-- Part 18, Beginning a New Life

Pansy begins to come to terms with her new life after her "sudden" transformation to a Honduran peasant girl. She reconnects with George's old girlfriend Petunia, to find that their relationship, while still close, is necessarily very different now.
 
 
January 8
-- Pansy discovered that Seá±ora Arias had been right when she had told her maid that life would be easier if Pansy gave her “Pansy” self free rein to run her day. As time passed, she realized that her work was automatic, as if she had been a maid for a long time. (But she had! She remembered it!) She “knew” she had been working at Los Ocotes for over two months, and the others at the finca agreed. Her duties and her schedule were familiar, and the existence of Lilia proved she had been female long before Seá±ora Arias had meddled–as well as her favorite red handbag and her doll Pepita. Of course, her “Jack” memories told her otherwise, and it was obvious that Seá±ora Arias knew otherwise, as she openly relished the sight of her faithless lover in a maid’s dress. It would be so easy to let Seá±or… Seá±or Cualquiera fade into Pansy. She couldn’t remember her real name for long, even though Seá±ora Arias mentioned it occasionally. And of course she couldn’t write it down.

Everyone at the finca was familiar too. In the time that Pansy had worked at Los Ocotes, she had come to know them all as individuals. Seá±or Arias, the master of the finca, was seldom concerned with Pansy. Occasionally he’d order her to fetch something or other, but he considered her to be Seá±ora Arias’s servant, and not one of his own. He was courteous enough, and behaved like a gentleman. Gregorio and Porfirio Ruá­z, brothers in their early twenties from La Libertad, were hard workers and conscientious, but lacking in sense. They helped run cattle and did a good job if they had proper supervision. They had shown some interest in Pansy, but they had accepted her rejection and were dating other girls. Juanito Morales was a bantam rooster of a man–small and skinny, but wiry and tough, and always fighting. He had made several passes at Pansy when he had found out she wasn’t married, but he wasn’t obnoxious. That wasn’t true of Gordo Echeverrá­a, a twenty-year-old from Ojos de Agua. Also a small man, with a fox-sharp but handsome face adorned with a thin mustache and long dark hair, he was totally caught up with his own needs. He was unmarried, but had run through a succession of girlfriends. He considered himself to be God’s gift to women, and he couldn’t understand Pansy’s lack of appreciation for his attentions. His crude remarks may have been intended as compliments, but Pansy failed to see them as such, and he considered her a challenge. She had been told he had bet ten lempiras that he’d bed Pansy before the end of March. “That frigid bitch’ll lust for my body before I’m done,” was the remark reported to her. She almost choked when she heard herself described as frigid; to her dismay, she had found herself judging men by how they might perform in bed, and it was difficult to keep herself from responding enthusiastically to some of the overtures she received. She knew, though, that the men were traditional campesinos who’d insist on an equally traditional wife, and she refused to accept that rá´le. How long her refusal could last was an open question, though; her libido pushed her towards a man, some man, any man, exactly as Seá±ora Arias had said.

The most persistent suitor was Hector Trujillo, a vaquero on the finca, a good-looking widower in his mid-twenties. He was just taller than her. Like Gordo he was slender but well muscled. His face was sharp-featured, with a square chin, an aquiline nose, and a luxuriant mustache. Chocolate-dark skin betrayed his part-African heritage. A scar cut across his right cheekbone, and his smile was marred by the absence of two teeth. Off duty, his shirt and slacks were always immaculately clean. Pansy had turned down his earlier advances–that is, before the inexplicable conflation of the lives of Pansy Baca and Seá±or Cualquiera–but he didn’t resent the those rejections. He had told Pansy to her face, “I know you want someone more high-class, but you ain’t going to find one. I’ll be patient. Eventually your foolishness will come back to hurt you. Then you’ll come around. Within a year, you’ll be my wife–and I’ll make you happy you chose me.” She almost slapped him then, for his arrogance, but in truth she was strongly attracted to him. She could never marry him, though: he was only a poor campesino like the others, barely higher in status than Pansy herself, and far below the level she wanted to regain. If she married him, she’d lose all hope of ever escaping a peasant status. Seá±ora Arias knew of his advances, and somehow she knew that Pansy found him attractive. She was amused by Pansy’s difficult position, and Pansy knew she’d be pleased if Hector’s suit succeeded.

Alfredo Garza, the steward, was a nuisance, but not a real problem. His eye was appreciative, and he let Pansy know of his appreciation, but he didn’t seriously try to seduce her. Pansy suspected that he wouldn’t let an invitation pass, but he didn’t push. His wife Marta kept a sharp eye on him, and Pansy doubted much would pass unnoticed before that eye.

Marta and her young daughter Catalina had become close friends during the two months she had been at Los Ocotes. Marta, intelligent and talkative, was a treasurehouse of information on local history and families. She had noticed that Pansy was well educated for a maid, and had tried to find out more about Pansy’s past. Pansy told her she had been born in the United States, but had returned to Honduras when she was six. After all, that was as she recalled. “My parents had to come back here, so I had no choice,” she stated. ’Lina was a bright and pretty child who was fascinated by Pansy’s knowledge of local plants and birds. Pansy found herself teaching ’Lina an informal course in natural history, in bits and pieces.

Today was Pansy’s first free day since Jack had been imprisoned in his/her new body (or maybe since Pansy had had the personality of Jack superimposed on her own mind? Was there a difference? Did it matter?). She hoped to find her sister–his old lover–at Já­caro Grande. She appeared at breakfast in a peasant blouse and a long green skirt instead of her uniform, and after the meal she asked permission to leave the finca. “Seá±ora, today’s my day off, and I’d like to spend the day away from here.  ¿Please, may I?”

“Why, of course. You’ll have to make some arrangement for the children, though. ’Lina’s in school, and Marta has too much work, especially with you gone, to take care of both. Maybe she’d be willing to take Josecito, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with Lilia.”

Pansy was a little disappointed, having hoped to shed all her duties for the day. Still, she could manage. “Thank you, Seá±ora.” She left to find Marta.

Marta was making tortillas when Pansy found her. “Marta, I’d like to go to town–into La Libertad–today.  ¿Could you watch Josecito for me? I’d take Lilita with me.” Marta agreed, but warned that Pansy owed her a favor now. Pansy laughed, thanked her, and promised to remember. Marta had been a good friend to her, ever since they had met in October.

Pansy set off for Ojos de Agua with Lilia in a sling over her shoulder, like other campesinas. The day promised to be hot, and she was already tired when she reached the village. Thirty minutes later she caught a ride on a rickety truck, and she soon reached La Libertad. There was regular bus service to Comayagua, and she inquired at the ticket booth about a ranch by the name of Já­caro Grande, off the Comayagua road. “Yes, Seá±ora, the bus goes by the road to the ranch. It’s about three kilometers off the main highway, I think.” Pansy calculated the time she’d need. She decided to try, and bought a ticket to Comayagua.

The bus was hot. The week had been dry, and dust came through the windows. By the time the driver dropped Pansy off at the Já­caro Grande stop, she was already thirsty. Lilia whimpered; she was hot, and hungry besides. Pansy had taken a bottle in case she needed it, but she was able to find a secluded spot in the shade of an enormous spreading guanacaste where she nursed Lilia. She also took a swig of water from a plastic bottle she’d carried in a small pack. It was only 11 AM, and she kept her lunch for later.

When she was a kilometer up the road, a truck with two campesinos stopped by her. “Seá±ora,  ¿where are you going?  ¿Can we give you a ride?”

She was hot and tired. The small pack and Lilia had grown heavier as she plodded through the dust. “Yes, thank you, if you’re going to the ranch. I’m going to visit Seá±ora Petunia.”

“Yes, of course, Seá±ora.  ¿Where else would we be going?” They made room for her and the baby, and she bounced along in comparative comfort the rest of the way.

They let her off at an adobe ranch house. Wires showed that electricity had reached this far. Lilies bloomed in the yard, and clothes were drying on a line strung between two small palms. A creek flowed in back of the house, and fig trees provided welcome shade. At the edge of the yard, a pair of small trees, leafless in this dry season, were densely covered with clumps of glorious deep-yellow flowers. She knew them as cortés trees, and the scientific name Tabebuia chrysantha popped into her mind–a legacy of Seá±or Cualquiera’s botanical interests.

Pansy walked to the door and knocked. A familiar voice replied, “ ¡Just a moment!” Soon a young woman appeared. Pansy froze briefly as memory returned to just over a week ago, when he had last seen Petunia. This was his beloved, and his intended wife. He was suddenly stricken by an intense desire that denied his new body. But Susana’s taunt struck her anew: “You can’t be any girl’s husband. You don’t qualify: you’re female.”–and indeed, she knew she needed a man in bed with her. Her desire for Petunia was only an old memory, and the sight of this pretty young woman stirred nothing within her. She thrust the painful thought from her mind.

The woman looked at her visitor. “ ¿Yes, Seá±ora?  ¿What can I…?” She wrinkled her brow briefly. “You can’t be… You aren’t…  ¡You are Pansy!” Pansy nodded, unable to answer at first. Petunia threw herself at her sister and hugged her fiercely. “ ¡Pansy, Pansita!  ¡Hermanita má­a!  ¡I haven’t seen you for such a long time!  ¡It’s been years!”

Pansy’s heart sank. Petunia’s words confirmed her fear: Seá±ora Arias had made her into Petunia’s sister. But it was still impossible. Maybe she could find something useful in Petunia’s recollections of her sister. Or of her old lover. There must be a clue somewhere! She pulled herself together and replied, “I heard you married, Petunia, and I was afraid I’d lost you. But now I’m living just up the road from you.”

“ ¡Come in, come in! It’s hot out here. I have so much to tell you. And you’ll have even more to tell me,” she said with a glance at Lilia. She showed Pansy to a soft chair. The house wasn’t air conditioned, but thick walls, small windows, and shade trees next to the house kept the temperature tolerable. Pansy took off her pack and Lilia’s sling, and sat down with her daughter. Her emotions were churning. Petunia was her own dear sister–but she was also the sweetheart Jack had loved, only nine days ago. Petunia went on: “ ¿Where have you been, Pansita? I haven’t seen you for… let’s see… I think it’s over two years now.  ¿Almost three? Mamá¡ told me you went to work, but she didn’t know where.”

“Yes, I did. Now I’m working as a maid just down the road, a few kilometers out of La Libertad.”

“ ¡That’s wonderful!  ¡So we’re neighbors!” Then Petunia looked at the infant cuddled in Pansy’s arms. “ ¿How old is the baby?  ¿Is it a boy or a girl, and what’s its name?”

“She’s a girl, two months old. I called her Lilia, in the family flower tradition: Lilia Mará­a Baca.”

Delight shone in her sister’s eyes. “That’s great, Pansita.” Then she jumped up. “But you must be hot and thirsty. And hungry too. My husband ’Tonio’s working with his men now, and I was just making lunch. He’ll be back in half an hour or so. We’ll eat then, but I can get you a snack now. And a drink, of course. You used to like apple juice, I think.” She paused. “And there’s Margarita. I got a baby too; you need to see Margarita.”

“Yes, I’ll stay for lunch. I don’t want to eat nothing yet, but I’d appreciate a cold drink–beer, if you have it.  ¡And yes, I’m dying to see the baby!”

Petunia was slightly puzzled–Pansy hadn’t ever liked beer–but she fetched a tall glass of beer, frosted with condensation. “Here you are. Come with me; ’Rita’s sleeping in back. In the meantime, tell me what’s happened to you.  ¿Have you married?” She led Pansy to a back room.

“No, I didn’t marry. It’s a complicated story, Petunia, and I ain’t sure how to begin to tell it. I’ll tell you, yes, but I’m afraid you won’t believe me. But first, let me see Margarita.” They entered a nursery decorated with bright decals and pink furniture. In a crib slept a baby girl: Pansy’s daughter, through her alter ego. “Oh,  ¡she’s so sweet, Petunia!”

“Yes, when she’s asleep. She’s just beginning to walk. ’Tonio adores her.”

“ ¿But who’s the father?” When Petunia hesitated, Pansy added, “No, let me tell you. He’s dead, but he was a norteamericano, a scientist. He liked flowers, especially orchids.”

Petunia looked up, surprised. “ ¿How did you know? Hardly anyone but ’Tonio…” She smiled. “It doesn’t matter. Yes, I had a lover, the norteamericano you speak of. He drowned two years ago, and I married ’Tonio last year. ’Rita’s all I have left of him. When he died, I was pregnant and single. I lost my job, but Don Pablo Herrera helped me find another one.”

“ ¿What was his name? Your norteamericano, I mean.”

Petunia looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I can’t explain why, but I can’t remember his full name. I think it was Jack something-or-other.  ¿But what about you?”

It was Pansy’s turn to hesitate. How to explain what she didn’t understand herself? For a moment she considered just giving her sister the story that Susana had imposed on her, but that was foolish. She was here to try to discover what had happened to her, and her only chance was to tell the truth. Or at least the subjective truth, as she remembered it. The real truth was beyond her. “Well, like I said, it’s hard to believe.” She paused again; there was no easy way to tell the tale. Then she went on: “Petunia, you remember Susana Herrera,  ¿true?”

