Chapter 3 (Revised)    Simon Jones is Eve Jones. But she didn't know.

 
 
Previously:
 
Simon Jones aka Eve has returned home from hospital after an accident at school and subsequent surgery for a tumour. He has learned he can't go back to school at present and will have a tutor, together with plenty of medical appointments.
  
Now the story continues.
  
Eve Chapter 3
  
My mum called to say dinner was ready so I pulled myself up off the couch and went into the kitchen. Dinner was served and I did my best but my appetite was still lacking. We sat and talked a bit longer and I caught up with the local gossip. Mum said my friends would come round tomorrow if I was well enough and mum's family would visit on Sunday. I wanted to help but mum sent me back into the lounge while she loaded the dishwasher.

At 7pm the Channel 4 news showed the 9/11 ceremony in New York. It was the first real news I'd seen in two weeks and it was very moving; I'd been in primary school the day the atrocity happened but it was in secondary school when the scale of it became obvious when we prepared a school project on 9/11. In my delicate state I was in tears very soon so mum helped me upstairs.

I was putting my PJ's on when I yelped. Mum came into my room and asked, "What's wrong?"

I blushed several shades of crimson then said, "I'm sore, the PJ's were rubbing me."

Mum asked, "Where?'

I had to point at my penis. Mum disappeared and came back with one of her t-shirt nighties. I looked at her as if she was mad but she insisted, "This will not rub you as much and you'll be able to have a good sleep. If you're better tomorrow you can put your PJ's back on. I'll get you a glass of water and you can take a painkiller." She added a sleeping pill without telling me, but I can count. Mind you, I wasn't going to argue.

***

I slept soundly and wasn't aware of any dreams. I must admit that I barely noticed that, when I awoke, I was still wearing the nightie until I'd reached the toilet shortly after 7am. After washing my hands I headed, carefully, down to the kitchen and directly to the coffee pot. Ten minutes later I had a mug of coffee and some toast, with marmalade.

Mum obviously smelt the coffee and walked into the kitchen in her nightie, covered by a gown. She looked at me, grinned, and disappeared back upstairs to find my dressing gown. It was white towelling and I'd had it a few years, I was now a little big for it and it didn't wrap round very well. After I put it on mum shook her head and went back up to find her spare gown, I was red silk with Chinese print. She helped me into it and then grabbed some coffee and toast for herself. We chatted a bit over our second cups.

At 8am the bell rang and mum went to the door, letting district nurse in. She came into the kitchen and put her case down, "it's Eve isn't it?" in a broad Glaswegian accent.

Mum nodded so I opened my mouth to correct her and was cut off before I could start, "I understand wee lass. I understand." Did she?

She pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and told me to lean forward. She took hold of one side of the top layer of the dressing and pulled it off, putting it in a plastic bag. She took the padding off and then wetted the area with a spray. Finally she carefully peeled the gauze off my scalp.

I jumped and would have left the chair if she hadn't had one hand on my shoulder holding me down, "That's the worse part out the way." She sprayed my wound some more and wiped the back of my head,.

"The stitches look very clean, no infection."

She redressed making sure that mum could see how to do it. "I'll leave a dressing pack in case you need to redress her wound. Have you spoken to your doctor's surgery?" Mum nodded, took the pack and again failed to correct her.

The nurse put her gloves in the plastic bag, along with my used dressings. She sealed the bag and placed it into another bag which she also sealed. She looked at me , "You are a very brave lass. Your hair will grow back before too long and that bruise will disappear. You'll be a lovely lass again."

She left and I was about to go upstairs when the doorbell rang. Mum was in the loo and shouted for me to get it. I reluctantly opened the door and found a Tesco van outside and a stack of crates by the door, the driver was returning with two more crates, "Morning Miss, sorry I'm a bit early but better that than late."

He pulled bags of groceries out of the crates and put them on the kitchen table. I went to help but he told me not to be silly. I plopped onto a chair feeling pretty useless. Mum returned and checked the printed list quickly against what was there before signing the driver's handheld PC. He wished us a good morning and went back to his van.

Once again I been identified as a girl, that's twice this morning already. I was sat in a nightie and silk robe so that might confuse some. I also realised belatedly that the nightie was longer than the gown and was very obviously female nightwear. I put this to the back of my mind, alongside the other strange issues that I had accepted. Maybe I should keep a list of everything I just keep accepting.

I asked mum when she returned why she had arranged a delivery instead of us going to the store. She looked at me and laughed, then apologised.

