Falling . . . 3

“Nick!” Izzy yelled sharply as a rock half the size of the car hit the pavement behind us.
More rocks of varying sizes crashed around us as I fought to escape the cascade. Screeching tires wailed in my ears as the smell of burning rubber filled my nostrils. Finally we burst clear then the car shuddered as if a giant had hit it. Metal screamed as granite smashed into Isobel’s side of the Mustang, pushing us towards the far side of the road and the steep, tree strewn cliff below. I had just enough time to grab Izzy’s hand before we plunged over the side, and into the abyss below.

Author's Note: It's alluded to in the story but anything in italics indicates the words are spoken in a different language, in this case, Japanese. Also, I've kept the categories a bit vague on the front page as I think they would spoil a few surprises as the story develops. Thanks for reading! Hrist

“Why not Bryan?” Isobel asked as we rounded the switchback and moved further up the parkway.

I shot her a look of mock alarm that dissolved into a grin.

“Then we’d call a girl Bryana? C’mon Izzy, can’t we do something a little more interchangeable. We’re already waiting to find if it’s a boy or a girl. Monograms don’t magically change.”

Izzy shook her head and massaged her slight tummy with a cinnamon hand.

“Honestly, your family and these monograms, it’s like they think we’ll forget our initials or something.”

“Sweetie, they’re just kind of old-fashioned that way.” I said.

“Nick, they’re old-fashioned in a lot of ways. I’m just really happy that they’ve accepted us moving a little faster. I don’t think your Mom ever thought you’d have a child before marriage.”

The road settled into S curves and I concentrated on it, revving the engine a bit as we swept through the ribbons of road. I loved this stretch of asphalt and had driven it many times. It was a great place to put my Mustang through its paces one last time.

“Are you sure you don’t mind selling it?” Izzy asked as she gently placed her hand on my arm once we entered a straightaway.

I spared her a glance, bewitched by the image of her long dark hair whipping in the breeze of the open convertible.

“Her, honey, she’s a her. Like a ship.”

Izzy just rolled her eyes and gave me a lopsided grin.

“I love the car, but I love you and our child a lot more, honey. If we sell the car, we’ll have enough for the down payment on the house. It’s a no-brainer.”

We entered one more set of curves. The breathtaking vista of the Blue Ridge Parkway in all its fall glory dominated the view to the left of the car. This evening picnic dinner was a great way to end our visit to the farm. The sunset combined with the fall colors were the perfect setting to finally pop the question. I’d asked Izzy’s Father for his blessing last week and was very excited when he gave consented. Neither of our parents had been wild about the timing of her pregnancy at first, but they’d all come around.

I gunned the engine and dropped the Mustang into 3rd gear as we entered the final straight climb towards the overlook. Suddenly I heard a crack of thunder from the mountainside to our right. I shifted my gaze just in time to see boulders coming towards us.

“Nick!” Izzy yelled sharply as a rock half the size of the car hit the pavement behind us.

More rocks of varying sizes crashed around us as I fought to escape the cascade. Screeching tires wailed in my ears as the smell of burning rubber filled my nostrils. Finally we burst clear then the car shuddered as if a giant had hit it. Metal screamed as granite smashed into Isobel’s side of the Mustang, pushing us towards the far side of the road and the steep, tree strewn cliff below. I had just enough time to grab Izzy’s hand before we plunged over the side, and into the abyss below.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to shake off the ethereal grip of the dream. Sweat soaked my body, bringing a chill to my skin as a wave of nausea washed over me. Throwing back the covers I dropped the 12 inches to the cold tiles of the hospital room floor.

“Oh God, I’m going to lose it.” I thought as I rushed to the bathroom.

Three seconds later I deposited my stomach’s meager contents into the toilet. My hands shook with the aftershock of my physical and mental turmoil as I knelt before the white porcelain. The sour tang of bile assaulted my nose as I tried to collect myself. Several shaky breaths later I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth, pointedly avoiding the alien reflection in the mirror. I hadn’t dreamed about the accident in years.

“Just what I need right now,” I whispered, shaking my head as I returned to the hospital bed.

Okasa–Keiko’s raised voice brought my eyes to the closed door. My, I mean Sukiko’s mother sounded upset . . . angry. It shocked and even frightened me. I’d never heard anger in her voice before and it disrupted the fragile calm that her warm presence had created over the past two days. The thick oak door soaked up the exact words but the rhythm and inflection of the language was different. Suddenly something clicked in my mind.

