Blessed Hearts Series

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For a moment Dale thought that Collette was talking to Sandy, but she turned her face back to Dana and pulled her closer, kissing her daughter-in-law over and over as their tears mingled together in one last prayer for a husband and a child.

Dale felt awkward. This was the part of the conversation where strong, stoic Dale would make a joke or spout some useless words or just laugh. It was her part in her own psychic drama, and she was expected to be manly; whatever that was. She had a role to fulfill so she took a deep breath in order to say something brave, as if somehow she couldn’t be herself and be brave as well

So instead she found herself crying. She sat down at the table and put her head down; much like Sandy had done moments before. Her shoulders bobbed up and down in rhythm with the sobs as she said over and over,

"I can't do this...I can't do this..."

---

Previously, at the Pevour home

“Don’t mind me…I’ll be just a moment,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Dale looked up at him and smiled a knowing smile; almost an uncomfortable moment of foreboding doom. She winked at him and grabbed his hand. Pulling him down to the chair next to her, she spoke.

“Oh, that’s alright, we’re all girls here!” She smiled again and his face began to turn a bright red. He looked at her like he had lost his best friend and burst into tears; his own stress and tension reaching their saturation point as well. He began to sob and put his head down on the table. And he wasn’t angry or sad or scared, but relieved. At least mostly as he realized on his other side his mother sat silent.

“I’mmmm sooooo sorry….Mommmm I’m sooooosoryyyr…..I can’t ddddooo this annnny mmooore.” She put her hand on his forehead, brushing away a lock of hair before kissing him.

“Mon petite Philippe…Mon doux enfant ne pleure pas je ne suis pas fá¢ché, (my sweet child, do not cry, I am not angry)” she said as she stroked his hair. Her ministrations caused him to cry harder; his shame and guilt and regret overwhelming him until heard her finally say,

“Je vous aime, ma douce fille…”

Dana turned to Dale and half-smiled.

“I took Spanish in high school, but ….did she just say what I think she said?”

“Oui ma soeur, Oui,” Dana giggled.

“I love you, my sweet daughter.”

---

A few weeks later at the Pevour home

A fairly attractive college student sat at the kitchen table undergoing the doting ministrations of her friends, a pair of nearly identical twins save for the very short and unflattering haircut one of them wore.

Well, you've got gorgeous eyes, so there's a lot to work with." Dana leaned closer to examine Sandy's brows. Fortunately for you, your bone structure favors your mom, so there's nothing needed on your brow line except to remove a few wandering hairs. She leaned even closer and kissed his forehead.

"Okay...get ready." She plucked the first of several hairs.

"Ow!"

After a few minutes, Sandy looked in the mirror. His brow line appeared normal but neater, and not in the radical “I just had my eyebrows tweezed” way you might see if he'd had it done in the parlor; brows that were neither masculine nor feminine.

"What do you think, sis?" Dana turned as Dale walked back into the kitchen.

'Breathtaking...I'd date her." Dale realized what she had just said and backtracked.

"If she weren't family...still looks kind of pretty." She moved quickly to the counter with her back to them, pouring herself some coffee. Her face had grown warm and she realized she must be blushing.

"And this without makeup! It's uncanny how some guys have that type of face, you know?" Dana said as she started to comb Sandy's hair back off his face.

"Put a two-day stubble on this boy here and give him a buzz cut and he'd be on the cover of OK or US. Put make up on this girl here and give her a nice cut from the salon and the boys would beat down her door. It just isn't fair." Dana half-frowned and then stuck her lower lip out in a mock pout.

Dale turned back to see Dana brushing on some blush. Sandy's soft complexion needed little help, and Dale quickly turned away just before Sandy caught her eye.

"Let's see...purple...mauve....hmmm?" Dana absentmindedly bit the tail of the comb.

"I think a dark brown on the lid softening outward up to the brow, Oui?" Sandy looked up to see his mother standing in the kitchen doorway, a frown on her face. She walked over and looked him up and down, as if he were a recruit at inspection.

"Brows look very good! A little too much blush, I fear." All that was missing was a riding crop.

"Just one thing to make this complete," she said as if she were about to lecture the three of them. She suddenly leaned closer to Sandy and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ces't Magnifique! mon fille." She started to giggle, which immediately became contagious as Dana and Dale began to laugh. Sandy didn't join in; quite the opposite, he began to cry.

"What's wrong, honey?" Dana asked. "I would have thought you'd be happy.

"I am...it's just that this...acceptance is so...overwhelming." He looked into his mother's eyes and saw her start to cry.

"Sandy, I am so sorry I neglected you all these years." She shook her head and Dana walked to her side and embraced her from behind.

"I loved Johnny...In spite of what he became, I still love him; I always will." Dana shuddered at the mention of Johnny's name. Collette reached back and held her hand over her shoulder.

"But I loved him too much and not enough, I think. I doted on him and gave him permission...I'm so sorry Dana...I gave him permission to be cruel and selfish and unfair." She turned and embraced Dana, who collapsed in her arms.

