The Way Things Happen
Jennifer Christine
The continuing story of Jennifer Holland

“Okay the luggage allowance is 14 kilos each.
I’ve got the bathroom scales here so when you’ve packed your bag, bring it down and well trim it up for size.. well weight anyway.” Mum harrumphed.

“I don’t think I’ve got 14 kilos of clothes that I can wear in Switzerland, I’ve been collecting summer stuff because we’re going to Oz..”

Every few minutes I’d space out, this is it, the big moment, alles umsteigen, all change! Only 5 days til I can’t spell my name in the snow.

“Well the return might be different, there may be one or two things coming back with us, so leave a bit of room.” Mum got the last word in.

Daddy wobbled his eyes and winked at me. I ducked and flushed and turned my back to hide my bright red face. “Sorry pet, couldn’t resist. You have to admit though it’s a bit new isn’t it?” Daddy was being as nice as pie considering this was costing an arm and a leg (not to mention the penis).

“Well I’m glad it’s nearly here and I can get it over with. The last week or two has been murder and I’m tired of thinking about it. I keep thinking what could go wrong — I hate the doctor for putting that ‘outcomes’ part in the envelope — it was both shocking and kinda scary.” I paused, thinking about the wording of the letter. ‘You may or may not be capable of Orgasm etc etc’. How insensitive can you get?

“Stop worrying, they have to put that in to cover their liability insurance, I’ve spoken with the doctor and he’s NEVER had a bad outcome and apparently he’s done quite a few of these operations.” Dad put on his reassuring hat and continued to try to fold his trousers neatly.

“Why don’t you lay those in the case open and put a pullover on top, then fold the leg of the pants over the pullover? There won’t be a crease in them then.” Dad looked at me, and shook his head, smiling.

“Well you’re certainly done and dusted mentally, you know all the secret women’s business — it’s just the ‘nip and tuck’ now isn’t it?” He did as I suggested “Voila” - he closed the case lid — “just the toilet bag to go in now and that can go in on Saturday afternoon afore we hi-tail it out of here.” He tipped the metaphorical Stetson on his head and grabbed the metaphorical braces and left — stage left.

I grinned and shook my head — “D-a-ad, mum wants to weigh the case, take it with you . He slunk back in ad grabbed the handle and dragged it off the bed. Whereupon the whole contents fell onto the floor — he hadn’t latched the lid.

I looked at his face and he looked at mine, I started to gurgle and whistle as he lowered himself to his knees and whimpered theatrically then thumped his forehead. Ten minutes later he’d repacked it all — this time with the lid latched.

Mine was done too so I followed him down.
We sat quietly at the kitchen table ticking off our lists. Mum had been thorough and organised us all like the sheep we appeared to be. “Thanks Beth,” Daddy kissed mum on the forehead and helped himself to the scotch — what would you like pet?”
Mum and I both answered together, “White wine please.” Of course I only got lemonade but then I knew I would.

“Ok. Last day of school tomorrow, is there anything you need for that?” Mum marked her place on the list with her pencil and looked up at me.
“No, and I could be home by 3, as they want to pack up as soon as possible. But I may go into town so don’t expect me til the shops shut — I haven’t finished my crimbo shopping yet.” I added, thinking about the few things I had left to get.

I was just thinking it would be nice for Nigel to come over on Saturday to see us off when Daddy said, “Nigel’s coming over on Saturday to drive us to the airport. He’d better not be late it will be packed driving down to Manchester.”

“You’re letting him drive your car? Ooooh that’s risky. Let’s hope it isn’t icy.” I teased dad, knowing Nigel had only had his license a short time. He wasn’t a bad driver though — just not very mechanical. I watched dad go into a trance as he thought about pirouetting down the motorway, then he shook his head and glowered at me sternly.

“Don’t do that minx!” Then he grinned and shook his head one more time to rid himself of the apparition. The ghost of future yet to come…

So started the countdown.
The next morning I bounced out of bed — which was a miracle as I had lain wide awake for ages, it seemed, last night. But when I did drop off I was obviously dead to the world as my batteries felt fully charged and amazingly high voltage.

This was probably caused by the hormone surge due to withdrawal — my breasts were as sore as anything and my nipples were like organ stops nearly continuously — I had to put some tissue in my bra to camouflage the protuberances.
When I thought about it, I had got over all that clothing stuff fairly lightly — it had come naturally and without trauma. I didn’t particularly like pantyhose or tights and I hated stockings. Bras were a necessary nuisance and heels were not even in my wardrobe unless you counted the blocky heeled school shoes. I didn’t need heels so I wasn’t going to wear them.
I did have some ballet slippers and sandally things but nothing very glamorous — how many 15 year olds had high heels? Carol and Wendy didn’t. Joanne refused to even look at a pair. Though she did have some court shoes — but they were only an inch and a half.
I did have a pair of nice leather boots though and I was wearing them — since my legs would have been like blocks of ice. And no one was going to give me a hard time on the last day of school!

