The Conference Call

I got Mom settled in front of the TV and went out into the back yard. I knew that my sisters were two time zones away, so it was evening for them.

"Hi Pam, It's Harry. I have some news."

"So tell me"

"Hold on, I want to get Caroline in on this. Let me set up a conference call."

"You know how to do that?"

"Face it, your brother's a genius. Too bad there wasn't any left over for my sisters."

"Good thing you're a writer and not a biologist. You're the baby of the family, it's us who got the good stuff."

"Who got what good stuff?" asked Caroline.

"Your brother the genius got all the good stuff. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"We're talking geologic time here?"

"If you happen to have rocks in your head," I shot back.

"What's happening with Mother?" interrupted Caroline.

"It's not good, I'm afraid."

It's hard knowing your mother may be failing. It's just as hard to tell your siblings she may have dementia.

"What are we going to do, Harry?"

"Learn as much as we can. I suppose I'm going to have to move in with Mom, at least for a while."

"Can you do that? What about your writing?"

"I can write here. All I need is my laptop and about ten crates of reference material."

"I suppose you can take over one of the bedrooms and make it your office."

"I suppose. Mom isn't too far gone yet. The house is clean, the kitchen is well stocked and the yard is cared for."

"I know she has a service for the yard. One of my ex-boyfriends runs it." Pam said.

"Just how many ex-boyfriends do you have and is Steve aware of them?"

"Dozens and dozens. What Steve doesn't know won't hurt me… Of course he knows. Keeps him on his toes if he thinks he may be next."

"Well, if that happens you get the next shift with Mom."

"For better or worse, kiddo."

"Better for you, worse for me."

"Seriously Harry, thanks for being the one to do this. We're settled out here and I seriously doubt Mom would move out of the house until she's lost all her marbles."

"You and me both, sister. I'll let you both know when I know anything. Give Mom a call tomorrow night and be sure she's all right. It will take a while to figure out what to bring and close up the cabin."

"That's our very own Thoreau - cabin in the woods and writing great works."

"Thoreau didn't have air conditioning and I do. I'm not an aesthete, either."

Moving Day

I kissed Mom goodbye - at least she remembered I was her son Harry - and headed for the U-Haul dealer. I left my trusty Toyota and rented a van, then crept through the city on the sadly misnamed Freeway and finally got out into open country. An hour later I arrived at my little cabin in the woods.

I can hear all of you out there asking: How does an obscure writer afford to live in a nice cabin in the woods. Aren't vacation properties expensive?

The answer is: Yes they can be, but I got the place as the result of a nasty divorce and a wife who wanted to put the screws to her ex. She sold it for a song and only gave him a verse and half the chorus.

The next question is invariably: Where did you get the money? There the answer is slightly embarrassing. One drunken night in a bar some friends were inventing sick book titles. Knowing I was a wannabe writer, I was challenged to select one and do a short story to read the next time we gathered. In my youthful naivete and hubris I wrote a story entitled The Erotic Adventures of Tinkerbell. It was a hit with the drunken louts I hung out with, so I foolishly expanded it and it became a short novel.

In my arrogance, I submitted it to several publishers, receiving my first rejection slips. None of them included the usual polite 'you have promise so try harder' bullshit. Then one day I opened a particularly thick envelope to find a contract for the publication of The Erotic Adventures of Tinkerbella. Note the 'a'; at the end. The publisher didn't want to take a chance on anyone suing for copyright infringement.

The whole copyright thing is complicated. In Britain, a special act of parliament gave the royalties from the stage version of Peter Pan to Great Ormond Street Hospital in perpetuity. The European copyright expired in 2007 except in Spain, where it expired in 2017. In the US the book is in public domain but the play is good until 2023.

Oddly enough, the names of all the characters can't be copyrighted. Be that as it may, Disney has been known to sue the crap out of anyone they want to. Since The Erotic Adventures of Tinkerbella. certainly wouldn't make it on the Disney Channel, my publishers wanted to be careful. My book wasn't quite porn, but that little girl did get into some very interesting places - and people. Read the book if you want to find out more.

