Joan's Room Chapters 7 and 8

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Synopsis:

Joan keeps her appointment with Dr. Raspberry. Joan, Sam, and Darla spend a fun evening together at the Raspberrys’. Sam has his pitching debut and Joan’s father comes to take her away.

Story:

Chapter 7

I Can’t Dance

Wednesday. I awoke dead tired. I’d slept rather fitfully all night long. I dragged my body out of bed and got ready for work. I felt as though I was walking through water. Every part of my being felt twice its normal weight and everything moved in slow motion. I was glad that I wouldn’t be working with power tools today.

I arrived at work on time as usual. Mr. Ferris and Paul were already at it when I got there. I gave them a brief nod and began sanding. The clock simply refused to move. I stood at my post with my eyes glued to the overhead school-type clock. Finally, Mr. Ferris came over.

"Joan, are you all right?" He asked me with concern in his voice.

"I’m fine Mr. Ferris," I replied. I wasn’t about to spill my guts to him. For all I knew he’d send me home. I needed the money. I did my best to focus on my sanding. It felt like the world was closing in on me. I was drowning in a sea of sawdust. Finally, lunch time arrived. I was far too upset to eat. I got on my bike and peddled a few blocks away and had a smoke. What the hell was I going to do?

Somehow, the nicotine gave me the buzz that I needed to get through the rest of the day. Still, I gave more than a few glances to the clock on the wall. I stayed an extra ten minutes - I owed Mr. Ferris that much. There was no way I’d be working on Aunt Viv’s jewelry box today. I made my way home and jumped in the shower immediately on arrival. I let the cold water run over my body. It helped a bit, but not as much as I’d hoped. I dried myself off, put on some clean clothes and sat down at my desk.

It was time to do a little research on "Dr. Wintergarden." It took me awhile before I could find out just who he was. It seemed he spent the majority of his time testifying in court on child custody proceedings. So, that was Dad’s plan. To get me away from Mom, he’d accuse her of being an unfit mother. Dr. Wintergarden’s opinion went to the highest bidder. There was no way I was keeping that appointment. I’d run away first if I had to. Still, I hoped that Aunt Viv had been able to convince Mom that it was a bad idea. I’d just have to wait till she got home to find out.

I took care of the dog, did some chores, and began preparations for dinner. I couldn’t keep down the anger that kept rising to the surface. Dad left us. He left Mom and me all alone. That wasn’t enough for him. Now he wanted to take me away from her too. I found myself hoping for his sake that he didn’t get his wish. I honestly thought at that moment that I could kill him. That thought scared the hell out of me. Was I on my way to some kind of breakdown?

I made my way outside and started running. I ran as fast as I could and as far as I could until I just couldn’t take another step. I hadn’t locked the door or taken any heed of my appearance. The air burned in my lungs with each and every bit of movement. Again, I felt like screaming. There had to be some way out of this mess. I walked back home slowly; one step at a time till I arrived back at my front door. Shandy cocked her head curiously at me upon my return. She then came over and began rubbing her body against my legs as a cat would. As crazy as her actions had been, they calmed me down.

It was nearing six o’clock and I made final preparations for Mom’s arrival. I was going to tell her first thing about what I’d found on the net about the good doctor. I’d await her reaction before telling her that there was no way in hell that I’d be keeping that appointment. My heart beat faster as I awaited her arrival. Once again, I felt like crying. Was I losing my mind? I put all such thoughts aside and set the table. Mom came through the door as the clock struck six.

"Mom! What are we going to do?" I blurted out as she walked in. I practically attacked her. My arms wrapped tight around her neck, I began blubbering shamelessly.

"It’s all right baby," she cooed. If only I could believe her. I quickly regained control of myself and told her everything I’d found out about Dr. Wintergarden. "I know Joan. Your Aunt Vivian told me and I also did some research on my own. Oh, and I canceled your appointment with him. Nothing short of a court order will have you in his office. I don’t think it’s going to come to that though. So, you stop worrying about it."

"Oh, and I made a formal appointment for you with Dr. Vivian Raspberry. In fact, you’ll be seeing her later this evening. Does that work for you?" She asked me. I began to have hope. Hope that this situation would resolve itself without any bloodshed. I wasn’t some helpless pawn in a game. I calmed down as I served up our food. My hunger slowly returned. It felt like the first food I’d eaten in days. We even managed a few laughs as we sat there eating. I honestly can’t remember what they might have been about though.

I began to get frustrated with the whole ordeal. Couldn’t I just be myself? Why was this all such a "big" deal? Was I mentally ill as Dr. Benjamin’s standards suggested? This was starting to get overwhelming. It’s funny, if I didn’t have to worry about others’ opinions, I’d be perfectly happy. I had my work, my friends, my sweetheart, and a mother that loved me unconditionally. So, why all the fuss?

I knew Aunt Vivian was in my corner. It seemed my debt to the Raspberrys was an ever increasing one. There was nothing I could do about that at the moment. I made myself as pretty as possible and we took the short ride to the Raspberry mansion. Aunt Vivian greeted us at the door. The rest of the family was nowhere in evidence. Aunt Viv and Mom chatted for a few minutes and Mom went off to the family room to watch TV.

I know that they had a home office. Aunt Viv ushered me into the kitchen and told me to take a seat. She poured us some coffee and we started talking. I’m guessing we met in the kitchen rather than the office so that I’d feel more at ease about what was going on. We talked about everything and anything. She made me feel perfectly at ease. There were no "probing" questions. No, "how long have you felt this way?" kind of questions. Just me and my friend’s mother having a chat about life. My stomach stopped churning and I became more comfortable.

It seemed like we’d just sat down to talk, but before I knew what was happening, Aunt Viv left the room to retrieve my mother. I wondered if she was to become part of the process? I guessed that was necessary if Aunt Viv was to make a valid representation as to my state of health. I was dismissed from the kitchen. I thought she was kidding when she told me I could go, but Aunt Vivian was totally serious.

It was my turn to stare mindlessly at the television. Mom never did tell me what they discussed that evening. The only evidence I had that it was in any way "official" was the envelope Mom stuck in her purse as we said our goodbyes. Aunt Viv hugged me and told me not to worry. Her tone convinced me that I had nothing to worry about.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it Joan?" Mom asked.

"It wasn’t bad at all. What were you two talking about all that time?" I had to ask.

