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Chapter 13

My eyes stung like I had been pepper sprayed. I could speak from experience because I had actually been pepper sprayed. It was when I first started dating Monique, although she would never have called it that, and she had invited me to a GMO or maybe it was a cruelty for animals protest or something- to be honest, I was really more into Monique. Unfortunately, Greg hadn’t been there, because if he had, he would have talked me out of mouthing off to the cop who proceeded to down me with a quick spray. I was lucky I wasn’t arrested, but, on the plus side, I also found out that Monique wasn’t just hot, she was ridiculously creative in bed. It turns out that she was really turned on by police brutality.

I let out a shriek of pain as my tear ducts immediately tried to flush away the offending substance, but I was momentarily blinded. My left foot slipped, I staggered and my hand snaked out for something to stop my fall. A hand caught me and gently pulled me up. The hand was soft with long fingernails.

Eve shouted, “Are you OK, Ryan?! Did you hurt yourself?” It was the next day, and I’d decided to take a shower, which should have been simple enough, but unfortunately, it wasn’t.

I shut my eyes tightly, the soap still stinging my eyes. The shower was still running, but a moment later, the water stopped. I yelled, “Get the fuck out of here, Eve! I don’t need your help!”

Eve gently released her grip on my hand and said matter-of-factly, “It kind of looks like you do. I’m a nurse, Ryan. This is nothing new to me. How’d you manage to get soap in your eyes?”

I continued to keep my eyes tightly shut. “Look, I can do this myself.”

I wasn’t about to tell Eve that I had used Greg’s shampoo, and thinking it was completely rinsed out of my now long, unbound hair, I opened my eyes. As the water from the shower struck my head, the shampoo which I had failed to rinse out quickly ran down my forehead and into my waiting eyes, causing immediate burning and itching.

Eve replied, “I really don’t think you can. Here’s why. I can see you’ve still got shampoo in your hair. It’s really thick and long. And you can’t just rub a bunch of shampoo in your hair like you used to. Plus, you are going to get major tangles the way you are doing it now.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Well then I’ll just chop it all off. I never bothered much with it. When it was bath day, Ashley helped me with the hair, and she redid the style or whatever. But that was back when I was trapped in the studio. There’s nothing stopping me from just cutting it all off.”

Eve looked at me like I was considering murder. Her eyes bugged out of her skull, and her jaw hung open, “But your hair- you have such beautiful thick, long hair. Most girls would kill for hair like that.”

I nodded, “Well I’m not a girl, so it’s a pretty easy decision to make. I already told Greg to get me some boys’ clothes that will fit. I’ve only got the shirt and jeans I wore when I met you guys. And there’s no way I’m wearing the dresses I brought.” I managed to slowly open my eyes. My tears had washed most of the shampoo away.

Eve nodded slowly, “Your eyes look really red. Let me put some drops in there.”

Despite the slight relief, Eve was right, my eyes still felt extremely irritated, and I actually did need her help. There had been times when I had an early shift, and I’d crashed at Greg’s place. This in itself wouldn’t have been an issue, except for my bloodshot eyes, which meant I was still usually feeling the effects of the pot I’d smoked hours before. Vince hated when I came to work high, so I’d usually try and hide the effects. Unfortunately, I never had the hand-eye coordination to use eye drops, but thankfully, Eve was always willing.

Still, at this point, I was naked and with my vision restored, I noticed that Eve had taken an interest in my body. It definitely wasn’t anything sexual- she certainly wasn’t leering, but it was more of a fascinated stare. It made me feel tremendously self-conscious, a rare experience for me. Even in the studio, Ashley gave me my space. Yes, she helped me wash my hair, but she never stared at me. It reminded me a little of the way Dr. Travers examined my facial expressions when he first gave me the so-called vaccine, but far less creepy. Still, it caused me to gently shiver.

Seconds later, I felt a towel wrap around my shoulders and then a hand gently patting me dry. I turned around and regarded Eve furiously, “What the hell? I’m staying here because you guys know who I am. Quit treating me like a fucking kid!”

Eve said, “Sorry, Ryan. It’s a force of habit. I work in the children’s ward of the hospital a lot. When I saw you shivering, well I just sort of spring into action. I can cut your hair if you want.”

I nodded, “Fine, and quit looking at me too. You got your question answered from yesterday. But just in case you didn’t get a good enough look. Yeah, it’s a complete physical transformation.”

I slid the towel off my shoulders and around my waist, exactly like I did when I still had my male body. Now, however, instead of revealing a firm, toned chest, it revealed a slim, mostly concave shape. I guess the saving grace was that I didn’t have a pair of boobs dangling from there, but at least if I was an adult woman, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing my freedoms and my intellect.

I stepped out of the shower, but I could feel my hair, which was still soaked, hanging against my back. The strands stuck together, forming a thick hair-shaped snake. Droplets of water tumbled steadily from my hair, wetting my back.

Eve shook her head slowly, “You’ve still got shampoo in your hair. Bend over the tub.” Eve removed the showerhead and stood over me.

I felt a tiny tingle in my brain as Eve prepared to wash the soap out of my hair. It wasn’t a sexual response, especially since the t-shirt she was wearing displayed what I viewed as a prominent muffin top. It reminded me of when I was back in school, and I was, unsurprisingly, sitting in the chair in the office waiting to see the principal. I couldn’t remember exactly what I had done, but I think it involved throwing rocks at seagulls. I hadn’t really wanted to, but the new kid in school always has much to prove. It turned out I had to stay in for multiple recesses, but each time, the secretary, Ms. Booth would speak to me, tell me stories, and she would ask me about my day- she made me feel welcome in a place that had been scary before.