I made a modest profit on the book. I even had it published almost under my own name - Hairy Ballston.

I told you my parents had a sick sense of humor. There's a rumor that they almost named my older sisters Sandra Beech and Lotta Racket. I never had the nerve to ask them.

Who the hell would believe that was my real name on a semi-porn book? The real money came when someone in the Adult Film Industry got inspired by the book. They bought the rights for the film and I bought my cabin.

By the way, while my book was erotic and maybe soft-core, the movie is as hard core as it gets. They changed her name to Tinklebell - I'm sure you can guess why. You truly do not want to know where the fairy dust came from.

I write my work under an assortment of pseudonyms - can you blame me? Bodice Rippers and other romances are written by Sherry Chaleux - having a French name helps sales considerably. The mysteries are by Mary Payson - Erle Stanley Gardner is dead and he can't object. There are a couple of others I use for oddball stuff as well.
 

Meanwhile back at the cabin…

I assembled the book boxes and filled them with my books and other materials. I assembled the clothes boxes and hung up my suits, dresses and skirts.

One suit and many dresses and skirts. These days I live as a woman full time and have some very nice high-tech silicon forms that I can glue on when the spirit moves me. Once I was on my own I let Sherry out of the closet to roam around as she will.

You don't know just how hard it was to control my face when Mom started calling me Carrie. If that's the way she was going to see me, then I was perfectly willing to go where she was. I suppose that wasn't quite what the doctor had in mind when he said I needed to go to wherever Mom was, but there you go.
 

"Carrie! You're home. I was getting so worried."

Mom met me at the door but she was looking tired and worn.

"I told you I'd be home for supper, didn't I?"

"I don't remember. I was just so worried. And you're wearing your brother's clothes again. You know I don't like that."

We were back to Carrie again.

"I know mom."

"You're too pretty to keep looking like a boy."

"I am a…" I remembered what the doctor had said. "You're right, Mom. I'll get changed when I have everything up in my room."

"I hope you like what I did with it."

Oh-oh. I wasn't sure what to think of that.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Mom. Let me empty the van and take it back, OK?"

"You do that, darling."

So I schlepped it all up the stairs, putting the clothes in the bedroom and the writing stuff in my old room. I took the van back and reclaimed my Toyota and parked it in front of the garage, thinking that it would keep Mom from trying to drive her own car.

"Carrie, I want to go out to Eduardo's for pizza, just like the old times."

"Sounds like a great idea to me, Mom."

The family often went to Eduardo's when we wanted to go out or have a bit of a celebration. Great Italian food and some of the best pizza around. We kids almost always had the pizza, Mom and Dad were a bit more adventurous.

"We need to get dressed up, Carrie. You never know - there might be a fine-looking older gentleman dining with his handsome son who are looking for a pair of beauties such as we are."

"Mom, you're dreaming."

"A girl can dream, can't she? Your father's been gone a long time, you know."

You've got to go to where she is…

"I know Mom. What's your preference? Tall, dark and handsome or short, fat and rich?"

"Oh you!"

"Time's a wastin', Mom. Let's get dressed."

Good thing I brought Sherry's clothes.
 

I slit open the wardrobe box I knew had my dresses and skirts, took a handful and opened the closet door. What the heck? It was empty yesterday, today it was half full.

It took a few seconds to realize that's what Mom meant about hoping I'd like what she'd done. When Carrie went overseas she had a very tiny personal baggage allowance, so she had stored everything in the old family homestead.

Maybe I didn't need to bring Sherry's clothes with me after all. Hmmm… my sister may have a problem reclaiming her stuff when she comes back.

I looked in the drawers and sure enough, Carrie's bras, panties, pantyhose, stockings, garter belts and all kinds of things neatly laid out. Neatly placed along with her hairbrushes and other paraphernalia was a bright pink electric dildo.

I wonder just what Mom thought of that? I wonder if Mom even knew just what it was. No way I was going to ask.