Embarrassed, Petunia looked away. “Yes, I do. Before Jack met me, he… Well, I loved him, but I know in some ways he wasn’t a very good man. Anyway, he seduced Susana and left her pregnant.  ¿But what does that have to do with you?”

“Be patient, I’ll get to that. You see, your lover didn’t drown. Not really. Susana Herrera caught him and punished him.” She looked down. “Somehow, by some witchcraft, she changed him into a girl, and made him work as her maid.”

Petunia was shocked at first. Was her sister crazy? But then she laughed. “Pansy, you’re joking. That’s not possible. Not really. Now tell me,  ¿what really happened?”

“I’m serious. I know it ain’t possible, but she done it anyway. And that ain’t even the hardest part to believe. Petunia, somehow she put me into your sister’s body. She done it a week ago.”

Petunia looked dazed. Pansy must have gone crazy after all, she thought. This wasn’t even good fantasy. “You are serious.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, you were right. I can’t believe that tale. It’s literally incredible. Not believable.  ¿Are you out of your mind?”

Pansy shut her eyes in despair. Was she crazy? Then she pulled herself together. “Maybe I am. It’s a possible explanation, and I ain’t sure it’s wrong. You got to help me decide.”

“ ¿How?”

“By telling if my memories of our time together are right. I remember things that I think only you and Jack know. Of course, Jack might’ve told me–or someone else–but it ain’t very likely. Like the Epidendrum you found on Cerro Santa Bá¡rbara.  ¿Remember? You told him–you told me–it only grew there. It wasn’t spectacular, even in full bloom. Just a little spike of greenish flowers.” She thought back: “If I remember right, it was on a roble, but you told me you didn’t know which species. And another orchid–a Pleurothallis with little red flowers.” She thought for a moment. “Pleurothallis co…comayaguensis. And a campesino took our picture for us. We were hugging each other.”

Petunia still didn’t believe it. “Pansy, that’s over two years ago. I don’t remember… But it can’t possibly…” She did recall that trip, and they had looked for orchids, even if those details were forgotten. If it took place at all. But it was plausible. And her sister had had no knowledge of, or interest in, botany: she shouldn't know an Epidendrum from a dandelion. “I don’t remember the incident, but I admit it could’ve happened.  ¡But wait a minute!” Recalling the photo, she went to a dresser, where she retrieved an album. Opening it, she pointed to a picture of a man and a woman, embracing. “ ¿Could this be it?”

“ ¡Yes!  ¡That’s me! As I was then. I got a copy of the same picture at home.  ¡This proves my story! I remember the problem we had with our binoculars. They kept fogging up, and we had trouble seeing.”

Petunia remembered that. “Yes, but…” She stopped and shook her head again, bewildered.

“ ¿What about our hike up the Lancetilla valley?  ¿Do you recall it? We got soaked in a shower, and we ducked into an abandoned cabin, but it was too late, we was both drenched.  ¿Or our day at the beach near Puerto Cortés? You told me about the Gará­funa villages on the coast east of there. We stayed at the Hotel Mr. Ggeer, and laughed at the odd name.”

Perplexed, Petunia shook her head. Pansy shouldn’t’ve known about that. She held up a hand. “If you’re Jack–if you were Jack–tell me about the day we spent in the woods by Siguatepeque.”

Pansy thought for a minute. “Yes, I remember. It was just after I arrived, and I hated the place. You said you didn’t like it either. I told you I knew a little about orchids, and you offered to show me a… a little white orchid. I can’t remember the name in English or Spanish, but I think it was a Spiranthes, just like some I’d seen in the U.S.”

Petunia recalled the incident. She had been surprised at his enthusiasm for the inconspicuous little plant. “Yes, that’s the time.  ¿What color dress did I wear that morning?”

Pansy thought, then shook her head. “I don’t remember. But we didn’t go out that morning, it was in the evening, just before sunset.”

Correct. “You invited me for supper when we returned.  ¿What did we eat?”

“No, I didn’t invite you. You invited me. We had rice and beans. And fried plantains. And I offered to teach you chess.” Petunia nodded, and Pansy paused. “Petunia, you’re confirming my memories. They’re real, and I ain’t crazy; I was your lover. Maybe I ain’t convinced you yet, but I convinced me. Before we go any further, I should tell you that when Susana put me into this body, she took away a lot of what I knew. I can’t read or write no more. My science is gone, and my numbers. I don’t remember much about geography, and she mixed up some of my other memories. Like my mother’s name. I remember more as Pansy Baca than I do as Jack Whoever. She made me forget my old name, for example.”

They were interrupted by a call from the door. “ ¿Carita?  ¿We have a visitor?”

“That’s ’Tonio.” Then, more loudly, “Yes, dear. My sister Pansy. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in almost three years.” The two women returned to the living room.

“Pansita, my husband, Juan Antonio. ’Tonio, this is Pansy, my sister. She just moved close to here, near La Libertad, and she brought her baby to visit.”

In spite of his name, Juan Antonio Sáºlivan was a mestizo (like me, Pansy thought), with high cheekbones and straight black hair. He gave a slight bow, murmuring “I’m delighted to meet such a pretty girl. You’re almost as pretty as Petunia. You look a lot like her; I’d’ve known you was her sister.”

Pansy giggled automatically, then nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Seá±or Sáºlivan, thank you, and I’m pleased to meet my brother-in-law.”

He turned to his wife. “Petunia,  ¿has Pansy eaten yet?”

“No, corazá³n, she arrived just a short time ago, and we were waiting for you.”

“We’ll be honored to have her as our guest.” Turning to Pansy, he apologized, “I’m sorry I got to leave soon, but I have a lot of field work to do.”

The lunch passed swiftly, as the trio made small talk. Petunia’s husband left to supervise his workers, and the women attempted to return to their chat. Lilia chose that moment to awaken, and she demanded to be fed.

“Sorry, Petunia,” Pansy apologized. “Lilita’s pretty insistent about regular meals.”

Laughing, her sister waved her back to her baby. “If you were really Jack,  ¡I’ll bet you’d never have thought about 2 AM feedings! Not much sleep for you, I’ll guess. I admit, Pansy, my feelings for Jack diminished when I was stuck with caring for Margarita with no help. It wasn’t reasonable–after all, he didn’t try to drown–but that didn’t matter.”

Pansy flushed and told her. “I’m afraid you’re right. I found out quickly that the best way to handle it was to have Lilita next to me at night. I feel wrung out, though, between Lilita and my other duties.” They walked back to the baby, swaddled and lying on a couch.

“Your other duties. You said you’re working as a maid.  ¿Who are you working for?”

Pansy shrugged. “I work for Seá±ora Arias–the former Susana Herrera–at Los Ocotes. She told me if I wouldn’t be her husband, I’d be her maid. And she made it come true. Like I said, she changed me to a woman. She’s decent to me–as decent as she’d be to any maid. She married, you know; she latched on to a big shot. You may know him: Felipe Arias.” She picked up Lilia, unbuttoned her bodice, sat down, and gave Lilia her breast. The infant stopped her wailing and seized on Pansy’s nipple greedily.

Petunia sat next to her. “ ¡Seá±or Arias!  ¡Of course! ’Tonio buys a lot from his business in Comayagua. She married well. You said you’re at Los Ocotes. I think I know where it is: just above Ojos de Agua, downriver from La Libertad.”

“ ¿You know it?” Petunia shook her head. “It’s a nice place. Now, tell me about the family.  ¿How is mamá­?  ¿Is she still working in Choluteca?  ¿And how are Daisy and Tomá¡s doing? I been out of touch for too long, since Rico died.”

“Well, mamá¡ remarried last year. She’s Seá±ora Molinas now, but she still works for the same family. I haven’t seen her in three years myself, but we exchange letters.” Then her face fell, and she looked down. “You never heard–we couldn’t find you to tell you–but Daisita died last year in childbirth.” Her face brightened again, and she told Pansy that Tomá¡s had become a mechanic. “You remember, he always loved fiddling with machines. Now he’s taking truck engines apart. He got married just last year, as soon as he got a steady job.”

Pansy felt a pang of sorrow at the news of Daisy’s death. Her sister had been so cheerful and full of life! She held her tears in; this wasn’t the time for it. Then she giggled. “I remember when Tomasito was ten, he took Papá¡’s radio apart, and it never worked again.  ¡I hope he does better with trucks!”

“Yes, he does. He’s very good.” She stopped and frowned. “Pansita, you’re my sister, not that norteamericano you claim to be. You look like her, you talk like her, you know all the things she should know. You’ve always been my sister. I don’t know how you found out those things you told me. Somehow, somewhere, he or someone else managed to tell you. Yes, I know it’s impossible, but it’s less impossible than changing Jack into Pansy.”

Pansy shook her head. “It’s more than the few memories I told you, Petunia. I remember being him, playing poker in Atlanta. I remember my family in the United States, and growing up in Dallas. I remember fighting with Susana Herrera in Tela. I might be crazy, yes… But Seá±ora Arias–the former Susana Herrera– ¡she confirms it! She throws it in my face, gloating about putting her faithless norteamericano lover into a maid’s dress.” Pansy’s face twisted in frustration and anger. “Petunia, she did exactly that. You’re right, I really am Pansy-Ann Baca. I know that, and I know everything about myself–my confirmation, my quinceaá±era, my marriage. I remember my family–you, Daisy, Tomá¡s, our parents. But at the same time, I know I was him. It’s like… well, maybe like double vision.”

Petunia shook her head again. “The timing’s all wrong. Jack drowned a couple of years ago. I saw his body.” She pointed to the bedroom where Margarita slept. “’Rita’s over a year old, and she was conceived just before his death.  ¡You can’t be him!”

Shrugging, Pansy replied, “I know all that. I can’t explain it. In my memory as ‘Jack’, I was put into this body only a week ago. People tell me I lost two years somewhere. But that’s a minor problem, compared to the big one:  ¿how did I get into this body at all? Or to look at it the other way,  ¿how did I, as Pansy, get the memories of Jack stuffed into my head? Seá±ora Arias told me she did it by brujerá­a. I can’t find no other explanation.”

Petunia sighed and rocked back in her chair. “Pansy, I don’t believe you–I can’t believe you–but tell me everything you remember, or think you remember, about what happened. I’ll try to figure out what’s going on. I admit, I can’t explain what you already told me about my time with Jack.” She added, “ ¿Are you thirsty?  ¿Would you like another glass of beer?”

Her sister shook her head, but asked for coffee. Petunia left briefly and returned with two cups. Pansy put hers down to cool, then started her story by telling Petunia about waking up in the hotel room. “We were spending a week at the Palmas Hotel in San Pedro, starting on Christmas Eve. On New Year’s Eve two years ago–or maybe a week ago–I went to bed with you there. I woke up on what seemed the next morning to find Seá±ora Arias sitting in the room with me. You were gone.” She told Petunia about Jack’s metamorphosis into Pansy Baca. “She told me she’d change me from your lover to your sister–and even more fantastic, she’d change my past so I’d know I grew up as a girl, and had always been your sister–and that I got to work as her maid. She let me go and I ran, but of course there wasn’t nowhere to go. When I came back to her I found out that I wasn’t just a woman, I was a mother, and that two years had passed since I went to bed with you. Also, I ain’t the same person in less obvious ways. I like sewing and telenovelas, I can’t read, and I am a good maid. And everyone at Los Ocotes says I been there since I arrived in October, right after having my baby. And my ‘Pansy’ memories tell me I been a maid for Seá±ora Arias since May. And I am your sister, just like she said. Just like she made me.”

Petunia frowned. “You must know your story’s crazy. You’ve always been my sister. Nobody had to make you be her. But tell me more.  ¿What about Jack’s life before he went to that hotel room with me?”

Pansy told her about his love for orchids and the tropics, and about his job as a chemist in Atlanta. “I had personal problems in Atlanta, so I quit and came to Honduras to teach at La Ceiba. I left there when I broke up with Susana.” She looked down and admitted that Jack had treated Susana badly. “As Pansy, I got to say that Jack wasn’t a good man. Even as Jack, I got to admit I was ignorant and thoughtless at best.” Looking at her sister again, Pansy told her, “Then I came to Siguatepeque to teach, and met you. You know the rest.”

“Tell me about us.”

Pansy blushed. It seemed indecent to talk about relations between her and another woman–her own sister!–but she described Jack’s time with Petunia in as much detail as she could remember: where they had gone, the weather, the plants and birds they had found, the meals they had eaten. “…And so I asked you if you’d marry me. You agreed, and we started going to bed. Then Susana found me in the hotel, like I told you, and changed me into your sister. That was just a week ago.”

Petunia shook her head in disbelief. “OK, but…  ¿What about your other memories? You said you remember growing up as my sister.”

