Blue Nails Chapter 7

Printer-friendly version

Author: 

Audience Rating: 

Publication: 

Genre: 

Character Age: 

TG Elements: 

TG Themes: 

Permission: 

Chapter 7

Annie, the junior assistant mother hen of Hope House, gets some counseling and a makeover

Monday, July 14
"What about this top and these shorts. Do they work together?" I asked Sarah this morning.
"Oh, Annie, no! Don’t you see that those two blues don’t work at all together? They don’t exactly clash, but they don’t look good, either. Why don’t you wear white shorts?" Sarah asked.
"I wore white shorts yesterday," I responded. When I lived as a boy, picking clothes was much easier. "And we didn’t get time over the weekend to wash the dark load with my jeans and jean shorts."
"I know! It’s cooler today. Try Miss Kansas!" I groaned. Miss Kansas was the nickname we gave to another contribution from Aunt Claire. It was a nicely cut knit dress, ankle-length, long sleeves, and high collar. But the problem was the pattern–on a blue background, the dress was covered with big, bright sunflowers.
"Not exactly the height of teen sophistication," I muttered as I took it off the hanger and slipped it on.
"Annie, youre not exactly a sophisticated teen, and that’s one of the things I love about you. That dress fits your comfortable, cozy personality to a tee," Sarah smiled.
"I’d rather be wearing a tee, and jeans, but I promised to wear everything once," I grudgingly agreed. "It’s a little awkward to work in PT like this, but it’ll be okay, I guess." Actually, it was very comfortable, and I had to agree that I looked nice in it. In Wichita, I would look even nicer.
Sarah and I took a side trip after PT. We went up to the ICU visiting room and saw Roberta’s mother. She hugged us both tightly.
"How is Roberta?" I asked.
"You know what they say? ‘As well as can be expected?’ Her condition is critical, but there’s a good chance that she will pull through. She has every other time. It’s just that"–her voice caught–every time she gets a little weaker. I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news, but the doctors said that they are putting her name on the heart transplant list now–she’ll be a long ways from the top of the list, but it will come sooner than we had thought. It’ll have to come, I’m afraid, or her little heart will just wear out."
It was really hard to think about that cute little girl needing to have her heart replaced if she was ever going to grow up to be a teenager. We talked a little longer, and gave Roberta’s mother the new set of earrings we had made.
"She just loves the others you made," she said, thanking us. "She was angry when they wouldn’t let her bring them with her over here. But I have an idea. I’ll check and see if I can hook them onto something in her room, where she can see them. Roberta would love that!" She hugged us again. She gave birth to Roberta when she was still a teenager, she had told us earlier, so she wasn’t that many years older than we were. That made her lonely at Hope House. She was too old to be "one of the kids," fitting in like me, and too young to be comfortable with some of the other parents. I’m glad we could be her friend. Before we left, I asked if she would let us know when it came time for Roberta to get a new heart, so we could be there for them. She smiled and said that she couldn’t promise anything, because when it happened it would happen quickly, but she would try.
On the way back, Sarah Beth looked at me quizzically. "Do you realize that you offered for us to come see her–Sarah and Annie? They don’t know you’re Mark."
"I hadn’t thought about that! Oh, well. We can sort that out later, I guess. Maybe Annie can be tied up at college, and Mark can bring you. Or something."
"Or something," Sarah said, shaking her head.
After chemo, I saw a note with my name on it on the bulletin board. Mrs. Burdugo, the administrator, wanted to see me. A sense of dread came over me, like with a summons to go the principal’s office. I took Sarah up to the room, and whispered, "She couldn’t have found out, could she?
Mrs. Burdugo is petite, always professionally dressed, and has a no-nonsense look about her. She would make a good school principal. She smiled when I knocked on her open door and stepped inside. Good sign.
"Annie, do come in! I love that dress, by the way. It really fits you. Practical, down-to-earth, warm, friendly, kind of old-fashioned, but in a very nice way." I smiled and thanked her. "I am never afraid to admit when I’m wrong," she said, "And I was wrong about you." Dangerous words, but her smile seemed genuine. I smiled back, still a little nervous. "I was strongly tempted not to admit you and Sarah Beth to Hope Haven. You are just the minimum age to be a healing partner, and I wasn’t sure that you could handle life here. I thought you might have become irresponsible and rowdy, or that you could have ended up as an emotional basket case, not being able to handle the situations that we face here. It was only because your sister seemed so vulnerable that we allowed it. Well, like I said, I was mistaken. You are mature, helpful, and a real asset, not to just your sister but to everybody here. That haircutting party was a bit over the top," she smiled, "but Billy Yates would vote for you for president right now because of it. You and Sarah have made such a difference for Billy and for Kelly Cassidy, too. She had always been a hard case, sullen and unresponsive, until you two adopted her."