"But I had another child, a child so precious that I should have treasured....at least treated as kindly and affectionately as my firstborn. I am so sorry I didn't see who you had become."

"Mom...I..." Sandy choked up, the words failing to be said. Dale stepped closer and patted him on the back.

"She knows, Sandy. I think she's known for a while, but couldn't face losing two sons." Dale looked down and again was struck with the beauty of this....girl.

"Johnny was almost destined to depart. I'm sorry, Dana, but it just always seemed like he wasn't...you know." Dana wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded.

"And Philippe? Destined to leave as well, leave as a boy but return as a girl in a way...you've known for awhile, haven't you, Collette?"

"Yesss." She began to cry softly.

"I thought it was a phase...so many boys have them, you know? I read and read, and I figured I'd see him change and become the man like his father. But the more I saw just how much Johnny had become like his father, in my heart oh hearts I begged for God to help Philippe, my Sandy.... become something better, kinder, more loving than his brother or his father. I guess in a way God has a sense of humor. He's nothing like his father and only like his brother where Johnny was deep down. Oh baby I am so sorry."

For a moment Dale thought that Collette was talking to Sandy, but she turned her face back to Dana and pulled her closer, kissing her daughter-in-law over and over as their tears mingled together in one last prayer for a husband and a child.

Dale felt awkward. This was the part of the conversation where strong, stoic Dale would make a joke or spout some useless words or just laugh. It was her part in her own psychic drama, and she was expected to be manly; whatever that was. She had a role to fulfill so she took a deep breath in order to say something brave, as if somehow she couldn’t be herself and be brave as well

So instead she found herself crying. She sat down at the table and put her head down; much like Sandy had done moments before. Her shoulders bobbed up and down in rhythm with the sobs as she said over and over,

"I can't do this...I can't do this..."

“You don’t have to.” Dale looked up and found herself gazing once again into the eyes of the kindest woman she had ever known, even if she had only known that part of Sandy for a short while.

“I….I…had to …..Hannah wanted….I…I cuuu couldn’t.” Dale kept shaking her head, almost in an internal argument with herself

“Sounds like we all have some else’s cross to bear.” Sandy turned from Dale to look at Dana and his mother.

“We don’t have to…,” the newest member of the Pevour sisterhood said through her own tears.

“It’s okay….we don’t have to.” Collette smiled at Sandy and nodded.

“We are who we are, and that is a very good thing.” She stepped to the table, Dana in tow, their hands clasped. She leaned over and spoke softly in Dale’s ear.

“Dana is like a daughter to me so you are also like a daughter to me as well, Oui?” Dale lifted her head as Collette cupped her chin.

“Now, where we? Ah yes…you and Dana were helping my daughter with her makeup. I will make some tea and we can continue; Nes pas?” Her question evoked a nervous giggle from Dale, which got Dana and Sandy laughing as well. Dale sat up and smiled.

“Oui, ma chere femme, Oui.”

---

At the Kroger's supermarket several days later

“Oh, what a cute little girl. How old is she?” Dana turned around to see a familiar face.

“Oh, gosh, hello Dr. Javit…you remember Carrie. She’s not quite nine months. Yes she’s cute alright. It’s so nice to see you. How are you?” They shook hands.

“I’m fine. The question is how are you? I heard about your husband. I am so sorry.” Dana smiled nervously.

“I’m doing fairly well, considering. My sister…oh here she is now…My sister Dale is staying with me while I sort things out. Dale, you remember the woman who saved my life.” She used her hand in a broad gesture.

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much…She’s…” Dale paused a moment. Ordinarily glib and even dismissive at times, she truly wanted to change, so she said,

“I can’t thank you enough for saving Dana…I owe you more than I can say” She swallowed and choked back a sob; a newly acquired habit that was helping her be herself.

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take Carrie next door while you finish up. You want me to order?” Dale picked up Carrie, travel seat and all.

“A Diet Coke to start, okay? Maybe some soup…They’ve got that really good seaweed soup here, don’t they?” Dale nodded and walked down the aisle to the exit.

“Well, I’ve got to go check out and you’ve got your shopping to do,” Dana said as she looked down the aisle awkwardly, trying to make an exit.

“I’m so glad to see you again, Ms. Pevour.” Persis said as she smiled warmly.

“Oh, please, call me Dana,” she said and smiled.

“Very well, but only if you call me Persis.” Dana looked at her and tilted her head.

“What a lovely name. What does it mean?”

“It just means Persian woman …it’s a Greek name, but it really describes me. My father was an Indian physician working in Baltimore when he met my mother. She was a doctor as well; she had to leave Teheran when the government fell in ’79. I was born and grew up in Baltimore but I moved here with my fiance’ seven years ago.”

“Oh yes, I remember you talking about your….oh, gosh, I just remembered…I am so sorry.” Dana’s face reddened at the recollection of Persis’ miscarriage and the breakup of her engagement.