Before answering, Pansy shifted Lilia to her other breast. As her daughter continued suckling, she told her sister, “Yes. Actually, those memories are a lot clearer than my memories of growing up as Jack.” Pansy related her biography as Pansy Baca: her birth in Comayagá¼ela, early childhood in Dallas, and return to San Pedro Sula; her family, her First Communion, high school friends, both Petunia’s and her own quinceaá±os, her father’s death, and her service with Miguel Ovando. She briefly considered omitting her seduction by Seá±or Ovando, but she finally told the entire story. She didn’t want to lie to her own sister–and besides, she was here to find the truth. She didn’t think she could possibly succeed if she didn’t give Petunia all the information she had. At last she summed up her quandary by telling Petunia that she didn’t believe that everything she recalled was true. “I told you what happened, as I remember it. Like you said, there’s something wrong with my story–or my stories. To start with, it’s impossible, and it’s inconsistent too. I know that, but I can’t help it. It’s what I remember. I’m sure Seá±ora Arias knows how this happened, but she won’t tell me. Unless she told me the truth, and she’s really a bruja.”

In spite of her skepticism, Petunia realized that, somehow, Pansy had to be right: some part of her old lover seemed to live in her sister’s body. She knew too much of what only Jack should know, and her personality had something of Jack. But the old Pansy was there too! It wasn’t possible, but the evidence was there. She shook her head. “Pansy, you say you know your story’s impossible, and it is. But as far as I can tell, both sets of memories are correct. You know things that nobody but Jack knew, but your memories as Pansy are accurate too–or at least the ones I can confirm. I’m a rational woman, not a superstitious peasant, and I don’t believe in brujerá­a, so let’s see if we can make some sense out of this. First, let’s assume that both sets of memories are accurate. You are Jack, in some way or other–in your head, at least. But that body, that face–I recognize you. You’re my sister, and I’ve known you all my life. Besides, you have Pansy’s memories too. That means that two years ago, two separate people accumulated the memories.” Pansy nodded. “Second, you’re now one person, in one body, with both sets of memories.” Pansy agreed again. “Therefore, at least one set of memories had to be transferred from one of those bodies to the other, and that means it’s possible to transfer memories. It’s possible to transfer memories so efficiently that a sense of identity is transferred as well. I wouldn’t’ve believed that before now, but that seems to be the only explanation for what you say. Either that or we’re both crazy.”

Pansy nodded eagerly, her black braids swinging. “ ¡Yes!  ¡You believe me! I was afraid I was going crazy. But then,  ¿who am I?”

Petunia gave a little shrug. “The simplest explanation is that you’re really Pansy Baca, my sister, but that Jack’s identity, his ego– ¿maybe his soul?–was somehow trapped in your head. The reasoning is that your body is Pansy’s, not Jack’s. I know you, Pansita. You haven’t changed since I saw you. And anyone else’d have to agree that you’re my sister. We look too much alike for any other explanation.”

Petunia’s analysis sounded reasonable. “But… but I remember Susana changing me. In the hotel room, a week ago. And this scar…” Pansy pointed to her left arm. “I got this when I was growing up. As a boy. I fell off my bicycle. I remember it clear. Susana told me she’d leave me with it, so I’d know I was once a man.  ¡I was a man!”

“Yes, but your memory may be wrong. It must be; it isn’t possible. That scar, for instance: you had it since you were a child, all right, but I remember when you got it. You slipped on a wet rock and fell onto a piece of broken glass.” She reconsidered; the entire fantasy was impossible. “Or maybe she did exactly as you remember; I said my explanation’s the simplest, not that it’s right. Another possibility is that it’s Jack’s body, but changed to resemble Pansy. No, not just to resemble: to duplicate Pansy’s body. But that means they’d have to change your sex–really change your sex–change your voice, your face, your skin color, your hair… That’s an awful lot of remodeling. As a biologist, I know how hard it’d be, technically. As far as I know, some of those changes aren’t even possible. And certainly they can’t be done as you describe, in an instant by a wave of a hand. Besides, you speak Spanish. I mean, it’s your native tongue–you have a good Honduran accent. I can tell. Jack’s Spanish was pretty bad. And they’d have to give you all Pansy’s memories–I have no idea how.”

Pansy nodded slowly. “So you think I’m really Pansy with Jack’s memories. Or I’m crazy.” She thought for a while as she sipped her coffee carefully; it was still too hot, and Lilia was still nursing. A thought occurred to her. “There’s a two-year gap in my life–my life as Jack, anyway. That’s still not explained. If Jack–or Jack’s body–died two years ago, why did his memories turn up in Pansy now? Maybe it’s significant.”

It was Petunia’s turn to nod. “You could be right. I said it’s impossible to change somebody from a man to a woman in a moment, by waving a hand. But over a couple of years, with more advanced medical techniques than I know about, maybe it’s not so impossible. Or no more impossible than transferring a complete identity. But there’d still be the problem of transferring an identity: Pansy’s. You have her in your head, as well as Jack.  ¿And whatever happened to the original Pansy, if you’re not her? That suggestion just makes the problem worse, not better.” She sighed and tasted her own coffee. It was a bit too hot. “Pansita, this conversation can’t be happening. Tell me this is all a joke. Or that I’m dreaming.”

Pansy laughed bitterly. “I wish I could, Petunia. I ain’t so happy about it neither. If I’m Pansy, I don’t want this Jack person in my head, with Seá±ora Arias blaming me for his sins. And if I’m Jack, I certainly don’t want to be Susana’s maid. Right now I have the worst of both worlds.”

“From what you’ve said, you don’t have much choice.  ¿You say you can’t read?”

“And science and math are gone too. And most of my English. I still got my botany, though. She left me my orchids. And I can still play ‘gin rummy’. A lot of good that does me.”

“ ¿But you’re illiterate? The sister I remember wasn’t. She didn’t have my education, but she could read and write. She was pretty smart, even if she had to quit school at fifteen.” Petunia thought to herself that Pansy didn’t play cards either. And her speech was better.

“Petunia, I’m what Susana wanted me to be: an ignorant and illiterate campesina. She said I didn’t need to be able to read to be a maid, and she wanted to trap me so I’d have no other choice.” It occurred to Pansy that she remembered going to school. She must have learned to read, both as Pansy and as Jack. But she couldn’t recall ever reading anything as Pansy. What was real, and what was imposed? How could she tell? Did it make a difference?

Petunia commented, “I’d say she succeeded. Whatever she did, whoever you were, right now you are a campesina, by any objective criterion. With a baby daughter, and no other way to support yourself.”

“That had occurred to me.”

“ ¿Do you have any plans?”

“Not really. I’m still in shock. Remember, I’ve only been a woman, an ‘illiterate campesina maid’ for a week. In Jack’s part of my mind, anyway–Pansy’s used to it.” She looked down at her body, which by now felt utterly familiar to her. Of course it did: hadn’t she grown up with it? “As Pansy I’m comfortable with it.”

“You think of yourself as Jack, not Pansy.”

“Yes and no. My name, the name I use for myself, is Pansy Baca. I can’t help it. I have trouble even recalling ‘Jack’. But my identity, my…  ¿my soul? That’s Jack, or more Jack than Pansy. But over the last few days, there’s been less Jack and more Pansy. If I don’t think–if I just react, and do my work without thinking–life’s easier. But then I’m not Jack at all.” There was a note of desperation in her voice.

Petunia could understand that. She didn’t say it, but if the unthinkable were true–if Jack’s spirit were really trapped in that body–then she thought it’d be bent, more and more, to an appropriate nature. If she were lucky and worked hard, maybe she could become a well-adjusted, well-rounded woman. If not, she could end as a tramp. “I assume you’d rather not remain an illiterate maid.”

“ ¡No! I want…  ¡I want to be Jack again!”

Petunia laughed in spite of herself, then apologized. “Unless you can figure out how Susana–or someone–did this to you, that’s not practical. And even if you do discover how she did it, I doubt it’ll help. No, you have to start from where you are now–and right now you are an illiterate maid.” She knew she sounded brutal, but it was true. If Pansy accepted it, then maybe she could advance herself. She went on: “Illiteracy can be corrected, though. You can learn to read again.” She wasn’t sure of that; if certain areas of the brain were damaged, the ability could be lost permanently. But there was no point in telling that to Pansy. “And if you can do that, you should be able to be more than a maid.” She didn’t want to discourage Pansy, but it would be difficult. Pansy was a dark campesina, obviously with African blood as well as Indian–she had always been darker than her sister–and she had the double handicap of her sex and her dark skin. Without a family to help her, and without money, she couldn’t expect to rise far. Not in a society as tradition-bound as that of Honduras. “But you’re going to remain female. Whoever’s inside your head–and I admit, both Jack and Pansy seem to be there–you’d better get used to being a woman.”

Half persuaded that her sister was right, Pansy nodded. “I already know that. It’s clear I ain’t never going to be a man again–if I was. And I think I’m stuck as a hondureá±a. But I don’t want to remain illiterate, or a maid.” Lilia turned her head away then, full for the moment. Pansy excused herself, buttoned her blouse, and burped her daughter. Then she swaddled her in a blanket, to let her fall asleep. Petunia noted the efficiency with which Pansy handled the infant, and commented on it. Pansy nodded and told her, “Oh, my Pansy self’s pretty good at this. As you said–and you’re right–I’m your sister too, not just Jack.”

“So you have a woman’s skills. Or some of them.” She paused, wondering how to put her next question. “ ¿Have you…?  ¿What about sex?”

“Like you say, I have a woman’s skills. And desires. Yes, I’m attracted to men physically, as strongly as I–or Jack–was attracted to women. Besides, my ‘Pansy’ self was familiar with sex. After all, as Pansy, I went to bed with Seá±or Ovando. But as Jack… No, I ain’t had no sex since my reincarnation. And in my mind–my ‘Jack’ mind–I don’t want sex with no man.” Her face had a haunted look. “I don’t want it, but I think maybe I need it–or Pansy needs it. Susana says that eventually I’ll have to marry some campesino, and spend the rest of my life as a peasant wife, doing some man’s dirty laundry and cooking for him. Raising his kids. That ain’t what I want, but… but I don’t see a way out. Yes, I think I need a husband.”

Her sister’s dilemma was plain to Petunia. She didn’t point it out, but simply told her, “Yes, if you marry, your husband’ll want children. In fact, he’ll want sons. There’s no doubt of it. And a campesina’s traditional rá´le is definitely in the home, as a wife and mother.”

“I know. Seá±ora Arias made sure I realized that, and I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. Petunia, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t, just like Seá±ora Arias wants. This body of mine wants sex. It ain’t too bad now, but I think it’ll get worse. It’ll be hell if I have to live my life without any sex. With a man, of course,” she added bitterly. “And if I allow myself to be trapped into sex, Susana may just be pleased to see me end up as a prostitute, and get lots and lots of it. All the sex I want, and more. She told me that. That leaves marriage as my only good choice. But… well, Petunia, no offense, but I want more of a life than a campesina’s allowed. Like you say, Honduran men want their wives to stay at home and take care of the house and the children. That was OK for the old Pansy, I guess,  ¿but now…? I ain’t just the old Pansy. I want more than that.” Lilia burped up a little more milk. Pansy picked her up and blotted it away.

“Pansita, I don’t have the solution. But the first step is recognizing the problem.”

At that moment there was a wail from the nursery. “I think ’Rita wants lunch too. Come on in and get acquainted.” Petunia retrieved a bottle of formula from the pantry, then led Pansy to the nursery. She picked Margarita from the crib and gave her the bottle. “Our daughter’s the light of my life. A damn nuisance, but still a joy. And I’m pregnant again, two months along. ’Tonio loves ’Rita, but he wants a child of his own.” She smiled: “And I want another one too.”

Pansy sat down. “Petunia,  ¿what do you think I should do? I’ve thought and thought, and I don’t know. I think the best I can hope for is to teach, after I get some school. If I can. And to find a husband. With Lilita to care for, that’s hard. Caring for her’s a full-time job. Even if Susana relents, I seem to be stuck.”

“If you’re looking for a husband, be careful. Most men here want their wives to stay home, like you say, and it’ll be hard to do anything else. Anyway, taking care of a baby’s a full-time job. I hate to say it, but I think your best bet is to keep your job as Susana’s maid. I don’t think you have any other choice for now, at least until Lilita’s a little older. Don’t rush into anything, especially marriage. Believe me, it’s possible to be a lot worse off.”

Pansy remembered her service for Seá±or Ovando, and for Mamá¡ Santiago. She had almost been forced into a life of prostitution, until Seá±ora Arias had rescued her. She shuddered. “I know that only too well. I’ve already been a lot worse off, Petunia. My ‘Pansy’ memories ain’t all pleasant, not at all.”

“If you can get Susana’s help, or her father’s, then teaching’s possible.”

“Maybe, but right now, I ain’t going to get no help from Seá±ora Arias. She wants me to be her maid, and she’ll do what she can to keep me a maid. Like you say, for now I have to accept being a maid.” She looked down at her bosom, swollen with milk under her blouse. “As if I had a choice. She don’t have to do nothing; I’m trapped good.” Then she looked back at her sister: “But Petunia, we’ve been talking all about my problems. Tell me about yourself.  ¿How did you meet ’Tonio?  ¿And what’s he like?”

They talked for two more hours. Finally Pansy regretfully told Petunia she’d have to leave. “It’s a long way to Los Ocotes, and I’d better not put it off any longer.”

“Not yet. The quickest way back is to wait another half hour. ’Tonio’ll be back then, and he’ll take you. One of his men would, but I know ’Tonio, and he’ll insist on doing it himself.”