Was I starting to react like a kid, or was this a normal response to feeling welcome, supported?

I sighed gently, “We aren’t telling Greg about this.”

Eve nodded, a little smile lining her face. I bent over the side of the bath tub. I closed my pained eyes as Eve quickly removed the rest of the shampoo from my hair. The hair, which reached just over my shoulders, was then patted dry with another towel. After that, Eve had me lean my head back as she carefully inserted two soothing drops into each eye.

Eve said, “I can cut your hair now, if you want.”

I pictured myself with short hair, the spiky bedhead look or even a military-style buzz cut. My eyes caught the reflection of a little girl in the mirror. Her long straight blonde hair, still matted and stuck fast to her back in places. It was in the perfect state for a serious trim, no longer sopping wet, but damp. The little girl in the mirror, however, didn’t want her hair cut. How would mommy put her hair in a ponytail, the hair sweeping gently across her shoulder? She’d never be able to go as Elsa for Halloween with such ugly short hair.

I blinked slowly, and the reflection did the same. I couldn’t understand why I was having these thoughts. I had stayed away from children as much as possible. Had my interactions with Ashley implanted something within? Were these childlike thoughts nestling deep within my brain, like a deadly parasite that would eat away at the remains of my adult and masculine self?

The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. In that moment, Eve seemed like a wonderful blanket, a soft downy cover to embrace me with a gentle warmth. I fought the urge to reach out my arms toward her, but as I did, my anxiety worsened. My heart and my breathing increased, each one ostensibly trying to outrun the other. Just cut the fucking hair. Cut it.

Eve gently put down the scissors she had pulled from the medicine cabinet and said, “Breathe, Ryan. Slowly. In and out.”

Was I starting to identify as Kaylee? It seemed impossible, but here I was, and I didn’t want to see my so-called beautiful hair reduced to short tufts. I stared at myself, Eve’s words barely registering, my heart and breathing matching a sprinter’s pace.

It was Eve’s fault. She had called the hair beautiful. She had infused the little girl with confidence- with a sense of identity. I separated Kaylee from Ryan as I had in the studio, telling myself I was just playing a part. But why was it even necessary? I wasn’t trapped in the studio any longer, and I wasn’t around any children.

Still, was the bouncing in the car Eve’s fault, or the powerful desire to play whenever the opportunity came, in the form of playgrounds and dolls?

Gradually, I managed to calm down, as I continued telling myself that my thoughts were irrational. It was one bounce, and it would never happen again. If I remained in the apartment at all times, I wouldn’t have any interaction with children. As for the hair, I would gather my courage at another time, a point where I wasn’t wearing only a towel and a time where my insecurities would not cause me to nearly hyperventilate. I would sever the long locks, and hopefully, that would sever my connection to Kaylee.

Eve stared at me wide eyed, “Are you OK, Ryan?”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s no big deal.” Once again, I adopted an air of cool and calm.

Eve shook her head, “I’m not sure about that. Does that happen often? I’m wondering if you are suffering from some post-traumatic stress. I know that patients I’ve dealt with at the hospital, when they’ve been in a serious accident, or especially girls who have suffered sexual assault- it changes them.”

I snapped, “What are you suggesting? That I see a doctor? I don’t exist, Eve. Not anymore. You can’t tell anyone that I’m here. Not until we find Tracy. Why do you care so much anyway? I feel like you don’t even want me here.”

Eve replied firmly, “It’s no secret that you and I don’t have a great track record, Ryan. You could be extremely sexist at times. And very inconsiderate. I thought you took advantage of Greg a lot, the way a good friend wouldn’t. And the whole thing with Jessica really pissed me off. But-…”

As she paused, Eve’s expression changed, looking at me the same way she had in the car when she thought I was a real little girl. The softness returned to her eyes, her voice was gentle, likely the same one she used to soothe frightened children at the hospital. “You clearly need help. And you’re right, this is probably the safest place for you while Tracy is in custody.”

I nodded slowly, Eve’s words acted as a warm blanket to my growing insecurities. I should have told her not to use that tone with me, but it seemed counterproductive to argue with her. It’s not like I was going to let her speak that way to me all the time.

I asked, “Was Jessica really mad? You know about me not letting her know about the date and the hospital or whatever?”

Eve’s expression firmed again, the hardness returning to her eyes, “Mostly she was worried about you, and kind of annoyed that you were doing this stupid macho thing where you didn’t want anyone to see you in the hospital. When you didn’t text her at all she said that was it. She’s seeing someone else now.” Eve seemed to say the last words with some satisfaction. I felt my bottom lip quiver slightly, which immediately altered Eve’s expression. Once again, she adopted a soft tone.

“But it hasn’t been that long. Maybe a few weeks. He’s a bank teller.” She cleared her throat, “He’s kind of boring.”

I grinned, “Really?”

Eve nodded, “He’s older than all of us. And he’s always telling us about investments and 401Ks or something.” She laughed, “We don’t exactly have a lot of extra money here. Even with Greg becoming assistant manager at the Burger Palace.”

My heart dropped into my stomach, my eyes gradually shifting to look at my little feet, the toes painted with the bright purple polish. While I didn’t have much in the way of opportunity prior to my transformation, I had nothing now. The girl that was supposed to help me break the cycle of one-night stands and booty calls, and the position that could have allowed me to grow up, to take on new responsibilities were all gone. As I worried about this, my mind started to drift, and I noticed for the first time how the light reacted with the polish on my toes. Sunlight gently warmed the room causing the polish to glitter. I could see little sparkling specks of glitter on each toe, and it immediately lightened my mood. It was so…pretty.

