Easy As Falling Off An Ice Floe.
by Angharad
part: 398.

I was shocked by this revelation about Tom. His daughter was transsexual, goodness, talk about lightning striking twice. How could I go and see him without making a fool of myself–how could I not go and see him? In the olden days, it would have meant crawling while wearing sackcloth and ashes and begging his forgiveness. I had no idea, I wonder why no one mentioned it before? Maybe it was too long ago, will they be the same about me in twenty years–old news and all that.

“A penny for them,” piped a voice from the bed.

“Oh, I was just revelling in my guilt. Just how am I going to be able to speak to Tom, ever again?”

“If you don’t, you’ll both regret it. You’ve spoken to him on the phone, so why the problem?”

“I didn’t know what you’ve just told me, did I? It makes everything very different.”

“I don’t see why, you’re the same and so is he. All that’s different is you know something about him that you didn’t an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t he or someone else tell me?”

“Why should he?”

“Well–because, that’s why.”

“What relevance does his or his daughter’s past have to do with you?”

“Everything.”

“Why?”

“Because it does. I mean, how rare is it for someone to meet two trannies in their life time, unless of course they’re part of the scene. I mean, I haven’t since I discovered it wasn’t for me.”

“You’ve seen them though haven’t you? Didn’t you tell me you were always screening for them–your gaydar or transsexual equivalent.”

“Yeah, but that isn’t like, getting involved with them, is it? That’s like totally different.”

“I suppose if you put it like that, but then his feelings for his daughter would be rekindled by you, he could redo some of the things he might have got wrong the first time around, by doing them differently with you.”

“A sort of therapy?”

“I don’t know if I’d quite call it that, but a sort of redemption for him. Of course we don’t know if he really got it that wrong the first time. His daughter died, he blamed much of it on himself, then his wife dies and he probably blames himself for that too. She might have accused him as well, so he may well be riddled with guilt or he may be philosophical about things. I couldn’t determine that from what he told me.”

“I’m just astonished that he’s had two come his way and become so involved with them. But it does explain his kindness and generous support for me.”

“I suspect you’d have got that anyway. I’m not a gender-bender and he’s generous to me too, nor is Simon.”

“No, but you are both involved with me.”

“Don’t get delusions of grandeur, Cathy, he might just like us for our own loveable selves.”

“Like I do, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

At this point she stopped talking, possibly because I hit her with a pillow. My first strike use of unclear weapons of mass dysfunction, resulted in retaliation. It led to almost predictable escalation of hostilities and within minutes we were on a full war footing. Of course all war is futile and there are no winners. Puffing and panting, we shook hands, declared a truce and signed a peace treaty, we were both too tired to continue with the pillow fight.

“Are you going to tell him that you told me?”

“Nope.”

“Is that it then?”

“Is that what?”

“The end of it?”

“Seems like. If you want to talk to him about it, you can do your own dirty work.”

“Yeah of course, just tell me Stella, how I bring it up in normal conversation? Oh goodness hasn’t it been an awful summer, oh by the way, Stella tells me your daughter and I have loads in common, or would have if she wasn’t dead.”

“That might be a bit direct.”

“So how would you do it?”

“Maybe the next time he mentions her, ask him to tell you about her.”

“What if he never mentions her again?”

“Tough titty.”

“Gee, thanks, Stella.”

“You’re welcome. It’s supposed to be summer isn’t it?”

“As far as the calendar goes, yes.”

“So how come the sun isn’t shining?”

“Pass.”

“They said global warming would give us hot dry summers…”

“Yeah, but they didn’t say where or when, did they?”

“I think some of it is hysteria.”

“Yeah, especially amongst polar bears.”

“What are you on about?”

“The lack of ice floes and glaciers for the northern teddy bears.”

“Oh yeah, it’s getting tough for them.”

“I know a joke about polar bears, it’s a bit of a schoolboy howler, so you might not want to hear it.”

“Cathy, how can you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Tempt me, then take away the pay off.”

“Eh?”

“Tell the sodding joke, alright?”

“Oh, okay–since you put it so elegantly. Right, there’s these three polar bears sat on an ice floe. Daddy bear, Mummy bear and baby bear. Daddy looks out to sea and says, ‘My tale is told.’ Mummy bear looks out to sea and echoes him, ‘My tale is told.’ Baby bear looks up at both of them and nods, saying, ‘My tail is told too, in fact it’s freezing.’”

Stella looked at me, I don’t get it.”

“It’s a play on the word tale and tail.”

“I can see that, I just don’t think it’s funny.”

“Fair enough, British humour doesn’t appeal to all foreigners.”

“Foreigners, yer Sassenach, hark who’s talking.”

“Ah but, living in Bristol, there must be some Welsh in me, plus some of my ancestors were Scots, so I’m mostly Brit. Your ancestors were Irish.”

“If you were part Scot, so would yours.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that.” I blushed and she sniggered.

“For an academic, you seem a bit dull at times.”

“It’s the altitude sickness from my ivory tower.”

“How can you justify killing all those elephants to build a tower?”

“Stella, it’s simply a figure of speech.”

“A likely tale.”

“It is, think about it.”

“I have, in India and the far east, there is an enormous amount of ivory. They probably could have built a tower of it.”

“That’s as maybe, but it has nothing to do with real tow….You bitch, this is a wind up, isn’t it. I hit her with a pillow again, you know what happened next as history repeated itself.