"Well, I had to get the evaluation letter for your father. Vivian was more than kind in that regard. She wants to see you on a weekly basis if that’s alright with you?"

"If that’s what it takes, no problem," I said. Besides, I was sure I’d find my way over there after work at least once a week to talk to her. This might not be so bad after all. Still, I hated being told what to do. Though, no one had told me to do anything! Ah, I couldn’t get a handle on my feelings of unease.

"Vivian has handled situations like this before. She assured me that we won’t have any problems," Mom said at last. I hoped they both knew what they were talking about. I knew one thing. I wasn’t going to be corresponding with my father any time soon.

We finally arrived home and spent the rest of the evening in the sewing room. I found myself enjoying the soft hum of the machine more and more as the days passed. Mom asked me if I’d rather have another skort or a blouse made out of the remaining denim. I thought it might look neat to have a complete outfit made out of the same fabric. Usually, denim tops and bottoms didn’t match exactly. I laughed as I thought that Darla would probably want me to give her my new top. Besides, I now had three skorts and two more should be arriving any day now in the mail. I hoped Mom wouldn’t be disappointed that I’d bought them.

It was after nine and I told Mom I was going over to Sam’s for a bit. She told me to go ahead, but just to remember I had to work in the morning. I hadn’t touched my face since we went to Aunt Vivian’s. I hoped that I looked OK.
Sam came running to the door when I knocked as if he’d been expecting me. He gave me a quick hug and suggested we go for a walk.

"I got a really strange phone call today, Joan." I found myself wondering what constituted a strange phone call from Sam’s perspective. "Your father called me. He wanted to know how you were doing and just kept plugging away with all sorts of bizarre questions. I did my best to appear cooperative, but non-committal. I’m not sure what the end result was from his point of view. I hope I didn’t mess things up for you, Joan."

I explained to Sam how I’d botched things up with Dad by sending him the picture of me and Mom in the sewing room. He actually laughed at that. I also assured him that everything was going to be just fine though I didn’t actually believe it myself. Weren’t parents supposed to be supportive? I found myself thinking that this was more about punishing Mom than trying to help me in any way.

"Joan, your Dad’s always seemed like a reasonable guy. I’m sure it’ll all work out." I’d said practically the same thing to him moments before. Were we trying to convince each other that it was true? I made a Sam sandwich of his right hand with both of mine as we sat on a bench staring out to sea. I could have stayed there with him all night, but we both had busy days ahead of us. He held me and kissed me at my front door. I stood and watched as he made his way across the street and inside.

I found myself wondering if I should tell Mom about Dad calling Sam as I walked back inside. I decided that it would probably be the smart thing to do. Her face turned to stone when I relayed the story to her. For a second, as I gazed into her eyes, I could tell that no one was home. Given her precarious state, I resolved not to upset her again needlessly. We needed each other too much for things to get messed up now.

"Mom, could you give me Aunt Mel’s email address?" I asked her. Aunt Melissa was supposed to arrive the first week in August. Perhaps if I explained things to her she could make it here sooner. I figured we could use all the support we could get. Mom told me her email address and I decided that I’d email her tomorrow when I got home from work.

Thursday afternoon arrived and Mr. Ferris deposited another $100 in my waiting hands. I’d worked hard that Thursday from bell to bell. I asked him if I could come in tomorrow to work on Aunt Viv’s jewelry box. He said no, he was going away for the long weekend. Monday was the 4th of July. "I’ll see you first thing Tuesday morning then?" I asked him hopefully. He simply smiled in return and wished me a pleasant weekend.

I was glad to have Monday off, but I doubted it would be a paid holiday. Maybe I could make it up next Friday? Ah, I had far more important things to worry about. Although my body had been busily sanding all day, my mind had been thinking about just what to say to Aunt Melissa. She had always been considered the "rock" of the family. Mom sometimes spoke of her older sister in awe.

On arriving home I grabbed a cup of coffee and tended to the dog. Up in my room I connected to the Internet. I’d been thinking about what I wanted to say all day and now, I was drawing a blank. I didn’t even know if Mom had explained things to Aunt Mel. I knew one thing for sure; it wasn’t my place to do so. Still, I had to do something. Finally, I explained everything as best I could. Well, not everything. I didn’t tell her about "Joan." I did mention the possibility of a custody battle though and hoped that would be enough. In the event that it wasn’t, then I’d add that little extra bit to my next email.

It felt strange signing off that email as "Your loving nephew, John." I actually had to go back and correct it. I’d automatically typed the "a" instead of the "h." I clicked the send button and prayed for a rapid reply. It was already early Friday morning in Queensland and I just hoped that Aunt Melissa checked her email often. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. I went to my bed and gave Josam a hug. The smell clung to everything. I vowed not to smoke in my room again.

Back downstairs, I tore into my chores like a girl possessed. I had a four day weekend ahead of me and no real plans but for Sam’s baseball game on Saturday. Yet, here I was working like it was my last day on earth. In the middle of it all I thought about checking my email account. But, I did the mental math and realized it was only six o’clock in the morning on the other side of the world. Aunt Mel once told me that if she moved any farther away, she’d be closer.

As it closed in on dinnertime, I double checked everything just to make sure all was in order. Everything was as good as it was going to be. I had everything ready for Mom’s drink as I awaited her arrival. She didn’t disappoint and came through the door just after six.

"Joan, the house looks beautiful!" Mom exclaimed as she walked through the door. For some reason, she exuded total confidence that evening. I decided to take shelter in what I hoped was her safe harbor. She asked me about my plans for the weekend and whether or not I was working on Monday. Of course, the library would be closed. I decided on the spur of the moment that I’d spend tomorrow painting my bedroom. The pink wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I was finished spending money needlessly.

"What are you so happy about this evening, Mom?" I watched her face carefully. She looked like she’d swallowed more than a few canaries. Her smile was infectious; I found myself beaming back at her.

"Cant a mother be happy for no reason at all?" She asked me. There was something going on here. I knew that no amount of prodding on my part would get the answers out of her. I decided to leave well enough alone.

Dinner finished, I cleaned the kitchen and put everything away. I found myself wondering what Sam was up to and gave him a call. He said he had nothing planned for the evening and would be over in about a half hour. I didn’t need him to be any more exact than that and told him I’d see him in a bit. I then called Darla and relayed the information about the game. I asked her if she was doing anything that evening. I then followed it by asking her if she minded if Sam and I stopped by.

