only acquainted with really through Jen. Does that mean with things changing, they’ll be forced to choose sides? And who’s side would they choose? I don’t know what to expect from anyone at the moment. I don’t think Carol or John would abandon us, at least, because they’re so close to Drew, but other than them, I really don’t know what’s going to happen with anyone.
Wow, they’re coming around again already. I’m really having trouble with losing track of time today. I don’t see him…no wait, there is the wunderkind, right on the leader’s wheel. I don’t know if he’s going to have the energy for the final push at the end of this final lap, but I have no doubt that he’ll try. Oh my, he’s looking a bit ragged.
__________________________
“Keep going, son!”
__________________________
I do wonder what Juliette’s got up to? Let’s see, it’s nearly 11, for all I know, she may still be lolling about in bed. I wouldn’t put it past her, and given everything that’s gone on, I don’t know that I’d blame her too much either. Lord knows, the last thing I felt like doing this morning was driving to Liverpool for a bike race. If it hadn’t been for this trip this morning, I might have taken John up on his offer last night of drowning my sorrows down at the pub. Not exactly grown up behavior, I know, but sorely tempting nonetheless.
Caroline was, well, Caroline the other day. Seems she thinks I need some mothering after all that’s happened. Not that I mind, really. She’s always been brilliant to us, and I’ve no doubt that we’re going to need all the friends we can get in order to get through this. I should try to remember to call her again some time this week.
Oh my, that’s almost funny. Those people standing over there talking about Drew; “I thought this was a men’s race. What’s that young girl doing riding with them? I must admit, she’s quite good.” Even knowing this is a men’s race, they still seem to think of Drew as a girl! I hope that doctor figures out what the problem is soon, so he can fix it and my boy can get on with his life.
They should be coming round toward the finish soon. Yes, there they are, just coming into sight. Best get over to the line, if things go like usual of late, Drew may need someone to catch him when he falls off. No one will ever accuse that child of not giving his all, that’s for certain. I don’t think even the wunderkind is going to be able to pull this one off, but it’s definitely looking to be a good finish. And the champion jersey made it’s appearance, so the organizers got what they wanted.
_________________________________
“Come on, Drew!” Dave was yelling for all he was worth as he watched his son make one last push in an attempt to take the win. It was a close finish, with the winner being declared by a tire width, and young Bond finishing a wheel behind in third. As he crossed the line, Dave caught him and his steed as the wunderkind collapsed from exhaustion, totally spent from the effort.
_______________________________
Did I really expect anything less? The child only know one way to do things, that’s all out. It was an outstanding ride, but I’d be willing to bet a week’s salary he’ll be upset with himself for not winning.
______________________________
Drew begins to open his eyes to find himself once again being cradled by his father. “Hey, kiddo. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Yeah, it’s getting a bit embarrassing not being able to remember the end of races.”
“Feeling a bit better? Why don’t we get you back over to the camper. Once you get to feeling a bit better, you can get cleaned up and changed. I’ll get the bike squared away.”
“Thanks dad.”
_______________________________
Good, I think he’ll be alright. At least I don’t think it wasn’t the iron deficiency thing that cause him to pass this time. I think he just simply wore himself out trying to take the flag. Just like his mum.
Now, let’s not go there again. I have to keep it together for the kids. If they see me falling apart, that’ll make things even worse for them, and I won’t have that. Their lives must maintain as much normalcy as possible, under the circumstances. Otherwise…I don’t want to think about otherwise.
I wonder if Carol has checked on Juliette yet? No, I won’t call to find out, I trust Carol, she’s family, and I trust my daughter that she knows how to behave. Calling to check up on her like that would be like telling her I don’t trust her, and she needs to know that I do trust her right now. Drew can give her a call on the way back to let her know how things went. That way we check up on her without checking up on her. Sneaky, but effective.
Okay, the bike is secured, now let’s see if our young champion is feeling recovered.
__________________________
Dave knocks on the camper door, “Drew, you changed yet? They want you for the presentation.”
“Be out in a moment.”
A minute later, Dave hears a pained, “NO!” coming from inside the camper. He knocks again, and this time, the door creaks open to reveal not Drew, but Gaby exiting the back. Dave takes one look and says, “Let me guess.”
“Mad was helping me get my things together for today last night, and I guess this is what she packed for after the race.”
“Why am I not surprised? Well come on then, Gaby. Your presence is requested on the podium.”
“Do I have to?”
“Well, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve done an awards presentation in a skirt, is it?”
“No, I suppose you’re right about that one.”
“Okay, let’s get a move on then. They’re waiting.”
And with that, Dave leads his youngest “daughter” up to the podium for the presentation of awards for today’s efforts.
Well, this has been a right strange Christmas, to say the least, what with Jen being gone, and the kid’s lack of enthusiasm for the holiday…I never thought I’d see the day when my children weren’t up at the crack of dawn to open presents. No, this year, I even slept in a bit and was still first up. I guess it’s safe to say Jen’s absence has been the main reason for the strangeness. Thank God she’s finally coming home. I can only hope she’s going to drop this charade and tell me what’s really going on. I have to say I hope I’m not correct, frankly, but I think I have a fair idea what’s coming. We shall see…
Well, this has been a right strange Christmas, to say the least, what with Jen being gone, and the kid’s lack of enthusiasm for the holiday…I never thought I’d see the day when my children weren’t up at the crack of dawn to open presents. No, this year, I even slept in a bit and was still first up. I guess it’s safe to say Jen’s absence has been the main reason for the strangeness. Thank God she’s finally coming home. I can only hope she’s going to drop this charade and tell me what’s really going on. I have to say I hope I’m not correct, frankly, but I think I have a fair idea what’s coming. We shall see…
____________________
Dave was sitting in the waiting area at the arrival gate, and didn’t even notice Jen’s arrival until she spoke, “Dave?”
“Jen, are you okay?” he asked as he jumped out of his seat and moved in for what he had planned as a gentle hug. As she melted into his arms, he knew his thoughts were correct. He still didn’t know the specifics, but he knew without her even speaking that the lie she had been telling these past couple of months was just that…a lie, intended to “protect” the family.
As she sniffed back a tear, he looked into her eyes and asked, “So tell me what’s really going on. I’m guessing there isn’t really a boyfriend, is that correct?”
She started to speak, but instead broke down in tears, clinging to his body as hers was wracked with an outpouring of emotion that had been held inside for far too long. When she was finally able to speak, she said, “I’m sorry luv. I’m so very sorry.” He handed her a tissue, and they sat down for a moment to allow her the chance to collect her thoughts.
As Jen still hadn’t regained her composure enough to speak, Dave took the opportunity to float the idea he had been harboring these past few days. “I’ve had the thought that you’ve not really been telling us what’s going on. I can tell that you’ve been ill…seriously, from what I can tell. So are you ready to drop the pretense and let us know what’s really going on?”
“Yes, I’d like that very much. I’ve missed you so. I hope I haven’t ruined everything forever.”
“I’ll not lie…the kids and I have all had a hard time through all of this. At first, I took what you said at face value, and was devastated. But as the weeks have passed, and we’ve had the chance to see a little bit of you here and there, I started wondering if that wasn’t just a smokescreen, as I could see you looking less like your old self. In a way, I’m glad to know that my suspicions were correct, although I’m not thrilled that you might be ill. What’s important is that you’re here, and planning to let us know what’s really going on. Whatever else may have gone on, we can deal with. For right now, we’ll wait until you’re ready to tell us the truth.”
“Yes, I’m rather sick.”
“How bad?”
“There was a problem on my pap smear a while back…Cancer”
With the utterance of that one word, they found themselves once again wrapped tightly around each other in an attempt to seal out any influences that might wish to inflict themselves upon them at that moment. When once again they had both regained some control of their respective tear ducts, Dave ventured, “So how long have you known?”
“Since the Worlds. It showed up in my monthly physical. Dieter, he’s the team doctor, has been keeping it from George and the rest of the team while arranging my treatments. I would have asked if I were welcome home sooner, but I had to stay for a chemo treatment this week.”
“You never needed even ask. Your place has always been with me, and that will never change. Chemo…that usually means it’s pretty bad. Just how bad?”
“Well, it’s difficult to know for sure. They’re saying worst case is about six weeks.”
“So what’s next? More chemo? Radiation? Surgery?”
“Well, in order, that’s yes, no, and maybe. When I go back in for my next follow-up, they should have a fair idea whether the chemo is doing the trick, and if not they say there is surgery as a last ditch effort. Please promise me you won’t tell the kids about that part.”
“I won’t, but you’ve got to tell them you’re sick. It’s only fair. I can’t guarantee they’ll understand your reasons for the subterfuge of a boyfriend…frankly I’m not sure I understand that either…but…”
“I don’t deserve you, do you know that? I’m afraid the kids may have other thoughts on the subject, because I know they’re feeling hurt over all of this, but I hope they’ll be willing to give me a chance to make it up to them.”
“Well, you may have a point there. Our firstborn has been, how shall I say, rather difficult these last weeks. Hopefully she can manage to get past all that so we can get back to the business of being a family.”
“What about Drew?”
“Oh, he won’t be nearly as difficult to turn around as his sister.”
“And Gaby?”
“You really do see them as different people?”
“Well, sometimes, yes. And since in the last year I’ve seen a lot more of her than I have of him…” she let the thought fade away and smiled softly.
“Since you put it that way, I suppose I can see your point. Anyway, Gaby hasn’t really made a lot of appearances of late. A few here and there, but mostly it’s just been Drew.” Dave made a point of not mentioning the night he came home to find Drew in his mum’s clothes, as he was afraid it might be a bit much for her to deal with in her current condition. “The important thing is, once they know the truth, I’m guessing you’ll be welcomed home with open arms.”
And so after a few more minutes of gently hugging each other, Dave helped Jen up and after retrieving her luggage, took her to the car and helped her into the passenger seat, then climbed in behind the wheel. “You look like you could use some rest. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to get a little nap on the drive home?”
“That’s a grand idea,” Jen nearly whispered as she closed her eyes and laid her head back against the seat’s headrest. She was asleep before he had even made it out of the car park.
____________________
I don’t know quite how to feel at the moment. I mean, in a way I’m glad that the whole affair thing was just a farce. But at the same time, I can barely keep myself from falling apart over the news of just exactly what the real problem is. And just look at her. A few months ago, this woman was the embodiment of fitness, and now…she’s looks thin, weak…I get the feeling there’s more she’s trying to hold back even now, like it’s worse than she’s let on. God, I hope not.
I hope she’s up to the inquisition when we get home. I’m pretty sure I know how Drew will react, but Juliette? That one’s still up in the air. I just hope she’ll come around quickly. I don’t think Jen is up to much in the way of confrontations right now.
What am I going to do if she doesn’t get better? Even when I believed she was leaving me for someone else, there was always the possibility that she might decide to come back to me, but this? I can’t imagine my life without her. I certainly can’t see myself loving another woman the way I love Jen.
Okay, just stop this line of thinking right now. This is neither the time nor place for that kind of thing. I have to remain as positive as possible, for Jen and the kids. Just remember, in their eyes, I’m the rock, and I can’t let them down, no matter what.
_____________________
About halfway home, Jen opened her eyes and looked over at Dave. He was on the verge of tears, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed that she’d awakened.
“Are you all right?”
Shocked by the sound of her voice breaking the silence in the car, Dave jumped and nearly lost control of the vehicle, recovering quickly before addressing her. “What was that? Sorry, you surprised me. I wasn’t expecting you to wake so soon.”
Smiling, somehow an alien gesture given the recently shared information, Jen repeated, “Are you all right? You know with all that’s going on?”
“I think so. A little stunned, to tell the truth, but I’ll be fine. My main concern is you.”
The rest of the journey was made mostly in silence, as Jen rested in the passenger seat while Dave tried to keep his mind on the task of bringing his beloved home. As they arrived, he helped her out of the car and lovingly held her arm as he escorted her toward the front door. As the approached, they could hear the sounds of their scurrying offspring preparing for their mother’s arrival.
“Come on son, let your mother inside” Dave said as they stepped into the house. There were the usual greeting hugs, though still somewhat tentative at least on Jules’ part. It was clear to anyone who saw the exchange that there was some ground to cover before this family would be able to return to anything remotely resembling normal.
Ten minutes later and the family Bond were gathered in the lounge, there was obviously more to this than just a visit from their estranged mother. Dave had his arm around Jen; sat on the sofa with a look the kids couldn’t remember seeing on his face before.
“So what's this all about?” Jules asked, “Come to rub Dieter in our faces?”
Jen flinched at Jules barb and then Drew realized that she most certainly wasn't the bubbly Mum of old, not by a long way.
“I guess I deserve that,” she allowed.
“You coming home then?” Drew asked.
“Not if Dad's got any sense” Jules spat.
“Jules!” Dave almost shouted, “don't speak to your mother like that!”
“Well she deserves it.”
“It's alright Dave, she's right. After the way I've treated you all I do deserve it.”
“But…” Dave started.
“Dave.” Jen patted Dave's arm and he lost some of the tension that he was holding in.
“To answer Drew's question, yes I am here because I want to come home…”
“Brill!” Drew nearly shouted.
“Drew!” Dave admonished, “let you mother finish.”
“Whether I can is another matter.” Jen went on. “I've already explained things to your Dad and we're agreed that the final decision should be yours. I've mucked up your lives for my own selfish reasons.”
“So its over with lover boy is what you're saying,” Jules, blunt as ever stated.
“Jules!”
“Sorry Dad.”
“You could say that Juliette, you could say that.” Jen looked pretty down.
“You want me to tell them?” Dave asked
“Thanks Dave but I really need to do this myself.”
“So?” Jules insisted.
Jen seemed to gather herself up before starting.
“I've been a very silly woman. Selfish and silly. You must understand that I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”
“Running off with Dieter?” Jules was in there again.
“I won't tell you again young lady” Dave told her
“Sorry” she allowed
“Go on Mum” Drew encouraged
“Well it started back in the summer. The team doctor gives us a physical once a month, no problem but in July he called me back, not usual — one of the tests had turned something up”
“I knew it, you were pregnant!” Jules exclaimed
“What did I tell you?” Dave intoned
“No more interruptions, promise”
“No Jules, I wasn't pregnant but you're not a million miles off the truth. It was the smear test, it showed up some abnormalities.”
“What's a smear?” Drew asked
“Women's stuff” a suddenly less flippant Jules replied. That one sentence from her Mum seemed to have flicked a switch in the rebellious teen.
“Well I had some more tests and convinced the doc not to tell anyone.”
“He shouldn't anyway,” Jules mentioned
“Well yes and no. As team doctor he's supposed to tell George if there's anything wrong, I agreed to that in the contract. But anyway he agreed to keep quiet for the time being.”
“Quiet about what?” Drew, as the youngest and least knowledgeable about such things, asked.
“I've got cancer Drew.”
Drew sat there in stunned silence. Jules got up and joined the rents on the sofa, giving her Mum a determined hug. Cancer. The word hung there like a wasp's nest, taunting them all with questions but knowing that one poke will start Armageddon.
“But you can't have, the World Championships?”
“I only recently started getting sick” Jen allowed.
“But why?” Jules managed between sobs.
“Why didn't I say anything? The doc gave a good prognosis, I didn't want to worry anyone.”
“Well that didn't work,” Drew mentioned joining the family hug.
Jen stroked his hair as she went on. “The treatment was going well or so we thought then right before the Worlds Dieter, yes there is a Dieter, he's my doctor, well he told me that the cancer was spreading. I couldn't believe it; here I was at the top of my form but with this, this thing inside of me. In some perverse way it probably pushed me to the medals, I was determined to beat it.”
“Like Lance did?” thoughts of the miracle man of cycle sport buoyed Drew’s thoughts.
“Well yes,” Jen allowed, “although I've got a different sort”
“So what was the Australia thing all about?” Jules enquired
“Well Dieter couldn't keep it from George any longer. George is really a big softy, he wanted me to come home straight away, I should've listened to him. Instead I made him agree to secrecy and I know it was misguided now but I thought I could protect you all if I left, invented a boyfriend and went through the treatment on my own.”
“You never told anyone did you?” Jules mentioned
“Not until today. Only George, Dieter and the people at the clinic. I've been so selfish.”
“So what changed your mind?” Her youngest got out between sobs.
“Well you did actually Drew.”
“Me?”
“Last week at the BBC. I realized just how much I missed you all”
“You could have come home then” Drew accused.
“No I couldn't Drew, I had my first chemo session on Monday, that's when I decided that the charade had to end. I couldn't bear it if I didn't see you all again. It took me until Christmas Day to muster the courage, I had to go to the clinic on Boxing Day otherwise I would have come sooner.”
“So…?” Jules hugged her Mum closer.
“How long?” Jen said those words. It was the question you never want to ask or know the answer to. “Well hopefully years,” Jen tried on a smile but it didn't fit, “The chemo will hopefully get it, if not there's surgery.”
She was covering up again, they both could tell, but even Jules didn't pursue it.
“We'll cancel America,” Drew stated.
“I'll ring Mr. Wood” Jules agreed.
“No you won't.” their Mum was emphatic. “No cancellation and no one else knows right? I'll be here when you get back, cured and ready to give you both hell!”
There was just something in her voice that told another story, that she was even now trying to protect us.
“You must ring your mother and Maria, she was frantic
with worry you know?” Dave told Jen.
“I've probably lost a few friends over this haven't I?” she looked like a lost little girl.
“I'm sure when you explain they'll understand,” her loving husband suggested. “Now kids, your mother needs to rest.”
“Daa-aad!” Jules complained.
“Your Dad's right, I'm really tired, I left home at six this morning. But before I go up, I need to know kids, I'll understand if the answers no but can I come home?”
By way of answer they both just hugged her closer.
“Course” Jules told her, the tears starting again.
They held each other a while longer before Dave shooed the kids off and carried a now sleeping Jen upstairs.
___________________
If will has anything to do with recovering from something like this, you’ll be back up and riding by summer. I’d give just about anything if I could ensure that were to be the case, luv. For now, just focus on resting up so you can get better. That’s all I care about…that you get better.
___________________
“She's not telling us everything is she Dad?” Jules asked when her dad returned.
“I'm sworn to secrecy Jules but yes you're right.”
“Its really bad isn't it?” Drew managed.
“Not good” he agreed.
“Its weeks isn't it?” Jules stated.
Dave hesitated before answering. “You don't say a word to your mother right?” They nodded.
“Promise me now, she might be ill but she's still got a vicious tongue!” he tried to joke.
“We promise” Jules agreed.
“The chemo is a last ditch attempt to halt it's spread. Like your Mum said, there is surgery but it might be too late for that already. They've given her six weeks.”
“Six weeks!” Drew nearly screamed.
“We can't go to America Dad, we should be here with you for her” Jules stated with calm she didn't feel.
“It's what she wants Jules. I promise you both, if it comes to it, I'll get you back home in time to say goodbye.”
“Daad!” Drew sobbed flinging my arms round him.
The three of them hugged for who knows how long.
“She will stay now won't she?” Drew asked.
“Of course she will son.”
“I couldn't bear it if she went away again.”
“Now then you two,” Dave started, extricating himself from the hug, “your mother doesn't want either of you broadcasting this all over the place.”
“But?”
“No buts Drew. She'll tell people in her own time. So please, for your Mum?”
“Yes Dad” Drew agreed.
“Jules?”
“Okay”
There were more questions to ask but now wasn't the time.
“I'm just popping out for a few minutes, we're out of milk. You two okay? I won't be long.”
“Sure Dad” Drew replied.
Dave picked up his keys and went out to the car, climbed in and started the engine, then backed out of the driveway and started navigating his way to the grocers. He made the entire trip on auto pilot, not really being aware of anyone or anything around him. In fact, he wasn’t sure he remembered how exactly he had arrived there. Once he was pulled into a parking space out some distance from the store, he put the vehicle in park, turned off the engine, and almost immediately slumped over the wheel heaving great sobs, welling up from his very soul. After a while, he started to regain some small bit of composure, and started running over his thoughts.
__________________
It’s almost as if she had held back telling me the full extent of what’s going on before when we were talking at the airport, and during the car ride home. Maybe she couldn’t face saying those things more than once today? Whatever the reason, I’m glad she’s home. I don’t ever want to feel the way I have since she’s been gone again.
I was so glad when the kids were hugging their mum. I was afraid that, even after the truth was out, Jules might still be hard to bring around. I think she felt even more abandoned by her mum than Drew did…he after all still had cycling in common, while she really doesn’t share any common ground with her mum. Not the same activities, or tastes…I think she felt as if Jen was choosing something else over her, and didn’t care for the feeling one bit. Now, who knows? She seemed willing to accept her mum back into the house, but is she past all her hurt feelings? Of course not. I hope she can find her way past all that. I’d hate to think that she left for America still harboring negative feelings toward her mum.
I suppose I won’t have to worry about what will be keeping me busy while the kids are away. I’m going to have to focus everything I can on the effort to help her get better. I’m sure she’s going to need a lot of attention during her recovery…she’ll probably be too weak to do much on her own for quite a while, so I’m going to have to make sure she doesn’t overdo things. Like that’s an easy task. Easy or not, I’m going to have to do it. Now that she’s back home, I don’t want to chance her leaving us permanently again. If she’s ever able to return to racing, fine, but she’s going to know just how important she is to us…to me. Just please always come home. I know now more than ever that I couldn’t withstand that kind of torture, if she were to leave us.
Poor Drew. I’m sure he felt a bit left out of things today. Jules was so vocal during our family meeting, sometimes I worry that he tries to just bottle things up, rather than letting them out just in case it might hurt someone else’s feelings. He’s like that. I hope it doesn’t come back to bite him sometime, when all that comes bubbling out, like it did that one night. I do wonder sometimes if he reacts to things the way he does because in so many ways, he’s really more Gaby. When she’s with us, she’s more relaxed, self confident, less of a wallflower…in many ways Gaby’s a more vibrant person than Drew. I just worry that eventually, she’s going to become so much more the dominant part of him that she’ll overtake his entire life, and that would be such a rough life, having to deal with the discrimination and hatred that seems to be heaped onto those who are different. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but specially my Drew.
I realize I’m rather biased, but he deserves better than that. He’s always been such a caring, loving, helpful child. While objectively, I could say that it’s usually the gentler ones who find themselves on the receiving end most often, I still wish with every fiber of my being that I could prevent him from experiencing all of that.
I had probably best get myself pulled back together and head back home. Jen may be waking up soon, and I need to be there in case she needs anything.
______________
After drying the tears from his cheeks, Dave wiped his eyes, started the car’s engine, and drove back home so he could take care of his true love.
I’m not sure I’m ready for this, sending my children away to America for six weeks? It sounded like it would be such a great learning experience for them, but that was before everything with their mum came to pass. I know the kids sense it as well, but there’s something about this morning that can’t help but feel like the last time Drew and Jules will ever see their mum alive. God, it hurts just thinking about it. Yes, it’s early, and they’re barely awake, but I can see it in their eyes. Even as we all tell ourselves that she’s a fighter, and will never give up, there’s a cloud hanging over all of us casting an ominous shadow over everything. That cloud keeps reminding us that the prognosis given to her by the specialist said to expect six weeks. Ironic how she’s been given exactly the amount of time the kids will be away.
I’m not sure I’m ready for this, sending my children away to America for six weeks? It sounded like it would be such a great learning experience for them, but that was before everything with their mum came to pass. I know the kids sense it as well, but there’s something about this morning that can’t help but feel like the last time Drew and Jules will ever see their mum alive. God, it hurts just thinking about it. Yes, it’s early, and they’re barely awake, but I can see it in their eyes. Even as we all tell ourselves that she’s a fighter, and will never give up, there’s a cloud hanging over all of us casting an ominous shadow over everything. That cloud keeps reminding us that the prognosis given to her by the specialist said to expect six weeks. Ironic how she’s been given exactly the amount of time the kids will be away.
I must admit I was sorely tempted to let them drop out of the exchange trip when they asked me about it, but I knew there was no way in the world Jen would have allowed them to miss out on such an opportunity. And when I thought about it from her perspective, I can understand where she’s coming from. Letting the kids go on this trip is a bit like her refusing to accept the possibility that she might not win this fight she’s in, whereas keeping them home would have been like giving up. That’s not something Jenny Bond has ever done, and I doubt she ever will. I did promise the kids that, should it happen that she doesn’t have much time left, I would send for them. I just hope that need never arises.
I’m glad to see that Juliette’s problems seem to have dissipated since Jen came home. I’m amazed at just how much difference hearing one word can have on someone’s whole outlook. Obviously, I knew that a lot of Jules’ problems were directly related to her anger at her mum for “leaving” us, but when the truth came out, the change in my little girl was instant, and overwhelming. It’s been a joy to see. I just hope it lasts through this trip, and well beyond.
The Bond family joined all the other students and parents involved in the exchange trip as they gathered to wait for the kids’ departure aboard the “Warsop College Express”, bound for the airport and the first leg of their journey.
“We have to go Mum.”
“I know Drew, take care you two” Jen pulled them both into a hug that she reluctantly released when Dave clasped her shoulders.
“I love you guys, make me proud.”
“We will,” Jules replied.
Dave gave them a quick hug and propelled them towards the waiting bus.
“I'll keep you informed okay,” he whispered once out of Jen's earshot.
“Thanks Dad.”
The kids clambered on board and Drew found Mad had reserved him a seat next to her. After a few moments, Mr. Wood departed from the bus, the door closed, and it pulled away, with all the occupants waving one last goodbye to their parents. Dave and Jen could both clearly see that Drew and Jules didn’t seem to share their friends enthusiasm for the beginning of their journey, and felt a pang of sadness themselves at the thought that it was possible this would be the last time they would ever see their mum. When the bus had finally pulled out of sight, Dave looked into Jen’s eyes and saw reflected there the same fear and sadness he had been trying so hard to hide. He reached out his hand and took hold of hers as they made their way back to their car for the journey home.
As they pulled out of the car park, Dave glanced over just in time to see the tears roll down Jen’s cheek. He again took her hand and spoke, “You’ll see them again. I promise.”
“I hope you’re right, but what if the doctor’s prognosis is correct?”
“If it comes to that, I’ll make sure the kids make it back in time. But, and this is a huge but, that’s not going to happen, because you’re going to get better. I know it.”
“I wish I shared your certainty. Unfortunately, I can’t shake the fear this morning. What about my babies?”
The tears renewed their escape from her eyes as she continued thinking of the implications of not recovering.
“What’s brought all this on? I’ve never seen you like this. Usually, you’re so confident you wouldn’t even consider for a moment the possibility of failure.”
“I don’t know, really. I’m just so tired. I don’t know if I’m up to this challenge.”
“Well, I know you are, so take my word for it, okay?”
As he said this, Dave pulled the car into the driveway, jumped out and ran around to the passenger side, then opened the door and helped Jen out of the car. He held her arm as he escorted her into the house and led her to the sofa, where he said, “Why don’t you lie down here for a bit and get some rest?” He then picked up a blanket and laid it over her. He leaned over her and gently kissed her on the forehead.
“Do you know I love you, David Bond?”
“And I love you. Just as well since you married me,” he joked, prompting a smile from his love. “There it is. I’ve been missing that smile. You get some rest, and call for me if you need anything.” He then headed into the kitchen where he started in on a little housework.
How on Earth am I going to maintain my confidence in her chance of recovery? I think that last visit with the doctor took a lot of the wind out of her sails. I must say, I can understand that. Being told that you’re going to have to undergo some rather extensive surgery that may or may not save your life? That’s a fairly heavy weight to have placed upon your shoulders, and she’s been trying so hard to hide just how bad it is from the kids. Maybe their trip will actually be a help to her in her recovery. I hope she doesn’t feel like she has to put on a brave face for me. After all, I was in there with her when the doctor gave her the news about the surgery.
The kids, there’s another bit of worry. I think all it would have taken for them to cancel their trip, even this morning, would have been for their mum to show even a moment’s weakness in front of them. I suppose it makes sense then that she was trying to hide just how bad it is from them. In America, having fun gathering new experiences? Definitely the best way to keep Jen from using all her energy putting on a brave front, maybe she’ll actually be able to save her strength for getting better.
One thing I still don’t understand is the reasoning behind the whole “boyfriend” ruse. I know she said she was trying to protect us from all the worry, but how in the world was that supposed to help? Instead of doing whatever we could to help with her recovery, we wound up wasting all that time being tormented by a situation that had nothing to do with the truth. In a way, it makes me more upset than if that story had actually been true. I don’t want to upset her now by starting an inquisition, but once she’s on the mend, I may have to try to get her to explain what her thinking was.
When Dave returned to the front room, he had a plate of lunch and a cup of tea in his hands for his wife, who was just waking from her nap. “I thought you might like a bite of lunch.”
“Have I really been out that long?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“That’s all right, luv, I know you need your rest if you’re going to get better. And you’re going to need to keep your strength up, which brings me to…” and he presented her with the plate and cup.
“You’re far too good to me.”
“Nonsense. You eat a bite, then just relax and watch a bit of telly. I realize you’re not terribly experienced in the whole ‘relaxing’ bit, but give it a shot, you may even enjoy it.” He made sure he was out of arm’s reach as he said this last bit, knowing that if he were too close, she might take a swipe at his ear. He returned to the kitchen momentarily to retrieve his own cup, then came back into the front room and sat down in the chair to relax a bit himself.
“Have you already eaten?”
“Yes, I was just finished up with clearing away the dishes when I heard you stir in here and thought you might do with a little something.”
“Thank you, I didn’t realize I was so hungry. In fact, if you hadn’t just handed it to me, I might have told you I didn’t want anything. How wrong can one person be?”
When she was done, Dave took the dishes back to the kitchen while Jen settled in to watch a bit of television. He finished washing up, then returned to sit with her so he would be there if she needed anything.
Eventually, he settled in to read a book while Jen drifted in and out of wakefulness while allowing the telly to provide a soundtrack of sorts for the afternoon. After dinner, Dave helped Jen upstairs to get ready for bed, and when she was asleep once more, he returned downstairs to tidy the place a bit.
It’s a good thing she came home when she did. As weak as she is now, I can’t imagine her having the energy to carry on with her cover story for long. We’ll just have to hope that it wasn’t too late, and they can still get her through this.
One thing, maybe Drew will be able to avoid having any “Gaby-sodes” while they’re in America. Of course, that’s probably wishful thinking, considering the fact that Brit was probably the second biggest cause of most of them when they were here. Between her and Maddy, I sometimes wonder if they don’t wish they could get him to be her all the time. I know, without a doubt, that isn’t something he’d like to do, but I can very easily envision my poor boy being manipulated into doing just that. I really hope it doesn’t come to pass, but…
The ringing of the phone interrupted Dave’s wandering thoughts. “Hello, Bond residence.”
“Dad it's me!”
“Drew? Where are you?”
“We just got to Washington.”
“You okay son?”
“I guess. Is Mum there?”
“She's asleep right now, its been a long day for us here you know.”
“I never thought, it's only just after four here.”
“That's okay Drew. Look she's okay at the moment, a bit tired that's all. Try not to worry. This call must be costing you a fortune.”
“I'm on Miss Cowlishaw's mobile.”
“That's good of her, look I'll tell your Mum you called when she wakes up, now enjoy yourselves. Give Jules my love. I'll give you a call at the Walters tomorrow, about tea time where you are okay, now don't fret.”
“I'll try. Bye Dad.”
“Bye kiddo.”
As he hung up the phone, Dave realized just how tired he was and decided it was time for him to get a little rest himself. So he turned out the lights, climbed the stairs and got himself ready for bed. He was nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.
“You fool! What would ever make you think she was ever yours to begin with?” said the faceless stranger as his silhouette became visible thanks to the moonlight streaming in through the window.
“She loves me, and our children. That’s what! Why else would she have come home to us?” Dave shouted at the stranger.
“Not any more!” he bellowed back. “I only returned her to you so you could nurse her back to health…or bury her!” The sound of his evil chuckle sent chills down Dave’s spine. “If she survives, I might decide I want her back, and if I do there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me from taking what’s mine!” The chuckle became a full-blown belly laugh…
“Huh?” Dave uttered as his eyes popped open. In the back of his mind he could still hear that evil laugh. He’d been having these dreams for some time now, but since Jen’s return home, they’ve taken an even darker turn, and this one was just another example. He looked at the sleeping form of his wife lying there next to him, and knew it was only a dream, but…
He laid his head back down, but sleep would not return, so he just looked at Jen, watching her breathing. He did eventually drift off some time before dawn. When he next woke, he quietly as possible got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where he prepared breakfast for the two of them. A few moments later, he was back in the bedroom, tray in hand. “Rise and shine,” he said to Jen as she slowly opened her eyes and smiled.
“Breakfast in bed? How did I rate?”
“Well, you were very tired yesterday, and I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“You’ve done far more than I could ever possibly deserve already, but thank you,” she said as she took the proffered tray and started in on her breakfast. “Got any plans for today?” she asked between bites.
“Well, I’m afraid I may need to go in to the office for a while later. Wouldn’t want Frank realizing he can function without me. What about you? Another day of lounging in front of the telly?” He asked this in jest, knowing that one of her least favorite things to do in the world was to lie about doing nothing.
“Actually, I thought if I were feeling up to it later, I’d go for a little ride.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked as he got up from the side of the bed and started getting ready to go to work.
“When has a gentle bike ride ever done anyone harm?” she asked, knowing she had him cornered.
He was silent for a moment while he finished dressing, and then said, “Well all right, but be careful, and take it easy.” And with that he was standing right beside her. While finishing the knot in his tie, he bent down and gave her a kiss, waved goodbye, and headed
downstairs and out the door. As he drove to the mill, he found his thoughts once again drifting…
Those two are definitely alike, that’s for certain. Jen’s as bad as Drew, I swear. Can’t keep either of them off their bikes without bed restraints. I feel I should be there with her, but if I don’t go and get a little work done, I don’t know how much longer I’ll have a job, and that would not be a good thing at all.
I had hoped that when Jen came home, those stupid dreams would go away, but instead they’ve just become darker, stranger. My rational side is telling me that these dreams are just the product of some underlying insecurities I may still be harboring about whether or not she’s come home for good, but that doesn’t make them any less upsetting in the middle of the night. My only real hope is that as time passes and she gets better, those doubts will eventually go away.
Dave spent the afternoon filing paperwork, making work calls, and generally just trying to catch up on all the work that had piled up on his desk since he hadn’t really been in as much as he should have been recently. The positive side effect of being so busy was that he didn’t have time to think about anything not work-related for several hours.
When he returned home, he found Jen sprawled on the sofa, exhausted. The first thing he did was run to the fridge, get an energy drink, and bring it to her. “Here you go.”
“Oh, thank you, luv.”
“So much for a gentle, relaxing bike ride, eh?”
“Hey! It was very relaxing, thank you very much. I just got a bit carried away is all.”
“I can’t imagine you getting carried away on a bike.”
“Careful, mister!” she playfully warned.
Dave walked back to the kitchen to find that not only had she been out for a ride, she had also started dinner cooking. “Well no wonder you’re so tired,” he called out loud enough for her to clearly hear him. “So what are we having?”
“Oh, just a little chicken pasta Parmesan.”
“Sounds good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not, I just didn’t expect you to feel up to cooking is all.”
“Well, since you’re here to keep an eye on the food, I’m going to pop into the shower. Be back in a moment.” And with that, Jen headed upstairs to get cleaned up.
Okay, so what the heck was she thinking? Wearing herself out on that bike, then cooking dinner when I know there’s no way she really feels like doing it? I think we may have to have a talk about this.
Jen returned to the kitchen both looking and smelling better than when last he had seen her, as he began serving dinner. They sat at the dining room table, which they hadn’t really been using since the kids left the day before, because Dave wanted Jen to get used to feeling “normal” again.
After dinner, Jen went and sat in the front room to relax while Dave cleaned up the mess in the kitchen…after all, she was still worn out from her earlier exertions. When he was done, he joined her on the couch, and they sat holding each other gently for hours, enjoying the closeness and the silence. When Jen became too tired to stay up any longer, Dave helped her upstairs and got her settled in bed, then went downstairs to make his check in call to the kids at the Walters in Grottoes.
“Hi there, Walters residence.”
“Brit, is that you? It’s Mr. Bond.”
“Oh hi Mr. Bond, its Deb””
“Sorry, you sounded a bit like your sister for a moment. Do my kids have a moment to spare for their dear old dad?”
“Yeah sure, they're right here.”
“Thanks Deb. I’m sure I’ll talk to you later.”
“And you to Mr. B, here's Gaby.”
Dave waited as Drew took the handset from Deb.
“Drew?”
“Hi Dad, how's Mum?”
“Why was Debbie calling you Gaby?”
“It's a long story”
“And I don't want to know right?”
“Er yes. So how's Mum?”
“She's okay son, she went for a short ride earlier but it took a lot out of her”
“She's okay though?” he started to panic.
“Calm down, yes she's alright, the doctors have said to expect it. Look son, I wasn't supposed to say anything, your mother made me promise, but well . . . .”
“Daad! What aren't you supposed to tell?”
“Your mother is going in to hospital tomorrow to be assessed for surgery.”
“You knew before we left?” he accused.
“Yes, we knew, it was your mothers decision not to say anything, she knows how you'd react”
“But…”
“Its your mother’s call son. I promise to get you here if things take a turn for the worse. Put your sister on son, I'll try to get your Mum on the phone tomorrow okay?”
“Yeah. Bye Dad, give Mum my love, here's Jules”
Dave waited once more as Drew passed the phone to his eagerly waiting sibling.
“Dad?”
“Hello, Juliette. How was your trip over?”
“Long. And at times boring.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that is one of the realities of transatlantic travel. So are you enjoying yourself so far?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. W took Deb and I to Waynesboro to do some shopping and stuff.” How’s Mum?”
“Tired, but doing all right. I’ve something I’d like to ask you. Why is it that when you left Warsop, Drew was with you, but now it seems Gaby is in America?”
She moved a bit to ensure Mr. And Mrs. W didn’t hear, and then responded, “Well, it seems Brit and Deb’s olds think Drew is a girl, and her nickname is Gaby.”
“So how exactly did they get that impression?”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that most of the pictures the girls took in England featured Drew in a skirt.”
“Point taken. So is Gaby there fulltime, then?”
“It would appear so. She sort of has to go to school like that because of the cheer contest. Something about it being easier to just stay as a girl, rather than having to switch back and forth all the time.”
“You watch out for her, all right? She’s your younger ‘sister’ and it’s your place to help her when dshe needs it, understood?”
“Yes Dad.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself as well, Juliette.”
“I will.”
“I had probably best get off of here, and the same goes for you as well. Good night, sweetheart, and be good.”
“Okay dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.” And with that, Dave hung up the phone.
How does that child ever get into the fixes he seems to fall into all of the time? Every time I turn around, Gaby’s back. It’s almost as if he does it to himself. I don’t know how he’s ever going to cope with spending six full weeks as Gaby. She’s never been around for more than a couple of days, and after those times, he couldn’t get back to being Drew quickly enough, but this? What kind of effect is this going to have on the poor child? After such an extended time as a girl, is there any chance my son will ever return? I suppose I’d best stop thinking about this, before it drives me round the bend. I’m going to have six weeks to torment myself with all of this, there’s no sense in wearing out the subject right off the bat.
And so, it was with these troubling thoughts that refused to stop circling his mind that Dave got ready for bed, and eventually drifted off for a less than restful night’s sleep.
The consultation with the doctor that afternoon was short and to the point. When Jen asked what options she had besides surgery the doctor was blunt. “I’m afraid surgery is our only option,” the doctor told her as she sat with Dave in his office.
“So when do we do this?” Jen asked.
“As soon as possible. If you’re ready, we could do it in the morning.”
“So, are the chances good?” Dave tentatively ventured.
“I’d say it’s maybe 50/50, but that’s better odds than if we don’t try.”
The consultation with the doctor that afternoon was short and to the point. When Jen asked what options she had besides surgery the doctor was blunt. “I’m afraid surgery is our only option,” the doctor told her as she sat with Dave in his office.
“So when do we do this?” Jen asked.
“As soon as possible. If you’re ready, we could do it in the morning.”
“So, are the chances good?” Dave tentatively ventured.
“I’d say it’s maybe 50/50, but that’s better odds than if we don’t try.”
“So if we don’t…” Jen started.
“Then we’re back to the five to six week estimate. And that last couple of weeks will be hell, I’m afraid.”
“Well then, it would appear there’s really not much of a choice to make, is there?” Dave offered.
“So shall we schedule you first thing in the morning?”
Jen looked at Dave for a moment, then turned back to the doctor and whispered, “Yes.”
“Good, I’ll see you first thing. Once you leave here, go in through admissions, and they’ll get you sorted. I really do think we have a good chance. I’ve had great success with this procedure in the past.”
Dave stood up, and as he helped Jen to her feet as well, said, “I hope you’re right. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with that the Bonds left his office and made their way to the admissions office of the hospital. Once all the appropriate paperwork had been dutifully filed, they were led to the surgical ward, where Jen was instructed to change into one of those hospital gowns, then get into bed. Dave sat down at her bedside, and they chatted for a while, until one of the nurses came over to inform them that visiting hours were over and he would have to leave. So after he made certain Jen was settled in for the night, Dave headed home and made his check-in call to the kids.
“Walters residence…”
“Brit?”
“Oh, hi Mr. B. I’ll get Jules.”
There were a few seconds of rustling sounds, then “Dad? How’s mum?”
“About the same, really. We went to her surgeon’s assessment this afternoon. They want to operate tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“Yes, he seems to think there’s a good chance of getting all of it, but time is of the essence.”
“So she’s gotten worse.”
“As I said, time is of the essence.”
“Oh…tell her I love her, will you?”
“Of course I will, sweetheart. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut things short tonight. Early day tomorrow. Let me speak to Drew, all right? Love you.”
“Love you too.” And then Juliette handed the phone to her ‘sister’.
The conversation with the youngest Bond went in a similar fashion, and soon, Dave was on his way to bed. Once there, even though he was absolutely exhausted, he found sleep elusive.
Things are getting a bit complicated, aren’t they? Even without Jen being so sick, the reappearance of Gaby is enough to keep me up nights. She’s never been around for more than a couple of days at a time, and now, she’s going to be around for six weeks solid. What kind of effect is that going to have on my son? How on Earth is he going to cope? Oh, I know he’s got a good head on his shoulders, but being so immersed in being a girl for so long, how can it not leave it’s mark on him? As difficult as it has always been for him to be seen as a boy, even without having to act like a girl for such a long period of time. This is bound to spill over into his ‘Drew’ persona, if that’s the right way to think of it. Will he even remember how to be a boy when he gets home?
And how is Jules taking all of this? She has on a couple of occasions had a hand in Gaby’s appearances, but I don’t really think she’s ever intended anything malicious. Now, she’s going to be living in close quarters with Gaby for an extended period. Maybe I should ask her to keep a special eye out for her, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble?
Jen. God, I hope this procedure tomorrow is successful. I don’t think I’d be able to ever enjoy living again, if you were gone. That’s how I was when I thought you’d left, and this is even worse…
He finally drifted off to sleep in the midst of a whirlpool of unsettling thoughts…
The silhouetted stranger was standing in front of the window, chuckling evilly until he knew he had Dave’s attention. Then he spoke, “I did warn you. She is mine, and always will be, whether it’s in life or death. Mine and no one else’s.”
“You’re wrong! I know it! She loves me, and I her…more than ever!”
“That is irrelevant. When I am ready to take her from you, I will!” Once again, the chuckle grew into a full laugh that rang in Dave’s ears like a carillon on Christmas morning…
Dave’s eyes sprang open, and he could almost make out the fading laugh as it drifted into the distance. He looked at the clock, and seeing it was nearly three in the morning, rolled over and eventually managed to drift off once more for a couple of hours of relatively undisturbed sleep.
The following morning, upon arrival at the hospital Dave was instructed toward the surgical waiting room, where he immediately went to the desk to ask the nurse, “Is there any way I can see my wife before she goes into surgery?”
“Let me check, sir. What’s the name?”
“Bond. The patient’s name is Jenny Bond.”
“I’ll be just a moment.” She left her desk and went into the pre-op holding area, then a moment later returned. “It’s a bit unusual, but yes, Mr. Bond. Follow me, won’t you?”
She led him down the hall, and into a large room where numerous patients were lying in varying stages of wakefulness, all waiting for their turns in the operating theater. They made their way to Jen’s bedside, where she was nearly out of it herself, but was still awake enough to notice his arrival.
“Dave…” Jen said, through the stupor of the medications she had been given in preparation for her surgery.
“I wanted to see you before they took you back. I wanted to tell you one more time that I love you.” As Dave was speaking, the nurse silently excused herself and returned to her post.
“Oh, Dave, I love you too. I don’t deserve you. I’ve been awful to you, and the kids.”
“There’s no need to go into any of that right now. The important thing is you getting better. Don’t worry about anything other than that, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling as much as she could manage, being only half conscious.
“Well, I’ll see you soon, all right? Love you very much.”
“Love you too,” as she said this, the surgical nurse came over to check on Jen.
“I’m afraid it’s time for you to go on, we’re just about ready to take her in,” the nurse told Dave.
“All right,” he said to the nurse. He took one more look at Jen, who was now asleep, and then turned and headed back to the waiting area, where he took a seat, picked up a magazine, and promptly proceeded to ignore it completely.
What is going on with these strange dreams? Is my subconscious trying to tell me that there may be more to the whole affair thing than just a simple cover up story? Is it trying to tell me to be careful? In my heart, I believe what she’s told me completely. I still don’t begin to understand why she told us what she did, but I do believe she’s telling me the truth about the incident. So why am I still being haunted by these doubts in my dreams? Maybe I’m not as convinced as I thought I was that she’s now telling the whole truth? What if there really was someone, but she decided to come home for us to help her get well before leaving us once more? What if…no, I refuse to believe that’s a possibility. It would just be so far out of character, there’s no way.
For a moment there just now, I thought she was going to try to tell me something, but she couldn’t. I don’t know what that could have been, and frankly guessing at it while she’s in there is a surefire way to drive me round the bend. Like I’m going to be able to ignore it now. Not likely to happen, eh? Maybe she was just trying to apologize for all the deceit while she was trying to hide her illness from us. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what drove her to do that. It simply makes no sense. Now, since she’s come home, we’ve been trying to function more or less normally, or as close to it as we can manage under the circumstances.
And yet, it has been a bit strained between us since she came home. I don’t think it’s me, but I suppose it could be, at least in part. I’ve been so focused on taking care of her that I haven’t taken the time to really sit down and talk with her about her reasons behind all that subterfuge. I’ve rationalized away my lack of initiative on this subject as not wanting to upset her when she’s so weak, but still, at some point, this is all going to have to be hashed out, and I’m not looking forward to it. If things don’t go well in there today, I don’t suppose it’ll matter all that much, will it?
No, I can’t even allow myself to think about that possibility. It’s simply not a line of thinking that I want to look into. The last thing any of us need is for doubts to creep into things today. She needs all the positive energy she can get, and I’d hate to spoil things with negativity. Bad karma, and all that. There’ll be plenty of time for us to work things out after she’s on her way to getting better. I do still love her very much. I think that’s probably the most important thing to remember in all of this.
And then there are the kids. I know in my head that it’s probably best for them to be away instead of sitting here in this waiting room doing nothing but worrying for hours upon hours, but in my heart, I can’t help but wish they were here, not only for me, but so they could have had one last moment to talk to Jen before she went in. I know the doctor is good, and he’s done this successfully before, but that doesn’t mean everything is going to go beautifully this time. Things happen. Problems come up. It might turn out to be worse than they had initially thought, and then where are we? The kids in America, with no way of getting back in time to say goodbye? What on Earth was I thinking, sending them away like that? How could I do that to them? There I go again, letting that negativity peek it’s nasty head through.
They didn’t even want to go. They repeatedly said they didn’t think they should go under the circumstances, but no, Jen wanted them to go have fun learning about America. Maybe she just had so much confidence that she wasn’t worried about not making it? I hope so, I really do. They say that mental attitude can do more to help someone get better than just about anything doctors can do, so maybe she can ‘will’ herself better. That’s my theory, anyway.
If I hadn’t sent them on this trip, Drew wouldn’t be Gaby fulltime, either. Maybe that’s the wrong way of looking at it. After all, with little more than some fairly minor resistance, Drew always gives in and becomes Gaby, and always enjoys it too. I really do think deep down, he’s happier when he’s being her, as much as that pains me to say. Of course, I’m judging from the perspective of someone who has seen the poor boy be dismissed and confused for being a girl even without making any effort whatsoever to appear so. I’ve never really seen it, but then he’s my son. But when he dresses as Gaby, nobody ever mistakes her for a boy. They’re constantly taking Drew for a girl. So does all this mean I may someday have two daughters, instead of one and a son? I wish I knew.
I had always prided myself in the fact that I am a tolerant and understanding man. Maybe that’s what makes all this hard for me to take in, and why at the same time I feel a certain disappointment in my own reactions. Am I the only one who seems to have a problem with my son spending almost as much time as my daughter as my son? Jen has never had a problem at all. Her one rule has always been “If Drew is wearing girls’ clothes treat her like a girl, period.” Sorry, but I still have a bit of a problem with that stance. Maybe I’m not always as tolerant or understanding of other people’s ways as I should be.
Jules has, from time to time, had a little problem with Gaby, but that’s been born out of fear that she might take some of the special “daughter” perks. And other than a couple of specific incidents, she’s really made a point of having nothing to do with Gaby. Now, the one who has seemed most responsible for Gaby appearances has obviously been Maddy, closely followed by Brittany. I don’t even begin to understand why either of them seem so intent on having Drew be Gaby so often. With Brit, I suspect it’s simply mischief, but Maddy? I just don’t know. And she purports to be Drew’s girlfriend. It’s very strange indeed. I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on those two once they get back, for certain.
“Dave?”
He looked up to see Carol Standing in front of him, holding out a cup of tea. “You are a lifesaver, Carol Peters.”
“I had a feeling you’d be needing a little something.”
“Thanks, but what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? You didn’t really expect me to allow you to sit here all alone through this, did you?”
“I hadn’t really given it any thought.”
“As I had expected. Typical man.”
“Hey…” he started to protest, until he noticed her grin, indicating that it was said at least partially in jest.
She sat down beside him, and they simply sat in silence for several minutes before it was broken by a doctor entering the waiting area.
“Mr. Bond?”
Dave jumped to his feet. “Yes.”
“I was sent out by the surgeon to tell you that it’s going to be a while, sir, before there’s any news. He suggested that, as it’s near lunchtime, you might want to go grab a bite. Just let the nurse know if you’re leaving the hospital, and we’ll track you down if there’s any news before you return.”
“Now you mention it, I am feeling a bit hungry. Fact is, I can’t even remember if I had any breakfast.”
Carol jumped in, “What say we go down to the cafeteria and get you a bite. Then we’ll head back this way.”
The doctor then said, “Good, if something happens before you get back, we’ll send someone down there.” Once he said this, he turned and left, returning to the operating room.
It was probably a good thing Carol was there with him, as Dave seemed a bit out of sync with the world as they headed for the cafeteria and had a bite of lunch. He was having trouble making even the simplest decisions, and in an effort to lead him through things, Carol decided to just take charge of the situation. Once their lunch was finished, she walked with him outside for a few minutes of fresh air before they returned to the waiting room, where Dave quickly descended once again deep into his thoughts.
It’s a good thing Carol is here. I’d probably have forgotten all about eating without her taking care of me. Silly, isn’t it? She’s always been such a good friend. Really, she held us all together when we thought Jen was leaving us. I wish I knew how things were going to wind up. I hate this feeling of being lost all the time. It leaves me feeling off balance, dizzy…out of control.
You know, the thought’s just occurred to me…Maddy’s obsession with Gaby…I wonder, no, that would be just too strange. Do you think maybe she’s more attracted to girls, and Gaby is her way of dealing with that? Odd as it may sound, I’m sure even more unusual things have been known to happen. I don’t dare mention this idea to Carol, do I? No, of course not. Besides, they’re so young. They’ll both wind up having twenty other relationships within the next couple of years, I’m sure. Just let things take their course. Either one of them will grow tired enough of the dress up game to bring it to a close, or…
But that brings us back to Drew, and whether he’s more comfortable as Gaby? I know he lodges his protests, but still I can’t get away from the fact that Gaby is often happier than Drew, if that makes any sense. I’m sure it doesn’t help things that he’s still dealing with this hormone problem, not that we’ve learned much substantial from the tests so far. It has to be confusing for the boy, knowing that his doctor has said he has the hormone profile of a normal girl. Yes, there’s something that’ll build up the old male ego. Something’s going to have to be done, and soon. This limbo has got to be unsettling for the child. And, on top of everything he’s been dealing with here at home, now he gets to spend six whole weeks living as a girl. I wonder if Drew will ever make it back after that.
As Dave let his mind wander once again, Carol noticed the arrival in the waiting room of a doctor in surgical scrubs. She nudged Dave in the ribs, to bring him out of his lost little world. Just then, the doctor walked up to them and spoke, “Mr. Bond? We’ve just about finished up with your wife. They’re closing as we speak. It was fairly extensive, but I think we got it all. We will just have to wait and see whether or not we have, but as I said, it looks to be successful. She’ll be out of it for a while yet, but once she wakes up, we’ll move her back to the ward, and then you can go in to see her.”
“Thank you doctor,” Dave said once he finally had resurfaced and had absorbed everything the doctor had just said.
“That’s good news, eh?” Carol said quietly into Dave’s ear as she gave him a hug.
“Yes it is. Without question.”
After the visit from the surgeon, Dave’s mood had lightened quite a bit, and he was then able to carry on a more normal conversation with Carol while they waited for the word that they could go see Jen in her room. Nothing of much importance was said, but it was much more relaxed and pleasant than Dave could remember feeling in months.
Carol left when they came to tell him he could go in and sit with her a while; saying she needed to get home to fix dinner for John. Dave went to the ward, where he sat more or less silently holding her hand as she drifted in and out of wakefulness. At some point he too dropped off to sleep, and when the nurse came in to tell him that visiting hours were over, she had to shake him awake. He then went home, and realizing he hadn’t yet called the kids to fill them in on the days events, he called the Walters’ residence.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Walters? Dave Bond.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Bond. Please call me Joss.”
“Only if you call me Dave. It’s not too late to be calling is it? We were at the hospital all day, and I just got home.”
“So did things go well?”
“As well as could be expected. Are either of my offspring handy?”
“Yes, Here’s Jules just coming this way,” she took the phone away from her ear and said to Jules, “It’s your dad.”
Then there were a few seconds of rustling sounds followed by, “Dad? How’s mum?”
“Well, it took them quite a while, but they think they’ve got it.”
“Really? That’s good news, right?”
“Yes, it is. It’s still going to be a long road, but this is a big step.”
“That’s great, dad. Give her my love, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, sweetheart. I don’t mean to cut things short, but I know it’s late there, and I’m absolutely exhausted, so could you get your brother for me?”
“Sure, love you,” and with that, there were another couple of seconds of rustling noises as the phone changed hands, then…
“Did they operate?”
“Yes Drew, that's why I'm calling so late, I've only just got home”
“And?”
“Well the good news is that the surgeon thinks that it went exceedingly well but it will be a few days before they can tell how successful the surgery has been.”
“Does that mean she's cured?”
“Not exactly son, it could still go either way and your mother is still very sick”
After a brief moment of silence, Dave continued. “So how are you kiddo?”
“Okay I guess. Mrs. Walters friend, Erin, she owns the local bike shop, has lent me a bike to ride and I'm supposed to be going for a ride with her on Saturday”
“That's very good of her. Make sure you thank her and look after the bike.”
“Daad, course I will! It's a really cool GT with Chorus kit and its mint!”
“Just remember you have to ride on the opposite side of the road and be careful.”
“I will be, give Mum my love”
“Of course I will, I'll try to ring a bit earlier tomorrow okay”
“Anytime”
“Bye Drew”
“Bye Dad”
After hanging up the phone, Dave decided he was too tired to even worry about going to bed, so he just plopped on the couch and was asleep within minutes.
The Bonds were shown into the doctor’s office by his nurse, who told them, “You can wait in here for the doctor to see you. He shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Thanks,” both Dave and Jenny said at the same time, then as the nurse left the room they looked at each other and smiled. They each took a chair facing the doctor’s desk, and had barely settled into them when the door opened and the doctor arrived.
“Good to see the two of you.”
“Thank you,” replied Dave.
The doctor shook each of their hands, then circled around his desk and took a seat. “I imagine you’re anxious to find out the latest?”
“You could say that,” Jen blurted out, making no effort to disguise her anxiety...
The Bonds were shown into the doctor’s office by his nurse, who told them, “You can wait in here for the doctor to see you. He shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Thanks,” both Dave and Jenny said at the same time, then as the nurse left the room they looked at each other and smiled. They each took a chair facing the doctor’s desk, and had barely settled into them when the door opened and the doctor arrived.
“Good to see the two of you.”
“Thank you,” replied Dave.
The doctor shook each of their hands, then circled around his desk and took a seat. “I imagine you’re anxious to find out the latest?”
“You could say that,” Jen blurted out, making no effort to disguise her anxiety.
“Well, Mrs. Bond, you can relax. While only time will tell the complete tale, it would appear from your latest round of tests that the surgery was successful. Once you’re fully recovered, you should be able to do anything you did before.”
“What about cycling?” Jen asked, as Dave’s face visibly dripped with disappointment. “I’d like to return to riding as soon as possible.”
“Yes, I imagine you would. I’m afraid it will be some time before you are ready for something that strenuous, but assuming everything goes according to plan, I can see no reason to keep you from competing again.”
“About how long?”
“I’d say at least a couple of months.”
“That long?”
“Well, I suppose you could start some light riding in a few weeks, but nothing for at least another fortnight.”
“But I can start training seriously again…?”
“As I said, not for at least a couple of months. It will take some time for you to build up your strength and endurance enough to seriously ride. You’ve been on minimal activity for some time now, and in that time your muscles will have decreased in mass somewhat, limiting both your strength and endurance. Rebuilding them takes time and work…lots of both.”
Before Jen could continue her cross-examination, Dave jumped in, “Thank you doctor for giving us the good news. When should she come back for her next follow up?”
The doctor now addressed Dave for the first time since he came into the room, “In a week, then in two weeks we’ll do another MRI, and some blood work. Assuming everything is still progressing as expected, you should be able to increase your activity level some after that.”
“Thank you,” Jen offered as a way of preventing Dave from jumping back into the conversation.
As the doctor stood up from his chair, Dave and Jenny did likewise, and after circling around the desk, the doctor shook both their hands and said, “Then I’ll see you again next week. Remember to take it easy this week. You will heal much more quickly if you don’t wear yourself out.” He led them to the door and ushered them through, saying, “Have a good day,” after which he closed the door behind them to enjoy a moment’s peace before moving on to his next patient.
They left the hospital in a silence that lasted until they were both inside the car, ready for their trip home.
“We’d best get back to the house,” Dave said as he slid in behind the wheel. “Your mum will be leaving for home this afternoon, and I think she was planning on preparing one last meal for us before she goes.”
“Yes, we daren’t miss that. It wouldn’t do at all to incur her wrath now,” Jen said in jest before continuing in a somewhat more serious vein. “It’s been good having her around. I imagine she’s been quite a big help to you, looking after me.”
“I will admit that yes, she’s been a big help, but there’s just something about living under the same roof as your mother-in-law that tends to get a bit frustrating after a while. I think it has to do with her having certain ways she likes to do things, and we have certain ways as well. Unfortunately, they aren’t always the same, so…”
“I think I understand, luv. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in the same house as my mum, and while I was weaker, I was very appreciative of her being there to help. Now, I’m quickly reaching a point of looking forward to her going home myself.”
As they entered the house, they were greeted by first the aroma of the meal being prepared, and then by Josie as she came out of the kitchen. As soon as she saw them, she said, “Well, it’s about time you two got back. Any longer, and all my hard work would have gone for naught.”
“Gee, mum, it’s good to see you again too,” Jenny said as she walked up to her mum and gave her a hug. “We weren’t really gone that long, were we?”
“I was considering sending out a search party, but that would’ve required leaving my roast unattended.”
Dave jumped in, “At least good sense prevailed then.”
Josie halfheartedly swung at Dave’s head before saying, “Have a seat, it’ll be out in just a moment.”
After enjoying a wonderful meal, Dave carried Josie’s bags out to her car while Jen said her farewells to her mum. When they joined him in the drive, Dave came up to Josie and gave her a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming to help out. I’m not sure how I would’ve managed without you.”
“Oh, I suspect you’d have found a way, David Bond,” was her response. “I had best be on my way, if I want to make it home before midnight.”
“Be careful, mum, and thank you so much,” said Jen.
“Be sure to ring us when you get home,” Dave added.
“I will,” Josie said through a mist of tears. “Love you both. Talk to you soon.” With a wave, she climbed into the car, pulled out of the driveway, and was on her way home. Dave and Jenny stood waving until she had driven out of sight, then headed back inside the house.
As they entered the front room, Jenny said, “I’m knackered. Mind if I have a bit of a snooze?”
“Not at all, luv. I’ll just go out to the garage. There are a couple of little projects I’ve been meaning to take care of. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, then stretched out on the sofa for a nap.
As Dave set about the task of checking bike wheels to make certain they were all true, his thoughts overtook him.
I suppose I knew all along at some level that she was going to want to return to racing, if at all possible. I’m just concerned that maybe she’s being a bit premature at the moment. I mean, it’s not that long ago she had major surgery, and as the doctor said, it’s going to take months for her to get back into ‘racing’ condition. Fact is, she might never make it back anywhere near her old level. Is it silly of me to not want her to be quite so anxious? Spend a little time enjoying life together, you know? Refresh your memory about what our life had once been like, that sort of thing.
But no, she can hardly wait to get back to her teammates in Germany, and back to racing. It’s nearly enough to make you wonder if there were any truth to the ‘cover story’ she had been feeding us before she came home. There’s no sense in questioning that, is there? I don’t suppose there’s any harm in her trying to get back into competition shape, as long as she doesn’t push herself so hard that she makes herself sick again. I mean, there’s no guarantee she’s going to be able to get herself back into that kind of shape, is there? And my guess is, if she can’t be the best anymore, she may decide to retire, rather than lose. That doesn’t make her desire any more palatable, however.
After a few hours of wrestling with bike wheels, Dave was certain of a couple of different things. One, that he was sick of wrestling with bike wheels, and two, that he still found Jenny’s ambitions for returning to world class cycling not terribly comforting.
Later that evening, after finishing up with tea and cleaning up the mess it had created, he went to check on Jen, who was reading in the front room. As he sat down facing her, she looked up and asked, “Everything back in its place then?”
“For the most part, yes. I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted. It’s been one heck of a day.”
“That it has, and although I haven’t done a thing, I’m about ready for bed myself.”
“Not all that surprising really, is it? I mean you are still in the early stages of your recovery. Your energy level is bound to be fairly low at times.”
“As usual, you’re right. Maybe I ought to just turn in.”
“Sounds good.”
So after making their nightly call to America to check up on the junior Bonds, Dave and Jen headed upstairs to bed. Both were so tired that they barely managed to crawl under the covers before sleep overtook them.
The dark, silhouetted figure stood once again between Dave and the bedroom window, emanating his evil giggle, which slowly grew from nothing to fill the room, finally getting Dave’s attention. “Thank you for nursing her back to health for me!” said the evil stranger.
“I’ve done nothing for you! I told you before, she’s not yours!” Dave shouted back.
“Pity you’re so wrong,” said the stranger, whose voice oddly began changing. By the end of the next statement, it had taken on a German accent, and sounded strangely familiar. “She has always been mine, and will always be. You just haven’t realized it yet.” That evil laugh filled the room once more, as it gradually faded into silence and the stranger dissolved to nothing.
Dave woke up from another one of his strange dreams, to find himself lying in bed next to Jen, who was still fast asleep. He rolled over, but after failing to once again find sleep allowed his thoughts free reign of his mind.
How on Earth did she pull this off? To come through what probably should have killed her, and now here she is, getting stronger every day? Amazing…there’s simply no other way to put it.
Of course, that doesn’t mean everything is rosy around the Bond household. I can’t believe she’s even considering going back to racing. How could she? After everything it cost us, she wants to return to that exact same situation? What is it about that life that fascinates her so? I wish I knew. Maybe then I could understand.
I don’t know that I can tell her how I feel about her going away again. It might feel like forcing her to make a choice, and either way, we all lose. If she goes in spite of me saying I don’t want her to, I’ll feel as though she’s chosen racing over me. Not a good feeling, I’m sure. And if she were to stay because of what I say, then I’d be afraid she’d resent me for forcing her to give up something she loves. A complete no win situation. So I’ll probably keep my mouth shut and put on a brave face, like I always do. No sense putting hurt feelings on display for the world to see, is there?
I don’t think she’s said anything about this to the kids as of yet. I wonder how they’ll take it, should it come to pass? I don’t suppose Juliette will care for the idea at all. Of course, Drew won’t either, but he’s a little more understanding. I think he sees it more like a job than Jules does. She definitely took her mum’s absence from home more personally before, and no doubt will again.
Dave finally managed to get back to sleep, troubled though it was. By morning, he was actually feeling more tired than when he went to bed the night before…not a good way to start off the day. He slipped out of bed, showered, and dressed, then headed downstairs to start the tea. Just as the teapot signaled that it was ready, Jen made her appearance in the kitchen.
“Morning, luv,” Jen said between yawns.
“Don’t know that I’d call it good, but it is that. Sleep well?” Dave said, a little coldly.
“Not too bad, yourself?”
“I had trouble part of the night. Care for a cuppa?”
“Always. You off to work?” Jen took a seat at the dining table as Dave set a cup in front of her.
“Yes, I’ve almost caught up from when you were in hospital, but there’s still a lot to do. What’s on your agenda today?” Dave took the chair opposite and took a sip of his tea.
“Carol said something about a little shopping, but I don’t know if I’m up to it. She wears me out when we shop.”
“Well, please take it easy. You’re still recovering from fairly major surgery, and we don’t want you getting sick because you tried to do too much.”
“I promise, I’ll take it easy.”
“And stay off that turbo. I know you snuck out there earlier in the week, but the doctor said to rest.”
“Yes, dad,” she said teasingly. He finished off his tea, took the cup into the kitchen and set it in the sink, then came back to Jen’s side and gave her a kiss before heading out for work. She smiled at him as he left, then returned her attention to her cup of tea.
Dave’s day at work was filled with phone calls and paperwork…necessary evils that usually made the day drag interminably, but today were a good diversion from dwelling on the thoughts that have been keeping him awake at night. When he returned home from the mill, he found Jen on the phone.
“…I will, George. Hopefully we’ll see you then…Yes, me too…Goodbye.” Jen hung up the receiver just as she noticed Dave had returned home.
“How was your day?” she asked him as they both took seats in the front room.
“Long and monotonous. Yours?”
“Carol and I went to Meadowhall for a bit, then after I got back home, I just crashed with a book for a while. Then just before you got home, I got a call from George.”
“I kind of gathered that. What was that about?”
“We talked about my possibly returning to the team after the doctors tell me I can start training again, and he invited us to travel with them for the Atlanta Classic.”
“Isn’t that the…”
“…the race Gaby’s riding in, yes.”
“Why is the team going?”
“All the big teams use the Atlanta as a preseason warm up. It’s sort of a chance to introduce the team to the press, that sort of thing.”
“It would be nice to see Drew.”
“Apparently George is planning on starting a Junior Development program, and he wants Gaby to be the first member of the team.”
“You said Gaby. Does George realize Drew is actually a boy?”
“I don’t think he believes it, but what of it? Basically, it means the training staff will make suggestions for possibly improving practice routines, and they’ll be subsidizing training and travel costs, in exchange for wearing an Apollinaris jersey. Oh, and they will be encouraging the scheduling of a few events in France and Belgium, that sort of thing. It would be a great opportunity, and a big help financially.”
“I can’t argue that point. I just sometimes worry that everyone but me keeps forgetting that Drew really is a boy underneath it all.”
“I think I understand what you mean. I sometimes get so caught up that I lose track of what’s what.”
“What I still don’t understand is, what does all this have to do with us going to Atlanta?”
“George and the team will be hosting a post race press conference and then a reception, and he wants to announce the start of the program with the introduction of the first member.”
“But why are we going?”
“Well, for one thing, he just thought we’d like to go watch Gaby ride, and he’d like to have us on hand when they make the announcement about the development program. For another, it’s a chance for me to sign my new contract.”
“So you’re still serious about racing again?”
“Of course I am. What did you expect? For me to retire?”
“Well, the thought had crossed my mind.”
“Well not mine. I have titles to defend, and besides, I don’t have that many more years left that I can reasonably expect to be able to compete at that level.”
“I suppose I can see your point there, but I had thought…”
“You had thought that I might not be able to compete anymore,” she said with indignation in her voice. She then continued, with rising intensity, ”You thought I should retire? Maybe the cancer had taken too much out of me, and I couldn’t keep up? Is that what you thought?” She stands up and places her hands on her hips, “You want me to quit, don’t you? You want me to go back to teaching, so I’ll be home to take care of the kids, the cooking and the cleaning, just like it used to be, don’t you?”
“Well, frankly, yes.”
“You can just forget that!” she shouted, then stormed up the stairs, followed shortly by the sound of a door being slammed shut. Through all this, Dave remained seated on the sofa with a stunned look on his face.
I don’t suppose that could really have been considered a surprise, could it? I mean, I knew she was maintaining as her goal a return to the racing circuit. Maybe I just didn’t think it would ever happen. Or is it something else? Am I doing something wrong here? Maybe she thinks I’m being too overly protective or something? It’s so hard to tell. I almost feel as if she’s become a stranger, instead of the woman I knew so well.
What exactly is the deal with her always calling Drew Gaby? I know the poor child is being Gab full time in America, but do we have to encourage it here as well? I’m not sure I’m ready to handle something like that. I’ve grown rather fond of my son over the years, and I’d like to keep him a while, if you don’t mind. Every indication I’ve got from him says that Gaby is an often less than welcome intruder in Drew’s life, so why does his mum seem so willing to allow her to completely take over Drew’s life?
Once Dave had climbed the stairs, he found himself facing the locked door to their bedroom. He knocked lightly, then spoke tentatively, “Jen? Are you all right?” He waited for a few seconds to see if there would be any response, then knocked again, a little harder this time. “Jen?”
The sound of footsteps came toward the door, then it swung open. “What do you want?”
“I was just trying to take care of you. I understand that you love racing, and want to go back to it if at all possible. I’m just worried that you might try to push yourself further than you really should. You need to focus on getting well first.”
“That’s what I’m doing. But I have to go into this thinking that I’m going to race again. That’s all I’ve ever done, and it’s all I want to do. If I can’t, then what was the reason for having that surgery in the first place? Without racing, I don’t have much of a life.”
“What about the kids, and me?”
“That’s different. Yes, of course I want to be around for you all, but this past year, I got to feel something I had assumed I would never get the chance to experience, and I loved it. Racing locally is great fun, but when I stepped up to that level? That was the most phenomenal thing I could ever have imagined. I have to get back there, or try my damnedest at the very least, or I’m going to feel like I’ve given up. And I swear to you, I do not want to give up. Getting back into good condition is part of that. I promised not to push too hard for now, but I get the impression that you’d prefer it if I didn’t start back riding at all.”
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but your point is taken.”
“I understand that you’re concerned for my well being, and I promise to attempt to take things easy, for now.”
“I suppose that’s better than the alternative. Thank you.”
After evening tea, and a bit of television, Jen spoke up, “I’ll make the check in call tonight, if that’s all right?”
“Absolutely, I think the kids would prefer to talk to you rather than me most of the time.”
“Now, that’s not exactly fair, is it?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that they’ve been so worried about you, and for so long they didn’t really get a chance to talk to you at all. When I talk to them, the bulk of the conversation is them asking about you, and that’s the way it should be. They were terrified they might be losing you forever.”
“Well, if you’re going to be all poetic and put it like that…”
With that, Jenny picked up the phone and placed the call…
“Hello, Brit, either of my kids close by?”
“Hi, Mrs. Bond. Yeah, here’s Jules.”
“Thank you Brittany.”
After a few seconds of silence: “Mum! Great to hear from you again.”
“Good to hear you too. How have things been going?”
“Good, really. We went on an interesting ride on a newly refurbished steam train. You should have seen Gaby when they took her back to the guard’s van and had her put on a full Victorian getup.”
“That would have been fun to see. What about you? No costumed adventures?”
“No, I leave that stuff to her. How are you doing?”
“Much better. The surgeon seems to think they may have got it all, so maybe I’ll be able to eventually return to something resembling normal activity.”
“That would be great.”
“Yes, I think so as well. Listen, I’m sorry to cut things short, but we need to try to keep this phone bill under control, so…”
“Let me get Gaby for you.”
“Thank you for understanding. Love you.”
After a few seconds, Drew had the receiver in a position where he could hear. “What's up Drew?” Jen asked from thousands of miles away.
“I was supposed to see Diane earlier but she didn't turn up.”
“Maybe something came up?” Jen proffered.
“I guess.”
“Jules was telling me you had quite an adventure yesterday?” she prompted.
“Yes, the train ride was fantastic, even if we did nearly get stranded in the snow.”
“So will I see any pictures?”
“Probably” Drew mumbled. “I'm sure someone took some.”
“Oh I meant to tell Jules, the Pinger's are coming to visit this weekend.” She sounded brighter at the prospect.
“Kewl, say hi to Kat for me.”
“I will. I'd best not run this phone up anymore”
“Okay,” Drew sniffed a bit.
“Talk to you tomorrow?”
“I hope so, we've got cheer practice though so I might not make it home for this time.”
“I'll try to call later then, take care son”
“Night Mum, love you”
“Love you too, night kiddo”
“Bye”
Jenny cuddled the receiver next to her ear for a moment after her youngest child had hung up, smiling to herself. Then she slowly lowered it into its cradle before heading upstairs to prepare for bed.
To be Continued...
Here I was, worrying about how Juliette has been dealing with everything that’s been going on, and I come home to find Drew; well, maybe I should say Gaby, sitting on the stairs in her mother’s things, in such an upset state! At this moment in time what my child is wearing is of little importance. What matters is my youngest is in pain, and I have to do something…anything…to make that pain go away.
“It’s alright…everything will be okay…I love you so much…shhh…don’t cry…I’m here now…” Dave sat there on that landing, holding his child, for who knows how long, just trying to comfort her with his words and his touch. When finally the distraught youngster began to calm somewhat, he helped her to bed, tucking her in, then picking up a blanket for himself and sitting down in a chair at her bedside, just in case his presence would be needed again.
“Night Drew, sleep tight.”
“Night Dad.”
Here's part 2 of my Gaby fanfic.
Dave pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine, then let out a long sigh. “Well, best see what Drew’s been up to while I’ve been gone.” As he walks toward the front door, he comments, “At least he doesn’t appear to have burnt the place down.” And with that, he opens the front door and enters the house. After a quick check around the lower level, he heads for the stairs, and what he hopes will be a good night’s sleep. This was apparently not meant to be, as part way up the stairs, he saw something sitting on the landing.
"Drew? Is that you?" he flicked the light on, "Drew!" and climbed the last couple of steps to where his youngest child sat rocking on the top step.
“Dad”
He sat next to his son and hugged him close.
Through his sobs, Drew said, “Mum rang.”
“It’s alright son.”
_______________________________
Here I was, worrying about how Juliette has been dealing with everything that’s been going on, and I come home to find Drew; well, maybe I should say Gaby, sitting on the stairs in her mother’s things, in such an upset state! At this moment in time what my child is wearing is of little importance. What matters is my youngest is in pain, and I have to do something…anything…to make that pain go away.
______________________________
“It’s alright…everything will be okay…I love you so much…shhh…don’t cry…I’m here now…” Dave sat there on that landing, holding his child, for who knows how long, just trying to comfort her with his words and his touch. When finally the distraught youngster began to calm somewhat, he helped her to bed, tucking her in, then picking up a blanket for himself and sitting down in a chair at her bedside, just in case his presence would be needed again.
“Night Drew, sleep tight.”
“Night Dad.”
______________________________
What on Earth happened while I was gone? About the only thing I got out of all that is that Jen called. That must have been quite some conversation to upset Drew enough to push him to put on his mum’s things like that. I mean, yes, I’ve seen him appear as Gaby plenty of times, but I can’t remember ever seeing her make an appearance where there wasn’t some sort of reason or coercion involved. Is this a sign that something is changing? Is my child becoming more female? Or is this a onetime reaction to what he perceived as an extremely stressful situation? For a while there, I was afraid I was going to have to call the doctor or something for a sedative for the poor boy. I wish I’d been able to ease the pain more easily and quickly, but at least he eventually calmed down enough to go to sleep.
Does Jen have any idea how much she’s upset the children? I never in my entire life considered the possibility before that she didn’t, but does she care? Our daughter is so consumed by her anger toward her mother that she can barely control herself, and now our son has become so distraught over whatever this phone call was about that I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same again. I always thought they were such strong, well-centered kids; their world is being tossed upside down by the woman they trusted most, and both seem to be drowning in the turmoil that has ensued. And worst of all is I don’t know how to fix any of it. What am I going to do?
______________________________
A pained moan escapes from Drew’s sleeping form, bringing Dave to full attention, waiting in case there is a need to spring into action comforting his youngest once again. “Shhh…” he quietly says to the sleeping form, and waits to make sure the child isn’t waking up. He then settles back under his blanket with his thoughts.
______________________________
If I had made a fuss when this racing contract first came up, would things have turned out differently? Would we still be a happy family, together as always? Or would Jen have resented what she might have seen as my selfishness and left to find comfort elsewhere? I know it’s useless to speculate about such things, but that doesn’t stop me thinking about them. I can’t help it. It’s my job to make things better for my kids, and in this case, I just don’t know what to do. Maybe she would have left, even without the job racing. Maybe she was just that unhappy with me. If so, I am so very sorry Jen. The last thing in the world I would have ever wanted was to make you unhappy. But then, I can’t help thinking that if she hadn’t gone, she might not have got so lonely and needed someone else. Then all Jules would have to be mad about would be the usual teenaged angst things, instead of having the lightning rod of her mother to serve as the focus for all her hatred. And I can only assume that if their mother had been here, Drew wouldn’t have felt the need to put on those clothes just to feel close to her again.
Is that it? She’s just lonely? Being so far away from home, alone in a strange country? I’m not sure I like that explanation any better than her meeting and falling in love with her dream man in Germany, and now feels she must stay with him. Oh, who am I kidding? I hate every option that ends with Jen not coming home. I still love you, Jen. I always have, I hope you know that. God, I wish you could read my mind right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to put into words just how much I love you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could.
Dave, would you look at yourself for a moment here? You’re a bit of a mess emotionally yourself, and you’re trying to help your kids through this even though you haven’t even begun to navigate through it yourself. It’s a bit like the proverbial blind leading the blind, isn’t it?
______________________________
Sitting there in the darkness watching the sleeping form of his youngest born, Dave begins to whisper to the child, “Oh Drew, or Gaby, or…what did your mum say to you? You’ve been so strong about all this, so what must have been said to bring this reaction out in you? I hope you know how much I love you, no matter what you do. Please don’t try to hide from this situation. You’re stronger than that. I’ve seen you do things by will alone that you should never have been able to do physically, so I know you can get through this. And I promise you will not have to go through it alone, because I will always be by your side.
“I don’t care if you’re a cycling champion. I don’t care if you grow up to be a big shot businessman. I don’t care if you grow up to be a big, strong man, or if you never grow another inch or gain a pound. I don’t even care if you want to wear skirts, or purple hair, or whatever. All I care about is that you keep trying hard, and remember that I love you and am always here for you. You and your sister are my greatest pleasures in this world. I hope you know that.”
Drew shifts under the duvet, and Dave stops talking to see if he’s going to wake up. After a moment, the boy settles back into a deep but somewhat troubled sleep.
______________________________
Oh, my beautiful little boy, what must be going through your mind right now? Do you want to be a girl? Or is all this Gaby stuff just a fun game to play once in a while? I used to believe that it really was just something that Maddy cooked up to have a spot of fun, but now I’m not so sure. The fact that in a moment when you needed comfort and security, you chose to dress as a girl…no, that’s not entirely accurate, is it? You dressed up in your mum’s things. You have plenty of girl clothes of your own, so why choose hers? Because you needed to feel close to her, even if she is doing everything she can to pull apart from us. I think I understand why you did this tonight; in a way it makes perfect sense. It has nothing to do with Gaby really, does it?
You know that I still love your mother, even in spite of all this, but at this moment I swear that love is being overshadowed by anger that she could do this to you. Let’s be honest, it’s anger that she could do this to us. I’m not one to give in to such negative emotions, but in this case it’s becoming quite difficult to keep from doing just that.
I don’t know if she’s even all that interested in being a part of your life anymore. That’s an awful thing to even think, but given the circumstances, what else can I think? Look at you, in such torment, brought on simply by talking to your mum on the telephone. How is that possible? How could someone who supposedly loves her children do something like that to one of them merely by talking to them on the phone?
I know you’ve always worshipped your mum. Is that it? She’s pulling away from us, and you felt you needed to be close to her so much that you latched onto the only surrogate you could get hold of, her clothes?
I feel like I’ve failed you somehow, Drew. I’ve been so worried about your sister and the way she took your mum’s announcement that I failed to give you the same level of concern. I am so sorry. I swear to you, that will never happen again. You are far too important to me to ever take your emotions and concerns lightly. In a way, I’ve failed both of you. If I had made more certain your mother knew how much I love her and missed her…well, maybe not. That might have helped things, but it also might have made her feel worse about being away, and who knows how she would have responded to that.
__________________________
Dave had drifted off while sitting beside Drew’s bed. At some point, his hand, which had been in his lap, slipped and hit the side rail of the bed, the impact rousing him from his light, troubled slumber. He looked at his child and was instantly consumed yet again by his deep desire to make everything in that child’s world perfect. “If only it were that simple,” he whispered, mostly to himself.
_________________________
I haven’t been very accepting of you, Gaby, have I? Oh, I’ve tolerated your appearances, and even occasionally saw the humor in the situations that sometimes brought them about, but I’ve had some difficulties seeing you as anything more than a game that Drew has been playing. Or more often than not, a game Drew gets talked into playing by Maddy, or Brit, or his mum, or…I just never considered the possibility that there was something more going on than that. Not exactly fair of me, is it? I assumed it wasn’t something that was important to you because you’ve always made some protest before giving in and making another appearance as Gaby. Now, I’m not so sure. From the very first time, back at Christmas, once you got past your initial problems with appearing in public as a girl, you’ve always seemed more at ease and comfortable…you might even say more natural…as Gaby. Is this becoming something you need to do? Or is it still that game? I can’t tell anymore, and the thing that scares me is I’m not sure you can either. Do you know what you want to do? Do you even realize these are questions that need answers?
Maybe I’m the one who’s got it all wrong, who knows? If being Gaby makes you happy, then it’s my job to make sure you get that opportunity. And if it doesn’t, then it’s my place to protect you from doing something you don’t want to do. I guess that’s the only thing that’s really important, isn’t it? Have I done that for you? I don’t really think I have, but then I can’t be sure, because I have no idea what it is you really want or need.
This all confuses and scares me; I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. I’ve seen you display more courage and strength than anyone I’ve ever met, and yet here you are…I don’t know what to do.
__________________________
“I think maybe we both need help figuring some things out,” Dave suddenly spoke to his still sleeping child. “Can you tell me what it is you want to do? So I can help you do that?”
As Drew continued sleeping an obviously still troubled sleep, as was clear from the way he would move or make odd moaning sounds periodically, Dave found himself feeling the need to reach out for help.
__________________________
I don’t think anyone would ever take me for an overly religious man. But Lord, I am in real need of help here. My child is so troubled, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to ease his burden. His mother has, for whatever reason, left us. The mother this boy has looked up to as nothing short of a superhero, who he has tried to emulate in so many ways, told him something today…what I have no idea…that has devastated the poor child, and I need more than anything in this world to help him get over it. But I simply have no idea how to do it.
This lovely child, with the face of an angel and the spirit of a tiger, who has never backed down from any challenge that’s ever been put in front of him, needs your help. He’s always done whatever he could to help others, no questions asked. Now I’m asking on his behalf, please help him get through this turmoil, and please give him the strength to rise above it in the end.
_________________________
“You know son,” Dave softly spoke once again into the dark bedroom, “I haven’t ever told you this, but I admire your strength. Oh, you know I love you, but I also admire the person you are becoming. I admire the way you never give up. I admire the way you stand up for what’s right, even when doing so could cause you problems. I admire the loyalty you show toward your friends, no matter what is going on. These are all wonderful qualities, and the fact that you demonstrate through your words and actions just how much you value them makes me so proud to be your father. Please don’t let outside influences change those things about you that are such admirable qualities.”
Dave moved closer to his son, and gently brushed the child’s hair with his hand. Drew began to stir, at which Dave withdrew his hand, not wanting to wake him.
