Sing a Healing Song, Chapter 6.

Both my dad and I looked at the woman in the doorway trying to keep our jaws from hitting the floor. In the reality where I was a boy, my mom had died giving birth to me.

Yet, here she was, apparently alive.

But then, gratitude overcame shock, and I ran to her, and hugged her fiercely.

“Whoa, Fiona. Not so hard, you’ll break me.”

I started crying.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” She said.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

“I was just in Calgary for my company while you and your dad got to holiday in Ireland, so its only been a week.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, and said, “Its felt longer.”

Just then, my dad must have recovered from his own shock, and came over and hugged us both.

“Gee, maybe I should go away more often if this going to be my reception when I come home.” My mother said.

“No. You’ve been ... gone long enough.” Dad said with a catch in his voice.

I just held on to my mother, basking in her presence, feeling her soft, warm, real body, and smelling her perfume.

After a while, my mother said, “Okay, okay, you’re both glad to see me. Now, can I get my suitcase in?”

“I’ll get it.” My dad said.

I looked at his face as we broke the hug, and I thought I understood what he might be feeling. Since she had died when I was born, I only knew my mother by the absence of her presence, the hole she had left behind when she’d died. But for my dad, this was the love of his life brought back after fifteen years of grief and loss.

He came back in with a rolling suitcase and a shoulder bag that contained a laptop. He handed me the bag, and said, “Fiona, help me take this stuff to the bedroom. Annette, help yourself to some pizza, we’ll be right back.”

“Sure, Mark.” My mom said, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Once she had turned away, my dad steered me towards the master bedroom.

“Best plug that laptop in.” He said, and put the suitcase on the bed.

Once I had done that, I turned back to find him shaking as he tried to put her stuff away.

I went up and hugged him, “It’s gonna be okay, Dad.”

“Did you know she was alive?”

“No, Dad. the stuff the goddess gave me is like the net, remember? I gotta ask the question before I get the answer. And it never even occurred to me to ask if she was alive.”

“What am I going to do? Fifteen years of a life together that she remembers that I don’t. She’s going to think I’m the most forgetful husband in history.”

Suddenly, I had an idea. I took his hand, and I “asked” about my mom. Memories started flooding in, of her being there as I grew up. Even though I was apparently a “daddy’s girl” and a tomboy, in this reality, she’d always been a part of my life.

“I’m ... remembering!” My dad said.

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t getting my “memories” of mom, but his own perspective on her presence in our lives.

Finally, I let go, and he quickly finished putting away her stuff. Then we headed back towards the kitchen, with his hand on my shoulder.

“So what secrets are you sharing with your father now?” My mom said.

I looked at my mom, and realized that she was a little jealous of my close relationship with my dad. It wasn’t something a normal person would sense, it was pretty hidden, but with my new abilities I could see that she was a little saddened that she and I had not connected the way a mother and daughter should. Most of that, I sensed, had to do with me being such a tomboy she couldn’t share with me her love of women’s fashions.

A thought entered my mind, and then my former male self seemed to say, “You’re not thinking of what I think you’re thinking of, are you?”

I internally answered “I’m a girl now, I’ve got my mom for the first time in my life, and I can make her happy. You really want me to not do that?”

My former self had no answer to that.

Aloud, I said, “Mom, actually I was sharing two things with Dad, and I want to share them with you too.”

“Oh?” She said, while Dad looked at me confused.

“One was that I bumped into a boy during a run around the block this morning. I ... found myself hoping I’d ... bump into him again.”

“Here I was half-expecting you’d tell me you were a lesbian. Not that I wouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

“I know you would have, Mom. The other thing is I was thinking that maybe you and I should spend some time together. Maybe we could ... feminize my wardrobe, a little? With a shopping trip? If you wanted. I mean, I’d understand if you were tired from your trip and wanted to rest instead.”

‘You’re ... serious? You want to find some skirts? With me?”

“Yeah, why not. “

She gave me a big hug, turned to my dad and said, “Would you mind if we went?”

“Fiona has spent the last week with me. She can have some ... mother-daughter time, if she wants it. I’ll get some work done around here.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” She went to give him a kiss, and he responded with a much more serious kiss of his own.

I blushed, and covered my eyes. “Ahh! Parental affection! Make it stop!”

My mom sounded like she was out of breath when she said, “She’s got a point, dear. Let’s save that ... for later.”

“I’m wearing headphones to bed tonight.” I said, grinning at my dad.

“I’ll be counting the moments. Now the two of you, shoo.”

My mom grabbed her purse, and walked me to the car.

“Where should we go, mom?” I asked.

“Where else but West Edmonton mall?” She answered.

I thought about that huge mall, and started having second thoughts ...