She seemed a little put out at first, but after awhile, welcomed the idea. Of course, I wasn’t sure I could convince Sam to go over there with me. Still, I told Darla that we’d be there in about an hour. I hoped I wasn’t making a big mistake. I couldn’t decide whether to tell Sam of my intentions to visit Darla, or to just drag him over there. In the end, I went with the surprise option. He wanted to know where we were going and why we were walking farther away from the boardwalk rather than going directly to it.

As we neared her front door Sam asked me just what we were doing there and whose house was it? I should have blindfolded him; it would have made things a lot easier.

"Come on Sam, we have to stop here for a few minutes."

"Just why are we stopping here? And, who lives here?" He asked. I urged him onward again and finally got close enough to ring the doorbell. Aunt Vivian answered.

"Oh, hi Joan, and? You’re Sam, right?" She asked him. I was afraid for just a moment that he was going to hit me. In the end he just said hello back and we walked inside. "Why don’t you two just go on upstairs. Darla is expecting you. Sam seemed determined to not be overwhelmed as we made our way to Darla’s room. Each step he took said this is all old hat to me. We finally arrived outside of Darla’s closed door. I made a point of knocking loud enough for her to hear. If Sam squeezed my hand any tighter he was going to break my fingers.

"Come on in guys!" She greeted us. I’m not sure why but I was half worried that she was going to invite Sarah too. Fortunately, it was just the three of us. "Ah, and here’s the star pitcher for the team," she said insincerely. For a moment I was worried that Sam would take offense. He didn’t.

"This certainly is some room you have here Darla," said Sam as he took it all in. She shrugged her shoulders and just said that it was home. He smiled at that. It’s amazing the things you could take for granted. "Does that fireplace really work?" She laughed at that and showed him the rest of the layout. Sam marveled that her walk-in-closet was as big as my bedroom. I just thought it was fun; taking it all in from a pair of fresh eyes.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" Darla asked.

"Sure, what’ve you got?" he asked. She opened a few dresser drawers which were loaded to capacity with disks. It almost looked like the drawers had been designed with exactly this in mind.

"They’re all arranged alphabetically in case you haven’t figured that out yet." I knew Sam was into music, but I never realized just how much. He seemed more into her music collection than he’d been in anything else. He finally selected the first album by Counting Crows (August and Everything After) and put it on her stereo.

"This is incredible!" Sam exclaimed. "Where is your subwoofer hiding? I hear it, but I don’t see it." Darla just smiled at him and told him she had no idea what he was talking about. "Mr. Jones" came on and Sam started dancing. I’d been sitting on the bed and he pulled me to my feet and insisted I join in. For such a big guy, he was quite adept on the dance floor. "No, her room didn’t have a dance floor - that was just "poetic license."

He finally seemed happy that we came. The song ended and he turned the volume way down. He and Darla became lost in conversation for the next while. I was beginning to feel neglected. I began wondering if I should just leave them alone. Was I getting jealous here? First of Billy, and now of Darla? Damn, what was wrong with me? Darla finally brought me back into the conversation. I told her that she’d have to be over at my house by noon on Saturday so we could get to the game on time. Starting time was one o’clock.

"Oh, and Joan, Sally’s coming too!" I don’t believe I’d ever seen Darla quite this bubbly. We gave Sam the rest of the tour. Well, Darla did; I just followed close behind. Sam had kind things to say about every room we entered. He was definitely taken with the in-ground pool though.

"Do you swim much?" He asked her.

"Well, yes I do. The pool is heated and we open it up in May till the first week in October. After that, you have to use the hot tub if you want to get wet outdoors." She laughed. I didn’t even know there was a hot tub about. Was there anything they didn’t have? Ah yes! No sewing machine. Of course, there was no need for a sewing machine either. I felt like a pioneer woman by comparison. I realized that Darla would never take me up on my offer to teach her to sew.

"Would you guys like to go for a swim?" She asked us. She went on to say that she was sure there were extra suits available that would fit us. I knew Sam didn’t like to parade around in a one-piece suit, but? I didn’t think we’d be skinny-dipping in Darla’s pool.

"What do you say, Sam?" I asked him.

"I will if you will," he said throwing the ball back in my court.

"Come on you two! Let’s go get changed." We followed her back up to her room and Darla showed us her array of bathing suits. Sam found one suitable. A solid colored navy blue suit. It was a tight squeeze, but he got it on. I found myself thinking --- if only I had breasts like that.

Darla grabbed some towels and we made our way to the pool. Sam went in off the diving board. Darla and I went in via the steps on the shallow end.

"This is fantastic!" He said when he came up for air. I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Darla and I sat on the edge of the pool with our feet dangling in the water while Sam dove in time after time and swam to the other end of the pool. He’d get out, run along the side and do it all over again. I began to wonder if he was on amphetamines. I was getting tired just watching him. At last he came over and sat down. The only problem was, he sat down next to Darla. Had he done that on purpose?

We chatted for awhile longer and Darla asked us if we were hungry. There was never any point in asking Sam that question. Best to just put the food down within easy reach.

"How about some burgers?" She asked as we made our way into the kitchen.

"I’ll cook them on the outside grill if you have one," Sam offered. Darla laughed and told him they did indeed have one but, they’d taste just as good if we cooked them indoors. She then showed Sam the indoor barbecue grill. She fired up the grill, turned on the exhaust fan and retrieved the ground round from the refrigerator.

"Can I move in with you?" Sam asked laughingly.

"No, but you can make your own patty," she told him and directed him to the package of meat. Sam, not content to make just one hamburger made himself two half-pounders.

"You’ll never be able to eat all that," I said pleadingly.

"Just watch me," he replied and tossed his burgers onto the grill. "When we get our house Joan, it’s got to have one of these," he said motioning towards the grill. I couldn’t begin to imagine the cost of such an extravagance.

"Well sweetheart, when you’re pitching for the New York Yankees we’ll be able to afford one," I said and laughed.

"We will at that," he said, oblivious to my joke.

"Don’t you want to toast your rolls too?" Darla asked. I began to wonder why she was pulling out all the stops to please Sam. Maybe I was feeling jealous for a reason. I made my own modest sized burger and put it on the grill. Darla did the same. In no time at all, the food was ready.

We sat there drinking sodas, eating chips and dip,, and working our way through the California cheese burgers. Sam had indeed eaten all the food that he’d chosen. I felt like suggesting that he try doing some running around now. The meal really was as good as any I’d ever had in any restaurant. It must be nice to have money.