Pansy gratefully accepted Petunia’s offer. They talked for another twenty minutes before ’Tonio returned, and as Petunia predicted, he insisted on taking her back himself.

“Of course you’ll ride back with me.  ¿Would I turn down a chance to get to know such a beautiful woman a little better?  ¿You think I’m crazy, maybe?”

Pansy giggled. “Seá±or, your ‘blarney’ tells me you are Irish in more than your name.” She used the English word.

“ ¿‘Blarney’? I think I’m complimented, but I’m not quite sure.” He smiled. “Explain yourself, Seá±orita.”

She defined the word. “ ¿And you, Seá±or? Your Irish ancestor must have come long ago.”

“I’ll tell you on the way to Los Ocotes.  ¿Are you ready? If you’re going to make it back by dinner, we go to start soon.” He turned to his wife. “It’ll be a couple of hours until I’m back, querida.  ¿Want to come along?” She declined, saying that ’Rita couldn’t be left, and the trip was too rough to take her.

On the way back, ’Tonio was curious about Pansy’s background. “Your Spanish has a slight English accent, Pansy, but Petunia’s doesn’t.  ¿Why is that?”

An honest answer wasn’t an option; but Seá±ora Arias had provided her with a cover story. “Well, we both spent part of our childhood in the United States, Seá±or, but I was three years younger, so I absorbed more English.”

“ ¿How is it that you work for the Arias family?  ¿And what work do you do?”

“I need work, Seá±or, to support me and my baby. Her father died. Susana hired me as her maid before she married Seá±or Arias, and I stayed with her afterwards. I take care of Josecito, mostly, and help Marta, Seá±or Arias’ housekeeper.” She needed to change the subject. So far she hadn’t lied–except for the cover story–but the questions were becoming too awkward. “ ¿And you, Seá±or?  ¿How is it that you have an Irish name? There are many Sáºlivans in the United States, I think, but the name’s rare here,  ¿ain’t it? And you don’t look very Irish.”

“Yes, you’re right. My father told me an ancestor came to Honduras after the American war in the 19th century. He came from Ireland just in time to fight on the losing side, and he fled here afterwards. He and his descendants managed to scrape out a living, and now I own a couple of hundred hectares here. Nothing like Felipe Arias, but enough to keep me comfortable.” He looked at her sharply. “Pansy, I suspect there’s more to you than you’re telling. But I’ll leave your secrets to you. I’m glad Petunia has a friend nearby.”

The conversation turned to innocuous matters, and soon ’Tonio’s car bumped up the road to Los Ocotes. “Here you are, Pansy. Please consider yourself welcome at Já­caro Grande at any time. We’ll both be glad to see you.”

“Thank you, Seá±or, both for the invitation and for your kind offer of the ride back. I hope I’ll see you again soon, but my duties here ain’t going to let me visit often. Until our next meeting.”

“Until then, Pansy.” He turned around and bounced back towards Ojos de Agua.

She was back earlier than expected. She returned to the casa to tend to Lilia, who needed changing, and then to help Marta prepare supper. It might be her day off, but she owed Marta.

Susana asked, “ ¿And did you enjoy your holiday?”

“Yes, Seá±ora, I did, thank you.”

“You’re back a little earlier than I expected.  ¿Was Lilita much trouble?”

“No, she was very good. Better than I had any reason to expect, in that heat.”

“Good. Tomorrow Marta and I are going to Tegus, so you’ll have the house to yourself. I imagine you can handle the chores yourself.”

“Very well, Seá±ora. Yes, I think I can.”

While she fed the babies that night, Pansy pondered her conversation with Petunia. She was even more confused. Petunia had recognized her as her sister, and confirmed her childhood memories as Pansy. But she also confirmed her memories of their time together as lovers. Both identities seemed to be valid. Who was she? What had happened to Jack Cualquiera? Or to Pansy?
 
 
January 12
-- After breakfast Susana told Pansy, “I want you to change into a regular dress, Pansita. I mentioned to a friend of my father’s that my maid has sort of a split personality, and word reached a couple of psychologists. They want to speak with you, and I agreed. We’re going to San Pedro this morning. Marta agreed to take care of Josecito, and you can take Lilita along with you. I’ll carry her crib. If you like, I’ll buy you a new dress when we finish.”

At first Pansy didn’t want to go. She didn’t trust Seá±ora Arias. There was no way she could refuse, though, and she replied, “Yes, Seá±ora.” Still, in spite of her determination to hold on to Seá±or Cualquiera, she looked forward to shopping. And after she changed into her favorite outfit, the yellow sleeveless dress with ruffles, she realized that the psychologist might be able to help her find out what had happened. She certainly hadn’t been able to make any progress on her own; her conversation with Petunia had left her even more confused.

Pansy nursed Lilia on the way to their appointment, so that with luck she’d sleep for the rest of the morning. Shortly afterwards, as they drove into San Pedro on a bright sunny morning, Pansy had a dose of double vision. They passed the Palmas Hotel, where she had enjoyed a lover’s tryst with Petunia only a couple of weeks ago. But then she remembered visiting Petunia–her sister–just four days ago. And the church over there… Wasn’t that where she had had her First Communion? The city was at once exotic and her home town. She recalled working as a maid for–who was it? The Peá±as, she remembered. The memory was crystal clear; it was just after her boyfriend had died.

They pulled into a gated driveway in a part of the city she didn’t know. The building at the end of the drive had clearly been a manor house at one time, but now a sign proclaimed it to be the Institute for the Mind. Seá±ora Arias escorted her into the building. A receptionist directed her to the second floor: “Doctor Ibarra is expecting you, Seá±ora. He’s in Room 223.”

Pansy followed her mistress upstairs with some trepidation, carrying her sleeping infant in the sling she had rigged. Could Doctor Ibarra help her? Even if he was in league with Seá±ora Arias, maybe he’d let something slip. Entering Room 223 without knocking, they found a comfortably appointed windowless room with four well-upholstered chairs around a heavy wooden table. A matching couch sat against one wall, and a bookcase sat against another. On the table was a full coffeepot.

They waited for no more than three minutes before the door opened and a tall skinny man entered. At first Pansy thought he must be a norteamericano, or maybe European, as his height and blond hair were rare in Honduras. When he introduced himself as Jesáºs Ibarra, though, his accent was home-grown Honduran. He didn’t wear a white lab coat, but rather, an expensive-looking light linen suit. He peered at the women through horn-rimmed glasses and thanked them for coming. “Seá±oras, this case has some interest for me. Some interest indeed. It might have some connection with the syndrome of multiple personalities.  ¡A fascinating phenomenon, truly fascinating! But I digress. Seá±ora Arias, it would be better if I speak with Seá±orita Baca alone. I’m sure you understand.”

She stood and smiled at the doctor. “Of course I do, Doctor. I have chores to do in the city. If I return at noon,  ¿will that be convenient?”

“Yes, I think so. Doctor Ibá¡á±ez can see her after lunch.”

“Good. I’ll meet you here at noon, then.”

Pansy looked at the floor, then at Seá±ora Arias. “Very well, Seá±ora.”

Susana put Lilia’s crib on the floor next to Pansy, who tenderly laid the sleeping infant in it. She left, and Ibarra asked Pansy to have a seat. “I understand that you have two people in your head, Seá±orita. Or so it seems to you. That’s an unusual situation, as you can imagine, but it’s not unheard of. Still, I’d like to try to understand what happened to cause this. Tell me about yourself.”

Settling Lilia in her crib, Pansy asked, “ ¿Which self? Doctor, I don’t know who I am.”

He smiled; that problem was exactly what he had expected. “Tell me about the self that you most identify with.  ¿Who do you think you really are? “

She took a deep breath. “Doctor, in my head I’m really a norteamericano, born in the United States. I got trapped in the body of a campesina.”

Ibarra raised an eyebrow. “That’s an extraordinary claim, Seá±orita. You must be aware that it seems foolish, even crazy.  ¿How long have you been ‘trapped’ like this?”

“Almost two weeks.”

“ ¿Does anyone else know about this? Besides Seá±ora Arias, that is; she mentioned your odd belief.”

“Yes, Doctor. I told my sister Petunia about it.”

“ ¿And does she believe you?”

“Yes, she does. She confirmed I know things that no one but that norteamericano should know.”

“ ¿What’s the name of this norteamericano?”

Pansy looked down at her hands in her lap. Her nails bore the same red enamel that she had first seen on New Year’s Day, and a thin gold bracelet encircled one wrist. Suddenly she hated her clothes, her body… her false identity. “I… I don’t know, Seá±or. Seá±ora Arias told me, but I can’t seem to remember it.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “ ¿Seá±ora Arias told you?  ¿Then she’s involved in this?”

“Yes. She punished me–my norteamericano self–by trapping me in a campesina body so I got to be her maid.”

“Your story is… mmmm… interesting, Seá±orita. Start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Pansy told him how Seá±or Cualquiera had come to Honduras–omitting the reason–and how he had met Susana Herrera. “We finally went to bed together. She got pregnant and wanted me to marry her. I didn’t want to do it–not just then–and she got mad and kicked me out. Then I met this other girl–Petunia Baca–and I was going out with her. On New Year’s Eve we was in a hotel together. In the morning, when I woke up, she was gone. Seá±ora Arias was there instead. She changed me to Pansy–the woman you see now–and told me I got to be her maid. And I got to raise her child–the one I left her pregnant with. I begged her to put me back to what I was, but then she told me she’d change the past so I was always a girl, and I was my girlfriend’s sister. And that’s just what she did.” She started to weep. “I… I’m still that… that norteamericano inside, but… but I… I’m Pansy Baca too. Inside my head, I mean. I don’t just look like her, I am her. I don’t want… don’t want to be her. And Seá±ora Arias–she told me…” Pansy broke down completely and couldn’t go on.

Ibarra tried to calm her down. “Seá±orita, don’t worry, I’ll see that you’re taken care of. I’ll find out what happened.” He went to her and embraced her as though he were her father.

She sobbed on his shoulder for a moment, then recovered some of her composure. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t… don’t know why…” She took a breath and started over. “I don’t know why I broke down like that. I told my girlfriend…” She stopped. “My… my sister what happened, and I didn’t cry like this.”

Ibarra told her it didn’t matter if she cried. “I’m a psychologist. I see people with problems all the time, and I’m used to it.” It was a half-truth, as his field was research, not clinical psychology, but his research had dealt with many unhappy people. “It’s a healthy reaction. Here, have some coffee.” He poured them both a cup. “ ¿Cream or sugar?”

“Please, I… I’d like both. Thank you, Doctor.” They sipped their drinks while she regained her composure.

After a couple of minutes he asked her, “ ¿What do you know about this man, this norteamericano?  ¿Do you know anything about his earlier life in the United States?  ¿His family, his childhood, his school days?” She told him what she recalled. There were holes in his biography–she hadn’t realized how much of it she had forgotten–but enough was left to reconstruct the general outline of his life. His life was smooth enough and nearly complete until that awful morning in San Pedro. However, the missing details included those that could establish his identity.

“ ¿But his name is gone, you say?”

“Seá±ora Arias took it. She told me I’d never know it again. She told me that I’d forget I had been a man.” As she spoke she realized that over the last few days she had started to do just that. Her routine of life as a dutiful maid and a loving mother at Los Ocotes, and her “Pansy” memories, had begun to lull her into acceptance of her new identity. They made her woman’s body and her low status seem normal. “ ¡I won’t forget it!  ¡I won’t!”

Ibarra sipped his coffee. She was almost surely wrong, he thought. She might remember her former life in a disinterested sort of way, but she’d lose her emotional attachment to it as the realities of her new existence forced themselves on her. “No one’s going to make you forget anything,” he told her. He wasn’t lying. He intended to leave her all her remaining memories, to discover how they affected her rebuilt personality and to see how they survived or decayed in their incongruous new body. “ ¿But what about your other self?  ¿The obvious one?  ¿Is she real? Inside your head, I mean; clearly she’s real on the outside.”

Pansy stiffened. What about Pansy Baca, indeed? She was real too. She had Petunia’s word–and Lilia–as evidence that her “Pansy” memories were authentic. Confused, she replied, “I… I don’t know, Seá±or.” Hadn’t Seá±ora Arias told her that Pansy had died from a fever? “She… I think she died.” But then Seá±ora Arias had changed the past, she said. Seá±or Cualquiera was dead now, not Pansy.

“But you seem to be her, and you seem to be alive and healthy. Tell me what you know about her.” Pansy repeated the biography. Her imposed memories, both those hypnotically learned and those from the staged episodes, blended smoothly with her edited version of the previous year’s events. She left school early and worked for a short time for the Peá±as, then became Seá±or Ovando’s maid and mistress. After being forced briefly into prostitution, she had been hired by Seá±ora Arias, had borne Lilia, and moved to Los Ocotes. At the end of December her mistress had taken her to San Pedro on a shopping trip. The result was a plausible life history, to Ibarra’s delight. It was more coherent than what was left of George Deon’s history. He pointed this out: “You know a lot more about Pansy’s life than about the life of your anonymous norteamericano. And it makes a lot more sense. It’s obvious that you have Pansy Baca’s body–or at least not a man’s.” He paused, and asked, “ ¿You do agree that you have her body?  ¿A female body? I don’t have a medical examination to rely on, but you appear to be a normal Honduran woman.”