___________________________________________________
How many times have I told that boy to get his hair cut? Now I’m starting to see that reluctance to do so in a different light. Maybe he was trying to tell us something without coming right out and saying it. Just maybe, he never wanted to get his hair cut because it is such an integral part of Gaby. Oh, he makes a fuss when he’s mistaken for a girl when out in public, but is that all just for show? If he were serious in his displeasure, wouldn’t he just go out and get all that hair chopped off? Of course, even if he did something like that, would it bring a halt to strangers walking up and calling him Gaby? I’m afraid that if I’m being totally honest, the answer is probably no. Looking at the child objectively, I must admit that his every feature clearly says “girl” to one and all who see her. The hair is little more than icing on the cake.
Deep down, is this what my child wants? I wish I knew, but it seems as if even he doesn’t know. Actually, I wish there were no need for any kind of decision to be made. Should we get in touch with a doctor who knows something about this stuff? Of course we should, but the last thing in the world I would want to do is have my child make such a monumental decision based on being influenced to make a change by a complete stranger. He’s so unsure, maybe it would be best to just let him explore his feelings on his own for a bit…reach some conclusions on his own…before we bring in some sort of clinical expert. But on the other hand, maybe talking to someone who knows a bit about this sort of thing would help him figure out what he wants. It’s possible that without some sort of guidance, the questions may never be resolved, and I can’t help but think that would be by far the worst option of the lot.
Oh my, is that really the sun starting to come up? I didn’t realize it was that time already. I’d best remember to give Frank a call in a bit, let him know that I need to stay with Drew today. There’s no way in this world I would let him be alone after last night. We need to talk about so many things; I just hope I’m up to the task.
I know he’s going to want to talk about his mum. What do I say? Should I put on a brave front, tell him everything is going to be all right? Do I just say she’s left us, not coming back, and we’re going to move on without looking back? Or tell him the truth, that I’ve no idea what’s going to happen?
I think the problem is, I’m just as confused as he is. I’m angry with her for doing this to me, to us. I’m sad for the loss of my love. I’m scared for the future of my family. I’m worried about the long-term effects all this is going to have on my children. Is she going to ask that the kids go live with her in Germany? Or is she discarding all of us as superfluous to the requirements of her new life as a worldwide celebrity?
So many questions, and not an answer in sight. It’s little wonder Drew tried to find some comfort and solace in his mum’s old things. It’s almost enough to push me toward something similar.
Okay Dave, time to pull yourself back together, for the kids. They’re going to need you to be strong, the rock, and you can’t let them down. You mustn’t ever let them down.
__________________________
“Daa-aad!”
“Drew?” Dave was already in the room, sat in a chair with a blanket over him.
“Why, what?” Drew plucked at what he was wearing.
“You were wearing it when I got home Drew, I didn’t want to make an issue of it so I let you be”
“I, I don’t remember” Dave sat on his son’s bed and hugged him.
“It’s alright. We all do strange things when we’re upset or stressed”
“Mum rang”
“You said”
“She’s not coming back Dad”
“We’ll see”
“She’s gone Dad”
“Come on son, let’s get some breakfast. I’ll call in sick; I’m not leaving you alone today. You might want to change?”
With that Dave got up, ruffled Drew’s hair and headed out.
“So what’s got you upset? Aside from just seeing her?”
“She’s gone back to Peters.”
“Changed her name, eh?”
“Yeah”
“I don’t suppose that’s too big a surprise, although the timing does seem a bit sudden. Is that what’s bugging you?”
“Yes, at least partially. I had built up in my mind that there was a chance we could make some progress toward reconciliation, but once I found out about the whole name business, I said I couldn’t stay and left.”
“I think I can understand that. And if she’s thinking clearly, I’d bet she can as well.”
“That’s the thing, I’m not sure what she’s thinking. And the other thing that’s bothering me, is she isn’t looking well.”
“Now that could be your imagination. Your subconscious looking for something that isn’t there. And even if what you’re saying is true, maybe it’s just the flu or something. As much as she’s been traveling, it’s bound to have worn down her resistance quite a bit.”
“True”
“Listen Dave, you hang in there. If anyone can make their way through this, it’s you. Just give it time. Everything will work out.”
Well, if this isn’t the most awkward position I’ve ever found myself in, then I can’t for the life of me tell you what was. Sitting here in the lobby of the Hotel Bristol, waiting for the love of my life, the mother of my children, who oh, by the way doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. Yes, this is bound to be a pleasant evening…NOT!
Am I ever going to find out what the heck is going on? Do I really want to know? Well of course I want to know, this is Jen we’re talking about, after all. Maybe if I just come right out and ask if she’d consider coming back home, no questions asked? That would be the noble thing to do. I’m just not sure I’m that noble at the moment.
_________________________
Dave saw her first and stood to greet her, not the loving hug and kiss of old, but an awkward, somehow remote squeeze. Jen looked bright enough, why shouldn't she? But the old joy in her eyes was absent. Come to think of it, it wasn't there last time they had seen her either.
“Jen” Dave stepped back
“Hi kids”
“Hi Mum” Drew allowed
“Yeah” Jules added
“You got a hug for your Mum?”
They both went and took part in mostly one-way hugs.
“So, you guys ready to eat?” she asked brightly
“We eating here?” Dave asked
“They've got a party tonight” Mum replied
________________________
All these weeks I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk, to try and figure out a way to fix things, and now here we are, and I don’t even know where to begin. And what’s worse is even if I knew what I wanted to say; I’m getting the feeling that you’re not interested in listening. So why exactly am I here then?
___________________________
“I've made reservations in a little place just down the road”
“Can we walk?” Dave asked
“Yes, it's not far.” She checked her watch. “Well, shall we go? The reservation's for seven.”
They walked to the restaurant, Jenny and Dave trying to keep a neutral conversation going, the kids trailing along behind.
“So how’ve you been?” Dave began.
“Oh, fine,” Jen replied.
“That’s good. So how’d things go in Australia?”
“Good.”
“I suppose they have you jetting all over the place these days. Everyone wants a piece of the World Champion, eh?”
“Yes, it’s getting a bit tedious actually. I never seem to have a moment’s rest.”
“Well, maybe things will ease up a bit soon, eh?”
“Yes, they might.”
“How’re Maria and the rest of the team getting on?”
“Oh, fine. Have you heard from mum?”
“Yes, she calls to check in from time to time. You really should give her a call yourself once in a while. She is your mother, after all.”
“I know, but things have been so busy with all the traveling and public appearances and such. I just never seem to have a moment free.”
“Well, please make a moment, will you?” Dave asked. As the conversation continued along these same lines, Dave found his mind beginning to roll through all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, all the things he was thinking, but knew this was neither the time nor place to address.
______________________
My, aren’t we an abundance of information this evening? I can’t remember ever feeling this awkward talking with her. It makes me very sad. Sad and angry at the same time. No, we shan’t be going there this evening. This is a time for the kids to get a chance to see their mum. Not for me to fire my barrage of questions trying to figure out just exactly what’s going on here.
Why so evasive? It’s as if she’s not wanting to share anything with me, like she’s trying to cut me from her life completely. What on Earth has really brought all this on? There’s more going on than we’re being told, of that I’m certain. I just don’t know what we’re missing.
______________________
“So how are John and Carol getting on? I haven’t had a chance to talk to either of them for ages,” Jen made another attempt at small talk.
“They’re doing fine, all things considered. They’re very concerned about what’s going on with us. You really should make an attempt to keep in touch.”
“You’re probably right there.”
“Of course I am. Carol is your family. She’s also one of your oldest and closest friends. And yet…”
“Yet what?”
“No, this is neither the time nor place.”
“You’re right about that.”
With that they both became very quiet, as if neither one wanted to further spoil the evening for the kids. So they walked on in a most uncomfortable silence, broken only by the usual noises encountered on the city streets.
____________________
Thank God, there’s the restaurant. I used to be able to listen to this woman talk about anything in the world, and find it the most enjoyable thing I could possibly do. Now, I don’t know. Everything is just so forced it’s almost painful.
______________________
The four of them enter the restaurant, and are greeted by the waiter.
“We have a table booked, Peters” Jen mentioned when the waiter greeted them.
“Ah yes Mrs. Peters, table for four”
“Its Miz” she told him
He sort of half shrugged and led them to a table in the window. After distributing the menus he retired to the bar and Dave looked almost tearful.
“So you're using Peters then?” he mentioned, a hurt look on his face.
“It, er. . . well seemed appropriate”
“Seventeen years of marriage means that much to you!” he almost spat. “Were you going to tell me some time?”
____________________
Not messing about, are you Ms. Peters? And here I was thinking that maybe there was a chance that if we talked we might be able to patch things up. Well obviously, that’s not exactly in the cards, is it?
Maybe I’m being out of line here, but I can’t help but feel hurt by all this. I mean really, never so much as a hint anything was bothering her, then out of the blue she announces she’s leaving me, then wham, next thing I know she’s gone back to using her maiden name. And not the least bit remorseful either.
I’m afraid if I stay here much longer…maybe I’d best get out of here before we get too involved in the meal.
_____________________
“Sorry kids, I'm not staying.” Dave went on, “I'll say or do something I'll regret”
“We're coming too,” Jules stated, moving to get up
“Dave! Kids!” Jen pleaded
“No Jules, you two stay with your Mum, ring me when you're done and I'll come and get you.”
“Dave I didn't mean…” Jen’s voice trailed off as he was already out of the door.
Dave, nearly in tears, started walking, not really paying all that much attention to where he was going. As he wandered the streets, his mind started drifting from one subject to another.
______________________
Wow! That was a bit of a surprise, eh? I suppose if I were able to see any of this objectively, the whole name thing might have made sense, but damn it, I can’t! And more to the point, I won’t! She can’t expect me to just discard seventeen years of my life because it’s inconvenient for her, can she? Okay, so maybe she doesn’t see things that way, but I can’t help it. I had assumed that “’til death do us part” was a fairly literal phrase. Maybe I was out of line for thinking such a thing, but that’s me.
I hope Jules doesn’t burn any bridges this evening. She’s so angry and hurt by all of this, and has no idea how to deal with any of it. Drew’s hurt, for certain, but he doesn’t seem to be angry like his sister. I’m worried about both of them, to tell the truth. But Jules is definitely the more pressing issue at the moment. She’s letting all this affect her schoolwork, which she was prone to letting slide more than she should anyway, and she’s a bit of a loose cannon of late. The time at her Gran’s seemed to help a little, but this tonight; she’s as bad as ever, and doesn’t seem to care. Liable to blow up at any time, over just about anything.
I don’t know what I was expecting this evening. Maybe I thought spending a little time together would make her come to her senses or something; want to come back home. Obviously, I’ve been deluding myself if I’ve really been thinking that way. She’s got this great life, running all over the world, celebrity parties in exciting cities, getting paid to ride a bike; why on Earth would she want to come back to living in Warsop with the kids and I? She’s just taking advantage of a chance to see what life would have been like had she made different choices. Unfortunately for us, it’s looking like she’s going to choose the other life, rather than us.
I guess I can understand something of that. How different would my life have been, had we not got married and had kids? Well, I’d probably be digging up castles instead of working for Frank at the mill, for one thing. But unless you get a teaching post at university, it’s kind of difficult to make the kind of living necessary to maintain a house and raise a couple of kids. That’s a fine life for a single kid, not a family man. Even ignoring the money aspect, being dragged away to distant locations to work long hours out in the sun, being away from home for months at a time. I don’t think I could do it. But that’s exactly what Jen’s done. So maybe I understand what she’s thinking better than I thought?
Now that I think of it, Jen didn’t look well. Tired, understandably so, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s more than that, like a touch of the flu or something. It was her eyes, mainly. They used to sparkle so, but tonight that shine was missing. Could that be the sadness of the situation? I don’t know, but somehow in the back of my mind, I don’t think so.
________________________
“I suppose I ought to grab a bite to eat,” Dave mumbled as he looked up and happened to catch a glimpse of a small diner. He walked in the door and went immediately to the counter, taking one of the stools at the ‘bar’.
“Get you anything?” The older lady working behind the counter asked before he even had a chance to look at the menu.
“Er . . . how about a cheeseburger? And coffee.”
“Coming right up,” came her entirely too cheery voice.
It was only then that Dave began to look around the diner, and caught sight of a young couple huddled in a corner booth, giggling as they ate.
“I remember…”
“Remember what?” the waitress’ voice interrupted any further musings as she set the coffee cup in front of him.
“Nothing,” he tried to brush her off.
“Didn’t sound like nothing. I’m not exactly a bartender, but I do know how to listen, and things are a bit quiet around here this evening. If you change your mind and want to chat, just let me know”
“That’s very kind of you, but…”
“Say no more,” there was a bell sounded from behind her, and with that she headed over to the window that passed from the kitchen to the counter, picked up a plate, and brought it back over to Dave. “I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”
He quickly ate his sandwich and drank his coffee in silence, then left a generous tip for the lady’s kindness, and once again headed out into the cold. “This wind is getting a bit chilly. Maybe I’ll just go wait in the car for the kids’ call,” and with that he strolled head down toward the hotel, where he had parked.
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It’s probably not healthy, me going over and over these same things constantly like this. Not if I want to have any hope of ever…oh, who am I trying to kid here? I don’t want to get over her. I still love her. And I’d still love to be able to work things out and return to something vaguely approximating normal. Not that there’s much hope of that.
_______________________
After sitting there in silence for a few minutes, Dave took out his cell phone, and pulling up the number from it’s phone book, pressed ‘talk’. On the second ring, there was an answer.
“Hello?”
“Caroline, it’s Dave. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. What’s wrong? Nothing with the kids I hope.”
“No, they’re fine, all things considered. They’re having dinner with Jen at the moment.”
“And you didn’t think you could take sitting there with them?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“So what’s got you upset? Aside from just seeing her?”
“She’s gone back to Peters.”
“Changed her name, eh?”
“Yeah”
“I don’t suppose that’s too big a surprise, although the timing does seem a bit sudden. Is that what’s bugging you?”
“Yes, at least partially. I had built up in my mind that there was a chance we could make some progress toward reconciliation, but once I found out about the whole name business, I said I couldn’t stay and left.”
“I think I can understand that. And if she’s thinking clearly, I’d bet she can as well.”
“That’s the thing, I’m not sure what she’s thinking. And the other thing that’s bothering me, is she isn’t looking well.”
“Now that could be your imagination. Your subconscious looking for something that isn’t there. And even if what you’re saying is true, maybe it’s just the flu or something. As much as she’s been traveling, it’s bound to have worn down her resistance quite a bit.”
“True”
“Listen Dave, you hang in there. If anyone can make their way through this, it’s you. Just give it time. Everything will work out.”
“I hope you’re right. I just wish I knew what ‘everything will work out’ means.”
“All will be revealed, Grasshopper.” They both giggled a bit at that.
“You’re something else, you know that? A good friend. Thanks for listening.”
“Any time Dave, you know that. Now you take care of those kids, and let me know if you need anything, alright?”
“I will. Thanks again. Bye.”
“Bye Dave.”
And with that he broke the connection, leaned his head back against the seat, and let out a loud sigh.
_____________________
Maybe Caroline’s right, and it’s just my imagination grasping at straws. Or even if what I think I saw is real, maybe it’s not that she’s ill or anything, just the whole fame thing getting to her. She wouldn’t be the first to achieve celebrity only to find it wasn’t what they expected at all. I imagine things get a bit out of hand at times, dealing with reporters and whatnot. That might be enough to snuff the life right out of you, I imagine.
Strange the things you notice, like it struck me how similar Drew is to Jen tonight; almost like he’s a reflection of her youth. The same nose, same eyes…it’s uncanny. I’m sure if I mentioned this to Drew, he’d take it all wrong. He’s been particularly touchy about things like that of late…really, ever since that night he became so upset after the phone call. While there’s a large part of that child that is truly feminine, there’s another part that’s all boy. Sometimes it seems the two parts are warring for control, and it’s a close battle.
Juliette, on the other hand, has the look of my mum about her. Where Drew takes after Jen’s family, Jules is all Bond. You can look all day long, and not see a bit of Peters in the girl.
_____________________
The ringing of his phone interrupted any further thoughts, as Jules was calling for Dave to come pick them up from the restaurant. Just a couple of minutes later, he was pulling up outside said establishment, Jules trying to get the door open and climbing in before the car had even come to a complete stop.
“You two okay?”
“Yeah, “ Drew told him as he joined Jules in the backseat, “where've you been?”
“Just walking son, thinking” he put the car in gear and drove past the restaurant; the silhouette of his estranged love in the window just polarized things. Jules managed to resume a sort of half hug round her brother, still sniffing back tears.
“You were walking all this time, that's like two hours”
“Well I did get a burger” he allowed
“It's the name thing isn't it?”
“We haven't even talked to lawyers yet,” he replied over his shoulder, “it's like she wants rid of me, us as quick as possible.”
The car descended into silence, a state that remained in place all the way home punctuated only by Jules' occasional sobs.
“Wish I'd been there” Mad mentioned
“Well you can see it tomorrow, I'm sure Gran'll put it on, eh Dad?”
“Sure she will” Dave mentioned from up front as they skirted Uttoxeter on their way over to the kid’s Gran's near Nantwich.
Well, Maddy’s certainly enthused about the prospect of hearing about Drew’s evening at that awards show. I wish I could share her enthusiasm, but I am glad that he had a good time at least. He deserves to have some fun with his mum once in a while. It’s better than him hating her all the time like his sister seems intent to do.
_____________________
“Wish I'd been there” Mad mentioned
“Well you can see it tomorrow, I'm sure Gran'll put it on, eh Dad?”
“Sure she will” Dave mentioned from up front as they skirted Uttoxeter on their way over to the kid’s Gran's near Nantwich.
_____________________
Of course she’ll want to watch it. It’s her daughter after all, isn’t it? Even if she is a bit peeved at her at the moment, she’s going to want to see Jen get that award. I’ll just have to brave my way through it. If it gets too tough, I’ll just make my excuses and leave the room.
I wish I understood everything that’s going on here. From what Drew said when we picked him up, it sounded a bit like Jen was starting to wonder if there was a chance for her to come home. Would that were true. I swear, as pathetic as it may seem, I’d welcome her back in a heartbeat. However, I’m not sure the kids would do the same. Oh, I know Drew would, but I’m not so sure about Juliette. She’s still stinging pretty severely from this whole thing. What to do?
______________________
“So did you meet anyone famous?” Mad was still at it, trying to pry more and more details from Drew.
“Well, actually I mostly met wives and girlfriends of stars. We were sat in a different section from the award nominees. I did meet Victoria Beckham.”
“What was she like?”
“It was a bit difficult to tell, really. I was a bit busy doing the goldfish thing at the time, and I think she found it a bit off putting, to be honest.”
With that Mad started giggling, which got Drew started, and for a few minutes the sounds of Jules singing along with her CD player were lost in the background of their infectious humour.
______________________
Drew is definitely in high spirits this morning. Good, he’s been down in the dumps far too much of late. He’s still a kid. He deserves to enjoy his last bit of childhood.
Maddy was definitely feeling a bit apprehensive this morning about the tandem ride tomorrow. I suppose I can understand a bit of that. She feels like she’s filling in for Jen, and is terrified she can’t measure up. Hopefully she can get over that and enjoy the ride. It’s a fairly good course for an inexperienced tandem rider, fairly flat.
Jules is being very quiet this morning…if you don’t count the occasional song line sung out accidentally, that is. I’m afraid she’s still harboring some fairly negative feelings toward her mum; and I don’t have the slightest idea what to do about it. I mean, I’ve reached a point where I am more or less past the anger, what’s it going to take for her to get there as well?
______________________
“So, is this course very hilly? Is it straight?” Maddy asked question after question about the race, not really expecting much, or any for that matter, answer from her traveling companions, all of whom seemed to be off in their own little worlds. “Are you sure I can do this? I’m worried. Twenty-five miles is a terribly long way. What happens if I hit a point where I can’t go on?” She was reaching a point of tormenting herself with every negative thing she could imagine happening during the race the next day.
She carried on in a similar vein for most of the duration of the trip, only occasionally getting responses from Drew to her incessant questioning.
_______________________
Nearly there, and it’s about time too. I could really use a little bit of relaxation after that drive. Once we get settled, I’m sure mum’ll want to sit down with some tea to discuss how things have been of late. Then I’ll be able to relax a bit. Am I ever looking forward to that. Ah, there’s Nantwich just ahead.
_______________________
“Hi Gran!”
“Hi kids, Dave”
“Hi Mum”
“Come on in, I've got the kettle on.”
Gran's place was doing Christmas — big style! Fake snow on the windows, a big holly wreath on the front door and enough decorations inside to make Santa nauseous! To be truthful the Bond residence was looking a bit mean this year, a few cards and a few bits of tinsel. No tree, no fairy lights — well they weren't going to be there much were they? And it was usually something they did with Jen.
“So kids, are you wearing fancy dress in the morning?” Gran asked as Mad and Drew helped with the washing up.
“Never thought,” Drew allowed.
“It's a fancy dress event?” Mad asked.
“Didn't this lummox tell you?” Gran went on.
“No he didn't” Mad huffed.
“Drew and his Mum won the fancy dress last year.”
“You never said” Mad looked accusingly at Drew.
“I forgot okay”
Mad was now in sulk mode.
“I've still got last years costumes upstairs, you could wear them?” Gran suggested
“Graaan” Drew groaned
“Could we?” Mad perked up immediately, “Drew, please?”
“Go on Drew, you did win last year” Gran cajoled
_____________________________
Drew may not be too keen on the idea of repeating his appearance from last year, but Maddy is absolutely bubbling at the prospect. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she’s going to get her way. That boy will do nearly anything to make her happy. It’s rather cute, really.
Well, there it is. It would appear Gaby is to make an appearance again this year. I suspect that at least part of Drew doesn’t mind the fancy dress as much as he lets on, and in any case as he’s never able to say no to Maddy; any misgivings he might have harbored are, as always, quickly dispatched. It’s cute, the way she can talk him into nearly anything. I hope he can manage to exercise a little self-control, should she decide to push their relationship further along, as it were. I really don’t fancy being a grandparent just yet.
____________________________
“Three, two, one, go! Good luck girls!” And with that, Xena and Gaby set off on their timed tour of the Cheshire countryside.
“I hope they’ll be alright on that thing. I always told Jen I thought it looked like a deathtrap.”
“I’m sure they’ll be alright mum. Gaby’s a good rider, and Mad’s coming along as well. At least with the Xena wig we can tell them apart. Sometimes they look so much like twins it’s scary.” And with that, Dave let out a nervous chuckle.
“Yes, they do both have the look of Peters women, don’t they?”
As the tandem trundled out of sight, the conversation took a turn. “Mum?”
“Yes Dave?”
“I’m a bit worried about Jen. The last time I saw her, she wasn’t looking all that well. I tried to explain it away as just being tired, or maybe a touch of the flu, but the more I think about it, the more worried I become.”
“I hope you’re wrong. Oh, now you’re going to have me worrying as well. We’ll have to make sure to look closely when the awards show is on. See if she’s looking under the weather.”
“I frankly hope it’s my imagination. I’d hate to think she’s sick and I can’t do anything to take care of her.”
“I’m glad to hear that this mess hasn’t driven you away. I almost expected you to be so angry with her that you wouldn’t concern yourself with how she’s doing. But then that’s not really your way, is it? You’re still hoping she’ll decide to come back, aren’t you?”
“That obvious, is it?”
“Only to those who have eyes.”
“Am I being stupid?”
“No, you love her. And it’s not in your nature to give up on something you care about. The fact that you still care after what she’s done makes me admire you even more. If she should decide she wants to come back, I’m glad you seem willing to at least discuss the idea. It may be more than she deserves at the moment. You’re the best son-in-law a mum could ask for, David Bond.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Now quit arguing with me,” she said with a laugh.
_________________________
Frankly, I’m glad I’m more or less past the anger toward Jen. I could stand here and say that’s not my way, but what does that mean, really? I can’t help but still be in love with her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever truly, completely loved, and I don’t want to try to imagine my life without her. I suspect that’s where some of the anger came from…the prospect of not being with her anymore. From what Drew said yesterday, maybe she’s coming around. Realizing that maybe she made a mistake. Maybe she’s just not sure how to come home. Well, all she really needs to do is call, and I’ll tell her. Get on a damned plane, that’s how. Anything else, we can work out together. That’s what marriage is, isn’t it? Working out problems together?
It’s just occurred to me…this is sort of a birthday for Gaby. It was a year ago she made her first appearance. Funny how in that time she’s almost become like a third child. While there’s part of me that wishes Drew had never dressed up as Gaby, there’s another part that I think would actually miss my youngest daughter, if she were gone. Odd, isn’t it?
I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but there’s a part of me that’s glad Juliette has had her head buried in her Discman the past couple of days. She’s made no secret of her problems with her mother’s behavior of late, and frankly the lack of her usually constant complaining has made for a pleasant respite. She would be the one real hurdle if Jen were to want to come back home. Of course, even the thought that she might want to is pure speculation…nay, wishful thinking…on my part.
On top of everything else, I think Jules is actually jealous of Gaby sometimes. I don’t quite understand why that might be, but I can’t shake the feeling that’s the case. It’s almost as if she thinks Gaby is Drew’s way of encroaching on “her” territory or something. If Gaby is going to continue making appearances, and I have little doubt of that point at the moment, I guess I’m going to have to figure out a way to ensure Juliette doesn’t feel left out, or less important. I do still have dreams of raising two well-adjusted kids, after all. Though I wonder if that’s in the cards.
_______________________
“Alright everyone, here they come finishing their first lap. Let’s give them a big cheer, see if we can give them a boost, eh?” Dave said to everyone, but in particular to his eldest daughter, who up to this point hadn’t shown any signs she had the slightest clue where she was, she was so engrossed in her CD player.
They all moved up to the edge of the road, and as soon as the duo was in sight, they began shouting encouragement at the top of their lungs. “Go Gabs…Push Mad…Go, go, go…Keep going kids…Come on Drew…” and the like until they were past and nearly out of sight once again. Then Jules returned to her CD player, Gran took a seat in the camper, and Dave just sort of stood there, staring off into space.
________________________
I must admit, they’re doing better than I expected. After their trial run the other day, I was a bit concerned about Maddy’s ability to keep up a competitive pace. Obviously, Drew’s not going full bore, but she’s keeping up with him. Of course, the real test comes in about twelve miles, when they’re coming around toward the finish.
I know Drew told his mum about Maddy riding the tandem with him today. I wonder if she felt any pangs at the thought? I’d like to think she did. I would suspect that the thought of someone taking her place in the race would make her rather sad. In this past year, the tandem had kind of become a special thing for her and Drew to share, and someone taking her place would probably leave a fairly empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. At least that’s what I think.
You know, I would have thought we would have heard something from the doctor about that second round of tests he decided to run on Drew. I suppose if the results came out the same as before, there wouldn’t really be any need for a detailed report, would there? And then there’s the battery of tests they did at the training center the other day. I wonder if any of those results might shed some light on things for the other doctor? Is there any way to get them to share those results? I’ll have to remember to check into that. Maybe they could help Dr. Sanwari figure out what’s going on.
So what am I going to do with myself while the kids are in America? They’re going to be gone for over six weeks. I can’t remember when I was last on my own for that length of time; maybe never, really. Certainly not since I met Jen. It’s going to be odd, that’s for sure. No early Saturday morning trips to bike races, no emergency repairs, no badminton matches, no teen angst disrupting the silence. Wow, it’s going to be a terribly boring month plus. I may have to see if I can find some reading material or something, because I’m simply not sure what to do with myself if there aren’t more tasks that need to be done than time in the day.
Let’s face it, I’m too old to go about carousing in pubs and still be able to function at work the next day, and I can’t imagine being glued to the telly every night. Oh, there’s always extra work that needs done at the mill, and this might be a great opportunity to get some of that done, but even that can’t fill up all that much of the time. I suppose I could check with the university, see if there are any weekend digs where I could get my hands a little dirty. That would be great fun. We’ll just have to see.
I haven’t been on a serious archeological dig since before I got married. Has it really been that long? I used to dream of finding pharaoh’s tombs and the like. Of course, that was before I had a family and all the obligations that come along with one. Would I still love to do that sort of thing if given the chance? Absolutely, but the fact is, I love taking care of my family more. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in seeing how the other half lives while the kids are away, though. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea.
______________________
As the “twins” neared the end of their second lap, Jules actually surfaced from her self imposed trance long enough to cheer them on to the line. Then the duo freewheeled along the lane for a short way before Drew changed down and guided them slowly back to the village hall. Gran and co were waiting for them
.
“Well done you two” Gran mentioned as Dave grabbed the machine so they could dismount.
“You look knackered Mad” Jules stated.
“Not many! I've felt better!”
“That was great,” Drew stated untangling himself.
“Yeah, but I'm still done in” Mad agreed.
“Come on then, I've got some cocoa in the camper” Gran told them.
“Go on Drew, I've got the ‘Beast' under control, go get warmed up” Dave urged. As the kids climbed in, he set about mounting the tandem to the carrier on the back of the camper.
___________________
Good ride today, all things considered. I’m becoming more impressed with Maddy’s skills all the time. Maybe there is something in the genes. Still, I know deep down Drew is a bit disappointed. After all, he’s become a bit accustomed to winning, so finishing back of the leaders is hard for him to take. I just hope he doesn’t make the mistake of blaming anyone for their finish. He knew coming into this thing that Mad is a very inexperienced rider, not to mention a complete novice on tandem. I hope he remembers to tell her how well she did. I’m sure he will. He’s a very caring person, after all. And very good at helping others, so I’m sure he’ll play up her performance if she tries to tear it down.
What’s going on over there? Ah, yes, I remember now, the group photo for all costumed participants. That poor boy can’t wait to get out of his Gaby costume, and he’s stuck sitting around waiting for the paper to take his picture. I can just imagine what’s spinning through his head while he waits. Things like “I wonder how many times they’ll misidentify me this time?” or “The name’s Drew, D_R_E_W” or some such thing. Of course, he might not be so keen to correct them when they identify him as Gaby again. After all, if they get it right this time, someone might start to wonder about all the previous “Gaby” sightings in print. Sooner or later, someone would be bound to figure things out, and that might prove a bit embarrassing for Drew, mightn’t it?
You know, I think Jen might’ve really enjoyed seeing Drew pilot the beast today. He did a fine job of it, and it’s incredibly difficult to do when you’ve not much experience with it. I know I was quite proud of the effort he put forth today; but then again I am a bit biased, I suppose. Still, I know his mum is very proud of his accomplishments this year…in some ways more than her own…and even though she’s never really had the opportunity to see him in competition, because of schedules and such, she’s always been extremely excited to hear how his races went. I do wish she could figure out a way to see him ride in person. She might be surprised just how good he is. They aren’t kidding when they start throwing about statements like “wunderkind” and the like. He doesn’t have the physical strength yet, but his spirit, technique, and particularly his tactics are extremely advanced…sometimes he outthinks far more experienced riders. It’s quite fun to watch, actually.
____________________
After the photo session for the paper, the Bond clan piled into the camper and set forth on their return journey to Gran’s house. Once there, Drew and Maddy immediately headed for the shower, Juliette was “volunteered” to help her Gran prepare dinner, and Dave took the opportunity to veg in front of the telly for a bit. He found some skiing on, and quickly drifted out of range of normal consciousness.
_____________________
I really must get a handle on things. I haven’t been able to focus on anything in weeks. I know that some of that is due to emotional issues related to Jen, but really, I thought I was better able to deal with adversity than this. I had always envisioned myself as a strong, stable person who could be relied upon in any circumstance to be the rock that everyone else leans on. So why do I feel myself crumbling? A lot of my confidence, my strength, has been built on my family and the love we share. With Jen gone, I feel weak for the first time since…well, since before I met her. I don’t like the way this feels. Not one bit, to tell the truth.
Jen’s mum has been great to us…to me even. I never really expected that. After all, she’s Jen’s mum, isn’t she? And yet at the moment it’s almost as if she’s siding with me and the kids, rather than her own daughter. I hope that doesn’t create a permanent rift between them. I don’t think I’d be comfortable being in the middle of that, were it to come about. Maybe if we can work things out between us, it’ll prevent that from happening.
I’m actually a bit torn over what would be the right thing to do. Do I sit and wait until she decides what she wants to do, or do I take a more proactive stance, maybe go to Germany and confront her and this, Dieter? Oh, it would be so tempting to head straight over there and let them have what for, but first, that’s simply not the way I do things, and it’s not the kind of example I intend to set for my children. On the other hand, this waiting, not knowing anything is nigh on intolerable. Maybe there’s still a future for us, and maybe there isn’t. I suspect Jen’s just thinking about the here and now, and isn’t really thinking through things as clearly as she usually does. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m a patient man, but this is stretching mine well past it’s limits, and something is going to have to happen to resolve things soon. I don’t think my heart can take dragging this thing out much more.
_________________________
Gran stuck her head through the kitchen door and called, “Come on everyone, dinner’s ready!” And with that, Drew and Maddy came thundering down the stairs while Dave roused himself from his mental stupor. As they all joined Gran and Juliette at the table, Gran spoke up once again, “You should be well pleased with the outcome. Juliette did a masterful job assisting in the preparation of this fine repast. Not all that much unlike the job Drew and Maddy did this morning in the race. I was very proud of how well you both did. Now, let’s all enjoy ourselves, shall we?”
For a short while at least, the Bond family relaxed and they even sort of enjoyed themselves. They ignored Mum's presence, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say lack thereof for as long as they could but they had barely finished the washing up before ‘The BBC Sports Personality of the Year' started on the telly. It wasn't quite the same already knowing the result but they all settled down around Gran's ancient box to watch.
“There you are Drew” Mad pointed as they showed people arriving at TV Centre.
“Where?”
“You missed it, you were behind David Beckham” Jules told Drew.
“Oh”
“Everyone at school will be sooo jealous Drew” Mad stated, “I know I am”
“Yeah well” he allowed as the show started properly.
As they watched, Dave couldn’t help but be entertained by the unconscious commentary Drew gave throughout the program. One of the more interesting things he commented on was the fact that some bits were actually shown out of the sequence they did it on Friday, which he said he found a bit off putting, but after over an hour it was time for Jen's big moment.
‘And this years winner of the BBC Sports Personality of the Year is…Jenny Bond!'
They showed close ups of her and then a wide shot of the audience before surprising Drew with a shot of him leaping about.
“…And it seems to have gone done pretty well with the rest of the family too” David Vine mentioned as the shot returned to Jen who was now joining Gary Lineker on the stage.
The video, which Drew thought only lasted thirty seconds on Friday was actually a couple of minutes long and this time he actually got to watch it. There was all the stuff they all remembered but Drew said he didn't see the footage of the Ranby ten on Friday night! There he was, tucked in behind his Mum coming under the Blythe Bridge. The rest was much as he remembered, the speech full of meaningless platitudes, the shots of the audience and then unlike Friday it was over.
“She looked a bit peaky don't you think?” Gran mentioned as the credits started.
“Serves her right” Jules put in.
“You're right Mum” Dave agreed, “She looked a bit thinner too”
“I thought telly made you look fat?” Mad mentioned.
Dave and Gran exchanged a look.
“She seem okay to you Drew?” Dave asked.
“Yeah fine” he replied but he then cast his mind back, was she really?
“Maybe she realizes what she's done” Jules just about spat.
“Anyone for supper?” Gran queried.
Gran's suggestion broke the growing tension so then they turned their attention to their stomachs.
_______________________
Maybe I was on the right track after all. Jen really didn’t look well at all on the telly tonight, and it wasn’t just me noticing either. Her mum was definitely thinking the same thing I was after we watched the award show. If she’s sick enough to have that kind of affect on her appearance, I can’t help but wonder just what’s wrong? It definitely looks like it’s worse than just a case of the flu, or stress doing it.
I’ve known that woman far too long not to know that she’s hiding something; and the longer this drags out, the more I begin to doubt that it has anything to do with her having an affair. I’m starting to think she’s really sick, and trying to hide it to protect…us? What could be so bad that she’d think we’d rather believe she had left us than know the truth? I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that one; but by the same token I can’t stop thinking about it because I need to know the answer. I hope she comes around and tells us what’s really going on soon. I think the truth is the only thing that has a chance to bring Juliette out of her anger, and that’s something that needs to happen, and soon.
Drew wasn’t happy at all about this morning’s Gaby appearance. The odd thing is, once she’s gone on doing whatever is on the agenda, the reluctance seems to just go away, as if Drew disappears and Gaby’s the only one there. Even when given the chance to change back after the race, Gaby stayed with us until we got back to the house. Maybe Drew is more comfortable as Gaby, but is afraid of the fact? Who knows?
_______________________
As a million different thoughts turned round his head, Dave finally drifted off to sleep.
As Jen slowly recovers from her surgery, she finds herself contemplating her choices and how they've impacted her loved ones. As she bears all, Dave searches for a way to balance what's in his heart with what's on his mind.
Despite the late hour, Jen was finding it nearly impossible to get to sleep. It had been long enough since her surgery that she was really starting to feel better, and was actually feeling a bit constrained still being mostly restricted to a hospital bed. While this was certainly one of the reasons for her attack of insomnia, there was one far more likely culprit.
When am I going to be given the chance to get out of here? This place is driving me nuts, frankly. I daresay, this is probably the longest I’ve stayed off a bike since I was a little girl, and to put it simply I don’t like it. I can’t sort my thoughts if I’m not riding. That’s probably why I’m having so much trouble getting to sleep. I guess that’s something Drew and I have in common. He seems to do his best thinking on a bike. Maybe it’s a family thing.
At least it’s starting to look like I might eventually get better. If Dave and the kids had told me I couldn’t come home, I don’t think I’d have made it this far. I was ready to give up the battle, but they gave me a reason to keep fighting, even though I probably didn’t deserve the wonderful treatment I’ve got since I came home. Why, after everything I did to them, did my family take me back? It’s a legitimate question, and one I don’t really have a good answer for. Mind, I’m not complaining, because like I said, I was about ready to give up. I think without Dave, and Jules, and Drew, I’d probably have decided it wasn’t worth fighting anymore. Now? Get me out of this bed! I’ve a couple of titles to defend, and I have to get back in shape to do so.
So just exactly what was I thinking? At the time, I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I was thinking, other than I didn’t want everyone to know I was sick. Silly, I know, but that’s how my mind was working. I didn’t want Dave and the kids worrying about me…I was afraid that if they knew what was really happening, they’d be too worried to take care of themselves. So instead, I nearly destroy everyone’s lives, all in the interest of keeping a secret? Why did I think I needed to protect Dave and the kids from my cancer? Is that even what you’d call what I did? To say it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done is an understatement of monumental proportions, but still doesn’t even begin to touch on either the motivations, or the repercussions of my actions. Will I ever be able to make it up to them?
Oh, it started out innocently, really. I thought we’d caught it early, and after some discreet treatments I’d be cured, and no one would be the wiser. Why muck things up by spreading the news around about it, jeopardizing my career? My career? Is that what I was worried about? I almost lost Dave, alienated my friends, and hurt my children nearly beyond reconciliation. How stupid was I? And that wasn’t the worst of it, to say the least. I mean, at first I hadn’t actually lied to them, had I? I didn’t tell them I was sick, but I hadn’t made up any kind of story, either. Maybe things would have been all right if they had ended at that. But oh, no, I couldn’t leave things hanging at that point, could I?
If I hadn’t been so stupid in the first place, there wouldn’t have been any need for the story when I didn’t get better like I had thought I would. I was supposed to return home, but how could I drop a bombshell like this on my family, and then disappear for more treatments? Now I know that’s exactly what I should have done, but no, I couldn’t do something like that. Maybe it was all just denial at work. I know that for quite some time, I didn’t want to admit even to myself how bad things could be. But really, how could I possibly believe that telling them I wasn’t coming home because of an affair would be less traumatic than dealing with an illness? Talk about deluded reasoning.
Through all that the really odd thing is, I don’t think Dave believed any of it. Oh, at first he sounded thoroughly ticked, as was to be expected, but for some reason, I think he started to suspect that I wasn’t telling him the truth that night at the restaurant. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say I’m sorry enough to make up for all of that. By the time I did come home, he knew. Not just thought I might be sick, but he knew, with absolute certainty. How does he do that? He just senses things that most people ignore. He knows when one of the kids needs a hug, or a kick in the rear, and somehow never does the wrong thing.
And through everything, he’s been a rock. How on Earth can he be so…I don’t know, perfect? As if he knows exactly what everyone around him needs, and provides that for them. It’s enough to make me fall in love with him all over again, as if I needed a reason.
The kids are another matter, however. Drew never really gave up on me, my sweet petal. He kept at me to come home. He knew better what I should do than I did. Pity I didn’t listen to him before. I know he was hurt badly by all my lies. I wish I could take them back, start over. At least he took things better than his sister.
Juliette, how will I ever make things up to you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so thoroughly hurt by another person in my life. It broke my heart to listen to you vent your anger and confusion at me, knowing that I deserved every single thing you could think of to say. Yours is the one reaction I truly understood in all this. You were severely hurt, and didn’t care to try to hide it in the least. And what did I do? Egged you on, saying and doing things that pushed you even further away from me. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if even after the truth came out, you didn’t want to ever have anything to do with me again. That’s what I deserved for the way I treated all of you. I had lied to each and every one of you for the most selfish and insensitive reasons imaginable, and yet with that one word, all was right once again. I really don’t deserve any of you, my wonderful, perfect family.
The kids didn’t want to go to America after I came home, but there was no way I was going to let them skip that opportunity. I mean, a chance to experience life in another country, to learn about it first hand. Not something they should even have contemplated passing up. I did nearly ask them to stay home with me, that morning we took them up to the school to begin the trip. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the last time I’d ever see my children. I’ve tried to maintain a positive attitude, but that morning, I was more afraid of not making it than at any time since my diagnosis. I wonder if they sensed that it was worse than I’d told them? It certainly seemed like they knew, but I know I didn’t tell them. Did Dave? He wouldn’t have come right out and said anything to them, I’m sure, because we had both agreed on that approach with the kids, but if one of them had asked point blank? He would have confirmed their suspicions. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to lie to them like that, of that I’m sure.
Of course, from what I’ve heard it hasn’t all been strawberries and cream, has it? Drew being Gaby full time? I wonder what will be the outcome of that little experiment? He’s so feminine, even without that kind of immersion, but this is different. How on Earth is my son Drew ever going to manage a return once they come back? He’s always so upset over being mistaken for a girl it affects his overall mood, but as Gaby, that conflict should be gone. Should be, but not necessarily. Drew is in such conflict, sometimes I wonder if he even has any idea what it is he really wants? It’s as if Drew and Gaby are battling for control of my child, and while most of the time, Drew appears to be winning, this experience might just push things in the other direction. I wonder what the final outcome will be? I would miss Drew, but…not that I mind Gaby. I quite like her, actually. She’s far happier than Drew, much of the time. Is that how I really feel about it? Because the implication here is that I would prefer things if my son were a girl. How I hope she has a good time on the trip.
Now that I’m starting to feel a bit better, maybe it’s a good time to talk to Dave about everything. I just hope he’ll accept my apology after everything I’ve done and said.
Sleep did finally visit Jenny, but it took much of the night to arrive, and even after nodding off, these thoughts continued to haunt her dreams.
The next morning as he entered the ward, the first thing Dave noticed was Jen, sitting up in bed eating breakfast. “You’re looking much better this morning,” he said as he bent over, kissed her on the cheek, and sat beside her. “A bit tired perhaps, but…”
“Yes, I had quite a bit of trouble getting to sleep last night. My mind just didn’t want to shut down, there were lots of things swirling around in there, keeping me up.”
“Understood. I assume since you are looking so much better in spite of insomnia that you might have some news?”
“I’m feeling much better. The doctor tells me I might even get out of here in a day or two.”
“Well that is good news.”
“Yes it is. So what brings you by this morning? I know you needed to go into the office for a while today, so I wasn’t really expecting you until this afternoon.”
“I just wanted to check on you, see how you’re feeling.”
“That’s awfully sweet, luv, but really not necessary.”
“That’s not really up for debate.”
“Understood. Any chance you’ve time for a chat. There are a lot of things I’d like to talk over with you.”
“Unfortunately, I’m already running a bit late, so beyond stopping by to say good morning and steal a kiss, I’m afraid I can’t stay.”
“I expected as much. Will you be back this evening? This really is important.”
“Do you really think there’s anything in this world that could keep me away?”
“No, I’m fairly certain of that point.”
“Good. Don’t forget it. Now, I’ve got to run. Love you,” and with that, he kissed her once again, then headed out of the ward, and on his way to the mill.
As he was leaving, Jen spoke up one last time, “Later, luv,” then even before he was out of the ward, she was once again immersed in her thoughts.
I suppose it’s just as well we didn’t get into things this morning. I still feel a bit like my mind is in a jumble after last night. I really do need to get out on a bike for a while…clear out the cobwebs, that sort of thing. Maybe I can use the time today to sort through all my thoughts and get them organized so I don’t scare the poor man witless when he comes back later? I’ve done far too much of that in recent months, I don’t want to do it anymore.
Meanwhile Dave, who was on his way to work, found himself thinking about everything in the world except his commute to work…
Well, I wonder what that was all about? Maybe she’s ready to tell me everything? But am I ready to hear it? That is the question indeed.
I mean, is she going to tell me that the whole boyfriend “ruse” wasn’t just a fabrication after all? Dear God, I hope not. I don’t think I could deal with news like that. And, I’d certainly not want to try explaining that to the kids over a transatlantic phone call. Maybe she’s decided to hang up her cleats, retire from racing? I mean, what more could there be for her to prove? She won a world championship while suffering from cancer, for god’s sake. She went from teaching at Warsop College to winning the Tour Feminin in just a couple of short months time. What else could she possibly want to accomplish on a bicycle?
Then again, I’ve never really fully understood this hyper-competitive thing she and Drew both have going. I’m the first to admit that I have goals, but those two seem forced by something deep inside themselves, pushing them to not only be the best they can be, but beyond that to be the best period. She’s done that, and Drew’s well on his way.
Wow, how did I get here? The last thing I remember doing was getting in the car at the hospital, and then all of a sudden I’m parked in front of the mill, ready for a busy day. I just hope I can keep my mind on my work enough to get something done today.
While concentration on the task at hand wasn’t exactly included in his skill set that day, Dave did finally manage to fumble his way through the stack of paperwork that had been piling up recently due to his absences helping Jenny get through surgery and everything the post surgical recovery had involved to that point. Once done, he poked his head into Frank’s office to tell him he was heading back to the hospital, and then he was off once again.
Once back at the hospital, he went to the ward Jen had been calling ‘home’ since coming out of surgery, but when he got to her bedside, she wasn’t there. He looked around the ward, and then headed toward the nurse’s station to ask where she was when he saw her walking down the hall toward the ward. She saw him, and he could instantly see her face light up, showing her pleasure at seeing him there.
“Good walk?” Dave asked as she started climbing back into bed.
“Very refreshing, but now I’m exhausted.”
He pulled a chair right up beside the bed, sat down, and took her hand in his, then spoke, “You’re still recovering from the surgery and everything. It’s going to take time to get your body back into shape.”
“I know, but patience has never been a virtue that I could count as one of my strengths.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve seen you be very patient when racing, trying to set up your attack and so forth.”
“I daresay that doesn’t really count. That’s employing a strategy.”
“I don’t really buy that idea, but I won’t argue the point. That would only waste our time this evening. Now then,” he said as he looked up to see the nurse as she came up to Jen’s bedside to check her vital signs, “I seem to recall you having something you wanted to discuss when I came back this evening?”
“Yes,” she said in a suddenly shaky voice, followed by a few seconds of silence. “All of a sudden, I’m not sure where to begin,” even more shakily than just a moment ago.
Dave looked into her eyes, and suddenly realized just what she was trying to say to him, so he interjected, momentarily saving her from her struggles, “You know, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to?”
“That’s just the problem…I want to…I need to say some things. You deserve…”
“I think I know,” he jumped in. “Believe me, it’s okay.”
“But that’s just it. It’s not okay, and won’t be until I tell you everything.”
Relieved by Jen’s candor about the fact that she was finally ready to fill in some of the holes that had been bothering him for some time, Dave looked at her and said, “Then I guess I’m to hear everything?”
“That’s my plan,” she nearly whispered. Then in a slightly louder voice, but still quiet enough to maintain complete privacy in spite of being in an open ward, she began, “I don’t really know what I was thinking at first. It was like, ‘this isn’t real, is it?’ and then as it began to actually sink in, I was so stupid. I was worried that if word got out that I was sick, it would adversely affect my career. I went from that ridiculous thought to not wanting to even tell you guys, for fear of news getting out. I know, it was idiotic. I know that now, but then? When my head was still swimming, trying to wrap itself around the word ‘cancer’?
“Dieter really did make it seem like we had discovered it so early there was no way we couldn’t cure it quickly and easily, so even after I finally reached a point where I wasn’t in full panic mode, I didn’t want to tell you or the kids. I thought, ‘I’ll be cured by the time I go home at the end of the season, so what’s the point in scaring everyone and risking word getting out?’ I was afraid that if it became public knowledge, I’d face some problems with my endorsements and sponsors, wanting to pull out their support and such.
“So then, when I went for a follow up toward the end of the season, it was discovered that not only had we not managed to cure it, but the problem had actually worsened, spreading elsewhere. This had me really scared, and in case I need to say it, not thinking too clearly. I was told about some new treatment regimen they were having some luck with in Australia, and that they thought they could help me. So I asked Dieter to arrange it for as soon as the season was over.
“That was all just fine and dandy, other than for the fact that I was supposed to be coming home then. That’s where things really became muddled, because for whatever reasons I was functioning without full command of my faculties. I started thinking about what and how to say whatever needed to be said, and at some point I convinced myself that it would not be in my best interests to tell anyone what was going on, and as ridiculous as it may sound, in my brain that included you guys.”
At this point, she stopped telling her story for a moment to catch her breath. “It occurred to me that I was supposed to be heading home for a while before needing to return to Germany for training, so now I was going to need a cover story to tell you guys before I left for Australia to try out this treatment Dieter kept going on about.
“I don’t know where it came from, but the thought occurred to me that I could tell you I was seeing someone in Germany, and wouldn’t be coming home right then. It was dumb, I know now, but at the time I still thought it made sense to not tell anyone I was sick, as if I could keep it a secret forever. I still can’t tell you how I rationalized not telling you or the kids, because I still don’t understand it myself. I was just so messed up, mentally and emotionally that I couldn’t see straight. As it turned out, even telling you I was seeing someone wasn’t enough to dissuade Drew. He kept pushing for me to tell him who, begging me to come home. He even guessed it might be Erik Zabel before I finally blurted out Dieter’s name. I thought at least he really was someone who was associated with everything that was going on.
“I know that none of this does anything to make up for the horrible mistakes I’ve made recently, but I had to tell you, for my own sanity if nothing else,” she said, then let the mental echoes fade before continuing. “I’m so sorry. I lied to you, and there is probably no way I’ll ever be able to make it up to you and the kids. I just hope for the chance to try.”
Dave sat there for a moment looking into her tear filled eyes as his own did a near perfect imitation. He let go of her hand and wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks, then spoke, “I’ve told you before that I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to make things work for us again. I can’t stand the thought of being without you, and I know that the kids feel the same way. I’ll not lie. There are some things that still hurt, even now. I’m trying to understand your reasons for what you did, and I promise you that even though that understanding isn’t complete, all is forgiven. I can’t promise there won’t still be some bumps as we recover from this, but…”
Jen leaned forward until she could reach Dave’s lips and gave him a tender, lingering kiss, then said, “That is more than I could ever have hoped for. I really don’t deserve you, Dave Bond.”
Dave picked up her hands and placed gentle kisses on them, then said, “I love you, Jen. I always have, and I always will, no matter what.” He looked at his watch then, startled, said, “Look at the time. I imagine you must be worn out completely, and I really need to get some rest for work tomorrow.” He started to get up from his chair, then stopped. “With everything else this evening, you didn’t say. Have the doctors said anything about when you might get out of here?”
“How’s tomorrow sound?”
“Great. I’ll call your mum and let her know. She was planning on coming to stay for a week or two after you get out to help with your convalescence. I won’t come by in the morning, so I can get straight to the mill and get some work done before I come to get you, all right?”
“That sounds perfect to me, luv.”
So with one more kiss goodnight, Dave left Jen to spend her last night on the ward, as he headed home to get some rest before the big day coming up tomorrow.
Coming home, eh? That’s great news, really. I just hope I can live up to my words this evening. It’s not that I didn’t mean any of what I said, but rather I’m just hoping that the rest of me is able to carry through with the words that were coming from my heart tonight. I do love her so, and I really always will. I just hope my brain can work its way round everything and allow us to move on together.
The kids will be thrilled to know their mum’s coming home tomorrow…oh, it’s later than I had intended, maybe instead of bothering them so late I’ll just fill them in tomorrow when we call? I think that will work. I do need to call Josie as soon as I get in to let her know about Jen coming home tomorrow. I don’t expect her to be able to pop over on such short notice, but if she can make it within a couple of days, it would be a great help. Oh, I had probably also let Frank know, so he’ll be able to make plans accordingly…
As Dave arrived home, the first thing he did was go to the phone to call his mother-in-law.
“Hello?”
“Hey, mum.”
“Dave, it’s good to hear from you, but it is a bit late. I hope it isn’t bad news?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to let you know that Jen’s going to be discharged from hospital tomorrow.”
“That’s grand news, but I may not be able to make it to Warsop for a day or two.”
“I expected as much, so I’m planning on taking a day or two off from work, and Carol will pitch in as well. I’m sure we’ll be able to get by until you arrive.”
“If you’re sure?”
“We’ll be fine. See you in a couple of days, and good night, mum.”
“Night, son.”
Dave hung up the phone, marveling for a moment on the fact that he feels closer to his mother-in-law than he ever did his own mum when she was alive. Not wanting to stir up the hornet’s nest that was his relationship with his mum, Dave pushed down those thoughts and turned his attention to preparing for sleep to once again wrap it’s warm embrace about him.
Well, that was an eventful evening, wasn’t it? Great news, Jen coming home, but I can’t help but think that maybe she’s still holding something back, like she’s afraid to tell me. I wonder what it is? Oh well, at least she’ll be home again, and since she was so sick, I’m guessing it’ll be for good. I can’t imagine her trying to return to racing after all this, there’s just no way. I mean, she’s old enough to be winding down her racing career even without having to completely rehab after the surgery and all, and what with all those big wins this season, it would be a perfect way to retire…going out on top, and all that. But then, I’ve never really had much luck predicting what she is going to do or not do, which is a bit sad given how long we’ve been married. Does that mean I don’t know her nearly as well as I thought I did?
I do regret not making it home early enough to call the kids, but I’m sure they’ll understand. The change in both of them has been astonishing, really. Juliette has turned herself around completely. She’s actually almost back to being the pleasant, lovely girl she used to be, before all the problems popped up. And I’d rather not think about Gaby at the moment. We talk, and I can’t even picture Drew in the voice anymore. Gaby is so completely the dominant personality now, it’s a bit scary really. I wonder if my son even realizes what’s happening? Will there even be a son left by the time they come home?
As Dave drifted off to the land of dreams, Jen also was busy with her thoughts…
I suppose that really wasn’t fair of me to omit the part about me probably recovering enough to return to racing. I know that Dave is looking forward to having me home all the time again, and I just couldn’t bring myself to destroy that picture he’s holding onto of our life to come. But if there’s a chance that I could continue with my career, I have to try, don’t I? If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have continued, and I don’t want to live my life like that. He’ll be hurt, but I’m sure that eventually he’ll understand. Dave is just too good a man not to understand needing to follow your dreams…
And so it was that both senior Bonds found their way to troubled nights sleep.
Dave and Jenny decide to surprise Gaby by secretly traveling with the Appollinaris team to the States when she rides with her American friends in Atlanta.
"I won't call tomorrow Drew as you are off to the dance," Jen said, barely concealing the smile that threatened to swallow her entire face.
"Okay, I'll miss you on Friday too as we are driving to Atlanta"
"Well I'd best wish you luck now hadn't I?"
"Thanks Mum"
"And have a good time at the dance, and behave, I know what you lot are like"
"Yes Mum" Drew sighed.
"I'll catch up with you at the weekend then kiddo."
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you too Drew."
"Tell Dad I said hi."
"I will."
"Take care Mum, bye."
"And you, bye for now."
"Bye."
As she placed the receiver in its resting place, Jen nearly exploded with giggles as she said, “Drew says ‘hi’.”
“I can see you’re enjoying this little deception more than just a little.”
“I can’t help it. I don’t want to spoil the surprise when he sees us in Atlanta.”
“You mean IF he sees us in Atlanta?”
She looked at him as if he had two heads, then reluctantly conceded, “If.”
As the elder Bonds made their way to bed, they continued their discussion of their youngest child.
“Jen, I’m worried about Drew. All this time as Gaby, I wonder if it’s going to make it difficult to return to being a boy when he comes home?”
“You know, I don’t think I’d ever thought of it quite like that. I don’t know, really. From strictly a surface level, I doubt he’ll really think there’s much of a problem.”
“I really hope you’re right, but I’m worried. He’s never really been the ‘manliest’, if you know what I mean, and this immersion in all things feminine for so long? How is he going to cope?”
Jen replied as they both changed into their sleepwear, “As you’ve already pointed out, he’s always been very girlish, so he may surprise us with how little things have changed, thanks to this experience.”
“I don’t really see things that way. His personality has always shifted somewhat when he dresses as Gaby, even though he would probably deny it if asked. I’m worried that with being Gaby for all this time he might have lost sight of just who Drew is.” They both crawled under the covers and turned out their respective table lamps, then Dave spoke once again, “I hope I’m wrong, and I hope I can actually find sleep after making myself think about all these things again.”
“Me too, luv. Me too.” As they both lay there, their individual thoughts overtook them, and they soon found themselves in their own little universes, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Jenny found herself adrift quickly, and let her mind follow it’s own course until sleep visited her.
Dave is just overreacting, isn’t he? I mean, Drew’s always played this little ‘Gaby’ game…well for the last year or so…and he always does it so well, nobody would ever suspect he’s anything other than a beautiful young girl. But once the masquerade is over, Drew’s back, no problems. Why should this time be any different?
Mind you, I don’t think I’d complain if something happened and Drew became Gaby permanently. I rather like my youngest daughter, to tell the truth. She’s so much more feminine than her sister; I don’t know how that happened really. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Drew has always had to work so hard to be perceived as even the slightest bit masculine, and he’s just more attuned to the behavioral differences between the genders. Before, Gaby’s never been around long enough for her mannerisms to become second nature, but maybe with this trip she’ll finally reach a point of not having to concentrate so hard on being herself, and can finally just have fun.
It’s going to be so good seeing her again. I miss my kids so much. In a lot of ways, I wish I had let them stay home instead of going to America, but then they wouldn’t have had all these marvelous experiences. It wouldn’t have been right to keep them from having that.
It’s going to be so much fun seeing Gaby race. I can hardly wait. It’s been so long since I watched Drew, I can’t even remember when the last time was. I know it was before the contract with Apollinaris, but…you know, I can’t ever remember watching him race. How is that possible? I know that I usually had a race myself later in the day, and I often took that time to spend with Jules, but how could I have missed seeing my own son race? Now I feel like I’ve been an absolutely horrible mother. How in the world am I ever going to make that up to my baby?
Jenny finally drifted off to sleep amidst a myriad of thoughts. Dave, on the other hand, was still having trouble finding the arms of Morpheus.
I can’t help but think that Jen is trying to make light of this situation with Drew. I’m really concerned for him. I would never, ever do or say anything to harm one of my children, but I worry about what his mental and emotional state is like at this point. When we’ve talked, I’ve been having trouble finding Drew in there somewhere. Is there even a Drew left? Or is it all Gaby now? I know we’ll be seeing mostly Gaby, if we can go this weekend, but when the time comes for the kids to come home, who is going to be making that trip? Drew, or Gaby? The search for that answer is making sleep a commodity that’s in increasingly rare supply.
Am I being silly worrying about this? Or is my concern justified? It’s hard for me to even know the answers to those questions, let alone having a clue how to deal with the outcome. And what about this developmental program Jen’s going on about? Is it really a good idea? I mean, Drew is still just a child, and yet he’s being thrust into this fast paced world where things don’t take time out to let you figure out what you’re doing. I have no doubt that he’s good enough, that’s not the problem at all. I just worry that by attaching himself to this team, he might be limiting his future opportunities. Plus, George still believes Drew is actually Gaby. I don’t suppose I can blame him for that misunderstanding, of course. The only times he’s ever met the child, he’s been in Gaby mode, after all. Would he be making the offer if he knew Drew is a boy? I don’t know.
I have spent more time worrying about things I can do nothing about in the past few months than I ever believed possible. I used to be fairly level headed. I tried not to waste time or energy thinking about things that were beyond my ability to control, and yet now it seems that’s all I do. I spend nearly every waking hour thinking about all these things I can do nothing about, when I should be spending that time concentrating on things that are within my control. But how do I go back to doing that?
There are so many things going on in our lives that all we can do is sit back and wait to see how they turn out, like Jen’s recovery. If I could, I’d gladly have traded places with her so she wouldn’t have had to go through all of this. And Drew…my poor little boy…how have I allowed events to overtake you so? Is it my fault you appear so feminine? Have I somehow failed you? Or is this simply the way you were supposed to be all along, and there was just some sort of mistake along the way?
I wish I knew the answers. Hell, I wish I understood the questions. Maybe I should just quit worrying about all of this for now and try to get some sleep. Who knows, maybe I’ll wake up with an answer magically popping into my head.
Dave finally managed to drift off to sleep, though his sleep was anything but restful.
When Dave noticed the silhouetted stranger standing at the foot of the bed, he could hear him softly laughing that same, evil chuckle he’d heard during previous visits. The difference this time was that if he looked closely enough, he thought he could make out some features of his face. The longer he stared at the stranger, the more clear his image became, until Dave realized that this was no stranger at all, but rather George, the Apollinaris team director. The chuckle grew in intensity until it suddenly stopped, followed by the words, “Dave, moment bitte.”
The next thing Dave knew, he found himself sitting bolt upright in bed, trying to figure out what this dream was about, and what it had to do with the others he had been having. He got up, made his way to the bathroom, and after taking care of his business, he stood facing the mirror for several minutes in silence.
“All right, what the heck was that all about?” he softly said to himself as he splashed some cold water on his face, then patted himself dry before returning to the bedroom to try and get a little more sleep. While that sleep did finally revisit him, it was frequently interrupted through the course of the night by similar dreams and strange visions.
The next morning, it was a far from well rested Dave Bond who stumbled into the kitchen and started the teakettle, just as Jenny also entered the room. “So, are you going to call the doctor to find out about travel restrictions while I go to the office?” he asked as he poured the water and began mashing his tea.
“Yes. I don’t really expect there to be any problems. I mean, I’m doing much better, and it’s not like I’m going to be doing anything terribly demanding physically.”
“You may be surprised at just how tired simply traveling makes you. You’re nowhere as strong as you once were, and the simple act of flying can seem exhausting. Particularly such a long trip.”
“I know, but I’m too excited about seeing Gaby race to worry about being tired. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“I can understand that. I’m going to head out, and I’ll be back in a few hours. Talk to you later?”
“Later, luv.”
With a short kiss goodbye, Dave headed out the door and on his way to the mill. As so often had happened of late, he found that work kept him so busy that he was able to stop worrying about everything else for a little while. As he was finishing up with some invoices, Frank came up to him and sat down on the edge of Dave’s desk.
Frank cleared his throat to make sure he had Dave’s attention, then spoke, “Are you still looking for another car?”
“Yes, but I’m having some budget problems. You know, like not having a lot of luck figuring out how I’m going to pay for it.”
“Understood, but that’s why I wanted to talk to you. It seems my wife has got the idea that she needs a Land Rover. I hate to just give her old car to the dealership, but they aren’t going to allow much in the way of a trade in, I’m afraid. I was wondering if you might be interested in buying it. I can guarantee reasonable terms, and it’s in excellent shape.”
“I’d say I’m definitely interested, but I would like to talk it over with Jenny before deciding anything. Oh, by the way, if she’s cleared to travel, we’ll be heading out to America tomorrow for the weekend, then after a couple of days of meetings with team officials, we’ll be coming back home Tuesday. Drew’s racing in this big event called the Atlanta Winter Classic. Apparently, there will be a lot of professional teams participating, so it will no doubt be a big thrill for him.”
“Well, that sounds like fun. I imagine you’re really missing the kids.”
“I’d say that’s putting it mildly. It’s driving me nuts having them so far away from home.”
“Well, have a good trip, and I’ll see you Wednesday. You can let me know what you think about the car then.”
“Thanks, Frank. As I said, I’m guessing we’ll be interested, but just don’t want to commit without talking it over, you know.”
“I hear you. Well, I’d best let you get back to it, so you can finish up before you head out.”
“Talk to you later, Frank.”
“You too, Dave,” and with that, Frank got up off the edge of the desk and walked across the office, stopping to say a few encouraging words to employees as he made his way back to his office.
Dave returned to his task, though somewhat distracted by Frank’s proposal. He was familiar with the vehicle in question, and had always thought it would be great to own one like it someday. Well, here was his chance.
I wonder what prompted that? Not that I’m complaining, mind, but wow. We are talking about a great car. How could he possibly think the dealership would try to lowball him on the trade? I mean, yes, I know it’s several years old, but as I recall it’s still in marvelous condition. What kind of terms are we talking about? Payments?
As he opened the door and stepped into the front room, Dave was taken aback to find suitcases sitting by the door, and Jenny sprawled on the couch, obviously exhausted from the effort expended packing. He looked at her and said, “I take it the doctor said you could travel?”
“Yes. George will be picking us up at the Manchester airport at 7am when the team’s charter flight lands. Carol has agreed to handle taxi service to and from the airport so we can avoid the expense of long term parking.”
“And I see you’ve already packed for us. You must be excited to be getting back together with your teammates.”
“Yes, I didn’t realize just how much I missed them until Maria and Kat came for their visit last week.”
“Have they all been informed as to the reason for your absence?”
“Yes, right after I came home and I told George and Maria, they decided that although we wouldn’t make the nature of the problem public, it would be best for team morale if everyone knew what was going on. Apparently, before they knew what was wrong, there were several of them who were ready to have me lynched for the way I treated you and the kids. And to tell you the truth, I can’t really blame them. I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry enough to make up for it.”
“Now, don’t start that again. We’ve already resolved that, and we’re not going to talk about it anymore, right?”
“All right. I worry that things aren’t as ‘resolved’ as you say they are, but all right.”
“So what time is Carol picking us up?”
“Since we have to go through customs and everything that entails, particularly with all my medications I’m taking at the moment, I thought we should be there by 6am, so I’m sorry, but I she’s picking us up at 5.”
“Well, that’s one more thing I need to thank her for, and one more we owe her. Since we have to get up so early, I’m assuming we’re going to try to turn in early this evening?”
“Yes, I thought that might be best. Carol brought over some dinner she prepared for us. All we have to do is heat it up.”
“Oh, good, dinner by Carol. A shame Drew isn’t here to enjoy it. I swear, I think one of the reasons he’s so close to Maddy is so he can eat Carol’s cooking more often.”
“I think you may be right about that.”
After they had finished with dinner, Jen helped Dave straighten up the kitchen and then they headed up to bed, knowing that they need to get to sleep as soon as possible, but also knowing that might be difficult.
Once changed, they climbed in bed and turned out the lights, and lay there in silence for a couple of minutes before they gave up on the idea of getting to sleep early and began talking about things.
“Frank came by with an interesting proposition for me today.”
“Oh, really? What’s that?”
“It seems his wife is harboring the notion that she needs a Land Rover, and Frank thinks he’d rather sell her old car than just trade it in.”
“Really? As I recall, that’s a nice car.”
“Yes, and he was telling me he’d be willing to offer me reasonable terms.”
“Like payments?”
“That’s the way I understood it. You know I’ve wanted to replace the Passat ever since it broke down last autumn. I’d like to talk to him more about what kind of terms he’s offering, but if it’s at all reasonable, I’d be very tempted to take him up on his offer.”
“I’d be inclined to agree with you there.”
“I figured you’d say something like that, but I told him I wanted to talk to you about it before going any further with the discussion.”
“So when do you want to talk to him about it?”
“I told him I’d try to let him know if we were interested Wednesday when we get back from the trip.”
“So you were almost as sure the doctors would let me go as I was.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t want to say anything just in case I was wrong.”
“And here all along, I thought you were pooh-poohing the idea. You are a tricky one.”
“Well…”
“So, are you excited about seeing Gaby?”
“Of course I am. I am, however, a bit concerned about how Drew is going to cope with going back into boy mode once they return home.”
“So you’ve said. He’s a strong character, he shouldn’t have much trouble making the switch back.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. Trust me on this.”
‘Easier said than done,’ Dave couldn’t help but think to himself. From there, the conversation gradually diminished until Dave found himself looking once again at the sleeping form of his wife.
I feel so awful having thoughts like that about her, but there’s still this voice in the back of my mind that won’t let me get past everything that’s happened. I still love her, all right, but the trust thing is a bit more difficult than it once was.
As he drifted off to sleep, those thoughts about trust simply would not go away.
Dave opened his eyes to find George standing beside the bed. Startled, he stuttered out, “Wha…what are you doing here?”
“Just checking up on my girl. Thank you for bringing her back from the brink.”
“I did nothing for you.”
“Oh, but you did. Far more than I can tell you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“As I said, I can’t tell you.”
“Is there something going on between you?”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. But I need her back.”
“So this has all been about the team?”
“You could say that.”
“And what if she decides to call it quits?”
“You don’t really think she’d do something like that, do you? Certainly not. Racing is what she was meant to do, and she knows it. There is no way she could possibly allow anything to stop her from doing what she was meant to do.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested? Are you in love with her?”
“I won’t deny that, but alas, she only has eyes for her bikes. That’s not to say I haven’t tried.”
“I knew there was something about you that wasn’t trustworthy,” Dave sprang out of bed and wrapped his hands around George’s neck. “I want you to leave her, and the rest of my family, alone.”
“Oh, I can’t do that, Dave. Jenny is mine, and so soon Gaby will be.”
“You do know Gaby’s actually a boy named Drew?”
“That’s not the case. You’re the only one who doesn’t realize it yet.”
“What are you saying?”
“That the masquerade is Drew, not Gaby.”
Dave wrapped his fingers more tightly around George’s neck, trying to wring the life out of him, saying over and over again, “No! No…”
Dave woke up and looked at the clock to find that it was just after 4am. “Well, at this point, I might as well start getting around, since Carol will be picking us up in less than an hour.” He quickly went into the bathroom and took a shower; as he was returning to the bedroom to dress Jenny woke up.
“Oh, good, you’ve already finished with the shower. I’ll only be a minute.” Jen went to the bathroom and quickly showered herself. While she did that, Dave finished getting dressed, then went down and started the tea.
When Carol pulled up outside at just after 5, they had just finished up their second cups of tea, and had put their things away in the kitchen. Dave grabbed the bags and followed Jenny out the door and down to Carol’s car, where they climbed in and set off on their trip to Manchester airport.
Carol was the first to find her voice this early morning, “So, are you excited about seeing Drew?”
“More than I can explain,” said Jen.
“That about sums it up for me as well,” added Dave.
“Part of me wishes I were going, so I could see Maddy,” opined Carol.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be seeing her. As far as I know, she’s not making the trip to Atlanta,” replied Jen.
“Ah, just as well then, I suppose. At least they’ll be coming home soon.”
“That’s true. I for one am really looking forward to it,” said Dave.
The conversation, what there was of it, carried on along these lines all the way to the airport. As Carol pulled up outside the terminal to allow her passengers to disembark, she said, “Well, there you go. Have a great weekend, and tell Drew hi from me.”
“We sure will, Carol. I may not have to say this, but thanks,” replied Dave.
“Well you’re right you don’t need to say it, but you’re welcome.”
“I don’t mean just the ride. You’ve been a great help to us for a long time.”
“Well, we’re family. And we’re friends. There’s no way I would even think of doing anything less.”
Jen jumped in, “If we don’t get a move on, we’ll be late getting through the check in. Carol, thanks for everything. We’ll see you next week. I’ll call with times when we get our return flight info.”
“Thanks, cuz. See you when you get back.”
“Love you,” Jen said softly.
“Love you too, silly,” replied Carol.
“Um, I’m terribly sorry to break up this little family gathering, but we do have a plane to catch,” Dave said with as much humor in his voice as he could muster so early in the morning.
“Right. Call me with your arrival time, okay?”
“We will. Thanks again.”
They closed the car doors and boot, and then Carol slowly pulled away from the curb, leaving Jenny and Dave to make their way through the check in and find the Apollinaris charter flight’s gate. They breezed through emigration much faster than they had anticipated, and then were able to find their way to the appropriate gate just moments before the plane taxied up to the terminal.
Since no one was getting off the flight, and they were the only ones getting on, it was only a matter of the plane pulling up, the walkway being extended, and the Bonds going aboard, all of which took less than five minutes. As they found their seats and the pilot awaited clearance to return to the sky, Jenny and Dave were warmly greeted by all of her teammates, which seemed more like a family reunion than anything else.
Then George came up, gave Jenny a brief hug, and offered his hand to Dave, who took it, though he couldn’t help but flash briefly to those strange dreams he had been having for so long now. If George noticed any reluctance or coldness in Dave’s greeting he ignored it, then moved on toward his own seat. It was only a few minutes later that the fasten seatbelts sign came on, signaling that they were once again on their way.
“Dave, how are you doing?” Maria surprised him with the question, as he was expecting to be mostly ignored this trip.
“Good, Maria. Really looking forward to seeing Drew again.”
“Yes, I imagine so. I’ve been so lucky that Kat can travel with the team, so I don’t have to be away from her for weeks at a time.” Then she turned to Jenny and said, “You seem to be doing better than last week when I saw you. How are you feeling?”
“I still tire very easily, but the doctor says that’s normal, and will gradually get better. It may be a while before I can ride competitively again, but don’t go giving away my spot on the team or anything.”
Tina jumped in, “Little chance of that.”
Jenny responded, “Tina! How have you been?”
“Good. Ready to begin racing again.”
“Yes, I imagine so. I’m getting rather anxious for that moment to come for me as well.”
“I understand, but don’t try to rush things too much. You could do more damage than good if you push too hard.”
“Yes, mum. You sounded like Dave for a moment.”
“And have you listened to me?” Dave interjected.
“Most of the time.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And just what exactly are you saying?” Jen asked, becoming a bit perturbed.
Before Dave could answer, Maria jumped in to answer for him, “I think what he’s saying is that the evidence hasn’t always supported your assertion.”
Jenny started to respond, but then stopped, looked first at Dave then Maria, and started to chuckle. “All right, point taken.”
Once the flight was under way, the conversation slowed down as everyone drifted off into their own little worlds. First, Maria and Kat settled in with a movie, then Tina decided to take a nap, joined shortly by Jen, who was looking a bit worse for wear from the morning’s activity, leaving Dave once again alone with his never ending whirlwind of thoughts.
It’s good to see Jen getting along with her teammates again. I know they all said things were back to normal once George and Maria filled them in on the details of what really happened, but I was a little concerned that maybe some of them might still be a little cold toward her, after her deceit. I guess my worrying was all for naught on that point. Hope that can turn out to be the case on some other issues that’ve been keeping me up nights, like Drew/Gaby.
Isn’t it odd that no one has ever questioned whether Gaby is a girl? Drew is boy enough that at least some people see him as such when in boy mode, so why isn’t there any such confusion when he’s presenting as a girl? While I could probably talk my way around all of this and come up with plenty of plausible explanations, what I’ve started to believe is that while Drew can create in other people’s minds just enough questions about his gender that some of them guess boy, as Gaby, there aren’t any such questions. As Drew, he strikes most people as a tomboy, who is sometimes taken for a boy, but as Gaby, well, let’s just say she’s very much a girl. I must say, I don’t like that answer at all, but it certainly seems to fit what’s going on most of the time. Maybe all this will go away once his puberty finally kicks in. But, why’s it being delayed so? I was a little late to start myself, but I didn’t have the feminine features Drew has.
We haven’t really talked much about Dr. Sanwari’s findings last autumn, what with Jen’s problems, but that’s certainly something that’s going to have to be addressed, and soon. I’m assuming that he’ll be wanting us to go see the endocrinologist in the very near future to run those tests he had mentioned before, since apparently there are still no signs of puberty on the scene. At least, from what I’ve heard, that’s the case. We’ll know more tomorrow, when we actually get to see him. I can hardly wait.
Dave eventually joined Jenny, and most of the Apollinaris team, in their in-flight slumber.
Dave opened his eyes, and was greeted by the face of his youngest child, “Gaby! How are you?”
“Great, daddy. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, for a change,” He now took a moment to take in her appearance. “So why are you so dressed up?”
“Oh, this? Paul is coming by in a bit to take me to a movie.”
“Really? I didn’t think you liked boys?”
“Da-ad! What girl doesn’t like being pampered by a boy?”
“I just didn’t think this was something you were interested in, since…”
“Since when? Have you forgotten everything that’s gone on lately? Like the surgery to open up my parts so they’d work properly?”
“Excuse me?”
“You really are a bit out of it at the moment, aren’t you? Well, never mind.” She bent down over her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek, just as there was a knock at the door. She ran for the door, opened it, and headed out to join Paul, grabbing her purse on the way out…
A stewardess was making her way down the aisle, waking passengers and asking them to please put their seat belts on, because they would seen be starting their approach into Hartsfield Jackson International airport.
As Dave wiped the sleep from his eyes and began returning his seat to the upright position and fastening his seatbelt, the pilot came over the intercom to inform his passengers of the their impending arrival.
Dave let out a big yawn, then looked at his wife and asked, “Sleep well?”
She looked back at him, thought for a second, then said, “I did, actually. What about you?”
“Not too bad, really. Strange dreams, though.”
“What about?”
“Gaby.”
“Ahh,” Jen said knowingly.
I don’t know that I ever thought about it before, but I imagine he does have some trouble with everything that’s been going on with Gaby this past year. Most men are so protective of their ‘maleness’ that they seem to freak out when they feel it’s being threatened. Dave’s not as bad as most, but this business has got to be making his head spin, having Drew show up as Gaby, sometimes with little or no warning. He does so well at appearing to take everything in stride, not overreacting to anything, but…
It was a fairly subdued group that passed through Customs, gathered up their luggage, and boarded the hotel bus to make their way to their accommodations so they could all relax in preparation for the race the next day. Once settled in their room, both Dave and Jen made an effort to stay awake for a while in order to avoid having trouble sleeping that night. They read, watched some television, and unpacked until time to join the rest of the team in the restaurant downstairs for dinner.
As they neared the large table that was reserved for the Apollinaris team, George looked up and quickly called to them, “Jenny, Dave, please come join me, won’t you?”
Jen enthusiastically waved to George and headed his way, Dave following in her wake. “George, you’ve outdone yourself,” Jen enthused.
As they took their seats between George and Maria, George responded, “Only the finest for my team.”
“Since when?” joked Tina.
“I take it not all accommodations are this nice on tour?” Dave said, knowing full well that the hospitality on offer in Atlanta was far more lavish than is often found on the European tour.
“You could say that,” replied Maria.
“I do try,” defended George, which prompted a round of chuckles making it’s way around the table. Dave found it slightly unsettling that the sound emanating from George the director so closely resembled the tone of the stranger in his dreams these past few months.
Dinner continued along a similar vein, and once everyone was finished, George took the opportunity to rise from his chair, tapping the side of his glass with a knife to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies…and gentlemen, it is so good to see you all together again. With luck, perhaps this upcoming year will be able to equal our successes of last. I am pleased to welcome back Mrs. Bond, who once her recovery is complete will be rejoining us in our quest to dominate our sport.” He paused for just a moment as a combination of applause and laughter sprinkled the room. “We have some exciting plans for this season, which I will be introducing at our post race news conference and reception tomorrow, but I would like to inform you now that one of our new programs is going to be a junior development program, where we will be subsidizing training and travel costs for select youths who have demonstrated excellence in cycling. Our first member will be introduced tomorrow, in the person of one Gaby Bond.” He again paused, this time to allow a warm round of applause to flow from those at the table. It actually continued until Jenny and Dave rose to acknowledge the congratulations of the team, then as the noise returned to a more normal level, he continued once again. “Gaby, much like her mother, was born to race bikes, and we can all expect great things in the future from both generations of Bonds.”
Another round of applause prompted a pause in the address. “As you probably are aware, Gaby is riding in the race tomorrow, and while I don’t think I need to say this to any of you, should you find yourself in a position to do so, please keep an eye on the child. From what I understand, she is quite gifted, and it’s entirely possible you may find her toward the front of the peleton tomorrow.”
“In closing, I want to offer my prayers and best wishes to all of you not only for tomorrow, but for this entire season to come. We will be heading toward the start area at 7am, so I would suggest that everyone take the opportunity to get to bed early and get some rest.” And with that, the gathered group began to disperse.
As Dave and Jenny started to get up from the table, George and Mike the mechanic approached them. It was Mike who spoke, “Dave, I understand you are fairly proficient in the area of bike setup?”
“I’ve done a bit, yes.”
“I imagine you have with those two around, yes. I wasn’t able to bring any of my staff other than Kat, who is an intern, on this trip; and was wondering if I could impose upon you to provide a hand tomorrow morning in getting everyone’s bikes ready?”
“Certainly, any time. Do we need to head out before the riders?”
“Probably not. Basically all we need to do is a final check of each machine, but running two stands instead of one will make it a much quicker process.”
“Understood. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
George finally spoke, “Thank you, Dave. We really do appreciate this.”
Dave and Jenny then retired to their room where, once they determined that it was in fact late enough that they could probably go to bed without worry of incurring the wrath of jet lag, they changed into their sleepwear and crawled under the covers, then turning out the bedside lamps. Sleep was so quick to visit both that you might have thought they were asleep before their heads hit their pillows.
For once, Dave was able to enjoy a relatively uneventful night’s sleep, and found himself waking of his own accord just before 6am. He got up, showered, and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, thinking that would be more practical for working on bikes than something dressier. Once dressed, he went to wake Jenny, “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to get ready to go watch your child race today.”
“I’m looking forward to it, but if I’m Sleeping Beauty, then I need a kiss from Prince Charming before I can get out of bed.”
Dave bent over her and gave her a gentle kiss good morning, then stood back up and went over to a chair and sat down to wait while Jenny crawled out of bed and climbed in the shower, stripping her nightdress off on the way. He was reading over some information he had been given about today’s race as he waited.
This should be an interesting day. Why exactly have I been drafted into playing bike mech? I know full well that Mike could handle this morning’s workload by himself, no problem. I’d guess he knows those machines better than their riders ever will, and can probably set one up perfectly for one of them without their presence, which is why this is confusing me. I mean, I do all right when it comes to bike setup, but I don’t know these ladies’ preferences on tire pressure, shifter tightness, or anything, really. Jen’s bike I could take care of if she were riding today with no problems. The same is true for Drew’s. But I really don’t know much about how Maria or Tina, or any of the other girls ride.
Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I bet Mike’s got everything written down, and all you have to do is follow the directions. Of course, that still doesn’t explain why I got drafted in the first place.
Dave’s confused musings were interrupted by Jen clearing her throat to draw his attention to the fact that she was ready to go; it was almost time to meet the others to catch the shuttle to the start area. Once he appeared to have rejoined the world she spoke, “We’d best be heading down, since it’s nearly 7.”
“True,” said Dave as he got up out of his chair and made his way to the room’s door. He opened it, and stepped aside saying, “Ladies first.”
Jen giggled, then walked through the door followed by her husband. As they climbed onboard the elevator, Dave asked, “What’s this with Mike all about this morning?”
“I don’t know what you mean, luv. He usually has a couple of assistants with him, but apparently they couldn’t make the trip this time. He knows you always took care of mine and Drew’s bikes at home, so he was sure you’d be able to help. He was asking because he needs a hand, and had hoped you’d be generous enough to do it.”
“Why does that explanation smell a bit like a just used milking barn?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Whatever,” Dave said just as the door opened on the hotel lobby, where they disembarked from the elevator and headed toward the entrance, where Mike, George, and several members of the Apollinaris team had just congregated, waiting for the arrival of their shuttle which was to take them to the start area for today’s race.
“Good morning Dave, Jenny,” said George, entirely too chipper for this early in the morning.
“Morning,” said Jen, as Dave reached out his hand to shake George’s. Just then the shuttle bus pulled up outside, and everyone went outside and piled onboard.
It was actually a fairly short ride, and within minutes they were stopped in front of the team tent. They all went inside, Jenny joining the riders as they began their warm-up stretching routines, and Dave went with Mike and began checking everyone’s bikes. As it turned out, other than adding some air pressure to a few tires, the bikes were already set up per specifications, and they were done with the starting machines within a few minutes, then set about getting the backups ready.
“So why’d you ask me to help? I mean, it’s not like there was much of anything to do this morning. Everything seemed to be in tip top shape already,” asked Dave as he applied a little oil to the chain on one of the backup bikes.