"I’m so glad you two came over this evening," Darla began. "And, I can’t wait to see you pitch our team to victory on Saturday," she continued. I guessed I should feel proud that my guy was indeed the starting pitcher for "The Waves", but there were some other unseen emotions floating about.

We thanked Darla and Aunt Viv for everything and said our goodbyes. I reminded Darla that she and Sally had to be over at my house by noon on Saturday. As we began our walk home, I calmed down. Sam became very attentive to me and thanked me for insisting that we visit Darla. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. I knew that Darla was not into boys but technically, Sam wasn’t one. Was I making a mistake by bringing these two together?

I told Sam of my plans to paint my room tomorrow. He didn’t even ask what color I planned on painting it. I’m guessing he already knew. He told me that he had practice till three o’clock but would stop over when that was done. We kissed goodnight and I made my way inside.

Mom was watching television. The only difference was she actually seemed to be paying attention to it now. I took that as a good sign. I hugged her tight and prepared myself for bed. It had been a long day…

Chapter 8

Poppa Don’t Preach

Friday morning arrived and Mom headed off to work. I got myself ready and headed down to the paint store. Mr. Hospin seemed genuinely happy to see me. He went on to explain that the reason he hadn’t called was that he’d lost my phone number. He said that he had a few jobs lined up for me and that I should contact him after the holiday.

"Do you know how to hang wallpaper kid? I laughed at that and told him I was sticking to paint for the time being. I went over and picked out another gallon of the salmon pink. He asked me if I hadn’t had enough. I explained to him that there was more than enough and I was going to be painting my own bedroom. He smiled at that, took my money, and told me to stop in early next week.

It was more of a pain painting my own room. I moved everything to the center. And literally stood on my covered bed as I painted the ceiling. The posters on my walls left visible marks when I removed them. The new paint covered them over perfectly. I couldn’t remember when my room had last been painted. I only knew that I was very young at the time.

I ate my lunch and finished up the job. By three o’clock I was cleaning up and putting everything away. I was going to need some new things for it all to work together. Still, the green bedspread didn’t look too bad with the pink paint. It really felt great to be able to accomplish such a transformation so quickly. Maybe I could get Mom to show me how to make some nice curtains? I put the receipt for the paint in my top dresser drawer and hit the shower. Sam would be coming over soon (I hoped!).

I’d been so busy, I hadn’t even checked the mail. There was a package for me. My new clothes had finally arrived! I put on my new pink skort and matching top. It seemed I was drowning in pink these days. I loved it! I carefully applied my makeup and, with still no word from Sam I decided to give him a call. Aunt Alice picked up the phone on the first ring.

"So, I understand I’m chauffeuring a car load of giggling girls to the baseball game tomorrow?" She teased. "Your mother is coming along too. I hope Sam does well in her debut." It felt funny hearing Sam being referred to with feminine pronouns. I guessed that Aunt Alice wasn’t ready to give up on her daughter. Maybe she should get together with my Dad, I thought bitterly.

"I can’t wait to see him pitch!" I exclaimed sincerely. "I’m sure he’ll do really well," I continued. I wasn’t sure if I was saying these things sincerely or just to taunt Aunt Alice regarding her "son’s" true gender.

"Just make sure you’re all over here by noon tomorrow," she added seriously.

"We’ll be there, but that’s not why I called. Is Sam at home?" I asked hopefully.

"Sorry Joan, they’re all going out to dinner this evening to celebrate the start of the new season." For a moment I wondered who "they" were and then of course, it hit me. She was talking about the other members of the team.

"Well, tell him to call me when he gets home then," I said.

"Will do Joan, but you know she has to be to bed very early tonight." I just wanted to talk to him for god’s sake, why all the fuss?

"It’s all right Aunt Alice, I understand." I wasn’t too sure that I did though. I said goodbye and found myself sitting on my bed holding one of the now fading roses. I’d have to ask Mom if she could show me how to dry them out properly. Sure I was disappointed, but I wasn’t going to let it dampen my spirits. I went and got the two ocean scenes that Darla had given me and hung them strategically on the wall. The paintings didn’t really blend too well with my new room. The blue against the pink was a bit too much.

With dinner cooking, I sat at the table and had a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I decided that I was going to ration myself to three a day. I’d already had two. That left one for the evening. Mom never asked where I got them from. I guess she just assumed that I was taking them from her. I wasn’t going to tell her about the eight packs I had stashed away.

Mom came home and we fell into our usual routine. I made us both chef’s salads for dinner. It was easy and the cold food was appreciated as the warmth of summer began invading our home. I thought about turning on the central air, but I knew it cost a lot of money to operate the thing. Instead, I put a fan in the kitchen window. It was comfortable enough.

"By the way Joan, I love your new outfit. But why did you buy clothes now that we can make our own?" I explained to her that I ordered them online before I ever thought about creating a sewing room. I didn’t point out that my new skort had a zipper, pockets, and belt loops. Yeah, I knew Mom was going easy on me "patterns" wise, but I needed clothes with all the options.

Friday slowly sank into obscurity. No word from Sam. Was this a new pattern developing? One of the few nights I could stay up late and not worry about the morning and he was off with the boys? He could have at least called me. Why was I going to his game to root for him? Was he rooting for me? It certainly didn’t seem so at the moment. Was love always a "roller coaster" ride? Such thoughts continuously assaulted my brain until at last, exhausted, I fell asleep.

Saturday morning. Sam’s big day had finally arrived. I awoke early; it felt strange awakening to a sea of pink walls. I purposefully chose some dirty clothes from the hamper, hit the kitchen and ate some toast. It was time to mow the lawn. Yard work was one of my least favorite things to do. I finished the job and noticed Sam’s own lawn was getting a little high. It wouldn’t take me more than twenty minutes to cut his grass. I didn’t want any worries to distract him today. I cut it for him, making sure to alter the pattern as I went along. I guess one of the reasons I did was because I felt guilty for my thoughts of him and the boys last night.

As I was finishing up he came out to greet me. "I’m not going to pay you for that, you know." He said and came over to give me a hug.

"You don’t have to pay me for the work, but with the cost of gas these days you can refill my tank." I said and laughed. He got the gas can and topped off my tank. Was I becoming obsessed with money? Life just seemed a bit more uncertain with Dad gone. Sometimes Mom seemed to take no notice at all of financial matters. Somebody had to, right?