Pansy nodded miserably. “Yes, I’m a woman. I’m Pansy Baca. Now I am, anyway. A campesina. I know it.”

“There are holes in your story, you know. It can’t be correct as you tell it. For example, you say that Seá±ora Arias changed you to Pansy Baca couple of months after you left her.  ¿True?”

“Yes, Seá±or.”

“But when you returned to Los Ocotes with her, you found that she had–that you have–an infant boy over a year old. The child of your norteamericano, I think you told me.  ¿True?”

“Y…yes.”

“A trifle premature,  ¿wasn’t he?”

“I… Yes, Seá±or. I know all this. I can’t explain it. But I know what I know.”

“And your girlfriend–or sister, whoever she is. Seá±ora Arias told me you visited her last week. She’s recently married, but her marriage was several months ago, I’m told. She didn’t spend last New Year’s Eve with your norteamericano,  ¿did she?”

“No, Seá±or.”

“ ¿But why do you think those memories are factual, but not those of your childhood? Your girlhood, I mean. After all, you speak of your sister Petunia, and that implies that you accept your hondureá±a identity.  ¿Why do you believe you’re actually this norteamericano, and not the campesina you appear to be?”

Pansy marshalled her evidence. How she had Seá±or Cualquiera’s memories in her head, and how Petunia had confirmed her memories of their time together as lovers. How Seá±ora Arias delighted in reminding her of what she had lost. The physical evidence: the scar on her arm. The mental evidence: her knowledge of botany and gin rummy. “But most of all, Seá±or, I just know.”

Ibarra spent an hour quizzing Pansy on details of her two lives, and recording her conversation. He wasn’t surprised to find that what he had erased hadn’t miraculously returned. The continuing suppression of the name “Pinkerton” was gratifying but expected. Also expected was the degree to which Pansy had filled in details of her past life as a woman. Some were actually from Seá±or Deon’s childhood, adapted to fit different circumstances. Ibarra had seen the same phenomenon in other subjects.

At the end of the session he told Pansy, “Seá±orita, in my opinion, you’re a wonderful example of multiple personality syndrome.  ¡An amazing example! I can’t explain how you acquired such a vivid secondary personality, but the breadth of your knowledge of certain aspects of norteá±o life is astonishing. The gaps in your knowledge are only to be expected. There’s no way a campesina could pick up all the information you’d know if your story were really true.”

Pansy protested: “ ¡But it is true!  ¡I am that norteamericano!”

The doctor quickly apologized and explained, “I’m not accusing you of lying, my dear. It is the truth–as you see it. But your norteamericano is–must be–an imaginary construct. Think about it. Aside from the clear impossibility of changing you from a norteamericano to a hondureá±a by a wave of the hand–or in any other way–and the absurdity of changing the past, there’s the fact that you’re ignorant of many things that anyone from the United States would know. I studied there, Seá±orita, and I can tell: you never lived there. Not as an adult.”

“But… but Seá±ora Arias…  ¡She did that to me!  ¡She stole my knowledge, when she made me a campesina!”

Ibarra shrugged. “An explanation that accounts for anything at all, accounts for nothing. No, Seá±orita, the simplest logical explanation is that somehow you learned about your sister’s former lover, and for some reason your subconscious adopted his identity.”

Pansy shook her head in despair. Could the doctor be right? Was she really Pansy Baca? Or only Pansy Baca? No! She replied, “I admit that, from what you see, from what you know, it’s a reasonable idea. The simplest logical explanation, like you say. But the simplest explanation ain’t always the right one. Occam’s Razor sometimes cuts off the correct explanation.”

He laughed. “A good point.  ¡An excellent point! And one that’s amazing, coming from a simple campesina. I’m curious:  ¿how did an illiterate girl ever learn of Occam’s Razor? I’d hazard a guess that details like that are what allowed your subconscious mind to persuade itself that you are–or once were–a norteamericano. And then,  ¿why did you adopt such a patently nonsensical notion? You’re a marvelous case, Seá±orita.” Then he sobered. “But there’s still a problem with your perception that you’re really someone else. I think we can agree that you’re a campesina now. However you gained your additional personality–whether by witchcraft, as you claim, or by delusion–you’ll have to make your way as a campesina. You have your infant daughter there, for example. You love her,  ¿don’t you?”

Pansy looked at her beloved baby, still sleeping peacefully in her crib. “ ¡Yes!” she agreed emphatically. “ ¡Of course I do!”

“ ¿And you were married not too long ago?  ¿I presume you have a boyfriend now?”

“No, I don’t.”

He retreated. “Yes, I understand you moved to Los Ocotes just a couple of months ago. But in the recent past, you were involved with men,  ¿true?  ¿Possibly with bad results?”

She had omitted from her story the details of her service on Golondrinas, and her stay with Mamá¡ Santiago. “Yes, Seá±or, but… Yes, Seá±or.”

“I won’t ask about what happened, although it could help account for your fantasy. I’ll only tell you that you’ll almost certainly get over it, and you’ll probably want a man of your own. It’s normal.” She admitted it to herself. She had said as much to Petunia. Ibarra went on: “Only as Pansy Baca will you be able to go back to a normal life. The norteamericano personality will only be a handicap as time goes on. Once you realize that–once your subconscious realizes it–I think your problem will end, and the secondary personality will fade away.”

That was exactly what she was afraid of. But there wasn’t much to be done about it. “Maybe you’re right, Seá±or, but… Never mind.” He couldn’t help her, except by his own interpretation of the facts. And that would trap her forever as a campesina, exactly as Seá±ora Arias had planned. She sagged in her chair. “Thank you for your help. Maybe it’ll all come out like you say.”

“ ¡Of course it will! You’ll get better and lead a healthy and productive life. A pretty girl like you, you’ll have no trouble in finding yourself a good husband, and then you’ll raise a wonderful family.” He sighed and admitted, “I recognize that telling you this isn’t much help now. Whatever the trauma that pushed you into this delusion–and I’m certain it was sexual–it won’t go away that easily. But with time it’ll fade, and you’ll get back to a normal life.”

A normal life? The life of a campesina? That was her fear, not her hope. She was a norteamericano! But she looked down at herself, at her dark-skinned girl’s body, and then at Lilia, sleeping in her crib. She was illiterate and uneducated. She had an baby. It was foolish to think she could persuade anyone that she was really a man, a norteamericano. It wasn’t possible. Even Petunia thought she was her sister. “Seá±or, I don’t want…”

A knock interrupted them. Ibarra looked at his watch and exclaimed, “ ¡Already noon! That must be Seá±ora Arias.” He arose and let Susana back into the room. “We’re finished, Seá±orita. I think we had a productive session. Your maid is the most interesting subject I’ve seen in years.  ¡A fascinating case!”

“ ¡Excellent!” she told him. “Pansy’s been a wonderful maid, and I want to do everything I can to make sure she’s able to continue to serve me.” Turning to her changeling, she smiled and told her, “It’s time for lunch. You have one more appointment here this afternoon, and then we’ll do our shopping.”

Pansy lowered her eyes and told her mistress, “Yes, Seá±ora.” From her point of view, the visit had been a waste of time, although the doctor had been sympathetic. She knew no more than before. Before they left she took Lilia to a rest room, where she nursed her, changed her diaper, and refreshed her own lipstick.

They had lunch at Sanborn’s. Pansy was delighted to have an American-style meal again, and she finished it off with a hot fudge sundae. She had a feeling of déjá  vu as she ate; perhaps, she thought, she had eaten here as a child.

After lunch they returned to the Institute. Pansy was taken to a waiting room on the second floor, where Seá±ora Arias left her. The magazines on the coffee table reminded her that she could no longer read, and her frustration nearly brought her to tears. To occupy herself she picked up Lilia from her crib and rocked the sleeping infant in her arms, nuzzling the delicate skin of her cheek. Her daughter smelled of milk and baby powder, and she loved her deeply.

In a few minutes a plump middle-aged man with thinning iron-gray hair entered the room. He announced, “I’m Doctor Ibá¡á±ez, and you must be Pansy. Come with me, Seá±orita.” She put Lilia back into her crib and followed the doctor into an inner office. Ibá¡á±ez sat behind a large desk and invited her to be seated. She did so, putting the crib on the floor next to her chair and arranging her skirts. “Seá±ora Arias told me a little about you, and Doctor Ibarra and I discussed you during lunch,” he told her. “You have this odd notion that you’re really a man.  ¿Is that true?” He looked at her sharply, taking in the shapely body under the yellow dress.

She flushed under his gaze. “Yes. No… In a way, Seá±or. I ain’t no man, like you see. Not now. But I was a man. A norteamericano. Seá±ora Arias changed me to a campesina to punish me.”

Ibá¡á±ez nodded. “That’s what she said you believed.  ¿You know it’s physically impossible?”

“It ain’t impossible, since it happened. But yes, I know it ain’t supposed to be possible.”

“ ¿When did this magical event happen?”

“Eleven days ago, on New Year’s Day.”

“ ¿Were you awake when she did it?  ¿How did she change you?  ¿Did it happen all at once?”

“Yes, Seá±or, I was awake, but I… I don’t know how she changed me. She told me she was a bruja and she just… she just waved her hand and it happened. Not all at once–she changed me a piece at a time.” She looked away. Even to herself, she sounded foolish. “I know that ain’t possible– ¡it’s crazy!–but that’s what happened.”

Ibá¡á±ez looked at Lilia, sleeping in the crib. “She’s your daughter,  ¿true?”

“Yes.”

“ ¿Where was she two weeks ago, when you claim to have been a man?”

She disliked this man intensely; his condescension was insufferable. He wasn’t at all interested in helping her. “She was with Pansy Baca, the woman I am now. But I wasn’t her then, I was… I was someone else.” As Ibá¡á±ez started to speak, she cut him off, saying, “It’s foolish, it’s crazy, it’s impossible, just like I said. I can’t explain it.  ¡But it’s true!”

He nodded. “Or so you believe. Yet you don’t speak English, your Spanish has a Honduran accent, you can’t read or write, and you remember growing up as a girl. Doctor Ibarra was right: you’re a fascinating example of a multiple personality. But that’s not my specialty, and treating you isn’t my concern. No, I’m here to administer a few psychological tests.”

For a moment she was upset that he was wasting her time like this. To him, she was just an interesting case; he never considered that she might be telling the truth. Then she thought, “I can’t blame him for that. I ain’t got no evidence, so he’d be foolish to believe me. Well, I’d just be washing clothes or mending a torn shirt if I weren’t here.” And she knew she had to obey Seá±ora Arias anyway. Her own wishes were irrelevant. “Very well, Doctor,” she replied.

He told her the tests were simple and wouldn’t take long. “The first is an IQ test. A test of intelligence. The fact that you’re illiterate doesn’t mean you’re stupid.” He gave her directions. The test involved analogies and reasoning. Some questions were simple, others were subtle or complex, and she had trouble answering them. He gave her a Rorschach test next, and then she completed a set of word associations. At the end he told her, “You seem to be a normal woman, Seá±orita–except for your delusion, of course. Doctor Ibarra seems to think you’ll get over that in time, even without treatment. Reality has a habit of overcoming delusions. We’ll see you again from time to time, to check on the progress of your recovery. That’s all. Seá±ora Arias is waiting for you downstairs.” He stood in dismissal.

She found her own way back, carrying Lilia in the crib. Seá±ora Arias was sitting in a chair in the foyer reading a magazine when she descended, and she arose with a smile when Pansy appeared. “ ¡Good!” she announced. “We still have time to do our shopping.”

“Yes, Seá±ora.” Pansy’s voice held no enthusiasm.

As they walked back to the car, Susana asked, “ ¿Did you explain your problem to the psychologists?”

“Yes, I did. You already told them, of course. They think I’m crazy.”

“Naturally. You didn’t expect anyone to believe you,  ¿did you?” Pansy didn’t answer, and Susana opened the car door for her. She put the crib on the back seat, then took Lilia out and held her in her arms. They left the Institute and headed towards the center of the city. When they reached the center, Susana turned the car into a department store parking lot. Pansy put Lilia into the sling, and they walked into the store. “Buy a nice dress here, Pansita,” Susana told her. “You have a nice figure, and you’re going to show it off. I insist.”

Pansy was depressed. She shook her head and tried to refuse. “Seá±ora, thank you, but I don’t want no new clothes. I have enough dresses.” She knew better than to ask for slacks. Susana had made it clear that she’d conform to Seá±or Cualquiera’s prejudices. Besides, she was comfortable in a skirt now. There was no sense in wearing slacks as a pathetic and futile attempt to recover her old self.

“ ¡Nonsense! Come with me.” She led Pansy to a rack of dresses. “These look about right.  ¿What’s your dress size?”

“I… I ain’t sure. I ain’t never bought one.” But she had, as Pansy, she suddenly realized.

Susana laughed. “ ¡Oh yes you did! You bought me a dress shortly after we met.  ¿Don’t you remember?” She stepped back and looked at her maid critically. “You’re shorter than me, and your waist is nice and slender. An eight, maybe.” She smiled sweetly and pointed out, “You’re more than a little bit fuller in the bust, too. I’m not as well endowed. And maybe in the hips too. You’ll definitely take a woman’s size, not a miss’s. Here, try this on.” She selected a short-sleeved red dress with a flared skirt and white scalloped lace trim on the hem and neckline. The fabric had a delicate satiny shine.