“Well Dave, I was already a little familiar with your work, having looked at Jenny’s bike in England, so I had a pretty good idea that you knew what you were doing. I really do usually have a couple of assistants with me…not that they’re in your class as a mechanic, but…since they couldn’t make this trip, and I knew you were going to be here, I thought we could take a few minutes to get to know each other better, over something we’re both good at.”
“I guess I can’t really fault that logic. It has been, of course, my pleasure to be of assistance. There’s the last one, anything else you’d like me to do?”
“Oh, no, you’ve done plenty already. The race will be starting in not too much longer. Please, go enjoy watching your young one. I’ve heard many great things about her. Jenny says she’ll soon be better than dear old mum ever thought about being. That’s saying something, I’d think.”
“Gaby is indeed a gifted rider, much like her mum. Sometimes to watch them, you’d think they were the same person, although if anything I think Gaby’s even more of an aggressive rider than Jen.”
“A bit reckless, then?”
“At times, yes. And she has the scars to show for it, along with the trophies.”
“Well, I hope I get the chance to see her today then. I’m looking forward to it. If she manages to stay with the front of the pack, I may get that chance, since I’ll be driving support with the spare bikes.”
Dave wiped his hands clean, then said, “Mike, it’s been a pleasure this morning,” and offered his hand in a gesture of respect and friendship.
“For me as well, Dave. Now go find your wife and a good spot to see the big video screen by the finish.”
Dave headed over to where Jen was watching as the last of her teammates was preparing to mount her steed and head over to the race start. “Are you about ready to go find somewhere to watch this spectacle?”
“Absolutely, but we won’t have to search too hard. George has a reserved spot right by the video screen with shade, refreshments, the works.”
“Star treatment, eh?”
“Only the best for us, luv.”
As they walked arm in arm to the Apollinaris reserved section of the stands, they couldn’t help but chuckle to each other. They took their seats just as the rolling start began to make its way toward the official start line. George, as soon as he saw they had arrived, asked, “May I get you anything to eat or drink. I know it was rather early, so you may not have had a chance for any breakfast.”
“You are correct about that. Do you have any croissants? I know better than to order tea in this country, what about coffee?”
“Coffee and croissants it is for the lady. What about you, Dave?”
“I’ll have the same, I think.”
“Very well. It will be but a moment.”
As they waited for the desired breakfasts to arrive, Dave looked at the video board just as he caught a glimpse of Gaby riding by with her teammates from the Grottoes Express. He felt his heart leap at the sight of his child, but by the time he had got Jen’s attention toward the screen the child was gone. Once the food and drink arrived, they were all occupied for a time, and Dave, for one, took advantage of the silence to allow his mind to ponder things for a moment.
I wonder if Gaby knows her hero, Lance, is in the race today? That ought to be good for a thrill or seven for the child. I hope she gets the chance to meet him, actually. Maybe that would be at the root of a little less hero worship.
I wonder what Mike was really up to this morning. There’s no way he needed help getting those bikes ready. He wanted me to help him, and that’s what I tried to do. I actually like Mike a lot, I really do, and it was fun working on the bikes this morning. But was that all just about ‘hanging out’ for the morning? I don’t think so. I don’t know the whole story yet, but I will.
Well, who is that making the sudden push through the peleton toward the front? Is that Gaby?
“Jen, is that Gaby?”
“Where?”
“Leading that attack up the middle of the peleton?”
Jen looked for a second, then came back with, “I think it just may be.”
Just then, the front of the pack peeled off from the starting group, opening up a fairly wide margin. When all was said and done, Gaby’s team was well ensconced within the group of frontrunners. “Well, that was impressive, I’d say,” piped in George, who up ‘til now had never actually seen Drew ride in a race.
“Yes, an excellent move, keeping the team in contention by starting their move before the frontrunners made their own. Well executed.”
“Most impressive.”
George jumped in again, “So how exactly did they manage to know when the push was coming, and anticipate it by starting before the rest of them?”
“That’s hard to explain really, without asking the mastermind herself. I imagine our little Gaby must have caught some sign from the way everyone was paying more attention to what the riders around them were doing, or something. She’s very good at spotting things like that,” said Dave.
Jen looked at Dave and smiled, thinking of how well he understood their child’s ways on a bike.
George broke the growing silence between them by asking, “I’ve never seen her ride before, but I am already most impressed. I imagine the two of you are used to it by now, but I feel quite honored to be allowed to watch such a prodigy display her talents.”
Jen replied, “I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but I’d never really watched Gaby race before today. Before I left for Germany, I was always preparing for my own event, or spending time with our oldest, Juliette, who’s not terribly fond of cycling. I know what Gaby’s going to do somewhat, because she rides exactly the same way I do, only she’s going to be better. She’s already far beyond where I was at that age. Dave, as coach/mechanic/lone support person probably knows both of us better than any other person on this Earth, especially the way we ride. He’s actually quite a treasure trove of cycling information, even though most of the time he doesn’t care all that much for riding himself.”
Dave jumped in, “And I daresay what you’ve seen so far is nothing compared to what she is likely to do the rest of the race.”
“Then I look forward to it.”
As the front pack of riders sorted themselves out and settled down to a comfortable pace for the next few miles, Dave once again found his thoughts wandering.
Good move, Drew. You’ve certainly developed a fan in George there. He was going to include you in this youth program of his before, but you’ve solidified your spot this morning. Your mum is suitably impressed as well. She knew that you were good, but I think this morning has crystallized for her just how like her you really are. I think she sees herself from younger days in you. Only better, as if you have the youth combined with all the accumulated knowledge she has now. Just how good are you going to become? What are you going to do next? I’m fairly sure you’ve some more ideas floating around in that head of yours.
I wonder how you feel about riding today as Gaby, and not Drew? I know that at times in the past, you’ve tried to make certain there is a definite demarcation between the two, but does that separation still exist? Or have these past few weeks blurred those lines forever? You are so obviously Gaby right now, but will Drew ever come back? I worry for you, my child.
It’s going to be so great seeing you after the race, but I’m feeling a bit guilty about not also seeing your sister. I wonder if she ever feels like she’s getting the short end of things? I hope not. It’s just that, well, you’ve always needed more of my time. That’s sort of the nature of your sport, whereas her only real athletic activity is badminton, and while we’ve always gone to her matches and such, she doesn’t travel as much to go to events, hence she doesn’t need me for chauffer service as frequently. Plus, I spend a lot of time working on bikes, but there’s really not much I can or know how to do with badminton racquets. I just wonder sometimes if she doesn’t think we’re playing favorites because you get so much more time and attention?
So, I wonder what Jen is thinking about all of this? I don’t know that she’s ever just watched racing. Is she antsy to climb on board and join them, or is she realizing just how much work it’s going to take for her to get back to competing? Maybe this trip will turn out to be a good ‘wakeup call’ of sorts for her, so she’ll maybe start to understand just how much work she has to do before racing can be done once again.
Dave’s thoughts were interrupted when Jen nudged him and asked, “Did you see that? Gaby’s team on the video screen making a move up toward the front?”
“Oh, yes. I’m guessing she’s got something up her sleeve that is going to require being in the front.”
George piped in, “Something tells me I’m going to learn something sitting here watching with you two.”
Dave replied, “I don’t know about that. We just have a pretty good idea what kinds of things she’s likely to do. However, there’ve been plenty of times I’ve been surprised, particularly toward the end of races.”
“So I take it Gaby is a bit creative?” George asked.
“As has been pointed out, she’s just like her mum…only better,” Jen beamed.
“Better? Now that’s going to take some convincing,” said George.
“Prepare to be convinced,” retorted Jen.
That’s something I haven’t seen in quite a while…Jen showing her pride in the kids. I think that’s the thing that’s most been missing this past year, what with her being so wrapped up in her own riding career. If nothing else comes of all this, that’s worth it. To hear her say something like that about Drew…even if I didn’t love her with all my heart, I’d probably have to start after that.
Wow, that was soppy. In any event, I wonder what Gaby’s got in mind next? What’s that? She’s talking to Maria and Tina.
When they saw Gaby pull up alongside Maria, George asked, “Any idea what she’s planning?”
“Not a clue, but I’d be willing to bet she has a plan,” commented Dave.
Just then Jen said, “Look! She’s pulling away from them and heading toward…no, she can’t be…”
“What?” asked George and Dave simultaneously.
They sat in relative silence as they watched Gaby pull up alongside the US Postal team. They gasped when they saw that she was speaking to Armstrong, and by the time she was getting his autograph, the entire crowd was in hysterics. Once Gaby had pulled away from Lance and his teammates, everyone was laughing, clapping, and generally having a marvelous time.
“So what was that all about?” George asked once Gaby had settled back in to the group of riders and the commotion within the crowd had diminished to less of a roar.
Dave spoke first, “I’m not entirely sure. I know Lance Armstrong is one of her heroes, but I can’t believe she took that opportunity to engage in hero worship.”
“It wasn’t that, Dave,” Jenny offered. “Notice what was going on while she was talking to him? It was the feed. I’d bet she was expecting a breakaway at the feed, and was trying to prevent it from leaving her behind.”
“You did say she is a creative rider.”
“Yes, we did. Sometimes even I don’t realize just how creative,” commented Dave.
When the breakaway did finally happen, Gaby found herself surrounded by some of the elite of the sport, and when all was said and done, she was right on Lance Armstrong’s wheel. This prompted another huge response from the assembled crowd, many of whom were asking just who that young girl was.
A reporter noticed Jenny sitting with Dave and George, watching the video board intently, and came over to ask a couple of questions. “Jenny, why aren’t you riding today?”
Taken aback by the sudden questioning, she looked at the young man holding up a small recorder for her response and said, “I’ve been rather ill of late, and still need some time to recover.”
“Then why’d you make the trip to America?”
“To watch my Gaby race.”
“Gaby?”
“My daughter,” Jen said, and pointed at the video screen. “Right there on Lance’s wheel.”
“Really? So I take she’s taking after her mother?”
“You could say that.”
“Thanks for answering my questions.”
“You’re welcome,” Jenny said as the reporter backed away, leaving them once more to enjoy the show.
I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to establish Gaby as such a public figure. It could be bad for Drew, when the truth comes out…and no doubt it will eventually. But his mum seems to really be enjoying playing with the press like that. I just hope it doesn’t backfire on her. It could damage not only her reputation, but Drew’s as well. I wish I knew a way to keep that from happening.
That was a rather inventive approach out there. I’ve heard of using distraction as a tactic, but never imagined such a directly invasive approach. It does seem to have worked, and she managed to stay with the front pack when the break did finally happen. I just hope she has the good sense to avoid the sprint when the time comes. I doubt she has enough left to keep up, and that’s a fairly dangerous place to run out of gas.
She’s had a great race, really. Who would’ve ever believed that a young teen could stay with the best professional riders in the business? Nobody, that’s who, and yet here Gaby’s done just that. I daresay few will remember who wins today, but for years to come, they’ll remember what she’s done. I’m not sure how that’s going to translate into Drew’s racing back home, but…
Maybe I was wrong about the George character? He seems a nice enough bloke. Polite, respectful…nothing like the evil monster my subconscious had made him out to be. I realize I’m probably seeing him at his best, but still, I have to admit that I’m starting to like the guy.
Jenny’s starting to look a bit tired, like maybe she needs to lie down. I hope she hasn’t overdone things in coming here. I’d hate to think that she set herself on course for a relapse just so she could come watch our child ride in a race. While this has been an enjoyable trip so far, there’s no way it could possibly be worth her getting worse over.
As the riders rounded a corner heading toward the final sprint, Gaby peeled away from the pack and went wide open on the opposite side of the road from the other riders.
“What’s she up to this time?” Dave asked.
“I’m not sure, luv. At least she’s not caught in the middle of the main sprint,” replied Jen.
George looked on with a combination of surprise and confusion on his face as they watched Gaby make her run for the front, hoping to be able to sneak by unnoticed until it was too late. When the main group of leaders saw what she was up to, they began their sprint and eventually overtook her, and she eventually crossed the finish line in roughly the same place she had begun her final effort. She collapsed as she crossed the finish line, was caught by a race official, and taken to a medical tent where she was laid on a table. As soon as Dave and Jenny realized what had happened, they ran to the medical tent. Once it was determined that they were the child’s parents, they were allowed inside to await medical attention.
Dave was the first to find his voice, once they were inside the tent. “Well, he’s done it again. I wonder if he forgot his iron tablets this morning?”
“So this is what’s been happening that prompted the doctor’s visit?” Jen asked.
“Yes. Dr. Sanwari said it was because of a chronic iron deficiency. He prescribed iron supplements, which are supposed to be taken every day. Sometimes, the child forgets.”
“What can you say? Teenagers!” Jen replied.
Just then, a paramedic came in to check on Gaby. “Are either one of you related to the girl?” he asked.
“Yes, we’re her parents,” offered Dave.
“Does she have any medical conditions that might have contributed to this?”
“Yes, she has an iron deficiency problem that has caused her to pass out on occasion. She takes tablets for it, but with so much exertion what with today’s race…” Dave’s voice trailed off as the paramedic nodded, then reached into one of his cases and pulled out an iron tablet.
“If I can get her awake enough to swallow this I’d be willing to bet it would take care of the problem,” said the paramedic as he came over beside Gaby. He rose up her head and saw her eyes flutter open just a bit, then spoke to her, “Can you swallow this for me miss? I suspect it’ll make you feel a lot better.”
She managed to regain enough consciousness to swallow the tablet, then lay her head back down to rest. The paramedic stepped away from her side and went to talk to the parents. “She’ll probably be all right in a bit. If not, we’ll need to transport her to a hospital for further examination and treatment, but I didn’t think it’d hurt to try the iron, since she has the pre-existing condition. All her vital signs are good, and as far as I can tell, there’s nothing really wrong with her, other than exhaustion.”
“Thank you for taking care of her, and keeping an eye on her to make sure she comes around,” said Jenny.
“Yes, thank you very much,” added Dave.
A few minutes later, the elder Bonds were gathered around their youngest child, as they could tell he was beginning to come around.
"Drew, Drew, wake up son," Dave said as he gently shook his son’s shoulder.
"Come on Kiddo," Jenny added.
"Mum?"
"Yes Drew, I'm here."
In the background they could hear the PA system blaring out, the commentator seemed pretty agitated.
"You okay now?"
"I told her to stay from the sprint,” Tina, out of sight was telling someone.
"Um"
"You've caused quite a stir today young man, that was quite a stunt you pulled on Lance," Jen noted. "What are we gonna do with you"
It took Drew a moment to focus enough on what was going on to say anything. "What are you doing here?" he asked Jenny.
"Tell you later, you feeling better? Seems there are a few people outside want to see you."
He managed to get his eyes properly open, which revealed that he was in some sort tent and sure enough both his Mum and Dad were there.
"Come on kiddo," Dave encouraged.
Drew had barely sat up fully when he found himself wrapped up in a hug from Jenny. Dave joined in, and the three of them held that position for a couple of minutes before the silence was broken by Jenny saying, “Well we’d best poke our heads out there and get this over with, eh?”
Drew looked first at his mum, then at his dad, and said, “Let’s go then.” Once he got down from the table he had been resting on, he and his parents crossed to the opening in the tent and began to poke their heads through.
"There she is," an excited shout went up and suddenly there was a mad scramble of bodies heading towards the Bond trio.
"Hey Jim, get security over."
The three of them looked about to see who had come to their aid and were surprised to see Lance Armstrong providing first defense against the press pack.
"Best wait inside for a few minutes ladies."
They returned to the relative safety of the tent, where they began to try to take in what had just happened. Dave found his voice first, saying, “Well, it seems you have caused quite a stir, young…lady.”
“It would appear so.”
Drew still wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about, and the confusion showed on his face. He finally asked, “So what exactly is it I’m supposed to have done?”
“Do you mean other than go toe to toe with the world’s best riders over a fifty mile course?”
“Oh…” though it was hard to tell because he was already so flushed from the combination of exertion and heat, Drew visibly blushed when the realization hit.
Maybe it was the heat, or the overwhelming nature of what had just transpired, but all three Bonds found themselves quietly relaxing, trying to compose themselves for the upcoming onslaught.
That child is something else, I tell you. Brilliant, the William Wallace of the cycling world, able to strategize circles around the greatest riders in the sport, but take him off his saddle, and part of his brain shuts down or something. No, wait, I’d best get used to thinking in terms of Gaby for the rest of today’s events. Wouldn’t want to slip up and cause a stir now, would we?
Jen is taking things in stride though. Of course, she does have a little more experience dealing with the press than Gaby or I do, so I guess that’s to be expected. Probably ought to bow to her lead for what’s to come.
Wow, I hadn’t really stopped to think about it earlier, but…Gaby, you are even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. I was worried before that you might find it difficult to go back to being Drew when this is all over with, and I can see now I was probably right to worry. If there were ever any flaws in your presentation as a girl, they are all gone now. There is no way in the world anyone would ever think this lovely young girl before me, even smelly and sweaty from today’s adventure, is a boy.
That’s part of what I’m having a problem with, really. I love you, no matter how you decide to live your life, but I am rather used to having Drew about, seeing as you alone were with us for the first thirteen years of your life. This past year, with you sharing time with Gaby has been a bit strange for me, and now? Unsettling is a good word, though it seems a bit insufficient. Scared is a bit too strong, but only a bit. I apparently don’t even know what I think about all of this. Maybe it’s difficult to distill things down to one word, because one word can’t cover it all. Unsettled, scared, confused, concerned…these are all words that describe part of what I’m feeling, but they leave out a big part. It seems rather strange to think like this, but it does make me proud, in an odd way. Confused, but proud.
Ten minutes later Lance joined them.
"Well y'all got a temp'ry reprieve but I did promise you'd be at the press conference"
"Thanks Mr. Armstrong" Dave started.
"Call me Lance, look I have to go right now, we'll talk later maybe, I think I need to talk to this young lady."
And with that and a ruffle of Gaby’s hair he was gone.
"Well young lady, seems you have friends in high places" Jen stated.
Despite her tired state her face broke out in a huge grin.
"Come on you two, George wants you both at the Apollinaris press thing." Dave broke in.
"Why?"
"Later kiddo, lets get this over with." Jen suggested.
They made it to the press conference just as George was bringing order to things so they could begin. They took three open seats on the front row, and waited through a long string of questions, many of which were about why Jenny had not ridden today. He deftly sidestepped them, and eventually, once everyone was either satisfied or at least placated, he moved on to the next item on the agenda.
"We at Apollinaris like to think in terms of the long term health of our sport, not just how many wins can we collect this year, but ten or twenty years from now. With that in mind, we have decided to establish a junior development squad, where we will select bright young competitors and help them with travel and training costs, enabling them to develop to their fullest potential. Und the first member of our junior development squad will be our own Welt Champion's wunderkind, Gaby Bond."
George waved for Jenny and Gaby to stand up, then join him on stage behind the podium. There were hundreds of flashes going off all around as George reached under the desk of the podium and pulled out a jersey and helped Jen put it on Gaby over her Grottoes Express top. Gaby looked at it for a moment and realized it was an Apollinaris jersey with her name on it. She stood there with a combination of disbelief and joy plastered on her face until Jenny led her back to their seats, and then after rejoining Dave, they all three left the press conference.
They were heading back to the Apollinaris tent when they heard a friendly voice.
"Oh thank heavens you're okay Gaby, when we heard from the Germans that you were sick we got worried." Erin exclaimed giving the child a hug.
"Um Mum, this is Erin that I told you about? Erin this is my Mum and Dad."
"Pleasure to meet with you Ms Bond, Mr. Bond, I can see where Gab gets her looks.
“Good to meet you too Erin, thanks for looking after this one. And it's Jenny” Jen replied.
“It's been a pleasure Jenny, would you like to join us to eat this evening?”
“We'd love to but I don't think George would appreciate it if his ‘star rider' missed the team presentation tonight, which reminds me, did you bring anything you can wear tonight ‘Gaby'?”
“Er…not really” she admitted.
“Well maybe another time,” Erin suggested, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“George!”
“Ah Dave, Jenny and the wunderkind”
“Erin, this is George Má¼ller, our Director,” Jen stated, “George, can we slip a few extra bodies in this evening?”
“For die freund auf Gaby?”
”žJa der radler team von Grottoes“ Mum replied.
”žHaben Sie nummern?“
“How many of you are there?“ Jenny asked a bemused Erin.
“Er ten, nine if you don't count Gab.”
“Neun George.”
“Neun! Mein Gott !“ he looked at Gaby and Erin, then Jenny. “Okay Mir ist schwindlig!”
Jen burst out laughing along with George; the rest of them just stood looking confused.
“Sorry guys. Erin, do you think your team could join us at tonight's presentation? Free food, there might even be a few faces you'll recognize?”
“You're kidding right?”
“Straight up.”
“Dave, moment bitte” George led Dave away leaving the ‘girls' alone.
As they walked, Dave asked, “What can I do for you?”
“Well, funny you should put it like that. We’ve been
most impressed with the way you’ve shepherded Gaby’s fledgling career, and were hoping you’d consider joining the Apollinaris team as Director of the Junior Development program, as well as working with Mike.”
“Do you mean as in a job?”
“Ja, as in a job. I am fairly sure I can pay you more than you currently make, and it will make it so your family can spend more time together, since you would be based out of our team headquarters in Germany.”
“So you’re saying I’d have to relocate my family?”
“Not necessarily. Because part of your job would include traveling to check up on members and potential future members of the program, you would be away from time to time. And there would be times when your presence would be needed at various race locations to assist Mike at major events like the big stage events, and the Welt Championships.”
“I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of forcing my family to move, and all that travel could prove to be a problem with the kids schooling. I must admit, it would be nice to spend a little more time with Jen than we had
the chance to do this past year.”
“Why don’t you think about it and let me know, okay? If you should have any questions, just ask. We would really like for you to join our team. Mike was particularly impressed with the way you handled yourself during setup this morning.”
“What, that? He had all the settings written down and I just followed directions. A trained monkey could’ve done it.”
“May be, but Mike seems to think the two of you could work well together. And as for the junior program, you will already be doing the job for our first member anyway.”
“That is true. So, that’s what this ‘help Mike out’ was all about? Listen, George. I really need to think about this a while. I’ll let you know, but it may take a week or two. I’d like to talk to my boss back home, and with the kids coming home from America next week, I’d really like to include them in the decision as well, since it would affect them.”
“Take your time. I’ll see you this evening at our reception, no?”
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it.”
“Gut. I see you later then.” With that, George walked off, leaving Dave standing there with lots of new things to think about, on top of everything else. Of course, he didn’t have long to think, as his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a voice calling for his attention.
“Um, Dave?”
Startled, Dave looked over to see Erin standing next to him holding a bike, “Erin, isn’t it? Can I help you?”
“Yes, it’s Erin. We were packing up the bikes, and wondered if you wanted to take Gaby’s with you?”
“I thought it was only for her use while here? We never agreed to allow her to accept such a lavish gift.”
“The thing is, the frame was custom made for her, and wouldn’t really fit anyone else. Besides, the frame was a gift to Gaby from Diane, the woman who made it, while the other bits are presents from various members of the team. It’s not like we were intending this to be some big endorsement arrangement, just that we all love Gaby, and wanted to do something for her. Please allow her to accept these gifts?”
“It all seems a bit extravagant, but all right. How about if I take it with me, and we’ll take it back with us when we go home?”
“Thank you so much, Dave. I couldn’t imagine telling everyone that Gaby wouldn’t be able to keep their presents. We’ve all learned a lot riding with her these past weeks.”
“I’m pleased to know she wasn’t being a bother to anyone, that she seems to have made so many great friends.” Dave took the bike from Erin. “I suppose we’ll be seeing you at the reception this evening?”
“Absolutely, we wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Erin bubbled, obviously excited over the prospect of hob knobbing with the sport’s elite.
“Good, then until this evening,” Dave said, then started back toward the hotel shuttle bus. Erin smiled at him one more time, then headed off toward where her teammates were packing up their things so they could return to their hotel and get cleaned up for the evening’s festivities.
Once back at the hotel, Dave pushed the bike along, taking the elevator up and then pushing it toward their suite, when just as he got to the door, he encountered Jen and Gaby coming out.
"Have you seen this thing Jen?"
"Not properly hun."
"Well young um lady" Dave chose his words carefully as someone was just getting out of the lift. "This is quite some machine, Ms Biggs invested a lot in this."
"I know and it was great to ride."
"How much Dave?" Jenny enquired.
"Guestimate? Well the Record kit would top two grand, the wheels another thou and even at trade the frame must be worth about seven or eight."
Jen whistled, "its true what they say about amateurs spending more than the pro's. Anyway, how did it go with George?"
"You already know what he wanted to talk about, you could've warned me."
"Sorry luv but that's how he wanted to do it. So?"
“I need to think about it - and talk to Frank.”
“You want to come to the press conference?”
“Give me five, I need a quick rinse.”
“Okay we'll wait for you downstairs.”
Dave pushed the bike through the door to the hotel suite, then quickly stripped off his sweaty clothes and jumped into the shower.
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I still can’t quite bring myself to fully trust George, which may be part of why I’m not sure what to do about this job offer. Frank has been great over the years, allowing me some flexible time so I could take Drew to his races and so on, but George said he’d pay me more, basically to work on bikes, take Drew to his events, and check on the progress of some other kids. But no matter what anyone says, I can’t shake the feeling that it would mean having to move to Germany, at least part time, and we can’t afford to maintain multiple residences, that’s for certain.
And what about Jules? How fair would it be to make her move? I don’t know that I can justify making the kids change to German schools, although it’s possible that away from Maddy’s influence the frequency of Gaby incidents might decrease some. I just don’t see how I can take the job, even if almost everything about it is perfect for us.
Dave quickly washed, rinsed, and got out of the shower, then dried quickly and pulled on a fresh change of clothes, making sure he was a bit more presentable for the press conference. He then picked up his room key and made his way down to the lobby, where Jenny and Gaby were waiting for him. As he exited the lift, he saw them sitting across the lobby, obviously deep in conversation, so he quickly made his way toward them, and when he reached where they were, he said, “What are you two plotting?”
“Sprekken zee Doitch?” Gaby tried out the bit of German that Kat had taught her.
“We'll see.”
Jen spoke up, “So are we ready then?”
“Yes, and just in time, I’d say. It wouldn’t do to make Mr. Armstrong wait, would it?”
Fortunately, the US Postal press conference was being
held in this same hotel, so all they had to do was make their way to the correct banquet hall. They were ushered up to the front where Lance asked them to stand to one side, but be prepared to answer a few questions, as there no doubt would be quite a few interested journalists on hand.
Once underway, it took very little time for things to shift to the subject that was apparently on every reporter’s mind today.
"So Lance what's it like to have your fans follow you in the peleton?" One wag asked.
"Well there's a first time for everything. I must admit I was a bit surprised."
"That it was a girl?"
"Hey I have female fans!" which raised something of a laugh in the auditorium. "Seriously though, I did wonder where she had come from."
"So do you know anything about her?” another journo asked.
"My spies have been out and I can tell you her name leastwise, Gaby Bond, maybe she can fill you in a bit, Gaby?"
Attention swung from America's favourite bikie to where he pointed, toward Gaby. "Gaby."
"Gaby!" A cacophony of voices vied for attention as the youngster cowered into her mum’s side.
"One at a time guys, you'll scare the girl half to death, Jerry you get first crack." LA suggested.
"Gaby, Jerry Bosnich American Cycle Sport, can you tell us a bit about yourself?"
"Er…."
"Go on kiddo," Jenny whispered.
"Um, I'm Gaby Bond and I'm in America on an exchange trip to a place called Grottoes."
"You had a great ride today Gaby, where did you learn to ride like that?"
"From my Mum mostly."
"Is she a racer Gaby?"
"Um guys," Lance interjected. “Why not ask Mrs. Bond that one?"
"Mrs. Bond?"
Jen stood up and moved forward, to the sound of a few muffled comments. "I have been known to ride a few events," Jenny grinned. There was a bit of nudging going on but the current questioner seemed oblivious.
"So what level do you race at?" he pointed his recorder earnestly at her.
"Andy!" someone tried to warn him but he blundered on.
"Well a few stage races." Lance couldn't hold his mirth any longer and burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" the hapless journo enquired of anyone.
"Andy, that's Jenny Bond in front of you." Jerry smirked.
"And?"
"Jenny Bond, Women's World Champion, Ladies Tdf winner?"
"Oh shit!" That brought guffaws all round and Andy turned a shade of red previously unknown to a human face.
“Why did you ask Lance to sign your number right there Gaby?”
“It'll be something to tell my kids,” that brought a lot of laughter, “actually it was to stop Lance escaping at the feed.”
“Well I'll be darned,” Lance allowed.
“My team, well me included aren't exactly in the same league so we needed something, an edge, to give us a chance of hanging on.”
By this time Lance was shaking his head. “You'll have to watch this one Lance!” someone shouted.
“I already am. How'd you know that we were planning that Gaby?"
“It's what I'd do, classic move, Indurain 1994 Tour,” Gaby flaunted her cycling knowledge.
“You got a contract handy Johan?” Lance joked.
Mr. Bruyneel was kind enough to wave some papers much to everyone's amusement. From there the ‘Gaby Show’ began to wind down and, once the press conference broke up, the Bonds found themselves once again face to face with one of the legends of cycling.
“So, young lady, are you going to allow me a couple of more years of being the biggest name in cycling before you dethrone me?” Lance joked as he once again tousled Gaby’s hair.
She replied, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about for a while.”
Lance then turned his attention to Jenny, “I don’t mean to be too personal or anything, but when were you diagnosed?”
“Pardon?”
“With cancer?”
“Just before the Worlds. How did you know?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been around it enough to know the signs. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. So, are you going to be able to rejoin the tour at some point?”
“That’s my plan, but it’s going to be a while yet, I’m afraid.”
“Good, I’m glad to know you’re getting better. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call, all right?”
“All right,” replied Jenny.
“Well, Mr. Armstrong, thanks for your help earlier.”
“It’s Lance, and you’re most welcome. It would appear you have your hands full with these two.”
“You could say that,” Dave said.
With a wave, Lance left the Bonds standing there as the press filed out of the hall, heading toward their next event. Dave was the first to speak, “What do you say we find our way back up to the room and relax a bit before time to get ready for George’s reception?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” said an obviously tired Jenny.
The three of them made their way back to the Bond’s suite, where they all decided to lay down for a bit, but not before Dave had the forethought to call the desk and request a call to ensure they all had ample time to get ready and make it to the festivities on time.
Well, that was an eventful day, to say the least. Gaby’s race was quite impressive, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, it may have the less than desired effect of establishing her as a serious rider on the world stage, and I say unfortunately because of course we are still talking about my son after all. How is Drew going to cope? He now has a reputation as both himself, and as the girl Gaby. He obviously can’t maintain both, can he? So which one continues on? And which one is left behind?
I guess this is really just a mild complication attached to an already severely complicated situation, really. I’m afraid that at some point either Drew or Gaby is going to have to go away, and I worry about which direction things will go. Could Drew continue without Gaby being a part of things? And conversely, could Gaby go on without splitting time with Drew? At some point, one or the other is going to have to happen, it can’t be avoided now. So which will it ultimately be?
I wonder if these last couple of days have helped Jen realize just how far she has to go in terms of her recovery before she’ll be ready to start training? I hope so, but somehow, I doubt it. She’s just so anxious, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself pushing too hard too fast. I hope she doesn’t take my caution as not wanting her to try, because that’s not it. I just want her to be realistic about how much she can do, and how long it’s going to take to improve.
I’m actually glad that Lance said something to her about the cancer. She was a little surprised that anyone would actually say anything. I mean no, to the normal
man on the street, all they see when they look at her is that she might be a bit tired. But to someone who’s spent a lot of time with cancer patients and survivors,
I imagine it would become huge.
I wish Jules had been able to come down as well. I sometimes feel so guilty for spending more time with Drew than I do her. I know that it’s easily rationalized by mentioning things like ‘he’s younger and need more attention’ or ‘I have to provide transport to and from all those races so far away, whereas most of Jules’ things are right there close to home’, but what it comes down to is, I don’t always have the time for both of them I wish I did, and it’s easier to let her suffer the result because she’s older and doesn’t need as much in terms of hauling around and such. I have got to make sure to spend more time with her when they get back. It’s only fair, really.
What am I going to tell them about this job offer? It would definitely be nice to have a little more money, but at what price? Taking the risk of both of this family’s earners’ job security being tied up in the same organization? And in a racing team at that? I don’t know if I could do that, even if I were certain I wanted to take the job. What happens if Jen can’t come back after all? Does my job also suddenly evaporate? Then where are we? With no income whatsoever, that’s where. I don’t see how I can possibly even consider such an arrangement, really. Not to mention the fact that I actually like the people I’m currently working with.
I mean, yes, if I had my druthers, I’d still prefer archeology, but that’s not terribly lucrative, outside of a university classroom, or Egyptian desert, neither one of which terribly appeal to me. The classroom would keep me out of the field, and I’d have to be away from my family and home far too much if I went gallivanting about the globe digging up goodies. So for me, the best solution is probably to stay put, and enjoy my visits to the castles of Great Britain after Drew’s races.
After allowing his mind to wander until he nearly gave himself a headache, Dave decided to go ahead and get ready early so the bathroom would be available for the others to get ready when the time came. He didn’t really feel he needed another shower, but took one anyway before shaving again and getting dressed, this time in his best suit. Once done, he returned to the main part of the hotel suite and nudged the sleeping form of his wife to let her know that the bath was free if she needed it for her preparations.
A few minutes later, Jenny reappeared, dressed in her Apollinaris ‘uniform’ skirt and blouse, with faint makeup and her hair restyled into a more formal arrangement.
“How is it you can get ready that quickly, and yet at home it always takes you forever?” Dave asked, half in jest.
“Don’t give me any of your lip, mister,” was her playful reply. They next turned their collective attention to the lounging form of Gaby, who was just beginning to stir as the phone rang.
Dave picked up the receiver, “Hello?”
“Yes, Mr. Bond, this is the front desk. You had requested a call at 5pm, sir?”
“Yes, thank you very much.”
“Anytime, sir.”
Dave hung up the phone just as Gaby rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom to begin her preparations for the evening’s party. Jenny grabbed a couple of dress options for her ‘daughter’ to try, and after discarding the team uniform because it simply didn’t look good on her, they decided on a nice dress and low heels. Jen left the bathroom to put up the discarded outfits, and by the time she returned to help Gaby with her makeup, Gab was done, and ready to go.
“I take it that’s one of the things you’ve learned during these past few weeks?”
“Yes, I couldn’t very well rely on Jules, Deb and Brit to do it for me all the time, could I? It’s quite easy, actually.”
“And you’re very good at it as well.”
“Thanks, mum,” she said, giving Jen a hug. She then presented herself to her father, asking, ”Well daddy, how do I look?”
After a brief dream flashback, Dave quickly recomposed himself and replied, “Stunning, the both of you. I’ll be the envy of the gathering.”
Jen came up next to him, poked him in the ribs, and said, “Flatterer.”
“Well, now that we’re all dressed up, do we hang out here in the room until time, or shall we go down to the lobby to wait?” Dave asked.
They all agreed it would probably be more fun to go wait in the lobby, if for no other reason, the people-watching opportunities, so they left the suite, took the lift down to the lobby, and found a comfortable place to sit, wait and watch. Their wait wasn’t nearly as long as they had first expected, as George came by and invited them in to the banquet room where final preparations were being made for the evening’s gathering.
“Jenny, as our unofficial team ‘captain’, would you be willing to host the presentations portion of the evening?” George asked as they walked into the hall.
“I suppose I can do that, but why me?”
“As I said, you are the team captain, at least unofficially, and we have a few cups and medals to formally present. Other than that, all you’ll need to do is introduce a short video of 2003 team highlights.”
“All right,” she finally answered. Once George had moved on to supervise some other detail of the evening, Jen turned to Dave and said, “During my part, will you please stay by me? I’d feel less nervous.”
“Of course,” replied Dave.
Then she turned to Gaby, “And I guess you’re going to have to act as ‘hostess’ for your American friends this evening.”
“Okay,” Gaby said a little nervously.
“Now don’t go getting all nervous on me. You have nothing to worry about. Just help them feel welcome, make introductions when you can, and be the beautiful, charming young lady that you can be. All right?”
“Okay.”
Not long after they arrived, it seems other guests started arriving early as well. By the time the meal was served, the party was already in full swing, and Gaby, and even Jenny, were much more relaxed than they were not long before. The food was good and plentiful, the conversation engaging, and by the time Jenny stood up to the podium to introduce the video, everyone was having a great time.
Once the few presentations and announcements were finished, everyone seemed to begin enjoying themselves even more than before, and from their seats at the head table Jen and Dave could see that Gaby was the ‘belle of the ball’, attracting attention from nearly ever corner of the room and seemingly enjoying every moment of it.
She was treated as an equal by all the riders in attendance, and treated as a serious up and comer by most of the press on hand as well.
At the end of the evening, the Bonds as ‘hosts’ for the evening said their goodbyes to all the guests as everyone departed, and when it came time for the Express members to leave, Gaby joined them, once Jenny promised they would meet for breakfast in the morning before the Americans began their long journey home.
Once the last of the guests were on their way, George thanked Jenny for acting as hostess, and then she and Dave returned to their suite, where they barely managed to undress before falling asleep in their bed. The next morning, they did in fact join the Grottoes Express for breakfast.
“So Erin, have you had a good weekend?” Dave asked between bites.
“Absolutely. We had ridden in the Classic for the last few years, but this is our first team win, and we owe it all to Gaby.”
“How do you figure that? I didn’t finish with the team?” Gaby asked, somewhat confused.
“Do you have any idea how much we’ve learned from riding with you these past weeks?” Diane offered.
“I haven’t done anything special,” Gaby tried to brush away the compliments.
“Nothing special? We learned more about tactics riding with you than could ever be learned from a book. And it was much more enjoyable as well,” it was Derrick’s turn to jump in.
“Well, all I can say is thank you to all of you for looking after my child while she’s been here,” said Jenny, with Dave quietly nodding his head in agreement.
“It has been our pleasure, and any time she wants to come back she’s more than welcome,” said Erin.
Outside the restaurant, Gaby walked up to Dave and Jenny and said, “It’s been so good seeing you this weekend. I’ve missed you so much. Can I just come home with you now?”
“Now there,” Dave spoke first. “You’ll be coming home next week. You wouldn’t want to miss out on your last week in America, would you?”
“We’ve missed you too, but we want you to enjoy the time you have left here before you come home, all right?” Jenny added.
Gaby wiped a few tears from her cheek, then said, “Okay. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
Dave and Jen spoke together, “Love you too.”
“We’ll see you when you get home,” Dave added.
“Give your sister a hug for me, okay?” Jenny said.
“Okay, I will. Love you,” and with that, Gaby climbed into the passenger seat of Erin’s truck, and the Grottoes Express ‘convoy’ hit the road, heading back to Virginia.
“I think that was harder than when they left England,” Jenny said to Dave as they waved to the departing vehicles.
“I know what you mean. I nearly didn’t let her go this morning,” offered Dave.
Jenny and Dave hugged each other as the caravan pulled out of sight.
As Dave and Jenny crossed the threshold and entered Castle Bond, it was easy to see they were both well past the point of exhaustion. As Dave dropped their bags just inside the door and they both plopped down on the sofa in the front room, he spoke, “Home, sweet home. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be anywhere in my entire life.”
Jen was silent for a moment before speaking, “It was an exhausting trip home, but wasn’t it fun watching Gaby race?”
“Oh yes, that part was great. It was everything else that went on that wore me out. And I still have decisions to make.”
As Dave and Jenny crossed the threshold and entered Castle Bond, it was easy to see they were both well past the point of exhaustion. As Dave dropped their bags just inside the door and they both plopped down on the sofa in the front room, he spoke, “Home, sweet home. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be anywhere in my entire life.”
Jen was silent for a moment before speaking, “It was an exhausting trip home, but wasn’t it fun watching Gaby race?”
“Oh yes, that part was great. It was everything else that went on that wore me out. And I still have decisions to make.”
“Any more thoughts on that?”
“Not really. I mean, I can see a fairly extensive list of pluses and minuses associated with George’s offer. I’ll keep thinking about it, and I’ll talk to Frank in the morning.”
“I’m not sure I have the energy to climb the stairs to go to bed,” Jenny sighed after a long moment’s silence during which she nearly fell asleep.
Dave responded, “Come on, luv. I’ll give you a hand, all right?” He helped her to her feet, then followed her closely as they went upstairs. Once changed into nightclothes, they quickly climbed into bed and turned out the lights. Jenny’s head barely made contact with her pillow before she was gently snoring. Dave was nowhere near as fortunate.
I guess I’m going to have to make some sort of decision on this, aren’t I? I don’t suppose I could do this youth program and still work for Frank? Not that I just love working in a lumber mill, but the people have been great to me, and Frank has been an awesome boss, allowing time off for Drew’s races, and things like this trip to Atlanta. I would feel incredibly guilty just up and leaving him after everything he’s done for us.
But on the other hand, how could I pass up a job that would pay me to take Drew around to races and make sure he’s training like he’s supposed to? Admittedly, there would be a lot more involved than just that, obviously, but…sounds a bit like money for nothing.
How about if we take a step back and look at each side objectively? On the plus side is being paid to assist Drew and whatever other youngsters they may decide to add to the program. I say that’s a plus, because it’s bound to be more interesting than filing invoices all day, isn’t it? On the minus side, I would have to leave Frank and all my friends at the mill. I know that may not sound like all that much, but they’ve all been great friends this past year in particular. It almost feels disloyal just thinking about leaving them.
Back to the plus side, this program is certain to be good for Drew and his racing career. He seems to thrive on tough competition, just like his mum. The tougher they are, the harder he competes, sometimes pushing himself beyond his limits. But on the minus, what about Jules? I worry that I don’t spend enough time with her as it is. How much worse is that bound to get if I’m running all over creation monitoring a bunch of children’s training? And that doesn’t even begin to take into consideration the part of the job where I would be working with Mike keeping bikes ready for competitions.
On the plus side, assuming Jen is able to eventually return to competition, this job would make it possible for us all to be together a lot more than we were this past year. But that would mean taking the kids away from the only place they’ve ever known as home and moving them to a whole new country, where they don’t even know the language. How could I do that in all good conscience? It would be particularly unfair to Juliette, who really has no reason for making such a move, beyond the family staying together. And what happens down the road, when Jen can’t compete at that level anymore? Does my job disappear along with hers? If so, then what do we do? I can’t expect Frank to hold my old job open for me to come back when this is all over with, can I? As strange as it sounds, I think I still need to talk to Frank about all of this. He’s always been a reliable source for advice, and I trust his judgment. Maybe he’ll be able to think of something I’m not that could sway the balance one way or the other.
Tired of tossing and turning, Dave decided he was thirsty, so he got up out of bed and went to the bathroom, where he took a drink of water, and silently stared at his reflection in the mirror. Finally reaching the conclusion that this wasn’t helping him get to sleep, he returned to bed, where his mind continued to refuse to slow down enough to allow sleep to visit him.
All this just sort of ignores a much more important issue…Gaby. I still, looking back on the weekend, have a hard time believing that the beautiful young girl we spent the weekend with was actually my son. The entire weekend, I never saw any sign of a boy at all. It was actually a little scary, in a way. Before, there had been a little thing here or there that, if you paid close enough attention, you could see signs of the boy underneath it all, but not now. Gaby used to be a masquerade. I don’t know anymore. Is it possible that Gaby has become the real person, and Drew is little more than an act? I’m almost afraid to discover the answers here, but once they come home, I suppose we will find out one way or another what’s really going on, won’t we?
I think the thing that made all this start to form in my mind was the look in Gaby’s eyes. There was a life there, a twinkle. The only other place I’ve ever seen that look was in Jen’s eyes. It’s a look that says they’re attacking life full speed ahead. That’s a look I don’t ever remember seeing in Drew’s eyes, except maybe when he was racing. But Gaby had that look all weekend long, just like her mum. What does that mean? I guess we’ll have to wait until the weekend when they get home to really figure these things out.
I wonder if Jules has noticed the change in her brother? From what I understand, they’ve been sharing a room while in America, and I wonder if she’s observed any changes since Gaby’s been around full time for so long? Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that one?
In spite of tossing and turning, both physically and mentally, Dave did finally manage to drift off to sleep. And for a change, he managed to avoid being awakened by strange dreams. So when he did wake up the next morning it was a surprisingly refreshed Dave Bond that prepared for his return to the mill, and the mountains of paperwork that no doubt would be waiting for him.
As he made his way through the piles of paperwork that had indeed greeted him, he found that for the first time since before they had left for Atlanta he was able to stop thinking about the job offer, and all the complications that would come along with it.
At lunchtime, Frank came by and for the first time all morning brought Dave out of his trancelike state. “So, could I interest you in joining me for lunch?” he asked once he had Dave’s attention.
“Is it that time already? I had no idea,” Dave replied.
“I gathered that from the way you were so engrossed. I almost hated to interrupt.”
“At least I’ve nearly caught back up.”
“So, are you coming or not?”
“Sure, why not?”
A few minutes later, they found themselves seated in a local pub, where they had just placed their lunch orders. Dave decided to start in before Frank had a chance to divert him with other subjects. “So, what kind of terms were you talking about for the car?”
“Well, I know roughly what the dealer was willing to allow in trade, so what if I sold it to you at that price, taking payments? Say, somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred pounds a week?”
“That sounds reasonable to me. I had been thinking I’d sell the old Passat. I could give you that towards it as well, cut down on how long it takes.”
“Shall we call that a deal then?”
“Yes, I think we will.”
Just then, their food was delivered to them, and they started eating in relative quiet…well, as quiet as you can find in a busy pub at lunchtime, at least. After a few minutes, Dave decided to break that quiet saying, “Frank, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Frank took a drink from his glass of beer, then said, “Sounds serious. What’s up?”
“Well,” Dave started, as he tried to decide how best to continue, “While we were on our trip, I had an interesting talk with the director of Jenny’s team in Germany.” He paused to take a sip from his glass, then continued, “He was telling me about their plans to start a youth development program, which they’ve already announced to the press that Drew is the first member, by the way…”
“That’s great news, but I can’t imagine that being the reason you’re having this much trouble telling me what’s going on.”
“No, you’re right about that. I was offered the position of director of said youth program.”
“Wow. What did you tell them?”
“I said I had to think about it, and I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why me? You know I can’t afford to offer you any more money at the moment.”
“No, I know that. The money is actually only a small part of it. I’ve been working for you a rather long time, and aside from just not wanting to leave you in the lurch, as it were, I’ve come to trust your advice as a friend. I don’t have a clue what I want to do, frankly,” Dave took another drink of his beer and looked at his friend for a moment.
“I know you well enough to know that you’ve spent a lot of time debating with yourself all the pros and cons of the offer. So tell me, what’s caused you to be so indecisive?”
“A lot of things, really. For one, I like working with you, and I’d hate to leave. This new job would probably mean we’d need to move to Germany, which I don’t really want to do, particularly to Juliette. I mean, there is no reason in the world why she would need to relocate. Drew is another matter, but Jules…”
“Well, I can understand where you’re coming from, I think. While this would mean your family would be together a lot more, it would mean taking the kids away from the world they’ve known their entire lives and throwing them into a society where they don’t even speak the language. About with you so far?”
“Nailed it in one. But there are other factors as well, like the fact that I don’t feel comfortable having my family’s entire financial well being wrapped up in something as precarious as pro cycling. What happens if Jen can’t make it back from her cancer? What if she can’t race anymore? Does my job then disappear along with hers? And are we then stuck living in another country, with few if any prospects?” Dave paused and took a large drink from his glass. “It’s not like I could expect you to hold my job open for me while I gallivanted about Europe fixing bikes and watching races, could I?” he asked, mostly rhetorically. “For every plus I can think of, I can also come up with a minus of equal value. I really have no idea what to do.”
Frank sat there for a moment before speaking, “First, let me say thank you for considering me enough of a friend to talk about this. Now, as your employer, I would hate to see you go, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to apply any kind of coercion in this situation, would it? As your friend, I can tell you that you were miserable from the moment she left for Germany until she came home, even with her being so sick. Since then, you’ve been worried certainly, but nowhere near as unhappy as you had been before. Telling you that may actually be bad for me as your boss, but I think you needed to hear it, just to remember what’s most important to you. So when are you supposed to give them your decision?”
“I think it will be a while yet. I’m sure they’ll want an answer by the time the season starts, but…” Dave allowed the thought to fade, as he still wasn’t sure what his answer would ultimately be. “Will you look at the time? We’d best get back, so I can finish catching up on those invoices.”
Having long since finished their meal, Frank paid the waitress the check plus gratuity and they headed back to the office. Dave settled back in to his work routine and before long had completely caught up with all the paperwork that had accumulated while he was away. It was at this point, with very little to occupy his mind, that the debate which had been raging resurfaced.
I know that Frank is probably right, and once Jenny is ready to go back to racing, maybe it would be good if I’ve taken that job so we can be closer. But I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else at work. I can’t put my finger on any one thing, but I just don’t trust George. As far as I know, he’s never done anything that would cause me not to trust him, but that’s the way I feel anyway.
This whole moving to Germany thing has me a little concerned, really. I know practically no German, and the kids are no better off than I am. How can we possibly be expected to function in a country where the only member of the family that has a clue what others are saying is busy so much of the time training? I know, it would probably do us all a bit of good to learn some basic German, even if we weren’t considering moving there, what with Jenny and now Drew’s career paths. Maybe I could talk George into letting me take the youth director job on a part time basis, while staying here until Jen is healthy and ready to compete. Of course, they may not realize just how long that’s going to be, considering the fact that she’s still deluding herself that she’ll be back to full steam by midseason. I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen. The doctors keep telling her it’s going to take time, but she keeps trying to rush things along, even though they tell her that’s the worst thing she could possibly do.
I wonder if Drew told his sister anything about the job offer? I suspect he did, but who knows what her reaction will be. Drew is very excited by the prospect, but Jules? She has nothing to get excited about in this situation.
Dave was roused from his musings by the sounds of his co-workers leaving the office for the day. He looked at his watch and, surprised so much time had passed while he was lost in thought, did a quick tidy up of his desk, then headed out the door on his way home. Once in his car, he suddenly realized just how tired he was, and decided he’d best try to maintain his full concentration on the act of driving home. When he pulled in the driveway, thankful that he’d made the journey while remaining in one piece, he turned off the engine, climbed out, and made his way to the front door. Once inside, he quickly found Jenny in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
“Wow, something smells good,” he said as he came up behind her, standing in front of the stove.
“I thought now that I’m starting to feel better, I should take up some of the workload around here again.”
“Thank you, luv. So how are you feeling?”
“I’m starting to run down a bit, but far better than a few weeks ago, let me tell you.”
“Point taken.”
“So, did you get a chance to talk to Frank today?” she asked as she removed a casserole dish from the oven, and proceeded to carry it over to the table, where their places were already set.
Dave followed her to the table and took a seat. “Yes, he’s willing to take payments, and the total price is going to be the same amount the dealer offered to allow in trade. I told him I was going to sell the Passat, and we’d apply the proceeds of that sale toward this car.”
“What about the other?” Jenny asked as she dished up some casserole onto her plate.
Dave took a moment to serve his own meal, then said, “We talked for a bit, but I’m still not much closer to a decision.”
“Want to talk about it some more?” she asked as she raised a forkful of food to her mouth.
Dave took a bite, followed by a drink of the wine Jen had poured, before responding with, “I don’t know if it will help any more, but certainly.” He then took another bite of his dinner.
Knowing exactly the way Dave’s mind works, Jenny decided to ask, “So, what are the things that are making you hold back?”
Dave set his fork down before replying, “First, I don’t like the idea of moving the kids to a country where they don’t even know the language, particularly Jules.”
“Why particularly her?”
“You and I would be there because of our jobs, and Drew would benefit from training and competing with better riders, but Jules only reason for going would be to remain with us. There aren’t really any benefits she would derive from moving at this point.”
“Except for possibly getting to spend a little more time with her parents?”
“Precisely. Second, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…”
“Why is it whenever someone says that, they’re going to say something there’s really only one way to take?”
“Ha ha ha. As I was saying, I can’t put my finger on a specific reason for this, but I don’t trust George. He’s always struck me as a bit slimy, really. No offence, I know you like the guy.”
“Honestly, I understand what you’re saying completely. He sometimes seems a little like an estate agent. But most of the time, he’s on the up and up.”
“I hear you, but that doesn’t prevent me from being afraid of moving all of us to Germany just so we can wrap up our family’s financial security entirely in pro cycling. Doesn’t sound like the safest approach, does it?”
“You’re a big worry wart, but I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. However, no one said we would have to move permanently. There’s no reason we couldn’t keep the house here, and come back during the off-season, is there? I know we just paid off the mortgage, so there’s no real reason we would have to sell. We could get a place there for during the season, and once cycling is done with me...”
“When it’s done with you is another point I’m concerned about. When you’re not racing anymore, would I be out of a job as well? And if so, then what do we do? With neither of us bringing in anything, how would we get by until we could find work?”
“Okay, we’ve established that you can come up with multiple arguments opposed to taking this job. Is there anything about it that sounds appealing to you? I assume there must be, or you wouldn’t’ be having this much trouble making up your mind.”
“Of course. First and foremost, and while I’ve known this all along it was actually Frank who verbalized it at lunch today, is the simple fact that we would be able to be closer to you. He was fairly quick to point out that I was absolutely miserable from the moment you went to Germany until you came home after Christmas. I missed you more than I can put into words.”
“Then I take it that’s a fairly big plus in your book?”
“You could say that.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
“Yes, as I said before, I know it would be good for Drew’s development as an athlete to get the benefits of improved training and competition.”
They sat there in silence for a few minutes while they finished their meal, then Dave got up to clear away the dishes.
Jenny noticed what Dave was doing, and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of cleaning up after dinner.”
“You don’t need to do that. I cooked, I’ll clean up, all right? I’ve felt helpless for long enough, and I kind of like the idea of not being that way anymore.”
Dave set the dishes he had picked up back on the table, then said, “I suppose I can understand that. Let me know if you need any assistance, all right?”
“I will,” she replied.
Dave exited the room and decided to see what might be on the telly, while Jenny set about the task of post meal cleanup. Once completed, she joined him on the sofa to peruse the evening’s offerings. Once they settled on a program, both of them found their minds wandering, and wound up paying no attention whatsoever to the program.
I must admit, I’m a bit surprised actually. Dave is one of the most trusting people I’ve ever known, and here he is telling me he doesn’t trust George. Not that I don’t understand that somewhat. After all, George is a salesman, first and foremost, and we all know what they’re like. He’ll tell anyone anything in order to get what he wants. But still, if you go into any dealings with him understanding that he’s sometimes full of it, then he’s not that bad to put up with, really. Maybe Dave will find himself backing off that stance once he gets to know him a bit better? Well, if he allows himself to get to know George better, at least.
I get the feeling Jen is confused by my stance with George. Well, so be it. I can’t help how I feel, can I? And when the overwhelming feeling I get when talking to someone is that I can’t trust them, then I’m going to be inclined to go along with that feeling, plain and simple. So I have trouble taking what he says at face value. Is that such a bad thing?
All in all, I have to admit that when it comes down to it, I’ve been looking for reasons to not take the job, and I don’t know that I should be that way. It would be more money, It would be more interesting than doing paperwork at the mill every day, and it would make it so we’re all together all the time. I can’t overemphasize that enough. Having hundreds, or even thousands of miles separating us is no way to live. There’s no way in the world any excuse I can come up with for not taking the job can outweigh that point. Wow, I guess I just made up my mind…
It didn’t take the elder Bonds long to come to the conclusion that bed would probably be a better place than sitting on the sofa being bored by reruns of television programs that weren’t that good to begin with, so they together decided to turn off the telly and head upstairs for bed. Once there, Jenny turned to Dave and asked, “Anything else you’d like to discuss concerning the job?”
“Actually, yes. I’ve almost made up my mind to take it, but I don’t feel right making a decision that so completely impacts the kids without asking them what they think first.”
Jenny smiled and said, “You’re such a good mother.” Then she started giggling, and before too long Dave had added his own laughter to hers. They eventually turned out the lights and quickly found themselves enjoying the best night’s sleep either of them had experienced in a long time.
Life around Casa Bond tries to return to normal...but just what does THAT mean???
As Dave climbed out of bed, he decided that in celebration of the kids’ return home from America, one of his famous fry-ups was in order. So once dressed, he headed downstairs to the kitchen and set about preparing a cholesterol feast of monumental proportions. As he did so, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander through the hill and dale that were his thoughts.
Oh, but I have missed those kids! Jules looks great, happy, and calm. I hope that continues for a while, because that could make life a lot easier around here. Then again, I have this fear I’m not likely to get my wish, what with needing to talk to the kids about possibly taking that new job and all. I just know she’s going to be absolutely devastated. Even little things seem like the end of the world when you’re her age, and this really is a big deal. There’s no telling how she’s going to react. I’d best try to talk to her about it soon, so she can have a little time to digest things before we have the big family meeting to discuss it. Of course, for all I know, Drew may have already told her about the offer. But I need to talk to her about it anyway. That would only be fair.
This is one time I’m not so worried about Drew. I’m sure he’d miss Maddy and the rest of the gang, but he’d be getting the opportunity to train and compete with the world’s best. That would no doubt ease any misgivings on his part about moving. Of course, just exactly who would be making the move is another question. I know the child answered to Drew last night when I picked them up, but that doesn’t exactly look like my son Drew. That is Gaby, through and through. I suppose it’s possible that given a couple of days, Drew may make it back, but at this point I’m not really counting on that. Gaby’s been the dominant one for so long at this point, that Drew’s little more than a put on act. I sort of expected as much after the weekend in Atlanta, but I was still holding out hope that my boy might decide to come back from America.
As the rest of the Bond clan drifted downstairs from their slumbers, Dave put the finishing touches on breakfast. It might not have been perfect, but it was abundant, and it was good. As they finished up their morning feast, it was Dave who first broached a return to the real world, saying, “Well I'm afraid I have to go into work.”
“Do you mind if I have the car Dave?” Jen asked.
“Demoted to the camper already?” Dave rolled his eyes. “'Course not, just don't go tiring yourself out Hun.”
“No doctor” Jenny grinned.
“Well I'll see you all later, and you two don't let your mother do too much okay.”
“Yes Dad.”
“No Dad.”
The kids’ opposing replies meant the same thing.
“So what are you two up to today?” Jen enquired.
“I'm going over to see Charlie and Anna,” Jules enthused. “We haven't talked in like forever.”
“Drew?”
“Dunno, I might go for a ride later I suppose.”
“Well before either of you get too distracted you can unpack and get your washing in the machine.”
“Muu-uum,” Jules groaned.
“If you think you are leaving six weeks of washing to fester in your case young lady you have another think coming.”
“We did do washing while we were in Grottoes.”
“You must still have dirty stuff. You can go out after you've unpacked.”
“Yes Mum.” we both allowed.
After witnessing this exchange, Dave kissed Jenny on the cheek and headed out the front door on his way to work. En route, his thoughts once again took over primary possession of his conscious mind.
Funny the things you miss. It had been six weeks since I’d heard the kids grumble like that over chores and such, and while I knew there was something missing, I couldn’t quite put my finger on just what it was until this morning. That’s what it was, the bickering. It just doesn’t seem like home without it. It sure is good to have them home.
I’ll talk to Jules as soon as I get home today. It’s really only fair to give her a heads up as to what is going on. I’m actually hoping she won’t react as badly as I fear she will, because the bottom line is this is a great opportunity for us to be together a lot more as a family than we were this past year. I’m fairly certain that hers will be the only opposition when family meeting time comes, but maybe I’m wrong and she’ll think it a great learning experience?
Dave parked the camper and made his way into his office, where like so many days before this, he tried his best to keep his mind on his work and his nose to the grindstone. Of course, that was easier said than done.
I’ve a couple of uncomfortable discussion coming up. I’m really not looking forward to this chat I need to have with Juliette, but it can’t be put off. George is anxious for my decision, and if I want to include the kids input, she’s going to have to be told, and soon. I have a fair idea what her reaction is going to be though, and it’s not going to be pretty. Can’t say that I blame her, really. She’s the one member of the family who won’t benefit from the move, and she’s far enough along in her schooling that she’s not going to want to change. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to let her preferences override the positive impact for everyone else. Maybe I’d best stop thinking about it before I give myself a headache.
Frank wants to know what’s going on as well, and I don’t like putting him off any more than I do Jules. However, I don’t want to burn that bridge until it’s definite. Not that there’s much of a decision to make at this point really. If Jen returns to the team, and there’s a chance for me to go as well so we don’t have to be separated, then I pretty much have to go, don’t I? That’s what all that was about the other day when Frank and I talked.
Just as Dave was thinking about Frank, in he walked, making his way directly to Dave’s desk. Dave looked up at him and said, “Well, speak of the devil.”
“Hello, Dave. How are you today? You look a bit distracted.”
“You could say that. The kids being back home is great, but brings with it some added complications.”
“How so?”
“Well, Jen and I had decided that we wanted to include them in the decision about the possible move, and while I’m not worried about Drew’s reaction…I think he’s already looking forward to it actually…I’m afraid Juliette’s response is going to be less than positive. And I need to fill her in as soon as possible, as in today, so she can have a little time to think things through properly.”
“Moving a teenaged daughter away from the only world she’s ever known. Doesn’t sound like a recipe for a peaceful home life to me.”
“Nor me. But it’s got to be done, and there’s no time like the present. So as soon as I get home, the deed must be done. Then maybe I can stop keeping everyone hanging, waiting to find out what I’m doing.”
“Don’t think I’m trying to rush you or anything.”
“No, I wasn’t thinking anything like that. You wouldn’t, I know. You’ve been too good an employer, not to mention friend, to do that. But rest assured, the decision is coming. Oh, did you get the check I left on your desk?”
“Yes. You didn’t have to pay it off so quickly, I wasn’t worried about the money or anything.”
“I know, but I don’t like being in the position of owing people. So when we got so much more for the Passat than I expected, I wanted to settle things with you.”
“Fair enough, but that eliminates the one thing I had over your head in my effort to keep you here,” Frank said jokingly.
“Much as I hate to say it, you were the one who really made me think that job was something I might want to consider.”
“And I will kick myself for years for that one.”
“Well, right now I’d say it’s an 80 percent possibility that I’ll be taking the Apollinaris job, but I want to wait to make it official until after the kids have some time to digest things and we can talk about it. Sorry to keep holding you up in mid air like that.”
“I understand. Just let me know what you’re doing, all right?” and with that, Frank left Dave’s office and made his way back to his own, leaving Dave alone once again with his work and thoughts.
I think he was more surprised by my getting the car paid off faster than expected than the idea of me taking that job. I really am going to miss Frank, assuming we do move. He’s been a good boss, and an even better friend.
Now back to the issue in question…Jules. I’m thinking that getting straight to the point may be the approach most likely to garner an explosive response, but it’s also better than beating about the bush and risking not telling her at all. This is going to be fun…NOT!
A little later, his assigned tasks completed, Dave decided to head out a few minutes early, as he still needed to have that conversation with Juliette concerning Germany and the possible new job with Apollinaris. Once home, he walked in the door and was greeted by the sight of his eldest child plopped on the sofa, telephone in ear, just as if she hadn’t been gone at all these past six weeks. Speaking up to get her attention, he said, “Jules, I need you to get off the phone for a bit. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Taking the receiver away from her face, she replied, “In a minute, okay?”
“Don’t take too long. This is important,” he replied as he made his way to the kitchen to put some water on for tea. Then returning to the front room he found Jules just breaking the phone connection and putting down the handset. “Water will be ready for tea in a minute.” Dave took a seat across the room in his favorite chair.
“So, what’s this all about?” she asked, her voice dripping with teen angst.
“We as a family are going to have to make a decision soon, and I wanted to give you some information about the nature of said decision.”
“Why do I not like the sound of that?”
“Just wait until I’ve told you what’s going on, then take your time and think things through. This is a major decision concerning the entire family, and your mum and I don’t feel right making the decision without at least knowing your and Drew’s opinions.”
“Now I really don’t like it.”
”When your mum and I were in Atlanta, George, the Apollinaris team director, offered me a job.”
“As in…”
“As in director of their new youth development program, as well as serving as a bike mechanic for the team.”
“Now, let me guess,” Jules’ anger started becoming obvious as she spoke. “This isn’t something you can do from Warsop, is it?”
“No, if I were to take it, we would have to move to Germany.”
“How could you even consider such a thing? You want me to leave all my friends and…and… and…” she screamed at Dave, tears flowing down her cheeks. She then got up off the sofa, and stormed out of the room. Her stomping up the stairs could possibly have been audible in Nottingham, and the sound of her door slamming caused what felt like an earthquake that might have been felt as far away as London.
Dave continued to sit there for a moment, saying to himself, “That went well…” just as the teakettle started whistling, indicating that the water was ready. He got up, went back to the kitchen, and turned off the stove, making himself a cup of tea, which he then left sitting on the counter as he went upstairs for round two.
He knocked on her door and said, “Juliette? Please, let’s continue this discussion.” He was demonstrating far more restraint than he had expected he’d be able to as he then knocked again and said, “Jules? Come along sweetheart.”
After a moment, Jules opened the door. She stared at her father for a moment before wiping the tears from her cheeks and saying, “How could you?”
“Jules, I know that moving away from all your friends is awful. But, if I take this job, we won’t have to be separated from your mum all the time like we were last year.”
“Oh, now there’s compensation for being dragged halfway across Europe against your will.”
Dave started losing his cool and raised his voice to match Jules’, “Juliette Bond, wait one moment. Not another word until I’ve had a chance to finish telling you about this.”
Resignedly, Jules said, “All right. What else is there?”
Having regained some of his composure, a now much closer to normal sounding Dave said, “There are so many positives with this job, it’s going to be nearly impossible to turn down. It pays more while being much more interesting work, and we can live with your mum all the time. It will allow Drew to train with your mum and the team, so it’ll be huge for his development. And as far as you are concerned, there’s an outstanding English school in Bonn for children of diplomats and so on where you can finish your schooling. I know you would miss your friends, but you could think of it like another extended learning trip, like your stay in America.”
“Except there won’t be anyone there I know.”
“That is true. But please, don’t just set your mind against this without giving it some real thought, all right?” and with that Dave walked away from his daughter’s bedroom door as she closed it, this time in a much more subdued fashion. He made his way back downstairs, returning to the kitchen and his by now cold cup of tea.
Well, at least there were no surprises there. Pretty much the reaction I was expecting. I just hope she can calm down and look at things from the standpoint of what’s good for the family. Ha! She’s a teenager, the most self-centered creature on the planet. If she can’t see an advantage to moving, she’ll be 100% opposed, I’m sure of it. Unfortunately for her, the pluses for the rest of the family far outweigh that, so I’m thinking we’re going to be moving. I just hope she’ll eventually come around and see it as a good thing for all of us.
Glancing at his watch, Dave realized how late it was getting and said to himself, “Would you look at the time? Jen and Drew should be home soon. I’d best get something started for dinner.” After examining the available options, he prepared some chicken breasts and put them under the broiler to cook, then started some pasta cooking.
About the time the meal was ready, the car pulled in the driveway and in stumbled two very tired looking Bonds. “There you are! Get washed up, dinner will be ready in a moment,” Dave told them.
Jenny looked at him and said, “You are a lifesaver, luv.” Then she turned to Drew and said, “Go wash up and get your sister for dinner.”
Drew made his way upstairs to do as requested as Jen joined Dave in the kitchen to aid in finalizing the meal. She looked in the broiler and said, “Ooh, that looks good.”
“I hope it tastes as good as it looks. I’m still not the most confident around where my cooking is concerned.”
“Oh, you do far better than you realize most of the time.”
Just then, the kids came clomping down the stairs into the dining room, where Drew set the table while Jules slumped down in a chair and pouted. Jen took one look at her and said to Dave, “I take it you told her?”
Dave looked at his elder child and replied, “Whatever gave you that idea?”
That evening, the Bond family ate dinner in relative silence, as the gloom that radiated from Juliette seemed to drown whatever positive energy might have been in the room before her arrival. The moment she was finished picking at her food, she said, “May I be excused?” and without waiting for a response stormed back up to her room.
Dave looked first at Drew, then at Jenny, and said, “I suppose that could have gone a bit worse.”
Jenny looked at him as if he had two heads and said, “And how might that be?”
As they sat there looking at each other, Drew took the initiative and started clearing away the dinner dishes, taking them into the kitchen and washing up. In his absence, Jenny said, “If she doesn’t come round, what are we going to do?”
Dave thought for a moment before replying, “Well, since Drew, you, and I are all pretty much in agreement that this is something we need to do, I suppose we’ll have to just put up with her being extra grumpy, won’t we?”
“I hope that’s all it comes to, luv.”
“Me too.” After this brief exchange, Jen went into the front room to relax a bit while Dave went to help Drew with cleanup duty. Once there, he said, “Hey kiddo.”
“Hey Dad,” Drew responded as Dave picked up a towel and began drying dishes so they could be put away.
“I guess your sister isn’t too happy about the prospect of moving, is she?”
“I think she’s probably just blowing off steam. She’ll come round soon enough.”
“I hope you’re right, son. I hope you’re right.” Dave then looked directly at his youngest child and asked, “And what’s your take on things?”
Drew thought for a moment before responding, “I’m not thrilled by the prospect of leaving all my friends behind, but I can see how this is a great opportunity for all of us. You’re an ace spanner, and the travel should be really cool. Plus we get to be with mum all the time.”
“And what about for you?”
“Do you think I’ll get the chance to train with the team?”
“That is one thing I’m fairly certain of, son. George is wanting to keep a close eye on your development, so I can almost guarantee you’ll be getting a lot of extra help with training.”
Once they had finished putting away the pots and pans, Drew headed up to his bedroom, while Dave joined Jen in the front room. “Hey there.”
Nearly asleep sitting there, she looked up somewhat startled and said, “Hey yourself. Kitchen sorted?”
“Yes, I had some first class help in there.”
“Any ideas on the Jules situation?”
“Well, I’m with Drew. I’m hoping she’s just blowing up from raw emotion, and after she has a chance to think things over, she’ll come round.”
“A bit naíve, don’t you think?”
“Well, maybe, but I don’t care for the alternative. I think we should sit down and discuss the whole issue as a family tomorrow. See if we can’t iron a few things out.”
“Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, however, I think I’m going to go on up to bed. That trip to see Caroline has left me absolutely knackered.”
“I was afraid it might,” Dave responded as he got up, then helped her up and followed her up the stairs to the bedroom. Once Jen was settled in bed, Dave decided to take one more try at talking with Juliette, so he went to her room and knocked. When she opened the door, the tears were once again in evidence as he spoke, “Can we try to discuss this in a civil manner?”
She stepped aside allowing her father to come into her room as she replied, “I suppose.” He took a seat on the bench in front of her vanity, while she sat on the corner of the bed. They stared at each other for a moment before she broke the silence, “So what is it you wanted to discuss?”
“I think you have a fair idea about the subject matter.”
“How could you do this to me?”
“I swear to you, we are not trying to do anything ‘to you’, as you put it. We’re trying to make a decision about something that could be a great positive for the entire family.”
“I don’t see how making me move to another country can be a positive thing.”
“Think of it like this. Didn’t you miss your mum, with her being away so much last year?”
“What if I did?”
“If I take this job and we move to Germany, we won’t have to be separated like that. We’ll get to do a lot of traveling about the Continent, and the most important part is we’d all be together,” Dave paused to take a deep breath. “Wouldn’t that be preferable to spending another year apart?”
“I suppose you could see it that way, but I still don’t want to move.”
“Juliette, sweetheart, you’re always on about how we should treat you like an adult. Well, right now I’m asking you to be an adult about this decision. In a perfect world, there’d be no need to even have this discussion. But we don’t live in a perfect world, so we have to make tough decisions, and sometimes as adults we have to make those decisions based not on what we personally want, but rather what is best for the ones we love. Please think about that, all right?” Dave then got up and left the room, leaving his daughter to think about what he’d just said.
He returned to his and Jen’s bedroom to find she was already asleep, so he quietly got ready for bed and climbed in beside her. Unfortunately, unlike his wife, he didn’t find sleep quite so easily.
Well, at least there weren’t any surprises this evening, were there? Juliette is having a major problem with the idea of moving, and honestly, if I were in her shoes I probably would as well. But we need to do what’s best for the whole family, which in this case I’m pretty certain is taking the job and moving to Germany. Sorry, Jules, I wish there were another way, but there just isn’t. I promise to try and make it up to you somehow. I’m not sure how at this point, but…
Drew is really starting to concern me. I was afraid something like this was going to happen. All that time as Gaby has finally made what appears to be a permanent impression on the child. No matter how much Drew asserts himself, he still looks like Gaby, plain and simple. There is no middle ground at this point. I mean yes, he answers to Drew, but tights under jeans? There’s not much denying that, is there? Even most girls don’t do that…only the really feminine ones, as I recall.
That child hasn’t been able to present a seriously masculine image in…I don’t know if he’s ever been able to, frankly. I don’t know, maybe everyone else has been right all along. Maybe life would be easier on the child if Gaby became permanent. She’s certainly the more natural persona at this point. Even at the best of times, Drew seems hollow, like an act, almost. And that ignores the simple fact that nobody ever seems to see a ‘him’ at first glance, no matter how the child is dressed. Of course, the fact that all his jeans are girls’ might have something to do with that, but that can’t begin to explain it all away. They literally fit the child better, so what are you going to do, eh?
Sleep did finally visit Dave Bond, but the dreams that night were not kind.
Dave walked in the house, to be immediately bombarded by Gaby bounding toward him and wrapping him in a hug the likes of which have rarely been experienced. “Good evening, Daddy!” she exclaimed as she kissed him on his cheek.
“Why the friendly greeting?” he asked as he extricated himself from his youngest child’s vise like grip.
“Oh, Daddy, can I have some money for a new dress? Josh just called and asked me to the dance with him, and I have nothing to wear!”
Dave stared at the child for a moment before speaking, “Whatever happened to ‘I’m never going to wear girl’s clothes again’?”
“Don’t be silly! Why would I say something like that?” she asked, a confused look crossing her face.
Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting some cash, which he handed to Gaby, “Here, this is all we can spare at the moment, so it looks as if you’re on a tight budget, young lady.”
“Okay Daddy, thanks.”
She started to head out the front door as Dave decided he had one more question, “What about Maddy?”
“She can find her own date! I’ll not be doing everything for her,” Gaby replied, kissing him again before heading out the door to go shopping for a dress.
Dave stood there touching the cheek Gaby had just kissed, seemingly in shock. Finally, he said to no one in particular, “Didn’t that used to be my son?”
Dave’s eyes flew open as he started to comprehend the dream that had just awakened him. He looked over at Jen’s still sleeping form, then stared at the ceiling before finally managing a return to his sleeping state.
“Tell us, Mr. Bond, have you any children?”
“Yes, two. I would think you…”
She cut him off, “…There is no need to elaborate at this time. What are their names?”
“Juliette Bond, what are you playing at?” he managed to ask without completely blowing his top.
“Yes, I am one of your children. Who is the other?”
Dave stood silently for a minute before Jules spoke again.
“Is there a problem?”
Dave continued to look at Jules silently, unable to answer her question.
“Do you not know your own child’s name?”
He still could not answer.
“Do you know this child?”
“Yes, quite well.”
“And yet, you cannot tell the court the child’s name? How can this be?”
“No! Wait! This is all just a mistake!” he shouts as he is taken through the door.
“So, did Dr. Johnson offer any thoughts on why our son is sprouting breasts?” Dave quietly asked his wife as they climbed into bed. He was making an effort to keep Jen’s mum, and the rest of the house, from hearing this topic of discussion, as he hoped to avoid embarrassing Drew.
“She just said we should know more next week when we go back. She did mention calling with test results, hopefully Tuesday, so maybe we’ll start finding things out then,” Jen whispered as she lay down and pulled the duvet up to help keep warm.
Doing the same, Dave joked, “So, did your mum always keep the house this cold? Or is this something special she does because she doesn’t like me?”
“Oh, it’s something special just for you, definitely,” she joked in reply. Then more seriously, she said, “I’m just as anxious to find out what exactly is going on as you are. But I’m afraid at the moment we’re going to have to continue to be patient. It takes time to run and analyze all these tests, and to figure out what is to be done about the results. There’s no rushing things where my child is concerned.”
“Of course, you’re right about that. It’s just that, before their trip, whatever changes were going on were so gradual that I hadn’t really noticed them, but it’s as if during those six weeks in America, Drew had completely disappeared, leaving Gaby in his place. Oh, he still answers to the name Drew, but I don’t think anyone would ever even consider the possibility that the person answering to that name is male in any way, shape, or form.”
Jen looked at him for a moment, then said in as soothing a voice as possible, “Accept what we’ve been given, and don’t concern yourself with the things we can’t control.”
“That’s very philosophical of you.”
“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of time to think lately.”
“Well, I suppose for lack of another alternative…” Dave started.
“…We wait for the test results, and go from there,” Jen finished.
“I suppose so.”
Jenny leaned over and gave Dave a kiss goodnight, then rolled over to face the other direction as she prepared to go to sleep. “Good night,” she said once she was settled in position.
“Good night,” echoed Dave, though he seemed less than convinced that it would be good in any way.
Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser, don’t they? I don’t suppose this bit with the breasts will just resolve itself in the near future, will it? More likely, things will just continue to get murkier, rather than clearing up. It’s bound to be difficult for the child to continue going to school as Drew if he’s sporting a fully developed bosom. I don’t know if that thought would bother him or not, at this point. Before that trip, I suspect he’d have been mortified by the prospect, but now? I don’t get that same sense anymore. Drew and Gaby were always separate entities, with some personality traits in common, but others that were unique to each. Now, the two are starting to join together, and so far Drew is coming out on the short end. Of course, other than when on a bike, Drew was always a bit shy and awkward. Compare that to Gaby’s vivaciousness and exuberance, and it’s easy to see which traits someone would prefer to have, isn’t it? It’s probably good that the two personalities are starting to join together, but will there be any Drew left over when all is said and done?
And what part is Jenny playing in all this? She’s always encouraged these Gaby-sodes, sometimes even setting up situations where there was no other choice for the child. I wonder why that is? I don’t understand it at all. She says she’s just allowing Drew to do what he wants, exploring his gender and sexuality, and so on, but Jen has taken far too active a role in all this for it to be nothing more than allowing her child to grow. I’m not trying to sound suspicious of Jen’s motives, but you do have to wonder about all of this, don’t you?
Okay, maybe I’m allowing my paranoia to run away with my brain. I just hate being stuck in this limbo where I can’t really do anything to help my child. And no matter how things eventually work out, I need to make sure there’s never any question concerning whether I’m here to help. If Drew is the one who needs my help, great, but if it’s Gaby? That’s great as well. Whatever makes my child happy. But how long is it going to take for him to figure out what does and does not make him happy?
Speaking of happy, or the lack thereof, I’m surprised Jules is still carrying her full load of vitriol over the impending move. I expected her to blow her top, then once the initial steam was gone, she’d start to see all the pluses for the family in this move, but she’s still not exactly open minded on that topic. And what on Earth possessed her to do that to her hair? Or apply all that makeup? It simply doesn’t look becoming at all, but at the moment, I don’t know that such comments would be accepted in the spirit in which they are intended. I’m sure she’ll resort to something like, “It’s all the rage” or something, but I have to say to me it looks like a bad imitation of the old punk look from when we were kids. I didn’t get it then, and I definitely don’t get it now, but I suppose we need to pick our fights with her, and that’s not one we need to get to deeply entrenched into, is it? No, best save it for the move to Germany. If she thinks she’s won the argument over the ‘Goth’ look, maybe she’ll be more amenable when the time comes to actually move. At least, that’s my theory. The more I think about things, the more I’m starting to believe we might have overreacted with Jules. She is just trying to find her style, after all. Can’t say that I like it, but then…
Eventually, Dave did manage to join his wife in the land of nod.
Dave was sitting in the front room in his favorite chair, when in burst Gaby through the front door, shouting, “No time! Have to hurry!” She ran up the stairs, followed by a cacophony, which could only be the sounds of a teenage girl changing clothes. A few minutes later, she reappeared in the front room in a wedding dress.
Dave nearly choked on his own tongue before he managed to ask, “Um, Gaby? Why are you wearing a wedding dress?”
Gaby giggled, and responded, “Well, Duh! Why does any girl wear a wedding dress? I’m getting married.”
“Aren’t you a bit young for that?”
“Daddy!” There was a honk outside. “When are you changing? You’re not giving me away in that, are you?”
Dave awoke from his dream, got up and went to the bathroom, where he stood looking at his reflection in the mirror while he tried to figure out what this latest dream was about.
All right, so why have I started having dreams about Gaby? I know I’ve been having strange dreams for some time now, but these are in a different class altogether. Gaby getting married? Wow, I’m not certain I’ll ever figure that one out.
I could stand here trying to make sense out of this, or I can go back to bed and try to get some sleep. I know what I ought to do…
Dave did in fact return to bed, and after a little tossing and turning, did manage to go back to sleep.
Dave found himself in a courtroom, and more specifically in the witness box. He looked around trying to figure out what was going on, when Jules approached the box.
“State your name for the record,” she said with an air of authority she had never possessed in real life.
After looking at her for a moment, Dave stammered, “D-David Bond.” He looked at her again, and it seemed she was enjoying his discomfort.
“Tell us, Mr. Bond, have you any children?”
“Yes, two. I would think you…”
She cut him off, “…There is no need to elaborate at this time. What are their names?”
“Juliette Bond, what are you playing at?” he managed to ask without completely blowing his top.
“Yes, I am one of your children. Who is the other?”
Dave stood silently for a minute before Jules spoke again.
“Is there a problem?”
Dave continued to look at Jules silently, unable to answer her question.
“Do you not know your own child’s name?”
He still could not answer.
“Do you know this child?”
“Yes, quite well.”
“And yet, you cannot tell the court the child’s name? How can this be?”
Dave continued to stare at her in uncomfortable silence.
“Is this child a boy or a girl?”
Again, Dave stands silent, unable to answer the question.
Finally, Jules addresses the court, “Your honor, I request that this witness be held over for contempt, for refusing to answer a question under direct examination!”
Dave shouts, “It’s not like that!”
There is the sound of a gavel, followed by the judge, who it just so happens is Jenny, saying, “Take this man into custody until such time as he is able to answer the questions.” She strikes the gavel once again as the court bailiff takes Dave by the arm and begins pulling him toward the door.
“No! Wait! This is all just a mistake!” he shouts as he is taken through the door.
Once again Dave found his sleep interrupted by strange dreams, but this time as he looked around the room and realized where they were, he also noticed the first signs of dawn peeking through the bedroom window. Once certain that his chances of returning to sleep were slim and none, he decided to get up and start the day, so he headed downstairs into the kitchen, where he found Josie up and starting water for tea. “You read my mind,” he said as he took a seat at the table and waited for the water to boil.
“S’not difficult,” she joked as she poured the now boiling water into cups and began the process of mashing the tea.
“Yes, I know, it’s a very short book,” Dave replied, then once his tea was ready he took his first sip. After a moment or two, during which they both took several sips of their tea, Dave asked, “Mum, do you have any ideas how we can get Jules to not fight us so much on this move?”
“Dave, I think the first thing you need to do is sit down with her and have a good long chat about things. I know she frequently feels a bit left out, what with Drew needing so much time and attention that ultimately takes time with you or her mum away from her. In short, she’s jealous of Drew and all the time he gets to spend with you. I don’t think she’ll be willing to admit that openly without administering a truth serum, but it’s the truth nonetheless.”
“Yes, as usual you’re probably right. Every time we try to talk to her about things, she blows up, and at that point it’s not the simplest thing in the world to carry on a serious discussion with her.”
“I hear what you’re saying son, but you need to try, hard, and the sooner the better.”
“Yes, mum,” Dave said, then took a sip of his tea. Just then, Jenny wandered into the kitchen.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said to her husband and mum.
“That it is,” replied her mum.
Jenny went to the cupboard, removed a teacup, and started preparing her morning tea. Once sat at the table with her cup, she said, “I was thinking Drew and I could go for a little ride this morning. Maybe I could show him some of my old training routes from when I was young.”
Josie spoke first, “That sounds like a grand idea.” She then looked pointedly at Dave as if to say ‘here’s your chance to talk with your daughter’. Dave was not oblivious to the nonverbal communication being directed toward him, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just took another sip of tea.
Soon thereafter, the kids made their appearances in the kitchen, and as everyone settled in with their tea and toast, Jen decided to be the first to break the morning silence. “So Drew, fancy a training ride this morning?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Soon as you finish up here, run up and get ready. Then we can get underway.” Following this statement, Jenny left the kitchen to get ready for the ride herself, followed quickly by Drew.
Josie then said, “You know, I’ve just remembered something I need to tend to,” then exited the kitchen leaving Dave and Jules alone.
As Jules began to rise from the table, Dave said, “Wait a moment. We need to have a chat.”
She returned to her seat, folded her arms across her chest, and scowled at her father before finally saying, “What about?”
“Well, Germany for one thing. I understand why you don’t want to move, I really do.”
“Then why are you making me?”