“Ryan? So, do you want me to cut your hair?”

Eve’s words cut through the strange spell I had fallen under. My head shot back up, and I caught my reflection in the mirror. I desperately wanted Eve to chop it all off, to see the golden locks tumble from my shoulders, forming a neat pile at my feet. At the same time, however, I pictured myself with short hair, and I felt a powerful aversion to the idea.

What the hell had the doctor done to me? The serum had more layers to it than I thought. Even without playing with kid toys and avoiding children, the sinister tendrils of the serum still poked and prodded at my brain matter. The word ‘pretty’ had never been part of my vocabulary, hot- fucking hot, but pretty? Never. It was like my brain was a room, and someone was slowly but steadily filling it with stuffed animals, plastic dolls and painting it bubble gum pink.

I was little by little being suffocated by my own mind.

I looked at Eve, and then at the long tresses that hung past my shoulders and slowly shook my head. I attempted to speak, but the words were lodged in my throat.

Eve asked, that softness returning to her eyes, her tone gentle, “Are you OK, Ryan?”

I nodded slowly, “Yeah.” I forced the anger to come, but my voice was surprisingly weak, “Quit…asking me. I’m fine, really. You can cut my hair later.”

Eve said gently, “OK, Ryan.”

***

“Yes! This part is sick. Rewind it!”

Eve complained, tossing popcorn at me, which quickly lodged in my hair, “You’re sick. In the head. We’ll never get through these movies if you keep running it back every few minutes.” The movie in question was Saw, and while I preferred the later movies for their gratuitous gore, I appreciated the deviousness of the traps and the slow-burn detective plot.

Greg laughed, “Give him a break, Eve. He’s been trapped in kiddie hell for months. This is how gore hounds relax.”

It was two days later. Eve hadn’t asked to cut my hair again, and surprisingly, I hadn’t bugged her about it either. I thought about it, at least a few times per day, but I just never gathered the courage to ask her. Besides, I was sheltered in the apartment, and while I only had a couch to sleep on, I wasn’t sipping lemonade on a porch, wondering if my madwoman mother was going to strangle me in my sleep either. Ms. Daniels had what I would call ‘scary love’. She was the type that expected, at all times, to be loved unconditionally, and even with a complete memory wipe, I expected there would be points where I would fear her.

I had nothing to fear here. Greg and Eve treated me like a twenty-two year old man, and while Eve faltered at times, I always reminded her who I was.

As I watched Jigsaw’s victim crawl through the maze of barbed wire, each cut he received leading to additional blood loss, I began to see parallels to my own life. The character crawling through the wire was suicidal but he realized that he did want to live, so began the razor sharp trek. With regard to myself, I had nearly given up in the studio. Each time I failed at what had been a simple task as Ryan, I returned to the bedroom to mope, and each time, Ashley was there to pick me up- to convince me to continue.

And now, I was the only one left. And yet, I couldn’t bear the thought of how I would look with short hair. To me this was a form of defeat. Ashley stated that I had never failed because I never tried, well- I was desperately holding onto Ryan Sullivan, watching as the serum picked me apart like vultures on carrion, leaving nothing except for gleaming white bones- Kaylee.

I was trying, and I was failing.

Still, as I watched the unfortunate victim journey through the barbed wire, I was pleased. Greg’s description of me as a gore hound was correct. The bloodier the better, and I was overjoyed that I could still watch a gore fest. The monsters that had plagued me in the studio were gone- the ones that seemed to live only in the darkest places- the ones that grinned when I closed my eyes in the shared bedroom. I knew they weren’t real and now that I was away from a world free of mad scientists and forced acting, it was far easier to tell myself that the creatures weren’t real.

Despite the setback regarding my hair, at least I could still enjoy a movie that would terrify and probably scar most six-year olds. I knew this because we had watched Goodfellas my first night in the apartment, and it is extremely graphic. My favourite scene occurs after the heist at the Lufthansa cargo terminal. One of the conspirators, Frankie Carbone, is seen in a refrigerated meat truck, his frozen-stiff body hanging like a slab of beef. I couldn’t explain exactly why I loved the scene so much, but I guess it just epitomized the brazen and ballsy behaviour of the gangsters in the movie. You knew they were getting caught, but you’d be along for a hell of ride in the meantime.

Watching these movies told me that Ryan Sullivan still lived and breathed. I hadn’t gone to sleep and had terrible nightmares or had to resort to a nightlight (not that Greg and Eve even had one), and these were welcoming signs, despite the hair, that my adult self was whole.

Eve said, “Well you guys can watch it. I’m heading to bed.” Greg stood up and kissed Eve on the lips and then sat back down next to me. I rolled my eyes and reached for another slice of pizza. Seconds later, the bedroom door closed.

I said, “So did you two finally do it? Or have you become more of a pussy since I left?”

Greg stared at me incredulously, as if trying to piece together hundreds of unsolvable mysteries. I glared at him, “Fuck you, man. Don’t look at me like that.”

Greg shook his head slowly, “Sorry, Ryan. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get used to words like that coming out of this little kid.”

I said firmly yet also half joking, “Well you’d better get used it, or I’ll kick your ass.” For good measure, I made a quick fist and punched Greg in the arm.

Greg frowned, “OK, that’s actually starting to sting. Anyway to answer your question, well it’s really between me and Eve. You know she doesn’t like me talking about when and if we have sex.”

I sighed heavily, my whole body becoming limp as I slid slowly from the couch. “It’s pretty simple, have you had sex or not?”