"Oh, well. Maybe the time was just right." I made a mental note to try and call Kelly, just to see how she was getting along.
"Anyway, Annie, you seem to have become my unofficial morale officer around here. Keep up the good work," she invited. "We have a young man coming in tomorrow or Wednesday, by the way. He’s had surgery for a brain tumor, and isn’t in very good shape. Take him under your wing, would you?" Sure, I agreed.
Sarah let out a big sigh of relief when I came back up smiling, and told her what a sweet, friendly, helpful, old-fashioned girl I was. "I knew it all along," she grinned.
I lost a nail today, my second since I’ve been here. I’d hoped they would stay intact for the full six weeks. Oh, well.
Tuesday, July 14
It was rainy from the git-go today, scattered thundershowers with just plain showers in between. They run a shuttle from Hope Haven to the children’s hospital which we usually ignore. Today we just missed it. I was wearing jeans and the printed top I wanted to wear yesterday. So we went back to our room, parked our hair and put on scarves, stuffed a dry set of clothes in a small duffel, and I rolled her across the street through the downpour. I had wrapped plastic around Sarah’s leg and across her lap. We had also stuck our swim gear and a hair dryer in the bag (not for its conventional use, obviously–even Sarah’s brows and lashes were thinning out rather badly by this time). When we arrived at PT, we went swimming, so any dampness around the cushion part of Sarah’s prosthesis would have time to dry out. Then a change of clothes, followed by working together on some exercise equipment, still with her leg stashed in a corner. I helped Sarah onto the exercise bike, to show her she could cycle with one leg, as well as to work on her hip muscles. I had fashioned a velcro strap to help keep her foot on the pedal during the upswing. Later, I figured, we could try the same thing with the prosthesis.
We took a break about 10. Kevin sat down with us, and we sipped cokes.
"I have a question," she asked Kevin. "I have to use the walker all the time when I walk now. And it feels like I walk for miles every day, but I know that compared to what I used to do, I’m not walking far at all. Will I need the walker this fall, when I start back to high school? Or will I have to spend most of my time in the chair? What can I expect?"
Kevin explained to her that since she was young, strong, and most important, stubborn, she was doing quite well with her therapy. "Assuming you stay in good health, and don’t have any setbacks, you should be ready to walk when you go back to school. I would recommend that you use a cane, and you’ll be working with that before you leave here. But with all the jostling you receive, a cane will help you keep your balance, and preserve your strength. There will be some days when you’re tired or not feeling good that the walker will be your best friend, and other days you will need the chair."
"The walker? I was hoping nobody back home would see it. It makes me feel like a little old lady in a nursing home." Sarah said.
"Maybe we could jazz it up a little bit," I pondered. "We’ll talk to Mark about it. He may have some ideas to make that walker look downright trendy."
Kevin went on to explain that it would take Sarah anywhere from 6-18 months to achieve her full potential with the prosthesis. Sarah frowned a bit when he said that her gait would never be quite like it was before, but he quickly explained that it wouldn’t be nearly as noticeable as she thought it would.
Wednesday, July 15
Lost nail number three sometime during the night, and couldn’t find it in the bedding this morning. I’ve been painting the uncovered nails blue, but they are noticeable. I can’t say they stick out like a sore thumb, because they don’t stick out. It’s the other ones that do. Sarah Beth was really surprised. The acrylics are very long lasting. She wondered if Joan Kim attached them less tightly, to make it easier on me to remove them later.
Sarah Beth and I worked out together on some of the exercise machines in PT today. One of the things I haven’t mentioned is that in addition to learning how to walk in a new way, she’s also building up her arm and upper body strength, so when she uses crutches or the wheelchair, she’ll have more endurance. I told her that I needed to work out with her just to make sure that she wouldn’t end up being able to beat me at arm wrestling.
We had an official conference today with Kevin, Mrs. Burdugo, and Sarah’s oncologist–sort of a half-way mark evaluation. Everything looked good.
I called Reverend McGrail for an appointment. I’ll see her tomorrow.
The new kid came today. He was in the living room when we got back from chemo. His mother, a well-dressed lady, was with him.
"Hi, I’m Roger," he grinned as he greeted us.
"Hi, I’m Julie Holding, but everybody here calls me Annie, because my sister Sarah does. Nice to meet you, Roger." Sarah said hi too. Roger’s a big guy that you could tell used to be bigger. He uses a wheelchair–not because he’s paralyzed, he explained, but because the tumor that was just operated on destroyed the hearing in one ear, and totally messed up his balance. He was wearing expensive looking but well-worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a nice denim shirt. His head was shaved, and some still angry-looking scars traced a box on his skull, showing where they had operated. Brain cancer, I had heard. He was only fifteen.