“Well, the main reason for doing this is so we can all be together instead of being strewn across Europe like we were last year.”
“But why couldn’t I stay in Warsop and finish school?” she asked in an almost whining voice.
“You mean by yourself?” Dave said in a rather surprised tone. “I’m not trying to upset you, but you’ve not really demonstrated that you’re responsible enough to do something like that, even if you were old enough.”
“Gee thanks, Dad,” Miss Sarcasm had indeed made an appearance this morning.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, but you must admit your track record in the past year or so doesn’t really inspire much confidence in your ability to take care of yourself.”
“But…” Jules started, raising her voice.
“Please,” Dave interjected. “Let’s not have this break down quite so quickly. As I said, we’re trying to keep us all together, so we don’t have to live apart like last year. You can’t tell me you didn’t miss your mother at all.”
Indignant that she was being forced to make such an admission, Jules said, “No, I can’t tell you that, all right? Of course I missed her.”
“Well then, wouldn’t it be better if we were all living together so we don’t have to miss her so?” Dave asked, pausing momentarily before adding, “Even if we do have to do so in Germany?”
Jules sat silent for a moment, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t be a complete admission that her father was indeed correct before saying, “But what about all my friends? What about school?”
Aware that her resolve was wavering, but not wanting to add fuel to her fire so she would have reason to continue this argument, Dave quietly responded, “We’ll all be leaving friends behind we’re going to miss, but that’s a part of life.” He then continued in what he hopes would seem a calm voice, “The sooner you learn how to deal with things like this, the better off in life you’ll be.” Then after a short pause, he continued, “I truly am sorry if that sounds cold, but it is true.”
“So now you’re going to try to tell me that dragging me off to live in Germany is going to be good for me?” Jules retorted, thinking she had found a hole in Dave’s thinking.
Sensing where he felt his daughter was trying to go with this line, Dave responded, “I suppose if you want to put things like that, then maybe the answer is yes, but we haven’t thought in those terms. The important thing is that the family will be together. There will be new challenges in schooling and life in general.” Forging ahead toward the chink in Jules argument, he added, “It’ll be a bit like getting to start life over again, with a clean slate. Whether or not you choose to believe this, we’re not doing this to be mean or hurt you in any way.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“Unfortunate, but I suppose I could say I understand that. But think about this a moment, will you?” Hoping this would be the way to bring an end to the subject, he continued, “Last year, how many times were you sad, or angry, or hurt by the fact your mum wasn’t at home with us? Wouldn’t it be better for us all to be together all the time?”
Not quite willing to concede defeat, Jules countered, “But why does she have to go back to racing? Why couldn’t she just stay home like she used to?”
Pausing to at least make it seem he was thinking of his response, Dave responded, “So, you would ask your mother to give up her greatest pleasure in life just so you don’t have to make new friends?”
Sounding exasperated, Jules replied, “It’s not like that.”
Trying not to sound condescending, Dave said, “It sounds like that.”
“Well, it’s not. But how am I supposed to go to school in Germany?” Thinking she had finally grasped an unbeatable argument, she continued, “I’m working on my GCSE’s this year. What am I supposed to do about that?”
Aware that she was running out of steam, and hoping not to add fuel to her fire, Dave said, “I think we may have mentioned to you about the school in Bonn for British and American diplomat’s kids and such. The layout is slightly different, but you would at least be able to finish school in an English speaking environment.” Then after a brief pause, he continued, “From what I understand, your brother thought it would be fun to go to the German school with Kat Pinger. He seems rather in favor of the whole arrangement.”
Sounding somewhat defeated, she said, “So, I’m supposed to just roll over and do what you all want me to do, even though I don’t want to do it at all, because all of you want me to? How is that fair to me?”
“I am sorry if it doesn’t seem fair. It seems that life often isn’t what you’d call fair. At least we’d all still be together.”
“Why do you want to do this so much?”
“Well, for one thing, we don’t have to be apart from your mum. I don’t’ know whether you noticed or not, but I for one was rather miserable the entire time she was away, and since she came home I’ve actually had moments where I have been happy, for the first time in a long time.” After pausing for a moment to take a sip of his long cold tea, he made a disgusted face and continued, “For another, this job I’m taking is a new challenge, with more responsibility, more interesting tasks, and more money. Need I continue further?”
“I still don’t like it, and I still don’t want to move.”
“And we appreciate the fact that you are opposed to the move. We would also appreciate it if you’d start reacting to it in a more adult manner,” Dave said, sensing that he had gone too far as the words came out of his mouth.
Jules, indignation rising once again, said, “So what are you saying? I have no right to be upset about being forced to move to another country against my will?”
In as placating a tone as possible, Dave replied, “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Being upset is a perfectly reasonable reaction to what’s been thrust upon you. How you express yourself concerning all of this is what I’m talking about.”
“So, I should just be quiet and do what I’m told?” Jules said, her intensity rising with each word.
Sounding defensive, Dave replied, “No, that’s not it either.”
Her anger once again in evidence, Jules said, “Then what is it you expect me to do?”
Dave thought about this for a moment before replying, “If you feel we aren’t aware of how you feel about something, tell us, but do so calmly and maturely. And since in spite of your position, I’m afraid the move is going to happen regardless, and I am going to expect you to be an adult and just make the best of the situation that’s being placed before you. Who knows, if you go into this thinking that it will be a positive experience, then just maybe, it will be.”
Muttering to herself, but loud enough for Dave to hear, Jules said, “On top of everything else, I’m going to have to let Anna and Charlie down, and we had worked so hard trying to put that band together. Just as we had got back together after the Virginia trip.”
Trying to restore some calm to the proceedings, Dave said, “I realize your life is being turned upside down. Let’s just try to get by as best we can, shall we?”
Tentatively, Jules replied, “I don’t know.”
Taking a moment, then realizing something Jules had said a moment before, Dave asked, “Now, what’s this about a band?”
“We decided to start last Autumn. We’re called ‘The Liquorice Toffees, and I’m the singer.”
“Who else is in it?”
“Like I said, there’s Anna and Charlie. We’re still trying to settle on the rest of the lineup. I guess that won’t matter now, will it?”
Sounding genuinely interested, Dave asked, “So, does this band have anything to do with the recent alterations in your appearance?”
Realizing that the argument portion of this conversation had been brought to a close, Jules smiled and said, “I suppose you could say they’re related, but it’s not like I dyed my hair because of the band.”
“Fair enough. So, do you really like it like that?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Yeah, I think it looks really cool.”
“I’m sure if you want to, you’ll be able to find some people to start a band with in Germany. They do, after all, have musical instruments there as well,” Dave said in an attempt to inject some humor into the morning.
“It wouldn’t be the same. These are my best friends!” as she said it, she nearly started crying.
Trying to calm her, Dave softly said, “You really will make new friends. And there’s no reason you can’t continue to be friends with Charlie and Anna.” When she looked up as if to say ‘How?’ he continued, “There is this invention I think you’re familiar with, called a telephone, something I seem remember hearing about called letters, and what was that other thing? Oh yes, email.” Smiling in an attempt to bring her back from her depths of despair, Dave looked into her eyes and reached over to place his hand on his daughter’s.
“You know, it’s really not fair that I can’t ever win an argument,” she said, nearly breaking out with a smile as the words came out. “Don’t think for a moment this means I’ve changed my position. And you can bet I’ll continue to express my displeasure with the whole situation, because the truth is, I don’t want to move.”
Thinking that the argument was indeed over for the moment, Dave decided to breach another subject he’d wanted to discuss with his daughter. “There are some things I wanted to ask you concerning your trip.”
Understanding that they had now moved on from the confrontation, Jules said, “Would you like some fresh tea?” then got up, taking both cups with her. As she began making both their drinks, she said, “What were you wondering about?”
Unsure how to proceed, Dave finally said, “Well, this is partly about you, but also about Gaby.”
Jules returned with the tea, and sat back down in her chair to continue the conversation, “What were you wanting to know?”
Dave took a sip, savoring the fresh hot beverage, then said, “I know you two shared sleeping quarters on the trip, and while I know this wasn’t the first time, I was wondering how the two of you got on in such close proximity for such an extended period?”
Setting her cup back down on the table, she looked at her father and replied, “Well, frankly from my perspective, Drew was only really there for about a day. Once we got there, Deb and Brit informed us that their ‘rents were under the impression that Drew was a girl, and they told the olds her nickname was Gaby. I guess most of the pictures the girls brought back from their trip here showed Drew in skirts, so they assumed…”
“Yes, that part I had gathered. What I was wondering about was how the two of you got on, and how Drew seemed to be?”
“I don’t think we’ve ever got along better in our lives, I’m afraid to say. The girls took Gaby shopping, donating their rather substantial clothing allowance by the way, so Drew had enough girls’ clothes to get by for the duration of the trip. Not surprising, really, considering the fact that he had only packed enough clothes for about three days, not counting Gaby stuff, which apparently Maddy had slipped into his case when he wasn’t looking.”
“I did notice that a lot more girls’ clothes came back from America than left England. I suppose that explains why. You say the two of you got on better than usual. In what way?”
Jules drained the last remnants of tea from her cup, setting it down before looking at her father and saying, “Drew was nowhere to be seen for the whole six weeks. It was Gaby 24/7, and it was actually kind of cool having a sister to share stuff with. Although, it was kind of annoying when I’d think about the fact that my little brother was the hottest girl on the trip.” Jules actually giggled after saying this last bit.
Dave couldn’t help himself, and began to chuckle also. Once he had himself back under control somewhat, he asked, “Were there ever any times you felt uncomfortable about the situation?”
“Only the time I had to borrow a bra because all mine were in the wash, and once I had it on I noticed that Gaby has nicer lingerie than I do.”
“I suppose I can understand how that would be a bit disconcerting. Anything else?”
“Oddly enough, not really. There was that moment just before the Valentine’s dance when I saw Gab getting ready and couldn’t help but notice how much of a total vixen she had become over the course of the trip. It’s no wonder every boy in Virginia was drooling over her, really. It was kind of sickening if I let myself think about it too much.”
Dave took a moment to let his saucer shaped eyes return to something more closely resembling normal, then decided to ask the question that’s really been itching at the back of his head, “This may sound a bit odd, but do you think Drew’s back?”
“What do you mean? I haven’t really been paying much attention to the squirt the last few days. I’ve been a bit preoccupied you might say.”
“I noticed some of what you were saying when we saw Gaby in Atlanta, and it seems to me that while the name being responded to most of the time is Drew, the person wandering around the house is definitely more Gaby. I was just wondering if you had seen anything similar?”
“Honestly, I haven’t been paying that much attention. I figured he was getting plenty of that from you and mum.”
“I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling left out a bit.”
“A bit?”
“Sorry about that. I’ll try not to let myself get quite so preoccupied from now on.”
Jules looked at her father and said, “I appreciate that. But I still don’t want to move.”
“We really ought to start getting around. Your mum and brother should be back from their ride soon, and I’d like to get started as soon as they’re ready.” Deciding he had tempted fate enough for one day, Dave got up to leave the room, then turned and said, “I’d like to continue the discussion about our move another time, but not right now.”
“All right,” Jules replied. “Listen, thanks.”
“For?”
“For talking with me about this stuff like an adult. I still don’t like the idea at all, but I can at least understand why. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“Fair enough.” Dave then left the kitchen, leaving Juliette alone in the kitchen. He headed upstairs to get ready for the upcoming family excursion, and as he climbed into the shower, he began going back over the just completed discussion with his daughter.
Well, that was enlightening, at least. I was afraid Jules had been feeling left out, but hadn’t considered that it was that bad. Maybe our conversation this morning will help smooth things over some for the changes coming up. I get the distinct impression that Juliette prefers having a little sister to a brother. I wonder if she’s going to get her way?
‘The Liquorice Toffees’ eh? Well, I had hoped she’d eventually find something that really interested her, the way Drew is with bikes. Is music going to be her ‘obsession’ of choice? I wonder if she’d be willing to let me hear them? I might have to look into that, it could be fun. I used to really enjoy going out and listening to bands now and again.
I hope the ground I picked up in the battle of wills doesn’t disappear as quickly as it was won. I’m afraid we’ve still got a huge battle ahead of us with that girl over this move to Germany. By the end of our chat, she was at least less hostile than before, but I’m guessing we’ll see that hostility back again full force before too long. I’d love it if I were proven wrong on that, but…
As Dave turned off the water and got out of the shower, he could just barely make out the sounds of his wife and son coming in the house following their ride. He wrapped a towel around his waist and was on his way back to the bedroom when he heard Jenny telling Drew, “Shower and change, Drew. Your Dad wants to get off sharpish.”
As he started digging his clothes out of his bag, Dave heard Drew reply to his mum, “Okay,” then the sounds of him climbing the stairs on his way to the shower. As he got dressed he could hear not only the sound of Drew taking his shower, but also of Jules making her final preparations for the day, and Jenny climbing the stairs on her way to take her turn getting ready.
She came into the bedroom to lay out her things for the day, and said to Dave, “Hello, luv. How was your morning?”
Dave looked up at her after he finished tying his shoes and said, “Jules and I had a long chat about things. We didn’t really get anything resolved, but if we’re lucky, maybe she’ll at least be a bit more civil in her protests for a bit.”
“Even that much would be a welcome improvement,” Jen said as she headed for the shower.
To himself, Dave said, “That it would, luv. That it would.”
Dave makes his first work trip to Germany for Apollinaris...
As Dave made his way down the aisle to his seat, one of the flight attendants was making her way up the same aisle from the opposite direction. They just happened to meet as Dave found his seat and was opening the overhead compartment to stow his carry on.
“Excuse me?” came the voice.
Dave, once he had realized that he was being addressed, said, “Yes?”
The man held out his hand as if to shake with Dave and said, “I’m Robert Springston, and…”
“…Dave Bond,” he replied as he shook the man’s hand.
“Bond? That name sounds familiar…any relation to that racer, Jenny Bond?”
“That’s my wife. She races for Apollinaris.”
“So why isn’t she making the trip with you?”
“A couple of reasons. First, she’s been ill and is working on regaining her form, but also she’s staying with the kids.”
“Didn’t I hear something about one of your kids…Gaby was the name, wasn’t it? Was racing in America and…” There was a ding, and the ‘Fasten Seat Belts’ sign lit up.
At the sound, Dave looked up and realized that the plane that had been almost empty when he last noticed was now about half full, and moments away from takeoff. He reached down and fastened his restraint, then looked over at the gentleman he had been conversing with just as the man was fastening his own.
“…Oh yes, where was I? That’s right, Gaby I think was her name, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, she has a bit of a flair for the dramatic.”
“I’ll say, autograph hunting in the middle of a race? That took some guts.”
“Well, that’s not something she’s ever in short supply of.”
“Beautiful girl, from what I saw in the papers.”
“Yes she is. Very much the mirror image of her mother.”
As the plane taxied toward takeoff, both gentlemen diverted their attention from their conversation to listen to the pilot welcoming everyone on board over the public address system. Once he was done, and they had managed to become airborne, Dave and his new acquaintance seemed to have lost interest in their chat, and both chose instead to simply close their eyes and sleep, or at least think quietly.
I suppose I’m actually doing this, huh? It should prove to be interesting, at least. Funny thing is, even though I’ve been talking with George quite a lot about things, and I have to admit that he’s not nearly as slimy as I had first thought, I’m still not certain about what my job is going to entail. I mean, I know the broad strokes answer, but so far haven’t really got a feel for the nuts and bolts of what I’m going to be doing. Well, I don’t suppose I’ll be in the dark much longer, eh?
So is everyone who flies for business as chatty as that fellow over there? I hope not. I was beginning to think he’d never shut up. Okay, I know that’s a bit of a rude thing to think, but seriously, he was quite the chatterbox. Seems to know quite a lot about my family, too.
I didn’t realize Gaby’s exploits had been so widely reported. This could actually be difficult for Drew, what with Gaby developing a bit of a following of her own. What happens if suddenly she disappears? I mean, if the latest from the doctor is any indication, there doesn’t seem to be a physical reason Gaby has to stay around, but that doesn’t really address the psychological reasons, does it? And as much as I think Drew would like to think otherwise, Gaby is a much more vibrant personality. Almost like when he’s trying to be Drew, there’s a large part of him that is hidden, and that makes him seem a bit reserved. Conversely, Gaby seems to enjoy things in a big way, all the time.
Strangely enough, I don’t know that Drew would be missed by the cycling world, were he to go away. He may be a national champion, but the truth is he isn’t nearly as well known as Gaby is, oddly enough. Somehow I’m afraid that if it turns out one of them has to disappear, he could be the one to go instead of Gaby, and those of us who would miss him are far fewer than for her. I’m afraid a choice is going to have to be made soon that could lead to one or the other of them going away. I just hope that no one allows the public persona to be an influencing factor. I can’t imagine how awful it would be if Gaby were the one chosen just because of the public factor. That’s a decision that’s going to have to be made solely on the basis of what my child wants and needs. No other factors should be allowed into the discussion.
Jules was less difficult this morning, at least. Maybe our chat did some good, eh? I realize this is all terribly difficult for her. I don’t mean to make light of that in the least. But we just couldn’t function as a family with her acting the way she had been, making everyone around her absolutely miserable. I hope we’ve seen the last of ‘Hurricane Juliette’, but will remain on alert for anything that might blow up.
Dave’s mind continued to drift as his flight made it’s way toward Bonn, and what Jenny had described as ‘a fresh start’ for their family. At some point, he must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, the passengers were being instructed to fasten their seatbelts in preparation for landing. Once he had complied with instructions, Dave looked toward the gentleman he had been chatting with when they first boarded and said, “Good luck.”
Robert looked back at him and smiled as he said, “You too. I hope you enjoy the new job.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will.” After a few minutes of more or less silence around them, the passengers felt the unmistakable bump of wheels touching runway, indicating that they were once again on terra firma. Inside the building, there was the thankfully brief and uneventful encounter with German customs, after which the smiling face of his new co-worker, Mike, greeted Dave.
“Welcome to Germany, Dave,” he said as he vigorously shook Dave’s hand.
“It’s good to be here. How have you been?” Dave asked as they began walking toward short term parking, where they would retrieve their transportation.
“Busy, but good,” Mike replied. “George wanted you to report to his office for a meeting straight away, so once you’re done with that, we can get you to work on some repairs this afternoon.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Dave said. “So, how have the girls been doing?”
“Oh, fine, fine. They’re looking forward to experiencing some of that ‘Dave Bond bike setup magic’, as they put it. They were very impressed with how you prepared the bikes in Atlanta, and I’m afraid they may never want me touching them again,” Mike said, chuckling as the last part was spoken.
“But I didn’t do anything special,” Dave started to protest.
“Don’t tell the girls that. They seem to think you have some sort of magic touch when it comes to bicycles.”
“Well, I don’t suppose I would want to dissuade them of such thoughts, would I?” Dave grinned.
When they arrived at the car park, Mike led them straight to the Mercedes that Jen had been issued last year. Upon seeing it, Dave said, “That looks familiar.”
“Yes, George was trying to be frugal, and figured since Jenny wouldn’t be returning to the team just yet, he could assign you her car and put off having to buy another company vehicle for the time being.”
Mike tossed the keys to Dave, and then they proceeded to get in the car, Dave behind the wheel. “Well, it will be difficult, but I suppose I’ll just have to make do with it then, won’t I?”
With Mike giving directions, as Dave wasn’t familiar enough with the area yet to know exactly where he was going, Dave drove them to Apollinaris HQ, where they arrived just as the team was coming in from a training ride. The first to notice the newest arrival was Tina, who shouted as soon as she saw them get out of the car, “Dave! Good to see you!”
Dave headed toward where the ladies were putting up their bikes and said, “You too. How do you ride in this weather? It’s too cold for me.”
Maria was the next to speak, “This is nothing compared to how cold it can be sometimes. Then we get to work on the track, but today it was nice enough for a ride outdoors. Would’ve been better if I weren’t having so much trouble with my shifters. Maybe you could take a look at them?” she said directly to Dave.
‘I guess what Mike said was right,’ Dave thought to himself. Then he spoke, “I’m sure we’ll be able to get it sorted,” and bent down to take a quick look at the bike. It only took a second to spot the problem. “Mike, take a look at this. Here’s the problem. These gear teeth are bent.”
Mike took a peek, then said to Maria, “I guess you found some black ice. How’s your side?”
She looked at him for a moment, then said, “A little sore. How did you know?”
“The only way you could have done that is if you dumped in the middle of the road and just happened to his a rock or something when you went down. See here where it bent the gear teeth?” His next statement was directed at Dave, “So, do you want to take care of this after you finish with George, or shall I?”
“Are you going to bend it back into place, or replace the gear?”
“Straightening the gear would be simpler, but the way she rides, it would never be the same. Probably replace.”
“Then I’d best leave it to you. I’d take hours getting that thing apart and reassembled, and I have no idea how long this meeting is going to take.”
“Fair enough. I suppose you should be heading that way then,” Mike said, then looking toward the offices, said, “There he is now. I’ll see you after,” and with that Mike returned his attention to Maria’s bicycle.
Dave waved goodbye to the team and went with George into his office. As they entered, George asked, “How was your flight?”
As they each took seats, Dave in the chair in front of the desk and George behind, Dave responded, “Oh, it was fine, thanks. Mike said I was going to be using Jen’s car until she is able to return?”
“Well, yes, since it was already here and she won’t be using it for a while yet, it seemed logical. I see you’ve already started working out there,” George joked.
“I didn’t do much. I was just the first to take a look at the problem.”
“You do know that one of the reasons we wanted you is because of your skill in bike setup?”
“I never thought I did anything special.”
“On the contrary, Jenny spent weeks trying to get Mike to duplicate your setup when she joined us last season. It wasn’t until he was able to take a look at her bike back home that he understood what she was wanting, and could duplicate it. He was most impressed, particularly with the results you got with the equipment on hand.”
“Well, thanks, but seriously, I just set it up the way she wanted it. The only thing that could be considered ‘special’ about it is that we took time discussing how things felt when she was riding, and made adjustments accordingly.”
“Be that as it may, the rest of the team is anxious for you to do the same with their bikes.”
“I’ll do what I can, but it takes time to get things settled. It’s a very hit and miss, organic procedure.”
“And that’s part of why you’re here. Now, as for the other part…”
“Yes, the development program? How is this going to work? Am I to scout new members, our will someone else be doing that? And what exactly is entailed in running the program?”
“We haven’t really got anything set in stone, as of yet. You may well be doing some scouting, when your duties with the team allow, but we’ll also have some others doing that as well. Basically, once we’ve identified a talent, it’ll be your job to get them signed up, make sure they have what they need to compete, and work with our training staff to set up programs for each individual rider. Then you’ll be checking back with each member periodically to assess their progress, and when necessary, recommend adjustments.”
“Sounds like a lot of work. How many members are we looking at?”
“At the moment, the only one signed is Gaby, of course, but the plan is to eventually have about a dozen riders you’ll be overseeing.”
“And I imagine when new members come in, they’ll come here for a few days where they’ll get a chance to work with the trainers, and Mike and I will do thorough setup and any necessary repairs to their bikes?”
“Correct. Now, I bet you’d like to get settled in at the apartment and such. We thought you’d be comfortable in Jen’s apartment for the time being.”
“Yes, I thought I’d check back in with Mike to see if he needs me, then go get unpacked. I want to start looking for a house as soon as I can though, so we can get the whole family moved.”
Getting up from behind his desk, George came around and offered Dave his hand as Dave also rose from his seat. “Welcome aboard,” he said, as he led him back to the garage, where Mike was finishing up replacing the bent gear on Maria’s bike. Most of the ladies were still there, having just finished getting cleaned up following their training ride, and they converged on their new mechanic.
“Ladies,” George spoke to draw their attention, “Mr. Bond will be working with each of you in turn dialing in your setups to make the bikes work better for you.” Turning to Dave, he then said, “I assume you would find it easier to do one at a time, rather than trying to change everyone’s setups at once?”
“That would probably be best, yes. Maria, since I know yours has been in pieces, what say we start with it tomorrow morning? I’ll need to talk with you about how you want things to work, then we’ll make some adjustments and talk again after training tomorrow, all right?”
“I’ll see you in the morning then,” Maria replied.
Dave turned to Mike and said, “Do you need me to do anything before I go get unpacked?”
“No, I think I have pretty much everything under control for now. What’s on your agenda this afternoon?”
“House hunting, I’m afraid.”
“Ew, have fun with that. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Dave turned away and walked toward the car, waved goodbye to everyone as he got in, and drove to the apartment building he would be calling home for the short term. He carried his bag to the apartment, went in and soon found himself dropping the bag on the floor, and himself on the sofa. Before he had a chance to think what he needed to do, he was nearly asleep.
So he rubbed his eyes, said, ”I have far too much to do to be falling asleep. Best get busy.” He got back up off the sofa, picked up his case, and took it to the bedroom where he emptied its contents into the drawers and closet.
Once all his clothes were put away, he headed out into town, where he hoped to find an estate agent who spoke English to help him in his search for the new family abode.
The first agent’s office he entered proved to be of assistance, as there were several people on staff who spoke English fluently enough to be of assistance.
After conferring with the receptionist, he waited a few moments and was greeted by a gentleman in a very nice suit. “Hello, my name is Wilhelm Jaeger. May I be of some assistance?”
Dave was impressed by the gentleman’s command of English, and also noted that for the first time he could remember, the first word that jumped into his head when dealing with an estate agent was not ‘slimy’.
He followed Mr. Jaeger to his office, and en route told him, “Well, I’ve just started a new job here, and my wife and children will be moving here as well, as soon as I can find a house for us.”
Taking their seats around the gentleman’s desk, he asked Dave, “Would you care for some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Wilhelm reached over to an intercom transceiver on his desk, keyed it, and said, “Could you please bring two coffees in?” Turning back to Dave, he said, “It should only be a moment. Now, how may I help you?”
“As I said, I’m looking for a house for my family, who will be moving here as soon as we can find something acceptable.”
Just then, the receptionist came into the office with two coffee mugs on a tray. “Sir, would you care for any milk or sugar?” she asked Dave as she set his mug in front of him.
“No thank you, I’ll take it black.” Dave then turned his attention back to Mr. Jaeger, “I’m frankly not familiar with the German house market, but I hope we’ll be able to locate something we can afford.”
“I’m sure there won’t be a problem in that regard. So tell me, what size property were you looking for?”
“Well, at least three bedrooms, multiple baths if possible, a small garden would be nice…and a garage is a necessity.”
“Why the garage? I mean, is there some reason other than wanting to protect your car, which by the way is very nice, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Oh, that? It’s a company car, actually. No, the garage is for use as a workshop and storage area for bicycles.”
“All right, I think that gives me a fair idea what kind of property we’re looking for. Let’s start with a search of our database, and see what we come up with, shall we?”
Dave took a sip of his coffee, and said, “Absolutely.”
Mr. Jaeger scrolled through screen after screen of listings, occasionally turning the monitor so Dave could see a particular listing. After about an hour of repeatedly doing this, they had assembled a list of properties to take a look at, once appointments could be set up to visit them.
“I have your contact information, so I’ll be in touch as soon as I can set up some viewings,” Wilhelm said as he offered his hand to Dave.
As Dave took his offered hand and shook it, he said, “That sound good. Hopefully, we’ll get lucky. I don’t look forward to being away from my family for long periods of time.”
Wilhelm escorted Dave out of the office and watched him go out the door. Dave climbed in the car and drove straight back to the apartment, thinking about some of the houses he had looked at pictures of this afternoon.
I don’t know that any of those will wind up being the one, but at least we’ve made a start of the search. After last year, being apart like that, I won’t let us live separated like that again. We need to get everyone back together as soon as possible.
I must admit that I did like the look of a couple of those houses, and I’m anxious to get a peek at the real thing, but things may get complicated in that we’re used to a certain standard of housing, and I don’t know if we’re going to be able to afford the kind of place we’re used to.
We may wind up needing to sell the place in Warsop to recover the equity in order to afford a nice place in Germany, but I know that would make everyone sad, even me. I’ve got a lot of time and sweat tied up in that house, and I don’t really want to part with it. Ah, well, we’ll just have to see what I can come up with, won’t we?
I still haven’t figured out what exactly it is I’m supposed to be doing in setting up bikes that everyone seems to find so impressive. All I’ve ever done is try to get it as close to how the individual rider wants it as I can. It can take weeks to get things dialed in, but once you have a fair idea what they want, it’s easy to set up another one for them.
Do mechs usually not take the time to talk to the riders to find out how they ride, what kind of feel they want, that sort of thing? Maybe that’s it. Oh, well, we’ll start in on Maria’s bike tomorrow morning. I’d best get there early so I can get it up on the stand, then as soon as we have a chance to talk, I can start making adjustments.
Dave pulled the Mercedes into the carport that was provided for tenants’ vehicles and went straight upstairs to the apartment, which he would be calling home until he finds the house for his family.
Once inside, he headed first to the kitchen, to see if he could find anything to eat. The search of the refrigerator yielded absolutely nothing, except a moldy old apple in the crisper drawer. And when the only thing he found in the cabinets were some granola bars and tea, he knew that tonight was not going to be a night for dining in. He remembered seeing an inn just down the block, and started walking in that direction in search of a meal, and a little relaxation.
After a heaping plate of sausages and hot German potato salad, not to mention a pint of beer, Dave returned to his rented abode and prepared for bed. He crawled under the covers, and dialed the telephone, calling home. As it rang, he turned out the light and sat there enveloped in a relaxing darkness as Jenny answered the phone, “Hello?”
“Hello, luv. How’re things at the old homestead?”
“Well stranger, about the same as they were when you left this morning,” she said playfully.
“You sound like you’re feeling all right.”
“Other than missing you? Yes, I’m fine.”
“It will only be for a few days, then I’ll get to come back home for a few.”
“I know, but now I think I’m starting to understand how you felt all last year. I’m sorry.”
“You, my dear, have nothing to apologize for. It’s just the requirements of the job.”
“Speaking of which, how’s it going?”
“Somehow, your teammates have got the impression that I’m some sort of magician when it comes to setting up race bikes. You wouldn’t happen to know where that idea came from, would you?”
“I’m sure I have no idea, kind sir.”
“Whatever. Listen, I went to see an estate agent this afternoon, and he’s supposed to be lining up appointments for me to look at some houses over the next few days, so I might have a better idea where we’re going to be living soon.”
“That sounds fantastic. I’d best get back to it here. I’m sure you’re absolutely exhausted after the trip, and everything else you’ve had going on today.”
“That I am. In fact, I’m already in bed, and the moment this conversation ends, I’m going to sleep.”
“Well, then I’ll not keep you any longer, luv. Good night, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too. G’night.” Dave disconnected the call, replacing the receiver in its cradle, then laid down and was quickly asleep.
The next few days flew by, as Dave found himself working on bikes all morning, then following a daily meeting with George, he would spend the afternoon with Wilhelm, looking at houses.
Unfortunately, while work was going well, the house hunt was not. He had toured more than ten houses over the next few days, and frankly none of them were right. They were all either too small, or not in very good condition. Each night, he would talk on the phone with Jenny, discussing the properties he had looked at, coming to the conclusion that they might not be able to move the family as quickly as they had initially planned.
It was then that they devised the idea of Jenny staying in Warsop with the kids through the end of the term while Dave continued to look at houses, with him returning home every ten days or so.
“Jen, how are you, luv?”
“Better, now that I hear your voice.”
“Same here, luv. How’s teaching going?”
“A bit strange, but good. I actually have Drew in one of my classes, and that is difficult, trying not to pay him any special attention or show any favoritism.”
“Understood, but you’ve taught Jules before, so at least it’s not completely uncharted territory.”
“That’s true. How are the girls doing?”
“Oh, fine. I almost feel like I’m stealing money, I’m doing so little.”
“I imagine that’s an exaggeration.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Of course, once the racing season kicks in, I’m sure I’ll be feeling a lot busier, particularly when I have to go scout kids for the development squad.”
“Oh, you’ll be busy, but I’m guessing you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
“I hope you’re right. You haven’t said anything to the kids about the change of plans have you?”
“No, I was waiting for you to come home so we could tell them together. I daresay, it may make Jules’ week, if not her month.”
“How’s Drew doing? Any more problems that need to be addressed with Dr. Johnston?”
“Other than the fact that he still seems to have some swelling in his breast tissue, not that I know of. At least the sensitivity is better. I’m beginning to worry that the swelling might not go away.”
“Well, you can ask the doctor about that next visit. Surely this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”
“No, she said it is rare, but not unique. I almost forgot to ask, how’re you holding up all alone there?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said everything was fine. I miss all of you horribly. I think if I had my way, I’d never be away from any of you ever again, but that’s not likely to happen, is it?”
“No luv, you’re right about that. All we can do is get through this until we can be together again.”
“Thanks Jen. I’d love to sit here talking to you all night, but I have to get up early to start in on Tina’s setup, so I’d best get off now, so we both can get some rest. I love you.”
“Love you too. We’ll see you in a few days.”
“G’bye.”
“Bye, luv.”
Dave hung up the phone, and tried to go to sleep, as he had a busy day ahead of him. Of course, as is so often the case, the harder he tried going to sleep, the more his mind raced, keeping him awake.
She’s right, of course. Just a few more days, then I get to go home for a few. I can hardly wait. I know I’m enjoying the work with the team, but I miss my family so much. Is this how Jen felt last year? I don’t know, but it’s certainly a miserable way to live. I know I’ve only been away a few days, but I have this horrible fear that they both will have grown six inches while I was gone.
Everyone with the team has been so good. The girls have all been great, practically begging me to ‘do my magic’ on their bikes. I’ve tried to tell them that there’s no magic involved, but…
Mike has been great to work with so far. He’s been curious as to just exactly what I was doing that made everyone rave about them so much afterward, but even after thinking it over, I still couldn’t tell you what it is I’m doing.
I mean, it’s just a twist here, a tweak there, and see how it feels. Once you’ve twisted and tweaked and screwed enough, you get everything just exactly the way you want it. That’s all there is to it. No magic formula. Pity there isn’t though…I might be able to pick up an extra euro or two selling it around the tour. Now, THAT’S funny!
It sounds like Jules has been a bit less difficult this week. She’s still doing her “punk princess” thing, or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but at least she hasn’t been blowing up regularly like when we first talked to them about the move. I imagine she’ll be thrilled to find out they get to stay in Warsop until the summer.
Of course, that means I’m stuck being away from them all…it’s like Jen and I switched places, and I can tell you I don’t like it. But, at least I get to go home every couple of weeks for a few days, which is better than the deal Jen was working under last year. We’ll make it, I know that much for certain.
So Drew’s swelling isn’t going away? I wonder if that’s significant? I mean, he’s a very healthy, trim boy, so having protrusions from his breast area no doubt adds to the overall impression that he’s a teen girl, what with the slender waist, wide hips, and powerful and what some no doubt would call shapely legs. When will they go away? Or will they at all? What happens if they continue growing? Does Drew have to start wearing a bra all the time?
Somehow I can’t imagine that doing anything other than making it easier for people to put together two and two and get that Gaby and Drew really are one in the same. I hope it doesn’t’ come to that point, because if people figure out that Gaby is an alternate identity for Drew, he’ll never be able to live it down. That would be disastrous for the boy. He’d never be able to live it down, I’m sure. It could even destroy his cycling career before it even gets going.
No, anything we can do to keep the two personas separate until Drew decides what’s what is what we have to do. I just hope and pray it doesn’t backfire on us. If I don’t make myself stop thinking about this, I won’t get any sleep at all tonight. There’s just what I need tomorrow. Just stop thinking. Relax, stop thinking so much…
Once Dave finally managed to force his mind to stop racing all over the place, he was able to eventually fall asleep.
Dave and Jenny both find themselves "lost in thoughts" of Gaby and their roles in her being...
“Dave, why don’t you take the support van today?” asked Mike as the team was preparing to head out on a long training ride.
Dave just nodded his assent and climbed in behind the wheel of the van as the girls started mounting their bikes. “I take it they know where they’re going?” he joked as he started the engine.
Mike and George waved as the team, followed by Dave bringing up the rear, headed out. It only too a few minutes for Dave’s mind to begin drifting…
Why is it I can’t convince George that Drew’s not a girl? It’s getting ridiculous, at this point. I mean, what are we going to do? George is expecting ‘Gaby’ to ride wearing the Apollinaris jersey, but then ‘Gaby’ doesn’t really exist, does she? What happens if Drew races wearing some other colors? Like the national development squad, or his champion’s jersey? Will that put ‘Gaby’ in breach of contract? This all would’ve been so much simpler had Gaby never existed.
I wonder, if it hadn’t been for that costumed ride Christmas before last, would Drew have ever found himself becoming Gaby? I don’t know, but there’s a part of me that thinks that triggered something for the child, like subconsciously he felt like he’d found something that had been missing.
Now, I don’t think he’s enjoyed dressing up…at least not before the trip to America at least…but there’s something about it that, even as far back as that first time, there was an unconscious change in the way he acted. As a boy, Drew has always been a bit shy and standoff-ish, but when dressed as Gaby, well, she’s much more outgoing.
Of course, we’ve worked that all out before, true? I don’t think I’d point this fact out, even today, but I can see it, and I suspect so can everyone else. Maybe that’s just my mind trying to justify the way things have worked out for him.
I don’t think he enjoyed dressing up in costume that first time per se, but I do think that once he got used to wearing it, and everything that it entailed, how he was dressed was of little or no importance to him, other than for the fact he was feeling cold. I know he was terribly embarrassed about the pictures, but sometimes I wonder if that had as much to do with his shyness as anything else. I don’t think Gaby had yet developed as a full-fledged persona at that point, but that definitely was the moment when she first came into existence.
At the time, I assumed that would be the first and last we ever saw of Gaby. Was I ever wrong about that!
Dave’s focus wasn’t exactly on the morning’s practice session. If it weren’t for the fact he was blindly following the ladies as they road around the German countryside, he may very well have got lost, as he had no clue where he was. However, he continued following, assuming at least one of them knew where they were heading, and despite his attempts to the contrary, found his mind once again wandering to a different time and place.
I don’t know which was more disturbing; the fact that Drew let himself be talked into dressing up for that Easter Disco, or that he tried so hard to hide the fact from his mum and I? I mean, in and of itself it would’ve been no big deal, really. But I don’t like the idea of he and his sister, not to mention Maddy and the others, going to so much effort to hide what they were doing.
From the pictures, I must admit that was probably the first time I noticed just how much Gaby looks like Jen. Oh, I know Jules does as well, but she has a touch of Bond in her. Gaby is pure Peters. It can get a bit uncanny, really, when you see Jenny and Carol with Maddy and Gaby.
By the time the whole modeling episode took place, I should have realized Gaby was here to stay, but I still didn’t. Maybe I was still a bit in denial. I don’t know…
At that moment, Maria’s rear tire went flat directly in front of Dave. She stopped, with him right behind her. Dave jumped out of the van and got her spare bike off the rack, sending her back on her way. He then stowed the wounded steed on the rack, climbed back in behind the wheel, and was once again under way. The whole incident took less than thirty seconds, and not a word was spoken. But it was enough to bring Dave back from his meanderings.
Back in Warsop, Jen found herself trailing after Drew as they attacked the next to last hill on their training ride. While she was doing better at keeping up with the wunderkind, she still wasn’t anywhere near 100%, and was falling behind as they neared the top of the hill. Even with one last burst, which used up all her energy reserves, she couldn’t quite catch him, so she decided to drop back and take it easy the rest of the way home. Drew hadn’t yet noticed that she was falling behind, and was still going full bore.
Am I ever going to be able to catch that child again? One thing, if chasing after Drew doesn’t get me back in shape for the tour, then nothing will.
It wasn’t that long ago our situations were reversed, of course. I remember that event we rode the tandem Christmas before last. He was working so hard; at times I was afraid he might pass out on me. Now look at us?
"Ok miss?" the starter asked.
Did he really say miss? You know, I don’t remember that registering before.
"Er, yes thanks," Gaby responded.
Drew replied a lot more naturally than I would have expected under the circumstances. Or am I just interjecting that through hindsight?
"Ready Gaby?"
"Yes mum."
Was that really Gaby’s first appearance? You know, it’s occurred to me that before the kids came back from America, I think I had probably spent more time with Gaby this past year than with Drew.
There was the race in Germany, the end of the Tour in Paris, the bike show…and even when he’s not trying to look like a girl, it seems like the whole world is conspiring against the child to get him in girl clothes. Even by choice sometimes, like with my old pant suit.
I suppose it’s really no wonder everyone thinks Drew is a girl we sometimes call Gaby. At this point, I don’t know that we’ll ever be able to convince everyone of the truth. Maybe once his puberty finally kicks in, like Dr. Johnston said.
As Jenny made her way toward home, she could see Drew stretching on the lawn already. As she pulled up into the drive, she shouted at him, “Just you wait until I get my strength back!”
“I know, mum.”
Jen dismounted and joined her son for a few post workout stretches, then they headed inside, each claiming a shower. By the time they were both scrubbed and dressed, Jules had begun preparations for dinner.
“Do you need a hand?” Jen asked of her elder child when she entered the kitchen.
Jules turned to face her mum and replied, “You could set the table, but I think everything else is sorted. It’s not up to Carol’s standards, but…”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Jen offered. She got out the plates and silverware for the three of them, just as Drew returned from his own shower.
Jules carried in the meal, which was just a simple casserole, and set it on the table as everyone took their seats and tucked in. Once the meal was eaten, Jen told Drew, “Since your sister cooked, you can clean up.”
Drew whined, “But mum!!!”
“No buts. It’s only fair. Now get on with it, all right?”
Drew resignedly started gathering up the dirty dishes and used cutlery, and taking them in to the kitchen to wash up. Jen headed into the front room, and once seated on the sofa, almost immediately found herself drifting toward sleep.
Standing there in Mum’s front room, posing for a series of pictures, Drew and I in our Xena and Gaby costumes. With each photo it seemed everyone, with the possible exception of Drew, was having more fun. I was enjoying this possibly too much, as in a moment of conscience I was hit with pangs of guilt over what I had done to my son.
The guilt was quickly ignored as we grabbed coats and piled into the car for the trip to the presentation. I found myself looking at Gaby every once in a while, and each time I felt that same pang of guilt over what I was doing to my child. But, just as quickly as the feeling came upon me, it left and I was once again enjoying the attention that comes with celebrity.
The photo opportunity for the cheque presentation over, we made our way to the restaurant for a Christmas Eve dinner out. I had remembered to bring a change of clothes for myself, but somehow Drew seemed to have not thought of such a thing. So ‘Gaby’ joined us for dinner, and although each time I looked in her direction I had a momentary pang of guilt, it quickly passed and in fact grew weaker until by the end of the evening I didn’t even notice it anymore.
My memory fast-forwarded to the final stage of the Tour Feminin. As I rode the last few miles, I couldn’t help but think of Jules and Gaby. I tried to correct my thoughts to say Drew, but every time I did so, that same guilt came back. Not wanting to spoil this glorious moment, I stopped thinking of Drew and just thought of Gaby instead. That did the trick, as I was once again on top of the world…
Jenny’s eyes popped open as she heard the sounds of the kids cleaning up the kitchen. She shook her head as if trying to clear away cobwebs, and sat up. She returned to her musings, but this time in a more conscious form.
Is that really how I felt about things? Or was my mind just playing tricks on me? I can’t remember feeling guilty over “forcing” Drew to wear that Gaby costume, but maybe I should have? I don’t know. It’s not like I could have known what was going to happen after that event, could I?
It’s as if so much of what has gone on in the past year or so can trace its roots back to that tandem race, and the ‘Gaby’ costume. So, does that mean that Gaby is my fault?
Soon, the kids were joining their mum on the front room sofa as they settled in to watch a bit of telly. Jen kept glancing at Drew as he focused his full attention on the programme.
Maybe blame is the wrong word to describe it? I mean, look at the child. Has there ever been a more naturally feminine person on Earth? I’m sure a lot of it has to do with the fact he was so immersed in being Gaby while in America, and a lot of her mannerisms have just become second nature. But will that ever change? Or will there always be more Gaby than Drew?
Separated from his family back in England, Dave had just consumed a sandwich and bowl of canned soup for his dinner, and after putting the dishes in the washer, he took a seat on the sofa and reached for the television remote. It only took a minute to see that he was not going to find anything of much interest, as the only English speaking channels were barren of decent programming, and Dave’s German was still not up to the task of watching German TV.
Deciding that was not his best idea of the day, he turned it off and opted instead to listen to some music. He found a station that was playing jazz, as he was feeling the need for some relaxation this evening, and then lay down on the couch as he listened to the sounds of the Marsalis brothers waft through the air.
I’m still not sure why I’ve been obsessing about that first time Drew became Gaby. Maybe it has something to do with the idea that if it hadn’t been for that first time, there wouldn’t have been any others? I’m not sure I believe that anymore.
I feel like it’s my fault, like I’ve failed my son in some way. Maybe if we’d done more ‘manly man’ things together, Gaby would never have come into being. I mean, Jen’s obviously had a hand in things as well, but how many times because of an accident, or a forgotten change of clothes, or what have you has Gaby made an appearance? I’m hard pressed to think of events where she wasn’t involved, actually.
Have all those times when Drew forgot to pack a change of clothes, or grabbed the wrong things, or accidentally fell and got himself filthy, forcing a change into girls’ clothes just been subconscious decisions made by Gaby? There’s an interesting thought, eh?
Realizing how late it was becoming, Dave reached for the phone and called home. When Jen answered, he said, “Hello, luv. How was your day?”
“Oh, fine. School, training, the usual really. How was yours?”
“Not bad. I drove the support van during training for the first time this morning, then worked on Maria’s and Tina’s bikes for a while before heading to a meeting with the realtor to look at a couple of places. I was having trouble keeping my mind on task today for some reason.”
“I know what you mean. I was having similar difficulties all day. It could easily have been embarrassing, particularly during class this afternoon.”
“I can imagine. How are the kids doing?”
“I actually saw Jules smile yesterday, and she even prepared tea without putting up a fight, so that’s something.”
“I’ll say. I don’t suppose you know what you did to bring about the change? You know, so you can repeat it?”
Jen giggled and said, “If I did, I’d bottle it and make a fortune.”
“This is true. How’s Drew?”
“Rather distant, of late. I don’t know why exactly, but I get the sense he’s hiding something.”
“Hmm, everything all right with him at school?”
“Yes, his grades are as good as ever, and he’s staying out of trouble. I just can’t rid myself of the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want us to know.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s ready. Maybe next week when we’re on holiday, eh?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I. Just imagine, a few days of just us. No jobs, no hassles of trying to find a new house, just relaxing and enjoying ourselves.”
“Can we go now?”
“If only…” There was a brief pause, then Dave continued, “Luv, I hate to do this, but I’m absolutely knackered. Maybe we’d best cut this short tonight? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I understand completely. I could use a good long natter about now myself.”
“Well, then what say we see what we can do about that then, eh?”
Jen yawned before she spoke, “Yes, let’s. Good night, luv.”
“G’night. Love you.”
As the phone went silent, Dave came to the conclusion that he wasn’t even going to bother going to bed, and just rolled over on the couch and drifted off to sleep.
In this, the final installment of our story, Dave and Jenny share their thoughts on the children as well as their relationship...
As he stoked the fire in the hearth, Dave said, “It was a good day, all in all. I love Wales.”
“Yes, well…” Jen began to counter before being cut off by Dave.
“What say we have a few minutes of us time, eh?” As Dave said this, he picked up a bottle of wine, opening it, then pouring two glasses and carrying them to the sofa where he sat down beside Jen.
“I can see certain advantages to that idea,” Jen replied as she took one of the glasses from him. She took a sip, then found herself sat there staring into the glass for a few seconds.
“You seem to be getting stronger. Just a couple of weeks ago, you wouldn’t have been able to go on this morning’s training ride, let alone do the hike afterward.”
“I’m feeling much better, thanks. It’s going to take some doing to catch up with Drew I’m afraid, but that could prove to be a good thing in my training for a return to the tour.”
Dave took a sip from his glass, then said, “You know, I missed you terribly while I was away.”
“I know, luv. The whole reason for taking this job was so we wouldn’t be apart, and here we are still spending most of our time in different countries. The only good part is, we know it’s just temporary. By the end of term, I’m hoping to be ready to move and start training with the girls.”
“You mean, if I can ever find us a house?”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s a question of if, only when.”
“Then you’re far more optimistic on that front than I am.”
“You’ll see, the perfect place will fall right into our lap.”
“Why are you so sure of this?”
“Because the alternative is living apart, and I don’t like that.”
Dave took their glasses and set them on the coffee table, then turned back to face his wife, leaning close and kissing her. After a few minutes of kissing and cuddling, they broke and after a moment’s silence, Dave asked, “Now, what were you wanting to talk about?” He then picked the glasses back up and returned Jen’s to her as he sat back to begin the serious conversation.
Jen sat there, waiting for conscious thought to return, until finally she said, “What?”
“At least I know I haven’t lost it all yet,” he said with a touch of a chuckle in his voice. Returning to the more serious matters of the day, he said, “I believe we needed to talk about Drew and his, um, development.”
At last returning to reality, Jen said, “Ah, yes. That was it.”
“Let me see if I have the gist of things on the Drew front.”
“All right.”
“He’s wearing girls’ knickers? And says it’s because they’re more comfortable. They fit his bum better, is that right?”
“That is what he told me. Knowing what I do about how boys clothes fit over his hips compared to the girl’s, I’m not entirely surprised by that revelation, though I must admit to finding the idea that he’s aware of that fact just a touch surprising. But then, when I saw the bra…”
“Yes, I know what you mean there. So, does he really have, um…”?
“Breasts? I’m afraid so. Small to be sure, but still obviously there. And with his hips and bum, is it any wonder the poor child has so little trouble appearing feminine?”
“So, what’s the next step?”
“I suppose we return to Dr. Johnston and let her know the truth about what’s going on.”
“But, hasn’t she been examining him all along?”
“It seems that the last several visits amounted to taking blood for tests and nothing else.”
“And since Drew has been making such an effort to hide the truth about his condition…”
“This could come as a bit of a surprise for the doctor as well.”
After both Dave and Jen took a moment for silent reflection, Dave finally couldn’t keep from asking, “So, he has real breasts? I know we’ve already covered that material, but it is still a bit difficult to process.”
“Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. However, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re talking about my baby, our child. And whatever happens, we have to make sure Drew knows that doesn’t change.”
“Of course. There’s no question on that point. So how exactly has he been hiding this from everyone?”
“Mostly a tight sports bra, and baggy jumpers it seems. I’m afraid it hasn’t been all that difficult lately. We’ve been so busy, what with me working at the school and training, and you traveling so much with work. The kids have more or less taken over day-to-day operations around the house. Apparently Jules has been helping him some by acquiring bras and such. Not that Drew would have had trouble doing that himself, but I suspect he felt very self conscious about it.”
Dave commented, “I can see how that could be. Even though it wouldn’t have been the first time, this would be different. He’d shopped for things for ‘Gaby’, not for Drew.”
“That was my take on it as well. Unfortunately, if things keep going in the direction he appears headed, he may have to get over that embarrassment, buck up, and suffer through picking his own. Dear God that sounds strange, talking about my son buying his own bras.”
As this line of conversation died down, a comfortable silence overtook them as they sat there sipping wine and listening to the crackling of the fire.
There have been times when I thought maybe Jen was encouraging Drew’s transformations. Do I dare give voice to those thoughts? I mean, obviously there was that day the journalist came by the house to do that piece on her for the Comic. I still can’t believe she actually asked Drew to dress up as Gaby. I realize she said it was just a joke she wanted to play on the reporter, but seriously? Of course, it didn’t take much persuading, did it?
What about the bike show, when the airline lost his case? Would it have been that big of a deal to buy the poor lad a pair of pants? Instead, he spends the entire weekend in skirts. All right, Brittany had a hand in that I suppose, what with having snuck ‘Gaby supplies’ into her bag for the trip, but that didn’t mean Jen had to go along, did it?
Dave was the first to break that silence, “Jen?”
“Yes luv?”
“This isn’t because of something we’ve done, or not done, is it?”
“Surely not. These things just happen, that’s all.”
Is that how I really feel about all of this? I sometimes worry Dave thinks this is all my fault, as if I’ve done something to make all of it happen. Well, if I have, it hasn’t been intentional I know that for certain.
Maybe I have been guilty of encouraging some of Gaby’s appearances. In hindsight, Jules could have worn the Gaby costume for the presentation ceremony, and I certainly didn’t need to play my little joke on the Comic. And I suppose I could have told Brittany no when Drew’s luggage was lost. I could just as easily have taken the child out and bought him a pair of boy’s pants, instead of taking the easier route and having him wear skirts to the bike show.
Added up like that, it almost seems like something that’s been done on purpose. I swear, that’s not the case. The truth is, I never gave it any thought before now. I suppose if I had, I would have felt guilty. I know I do now.
Dave knew that where he was heading with the line of reasoning he was currently pursuing made little sense, but he couldn’t stop himself anyway. “I don’t suppose there could be some subconscious connection between his constant ‘forced’ cross-dressing and his hormonal issues? No, that makes no sense, even to me. Never mind.”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t discount the idea that there is a strong feminine part of the child that may sometimes influence his decisions in ways none of us understand. And you thought your idea sounded silly.”
“No, I think you might be onto something there. I’m no expert, obviously, but it would seem to me that if a male child is growing female breasts, then there is some sort of hormonal problem. Those same hormones do act upon a person’s brain, true?”
“That’s what they taught us in university, at least.”
“So maybe there really is some feminine aspect of Drew that is influencing him from time to time? Of course, if that were the case, I doubt it would manifest in him forgetting to bring along a change of clothing,” as he said this, Dave began to chuckle.
In a mock upset voice, Jenny said, “Dave Bond! How could you?” and unable to contain her mirth any longer, she began to laugh along with him.
Once he had his hysterics back under control, Dave said, “I don’t know where that came from. It just popped out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.”
“Yes, well you’d best hope I don’t tell your daughter you said that.”
“True. I can just imagine living with Juliette in a bad mood,” he said sarcastically. Both of them once again suffered from a bout of chuckles, which required another momentary halt in the conversation.
Once they both had calmed down a bit, Dave asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask you for the longest time, but what with everything that’s been going on…”
“What’s that, luv?”
“Well, I had always thought of Gaby as essentially being a separate person from Drew, because in so many ways, they act differently. But since the kids came back from Virginia, I’m not seeing that separation anymore. And more than that, what I’m seeing most of the time are traits I had always associated with Gaby. Is that just my imagination hard at work, or have you noticed anything similar?”
“For me it’s a little more difficult, because for months there I only saw the kids a few times, and when I did, I was seeing Gaby and not Drew. Like when all of you came to Germany.”
“Ah, yes. It certainly seemed like there was some sort of conspiracy afoot, didn’t there?”
“That’s how I saw it, at least. I know that Drew felt like I was letting him down just telling him to be Gaby for the visit instead of trying to dissuade the hotel manager of his belief that our youngest is a girl. There were so many factors involved though, that I really didn’t want to get into at the time, like the fact that my German was still a bit weak, and I wasn’t really capable of being terribly persuasive.”
“And if we’re being honest, it’s easy to understand the mistake. When you see our Drew, it’s not difficult to think you’re seeing a girl. Not just the body shape, but so much of his body language, his gestures…I’ve always been afraid I’d hurt his feelings if I pointed these things out to him, so I’ve kept mum, but…”
“I know what you mean, luv. It’s not that the child is weak, or fragile. Actually, one of the girls said it best in Atlanta. She described Gaby as having ‘the heart of a lioness’. I think that accurate, even when talking about Drew instead of Gaby. He may be a boy, but he has the heart of a lioness.”
“If you ever relay the quote to him, you might want to change that to lion,” Dave suggested.
“I know what you mean, but I think it loses something that way. The lioness is a powerful hunter and protector, where the male lion is more of an opportunistic scavenger. That’s not Drew.”
Dave mildly redirected the discussion, “In all those times you were expecting Drew and found Gaby there instead, did you ever wonder…”
“…If someone was trying to tell me something? Definitely, I entertained the thought.”
“Or if something inside of Drew was trying to tell him something. Each separate incident can be explained away with ‘my luggage was lost’ or ‘the adhesive remover bottle broke’, but in the end you still have to wonder if that’s the only reason? Put them all together, and what do you have?”
“A disturbing pattern of behavior is one way of putting it.”
“True. A little harsh, but true.”
“What exactly are you thinking?”
“I wish I knew,” Dave replied. “For the longest time, I’ve been bouncing these ideas round my mind, trying to make sense of them. Unfortunately, all I’ve got out of it thus far is a massive headache, and more questions than answers.”
As silence once again settled over the elder Bonds, thoughts began to drift anew…
Am I reading too much into things? At face value, I’d be inclined to accept what Drew says; that all of these ‘Gaby-sodes’ are pure coincidence. But the moment I let my mind start to ruminate over the facts, I can’t shake the idea that there’s more to it. Maybe Jenny is right. Maybe I should just take things as they come. The problem is, I’ve never been very good at that.
I suppose, if I could think about all of this objectively, I might be inclined to see things differently. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be an option. You’d think that what with all my studies in archaeology and history, I’d be able to do just that, but it doesn’t work with my family. I’ve tried but objective is not an option…
Dave and Jenny sat quietly lost in their own thoughts, the fading hearth fire providing the only light or sound. Eventually, Jenny emerged from her own sea of troubles and, looking deeply at the visage of her dear husband, reached out and took his hand.
“Luv, come with me,” she said breaking the silence as she stood up, pulling him along with her. She led him to Drew’s bedroom door, where she quietly opened it, staring into the room at the sleeping form of her lovely young son. The two of them stood there watching the child sleep for an eternity before eventually closing the door, then repeating the same actions with Juliette.
When at last they closed Jules’ bedroom door, they made their way to the master bedroom, quickly prepared for a nights slumber, and crawled into bed. It wasn’t until they were settled in that Jen broke the silence that had enveloped them.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether Drew looks like a boy or a girl, or how he chooses to dress. The only thing that matters is that he is a decent honest person, who respects others, and is comfortable with who he is.
“We’ve been wasting so much time and energy worrying about the details that we’ve lost sight of those things that are really important. We need to remember all of those marvelous qualities Drew possesses, and just let the child be who he or she will become.
“I think we need to focus our energy on trying to make sure Drew never loses sight of those qualities that make him such a wonderful person. Everything else is just details.”
Dave held Jenny close and gently kissed her, by way of a response. As they drifted off to sleep snuggled close, they found themselves lost in thought once more, not in worry, but rather in remembrance of the love, decency, and respect their beautiful child offers to the world every day.
Just as sleep overtook them, they decided this was the best way possible to be lost in thought.
The End
We were seated in the recital hall, most everyone having assembled into groups so they could chat while we waited. When he walked out onto the stage toward the podium the hall instantly became silent, as all eyes were on the gray haired gentleman who was about to address us.
“Welcome to freshman orientation,” he started. “I’m Dean Hamilton, the head administrator here at the conservatory. If you have any problems during your time here, come to my office and I or one of my associates will help you find a solution.” He picked up the microphone and came around in front of the podium, finally coming to rest as he sat down on the edge of the stage.
“I’m not going to lie to you. The fact is, very few of you will become famous soloists. For every great musician who becomes famous, there are at least a hundred equally great ones who make a living in more or less anonymity. And for each one of them, there are a hundred who never make a dime as a musician, and wind up earning their living in another field entirely. This is the world you are all anxiously waiting to enter.” He paused for a moment to look around the hall at all the young faces staring up at him.
“I’m going to be blunt here. Most of you will wind up making a living in music teaching, playing in orchestras, singing in choruses, or any one of a myriad of other jobs. Some of you will leave here and go to work in the business world, and maybe…just maybe…a couple of you will go on to become famous virtuoso soloists. If you don’t like these odds as I’ve presented them to you, then I’d suggest marching right over to the registrar’s office and changing to another branch of the university.”
He then jumped down off the edge of the stage and took a few steps toward us, “But, if you came here because you have a burning desire to become the best musician you can be, period; then you’ve come to the right place.”
After turning off the microphone and setting it back down on the edge of the stage, he walked straight up the aisle looking at all the kids sitting there brimming with enthusiasm, and left the auditorium. We all sat there in silence for a couple of minutes before the cacophony of all the disparate conversations again rose from the seats to fill the air.
I should probably introduce myself. My name is Kyle Bronson, and I’m here to become a concert pianist, or at least that’s my goal. I’m also here because my parents couldn’t afford to pay for me to go to Julliard, which was my first choice of schools. Being attached to a large Midwestern state university, tuition plus room and board are less than half what they would have cost to study in New York, and while this school doesn’t have quite the pedigree of my first choice, the conservatory has been educating great musicians for about a hundred years. People who grew up taking piano lessons as kids might remember studying out of the John Thompson series of books? John Thompson had once been Dean of this conservatory.
Once we filed out of the recital hall all of us were taken downstairs to the practice rooms and told to line up for testing. Every student in this school is required to pass what they call a piano proficiency test, which consists of sight-reading, scales, and accompaniment skills. I was surprised just how many of those assembled were worried about passing the test. I mean, what’s the big deal? If you don’t pass it, you take a class every semester until you do. It’s as simple as that. Of course, maybe I’d have been a little more concerned myself if it weren’t for the fact that I already knew I could pass it without breaking a sweat.
When it was finally my turn to face the music, as it were, I went straight in and sat down at the piano. It turned out Dr. Anita Caroll, Piano Department Chair and head of my admissions jury the previous Spring, was giving the examination. “Kyle, isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I remember your audition. You have a very feminine touch for a boy.”
What was I supposed to say to that? In the end I just shrugged.
“Why don’t you start with the sight-reading page in front of you?”
I whipped through it without so much as a hiccup.
“Now, F sharp harmonic minor scale, both hands, three octaves.”
Easily enough done. I was starting to think I would breeze through this for sure. Once done with that she placed another sheet in front of me that looked like a page out of what’s called a ‘fake book’, which basically has the melody line for songs with chord symbols printed above it.
“One more thing. Try improvising an accompaniment for this.”
I stumbled through it for about thirty seconds before I figured out what needed to be done. After playing through it a second time, it was sounding all right.
“A little weak, but nothing four semesters of Theory classes won’t cure,” she said as she smiled at some inner thought. “Since you’re a piano major I’ll pass you, but I’m going to recommend to your private teacher that this last bit could stand some attention as part of your studies.”
She marked my name as ‘passed’ on her roster and I was on my way. Next on the agenda was division meetings, which meant all the piano majors, string majors, woodwind majors, and so on got together with that division’s faculty to be assigned private teachers and schedule lesson times.
I started thinking there was something up when it came my turn and Dr. Caroll volunteered to take me. She just smiled, and we then scheduled two one hour sessions a week, which I made sure were in the late afternoons to make scheduling the rest of my classes easier.
After a visit to the student union cafeteria for our first experience with university food, it was time to sit down with the advisors to determine the rest of our class schedules. When it got to be my turn and there sat Dr. Caroll again, I was really becoming suspicious. She made sure I got all my requirements scheduled while still having plenty of time for practice and after a few computer keystrokes my class schedule was set and my first day as a college student was over.
Being a large urban school with little or no dorm space, the university had contract agreements with several apartment complexes close by, and I had been assigned a studio apartment about two blocks away from the Performing Arts Center. I found my way there and finished the unpacking I had begun that morning before heading out for my first day of orientation.
That task completed, I sat down with my digital piano, slipped on my headphones, and began practicing. I must have lost all track of time, because the next thing I knew it was well after midnight. I shut down the keyboard, crawled into bed, and was out before my head hit the pillow.
Day two of my college career was spent mostly waiting in line. First I waited in line at the bookstore to get my textbooks. Three hours and nearly $500 later I found myself in line again, this time at the cashier’s office to settle up my tuition bill for the semester. Another three plus hours later, the bank account my folks had set up for my school expenses was much lighter of funds, but I was officially ready for my first day of classes come Monday morning.
I spent most of the weekend with headphones on practicing Chopin, but I did take a break long enough to discover that my building had WiFi service, so I got my laptop set up on the network and surfed a little bit.
Monday morning started with Music Theory, then I had English and Political Science before my lunch break. After another encounter with the university’s cafeteria, I was off to choir practice before time for my first private lesson with Dr. Caroll.
I was sitting on the floor outside her teaching studio when the door opened and out came the professor. “Kyle, are you ready to get started?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said as I got up off the floor and entered her corner of the universe.
After I took a seat at the grand piano, which had been crammed into this tiny closet of an office, Dr. Caroll said, “Why don’t you just start by playing a little something to warm up?”
Realizing this was more instruction than request, I started in with one of my favorite short pieces, the Chopin E minor prelude.
Once through the piece, she said, “I can see I was right last week. You do have a lovely feminine touch to your playing. We’ll have to see if we can bring that out more and develop it.”
I just looked at her, unsure how to respond. I mean, I am a guy after all. Certainly not the most macho in the world, but I do at least have a Y chromosome. And being told that I play like a girl isn’t exactly something I’d be prone to take as a compliment.
We spent the next forty-five or fifty minutes running scale after scale as she tested my technical level. As we were wrapping up the lesson, she said, “As you may already know, my students are required to perform in at least one recital per month. We have midday concerts every day so everyone can meet this requirement, and I have you scheduled for your first appearance two weeks from today.
“Since this is somewhat short notice, I’m going to allow you to play something you already know. But since the program has to be turned in to the printers at least a week ahead of time, I’d like for you to think about your selection and let me know when you come back Thursday for your lesson. In the meantime, I’d like for you to work on Chopin’s Opus 10 C Major etude. Now shoo,” she said, laughing as she did so.
(Author’s note: etude (n.) Music A piece composed for the development of a specific point of technique. Etude (n.) Music A composition featuring a point of technique but performed because of its artistic merit.)
I grabbed my things and was out the door quickly, glad that I could play something I already knew for this first performance, and also that I’d been assigned to work on an etude which I’d already started practicing over the weekend.
After dinner at the cafeteria, I headed back home where I again spent most of the evening deep in headphone practice. By the time I turned in, I had pretty much memorized the assigned etude and was fairly sure of what I wanted to play on the recital. When I did turn in, I was again out very quickly.
Thursday afternoon I was sitting at the piano in Dr. Caroll’s office having just finished playing through the assigned etude when she said, “Feminine, but powerful. Very nice.”
“Excuse me ma’am, but I’m not sure I understand what you mean when you say I play with a feminine touch?”
She looked me in the eye for a moment before responding, “I believe that the ultimate piano performance is completely androgynous, featuring both feminine and masculine attributes. Some people might choose to think of them as grace and power, if you’re more comfortable with those terms.
“When I say you have a feminine touch I mean that you play with a grace and gentleness that is rare in male students. Most men think that all they need is power to be great pianists, but the truly great ones combine that power with grace and beauty.”
“So you’re saying this is a good thing?”
“Definitely. Now, have you given any thought to what you’d like to play on the recital?”
I sat there pretending to think, even though I entered the room knowing exactly what I was going to say. “The Chopin Opus 41 Mazurkas, I think,” I stated.
“Good choice. I’ll get that on the program then. How long has it been since you played them last?”
“Maybe a month.”
“Play them for me now please.” While she included a please, there was no question what she meant, so I played. I breezed through the first one, made one error in the second, and was halfway through the third Mazurka when Dr. Caroll stopped me.
“You played the first brilliantly, and did a fine job on the second. But, the third one? What happened?”
“What do you mean ma’am?”
“The moment you started the third Mazurka, the feminine aspect was nearly gone from your playing. All I could hear was the masculine,” she said, once again losing me completely.
I stared at her for a moment before something came to me. I closed my eyes to focus, then began playing the third Mazurka again. I could hear the difference immediately, and was thrilled with the sounds emanating from the piano. Once the third was finished, I went directly into the fourth Mazurka without pausing more than a breath. When the fourth and final piece was finished, I looked up at Dr. Caroll for the first time since I had started playing again. The pleased look on her face told me everything I needed to know.
“What did you think about?”
“It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Nothing is embarrassing between a teacher and student.” As she said it, I couldn’t suppress the thought that nothing could be further from the truth.
“I, um, pictured myself as a girl playing.”
“Well, it worked. That’s by far the best you’ve ever played. Good work.”
Feeling embarrassed despite her encouragement I said, “Thank you”
“Now for next week, I’d like you to work on the second etude in A minor. Also, I think you should try to figure out a way to maintain that same approach to playing that gave such good results today. I’ll see you at the noon recital tomorrow, and also on Monday.”
I once again gathered up my things and was out the door. All the way back to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about that ‘assignment’. It was a little strange picturing yourself as a girl and I had no idea how to go about keeping that picture in my mind for as long as I would need it to get through most concert pieces.
Here are some addresses to recordings of the pieces mentioned in this chapter:
Chopin Prelude No. 4 in E minor, Opus 28
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-28-4-stahlb...
Chopin Etude in C Major, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
Chopin Etude in A minor, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 1 in C# minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 2 in E minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 3 in B Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 4 in Ab Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
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As I entered the lobby of my building I was called over to a group of my neighbors who were getting ready to order pizzas. “Wanna join us?” asked the girl I recognized as my next-door neighbor.
“Sure,” I replied as I took a seat on the couch next to her. “By the way, I’m Kyle.”
“Cindy,” she said as she offered me her hand. “I’m a Psychology major. How about you?”
“Piano performance,” I replied. “So do you all order pizza often?”
“Whenever we can scrape together the cash. It sure beats the food over at the union.”
“No arguments from me on that one.” I was trying not to stare at Cindy, but in the process I’m sure I was looking rather shifty considering I was constantly changing my eyes focus.
“You seem rather preoccupied. Anything in particular?”
I tried to ignore the question, but the look in her eyes assured me she was a persistent sort. “Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”
“Yeah, it can.”
One of the other girls jumped in, “Come on, maybe we can help?”
I looked at the group of them and realized for the first time that I was sitting there with a group of girls and I was the only guy. “I mean it when I say it’s embarrassing.”
Cindy said, “Now I’m really intrigued.”
I looked at her for a moment longer before finally blurting out, “It’s kind of strange.”
The other girl said, “That’s the best kind.”
“My piano teacher is on me about displaying what she calls both masculine and feminine characteristics in my playing. Basically in her theory masculine means power, while feminine is grace and delicacy. I can give her what she wants in short bursts, but I don’t have any clue how to maintain it.”
“What is ‘it’?” Cindy asked.
“Okay, she was on me this afternoon about losing my ‘feminine’ focus in the middle of the piece I’ve been working on. She stopped me, and I decided to try and picture myself as a girl to see if that would help, and it did. Maybe a bit too well, because she said it was the best I’ve ever played.
“She wants me to figure out how to maintain that focus over a longer period of time so I can get through longer concert pieces without losing it in the middle.” As I finished, I felt drained somehow.
“So, do you have any idea how to make this happen?” Cindy asked.
I shook my head as I said, “Not a clue.”
“You know…” the other girl offered. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry, I’m Cheryl. I was going to say, there’s a really easy way for you to keep that feminine image in your mind.”
“How’s that?” I asked in spite of feeling an overpowering sensation that told me I didn’t really want to hear her answer.
“Wear women’s clothes,” she said flatly.
I stared at her for what felt like an eternity. It was Cindy who broke the silence when she said, “That’s not a bad idea.”
I shook my head to pull myself out of my trance and said, “Not a bad idea? Are you on drugs?”
Cindy tried not to laugh as she looked at me, but eventually gave in to the temptation and before long everyone in the lobby was rolling on the floor. After longer than I would have liked, given that I was the target of said laughter, things finally began to calm back down. About the time the pizza was delivered, everyone was finally back to normal.
After the food had all been consumed, Cindy got up from the sofa and after taking my hand and pulling me along with her, led me toward the elevators.
On our way up to our floor I asked, “What did you have in mind?”
“Just a little psychological experiment,” she said with what looked like an evil twinkle in her eye.
She dragged me past my apartment and into hers where she told me to wait while she got something. Then she led me back to my place. Once inside she said, “Okay, put these on.” These were a pair of panties.
“Why?” was all I could think to say.
“To see if my idea works,” she replied as she stuck them in my hand and pushed me toward the bathroom to change.
I stood in there looking at the little piece of nylon and Lycra for several minutes, unsure what I was going to do. Cindy knocked on the bathroom door and shouted, “Hurry up in there. I want to see if it works.”
I finally said to myself, “What the hell,” and took off my jeans and jockey shorts, replacing them with the panties. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that they were a lot more comfortable than my old shorts, in large part because of the softness of the fabric and the way it hugged the skin without pinching in any way. I put my jeans back on and opened the door.
Cindy was standing there waiting for me. She asked, “Well? Did you?”
I looked at her and replied, “I have them on.”
“How do they feel?”
“I wish to take advantage of the rights granted me by the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America,” I said, thinking it was clever.
“That good, eh?” she said in response.
I turned a brighter red than you’d find on the flag and fought off a smile. I didn’t really have to say anything; that told her everything she needed to know.
“Why don’t you play a little bit,” she said pointing toward my digital piano, “and see if it helps?”
I took a seat at my keyboard and unplugged the headphones so the sound would come out the built in speakers. I started to play my recital pieces and I could tell a difference.
As I made my way through the C# minor it sounded more complete to my ear than I had ever managed before. There was the masculine power that the piece needed, but tinged with a delicacy that could only be described as feminine. I then went into the E minor, where that delicate grace shone through making the piece feel like a completely different work than I had ever played before.
Throughout the B Major I found myself starting to understand just exactly what Dr. Caroll had been saying. Anyone could play this piece with all out ‘hit it hard’ power strokes, but they lose so much of the beauty of the composition when they do so. When finally I began the Ab Major Mazurka, I was a complete convert.
I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I had to admit that not only did Cindy and Cheryl’s idea have merit, it had proven to be a rousing success. My playing sounded even better than it had when I was imagining myself as a girl, even though I had thought I’d never be able to top that in this lifetime. I found this enthralling and terrifying at the same time.
By the time I finished the last of the four Mazurkas, I looked up to see that Cindy was just sat there speechless, staring at me. I stared back for a moment before clearing my throat and asking, “Well?”
She continued to stare for a moment longer before shaking her head, blinking a couple of times, and refocusing on the present. “I don’t know how well you played the other way, but that…” she allowed the thought to fade rather than complete it. All I could do was nod my head in agreement.
As midday Friday arrived I was entering the recital hall. This was one of the things that seemed different about studying at the conservatory. All students were required to take this class called “Music Listening Lab” which basically was required recital attendance. Each student was required to attend at least 16 recitals per semester, as tracked by a count of signed and turned in programs. Additionally Dr. Caroll had informed all of her students that she considered attendance in support of our fellow students as paramount in her grading for our private instrument study. Translation? I had grades in five credit hours worth of courses depending at least in part on me being here today, and at all of Dr. Caroll’s student appearances in the future. At least I didn’t have to write a term paper.
I took a seat about halfway back, toward the middle of the auditorium thinking this would afford me the best sound. I’d barely sat down when Dr. Caroll herself came up and sat beside me. Neither of us said anything for a moment, until just before the first performer came out on stage when she whispered, “Pay special attention. I’d like you to tell me what you think of the performance when we have our lesson on Monday.”
Before I could reply, the house lights faded and a hush came over the crowd. A moment or two later, the performer began playing.
It turned out there were four pianists on the program, all of them students of Dr. Caroll. Since I already knew she was expecting a thought out review of each performance, I tried to pay very close attention to the performances.
This first performer was a senior by the name of James Tilden. From what little I’d managed to discern so far at the school he was considered one of the top pianists in the school. He’d even already secured a spot for next year as a graduate teaching assistant here at the conservatory. Needless to say, I was expecting magic.
Unfortunately, James didn’t really deliver the goods in my estimation. He performed Franz Liszt’s 2 Concert Etudes, S.145, and as would be expected he had the power down cold. But then, cold was the problem. There was no grace or beauty in his playing. It was all technique and bombast, and by the time he left the stage I could very easily have forgotten all about his performance.
Next up was a Junior by the name of Candace Kane…I kid you not. I’d met Candy a time or two and she seemed a nice enough girl. She was playing Claude Debussy’s Reverie, and she played it beautifully. She of course had the whole feminine grace thing working perfectly and had a surprising amount of power for such a small girl. I quickly decided she was going to be one for which I would need to keep an eye out.
Next on the program was a fellow freshman named Suzie Friedman. I sort of knew her…well at least more than the others…and found myself really hoping she’d be able to put on a show. She was playing Eric Satie’s Trois Gymnopedies, which unfortunately fell rather flat. It sounded mechanical and had little or no power to the playing at all. I felt guilty for having thoughts like this, but I found myself wishing this thing would just be over.
The final performer on the program was a graduate student by the name of Gary Harper. Gary was in fact the total package in that not only was he the best of Dr. Caroll’s many students, he combined that talent with movie star good looks. He was already well on his way toward establishing his performing career, and his appearance here was as much as anything a tune up for a series of solo recitals he had scheduled over the next few weeks.
He played Beethoven’s Sonata No.8, sometimes called the “Pathetique”. His performance was absolutely perfect. In fact, I was a bit in awe of it. I found myself having one of my rare moments of self-doubt. Dean Hamilton had talked about there maybe being one or two from my class who might become successful soloists? Gary was the one from his class.
I turned in my signed program on my way out the door so I would get credit for attending, and headed back to my apartment. Since I wound up not having anything that afternoon, I was looking forward to beginning my weekend a little early. When I arrived at the apartment building Cindy grabbed me on my way in the front door and dragged me to the elevator and up to our floor.
As we exited the elevator she said, “We need to go get you some panties of your own.”
I was taken aback by that and it took me a moment to collect my thoughts enough to speak, “Why do I need my own panties?”
“Well you didn’t think I was just going to keep loaning you mine, did you?”
The truth is I hadn’t given it any thought one way or the other, but once I did I had to concede that she had a point. The evidence was in and it told me that this would help me with my playing…though why exactly this was I couldn’t even begin to tell you.
I dumped my messenger bag full of school stuff inside my apartment and joined Cindy in heading back downstairs, where we met up with Cheryl who was going to drive us all to the mall and my first experience with buying lingerie.
I felt like a deer caught in the headlights as they dragged me first across the parking lot, then directly into Victoria’s Secret. I’m sure I was turning a permanent shade of crimson from the embarrassment of being led from one display to another as my escorts sorted through panties looking for just the right ones for me.
It turned out they picked out a half dozen pairs, all very soft pastels in silk. I was so far beyond simply being embarrassed at that point that I just went catatonic as they added a couple of bras to the pile before leading me toward the cashier.
“Did you find everything all right?” the older lady working behind the counter asked.
I was completely gone at that point, unable to utter even guttural sounds, but my companions were having no such problems. Cheryl was first to respond, “Yes, thanks. I think we found everything we needed.” The last bit was said while looking directly at me. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear at that moment.
“That’ll be Fifty-seven sixty-eight,” said the cashier as she rang up the last item in the stack.
Cindy just turned to me without saying a word. I reached into my pocket to retrieve my wallet, pulled out my debit card, and handed it to the lady at the register. She looked at me for a moment before finally just passing the card through the reader and waiting for a moment for the approval to come through.
I signed the receipt, still without having said a word to anyone involved before following the girls out of the store and back across the lot toward Cheryl’s car. Once we were outside the building, Cindy spoke up, “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I looked at her for a moment as if she had three heads before finally admitting, “Not so bad.”
As we piled into the car, the girls began giggling incessantly. I eventually gave up and joined in.
Other than joining everyone in the lobby Saturday night for a movie on the big screen TV, I spent my entire weekend practicing. By the time I returned to class on Monday morning, I felt I was playing my selections for the recital about as well as they could be played.
It was during Music Theory on Monday that I found myself completely unable to concentrate. Dr. Pogemiller was addressing the class when he walked over to the piano and played something. “Mr. Bronson, can you identify that cadence?”
I sat there completely embarrassed because I had not studied all my listening assignments over the weekend, and I think he knew it. “Um, I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening in that way, but I know I like the way it sounds.” Showers of laughter came pouring my direction for a moment before Dr. P decided to rescue me.
“Class!” he said a bit more forcefully than his normal teaching voice. Once the laughter had died down he said, “Now, Mr. Bronson,” and played it again.
“Plagal,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that I’d gotten it right.
“Very good,” Dr. Pogemiller said. “But Mr. Bronson has inadvertently brought up a point that is far too often ignored in this and most other schools.” He walked away from the piano, back toward the chalkboard. “Too often we spend so much time analyzing the nuts and bolts of music that we forget that it’s a form of emotional communication. All of us need to try to remember to shut off the analyzing part of our brain and just listen because we like it once in a while. If we can all remember to do that, I think we’ll all become better musicians.”
As everyone exited the classroom following that morning’s lesson, my classmates were divided in their take on what the professor had said. Some thought he was loony while others, myself included, were certain he had just proven that he was possibly the most brilliant musician any of us had ever met.
Monday afternoon I was again seated at Dr. Caroll’s piano, having just completed playing my recital pieces straight through. “Excellent work. I’m glad to see you’ve figured out how to maintain your focus so well.”
“Thank you ma’am,” I replied feeling somewhat embarrassed because I knew exactly how that aforementioned focus was being maintained.
“I’d say at this point your primary goal with the Chopin is just to maintain a freshness to your playing. I’d like you to play through them a couple of times each day, just to make sure you don’t forget anything and then I’d like you to work on this,” she said as she placed a book in front of me. “I usually don’t assign this to freshmen, but I think you just might be up to the challenge.”
Turns out, ‘this’ was Rachmaninov’s second sonata in Bb minor. I spent the better part of the rest of my lesson time stumbling through the first two movements before being sent home with Dr. Caroll’s parting words to me. “I’m hoping this will let you spread your wings a bit more. I have you scheduled to play this three weeks from today on the noon recital.” With that I was ushered out of her office and sent on my merry way.
As I made my way home I was beginning to grasp the significance of what had just happened. In one week I was performing Chopin, followed by Rachmaninov two weeks after that. To say I had my hands full considering I was an eighteen-year-old college freshman would be a drastic understatement. I just hoped I’d prove to be up to the challenge.
Between classes and practicing for both of my upcoming recital appearances, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed for the next several days. I had taken to wearing those panties every day and could tell a real difference in the way I played. I still had no clue why that would be the case, but since the consensus was that it was very much a positive change I decided not to complain.
The day of my first performance arrived and like every other Monday my day began with Dr. Pogemiller’s music theory class. He always liked to start us off with some little tidbit of philosophical advice, and this day was no different. He entered the classroom, walking straight to the chalkboard where he proceeded to write, ‘There are no wrong notes. Only passing tones.”
He turned to face the class and was hit by a room full of blank faces who were trying to figure out just exactly what it was he had just written on the board. He went over to the piano and took a seat before he spoke, “Who can tell me what a passing tone is?”
A couple of hands shot up in the air and he finally chose to hear from Terry Thompson, a composition major who was just a little too far out in left field for my tastes. “A passing tone is a transitional device used to bridge movement from one harmonically correct note to another by way of a note or notes that are not harmonically compatible.”
Dr. P looked at him for a moment before replying, “Not exactly how I would have said it, but basically, yes. A passing tone, or appoggiatura in Italian, is a note of embellishment. It can dress up a melody, or as you said serve as a transition from one point to another.” He then proceeded to play for a minute or two; being sure to insert extra notes into melodies we were all familiar as examples of passing tones in use.
Just after noon I was standing backstage in the recital hall, suddenly very aware that I was in fact wearing panties under my suit and tie. I actually had to start counting my breaths to make sure I didn’t start hyperventilating when it was almost my turn to go on stage.
As I reached center stage and took my seat at the piano, I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember how to play “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, let alone the Chopin Mazurkas. I sat there staring at the keyboard for what felt like an eternity but I was later assured was actually only a few seconds before I closed my eyes, raised my hands to the keys, and began to play.
I felt very detached from what was going on. The truth is, I couldn’t tell you whether I played my pieces correctly or not, but I was forced to assume that for the most part I had done a decent job, given the far warmer than expected reaction I got from the audience when I finished the fourth.
I floated off stage and as soon as I was out of earshot, Dr. Caroll came up to me and said, “Outstanding job, Kyle! We’ll review your performance from the recording this afternoon, then start work on the Rachmaninov.” She then turned away from me to refocus her attention on the next of her students on the program.
I took a few moments to bask in the glory of what everyone seemed to think was an outstanding performance. I just wish I could remember something of it.
Recordings of selections mentioned in this chapter:
Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 1 in C# minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 2 in E minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 3 in B Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 4 in Ab Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Franz Liszt Concert Etudes, S.145
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-abirato-hell...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-un-sospiro-m...
Claude Debussy, Reverie
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/debussy-reverie-mc...
Eric Satie, Trois Gymnopedies
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie1-...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie2-...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie3-...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Sonata No. 8 “Pathetique” — recording of second Movement only
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-13-2-sim...
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Notes:
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Dr. Caroll clicked the stop icon on her laptop to end the playback. We’d just been listening to the recording of my recital performance and it was better than I expected, to tell the truth. After she turned back toward me she said, “Well done, Kyle. Ordinarily we would use this time to dissect the performance making note of areas where more work is needed, but frankly in this case, there really aren’t that many things we need to address.”