“Dana…Dana it’s okay…it’s been awhile…I’m alright. Really.” She leaned closer to show Dana that she was okay.

“I’m really, really sorry.” Dana began to tear up. The mention of Persis’ miscarriage caused a flood of emotion as she recalled her own recent loss. It became overwhelming as she began to weep right there. Persis pulled her close and held her, patting her back in comfort.

“Shila tasliyat migam, Dana jan (It’s okay, Dana dear).” A few moments later Dana pulled back and wiped her face with her sleeve.

“I don’t know what came over me…I’m sorry…I have to go…thank you.” She walked down the aisle with her cart and disappeared. Persis watched until she was out of site. Only then did she shake her head as tears began to stream down her face.

“Shila tasliyat migam, Dana jan. At least it will be.”

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The Pevour home that evening

The girl sat on the front porch; anxiously awaiting her escort. It was her first time out after her makeover, and she was filled with hope. It had been months since she had seen him and she wanted to make a big impression on him. She left the porch light off and sat in the dark on the porch swing. A friendly face…two in fact, looked through the window once before closing the curtains.

A few minutes after six a car drove up to the curb. The young man got out and walked purposely up the steps. The girl rose from the swing and walked toward him slowly.

“Hi, Martin. I missed you,” she said softly. Her smile quickly disappeared as he frowned angrily.

“Sandy, you fucking lied to me. I told you I didn’t want to do this. What part of no don’t you fucking understand. I don’t want to be with a girl …I don’t want this…and I fucking don’t want you.” Martin turned withot another word. He bounded down the steps, got into his car and drove off. Sandy stood in the porch light glow, which revealed a face so filled with hopelessness and horror unlike you’ve ever seen.

The front door creaked open as Dana and Dale came out onto the porch. They led her to the porch swing where Dana sat down with her. Sandy just sat there shaking her head in sad disbelief while Dale sat across from them. She was shaking her head, but it wasn’t only due to sadness. She bit her lip as angry tears streamed down her cheeks. Dana rubbed Sandy’s back and kept saying softly,

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.” She blinked back her own tears and thought to herself,

“At least it will be.”

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A little later

“Are you going to be okay? I’ve got to get home and get the baby to bed, honey.” Dana looked at Dale and saw something odd that she’d never seen before. Not when she was a cellmate in their playpen when they were little. Not when Janine Helwig invited her to the big party in fourth grade. Not when Petra Yankovich kissed her behind the gym in her senior year. There was an almost eerie expression; not the creepy kind, but the otherworldly how in God’s name did that happen kind.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She tilted her head, looking for some clue. Dale smiled and looked over at Sandy, who had fallen asleep on the couch.

“No…I just think she needs someone here when she wakes up. I felt so bad for her.” She smiled as Dana picked up Carrie's seat and headed toward the door.

“Okay. I’ll be by in the morning. I’ll grab some clothes for you.” She kissed Dale on the cheek.

“Sure you’ll be okay?” Dale pushed her gently toward the door.

“Yes, mother.” She laughed and kissed Dana on the cheek before she and Carrie were off down steps to the car.

“Bye….” She waved and closed the door. Turning back, she noticed that Sandy had stirred. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen. Pulling out an O’Doul’s, she walked back into the living room and sat down opposite the couch in the recliner. She looked at the sadness that seemed to plague Sandy even in her sleep.

As she gazed at Sandy, she thought of something a friend had told her once back when she came out to the family. Her family had for the most part supported her but some cousins and several of her oldest friends cut her off. She didn’t feel like she fit in, and when she got to college she tried very hard to fit the mold that her well-meaning new friends pushed her towards. The TV screen catty-corner to her reflected her image, and the distortion wasn’t just from the angle or the glare. She saw someone unloveable and entirely worthless. Someone worthy of scorn or disdain or worse yet, acceptance on their terms.

“Never let anyone define who you are,” her friend Stacy had said, “even me.” They got a nice laugh out of it, but Stacy had been serious. Dale had to discover who she was and why she was, as Stacy had reminded her.

“Dale…you are here for a reason. Not to wear the right clothes, not to say the right things, not to please the right people; even in our community. You’re here because you have a purpose. Like that fellow in Chariots of Fire….God made you for a pupose….and when you find out what that is, honey, you will absolutely know His pleasure!”

She stared at Sandy, perhaps her best friend next to her sister since Stacy and she lost touch and now that she and Hannah were no longer together. Her feelings were very old and brand new at the same time. And once again she beheld the sweetest, kindest woman she ever knew.

“Fuck….why did this have to happen…why me?” She smiled as the tears came, even as she knew that she knew that she knew that the love of her life…the girl she was destined to spend the rest of her life with…was a boy named Philippe Pevour.

Next: Declaration!

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Illustration adapted from
"Maud Cook" 1895, a painting by
Thomas Eakins 1844 - 1916

Something to Believe In
words and music by
Frank Wildhorn
As performed by
Linda Eder
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP9ml0m5poE