We stood outside his front door hugging and kissing for a few minutes. He then told me he had to go and get ready. I told him I’d see him at the game. The coach was picking up the kids in a school bus. Sam would be on his way to the park by eleven. I pushed the mower home lovingly as a mother would a baby carriage; lost in thoughts of Sam. With the gardening tools put away, I hit the showers. Remembering that Darla insisted I wear a skirt, I put on my new sundress. It wasn’t a skirt; it was better! I’m not sure why I was so anxious that morning. I gave Darla a call and reminded her to be at my house by noon.

"Joan, you’re not going to believe this," she said upon answering. "My mother actually wants to come to the game. She said she feels as if she knows Sam and wants to come and root him and the team on." She was right, I didn’t believe it. Still, what other reason could Aunt Viv have had for wanting to attend the game?

"But Darla," I began, "There isn’t any more room in the car."

"Don’t worry Joan. Sally, Mom, and I will be over to pick you up at noon. There’s plenty of room in her car." It sounds weird, but I was looking forward to having a few minutes to chat with Aunt Alice. It seemed like forever since we’d had a chance to chat in the intimate confines of an automobile. I told Darla I had to check and make sure it was all right and that I’d call her right back. I called Aunt Alice and asked her if she’d mind if I went with Darla to the game. She said she was looking forward to my company, but that she and Mom would make it there just fine.

I called Darla back and gave her the news. Mom still hadn’t awakened. I considered doing the breakfast in bed thing again, but I didn’t want to spoil her. It was closing in on nine-thirty when I awoke her with a kiss and a hug. She didn’t groan or grumble at me. She simply got up and made her way into the bathroom. Task completed I went and checked myself out. I really needed some sandals. Could I wear pantyhose with a sundress? I didn’t really have much choice. Well, I suppose I could have put on my mary janes without anything underneath. I tried the hose. They somehow made the dress look frumpy. Besides, it was going to be too hot to have the nylons sticking to my legs. I put my bare feet into the shoes.

I wasn’t going to make Mom breakfast in bed, but I decided to make her breakfast. I was getting kind of hungry myself. I cooked a ton of bacon in the microwave and made us eggs over easy. The whole wheat toast completed the meal. Mom and I sat there eating and I babbled on excitedly about the day ahead. She too seemed a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t be traveling with her and Aunt Alice. With half an hour remaining, I decided to check my email. Aunt Melissa had finally replied! She expressed her sorrow concerning the home-front situation and said that the soonest she could come would be in two weeks. Well, that was two weeks earlier than she’d initially intended. I sent her a brief reply filled with thanks for her concern and promised to keep in touch.

I almost danced down the stairs as I waited for Darla to arrive. I really needed some new earrings. Maybe Dad would get them for me for my birthday. Such a delusional and sarcastic thought to have. Mom left for Aunt Alice’s house shortly before I did. Darla and company were a few minutes late. I began to worry that something had gone wrong when they pulled up in the driveway.

I screeched with excitement as I entered the back seat. Thankfully, Darla and Sally were in giddy mode too. All this to watch a bunch of kids play baseball. Half an hour later we arrived at the park. Aunt Viv had hardly said a word the entire time. This wasn’t a tiny ballpark. It had been abandoned several years ago by a minor league team that had attempted to make a go of it. The county foreclosed on the property when the taxes went unpaid. I couldn’t believe the number of people in attendance. If I had to guess, I’d say there were about two thousand people there. We sat along the first base line a few rows back behind the home team dugout.

The home team was dressed in white. The uniforms were beautiful. A huge wave crested above the lettering: "Waves." I sat between Darla and Aunt Viv. Sally sat next to Darla. I was really glad when Sally accepted my apology and my three dollars. I thought I was nuts as I realized I was carrying around over a hundred dollars in cash with me. My dress had no pockets and I hugged my purse just a little tighter.

Finally the home team was announced. The players came out one-by-one. We all cheered when Sam came trotting out of the dugout. The back of his jersey said: "Peters" with a huge number 2 beneath it. I found myself wondering whether Sam was a Derek Jeter fan or whether he wore number two cause it was my lucky number. The Cumberland Crows were announced to a smattering of applause. This was definitely a home team audience. Some of the players looked too old to be out there. I looked through my program and discovered that the league was open for those between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. I began to worry for Sam. A lot of these kids had a lot more experience than he did.

Finally the home team took the field. They stood at their positions as the Star Spangled Banner was sung. I actually felt a few tears well up as I sang along with the crowd. With the umpire’s shout of "Play Ball," it was time for the game to begin. Sam looked perfectly at ease out there on the mound. A huge smile overtook his face when I yelled his name and waved at him. He’d always been a good player, but I couldn’t believe how much he’d improved since we’d last played together. The top of the first was over before it began; one strikeout and two ground outs. It was time for the Waves to take their turn at bat.

I found myself a bit miffed that no one had told me how pretty I looked in my new sundress. A stupid thought to have, I know, but consider the source. The Crows’ pitcher made short work of our team as well. Neither Billy nor Sam had come to the plate yet. Sam really seemed in-the-groove as he continued handling the opposition. Through three innings he hadn’t allowed a base-runner. I was starting to get hungry, but wasn’t going to hit the food vendors yet. It was the bottom of the third and Sam would be first to the plate. Thus far it had been a pitching duel. That was about to change. San laced a line drive into the gap in center field and arrived at second base standing up. The crowd went wild.

Sally, Darla, and I stood up and tried to get a "wave" going. The crowd was soon into it. Two thousand people moving from side to side and yelling: "whoooooosh" to simulate the sound of crashing surf. Billy was up next. I’m ashamed to admit it, I was glad when he struck out. The next batter was also thrown out, but his hit to the second baseman allowed Sam to advance to third base.

The next batter Kevin Whitcomb singled him in. The Waves led one to nothing. That’s how the inning ended. I decided to wait till Sam finished the fourth inning before heading for some food. Sam finished the inning without allowing a base runner. He had thrown a perfect game through four innings. Only three innings left to play! Darla came with me to retrieve the hot dogs. We were standing in line waiting to place our order when a finger tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned around to see my father scowling down at me. I almost went into shock. What the hell was he doing here?

"John, I have to talk to you," he said as he eyed me with disgust. I felt so ashamed. So embarrassed. I nearly crumbled to the floor. Thankfully, Darla held me up and spoke to him.