“It’s a pity I can’t remember playing it. If I could I might be able to recreate the performance,” I commented.
“So what happened when you walked out on stage?”
“I’m not sure. I was very nervous as I walked toward the piano. When I sat down, I looked at the keyboard and my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing; I couldn’t even remember my own name. Nothing. I closed my eyes trying to think and suddenly as if on their own, my hands raised up to the keyboard and I started playing. I can’t remember anything after lifting my hands.”
She looked at me for a moment before speaking, “There’s a reason to be concerned, but you can’t really argue with the end result. Now, over in the student union I noticed they’re organizing a Yoga class. I’ve had some students in the past that had problems with nerves who found that it helped them control their fear on stage. I’d like you to give it a try, just to see if it might help.”
“When is it?”
“The first meeting is this evening at 6, in the student union. If you try it and don’t think it’ll help, then all you’re out is an evening. If it helps, then it’s time well spent. Now, how’re you coming along with the Rachmoninov?”
I started playing, but less than a minute into the Allegro Agitato, Dr. Caroll stopped me. “Where is the grace, Kyle? All I can hear is power. Anyone can play Rachmoninov with power. You’re better than that. Go back and try again.”
This time I remembered to picture myself as a girl and played all the way through the first movement before she stopped me. “Much better. Now remember that. Continue.”
As I ploughed through the Non Allegro second movement, I knew there were moments where my concentration lapsed and felt certain she was going to mention it when I was done.
“I don’t know what you need to do to maintain your focus, but it was in and out during that movement. Remember to stay focused.”
I looked down at my hands and replied, “Yes ma’am. I know I can do this.”
“I know you can as well. I’ve heard it. If you can master this focus problem, you’ll have a great career ahead of you. I know it. Now concentrate.”
Again I closed my eyes and envisioned myself as a girl before continuing with the Allegro Molto third movement. Surprisingly, I was able to play most of the movement without even opening my eyes, as I appeared to have already memorized it. This made it much easier for me to maintain the focus Dr. Caroll was after me about and I could tell from the look on her face as I finished that I had managed to play it successfully.
“If you can play the entire thing like that last movement, you’ll be ready. I knew you had something special the first time I heard you play, back when you auditioned last spring. I knew then that if we could smooth out the few rough edges in your playing, you had the ability to be truly great. Keep it up.”
She looked down at a pad of paper, which she always seemed to have in front of her and made a note before continuing, “Now for Thursday, I’d like you to complete the memorization and work on the focus. Oh, and while you’re at it take a look at the Chopin E Major etude. See you then.” I was ushered out of her office, as it seems we had run overtime and her next student was waiting outside for her turn. I gathered up my things and headed out the door and toward the student union to grab a bite of early dinner before this Yoga class Dr. Caroll suggested I check out.
When I arrived at the room for the yoga class I discovered that basically what we were doing was working out with a Wai Lana yoga tape. There were maybe twenty students present, most of whom apparently had done this before. Just knowing that was almost enough to make me leave right then, but eventually I convinced myself that I should give it a try.
As I looked around the room, I saw Cindy toward the back of the room and decided to head her way. “Hey Cindy, what you doin’ here?”
“Kyle! I saw your recital today. You were fantastic!” Shifting her attention to the class, she then said, “I thought it looked like it might be fun. What about you?”
“Dr. Caroll suggested I give it a try to help with my relaxation techniques.”
“You seemed pretty well relaxed on stage today.”
“Yeah, so relaxed that I can’t remember playing at all.”
“Really?”
Just then someone toward the front of the room clapped their hands and shouted, “Attention, please!”
We all quieted down and turned our attention toward the voice, which came from a lady standing next to the big screen TV. “Thank you. We’re going to work out with this yoga tape this evening.” She pushed the recording into the player and the screen flickered to life.
As Wai Lana appeared on screen and led us through a series of exercises, I had to admit that I started to feel much more relaxed than I had before we started. Maybe there was something to this whole yoga thing?
When the tape ended, the person who had spoken to the group earlier stood up again, turning off the TV before turning to address us again. “I hope you all have enjoyed spending time with us this evening. We’ll be meeting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening at 6 if any of you would like to join us again. I hope to see you Wednesday.”
I turned to Cindy, “What did you think?”
“I can think of worse ways of spending a half hour,” she grinned as she spoke.
“Me too,” I replied. We walked together back to our apartment building and rode the elevator up to our floor, parting only when we reached my door. “Good night, Cin,” I said.
“Yeah, good night Ky’,” she said, leaning close and kissing me on the cheek. She backed away from me and we waved at each other, not taking our eyes off the other until we were both ready to go into our apartments. I then went inside, closing the door behind me and leaning back against it, releasing an audible sigh in the process.
It occurred to me that I had some homework that needed my attention before I could start practicing, so I settled in with my psychology textbook for some ‘light’ reading. We were studying the effects of hormones on the brain, which I found fascinating. For a brief moment I found myself wondering if prenatal hormone levels had anything to do with my apparent affinity for the feminine? I knew I didn’t really have time to chase that particular rabbit at that moment, so I filed the thought away for later reflection and finished off the chapter.
Next came a little Algebra, followed by English. By the time I’d finished off my homework, it was drawing near 10pm. I considered not practicing, but quickly dropped that notion. “How can you become a concert pianist if you don’t even practice every day?”
I sat down at my keyboard and started working on the Rachmaninov. Just like in Dr. Caroll’s office earlier, I was having a great deal of difficulty maintaining my focus, which left spots where my playing sounded a lot like everyone else’s…lots of power and pomp, but little real beauty.
I got up from the keyboard and wandered around the room for a few minutes thinking. “What can I do to maintain my focus?” I kept asking myself that question, but wasn’t having much luck with the answer.
I wandered over to my dresser and started digging through its contents until I came out with one of the bras the girls had picked out for me. “What am I doing? Am I nuts?” I asked myself as I stood there holding that bit of lace. “Why exactly did they buy this for me?”
“Let’s think for a moment here. I started wearing panties and my ability to maintain my focus on playing gracefully improved. Now I need to take the next step. But what is that next step?”
I stood there staring at that bra for the longest time before finally I said to myself, “What the hell,” and stripped off my shirt. I pulled the bra straps up my arms and watched as the cups settled in front of my nonexistent breasts before reaching around and struggling to fasten the garment just as I’d seen my mother do so many times.
Once I had it fastened, I pulled my shirt back on over it and sat at the keyboard. To say that the sensation was distracting would be an exercise in drastic understatement, but I wasn’t sure this was going to be the answer I was seeking. I decided to record my practice like I do sometimes, just so I knew exactly how it sounded in case I found it difficult to listen objectively. That said, once I started playing I had to admit to myself that although I couldn’t begin to fathom why, that contraption of straps and lace seemed to be doing something. Exactly what I couldn’t say, but as I played I was so busy thinking about the bra…my bra…that I wasn’t thinking about playing.
When I finished I decided to play back the recording to see if I’d gotten the results I was after. It didn’t take long to determine that I had found my answer. Had I not known better, I might have thought I was listening to Horowitz or Barenboim but no, it was little ol’ me…Kyle Bronson, cross-dressing pianist.
Having solved that dilemma, I decided to go ahead and put in a little time on the E Major etude. When I say a little, what I really mean is that I practiced until I was falling asleep mid-phrase and my head hit the keyboard, sending a clanging sound through my headphones that woke me up just enough to know it was time to go to bed. I almost didn’t even bother undressing, but then remembered the bra and didn’t think I’d find sleeping in it all that appealing.
The next few days saw me start to fall into a routine of sorts. On days when I had either a lesson or a performance, I wore the bra. The rest of the time, I left it off. I had a couple of different reasons for this. First, I hadn’t found anything about wearing it that struck me as appealing in the least and second, I decided that if I didn’t wear it every day I was less likely to get so used to it that it ceased to do what I needed.
I finally got a handle on the recital scheduling. Dr. Caroll’s students did the midday recitals on Mondays and Fridays, and she had all of us on a rotating schedule, which basically meant we all had to play one about every two weeks. Funny, I would have sworn she told me about once a month, but I guess she changed her mind.
Cindy and I did the Wednesday evening Yoga class, where again we worked out along with a video for about a half hour before class broke up. I don’t know if it was going to help with my nerves or not, but it sure helped me relax at the time. I think Cindy was enjoying it as well. I was really enjoying becoming closer with this beautiful young woman.
Thursday’s lesson went incredibly smoothly. So much so in fact that I was afraid she was going to give me a hug and discover the bra under my sweatshirt. I don’t think I would have been up to explaining that yet, so I considered myself lucky when she resisted the urge.
With Cindy, however, I wasn’t quite so lucky. Thursday after my lesson I headed back to the apartment to take off the bra and ran into her in the lobby on my way in. She decided to take the elevator up with me and came into my apartment while I went to change. I don’t know if she was snooping, or if I wasn’t being as careful as I thought when I was removing the bra, but when I came out of the bathroom after taking it off, she said, “When did you start wearing that?”
I stammered for a moment before answering, “I was having some trouble with the Rachmaninov and decided to try it just to see if it helped. It did, though I can’t for the life of me tell you why. So now, when I have to either have a lesson or a performance, I wear it to help with the focus.”
As I was saying all this, Cindy was slowly walking toward me, until when I was done she was standing very close. She stood there almost touching me for what felt like an eternity before leaning over to my ear and whispering, “I thought it was kind of sexy.” She then pulled back to where she had been before she spoke and looked into my eyes.
Unsure how to respond, I just stood there staring back at her with a silly lopsided grin on my face until she smiled back and then walked over to the sofa and plopped down. She then looked back at me and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
“Um…” I said intelligently.
“Come on Kyle. How can you expect me to be your girlfriend if you don’t at least occasionally buy me dinner?” she said in all seriousness.
I shook my head to clear it before responding, “I didn’t know you were my girlfriend.”
“Well if you don’t want me to be…”
I jumped in, cutting her off before she could continue, “I didn’t say that. You just sort of surprised me.”
She got up from the sofa and started toward the door. “Good. Then where are you taking me?”
I started after her, following her onto the elevator before saying, “The student union cafeteria isn’t really that great a choice. How about we hit Minsky’s?”
“Good choice, boyfriend. I’m guessing we’re walking?”
We got out of the elevator and started toward the front door. “Well, since neither of us have a car…”
“That’s what I thought,” she said as I opened the door to let her out first, following right behind and once clear of the building catching up so I could walk alongside her.
As we walked toward the pizza place, she looped her left arm around my right and snuggled close. I finally found my brain about halfway there and asked, “So, what prompted this? I mean us?”
“I really like you. You’re nice, friendly, intelligent, funny…and sort of sexy in a quirky way that I really like.”
I began to blush again as she rattled off that list and when I finally regained some control over myself I responded, “I’d be a fool to not be interested in you. You’re gorgeous, smart, confident…I actually feel a little inadequate when I’m around you.”
“That’s the silliest thing I’ve heard you say. Here you are, the great artiste. Able to speak to others’ souls with the flick of a finger, and you feel inadequate?”
We slowed our pace a bit so we could talk more seriously. “I may be able to play piano fairly well, but you? You’re like a model, only brilliant.”
“Oh, Kyle!” she said, actually blushing herself. She then leaned toward my cheek and gave me a kiss as we drew near the restaurant. Once inside, we took a table and sat facing each other, waiting to order. As we sat there, she asked, “So, the bra. Was that the only reason why?”
“Yeah. I mean, I like the panties, to tell you the truth. They’re way more comfortable than jockey shorts, but the bra? I can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to wear one.”
“But you did wear it?”
“And I told you why. Basically, I think the tug of the straps and scratch of the lace distracts me so I don’t think too much about what I’m doing, that’s all. If I think too much about my playing, it becomes more mechanical. So in this case, distraction is good.”
She looked at me devilishly for a moment before saying, “Is there anything I could do to distract you?”
I grinned evilly and said, “I’m pretty sure I could think of something you could do.” I was able to hold the laugh in for a second, but then we both broke out in a fit of giggles that lasted long enough that we undoubtedly drew the attention of some of our fellow patrons, although no one said anything.
Once we were finished with our dinner, we walked back to the apartment building, again arm in arm and returned to my apartment. I had barely closed the door when Cindy asked, “Do I get to hear the difference?”
“Oh, I suppose,” I said, trying to sound like I didn’t want to play when the truth was just the opposite. I sat down at the keyboard, turned it on and unplugged the headphones so she could hear, and just before I started playing I said, “This first time will be without, then I’ll go put it back on so you can hear the difference.”
I started playing the sonata’s first movement and when I was done, I looked at Cindy and she looked rather impressed and said so, “That was without? It sounded great to me!”
“One moment,” I said as I got up and went to retrieve the bra and put it back on, then again pulled my shirt on over it because it seemed just too weird to run around in front of her with just the bra on. I returned to the keyboard and played the same movement again, this time feeling completely satisfied that I was achieving the balance of power and grace that a perfect performance demanded.
When I looked up at the end of the movement, Cindy was silent with tears slowly crawling down her cheek. I got up and went to her, sitting beside her on the sofa and taking her in my arms. “What’s wrong?” I asked, confused as to why she was crying.
She replied, “It was so beautiful. I couldn’t help but cry.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to comfort her.
“Don’t be. It was perfect.” She then turned her face to mine and kissed me on the lips. Like any red-blooded male in a similar situation, I returned the kiss in kind, slowly intensifying it until we were probing each other with our tongues.
After several minutes of activity, she broke the embrace and said, “Maybe we should stop for now?”
While part of me felt a little hurt by this intrusion of reason and I felt certain she could tell, another part knew she was right, and I said so, “You’re probably right, Cin. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
I walked her to the door and down the hall to her apartment, where I kissed her again and said, “Goodnight. Want to go to the midday recital with me tomorrow? We could catch a bite of lunch at the U after?”
“Sure. I’ll see ya at the recital hall at noon, okay?” she said, giving me one last kiss goodnight before entering her apartment and closing the door. I then found my way back to mine and found sleep waiting for me.
I floated through Friday morning on autopilot, not really taking in much of anything in my classes. Come midday, I was eagerly waiting outside the recital hall for Cindy. Truth be told, she was the first girl I could ever say was my “girlfriend”. I’d had a few dates in high school, but never more than a couple with any one girl and none of them could really be considered a “relationship”. After all, I was the geeky wanna be musician and most of the girls chased after the athletes, so I was considered the bottom guy on the totem pole.
Now I could say I had a beautiful girlfriend and I had no intentions of screwing the relationship up. She came running in the building about two minutes before they were going to close the hall doors and start, so we rushed in and found seats toward the back, settling in just as the house lights dimmed and the first victim…I mean performer…came out on stage.
Roughly an hour later we were exiting the hall after the last performer had played, though I couldn’t tell who had played, what they had played, or how well they played it, because I spent the entire hour staring at Cindy. She would look at me every couple of minutes and smile, then return her attention to the music while I was off in a world that had only her and I. I guess you could say I was falling hard.
From that point on we were practically inseparable until it was time for classes Monday morning. Not that we really did much of anything all weekend. She listened to me practice, we did homework together, read, listened to music, watched TV…the usual hang out at home weekend thing. And yes, I will admit to some intimate experimentation. Nothing our parents would disapprove of too vehemently, but we had fun.
The weirdest event of the weekend came Saturday evening. We were listening to some music when the phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my folks. “It’s my parents. I’d best take it,” I said to Cindy as I used the remote to turn down the volume and pressed talk on the phone.
“Hey,” I said into the receiver.
“Hi Kyle, how have you been,” came the voice of my mother.
“Good mom. How’re you guys?”
“Fine. I thought I’d give you a call to see how you’re getting on.”
“Great. I’m learning lots from Dr. Caroll, making new friends,” I said looking at Cindy. “I even have a new girlfriend.”
“Really? Wonderful! What’s her name?”
“Cindy. She’s here now if you want to say hi,” I handed the phone to her and she looked at me like I was going to pay for that stunt.
She did however say into the phone, “Hi Mrs. Bronson.”
“Cindy, is it? Good to talk to you dear. Tell me about yourself.”
“Um, I’m a freshman Psych major. My apartment is next door to Kyle’s and we started getting to know each other and just sort of were drawn together.”
“Well, I’m already looking forward to meeting you when we come up in a few weeks for a weekend visit.”
“Me too, Mrs. Bronson. Want Kyle back?”
“Yes, dear.”
Cindy quickly handed the phone back to me, glaring at me like I was going to have to pay dearly for putting her in that position. I grinned and said into the phone, “Isn’t she great, mom?”
“She seems very nice, son.”
“She is. She’s also gorgeous, brilliant, but an awful judge of character. That’s the only way I can explain that she hasn’t gone running away yet,” he said as he started to chuckle.
“I wanted to let you know that we’ll be coming up two weeks from now for a little visit. And I want to spend some time with this Cindy.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” I said and broke the connection.
Cindy spent much of the rest of the evening telling me I was going to pay for making her talk to my mom, but nothing came of it other than some teasing. I decided I could live with that.
The entire next week flew by in much the same fashion as the previous one. Classes, practice, and hanging out with Cindy dominated my life. Nothing really changed until the day of my next recital appearance, the following Monday.
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin, Etude No.3 in E Major, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
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When I got up Monday morning, I was feeling extremely nervous about my recital appearance. It was actually bad enough that I had decided to skip my morning classes and just relax until time to be at the hall. Unfortunately it seemed that my plan wasn’t helping because by the time I had to get ready and head for the performing arts center, I had worked myself into a frenzy of nerves that made sure I couldn’t even keep anything in my stomach.
It was during one of these waves of nausea that Cindy got back from her morning classes and came by to check on me. I was just coming out of the bathroom as she let herself into my apartment, took one look at me, and came running to my side. She held me for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word until I managed to pull myself together and finally told her, “Thanks.”
“No need, but I’m curious. Why so nervous? I mean, you know this piece backward, forward, upside down, and inside out,” she said trying to ease the tension with a little humor.
I looked her in the eye, took a deep breath, and finally responded, “I’ve always had problems with my nerves before a performance. And this time it’s worse.”
Confused, she asked, “Why is it worse this time?”
“Because I’m wearing a bra.”
“Oh, that!” she grinned. I wasn’t sure I understood what she was grinning about. She then continued, “I promise you’ll be fine. Heck, if anyone did say anything about the bra, just tell them that I asked you to wear it. Tell them it turns me on. It’ll probably make them jealous because you have a girlfriend and they don’t!”
She then gave me a kiss, and my nerves settled a bit. Maybe I’d make it through today performance after all. Another hug and kiss and I was almost normal. Well, as normal as I could be standing there wearing a bra and panties under my suit anyway.
Around 11:30 we left for the performing arts center arriving with over twenty minutes to kill before the start of the recital. I looked at the program and found that I was last one on. While in some ways that news should have eased my nerves…the last performer generally has the easiest time with the audience because while they’re more alert than they are for those in the middle of the program they also tend to be less critical…it only seemed to compound things for me.
Playing last meant I had that much more time to stew and fret about every little thing that could possibly go wrong. Instead of sitting out front Cindy stayed with me backstage and tried as much as she could to help me calm down. Since we couldn’t really carry on much of a conversation while standing right behind the curtain, she was holding my hand, stroking my arm, staring into my eyes, and doing pretty much anything else she could think of to take my mind off my impending performance.
About 12:30 it was my turn to go on. I looked at Cindy one more time and kissed her before heading onto stage. Unlike last time, I didn’t seem to have any trouble remaining cognizant of where I was and what I was doing. I was however just distracted enough by my bra straps rubbing on my shoulders that I was able to just play instead of thinking too much.
So what did that mean? Mainly that again I couldn’t really recall too many of the minute details of the performance, although I was at least conscious enough to know that I was giving a soulful performance.
I was stunned by the intensity of the crowd’s response after I played the final notes. Usually these recitals had moderate attendance with little or no acknowledgement at the end. This however was different. Yes, there were quite a few who were gathering their stuff and heading toward the exits, but for each of them there appeared to be someone offering up applause with more fervor than I was used to in that type of setting.
The resulting buzz I felt ensured that any doubts I might have still harbored concerning whether this whole androgyny thing was working or not melted away as I thought back on the performance and compared what I could remember of it against some of my less androgynous practice run thrus. When I was once again backstage Cindy jumped into my arms and gave me a big kiss.
Dr. Caroll came up as we broke that kiss and said, “Kyle! Outstanding performance! I’ll have the recording for us to review later, but I can tell you right now that whatever you’re doing, you need to continue doing it. You’re quickly becoming one of the best students I’ve ever had.” She shook my hand and nodded to Cindy before moving on to some of the other performers so she could touch base with them as well.
On our way to the student union cafeteria to grab a late lunch, Cindy held onto my arm tight and said, “That was brilliant! I can’t imagine anyone ever playing that better!”
“I thank you, but somehow I think you may be biased.”
“Doesn’t matter. You will one day be a star.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said as we entered the cafeteria and proceeded to pick out our lunch.
Later that afternoon as I sat in Dr. Caroll’s office listening to the recording, I must admit I was taken aback by how much better I had sounded than even my memory of the performance. She was surprisingly quiet as we listened. After all, I was expecting her to tear the performance apart over every little mistake I had noticed, as well as probably another twenty or so that I missed as we listened. Instead, when the recording ended, she sat there for a moment still not saying anything, making me even more nervous than I had been just before the recital.
When she did finally speak, she surprised me even further by saying, “Keep working on everything we’ve done so far, as well as whatever we do the rest of the semester. I think instead of the standard jury you should opt instead to do a term ending recital. Very few freshman are up to this challenge, but I think you are and I’d hate to see you take the easy route when this would be so much better for you as a performer.”
I sat there for a second allowing that tidbit to sink in before responding, “So, you want me to continue polishing the Mazurkas and the sonata?”
“As well as the Opus 10 etudes, plus the other concert pieces we do the rest of the term.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I said, not realizing I actually did so out loud.
“It is. Think you’re up to it?”
I thought about that question for a whole millisecond before saying, “Yes.”
She smiled broadly and clapped her hands together as she said, “Good! Now let’s get to work. Next on our agenda are the Chopin opus 10 concert etudes. How many of them have you worked on so far?”
“Well, obviously the first three as well as spending a little time on all of them.”
“All right, that’s your next recital assignment. The complete opus 10.”
I looked at her with a bit of a stunned look on my face for a moment before finally saying, “Okay.”
I dug out my copy of the etudes and opened up the book, setting it on the music stand. I breezed through the first three, as would be expected since I’d been working on them previously, then started hammering my way through the rest of the set. As I paused between the eleventh and twelfth etudes, Dr. Caroll stopped me, “It would appear our time is up for today. Nice work! Now for Thursday, work on the etudes and continue going over the Mazurkas and the Rachmaninov.”
I was then ushered out of her office to make way for the next victim. Cindy surprised me by standing in the hallway waiting for me. “What’re you doing here?” I asked.
“Just thought we could spend a little time together,” she said as she looped her arm through mine and walked with me down the hall.
“We doing yoga tonight?”
“Well, it is Monday,” she replied.
From there my week consisted of classes, practice, and a little bit of sleep, not necessarily in that order. Cindy and I spent our nights together, because that was about the only way we could spend time with each other at all.
Friday arrived and that meant my folks were coming into town. I jumped out of bed a lot earlier than I normally would on a Friday since I didn’t even have a class before ten and started running around my apartment haphazardly cleaning, as if my last minute efforts could possibly make a bit of difference in the condition of the place. Cindy watched me for a while, barely containing her laughter, until I looked over at her and said, “In case you forgot, my folks are coming in today.”
The look of sudden comprehension came over her and her laughter transformed into a look of concern. It’s not that she was concerned about what my folks would think of our housekeeping skills, but rather she was worried what they were going to think of her.
A few minutes before ten she asked, “Don’t you have a class to get to?”
Looking at the clock, I suddenly panicked for a totally different reason than the one that had tormented me all morning. I took a quick peek at my clothes and hair, then after grabbing my backpack and kissing Cindy goodbye I ran out the door heading for my class, which I just barely managed to make before the professor closed the door to begin his lecture.
On my return home I discovered that Cindy had taken the opportunity to properly clean my apartment and was at that moment seated on the sofa chatting awkwardly with my mom and dad. When she saw me standing there she stopped in mid-sentence, jumped to her feet, and ran over to me where she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a mighty kiss. To say I was enthralled and embarrassed only begins to cover the range of emotions I was feeling.
“Hi mom…dad,” I said as she released me.
As they sat there with bemused looks on their faces, Cindy said, “We’ve been talking about you. It seems there is a huge collection of incriminating photos that I need to see.”
It took me a second to figure out what she meant, during which time I’m sure I turned shades of red that had never before been seen. Once I’d managed to return to a more normal skin tone I said, “I thought you weren’t coming in until late this afternoon.”
My dad was the first to respond, “Your mother was anxious to see her baby, so we left home early.”
“Oh, John,” mom admonished.
“I’m supposed to attend a recital in just a bit. Do you want to tag along, or would you rather just hang out here?”
“We’ll come along, if you don’t mind,” dad said after a moment’s thought.
So it was that the four of us sat in the recital hall listening to some of my fellow students play major works for the piano with varying degrees of success, followed by a meeting with Dr. Caroll where I introduced her to mom and dad.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” my dad said as he extended his hand to my teacher.
“The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you. Had I known you were coming into town I would have juggled the schedule so you could hear your son perform. He’s fast becoming one of the top pianists in this school.”
“We’ve always believed in Kyle’s talent a great deal, and think he’s destined for stardom.”
“You may be right about that, Mr. Bronson. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have some students who I need to chat with about their performances today.” Dr. Caroll then left us standing there in the lobby.
“Anyone hungry?” dad asked.
“Absolutely,” I replied.
“Wonderful. What say we go out?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cindy jumped in.
We climbed into my folk’s rental car and drove to a nice restaurant, where we enjoyed a lovely meal, the likes of which Cindy and I had not experienced since we started school. We then spent the remainder of the day and well into the evening back at my apartment, where my mother continued telling Cindy embarrassing anecdotes about my childhood.
While I should have known that such a thing was an inevitable turn of events, I was nonetheless mortified that this girl whom I’d become so attached to so quickly was being introduced to aspects of my earlier life which I’d probably just as soon forget as have someone find out about.
The stories and their associated embarrassment continued well into the night, not coming to a halt until well after midnight when my parents announced their intention to “borrow” my bed for the night, forcing me to either sleep on the couch or go next door with Cindy.
My dilemma was solved when Cindy gave me a heavenly kiss saying, “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
While I would miss sleeping next to her, I knew she probably had the right idea. We were still more or less kids and to do anything else with my parents in the same apartment would probably be too brazen. So I plopped down on the sofa, curled up, and was asleep in mere seconds. It might not have been the most restful sleep I’d had in a while, but it was shuteye, nonetheless.
I was awakened Saturday morning by the sound of my mom searching my kitchen cabinets for coffee. By the time she found it and had a pot started I was awake enough to talk to her and she decided to take advantage of that.
“So how did you meet this Cindy anyway?” was her first question.
“We met down in the lobby the first week of classes. I was surprised when I found out she’s in the apartment next door.”
“She seems like a nice enough girl.”
“I’m becoming very attached to her.”
“Do you love her?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“Well, I don’t really have a lot to compare it to, do I? But yeah, I think I love her.”
“That’s good to know, since she’s keeping underwear in your dresser and all.”
I was afraid for a moment that I turned white as a sheet before recovering. “Yeah, well…” I really wasn’t up to explaining that most of the lingerie in that drawer was actually mine.
“Hey, I’m not a prude,” she said, trying to ease my uneasiness. “I know you’re growing up, and having grown up relationships is part of that. Just be careful, okay? I’m not quite ready to be a grandma yet.”
Much of the weekend was spent with the four of us together shopping and doing tourist type things. By the time my parents headed back home Sunday evening I was glad they were leaving. It wasn’t that I disliked spending time with them, but rather that I’d not been able to sleep well with them there and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was sleeping on the couch or because I was trying to sleep without Cindy. Either way, I was glad things would be returning to ‘normal’.
After they had gone Cindy said, “Your mom and dad are nice.”
“Well, what did you expect? They did raise me after all,” I tried to joke.
“I think your mom knows.”
“Knows what?”
“About the panties.”
“She told me she thought they were yours.”
“Yes, but that was before she went snooping in your hamper and found yours and mine, but no men’s shorts. She didn’t say anything, but every once in a while she’d look at me kind of funny.”
“Oh,” I said, quickly descending into a semi-catatonic state.
“Yeah, ‘Oh’.”
Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
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It’s safe to say that all this kept me even more off balance than normal the subsequent week plus. I did at least manage to get the opus 10 concert etudes worked up to the point where they were ready for my next recital appearance, but beyond that I was pretty much a basket case.
The morning of my recital appearance I was bad enough that I didn’t even bother going to classes. Instead, I lay in bed until nearly 10 before I finally admitted to myself that I was going to have to get ready to perform.
Maybe there was some subconscious feminine spirit urging me to do as I did. I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I do know however that for no particular reason that my conscious mind can recall, I shaved extra close…not that there was usually enough there to be all that concerned about…and on a truly strange whim took my razor with me into the shower, where I proceeded to shave off my leg and chest hair. The entire time I was doing it I kept asking myself “What am I thinking?” and the like. I never did figure out what possessed me to do it, but the deed was done.
As I began dressing I pulled my panties up my freshly shaved legs and felt my knees turn to jelly from the sensation of silky Lycra against hairless skin. It was quickly apparent this would not be a one-time thing.
The bra also presented some interesting variations on the now somewhat familiar sensations, as the skin sans chest hair was more sensitive and the scratchy lace against my clean-shaven chest felt frankly marvelous. It was quickly becoming clear that body hair removal was going to be a standard part of my ablutions from then on. I just hoped Cindy didn’t find it too weird.
Anything worth doing is worth giving your best effort, so before I pulled on my suit I decided to go one step further and dug out some panty hose that Cindy had left in one of the dresser drawers, which I put on under the suit pants. Was that enough to distract me and keep me from thinking too much on stage? Let’s just say I’d be lucky if I remembered where the recital was being held, let alone how to play anything.
Once I was done with that part I took a seat on the sofa and thought about what I’d just done. Up to that point everything had just been wearing clothes…no big deal. Now I’d done something far more feminine…in my mind at least…than wearing lingerie could ever be, and there would no doubt be some form of consequences to the action I’d taken. What those would be I had absolutely no idea.
Just before Cindy got back from her morning classes, I pulled on my dress shirt and pants, shoes and socks, and jacket and tie. When she came in I was sitting at the kitchen table looking over the sheet music for today’s performance as if I was going to discover something new that I could implement in under an hour’s time.
She walked up to me and leaned down as I looked up at her and we kissed. “Are you all ready?” she asked.
“I suppose so,” I responded somewhat distractedly.
“Something wrong?”
More focused on what was actually going on, I said, “No, just the usual pre-performance jitters. Come on, we’d best get going.”
We made the trek to the performing arts center in more or less silence and upon arriving both headed directly for backstage. Once there I took a look at the amended performance order and to my utter surprise I was up first. That had never happened before and I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about playing without standing around backstage for 30 plus minutes while my nerve endings stewed in adrenalin. I finally told myself that it was a good thing because the less time I have to get nervous the better the performance should be.
Dr. Caroll came up to me before she went out front to wish me luck, then the stage manager signaled that it was time to go on. Cindy gave me a hug and whispered, “Go get ‘em” in my ear, and then it was time to walk onto the stage.
While I was still nervous, it was nothing compared to my previous appearances, as I almost felt relaxed this time by comparison. I acknowledged the audience, who were applauding more enthusiastically than I had expected, then sat down at the piano.
Unlike my previous recital performances, I felt more or less all there and had no trouble remembering anything. I raised my hands to the keyboard and suddenly became acutely aware of my bra straps across my shoulders, as well as the lace of the cups rubbing against my chest. I placed my foot on the sustain pedal and felt the most exquisite charge as the nylon of the panty hose rubbed against the inside of my pant leg.
That’s really all it took. The part of my brain that would normally focus incessantly on the mechanics of playing was jelly and I was free to pour all my emotions into my playing without feeling the need to hold anything back. While I wasn’t completely certain what things were sounding like to the audience, to my ear I was giving an outstanding performance.
That’s not to say this was going to be just like my previous recital appearances. Where previously I had played in a sort of trance, totally unaware of my own performance, this time I was aware of every little nuance and yet wasn’t getting caught up in the mechanics.
Basically what this all meant was that I seemed to have finally achieved some sort of balance where I could remain cognizant of my performance without analyzing the life out of it.
I had barely been playing a minute when I began to grasp the importance of this step. For the first time ever I was playing with the kind of grace and power that Dr. Caroll had been trying to bring out of me in front of an audience without getting so freaked out by nerves that I lost contact with the real world.
There were a few rough spots, like during the E Major number 3 when I plain as day hit a couple of very exposed wrong notes early on, then had trouble playing the climax as smoothly as I would have liked. Or the Eb Major number 11, which I simply never felt any sort of comfort level with and so it sounded to my ear way too disjointed. There were other little problems of course, but then nobody’s perfect.
By the end of the twelfth etude I was emotionally exhausted. I frankly wasn’t sure I could duplicate this performance, because while I know I had tapped into some fairly strong feelings and poured them into the music, I couldn’t necessarily tell you what those feelings were or what they meant to the performance. These were things that I would have to keep working on to understand.
I could however tell from the audience reaction that my impressions of the performance as a whole were spot on as the enthusiasm overwhelmed me. I took several bows before leaving the stage and they were still applauding when I reached Cindy and Dr. Caroll.
“Pity there’s not room on the program for an encore,” quipped my teacher as she shook my hand before turning to the next performer to offer some last minute encouragement and instructions.
“You played beautifully,” Cindy gushed as she kissed me on my cheek.
“Well gee, thanks,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage given the buzz I was still riding from the audience reaction. “Glad you liked it.”
“So do we need to stick around for the rest of the recital? Or could we take off for a while?” she asked as she started trying to lead me toward the stage door.
As I followed her, offering little or no resistance I said, “I can’t think of any reason why we would need to stay. What did you have in mind?” I asked, having several ideas of my own if she happened to be without.
“I thought we’d go back to your apartment so you can get out of that monkey suit,” she said as she pulled me close and gave me a knee-buckling kiss. As she slowly broke the kiss she said, “And who knows what might come to us.”
A few minutes later we were making our way through the front door to my apartment, Cindy already undoing my tie and reaching to start unbuttoning my shirt. When she got down to the bra, she gently rubbed the lace into my nipples, which nearly left me unable to initiate any kind of conscious thought.
Within seconds my suit jacket and dress shirt had joined my tie on the living room floor and she was working on my belt. After quickly getting it undone as well, she opened my dress pants and was surprised by what she found.
“What’s this?” she asked, obviously taken aback.
“I just had a thought this morning as I was getting ready,” I replied sheepishly.
“You know, I thought I’d noticed that your chest was more bare than usual, but tried to dismiss it as my imagination. Now though,” she allowed the thought to drift away rather than trying to complete it.
Instead of saying anything more, she reached out and began gently rubbing my nipple through the lace of my bra cup. While she did that, she ever so gently brushed her lips across mine, generating a kind of electric charge that very nearly sent me over the edge. To call the sensations heavenly would be to do them a disservice.
When she broke the contact it took me a few moments to regain full mental functionality, during which time she stared into my eyes. Once she could tell I had returned to more or less normal she said, “You surprised me.”
“How so?”
“This is the first time you’ve voluntarily taken a step beyond just wearing women’s clothes. How did it feel when you were doing it?”
“Well, when I was shaving it didn’t really feel any different than when I shave my face…other than of course for the fact that it took forever,” I said with a bit of a chuckle. “But afterward?” I left the thought unfinished.
“Let me guess. You felt the nylon rub against your legs, the way it caresses the bare, clean-shaven skin…” she said, completing my thought.
“Well yeah, but it was more than that.”
“Meaning?”
I looked into her eyes for a moment; unable to form the thought I was reaching for until she finally spoke again. “Did you notice anything different emotionally?”
“You mean like the fact that I actually remember how I played today? Unlike every other time since I started all this?”
“Really? That’s interesting,” she said as she seemed to drift away for a moment.
“Indeed,” I whispered as I too drifted off into private thought.
I did finally return from my little mental trip just in time to go to my lesson with Dr. Caroll. As usual we began by listening to the recording of today’s performance. She commented briefly about the problem areas, which I already recognized as we listened, but it was little more than noting the problems for future work.
When the recording was over she said, “All in all, well done!” I hoped I didn’t develop a big ego from all the praise as she continued, “Your fellow performers have requested that you be scheduled last on all recitals from now on.”
It took me a moment to understand the implications of this statement, but it did finally click. “It wasn’t that good,” I said, trying to discount what I’d just been told.
“This is an incredible compliment, Kyle. They all respect you to the point that they’re a little jealous.”
“I suppose, but it is all a bit daunting, you know?”
“Just don’t let it go to your head. The last thing you can afford to do now is let up. We have a semester ending recital to prepare for.”
Dr. Caroll turned toward her desk and pulled out two books, which she set on the music stand. “I’m going to go ahead and assign your next two pieces because one of them is technically rather simple when compared to what you’ve worked on thus far, but the other should prove to be a major challenge.”
She first opened a book of Mozart sonatas. “The Mozart k.330 isn’t all that difficult technically speaking, but it’s very easy for it to sound mechanical if it’s not done well. You’ll be playing the complete sonata in two weeks time.”
She then opened the other book. “The Liszt, on the other hand, is very technical. That’s why I’m giving you both at the same time.”
I stared at them both for a moment, feeling a little overwhelmed. Finally I asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“Oh yes, absolutely. It’s not often that someone as young as you shows the ability to handle this kind of workload, but I’m certain you’re up to the challenge. Now what say we jump on into the Mozart?”
It wasn’t really a question, I knew. Still I couldn’t help but look at her for a moment before I started playing.
She was right, of course. The Mozart sonata was a beautiful piece of music, but nowhere near as difficult as the other pieces I’d been working on. Not to mention the fact that I had played it before…not that I was going to tell her that part.
When I finished playing through the entire piece, Dr. Caroll remarked, “You’ve obviously played this one before!” She got this sly smile on her face and said, “This means you’ll have even more time to work on the Liszt. However, it appears our time for today is about up. Polish the Mozart and get to work on the Liszt. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Over the next couple of days I got into a sort of routine. One day I’d start my practice with the Chopin Mazurkas. The next day I’d start with the Rachmaninov, and the day after that it was the Chopin etudes. Each day I’d follow with once through Mozart and close out each session with Liszt.
Other than sleeping together, I’m afraid I didn’t pay all that much attention to Cindy, though she didn’t complain. It seemed she too was extra busy with school stuff as she was working on a project for one of her psychology classes. We’d eat dinner together each night before going to sleep and other than that we were both rather engrossed in our own things.
By the time the performance of the Mozart drew near Dr. Caroll decided to let me in on what would be my performance schedule for the remainder of the semester. Following the Liszt, my bi-weekly midday recitals would be dropped in favor of a couple of “more important” performances. My solo recital would take place two weeks after I played the Liszt, and after that I would have two weeks to prepare Mozart’s twelfth piano concerto in A Major, kv.414 for a performance with the Conservatory Orchestra. This was a nearly unheard of honor, allowing a freshman to appear as a soloist with the orchestra. I just hoped I didn’t screw it up.
My Mozart was by no means my best work, but in spite of that the performance was extremely well received by both my peers and Dr. Caroll. I was becoming much more comfortable with performing, and hoped that trend would continue for the foreseeable future.
After what I had to describe as a less than good performance on the Mozart sonata, I felt the need to do something extra with the Liszt to redeem myself. Two weeks of working extra hard in preparation later, my rendition of the Franz Liszt piano sonata was outstanding, even if I do say so myself. It had beauty, grace, power, finesse, precision, and the most important ingredient…soul. I suspect the only person more pleased with my performance than me was Dr. Caroll, which was apparent by the amount of gushing.
That evening I found myself a bit out of sorts wracking my brain for ideas of how to maintain the level I’d set for myself. Although I was coming up empty handed in the idea department, Cindy seemed to come up with an idea that could really help give me a nudge and I don’t know if she meant to or not.
We were lounging on the couch relaxing after dinner and as she held my hand she was devoting an inordinate amount of attention to my fingernails. “You know, you really should take better care of these,” she said breaking the silence that had built up around us as we relaxed.
“What? My fingernails?” I asked feeling a little surprised at the abruptness of her comment. “You don’t mean like polished, do you?”
“Not unless you wanted to, no. I was just looking at them and although they are a fair amount longer than most guys, you haven’t been taking care of them.”
“I leave them long because I have a tendency to curl my fingers too much when I play and the longer nails force me not to do that.”
“Then you should take better care of them. At least file the edges so they aren’t so raggedy.”
“You’re probably right. Do you have a file?”
“Sure,” she reached into her purse and pulled out an emery board. “Here, we’ll use this.” She picked up my right hand and began filing away. “I’ll show you how this time and then you’re on your own, big boy.”
She rounded off the corners and smoothed out the rough edges, leaving behind a much nicer looking set of fingernails than I had previously. Rather feminine, but nice. When she was done she asked, “There, isn’t that better?”
I looked at them for a moment and I had to admit that they did look much better. I felt a momentary wave of panic rise up as I realized just how feminine they really were. Then I returned to Earth, remembering that I’ve been wearing panties all semester, and have been performing in a bra and pantyhose over shaven legs. From that perspective, neatly shaped fingernails didn’t seem like all that big of a deal at all.
After that night the nail file became a regular part of my grooming, just like shaving my body hair had before. It wasn’t until the night before my recital that Cindy broached the subject of applying some “nail hardener” to make them stronger. I wasn’t sure, but had to admit that so far she hadn’t led me astray, so finally I submitted to her idea and found myself sitting there with my fingers splayed waiting for the clear stuff to dry. It could have just been my imagination, but it seemed that the hardener made my nails jump out because they glistened.
My performance was to be in the evening and I spent much of the day so preoccupied by what I perceived as my brightly glistening fingernails that I absorbed basically nothing from any of my classes. By eleven I had given up on attending classes and had returned to my apartment to wait until it was time to get ready for my recital.
At noon Cindy joined me in waiting. She tried her best to distract me from obsessing about the performance to come, but in the end I’m afraid all her efforts were in vain. We ate a bite of lunch, watched some television, listened to some music…and yes, engaged in a little bit of more intimate activity as well. Despite all that I was still wound so tight I was afraid springs might start popping out of me. I was fairly certain there was no way I would survive the night. Only time would tell.
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Sonata, k.330
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-1-kopp.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-2-3-kop...
Franz Liszt, Piano Sonata in B minor, s.178
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-sonata-Bmino...
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Notes:
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Everything was as ready as it would ever be, so I nodded to the stage manager as I made my way backstage. He picked up the house phone and called the ushers office, telling them they could open the doors and let patrons in. Moments later, sounds started filtering through the curtains from the gallery as the crowd found seats and began chatting in anticipation of the upcoming performance.
Standing around backstage I looked over at Cindy. Suddenly it occurred to me why she’d suggested polishing my fingernails. That clear lacquer had been enough to keep my mind distracted all day, thus preventing me from letting my nerves completely freak me out like they were inclined to do at that moment.
“Are you ready?” asked Dr. Caroll. I didn’t see or hear her approach and thus was a bit startled by the sudden intrusion.
After taking a second to bring myself back to reality I replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. You go on in about five minutes,” she told me before wandering off to say hello to some other members of the piano faculty.
Cindy came up beside me and stood close, putting her arm through mine. “Relax! You’re going to do great,” she said, trying to reassure me.
“I hope you’re right,” I replied. “So do you want to go sit out front? Or stay back here?”
“Wherever you want me to be,” she said just before she kissed me on the cheek.
“Well, there’s really no reason for you to stay back here. Why don’t you go out front?”
“Okay,” she said before kissing me on the cheek again. I turned my face toward her and she kissed me yet again, this time on the lips before releasing her grasp on my arm and leaving the backstage area to go find a seat out front.
Those last few moments standing there alone, I became acutely aware of all things feminine on my person. With each breath, I could feel the tautness of the bra around my chest. And every time I moved one of my legs or feet, I felt the panty hose under my slacks, not to mention the panties as they caressed my groin area.
I looked down at my fingernails…such a point of distraction all day long…and caught myself admiring just how feminine they appeared. I suppressed the desire to hold my hands out and admire the manicure in more detail.
The faint sound of who knows how many conversations drifting up from the seats to the backstage area continued to serve as the backdrop for my musings, right up until the house lights dimmed signaling that it was time to begin. The sound faded almost as quickly as the light, and with that it was time for me to go on.
I started out on stage and was greeted by an ovation of much greater intensity than I was expecting. I glanced out at the audience and though it was too dark to tell for certain, it appeared there was a substantial crowd on hand…much more so than I had anticipated.
Standing by the keyboard facing the audience, I bowed in recognition of the hearty welcome I had received and as the applause died down I sat at the piano and made some last minute adjustments to the bench height and position.
Once I was finally satisfied that I was in the best possible position to begin playing I raised my hands and held them hovering just above the keys while I took one last deep breath to calm my nerves before beginning.
First on the program was the Rachmaninov sonata, and I felt confident from the very beginning that I would be able to play it well. I began it bold and brash, relying mostly on my power before finally bringing in the more graceful elements, as the music demanded it. All the while, despite the fact that I was trying to remain focused on my performance, I couldn’t seem to prevent my mind from wandering now and then.
I’d be playing along and move in such a way that I felt a bra strap tug against my shoulder, or look down at my hands and see the stage lights glint off of the nail polish. Whatever the distraction might be, I was conscious enough of what I was doing to realize that this was proving to be an outstanding performance, but not so much that I would begin to over-analyze every aspect of my playing until it began to sound mechanical and dull.
As strong and brash as the first movement was, the second movement was far more introspective and I took advantage of that by letting all the grace and fluidity I could muster flow freely from my fingers. With each passing moment I became more certain that I would be more than satisfied with my performance. That is, right up until I hit my first major wrong note.
About halfway through that second movement, I flubbed a couple of very exposed notes in the middle of a big run. Even though I knew that other than myself chances were nobody else would realize my mistake, it took me several measures to calm my nerves back down and during that time I was terrified that I’d make another, far bigger and more noticeable mistake. Fortunately I escaped that fate and made my way through the remainder of the movement unscathed.
The third and final movement of the sonata could very easily sound like crap if you tried to rely too heavily on just playing fast and loud, so it was really right up my alley, you could say. I took the power of the first movement and combined that with the fluidity of the second, and set out to give the finest performance possible.
Again, I had some flubbed note problems, but they were hidden well enough that even the piano faculty, who were judging my performance for my semester grade, would have been hard pressed to find them. In the end I was nowhere near satisfied with how I’d done, but then I knew that the audience was going to eat up this performance.
I pounded the final chord, held it for a moment while the sound faded, and then held my breath for a moment waiting for the response from the crowd. I didn’t have long to wait and as the Rachmaninov drifted into nothingness the audience exploded with applause. I jumped to my feet and took a bow, then another, and finally a third as the ovation continued. I had the option of leaving the stage in between selections, but decided that was a little more pretentious than I wanted to be, so once the crowd began to settle back into it’s silence I returned to the bench so I could prepare to play the Chopin Mazurkas.
I had felt pretty good about my performance earlier in the semester when I played these the first time, but with the additional progress I’d made over the course of the term I believed tonight’s rendition would put that performance to shame.
Unlike the Rachmaninov, I actually managed to get through the entire collection without a major mess up. It’s nearly impossible to play something that advanced without making some mistakes, so the goal is to minimize their impact on the audience’s enjoyment of the performance. I’d like to think I’d managed to do just that.
As I played the Mazurkas I started to feel a comfort level with being in front of so many people that I’d never really felt before. I even stole a couple of glances out into the audience, catching Cindy’s eyes and smiling at her.
A development of the less positive variety was that my mind started wandering to things like “What should I get Cindy for Christmas?” Okay, this wasn’t the first time such errant thoughts started creeping through my mind as I played, but this seemed like a truly strange time and place for such a thing to happen.
I did eventually get my head back under control and managed to avoid any major difficulties for the remainder of the composition. When I finished with the Chopin, I swear the applause that roused me from my little world seemed even more enthusiastic than it had been after the Rachmaninov. Before the applause died down this time, I made sure I was already back in position to begin the next selection on the program, which just happened to be the Mozart sonata.
During the Mozart I continued to relax. Before that there had still been this tenseness in my shoulders that didn’t seem to want to go away. I know if I’d been able to get rid of that feeling more quickly things would have sounded that much better, but as it was the Mozart sonata is where I finally began to feel truly good about my performance.
Of course, with the more relaxed feelings came more ‘distractions’. My mind flashed back to that first shopping expedition with Cindy, when she helped me pick out my panties. I felt certain that if anyone looked at me close enough they’d be able to see me blushing as the memory played back in my mind.
As the memories continued to swirl, the montage left me so distracted that at one point in the second movement if I hadn’t been playing basically on autopilot I’m sure I would have gotten lost. Fortunately, I knew the piece so well that didn’t happen, and I soon got myself back under control enough to remain focused for the remainder of the piece.
Again the audience response left me feeling somewhat unworthy of such adulation, but in the end I knew better than to turn down the appreciation they were showing me. It had the effect of pushing me to do even better on the Liszt sonata.
Fortunately the Liszt was more forgiving, as far as the graceful execution of the performance was concerned, because while my performance contained ample power and technical skill, it lacked the kind of feminine touch that the rest of the program had contained. I’m sure there weren’t half a dozen people in the audience…most of them professors at the conservatory…who could identify the weakness in my rendition, but I knew and that was enough.
When I reached the end, I vowed to work twice as hard for next semester to make up for what I perceived to be my failure. Of course, the audience didn’t seem to mind that I’d botched my interpretation, as the applause seemed just as loud as it had been before. That didn’t mean I felt like I deserved it.
Since the Chopin etudes take so long to play in their entirety, I opted to leave the stage for a moment before returning to play them. I could probably make up something about wanting to allow the audience a moment to cleanse their ears before beginning, but the truth was I was dying of thirst so I went backstage to get a drink of water before continuing.
It was during my couple of minutes backstage that I once again became acutely aware of my feminine attire. First, when I reached for the bottle of water I had left there for just this contingency I felt the bra pinch just a bit into my side, then felt the strap tug across my shoulder. Then, as if that weren’t enough I shifted my position and felt the satin of my panties rub my privates in a delightfully distracting way.
One last sip of water and I was heading back on stage to play the Chopin opus 10 etudes. I headed straight for the piano and before the applause that once again greeted me had begun to die down I was ready to play.
I knew from my previous performance of these etudes just how easily they could degenerate in a pool of testosterone where the true beauty of the compositions would be lost. With that in mind, I decided to exaggerate the dynamics, thereby ensuring that there was no way they could be described as mechanical. Of course, I also found myself continually fascinated by the light that was making my fingernails shine, thanks in no small part to the ‘hardener’ Cindy had applied.
Once my nails again distracted my mind, I played the rest of the etudes without putting much conscious thought into the performance. That’s not to say that I played them without emotion. On the contrary, my performance was a veritable roller coaster of emotional expression. I just wasn’t thinking about every single note I played.
It seemed like it took forever to reach the end of the twelfth etude, but reach it I eventually did. While I was playing I had slipped into my own little world where I wasn’t even aware of the audience’s presence, but as soon as I played that final chord the sound of the crowd erupting into applause roused me from my musings and left me a little bewildered. After all, I had played pretty well, but nowhere near good enough to warrant the reaction I got.
After a few minutes, I left the stage expecting the ovation to die away, but much to my surprise, it didn’t. If anything the sound became even stronger. So out I went once again to take a bow I didn’t really think I deserved.
Standing beside the piano looking out on the audience, I started to grasp for the first time how many people were there, and they were all there to hear me. Talk about overwhelming!
The applause went on for several minutes, with me standing there soaking it all in. Finally things began to settle down and after a couple of more bows I left the stage once again. The ovation began to die down, replaced by the sounds of shuffling feet, rustling coats, and chitchat. As I stood just behind the curtain I listened in to see if I could get some idea of what my audience really thought of the performance.
For the most part the comments I could make out were extremely positive, which gave my ego a healthy boost to be sure. As I stood there eavesdropping Cindy surprised me, as she snuck up on me while I was distracted and gave me a kiss before I even knew she was there.
“So are you ready to greet your adoring public?” she asked as she took my hand and started leading me toward the door.
“What are you talking about?” As was so often the case where Cindy and I were concerned, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
As she pulled me through the stage door and down the hallway toward the lobby, I could hear quite a few people milling about. As we passed through the doors into the lobby, we were greeted by yet another ovation from the crowd.
Eventually the applause died back down, replaced once again by the sounds of people enjoying themselves. After a while I just looked at her somewhat bewildered. By way of reply she said, “Come on, silly. Why so surprised? We planned this for you weeks ago. I can’t believe you weren’t expecting it.”
Feeling quite flabbergasted I said as we reached the lobby area, “I didn’t have a clue.”
Cindy opened her mouth to respond to me but we were interrupted by some of Dr. Caroll’s other students who wanted to chat for a moment. While they started out asking me about my interpretation of the Chopin Mazurkas, the conversation quickly degenerated into a somewhat heated debate about whether Chopin was a better composer than Liszt.
It didn’t take me long to lose interest in their discussion and fairly quickly my attention began to wander. I started perusing the crowd looking for Cindy; much to my surprise I found her chatting with my parents. I had no idea they were planning on coming into town for the recital and was thrilled to see them again, so I quickly excused myself from the great writer debate and made a beeline for Mom and Dad, not to mention Cindy.
Dad was the first to see me approaching and said, “Excellent performance son. You really wowed them.” The pride was evident in his facial expressions as well as the tone of his voice as he continued, “Now what say we all celebrate a little.”
My mom didn’t say anything, but instead just looked me in the eye before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. The warmth that spread through me could have melted an iceberg, so I felt pretty sure I had to be blushing furiously by the end of the hug. My blushing was only accentuated by the fact that as she released the hug I could see this strange look in her eyes telling me we needed to talk later.
Suddenly what had just happened hit me. She must have felt my bra when she was squeezing me and that’s what she wanted to talk about later. If it were possible, I turned an even brighter shade of red.
Finally mom broke the relative silence that had enveloped us. “You played brilliantly, Kyle!”
My dad then added, “Absolutely! I don’t think anyone could have done better.”
“You’re right about that, Mr. Bronson,” Dr. Caroll came up behind me and added. “Kyle is fast becoming the best pianist in the school. Has he told you about his appearance with the orchestra in two weeks? He’ll be the soloist playing one of the Mozart concerti.” My teacher seemed to glow with almost as much pride as my parents at the news.
“That’s wonderful!” my mom exclaimed. “Kyle, why hadn’t you told us?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to make all these trips into town, so I figured if I didn’t tell you, you’d be less likely to feel like you needed to come running so often.”
Dad jumped into the conversation, “Nonsense, son. You didn’t think we’d miss tonight for anything, did you? Of course we wouldn’t miss your recital, just like we won’t miss your featured performance as a soloist with the orchestra.”
Mom finished for him, “Oh, we’ll be back for that concert, I guarantee it.”
Eventually Cindy drifted back over by me. I’m not sure why, but my mom gave her what appeared to be a half-hearted plastic smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them would ever just get along? While I didn’t have an answer myself, I hoped they might eventually manage to be civil.
As the evening dragged on I spent my time shaking hands, answering questions that ranged from thought provoking to mind numbing, and generally hoping this silly reception would end soon. About an hour into it I wandered over to the punch bowl and as I was getting myself something to drink, Dr. Caroll came over with another professor in tow.
“Kyle, have you met our conductor, Dr. Wyler?”
“I can’t say that I have,” I said as I extended my hand to shake his. “Kyle Bronson, sir.”
He reached out and took my hand in his and as he was shaking it he replied, “A pleasure, Mr. Bronson, a pleasure indeed. I was most impressed this evening.”
“Where were you?” I quipped.
As he laughed, he said, “You’re obviously not one of these completely self absorbed, ultra serious performers we seem to grow on trees around here. That’s good. It should make work on the Mozart much more enjoyable.”
“I’m looking forward to it, sir.”
“Well then I’ll see you Monday afternoon at rehearsal.” He shook my hand one last time, then he and Dr. Caroll left.
As I looked around the lobby to see who else was still on hand, I saw Cindy off in a corner talking with someone I didn’t recognize. Curious, I headed their way. Just as I got close enough for subdued conversation, Cindy’s friend looked my way then asked her, “So is this the guy from your research project?”
I wasn’t entirely sure why, but my head began to spin uncontrollably. I gruffly excused myself and left the performing arts center, making my way back to my apartment, tears streaming down my face the whole way.
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Sonata, k.330
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-1-kopp.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-2-3-kop...
Franz Liszt, Piano Sonata in B minor, s.178
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-sonata-Bmino...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kopp.mp3
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Still half blinded by tears I plopped down naked on the bed and prayed that I could simply forget about Cindy. Maybe it made no sense at all, but part of me wished I could remove her from my heart as easily as I removed my clothes. Unfortunately that small part of me that was still in touch with reality knew that wasn’t likely to happen.
As I lay there, the inevitable happened. There was a knock, followed by another more insistent one, then finally a key in the lock and the sound of the chain lock being pulled taut.
“Come on, Kyle! Let me in? Please?” Cindy shouted through the crack allowed by the chain lock on the front door for about the hundredth time. She had followed me back to my apartment; ironically that possibility had been the only thing that had prevented me from losing it completely in the last hour.
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
I said to myself, “If she’s so sure of that, then what do I think?” To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what I thought myself. I opted for attempting to ignore her.
In her ongoing plot to prevent me from doing just that Cindy said, “We need to talk. I know what you overheard at the reception. You have to believe me when I say it wasn’t like that.”
I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to prevent the memories from weakening my resolve, but that was to no avail. With each time she called to me from outside, I felt some sort of force pulling me toward the door and the inevitable conversation to come.
Finally, I pulled myself up off the bed, grabbed a robe to cover up my complete lack of clothing, and stumbled through the apartment toward the front door and the moment of truth.
“Kyle?” Cindy called yet again as I neared the door.
“What do you think you have to say that I might possibly want to hear?” I said with as much ice in my voice as I could muster.
“It’s not what it sounded like, I swear.”
“Oh no?” my voice quavered. “It sounded like you’ve been writing a paper about me without my knowledge or consent. Is that not accurate?”
She paused, taking a deep breath before saying, “That’s true.”
“Then tell me what’s not what it sounded like then?”
“Your identity isn’t revealed at any time…”
I jumped in before she could finish that thought. “Except of course to all your friends who no doubt had a good laugh at my expense.”
“No!” she stated as firmly as she could. “I never told anyone!”
“Now why don’t I believe that? Maybe it’s because one of your friends just asked you if I was the subject of your research project.”
“That was a wild guess on her part, which I denied before I came running after you.”
“Sure you did.”
“It’s true!”
I stood there on the opposite side of the door from Cindy silently for a moment before continuing. “You’ll have to forgive me for not believing you at the moment. Even if I were to accept what you’re saying, there’s still the issue of making me the subject of a research project without my consent. How ethical is that? And more importantly in the light of that, how can I ever trust you again?”
For the longest time there was no response other than silence. Eventually I could hear Cindy softly crying on the other side of the door. Finally after several minutes of listening to her cry, she managed to say, “Because I love you.”
“What was that?”
“I said because I love you. That’s why you can trust me. I swear to you, I would never do anything to jeopardize you in any way.”
“At the moment, that rings a bit hollow to tell the truth.”
Just then my mom and dad came walking up to my door, greeted by the still tearful Cindy. My father was the first to speak, “Kyle? Open up, please?”
“Not until she leaves,” I said, knowing full well that it would hurt Cindy’s feelings deeply.
“Kyle, please think about this? Let’s talk later?” Cindy begged before heading toward her little-used apartment.
I waited a moment before asking, “Is she gone?”
“Yes,” my mother replied.
I opened the door allowing my parents entry, following them into the living room where we all took seats in preparation for the inquisition that was most certainly to come.
Mom got straight to the point. “What’s going on here? You two were deliriously happy one moment, then the next…” she allowed the thought to trail off. “What happened?”
I let out a deep sigh before responding, “I overheard one of her friends ask if I was the person she was writing her research project on and I kind of freaked out.”
“Does this have to do with the women’s clothing?” my mom once again got straight to the point.
I stared at her for a moment trying to gauge how to respond before finally trying denial. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on son,” she scolded. “I know that a lot of the stuff in your drawers is for you, not Cindy.”
I wavered a bit but eventually opted for the truth. “Yeah, they’re mine. This is something I started because it’s helping with my playing.”
Dad finally weighed in, “How so?”
I took a deep breath before I started, “One of the first things Dr. Caroll said to me was that I had a nice, what she called feminine, touch but it was inconsistent. What I discovered was that I could sustain that touch if I could keep from thinking too much about the technical aspects of playing. What seemed to help me do that at first was to imagine myself as a girl…believe me, I know how weird that sounds…but it was difficult to maintain that image in my mind long enough to make it through an entire piece.
“Cindy was actually the one who suggested I try wearing women’s clothes as a way of maintaining my focus when I play. The amazing thing is it worked. So she took me shopping to buy a supply of panties and things for me to wear.”
I took a deep breath, then continued, “As time went on I found that the more I feminized myself, the better I played.”
“How so?” mom asked.
“At first, I wore panties,” I said, showing signs of extreme embarrassment. “But after a while they didn’t help as much, so I added a bra. Then I shaved my body hair and started wearing panty hose.” By this time I was blushing so much I’m sure I looked like a beet.
“Just this last week I started shaping my fingernails, which I let grow out because they make me hold my fingers correctly when I play. Last night Cindy helped me add clear polish to them.”
“How can something as simple as what you wear influence the way you play?” my dad asked.
“I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it any better than you do. All I know is from the moment I tried playing this way, I could tell the difference and so could everyone who heard me play.”
Mom asked, “What does that have to do with what happened tonight?”
“After a while, Cindy and I started hanging out together and eventually became involved, you might say. It didn’t start out that way, but…” I paused before continuing. “I thought she cared for me, but now…”
Dad looked at me for a moment before offering, “Maybe it’s none of my business, but when you left this evening the first thing she did was read her friend the riot act, then took out after you. I wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what she said, but she was obviously very mad at whoever that girl was.”
“Maybe, but is that because she jumped to conclusions, or because she made the mistake of letting me know what was going on?”
It was actually mom who responded, “I don’t know the answer to that. Cindy is the only one who knows the truth, and from the sound of things it may be a while before you feel like you can trust what she says.”
“You got that right,” I commented glibly.
A rather uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, as none of us seemed quite sure where to take the conversation next. It was my dad who finally broke the mood by asking, “This might sound like a weird question, but does wearing girls’ clothes really make that much difference in the way you play?”
Any spoken response was likely to fall short of convincing him, so instead I walked over to my digital piano and started playing part of the Mozart concerto I was supposed to be preparing for my appearance with the Conservatory Orchestra. I played fairly well, but obviously not up to my recent standards.
“Very nice son. But what does that have to do with your dad’s question?” mom asked before dad had a chance.
I put my index finger to my lips, got up from the piano, and made my way into the bedroom where I pulled on the panties I had removed earlier. Then I returned to the living room and silently sat at the keyboard again and played the exact same passage. The difference in the quality of the performance would have been obvious to even the most tone-deaf listener.
When I finished playing the passage again, I silently turned to face my stunned parents. As we sat there staring at each other, trying to digest what I had just done my folks seemed almost catatonic. They would look at me, then at each other, then back at me again, still unable to form thoughts into words. I think I had made my point.
I decided to be the one to break the silence this time, so I said, “Now you know. Yeah, it makes that big of a difference.”
“You mean to tell me that the only thing you did differently was put on a pair of panties?” My mom asked. Dad was clearly uncomfortable with this information, as he was still unable to form coherent thoughts.
Mom continued, “That’s unbelievable. How?”
“If I knew the answer to that one I might not need to wear lingerie,” I answered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.
Dad finally managed to defrost his brain and asked, “Isn’t there some other way? I mean, isn’t it kind of weird?”
“Yeah, it’s really weird, not just kinda. But if there’s another way, I haven’t been able to find it. Lord knows I’ve tried. But once I heard the difference for myself I haven’t been able to bring myself to try playing without it. And as the semester has progressed I’ve found myself adding articles of clothing and such. With each addition I’ve gotten better.”
Dad asked, “Aren’t you a little worried about where this is all going?”
“You could say that, Dad. Until now, I at least had Cindy supporting me. Now though…” as the thought trailed off, that silence returned.
As the hour was getting rather late, I offered my folks the use of the bedroom and after getting them settled stretched out on the couch in the hope that I might eventually be able to get some sleep myself. I tossed and turned much of the night, but did finally drift off around three in the morning.
My dreams were a reflection of the just completed evening. I had multiple dreams in which I found myself feeling betrayed by Cindy and yet still unable to stop loving her. After the fourth such dream in a couple of hours, I finally gave up on sleep and got up.
I plugged in my headphones and started working on the Mozart, trying to commit it to memory. I lost all track of time and it wasn’t until mom tapped my shoulder to ask if I wanted any breakfast that I realized I’d been practicing for several hours. If nothing else, at least my Mozart would be ready for the performance.
As we finished up breakfast there was a knock at the door, so I went to see who was there. I don’t suppose I should have been surprised when I saw Cindy standing there looking at me with her best wounded puppy eyes.
“What?” I asked, still being a bit cold toward her.
“Kyle, I know you don’t trust me right now. You have every right to be that way towards me,” she said. “Is there any way we can talk now?”
I looked into her eyes and despite the hurt that was still bouncing around in my heart, I felt myself being drawn to her. I was able to remain outwardly unmoved by her plea for roughly thirty seconds before I could do it no more and finally said, “Okay.”
She started to enter my place when I stopped her saying, “My folks are still here. If there’s anything you want to say that you don’t want them knowing we might want to take this to your place.”
“I’m fairly certain that no matter how things turn out after this conversation you’re going to tell them most everything we talk about, isn’t that right?”
I couldn’t resist cracking a smile when I said, “Yeah, probably.”
“Then I guess you could say we have no secrets,” she walked in the apartment ahead of me after our conversation at the door.
When my folks first saw her coming into the living room, they started in immediately. Mom was first with her icy greeting, “Cindy.”
Dad’s greeting came right on the heels of mom’s, and was no less cool toward her. “I’m surprised to see you this morning.”
Cindy found herself standing against the wall opposite my folks, where she began, “Kyle, I realize you feel like I’ve betrayed you somehow…”
“You could say that,” I cut her off. “Tell me this. Am I in fact the subject of your research project?”
Cindy took a deep breath to steel herself before responding, “Um, yes.”
“And how exactly did you reach the conclusion that it was all right for you to do that without letting me know?”
“I didn’t think there’d be a problem,” she stated.
“Then you thought wrong,” I snapped back.
“Kyle, I…”
“I don’t think you realize how betrayed I feel right now, not to mention feeling used. I mean, do you even like me? Or was this all just an experiment for you?”
Cindy looked shocked and hurt by my question, which told me most of what I wanted to know. She did however finally respond, “Kyle! I love you! I thought you knew that!”
“I don’t know anything anymore. I thought we…” Flustered, I had to stop to get my thoughts together. “Then I find out that you’ve been using me…” I found I couldn’t go any further as I started crying.
Cindy too was in tears as she said, “I know I should have asked you before doing this. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” was all I could say.
We all sat there in silence as thoughts overtook each of us. Eventually Cindy broke the silence. “I’m sorry Kyle. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me and we can go back to the way things were before.” She then headed slowly toward the door.
I looked toward her as she was leaving and said, “I don’t know if that’s going to be possible. Maybe for now it would be best if you didn’t come back.”
She looked back at me, completely rejected, then turned and left my apartment. I buried my face in my hands to try to hide the overwhelming sorrow I felt.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
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“Thanks. I felt pretty good about most of it myself,” I responded.
“As you should. You’ve done outstanding work this term. Now, how is the Mozart concerto coming along?”
That was my hint to start playing. We went through several sections of the Mozart and it was obvious to both of us that I wasn’t up to par. Following a particularly substandard rendition Dr. Caroll asked, “Kyle, is something wrong? You’re not exactly playing like your usual self.”
I paused for a moment before finally admitting, “I kind of had a huge fight with my girlfriend over the weekend and it looks like we’ve broken up.”
“Sorry to hear that. Her name was Cindy, wasn’t it?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just nodded. After a moment, Dr. Caroll breached the silence, “Is there anything I can do? Believe me, I know how it is. You need to get your head back on track so you can give the kind of performance we both know you’re capable of playing.”
Once my lesson time was up I gathered my things and headed straight back to my apartment. I appreciated Dr. Caroll trying to help me regain my focus, but this was something I was just going to have to deal with by myself.
By myself really for the first time since my discovery about Cindy, I quickly disintegrated into a puddle of tears that threatened to rival the biblical flood. I cried because I felt hurt, used, and betrayed. I cried because the person I loved was the source of all those feelings. I cried because my love wasn’t there with me and I felt truly alone for the first time. I cried until I finally fell asleep sometime after 3am.
Tuesday I could at least go three minutes without feeling like I was about to have a monsoon pouring out of my eyes, but the emptiness, pain, and sorrow were still quite evident. All I could do was hope that one day those feelings would make room for some other emotion, but at that point I seriously doubted that day would ever arrive.
As the days passed I finally managed to make my way back to a point where I was functioning on a more or less normal level, although it still required little or no provocation for me to dissolve into a sea of tears. Through all that, the one aspect of my life that remained constant was that I was still playing as well as ever…some might even say better.
When I played was the one time I could let my guard down enough to allow the still raw, open wounds that resided where my heart had once been to be seen by any and all who took the time to listen. Each rehearsal session with the orchestra demonstrated that very point and by the time the Friday before the concert rolled around the emotional turmoil that had been pouring from me as I played had managed to permeate into the performances of every member of the ensemble.
Following a particularly moving rendition, more than a few tears were evident in the rehearsal hall and while musically it felt wonderful that we had been able to all get on the same page and infuse the performance with such an impressive depth of feeling, it also left me drained to the point of nearly falling apart.
“I have to say Kyle that I’m fascinated by your interpretation,” said Dr. Wyler as we sat in his office following Friday’s rehearsal. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mozart played quite that way, and I say that as a good thing.” He reached into a small refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda, offering me one. “There are a lot of darker emotions lingering just under the surface in your version. I’m really looking forward to the concert Sunday.”
“Thank you sir for the opportunity. I’m really enjoying playing with the ensemble. Truth is, I didn’t think I would like it as much as I have. But this has been great.” I opened my soda and took a sip. “Thank you for this as well, sir.”
“As I was saying, I’m very impressed with your playing. You’re extremely advanced for someone so young, not only technically, but musically. I’ve heard others who had your level of skill, but they often lack the musicality I’ve heard from you.” He took a sip from his own soda before continuing, “I think we should plan on you appearing with the orchestra on a regular basis.”
Wow! “I don’t know what to say sir.” I was flabbergasted by this suggestion. Here I’m a college freshman, and he’s talking about me playing as a soloist on a regular basis? All I could think was cool!
“Once we get through the concert Sunday I’ll sit down with Dr. Caroll so we can plan your next appearance. This is not only good for you as an aspiring concert pianist, it will help in the development of many of the players in the orchestra.”
“Thanks again sir, but I’m not sure I follow?”
“Most of these kids will be filling seats in professional orchestras after they leave here. Our job is to help them become familiar with the standard repertoire so when they get those jobs they won’t have to go through an ‘on the job training’ period.
“We regularly play the standard repertoire, like the Beethoven and Mozart symphonies, but it’s been a struggle to make sure they get the chance to learn many of the concerti that will no doubt be placed in front of them. If you and some of your fellow classmates would be willing to help us out in that regard by playing the soloist’s parts it would help everyone involved.”
“I am definitely interested, and I think it would be safe to say that several other students of Dr. Caroll’s would be as well. Just figure out what you want me to do next and I’ll start work on it over the break.”
“Excellent!” He stood, so I followed suit. As he showed me to the door of his office he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the dress rehearsal, and by then I should have a pretty good idea of which piece will be next.”
As I left the performing arts center to go home I couldn’t help but note that I was feeling better than I had in about two weeks. Of course, when I had that thought the sense of sadness and loss at losing someone I really did love once again swept over me and I felt very alone.
I walked into my apartment and started toward the shower, but noticed something sitting on the table as I walked by that I knew wasn’t there when I had left earlier. I went over to take a look and discovered the key to the apartment that I had given Cindy, on top of a manila envelope with my name written on it.
I didn’t think I was in the right frame of mind to see what it was, so I went on to take my shower. As I luxuriated under the jets of hot water my mind kept wandering back to that package on the table. “What on earth could it be?” I asked myself out loud as I began toweling dry.
I pulled on an old t-shirt and panties and went back into the living room where I plopped down on the sofa. I tried reading, watching television, listening to music…nothing seemed to be able to distract my attention away from that envelope.
I finally gave in and opened it. There was a fairly large stack of paper stapled together, with the top sheet being a letter:
Dearest Kyle,
I hope you will read this with an open mind. It didn’t really click for me what you must have assumed was the subject of my research until a few days ago. I promise you that was NOT the case at all.
You’ll find attached to this note my paper. The title is “The Subconscious Mind and the Creative Process”. Yes, I wrote about you extensively in this paper, but not in the way you thought. I wrote about how your subconscious mind controls some aspects of a performance, leaving the conscious mind free to handle other parts.
My friend Sarah knew nothing about what you were wearing under your suit, I promise you. She only knew the subject of my research because she’s the graduate assistant in my Psych class, and remembered at one point I told her I was dating this great musician. By putting those things together, she assumed it was about you. That’s all.
She came with me to your recital because apparently she used to be a musician too and wanted to hear the genius I was always raving about. She was quite impressed, by the way.
Maybe this doesn’t make things any better, but I don’t know what to do that will. All I can do is swear to you that I do love you, and miss you a lot. I hope we can eventually put this behind us and have a future together.
All My Love,
Cindy
I read through that letter four times before I even thought about looking at the paper, but when I did I found that what she had said was absolutely true. There was nothing in there about who I was, or what I might or might not wear under my suit when I performed.
While this knowledge went a long way toward mending my heart where Cindy was concerned, I still wasn’t ready to accept her apology and return to the way things were before. The fact that I was wrong in my assumption didn’t make the fact that I still felt betrayed go away. Unfortunately, it was no doubt going to take some time for that to happen.
I sat there reading and re-reading her paper for much of the night, actually falling asleep sitting on the sofa with it in my hand sometime around dawn. When I later awakened I had to rush around to make it to the dress rehearsal in time, but I made it.
There wasn’t that much playing going on Saturday afternoon. Mostly, we got the stage arranged, practiced everyone making entrances and exits between pieces, and talked a bit about how the acoustics of the room were going to influence the balance of the ensemble and myself.
That’s not to say there was no playing going on, because there was. The rehearsal closed out with a straight run through of the entire program, including all the stage changes we had just discussed. Once Dr. Wyler was satisfied that everything was as ready as it was likely to be for the concert tomorrow, we were dismissed and instructed to be present and ready to play an hour before the doors were to open.
As the members of the orchestra packed up their toys to go home, I caught a glimpse of Dr. Caroll talking with Dr. Wyler. Once they realized I had noticed them, they called me over to join them.
Dr. Caroll began, “Kyle, outstanding work as usual.”
“Definitely, young man,” Dr. Wyler added.
“It’s been a great experience,” I replied. “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s concert.”
“As am I Kyle. As am I,” Dr. Wyler commented. “Now, about next semester…” he said, allowing the sentence to die away unfinished.
Dr. Caroll picked up where Dr. Wyler left off. “We have a fairly adventurous schedule planned for you.”
“How so?”
Dr. Wyler picked up, “I’d like to have you play one concert a month with this group, and I’ve also talked to the conductors of the Civic orchestra and the Philharmonic.”
I stood there rather stunned by this news. It took me a moment to form thoughts into words. “That sounds like a rather busy schedule in conjunction with my class schedule.”
“It is,” Dr. Caroll agreed. “But it’s a fabulous opportunity. One that may not come again.”
I thought for about half a second before saying, “Absolutely! Count me in!”
“Excellent,” Dr. Wyler responded. “I have to run right now, but I’ll get together with Maestros Parkinson from the Civic and Herbert with the Philharmonic and have the list of pieces for the entire semester for you by Monday afternoon.” With that, he turned and left.
I’m not sure how long it took for it all to sink in, but after a moment or two I finally realized that I’d just agreed to learn at least five different concerti over the next six months. The longer I thought about it, the more monumental that task began to sound.
As I tried to relax Saturday evening I found myself dwelling on the thought that while things in my career were starting to really take off, I felt more alone and sad than I ever had in my young life. Putting it bluntly, I missed Cindy terribly. The problem was, I was still just stubborn enough that I wasn’t ready to admit that to her or anyone else for that matter.
I wound up playing for several hours before finally stumbling bleary eyed into bed far later than I should have been up. Once there I found sleep to be fickle, as I endured long stretches where I simply couldn’t relax.
Feeling almost hung over from the lack of rest I climbed into the shower Sunday morning to begin preparations for the upcoming concert. I followed my custom of shaving my body, then washing and conditioning my now rather longish hair. Once out of the shower I brushed out my hair, checked my manicure and performed necessary repairs to the nail strengthening clear coat, and then selected my undergarments for the day.
By noon I was sitting in my apartment in my bra and panties, wrapped in a robe waiting for it to be time to put on my tuxedo. I flipped channels on the television for a while but couldn’t find anything remotely entertaining. Without even thinking about it, I reached to the table and picked up Cindy’s research paper again.
I flipped through it for a while and actually found myself reading it closely again until I noticed it was time to finish getting dressed and head for the performing arts center. As I arrived I noticed that there were already quite a few people milling around the lobby waiting for the beginning of the concert so I made my way backstage as unobtrusively as I could.
Dr. Wyler greeted me as soon as I was within earshot, “Kyle! I’m glad you’re early. I have a couple of people I’d like you to meet.” He led me toward a pair of middle-aged gentlemen in suits who were standing together speaking with each other casually.
“Gentlemen, this is Kyle Bronson.” He then turned to me and said, “Kyle, this is Mike Parkinson,” gesturing toward one of the men, “Director of the Civic Orchestra.” He then directed my attention toward the other man, “And this is Charles Herbert, conductor of the Philharmonic.”
I shook each man’s hand, accompanied by a, “Hello, sir.”
Dr. Wyler once again focused all attention in the group on me, “I was telling Kyle yesterday about both of your interest in having him appear with your ensembles. I fear he may be feeling a little overwhelmed by it all, what with having to learn so many major works in such a short span of time.”
As he looked back toward the conductors standing there with him, Dr. Wyler continued, “Let’s get together this evening and go over which pieces you gentlemen want him to play and I’ll plan the Conservatory Orchestra’s programs accordingly.”
Getting the feeling they were done with me for now, I drifted away from this group as they buried themselves in conversation. As I wandered around backstage I was greeted by the cacophony of seventy individual musicians going through their personal warm up routines and carrying on conversations with each other. I received a few greetings along the way and by the time the backstage lights flashed off and on to signal that it was almost time for everyone to go onstage, I was beginning to feel more relaxed than I had when I first arrived today.
As the orchestra made it’s way onstage, I took a seat beside the stage manager to listen until it was my turn, which wouldn’t be until the next to last piece on the program. They performed the ceremonial tune up, which was more or less redundant since they had all tuned to the strobe in the rehearsal hall before they came onstage, then Dr. Wyler entered and the concert had begun.
Sitting there, my mind began to wander. Just as I had done many times before, I started thinking about why I was wearing women’s underwear. Was it really just because of the music? Until very recently that question was so easy to answer it seemed unnecessary, but in the past week or so I had been questioning the truth of that position.
If it was just because of the way I played, then why had I not worn anything but panties in months? I still had several pairs of boxers, but none of them had seen the outside of my dresser drawer since that day Cindy took me shopping for lingerie the first time. I don’t play the piano 24/7, so why have I been wearing panties all the time?
The simple answer is that I liked them. I liked the way they felt when I had them on. Did that make me a cross dresser? I suppose it did. Was there more to it than that? The more I thought about that one, the muddier those waters became.
To carry it further, what exactly prompted me to start wearing a bra? Was it just that I felt like I needed an extra ‘push’ in performance? Or was there something pulling me ever deeper into femininity? I was roused from that line of self-examination by the sound of applause as the orchestra finished their first selection.
I gradually drifted back into my thoughts once Dr. Wyler and his group began playing their next piece. So where did Cindy fit in? Was she just helping me? Or was she deriving some satisfaction from participating in my feminization? Even as I asked myself those questions I knew that chances were I would never find out the real answers.
My mind drifted yet again, this time wondering why it was that I had assumed that the subject of Cindy’s research had been my cross-dressing? Furthermore, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take me to trust her again, assuming she’d be interested in taking me back? Was it really her taking me back? Or was it the other way around?
Once again applause brought me back to reality, as the orchestra completed their second part of the program. That meant I was next up with my concerto.
After my extensive musings while I waited, I was hyper-aware of my feminine attire. Every movement amplified the sensations created by the rub of silk and lace against skin and as I stood there waiting for my signal to walk out on stage I knew that this distraction was a good thing.
I stepped out onto the stage and made my way to the piano set up in front of the ensemble, all the while being regaled with a chorus of cheers that was overwhelming, to put it lightly. I bowed deeply, looked at Dr. Wyler, and took my seat at the piano. I adjusted the tilt and height of the bench, then nodded to him that I was ready to begin.
He led the group through the opening section as I sat there taking deep breaths and resting my hands on the keyboard. When the time came for my entrance, I actually played mostly with my eyes closed, only looking down at the piano to ensure my hands were in the proper place to begin each new section or looking over at Dr. Wyler to make sure we were together on my entrances.
I found that as I played I couldn’t stop thinking about Cindy and how much I missed her being part of my life. While I was still a little miffed at her not informing me that I was being studied, I was quickly reaching the conclusion that the bigger mistake would be if I continued to let that stand in our way.
There are no doubt those who would argue that this particular selection would be hard pressed to serve as a conduit for such dark emotions as I was feeling, but to my ear at least the sense of longing this line of thought poured into the music made my performance the most poignant rendition I’d managed yet.
I continued to infuse everything I had into the music, and by the time I played my final notes I felt overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of raw emotion the music conveyed. As I sat there at the end all I could do was take deep breaths and try to keep the tears that were rolling down my cheeks from being too noticeable to the audience.
Dr. Wyler brought the concerto to a close followed by the briefest of moments during which you could feel the assembled crowd take a deep cleansing breath. That moment was then washed aside as the audience erupted into applause. They carried on as Dr. Wyler indicated I should take several bows. I then reached over to the concertmaster and shook his hand as well as Dr. Wyler’s before offering one final bow acknowledging the audience’s generosity.
I left the stage, but to my amazement the ovation didn’t cease until after I made an additional curtain call. Once I was finally safely backstage I found myself retaking my seat next to the stage manager, where I listened as the orchestra closed out the evening’s proceedings with a good if not great rendition of Ravel’s Bolero.
At the end of the concert I greeted each member of the orchestra as they came by me, shaking lots of hands and receiving numerous friendly hugs from the girls. I followed them back into the rehearsal hall for a moment, listening as the euphoria brought on by live performance exuded from the room.
Just as I was ready to leave, Dr. Wyler stopped me, “Mr. Bronson, outstanding performance.”
He offered me his hand and as we shook I said, “Thank you sir. I truly enjoyed working with you and the orchestra.”
“That’s good, because earlier today I gave Dr. Caroll the list of works for you to start work on for next semester. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Any hints?”
“That would take all the suspense out of your lesson time on Monday,” he said with an evil grin on his face. We shook hands one more time, then we parted ways with him heading for his office and me the exit.
I too was feeling something of that performance high, but mine was tempered by the other emotions that were still coursing through my body. I slowly walked toward the lobby and just as I emerged from the hallway I caught sight of Cindy, who appeared to be waiting for me.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
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I closed the distance between us and greeted her, “Cindy.”
“Hi Kyle,” she replied. “I’m sorry…”
I cut her off before she could finish her statement, “I know. Me too.”
The brightness in her eyes that I had caught a glimpse of when I first entered the lobby returned, multiplied by a factor of ten. She smiled at me and said, “I know I should have told you before. I was wrong. I…” her voice faded as she found it difficult to continue with her thought.
“It’s okay, really. I’ve missed you so bad. I can’t stop thinking about you.” For the first time ever in our relationship I found myself taking the aggressor’s role as I moved in closer and encircled her in a gentle hug. As I did, I could feel her melt into my arms and although she was trying not to let me hear, she softly cried on my shoulder.
We stood there for who knows how long. We finally found ourselves being surrounded by several members of the orchestra who seemed to be deriving some strange sense of voyeuristic pleasure from watching as we held each other. Their presence provided the impetus for us to leave the performing arts center. After departing from there, we walked around campus awhile before heading back toward the apartment building, where we stopped in front of my door.
“I’ve missed you horribly,” Cindy said for the umpteenth time that evening.