The frown never left Greg’s face, “Why do you even want to know? I know you’ve had sex lots of times. You and Monique don’t just sit there and talk. I know that. But why are you so interested in what Eve and I do? Am I less of a man because I don’t have sex 24/7 or something? Come on, man. Tell me.”

I looked at Greg in surprise. The backbone he had acquired was impressive. I wasn’t sure if it was Eve or the new job, but the spineless pussy Greg who I could constantly borrow money and bum rides from seemed to be gone. It might have had something to do with my current body.

I replied, “It’s nothing like that. Quit ragging on me. I just want to- you know,” I took a moment to take a bite of pizza, and then continued with my mouthful “if you…did. I want to…congratulate you.” I bit into the crust, which was a little hard and felt something give in my mouth. “Fuck!” I looked down at the crust.

Greg looked down at the crust. Lodged within the cooked dough was one of my teeth. It had actually been loose for the past few days, but I mostly tried to ignore it, making sure to chew away from the tooth. However, it was impossible to ignore now. My tongue snaked upward, exploring the space that once held one of my two front teeth.

My mind immediately rocketed to Juliette and her lisp. I stared down in horror at the lost tooth, fearful that the other would loosen soon. I figured I had all my adult teeth because they were so straight. I had never seen a kid with such straight teeth, but I knew now that it was part of the serum, and while I would likely never have braces, I was going to lose my baby teeth, including my one remaining front tooth.

Greg asked, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a tooth. Jessica’s niece has lost a bunch of teeth, and you’re about her age. She’s seriously got the cutest...-“

I interrupted, my eyes flaring in anger, “The cutest what?”

Greg cleared his throat. Neither of us were watching the movie now. “She’s just got a cute way of talking. I-I’m sure it’s a kid thing. You won’t do it, man. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

I nodded, completely unconvinced, “Sure. Yeah. Look, this movie isn’t doing it for me. You want to play some Halo?”

Greg said, “Our usual team? You know that everyone has to have mics on, right? They always do team speak. You’ll get booted if you don’t have a mic.”

I replied, “Yes, I fucking know that.”

Greg stared at me silently with a sense of expectation. When I returned his stare with a glare and another stinging punch to the arm, he broke the silence, “It’s just- I don’t think the guys are going to want to play with a kid. I know who you are, but you can’t sign in with Ryan Sullivan’s account and go on team speak sounding like that.”

I replied angrily as I hopped off the couch to get a controller. “If I’m good then what does it matter?”

Greg sighed, “It’s an elite server. Yeah, your ranking puts you on there, but can you play still? Maybe we should play against bots first.”

I growled, “Are fucking kidding me? Bots? Fucking bots? You did not tell me to play against bots.”

Greg said firmly, “OK, here’s how we’ll do it. One-on-one death match. First one to five. If you beat me, then you are ready for the elite server.”

I scoffed, “You are the lowest ranked on our server. How does that prove anything?”

Greg replied with a smirk, “Because you should beat me easily.”

I nodded, ready to accept the challenge. While I had stopped playing the Gameboy, I still felt like my hand eye coordination had improved, and even though I was rusty, I was positive I would still destroy Greg.

We started up the game, and I immediately noticed an issue with the controller. The batteries weren’t dead, and the buttons weren’t sticky- no, I was faced with a problem that new batteries and a wet paper towel couldn’t fix. The controller was simply too big for my now tiny hands.

I had to grip the controller toward the middle to even reach the top face button. However, this made it harder for my thumb to reach the right joystick. This wouldn’t have been an issue in a slower moving game, but in a first-person shooter, it was a death sentence. While my hand eye had improved to the point where I could line up my shots, the moment I did, I would have to choke up on the controller to reach the fire button. In the half second it took to adjust my grip, Greg had either moved, or he had put a bullet in my head.

The game was over in six minutes.

“Fuck! OK, I want a rematch. And get me some new batteries. I swear, halfway through, this fucking thing died on me.”

Greg got up from the couch, went to the kitchen and brought me brand new batteries. We started the game again, and I was dead three times in three minutes. Greg’s face was surprisingly expressionless. I expected him to be gloating and trash talking me. He didn’t even tea bag me once. For the uninitiated, tea bagging involves crouching and then standing over the corpse of your opponent. The movement makes it seem like the victor is lowering his balls on the corpse repeatedly.

I growled, “Switch controllers with me. There’s something wrong with mine.” Greg handed me his controller without a word.

One minute and thirty seconds later, Greg won the second death match. I hadn’t landed a single hit on him. I said stubbornly, “OK, one last time.” By this point, I was gripping the controller tightly, my knuckles white.

Greg slowly shook his head, “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta open tomorrow.”

I sighed heavily. Greg was an absolute saint compared to me. He knew that his promotion bothered me, it was the job I should have taken, and because of that he said very little about the Burger Palace- not even about his new powers. I doubted he could fire people, but I figured he could order them around. I would have liked that, and I think I would have liked the challenge too.

I cleared my throat gently, “Uh, thanks- for you know, letting me stay here and everything.”

Greg replied, “No worries, man. Me and Eve are just happy you’re safe now. And don’t worry, we’ll do whatever we can to help you get back to normal.”

Greg went to his room, and I started a new game. I didn’t choose the elite server, or even a lower ranked one. The selection cursor hovered over practice game, which included a bot mode. I made my selection and played well into the night. Sleep tried to whisk me away, to lower my awareness, to close eyelids adorned with full, long lashes, but each time my head drooped, I forced it upwards. Even as my body cried out desperately for sleep, I fought it fiercely.