"What’s your last name, Roger?" Sarah asked.
"Cameron."
"Where are you from, Roger Cameron," I asked.
"Cameron." I thought that his hearing problem had caused him to misunderstand my question, so I repeated it more clearly.
"No, I heard," he said. "I’m Roger Cameron and I’m from Cameron."
"Wow. The whole town’s named after you?" Sarah asked.
"No. It was named before me. But it was named after my great-great grandfather." Roger talked even more slowly and with more of a western drawl than I did in my Julie role, so it took awhile to converse. But you could tell that in spite of being a shy kid, he was really enjoying talking with (he thought) two teen girls who weren’t turned off by his condition. That’s one neat thing about Hope Haven. You have to learn to accept people as they are. His mother stayed in the background, but you could tell that she was happy that her son was finding new friends. He had just come over from inpatient status at the children’s hospital, and would be here for several weeks to go over for chemotherapy and physical therapy, a program similar to Sarah Beth’s. His chemo would be with heavier doses, though, since the surgery wasn’t completely successful. Parts of the cancer had wrapped itself around critical areas, so they couldn’t remove it all without destroying vital parts of his brain. The chemo, and later, radiation therapy, could slow or stop the cancer, at least for awhile, but the odds weren’t good. I was amazed at how open both he and his mother were about the seriousness of his situation. The kid was dying, he knew it, and he was dealing with it. I volunteered to help him in PT–I had some pretty good ideas about what Kevin would want to try to keep his muscles from atrophying.
Thursday, July 16
The prosthetics people were fussing around Sarah Beth today, making adjustments and measurements for the more realistic looking leg that would replace the mechanical looking one. Kevin and I spent time with Roger, working up some routines to work with him on. Roger was still so weak from his ordeal was passive exercises–us or machines moving his limbs for him. I asked if water therapy was a possibility. It was, Kevin explained, but they would have to be very careful to compensate for Roger’s lack of balance. With the proper flotation devices and an assistant on each side–one of the staff people on one side and me on the other–we could do it, starting next week. As the machine moved Roger’s arm, I sat by him and we talked. I didn’t know rich kids could be shy and sweet, but Roger was. A lot of kids thought he was stuck up, he told me, and he didn’t have many friends. He had wanted to ask a girl that he thought was real pretty to a dance last Fall, but he didn’t. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he said, "That was probably my last chance to ever go on a date, and I blew it. I’ve never even been kissed by a girl, except for mom, of course, and some obnoxious aunts."
I smiled and shook my head. "Roger, it would ruin my professional status as an official PT volunteer to plant a big smacker on a client. And besides I don’t kiss on first dates."
His eyes grew wide. "Oh, no! I wasn’t hinting or asking…I mean…I…I’m sorry."
I patted the shoulder of the arm that wasn’t being cranked up and down by the machine. "It’s okay, Roger. I knew you didn’t mean anything by it. I shouldn’t have teased you. I can see your circulation is all better, though. Your face is all red. You’re a sweet kid, Roger." We continued to talk. I told him about life in Fort Russell, adapting my own stories into a female context, and throwing in some of Julie’s basketball experiences. I told him about my boyfriend–to all the people we talked to, Sarah Beth and I both had boyfriends, and both of them were named Mark, but with different last names, of course. He told me that up until a few months ago, he spent all his spare time on the ranch, working hard in the outdoors and loving the wide open prairie.
After lunch, I changed into the blue floral print skirt and the blouse that went with it, one of the outfits that mom had brought for me the day after my big makeover. It was attractive but conservative, the kind of thing a girl would wear to go on a job interview, or to talk to a pastor. Sarah Beth was tired and feeling the effects of the chemo, so she stayed in the room and rested.
I wasn't sure what I was getting into when I drove to the Presbyterian church near the campus to talk with Rev. McGrail. In a way, I was glad she was a woman minister–it seemed a little less threatening somehow to tell a woman about my situation than telling a man. When I first introduced myself as Annie, she remembered that we had visited the church before with our parents. "Oh, yes. I remember how delighted I was that you all chose to worship with us–you looked like such a nice family. Then I was disappointed when the guest register showed you lived out of town. Now that I know you and your sister are at Hope Haven, I'll be glad to come by and visit."