“Me too,” I replied. I unlocked and opened my door, took her hand in mine, and led her into my apartment. She took a seat on the couch while I went to the fridge and got us something to drink before joining her.
I took a drink from my glass before speaking, “Cindy, I think you know that I love you. You also know that I was hurt by the fact that you wrote about me without my prior knowledge or consent. That, to me, is a problem.”
“You have every right to not trust me right now,” she replied.
“However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned these last two weeks, it’s this,” I paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve learned that the best day I could possibly have without you pales in comparison to the worst day we could ever share together.” I then held open my arms to take her into a hug, which she very quickly reciprocated.
Time seemed to stand still for us that night, as we spent the entire time entwined in each other’s arms. We talked, we kissed, and tried to catch up on all the time we’d wasted in the last two weeks. We explored and reveled in each other, deriving more pleasure from making the other feel good than would have been possible if either of us had been more concerned with their own satisfaction. When we did finally go to sleep, it would have been difficult to tell from looking at us where one person ended and the other began.
Monday morning came and went without acknowledgement on our parts; it was well past noon before we crawled out of bed. Once we had emerged from sleep and showers, we sat together at the kitchen table and ate a very late breakfast.
“Kyle, there’s something else I’d like to talk to you about if I could,” Cindy said as she took a bite of her eggs.
I swallowed before responding, “What’s that?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Sarah,” she said.
I looked at her, unsure whom she was meaning at first. Then it clicked. “Your friend from the recital?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think you’d really like her if you’d give her a chance. She’s kind of like the psychology department mom.”
“I’ll give her a chance, really.”
“Then can we go see her this afternoon?”
“I don’t know why not.”
Once we’d finished eating we got dressed and headed over to Sarah’s place. She lived a little off campus in a house that she shared with a couple of other girls, neither of whom Cindy knew beyond their names.
Cindy rang the doorbell when we got to the house, and after a few seconds the door opened and Sarah invited us in, “Hey guys. Good to see you.”
She led us into the living room and offered us seats on the couch along with cups of coffee, which we readily accepted. Moments later she was returning with cups and saucers on a serving tray which she set down on the coffee table before handing each of us a cup and saucer. “I know Cindy likes hers black. Do you need any milk or sugar Kyle?”
“No, this is fine,” I replied, trying not to sound cool. After all, this was one of Cindy’s friends and since it was important to her that we manage some sort of civility I was going to give it my best shot.
“You know Kyle, I’m really sorry about the other night,” she said. “I didn’t realize you weren’t aware of her research topic.”
“I kind of know that now,” I replied. “I flew off the handle a bit without any real provocation. I’m sorry as well.”
She held out her hand in friendship, “No hard feelings?”
I shook her hand replying, “Absolutely not.”
She looked at my hand as she shook it and as she released it commented, “Nice manicure. Did you do it yourself?”
I turned about thirteen shades of red before Cindy jumped in, “He grows his nails longer to force him to keep his hands in the proper position while he plays. I got onto him a while back about not taking care of them and showed him how to file them and apply nail strengthener. I think they look really sexy.” Her last comment did nothing to cause my blushing to fade.
“That they are,” Sarah agreed.
After some inconsequential small talk Cindy stood up, “I need to use your little girls’ room, okay?”
“Well, yeah.”
As she was walking toward the bathroom Cindy said, “That’s good, because I wasn’t really asking permission.” She entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
We sat there silently until the door closed, then Sarah asked, “So how long have you worn women’s clothing?”
I looked at her stunned for a moment before trying to mount a denial, “I don’t…”
“Listen Kyle, I know you at least were wearing a bra the night of your recital. I saw its outline through your shirt afterward because of the perspiration.”
“I…”
“Hey, it’s no big deal really. I’m just more likely to notice things like that, or your manicure because gender issues is sort of my subspecialty.”
I sat there looking at her, unsure what I should say. Finally she continued once she determined that I still wasn’t ready to add much to the discussion on this topic.
“If you ever need to talk to someone, just give me a holler.”
Still unable to speak, I nodded my reply. Cindy then rejoined us, “I miss anything?”
“No, I was just starting to tell Kyle about my specialty in gender issues.”
“I know I’ve found that to be a very interesting subject,” Cindy commented.
“My family still thinks I’ve gone off the deep end, but it’s something that I feel very strongly about.”
Finally regaining use of my mouth, I asked, “Why? That doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing most people would be interested in.”
She took a sip of her coffee before responding, “That would be because of Jill.” Cindy and I looked at each other questioningly as Sarah continued, “Jill was the love of my life. She also happened to be transgendered.
“She was killed a few years ago in an auto accident, just as things in her life had started to turn around for the better. That was just about it for me as well, but once I’d finally made it through the worst of the grieving I decided to go back to school so I could help others like her.”
As I turned my gaze toward Cindy’s friend I caught her eyes, which seemed to say to me, “I’d like to help you if you need it.” I gave her a crooked smile, which I hoped conveyed that I understood and appreciated her offer.
She then said, “You still haven’t told me. How long have you been dressing?”
My gaze dropped to the floor in embarrassment, but Cindy placed her fingers under my chin, raising and turning my face toward her. “It’s okay,” she whispered to me.
I steeled myself before responding, “A few months. I started this past fall sort of as a way to help me with my performance…”
Sarah jumped in, “Kinda like the young pitcher who wore garters in ‘Bull Durham’?”
Cindy and I couldn’t help but break out laughing at the comparison. Sarah quickly joined in and it took a couple of minutes for us all to regain our composure.
Finally I was able to continue, “Like I said, that’s how it started. Here lately though things seem to be kind of changing.”
Cindy turned and gave me a concerned look. She asked, “How so?”
I returned Cindy’s gaze and responded, “It’s just sort of occurred to me lately that if it were just because of the playing, I’d probably wear something besides panties all the time. I can’t remember the last time I wore men’s underwear.”
Sarah asked, “So do you think you’ve developed an attachment to women’s under things?”
“Yeah, I do,” I answered quietly. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot the last couple of weeks. I…” the thought went unfinished as I wasn’t entirely certain what would come next.
Sarah filled the growing silence by saying, “That’s okay Kyle.”
Cindy added, “Kyle, I get the feeling you’re a little uncomfortable talking about this with me here. Is that correct?”
“It is, but I’m not sure why.”
“I think I understand. I’m too close to the situation to be able to think objectively.”
“Maybe that’s it. I don’t know.”
Sarah asked, “Is this something you’d like to explore?”
I turned toward Cindy who said, “If it is, Sarah can help you with this far better than I could and it sounds as if she’s willing to do so.”
My gaze alternated between the two of them while I thought. Eventually I reached a conclusion, “I think so, yes.”
“All right, how about if we set up a regular time each week to meet and talk about this? Say, Saturdays around noon?”
“That sounds good,” I replied. Cindy gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek as a show of support.
Sarah changed the subject, “I thought you played brilliantly last night, by the way.”
“Thanks. I felt pretty good about it, all in all.”
“So what’s next?”
Cindy jumped in, practically glowing with pride as she said, “Kyle’s been asked to appear on a monthly basis with the Conservatory Orchestra, as well as with both the Civic and the Philharmonic this spring.”
“Wow! Sounds like you’re well on your way then,” Sarah commented.
Some time later Cindy and I left Sarah’s house to return home before it was time for me to see Dr. Caroll for my regular Monday lesson. We gave my mom a call to let her know the latest developments and much to my surprise she seemed genuinely happy to find out that much of what we had thought was going on turned out to be a misunderstanding. Furthermore, mom was actually pleasant with Cindy on the phone. Maybe she was warming to the idea of Cindy being around?
Lesson time began with an in depth dissection of Sunday’s performance. By the time Dr. Caroll was done tearing every little thing apart I was beginning to think a career in underwater basket weaving might be in the cards until she reached the end of her tirade, “All in all, a great first performance in front of an orchestra.”
I sat there stunned. After all, she’d just spent a solid half hour going over my performance with a fine-toothed comb and had left no stone unturned in her critique, leaving me with the impression that I’d done horribly. Despite that, she contended that all in all I’d done well. In the end, all I could think of to say in response was, “Thanks.”
Dr. Caroll then ploughed ahead with the list of works that would need my attention in the coming months. “Dr. Wyler brought me next semester’s list and I must say we are going to be busy. In January, you’ll be playing Beethoven’s 4th concerto with the Conservatory Orchestra, then in February you’ll be performing Prokofiev’s first with them as well as both the Mozart and Beethoven with the Civic.”
I just looked at her for a moment while she paused to take a drink of water. “You mean I’m supposed to perform three different concerti in the month of February?”
“You look a bit overwhelmed, but it’s really not going to be as bad as it sounds at this moment. After all, you already know the Mozart and you’ll be first performing the Beethoven in January, so the concert with the Civic won’t require any new material at all.”
I started to relax just a bit when she reminded me of that, and since she could tell that she continued, “March sees you playing Liszt’s first here, then in April you get Chopin’s second. May will be JS Bach’s first Harpsichord concerto here, and a repeat of the Liszt with the Philharmonic.”
I was stunned and excited at the same time. I mean, I knew this was what they had in mind for me, but actually hearing it all? When I finally managed to respond, I quipped, “So I guess I get to sleep in June?”
“Only if you decide not to do the concerto competition circuit this summer,” Dr. Caroll replied with a grin. “If you think you’ll be up to it, I can put together a summer full of competitions.”
“Can I think about that for a few days? I’d like to have a chance to start working on all these before we start scheduling that far out in advance.”
“I suppose we can hold off on starting the applications for a few days. But some, like the Van Cliburn need to be submitted soon if we want to ensure a spot for you.”
By the time our session was over, she’d talked me into submitting applications to a few of the bigger competitions right away rather than waiting. This meant that in addition to my hours of practice every day, I was going to be filling out lots of paperwork as well.
On my way out the door Dr. Caroll handed me a stack of forms that I needed to bring back completed on Thursday for my final lesson of the semester. Between them and the books containing all the different pieces I was to be learning, I was quite loaded down as I headed down the hallway to start my way home.
I’d only taken a few steps toward that end when I ran into Dr. Wyler…quite literally. I didn’t see him step out of the business office until it was too late. I bumped into him, dumping my entire load on the floor.
“Kyle! So sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he said as we both bent down to begin picking up my load.
“No, I’m sorry sir. I wasn’t watching where I was going. It was entirely my fault.”
He picked up the stack of application forms and set them on top of my books saying, “So you’re going to apply to the Van Cliburn? You should do well.”
“Thank you sir. I hope you’re right, but before I can worry about that I have a lot of music to learn,” I said, gesturing toward my stack of books.
“You’ll do fine. I have complete faith in you. Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to get going,” he said before leaving me standing there.
As I once again began my way home I couldn’t help but think about how strange Dr. Wyler always seemed to me. The truth was, the man kind of gave me the creeps and I wasn’t entirely sure why. All I knew was that when he was nearby, I always felt like I needed to be on high alert.
I kept telling myself it was all my imagination, but I didn’t really believe it.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
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When she realized I was back, Cindy poked her head out of the tiny kitchen and greeted me, “I thought you might enjoy something different tonight, so I whipped up some dinner.”
I looked at her, “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Not well, but we wouldn’t starve. It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.” She returned to her duties as I dumped my load of books and papers on the coffee table and took a seat at the dining table.
I sat there for a few moments trying to figure out the best way to start. Even after that I still wasn’t sure, but decided to plow ahead, “I’d like to talk about this Sarah thing.”
Cindy looked toward me from the kitchen and asked, “What about her?”
Uncertainly I began, “I’m a little confused. Did you tell her about me?”
She left her position at the stove and came to sit beside me, “Of course not. It’s like she said, she saw the bra through your shirt at the recital.”
“That right there is reason enough to quit wearing it.”
“But I thought it was helping you?”
“Well yeah, but…”
“But nothing, your playing is the most important thing.” She then got up from the table and went back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
“Okay, but why does she want me to come have ‘sessions’ with her?”
As she continued her work Cindy said, “She’s trying to learn as much about cross gender behaviors as she can. Maybe she thinks the two of you can help each other?”
“I don’t really like the idea. I mean, it’s not like she’s a licensed therapist.”
“No, but she has some experience with transgendered people that you might find useful. Plus yours is a unique situation as far as crossdressing cases are concerned.”
“Unique?”
“You don’t really think there are all that many guys running around wearing panties and bras just to make them play the piano better do you?”
“Well, when you put it THAT way…”
“Listen, why don’t you just do this for me. Go once and talk with her about things. Maybe she can help shed some light on things and maybe she can’t. The worst case scenario is that you’ve wasted a couple of hours next Saturday.”
Looking for a change of subject I offered, “I got my performance schedule for the spring semester.”
Cindy carried a large bowl in from the kitchen and set it down on the table, “Here we go.” She took the other seat at our tiny table and began serving the food. “I take it this will be a busy term?”
“You could say that,” I replied as I took my first bite. “Hmm, not bad. What is it?”
She smacked me playfully on the arm before replying, “Nothing too fancy, just a simple chicken pasta bake. Now, what’s this schedule look like?”
I took another bite before answering, “In January I’m supposed to play Beethoven with the school orchestra. In February it’s Prokofiev, then a spot with the Civic doing repeat performances of both the Mozart and Beethoven.”
“Three in one month?”
“Well, it’s two concerts, but yeah. For the performance with the Civic I’ll be doing most of the evening’s program.”
“That sounds a little daunting.”
“Doesn’t it? Anyway, then in March I play Franz List, in April Chopin, and in May it’ll be Bach here and a repeat of the Liszt with the Philharmonic.”
“Then do you get the summer off?”
“Not if Dr. Caroll gets her way. She wants me to submit some applications to competitions for this summer.”
“How do you feel about it?”
I thought about it for a moment before responding, “The idea is sort of growing on me. Spending the summer living out of a suitcase could be fun,” I paused for a moment before finishing, “If you go with me?”
Cindy looked at me for a moment before responding, “I don’t know about that. A whole summer of traveling?”
“At least think about it, all right? It could be fun.” I concluded that portion of the evening’s conversation there, as apparently I wasn’t making any headway. We cleared away the dinner dishes then took seats on the sofa to continue our talk.
“You met Dr. Wyler, right?”
Cindy thought for a moment as she took a seat beside me, “The orchestra conductor, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?”
“He’s starting to make me very uncomfortable.”
“How so?”
“Every time I turn around he’s right there, always wanting to touch my arm, or my back, or something. It’s getting pretty creepy.”
“I can see how that could be a little disturbing. I do always get this kind of weird sensation in the pit of my stomach whenever he’s around.”
“So it’s not just me?” I was relieved to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling like that.
“Not just you.”
I drifted off into my thoughts for a moment before saying, “I wish I knew what he wanted.”
Later that night as I lay there unable to sleep thanks to my swirling brain I decided that maybe the best way to deal with Dr. Wyler would be to avoid him as much as possible.
The next few days went by in a bit of a blur. I had some finals, but for the most part my semester was already finished. I put in a lot of practice time on the Beethoven and by my lesson with Dr. Caroll Thursday had most of it memorized. On the few occasions when it proved impossible to avoid contact with our esteemed conductor I tried to maintain a level of polite civility. It wasn’t easy, but I managed.
“I’m impressed, as usual Kyle. You’re almost ready to perform the Beethoven already,” Dr. Caroll effused toward the end of our lesson.
I grinned and said, “Well, I really didn’t have a lot to do this week, so I spent a lot of time practicing.”
“It makes me proud to be able to call you my student,” Dr. Caroll beamed.
“Thanks,” I said embarrassedly.
She looked at me strangely for a moment before she next spoke, “I want to ask you about something, but it is rather personal. Don’t feel obligated to answer if you don’t want to.”
A look of concern descended on my face, “What’s that?”
She blushed as she asked, “Do you always wear a bra?”
I swear at that moment you could have heard a pin drop as I sat there with a stunned look on my face. I looked at her unable to speak as I tried to assemble a response. Finally, I said, “Um, only when I play. It sort of helps me keep from overanalyzing everything. You know, keeps my mind preoccupied so I don’t think too much.” I let out a little chuckle after I said it.
Furrowing her brow as she digested this information, eventually she said, “Unusual, but I have to say it seems to work for you. So when did you start doing this?”
“Just after I started studying with you, to tell the truth. I was struggling trying to find a way to maintain what you kept referring to as ‘feminine’ focus. The first lesson, we talked about that and when I tried imagining myself as a girl everything fell into place. Weird I know, but it seemed to work. Maybe it’s because of the way you kept referring to different aspects of playing as feminine. Unfortunately I still had trouble maintaining it. My now girlfriend Cindy was the one who first suggested this solution.”
“She hasn’t…”
Having a pretty good idea where she was heading, I jumped in, “No, this has nothing to do with my relationship with her, believe it or not.”
She thought for a moment before continuing, “As I said, it seems to work. May I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“You might want to consider wearing a t-shirt with it when you’re in your tux or dress shirts. Once you start to perspire a little it becomes very obvious that it’s there.”
“I’ve heard that recently,” I added. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
I paused for a moment trying to compose my thoughts before asking, “What do you think of Cindy?”
“You mean your girlfriend Cindy? She seems nice enough. I have to wonder what her motivation is in regard to the girls’ clothes, but it’s obvious to anyone who sees the two of you together that there’s some real love there.”
As we ended our session I said, “Have a good Christmas, by the way. I suppose I won’t be seeing you again until the New Year.”
“That’s true. I’ll see you then, Mr. Bronson.”
I left her studio feeling good about my progress on the new concerto, and also feeling better about things in my personal life as well.
Thoughts of my relationship with Cindy dominated my thoughts. While there was still a part of me that wasn’t sure about some of the things she’d done, I knew for certain that I was in love with her. With that knowledge at the forefront of everything, I began to think it might be time to consider making things a little more permanent.
As I was thinking about that possibility, I placed a call to my mom Friday morning to seek her advice as well. “Mom?”
“Kyle! Why haven’t you called sooner?” she scolded.
“I’ve been kind of busy, you know.”
“So what prompted this call? I know you’re not out of money. Your father just made a deposit in your account a couple of days ago.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. Actually if anything, what I’m calling to talk to you about might wind up saving you money.”
You could almost hear the concern in the silence before she asked, “What’s that, sweetie?”
“I was thinking of asking Cindy to move in.”
In a mildly sarcastic tone, my mom said, “I thought she was already living there.”
“I mean as in the two of us having one apartment instead of two with one of them never being used.”
My nerves were nearly completely frayed before mom asked, “Do you love her son?”
“Very much.”
“Even after everything that happened a few weeks ago? That was kind of a big deal.”
“Yeah, but it turned out to just be a big misunderstanding. I jumped to some conclusions that turned out to be wrong.”
In a more normal tone she asked, “So how does she feel about all this?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t said anything to her about it.”
“But you’re sure enough to mention it to me?” While it was still clear that my mother had some issues with Cindy, something changed in her position and she sounded less defensive in her questioning.
“Like I said, I’d like to know what you think.”
“The only thing that matters to us is that you’re happy. If she makes you happy, then I guess I’ll just have to accept that my little boy is all grown up,” she started to tear up as she said this, as was evident from the sniffs I kept hearing from the other end of the conversation.
“Thanks mom,” I said in reply. Once we ended the phone call I noticed the time. Cindy would soon be back from her last final.
Friday afternoon marked the official end of term at the university and I was taking Cindy out to dinner as a sort of celebration. Nothing fancy, just the pizza place we went to on our first ‘date’. As it was very cold out, we decided to splurge on a cab to the restaurant rather than making the trip on foot as usual.
I know I was looking rather nervous as we sat there waiting on our order. Cindy of course noticed it and asked, “Something wrong?”
“No,” I said trying to brush her off.
Quickly growing exasperated she said, “Come on, Kyle! You don’t get this nervous playing in front of hundreds of people. What’s the matter?”
I began slowly, “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately.”
“Gee, I never would have guessed,” commented Cindy, displaying my favorite aspect of her sense of humor.
I looked at her and chuckled at that before continuing, “Anyway, l started thinking about you and me.”
I could see anticipation in her eyes as I paused to take a drink. “It seems kind of silly for us to be tying up two apartments when we’re only using one, so I got to thinking that maybe we should, um, officially move in together.”
She looked stunned as the full impact of what I’d just said began to sink in. When she did finally find her voice she asked, “Are you serious?”
I looked her in the eyes and said, “Absolutely.”
Cindy smiled so big it threatened to blot out the sun, assuming it had been out. The next thing I knew she had her arms around my neck and was moving in to kiss me. That was all the answer I needed.
A little later in the evening after returning home we were discussing how best to go about combining our apartments. She commented, “We could easily just live here, other than for the fact that we both have enough stuff to fill this place to the rafters.”
“I guess you have a point there. Maybe we should look into getting a bigger place?”
“I think so. Have you mentioned anything to your folks?”
I smiled as I said, “Funny you should mention that. I was just talking to my mom today and I mentioned that I’d been thinking about this for a while.”
Cindy became concerned as she asked, “And what did she say?”
I forced the smile to fade from my face for a moment, trying my best to look as concerned as Cindy had just now. “Well…” I could carry on the charade no longer as my smile returned, bigger than ever. “She said if you make me happy, then that’s all that matters to them.”
Cindy swatted my arm as she exclaimed, “Stinker! How dare you tease me like that.”
Saturday was a big day. We started off checking the newspaper for apartment ads, then it was time to go see Sarah.
I stood there on her front steps waiting for what seemed like ages, but in reality was just a few seconds. Sarah led me into the living room where we took seats opposite each other. We stared uncomfortably at one another for several moments before she finally broke the silence.
“I’m glad you decided to come today. I was afraid you might not.”
“I don’t really know why, other than that I said I would, so…” I allowed the sentence to go unfinished.
Sarah responded, “Well thanks all the same. It’s my hope that by talking a little about all of this, you might reach some new insights about what you’re doing and why. I’m also starting on my Master’s thesis, and I was hoping you’d be willing to let me interview you about your situation for my paper.”
“What exactly is your paper about?”
“It’s about gender expression. I want to interview a number of people from different parts of the transgender community so I can get a clearer picture of what they have in common and what they don’t. I’m not entirely sure where you’re going to fit on the gender continuum, but your case is so fascinating I was hoping you’d be willing to let me include you.”
“And here I thought you wanted to be like my therapist or something.”
“Well, you might wind up gleaning some increased understanding. Think of me as a sounding board. Bounce your thoughts off of me and see what comes of them.”
“So where should we start?”
“How about if you tell me about how this all started? Oh, do you mind if I record our conversation so I can refer back to it for my thesis?”
“I don’t see why not. You would think I’d be used to being recorded, huh?” I proceeded to go back over the whole story, “When I started school here my piano teacher’s first comment to me was about how feminine and graceful I played. She then started telling me about this theory of hers that a well-rounded performance was androgynous because it included both masculine and feminine elements.
“She was impressed with how well I embodied her theory, but I was having trouble being consistent. The feminine aspects seemed to come and go, depending on how intently I had to concentrate on what I was doing,” I paused a moment.
Sarah asked, “How did you feel about all this?”
“I found it a little difficult to understand at first, but then I figured out that it was when I was concentrating the most that the feminine characteristics disappeared from my playing. I don’t know what made me think of it, but I started imagining myself as a girl when I played, and it worked. I guess that was enough of a distraction that I was able to play without overanalyzing things.
“But I was still having trouble being consistent with it. If I let that mental image lapse, everything fell apart. It was actually Cindy that first suggested wearing panties to help me keep from thinking too much.”
“So, she helped you try it?”
“Yeah, that first time she loaned me a pair of her panties to try and when I played with them on, all of a sudden things just clicked into place. Later she took me shopping to get my own because she didn’t want to share,” I chuckled at that.
I continued, “I started out wearing them just when I needed to play my best, but decided they were so much more comfortable than men’s underwear that I started wearing them all the time.”
“When did you start expanding?”
It took a second for her meaning to click in my brain. Eventually I responded with my own question, “You mean, like wearing a bra and stuff?”
“Yeah,” Sarah smiled as she said it to try to lighten a mood that was beginning to feel more than a little dark.
“As time went on, I guess I sort of got used to the panties and they stopped helping as much. So for a recital appearance I shaved my legs, added pantyhose and a bra to my outfit, and it worked. Each time I added some new feminine thing, like my nails, my playing became better.”
She was taking a lot of notes, so it took her a moment to catch before asking, “So you accredit all of this to the clothes?”
I blushed furiously and answered, “It sounds kind of silly when you put it like that, but yeah.”
Sarah decided to try to dig a little deeper. “Is that all it is? Just to help you play better?”
“That’s how it started. However, it’s kind of becoming more than that lately.” As I said it, my ever-increasing embarrassment threatened to overtake me.
“How so?”
I continued to redden as I responded, “They do feel awfully nice against my skin.”
For a moment I thought I saw Sarah blush before she spoke, “Do you still need them as much for playing?”
“I don’t try playing much without at least wearing the panties, but when I do I can hear the difference, and if they know the particulars so can anyone else who hears me.”
“Do you foresee a time when you won’t feel like you need to wear women’s clothing to play well?”
I thought hard for a moment before answering, “I don’t know.”
Changing directions slightly, Sarah next asked, “How does Cindy feel about all this?”
My mind went blank for a moment before it shifted back into gear and I responded, “She’s been incredibly supportive and non-judgmental about everything. I do worry that she might start to feel threatened by all this.”
“That’s very insightful of you. What if something like that did happen?”
I thought for a moment before responding, “I’d like to think that we could work our way through it. She’s the one who always says my playing is the most important thing. I would hope that’s more than just lip service, for lack of a better term.”
“Have you experienced many problems with other people because of your cross dressing?”
“I didn’t think anyone knew about it before the night of my recital when I heard you talking to Cindy.” The look of concern that crawled across Sarah’s face told me that she was indeed sorry for her part in our fight.
“I freaked out when I thought she was writing about all this without my permission. Then I got seriously pissed off because I thought she’d told you everything.” I tried my best to appear as unconcerned as possible so Sarah wouldn’t feel like she’d done something to hurt me.
“Well I for one am glad you’ve been able to resolve that particular misunderstanding.”
I grinned, “Me too.”
Again shifting topics, Sarah asked, “Earlier you said something about it becoming more than just a means to an end. What did you mean by that?”
Embarrassed, I replied, “I’ve developed a comfort level with the clothes that’s expanding beyond my playing. There are a lot of things I wear and do now that I enjoy immensely just because I like them. Not necessarily just because of the effect they have on my performance.”
“Do you mind me asking, are you wearing lingerie right now?”
I blushed and replied, “Yeah, I am…”
Knowing that I was holding back, she pressed further, “What are you wearing?”
“Panties, pantyhose, and a bra.”
“Why? You’re not playing today, are you?”
Slowly I replied, “Um, no. Not today.”
“So what you’re saying is that you just feel comfortable wearing these things?”
“That’s about it.”
Sarah again paused to catch up on her note taking, then asked, “Is there any kind of sexual component to your dressing?”
My initial thought was to quickly yell, ‘No!’ but decided that might be interpreted as a case of ‘Me thinks thou dost protest too much’. In the end I timidly replied, “No, not at all.”
“Okay.” She looked up at a clock hanging on the living room wall and exclaimed, “Would you look at the time! Would you mind if we stopped for now and picked up another time? I’ve got enough stuff here to keep me busy for a while, anyway.”
“No, that’s fine. We’re going to be out of town over the Christmas holidays, but should be back just after New Year’s.”
“Then how about if you give me a call after you’re back in town so we can schedule some more time to talk. You’re helping immensely with my research.”
“You know, surprisingly I think I’m starting to understand some things a bit better. Maybe you were right. This is going to turn out to be mutually beneficial.”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Notes:
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“Sorry, I sort of lost track of time.” It was true. What I hadn’t told her was that part of the reason had nothing to do with Sergei Prokofiev and everything to do with Cindy Franklin and what I was planning to give her for Christmas.
“I never would have guessed,” she commented, oozing sarcasm. “Come on to bed. You need a few hours sleep before we head out in the morning.”
We were leaving to spend the holidays with our folks. Specifically, we would be spending Christmas with my parents, then New Year’s with Cindy’s. Every time I thought about meeting Cindy’s parents I became a jumble of frayed nerves. I can’t imagine why, though. ‘Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Franklin. I’m Kyle Bronson, the cross-dressing musician who’s shacking up with your daughter.’ Yes, any way I looked at it New Year’s with the Franklins was going to be an eventful visit. Of course, if things went as I hoped they would, it might be that way for an entirely different reason.
I followed Cindy into the bedroom, stripped down to my panties, and climbed into bed.
“You know, you don’t have to leave those on,” she purred seductively as she tugged on the waistband.
“Sorry, I forgot I had them on,” I replied as I slipped out of them.
“That’s better,” she said as she pulled me closer.
The next morning Cindy got up before me and got ready before waking me, then went to throw together some breakfast while I got dressed. Without even thinking about it I pulled on a new pair of black opaque tights before putting on my jeans.
As I was fastening the jeans Cindy came into the room and asked, “What are you wearing?”
Again without thinking I replied, “It’s cold out, and they’re warm.”
She looked at me and gave me a skeptical, “Uh-huh.” Then she turned around and on her way back to the kitchen said, “Breakfast’s ready. Shake a leg, sleeping beauty.”
I followed close behind her and helped get the food served, then we sat down and ate in relative silence. Once we were done she cleaned up the mess while I carried the bags down to the lobby where we were going to wait for the cab to take us to the airport.
As I sat there waiting for Cindy to come downstairs I started thinking about what I had packed clothing-wise. Jeans, shirts, panties, tights, bras…yeah, I guess I had everything. Then it occurred to me that I really had no need for the women’s clothes while we were on the trip, so why exactly did I pack all that stuff? It was at that moment that I finally realized what Cindy was really asking me as I pulled on my jeans.
Cindy finally appeared downstairs just as the taxi arrived outside, so I carried the bags out for the driver to put in the trunk while I climbed in the back with Cindy. The driver climbed in and asked, “Airport?”
“Terminal B,” I replied. He flipped on the meter, put the car in gear, and pulled out into traffic. We were on our way.
I took Cindy’s hand in mine and said, “Relax, my mom is starting to like you. There’s nothing for you to be nervous about.”
“I could say the same for you,” she replied.
I countered, “Not exactly. I’ve never met your folks and have no idea what to expect. Not to mention…”
Ignoring where I was heading she interrupted, “They’re going to love you, I promise. Did I tell you about the grand piano in the front room?”
“No,” I replied, my interest piqued.
“Daddy bought it when I was nine because I asked for piano lessons. I didn’t stick with them very long, but the piano sort of stuck around.”
“At least I’ll have a place to practice while we’re there,” I grinned.
It was a short flight to my hometown. We both wound up napping in flight and once we arrived, by the time we found our luggage my folks had found us.
My mom grabbed me in a bear hug, “Kyle! It’s so good to see you.”
“You too Mom,” I replied.
She then turned her attention toward Cindy as my dad gave me a hug. “Cindy, it’s good to see you to,” she said as she tentatively gave my girlfriend a hug.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Bronson,” Cindy said as mom released the hug.
“Call me Mom. We’re family now,” Mom said as Dad took his turn welcoming Cindy.
“Did you find all your luggage?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, we didn’t really bring much.”
Dad then commented, “We’d best get on the road before the snow starts.”
“You mean we might actually have a white Christmas?” Cindy asked.
“Looks that way,” Mom replied.
I helped Dad get our bags in the back of his Suburban, then we all climbed in the humongous SUV for the ride to my childhood home. As we got underway Mom asked, “Is it true that you’re going to have a pretty busy schedule next semester?”
“You could say that,” I replied.
Cindy added, “He’s performing with several orchestras this spring. He has to learn five new concertos.”
Dad commented, “That does sound busy. How are you going to find time for school?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. In the mean time I’m working on learning the new pieces over the break so I won’t have to work quite so hard during the term.”
“How’s that coming along for you?” Dad asked.
“I’ve got the Beethoven pretty much ready and am about halfway there with the Prokofiev. After that I have to work up the Liszt, Chopin, and Bach, all while keeping everything else up to snuff.”
“That sounds like an awful lot of work.” Mom seemed concerned by the workload.
“It is, but it will mean that I’ll have a lot of options where it comes to music selection this summer when I’m doing all the competitions.”
Mom asked, “What competitions are those?”
Cindy answered before I did, “Dr. Caroll has Kyle applying to quite a few national and international piano competitions for the summer. It will mean a lot of travel, but could actually go a long way toward establishing him in a career as a concert pianist.”
“So what are you going to be doing this summer if Kyle’s on the road?” Dad asked.
I jumped in to handle this one, “I asked her to travel with me, but I don’t know if she’s too crazy about the idea.”
“I’d love to go with you part of the time, but I just can’t spend the entire summer running around the country. I have a job lined up already for the summer, working for my dad’s company.”
Dad asked, “What’s he do, Cindy?”
“He has a big insurance brokerage back home. He was planning on me working in the office with him this summer.”
I added, “Cindy would probably be bored to tears spending the summer living in hotel rooms. Hopefully we can figure out a way for her to join me some weekends.”
“Sounds like you’ve been planning everything,” Dad commented.
Once home I was stunned to learn that Mom had planned on Cindy and I sharing a room. Stunned, but pleased. After all, Mom is the one who always harped about the sanctity of marriage and how living together was wrong. And yet, here she was essentially saying it was all right for the two of us to share a bed in her home. I’m not sure what had changed since I’d left home, but I wasn’t going to complain.
We unpacked and I gave Cindy the ten-cent tour. We then joined my parents for dinner and a Christmas Eve full of family time.
After a huge dinner, we went into the living room and while Cindy chatted with my parents, I found myself drifting toward the piano. I sat down and started playing through the parts of the Beethoven concerto. As the music flowed from my fingers I lost myself in thoughts of Cindy and what I had planned to give her for Christmas. If she didn’t just love it, then I might be in trouble.
The present in question was an old family heirloom, which meant a great deal to me, as well as the rest of my family, and the symbolism of the gift was not lost on my mother. As these thoughts circled inside my mind the music echoed the hope, desire, and love that dominated all my waking thoughts.
Once done with the Beethoven I went straight into the Mozart, but this didn’t sound like the same Mozart I had played in concert a few weeks before. Even though the notes were the same, the emotion conveyed was something completely different, as much of the darkness was replaced by an almost manic joy and excitement.
As I finished with it, Cindy brought me back to reality by asking, “How can that be the same piece you played with the orchestra? It sounds nothing like it.”
As I looked directly at her and grinned I said, “I suppose the simple answer is that I’m in a different state of mind than I was that night.”
Later that night as we prepared for bed I commented, “You do realize what a big deal it is that we’re sharing a bed, don’t you?”
“I take it that sort of thing isn’t generally done in your family?”
“That’s putting it mildly. My mom especially is very conservative. For years she’s thrown a fit about couples that choose to live together before, or in some cases instead of marriage. For her this is a huge step.” What I wasn’t telling her was that I knew exactly why this was happening, but if I had told her it would have ruined the huge surprise I had in store for Christmas day.
We crawled under the covers as what I’d just said registered with Cindy. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I think so, don’t you?”
“Well yeah!” she said displaying that dry humor that I’d come to find incredibly sexy.
As I reached to turn off the bedside table lamp I said, “Merry Christmas. I love you.”
Cindy kissed me gently before responding, “Merry Christmas, love. Good night.”
We then lay down and snuggled up together under the covers against the bitter cold wind that was making the windowpanes rattle with each gust. As I finally drifted off to sleep I couldn’t help but believe that this was going to be by far the best Christmas ever.
Christmas morning came, ushered in by a blinding ray of sunlight that streamed in through an opening in the bedroom curtains. I raised my head and shaded my eyes as I looked in that direction for a moment. I then looked over at Cindy lying there still asleep. I knew with more certainty than ever before that I could never tire of watching her sleep, even if I could watch her every morning ‘til the end of time.
I didn’t want to disturb her, so I just watched for who knows how long. I had started hearing noise from downstairs, which told me Mom was up and had started breakfast, yet there was still no sign of consciousness returning beside me.
In an effort to gently rush Cindy to a state of waking, I started lightly kissing first her cheek, then her ear, and finally her forehead before it stimulated her enough to wake. I continued what I was doing until she opened her eyes and said, “Good morning!”
“Merry Christmas. I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up after all.”
“Hey, I can smell the coffee from downstairs too, ya know.”
We got out of bed and dressed as quickly as we could before joining my parents downstairs. Following breakfast we adjourned to the living room for the exchange of presents. For a couple of minutes there things looked a bit like a Chinese fire drill as we all went around handing presents to each other before settling back into our original places so we could watch as each person opened theirs.
Dad went first, as family tradition dictated. The first package he opened contained a very expensive looking necktie from Cindy. He was effusive as he thanked her, “It’s lovely dear. I’ll wear it to work tomorrow morning. Thank you very much.”
Next he opened Mom’s present to him, which was a new Blackberry. He kissed her as he said, “You always know exactly what I want.”
“Merry Christmas dear,” Mom replied.
Lastly was my present for him. My father has a ridiculous collection of printed coffee mugs, so I decided to get him one with the university logo on it. “Kyle, it’s perfect. I know just where I’ll put it.”
Mom was next to open presents. From Dad she got a lovely string of pearls for which she kissed him as she started to tear up. Then came Cindy’s present for her, which was a scarf. She said, “Thank you so much Cindy dear.”
My present for mom was an extremely hard to find high quality bootleg DVD of the Beatles movie “Let it Be” which had never been released in either that format or on tape. She lost it when she saw that. She is a huge Beatlemaniac and had lamented many times that she had never been able to find it anywhere.
My turn was next, and my folks seemed to be of like minds, as both of their presents to me were what I considered very practical. My mom got me the CD box set of Vladimir Horowitz’s complete Masterworks recordings…thirteen discs worth…and my dad had gone the sheet music route with Dover editions of Beethoven’s Complete Piano Sonatas, Claude Debussy Piano Music, and Franz Liszt’s Complete Hungarian Rhapsodies. He knew I was very fond of the Dover editions series because they seemed in my opinion to have fewer mistakes than many publishers’ versions.
Then I came to Cindy’s present. I really had no idea what it could be, but it looked a lot like a shirt box. When I opened it, I was shocked. Inside was not a shirt, but instead a fairly plain but still beautiful silk camisole. I looked at it, unsure what to say, when she saved me from further embarrassment by jumping in with, “If you wear it with your tux, it should help keep your bra from showing through once you start perspiring.”
My mom commented, “Excellent idea, dear. It’s perfect. Not too ornate, but still lovely.”
“Thanks, Cin,” I said as I got up and went over to her and gave her a kiss.
Cindy was the last to open her presents, as I had previously planned with my mother. She started with one from my mom, which happened to be a very nice set of diamond stud earrings. She started to cry when she saw them, but my mom cut her off saying, “If you start the waterworks this soon we may never get through the other presents.” This had the desired effect of causing everyone to start laughing, stopping Cindy’s tears in their tracks.
Dad’s present for my love was extremely practical…a rather feminine leather briefcase, which Cindy liked almost as much as the earrings. After all, she’d needed something to replace her ratty old backpack that she’d carried since high school. She smiled broadly at my father saying, “Thank you so much.”
Finally she came to my present to her. It was in a large paper box like printer paper comes in, which when opened revealed a much smaller velvet covered box. When she retrieved it from the bottom she opened it, revealing what had been my grandmother’s engagement ring.
She looked at it for a moment with her mouth hung open, unable to form any words. When she finally did manage to speak, she asked, “Really?”
I looked into her eyes and simply replied, “Really.”
Dad chided me saying, “Aren’t you going to ask her to make it official?”
Cindy and I smiled at each other for several seconds before I finally asked her formally, “Will you marry me?”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Notes:
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Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
The trip to Cindy’s parents meant it was my turn to sweat. I mean from their perspective, what exactly was there about me that they might see as positive?
First of all I’m a musician, which the vast majority of the time is synonymous with taking a vow of poverty. As a concert pianist I will no doubt spend most of my life traveling, meaning I won’t be home much. And if that wasn’t enough to make her parents hate me as a potential son-in-law, there is always simply the fact that I wear women’s underwear, no matter what the reason.
The bottom line was that there were very few instances in which I would be considered a good catch. With all those thoughts running through my mind, it was no wonder I was feeling some trepidation about the trip.
Since Cindy’s parents both worked we were taking a taxi from the airport to her family’s house, where we were to wait for her parent’s arrival shortly after six that evening. Once we’d arrived at the house Cindy spent a few minutes digging around in her purse before reaching the conclusion that she’d forgotten her key, so she found the spare under this ceramic frog statue that sat on the front porch and we let ourselves in.
“I know exactly what you want to see first,” she said to me as I closed the front door behind us. She headed toward a huge room straight ahead with me following close behind. In that room sat what I often consider the most gorgeous piece of furniture that could grace a home…a full sized concert grand piano.
Despite having been dusted on a daily basis, this particular specimen had obviously not been played in quite some time and as a result was in desperate need of tuning. I played a few notes before going back to my bag, where I retrieved my tuning kit. There had been a few who thought it silly of me to take “Introduction to Piano Tuning and Maintenance” as a freshman, but at that moment I was certainly glad I had.
While I got to work on the piano Cindy wandered into the kitchen, where she found a note from her mother telling her that there was a roast all ready to put in the oven sitting in a pan in the refrigerator. She dutifully heated up the oven and put the dinner in to cook before returning to my side, where she sat with me while I worked on her childhood instrument.
She stuck with me a lot longer than I expected, but even true love has it’s limits, and in the second hour of ‘stick the felt strip between these strings…hit this key…twist the tuning hammer…repeat…’ she left my side saying, “I think I’m going to go watch a little television, okay?”
I paused what I was doing, looked up at her and replied, “Okay. Sorry, I just sort of started this and I hate to quit halfway through.”
“I understand, really. Once you get it in tune, promise you’ll play for me?”
“You know I will.”
As she left the room my attention returned to the piano in front of me. After three passes through the entire instrument I finally had it back up to concert pitch and in tune, so I started playing. I went through the Mozart, Beethoven, Prokofiev, much of the Liszt, and even reached back and pulled the Chopin Mazurkas back out before I realized I had acquired an audience.
As I brought the fourth Mazurka to a close, I happened to hear Cindy whisper something and turned to see what was going on. That’s when I saw my future mother-in-law for the first time.
“Um, hi. I’m Kyle,” I said timidly as I held out my hand toward her.
“So you’re the young man that’s stolen my little girl’s heart?” she said in an almost accusatory tone.
Nervously I replied, “I suppose I am, yes.”
Apparently they could hold it no longer as Cindy and her mother both broke out in fits of giggles. Finally Cindy got enough control of herself to say, “You should have seen your face!”
After allowing a moment or two for things to settle back down, Cindy’s mom said, “Seriously, call me Kate. Unless I’m off base here I think there’s something you two want to tell me?”
Stunned, I just looked at her. I didn’t think Cindy had said anything to her mom about the engagement yet, but she certainly sounded like she knew already.
Finally Kate added, “I noticed the ring right away.” Then directed toward Cindy she asked, ‘May I take a closer look?”
Cindy held up her hand to show her mother the ring. Her mom commented, “Lovely, dear. Tell me Kyle, where did you get it?”
Before I had a chance to regain the use of my vocal cords Cindy answered, “It was his grandmother’s ring Mom. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Absolutely. So how soon do we need to plan the wedding?”
Finally able to string a few sounds intelligibly together I answered, “We haven’t really talked about that yet, ma’am.”
“Kate, remember?”
“Kate.”
“That’s better.” She looked at Cindy, “You’re staying for a few days, correct? We have to spend some of that time talking weddings.”
I just sort of looked at them as if I had no idea what was going on while Cindy and her mom drifted off together chatting about seasons, colors, flowers, and who knows what else. I eventually returned to the piano and played through the Rachmaninov Sonata, followed by some of the Chopin Etudes before I heard the front door close followed by the familiar squeal of Cindy’s voice as she excitedly greeted her father.
They came into the piano room, as I’d mentally started to refer to this area, and Cindy introduced me to her dad. “Dad, this is Kyle. Kyle, my dad.”
I held out my hand toward him and he shook it vigorously, saying, “Welcome Kyle, welcome. I see you’ve made yourself at home there.”
“Sorry sir, I just…”
“Just nothing, feel free to use it as much as you like. I had heard you were brilliant, and from what I just heard I’d say for a change my daughter wasn’t exaggerating,” chuckling at his own little joke.
I joined in trying to be polite then said, “Thanks for letting me practice on it. I’ve got a fairly hectic concert schedule coming up and I need to cram as much time in as I can to get ready.”
“So I hear, son. If you don’t mind my asking, what are your plans further on down the road?”
I paused for a moment before responding, “Well sir, this summer I start participating in a series of competitions that offer cash prizes as well as additional paying performance opportunities. Then in the fall I’ll be returning to continue my studies at the Conservatory…”
Cutting me off he interjected, “No, I mean what do you plan to do for a living if this grand plan doesn’t work out?”
I was stunned. That was the first time anyone had ever dared ask a question like that of me and I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer it. I did finally form a response, “Teach, sir.”
“Teach, as in piano? Son, do you really think you can make enough money teaching piano to support a family?”
“I could also tune and repair pianos.”
“Well, I suppose that’s a little better, but still…”
Cindy finally jumped in, “Daddy! That’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair about it? Your mother told me the news when I called her on my way home, and I’m happy for you. I really am. But I would be remiss if I didn’t ask these questions of the young man who is intent on taking my little girl away from me.”
I answered, “Sir, I understand where you’re coming from. I do. Yes, I’ve asked your daughter to marry me, and she said yes. We have no specific plans as of yet. Marriage is still as they say, down the road.”
Just then Kate stuck her head in the door and said, “Dinner’s ready, everyone.”
Cindy’s dad turned his attention toward his wife and said, “Excellent! I could eat a half a cow all by myself!”
“Only if you don’t want to fit through the door anymore,” Kate quipped.
Dinner conversation was limited to Cindy telling her parents about her classes this past semester and them catching her up on some of her old friends and relatives. Everything was calm and pleasant, and I still couldn’t help but notice the undercurrent of hostility coming my way from Mr. Franklin.
After dinner the calm, pleasant conversation continued, though still masking some fairly negative vibes that were coming my way from my future father-in-law. Cindy and her mom drifted off into their own separate conversation, leaving her dad and I sitting there, staring at each other while neither one wanted to start the argument all over. In the end everyone turned in fairly early, for which I was grateful.
Over the next few days Cindy and I spent our days alone, either at her folks’ house or out with some of her old friends. When we were at the house, I got a lot of practice in and by New Year’s Eve was feeling pretty confidant about the Liszt concerto as well as everything else. I’d even managed to start work on both the Chopin concerto and the JS Bach. At that rate, I might just be down to adding polish to all of them by the time the winter semester started. And there was no question…that would be a very good thing.
Evenings were spent with her folks, where her mom was absolutely effervescent with her enthusiasm over the impending marriage while her dad was tactfully polite but otherwise distant.
I suppose I could understand his position. After all, here’s this artsy guy without a solid financial future asking for permission to steal his daughter away. When I looked at it like that, I could understand the hostility. I just hoped that eventually I’d be able to change his mind.
As for New Year’s Eve itself, Cindy and I had been invited to a party that was being thrown by an old high school friend of hers. So after dinner that evening, we headed out to join her friends in ringing in the New Year. I was looking forward to meeting some of Cindy’s friends, but at the same time I had never been what you’d call a party animal. Thanks to that little conundrum, I was a nervous wreck by the time we left the Franklins’.
We hadn’t been at the party, which was being held at the house of one of Cindy’s friends, for more than three minutes before I’d been dragged around to meet no less than ten people, all of who seemed to have heard about me from Cindy. I didn’t even know she’d been in contact with them.
“So this is the infamous Kyle?” asked one of Cindy’s old girlfriends.
“That’s me,” I replied.
Cindy was being rather obvious about using her left hand in such a way that anyone who happened to be looking at her couldn’t help but see the ring on her finger. Every one of her friends we encountered asked about the ring and its significance, as I’m sure she intended. As a result, each of these encounters inevitably ended with a series of congratulations and well wishes.
As we made our way through the throngs of partygoers, one of the most frequently asked questions was, “Will you play something for us?” I knew full well that this was not the environment where Chopin or Liszt was the best choice, so as we wandered around and I deflected those questions I wracked my brain trying to think of something I knew that might go over well.
By the time Cindy and her friends had somehow herded me toward the piano that was sitting in the corner, I had finally come up with a few ideas of what I could play. As a chant of “Play, Kyle, Play!” started making it’s way through the room, Cindy was escorting me to the piano bench where she sat down next to me and waited to see what I had in mind.
I raised my hands to the keyboard and felt that now familiar tug of bra straps across my shoulders and placed my foot on the sustain pedal, reveling in the sensation of panty hose rubbing against the inside of my trousers. It wasn’t until my fingers touched the keys that my mind was made up what I would play first.
I began the familiar opening notes of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” and glanced at Cindy to see her eyebrows shoot up toward the roof in delighted surprise. I tried to infuse it with all the joy and energy I could muster and in the end I felt like I’d done an adequate, though not exactly brilliant job. The crowd erupted with applause, whoops, and hollers for more, which inspired me to dig out the other Joplin tune I could remember, “The Maple Leaf Rag”.
Again, I played with a great deal of energy and despite a few flubs that I attributed to not having played these pieces in a very long time it was very well received. It occurred to me that I might want to refresh my memory on some of these to keep handy, just in case I ever had need for lighter selections again.
Once the Maple Leaf was brought to a close, Cindy leaned into my ear and said, “I didn’t know you knew that kind of stuff!”
I turned to face her for a moment and replied, “Just wait ‘til you hear what’s next!” I then tore into the old Vince Guaraldi classic “Linus and Lucy” from the Peanuts cartoons. There were a number of mistakes once again, but my audience didn’t seem to notice. In the end I felt like I’d barely managed a passable rendition, but the crowd loved it.
I decided to try getting a little more serious next by playing Chick Corea’s rendition of “Monk’s Mood”. As I played it I could vividly remember the very first time I heard this piece and how it nearly inspired me to go the jazz route instead of classical. Most of my audience wasn’t familiar with the piece, but everyone seemed to enjoy it in the end, myself included.
When the applause died down after that, I spoke for a moment, “Thanks everyone! For those who aren’t familiar with it, that was a tune by Chick Corea called, ‘Monk’s Mood’. It’s been fun meeting all of you and I’d like to have a chance to speak with you all a little more. That’s why I’ll play a little more, then I’m done for the evening.”
Continuing I said, “This one is by the man who inspired that last selection. It’s Thelonius Monk’s ‘Ask Me Now’.” I began playing and remembered why I had chosen the classical route instead of trying my hand at jazz. I had the technical skill to play anything really, but Monk’s imagination was absolutely awe-inspiring. With each note I became more convinced that I’d never in a million years be able to come up with something that brilliant. Did that make me little more than a trained monkey? I wasn’t sure.
As I ended ‘Ask Me Now’ and stood up from the piano bench, the cries of “Don’t stop!” rang out as I tried to get away from the piano to allow the festivities to return to their normal state, but we were surrounded and weren’t being allowed to exit the area just yet.
Finally I asked, “If I play one more…”
I was caught off guard by the crowd’s cheers ringing through the room, asking for more. I sat back down and thought for a moment before coming up with one more song I could play. As it turned out, there really was only one other jazz tune I knew and it was Bill Evans’ version of “Elsa”. I played with the same kind of emotion that comes through when I play Chopin, and it sounded great!
As I stood this time I said, “That’s all, really folks.” Cindy and I were finally allowed to rejoin the rest of the gathered merry makers, so just to make sure I didn’t get roped into playing anymore, we headed straight for the dance floor as someone put a mix CD into the stereo.
Just before midnight we were sitting on a sofa, drinks in hand when a guy came up and gave Cindy a far too friendly kiss before acknowledging me and offering his hand to shake mine. I looked at him as coldly as I could manage as I said, “Hi, I’m Kyle, Cindy’s fiancé.”
“Oh, so you’re the one everyone’s been talking about?” he slurred drunkenly.
“I suppose I am. And you are?”
He held out his hand in as gentlemanly a gesture as he could muster given his obvious inebriation and said, “Jeff Corbin, also known as ‘the Ex’.”
As I shook his hand a look of fear flashed across Cindy’s face. I wasn’t sure what prompted it, but if I had to guess I might think she was expecting that I’d be jealous. Fortunately for me, I was able to control any tendencies I might have had in that direction and the moment passed without incident. As Jeff stumbled his way toward the bar, the look of relief on Cindy’s face could practically be heard as well as seen.
“Why were you so nervous?” I asked her once he was well out of earshot.
“Oh, nothing,” she tried to deflect my question.
“That didn’t look like nothing,” I countered.
“Look, can we leave?” she asked as she stood and then pulled me to my feet.
Confused, I looked at her for a moment before finally answering, “Yeah, sure.” Once we were heading toward the exit I turned to her and asked, “Are you sure? I mean, these are your friends after all.”
“I’m sure. I’m not feeling all that well.”
“Okay,” I said. With that we left the party and drove back to Casa Franklin.
The further away from the party we drove, the more Cindy seemed to relax. Once she appeared to be more or less back to normal I asked her, “What just went on back there?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That whole thing with your ex and you getting all freaked out?”
She sat silent for a moment before responding, “Have you ever done things that afterward you wish you could take back?”
“Well yeah, I think everyone has, haven’t they?”
“Jeff was one of those things I wish I could take back.”
“Why? Did he hurt you?”
“He never hit me or anything like that. He just always was telling me what to do, how to dress, where to go…” she paused to take a deep breath. “The entire time we were together, he treated me more like a possession than a person.”
“Okay, so what got you so scared back there? I’m not like that.”
“I know. You’re like the complete opposite of him. I think that’s part of why I love you.”
“What, so you can tell me what to do?” I said it jokingly, but it wasn’t received well at all.
“No, nothing like that. We treat each other like equals, like we respect each other’s opinions.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”
“But rarely is. As irrational as it sounds, for a moment there I was afraid that when you two shook hands he might infect you with that jerk mentality of his.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. I stifled the reaction as quickly as possible and said, “Just in case there’s any question, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I know,” she said. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
The remainder of our drive back to her parent’s house was made in a comfortable silence as we both drifted through our own sets of thoughts. Back at the house, we let ourselves in as quietly as we could and made our way to our bedroom.
As we readied ourselves for bed, Cindy caught sight of my bra as I was undressing and asked, “Why’d you have that on tonight?”
I looked down and replied, “I don’t know. I’ve just sort of gotten used to wearing it. Now it feels strange to go without.”
“I thought you only wore those things when you played?”
“Well yeah, that’s right. It’s just that…”
She cut me off, “Just that what?”
I replied as calmly as I could, “It’s just that the more I wear these things, the more used to them I become and the more I wear them even when not playing.”
“Do you have to?”
Confused I said, “Well no, I don’t suppose I HAVE to, but I like the way they feel. I thought you of all people…”
“What?” she said with more forcefulness than she intended. “Since I’m the one who started all this in the first place you assumed I’d be okay with it. Well I’m not okay with it.”
“Why not? There’s nothing threatening about it. You even bought me things for Christmas. Now all of a sudden I find out that it’s not okay after all? I’m not sure how to handle any of this. I was hoping that you…”
“That I would what, Kyle?”
In a more timid voice I replied, “Could help me figure everything out.”
In a much gentler tone she said, “Of course. You know I will. We’re both trying to figure some things out right now, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just that everything has been so out of control recently.”
“I know. I promise, everything will be all right. Now, why don’t we go to bed and get some rest?”
I looked into her eyes and said, “Absolutely.”
She got what appeared to be a pained look on her face as she said, “But please take those off before you come to bed?”
I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I dutifully removed my bra, as well as my pantyhose and panties before climbing into bed.
“That’s better,” Cindy purred as she wrapped her arms around my neck and began to kiss me.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Scott Joplin, The Entertainer
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-the-enterta...
Maple Leaf Rag
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-maple-leaf-...
Vince Guaraldi, Linus and Lucy
http://www.amazon.com/gp/music/wma-pop-up/B000ICLSMY001004/r...
Chick Corea, Monk’s Mood
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,20116...
Thelonius Monk, Ask Me Now
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,26039...
Bill Evans, Elsa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyyMM5mOK7I
Notes:
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It took me three days to construct the Beethoven orchestra, two more for the Mozart, and four to finish the Prokofiev. By the time each one was completed, I knew the accompaniments almost as well as I did the solo parts.
If only my relationship with Cindy were as easy. I knew there had been moments before when Cindy seemed to have problems with the way my cross-dressing…and yes, I had finally admitted to the fact that I had become a cross-dresser…was finding its way into our everyday lives. But recently she’d been a lot more vocal in her dissent. Considering she essentially started the whole thing, I was having some trouble reconciling her position then with her attitude now.
Everything came to a head a couple of days before the start of the winter semester. I was working on the orchestra parts to the Chopin concerto when she came home from the bookstore with her armload of textbooks for the coming term.
I was lost in my work and didn’t hear her come in until she spoke, breaking my concentration, “What ya doin’?”
I took off my headphones, looked in her direction, and said, “Just working on my project.”
“Ah,” she commented with quickly fading interest.
She wandered into the bedroom and I returned to my little world, where I was pounding away at the French Horn parts of the Chopin. After a few minutes I stopped and began thinking about what had just happened. I don’t know what she was expecting me to be working on, but apparently this wasn’t on her list, and she seemed intent on making sure I was aware of that fact.
She returned to the living room and as I noticed her presence again she asked, “Are you going to be at it much longer this evening?”
“I suppose I could call it a night,” I offered as I set about shutting down my equipment.
“No, you don’t have to,” she said, though it was obvious from her tone of voice that she didn’t mean it.
I got up from where I had been working and started to take her in my arms, but she turned and pushed me away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she tried to deflect me.
“Come on,” I countered. “Even Ray Charles could see something’s bothering you.”
She just ignored me for a moment until I tried once again to hug her, which prompted her to say, “Please, don’t.”
I stared at her for a moment, unsure what to do next. As I watched her leave the room, closing the door behind her, I knew that I’d done something wrong. I just wasn’t sure what that was.
Later that evening Cindy emerged from the bedroom and silently went about putting together dinner for us. I kept looking in her direction, hoping to find a chink in the armor she had worked so hard to build around herself, but found none.
Unable to stand the cold shoulder treatment any longer, I finally broke down and asked, “What did I do wrong?”
She looked at me as if I’d just asked the stupidest question in history and dismissively said, “Nothing.”
Despite my natural desire to drop the subject at that point I pursued it stating, “Look, I know something I’ve either done or not done has upset you. I just don’t know what that something is. If you don’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”
She gave me a hurt look and said, “How could you not know?”
Stunned, I stared at her for a moment before answering, “I swear, if I knew I wouldn’t have to ask. What is it?”
She stood there silently for several minutes then reached over and grabbed my bra strap through my shirt and tugged on it, saying, “That’s what’s wrong.”
Confused, I asked, “What?”
Showing signs of exasperation she said, “When was the last time you didn’t wear a bra when you got dressed?”
I sat there trying to come up with the answer when she finally jumped in with it. “I’ll tell you. It was before your recital last fall. Why’d you start wearing it all the time?”
“I don’t know. I just sort of got used to having it on and haven’t given it another thought. Why?”
“You’re not the person I fell in love with.”
Hurt, I responded, “What do you mean? Because I wear the women’s clothing you picked out for me? Because I don’t just wear them when I’m performing? Is that it?”
“Yes! That’s it!”
“I don’t get it. Why didn’t you ever say anything before?”
“I have, you just ignored me.”
“When?”
“Every night lately, I have to remind you to take those things off. I don’t know what’s happening here. Do you want to be a girl?” she stifled a tear as she waited for my response.
“Of course not! Can I help it if panties are more comfortable than my old Y-fronts?”
“That doesn’t explain the bra, and the pantyhose, and the…”
“The what?”
In a strangely frustrated tone she said, “I wish I had nails like yours!”
“Wait a minute! You started me wearing panties, remember? You picked out my bras! You showed me how to do my manicure! You even gave me that camisole thing for Christmas! What’s going on here?”
She stared at me, a hurt look on her face for a moment or two before silently dropping her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore, Kyle!”
I rushed to her, taking her in my arms in as comforting a hug as I knew how to give. What began as a single tear eventually became a torrent of sobs as I struggled to give her some sort of solace. To say that I was in over my head at this point was the understatement of the century, and I knew it.
I’m not sure how long it took, but eventually I managed to get Cindy calmed down enough that she could lie down and rest. Then I picked up the phone and called the one person I could think of who might have a clue what to do.
“Hello?”
“Sarah? It’s Kyle.”
“Hey Kyle, how were your holidays?”
“Okay, but right now I have something a little bit urgent that I’m hoping you can help with.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Cindy. I don’t really know what’s going on, but she sort of freaked out on me this evening and I don’t have a clue what to do.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
There was a click followed by dead silence. As I hung up the phone, I looked at Cindy as she lay asleep on the couch. I hoped Sarah had an idea what to do, because I sure didn’t.
True to her word, Sarah arrived in less than five minutes time. I let her in and led her into the kitchen as quietly as I could, hoping we didn’t wake Cindy before we’d had a chance to talk.
“So what’s going on, Kyle?” Sarah asked, getting straight to the point.
“Okay, it’s like this. I’ve been wearing my lingerie most of the time lately, just because I’m more or less used to how it feels. Lately Cindy’s been less than receptive to that idea. This is confusing the heck out of me. I mean, she’s the one who started this whole thing.”
“Did you consider the possibility that she feels threatened by your increased level of comfort with your femininity?”
“Threatened? That’s ridiculous!” I said louder than I’d intended.
“To you maybe. Not to her,” Sarah began. “To her, it’s almost like competing with another woman. Only in this case that other woman is with you 24/7.”
I stood there thinking about what she’d just said. The more I thought about it, the more sense it started to make. “Really? You think she really sees it that way?”
“I don’t know for certain, but that seems to be a fairly common point of disagreement in couples where cross-dressing is a factor in the relationship.”
Cindy entered the kitchen at that point and asked, “Sarah, what are you doing here?”
“Hi Cindy! I just thought I’d stop by to see my friends. Do you have a minute? Maybe we could talk a bit.” Turning her attention back to me she asked, “Kyle, could you leave us alone for a little bit of girl talk?”
“How about if I take my laptop and stuff into the bedroom so you two can have a little privacy?”
“That would be great,” Sarah answered.
I did take my things into the bedroom and even hooked everything up. However, it only took a moment for me to completely lose interest in my project and decide to devote my full attention to eavesdropping on the girls’ conversation. So I pressed my ear against the nearly paper-thin door so I could listen in.
The first thing I heard was Cindy asking in a somewhat argumentative tone, “So what did he tell you?”
Sarah replied, “Just that he’s worried about you.”
“So he didn’t tell you anything we’d been arguing about?”
Calmly Sarah said, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re a little threatened by Kyle’s femininity.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Cindy shouted.
“Is it? Tell me, when the two of you argue, what’s it usually about?”
Cindy tried to deflect Sarah from her line of questioning, “I don’t know. Normal couple stuff I guess.”
“So you’ve never fought about his dressing? I have to say, I find that a little hard to believe.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s very common when couples are dealing with some form of cross gender behavior that they argue about that very thing, often more than they do about anything else.”
“So what if we do?”
For a moment I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but then I heard Sarah say, “…it’s hard figuring out where everything fits in. Believe me, I know from whence I speak.”
I pulled my ear away from the door for a moment, so I missed out on Cindy’s response. I did however catch Sarah’s next comment. “No, I’m pretty certain you don’t have anything to worry about there. Kyle’s not going to wake up one morning and just decide then and there that he’s going to become a she. It doesn’t work that way.”
“But why’s he started wearing his girl things all the time?”
“Well, part of it may be just like he says…he’s become comfortable dressing like that. Guys are very much creatures of habit.”
There was a moment’s pause before Cindy asked, “Are you telling me this is just the way things are going to be?”
“I don’t know. No one does for certain. Not even Kyle,” Sarah paused for a moment before continuing. “The real question here is can you honestly sit there and tell me this changes the way you feel about him?”
Cindy responded, “Of course not! I love him very much!”
“Then what exactly is the problem?”
“I just think it’s kind of weird…”
“And it is,” Sarah jumped in. “But there are a few things that have to be taken into account. One is that at least as far as he’s concerned, you are the one who started him wearing girl stuff.”
Timidly Cindy commented, “I suppose I can see where that idea originated.”
Sarah continued, “The second is that this is a rare case in that most transvestites, and for the sake of this conversation we’re going to consider Kyle to be one, have a strong emotional if not sexual component to their dressing. Kyle has neither one, as far as we know.”
“Well if he’s not a transvestite, then what is he?”
“I suppose we could argue that at some level he’s transgendered, but again his is a very unusual case.”
My mind was reeling as I listened in on their conversation. Was I really transgendered? Sarah was for better or worse the only expert I knew and if she didn’t know, how the heck was I supposed to figure it out?
It took me a moment or two to refocus, but eventually I returned to my eavesdropping. I don’t know how much exactly I missed, but when my attention was once again held by the girls’ conversation, I heard Cindy say, “That doesn’t make any of this easier to deal with.”
Sarah responded, “No, it doesn’t. You’re both very lucky, you know.”
“I know.” As Cindy spoke, I decided I’d hidden out long enough and returned to the living room to join in the chat.
“How’re you ladies doing? Have a nice chat?” I asked as I took a seat beside Cindy on the sofa.
She looked at me guiltily before saying, “Listen Kyle, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what my problem has been lately.”
I looked into her eyes and said, “That’s okay. I think we all need to kind of freak out once in a while.” I paused before adding in my most playful tone of voice, “Just maybe give me a little warning beforehand next time.”
Cindy punched my arm, “You!”
Sarah chose that moment to remind us of her presence by saying, “Listen guys, it’s looking like you won’t be needing me anymore this evening so I guess I’ll head on home.” Turning to Cindy specifically, she added, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”
Cindy replied, “Okay, I will.”
I got up and escorted Sarah to the door. As we got there I whispered, “Thanks. I really had no idea what to do there. Any suggestions?”
“Not really. Just be your usual charming, talented self and everything should be all right.”
“Yeah, right,” I let slip before I realized. “Sorry, I just don’t like fighting. It always ties my stomach up in knots.”
“You’ll be fine. Just remember that you guys love each other. The rest is just details.”
Once Sarah was gone I returned to my spot next to the love of my life. Again she began to offer, “Sorry. I really had no right to blow up at you like that.”
“I don’t know if I’d say ‘no right’, but…” I left the sentence incomplete.
The following morning I was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. When I finally answered it, Dr. Caroll’s voice greeted me, “Kyle, Dr. Wyler asked me to call to set up a time for the two of you to meet to discuss the rehearsal schedule.”
Warily I replied, “Okay, when did he want to meet?”
“This afternoon, in his office. Say around one.”
A feeling of dread mingled with worry in the back of my head as I told her, “I’ll be there.”
Once off the phone I replaced the handset, turning toward Cindy to inform her of the appointment. She looked at me worriedly and asked, “Are you going to be all right?”
I pretended to be unconcerned and replied, “Sure. There’s nothing to worry about.” I just wished I believed that one myself.
At a few minutes before one I was standing in the hallway not far from Dr. Wyler’s office, trying to convince myself that I was being silly when I started worrying about his motives and intentions.
At precisely one o’clock Dr. Wyler came strolling down the hall toward his office. When he saw me waiting, a grin quickly spread across his face as he greeted me, “Mr. Bronson. Thank you for meeting with me this afternoon.”
As he approached me he reached out his hand to shake mine. Just as he clasped mine I suppressed the involuntary urge to yank it away, doing my best not to show any kind of negative reaction as he held onto my hand for far longer than was necessary. As calmly as I could I said, “Any time, sir.”
He unlocked his office door and held it open for me to enter, following me in. Once the door had closed behind us he said, “Now, the first thing I’d like to discuss is how you’re coming along with your parts?”
“Pretty good, sir. I’ve been recording sequenced versions of the orchestra parts so I can then practice playing with the ensemble. I have most of the semester’s selections done already and have the solo parts worked out for all of them to the point of spit and polish.”
He took a seat at his desk and indicated I should take the seat right next to it. I had no sooner sat down than he gently placed his hand on top of mine as he said, “Excellent. Now, I was hoping we could arrange it so you attend at least one ensemble rehearsal per week so we can work on your concerti.”
I nearly gave in to the temptation to pull my hand away and run home as fast as I could, but then the part of me that kept telling me this was just my imagination running rampant took over and kept me in my place as we continued our meeting. In my best calm voice I said, “That certainly sounds like a good idea. Which day would you prefer?”
Dr. Wyler looked me directly in the eye and held my gaze for several seconds before saying, “I think that should be the other way around. Which day works best for you?”
I looked up at the ceiling as I said, “Well, if we did Wednesdays I could then work on any problems with Dr. Caroll the next day in my lesson.”
“Wednesdays it is then. We’ll plan on starting those rehearsals with your pieces so you don’t have to hang around doing nothing waiting on us to be ready for you.” As he said this his hand, which had still been resting on mine, began to lightly caress the back of my hand.
I stared hard into his eyes, trying to convey my complete lack of interest in continuing that sort of activity. I don’t think I was terribly successful, given that he didn’t stop. So finally I pulled my hand back from his and clasped mine together between my knees as I said, “Dr. Wyler…” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but it didn’t matter. His office phone rang at that exact moment, rescuing me from any further uncomfortable contact with this man.
He answered it, “Hello? Oh yes, how’s that going?” He pulled the receiver away from his ear, covered the mouthpiece, and whispered, “I’ll see you Wednesday at two then?”
I nodded as he returned to his telephone call then backed out of his office, closing the door behind me as I left. It took me a couple of seconds before I was fully able to process what had just happened, during which time I felt nearly catatonic. I then shuddered, turned to leave, and hoped I could keep my wits about me as I walked home.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Notes:
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As quickly as I could, I made my way to the piano and took my seat. Without saying another word, Dr. Wyler raised his baton and began the first movement of the Beethoven concerto.
I made a few minor flubs, but overall didn’t do too badly. Heck, you can hear worse mistakes on a Horowitz CD, so I figured I could live with the way I was playing. Dr. Wyler didn’t say anything negative about my little mistakes, for which I was grateful, and after a while I settled down and started playing better.
We had worked on it for a little over a half hour before Dr. Wyler turned to me, “Mr. Bronson, how do you think we should approach this section?”
I don’t know if he was expecting me to timidly demur to his interpretation or what, but when I looked right back at him and said, “Well sir, I was thinking something like this,” and then proceeded to play the orchestra’s part in question exactly as I thought it should be performed. I would swear he looked absolutely stunned. I tried very hard not to show it, but his reaction filled me with an almost smug sense of satisfaction for some reason.
From then on Dr. Wyler made a point of seeking out my opinion about how I thought the orchestra should play the different sections of the concerto. Maybe he was just being polite and had no intention of listening to my suggestions, but the simple fact that he bothered to ask made me feel like my interpretation might just have a chance to see the light of day.
While we rehearsed I was able to immerse myself in the music and ignore everything else that was going on in the world. By the time the rehearsal was nearing it’s end I was so engrossed in what I was doing that each note I played sent little tingles up and down my spine. It was a truly powerful experience.
Unfortunately, once rehearsal ended it didn’t take long for the real world to rear its head once again. Even before I had the chance to make for the door, Dr. Wyler called to me, “Kyle, could I speak with you in my office?” Yes it was worded as a question, but there was no doubt in my mind that any response other than yes would not be entertained.
We slowly made our way toward his office, with him walking far too close to me for my personal comfort. That discomfort quickly escalated to full blown panic when his hand found my bra through my shirt and he began rubbing along its outline as we walked.
He guided me into his office, closing the door behind us and promptly pressing against me as he backed me into a wall.
Panicked, I asked, “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just thought we should have a little chat,” he responded, trying to sound as sweet and non-threatening as he could.
He failed miserably.
I tried squirming away from him to no avail as he closed in on me further. As I realized the futility of my actions he added, “You know, there really is no reason for you to be nervous.”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” I said, trying to assert some semblance of control over the situation.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, where he again found my bra strap and began tracing its outline toward my chest, “Your bra feels lovely. Perhaps I could have a peek?”
I stared at him with the iciest look I could manage and quietly said, “I don’t think so.”
He touched my cheek with his hand as he said, “Oh come now, Kyle. Or do you prefer Kayla?”
“What do you want from me?”
An evil smile crawled across his face as he said, “I think you have a pretty good idea.”
I suppressed a shudder before saying, “Not interested. Sorry.” I then tried to leave again only to be restrained.
“I thought you were more interested in your career than this,” he said offhandedly.
I stared at him trying to decipher just how serious he was before stating, “My career is everything to me.”
“Then why are you fighting me, Mr. Bronson?”
“What does this have to do with my playing?”
That evil smile grew even more sinister as he looked at me predatorily and said, “You’re good. There’s no question on that point. However, you didn’t really think you were the only student we considered offering this opportunity to?” He paused for a moment to allow that thought to sink in a bit before continuing, “I picked you because, well, girlish boys interest me.”
I thought about his last statement for a moment, feeling more nauseous by the moment. Eventually I could take it no more, as that tidbit sent me over the top and I found myself retching all over his shoes.
As disgusting as that was, it did at least buy me enough distance from Dr. Wyler to allow me an escape route, which I took advantage of as quickly as I could. Before he knew what was happening I had the office door open and was quickly heading down the hallway, making a beeline for home.
My mind was racing a million miles a minute as I walked home and hadn’t even entertained the thought of slowing down by the time I was opening our apartment door. Upon entering, the first thing I noticed was the sound of voices wafting through from the living room. I quickly identified them as Cindy and Sarah.
Not feeling like discussing the just transpired course of events at that moment, I silently waved at the girls as I walked directly to the bedroom. I closed the door behind me as quickly as I could in hopes that I might be allowed a little privacy before the inevitable happened and I had to inform them of what had happened. In the meantime I lay down on the bed and silently sobbed as the whole sorry event kept running through my mind over and over.
At some point I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew it was dark out and Cindy was rousing me saying, “Hey sleepy head. Could I interest you in something to eat?”
I rubbed sleep out of my eyes, sat up, and looked at Cindy for a moment. Once I found my voice I asked more of myself than anything else, “What have I done?”
Cindy’s look of confusion did nothing to clarify things in my mind and since she didn’t really seem all that interested in delving into the emotional whirlpool that was swirling around inside my mind, I decided to drop the subject for the moment and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
“I made some tuna casserole,” she said as I got up from the bed and followed her into the kitchen for dinner.
“Smells good,” I commented trying to ignore my personal hurricane. We sat down at the table and dug into Cindy’s attempt at culinary arts. We ate in more or less silence and when done I did the washing up while Cindy settled on the couch to get a head start on the required reading for some of her classes for the coming semester.
After restoring the kitchen to it’s clean state I joined her on the sofa, sitting there silently while she read. I had thought she would be able to tell how upset I had been and want to know why, but she either hadn’t noticed or had ignored it while she focused on what was going on in her own world. I eventually got tired of being ignored and went back to bed.
The next thing I remember is being shaken awake by Cindy a little while later, “Kyle? What’s wrong?”
Still mostly asleep I mumbled, “What?”
“You were having a nightmare or something and screamed out.”
As I woke up I started to remember the complete disinterest I’d been on the receiving end of earlier and in a fairly catty tone snapped, “Sorry. I’ll try not to wake you anymore.”
Obviously miffed at what she perceived as being rebuffed while showing some concern for me, Cindy said, “Well if you’re going to be like that…” and got up out of bed and headed toward the couch, her pillow and our blanket in tow.
As I lay there, now completely and totally awake, I started thinking about things. Had I done anything that could have been misinterpreted as giving Dr. Wyler the wrong signals? I certainly couldn’t think of anything I might’ve done along those lines. Of course, I wasn’t sure why Cindy was upset with me either.
I replayed every meeting I’d had with our esteemed conductor that I could remember several times before finally acknowledging that as far as I knew I hadn’t done anything that could’ve been taken as encouraging, other than wearing a bra of course. This all rattled around inside my brain, keeping me awake for the remainder of the night.
My thoughts weren’t restricted to the whole Dr. Wyler thing. I also found myself indulging in some fairly serious belly button contemplation along the way as well. Why is it that this whole cross-dressing thing is working? Why does it seem like I’m becoming comfortable enough with it that it’s expanded into my non-performing life? Is that a bad thing? And possibly most important, what would happen if I quit?
About the time the sun started to climb above the horizon, I reached a few conclusions. Exhausted though I was, I decided to go ahead and get ready for the day, so I climbed out of bed and into the shower. I started to pick up the razor to shave my body, but then stopped. I decided I wasn’t going to do that. Not only that, I had decided not to wear any women’s clothing at all, even though I had a lesson with Dr. Caroll that afternoon. If nothing else, I was determined to find out just how important the clothes were to my playing, and to me.
When I started getting dressed, I had to put the panties back in the drawer and dig into the very back to find a pair of boxers as well as a plain old pair of sweat socks to wear instead of my usual pantyhose. It felt really strange wearing something different, but I figured I’d survive.
Once completely dressed, I left the bedroom to find Cindy still asleep on the couch. I sat on the edge of the coffee table and reached out to gently shake her shoulder in an attempt to wake her. It took a couple of tries, but she did eventually begin to rouse from her REM cycle.
As soon as she seemed like she was achieving some level of consciousness I said, “I’m sorry about last night. There’s just a lot of stuff going on that has got me kinda fried.”
She looked up at me and replied, “I’m sorry too. Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Yeah, but I’m not entirely sure where to start.”
She sat up and rubbed sleep out of her eyes, “How about starting with some background information?”
“It’s Dr. Wyler,” I sighed. “He’s really freaking me out.”
“Why?”
I leaned in closer, “I told you about the other day, right? Well yesterday was about a million times worse.”
“How so?”
“All through rehearsal he was falling all over himself to be nice to me, which in and of itself was really weird, though not all that unusual given previous experience. I’m sure most of the orchestra noticed. A lot of them kept looking at me kind of strangely all through the practice.”
I took a deep breath and continued, “Afterward was even worse. Before I could get out of there, he stopped me and asked that I join him for a chat in his office. He walked me there, standing way closer than could possibly be comfortable, and kept rubbing my bra straps through my shirt all the way there.”
Her mouth fell open for a moment before she said, “Wow, I knew he was a little weird, but this is way beyond what I expected.”
“Weird is right,” I agreed. I then tried to shift topics, since even talking about Dr. Wyler gave me the willies. “I did a lot of thinking last night after you left. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she replied.
“One of the things I thought about was how this whole lingerie thing has sort of grown lately.”
“It’s not…”Cindy started.
I cut her off before she could go any further, “No, it’s not. I’ve let it sort of take over my whole life. While on one hand I’ve gotten so used to wearing those things they just feel natural, on the other I realize that it’s kinda strange for you.”
“It really is okay, Kyle,” she offered.
“I made a decision last night. I’m not going to wear them when I’m not playing.”
“Are you sure?” Cindy asked. “Do you really think you can do that?”
“Of course I can,” I boldly stated.
Cindy started looking me over. The first thing she noticed was the lack of bra lines. “No bra today? Don’t you have a lesson with Dr. Caroll?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be fine.”
Cindy continued her survey, “No pantyhose…boxers instead of panties…Wow! So how does it feel?”
“Strange, to say the least. I itch everywhere. Especially where the boxers are.”
“Your skin’s used to the softer material. That’s why,” she commented. “Are you going to be all right? I mean, the itchy stuff isn’t going to drive you too nuts, is it?”
“I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Once breakfast dishes were washed and put away we both grabbed our respective bags and headed for the door to begin our days. The slight itchy sensation that started when I put on the boxers didn’t ease up at all. If anything, it seemed to get worse with each passing minute. By the time I returned home following my morning classes I felt as if I was fighting the worst case of poison ivy in history.
I was barely through the front door before I was stripping my clothes off and running for the bedroom, where I immediately began digging for a pair of panties. Even as I was pulling them up my legs I found myself bombarded with a torrent of conflicting emotions. I mean, hadn’t I just hours before vowed not to wear women’s clothing except when playing?
I had a pair of panties in my hand as a wave of guilt washed over me. I did promise, after all. Having acquired new resolve, I returned the undies to the drawer, closed it, and re-dressed before walking out of the bedroom.
I headed for the kitchen to look for something for lunch and just as I opened the refrigerator Cindy returned home. “Hey sweetie,” she said as she walked in the door.
“Hey yourself,” I responded as I pulled a container of leftover tuna casserole out of the fridge and popped it into the microwave.
Cindy got glasses out of the cabinet and was putting ice in them when she asked, “How’d everything go this morning?”
I knew exactly what she was asking about and responded, “I feel like I took a bath in poison ivy.”
“That bad, huh?” she commented as she filled the glasses with soda. “You know, you could always change back into the panties.”
“No, I’m going to make it today. I will not give up over a little discomfort.”
Once lunch was hot I pulled the bowl out of the microwave and dished it up onto plates, then carried them through to the table so we could eat. Cindy brought the drinks and silverware and we settled in for a quiet meal, with neither of us feeling all that talkative.
As we cleaned up our mess after lunch, Cindy asked, “Any idea what you’re going to do about that ol’ perv?”
“Not really, no. I mean, I could turn him in to the administration, but what good would that do me?” I paused for a moment while I shifted my attention to closing and latching the dishwasher. “I can’t imagine anyone believing me, to tell you the truth. I barely believe it myself, and I was there!”
Cindy remained quiet for a moment before reaching over and taking my hand in hers. She led me out of the kitchen and over to the sofa, where we sat close together. As soon as we were settled in, she reached out and took me in her arms, not saying a word.
I don’t know exactly how long we were like that, but the next thing I remembered was a knock on the front door, which prompted Cindy to extricate herself from our embrace so she could see who was at the door. A moment later she returned with Sarah in tow.
“Hi Sarah,” I offered half-heartedly before rising from the couch. It wasn’t that I was unhappy to see her. To the contrary, Sarah was quickly moving up the list toward becoming one of my favorite people. Rather, my lack of enthusiasm was no doubt rooted in the fact that I needed to head out for my lesson post haste, and I was feeling a lot more anxiety about it than usual.
“Sorry I can’t stay. It’s almost lesson time.” I headed out the door on my way to Dr. Caroll’s office. There was little doubt in my mind that by the time I returned home Sarah would know as much about the Dr. Wyler situation as Cindy does. Maybe more.
Just as I arrived at her door, the good doctor was coming out with her previous student. “Kyle, come right in,” she said as I stepped across the threshold and took my place at her piano.
When she closed the office door I couldn’t help myself as I shuddered involuntarily. Dr. Caroll obviously noticed my discomfort, as she asked, “Is something wrong?”
I looked up at her, trying to decide if I should tell her what was bothering me. What started as a simple pause in conversation quickly grew into an uncomfortable silence that I seemed unable to fill. Eventually Dr. Caroll tired of waiting for a response from me and said, “Why don’t we start with a little bit of a review?”
She set the Chopin etude book in front of me and randomly opened it, saying, “Why don’t we start here?”
Here it turned out was the third opus 10 etude. I played without even glancing at the book once. That being said I must admit that it was far from my most moving performance. Robotic might actually be the best way to describe it in fact.
Dr. Caroll looked at me silently for a moment after I’d completed the etude, pursing her lips like she was trying to decide how to proceed. When she did speak she said, “That answers that question.”
I stared at her blankly until she elaborated. “Something is definitely bothering you. What is it?”
Straight to the point. I had to admit to myself that I admired that about Dr. Caroll. “I’m not sure if it’s something I should talk with you about.”
“What?”
“It’s Dr. Wyler.”
“He’s been absolutely gushing about the job you’ve been doing with the Beethoven. What’s the matter?”
I started to tell her exactly what the problem was, but found I couldn’t. Instead, I said, “I’m just worried that I won’t be able to do a good enough job on all these performances.”
She looked at me for a moment, giving me a look that made it clear she knew that was not the real problem. “You have nothing to worry about, Kyle. You’re doing an outstanding job so far. I am a little concerned about today’s rendition though. It seemed very out of character.”
I decided the best course of action at that point was to not mention anything about what the real problem was, so I simply said, “I’m just not really with it today, I’m afraid. You know, having trouble concentrating and all that?”
“Yes, we all have days like that, I’m afraid. It’s good for you to try to work through it though. After all, when you’re being paid to perform, there isn’t really room for an off day.”
The discussion concluded, Dr. Caroll asked me to play through a few bits of the Beethoven concerto to get an idea of what I was wanting performance-wise. I played through several different sections of the concerto and while it was by no means up to my usual standards, I did at least manage to keep it together well enough that she didn’t feel like she had to decimate everything about the performance.
As we wrapped up my lesson, Dr. Caroll reminded me once again, “If you need to talk about anything, you know you can always come to me.”
“I know, but really there’s nothing to talk about,” I bluffed.
I could tell by the look she gave me that she didn’t believe a word I’d just said, but nonetheless she said, “All right then. Take care, and I’ll see you at the recital tomorrow.” That said, I was ushered out the door back into the corridor where I rushed down the hall toward the exit.