I had always been a night owl, and I wasn’t going to let my transformation change that. When I finally fell asleep, it was with the controller still in my hand. As I dipped between a state of awareness and full on sleep, I silently celebrated. I had managed to stay up late, or what felt like a very late hour. While playing the game, I hadn’t been checking the time, but it seemed like it was well past midnight.

Sometime during the night, I felt the controller being gently pulled away. Seconds later, a blanket covered me, and I nestled against it, pulling my legs up into my chest. I could have sworn I heard a gentle “aww”, but then I also had a dream involving my current form and a torture chamber full of gushing old ladies who enjoyed pinching my cheeks and kissing my face.

***

I awoke to the smell of coffee, and while that usually meant Monique was up, probably wearing nothing but a pair of thong underwear, leaving her massive boobs naked as she dangled them over my face trying to wake me for another round, it also sometimes meant the girl who I wanted to leave had stayed the night.

I ran the show, and I was always very clear with what I wanted. I asked the girls if they wanted to have fun. Every guy knew what that meant, and most girls did too, but there were some who were clueless. One poor girl actually thought that we were instantly dating the moment we slept together. She texted me so often that I had to block her number. Sex does not lead to any obligations- well safe sex at least.

Was it wrong what I did? I never really thought so because I was always upfront with the girls. If something changed from the moment we left the dance floor or the bar to the bedroom, it was up to them to speak their mind.

The cobwebs cleared slowly as my eyes fluttered open. With this sudden awareness, I realized that I was actually sleeping on a couch, and taking up very little of the three seat sofa. I was also made aware of another simple fact- I was really, really grumpy.

Dishes clanged together and cutlery scraped across a plate. This is likely what woke me up. I peeked my head over the couch and saw Eve in her nursing scrubs eating a plate of scrambled eggs. I grumbled, threw off the blanket, and proceeded to walk into the kitchen.

Eve smiled, “Wow, if I didn’t know you were Ryan before, well I’d know now. Still tired? Oh, there’s some eggs left for you.” Eve was annoyingly chipper, like a server that was trying too hard for a tip.

The clock on the microwave read 7 AM. It’s no wonder I was both tired and in a terrible mood- I had probably only had about four hours of sleep. Still, there was nothing stopping me from going back to bed right after breakfast. A deep yawn erupted from my body as my arms lifted skyward.

I heard a barely audible “aww” followed by cutlery scrapping across a plate. I growled, “Quit looking at me like that.” I pulled a chair from the dining table and quickly retrieved a plate down for myself. I could barely reach anything in the apartment without a chair. Eve wasn’t especially tall, and she needed a chair for the top shelf of the cabinet, but I needed one for the middle and bottom shelves too.

Eve said, “Sorry, I’ll stop. You know me, I can’t really help myself.”

I grumbled, “I know. I still get your forwards with the babies, puppies and kittens.” Despite Eve’s tough no-nonsense exterior, she had a softer side that I had rarely seen. Since my transformation, however, I had experienced it often.

Eve smiled, “How come you are so tired? I pried that controller out of your hands just after 11.” I helped myself to a plate of eggs and sat across from Eve.

My jaw dropped, and I replied quickly, “What the fuck? Seriously? It felt like it was 3 AM.”

While in the studio, we sometimes filmed between 10 to 12 hours a day, but we always started early. I was rarely in bed later than 9 PM. I assumed that the stress of the transformation and the confinement, coupled with the long hours we spent shooting the show, contributed to my exhaustion. Now, however, I stayed in the apartment and watched movies mostly or played Xbox.

I also scoured the news for any sign of what happened in the studio, but beyond that, it wasn’t a very tiring day.

Eve said gently, “Now that I think about it, it actually makes sense. It’s perfectly normal for kids your age to sleep 10 even 11 hours a night. That isn’t something you can control, Ryan. I know you are used to staying up late, but it’s very much against how your body is wired. I’ve seen it with the kids in the hospital, especially the night before they are going to go home. Or even worse, when it is Christmas Eve. They don’t want to sleep, but no matter what, sleep always finds them.”

I glared at Eve, “Nothing about this is normal. And don’t compare me to some stupid kids in the hospital. I’m not like them. It’s just because I was used to going to sleep early in the studio. It’ll be better once I’m completely off that schedule.”

Eve nodded slowly, “Sure, Ryan. I’m sure it will.” I finished eating and deposited my plate, which I hadn’t bothered to rinse, in the sink.

A moment later, Eve’s voice took on an authoritative tone, “You’ve been here for a few days now, and I know things worked differently at your place, you know with the whole mountain of dishes, but I want you to clean up around here during the day. This isn’t a hotel. If you are going to be staying here, you need to help out.”

Eve’s reaction to my laziness wasn’t surprising. I had always known her to be a clean freak, and the fact she hadn’t spoken up before was more shocking than not. Her request was completely logical- not to mention reasonable. I had left dirty clothes on the floor beside the couch, and I hadn’t offered to wash the dishes or do any cleaning whatsoever. She and Greg were providing free room and board- not to mention food and clothes. It was really the least I could do.

However, something within my brain acted as a barrier to the simple request. I realized that even the most meagre cleanup would keep me from my games and movies. The three minutes that it would take to load the dishwasher, or the two minutes that would be wasted picking up my dirty clothes would be five minutes in total that I wasn’t playing.

Eve looked at me expectantly, and as I opened my mouth to object to her valid request, it closed slowly.

A second later, it reopened. I nodded, “No problem.”