“Spanish . . . she’s speaking Spanish.” I thought. But why?

Another Sukiko memory surfaced. Her father, Javier Reyes, was a decorated war veteran. He’d met Keiko on a visit to Japan soon after joining the military. Later, he’d fought with the Special Forces in the Philippines after 9/11. Thoughts of Padre . . . Javier brought with them a strong sense of foreboding. The air in the room seemed suddenly cold and oppressive. I climbed beneath the covers of my hospital bed and fought to banish the cloud that suddenly seemed to hang over me. Sukiko was afraid of her father for some reason, but no memory floated to the surface to explain her fear. I decided not to delve into Sukiko’s memories, at least not yet. The thoughts and feelings that kept intruding on my mind scared me. I was afraid if I delved deeper into them I might lose Nick forever.

The door swung inwards as Keiko glided gracefully into the room. Her face was a bit flushed but she quickly covered it with a warm smile, though I could still see tension in her eyes.

“Okasan, is everything okay?” I asked, shivering in spite of my desperate attempt to control my emotions.

Keiko noticed my obvious discomfort and smiled reassuringly before wrapping my tiny body in a tight hug.

“It’s alright, Suki. Your padre,” she hesitated, as if choosing he words carefully, “He . . . he’s just having trouble finding a flight back from Mexico City, sweetheart.”

She stood and regarded me with concern.

“Right now we need to concentrate on getting you well. There’s a doctor who’d like to speak to you . . . about what happened, if you’re up to it.”

“I don’t remember a lot, Okasan, but I will speak with the doctor. I just want to get out of here,” and back to my real body, I thought.

“I want you home too, Suki, but I want to make sure you’re okay first.”

I became increasingly nervous as my visit with the doctor approached. It was all I could do not to chew my fingernails, something I’m sure Okasan would find repulsive. What would I tell this person to get out of here? I didn’t even know for sure if Sukiko was trying to kill herself when she fell off the bridge.

“Just be honest, Sukiko.” Keiko said as she placed her hands over mine.

I looked up and met her eyes for a long moment, just as the door opened to reveal a tall willowy blonde woman in the standard issue white doctor’s coat over charcoal slacks.

“Sukiko Reyes?” she asked.

I nodded slowly. It was kind of odd to hear someone speak English after hearing only Japanese and muted Spanish

“I’m Dr. Katherine Wagner. I understand you’re probably very tired, but I’d like to talk to you about why you’re here.”

“Alright,” I replied in a soft voice with nary a hint of an accent.

Unconsciously I pulled the covers to my chin. I found gazing up at this tall woman to be almost intimidating given my newly diminutive self. Dr. Wagner must have noticed my apprehension as she pulled a straight back chair from the corner of the room and sat down on my left, not far from Okasan who held my hand reassuringly.

“Ms. Reyes, would you mind excusing us for a few minutes?” Dr. Wagner asked. “I’d like to speak to Sukiko alone.”

I quickly looked from Wagner to Okasan and shook my head fiercely, gripping Okasan’s hand. I didn’t want to be left alone. Fear gripped me and tears welled up in my eyes. The thought of being alone with this woman made me feel extremely vulnerable.

“Sukiko . . .”

“Okasan, don’t leave me alone, I don’t want to be alone. Please!”

The words tumbled out of me in rapid fire Japanese as I gripped her hands fiercely. I had not felt so helpless since the accident and the terror of my morning nightmare threatened to consume this waking moment.

Before Okasan could respond Dr. Wagner’s calm voice cut through my rising panic.

“It’s okay, Sukiko. I won’t force your mother to leave. I just want you to be completely candid with me. Leave nothing out when you answer my questions, even if you might find it embarrassing to say in front of your mother.”

I swallowed and nodded, shame flowing through me as I wiped hot tears from my cheeks. It was so hard not to cry. I felt the influence of Sukiko’s body and memories, loosening the tight hold I’d always had on my emotions. My feelings felt more raw, closer the surface.

“Now then, what do you remember about the last few days?”

Knowing that what happened in the next few minutes could determine how quickly, or even if, I ever saw my wife and child again I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax.