"You must be Mr. Johnson," she said. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you," she added in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He eyed her curiously for a moment and then turned his attention back to me.

"John," he said loud enough for all standing in line to hear. "We have to talk: now!" He commanded. I didn’t know what else to do. I gave Darla twenty dollars for the food and told her I’d meet her back at our seats. I walked away in a daze with a stranger by my side. I almost felt like screaming. Surely someone would come to my rescue if I did. But we just kept walking. He took me out in front of the stadium and began.

"You know, Samantha has turned out to be quite a ballplayer. I can see why you’re attracted to her. However, I can’t see why she’d be interested in you," he finished in disgust. So, this was his plan. He was going to attack and humiliate me till what? Till I broke down? Till I fought back? I was too numb to consider doing anything. He went on.

"I want you to tell your mother that you’re coming with me for the long weekend. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get that appointment with Dr. Wintergarden? For your mother to simply cancel it is unacceptable. Before you start protesting, I want you to consider the ramifications; one, I’ll win an expensive custody battle and ship you off to a military academy AND two, I’ll see to it that your mother is committed to a mental institution. I hope you don’t think I’m bluffing?" He finished.

My mind was spinning at a thousand miles per minute. To think just a few days ago I was so upset that he’d left. Now, I wished that he’d just go away. "I have to get back to my friends, they’ll be worried about me."

"You go enjoy the rest of the game. I’ll be over to pick you up at six. Our flight leaves at eight. Oh, and John, make sure you bring pants and only pants. If I see you looking "pretty," there’ll be hell to pay." Who was this person? I didn’t know him at all. I found myself unable to respond in any way. I simply walked back inside and made my way back to our seats. It was now the bottom of the sixth. Sam’s perfect game was still in effect. He just had to survive one more inning. The Waves clung to their one run lead. We never did catch up with Mom and Aunt Alice. Mom, I needed to speak to her.

Could I possibly convince her that I wanted to spend the weekend in New Jersey? I laughed aloud at the thought. Darla sensing my distress held my hand tightly in her own. I was in a state of shock. I wanted to cry but I was frozen. This all seemed so surreal. Did my father just threaten my existence? The first batter stepped up to the plate for the top of the seventh. A hush fell over the stadium. Sam looked like he was getting tired. He was surviving on sheer guile at this point. Kids our age weren’t supposed to throw curve balls, but Sam was and his was more than effective. The ball came at the batter and looked as though it would strike him in the head before angling down right over the heart of the plate and safely into the catcher’s mitt.

"Strike One!" The umpire exclaimed. I hadn’t even had time to consider how Dad had known I would be here today. Then, I remembered. He’d called Sam on the phone the other day. Could I really put on a pair of pants and go to New Jersey for the weekend? I’d rather visit the dentist. "Strike Two!" the umpire yelled again. My attention was nowhere near the game at that point. "You’re Out!" The umpire yelled at the batter. The crowd cheered and stood as one as the next batter came to the plate.

Two thousand people standing as one cheering on my sweetheart. Did he know how special he was? He seemed not to notice anything in the world but his catcher in front of him. "Strike One!" The ump yelled again. The next pitch was hit sharply to third base. For the first time in my life I found myself rooting for Billy not to mess up the play. He snapped up the ball expertly with his glove and fired to first; just in time. The first base umpire yanked his right arm up in an arc indicating that the runner was out. We all just stood there. Watching, waiting for what we hoped would be the last batter of the game.

Sam went into his windup and threw his fast-ball. It still had a fair amount of pop to it. "Strike One!" The umpire exhorted. Just two more strikes and Sam had his perfect game. I felt as nervous for him as he must have felt for himself. "Strike Two!" The umpire yelled before I could gather a thought. Just one more strike and the game would be over. The silence of the crowd was deafening. Sam seemed to be moving in slow-motion. He went into his windup, released his pitch. The ball seemed to dance and float all the way to the plate. "Strike Three!" The umpire yelled again.

People began screaming and cheering. They jumped over the fence and climbed onto the field. The players huddled protectively around Sam. The public address announcer begged people to please return to their seats. The crowd, for the moment, seemed uncontrollable. In a moment of inspiration, the announcer put on the Star Spangled Banner again. The crowd, as one, placed their hands over their hearts and the team was able to escape the field unscathed.

"We Won!" I exclaimed and hugged Darla tightly. She jumped for joy along with me. The overall scene defied description. It was perfect. OK, the game was over, I had more pressing matters at hand. I asked Aunt Vivian if I could borrow her cell phone. I had to contact Mom immediately. I dialed her number and she picked up on the third ring.

"Mom?" I yelled into the phone. "Where are you?" Mom and Aunt Alice had secured seats right behind the dugout. They couldn’t have been more than fifty feet in front of us. "I need to see you right now." I said with urgency in my voice. "Don’t move, I’ll be right there." I handed Aunt Viv back her phone, hugged her and told her I’d be going home with my Mom. She looked as though she had a ton of questions for me. The look in my eyes begged her not to ask them. I thanked Darla and Sally for coming and told them I’d contact them as soon as I was able. With that, I was gone. I made my way down the steps towards the field. The crowd was beginning to disperse.

I saw Mom and Aunt Alice standing right behind the dugout. I ran to her and hugged her with all my might. My eyes filled with tears. It was now just after three o’clock. I was shaking and unable to speak. Get ahold of yourself Joan, I screamed at my being. Finally, I calmed down. "Mom, I have to get home. I’m going to New Jersey for the weekend," I blurted out tearfully.

"You’re going where?" She screamed in return. Between sobs I told my mother that Dad had invited me to visit him in his new home and that I wanted to go. She stared at me incredulously. Then a look of betrayal swept over her face. "If that’s what you want to do Joan, it’s fine with me," she said with a hint of resignation in her voice. I wished that I could tell her about Dad’s threats. Still, I doubted my mother’s inner-strength. To burden her with the problem at hand just might push her over the edge.

"Thanks Mom, I really appreciate it," I said as bravely as I could. "Still, we have to get going. Dad’s picking me up at six." Aunt Alice, who had been listening to the entire exchange, chimed in. "We’d better get going then." Sam would be returning home on the team bus. I hoped I got a chance to tell him how wonderful he was before my father came to claim me. The ride home was a sad and silent one. Aunt Alice made a few attempts to talk about Sam, but Mom and I weren’t in the mood to respond.