I stripped, showered quickly and dressed in Carrie's underwear - we were still just about the same size. Actually, I had sized my inserts so we were the same size there, too. I swiped a green velvet dress of Carrie's, one I had always liked. Being early October the evenings could get cooler, so I wanted something to keep me warm.

I sat at the makeup table and did a quick job. No need to shave - a detailed and excessively flattering history of a family that had founded a tool & die works had paid for electrolysis. My jewelry box yielded a pair of earrings with clear green glass stones dangling from a fine chain, perfect for the dress.

I looked good, even if it was a stupid outfit to wear out for pizza. I was going to ask for a bib for both Mom and me.
 

"Large with sausage, green peppers and anchovies, olives on my half and onions on yours, with a small antipasto - right Mom?"

"You remembered!"

"How could I forget? We going to splurge and get a bottle of Chianti?"

"I shouldn't but it sounds delightful."

"None of your meds say 'no alcohol'?"

"I don't think so."

"Then we celebrate!"

I ordered and we sat down. The waiter brought the bottle and we poured - no sommeliers or fancy-schmatzy stuff at Eduardo's.

"To the wonderful woman who brought me to this earth!" I toasted.

"And the one who can take you out of it!"

"You remembered."

"I said it to you and the others enough times that I can't forget."

"Now Mom, were we really that bad?"

"Worse!"

"You and your brother were ten times worse than your sisters. What one didn't think of the other did. And always changing your clothes trying to confuse your poor father."

"We confused you, don't deny it!"

"A mother knows…"

You've got to go to where she is…

"I'm sure you do."

We sat and drank our wine. A teenaged boy and girl sat across from us - maybe fifteen or sixteen - both trying desperately to be cool and sophisticated on their date. How well I remembered!

I hoped it wasn't their first date. I remembered Carrie admonishing me never to take a girl to an Italian place on a first date. All that tomato sauce was just waiting to ruin her dress and make her look like a fool in front of the boy.

I was glad I was mature enough to ask for one of their plastic bibs. I had long ago learned that my breasts had a magnetic attraction to any morsel of food that missed my mouth. Dabbing at your boobs in public is not the best way to remain unnoticed.

The food came and we ate, reminiscing about the silly things we did as kids. Mom's memory seemed to be working perfectly. Too perfectly - she remembered some things I really wanted to forget.

We took most of the Chianti home; neither of us were big drinkers.
 

After seeing Mom to bed I showered and washed my hair. When I was thoroughly dry I glued my forms on to my less-than-manly pecs - Sherry - or maybe Carrie - was here for the long haul. I just didn't know how long or how difficult it would be.

Friday Night: Memories And An Old Friend

It had been a good week. Mom seemed to be her usual self, enjoying having her daughter back in the house. While it was great to see Mom happy, I did feel a little bit guilty impersonating my sister Carrie. Not that I was guilty about the crossdressing, but I realized that I had developed my own identity as Sherry. Not only was I part man and part women, I was part man and part two women.

Multiple personalities, anyone?

So here it was Friday night - an ordinary night to the working adult I had become. Living in a cabin in the woods there wasn't anything special going on any particular Friday night. Now that I was back in the family home, the memories of going out to party with friends came rushing back. The younger Harry would have been out the door by this time, the mature pseudo-Carrie was just a little afraid to leave Mom alone, despite the good week.

I was scanning through the cable, hoping there was something worth watching, when the doorbell rang. I got up and answered the door.

"Well, Doctor Ballston, just when were you going to let your best friend know you were back in town? Does that MD after your name make you too hoity-toity to slum with us common folks?"

Lucy Kesslere, our partner-in-crime from our school days and one of the few people in town who knew about Sherry. Lucy had been a fixture at our house, one of those girls who was always coming up with ideas and saying outrageous things. I mostly felt tongue-tied around her back then; as Harry I let the girls take the lead, teasing me much like my own sisters. When I was switched with Carrie I wasn't as shy, but had to work hard to keep up with her as if I were Carrie. There was only one way to handle Lucy, and that was to attack.