It really got her attention when I swore her to secrecy–confidentiality, she called it–and told her I was not only Annie, I was Mark. She explained later that at first she thought I might have a multiple personality disorder, then gender dysphoria–being miserable and feeling out of place in the gender one's born into. I had the feeling that she could handle either situation without losing her cool, and soon began comfortable talking with this tiny woman with half-glasses and short gray hair. She mostly listened, which is what I mostly needed–just to have somebody to talk to.
When she did talk, she gave me a lot to think about. It helped me surface and be able to name a lot of feelings I had stirring around. Here are some comments I want to remember.
"The tension you live under must be terrific. You've talked about the tension of being discovered, the tension of having to misrepresent who you are and to lie to cover up who you are, when you are clearly not a dishonest person. Then there's the sexual tension of being Sarah's boyfriend while trying to be her sister."
"You are so utterly believable as Annie, in all the little things. I once knew a man who wanted to be a woman, and he even got to the point of living as one full time, but you are more believable than he was. I think it's because he wanted to be the sexy, glamorous woman that he fantasized about, and you're just a nice, ordinary, pleasant girl."
"You've come to like Annie quite a lot, haven't you? I know that you are doing all this for your love of Sarah, but I'd say that Annie has become another girl in your life."
"When you answer questions or supply information to others about Annie, you say that you answer for Julie when it comes to questions about your past, but you answer for Annie–with a little bit of Mark mixed in–when it comes to how you're feeling or what you want to do now. Interesting. In a way, you don't see yourself as being dishonest, because you are so deep into your Annie role that you really see yourself as her."
"I'm concerned about your transition back to Mark. I know that you want to live as Mark again, but I don't think that you can just switch Annie off like you'd turn off a light. I'm not suggesting that you wear dresses, or anything, but you've changed your whole emotional frame of reference, and you can't deny to your inner self that that has happened. I suspect that there's a lot about Annie that you would do well to accept and incorporate into Mark. No, I don't mean the obvious things, like wardrobe or feminine mannerisms–that could get you in a lot of trouble. But Annie has some wonderful qualities that I'm sure were there in Mark, but maybe not as near the surface."
We agreed to see each other again, and that it would help to have at least one three-way session, with Sarah Beth joining us. It was a big relief to me to have permission from an objective outsider that it was okay for me to like being Annie, that this wasn't somehow betraying or endangering Mark.
I got back in time to take Sarah on a walk before supper, so we could talk freely about what I'd discovered. Sarah looked back from her wheelchair at me, and said "I'm glad you like Annie, Mark. I never realized either how she'd take on this much of a life of her own. When we're back together at home as Mark and Sarah, I'll really be happy. But it makes me feel good to know that Annie will always be a part of you, too." I couldn't help but kiss her.
Friday, July 17
Every afternoon after we get back from chemo or our other afternoon schedules, I shave, and then put on new makeup for the rest of the day. My beard isn’t heavy, but it is dark enough I don’t want it to show through. The past few days, Sarah has come to the bathroom door, and watched me, smiling, as I strip down to my panties (no, I didn’t bring any guy’s underwear–too much of a security risk), clean off the old makeup, lather up, and start mowing down my whiskers.
"Watcha doing?" I asked, as she sat there.
"Standing guard–or sitting guard. And I like to watch you do that."
"Why?"
"Most of the time I need you to be Annie, because Annie keeps me safe and sane around here," she said in a very soft voice, so nobody walking by in the hallway could hear. "But I miss Mark, and now, if I ignore the blue panties and blue nails, it’s Mark I see. I love you, Mark." I went over and kissed her, smearing her face with shaving cream in the process. She kissed back, and didn’t pull away. "But please"–she whispered–"we’d better stay safe. It’s time to be Annie again."
Saturday July 18
Every Saturday morning, Sarah Beth and I make our way down to the laundry room and do our week’s worth of laundry. I’m getting to be quite the washerwoman. I tote, she sorts, I toss the stuff from machine to machine, she folds, and lately, I’ve been ironing. It’s easier for me to stand, so she’s taught me all the tricks. I’m pretty good at it, too. It’s all a new experience for me. Mom usually does all the laundry–Dad’s not a slouch with housework, don’t get me wrong–so I had a lot to learn. It’s a great time just to be together, to relax, and to talk. It’s funny how you can enjoy just doing the ordinary things together, like folding undies.