The whole way home my mind jumped from one thing to another, unable to focus on anything. At one point I did decide that if there had ever been any question concerning the real effect of the women’s under things on my playing, even the most cynical mind imaginable had to admit that there really was a difference. And there was no question which way sounded better.
I walked into the living room to be greeted by both Cindy and Sarah, who quickly offered, “Kyle, you know you don’t have to put up with this crap, don’t you?”
At least I knew Cindy had told her. That saved me having to go through the whole sorry episode, so at some level it had to be good, right? “And what do you propose I do?” I asked her rather pointedly.
“Report him, of course,” she threw back at me.
“One problem there. He’s a world famous renowned orchestra conductor. I’m a pervert teenager who wears womens’ underwear. When it comes down to it, who do you think the dean would be more likely to believe, hmmm?”
“But…” Cindy started.
“But nothing, Cin. The only way they believe me over him would be if I had incontrovertible proof, which I don’t have and don’t have any idea how to acquire.”
Sarah looked thoughtful for a moment before re-entering the conversation. “Maybe not, guys. What if we could get proof of his misbehavior? Something the dean’s office couldn’t ignore?”
As I thought about what Sarah had just said, I experienced one of those moments you see in cartoons where the light bulb suddenly comes on over the guy’s head. What I imagined was an evil grin spread across my face as I said, “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
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Fact is, my mind had been racing all evening and obviously had decided that a little thing like going to bed was no reason to stop. Yes, in part that was because of the impending sting operation I was planning for Dr. Wyler. It was also to do with the conflicting feelings I’d been having concerning my dressing.
I had of course promised Cindy that I’d only wear my women’s under things when I would be playing, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out the folly of that commitment. Fact is, instead of cutting back there was an increasingly powerful part of me that would like to actually expand on my cross-dressing. The battle that raged in my head over those opposing positions was causing my mind to jump about rather wildly.
At one point I was rehashing a conversation I’d had earlier with Sarah on the subject of my dressing:
“There is something else that’s been on my mind,” I quietly admitted to her at one point when Cindy had left the room.
“What’s that?” Sarah asked with great interest.
“Well, I’m having a bit of a problem. You may already know about my promise to Cindy that I was only going to wear my girl things when I played?”
“No, but what about it?”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
She looked at me knowingly for a moment before asking, “And why’s that?”
It took me a while before I could actually make myself say, “Because I want to go further with it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Cindy’ll have a major problem with that idea.”
“You may be right, but on the other hand…”
“You weren’t here when we had it out about this.”
“That’s true, but…”
“But nothing! She’s telling me she doesn’t want me to wear my things when I’m not playing and I’m feeling like I want to go in the other direction with things.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…”
Just then Cindy rejoined us and I cut myself off before completing my thought.
As my thoughts continued to wander, I eventually found myself slipping back to that party we attended on New Year’s. At first it wasn’t even clear to me why it had jumped to the forefront of my thoughts, but then things began to crystallize.
First I started remembering playing for the assembled crowd, but then the memory of Cindy’s ex came flooding back, pushing everything else aside. Not only did I replay the entire conversation I’d had with him several times, but additionally I started remembering that as I had been playing I saw him with Cindy, getting entirely too chummy for my tastes.
Even though she had told me afterward that she no longer had feelings for that behemoth, a part of me couldn’t shake the pangs of jealousy that rose up in the pit of my stomach every time I remembered seeing them together. The more I told myself there was nothing for me to be jealous of, the more doubts crept into my head.
Was I sure about this relationship? I had thought so, but then once in a while I caught myself questioning not only if I were sure, but if Cindy was really as committed to it as I was?
My mind continued to spin from one subject to another, never staying on any one topic long enough to ever come up with any answers. It was a fertile field for doubts.
The internal debate carried on past Four, when I finally gave out due to simple exhaustion. The next thing I knew, the room was flooded with sunlight streaming in through the window and Cindy was padding around getting ready for the day. I sat up in bed and was soon treated to a good morning kiss.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to face the new day,” she said as she headed for the door.
“Coming,” I hollered at her back as she left the bedroom, then climbed out of bed myself and into the shower. After several mind clearing minutes under those jets of hot water I emerged refreshed and refocused on the intended task at hand.
Cindy walked back in the room just as I was fastening my bra and looked at me funny for a moment before exiting once again. I finished dressing and joined her in the kitchen for a bite of breakfast.
I was pretty sure this was not the time to discuss my desire to increase, rather than decrease, my dressing so I just reminded Cindy of my plans in reference to Dr. Wyler and went about my business. She did her best to avoid letting things become confrontational, but it was easy to see that something was bothering her. As much as that concerned me, I had to do this.
Later, as I was on my way toward my personal OK Corall, I happened to run into Dr. Caroll. She asked me into her office, where we talked.
“Are you sure about this?” Dr. Caroll asked me.
“I wouldn’t make something like this up, I assure you,” I responded. I had just informed her of what had really been going on between Dr. Wyler and myself. It had been difficult, but now that it was done I was waiting to find out if she was going to be an ally or an enemy.
She sat there dumbfounded for a moment before finally speaking again, “I knew he was showing a bit more interest in your development than was normal, but I just thought he was trying to mentor someone he saw as a rising star. It never occurred to me that he might have some less pure motive in mind.”
I sat unable to speak for a moment. At once I felt relieved to know that I had another ally and surprised that no one on the faculty had noticed anything. I had wondered if the conservatory had ever had this sort of problem with Dr. Wyler before, but then guessed from Dr. Caroll’s reaction that if they had, it had been kept quite hush-hush.
Since my arrival at the school, this woman had been my teacher, confidante, friend, and counselor, just to name a few of the hats she’d worn on my behalf. Here I was, more in need of guidance than at any time since I’d met her but as I looked as deeply into her eyes as I could, none was forthcoming.
When I did finally find my voice, it was weak and unsteady. “It’s been a difficult time of late. I was sure you knew about everything that was going on. That’s why I hadn’t said anything before,” I said. I could see shock in her face, which told me she really had no idea. At that point my position with regard to Dr. Caroll softened considerably. “I hope you can forgive me for ever thinking you knew what was going on.”
She reached over and placed her hand on mine as she said, “Kyle, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’ve been ignoring things for quite a while that I shouldn’t have.”
The relief that washed over me as this conversation continued was obvious enough that a blind deaf mute could have probably noticed. Of course, that didn’t really solve anything. It did, however, make me feel a little better about things for a while.
Following my chance meeting and soul bearing chat with Dr. Caroll, I found myself wandering the performing arts center’s corridors in search of answers that still weren’t coming. When I wandered into the student’s lounge, I bought myself a cup of coffee from the vending machine and took a seat, hoping that some sense of inner peace might somehow find me and bring with it that so desperately wanted satisfactory resolution.
Unfortunately, instead of the aforementioned peace and resolution I found myself once again being the subject of whispered comments and titters, as a few of my fellow students talked amongst themselves not quite out of earshot.
“There’s that guy who wears girls’ underwear,” one of them snickered to the other as they took what they thought were unnoticed glances in my direction from across the lounge.
“That’s just weird,” replied the other as they were both overtaken by an attack of uncontrollable laughter.
I’d had enough of being their personal punchline, so I got up from my seat at the table, took what was left of my coffee, and gulped it down before throwing the cup away on my way out of the student lounge. Again I found myself wandering the halls, hoping something might come to me that could bring this all to an end.
Eventually, I reached the conclusion that regardless of Dr. Caroll’s knowledge of recent events there was still this overriding problem hanging over my head and I was determined to make it go away, one way or another. With that thought in mind, I pulled out my MP3 player/recorder and double-checked the memory status. I had wiped it clean the previous night in preparation for what I was about to do, so I pulled up the recorder section and set it to start while sitting there so I wouldn’t have to worry about fumbling with the controls while sitting in the rehearsal hall as a hundred musicians plied their trade.
With each step I took toward what I was thinking of as my “showdown” my heart seemed to race just a little bit more, which in turn added to my discomfort level immeasurably. I entered the rehearsal hall as quietly as I could manage and found an out of the way spot. As I sat there listening to the orchestra rehearse Stravinsky’s Firebird, which was to be on the program just before my concerto, the previous evening’s conversation kept running through my head.
“How could you think…” Cindy ranted for the umpteenth time.
I looked closely into her eyes and saw fear. Fear that something bad was going to happen to me if my plan went wrong somehow. When I finally spoke again I was calm and measured. “If I don’t do something this is going to go on forever. I can’t do that. It’s driving me crazy.”
“I get that, but…”
“But nothing. The alternative is…” The frustration was obvious in my voice, “There isn’t one I can live with.”
Yes, it was Sarah who first offered up the suggestion that if I could get undeniable proof of what Dr. Wyler had been doing to me there would be a real chance of bringing it to an end. Actually putting that idea into practice fell upon me, which it turned out was more easily done than I at first expected.
“How will you get the proof you need without getting caught?” Sarah asked.
I held up my MP3 player that doubled as a digital audio recorder, smiled, and said, “This is how.”
I had been using the recording feature of my trusty Digital Jukebox since high school to record lectures in class, rehearsals, and pretty much anything else I might need to be able to refer back to at a later date. It was small, completely self-contained, and made good, clean recordings. Plus, with 15 gigs of storage, it could hold lots of audio at one time, so there would be no worrying about tapes running out before we got what we needed.
“I still don’t like it,” Cindy said for the millionth time.
I looked at her, took her hand, and replied, “I don’t like it all that much either. But I don’t see that there’s much of a choice.”
As I listened to Dr. Wyler shout at the viola section once again for some barely noticeable mistake, I unconsciously reached up to the jacket pocket which held my recorder and lightly touched its surface as if I was searching for some form of confirmation that it was still there and ready to perform the task at hand. When I realized what I was doing, I lowered my hand back to my lap as inconspicuously as I could manage while looking around the room in an effort to ascertain whether or not anyone had noticed my faux pas.
As the rehearsal ran on, I found myself feeling extremely aware of the bra and panties I had on. This was very unusual of late, as I had become so used to them that they seemed normal. That is, normal to me. At that moment however, the reason for wearing them was forcing me to think about their presence.
“I thought you’d decided not to wear the lingerie when you weren’t playing?” Cindy asked.
“I had,” I replied. “But this is different.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“You know,” I said feeling more than a little embarrassed that she was trying to force me to say it.
“No, I don’t,” Cindy countered. “You don’t have to wear them for this. You don’t have to let that old pervert see your bra and panties to get the proof.”
“I wish I were as sure as you on that point,” I finally said.
The French Horns were on the receiving end of a fairly severe tongue lashing for their inability to perform exactly as Dr. Wyler wanted, causing me to momentarily focus on someone else’s problems rather than my own. The respite was most welcome, but far too short-lived to allow any real relaxation. As a result, I quickly found myself back in the throws of my own issues.
Cindy interjected, “Do you have everything?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
Sarah looked at her watch and said, “It’s time.”
I gave Cindy a kiss and shook Sarah’s hand, saying, “Thanks for all your help. With a little luck this could all be over very soon.”
She released my hand then pulled me into a hug. “I hope so.”
I hoped the good doctor didn’t find it suspicious that I was here on a day when we weren’t even working on my piece. If he did happen to question my appearance, it could cause the whole plan to go up in smoke. I tried to force myself not to think about that possibility for fear I might not be able to go through with things. As is so often the case, that had the opposite effect and for a while I found myself dwelling on anything and everything that could possibly go wrong, from not being able to do it to being busted for the recorder.
As my thoughts continued to wander, I drifted away from the problem at hand and instead focused on other things. Specifically, I started remembering a recent event, which was representative of something that had become all too commonplace of late.
I was trying to focus on my studies, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so sitting in the middle of the student union’s cafeteria. I’d probably read the same paragraph in the textbook open in front of me ten times, unable to go any further because of the distractions around me.
Chief among those distractions were the snide comments and less than funny jokes that my fellow classmates popped off with all around me. A few of them went so far as to say things directly to my face, but for the most part they just talked about me ‘behind my back’.
I sat there far longer than I probably should have, listening to the snide comments and jokes that flew around me at my expense. To think, I hadn’t even realized the bra was visible through my shirt! All the while, the ongoing commentary drove me deeper into a funk.
Needless to say, I was getting no studying done as a result. Fueled by embarrassment, I finally had heard enough. So I grabbed my books and tossed them back in my bag, heading for the exit as quickly as I could manage.
As I said, wearing a bra and panties felt normal to me, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world shared that position. Despite the negative nature of not only the aforementioned encounter, but numerous other incidents of late, I still found myself wondering about further exploring this whole femininity thing. I knew in the back of my head that would mean delving deeper into cross-dressing. While on one level that idea left me feeling rather unsettled, on another it was exciting beyond explanation. That confirmed for me more than anything else ever could the fact that I had become a real live cross-dresser.
“But I don’t want to be a cross-dresser,” I said quietly to myself before realizing that it wasn’t just in my head. Immediately, I began nervously looking around to figure out if anyone had heard me. While I didn’t think anyone had, that knowledge didn’t stop me from turning bright red from embarrassment.
I made an effort to tune back into the rehearsal and quickly decided that our fearless leader seemed to be in a rotten mood today. That was the only excuse I could think of for some of the things he was saying to the ensemble. It got so bad that I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the kids just stood up and left rather than take the abuse. Was that how all conductors acted toward their ensembles? I seriously doubted it.
I was sitting in the lounge, listening in on a conversation that was taking place between several members of the Conservatory Orchestra. “What crawled up Wyler’s butt today?” asked someone I recognized as the concertmaster.
Her stand mate replied, “I don’t know. Maybe he’s on his period or something.”
That prompted a hearty round of laughter to ripple across the room. I couldn’t help but allow myself to join in.
As that initial peel of chuckling began to die down, the leader of the trumpet section added, “If that’s the case, I’ll chip in for the Pamprin if you guys think it would help.”
“Only problem with the period thing is, if that were the case his bitchiness would only last one week out of the month,” came the comment from someone in the cello section.
“Yeah, instead of four out of every four,” added the concertmaster.
I was trying not to laugh too loudly through all of this, but was finding that task near impossible. I finally gave up and let loose and nearly pee’d myself, I laughed so hard.
Every now and then Dr. Wyler would go off on one of his more animated tirades, providing me with a momentary respite from my inner turmoil. Unfortunately, those moments weren’t nearly long enough.
As practice was winding down the trepidation I’d been feeling over the prospect of what I intended to do began slipping away, to be replaced by a sense of purpose that drove me to carry on for the greater good.
When rehearsal ended, Dr. Wyler came over to me as the ensemble packed up their instruments. “Mr. Bronson, so nice to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until next Wednesday. What brings you by?” he asked as he once again pressed himself well within my personal space, causing me to feel a very uncomfortable.
I quelled the instinct to recoil from the invasion and in as calm a voice as I could manage said, “I just wanted to hear how things are going with the concert preparations.”
“Good, good,” he said as he began leading me once again toward his office. With each step I fought the urge to simply hit the man, knowing that what I had
planned would hurt him far more than simple physical pain.
Once inside his office, I began looking around at some of the pictures he had hanging on the walls. Among them were ensemble photos from each year he’d been at the Conservatory, as well as a myriad of standard shaking hands style posed shots with various soloists and dignitaries.
As I turned to face the good doctor, I found him so close to me that I was surprised I hadn’t felt his breath on the back of my neck. “Dr. Wyler,” I stammered.
“So what really brought you by today, Kyle?” he asked as he began trying to move even closer.
I stepped back, with him following suit until my back was against the wall and he was pressed up against me. I nearly tossed my lunch right there, but this time I managed to control the urge.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me,” he said as that evil grin spread once again across his face.
“What would make you think that, sir?” I asked, hoping I could lead him into saying something incriminating.
“Well,” he said in an exaggeratedly drawn out fashion as he brushed my cheek with his hand, “You seemed rather disinterested in things, except for when you were looking right at me.”
“What an ego,” I thought before saying, “No, I was interested. I’m fascinated watching ensembles work. Maybe it’s because I never really spent any time in that kind of a setting before.”
“Perhaps you’d like to know a bit more about what I do,” he asked, I hoping to lead me into something that would require us to spend a lot more time together.
“Perhaps,” I replied, wondering if my response conveyed the total disinterest I felt or hid that truth well enough to fool Dr. Wyler.
He moved in even closer and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Kayla,” as his lips lightly touched mine. I nearly threw up in his mouth, but managed to control that reaction yet again by reminding myself that this was why I was there. What kept me going at that point was the hope that things were almost over.
“Please don’t do that again,” I managed to say after taking a moment to find my voice.
“But that’s what you wanted,” started Dr. Wyler.
“No, it’s what you wanted. Not what I wanted,” I countered. “The simple truth is I’m not interested in any kind of intimate relationship with you, sir.”
He pressed into me more forcefully as he said, “Why are you fighting me, Kayla?”
“Stop calling me that!” I shouted. Once my voice returned to a more normal level, I continued, “My name is Kyle and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t address me by any other one.”
For a moment as he looked at me I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. Then that evil grin again spread across his face as he said, “To the rest of the world you’re Kyle, but to me you’re Kayla.” He put his hands on my shoulders, gripping hard so he could force me into the position he wanted.
With all the strength I could muster, I grabbed his hand from my shoulders and threw them down at his sides as I twisted away from him. “No!” I shouted as forcefully as I could.
He looked momentarily taken aback, affording me the opportunity to create some distance between us by moving back toward the office door. When he attempted to once again close the distance I said, “Just stop right there! What part of ‘not interested’ are you missing?”
“Kayla, I’ve told you before, this is what it’s going to take to…”
Cutting him off I jumped in, “Keep my soloist opportunities? That’s extortion, and harassment, and…”
His office door suddenly swung open as one of his teaching assistants came into the office. Not wanting to allow him the chance to chase off the grad student before I could make my escape, I shot out the door as quickly as I could, practically leaving a vapor trail in my wake.
Igor Stravinsky, Firebird Suite (1919) — Real Audio Format
http://mfile3.akamai.com/14122/rm/muze.download.akamai.com/2...
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Scott Joplin, The Entertainer
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-the-enterta...
Maple Leaf Rag
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-maple-leaf-...
Vince Guaraldi, Linus and Lucy
http://www.amazon.com/gp/music/wma-pop-up/B000ICLSMY001004/r...
Chick Corea, Monk’s Mood
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,20116...
Thelonius Monk, Ask Me Now
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,26039...
Bill Evans, Elsa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyyMM5mOK7I
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“Come in, Kyle,” she bade me, moving out of the way so I could pass through the doorway and into her office. As I took a seat at the piano, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
I took several deep, cleansing breaths before responding, “I’ve just come from Dr. Wyler’s office.”
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, followed immediately by an overpowering sense of maternal protectiveness as she asked, “What happened?”
“Well, I went to rehearsal and as soon as it had ended he came up to me and pulled me toward his office.”
“No!” she gasped.
I could see in her eyes that she was on the verge of killing the good doctor at that moment, which was why I theatrically pulled the recorder from my pocket and waved it at her. When I did speak I said, “I might have enough here to do something about him.”
She took it from me and hooked it up to her laptop, where she downloaded the file and immediately started listening. There was a lot that had to be skipped over because I had recorded the rehearsal, but eventually she reached the part we were most concerned with.
When the audio clip ended, she sat there silent for a moment. Unsure what to make of that, I started to ask what she thought but was stopped by her statement, “That may just bring an end to this.”
“May?” I repeated, dumfounded by her apparent dismissal of what I had viewed as a slam dunk.
“There are a lot of loopholes that he may be able to manipulate to his advantage, but…” she allowed the thought to die, unspoken.
We then listened to the post rehearsal part of the recording once again, then she saved the file before closing her laptop, all without saying a word. It wasn’t until after she had closed her computer that she said, “You need to get this to the Dean ASAP.”
“Do you know if he’s in his office right now?” I asked. I hoped against all hope that he was, but wasn’t counting on it.
A phone call later I was on my way to the Dean’s office, recording in hand and hope in my heart. That hope however was short-lived as just before I reached the entrance to the Dean’s office I was intercepted by Dr. Wyler.
“Kyle, we need to finish our conversation,” he said with calmness in his voice that struck me as rather creepy.
“I can’t just now sir. I have an appointment with the Dean in just a few minutes,” I said, trying to maneuver past him and through the door.
“Ah, perhaps later then,” he said, a definite look of disappointment on his face.
A repeat of earlier narrowly avoided, I hurried straight to the secretary and said, “I have an appointment with Dean Thompson.”
“Name?” she asked without looking up.
“Kyle Bronson,” I replied.
She looked at the schedule and started to turn me away until she noticed a note lying next to the book telling her to show me directly in to his office as soon as I arrived. Reaching for the intercom, she buzzed his office and said, “Mr. Bronson is here.”
Crackling to life the response came from the speaker, “Send him in.”
She then looked up at me for the first time and said, “Through that door. No need to knock.” After that she simply returned to her previous tasks, whatever they were, ignoring me completely.
As I entered his office, Dean Thompson was on the phone and when he saw me enter he pointed to the chair sat opposite him and proceeded to wrap up his call. Once done, he looked at me and said, “So I understand you’re having a problem with Dr. Wyler?”
Feeling very uncomfortable, I replied, “Yes sir. He’s been harassing me sir, and I’d like to see what can be done to stop it.”
He looked at me silently for a moment before continuing, “You say harassing. In what way?”
I’m sure I turned about thirteen shades of red before I managed to squeak out, “Sexually, sir.”
“That’s a very serious charge, young man. I understand you have some evidence to back up this assertion?”
“Yes sir,” I simply said, then removed a CD on which we had burned a copy of the recording and handed it to him.
He took it without saying another word and put it into his laptop. He played through the exchange between the professor and myself several times, making mental notes as he went along.
Once done, he looked me in the eye and said, “I’m very sorry you’ve had to put up with this from someone on my faculty. I can guarantee it will not happen again.” With that he stood up from his seat and extended his hand to me, which I promptly shook. As he returned to his desk, I made my way back out of his office and started the trek home.
The apartment was empty, as I had expected, so after grabbing myself a soda from the fridge, I headed straight for my keyboard. I sat down and plopped the headphones on as I flipped on the power. As soon as it was booted up I began playing through everything I could think of, hoping that the music would help clear all the negative thoughts out of my head.
As is so often the case when I’m upset, I lost all sense of time as the music poured out of my fingers. I did eventually calm down, at which point I realized that Cindy was sitting with Sarah, looking at me with extremely concerned looks on their faces. Not knowing how long I’d been playing or they’d been there, I timidly removed the headphones and turned off the keyboard as I bashfully looked back and forth between the two of them.
Sarah quipped, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to notice us.”
The embarrassment that had started showing itself when I realized they were there was amplified ten fold, as I’m sure was evidenced by the depth of my blush.
Once the glow from my cheeks began to subside, they both asked, “Are you all right?”
I gave them a half-hearted smile and said, “I think I am now.”
They bade me sit between them on the sofa and once there, Cindy was the first to speak, “What happened?”
I looked at her and let out a huge sigh before saying, “I got it.”
Both their eyes began to bug out before they managed to find their voices. This time it was Sarah who asked first, “What do you mean, you got it? You got the evidence?”
“Yes.”
Sounds of gleeful celebration filled the apartment, but it only took the girls a moment to realize that I was not among the celebrators. They quickly calmed down and returned all their attention to me in an effort to find out what was still bothering me.
“So what’s wrong, then?” asked Cindy.
Almost simultaneously, Sarah said, “You don’t seem all that happy. It’s over now, isn’t it?”
“Oh, believe me, I’m thrilled that it’s over. It’s just…” I couldn’t continue my thought as my voice caught in my throat.
“Just?” both girls asked together.
I sat silently for quite some time before finally replying, “Just that what happened…” Again, I couldn’t continue. Tears were rolling thickly down my cheeks as I tried to finish my thought. “It was very disturbing, getting the evidence.”
Both girls put their arms around me as the three of us sat there silently well into the night. At some point, we must have all fallen asleep sitting there, as the next thing I remember is trying to extricate myself from their grip so I could relieve myself without waking them.
With some difficulty I managed to escape their clutches and upon my return I found the two of them in a semi-awakened state. I said, “I think it’s time for bed, ladies.” Sarah started to stand up to leave, but before she could even begin the process of getting up I stopped her. “Sarah, since you’re so tired, why don’t you just sleep here on the couch tonight?”
If there was any part of her that considered arguing with me, I certainly didn’t notice it, as she merely smiled and lay down as soon as Cindy got up to head off to bed. I got out a blanket for her before following Cindy to bed. Apparently I was far more tired than I thought as well, since the moment my head hit the pillow I was bombarded by nightmares, most of which consisted of replays or permutations of the previous afternoon’s encounter with Dr. Wyler. With each one I found it more difficult falling back asleep until sometime around 2am, when I gave up and just stared at the ceiling thinking.
The longer I stared at that ceiling, the more my mind spun. I had a heck of a time getting my thoughts to settle in one place for long, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t focus well enough to reach some conclusions.
As so many subjects swirled around inside my head I found it nearly impossible o keep everything separate. The virtual pile of things I needed to think about grew, I found myself also thinking about Cindy and all the little things that I’d been ignoring but when thrown together
Considering my lack of sleep overnight it was probably a good thing we didn’t have anything planned Saturday morning, as somewhere around 6 o’clock sleep finally deemed to revisit me. By the time I woke up again the apartment was otherwise empty because the girls had gone shopping. I stumbled around, had a couple of cups of coffee, and generally did absolutely nothing other than take a shower and get dressed until sometime after noon when the phone rang.
When I answered it what I heard was a recording of the Beethoven concerto I was scheduled to perform with Dr. Wyler in just over a weeks time. My first thought was of someone from the orchestra playing a prank, so I hung up the phone little more than mildly amused. However, no sooner had my hand let go of the handset than it rang once again. Answering, it was once again that same recording.
Becoming irked, I hung up again and had barely taken two steps away from the phone’s base station when it once again began ringing. This time I ignored it and eventually the call rolled to voicemail. The ringing stopped for a few seconds, but then resumed as soon as whoever was doing this realized that I was letting it go to our voicemail.
Thus I spent a couple of hours Saturday afternoon listening to the phone constantly ringing. The longer it went on, the less certain I became that it was merely some prank by a college kid. The persistence with which they were carrying on with this little annoyance was forcing me to believe that I was dealing with something more sinister.
I did eventually just unplug the phone, which once I had my headphones on and was again practicing left me without any real distractions. Late that afternoon, Cindy and Sarah returned under the burden of numerous shopping bags to find me lost in my musical world with the phone still disconnected.
Not knowing what had been going on, Cindy plugged it back in only to find that the ringing began almost immediately. She answered it and heard the Beethoven recording then hung up, which immediately prompted it to ring again.
When I noticed that they had come in, I brought an end to my practicing. I could see that it was quickly starting to get to Cindy as it had me earlier, so I unplugged the phone once again to bring a halt to the calls.
“What the heck is going on here?” she asked as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
As I responded, I’m pretty sure she could see how red my eyes were from crying, “I wish I knew.”
Not realizing she was still present I nearly jumped when Sarah asked, “Is there something wrong?”
I turned toward her once I had again collected my wits and said, “Only if you consider someone constantly making prank calls to your home wrong.”
She looked first at me, then Cindy before commenting, “Is this just some sort of stupid prank, or…”
Knowing exactly where she was headed I jumped in, “Something more sinister? I don’t know, to tell you the truth. However, the persistence with which this has been going on is forcing me to think it’s more than just something done for a laugh.”
We all just looked at each other, wondering what to do next. Throughout the evening, none of us could prevent ourselves from just staring at the still unplugged telephone as if we expected it to burst back to life despite it not being hooked up. By the time Sarah left to go home I wasn’t certain which was worse, it ringing constantly or not ringing at all?
Every time I allowed myself a moment to think about it I became quite upset about the calls, as well as what we had to do to avoid them. So it was in that state of mind that we readied ourselves for bed.
Cindy and I lay there staring at the ceiling, neither of us saying a word, for the better part of an hour before I finally had had enough and got up, hoping that my absence would allow Cindy to fall asleep.
As so often happens, I found myself being pulled to the keyboard. I sat in that most familiar of places and before I was aware of anything, found myself headphoned and playing once again.
My mind began to wander as my fingers found their way across the keys. I wasn’t even sure what I was playing as my thoughts flitted from topic to topic without lighting anywhere in particular. Eventually things inside my head slowed down and I was able to focus on specific subjects.
I couldn’t keep from wondering just what was going to happen with Dr. Wyler. Not that I cared what happened to the creep, but if he remained in his post as conductor, how could I possibly continue with the schedule of performances that were planned? The idea of working with that man made my skin crawl.
Then the thought that perhaps he was the one who had been making the prank calls struck me. Of course, I dismissed that idea almost as quickly as it had sprung to life, as I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he would do such a thing.
As seemed to happen every time I allowed my mind free reign, I started thinking about Cindy. There were still so many things that seemed contradictory in what she said and did, to the point that I found I was confused much of the time. I’m sure there are those who would tell me this was normal, but to me it felt like anything but.
On the one hand she has encouraged my dressing, taking me shopping to buy my own feminine things as well as showing me how to take care of my nails. Conversely, she seemed to put up a fight whenever I gave in to the pull of those feminine things, going so far as to start arguments whenever I crossed an imaginary line she seemed to arbitrarily draw. It was all enough to make my head swim. Maybe I was better off not trying to understand?
I had never questioned that she was as committed to our relationship as I, until the memory flashed through my mind of her laughing and flirting with her old boyfriend at that New Years Eve party. Then as I recalled all the times since that I would return home to find her hurriedly trying to get off the phone before I caught her, my heart began to fill with doubt.
Could there be anything going on? Could I have been wrong about her all this time? I forced myself to push those thoughts out of my mind as I continued to play.
Eventually my mind slowed down and I guess I drifted off to sleep, as the next thing I remembered was waking up with my head lying on my keyboard. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but since it was still dark I stumbled my way back to bed. Luckily, it didn’t take too long for sleep to revisit me.
Apparently I had forgotten to take off my bra and panties before I climbed back in bed, which I discovered when Cindy woke me up. Fortunately, for once Cindy overlooked this and simply told me to get up because we were going shopping.
I quickly pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, not even taking the time to remove my feminine articles. As I stuffed my feet into my shoes Cindy was doing the same thing and just as we were heading for the door, in walked Sarah.
“Ready, guys?” she asked as we passed her in our entryway and headed straight through the door into the hallway.
Cindy did respond as I pulled the door closed behind us, making sure it was locked, “For a sale? Need you ask?”
Both the girls started giggling as we made our way to Sarah’s car, and even I found myself joining in the silliness as we pulled out of the parking lot on our way to the mall.
Shopping was never one of my favorite pastimes, but hanging out with Cindy and Sarah was, so I tended to go along when they went on one of their shopping days. Of course, frequently when I went along I managed to pick up a piece or two of lingerie for myself, so I rarely complained.
None of us had seen anything that jumped out and screamed ‘Buy me!’ until we wandered into the women’s department of Macy’s. I found a blouse that looked a lot like a shirt from Mozart’s time, which I bought intending to wear it with my tux for performances. It was frilly and over the top, and I loved it.
For reasons unknown to me I felt myself being drawn toward this display with a beautiful silk nightie on a mannequin. I stared transfixed for a couple of moments until Sarah noticed and came over beside me.
“You like that, don’t you?” she asked, not doubting the answer in the least.
Cindy noticed as well, “You really like that?” she asked me.
All I could do was stare at it, which apparently told the girls all they really needed to know. It wasn’t hard to see that while Cindy was rather upset by this turn of events, she had no intention of doing or saying anything that might dissuade me from getting something I wanted. Without saying another word, she went to the racks, found that particular nightie in my size, and headed straight for the counter.
And so it was that we made the trip home with me being the only one to have purchased anything all day. After returning home, we all sat with a glass of iced tea and tried to carry on a normal conversation, though without much luck.
Through much of the evening Cindy remained quiet and distant, speaking only when spoken to and then mostly in monosyllabic responses. Sarah and I did try to engage her in more meaningful conversation, but to no avail. I had a pretty good idea what the problem was, but had no idea how to resolve it without one of us being forced to give in to the other’s desires.
At one point in the evening we wondered if it was safe to reconnect the phone, but it only took a few seconds to determine that it still wasn’t. So after Sarah went home, we retired for the evening with the telephone once again unhooked.
I know Cindy could feel my desire to wear my new purchase to bed, just as I could feel the sadness she felt in response. After looking at each other for a few moments, neither one certain what to do, I succumbed and slipped the silky concoction over my head and let it slip down my body. The electric sensations that ran through my body at the touch of that fabric momentarily shielded me from seeing the wave of fear that shot through Cindy at that moment.
When I finally reconnected with my surroundings, I became aware once again of just how much the simple act of wearing an article of clothing seemed to hurt the woman I loved and immediately started to remove the nightie.
Before I could pull it up over my head, Cindy said, “No, don’t.”
“But you obviously don’t…”
“Wear it, all right?”
“But…”
“It’ll be fine. It just took me a moment.”
She tried her best to disguise her sadness and although her efforts were largely unsuccessful, the forcefulness with which she had implored me not remove it spoke volumes for her love for me. At that moment I nearly vowed never to don another piece of girls’ clothing, but for reasons I couldn’t pretend to understand stopped short of voicing that promise.
As we climbed into bed, I was struck by the fact that we were wearing nearly matching nighties. I giggled at the thought, which apparently made Cindy notice the same thing and she joined me in my silliness. When we finally settled back down we turned out the bedside lamp and snuggled together, both falling asleep quickly.
I awoke early Monday morning feeling more refreshed than I had in what felt like ages. Not wanting to rouse Cindy so early, I laid there watching her sleep until she woke up on her own.
My first order of business once we were up was to call the phone company and change our number to an unlisted one. Fortunately I didn’t have to go into any details as to why we wanted to make the change, as I really didn’t want to have to explain what was going on to anyone.
We went about our morning routines with little more than perfunctory conversation and as we left for our classes, I couldn’t help but feel at least a little concerned by that fact.
It wasn’t until I entered the performing arts center that it occurred to me that I hoped I wouldn’t run into Dr. Wyler. That seemed like a bit of hopeful thinking, since over the course of the day I had to pass by his office door no less than three times, but somehow every time I wandered past not only was his door closed but his message box, which was mounted to the door, was stuffed full of phone messages which by the time of orchestra rehearsal that afternoon had still been untouched.
I wasn’t brave enough to stick my head into the rehearsal, but did hang out in the student lounge waiting to see if any of the ensemble members were talking about our beloved conductor. Less than an hour into rehearsal, a couple of percussionists wandered in, talking about the rehearsal they had just left.
The first commented, “Dude, how weird was that?”
His cohort responded, “Yeah, but cool, if you ask me.”
“I wonder how long he’ll be gone?” the first asked as he got a soda out of the vending machine.
As the other pulled a bag of potato chips out of another machine he replied, “Hope it’s a long time.”
As they headed back to the rehearsal hall, I could resist my curiosity no longer and had to follow. When I opened the soundproof door to enter the large room my ears were blasted with a wall of sound, which prompted me to look toward the podium. To my surprise I saw not Dr. Wyler, but Dr. Parkinson from the Civic Orchestra leading the ensemble through their paces.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3
Frederic Chopin, 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...
Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...
Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...
Frederic Chopin, Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor, Opus 21
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-1-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-2-odoan.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-21-3-odoan.mp3
Johann Sebastian Bach, Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor, BWV 1052
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-1-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-2-set...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/bach-bwv1052-3-set...
Scott Joplin, The Entertainer
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-the-enterta...
Maple Leaf Rag
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/joplin-maple-leaf-...
Vince Guaraldi, Linus and Lucy
http://www.amazon.com/gp/music/wma-pop-up/B000ICLSMY001004/r...
Chick Corea, Monk’s Mood
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,20116...
Thelonius Monk, Ask Me Now
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,26039...
Bill Evans, Elsa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyyMM5mOK7I
Notes:
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I was nervous all right, just not for the reason he thought. The prank calls continued until we had our number changed, then whoever it was decided to step things up. Our mailbox began being flooded with CD’s of Beethoven, then the notes started.
First they said simply, ‘Good Luck,’ but as the week wore on the sender gave himself away as he added, ‘Kayla’. So finally I knew who had been harassing me this past week…Dr. Wyler. Somehow that knowledge did nothing to calm my fears.
When that first note showed up I had given in and contacted the campus police, who asked that I keep them in the loop should anything else show up. While not really doing much to ease my fears, at least I felt like I had done something toward the end of bringing an end to the harassment.
Of course, Dr. Parkinson knew nothing of all that, so as far as he was concerned I was merely nervous about the impending performance. I decided it was best to simply let him continue to believe that, so when I replied to his question I merely said, “I always get a bit of nerves just before I go on. I’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure him.
The concert began and as I stood alone backstage waiting for my cue to enter, my mind swirled. I thought of the notes and the audacity of their author. I thought of my clothing; the bra and panties, camisole, and the beautiful blouse that so looked like one Beethoven himself might have worn on stage. Yes, it was rather flamboyant, but I was a soloist after all; an artist of whom a certain amount of flamboyance and eccentricity was expected. At least that’s what I was telling myself. Unfortunately, the pleasant thoughts couldn’t drown out the awful and were eventually brushed aside so Dr Wyler once again dominated my thoughts.
When the time came for my performance the lights backstage flashed twice to let me know when to enter. I was greeted by an ovation that was completely unexpected…in a good way. I took a bow and then turned to sit at the piano.
As I looked down at the keyboard I spied a small note lying there. That note said ‘Good Luck, Kayla.’
I blanched momentarily before regaining my composure, then I discreetly picked up the note and stuffed it into one of my jacket pockets as I took my seat behind the keyboard. I closed my eyes to clear all non-musical thoughts from my mind before turning to Dr. Parkinson to signal him I was ready to begin.
As I started to play all the emotions that had been swirling around inside of me poured through my fingers into the piano…all the love, hate, fear…was there in each note. In a most uncharacteristic turn, I was actually able to ignore all the little mistakes I made, allowing me to focus completely on making my performance as expressive as possible. This felt like a huge step in my development as I thought back to performances where I couldn’t even remember playing. It seemed I was maturing as an artist and that fact made me proud of myself.
All was not well with the world, however. Whenever I would least expect it, the memories of Dr. Wyler and everything that had happened between us kept flooding back. I did manage to keep my composure and continued to play to the best of my ability, but underneath the confidant outer me those memories waited for their opportunity to jump up and take hold of me.
I also found myself rehashing everything that had been going on with Cindy of late. All the inner conflict, the questioning, and doubts ran unchecked through my mind.
When we first had our difficulties, I truly believed I couldn’t live without Cindy. The knowledge that such was not the case didn’t really do anything to make me feel better. To the contrary, it added worrying about our future together to the growing list of things keeping my conscious mind occupied so my subconscious could have free reign over my fingers.
I managed to persevere in the face of all that, and as my performance neared its end I couldn’t help but feel more than satisfied with what the audience was hearing. As I played the final notes of the concerto, I felt myself begin to wilt from the emotional drain I’d just put myself through. I started gulping air like as if I’d been held underwater and with each breath felt the tiniest bit of my strength begin to return.
Apparently the audience agreed with my assessment, as they cheered enthusiastically once the piece was over. It felt wonderful to receive such effusive acknowledgement for my performance and with each passing second I could feel myself being reinvigorated by the applause. I actually had to make two curtain calls before the crowd allowed the orchestra to move on to their closing selection, the Firebird.
Once I was safely ensconced backstage, the stage manager came up to me with a number of notes offering congratulations from various members of the faculty, as well as a solitary rose, which he said had been delivered backstage during my performance. I took it warily, wondering who it could be from but hoping it was from Cindy.
Unfortunately, when I looked at the attached note it quelled any thoughts of it being anything as pleasant as that. To my horror, the note said, ‘Congratulations, Kayla’. I threw the rose into the first trashcan I could find and made my way to the exit as quickly as I could.
As I paced up and down the hallway that bordered the concert hall, I wracked my brain trying to figure out if there was anything I might have said or done which could have inadvertently encouraged the old perv. Try as I might, I could come up with nothing. One positive to my trip to the hall was I finally had managed to calm my nerves and by the time the orchestra was concluding the Stravinsky, I had managed to regain some semblance of control over my emotions so I re-entered the backstage area.
I congratulated each member of the ensemble as they came past me while leaving the stage area and when Dr. Parkinson came up to me the first thing we did was offer each other our hands in celebration of a job well done.
“I’m really looking forward to the rest of the performances we have scheduled together, Kyle,” he said as we shook hands.
“So am I, sir,” I replied. “It was a lot of fun working with you this week.”
“Well, I hope you still think that way by the end of the semester,” he chuckled.
We then parted company as he was swept away in a sea of students. Once they had cleared out of the way I headed back into the hall, where I ran into Cindy and Sarah. One of them seemed thrilled to see me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Cindy.
Sarah spoke first, “Great performance, Kyle!”
“Thanks.”
Cindy halfheartedly added, “It was lovely, Kyle.”
The chill emanating from her was a bit intimidating, but trying to ignore it I responded, “Thanks guys.”
I made an attempt to give Cindy a hug, but found it greeted with complete indifference. In as low a voice as would allow conversation in the noisy hallway I asked, “What’s wrong?”
She looked at me blankly for a split second before plastering a completely fake smile on her face and replying, “Nothing.”
Deciding not to press the issue any further at that moment, I suggested, “Why don’t we get out of here?”
Sarah, trying her hardest to help me responded, “Sure. It is rather boisterous here at the moment.”
She and I took Cindy’s arms and led her toward the exit. Not a word was said all the way out of the building, or the several blocks we walked to our apartment building.
Unable to control my emotions any longer, I asked, “Okay, so what’s wrong?”
“Not here,” was the only response I got from Cindy. Sarah gave me the most sympathetic look I had ever seen and we continued leading Cindy into the building and back to our apartment.
Once in our living room, Cindy began, “I don’t know if I can take this anymore.”
“Take what?” I asked, immediately receiving an icy stare from Cindy.
When she finally responded, she said, “Any of it. The dressing up, the crap with that pervert, the feeling like no matter what I do, I’ll never be anything more than second in your life. Any of it.”
Stunned, I stared blankly back at her. Sensing that I was floundering, Sarah jumped in, “Have you tried to talk about any of this?”
“Of course I have, but he won’t hear it.”
Angered I jumped in, “That’s not true. I always listen. You may not always like my response, but…”
“I don’t know that that’s helping,” Sarah butted in. Feeling chastised, I shifted my focus from Cindy to Sarah and back.
Starting to cry Cindy said, “I just feel like you don’t care about my feelings. You don’t take time to think about me at all. You just make decisions based on what you want and ignore what I might want.”
Quietly I asked, “Is that how you really feel?”
In between sniffled she responded, “Yes, it is.”
Feeling completely defeated, I slumped down into a chair and stared blankly in Cindy’s general direction.
Sarah started to leave and when I noticed her moving toward the door I said, “Please don’t go.”
This added to Cindy’s fire as she spat, “Why not Kyle? Why don’t you want her to leave? Maybe she’s the one you really want?”
I felt like I’d just been slugged in the gut by the heavyweight champ. Sarah saw this and started toward me before stopping and saying, “I don’t want to come between you two. I’ll go.” Without another word from anyone, Sarah left our apartment, leaving behind a deafening silence.
Cindy went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. I took this as meaning I wasn’t welcome in the bed, so I stripped down to my panties, found a blanket, and lay down on the couch.
I don’t know how long I laid there unable to sleep, but I must have rehashed the evening’s exchange at least a million times before finally drifting off. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there.
What little sleep I did get was peppered with dreams of yet more confrontations with Dr. Wyler. I would wake up from one and no sooner had I fallen back to sleep than another would start. By the time I’d given up on the idea of sleeping any longer, both the couch and blanket were soaked with perspiration.
When I decided it wasn’t worth dealing with yet another nightmare, I went into the bedroom as quietly as I could to get some clothes, trying along the way not to wake Cindy. That mission successful, I went back out to the living room and dressed before thumbing through the sheet music books on my selves in search of something to take my mind off of everything.
“This looks like just the thing,” I said to myself as I selected the book. Taking it to the keyboard, I turned it on and slipped the oh so familiar headphones over my ears, then opened the book and began sight reading JS Bach’s Two Part Inventions.
Playing them had a numbing effect on me, as by the end I was feeling much calmer than before. I continued on by going through the Three Part Inventions as well, though admittedly with somewhat less success sight-reading as they’re quite a bit more difficult.
I was deep into my own space when Cindy came into the living room, dressed and carrying her suitcase. I don’t know how long she was there before I noticed, but I stopped playing and removed the headphones as soon as I did.
“Typical,” she said, a disgusted look crossing her face. She turned to leave, with me jumping to my feet to follow.
Near the door, she stopped to face me and said, “I’ll be back later for the rest of my things.”
She took the engagement ring off her finger and gently placed it in my hand. As she opened the door and left I heard a tearful, “Sorry.” She pulled the door closed behind her, leaving me there staring at the ring in my hand.
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I eventually wound up sitting on the couch still staring at the ring in my hand, though I have no idea how or when I got there. Strangely, I really wasn’t as distraught as I would have thought. I was mostly just numb.
I don’t know what time it was when I finally came out of my semi-catatonic state, but when I did I wandered into the kitchen where I saw a note from Cindy stuck to the refrigerator. She must have put it there while I was off in my own little world earlier.
Kyle,
Believe me when I say I really do love you, but I need to be more important to someone I love than you can let me be. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you needed me to be.
I hope you can find some happiness.
Love,
Cindy
I re-read that note at least a hundred times before I managed to tear myself away from it. When I did I felt myself being drawn toward the keyboard. Still numb, I found my way back to my music library and selected a book at random. Without even looking to see what it was, I sat back at my keyboard, opened the book, and started playing.
As strains of Debussy filled my ears and heart, the tears began to trickle down my cheeks. Each note seemed to tug at a different part of me, until I felt almost as if I were being torn apart from the inside. How I managed to read the sheet music in that state I don’t know, but somehow I did.
The tears continued as I played my way through the entire book, until I was nearly falling asleep while playing. I succumbed to the call of my bed, but not before I changed into my nightie. I slept a dreamless sleep for the first time in weeks, but awoke feeling anything but refreshed.
When I arose, my first order of business was coffee. On my way to the kitchen to tend to that pressing need I spotted something strange by the front door. Upon further investigation, it turned out to be a small bust of Beethoven with the head broken off from the shoulders. I had no idea how it got there.
At that moment I was consumed by fear and anger, directed at the only person I could think of who would do such a thing…Dr. Wyler. I called the campus police to report this latest development, then called my only friend in the world…Sarah.
The phone rang several times before she answered, “Hello?”
“Sarah, it’s Kyle.”
My distress must have been evident in my voice, because she responded, “What’s wrong?”
I sighed deeply and said, “Where do I begin? Cindy moved out yesterday, and then this…”
She cut me off, “She what? What happened?”
“If I knew the answer to that one, things might be different. But that’s not all. When I got up this morning, I found a broken statue in my entryway. It’s a bust of Beethoven with the head broken off. It has to be him.”
“What have you done?”
“I called the campus police. They should be here in a few minutes, so I’d best get changed before they arrive.”
“I’ll be over in five minutes.” The line clicked, followed by silence.
I quickly ran to the bedroom and changed out of my nightie and into a t-shirt and jeans. Just as I was buttoning my fly there was a knock on my door.
When I opened it, two officers stood there waiting for me. “Sir, you called?” said the taller of the two.
“Yes. It’s about an ongoing investigation. This morning I found this lying here,” indicating the broken statue. “I don’t know how it wound up here, because it wasn’t there when I went to bed.”
Just then Sarah came through the door, walking straight to me and grabbing me in a hug that surprised me. When she released me, she asked, “Are you all right?”
“Officer, this is my friend Sarah.”
“Ma’am,” the shorter one greeted her.
“Good morning, officer,” she responded. She then turned her attention back to me and asked, “Did you tell them about the note?”
“What note?” asked the taller officer.
I gave her a perturbed look which I hoped conveyed the fact that I really didn’t intend to tell them before returning to the officer and saying, “A couple of nights ago I was appearing with the orchestra and when I went out on stage there was this note.” I retrieved the note from my jacket pocket and grudgingly handed it over.
He looked at it for a moment before handing it to his companion and asking, “Kayla? So this note wasn’t even intended for you?”
“Actually, it was. That’s what Dr. Wyler has always called me, for some reason.”
They both smirked before placing the note in an evidence bag. The shorter officer added, “We probably won’t be able to get anything useful from it, but it can’t hurt to check.”
As they turned to leave the taller officer added, “If we do come up with anything, we’ll let you know. If anything more turns up, please give me a call.” He handed me a business card, then they left my apartment.
We watched as the door was pulled closed behind them before I said to Sarah, “Thanks for coming over.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You should know that by now.”
“Yeah, well thanks anyway.” We went into the living room and took a seat on the couch. A silence settled over us, but oddly it wasn’t uncomfortable at all.
She finally broke the quiet asking, “So what happened with Cindy?”
I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before responding, “You know, maybe this is just how things were supposed to happen between us. A couple of months ago I thought I couldn’t live without her in my life, but now…” I let the unfinished thought hang in the air to ferment.
Sarah put her arm around my shoulder to provide me some comfort, not saying a word. That simple act did more to make me feel better than any words possibly could have. I felt myself melt into her and as I did so all the stresses, which had been tearing at me melted away as well.
Once I’d managed to calm down I whispered, “Sarah?”
“Hmm?” she softly replied.
“Thanks.”
She softly rubbed my arm in reply. After a moment she said, “There’s nothing to thank me for.”
Eventually, she began to softly giggle. I asked, “What?”
“This is so Will and Grace.”
I joined in and after a while we were both laughing heartily, the problems that had so plagued me a mere moments before forgotten, at least temporarily.
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
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Igor Stravinsky, Firebird Suite (1919) — Real Audio Format
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Johan Sebastian Bach, 15 Two Part Inventions, BWV 772-786
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Johan Sebastian Bach, 15 Three Part Inventions (Sinfonias), BWV 787-801
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Claude Debussy, 2 Arabesques (1891)
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Claude Debussy, Preludes, livre 1
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Claude Debussy, Preludes, livre 2
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It had been my first time working with the Civic Orchestra and luckily I was going to be playing very familiar works…the Mozart and Beethoven concerti. We had managed a full run-through of the entire program and things went very smoothly, if I do say so myself. It probably didn’t hurt that Dr. Parkinson was quite familiar with my take on the Beethoven himself, given that he’d just recently conducted it with me at the conservatory.
The afternoon rehearsal with the school orchestra wasn’t quite as smooth, however. We were working on the Prokofiev and although I knew it quite well and had a clear idea of what I wanted to do with it, much of the ensemble was still struggling with it. I daresay Dr. Parkinson was at least as frustrated as I was by the end of the rehearsal, but fortunately no tempers flared.
So as I walked in the darkness my mind sped away in a million directions all at once, rehashing the goings on…both good and bad…of the past week. At one point the only thing that kept me from giving in to utter exhaustion was the fact that I was freezing. I suppose that’s what comes of not taking the time to acquire a proper winter coat.
I don’t think I’d ever been so happy to see the lobby of my apartment building as I was at that moment. I stepped in the door and basked in the warmth as I made my way toward the elevator. By the time I’d reached my floor, I’d even managed to thaw a bit.
When I opened the door to my place, the chill that I’d just now rid myself of rushed back and I shivered all the way down to the bone. I never pretended to be a good housekeeper, but the sight that greeted me was beyond anything I could have even imagined.
Books and clothes were thrown everywhere, pillows and cushions had been slashed, and even my keyboard had been smashed by a bowling ball I didn’t even know I had.
As I was reaching for the phone to call the campus police I spied a note that read, ‘This isn’t over, Kayla.’ That chill I had mentioned went through the bone and was scratching at my soul.
I called the police and once I knew they were on their way I called Sarah. The phone rang several times before someone finally answered.
“Hello?” came a voice I thought belonged to Jen, Sarah’s roommate.
I took a stab and said, “Jen? Is Sarah around? It’s Kyle.”
“Yeah, hang on.” She took the handset away from her face and started walking toward Sarah’s room.
After a bit of muffled noises Sarah spoke, “Kyle? What’s wrong?”
“He did it again, only this time he trashed the apartment. The police are on the way but I wanted to let you know.”
In a very forceful voice she said, “Get a bag packed with stuff to get you by for a few days. I’ll be there in a few minutes to pick you up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t stay there while that pervert is running wild. Come stay with us for a few days, until they can catch the guy, okay?”
Reluctantly I agreed to go with her, so until the police showed up I was gathering clothes and necessities, and shoving them into a bag. The cops took a statement as well as a few pictures of the vandalism, then left me to my own thoughts and fears.
A few minutes later Sarah came running in all out of breath. Once she had her breathing back under control she asked, “Ready?”
I lifted my overstuffed bag and replied, “I suppose so.”
“Hey, it’s only temporary.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any more palatable.” She led me out the door, stopping so I could lock up…not that that had been doing me much good.
I followed her down through the lobby and out to her waiting car, with Jen behind the wheel. As I started to get in Jen said, “Hey, roomie.” Looking at her a bit strangely I climbed into the back seat and before the doors were even closed, we were under way.
After giving me a few moments to collect my thoughts, the questioning began. Sarah was first, “What can be done about this guy?”
“I don’t know, to tell you the truth. The police don’t seem able to stop him, that’s for sure.”
“So tell me what the note said this time?”
“This isn’t over, Kayla,” I uttered, feeling nausea grip me as I said the words.
Jen, who up to that point had been silent since I got in the car asked, “You know, there are other ways to deal with things.”
Sarah quickly jumped in, “No! Nothing good ever comes of that!”
Confused I asked, “What?”
Sarah answered before Jen had a chance, “Nothing. Forget all about it.”
“All about what?”
“Just forget it.”
Once in the house Jen said, “It’s not much, but the couch is yours as long as you need it.” She then gave me a hug and retired to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Sarah and I sat on the couch, at which point I asked, “So what was that all about in the car?”
She sighed before responding, “Jill was beaten pretty severely once and Jen took it upon herself to exact revenge on the guys who did it.”
“How so?”
“She had some friends do to the culprits exactly what they’d done to my Jill.”
I didn’t have to think about it too long before I said, “Even if that were an option, I couldn’t do that.”
“I know. That’s why I cut her off before she brought it up.”
“Fair enough,” I responded. After a moment or two of silence I asked, “So Jen is…?”
“Jill’s sister. This was their house, and after Jill died Jen gave me Jill’s half. She’s closer to me than my real family ever thought about being.”
I could see this line of questioning was really bothering her, as she was beginning to tear up. Hoping it would help her avoid losing it completely, I quickly changed subjects. “What do you think is going to happen with Cindy?”
She looked at me thoughtfully and replied, “I don’t know. The only one who knows for sure is Cindy herself and I’m doubtful that even she knows what she’s going to do. That’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, is it?”
“No, but I didn’t expect anything else. I know she’s felt kind of ignored a lot of the time and I’m sorry for that. I’ve been extremely focused on my playing. I know that. I don’t know if she understands just how important all this is to me. Maybe she doesn’t even care?”
“Trust me when I say she knows and cares. It’s just been hard for her to adjust. You must admit that you’ve been pretty single minded. Try to put yourself in her shoes for a minute.”
I thought about it for a bit before responding, “I get it. I really do, but I feel like the only solutions available to me involve choosing one or the other.”
“Maybe…” she started before stopping mid-sentence.
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was be a concert pianist, for as long as I can remember. Now here I am on the verge of realizing that dream. I need this like I need air to breathe. Does that make sense?”
Sarah responded, “Believe me, I understand exactly what you are saying. The problem is in trying to find a balance so you can still have time for her, if that’s what you want.”
“I do want her in my life. I love her. I just don’t know if I can change the way I’m doing things. I’m not sure I would want to change it.”
“Even if that meant ending your relationship with Cindy?”
I thought about that for a second before I said, “Even if.”
“Well then, I guess the only thing you can do is wait and see if she decides you’re important enough to her to put up with not being the center of your world.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“I know, but that’s what it boils down to really.”
A rather uncomfortable silence settled over us before in an attempt to lighten the mood I said, “You know, I didn’t like you much when we first met.”
“I kind of suspected that. I can’t tell you how glad I am we got past that.”
“Now, I’d have to say you’re my best friend. How weird is that?”
“Not weird at all. A bit unusual maybe, but…”
I cut her off, “But certainly not the weirdest thing going on in my life. That’s for sure,” I began to chuckle, quickly joined by Sarah.
I forced a yawn and said, “Wow! Would you look at the time? Maybe we should try to get some sleep?”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll just say goodnight then,” and with that Sarah got up and went to her room, leaving me to my thoughts. Without even undressing, I laid down on the couch and much to my surprise was out.
The next couple of days were pretty uneventful. I went to classes, had a lesson with Dr. Caroll, rehearsed with the orchestra, and slept on Sarah’s couch. It felt nice to not have so much turmoil in my life, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think it was just the calm before the storm.
On the third day of my ‘exile’ I decided to stop by the apartment to check on things and pick up some books and extra clothes. I knew something was wrong when I went to unlock the door and found it was already unlocked. I cautiously opened it and walked in to find that nothing major had changed from the previously ransacked condition.
Once I had checked the closets and knew that Cindy had been there to get more of her things I felt myself relax, despite the wave of sadness that flowed over me. Just as I decided to grab what I needed and go, my peace of mind was shattered by a voice saying, “So nice of you to join me.” The voice paused before adding, “Kayla.”
All the blood drained from my body at the sound of his voice. I wanted to run, to hide, but felt as if my feet were permanently attached to the floor. When I finally found my voice I stupidly asked, “What do you want?”
My question prompted a cackle that could only be described as insane. When his laughter subsided, Dr. Wyler said, “Don’t worry Kayla, your virtue’s safe with me…for now.”
I still wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from until he grabbed me from behind and forced me into a kitchen chair, where he proceeded to zip tie my hands and feet together so I couldn’t get away. He then pushed me into a chair that he had apparently moved into place before I knew what was happening.
When finally he came around in front of me, the man I saw bore little resemblance to the conductor I had so admired when I first met him. His hair was wild, he was unshaven, and worst of all his eyes shone pure evil. He was playing with a rather large knife, which he used to keep me from saying anything until he wanted me to speak by pushing the point up from under my chin just hard enough for me to feel it without drawing blood.
The ice in his voice when he spoke freaked me out as much as what he said next. “I thought we had something special, you and I. Then you go and make that recording and turn me in.” The point of the knife dug in just a tiny bit more until I thought it might have actually drawn blood.
“You realize you’ve destroyed my life. Now, how could you possibly make something like that up to me, Kayla?” he withdrew the knife and I felt a trickle of blood go down my neck.
In a shaky voice that betrayed my fear I asked, “What do you want me to do then?”
He once again laughed that evil cackle and looked me in the eye as if he were searching for my soul. He then said, “I want to destroy your life. Quid pro quo, as it were.” Again, the laugh sent shivers down my spine all the way to my toes.
He walked away for a moment leaving me with my thoughts before saying, “Wouldn’t want anyone just walking in while we’re having our chat, would we?”
He pulled me to my feet and made me hop into the living room, where he plopped me down on the sofa before seating himself on the other end. “It’s true that you had great potential as a pianist. But potential isn’t enough, Kayla. I could have helped your career a great deal, if only you’d played ball with me.”
I felt the urge to throw up, but managed this time to control it. Once the wave of nausea had passed I asked, “So you would expect me to submit to your personal desires in exchange for a little assistance in starting my career? That’s the very definition of sexual harassment.”
“Such an ugly term.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Mentoring a young artist,” he said as what he may have thought passed for an angelic look crossed his face.
Unable to take it any longer, I blurted out, “That’s sick.”
The previous demonic visage once again descended over the doctor as he played with the knife in front of his face, turning it back and forth to allow the light to glint off the blade. He smiled and I felt my stomach drop.
Just then there was a knock at the door. Upon hearing it Dr. Wyler hissed, “Be quiet. Were you expecting anyone?”
Probably louder than I should have, I replied, “No. Nobody.” He gave me a small cut on the arm closest to him as punishment for being too loud.
Another knock at the door, followed by the sound of keys jingling and the door starting to open only to be stopped by the chain lock. A moment later there was a crashing sound as the door jam gave way and door banged open.
Just then Dr. Wyler lashed out with his knife and I felt something like a punch in my stomach. There was a mad rush of activity all around me with yelling from every direction before I passed out…
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...
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As I opened my eyes once more the light wasn’t as bright, but it still seemed strange and I couldn’t quite place where I was. I had all these disjointed images floating through my head and as hard as I tried to make sense of them, it just wasn’t going to happen. Again sleep overtook me.
The third time I came to, I still wasn’t sure where I was. All I knew was that I seemed to hurt all over. The pain helped me focus my energy and I once again tried to listen for clues as to my location.
When I heard the intercom voice page a doctor I knew I was in a hospital, but what for? That’s when the nagging ache in my stomach overwhelmed the unfocused pain and I started to finally remember what had happened. I replayed the events in my mind as a way of gaining some sense of control. As I reconnected with reality, I finally noticed all the tubes that were attached to me.
So it wasn’t a nightmare after all? It really happened? Details of the altercation started returning to my memory slowly, but there were some bits of information that I was still lacking.
Who was it that came in and saved me? I would assume it was the police, but who knows? Maybe it didn’t really matter.
I tried to move my hand and that’s when I realized someone was holding it. I had to try several times to raise my head so I could see, but when I did I saw that it was Sarah sitting there with her head laid down on the side of the bed, asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, I then turned my attention to my other side.
Much to my delight Cindy was there, sitting in a chair asleep while holding my other hand. A feeling of warmth surged through me and I couldn’t help but smile. I then allowed myself to drift back asleep, still holding hands with my best friend and my love.
When next I awoke, a nurse was doing something with a machine beside me. She noticed I was awake and said, “I won’t be a minute, then your friends can come back in.” She made some notes in a folder and walked out of the room.
I must have lost consciousness again, because the next thing I remember is lying there with Cindy beside me, stroking my hand. I turned my head toward her and smiled. She responded with, “You’re awake. Thank God.”
A million questions swirled inside my head, but all I could get to come out of my mouth was, “How?”
She smiled at me and replied, “Sarah called me as soon as she heard what had happened. You’re looking a bit worse for wear, I must say.”
I tried to laugh, but it hurt too much so I stopped. When I felt I was able to put together a few words at one time I asked, “So is this what it takes to get you to come back?”
A veil of sadness descended on her face as she said, “Save your strength. We can talk about things later.”
When she said that, what little bit of hope that had sprung to life in my heart upon knowing she was there began to wilt. I don’t know for sure whether she noticed, but just before I went back to sleep I felt tears start to roll down my cheeks.
“Mr. Bronson, how are you feeling this morning?” the question jolted me out of my sleep. When I opened my eyes I saw a man standing there in surgical scrubs, looking at my chart and making notes.
“Everything seems to be progressing nicely. We’ll start getting you up and walking a little bit later today, but take it slow. No marathons for at least a week,” he laughed at his own joke.
The dazed look on my face must have finally sunk in, because next he introduced himself, “Sorry, I’m Dr. Long. I was the surgeon on call when you came in. You were a lucky young man, Mr. Bronson. Not everyone who suffers this sort of injury lives to tell the tale.”
I had a little difficulty finding my voice as my throat was so dry, but I managed, “Thanks, doc. I guess I owe you one.”
He patted my hand, gave the chart to the nurse who was accompanying him and left the room. For the first time since arriving I was alone and awake. I took advantage of the time to do some serious thinking.
What really was important to me? Was it my burgeoning career as a concert artist or my relationship with Cindy? It occurred to me that a lot was riding on the answer to that one, not only for me but her as well.
Before all this happened, I couldn’t understand the question. I was so obsessively focused on my playing that I failed to show Cindy any attention whatsoever. But now, it seemed I was finally figuring out that maybe my priorities were a little out of whack. The remaining question was, if it was too late to make it up to her?
Just then Cindy walked back into the room looking about as tired as I felt. As she approached me I couldn’t help but smile. I think I saw a smile on her face as well.
She reclaimed her seat beside my bed and said, “You’re looking a little better this morning. How are you feeling?”
“Better thanks. How are you holding up? I know you must be exhausted after spending all this time sitting here.”
“I’ll survive. What’s important is getting you better.”
My heart melted when she said that as I’m pretty sure she noticed, since she then smiled at me. I’d forgotten how that smile made me feel.
Deciding to pursue the course of action I had thought about before she came in I said, “I know that maybe it’s too little too late, but I’m sorry.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I know I’ve let myself kind of ignore you much of the time lately. I would love nothing more than to be able to make that up to you.”
She started to get a little misty-eyed, but looked away before it became full-fledged crying.
I wasn’t sure how to interpret her actions. At first I thought maybe she just didn’t want me to see her crying, but that couldn’t be it. We’d seen each other cry before and I couldn’t understand why she would try to hide it from me. That led to my mind running amok wondering what was going on.
The more I thought about it, the deeper I fell. I came to the realization that if a heart made a sound when sinking, mine would have made it hard to hear anything else at that moment. Cindy noticed this and started to cry more openly.
As I watched her I too started to cry. Through my tears I asked, “So is it too late?”
She looked at me with her eyes glistening and by way of response took my hand in hers and leaned over to kiss it. My heart, which mere moments before had fallen into the depths of despair, soared above the clouds as the joy exploded within me.
“There are still a couple of issues that need to be addressed,” I said trying to sound as serious as I could.
Her face clouded as she wracked her brain trying to figure out what I might be meaning. Seeing that I had her confused, which was my intent, I asked, “So will you be moving back in with me?”
The clouds parted and her face shone bright as she said, “Yes!”
“Good. Now, I guess I need to make this official. Will you marry me?”
She smiled so widely it nearly blinded me, then she raised her left hand to show me that the engagement ring was already back on her finger. Silently she stood up, moved in close, and bent over me. She kissed me gently, which set off fireworks inside my heart.
We were interrupted by the entrance of two gentlemen in suits who, as they walked toward us, held up badges indicating they were with the police department. The first one said, “Kyle Bronson? I’m Detective Sanders,” then indicating his associate, “and this is Detective Frost. Might we have a moment of your time?”
Cindy spoke before I had the chance, “He’s awfully tired. He’s been through a horrible ordeal. Can’t you give him a little peace?”
“Ma’am, we really only need a moment of his time and we promise we’ll be gentle.”
I found my voice and said, “It’s okay, Cin. Let them ask their questions.”
“Thank you sir. Now, how much do you remember of the attack?”
“More than I’d like, I can tell you that for sure.”
“Then I assume you’d have no trouble identifying your assailant?”
“I will never forget Dr. Wyler’s face, no matter how much I may wish I could.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bronson. That’s really all I needed for now.”
Cindy jumped in, “Wait a minute! What do you mean ‘all you needed for now’?”
Detective Frost, who up to that point had remained silent said, “The fact is, we have a signed confession from Dr. Wyler. However, our District Attorney likes to have all his ducks in a row so to speak, so he wanted to make sure if necessary we could count of you for testimony.”
I looked at each of them before responding, “I remember every second, up until he stabbed me and if it means putting him away I will repeat every detail for whoever needs to hear it.”
Detective Sanders then said, “Thank you for your time. If necessary, we’ll be in touch concerning any possible court appearances.” Then both gentlemen turned and left us once again alone.
Following the detectives’ departure we continued hashing things out. There were still a lot of things left to work out, but at least we knew we would continue to work on them.
When Sarah arrived later that day, she took one look at Cindy and myself and said, “I see the two of you have made up?”
“Looks that way,” Cindy said as she cracked another one of those blinding smiles.
“Thanks,” I said to Sarah.
“For what?” she asked, confused.
“For being such a good friend.”
She too smiled radiantly, leaving me wishing I had a good pair of sunglasses. We spent the remainder of the day talking about nothing in particular. It was possibly the best day we’d had in a long time.
Over the next couple of days I had a myriad of visitors, ranging from Dr. Caroll, who actually came by every evening on her way home from the school, to a few members of the orchestra who just wanted to let me know that they were all looking forward to my return. It all had a very warm and fuzzy feeling, making me feel more liked and appreciated than I had ever felt in my life.
The doctors eventually got me up and walking, saying that I needed to do it in order to regain my strength. On one of my first therapeutic strolls, Sarah was keeping me company, “So have you and Cindy talked about your dressing?”
“Not really. I know we need to, but the opportunity hasn’t really arisen yet.”
“Don’t put it off too long. This is an important factor in your relationship, like it or not.”
“I know. I’ve reached a point where whether or not I want to admit it, I need to dress more than just when I’m playing. I’m hoping we can figure out a way for it all to work out,” I said as I sighed.
I was really starting to slow down and Sarah noticed, “You’re getting tired, aren’t you?”
I took as deep a breath as I could without causing pain and said, “Yeah. Can we head back to the room?”
When we arrived at my hospital room, I had an unexpected visitor. “Kyle, it’s so good to see you up and about,” said Dr. Parkinson as he rushed over to help me back into bed.
“Thank you sir, you have no idea how good it feels to hear that. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“When my star soloist suffers injuries that threaten to postpone his much anticipated appearances, I take it upon myself to check up on him. So how are you feeling?”
“Still weak, but getting better, sir.”
“Have they told you anything about when you might be getting out of here? What about restrictions to activities?”
“Not really, though I’m starting to get a little antsy not having a piano to practice on,” I joked prompting a round of laughter from everyone in the room.
Before leaving, Dr. Parkinson assured me that should I not be out of the hospital in time my upcoming appearances could and would be rescheduled. I wasn’t really worried about that at the time, but it was good to know all the same.
Later that day I was again walking the halls, this time with Cindy in tow. “There is still something we need to talk about,” I said in as low a voice as could be audible.
“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?” she quipped.
“I’m serious.”
“Sirius died in the fifth book.”
I started to laugh but had to stop because of the pain it brought on. Once I had myself back under control I said, “No kidding around this time. We really do need to talk about this.”
“I know,” she replied.
“When we first met things were different. The clothes were just something to help me focus my thoughts away from the minutiae of playing so the music could flow better. But as time has passed I’ve reached a point where not only do I really like wearing them, I feel like I need to.”
“I won’t lie. This doesn’t thrill me, but I’ve done a lot of thinking the last few days. I’ve realized that what I’ve had a problem with in our relationship hasn’t been the dressing as much as it’s been the fact that you have been so self absorbed.”
“I know,” I said as I started to slow down due to exhaustion. “All I can do is promise to try not to let it happen. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.”
She came around in front of me and stopped, causing me to stop as well. “I guess that’s all I can ask,” she said as she stepped closer to me and kissed me there in the corridor.
As she stepped back from the kiss she added, “Now, you are looking like you need to lay back down. Let’s get you to your room so you can rest.”
I must have been even more tired than I thought, because the next thing I knew my parents were sitting beside my bed patiently waiting for me to wake up. As I slowly achieved consciousness and recognized them I asked, “What are you guys doing here? Weren’t you on that trip you had talked about taking since I was like two?”
My mom was the first to respond, “I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner. We never should have decided to go to Australia. We got here as fast as we could. Are you okay?”
“A little tender still, but yeah.”
My dad then said, “You gave us quite a scare, young man.”
I looked at them and realized that they both appeared extremely tired. When I thought about it I could understand why, however that knowledge did nothing to dissuade my guilt at being the reason. As I was thinking about all of that, the only response I could come up with was, “I’m sorry.”
That did it. My mother burst into tears, quickly followed by Dad and myself. I don’t know how long we cried, but we didn’t stop until after we had run out of tissues.
Mom and Dad, joined by Cindy for much of the time, stayed with me all evening, right up until the nurses were physically threatening to have them all removed from my bedside. Suffice it to say by then I was completely exhausted and was probably asleep before they reached the parking garage.
Everyone was present at 8am the next morning when my doctor came in and started giving us all instructions about what to do in terms of wound care. I must have been the last to get the memo, because I was the only person even tempted to ask, “Does this mean I get to go home?”
The doctor looked at me as if I should already know the answer before with a twinkle in his eye he said, “Well, duh!” That prompted a peel of laughter all around the room, which momentarily stopped the home care instructions.
After covering everything from limitations to my activity to changing my wound dressings, I was released from my doctor’s care and sent on my merry way. On the way home it suddenly occurred to me that when last I saw it, our apartment was in a fairly severe state of disrepair. Understanding what I was thinking from the look on my face, Cindy tried to reassure me that all had been tended to. I hoped she was right.
As promised, everything was back in order around casa Bronson. Even, to my surprise and delight, my digital piano…or a reasonable facsimile. I made for the keyboard a bit like a junkie for his dealer, and much like that junkie I visibly relaxed as my fingers stroked the keys.
Once we were settled back in Mom and Dad decided to leave us alone for a while, much to my delight. Cindy and I retired to the bedroom so we could properly be reacquainted.
Later as I was practicing, sans headphones, Cindy interrupted me saying, “Kyle, there are still a couple of things we need to cover.”
Taking my cue, I lifted my hands from the keyboard and switched it off before joining her on the couch. Once settled in together I asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“If we’re going to make it, I need to know that I’m not second or third in your life. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking I can expect to be the clear number one in your life. I know your music is incredibly important to you. That’s your career after all. But if I’m going to have to always take a back seat to that and your dressing, then we’re not going to make it.”
I swallowed hard. I suspected this was coming, but that didn’t make it any less stressful being confronted. I looked meaningfully into her eyes before responding, “I didn’t realize I was forcing you to take a back seat before. I’m sorry. I promise you that won’t happen again and it won’t.”
She smiled and moved closer to give me a kiss. At that moment I couldn’t even remember what a piano was, let alone know how to play it. In other words, life was good.
Backstage was becoming a familiar place for me, but that didn’t mean I was immune to the nerves that played havoc with me just before I performed. Luckily, this time I had my secret weapon against nerves…Cindy. As we waited for my time to walk out on stage to perform the first of two concerti that evening, she held my hand and through that connection passed to me a sense of peace that I doubt I would have had on my own.
We listened as the Civic Orchestra was taken through it’s paces on first the Wagnerian concert staple “The Ride of the Valkyrie” and then the “Bolero” by Maurice Ravel. As we sat there listening I found it easier to ignore the butterflies, so I made a point of not thinking about what was to come.
Cindy seemed to understand what I was doing and simply sat there with me, holding my hand and looking at me. She did reach over every once in a while and act like she was straightening the ruffles on the front of my blouse, or checking to make sure the cuffs were just so. Mostly however she looked into my face and tried to send me all the love she could.
I found myself overcome by the moment during the Bolero and by it’s end had kissed each of her hands, her cheek, nose, and especially her lips enough times for it to seem almost indecent. I don’t think I had ever felt as close to her as I did at that moment. If I had ever had any questions about our love they were long gone.
As I walked out on stage I was overcome by the sheer intensity of the audience’s welcome. Many of them may have heard me play before, but I was sure they had all heard about what had happened between Dr. Wyler and myself. It almost felt like they wanted me to know that what he did would never be allowed again. There was a love in that concert hall that filled me with such warmth as I had never before experienced. I felt truly lucky.
Sitting at the piano, I allowed all the swirling emotions to flood my senses and, once I began playing, channel them into a performance that I hoped would be memorable enough to overshadow all the problems in everyone’s memories.
I knew right away that this rendition would bear little resemblance to my first performance of the work. That one was so full of pain and broken heartedness, but this one was filled with joy and love and peace. Perhaps not everyone would notice the difference, but for those that did I hoped this version would be the one they preferred. Even as I played it, I knew it would be for me.
Where before, being conscious of the bra straps and the silk and lace served as a distraction preventing me from derailing my performance, starting with that night it simply served as a comfort that allowed me to control my nerves. Where before, if I caught sight of the light glinting off of my manicured and polished fingernails it would have kept me from worrying about some minute detail of the performance, that night it simply looked right to me. That’s how I knew I truly was maturing as a musician.
As my thoughts wandered through the performance, it wasn’t all joy and light. The memory of my confrontations with Dr. Wyler forced their way to the surface letting their darkness color my playing with some of the pain I’d infused the piece with before. But even with that, there was still so much love pouring out of my heart as I played that it couldn’t be overshadowed by something as weak as bad memories.
I concluded the Mozart and was treated to an outpouring of appreciation that brought a tear to my eye. I’d heard audiences applaud my work before, but this was different. Before, I had always appeared as a student and had been treated as such. The crowds were appreciative, but this was different. Most of them were here specifically to hear me play. Not like at recitals at school, but simply because they wanted to hear what I could do.
It wouldn’t be right to say I felt obligated to acknowledge the audience, but I definitely felt as appreciative of them as they seemed to be of me. I had wanted to play my best regardless, but on that night in front of that audience, my desire to communicate through my music pushed me beyond anything I’d ever before accomplished. On that night, I began to understand the true power and nature of music.
When I rejoined Cindy backstage for intermission it was clear to see she’d been crying. “Why the tears?” I asked as I gave her a huge hug.
She returned the hug and replied, “It was just so beautiful.”
I gave her an additional squeeze, then eased the strength of the hug so I could kiss her. Maybe I wasn’t as discreet as I could have been, but the truth was I didn’t care who saw us. I was in love and I was enjoying the moment with the one I loved.
Following intermission, the orchestra reclaimed their positions on stage and once they were ready, I joined them to the sounds of an ovation that threatened to knock me over as I made my way to the piano once again.
As I took my seat, I couldn’t help but feel I was the luckiest guy in the world. I had a girl who loved me, plus the ability to touch other peoples’ souls merely by playing the piano. Put simply, life was good.
Dr. Parkinson mounted the podium and raised his baton, which brought the entire hall to silence. He looked at me and I at him in a way that communicated more than words ever could. Where Dr. Wyler had always had an undercurrent of lust in his gaze when he looked at me, Dr. Parkinson’s felt more like a parent watching his child. That look was not only one way, as I too felt like our relationship had taken on a parent/child dynamic.
With a subtle nod I signaled my readiness and watched as he raised his hands signaling to the ensemble that we were ready to begin. From the very first note, I felt a surge of emotions cascading from the orchestra. When I began playing I rode the wave, adding my own emotions to the surge. It washed over the audience as well and by the end of the concerto, everyone in the hall was emotionally exhausted.
I could barely stand up from the piano when the time came, from physical fatigue yes, but also from emotional exhaustion. The audience, the orchestra, and Dr. Parkinson felt the same thing as we all rose to our feet together in acknowledgement of the artistic moment we had all just participated in.
When I had once again made it backstage, Cindy was waiting for me with open arms. As the orchestra played the opening phrase of “Don Juan”, we quietly made our way to the stage door in search of a few moments alone.
That night as I drifted off to sleep I recalled the words of my theory professor, “There are no wrong notes, only passing tones.” I came to realize he was speaking as much about life as music. At that moment I vowed to live my life by that tidbit of wisdom.
There are no mistakes,
only passing tones.
Richard Wagner, The Ride of The Valkyrie
http://www.archive.org/audio/audio-details-db.php?collection...
Maurice Ravel, Bolero
http://www.amazon.com/gp/recsradio/radio/B00002MXMX/ref=pd_k...
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...
Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...
Richard Strauss, Don Juan
http://www.amazon.com/gp/recsradio/radio/B00000J7BR/ref=pd_k...
Notes:
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By Jillian
Chapter 1 — Con Passione
By Jillian
There it was 1am and I was standing out in the cold…by choice no less! Maybe it’s not so surprising. I mean, I always took my breaks outside no matter what the temperature. Okay, if it was raining or snowing I’d stay in the club, but otherwise I’d rather spend my 15 minutes breathing some air that didn’t smell like stogies.
Anyway, I was out there leaning on my car while the other guys passed around a joint, which is just not my thing but then who am I to say anything. After all, if they knew what my thing was they’d probably beat the crap out of me. My greatest wish is to be a woman. See why I didn’t tell the guys?
Just as we were about to head back in to play the last set of the night I heard a commotion from over by the dumpster. I turned to look and saw one of the club regulars, a guy named Joey something running away as fast as he could. Momentarily I wondered if I should go see what was going on, but then remembered that as it was time to get back to work the last thing I needed was for that jerk of a club owner to short the money because I was a few minutes late coming back from break.
First thing we did once we were back on stage was start in with some old country, mostly two steps and what Bob the band’s front man liked to call ‘bellyrubbers’, which I guess is what some country boys call slow dances.
As we began the set I found myself thinking about the path that had brought me to that point. To say I had no idea how I had gotten there would be a lie, because the truth of the matter was I knew exactly what had brought me there.
I’d started out with one goal in life…to be a great jazz bassist…and I was on my way to achieving that goal. I was studying with Rufus Reid at Indiana State and making great progress. It was quite a coup getting in with Rufus. After all, he was the author of one of the most widely studied texts for the instrument, ‘The Evolving Bassist’, which of course everyone there had pretty much memorized by the time they were done with their Freshman year.
Truth is, my bass was my only friend in the world at that time. I was getting better all the time and had even started picking up some playing jobs, which helped make me a little bit less of a starving college student. Unfortunately, even with the advances in my professional life I was alone. Maybe a lot of that was self-inflicted, as I was very confused about myself.
Music was the only thing that kept me going most of the time. When I wasn’t playing, I had no idea who I was. I was conflicted about pretty much everything in my life and as a result I generally went out of my way to avoid getting involved with anyone.
Much of my conflict came from questions about gender. A very large part of me was absolutely certain I was a Transsexual, but then there was this little voice in the back of my head that kept telling me not to do anything about it. I had finally come to terms with things, but was too scared to do anything about it. As a result, I was still Harry to everyone except me. In my heart, I was Hannah.
I was trying my best to be a ‘normal’ guy despite those persistent feminine feelings. I’d like to think that I was successful enough that nobody knew my secret. Heck, sometimes I wasn’t even sure I knew…
…I was sitting in the student union doing some homework when out of the blue this girl comes up to me and asks, “Can I join you?”
Dumbfounded because this was the first time I had ever been acknowledged by another person outside my family, I stumbled through a reply of, “Sure.”
She sat down across from me and said, “My name’s Holly,” as she reached out her hand to shake mine.
I took her hand and shook it as I answered, “Harry.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen you around. Can I ask you something?”
“Depends,” I replied, trying to be funny.
“Why are you always alone?”
I thought for a moment trying to come up with an answer that would be plausible without giving away my deepest darkest secret immediately, “I don’t know. I’ve just never been very good with people.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re doing okay with me.”…
It had been a long time since I’d thought about that day and frankly it left me almost as off balance as when it actually happened. After that, I tried to keep my mind focused on my playing and I felt like that last part of the set was the best I’d played in a long time. I doubt anyone else noticed, though. After all, we were playing country and as long as the beat remained steady nobody was going to notice the bass player.
With ten minutes left in the night, Bob stepped down off the stage and let the guys and I close out the night with a couple of rock numbers. Once that was done the other guys joined Bob at a table for a few drinks while I packed up my basses, since I’m not terribly fond of drinking to be quite honest.
I carried my stuff out to the car and just as I was about to head back in to collect my pay for the night, I heard a sound from over where I’d seen Joey running before. Worrying that there might be someone hurt over there…after all this Joey character had a reputation for being a bit of a tough guy…I went to take a look.
Lying there on the ground in a pool of his own blood was another one of the regulars, though I didn’t know his name. Running back inside, I threw open the door and shouted, “There’s somebody hurt bad out by the dumpster!”
The club owner sent one of the waitresses to check it out while he finished counting up the drawer and she promptly threw up all over the guy, who was no longer moving or making any kind of sound.
“Come with me,” I said to her as I led her back inside. Going up to the bar I shakily said to the owner, “I think the guy may be dead out there.”
“Well crap!” he exclaimed, his response taking me by surprise. “They’ll shut us down for at least a week this time!”
Looking over at the guys, I started to ask what he meant when Bob said, “I thought things were gettin’ better, Billy!”
The owner responded, “Yeah, we’d chased off some of the bad eggs, but they don’t seem to want to go.” He then picked up the phone and called the police.
We had to hang around until they got there, not only because we might be needed as witnesses but because Billy hadn’t paid us yet. I can’t explain it, but as we listened to the sounds of the approaching patrol cars I found my attention being drawn toward the door and beyond it the body lying out there.
Once the police arrived on the scene all attention was directed toward them as they interviewed all of us in search of clues that might help them solve the crime. Somehow I wound up last on their list, so I had to sit there quietly for over an hour before I could tell them what I’d seen.
“So you’re the one who found the body?” asked one of the officers.
“Yeah, when we were on our last break I heard a noise from over by the dumpster just before we went back inside for the last set and I saw this guy Joey running away from there. Then after we’d finished I carried my instruments out to the car and heard something from over there again. Curiosity got the better of me so I went to take a look and found this guy dying,” I said before pausing to try and calm my nerves.
After writing down a few notes the officer asked, “You mentioned the first man by name. How do you know him?”
“He’s a regular around here. They both are actually, but Joey’s something of a troublemaker.”
Turning his attention momentarily back toward Billy, the officer asked, “You know who he’s talkin’ about?”
Turning pale, Billy responded, “I’m not sure I wanna say.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said putting great emphasis on ‘mean’, “I know what this guy is capable of and I’d rather not wind up as the next notch on his gun handle.”