I knew what had doomed Mark and Devon. I’m sure that Ms. Daniels devised some punishment for them after the near escape. That punishment likely contributed to the demise of their adult selves, but it was clear the near constant play was also an important factor in their change. Mark and Devon talked nearly non-stop about the game and how they wanted to return to it. I peered at the Xbox and its white plastic case. I longed for the familiar whir when it powered on, and the gentle green glow of the power button. Every second I wasn’t playing was time wasted.

Eve asked, “Are you OK? You look a bit spooked.”

I nodded, “Just something I figured out. Listen, um, this might sound weird, but can you- can you take the controllers to work with you?”

I figured that it wasn’t the play itself, but the obsession with it that had defeated Mark and Devon. Each time I played with Ashley, I felt a similar pull. When I watched the children going down slides and swinging, or when Juliette put the doll in my hands- play was my only thought. It was exactly like a kid. Even though I hadn’t been a kid for many years, I remembered what it was like to be eight and stare out the window and then peer at the clock, desperately hoping that the recess bell would ring to save me from the torment that was the third grade.

While at work, I did think about what I was going to do later, whether it was playing a game or hooking up with a girl or just hanging out and watching movies, but I was still able to keep my mind on a task. My mind wandered back to my time off, but it rarely affected my job. Now, however, I had to forcibly remove it from my mind, and even now, I wanted to just press the little button in the middle of the controller to turn on the system. The game would help me forget how seemingly every day, I was losing a piece of myself.

The more I thought about it, the faster my heart would beat. The tightness returned to my chest, and my breathing came out in short gasps.

Eve nodded her head and put the controllers in her purse, “Are you going to be OK here by yourself?”

I snapped, “Did you really just ask me that? For fuck sakes, Eve- I’m a grown man. You can’t be treating me like a kid. It might start fucking with my head.”

The young woman frowned lightly and lowered her head, “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Ryan. It’s just- I’m…never mind. I’ll see you tonight.”

After Eve left, I pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil and practiced my letters, taking time to write out each one multiple times. I still struggled with the curvier letters, but my ‘R’ had improved to the point where I could close the loop. I grinned down at the paper.

I couldn’t wait to show Greg and Eve.

***

“It’ll make you feel better, man. It always did.”

I shook my head and said through clenched teeth, “That’s because I’d usually sleep with one of the waitresses. You think I want to go back there looking like this?”

Greg said, “Eve and I really think you need to get out of the house though. It’s been a week since you got here, and you haven’t been- well you haven’t been yourself.”

It was morning. Eve would be back at the apartment soon, returning from a twelve hour overnight shift, while Greg was about to start a 9-5.

I snapped at Greg, my voice rising in pitch as I grew more upset, “Oh, so what you’re my fucking parents now? Jesus Christ, Greg- how the hell am I supposed to act? We haven’t heard anything from Tracy. And there’s been nothing on the news. Eve said she called pretty much every police station in town, and none of them, none will admit they took anyone into custody from the studio.”

I added, “Without Tracy, I’m trapped like this. And every single fucking day, I feel like I’m fighting against myself. You know yesterday I saw these girls just skipping rope? And it looked like so much fun, as fun as sex with Monique and Jessica. At the same time. Fuck, I’m going crazy.”

Greg said, “That’s why you need to get out of here. Come on, man. It’s your favourite restaurant.”

I shook my head, “No way. All the waitresses will make these stupid goo-goo eyes at me. You know the look, it’s how Eve looks when she sees a baby with a puppy or a kitten. I’m safe in here from cheek pinching, gushing bullshit and constant reminders of how I look.”

Greg smirked, “You’re not that cute.”

I retorted, “Fuck, you man. That’s not what I meant.”

Greg replied, “I’m just trying to get you to lighten up. It feels like I’m living with this little emo kid who mopes around the house all day writing bad and depressing poetry. Yeah, it sucks, but I’m not sure if depriving yourself of everything you like- and really what makes you Ryan- is the way to go either. I’m not saying go play skip rope or whatever, but play a game of Halo with me before I go. All you do is sit there and watch 24 hour news. Shit, man, you’re like my dad. Except he’s really into the weather channel.”

He added, “Here, I got you this.” Greg handed me an Xbox 360 controller. It was still in the package.

I stared at him blankly, “How does this change anything? The controllers are too big.”

Greg smiled and then used a pair of scissors to cut open the packaging, freeing the controller in the process from a number of plastic ties. He placed it in my hands, and I noticed an immediate difference. My hands cradled the controller, and instead of constantly choking up on it, I was able to comfortably position my hands in a way to enable me to reach all the buttons.

I knew that this was a kid-sized controller or at least one for someone with tiny hands, but I didn’t really think about it. No, I was thinking about how it would help me finally beat Greg’s ass.

We started a game, and the new controller did wonders. The half second it took for me to adjust my grip was gone. Now, I was able to properly line up my shot and pull the trigger, and with that, I was able to ‘kill’ Greg every time.

I started to feel better, like my old self. By the end of the second game, I was trash talking and had tea bagged Greg three times. I said, “I guess we can go to El Casa. I haven’t had the flaming enchilada platter in like three months.”

Greg nodded, “And you can wear the clothes I bought you. Before we go too, Eve can cut your hair.”

A deep, powerful sense of uneasiness passed through me. It was similar to the feeling I had after my last conversation with Hannah, and the moment I realized she had outgrown me. I thought many times about going to visit her or even enrolling at the same college, but instead, I just wrote her out of my life. I replaced her with girls like Monique, or easy girls I’d pick up at last call (if I was feeling desperate that night), and the uneasiness, the sense that I had made some poor and potentially life-altering decision went away.