“I’m sorry Doctor, but I don’t remember much before I fell. It’s all jumbled. I know who I am, and who my parents are. It’s 2011 and I’m 16-years-old. I know Barack Obama is president. I’m just . . . I’m not sure how I ended up on the bridge or how I fell.”

Dr. Wagner regarded me with her pale blues eyes, her expression was open but I couldn’t tell if she believed my story. Izzy had told me that trauma victims can sometimes lose time and memories surrounding their trauma. Sometimes it’s due to oxygen loss to the brain, other times victims repress memories that they’re conscious mind isn’t ready to handle. I was counting on what I thought of as my “amnesia defense” to get me out of here. I was afraid if I went too far into Suki’s memories I might never find my way out again.

“Sukiko, in order to determine the most appropriate way to help you I need to decide whether you’re a threat to yourself or others. Why were you on that bridge?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I remember losing my balance, feeling weightless, and then falling towards the water."

My heart pounded in my chest as the images of my fall played out in my mind’s eye.

“I don’t know what brought me there, how I fell. But I distinctly remember pointing my feet to cut into the water. I know that when I hit the water, I wanted to live. I . . . I still do.”

My eyes caught sight of the golden crucifix around my . . . Sukiko’s mother’s neck.

“I’d never do anything to hurt myself, or anyone else, it’s not my right to make that decision. It, it lies in God’s hands,” I said in a small ragged voice.

Dr. Wagner continued to gently probe and prod me with sharp and insightful questions for nearly two hours. Even as she wrapped things up I couldn’t tell if she bought my amnesia or not. At length, she stood and took my hand, holding it gently but firmly as her blue eyes held my brown ones.

“I want to run a few more tests, Sukiko, but if they go well, I’m willing to release you into your mother’s custody.”

I smiled reflexively and hugged Okasan, tears once more springing into my eyes.

“However, until we figure out exactly what happened and why you fell . . . “

She paused and I could almost hear her thinking to herself, “or jumped.”

“You will be required to meet with me one hour a week.”

I nodded. “Of course Dr. Wagner, anything you say.”

I couldn’t believe I was getting out of here so quickly. With any luck, I’d soon be able to solve this mystery and be back where I belong.

Three hours later I faced my final roadblock to the outside world; Sukiko’s clothes.

Actually it wasn’t so bad. Suki’s wardrobe held at least a few practical items. Keiko had brought a pair of form fitting black silk pants that I apparently loved to lounge around in, a white tee with sapphire hued embroidery at the neck and tips of the sleeves, and black silk panties that looked sort of like Speedos. Completing the outfit were a pair of flat heeled black shoes that slipped on and off. I was particularly grateful for the shirt, which seemed to have a built in bra. After a little adjusting, my breasts, Sukiko’s breasts rather, were held and supported, taking a light strain off my back that I hadn’t really noticed until it was gone. The underwear, however, was kind of distracting. The silk felt nice, but it felt weird too. Before I put on the shirt, the swaying flesh on my chest was a near constant reminder of my new gender. Now it was the panties. They fit flat against my new anatomy, reminding of what was no longer there, and what had replaced it. My hand lingered just above my new mound for a few moments before I shook my head to clear it and pulled on the silk pants and flats. Luckily makeup was not in the bag Keiko had given to me. If I spent too much more time getting ready, who knows what conclusions Okasan might jump too. Blushing furiously I exited the bathroom and picked up the black and white check rain coat Okasan had left before gathering the rest of my meager possessions, including some tiger lilies that Padre had sent.

I smiled to Okasan as the orderly pushed the wheelchair away. She opened the doors to a sharp silver-gray Infinity sedan and we climbed inside. Glancing back at the glass encased walls I caught sight of a sign reading Marin General Hospital, just as we pulled away.

“So I’m in California,” I thought. “This just keeps getting better and better. How the hell am I supposed to get back to Charlotte.”

“What’s the matter, Suki?” Okasan asked as she caught sight of my dour face.

“I . . . I’m just sorry I’ve been such a bother, Okasan.” I replied lamely.

Keiko smiled gently and took my hand in hers.

“You’re my daughter. You will never be a burden to me.”

“And to Padre?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“Of course not, Suki, that’s nonsense, now let’s get home.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, once more wondering exactly how I would ever return to my real home.

To Be Continued . . .