It was due to be a relaxed day as we were just there to hand in stuff and make sure the reports were handed out and the end of term results with them — that was important for me as they would be quite detailed and given to my new school in Brisbane when I got there. We got to look at them as they were handed out in the final class before lunch.

There were always those unfortunates with, ‘could do better’, or, ‘needs to concentrate more’ followed by a C- or a D. You could see who they were, furrows were across their brow or a tear glistened. But there weren’t many.
We were given a class place too — I’d got 3rd in the class of 24 and Wendy had 5th. So we weren’t overly concerned with the comments as they were in the spirit of, ‘Well done, a good term’s work’.

Mine instead of a foolscap sheet was a sheet from each teacher on the syllabus covered and how I’d understood each part — so it was pretty thorough — but boring nonetheless as it came under the usual ‘A’ delineation, ‘Jenny is a good student and will do well’. I was more than happy with my first terms as a girl.
I’m sure my boy’s report wouldn’t have been quite as nice. I remembered myself being less driven and less likely to push myself.

Class was out and everyone had big grins on their faces. Some of the girls were dishing up their makeup whilst waiting for the bus. Little makeup mirrors flashed the sun hither and thither. Everyone was heading into town to celebrate break up and do some shopping. It was quite hectic getting on the bus. A lot more crowded than usual but us four managed to find a seat upstairs and we headed off to town and ‘Grounds’ coffee house.

“Have you got Paul a present?” Carol asked carefully, checking that I didn’t burst into tears or throw myself off the top of the bus.

“Just a little one, it’s a chunky silver bracelet with his name on it, it wasn’t expensive.” I lied — truthfully it had nearly bust me but I wanted to make him remember me — I really didn’t want to let him go and my heart still galloped when I thought of his warmth and his soft lips.. Maybe when we’re settled we can get back together. I knew it was a desperate plea to the fates, but where there’s hope there’s a chance.

Carol read my thoughts, “Yeah sure, whatever you say. I’m really sorry you two won’t be together, you make a great couple.”

I looked at my hands in my lap and bit my lip — tears were never far away and Carol wasn’t being insensitive; well just a little anyway. I sucked it up and looked back up and smiled at her. “Yes it would have been nice, but I won’t even be here over Christmas.”

The girls’ memories flashed back up and they all looked at Jenny with that warmth and love that was a mark of true friendship. As one they all reached out mentally with all their support and love. “Wow what a Christmas present,” was all Wendy said.

When we got off in town it seemed there were hundreds of school children there — mainly because there were hundreds of school children there. We headed to the café and it was so packed that there wasn’t even standing room. So we went round to the arcade and had a mooch in one or two shops and chatted about what we were getting our folks.

I saw a lovely pair of driving gloves that Nigel would love so I got them and a Porsche key fob to impress his girlfriends until they saw he drove a Ford Escort with a dented wing. I would have to wrap that for tomorrow — I intended to get something in Geneva for mum and dad until I realised I wouldn’t be walking far and suddenly I went all hot and cold and had to sit down.

“What’s up,” Wendy leaned over and looked into my eyes which had gone a bit round.

“Oh just pre-op nerves.” I tried to be casual but my face gave it away, I’d gone a bit white..

“Let’s get you home,” Carol tried to make a decision.

“No, no! — I need to get mum and dad a pressy and it’s my last chance really as I’ll be with mum tomorrow and she’ll see what I get her.” I gathered myself up and shot out of the chair I’d plonked in. “Let’s go look in Debenhams.” I took control — I had to otherwise we’d have got nothing done.

I got home at 4pm after all as I didn’t get to have a coffee — every café was stuffed to the gills with schoolies. I didn’t see Paul which was just as well really.
I retired to my room and slipped the presents for mum and dad in my case and left Nigel’s out — I’d wrap it later.

When I got downstairs there was a present on the table and the name on it was mine — I recognised Paul’s handwriting. I smiled and held it up to my ear and rattled it. It rattled like a bracelet! There WAS a God.

The smile was still on my face after dinner. I helped with the washing up as I didn’t have school tomorrow — but I did have an appointment with Julie.

I retired early that night to get as much sleep as I possibly could — there was a lot to get in in the next few days and it seemed my life was to be curtailed for a few weeks after. Like planning for the flu!

I wrapped mum and dad’s present before I turned in. I hope dad still wore shirts that needed cufflinks — I hadn’t checked — blimey do they wear long sleeve shirts in Oz?
No matter, it’s the thought that counts and dad’s the boss so he’ll be wearing Boss type shirts; smart as ninepence! Mum’s bound to like the Chanel #5, I don’t know a woman who doesn’t — the cost was a bit rich, but that’s ok! I may even borrow a little now and then…

Sleep…

“Jenny, better get your bottom out of that bed or I’ll be coming with a cattle prod.
EEK — 3 days to go.
I was out before my eyes were open — I felt like I was on speed — The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost’s words sprang to my head.

It wasn’t so much the forest I was thinking about but promises to keep.
Appointments and seeing the girls before I went to meet my maker — almost literally (I hoped)
The end was so close I could smell it and suddenly — I was calm.