"Jesus! Home for a few days and next thing I know they're banging at the door demanding free medical advice. My diagnosis is a oversized mouth and an undersized brain. The case is hopeless, but long-term custodial care is an option. What kind of insurance do you have?"

I went on more quietly "It's Sherry, Carrie is still overseas somewhere. Mom refuses to believe that I'm Harry, so I'm going with the flow. Don't let the cat out of the bag."

"Sherry?"

"In the silicon enhanced flesh. Come on in and set a spell."

"How rustic."

"Who's at the door," called Mom.

"It's Lucy. We're coming."

"Why Lucy, it's been a long time."

"Ever since Carrie ran away from home. I came over to steal her away, ply her with drinks and go pick up a couple of bar-flies to dance with."

"Still the same old Lucy, eh?" I asked.

"I bet you're not the same old Carrie, however."

That bitch!

"Unlike some, I have matured."

"I suppose you have grown quite a bit," she said, looking directly at my breasts. "Can you live without her for a few hours, Mrs B?

"Of course. Go out and have fun. Maybe you can bring me back a mature bar-fly if find one."

"We'll keep our eyes open wide. It's come-as-you-are tonight. Grab your purse and let's go!"

"I…"

"The world is waiting. We don't want to disappoint the entire world, do we?"

So I went.

 
"Alright, Sherry," she asked when we got to her car. "What's going on?"

"Dementia, Lucy. We're all worried."

"No…"

"Yes."

So I tried to explain. As you might have guessed when she called me 'Sherry', Lucy is one of those rare women go gets it about a man who likes to wear dresses. She was just as quick on the uptake about Mom's problems.

"So what are you going to do?"

"To use an ancient idiom, go with the flow. I've been researching dementia all week. Sort of the Writer's Curse, do the research before writing the book."

"So are you going to write a book about all this?"

"Who knows? I'm still in the early research phase."

"And you're going to be Carrie until your Mom no longer needs you?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead, but that just may be how it works out."

"That's a hell of a big commitment to make."

"She's a hell of a mom. She put in a lot of years to see me grow up right, how can I do any less?"

"Darned if I know. Right now you need some respite care, girlfriend."

"What about Walter?"

"Walter and I called it quits last year."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I'm not - mostly. We gave it a good try but it just didn't work. At least we don't hate each other like Carla and Bob. I wouldn't want to go through that."

"I knew that one wouldn't last."

"So did everybody in town except them. The divorce is nasty and they're fighting over the kids. At least Walter and I didn't have any kids to fight over."

"All this stuff almost makes me glad I never found anyone that I wanted to marry. Most of the stuff I write is Romance books about true love and happy ever after, but every time I look around it's divorce and stabbing in the back."

"Now that's not true! Look at your parents. They loved each other until your Dad died, and your Mom still loves him."

"Yes, you're right. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate on the positive."

"There will be someone for you, someday."

"Yeah, but it will probably be some guy who falls for Sherry and I'm only into girls."

"Picky, picky picky. I'll take any hunks you don't want."

"Already planning divorce #2?"

"Now that #1 is final."

Naturally, we went to our old haunt, the Bleaker Street Pub, and there I had to convince several people that I was my sister. Not as difficult as it might seem, we had lots of practice in impersonating each other.

Things got a little hairy when Billy-Bob (he always hated that name and prefers to be called BB) started talking medical stuff. He's a nurse, I'm a writer that knows enough to fake an almost believable hunk of a doctor who's only purpose it to make the heroine's heart flutter. Well, maybe not the heart, but I can't just come out and say what's fluttering, can I? Frankly, I'm more attuned to the heroine.

The point was, I got to relax and forget my problems for an evening. Even if my old friends thought I was my sister, we shared those old friends so it was good.

The bad part? When I got home I got a lecture about being out past curfew, I'd never get up in time for school tomorrow. All I could do is apologize and go to my room. Maybe she'd forget about it in the morning.