It seemed impossible that such a thought could ever haunt my mind, that something as simple as a haircut could cut so deeply, but my hesitation spoke volumes as to my bizarre connection with the blonde locks. I desperately wanted to shear every strand from my head, the long flowing golden hair acting as a constant reminder of my current physical shape, but I couldn’t allow it.

My mind went back to the boys in the studio, the Ken dolls, Greg, the bus drivers, all of them had short hair or no hair.

The Barbie dolls from the studio, however, the Frozen toys, the girls on the box of the ridiculous Dream Phone game, Ashley, Tracy and even Ms. Daniels- all had long hair, like me.

While it was frightening that I was beginning to identify as a girl, it was even more terrifying that I had made such a simplistic comparison. It was the type of deduction a child would make, probably one even younger than Kaylee.

To this point, I had been dismissive of Dr. Travers’ serum and its lasting mental effects. If I could avoid childish play, the serum was powerless. Within the studio, the serum caused me to blurt out my desire to play with Ashley, but I did so without thinking. However, this was the first time I realized that my thinking pattern had been influenced and perhaps irrevocably altered, by it.

I wasn’t only acting like a child- I was thinking and problem solving like one.

Greg put his hand on my shoulder, but I quickly threw it off. I glared at him, “No way, man. No fucking way. First Eve, and now you. You can’t be doing this shit. You have to treat me like Ryan.”

Greg nodded, “Alright. Well there’s no use waiting for Eve. I’ll just use my shaver on you.”

Greg went to the washroom, and I began to fidget uncharacteristically. My fingers wiggled, looking like worms crawling over each other. My left leg shook as I pictured Ashley’s Elsa doll, the one with the beautiful long braided hair. My mind then conjured the image of me with a buzz cut. The powerful uneasiness returned, along with a rapid heartbeat and hurried breathing.

Greg returned with the shaver and said, “Okay, time to-…Hey, Ryan? Hey, are you OK?”

I nodded, “Y-Yeah. Uh, let’s j-just wait for Eve. Your hair is awful, man. I don’t t-trust you with that thing.” I meant to speak smoothly, denigrating Greg’s hair in typical Ryan Sullivan fashion, but my muscles just wouldn’t cooperate. My face burned with the realization that I was stuttering in front of someone that I verbally owned on a routine basis.

Instead of laughing at me, Greg’s features took on a worried look. I really expected him to be rolling on the floor, but then I remembered he wasn’t me. Well, I wouldn’t have laughed at him, at least not to his face.

Greg said calmly, “Yeah, it’s cool. Eve will want to sleep a bit, but she’ll probably do it before we leave. So you good with El Casa?”

I said firmly, “Yes. I already told you that. And I’ll ask Eve about the hair when she gets up.”

Greg nodded, “Sure, man. See you tonight.” The look of worry never left his face.

***

“Goddamn, this fucking thing is pissing me off!”

I yanked at the shoulder strap, trying to adjust it so it wouldn’t press against my neck constantly. The rush hour stop-and-go caused my body to lurch forward, allowing the shoulder strap to practically strangle me and the lap belt to dig uncomfortably into my stomach every time Greg hit the brakes.

I shouted, “Can you try and suck less at driving? Maybe hit the brakes more evenly? You’re going to make me sick.”

Eve mumbled something to Greg, who slowly nodded his head. I only caught my name but nothing else. I said, “OK, I know you guys are talking about me. What the hell did Eve say to you Greg?”

Greg cleared his throat gently. A whole three seconds passed before he spoke. “She said you should probably be in a booster seat. I know that Jessica had one for her niece when we went for ice cream a few weeks ago.”

I laughed hard. Hard enough that my stomach pushed firmly against the lap belt, causing slight discomfort. “You’re fucking kidding, right? Those are for babies.”

Eve said, “Boosters are different. They just make it more comfortable to sit in the car. Safer too. The chair will raise you up so the belt goes across your chest.”

I stopped laughing. “You guys are serious? There’s no way in hell that I’m sitting in one of those.”

Words escaped from my lips without even a thought. “You can’t make me.” These words were followed by dual looks of concern and then silence.

I could see Eve playing on her smart phone. A few seconds later, she said, “It’s actually against the law. It says here that she’s supposed to be in a booster until she’s at least eight year old. And all the things she’s complaining about- well those are clues that she needs to be in a booster.”

Greg replied, “Yeah, but this is Ryan. We can’t expect HIM to sit in something like that.”

Eve shook her head, “All I see is a pouting little girl back there who doesn’t want to follow the rules. It says here you could get a big fine for this. Like a thousand bucks. And do we really want police involved in this? We aren’t Ryan’s parents. What if they start asking questions? There’s a Wal-Mart near the restaurant, let’s get one there.”

Greg looked at Eve and then back at me. By this point, I was outraged, not only at the treatment, but Eve’s pronoun use. Greg turned to Eve and mumbled something. Eve did the same.

Now I was being excluded from the conversation. I let loose a long shriek, my voice rising in pitch, as my vocal chords constricted. The high-pitched screech ended all conversation in the car. As I screamed, I felt my little body fill to the brim with outrage, and I balled my tiny hands into fists. My anger, like a volatile gas waiting for a match, had exploded uncontrollably. I wanted to tell Eve and Greg to stop mumbling or whispering or whatever, tell them to stop treating me like a kid because it was pissing me off, but my words were lost within an overpowering sense of rage.

This anger cut through my brain, reducing reasoned thought and conversation to another scream. The world around me simply ceased to exist, and even the reason for my tantrum left me. There was only anger.

I hadn’t realized it, but Greg had pulled over. This fact only became apparent when I realized both Greg and Eve were just staring at me, eyes and mouths wide open. The world rematerialized.