Julie came in as we were finishing, and helped us carry the stuff upstaris. She had gotgen a ride over this weekend, instead of parental units–one of them had to work Saturday. She had asked if she could take the car back to Westlands with her, because she needed it for some college functions. We met her at a mall and ate lunch together. Sarah and I both wore western-cut long denim skirts and white blouses. We wore our wigs. Julie promised us a special treat, and drove us to a full service beauty and nail shop (oh, no!). Since it was a short distance from the lot to the shop, Sarah walked, using her walker.
For Sarah, it was to be a facial, a wig styling and tinting, and a manicure. We didn’t want them to touch my makeup, since this time the operators didn’t know about my male identity. She signed me up for a replacement set of nails, a pedicure, and an eyebrow trim. (The wax job from my initial makeover had gone by the wayside, and Sarah had been plucking new hairs out to keep me presentable–a major ouch.)
The nail tech, a middle-aged blonde named Augusta (call me Gussie), began tinkering and puttering on my nails. I explained that I would need to remove them in two weeks because of a new job.
"If you’re only going to keep them for two weeks, do you want to play around with some longer ones?" Gussie asked with a bright smile. She pointed to her own multi-colored claws, at least half an inch longer than mine. I saw Julie grin.
"No!" I almost shouted. Then I smiled. "No, thank you. I’m doing volunteer work at the children’s hospital, and I was thinking I might go shorter this time." Gussie nodded.
"Ah, come on, Annie," Julie said. "It’s just for two more weeks. They’ve been your trademark this long. And they go so well with that fashion statement hairdo of yours." I gave in, and agreed to keep the nails at their previous length. Julie offered to pay for an airbrush job, so I could get a new look on them.
"Okay, but it has to be something in blue. That’s a trademark, too." We talked about it awhile, and came up with a terrific idea. Gussie started with a dark midnight blue near the base, and then blended in lighter shades, through royal blue and a light blue near my previous color, to a blue-white tip, almost a spectrum effect.
Julie was impressed. "When you take those off, Annie, keep them and lock them away in a little treasure chest to remember them by. They’re pieces of art." I hadn’t had a pedicure before, but it felt good to have Gussie work on my feet. She painted the toenails in solid colors, but kept the spectrum effect across my toes, working from midnight blue on my big toes to near white on the two outbounds.
Then I changed chairs for the eyebrow waxing. This I wasn’t looking forward to, but it would save the pain of daily plucking for awhile. She brushed on the wax, let it hardened, and yanked it off, on each brow. Ouch again.
"Oops," the operator mumbled. I did not like the sound of that.
"Oops?" I asked.
The operator stared at me intently, then smiled. "Not to worry. They look great. I know that you didn’t want any more taken out than you had previously, though, and the wax spread a little more than I thought it would. But I do think they look better, though."
I looked in the mirror. My once bushy brows, trimmed and shaped a month ago, were definitely more feminine–still not ultra-thin fashion model feminine, but they added a certain daintiness to my face that wouldn’t be welcome when I got my old body back in two weeks. But what could I do? Ask her to put them back in? So I just smiled graciously and agreed they looked very nice. When Sarah Beth saw me, she just raised her own eyebrow a bit. The beautician tinted my brows a little darker, so they were more near my natural color.
In the car, though, I angrily asked Julie. "Did you put her up to this with my eyebrows?" She had played enough tricks on me that I was suspicious.
"No, Annie. Really, I didn’t. It was an honest mistake. If you feel self-conscious about them when we get back home and get you back to manliness, I’ll show you how to fill them out with an eyebrow pencil." Then she grinned. "But since you’ve shaved your head, we could just shave off the eyebrows, too, and that would solve the problem." That might be better, I thought. It would look goofy, but not girlish.
"No!" Sarah shouted. "I like his eyebrows. And Annie–Mark–when you do go back to looking like Mark, you don’t have to keep your head shaved just for my sake. I’m not as gutsy as you or Amanda about my appearance, and when I get home among the kids I’ll have to go to school with, I plan on wearing my wig." She pointed at the freshly styled one on her head. The beautician had done a nice job of giving it a more teen-friendly, natural look. And the color was close enough to Sarah’s own, though not quite there, in my estimation. "And you being bald to be in solidarity with me is a wonderful, romantic gesture, but it will just call other kid’s attention to the fact that I’m bald underneath this. I like your hair, and I want to be able to run my fingers through it again. And besides–your senior pictures are coming up in less than two months. I don’t want people to think you’re a skinhead." Sarah Beth hath spoken. She was right, too. A bald head and girlish eyebrows wouldn’t look too great together on a guy. I don’t think that I’ll wear the five earrings for the photo shoot, either.
Julie dropped us off around the corner from Hope Haven and drove back to college.