Pansy took it into the dressing room while Susana held Lilia. She stripped off her yellow dress and stepped into the new one, zipping it up the back and fastening the white belt. It fit well, showing just a little cleavage at the bottom of the scooped neckline and emphasizing her slender waist. In the mirror she saw that it flattered her dark skin and black hair. Susana had chosen well. She stepped back out.

Susana inspected her critically. “You look very pretty in that dress,” she told her hapless former lover. “ ¿Do you want me to buy it for you, or would you like to try on a few more?” A salesgirl came up to her and agreed: “She’s right, Seá±orita.  ¡You look so pretty!”

Pansy knew they were correct. And she knew she needed to attract a man. Not a campesino, but a man who’d help her escape the trap she found herself in. Maybe this outfit would help. “Yes… Yes, I think I’ll take it.” She thanked Seá±ora Arias. “You’re right. It is pretty.”

As if she had read Pansy’s mind, Susana assured her, “You’ll catch a husband in no time.” Then she added with a satisfied smile. “You do want to catch a husband, of course. Every girl does. And you are a girl,  ¿true?”

“Yes, Seá±ora.” Pansy was in no position to debate the issue. She changed back into her old dress, and the red dress went into a box. Susana bought a necklace, and they paid for the purchases and left.

They returned to Los Ocotes after dark. Marta had kept their meals warm in the oven, and Pansy ate with Susana. “You’re adapting very well,” Susana told her. “I spoke with Doctor Ibarra. He thinks you have multiple-personality syndrome, but he predicts that Jack’ll fade away as you become accustomed to your new body.”

Pansy disagreed. “I don’t think so, Seá±ora. His di… dignosis is based on a mistake. He thinks I’m delusional, and that I always been Pansy. You and me, we know better.”

Susana pointed out that Pansy’s dual memories left her in very much the same state as a victim of multiple-personality syndrome. “He may not understand the origin of your ‘disorder’, but the diagnosis is pretty much on the mark. You have two people in your head. Two personalities. I’m not a psychologist, but it seems to me that he’s right. You’ll ‘recover’ when the campesina takes over your soul completely. When you reject Jack willingly and wholeheartedly. Exactly as I intended. And exactly as he deserves.”

Pansy shook her head. “ ¡No, Seá±ora!  ¡I know who I am! I’m Jack…  ¡I’m a norteamericano! I’m trapped in this body, but I know.”

She nodded. “Of course you do. I do too. But I know–we both know–that you’re Pansy Baca too. And after Pansy’s memories and Pansy’s body force you to become the campesina I intend, we’ll still both know who you might have been. It just won’t matter any more. You’ll reject him.” Smiling, she told Pansy that the start of the mental transformation was already apparent. “I’m enjoying watching the change. Watching you trying to fight against it, but slowly losing, slowly sliding into the rut you’ll stay in for the rest of your life. Your daughter’s helping me, too. You realize that,  ¿don’t you? Every time you nurse her, every time you change a diaper–or just cuddle her–the campesina becomes a little stronger and the norteamericano slips away a little more.” Pansy did know it. Jack Cualquiera seemed to fade whenever she picked Lilia up. She couldn’t want him back then, and deny her baby. “If it’s any consolation, you can look forward to a much happier life then. You’ll actually enjoy being a girl–even a campesina–doing all the girly things I designed you to do. All the things Jack told me I should do.” Susana finished her coffee and told Pansy to pour her another cup. “Then you can clean up the table and wash the dishes. I’ll watch television for a while, then go to bed.”

Pansy fetched the coffee as ordered, and set about cleaning up. She would escape, she told herself. Yes, she was a woman. She accepted that she’d never be a man again, however Seá±ora Arias had put her here. But Ibarra be damned, she wouldn’t “recover” her campesina identity. She could be a mother–a good mother–and still climb back.
 
 
January 29
-- Pansy’s day off dawned clear. She got up and tended to the babies. Today after breakfast a man from Já­caro Grande would meet Pansy and take her to her sister. Seá±ora Arias had approved the visit, saying only that she’d have to take Lilia. By now Pansy was used to carrying Lilia everywhere, and could hardly imagine being without her. Pansy helped with breakfast, even on her day off; Marta would have the added burden of Josecito for the day.

Juan Orellana, one of the cowboys from Já­caro Grande, drove a pickup to the house just after 9 AM. Pansy stood with Lilia, and Juan grinned with pleasure as he ogled her, waiting by the door. When Petunia had sent him to fetch her friend, she hadn’t told him how pretty she was. His friend Pedro Arriaga had picked her up on the road three weeks ago, and had hinted that she was a real sexy-looking babe. He called, “Ayyyy, Pansita.  ¡Here I am!”

Pansy smiled when she saw the truck, and she hurried over with Lilia. Juan was lean and dark with a black mustache. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his torn shirt was open, exposing his hairy chest. She slid in next to him in the front seat, and put Lilia on her lap. “OK, Seá±or, let’s go,” she told him. He turned the truck and headed back down the dirt road.

Juan paid strict attention to the driving as long as they were on the steep and narrow dirt road to Ojos de Agua, and then over the flimsy suspension bridge across the Humuya River. His arm slid around Pansy as they approached La Libertad and the road improved. She was a little nervous, but she allowed his arm to remain there. They bounced along the cobblestones through La Libertad, and sped up after they reached the gravel road south towards Comayagua. His hand slowly crept around to her breast, and she felt a surge of lust, familiar from her memory of her life before she’d come to work for Seá±ora Arias. She fought it and ordered him to pay attention to the road, as she removed his hand and arm from her person. “I’m sure you know better than that, Seá±or. Please, don’t make me remind you. I don’t want to have to complain to Seá±or Sáºlivan.” Mildly chastened, but not embarrassed, he asked if her husband worked at Los Ocotes. She replied that he didn’t, but volunteered no further information. Silently she pondered her recent experiences with strange men: the unwelcome attentions of Gordo at Los Ocotes, the harassment she recalled as Pansy, and now this. Strange men, she concluded, were a potential hazard, best avoided.

They turned at the Já­caro Grande road. Soon she embraced Petunia again, after which she had to attend to both ends of Lilia. Margarita toddled in, and Pansy picked her up and cuddled her for a moment until she wailed to be put down. She tottered, fell over, and got up again, gurgling happily.

“She’s an independent sort,” Petunia told her. “I think she gets it from her father.” Then she told Pansy that her husband would bring a guest for lunch. “His bachelor brother Alberto lives in La Libertad. He’s a coffee broker. Not a big one, but reasonably prosperous.”

Pansy told Petunia of her problems with lecherous men. “I’m beginning to think it ain’t safe to go out by myself. Some men seem to think I’m fair game for whatever they can get away with. I feel uncomfortable.”

Petunia giggled, then laughed, but she was surprised. Her sister was different–as though Jack were really a part of her. That wouldn’t have come as any surprise to the old Pansy. “You do seem to be new at this, or at least I guess the ‘Jack’ part of you is,” she told Pansy. “Every girl, if she’s at all pretty–or even if she’s just female, I think–learns that as soon as she reaches puberty. Lots of men are that way, and some are worse. The woman who scolded you was right. Especially with that figure of yours; I’m sure it draws men like bees to honey. It’s not safe. You’ll have to change your habits, Pansita–or Jack. I’m sorry to laugh. I know it’s a real problem. It’s just that I’ve thought so often that men should learn what we have to put up with. Well, maybe one has. It’s no consolation to you, I realize, and I apologize. Now, let me get you some coffee.  ¿Do you want cream and sugar?” Jack had liked it that way, Pansy hadn’t, and her agreement now was another confirmation of Jack’s presence in her. “I just baked some rolls, too.”

While Petunia was in the kitchen, Margarita toddled unsteadily over to Pansy. She was a chubby child, with fine brown hair and fair skin. Pansy moved Lilia to one side and perched ’Rita on her lap. The child reached for Pansy’s purse, and Pansy opened it and let her take it. Cooing with pleasure, ’Rita rummaged through it, dumping the contents on the floor.

Petunia laughed when she returned with the coffee and rolls. “You’ll spoil that child, I can see. She’s into everything, and you’re just encouraging her.”

“No, it’s my pleasure and privilege to play with her.” After all, she was the child’s father, she told herself with hidden anguish. “If she gets spoiled a little,  ¡that’s your problem!”

“I warn you,  ¡I’ll retaliate with Lilita!”

Talk then turned to the local botany. “ ¿Are there any interesting plants in this area, Petunia? It don’t look very promising. I think it’s too dry.”

“You’re right, it’s not so good for orchids or bromeliads. Oh, there’s a few, but nothing of great interest.” Petunia went on to describe the local flora.

Lilia interrupted them with a cry for attention. “Oh, she’s wet,” Pansy noted. “Excuse me while I change her.”

“If you’re Jack, you’ve learned to tell what’s bothering her pretty quickly,” Petunia remarked.

“ ¿Didn’t you learn quickly with Margarita? Petunia, I’ve been with Lilita constantly, day and night, for a couple of months–as Pansy–and during that time she’s given me lots of opportunity to learn. I ain’t stupid.” She changed the diaper swiftly and expertly.

Petunia watched her. Pansy might think that Seá±or Cualquiera was still hidden there, and in some sense she seemed to be right, but Pansy wasn’t at all the same as the man she had known, in a lot more than the physical sense. He had been charming and intelligent, but she had also seen that he was shallow and egoistic, and his world had been intellectual. Her short reacquaintance with her sister told her that Pansy was much more concerned with other people, and her world was more concrete. Charm and intelligence were still there, but her personality was deeper than George’s. Perhaps the apparent change was only superficial, an artifact of radically changed circumstances. In any case, Petunia certainly didn’t love her sister the way she had loved Seá±or Cualquiera–but she liked her a lot better. And she didn’t think Pansy was just her sister, either. Not really. She had the right appearance, and the right memories, but the personality wasn’t quite Pansy’s any more than it was Jack’s. Maybe it was just that she had changed since Petunia had last seen her. After all, she had gone through a lot. But she just didn’t feel right. No, the best explanation was that Seá±or Cualquiera’s memories, or his ego, had been superimposed on her sister–or her exact double, but that seemed unlikely at best–and that her sister also retained her own memories. That explanation seemed to fit the facts, even if it was hard to believe. Almost impossible, really.

“ ¡There we go!” Pansy picked up her daughter, hugged her gently, and kissed her. Setting her down carefully, she turned back to Petunia. “I been thinking about what I should do. I got to stay as a maid for now, like you said–you’re right, I ain’t got no choice–but like I said three weeks ago, eventually I want to get myself some kind of professional career. I got to regain my literacy first, of course, and replace at least some of what I lost in math and science. Then maybe I can build on the biology I still know, and become a teacher. That’d seem to be the best I can hope to do now.”

“OK, assume you can do that, although it won’t be easy.” Petunia didn’t have the heart to tell her that her dream was impossible. Then she wondered: on Pansy’s previous visit her sister had expressed some ambivalence about her sexual orientation. If Jack had really been put into her sister, what would happen to his (and her) sex drive over time? Was she a homosexual now? She put the question to her sister as diplomatically as she could.

Pansy laughed and told Petunia she was unambiguously heterosexual. “I remember liking a pretty face and a curvy body–I remember loving you, as Jack–but it’s only a memory, and I can’t really understand how I could’ve felt that way. I got no romantic feelings to women at all.”

“ ¿And men?  ¿Are you attracted to men? The last time I asked, you had mixed feelings.”

“They’re not so much mixed as unwelcome. My body wants a man. I feel it every time I see a strong handsome male body. I can’t help it.”

“ ¿Do you plan to marry, then?”

Her sister closed her eyes and sighed. “Petunia, I want to, yes. I think I need a husband. I want sex as much as I ever did as a man, maybe more, and I won’t be a slut. Seá±ora Arias wants to see me married to a campesino, I know. I doubt I can bear to live live a celibate life–and actually I don’t want to be an old maid. In two senses of the word. I know I’ll be be swapping one set of problems for another if I marry, but at least it’s a set of problems that others have dealt with. But I want an educated man, not a campesino. I ain’t no ignorant campesina, in spite of my looks and my… my illiteracy, and I don’t want to remain a peasant. There’s another problem.  ¿What do I tell my husband-to-be?  ¿Do I tell him I was a man? I don’t want to lie, and it could lead to disaster, but I doubt I could find a decent man to marry me if he knew the truth.”

Petunia couldn’t bear to tell her sister that her dream husband would remain a dream. Pansy’s status as a maid, her illiteracy, her dark skin and mixed-race features, even her speech–they’d all make it impossible to find the match she wanted. She simply asked, “ ¿Do you want to return to the United States? Jack intended to go back.”

“ ¿For what? If I can, then I’d have to prove that I’m really Jack, and then I’d become a freak. Besides, I have three children here. Lilita’d come with me, but Margarita and Josecito would stay here. And I love them all. I don’t want to leave them. I ain’t lost all hope of returning some day, but I don’t think it’s a good idea now. I think the best solution to my dilemma is to remain in Honduras and teach. If I can learn to read and write again, that is.”