Following orders, I scrubbed myself clean when I got home. I threw a few pairs of pants and shirts on the bed and managed to stuff everything into my backpack. I carefully hung my sundress up and put it away. I’d always remember wearing it to watch Sam’s pitching debut and the fantastic victory that he’d earned. If I did get to see him before he left, I was going to ask him for his autograph. I laughed at the thought, but I was serious too. I found the whitest baseball in my collection and set it aside.

I examined myself carefully before heading downstairs. Even without makeup, without girl clothes, there was no sign of John in the mirror. I smiled at my reflection and made my way down to the kitchen with my backpack in tow. Mom was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of her; she was staring idly into space. She took one look at me and noticed that I was attempting to be "John" for my father. If only I could tell her that this wasn’t my idea. That I hated leaving her and wouldn’t but for the use of force. Her eyes welled up with tears and she began weeping softly.

"It’s all right Mom, it’s only for a couple of days," I told her. Her look told me she didn’t believe me. She thought I was abandoning her forever. We sat at the table and shared a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I’d slipped a pack into my "secret compartment" before putting in my clothes. My money and debit card sat snugly in my front jeans’ pocket. I was prepared for all contingencies. Oh how I wished Aunt Mel was here now. Dad never played Mr. Macho in front of Aunt Mel. Maybe she could help sort things out.

It was five o’clock when the love of my life came waltzing in the front door. I guess Aunt Alice had told him of my plans for he seemed rather distraught himself. He held me in his arms and reassured me that everything was going to be all right. I hadn’t mentioned the coercive nature of my planned trip with Dad. Sam seemed to know it all intuitively. I surrendered to his embrace. It ended all too soon and suddenly. I ran back up to my room to get the baseball for him to sign. I came back downstairs with the ball in one hand and a felt tipped pen in the other. I handed both to him ceremoniously. His grin nearly split his face in half as he autographed my ball.

Sam decided to stay till my Dad came to claim me. If he hadn’t done so willingly, I’d have begged him to. Hopefully, he’d be able to calm Mom down a bit after I was gone. The closer it got to six o’clock, the crazier this whole plan seemed. I was being forced to go somewhere I didn’t want to go to spend time with someone I didn’t want to know anymore. It was almost more than I could bear. Finally, Dad pulled up in his rental car. Mom still hadn’t moved from her perch at the kitchen table. I felt like a condemned woman walking that last mile.

The bastard didn’t even knock. He just waltzed in like he owned the place. I was going to have to tell Mom to change the locks and change them soon. He greeted Sam warmly and extended his congratulations on his victory. He simply eyed me with contempt. If he hated me so much, then why was he doing this? He walked down the hall and entered his former office. I thought/hoped he was going to have a stroke. His mouth opened wide and his jaw dropped; he didn’t say a word. I guess it was the next best thing.

His head shook from side to side as he took it all in. I thought for a moment that I saw a tear in his eye. His sadness made me happy and miserable simultaneously. Walking into the kitchen he sat down across from my mother. She looked at him but didn’t see him. I was half-tempted to just start running. I wasn’t so sure I could go through with this no matter what the cost. Sam held my hand tightly as we stood there watching them watching us. I couldn’t recall ever having felt worse in my life. Mom made Dad promise to have me back late Monday night. He agreed and we headed for the door.

She started crying and held me tight. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being so sad. "Dad, do we have to do this now?" I asked in a pleading voice. "Couldn’t we just plan this better? I could simply come down next Friday and you could meet me at the airport." He didn’t budge.

"Just get in the car," was all he said. Sam walked by my side as we made our way. Mom just stood in the doorway. God, I was so worried about her. My father’s insensitivity towards my mother’s feelings angered me all the more. We weren’t off on some joyful excursion as parent and child. Just what we were doing escaped me entirely. A few tears began trickling down Sam’s cheeks as I hugged him close and took my seat in the front of the car. Without a word, Dad headed for the airport.

We arrived at the rental car lot. Neither of us had said a word. Dad handed me an envelope. "OK, now take those things out and put them in here." For a moment, I hadn’t a clue as to what he was talking about. "Those things in your ears," he said for purposes of clarification. I gave him a look which suggested that he couldn’t be serious. Still, I remained silent. "I didn’t travel over four hundred miles to spend time with some sissy boy. Now take them out and put them in the envelope or I’ll do it for you." I reached for the door handle, I was going to run. "Don’t even think about it John," he screamed before falling silent again.

I’d never taken them out before. I honestly wasn’t sure how. However, I wasn’t going to ask that bastard for help. It took me a few minutes but I finally got all four of them out and put them in the envelope. I stuck it in my pocket. There was no way I was giving possession of my precious earrings to him.

"You’re starting to look more like my son already," he said and smiled. I think he expected me to smile back at him. As far as I was concerned there was nothing to smile about. I was glad I’d packed so light. At this point I wasn’t sure that I’d last till Monday. He checked his car in and we headed to the boarding gate. "You’re just going to love New Jersey," he said seriously. I shook my head in disbelief. I didn’t know this person at all.

The flight attendant directed us to our seats. The plane took off without event. I’d never flown before; I was happy for the experience. We’d been in the air for a few minutes when a flight attendant appeared by our side. "Can I get you anything Sir? Miss?" She said addressing me. I broke into a wide grin and my heart thanked her with every fiber of my being. Dad was livid with anger and almost went ballistic. He took a deep breath and informed the attendant that we were both fine. I smiled smugly and said nary a word.

Two hours later our flight arrived at the tiny Atlantic City Airport. Neither of us had any checked baggage to claim. I silently followed his lead. A diminutive brunette, no older than twenty-five and obviously very pregnant approached us. Her smile widened as my father and I approached. So this was my mother’s replacement, I thought bitterly as she hugged and kissed my Dad.

"You must be John!" She said as if we were old best friends. I had so many conflicting emotions. This woman was the reason that Dad had left. Honestly, she didn’t seem all that much older than I was myself. She had a certain naiveté’ about her. It was as if she was a pawn in my father’s twisted game. But for what she’d done to our home, I could have liked her. Still I said nothing by way of reply and followed them out to the parking lot. Doreen (that was her name) seemed genuinely happy that I was there. Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so horrible after all.