It didn’t matter, it really was out of my control — I go to my fate with a steady hand.
There were no tumbrels now, nor a green mile. I was going to be whole not diminished — I was being unbroken.

I walked into the kitchen with my chest out and my head clear. “Morning Mummy, can I have toast this morning, it feels a bit cold to be eating corn flakes and porridge is just so gluggy..”

Mum peered over at me through a hank of hair that had come loose over her eyes, “Someone’s feeling chipper this morning.”

“I just realised as I came down stairs, that no matter what happens now, I’m going to be in Geneva on Sunday and under the knife on Monday. Sure as eggs is eggs, to quote someone — probably Mark Twain.” I added noconsequentially.

“There’s a lot of things to do before then, so don’t relax to much missy. First off Julie.
You’ve twenty minutes before you leave here so toast is probably a good idea.” She popped a couple of slices into the toaster. “Jam or Marmalade?”

“Marmalade please mummy.” I smiled dreamily — nothing can phase me now.

“Come on Jenny snap out of it, you’re acting like you’ve been hit with a wet kipper.”

“Oh, sorry mum, I think I’m on an endorphin high or something — caused by the adrenalin rush of possible immediate demise.”

“Calm before the storm eh?” Mum passed my chair and gave my shoulder a squeeze. She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Your toast is burning.”

Eek! I roused and had my brekkers. A nice cup of coffee and I was ready to have a chat with anyone who cared to pass the time of day — But Julie was first.

“Come right in Jenny, oh and you too please Beth” Julie called through the open door as we entered the clinic.
“I saw you drive up,” she offered in explanation of her clairvoyance. “Is mike coming in?”
“I don’t think so, he’s got a lot to tidy up before he knocks off and he’s going to be out of circulation until the new Year so he’s making sure it’s all done properly. He’s happy about things as they are and can’t see any problems from his point of view.” Mum explained briefly.
“Right Zero minus 3 eh?”
Mum and I nodded.
Any?
Mum and I shook our heads.
Coffee?
“No thanks I just finished one thanks.” I replied; mum said “ Yes please, I’d love one.”

“So you feel the future bearing down on you yet?” Julie looked at me for a reaction.

“On Wednesday I’d have said yes and I’m scared. Now I’m as calm as calm can be and I’m a bit surprised. Like I’ve reached the point of no return and the future is inevitable.”

Julie nodded, “It’s a common symptom, you’re mentally prepared and committed, there’s no panic. A bit like you’re about to step out on stage and you know all the words and have had plenty of practise.” She smiled and watched me for a few seconds.

I’ve got to say that the person sitting here in front of me is really something to behold, quiet, assured, confident…. You’re looking good too Jenny.” She snorted when I looked puzzled. “Sorry, I think you were preening so I just prodded you conscience.”

“I was, and you’re quite right — I shouldn’t be so smug.” I coloured up a bit. I really was a bit too big for my boots this morning.

“I think you should be a little careful Jenny, the high you’re on at the moment will be reflected in a low in a few days time. It’s called post-op blues and it can be quite devastating. I’m not trying to ruin your day; I’m just giving you a little insight so if you see it coming you know what it is. Ok?”

Julie was concerned and except that I trusted her so much, I would have almost been tempted to pooh pooh her and that might have been tragic.

“Thanks Julie, I’m really sorry if I’m full of it, I can’t seem to help it.” I started to feel like someone had pulled the plug out and the bath full of lovely warm water was disappearing down the hole. I reached out to mum’s hand for comfort.

“Now that’s more like it.” Julie smiled as the coffee arrived. “You’ve just grasped the significance of the moment.”

We chatted on a bit and I felt a little lonely, like only I knew how it felt to be lined up in someone’s sights — even if it was only a surgeon’s. Mum’s hand was warm and comfortable, I’m very glad it was there today.

Julie went over the things that I’d be feeling for the next few days — pain — misery — frustration — fear — euphoria and depression. She explained why I would feel them and how I was to try to overcome them and allow myself to ride evenly over the trauma my body was about to undergo.

I hadn’t really thought about it and it opened my eyes a bit. I didn’t like pain and I wasn’t keen on depression. Euphoria was more than I wanted to feel and fear was something I wasn’t really familiar with.

We went over them one by one and Julie showed mum how they might manifest and how to keep me in touch with my reality.

It was a different interview style, but at the end of it I felt pretty thankful Julie was my shrink.

“Well happy Christmas to the Holland family and especially to you Jenny, I hope it is all you hoped it would be.” She gave me a hug then mum we said our farewells and we exited into the street feeling a little subdued — I for one had been firmly put in my place and told in no uncertain terms what was about to happen. It didn’t scare me any more and I wasn’t euphoric. I was a little anxious and a little scared and that is how it should be. Only a fool throws caution to the wind.

“Let’s go get a coffee and a piece of cake at the Lyons Tea House.” Mum was right on the money — a sugar hit would make me feel less abnormal!