"Sorry, Simon, Mr. Bishop told me that you should stay in as much as possible this week, apart from medical appointments. Walking around Tescos or any other store like that is only going to get you stares. I meant to tell you I'd done an internet order. By the way dear, your gown has started to untie itself and your nightie is very visible through that gap. Now, are you going to have a shower before you get dressed?"

I agreed this was a very good idea and walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, then thought about my wound. I was about to call mum when she appeared with a shower cap, "Wear this, we'll work out a way to wash your hair, what's left of it!"

Even I had to laugh with her. Mum thought for a second "Hang on!" she continued, "If we shave the rest off I'll only need to wash it with a damp cloth and can keep the dressing dry. Wait there." The last words were said as an instruction, not a request.

Mum went to her room and came back with a small electric shaver, "This was your father's when he had a beard" she said then put my head over the hand basin and started shaving my remaining hairs. She then picked up one of her pink razors. How I agreed to this I do not know; no, I haven't agreed! By the time I said something mum was finished."That's better, now it is easier to keep clean and it will all grow at the same rate."

I stood and looked in the mirror. She'd made me look like .. like .. someone who was definitely not me, I was more like the Borg Queen, on a bad day. Mum carefully put the shower cap on me, covering the dressing and switched the shower on, "Come on, get that gown and nightie off. Don't think I'm going anywhere Simon, doctor's orders. Get undressed and into that shower!"

I'm not a prude but I did not normally undress in front my mum, I was 16! I reluctantly hung the gown up and dropped the nightie into the laundry hamper. As soon as I was bare I hurridly went to get into the shower when mum stopped me. She looked me in the eye then down at my penis and asked how sore it was.

"Quite sore," was my reply, unsure where this conversation was heading.

Nowhere, was the answer as mum then shooed me into the shower and I washed several days of hospital off me. Once out of the shower she held a towel open and wrapped it around me, something she'd not down for many years. She then took me to the basin and removed the shower cap. Using a soft flannel she cleaned my head and dried it gently.

I went to my room where I automatically went to get a pair of briefs but mum stopped me and suggested I should not get dressed, I'd stay in a nightie as everything else would rub badly; since we weren't going out this wasn't necessarily a problem. She went back to her room and came back with a clean nightie and the silk gown I thought was still in the bathroom. This nightie was different, very light with spaghetti straps. It was also alot shorter. She dropped it over my head then helped me into the gown, wrapping the belt tightly, "That's better, you can't see the nightie now," she said, not entirely convincingly.

My glass of water from last night was still on my bedside cabinet, as were two painkillers. She gave me both and told me to swallow them. Some ten minutes later the disomfort was reduced but it was clear that I wasn't 100%. A little light-headedness didn't help.

"I'll call the doctor," she stated.

Despite everything, I was not happy about anyone else examining me or the idea that I might end up back in that hospital after less than a day at home. I shook my head, "No, I'm sure it's nothing."

Mum had a quick shower then dressed simply. I'd dozed off on my bed so she shook me gently and we walked downstairs. I'd also gained a pair of soft open-backed slippers that matched the gown.

We sat in the kitchen again and I pleaded for another coffee to no avail, fresh OJ was the next best thing. The postman had been and a bundle of post was on the floor behind the front door. There were several get well cards addressed to Simon and some for Eve. There was also one large envelope with the County Council logo addressed to mum. She opened it and read it carefully before saying anything.

"Simon, this letter is from the LEA. I think they have realised they were a little heavy handed. Personally I think they're trying to avoid litigation. They go on to say that whilst they can't change your name, unless you choose to, they have fixed your gender on their records and have marked your file with 'known as Simon Jones' so that there shouldn't be a repeat of these errors. They have also offered to meet to discuss your future education. I'll talk to Mr. Dixon about that."

Just then the doorbell rang and I could hear Claire and Annie outside. I wanted to hide but mum let them straight in, telling them I was in the kitchen,. "Hi Simon," they said together then they gasped, easily spotting the strappy nightie under the feminine gown.

"Simon, how ...." started Claire.

"... are you?" finished Annie.

Mum suggested we go into the lounge while she fixed some drinks.

Claire and Annie looked at me, then at each-other and were trying to work out what to say; they were not often speechless. I didn't wait for them, but how was I to explain myself? "You know about the accident at school?"

They nodded and Claire was silently elected to respond to Simon, "yes, but that was a girl called Eve, the same one who had the fantastic grades. We don't know anyone by that name in our year."