With the ‘gun handle’ comment the officer’s demeanor changed dramatically, shifting from bored confidence to something that resembled fear. “Is there something solid you can testify to? And just as important, are you willing to do so? I can promise that if this character is as dangerous as you’re leading me to believe, we can probably provide protection through the trial.”
We all heard his promise of protection, but I doubt anyone present including the officer truly believed it. He did continue without success to try to convince one or more of us to tell him who did it, but eventually he exasperatedly said, “If you’re not going to tell me, then maybe I should have you all taken into custody. Maybe that’ll loosen your tongues.”
As we stared at each other unsure what to do the officer called in for a transport. True to his word he took us all in and allowed us to spend what little remained of the night in the custody of the local constabulary. Being my first brush with the law beyond a speeding ticket, I was scared to death and I’m sure everyone knew it.
After a while, we were taken one by one out of the holding cell and interviewed. Luckily for my nerves, I went second. I was led down several corridors, up some stairs and into what I presumed was the squad room. I was taken to a desk and told to sit down, after which I was handcuffed to my chair to wait until a detective had a chance to interview me.
I have no idea how long I waited, but I’m fairly certain it was well over half an hour before a gentleman in a crumpled, cheap suit sat down at the desk and started questioning me.
“Name?” he began without even looking at me.
“Harry Dawson,” I answered quietly.
“What was that? Speak up please.”
Louder this time I repeated myself, “Harry Dawson.”
“Now Mr. Dawson, what can you tell me about this evening?”
“I really don’t want…” I started.
He quickly interrupted me, saying, “Just answer the questions.”
“But...”
Exasperatedly he said, “I could take you into custody if that would make things easier.”
“No,” I quickly replied. “On our last break we were out back and just before we came back in I saw somebody running away from around the dumpster.”
Probing for more information he asked, “Could you identify who it was?”
Again I hesitated before finally saying, “Joey something or other. He’s a regular here, but…” I paused before adding, “Sorry, that’s all I know.”
Turning his attention to the rest of those present, the officer asked, “Did anyone else see this Joey?” Everyone responded by vigorously shaking their heads no.
He then asked, “Any idea who he may be talking about?” Once again the only reply was a chorus of heads shaking.
Eventually the police left us and we were free to go home to catch a few z’s. Once in my car I started it and put it in gear beginning my journey home.
During my trip home the extra tiredness from being kept up an extra couple of hours by the police seemed to take it’s toll as I found it difficult staying awake. Again my mind started wandering in directions it hadn’t gone in a while and I found myself thinking about Holly.
After we met, we became something of an item. She went with me to jobs when I’d get work and I did what I could to support her desire to become an artist. Sometimes her presence was the only thing that got me through the night, because I rarely got to play the kind of music I really wanted to play.
Funny thing is, for a while my gender issues kind of hibernated and for the first time in my life I felt like just a normal guy. I guess sometimes love is like that.
Eventually, when we reached a point where I was playing enough to afford it we got an apartment together. Her parents were okay with it, but to say mine didn’t like the idea would be a drastic understatement. Things went along well for a while, until the day Holly told me she was pregnant…
…”Harry?”
I looked up from my studies to see Holly with a look of intense worry on her face. “What’s wrong?”
She held up this thing that I soon came to find out was a home pregnancy test and after stumbling over her words a couple of times, she said, “I’m pregnant.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she dissolved into a flood of tears.
I rushed to her and took her in my arms saying, “It’s gonna be all right. You’ll see”…
Fortunately I did finally manage to get home in one piece, where the very first thing on my agenda was to strip off the old smoky smelling clothes I’d worn to the gig and climb into the shower, luxuriating in the warmth while the water washed away the remainder of the club’s aroma.
Even after several months on hormones I was still pleasantly shocked by just how sensitive my nipples felt as the water rushed over my body. As I continued to enjoy the sensation my mind again wandered off on it’s own…
…”How could you?” she yelled at me from the doorway.
“What?” I asked, unsure just exactly what I’d done wrong this time. Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. I knew. I was logged in to one of my favorite TG fiction websites despite the fact we’d had some fairly major fights about the time I was devoting to them just the day before.
“Don’t ask me what! You know damned well what!” she paused to catch her breath after all that shouting. “You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore. Is your word worth nothing?”
“But I was just checking up on some friends,” I argued. It was true. I wasn’t writing anything, nor was I reading stories. I was just responding to some private messages from friends who had missed hearing from me for a few days.
“I told you to give up that stupid fantasy or I was out of here!” She then picked up a book that was lying on a table by the door and threw it at me.
I barely ducked out of the way, but by the time I returned my attention to the doorway I could hear her storming down the hall toward our daughter’s room…
When I got out of the shower I toweled dry and blew dried my hair before slipping into a nightgown and crawling into bed. Within seconds I was asleep.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting bolt upright in bed drenched in perspiration shouting, “No!” at the top of my lungs. The only thing I could remember from the nightmare that prompted that reaction was a hauntingly familiar voice saying ‘You’ll be next’ in a menacing tone.
Giving up on the idea of further sleep, I got up and went into the living room where I curled up on the couch and dozed while some mindless movie played on the TV. I’ve no idea how long I slept there, but when I decided to rejoin the living the day was in full swing.
Despite the hormone therapy I still hadn’t been able to work up the courage to start living as a female full time, so after I put on a rather snug sports bra to prevent excessive jiggling I got dressed in the standard issue musician’s uniform…a musical t-shirt and jeans with a pair of Nike’s. I wandered out of the house on my way to run some errands when I found that my car had been vandalized.
The windows had been broken out, there were numerous large dents in the doors, fenders and hood, and spray painted on the trunk lid was ‘U talk U die’ underlined for emphasis. I considered calling the police, but from what I knew of this Joey character he didn’t make idle threats and I had no interest whatsoever in tempting fate.
I returned inside and found myself pacing back and forth as I looked out the window at my now all but useless car. As the time passed I contemplated the various options available to me in the situation, but for the most part found that I had none. Sure, I could call the police and file a report. I could even give them Joey’s first name and description, but somehow that didn’t really strike me as the best way to ensure my continued living given what I do know about the guy.
Once I began to calm down I called Bob to see about a ride to the club that night. As the phone rang I became increasingly fidgety worrying about Joey and just exactly what he had in mind for me.
Finally Bob answered, “Hey, Harry.”
“Bob, I need a favor,” I blurted out almost before he’d finished saying my name.
“What is it?”
I paused just a moment before saying, “I need a ride to the gig tonight. My car’s out of commission.”
“Dude!” he seemed surprised. “That sucks. I’ll pick ya up about seven, if that works for ya.”
“That’d be great, Bob,” I replied. “I’ll see ya then.”
As I disconnected the line I thought about the fact that this guy knows where I live not to mention what I drive. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he knew about me? Did he know about Hannah?
The shudder that ran through me at that thought hung on for quite some time before I was able to collect myself again. I then called my cousin whom I normally take my car to and asked him to come pick it up and let me know if I had a prayer of affording the repairs. Since I wasn’t going anywhere until Bob came to get me I decided I’d take care of a little maintenance on my bass. It took nearly an hour, but I had cleaned all the ‘bar goo’ off, done a fingerboard treatment, and changed strings leaving it ready to go in it’s case.
I then turned my attention to my first love, the upright. I sat down behind it and got that familiar feeling of being ‘home’. I started playing some bluesy jazz walking lines, as my mind filled in with drums, piano, and a tenor sax completing the ensemble. After a few choruses I climbed the fingerboard to run through some solo ideas before settling back into the groove for another couple of choruses before bringing the piece to a close.
I played through a few more songs, mostly standards like Miles Davis’ “All Blues”, again imagining the entire ensemble as I went. The next thing I knew, there was a knock at the door bringing me back to the present. I set down my upright and went to answer it.
Bob was standing there impatiently waiting when I opened the door. “What the hell took you so long?”
“Sorry, I was practicing. Guess I didn’t hear ya.”
“I kinda gathered that from your playin’.”
I grabbed my electric bass and followed him out to his truck, sliding my instrument behind the seat before climbing into the passenger seat. The drive to the club was uneventful as we sat quietly listening to the radio on the way.
Once there, I couldn’t help but to scan the place for any sign of Joey. As I set up for the night, while we waited for 9 o’clock, and as we climbed up onto the stage I was quite distracted from worry that he might think I’d called the police, so much so that I nearly missed the count-in to begin the first song. My distraction carried through the entire first set as evidenced by the fact that I made several mistakes, which I simply don’t make as a general rule. I’m pretty certain nobody other than the drummer and myself noticed though as the sparse crowd seemed quite energetic in their appreciation…of course that might’ve had something to do with the substantial amounts of alcohol being consumed by the small group of what looked to be college kids obviously holding some sort of celebration at the club.
On our first break I stayed inside rather than go out for a breath of fresh air as I normally would so I could again scan the crowd for signs of Joey, but by the time the guys had returned from doing whatever chemicals they were sharing outside happened to be I’d managed to convince myself he wasn’t there. As a result, I was a bit more satisfied with my performance in the second set and when the time came I even decided to join my band mates outside.
We were barely out the door when one of them pulled out a joint and lit it, passing it around to the others. They did offer me a hit which I declined saying, “Thanks guys, but no thanks. S’not really my thing.” From that point they ignored me as usual while I leaned against Bob’s truck and stared at the stars overhead.
The third set ran smoothly as did the fourth, then we tore down the gear while we waited for payment. The truck was pretty crowded by the time we got all the PA and my bass amp, but we managed to fit it all in just in time for Billy to hand out the night’s remuneration. Bob and I said our goodnights and climbed into his truck for the ride home.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said shortly after we left the club.
“No problem,” Bob replied. “What’re you gonna do about your car? I saw it getting’ towed away when I got there and it looked pretty bad.”
“I don’t know, to tell you the truth,” I said tentatively.
He was quiet for a minute or two before saying, “Well let me know if you’re gonna need a ride Wednesday for the gig.”
“I will,” I said. “Thanks.”
The remainder of the trip was made in silence, other than the turned down radio playing top 40 Country in the background. When we arrived at my place I climbed out and pulled my bass from behind the seat, then went around to the back and unloaded my bass amp. I closed the tailgate and waved as Bob pulled away, leaving me to haul my stuff upstairs to my apartment.
Just like the night before, I stripped down and took a nice long relaxing shower before pulling on panties and a nightie, blow drying my hair, and climbing into bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow…
Chapter 2 — Adagio Cantabile
By Jillian
My sleep was peppered with nightmares. Okay, more like several variations of one nightmare in particular. Every time I’d get to sleep I’d see Joey either attacking me, or harming those around me, or in one case outing me to all his redneck buddies as a transsexual.
It was almost noon Sunday by the time I got up and when I did it amounted to little more than pulling on a bra, t-shirt, and lounge pants and curling up on the sofa to watch some television. I had just about dozed off again when I was startled by the phone ringing.
I picked it up and said, “Hello?”
“Harry, it’s Tim.”
“Hey cuz. What’s the word?”
“I’m not sure you wanna know,” he replied tentatively.
“That bad, eh?”
There was a short pause before he responded, “Let’s put it this way. We can fix it, but it may wind up costing more than just going out and buying another car.”
“Ouch!” I exclaimed. “Wow. Any idea where I can find a decent car cheap?”
Tim thought for a moment before saying, “Let me make a couple of calls. I’ll give ya a holler in an hour or so.”
“Okay,” I responded just before he hung up. I looked at the phone for a moment before placing it back on its cradle. I continued to stare at the telephone for a few minutes as my mind began to wander…
…I looked up from the book I was trying unsuccessfully to read to see Holly coming into the room. Once she knew she had my attention she said, “Listen, I just talked to my parents and I’m going to take Jessica and stay with them for a while.”
“But…” I began.
She cut me off saying, “We’ve had this discussion a thousand times, Harry. I’ve told you over and over again it’s either us, or them. And time and again you’ve made your choice. I’m done fighting with you over it.”
“So if you’re going to stay at your folks, how am I going to see Jessica?”
“I guess you should’ve thought of that before,” she sniped.
“A baby needs her father,” I stated.
“Like you’re much of one,” she coldly snapped back. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve stuck with you as long as I have. No, I take that back, I do. It’s because I love you and yes, I still do. I just can’t take not being a more important part of your life than those weirdos are.”
“Holly…” I started. “You know you’re important to me. You and the baby.”
“Just not enough to stop trying to live this fantasy life of yours,” she spat, driving a stake deep into my soul…
…Holly had just come back inside from loading things in her car. She was just about to pick up the baby when I asked, “Does it have to be like this?”
“You better believe it!” she exclaimed, causing Jessica to start screaming. “Now see what you’ve done,” she huffed as she took the baby into her arms.
“But leaving?”
She stared at me icily as she said, “You won’t hear from us again, ever. And don’t try to contact us.”
“But…” I began to cry.
“Goodbye,” she coldly said as she carried the baby toward the door.
I followed after them saying, “Please…” but it was too late. She was out the door and strapping Jessica into the baby seat as I stood there crying…
I picked up the phone and dialed, despite knowing it would do no good. She’d been avoiding my calls ever since I found out her new number, but this time it was different. This time an automated voice answered saying, “You have reached a number that has been disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you believe…” at which point I hung up.
I couldn’t stop the thoughts as they rattled around in my head, “It had taken months to finally convince her parents to give me her new number and now she’s changed it again. I guess she was serious when she said I’d never see or hear from them again.” The tears started falling down my cheeks and wouldn’t stop until I cried myself to sleep.
Once again I awoke to the ringing of the telephone, though this time I wasn’t quite as startled as before. I answered, “Hello?”
“Harry,” Tim said. “I found you a guy looking to sell an old Explorer in pretty good shape.”
“How much does he want?” I asked.
“That’s the best part,” he replied. “Since he’s a friend of mine, he said he’d let ya have it for a thousand.”
“Sounds like my best bet,” I said.
“Yeah, want me to tell him you want it?”
Did I want it? Yeah, but could I afford it? That was a matter up for some debate, to tell the truth. But, not wanting to keep Tim waiting while I thought about things, I said, “Yes. It’ll be tomorrow before I can get to the cash, but yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him you want it. I know the truck pretty well. You won’t be disappointed,” he said then hung up.
I replaced the handset, then thought, “Well, so much for my savings. I guess it was silly for me to be saving up for SRS when I’m afraid to even start my real life test anyway
Finally shaking those thoughts from my head, I went to my old friend the upright and started practicing. After wandering through several classical etudes from the Simandl books, I again found myself playing through jazz changes as I listened to the other instruments in the ensemble playing along in my head.
I went through song after song, until I stumbled upon an idea for an original song, which prompted me to reach for pen and paper. Scribbling away furiously as I tried not to lose the idea in the interim, I quickly had the melody laid out as well as the chord changes. I played through the song several times, even grabbing my bow to give voice to the sustain needed to make the tune ‘sing’.
By the time I realized how late it was, I was actually a little surprised I hadn’t heard some complaints about the volume as it was quickly nearing the noise ‘curfew’ for the apartment complex. Putting down the bass, I then undressed and got ready for bed.
Once again my sleep was filled with a series of unsettling dreams. The least disturbing of these was actually when I dreamt of playing a jazz gig as Hannah. That was the only time all night that I woke up from a dream without my heart racing from fear.
Monday morning brought with it the need to make a few phone calls, since I wouldn’t be able to run my usual errands. First up was a call to my therapist’s office.
After two rings the receptionist answered, “Dr. Tucker’s office.”
“Hey Jen, it’s Hannah Dawson. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel on Sarah today.”
“Not sick are you?” she asked.
“No, but my car is,” I replied, trying to be lighthearted about it.
“Do you want to reschedule now, or wait until you know what’s going on with the car?”
I thought for a second before saying, “I shouldn’t have any trouble making it tomorrow. I’m buying a replacement later today, but this morning is kind of difficult.”
“Okay, I can get you in at 11 tomorrow, if that works?”
“Great!” I replied. “I’ll see ya then.” After that I hung up the phone and got on with making the rest of my calls.
Once done with the others I called Tim and said, “Any chance of getting a ride to the bank so I can pay for this Explorer?”
“I don’t know,” he started. “That’s askin’ an awful lot.” I could almost hear the smile over the phone and found myself doing the exact same thing. When finally he relented and said, “I suppose,” I barely prevented myself from giggling.
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” I replied.
“Later,” he said before hanging up.
I quickly showered, washing and conditioning my hair while there, then dressed. I was far more bold than normal for some reason, opting for a beautiful lacy bra for a change to wear under a polo shirt. Not only did it not hide my ballooning assets, it displayed them in all their feminine glory and I was thrilled to be able to go out like that. Of course, it was chilly enough out that I could pull on a jacket, which still disguised my figure somewhat so my concerns about discovery by my family had very little justification.
After picking me up, Tim first took me to my bank before then driving me to meet his friend. I looked at the truck and found myself really liking it. The leather interior was in wonderful condition and the body looked like it had just come off the showroom floor, despite being over ten years old. My cousin had already told me that he’d been the one to do much of the work that had been done to it, so he knew exactly what kind of shape it was in. That was pretty much all I needed to know, so I said, “I’ll take it!”
I handed over the money, then once the bill of sale and title had been properly tended to I took my new truck directly to the inspection station so I would have all the requisite paperwork for licensing the vehicle.
From there I found my way to the license bureau where I stood in line for nearly two hours waiting to pay my sales tax and fees. By the time I’d made it up to the counter and taken care of my business, I couldn’t remember ever being gladder I wasn’t wearing heels!
I was however quite glad that I’d managed to work up the courage to go through the process of getting my name changed, because that meant for the first time in my life I was able to register a vehicle under the name ‘Hannah’. That might have seemed like a pretty small thing to some, but to me it was a huge step toward becoming the person I’d always thought I should be.
Mondays were jam night on the local jazz scene and I was feeling pretty good about things, so I decided that it was as good a time as any for ‘Hannah’ to make her debut. It had been several years since I’d gone to one and as that was my only contact with the jazz world, I didn’t really expect anyone to recognize me.
Dressing up too much would’ve been out of place so I went simple, with women’s jeans and a simple top plus flat sandals. Not wanting to haul a $10,000 instrument into a bar, I opted for my rarely used electric upright. There probably wouldn’t really be a need for it, but just in case, I was ready.
Turned out there weren’t any other bass players there to jam, so I wound up playing all night while making some great contacts for future work…as Hannah no less. The number of comments along the lines of “Never heard a girl play that well before” had my confidence through the roof by the end of the night. I was asked by several different band leaders for my phone number in case they needed a bassist, which I was thrilled to give them.
My drive home that night was different from usual, not the least because the buzz I was still experiencing from being allowed to play as the woman I’d always believed myself to be for the first time prevented me from feeling the tiredness I usually suffered from during the drive home. The rush wasn’t enough, however, to keep me from getting to sleep as soon as I climbed into bed.
Those same bad dreams haunted me all night long, so much so that I eventually gave up on sleep opting instead to crash on the sofa with unidentified mindless programs playing on the TV. Unfortunately, that didn’t make the dreams go away, though the content did change…
…I was modeling a dress in front of my bedroom mirror when to my surprise my door flew open and in stormed my father. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, ya damned pansy?” he shouted as he rushed toward me. He struck me as hard as he could, causing me to drop straight to the floor.
As I looked up toward him he spat, “I don’t want to ever see you dressed like that again! Got it!” He then turned and left the room as I dissolved into tears…
…I was sitting at the table with my mother, saying, “I really like her a lot.”
“That’s wonderful, son,” Mom gushed.
Just then Dad came into the kitchen. Mom looked up at him and said, “Tom, Harry’s got himself a girlfriend! Isn’t that wonderful?”
He looked at me with the same kind of disgust he always did and said, “Must not be much of a girl if she’s interested in a little perv like you.” With that single sentence he had managed to take me from excitement to despair without even trying. Then as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared…
…I nervously listened to the phone ring as I waited for someone to answer on the other end. Eventually there was an answer, “Hello? Who is this?”
“Mom,” I exuded. “I have what might be good news.”
“What’s that, dear?” she asked.
“You remember that girl I told you about, Holly?”
“Sure,” she replied, sounding extremely bored by the discussion up to that point.
“We’re having a baby!” I said excitedly. There was no response. After a moment or two of allowing the deafening silence to grow I said, “Mom?”
Finally she responded, “Yes dear?”
“You heard what I said, right?”
“Yes, dear,” again she became silent.
Growing a bit agitated I asked, “What’s wrong? I thought this was great news!”
“Oh, it’s lovely dear, just…” she paused to search for the best way to say what she meant.
“Just you don’t think it’s a great idea,” I finished her thought, or at least what I thought she was going to say.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” I responded. “Don’t worry, you won’t be asked to do anything for the baby. I promise.”
She didn’t say anything…
…Mom may have been at a loss for words, but that was not an affliction my father suffered, “What the Hell are you thinking?”
“I admit, we didn’t plan this, but…”
He cut me off to continue his tirade, “Plan? Plan? Since when did you ever plan anything? I can’t believe you could be so irresponsible! I take it back. When have you ever been responsible?”
As the steam powering his tirade began to dissipate the fury of his argument faded, but the one thing that didn’t fade was the obvious disappointment I could see in his eyes. It was after all a look I’d become quite accustomed to over the years.
His lecture continued at a more sedate level, “So what are you going to do to support this new family of yours? Have you thought of that at all?”
“Of course I have,” I retorted. “I’m actually making quite good money playing these days and I’ve had offers of jobs I couldn’t take because of my school schedule. I’m going to drop out of college and play full time.”
“Oh, now that’s rich,” he said with an almost sinister chuckle. “You really think you can support a family by playing in bars? This Holly of yours won’t stick around six months.” The chuckle transformed into an almost evil laugh…
…I woke up crying from the memory of that day. As I thought about it I had to admit that while he might have been wrong about the six months, he didn’t miss it by all that much. Little Jess’s first birthday had been the only one I’d been able to spend with my little girl. Before she had another, her mother had taken her away.
Shaking off the maudlin thoughts that had been dominating my mind, I decided to get out of the house for a while. In a sudden surge of bravery I dressed more femininely than usual and even put on a little makeup before heading over to Guitar Center. I didn’t really need anything, but it was always a good place to kill some time.
When I returned home the flashing light on my answering machine told me I had messages waiting. I pushed the playback button and listened to the beginnings of two telemarketer calls before hearing, “Hey there, girly boy. Did ya get my message? I see ya got yourself a different car. Just remember what I told ya and ya won’t get hurt.”
I wasn’t sure what I could do about what I’d just found out without telling someone what was going on. Ultimately, I must have been struck by a surge of bravery because I popped the tape out of the machine and promptly called the officer in charge of the investigation.
“Hello detective, this is Hannah, I mean Harry Dawson. I have something I think you’ll find very interesting.”
Chapter 3 — Molto Agitato
By Jillian
Detective Johnson was at my house in less than 15 minutes and once there didn’t waste any time in listening to the phone message. “What did he mean, ‘my message’?”
I took a deep breath and said, “He vandalized my car and spray painted ‘You talk, you die’ on the trunk lid. Truth is that threat’s why I didn’t report it in the first place.”
“Where’s this car?”
“It’s out at my cousin’s place. He was looking at it to see how much it would cost to repair, but told me it was a total loss.”
“I’d like to see it,” he said.
I rode with him, directing him to Tim’s place where he took pictures of the damaged vehicle while he asked more questions. “Any idea why you’re being targeted?”
“Just that he suspects I saw him running away from the body,” I answered.
“And did you?”
“I couldn’t tell for sure. I saw someone and thought it looked kinda like someone I recognized, but…” my answer slowly ground to a halt as I wasn’t sure what to say to complete the thought.
Gesturing toward the car he asked, “So this happened at the club?”
“No, I got up the next day and found it like this in the parking lot at home. What am I going to do?”
The officer stood there for a moment before saying, “First things first, if anything else happens, whether it be another phone message or vandalism or what, report it directly to me immediately. Don’t touch anything you suspect has been tampered with and again, call me immediately. Call me if you think of anything that might possibly be helpful. And last but certainly not least, be careful. Don’t take any chances.”
He left to return to the station, while I stayed at my cousin’s to retrieve a few things from the car. Once that was done, Tim’s wife Beth gave me a ride back into town so I could pick up my truck and get to my appointment with Dr. Tucker.
As we drove, I guess her curiosity got the better of her, “So, why are you dressed like that?”
“Umm,” I replied so eloquently.
“Come on, Harry. Everybody in the family knows you’re not exactly the poster boy for macho,” she laughed as she said it, but not trying to be cruel. “How serious is this?”
I gradually allowed myself to respond, “Pretty serious.”
“Like permanent kind of serious?”
“Someday,” I said before even realizing I’d done it.
“Really?” she queried. “What’s your name?”
“Hannah,” I said quietly.
“Hannah, huh?” she repeated me. “It suits you. I think I may like Hannah, but you may want to keep it quiet in some corners of the family until you absolutely have to make the change.”
“No kidding,” I said dryly. Then as I breathed a sigh of relief, “Wow! I hope you know I was terrified what might happen when you noticed. All sorts of things were running through my head. Maybe even throwing me out of the car or something.”
She looked hurt, “How could I do something like that? We’re family, you know that.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to accept me, or even treat me fairly.”
“It does to me,” she said with great conviction. “I knew you had had lot’s of problems with your folks growing up. Is this why?”
“You could say that.”
Gesturing toward my bosom she asked, “Are those real?”
“All me,” I said while trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Wonders of modern chemistry.”
“So you’ve been on hormones for quite a while then,” she stated.
“A few months,” I responded. “Really the only thing holding me back at this point is fear.”
“Of what?”
“My folks, mostly, but lots of other things as well. There’s part of me that’s still trying to get back in touch with Holly about Jessica, but that’s not going well at all.”
“That’s gotta be rough,” she said as we turned into my building’s parking area. Changing direction slightly she added, “We ought to hang out more.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “I haven’t really had much chance to do that sort of thing.”
“Anything going on tomorrow?” she asked as we parked.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Why don’t I come by in the morning? Maybe we’ll do a little shopping or something?”
“Cool,” I said. “Listen Beth, thanks for the lift. And everything else,” I said as I opened the passenger door to climb out.
“Be careful. I heard what you were talking about with that cop.”
As I got out, I waved bye to her and watched her pull away. Then I headed for my truck, practically skipping. When I started the engine I noticed the time and saw I’d have to hurry to make it.
Truth is I was a few minutes late in arriving at Sarah’s office, but fortunately she was running a little behind herself. That meant I had time for some coffee before my appointment.
“How goes it?” Jen startled me with the question, having come up behind me as I was fixing my drink.
Once my heart returned to it’s normal location I said, “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Oh come on,” she continued. “Where else am I going to get the local music scene gossip?”
“I’ve spent all my time recently steppin’ in cow poo, so I’m not really up on the local rock gossip.”
“Ah,” she said. “Too bad. Most of the time the only thing I miss about playing is the gossip.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I can’t help ya there.”
“Anything interesting going on in your life?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and sighed before saying, “Well, I witnessed a killing the other night.” She gasped in shock, causing me to pause momentarily before continuing, “Yeah, and then my car was vandalized beyond the point of repair.”
“Wow!” was all she could say.
Just then Sarah poked her head out of her office and asked, “Hannah? Are you ready?”
I turned my attention back to Jen and offered, “Maybe we’ll get a chance to chat later?”
“Maybe,” she replied. I then followed Sarah into her office and took my usual spot on the sofa.
“Anything interesting happen this week?” she asked once we were settled.
“I guess you could say that,” I responded dryly. “Where shall I start? The murder at the club, my car being vandalized, or the multiple threats on my life?”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she said while pleading with her eyes for me to offer some details.
“Well, last Saturday I was out on break when I saw someone running away from the dumpster out behind the club. I thought it odd, but didn’t really think all that much of it. After the last set of the night, I was carrying my bass out to the car when I thought I heard someone moaning in pain.
“I followed the sound out to the dumpster and found one of the club’s regulars lying there on death’s door.”
“Yes?”
“I ran inside and told the manager to call the police. They took statements, then I went home.”
“Sounds harrowing,” she commented.
“You could say that,” I responded. “The next morning I found that my car had been vandalized, including a message spray painted on the trunk. It said, ‘U Talk, U Die”.
“Oh my,” Sarah gasped.
“Precisely what I thought,” I offered. “Not wanting to test the validity of the statement, I just called my cousin the mechanic and had him come get the car so he could let me know how much fixing it was going to cost.”
“You mean you haven’t reported it?”
“I have, just not when it happened.”
She looked at me with concern as she asked, “What prompted the change in position?”
“Threatening phone calls.”
Eventually our conversation drifted to more familiar subject matter, like my hormone treatment and my eventual transition. When our time was up I made my way out of Sarah’s office and after exchanging goodbyes with Jen I was on my way home.
All the way home I had the strangest feeling distracting me. Not only couldn’t I seem to shake it, it seemed to grow stronger the closer I got to my apartment. Even though it was almost bad enough to make me consider not going home, I did so, against my better judgment.
I made my way inside the building once I’d parked and after nervously fumbling with my keys managed to open the door. Once inside my apartment, I checked for messages on my machine. There was only one, but it was rather scary.
“I thought I told you not to talk to the cops!” the now familiar voice shouted from the answering machine. “You must have a death wish, girly boy!” then the line went dead, leaving me devastated.
Again I called Detective Johnson to tell him that there was another threatening message on my machine, but the best I could do was leave him a message.
I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind without success. I even tried practicing, but found myself unable to focus, so I settled into an easy chair and waited for the detective to come back by to pick up another tape. At this rate, I was going to need to stock up on those old style mini-cassettes.
It wasn’t long before he arrived, leaving with cassette in hand. I tried listening to music but couldn’t concentrate. The same could be said for the book I tried reading. I even tried napping but couldn’t relax, so I wound up just letting my mind wander.
Thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to come up with a way out of this mess. I played through quite a few scenarios in my head, none of which ended with me safe and Joey behind bars, before I finally came to the realization that whatever the solution I came up with might be, I wasn’t going to come up with it that easily.
In an effort to clear my head I switched on the television and sat through some mindless movie the title of which I couldn’t identify, then fixed myself a salad which I nibbled on as another movie blared from the TV. As I spaced out, memories again came flooding into my consciousness…
…I sat nervously next to Holly on a park bench, staring at her face as it was lit up by the moonlight. Eventually I said, “I have something I need to tell you.”
She looked me in the eye and said, “It can’t be that important.”
“I hope you feel that way after I tell you,” I said. I took a deep breath and proceeded, “There are things about me that could have an impact on any relationship we might have.”
“God, you make it sound like it’s something horrible,” she said, a look of concern etched on her face.
“It might be,” I tentatively said. “I don’t suppose there’s an easy way to do this, so here goes. I’m not really like other guys.”
“Oh, God. You’re gay,” she said.
“No, no,” I quickly countered. “But you’re not far off.”
She looked absolutely terrified as she asked, “Then what is it?”
I took another couple of deep breaths to try to settle the thoughts running through my head before saying, “Have you ever heard of Gender Dysphoria?”
She looked at me confused, saying, “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well,” I continued as I reached over and took her hands in mine. “It’s a condition where the afflicted person experiences some level of confusion or discomfort with their birth gender.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that there’s a part of me that is really uncomfortable with being male.”
She continued to look at me, even more confused than before. As what I’d said started to sink in she first looked hurt, then mad before finally getting an incredibly sad look on her face as tears began falling. I reached over and held her in a gentle hug, trying to comfort her.
As I did that, she turned her face to my ear and whispered, “We’ll get through this. Together.”…
…I paused at a store window to look at a beautiful pair of boots with stiletto heels. Holly looked as well and commented, “They are quite striking. Want me to try them?”
“Sure,” I said, probably a bit more enthusiastically than a boyfriend normally would.
We went in the store and Holly tried them on. They looked marvelous and I must admit that I couldn’t take either my mind or my eyes off of them for the rest of the evening.
Later that night Holly found me sitting on the edge of the bed holding one of those boots, staring intently at it. She came over to me and took it out of my hand, angrily saying, “Don’t. Don’t even think about it!”
“What?”
“I knew it was something like this. You can’t even go a day without thinking about it, can you?”
I dropped my eyes to my lap but didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say. While I tried not to admit it openly, she was right. My obsession with all things feminine was beginning to interfere with ‘real’ life and Holly wasn’t happy about it in the least.
“This needs to stop,” she said as she put away the boots.
“I know,” I replied, unsure how to make that happen…
…I typed away furiously, unaware that Holly was standing behind me. When she finally cleared her throat I nearly jumped out of my seat. “You startled me,” I said once my heart was again a resident of my chest.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I quickly minimized the window I was working in before saying, “Oh, nothing.”
She came closer and said, “Didn’t look like nothing. Let me see.” She took the laptop from me and looked at the web page I had left open as a decoy. She looked down at the bottom of the screen and clicked on the minimized Word document.
She read a few sentences before saying, “You promised you wouldn’t write this stuff anymore!”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It just a little story. It helps me to write them.”
“Helps you with what?” she asked, the disgust clearly evident in her voice.
“Deal with things,” I replied timidly. “Writing them helps me feel better.”
“But you promised!”
“I know,” I said. “But…”
Cutting me off she said, “But nothing! You promised. If you can’t even keep a promise about something as simple as this, how can I trust you about anything?”
She was right and I knew it, but that did nothing to assuage my desire to write stories about my life that wasn’t. There was nothing I could really say in response to her question, so I stood there looking at her as tears began rolling down my cheeks.
Seeing that I didn’t have an answer for her, she turned and left in a huff. I sat back down and tried to write some more, but found I couldn’t. After saving what I had done already I turned my attention to my email messages from my online friends…
…At some point I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew it was very dark out and I was feeling refreshed but hungry. I had just begun making myself something to eat when the phone rang.
“Hello?” I fearfully said into the handset.
“Miss Dawson? This is Detective Johnson.” He called me miss! I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes,” I replied as calmly as I could.
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, but with the shift change and everything I just got your message. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
It took me a moment to remember that I had called him about the latest phone message and to realize that was why he was coming over. However, that didn’t stop me from running to the bathroom and touching up my makeup.
I’d just about finished when the doorbell rang. I ran to it, peeking through the hole to make sure it was him before opening it.
He greeted me, “You said there was another message?”
“Yes,” I said, showing him in. I led him to my answering machine where I played the message for him before popping the tape out to hand him.
“Right,” he said as he stared into space, presumable thinking. “We know that he knows not only your telephone number, but where you live and is in fact keeping an eye on you. I think it’s time to consider moving you to a safer location.”
I looked at him and asked, “And where might that be?”
He returned my look, but no response was forthcoming. He then grabbed his cell phone and placed a call, “This is Detective Johnson out of the fourth precinct. I need to secure a safe house for a witness to an open homicide investigation.”
Chapter 4 — Scherzo Energico
By Jillian
“Wait!” I said in a surprised tone. “A safe house? You mean like witness protection? What about my work? My apartment? What am I supposed to do with my stuff?”
“Slow down,” he said while holding his hands up to emphasize things. “We don’t know how long it’ll be, but I wouldn’t expect it to take too long. For now, anything you don’t have to have with you should stay here. I’ll have a uniform posted here as a guard, okay?”
“Will there be room for my upright?” I asked.
“I don’t know why not,” he responded before adding, “Which one is that?”
I rolled my eyes in as exaggerated a look as I could manage before finally pointing toward my baby and saying, “That one.”
He cracked a smile before saying, “I knew that.”
“Uh-huh,” I grinned as I packed some clothes to take with me. “So what happens if you can’t find Joey?”
“That’s not going to happen,” he said smugly.
Obviously I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the detective at this rate, so I shut up and finished packing. That task done, he helped me pack my things into my truck, since I pointed out that there was no way we were fitting in his car with my bass.
We waited for more officers to arrive, one of which he left guarding my apartment while another drove the Detective’s car behind mine. At first I began to wonder if he had any idea where we were going, as we seemed to be randomly turning every which way en route to my temporary abode.
However random our route seemed to me, it turned out there was a method to his madness, as he explained. “We’re making sure no one is following us so we can keep this location secret.”
“Oh, that’s why?” I asked, rather surprised for some reason.
Eventually we did reach our destination; a fairly plain looking house, surrounded by other plain looking houses in a typical lower middle income neighborhood. My truck was hidden in the garage and then my belongings were brought inside the house.
Once installed, Detective Johnson started to leave when I stopped him, “You’re not leaving me here, are you?”
“Well that was sort of the plan,” he retorted. “The whole idea here is to keep you safe while I track down this Joey character.”
I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course he was leaving. Otherwise, there wasn’t much sense in protecting me, was there?
Leaving me in the care of a young man who was introduced to me as Officer Sanchez, Detective Johnson set out in search of a killer while I had little to do other than practice and watch television. Given those options, I chose to practice…a lot.
With the exception of the Detective’s daily visit, which amounted to little more than him stopping by to see if we needed any supplies, my only companions for days were my bass and the collection of police officers who had been assigned to protect me.
I found that my constant practice time was having an impact on a couple of things. First, I was playing better than I could ever remember. And second, it seemed that all that alone time was allowing my mind time to wander back into the past…
…As I entered the house, I was overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. I looked at the ancient Grandmother clock that sat on the side table in my parents’ entryway and found myself overwhelmed by the sadness of having just come from their funeral.
The policeman who had contacted me said that their car had been struck by a semi that ran a red light doing nearly sixty. My parents’ old VW bug never stood a chance.
Still staring at that clock, tears pouring down my face, the weight of recent events overcame me as I collapsed on the spot in a rain of despair. Here I was, a mere two weeks removed from having my child torn away from me by her mother and now I was faced with the task of sorting through my departed parents belongings, even though I hadn’t had even a moment to grieve…
…I was sorting through things in my father’s desk when I ran across something I never would have expected; a stack of concert programs from my high school and college ‘career’. I didn’t even know he’d been at most of them, yet here they were, in near perfect condition, neatly stacked in an otherwise empty drawer.
“I never knew,” I said as I flipped through the pile. “Why didn’t he let me know he was there?”
I had lived most of my life assuming that my father not only didn’t respect me or the choices I’d made in life, but that he barely tolerated me at all. And yet, here I had in my hand what seemed to be evidence that he had been if not proud then at least as supportive as he knew how.
As I thought about all of this, I couldn’t help myself. I began crying yet again and couldn’t stop. Some of them were tears of sadness for my lost parents, but some of them were tears of pride in knowing that in his own way my father really did love me…
…I was sorting through boxes of old photos and other collected ‘special things’ my mother had saved over the years when I came across something I never expected; a letter addressed to me.
“Dear Harry,
If you’re reading this, then something drastic must have happened. I don’t know what that something might be, but trust that your father and I love you and we will miss you very much.
I know you’ve always felt like you were different from others, despite all the effort you put into being “normal”. To say I’ve been proud of you for the way you’ve tried to live your life so honorably would be a drastic understatement. Not only do I love you, I admire you more than I could ever say.
Your father may have always seemed like he was disappointed with some of the decisions you’ve made, but believe me when I say he is more proud of you than he would ever admit to you. I hope you know that already, but in case you don’t please understand that everything he did was done out of love and was the only way he knew to show that.
You’ve spent far too much of your life trying to conform to the expectations of your father and others around you. It’s time you stopped that and start to embrace your true path. Whatever that may be.
With love and respect,
Mom”
I set the letter aside as I continued my task of packing up their belongings. The rest of the day was filled with many tears, as so many of the items I came across brought back specific memories of my parents.
When night came, I took the letter with me and read it again as I lay in my childhood bed. At first, the meaning of the ending eluded me, but eventually what she was trying to say dawned on me.
As I re-read the letter I thought about just exactly what my true path was. I began to realize that my mother must have known all along what that path was. I don’t think she knew that her name was Hannah, but she knew the direction my life should take…
…That was the moment when my whole life finally came into focus for me. It was like in some way, my mother was giving me permission to become her daughter. Maybe she didn’t know that’s what would eventually happen, but then again, maybe she did.
My days began to take on this similar routine; practice and reflect, reflect and practice. It seemed that even when I tried to change the pattern, I was drawn back to my instrument and my memories.
I found myself thinking about that old clock as well. Most of my parents’ possessions I had donated to charity, but that clock and the table it sat on found their way into the entryway of my apartment. I couldn’t begin to explain it, but there was just something about it that made me feel closer to my parents when I looked at it. I hoped I’d be able to look at it again soon.
On Friday morning I managed to broach the subject of my work with the good detective. “I’m supposed to be working tonight,” I stated before he could leave again.
Turning back toward me as he started out the door, Detective Johnson asked, “What would happen if you didn’t show up?”
“Well, let’s see,” I began. “The band would be fired, I’d likely be let go by the band, the group’s reputation would be soiled making it more difficult for both them and me to get work, and I might find myself blackballed in the local music scene. Did I leave anything out?”
“No, that sounds like a fairly complete scenario,” he responded. “Do you need anything from your apartment? And where are you working next?”
“My electric bass, gear bag, and amp from the spare bedroom in my apartment,” I listed off my requirements. “And oh yes, I’m supposed to be playing tonight from nine to one at Kelsey’s on Elm.”
“I’ll have the equipment brought over from your apartment and will arrange for at least one officer to serve as escort tonight. Will that do?”
I looked at him, trying to put my gratitude into words but failing miserably. Eventually I did the expected ‘girlie’ thing, walking over to where he was standing and giving him a small kiss on his cheek. “Thanks,” I said after thoroughly embarrassing the poor guy.
The needed equipment arrived around three that afternoon, after which I decided to relax in the bath for a while. Once out, I dressed again and got in a couple of hours practice before time for dinner.
I’m not much in the kitchen department but I had nonetheless taken to inviting my guards to join me for dinner most evenings, for which the mostly young and obviously single officers seemed quite thankful. That evening, by the time I’d straightened up after dinner I noticed that it was time to get ready for the gig, which was when I discovered what I considered to be a major problem.
I hadn’t remembered to pack any of my guy clothes, which I ordinarily would wear when I played. Since it was already after Seven, there wouldn’t be time to have a change of clothes brought over from the apartment and I was fairly certain there was no way I’d be allowed to go back by there myself. I stewed on that dilemma for longer than I probably should have before I finally reached the conclusion that I had no choice but to go as Hannah.
I picked my least girlie things; a nice pair of jeans, a polo top and loafers, and on a whim decided to add some small hoop earrings and some very light makeup. I fussed with my hair until it was almost too late, then joined my escort in my truck for the journey to the club.
I suppose I might have been a little less conspicuous had Officer Reynolds not insisted on helping me bring in my equipment, but I wasn’t about to turn down help schlepping my stuff into the bar. This drew the guys’ attention, which led to them noticing the changes in my appearance.
“What’s goin’ on here?” asked Bob as he stared at me, trying to figure out what was different.
I looked at him and fear washed over me. He knew! “This is Officer Reynolds, my bodyguard for the night.”
“Bodyguard?”
“Yeah, they’ve had me locked up in ‘protective custody’ most of the week until they can manage to actually catch Joey,” I responded, hoping the questioning would go no further.
“You look different,” he pondered aloud.
I’m fairly sure I went pale as I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he started, before his eyes grew wide in surprise then narrowed as he said, “I always thought you were kinda the sensitive type, but I didn’t take ya for one of those pervs.” The venom in his voice wasn’t disguised in the least.
“Bob…” I started.
“Guys,” called the bartender from beside the stage. “It’s time.”
Bob nodded to him before returning his attention to me and saying, “This is not over.” He then counted us in and we began our usual first set selection of two steps and line dances, with the occasional buckle polisher thrown in for a change of pace.
I found that for some reason I was feeling a heightened sense of connection with the music, which to my ear at least was obvious. However, when the set came to an end none of my band mates made mention of me playing particularly well.
Bob indicated that we should all step outside, so I followed them out the back door to the overflow parking, which we had all used to load in. We’d barely made it out the door when Bob fired toward me, “What’s goin’ on here, Harry?”
“What…” I began before being cut off.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he interjected. “The whole girl thing you got goin’ tonight?”
Jack the guitar player added, “Yeah, I mean you ain’t never been no macho guy, but this is way too far fer even you.”
“What is it you’re trying to tell me here?” I asked, although I had a fair idea where they were headed.
Bob was the only one who seemed to have the guts to actually come right out and say, “We don’t want to work with no weirdo. We’ll finish the night with ya, but unless I can’t find somebody to fill in for ya tomorrow night this’ll be your last one with us.”
That was it? I wasn’t exactly surprised by their reaction. I knew the kinds of attitudes they all harbored on various topics and at some level expected the reaction I’d gotten from them. That didn’t, however, lighten my reaction to the delivery of the news that I was being let go.
All that and yet if they couldn’t find a replacement they expected me to play the next night? That struck me as rather galling, but in the end I held my tongue.
The longer I thought about it, the more tempting it was to simply walk off the job on the spot. However, in the end I felt some professional obligation to at least finish out the night, so when the time came for us to return for our second set I dutifully followed the others in and took my place on stage.
Our second hour followed a similar game plan musically, though my heart simply wasn’t in it, which meant that my performance lacked some of the soul that had been present earlier. I doubt anyone in the club, my band mates included, noticed anything different about the way I played but I certainly did.
When the time came for our second break I chose not to accompany the others outside and decided instead to take a seat off in the corner, quietly sipping at my diet coke. It was almost time for us to return for the third set when I noticed a commotion over by the bar, which I tried to ignore until it reached a level I could no longer block out.
That moment came when I heard a gunshot coming from the front of the establishment. I had just managed to look in that direction when my ‘escort’ grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet, dragging me at some speed toward the nearest exit. He pushed me out the door and turned to deal with the source of the disturbance when there was another gunshot, followed by Officer Reynolds falling toward me.
Panicked, I searched for the reason he had fallen as the door closed separating us from the inside of the club. I could here lots more commotion going on inside as I found the officer’s injuries, which consisted of a single bullet wound to his stomach from which blood seemed to be pouring out.
I reached for my cell phone to call 911 but found that I must have left it in my purse, which at that exact moment was still sitting inside the building on the table where I’d been sitting. Since there was nothing else I could do at that moment, I held Officer Reynolds’ hands trying to help him remain calm while we waited for the cavalry to arrive.
By the time I could hear the approaching sirens, I feared that my companion might not make it until he could be taken to the hospital. Beyond that, I feared that this might also be the handiwork of Joey and that I had been the intended target. Fortunately he hadn’t come in my direction after the last of the shots were fired, because with each passing second I became more certain that if he had I too would be lying here bleeding to death.
Police officers were the first to reach us, asking, “What’s happened here?”
“Some lunatic started shooting inside the bar. Officer Reynolds here was my guard and was shot when he got between me and the shooter.”
“And you are?”
“Sorry, Hannah,” I paused and corrected myself. “I mean Harry Dawson.”
“Oh,” he said blankly. A moment later, his demeanor changed and he said, “Oh, yeah. I think I’m supposed to be assigned as your guard tomorrow.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Despite the circumstances,” I said as I looked at the dying figure of my protector.
“You think it was the same guy from before?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t get a good look at him,” I said. “It was rather dark and I was in a bit of a hurry to get out of the building when it all started.”
“Understandable,” he said quietly.
Just then the ambulance pulled up and immediately went to work on Officer Reynolds. Moments later, Detective Johnson arrived.
He ran toward me and, after pausing a moment to catch his breath, took my arm and began leading me away from Officer Reynolds as he said, “We need to get you out of here pronto!”
He quickly led me to his car and sat me in the front passenger seat, then climbed in on the other side. As soon as the door was closed, he started the engine and turned to me, “I knew it was a mistake, letting you come tonight.”
“Was it Joey?” I asked.
“If the eyewitness reports are correct,” he said as he pulled the car out of the parking lot, “Yes.”
We drove for a minute or two before I could bring myself to ask, “Was anyone else hurt?”
He kept his eyes glued to the road as he said more calmly than I suspected he felt, “Yes.”
“Do you think…?” I started to ask, unable to complete the question.
Again, with his eyes firmly locked on the road he replied, “Yes.” He took a deep breath as we pulled up to a stoplight and turned toward me, saying, “I’m pretty sure he was there to take care of you.”
Chapter 5 — Legato Grave
By Jillian
“So you think…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish saying what I’d intended.
Detective Johnson turned his attention back to the road just as the light changed. As we pulled through the intersection, he muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go tonight.”
Ignoring his comment I asked, “What about my things? You know, my equipment? And I left my purse on a table in the club.”
Without saying anything to me, he pulled out his cell phone and pushed a couple of buttons. After a moment he said into it, “Sanchez? Listen, there are some things that need to be picked up from inside the club…yeah, the gear and a purse…”
Turning to me he asked, “What color?”
“Black shoulder bag. It’s on a table just stage left of the bandstand.”
Returning to his phone conversation he said, “It’s a black shoulder bag to the left of the stage…I’m guessing that’s the one…okay, get that stuff back to the safe house ASAP…great, I’ll see you there.”
He then closed the phone and put it away before telling me, “Taken care of.”
After a moment or two of silence I asked, “I don’t suppose anyone saw where Joey went?”
For a moment he got this incredibly compassionate look on his face before saying, “Looks like he got away in all the commotion. Lucky for you he decided to cut and run after he shot Reynolds.”
“For me, yeah,” I said. “Not so much for Officer Reynolds. What about his family?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of things,” he said dismissively.
We drove around for over an hour before finally pulling up at the safe house, where I immediately found my way to the bathroom and emptied the meager contents of my digestive tract via the in door, as it were. Once I’d managed to clean myself up and regain my composure I rejoined the good detective in the living room.
He looked closely at me and commented, “I’m surprised you went dressed like that.”
“Yes well, it seems I forgot to pack any of my guy clothes and by the time I found that out it was too late to get anything else from the apartment.”
“So do we need to have anything else brought over?”
I grinned and said, “I don’t think so.”
“Why so?”
“I got canned a little before Joey showed up,” I said with less disappointment than the detective probably expected.
“You don’t seem too broke up about it.”
“I’m not really,” I said. “I’d been looking for an excuse to get away from those guys anyway. I just didn’t want to no-show on them. Professional pride and all that.”
Shortly after that, Officer Sanchez pulled into the garage in my truck and came inside to deliver my purse. As he handed it to me, he said, “Here ya go. How’d you manage to get separated from it?”
I nearly lost it when he asked that, but I did manage to keep myself under control and after a couple of deep breaths replied, “When Officer Reynolds dragged me out of the club after the first shots were fired…” I left the thought unfinished, as I wasn’t really certain what to say.
“Ah,” he responded before turning his attention to Detective Johnson. “So what time does my shift start in the morning, boss?”
He looked at the younger man and replied, “I’d say eight or so. I’ll be taking tonight’s shift myself, so whenever you get here to relieve me.”
“Yes, sir,” he said before turning to me and adding, “Good night, ma’am.”
Once he’d headed out the door, I said to no one in particular, “Did he just call me ma’am?” The joy in my voice was unmistakable.
“I take it you like that?”
“You could say that,” I responded. “That’s sort of the goal of all the therapy I’m going through right now.”
He smiled at me gently and commented, “I think you’re being very brave. Not just about this whole Joey business.”
I returned his smile and then awkwardly said, “I’d best get to bed.”
Looking at his watch, he said, “You’re probably right about that. Good night, Miss Dawson.”
The smile on my face lit up despite my best efforts to hide my reaction to being called ‘miss’. I made my way into the bedroom and undressed before climbing into bed. I tossed and turned for quite some time, unable to get to sleep. As a result, my mind once again began to wander…
…I was lounging in the living room watching television when Mom came in and asked, “What ya watching?”
“Donahue,” I replied.
She went to sit beside me, saying, “I always love his show. What’re they talking about today?” As she asked the question the show returned from its commercial break, with an opening shot of a transvestite who was later identified as Virginia Prince, sitting there talking to another ‘lady’.
After seeing the topic of the show, an almost disgusted look came across her face as she got up from the couch and silently left the room, leaving me alone once again. I tried to focus on what they were saying, but found it nearly impossible thanks to the distraction of worrying what were my mother’s true feelings on the subject…
…As I tied my bow tie, I had to pause for a moment to reach inside my tux shirt to adjust my bra straps. Once I had them in a position where they wouldn’t be visible through my tux I pulled on my vest and jacket. Then I headed out, pausing at a mirror in the entryway to take one last look before making my way to the recital hall for the concert.
After arriving at the performing arts center my first task was to get my upright on stage where I would be playing later. I then double-checked that I had all the pieces we were scheduled to play, as well as our potential encores, on my music stand before joining the rest of the ensemble in the green room.
A quick look around the room confirmed that none of my friends had checked in yet, so I just started wandering around while watching the door for their arrival. At one point I found myself near a group of the more ‘popular’ people in the orchestra and discovered that the topic of their conversation was…me. I made sure they didn’t notice me but remained close enough to eavesdrop, which may have been a mistake.
While I couldn’t tell who was saying what, I could hear every word that was said. “What a dweeb!…Yeah, I mean he can play all right, but really!…And he’s such a downer, ya know?…Definitely…I keep expecting to hear that he’s done himself in committing Harry Carey or whatever they call it…”
At that point I’d heard far more than enough so I quietly slinked away, trying not to be noticed. Turning toward the door I then happened to catch a glimpse of a couple of my buddies as they wandered in…
…Eventually I did manage to get a little sleep, though nowhere near as much as I would’ve preferred. As a result, Saturday morning seemed like a particularly cruel thing to inflict on me. That didn’t, however, prevent the detective from rousing me at far too early in the morning.
“Come on, up and at ’em,” he abruptly called as he flipped on the bedroom light. “Breakfast’s ready in five.” Without waiting to ensure I actually got up, he turned and left the room.
I seriously considered just pulling the covers up over my head, but something prevented me from doing that. So up I was pulling on my robe over my nightgown and slipping my feet into warm fuzzy slippers before making my way to the kitchen, where I found the good detective standing in front of the stove, utensils in hand, stirring the contents of a rather large skillet as it sizzled away.
“Grab a plate, it’s ready,” he called to me as he scooped the contents of the skillet onto plates and went to hand one to me. We then sat at the kitchen table partaking of his labors while we awaited the arrival of Officer Sanchez.
“Thank you,” I said quietly as we ate.
“It was nothing, no big deal. All I did was throw some eggs and a little cheese…” he said.
I cut him off saying, “No, not for breakfast, although thanks for that as well.”
“Then what for?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and said, “For the way you’ve been treating me. I know it’s kind of strange having to deal with someone like me and you’ve…”
He jumped in, “There’s no need for thanks. All I’ve done is treat you the way I would hope to be treated if I were in your situation.”
I blushed as I responded, “Well, thanks anyway. Not many would be as understanding.”
He took a few more bites of his breakfast before offhandedly saying, “I kind of have trouble seeing you as a guy anyway.”
I’m not sure he meant to say it out loud, or realized he had said it for that matter. Nonetheless, the joy that spread through me made me blush further, if that were possible. After that, we ate in more or less silence, neither of us sure where the conversation should go.
Breakfast done, I took care of cleanup and just about the time I was done Officer Sanchez arrived. Detective Johnson said his farewells and was out the door.
Sanchez said, “I’m going to do a sweep around the house while you get showered and dressed, all right?”
“Okay,” I replied. He then headed out the door while I went to shower. After that, I was drying my hair when my cell phone rang.
I flipped it open and was greeted with, “Hey, girlfriend!”
“Beth? It’s good to hear from you.”
“Well, it’d been a few days so I thought I’d check in with ya. Got anything going today?”
“I wish the answer was no, but I’m stuck here in solitary confinement for the foreseeable future.”
“That sucks. I was hoping we could go shopping,” she said, sounding a bit dejected.
“God, I wish I could,” I replied equally saddened. Just then, Officer Sanchez poked his head in the room to let me know he was back from his reconnoiter of the perimeter. I waved to him and after he responded in kind, he left me to my phone conversation.
Beth asked, “So no luck finding that creep yet?”
“Not so much. He found me last night though.”
She gasped, asking, “What? How?”
“I had a job last night. About halfway through he showed up and started shooting. It was horrible,” I said as I started to cry.
“You didn’t get hurt?” she asked, the concern in her voice extremely evident.
“No, but the cop who was protecting me was shot and killed,” I barely managed to croak out through my tears.
The conversation continued for some time, ending with me promising to call back later so we could talk more after she said she needed to get busy. I hung up and let out a huge sigh.
No sooner had I finally begun to settle down than my cell phone rang again. Looking at the caller ID, I then flipped it open saying, “Sarah, what are you doing calling me on a Saturday? Did you forget that you get weekends off?”
She giggled for a moment before responding, “Well, since you can’t come in for your weekly session I thought I’d bring it to you.”
“Ah, that’s sweet,” I replied. “If ever there was a time when I needed to talk to someone, it’s now.”
“Something wrong?”
“You mean aside from feeling like I got a police officer killed last night?”
She gasped before asking, “What happened?”
“I talked them into allowing me to go play last night. Not one of my better decisions,” I replied. “The guy they’re trying to protect me from showed up and started shooting up the place.”
“You didn’t…” she began.
I cut in, “No, I’m fine. Unfortunately my bodyguard can’t say the same.” Unable to contain it any longer, I started crying.
“Oh, Hannah,” she said, unable to come up with anything more appropriate.
“He was trying to save me and was killed himself. Guilt doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling right now.”
We talked for over an hour before Sarah noticed the time and brought our session to a close, but not before promising to call again Tuesday evening to check up on me. After spending much of the time on the phone in some state of emotional upheaval, I let out a huge sigh as I tried to calm myself.
Suddenly a voice broke the silence, “It really wasn’t your fault, you know.”
Startled, I felt myself jump. Once I had myself back under control I said, “Would that that were true.”
“It wasn’t. Really,” he said. “Detective Johnson authorized it as an operation to attempt to capture the perpetrator. Unfortunately, he got past us.”
I looked at Officer Sanchez and said, “I’m sorry, but that’s not really all that reassuring. How do I know he’s not going to come bursting in here and take you off guard again?”
“I’ll be honest, we underestimated the guy and he got the better of us. I promise you, that won’t happen again.”
I tried to be reassured by my guard’s words, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but have my doubts. I did my best to not allow them to rule my thinking.
Later that night, I found myself having rather scary dreams…
…I was playing on stage, when suddenly Joey jumped up right beside me and held a gun to my head, telling me, “Keep playing, sissy boy!” Rarely needing to be told twice, I tried to ignore the gun and continue playing. However, my nerves seemed to be getting the better of me as I found myself uncharacteristically making numerous mistakes as I played.
I’m sure the fear I was feeling was evident on my face, but as I looked toward the others on the bandstand I could see no acknowledgement that anything was out of the ordinary, other than my obvious mistakes which seemed to be seriously irritating everyone else. I kept glancing back and forth between Joey and my band mates, but apparently none of them could see the man holding a gun to my head.
When the song ended, Bob the front man looked at me and growled, “Get yer head outta yer ass and start playin’ like yer supposed to!”
I stared at him, absolutely shocked, as I felt Joey’s gun barrel press harder into my temple…
…I’m sitting at a candlelit dining table in a rather romantic restaurant, looking across as Detective Johnson. I nervously smile, a gesture, which he returns in kind, and take a sip of my wine.
“Thank you so much for bringing me,” I stumble out.
“I should be the one thanking you,” he responds.
I look away in embarrassment, but when I turn back to face him it’s no longer the good detective I’m seated across from, but my nemesis Joey…
…I sat bolt upright and shouted, “Aaahhh!” before I realized that what I had just seen was in fact a nightmare. Just as I started to calm down, in came my overnight companion, a young lady by the name of Officer Banks.
She crossed to my bedside and asked, “Is something wrong?”
I looked back at her and said, “No, just a bad dream.”
She smiled, trying to calm me down some, before saying, “Well, if you need anything, just let me know, okay? I’ll be right out here if you need me,” She then turned and left the room, this time leaving the bedroom door ajar.
I lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, though it took quite some time before I could manage it.
Hannah tries to fend off cabin fever while she waits for Detective Johnson to finally catch the ever elusive Joey. But will he be caught in time?
Chapter 6 — Presto Marcato
By Jillian
It had been a week since I’d been outside. A whole week! To say I was going a bit stir crazy would be the biggest understatement of the century. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever be allowed to be a regular person again. Of course, that presupposed that I’d ever been a regular person in the first place.
It was getting bad enough that even practicing, which had always been my escape from the real world, was proving difficult thanks to my inability to maintain focus on the task at hand. I did manage to renew my acquaintance with the Kousevitsky concerto, which I hadn’t played since college, but that was probably the highlight of the entire week.
Eventually I resorted to daytime television, which hardly did anything to prevent my brain to turning to mush but it did pass the time. And there was my one link with the outside world…my cell phone.
I was on said gadget when Detective Johnson came in to check on me. As soon as he saw the telephone in use, he loudly asserted, “Get off that phone now! Don’t you know that your location can be traced by tracking the signal?”
I timidly said into the phone, “Gotta go, Beth. Laters.” I closed the phone and, looking at the good detective, said, “No, I didn’t know that. But don’t they have to know the number in order to do something like that? I’m pretty sure Joey doesn’t have this number.”
As he reached over and took the phone from me, he replied, “What makes you think he doesn’t know the number?”
“Well, he hasn’t called it. Not once, even though I know for a fact that he’s still leaving nasty messages on my home phone. If he knew this number, I’m sure he’d be calling it instead.”
“But you don’t know that, do you?” he asked. “Maybe he just wants you to think he doesn’t know it so you’ll keep using it until he manages to triangulate your position.”
“Okay, that sounds a little paranoid,” I said rather skeptically. “You forget, Joey is a regular at Lou’s, a bar rat, power drinker, trustee of modern chemistry. I doubt he has enough brain cells left to even think about using something as technologically advanced as cell phone GPS to track me down.”
After pausing for a second to allow my point to sink in, I continued, “I think you’re attributing a lot more intelligence to this guy than he has.”
He smirked at me as he said, “I might have been inclined to agree with your argument if I hadn’t just gotten the scoop on our buddy Joey.”
“Wha…” I said intelligently before falling silent.
He then produced a file folder and began reading, “Joseph Warner, born June 4th, 1966 in Chicago, Illinois. Joined the Navy right out of high school and trained in telecommunications and computers before transferring to the Seals. Spent five years there before being dishonorably discharged for conduct unbecoming…it says here he had multiple disciplinary actions taken against him, but the incident that led to his discharge involved beating a fellow Seal to death because the guy owed him twenty bucks. Shall I go on?”
I gulped before saying, “No, I get your point. What now?”
He took a deep breath and sighed before saying, “I know your phone conversations has been about the only thing that’s kept you sane here, so this is what I’m going to do. You can use the secure landline for a total of one hour a day. You will initiate all calls and caller ID information will be blocked.”
“But…” I tried to begin.
“But nothing,” he rebutted. And thus my cell phone was taken away from me for the duration of my stay in their custody.
Over the course of the next few days it seemed that some progress was made in the hunt for the elusive Joey Warner. By tracking debit and ATM activity, the police were able to determine that he was still in the area, although he was jumping around the area enough that they weren’t able to pin down a more narrow location. I tried my best to simply stay out of it and let my protectors do their work, although I found the boredom to be almost more than I could stand.
Officers Banks and Sanchez were my primary keepers, occasionally being spelled by Detective Johnson. When I asked why these poor kids were stuck guarding me all the time, the Detective’s reply was, “So we can minimize the number of people who know your location.”
“What? You think Joey has a spy on the police force now?” I asked.
“Who knows?” he replied. “But this guy killed one of my officers. I’m taking nothing for granted here.”
With seeing her nearly every night, I became quite friendly with Officer Banks…or as she insisted I start calling her, Ashley. We talked for hours every night, with only her hourly sortie outside to break up the girl chat fest. Most of the time we talked about music or movies, but as time went on we began to share a lot about ourselves.
We had been discussing this movie she had brought for me to watch when out of the blue she asked, “When did you know you wanted to change?”
“Wow,” I said. “Talk about topical whiplash.”
We both began giggling at that for a moment, but once things settled back down she said, “Seriously, when did you know?”
I thought for a moment before replying, “Well, for me it sort of came in stages. When I was a kid I knew I was different, but couldn’t put my finger on why. Then in high school and college I started trying to figure out what I was. I did a lot of reading and spent some time seeing a therapist, but we never really got to the bottom of things because I was afraid to explore that road at the time.”
“So when?” she asked, staring at me as though I were the most interesting person she’d ever talked to.
“Toward the end of college, we started actually getting down to the truth. But then I met Holly and one night we…you know…and she got pregnant.”
“What happened?”
“I did what I thought was the right thing…I proposed and we got married. Talk about a mistake.”
She was looking at me and I could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes as I continued, “I mean, I love my daughter more than I can say, but my problem started tearing us apart. I freely admit that the bulk of the responsibility for our marriage failing falls at my feet.” By the time I’d finished with that statement we were both in tears.
“So what’s next?” she asked, once we had both gotten the waterworks back under control.
I thought for a moment before replying, “I guess that depends.”
“On?” she probed further.
“Well, on what happens with all this for one thing. And whether or not I can come up with the money to pay for further treatment for another.”
“I take it this is all rather expensive?”
“You could say that,” I said. “I mean, the actual surgery may be the biggest
single expense, but there are so many other steps before you can get to that. Not having any kind of medical coverage makes it all that much worse.”
“Does insurance pay for it?”
“Most companies won’t pay for the actual reassignment procedure, but they will cover some of the steps leading up to it.”
She looked at me for a moment before asking, “Like?”
“If the plan covers any mental health services, then it will cover the required therapy leading up to SRS.”
She interrupted, “SRS?”
I grinned and said, “Oh yeah, I forget you don’t know all the jargon. SRS stands for sexual reassignment surgery.”
“Ah,” she retorted, her face changing from confusion to understanding before settling on a look of pure empathy.
The more I talked with Ashley, the more I grew to really like her. Equally as important, I think she came to genuinely like me as well. With that in mind, I asked, “So why are you here every night instead of going out? Surely you don’t find this more interesting?”
“Hey, I like hanging out with you. And I get paid to do it!” she barely got out before breaking down in a fit of giggles which I quickly found myself joining in.
Our conversation was interrupted a short while later by Ashley’s hourly trip around the grounds. While she was outside, I started watching some of the movie she’d brought for me. I became so engrossed that I hadn’t noticed that she’d been gone a lot longer than usual.
When I did finally realize that she was still absent, I paused the movie and started looking around the house. I checked the bedroom, kitchen, dining room, and even took a quick look in the basement before heading into the living room.
As I entered, I found myself face to face with a battered and bloodied Ashley, who in no uncertain terms said, “Get to your truck! We have to leave, now!”
Not being one who needs to be told twice, I ran for the garage with the injured Officer Banks trailing behind me. I helped her into the passenger side before climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine.
I hit the automatic door opener and as I started backing out I saw a dark figure standing in the middle of the driveway in my rearview mirror. I threw the truck into reverse and hit the gas, aiming straight for whom I assumed was Joey.
He managed to dive out of the way, after which I romped on the gas pedal as hard as I could. I’m fairly sure I left rather impressive looking skid marks in the process.
While all this was going on, Ashley managed to call in the incident using her radio. “The safe house has been compromised. The witness and I are attempting to ensure that we’re not followed. Awaiting instructions.”
We wound around the city for nearly two hours, constantly checking to make sure we weren’t being followed, while we talked about what to do next.
“Do you need a doctor?” I asked.
“No,” Ashley replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just a little blood and bruising.”
“What do we do now?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t understand how he found us.”
I sat there for a moment feeling guilty before I said, “I suppose it could’ve been me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Detective Johnson took away my cell phone the other day because he said it could be used to track down my location.”
“They can, but you have to know the number to do it.”
“That’s what I thought. I told him I didn’t think Joey had that number, since he’d never called it, but the detective thought it would be better to be safe than sorry.”
“Looks like he had a point,” she said. “But that still doesn’t explain how he found us. I mean, if it were the phone, why take this long to make his move?”
“I don’t know.”
We eventually found ourselves heading out of town and at Tim and Beth’s place. We pulled in and got out of the truck, then went straight inside after confirming that nobody had followed us.
As soon as Beth saw us, she came running to me and grabbed me in a fierce hug while asking, “Are you all right? What happened?”
Returning her hug, I responded, “We ran into a little bit of a problem. Any chance we can hang out here until the police arrange another location?”
Beth smiled and said, “Do you really think you need to ask?”
Looking toward Tim, who hadn’t yet acknowledged my presence, I asked, “What about him? You know, what with things changing with me and all?”
In answer to my questions, Beth turned and gestured toward Tim as if to say ‘ask him’.
I decided there was no time like the present and cleared my throat before saying, “Hey cuz. How’s it going?”
He looked up from the book he was reading and uncomfortably said, “Hey Har…Hannah. You all right?” I’m not sure why, but knowing that he was willing to make even that much effort for me brought tears to my eyes. Before I knew it I had headed toward him and gave him a gentle hug in response.
As I released the hug and tried to wipe the tears out of my eyes I said, “Thanks Tim.”
“What for? I haven’t done anything,” he replied.
“Oh, but you have,” I retorted as I gave him a smile.
Ashley interrupted the family reunion, “Is there any way we can stay here until my superiors figure out a new location for Hannah?”
“There’s no need to ask,” said Beth. “Coffee anyone?”
Once we’d gotten settled Beth made coffee for everyone, which we drank as we filled her in on what had transpired at the safe house. After that I crashed on the sofa while Ashley waited for word from Detective Johnson concerning our next move.
The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake. As I started to regain consciousness, I realized that it was the good detective doing the shaking, at which I asked, “What’s next?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied.
“Gee, that engenders a lot of confidence in a girl.”
“Yeah, well I guess I deserved that,” he said, half chuckling. “You all right?”
“Still a little spooked, but all right. Is Ashley…?”
“She’s fine. A few scrapes and bruises, nothing major. Probably got worse during training at the academy.”
I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that my new friend was all right, but it was short-lived as I remembered what Detective Johnson had said to me about using my cell phone. That thought forced me to tentatively ask, “So was this my fault?”
He thought for a moment before replying, “Who knows? He might’ve tracked your location with the GPS, or he might’ve simply followed one of the officers guarding you.”
“You think that’s possible?” I asked. “I mean, I hate to say this, but Officer Banks was with me every night for over a week. If he knew that he could’ve easily tailed her straight there.” I felt a shiver run down my spine as I thought about that.
“It doesn’t really matter how he tracked you down. All that matters is that we don’t let it happen again.” After a brief pause to allow that to sink in, he then said, “Now on another note, we need to get you to a more secure location.”
“You’ll forgive me if I seem a bit resistant to that idea. After all, your last ‘secure’ location turned out to not be all that secure after all.”
“I suppose that’s true. Still,” he retorted, “I’d prefer having you somewhere easier to defend than here.”
“And I would hate to impose on my cousin any more than I have already,” I added. “I just wish this was over already.”
“I know, Miss Dawson,” he said, after which I glanced at my cousin Tim whose reaction surprised me in a good way. He simply smiled at me.
My mind began wandering, only to be brought back by the detective’s voice saying, “We could set up a trap for him, if you’d be willing?”
“What did you say?” I asked, as I missed some of what he’d said while allowing my inner thoughts free reign of my head.
“I suggested setting a trap for Joey,” he repeated.
I stared at him, my veins coursing with a combination of excitement and fear. Excitement that this might all end soon, coupled with fear that it might all end soon. Once I found my voice I asked, “What do you have in mind?”
Detective Johnson looked thoughtfully distracted for a moment before finally replying, “We’ll set up a trap for him at your apartment.”
“But how?” I asked, confused by the sudden change in position.
“We’ll post numerous officers around the complex, waiting for him to make his move. He’ll never know what hit him,” he said almost smugly.
At that moment the thought occurred to me to ask, “If we’re going to do something like this, is there any way we can arrange for Ashley to be with me? I’ve grown quite fond of her.”
“I’d have never guessed,” he quipped. “I’m sure we can work something out. She didn’t appear to be too badly injured, so I’d say it’s up to her as much as anything.”
“I know you had her taken to the emergency room to be checked out, but have you heard anything about her condition?”
“Hang on,” he said, picking up his cell phone and calling police headquarters. “Hey, Johnson here…any word on Banks?… Yeah, that’s her. Injured while guarding our witness…Really?…that sounds like good news…Great…Good…Later…” he then closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
“Sounds like she’ll be fine. Nothing more than some scrapes and bruises,” he reported.
“Wonderful!” I enthused, making no effort whatsoever to disguise my rapidly growing emotional attachment to Ashley Banks.
Detective Johnson left the house, I presumed to conduct a recon of the property since we had planned to stay at Tim and Beth’s until everything was ready to set up the trap. Once he was gone Beth wasted no time in pouncing on me with questions.
“How long have you known this Ashley?” she asked.
“Not a real long time. Just a week or so really,” I replied, blushing profusely.
“You like her!” she accused. “A lot, if the heat rising from your cheeks is any indication.”
“Okay fine. Yes, I like her,” I finally admitted. “She had volunteered to stay with me every night this past week. We spent almost the entire time talking about stuff.”
“Stuff?” Beth probed for details.
“Yes, stuff,” I responded. “We talked about everything you could imagine. I’ve probably been more relaxed with her than I think I’ve ever been with anyone…ever!”
“And is it reciprocated?”
I thought for a moment before admitting, “I don’t know for sure, but I think so.”
“Well, I hope so. I think you deserve a little happiness.”
“I’d like to think so too.”
At that moment, Detective Johnson returned from outside, saying, “Looks like the trap will be ready by morning, so if it’s all right with your family I thought we’d stay here overnight.”
I didn’t even have a chance to say anything because Beth jumped in, “Well, yeah! No problem. You need anything, Detective?”
“Thank you no,” he replied.
“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” Beth said, as she got ready to leave the room.
“Don’t go on my account,” said the detective.
“Oh, I’m not,” she responded. “I’ve just got a few things to get done before dinner.”
“Don’t let me keep you then,” he replied before turning his attention back to me. “I’ve arranged for your things to be transported back to your apartment overnight.”
I looked rather concerned as I said, “I do hope they’re careful with my baby.”
“Rest assured that ample care will be taken with everything, including your baby.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Okay then.”
Detective Johnson’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open, saying, “Johnson here…good, I figured as much…just a moment.”
He turned to me and said as he handed me the phone, “Banks wants to talk to you.”
I took it from him and put it to my ear, “Ashley?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she quipped.
My heart soared at the sound of her voice, making me think Beth might be right. “It’s just so good to hear your voice.”
“Yours too. Listen,” she said. “I’m not going to make it back tonight.”
“I expected that,” I replied, trying not to let my disappointment show in my voice. “I’ll just have to see you tomorrow.”
“Guaranteed,” she said. “It’s a little weird spending the night apart.”
I felt a flutter in my tummy as I said, “Yeah, I know. You try to get some rest, okay?”
“I will. You get some sleep too, all right?”
“I’ll try,” I replied.
Detective Johnson reached out and took the phone from my ear and said to me, “We’d best cut this short, just in case.”
Into the phone, he said, “Banks, we’ll see ya at her apartment tomorrow…good night.” He then closed the phone and put it back in his pocket.
“So that’s it then?” I asked. “We’re doing it tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan. Nervous?”
I thought for a moment before responding, “Yes and no. I think I’m mostly just looking forward to having this thing over with.”
“Well, don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon,” he said as he placed a hand on my shoulder. I can’t explain it, but at that moment I felt a strange chill run through my body.
Beth came in at that moment and said, “Soup’s on.” She then turned and left without looking to see if we were following. We were.
As we settled in for dinner, the room fell silent for a while as we enjoyed the fruits of Beth’s labors. Once the meal was done, I helped Beth clean up. I was rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher when Beth brought in the next load of dishes.
“I know we covered some of this earlier, but does this Ashley know how you feel?” she asked out of the blue.
Taken aback, I stammered, “Uh, well, ahh…I uh…”
“You need to tell her, you know,” she said as she stepped behind me and gently hugged me.
“But…” I stumbled.
“But nothing,” she countered. “I can see it in your eyes every time her name is mentioned and I’d be willing to bet that not only is the feeling reciprocated, she probably already knows.”
“Well, if that’s the case…” I argued.
“Just say it,” she said with some finality. Giving me a final little squeeze, she then left me to my task and my thoughts…
…Looking into Ashley’s eyes, I asked, “So do you have anyone special?”
“’Fraid not. Not really much time for that kind of thing, ya know?”
“Yeah,” I responded as I reached out and touched her hand, sending a surge of electricity through me. At that moment, I nearly told her I thought I was starting to develop feelings for this marvelous woman. Unfortunately I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so…
…Detective Johnson cleared his throat, bringing me back from my thoughts. He then said, “You were about a million miles away.”
“Sorry,” I replied. “I was just thinking.”
“Yeah, well,” he began. Continuing, he said, “You’d best get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
As I put the last of the dishes into the machine, I said, “True. Guess I’ll go get some rest.”
“Good night,” he said as I left him standing in the kitchen. I wandered into the guest room and fell onto the bed, losing consciousness before my head hit the pillow…
…I wandered into the living room to find Ashley, obviously hurt, standing there shouting, “Get to the truck! We have to get out of here!”
I turned and ran for the garage, hoping she was right behind me, but by the time I’d gotten to the garage door I knew something was wrong. Slowly turning my head to look behind me I saw a dark figure looming there, about to reach out to grab me.
“No!” I screamed as he took hold of me, grabbing me by both wrists and shaking me. “No!” I screamed again.
At some point I was able to see around my attacker, where I saw Ashley slumped on the floor unmoving. I tried to scream again, but no sound would come out.
This faceless stranger dragged me back into the living room where he threw me down on the floor and growled, “Where’d you think you were going? Thought you could get away from me? Ha!” He began laughing, a dark, twisted chortle containing only anger and hatred.
I looked up at him and his features started to come into focus, but he hit me in the head and I flopped down on the floor crying…
…I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. Looking around the room I realized I was still at Tim and Beth’s house, as I remembered why I was there. Gradually I began to calm down enough to try going back to sleep, but found that every time I started to drift off the image of that faceless figure returned to my thoughts, jarring me back awake. Tossing and turning until nearly dawn, I finally drifted back off to sleep where thankfully I managed to find a couple of hours of dreamless slumber.
When I finally arose from bed I quickly showered and dressed before joining Beth and Detective Johnson in the kitchen, where they were drinking coffee.
As soon as he noticed that I’d joined them, Detective Johnson asked, “You ready to get this show on the road?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” I responded as I poured myself a cup and took a seat at the table with them.
Beth then said, “Ya know, we still haven’t had a chance to go shopping.”
“I’d noticed that. Soon as this mess is over, we’ll have to remedy that situation.”
“Absolutely,” she replied.
The detective interrupted girl talk time saying, “Finish up your java. It’s about time to hit the road.”
I took a deep breath before swallowing the dregs of my cup. After rinsing the cup and placing it into the dishwasher I turned to face him and said, “Guess it’s time to go then.”
Following him to the front door, I was paused by Beth who gripped me in a rather powerful hug as she said, “Be careful.”
“Hey, what could go wrong? I have a personal escort and everything.”
Detective Johnson led me out to an unmarked car and after getting settled we began our journey. I must have allowed my mind to wander, since when I finally noticed where we were it seemed we were heading in the wrong direction.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He ignored my question and continued driving until I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked more forcefully, “Where are we going?” Again he ignored my question and kept driving silently. At that point I opened my car door, which prompted him to grab hold of my arm quite roughly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at me as he yanked my arm back toward him.
“Getting out of here!” I shouted back, full of far more bravery than I actually felt.
“Oh, no you don’t!” he said as he managed to pull me close enough to him that my door was pulled back shut. Then before I had the chance to try to open it again, he hit a button on his door turning off the automatic locks and windows for all the passengers, followed by locking the doors.
“Let me out!” I shouted. He responded by laughing at me, at which point I began to cry, from fear or frustration I know not. As the tears continued to fall I withdrew into myself and began to think about things. How I’d wound up here, what I could’ve done to avoid all this mess…basically, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong and what I could do about it.
Gradually I regained control of my tear ducts and once I felt like I could string together a complete thought I asked, “Why? What’s this all about?”
He let out a little snort and shook his head as his face took on an evil grin, saying, “All in good time.” I got no other response.
Undeterred, I continued peppering him with questions, “I thought you were trying to help me?” I couldn’t help myself as I again dissolved into tears.
A little while later a thought occurred to me, prompting me to resume questioning my abductor, “How did you think you could get away with this?”
For the first time since I realized what was going on, Detective Johnson was a bit more forthcoming, “Easy. You’ll be dead long before you’re missed.”
“But…” I began, searching for the words to complete the thought, “…what about Beth and Tim? They’ll notice right away if I’m gone.”
“You don’t really think I’m going to tell the plan, do you?”
“You’re bound to get caught,” I argued, trying to ruffle his unsettlingly calm demeanor.
“It’s all been planned,” he replied smugly. “Besides, no one will miss a freak like you.”
A part of me wanted to kill him right then and there, but another part just wanted to curl up and disappear. I knew that beyond Tim and Beth there were very few people who would notice if I were gone and most of them not for quite some time. As that thought rattled around inside my head, I drifted off into a sort of half sleep.
I must’ve been sort of out of it for a while, because when I realized we were stopping I looked around and had absolutely no idea where we were. All I could see were trees in every direction, even tightly lining the road making it clear that we were fairly deep in the woods somewhere outside of town.
The detective climbed out of the car, quickly slamming his door shut before I could try to climb out through his side and running around the car to my side. He pushed the lock button on his remote and yanked the door open, grabbing and pulling me out. I tried to look around in an attempt to figure out where we were, but again came up empty. Just then, I saw someone heading toward us.
As Joey walked toward the car, I looked at Detective Johnson hoping that he was going to do something. What happened next was not what I was expecting.
“Dude, you’re late,” Joey grumbled at the detective.
“Yeah well, maybe if you’d done your job right we wouldn’t need to be here dealing with this,” Detective Johnson said as he gave my arm a good yank.
This exchange confused the heck out of me, but before I could ask anything Joey said, “Careful little brother, don’t make me ‘deal’ with you next.”
“You don’t have the guts,” Detective Johnson countered. He then laughed as he said, “I’m not even sure you can knock me out after this like we planned.”
“You may be family, but don’t push your luck,” Joey replied. Then he turned his attention to me and said, “You look confused, girly boy.”
Both of them erupted in laughter, obviously sharing an inside joke. As I stood there staring at them dumbfounded I heard a truck coming. In response to the sound, my captors began trying to drag me away from the road and into the forest.
“Good a time as any,” Joey said as they each took hold of one of my arms and started pulling me toward what I was certain was my imminent death. The roar of the big truck whizzing past made me wonder if that would be the last thing I ever heard, other than my captors killing me.
As we were making our way into the woods where nothing could really be seen from the road, several cars pulled up beside Detective Johnson’s and car doors could be heard opening and closing quickly. In response, Joey and the detective tried to pick up the pace as they dragged me to what they intended would be my death. When we reached a clearing, they threw me down on the ground and both drew their guns preparing for my execution.
I heard a commotion nearby and in an act of self preservation curled up trying to make myself as small a target as possible. Then I simply tried to brace myself for what appeared to be the inevitable.
I heard several shots fire from what sounded like multiple directions and as I began to relax after tensing up from the sound, wondered why I hadn’t felt anything. As I opened my eyes and began to look around, I saw the co-conspirators lying on the ground, still and lifeless followed by the most wonderful sight I had ever seen.
Several police officers were heading my way, led by the lovely and talented Officer Banks. I stood up as Ashley got to me, throwing her arms around me in what I was certain was the fiercest hug in history. At first all I could do was return the hug, but eventually what had just happened started to sink in and I began to cry tears of joy and relief.
As I struggled to gain control of myself I asked, “How?”
She looked into my eyes and replied, “I followed Johnson from a distance, using a tracking signal. Once I knew he’d stopped, I called in for reinforcements and then waited for some commercial truck traffic to cloak our arrival.”
“But…how’d you know?”
“I didn’t for sure. I’d been a little suspicious for the last several days, but…” she stopped short.
I looked into her eyes and said, “I have never been happier to see anyone in my life.” I then resumed the earlier embrace, wishing it would never have to end.
Eventually, she led me back out of the woods to a waiting squad car. She helped me into the back seat before going around and getting in the back with me. Almost as soon as the doors were closed, I began sobbing as she held me gently and made calming sounds, lightly stroking my hair with her hand.
When I was finally able to speak, I told her, “I don’t know if you will want to hear this or not, but when he was driving me out here the thing I kept thinking about was that I wished I’d told you that I’ve been developing feelings for you.”
For what felt like about a month and a half, but was probably more like a few seconds, she held me silently as I stewed about the fact that I’d just revealed what was in my heart to her and yet she didn’t respond at all. With each passing nanosecond I could feel my heart breaking wide open. I began to wish I’d never said anything.
Finally she spoke, “About time!” While I processed what she’d just said, she placed a finger under my chin, raising my face until I was looking directly into hers. She then slowly leaned forward and lightly brushed my lips with hers.
They may have just barely touched, but the electricity that passed between us at that moment caused my heart to skip a beat…a sensation I hoped would repeat often over the next, say sixty years or so. I whispered, “Can we do that again?” as my face broke into a huge grin.
She replied, “You didn’t really think I volunteered for all those night guard shifts out of a sense of duty, did you?” She then once again kissed me…
The End