Petunia nodded. “I understand, and I agree. I think you should stay here and teach, if you can. It’d be the best compromise between your past life and your present condition. You’ll never succeed in finding a job without some help, though.” It had been hard enough for Petunia to secure a teaching position. She told Pansy that she’d need to work on her speech, though, before she could consider resuming a professional life: “You sound like an uneducated peasant, I’m afraid.” It sounded callous, but Pansy needed to know it. “You need to improve your speech before you can think of teaching. Listen to your Seá±ora Arias, and try to talk more like her. It’ll give people a better impression of you.”

Pansy agreed to try. Seá±ora had said the same, and she knew she sounded uneducated.

Their talk turned to other matters: Petunia’s pregnancy, Seá±or Sáºlivan’s cattle raising, their babies. It was 11 AM before Petunia recalled: “ ¡Pansita!  ¡I have to make lunch for the men yet!”

“No problem, Petunia, I’ll help. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Between the two of them they had a substantial lunch prepared by the time Seá±or Sáºlivan arrived with his brother shortly after noon. He greeted Petunia affectionately, then introduced his brother to Pansy: "Seá±orita Baca, this handsome devil’s my brother Alberto. Beto, this exquisite creature is Pansy Baca, Petunia’s sister.”

Alberto Sáºlivan lived up to his brother’s billing. He was quite handsome–as dark as ’Tonio but a little taller and slimmer, with a thin black mustache. He bowed slightly, took Pansy’s hand, and kissed it. “My brother told me Petunia was entertaining one of the prettiest women he’d had the pleasure to meet. Either he understated seriously, or his experience is much broader than I know. Pansy, I’m delighted to meet you. Please, call me Beto.”

Pansy almost managed to stifle a girlish giggle, then replied, “Beto, it’s my pleasure. I told your brother that he had the gift of ‘blarney’ from his Irish forebears, and I see that it’s a family trait, and a very pleasing one.”

Beto raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother, who explained the reference. Then Petunia called them to lunch, and they sat down to fresh papaya, chicken, and rice. Alberto started on his papaya, then asked Pansy, “ ¿Where are you from, Seá±orita? I grew up here, and I would’ve noticed such a pretty girl. You talk a lot like a local girl, but I think I detect a slight accent.  ¿Did you spend some time in the United States?”

“Yes, you’re right. I went there as a baby, but I grew up mostly in San Pedro, and Honduras is my home. I’m Petunia’s sister, like ’Tonio said. I work for Seá±ora Arias at Los Ocotes, and I moved there recently when she married.”

“ ¿And your husband?  ¿Does he work there as well?”

She looked down. “I’m afraid he’s dead.  ¿But you, Seá±or? Petunia tells me you are a coffee merchant.”

“Yes, I have a business in La Libertad. I buy mostly coffee, but I deal in other produce as well. I’ll never get really rich, but I’m comfortable.”

“ ¿Do you sell direct to the United States? There’s a boom in specialty coffee shops there, and I think you could make a big profit. Marketing would be the problem, but if you can get a foot in the door, you got to do well.  ¿Or are there political problems I ain’t heard about?”

He gazed at her with interest. “There are always political problems, but there are ways to solve them.  ¿What do you do at Los Ocotes? It sounds like you might run the place.”

She blushed. “No, Seá±or, I’m just a maid. Mostly I do laundry, keep house, and take care of Seá±ora Arias’s baby.”

He grimaced. “ ¡Pearls before swine!” He attacked his chicken.

Margarita began crying then. The noise disturbed Lilia, who joined in a duet. The women pleaded necessity and left the table for their offspring. In the bedroom Pansy began to nurse Lilia while Petunia changed Margarita’s diaper. Petunia noted, “I think Beto likes you.”

“I’m just a maid, Petunia. He must have lots of girls to pick from. He’s just making small talk.” But her heart leaped. Would he be interested in her? Maybe she could use him to escape!

Petunia nodded. “That’s right, he has lots of women after him. I think he’s gone out with every single woman in La Libertad. And maybe some married. Still, he likes you. I’ll bet he asks to see you again.” She finished with Margarita, hugged her, and put her back in her cradle. She returned to the dining room, leaving Pansy to finish nursing. In a few minutes Pansy returned too.

As she sat, ’Tonio complained to his brother that the price for cattle had fallen, and profits were down. “This is a bad country for cattle, you know, and profits are low at best. We sell our beef for hamburger because it isn’t good enough for other purposes. And the climate and general condition of the range won’t support a good beef animal. Screwfly, hoof-and-mouth–a good beast can’t make it here.”

While the brothers discussed business, Pansy told Petunia that she was becoming very depressed. “I hate being a maid, but Seá±ora Arias was right. It don’t make no difference what I want. She can keep me tied to her as long as she wants. It ain’t… isn’t a terrible life–she’s decent, like I told you before–but I’m just going to wither here.”

“There’s hope yet.  ¿Didn’t you tell me you wanted to teach? I think Susana might relent eventually.”

“ ¡Eventually! I’ll be old and gray, my life wasted. No, I don’t think she has any intention of letting me go, ever.”

Petunia was annoyed. Her sister was wallowing in self-pity and needed to be goaded out of it. “ ¡Snap out of it, Pansy! Maybe you’re right–maybe Susana’ll keep you as long as she can. Other women rose from worse pits, with fewer assets, but it seems you’ll just accept what she intends without a fight. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s all you deserve.”

Shocked that her own sister would say such a thing, Pansy was speechless. Beto noticed Pansy’s distress and asked, “ ¿Is there a problem?  ¿Can I help?”

She recovered and gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you, no, Seá±or. Yes, I have a minor personal problem, but I’ll handle it.” A minor personal problem: How to escape from servitude? How to regain what had been lost irrevocably? “A female problem.” A problem being female.

Concerned, ’Tonio said he’d help if possible. She dismissed the problem and apologized. To change the subject, she asked, “Seá±or, since I visited here, I wondered,  ¿what is a ‘já­caro‘’?”

“It’s a small tree, a bit like an acacia. I’ll show you one after lunch. ’Tunia said you like plants.  ¿Are you an herbalist?”

“No, I’m just an amateur botanist. I don’t know none of the plants in this area, though. Orchids and bromeliads–las piá±uelas–are my favorites.”

Beto asked curiously, “That’s an unusual hobby for anyone around here, especially a woman.  ¿How did you become interested in that?”

“Ever since I was a child, I been interested in science and natural history. I don’t know how or why. Just an odd child, I guess.”

“And an extraordinary woman: both beautiful and intelligent.”

She felt her face redden again. “Thank you, Seá±or.” Then, more coquettishly, she noted, “It ain’t usual for such a handsome man to notice anything beyond the exterior.” She blushed even more as she realized she was actually flirting with him. And enjoying it.

’Tonio grinned. “She got you, Beto. You might have a match here.”

Beto also smiled, showing even white teeth in his dark face. “But the exterior is so attractive, you must forgive the men who are distracted.”

Bright red, Pansy laughed out loud. “ ¡I yield me, Seá±or! I’m overmatched, and pleased to concede to such a gallant caballero.  ¡I hope I lose many such contests!”

Joining her in laughter, Beto remarked, “A gracious concession from a worthy foe. I enjoyed the struggle, and I’d like to give you the chance to recoup. I understand youre free on Thursdays. If I may be so forward, I’d like to ask you to have dinner with me a week from now–next Thursday evening.  ¿Will you do me the honor, Seá±orita?”

For a moment Pansy was lost in confusion, but she caught her breath and recovered. “Seá±or Sáºlivan, it’s me that’s honored. Yes, I’d be delighted.” Briefly she wondered what she was letting herself in for, recalling the tactics Seá±or Cualquiera had used to get Susana into his bed, and the string of women his friend Bob… Bob something-or-other had kept in Atlanta. But then she relaxed. “There’s no comparison,” she rationalized. “Not all men are like him. I’m more on guard, anyway, and I can keep control of myself. Besides, I want to go out with a man, and I need to find a decent husband if I’m going to escape from Seá±ora Arias. Maybe he’ll be it.”

Beto was delighted. “Good, it’s settled. I’ll pick you up at four, if that’s OK.”

The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. ’Tonio and Petunia showed Pansy the já­caro tree for which the ranch had been named, and Petunia identified two cacti for Pansy. They invited her to stay for supper, but she refused with thanks, asking to be returned to Los Ocotes. “I promised Marta I’d be back before supper to take Josecito off her hands, and I can just make it if I leave soon.” Beto offered to drive her back, and she accepted.

Pansy found herself strongly attracted to this handsome man, but she forced herself to keep away, and he didn’t try to approach her. The conversation remained on safe topics–the coffee crop, cattle raising, botany–and he dropped her off at Los Ocotes without incident. Pansy took her sleeping daughter from Beto’s red Celica, thanked him, and returned to the house.

Marta met her just inside the door. “ ¿How was your visit, Pansy?”

“It was very good, thank you. Until this month I hadn’t seen my sister in several years, since before she married ’Tonio Sáºlivan, and I’m glad she lives so close.  ¿How was Josecito?”

“The little angel was no trouble at all.”

Pansy laughed. “I know better, Marta. He’s a beautiful child and I love him dearly, but he ain’t… isn’t no angel.” She had to begin talking better, she told herself.

Chuckling, Marta agreed. “He’s got an excellent pair of lungs, that’s certain, and he’s into everything now that he’s walking. He’s no angel, but he’s a good baby. Believe me, he could be a lot worse.”

Pansy followed Marta back to the kitchen. “Let me get Lilita fed and settled, and I’ll help with supper. And I have a favor to ask.”

Marta raised her eyebrows as she cut up an onion. “ ¿What do you want? I’ll help if I can.”

“Well, I still got to get permission from Seá±ora Arias, but I wanted to check with you first. I been asked to dinner next week by the brother of Seá±ora Sáºlivan.”

“ ¿Beto Sáºlivan? I’ve met him. He seems like a decent man, if a bit too forward at times. ’Fredo often deals with him; he buys some of our coffee. And you want me to take care of Lilita and Josecito while you’re with Beto,  ¿no?”

“ ¿Please, would you, Marta?”

“Yes, I think I could manage, if it’s OK with Seá±ora Arias. She told me you were going to be taking care of Lilita all the time, you know.”

“I know. As I said, I’ll have to clear it with her. We’ll see. Thank you anyway, Marta, whether I get permission or not. Now, please excuse me while I take care of Lilita.” She left to get Lilia settled, and to check on Josecito.

After supper, Pansy asked Susana for permission to leave her daughter in Marta’s care. “Seá±ora, I know she’s my daughter and my responsibility, and if you refuse permission, then of course I’ll take her with me. But I thought you might make an exception this time.”

Susana looked at her maid speculatively. “ ¿Why do you want to leave her?  ¿Is she an inconvenience for you?”

“No, Seá±ora–well, yes, she is an inconvenience, but that’s not the reason. I was asked to dinner, and it wouldn’t be proper to take Lilita with me. I will if I must, but I’d rather leave her with Marta. As I told you, she agrees, if you’d permit it.”

“ ¿So you’re asking to go on a date?”

Pansy blushed and nodded. “I suppose you could say that.” Then she looked Susana in the eye. “Seá±ora, I think you told me I got to be a woman all the way, and that I’d probably end up as some man’s wife. Well, you succeeded part of the way. I’m a woman, I’m attracted to men. If you want me married off, you have to allow me to go out with men.”

“But I don’t want to see you married off yet, Pansita. Not off the finca, anyway, and I know you’re not seeing any of the men here. Felipe keeps close tabs on his men, and he’d tell me. As I said, I like having Jack here, doing my laundry. Besides, I need you to stay for now, to care for Josecito. No, you’ll keep Lilia for now. I won’t keep you here on your day off–it’s your day by right, to spend as you like–but I won’t let you slack off on your duty to your daughter, and Marta has too much to do for me, especially with you gone. I am happy to see you settling in to the normal life of a campesina, though.  ¿Why don’t you marry some young campesino here on Los Ocotes? That way you could satisfy your lust during the night, and do my laundry during the day. I can suggest several of my men who’d love to bed you.”

Tears sprang to Pansy’s eyes. “Seá±ora, I done my work. I done it good. You got no right to do this.”

“ ¿No? I gave you permission to leave the finca, Pansita. You just have to keep Lilia with you. It’s a nuisance, yes; but after all, it’s a woman’s duty to care for her children,  ¿true?  ¿I think Seá±or Cualquiera said something to the effect that biology is destiny?  ¿Didn’t he?”

“Seá±or Cualquiera.  ¿And did he persuade you to adopt his ideas?”

Susana laughed. “Seá±or Cualquiera is not dead. I know better. He’s still alive, imprisoned in that cute little body of yours. Eventually I think he may become absorbed into the old Pansy Baca, but that won’t be for a while yet. Anyway, I haven’t adopted his ideas, but I swore he would.  ¿Do you still believe in his ideas, Pansita?”

Controlling her emotions, Pansy replied, “We had this discussion before, I think. You won the argument. Please, leave it at that.”