We drove up the Jersey coast for about an hour before we finally pulled into the driveway of a home that rivaled Darla’s own. This one was on the beach itself. It was truly a magnificent residence. Seeing it filled me more with anger than anything else. Mom and I were pinching pennies and here Dad was living in an ocean front mansion. "Do you like it John?" My father asked proudly. I wanted to tell him to stuff his house and his house-mate. Instead, I kept my cool and didn’t utter a word. I followed them a few steps behind as they walked arm-in-arm to the main entrance.

A maid greeted us at the door! "Andrea, this is John, he’ll be staying with us for a few days," my father informed her nonchalantly. I wondered if he had any idea how all of this was making me feel; he couldn’t have. Andrea showed me to my room. It was a "boy’s" room in every sense of the word. Painted a respectable federal blue, it had its own private bath. The room too was similar to Darla’s in size and scope. I had no idea "we" had that kind of money. How could my father have treated my mother so badly? He had all this, and he needed me for… for what exactly?

"I hope you find everything to your satisfaction, Master John," Andrea said with a proper British accent before making her exit. I wondered if the name of this town was listed in the directory of "The Twilight Zone." This was more than I could fathom. I lay upon the bed and wished that I had Josam with me. I hugged a pillow tightly as a poor substitute.

What was I doing here? I found myself rooting through my backpack in search of a lipstick that I knew wasn’t there. I took my earrings out of the envelope and quite awhile after, I had them properly inserted. If the asshole didn’t like it, too bad for him. I missed my mother, I missed Sam. Thoughts of Darla, and Aunt Vivian and yes, even Mr. Ferris filled my head. What indeed was I doing here?

I couldn’t stay in my room till it was time to go home, could I? I laughingly searched the room for a bell to call the maid; there was none. The computer on the side table seemed first-rate and it summoned me. I had it fired up in an instant and soon found myself online. I composed a quick email to Mom simply telling her that I’d arrived safely and would be home soon. I cc’d the letter to both Darla and Sam. I just wanted to go home.

It was closing in on midnight as I finally crawled under the sheets. I guessed that my father thought that I’d be impressed by all of this. Despite the beauty of the surroundings and all the amenities, he was wrong. I cried myself to sleep…

Notes:

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Comments

I knew

her father would be just this kind of ass. Doesn't surprise me at all he is so ostentatious, and I bet he isn't sending any support.

This Is Very Wrong

I have to commend darla for writing a very excellent chapter! She is finally weaving in multiple plots that are starting to give the story a continual Mystery thrill to it!

My main point only discusses the father in the plot. I knew it was coming. He came to take Joan away. Why must he be that way? The character is supposed to cause an anger to rise upi nthe reader. i know that. It hurts the father is like that and cannot see what he does. If he were to follow this poem he would not be that way.

*********************************************************************************
For a Man to understand what being a Woman is, He must first Give up his
Desire for Power, and then learn The Power of Desire.

To submit, to give, to nurture, to endure, to share, and love.

All must be learned to claim Desire. Only then can one master its Power.
*********************************************************************************

I would say more. But i have said a lot in post o nthe previous chapter. There is no need to repeat that. I do hope Joan can run away. The father is not thinking right.

Sephrena Miller

Carve his Gizzard out with a Boat-hook

What is with John/Joan's asshole dad?

After what he's threatened his child with and the fact -- his new girl's advanced pregancy -- he was having a affair long before he abandoned his family, combine that with the opulant beachfront mansion with servant, I hope John/Joan ties up dad in his sleep, cuts off his privates with a dull knife and crazy-glues them in dad's mouth before setting the house on fire.

I know this is fiction but damn, I want to stake the dad out on an ant-hill one hour prior to an H-bomb test.

That John/Joan's mom's finaces are only slowly sinking below the waves of debt suggests little of dad's income was ever used to support his family and most of it went to suport his mistresses -- he had to have one before this bimbo -- though I shouldn't blame her, he probably can be charmer when it suits him.

Is this why he needs the custody of his son, he'd get royally raped by the law if an honest acounting came out in a divorce? He probably is trying to leverage John/Joan's mom in to signing some minimal alimony sceme or even nothing but the small house in exchange for John/Joan who he never has loved from the way he acts. That he had a new practice already and was out of his law firm tells me he was planning this for years.

Sam screwed up on that phone-call but I can't blame a child. Why was Aunt Viv so quiet at the game, did dad get to her somehow, threaten to expose Darla? Dad seems like the sort of self-absorbed prick who would do this; if only they can get it on tape. This man deserves to be disbared and imprisoned. He must truely hate women, he complemented Samantha on her baseball playing -- nothing wrong with a girl who acts like a boy in his warped world - but a sensitive boy -- threaten to put mom in an asylum and ship the boy off to miltary school.

I haven't been this pissed at a charater since "the Man" swapped bodies with that poor young woman at the end of Genomorph and she died for his sins. That man was a soul-less ghool and John/Joan's dad doesn't seem much nicer. If you've read any of my stuff here, I usually tend toward humor and light-heartedness. To get me this worked up is a credit to you and your characters, Darla.

A great chapter even if the dad makes me sick. Please let John/Joan get some justice.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

I think it was a mistake ...

Jezzi Stewart's picture

... on Joan's part not to tell her mom the truth. Now mom feels betrayed by "John" as well as by the dad, and that may well be worse for her mental health than the truth would have been. Can't blame Joan, though, she's just a kid. I do think her plan of not smiling and the silent treatment is a good one though - sullen compliance; let dad know how unhappy "she" is with what he's making her do.

Dad saw his child happy, completely passable as a girl and he really expects "her" to be happy as John and impressed? What a clueless asshole.

Can't wait for the next chapters.

"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show

BE a lady!

Nasty turn

nikkiparksy's picture

This is a nasty turn of event's though unfortanetly it was foreseen with hint's in the proceeding chapter's.Joan's dad might come round he just need's a lot of persuasion as like most parent's he can't understand why his son is girlish.Love too read how this mess is sorted out though with the clue's of tansgender and estrogen/hormone's on top of the page it will be resolved though in a roundabout way.Looking forward too the next chapter's darla as you have us rivetted too the screen.

It occurs to me ...

... that John's Dad is in deep trouble in a divorce proceeding. He abandons his family and lives in a mansion while his wife and son struggle to keep afloat. I'm sure there are entire phone books full of lawyers who would strip his carcass bare in court -- and even though he's a lawyer, he's probably not a divorce lawyer. That's a whole different breed of shark. *grins*

Randalynn