Sing a Healing Song, Chapter 8

The next morning, I woke up before my parents, and I still had all this energy, I went out for another run, but this time, I didn’t bump into any boys. Which I was almost disappointed by ...

I made it back home, and I had time to shower and changed into one of the outfits I had actually asked for that Mom bought yesterday - a pair of casual sweat pants and a matching t-shirt. I had briefly considered a skirt, but I decided I just wasn’t ready for that just yet ...

I considered wearing a pair of “mules” which actually were a pair of shoes with open toes and open back end, then changed my mind and put on some socks and a pair of runners.

I went back to the kitchen, and decided to make pancakes.

I got the mix and a bowl out of the cupboard, and then realized I was again doing something for the first time that most people take for granted. I smiled with gratitude as I prepared the pancakes.

I had just finished making the mix when my parents came into the kitchen. I held out the bowl of batter and said, “Here. You both might need to re-fuel after having so much ... exercise last night.”

My parents both blushed, although I think my dad blushed harder.

Then he grabbed the bowl, and said, “Here. Let me cook the pancakes while you set the table.”

I thought about complaining that I was practically an adult and more than capable of making pancakes, but then I realized that he was used to having to do just about everything for me, and so I cut him a break and let go of the bowl, saying “Only if you make a couple of funny shaped ones.”

He smiled, and I was sure he was remembering the same thing I was, of when I was a kid, and him making all kinds of silly shaped pancakes to make me giggle. He had done stuff like that a lot, trying to give me stuff to hold on to when my illness got me down.

I set the table, he made silly-shaped pancakes, and my mom laughed at us both when it came time to eat them. After we ate, Mom asked, “So what’s the plan for today, Fiona?”

Dad answered for me, saying “I was hoping to take Fiona to a baseball game, if you didn’t mind me borrowing her for the day.”

I looked at my dad, and he mouthed the words “Play along.”

“That sounds nice. I have some paperwork I need to do for work anyway.” Mom said, apparently not noticing our little pantomime.

“Fiona, grab a hat if we’re gonna be out in the sun, and I’ll put some sunscreen in a bag.” Dad said.

Shrugging, I went and grabbed a ballcap out of the front closet, went and gave Mom a kiss, and then waited by the door for Dad, who arrived a few moments later with a bag that held sunscreen and bug repellant.

He went over, kissed Mom so deeply I coughed so they would part.

He blushed, then put his arm on my back and escorted me to the car.

Once we were on the road, I asked, “Okay, Dad. What’s up?”

“I wanted to make sure we were on the same page when it came to your mom.”

“If you mean we shouldn’t tell her I used to be a dying boy, she had died giving birth to me, and we both got a second chance by a goddess? Then I agree completely.”

“I figured you’d say that. I actually want to make the argument we should tell her.”

“Say what now?”

“Look. I was able to ... distract her last night ...”

“Oh, is that what you were doing last night? Because I thought you were ..”

“Don’t finish that sentence. My point is sooner or later one of us will say or do something that seems so strange to her, she’ll demand an explanation, and I really don’t really want to lie to her.”

I thought about that for a while.

“Say that I agree you have a point. How would you have us do that? She’ll think we’re both nuts.”

“Well, I was thinking about how you gave me the memories of her I would have had in this reality. Could you do the opposite for her? Show her the old reality?”

I thought about that.

“I ... I think I could, Dad. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Better than trying to keep the truth from her, and have her be angry when she finds out.”

“You’ve got a point. Okay, so how do we do this?”

“Tonight, after supper, I’ll try and prep her. She probably wont believe me, and that’s when you come in and give her the memories.”

“Okay, Dad. Now, can we go to the ball game for real?”

He smiled, and we drove on to the ballpark.

It wasn’t my first time at the ballpark. I had been there a couple of times before with Dad, but in those days we needed seats in the wheelchair section. Now, we got the best seats we could, along with a couple of hot dogs and pops each, and settled in to watch the game. I also got a program so I’d know the players, since at this level of baseball they’re a long way from the major leaguers I occasionally watched on TV. In the program they also had a stat sheet so if you were the right sort of person, you could keep track of the hits, runs, errors, walks, and outs each player had during the game.

It probably sounds super-geeky, but when I was a boy (and sick), keeping score was one of the few things I COULD do, and I decided that this was one thing I’d bring over from my male life. Not sure what anybody would have thought to see a pretty girl keeping score with a serious expression on her face, but whatever they thought was their problem, not mine.

Once the game was over, Dad and I climbed back into the car and headed for home, and what was going to happen when we got there had me worried ...

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