up
149 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

If Sarah and Annie had a car

If Sarah and Annie had a car at the Home, won't people there wonder what happened to it, if they notice it being gone? I think I have to agree with the Rev.; Annie is more out in the open than Mark, and may just stay that way after all is said and done. I do wonder if Annie will take Roger dancing and actually give him a kiss, when it is discovered he will not make it thru his treatments? It would be a very special thing for her to do.

Blue Nails Chapter 7

He is a sweet kid and wonder if he will want to stay a girl when this is over.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

I love this story

ALISON

'the warmth and feeling of it is extraordinary.Mark/Annie has it all before her.

ALISON

Still so engaging

... and sad and I think the subject matter makes people uncomfortable. It is not one of those transition stories where the single thread is strictly to follow the physical changes the changee goes through. Any physical changes Annie/Mark goes through is more incidental and a very difficult subject of people going through cancer treatments and possibly hospice care shares the stage at least equally. This is a story of an amazing young wo/man.

Kim

Friends & sisters

Renee_Heart2's picture

Annie & Sarha showd how godd friends they can be with the ear rings for Roberta that was nice of them to stob bye & and Annie to help the new boy to make friends & it was sweet of Julie to pay for new nails for Annie, & Sarha a new style & tent.
Love Samantha Renee Heart

Love Samantha Renee Heart

Just wanted to say thanks ....

... for a well-written and compulsive tale. My feeling is that the friendships the pair of them have made will require more and more frequent Annie-ness during the follow-ups. I also see a job offer on the way, or at least endorsements from the staff for a job elsewhere. And, of course, the staff can only endorse Annie's abilities rather than Mark's. Just for your info., I resisted reading this at first, as the "Blue Nails" bit somehow turned me off the story. I have now another reason to thank you, as I have learned (yet again!) not to "judge a book by it's cover". Thanks very much for this.

Therapy for all?

Jamie Lee's picture

Sarah was the one who came to Haven Hope for chemo and PT. But as time passed it became therapy for everyone involved with Sarah. What she goes through has made everyone search their feelings and their options about others going through similar experiences.

Sarah's sister and parents have an adjustment to make now that cancer has invaded their family. They can't be there everyday because of work, and this may eat at all three for some time. Especially is something more occurs. They will have an adjustment when Sarah returns home. They will hover for fear of her falling at any time, but this will not be helpful to Sarah. They need to treat her as they had in the past, and let Sarah ASK for any help she needs.

For Mark and his parents there's a bit more to adjust to than Sarah losing her leg and the chemo and PT. They had to adjust to their son becoming Annie for the duration of Sarah's stay at Haven Hope.

What they may not have envisioned is the trouble Mark may have becoming Mark once again when Sarah's stay at Haven Hope is over. This realization started the day they went back to their room and Annie broken down. A realization which made Mark seek out someone he could confide in about being Annie and his return to being Mark. That pastor was the right person for him to speak with. She gave him good advice, brought up thoughts he hadn't considered, and was not judgmental in any way.

Both Sarah and Annie found out from the director just how much help they've been since arriving at Haven Hope. Though it's tragic what Sarah has experiences, it's almost as though she and Annie were meant to be at Haven Hope at this time. Had they not been there, Kelly may still be withdrawn, Roberta might have been as happy before her relapse. And many others might not have been help in ways they needed. And neither Sarah or Annie would have ever met Annie.

Others have feelings too.