Susana laughed again, bitterly this time. “No, I didn’t. My body betrayed me. Now I’m under a man’s control, accepting what he chooses to give me. Don’t mistake me; Felipe’s a good man. I love him, and he loves me. Yet it’s clear my biology won in the end, even after you left me. Seá±or Cualquiera won the argument, he just lost everything else. Now at least I can see to it that Seá±or Cualquiera's arguments apply to himself. It’s my only consolation.”

“Bullshit!” Pansy dredged the English expletive from some hidden recess of her mind. “ ¡‘My only consolation’! You have a good life–a life you chose–and I been here long enough to see that you control your husband as much as he controls you. It’s a partnership. You’re not being honest. Well, never mind. You won: I’m your maid, and I got to obey you. I’ll take Lilia with me, like you say.  ¿May I be excused now, Seá±ora?”

“In a moment, Pansita. As you say, you carry out your duties well. You’re a good maid, obedient and dutiful, an excellent seamstress, and a fine mother. And a pretty girl to boot, who takes care with her appearance and pleases men. A girl who lives to cook, clean, sew, and care for children. And who now wants a man of her own. I told you, your anatomical changes were only the start,  ¿true? I think the psychological changes are almost completed too. The spirit of Pansy has almost absorbed Jack.” She grinned: “He’d be delighted with a girl like you–if he didn’t have to live in you.” Then she spoke more seriously, warning Pansy, “Yes, you have my permission to go out on a date, but I want to warn you: men can be dangerous. Some men see a woman alone–especially a pretty young peasant girl like you–as their natural prey. You’ll have to learn to be wary. And if some man takes you out on a date–he’s not safe either. He’ll take advantage of you and your emotions if he can–and I think he might be able to do that with an inexperienced girl like you–but you’ll pay the price. Just like the girls you took advantage of. Remember Seá±or Cualquiera; you’re playing the other side of the game from him now. I know you think I’m just harassing you again, but I’m not, I’m offering sound advice. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Furious but helpless, Pansy turned on her heel. Later, alone with Lilia, she considered Susana’s words. She had meant them as taunts, and they hurt. But it was truth which lent the sting. She, Pansy, had changed as Susana had described; she was very different from her previous self. But were the changes in her personality so terrible? Was caring for others a fault? Seá±or Cualquiera had acted as though it were. Susana seemed to think so. But Pansy knew that her old self hadn’t really been happy. Pleasure he had had, but not happiness. And Susana seemed to have everything, but she didn’t seem happy either. Pansy’s anger dissipated. She knew Susana thought of her as “Seá±or Cualquiera”, and held his actions against her. Nevertheless, she treated Pansy decently, with only an occasional reference to the sins of Seá±or Cualquiera, or a snide remark about Pansy’s femininity. Pansy wondered, though, whether Susana was pushing her, somehow, into having sex. Her deep longing for a man had to be Susana’s doing. Maybe more brujerá­a? No, a drug implant was more likely. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of complaining, though. As long as Susana didn’t do anything more, she could tolerate it.
 
 
February 3
-- Roberto Ibá¡á±ez, dressed in an open-necked white shirt and casual slacks, sat back in the don’s comfortable armchair. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating a large pile of papers on the mahogany table in front of Don Pablo. The doctor asked, “ ¿Are you prepared to support my request for another experimental subject? I think we’ve done well with Pansy. George Deon’s ego still seems to be present in Pansy, along with most of the memories, the wit, the curiosity, the interest in arts and science. True, the memory loss has entailed some loss of intelligence–about a fifteen point decrease in IQ, or maybe twenty. That’s due to neural damage caused by the shocks. It’s an acceptable side effect, given the magnitude of the changes we effected–and the fact that she only has to cope with a maid’s duties. She doesn’t need to be smart. And some of that loss is probably recoverable, as her brain makes new connections.” He paused, then went on. “Not everything remains, of course. We attempted to alter his psyche towards a more feminine persona; specifically, we tried to induce docility, an interest in womanly arts such as sewing, and a female sex drive. We seem to have succeeded, but as I pointed out at the beginning, too much was attempted, and we’re having trouble in assessing the results. Two questions remain to be resolved. The first is:  ¿How much change was due to psychological conditioning, how much to physiological and anatomical changes, and how much to social pressure? The second is:  ¿What’s the prognosis?  ¿How permanent will the changes be, and will the new persona develop some psychological dysfunction?”

Don Pablo leaned back in his chair. “My personal interest–that is, the punishment of Seá±or Deon–is done. I still have an interest, as you do, in practical and scientific aspects, and I am willing to entertain your suggestions.  ¿What do you propose, to answer these questions?”

Ibá¡á±ez steepled his fingers. “The second part’s fairly simple. All we have to do is continue to keep Pansy under observation. If she appears for occasional interviews, and takes a few tests, that should be sufficient. And we should keep in touch with your daughter, too; she should have some insight into Pansy’s state of mind.”

“ ¿And what about her physical health?  ¿Is she likely to develop any problems related to her anatomical changes?  ¿What about the possibility of natural pregnancies?”

The doctor shrugged. “Outside my field of competence, Seá±or. Ask Doctor Weiss, for a definitive answer. I think he’ll want to monitor the continued health of his prize subject, though, just as I do. I suspect the prognosis is good, and I think she’ll prove fertile on her own.” He paused. “ ¿What does your daughter say about her maid?  ¿Has our subject accepted her new status with grace?  ¿Does she perform her duties acceptably?”

Don Pablo leaned forward. “We seem to have fallen somewhat short of our goal. On the positive side, Susana reports that Pansy seems to have developed the feminine persona you predicted. She tries to make herself attractive, she takes good care of both her baby and Susana’s child, and she performs her other duties well. On the negative side, she is most certainly not the campesina I had hoped for, but rather a norteamericana. She does not accept her status as natural or irrevocable, and hopes to rise above it. I cannot fault your own efforts. I recognize that it is due to the fact that she recalls her existence before her transformation–as I myself specified--and identifies with the earlier self.”

“Yes. George Deon survives, as you wished, but he’s clearly been remolded into a female version.” Standing up, Ibá¡á±ez walked a few steps and gazed out the window. Turning back to Don Pablo, he commented, “The new feminine personality is constantly reinforced by her duties as a maid, her need to care for her baby, her physiology, and social pressure.  ¿What about her sexuality?”

“I do not know. Susana said nothing on that subject.”

The doctor sat again. “I’d like to set up an appointment with Pansy next week, if that’s possible. Weiss and I can both check our respective work.”

“Check with Susana. As I said, my personal interest is over. Tell her I approve, if you wish. I will attend too; I retain my interest in Pansy as the subject of your experiments.” The don looked down at notes he had made. “Now,  ¿what about the first question you asked–concerning the relative importance of the various factors in constructing Pansy’s new persona?  ¿What do you propose?”

“I need more subjects. Criminals, as before, or anyone else you may think appropriate for the purpose. I’ll attempt to transform them to obedient servants, using only the pleasure center.  ¿Could you use a devoted servant with a passion for cleaning house?”

They spent the next hour discussing possible practical applications of their new technique for absolute control. At the end Ibá¡á±ez delicately raised the question of hiring out his ability to remold a man. “I don’t know, Seá±or, but I suspect there are those who would pay handsomely to control a troublesome man. Including, perhaps, their own offspring. Or women: my results with Pansy suggest that I could make a nun into an enthusiastic whore. Or vice versa.”

Smiling, Don Pablo commented, “Based on what José reported with Pansy, you did just that, starting from less promising material than a nun. Yes, Doctor, I believe it may be time to put your work to practical use. I will pass the word that my doctors have a miraculous technique for rehabilitation. Rest assured, you will find the work rewarding.”

Later that day, Doctor Ibá¡á±ez telephoned Susana Arias to request another psychological and physical examination for Pansy. She wasn’t at Los Ocotes; the housekeeper referred him to the store in La Libertad. Blessing the existence of cell phones, he called the store. When Susana answered, he asked, “ ¿Would it be convenient to have Pansy visit the clinic again, a week from today, Seá±ora? Weiss and I both need to check her physical and mental health.”

Susana’s reply was a little tinny, but clear enough. “I don’t see why not. She seems healthy, but I agree, she should have regular checkups. I think you ought to arrange an examination for her daughter too. A routine postnatal checkup.”

“OK, I’ll do that.  ¿10 AM?” She agreed, and he added: “One other thing, Seá±ora: We’re trying to evaluate the psychological changes that we’ve induced in the old George Deon.  ¿Could you help us? You knew him fairly well before we remolded him into Pansy Baca, and you’re the only available person with that knowledge, other than the former Petunia Baca. I’d very much appreciate your help.”

There was a pause. “I think so,” she reluctantly agreed. She didn’t like Ibá¡á±ez or his penchant for playing God, even if he had helped her take revenge on Seá±or Deon. “I’ll help you, as long as my involvement is strictly confidential.”

“Thank you, Seá±ora. Until then.” Ibá¡á±ez hung up, well satisfied.

Susana stood up. Now where was that girl? “ ¿Pansita?” She called more loudly, “ ¿Pansita?”

Marta called from the next room, “Seá±ora, she’s hemming Seá±or Arias’s trousers in the laundry room.”

“Fetch her for me, please.”

Marta left, and in a few minutes Pansy entered and curtsied. “ ¿You wanted me, Seá±ora?”

“Yes. I wanted to let you know that next week I’m taking you to the clinic in San Pedro again, for a medical examination and another psychological interview. The doctors you saw last month are interested in your case. Lilia can go too, and she’ll get a checkup too’.”

“Very well, Seá±ora.  ¿Is there anything else you want?”

On impulse Susana asked Pansy to sit. “I treated you rudely last week, and I’m sorry. You were right; you’ve served me well, if unwillingly, and I shouldn’t badger you. I probably will do it again, I know–Seá±or Cualquiera hurt me badly, and as I’ve told you, I know he’s still there, trapped in your head. It’s a great temptation to harass him through you. I’ll try not to.”

“It’s wasted effort anyway, Seá±ora,” Pansy replied. “Yes, he’s still there, but he knows he’s stuck for good. This body seems right for me now. And you put him into a woman with a past–I’m used to it. Like you said, I grew up as Pansy. Right now, I guess I’m both people. Yes, I still want to be more than a maid; so would any other woman. I think I can succeed, and I’d be foolish to be satisfied with a maid’s job. Someone told me that Honduras needs educated women–as teachers, for instance–and that’s what I want to do now. That, and find a decent husband.  ¿Will you help me or will you try to stop me?”

Susana refrained from pointing out that Pansy was hardly an educated woman, and that she never would be. “ ¿What about your search for Seá±or Cualquiera?  ¿Are you abandoning it?”

“No. But tell me, Seá±ora:  ¿just what do you think I’ll be able to do with that information when I get it?  ¿Are you worried that I’ll return to my old life, my old ways?”

Susana laughed. “You know better, Pansita. …And yes, I know better too. That’s your real point, of course. For better or worse, we succeeded in our effort. No, you’re a hondureá±a–a real catracha–now; there’s no return.”

We? Someone had helped to change her. These doctors, probably. It was still impossible, but slightly less so than witchcraft. “ ¿Then why not tell me who he was?  ¿How can it hurt?”

“ ¿Why not? You asked me before,  ¿don’t you remember? I’ve told you several times, but I’ll repeat it again: I want Seá±or Cualquiera’s identity to remain dead and forgotten forever. Maybe it’s not rational, but I don’t care.”

Pansy replied, “I suppose I can understand, in a way. My search for him ain’t rational neither. By now I don’t think he matters, but I got to find who he was anyway.” She looked at Susana. “ ¿Will you give permission for Marta to watch Lilita on Thursday, then?”

“Yes, I suppose I will.  ¿May I ask why you’d rather leave her here?”

Flushing, Pansy replied, “I got an invitation to dinner, and it’d be rude to bring her if I can avoid it.”

“Ah, that must be with Seá±or Sáºlivan. Gordo saw his car up here last week when you came back from Já­caro Grande.” Susana smiled sweetly. “Your hormones are becoming insistent,  ¿are they? I told you that you’d want a man. Be careful, Pansita. I’ve heard that Beto’s something of a Don Juan. He’d be a good catch if you could land him, but he’s a little like the late lamented Seá±or Cualquiera. You’re a novice at affairs of the heart–from the woman’s side, anyway–and he’s experienced. Quite experienced, I hear.”

Hormones? That was over her head, but the context clarified her meaning. “Thank you for the warning, Seá±ora,” she replied resentfully, “but I’m capable of taking care of myself, and I think I can manage. I’m a big girl now.”

Susana stifled a giggle. “Very true, thanks to me. Good luck then. Remember, though: if you slip and get pregnant, you’ll be in the soup.” She looked directly at her maid. “Lilia isn’t held against you; you didn’t have any choice then. Now it’d be different. Be careful.” Then, more cheerfully, she told Pansy to tend to Josecito when she had finished her sewing. “Or even better, take your sewing to the nursery, so you can keep an eye on him. He’s making a nuisance of himself, and he needs some attention.  ¿How’s Lilita doing, by the way?”

With some relief, now that the subject of the conversation was no longer her date with Beto, Pansy answered, “She’s doing very well. I notice that she’s not sleeping quite as much, and she can lift her head. And she’s smiling at me.”