Greg said, “Ryan- Ryan- Ryan! Hey, calm down. It’s alright. We aren’t getting a booster. We’re just going to try and have a nice dinner.”

Despite Greg’s assertion, Eve’s expression told me that this argument wasn’t over. It would likely continue behind closed doors.

Even though I apparently got my way, I was terrified with how it happened.

I blinked, my face bewildered, “What the hell just happened?”

Greg looked at Eve expectedly, and her expression softened. She replied, “Just a little lapse. I’m sorry for calling you a little girl. I guess that didn’t help things.” She added firmly, “We can talk about the booster another time.” Greg shook his head, and Eve cast a withering look in his direction. He wavered and then quickly entered traffic again.

The memory of the tantrum was like a fresh wound, a bleeding mess of shredded tendons and muscle, lacking a tourniquet or even a simple Band-Aid to stop the constant flow or medication to numb the pain. Like that pulsating wound, the anger was still palpable, more than simply bubbling at the surface, it sat at the corner of my mind, a firm reminder of my failure to contain my emotions.

Still, they weren’t going to make me sit in a booster? Right?

I’d have to talk to Greg.

***

“Just pick a name. It’s not a big deal. We’ll only use it when we’re in public.”

I sighed heavily, “Can’t you just call me Ryan?”

Greg said, “You don’t look anything like a Ryan. How about Kaylee? You’re used to answering to it, right? It should be pretty natural. I think Eve is right, we don’t want to make anyone suspicious.”

I narrowed my eyes, “How do you know about that? I never told you what they called me in the studio.”

Eve replied, “We caught your show one morning. Well, we thought you were in Canada at the time, but Greg wanted to see the role you’d turned down.”

My face reddened as I shook my head. My long hair unbound hair swished from and forth. “How much did you see?”

Greg said gently, “Relax, Ryan. I know you were just acting. So, Kaylee is definitely a sore spot for you. Riley is close to Ryan. How about that?” I still hadn’t told Greg and Eve about the full reason why the name Kaylee was such a sore spot. It was mortifying to think I would have to explain to Greg or even Eve that a madwoman had plans to make me her daughter. Kaylee was also the name tied to my imprisonment and to the slow erosion of Ryan Sullivan.

I replied, while trudging into my favourite restaurant. “Fine.”

We entered El Casa, a so-called fusion restaurant. It was both a steak house and an authentic Mexican eatery. It wasn’t pretentious or elite, but it wasn’t a Taco Bell either. The smell of cooking meat, along with the chipotle, lifted my spirits. I breathed in, allowing the spicy smoky air to fill my nostrils.

A big smile spread across my face as the greeter said, “Welcome to El Casa! Table for three?”

The greeter smiled at me, but after, she immediately turned her attention to Greg and Eve. Greg nodded, and we were seated at a booth. The actual restaurant wasn’t large, with only six booths and a small number of tables in the middle. One girl I had brought to El Casa, called it intimate. I guess it was. It lacked the massive footage of a typical steak house, but I preferred it that way.

It kind of felt like it was mine, a place I had discovered that I shared with a select few. I knew that this wasn’t true, and that it had hundreds of online reviews, not to mention, the place was packed tonight. Still, El Casa was special.

For other reasons too.

A young Latino woman, absolutely stacked, handed out the menus. I didn’t recognize her, but then, there was high turnover. I could attest to that seeing how the Burger Palace went through two line cooks in two weeks once. Dishwashers and bus boys were worse. One guy I remember, he quit at the end of his first split shift. I spent the morning training him, and he never came back. And he had the fucking nerve to ask for his pay. It took Vince and Greg to convince me not to break the guy’s face when he came for his cheque.

I’ll admit, I loved the food at El Casa, but it was like their policy was to hire only the most exotic and beautiful women available, and that was a serious perk. I gazed at the young woman, eyeing how her breasts jostled in her shirt, how her legs moved in the short skirt, which was apparently the uniform for servers there. She was a little chunky around the middle for me, but for her boobs and ass, and that gorgeous face- I would have made a serious exception. Her caramel skin and shiny raven hair definitely got my attention too.

Still, my eyes always seemed to return to her boobs. I stared longer than I would have as Ryan, desperately hoping that I would feel something more than just a tingle. It’s not like I wanted to do anything physically- that was so wrong- and just gross, but I needed to know that the attraction was there. Amazingly, I found that it was. My roaming eye, which could at certain points take on a laser-like focus, had zeroed in on the twin globes.

“Here you go, sweetie.” The young woman, this goddess in flesh, handed me a children’s menu. Then, she set a small pack of crayons on the table next to me and said, “You can draw on your placemat, or even make some pretty pictures on the table. I bet you can’t do that at home, right?” She smiled at me and winked at Greg and Eve, saying, “Don’t worry it’s washable. She can go crazy with colours!” Even with my relatively androgynous clothing (Greg had bought me white t-shirts and jeans in my size), my hair gave away my gender. Boys just didn’t have hair that was over shoulder length, and mine was longer than that.

That afternoon, after I heard Eve shuffling in her bed, I went to the door many times. I raised my hand to knock, but I couldn’t gather the courage to ask her to cut it. I kept picturing myself as Kaylee with a bald head as Greg stood over me triumphantly, brandishing the shaver. The feeling of uneasiness was too powerful to overcome. I kept telling myself that I would ask Eve to trim my hair, but the two of us just sat there watching a stupid movie, barely saying a word. Worse still, a part of me wanted to get underneath the blanket with her, to feel her closeness and to allay my fears.

As for the server, I couldn’t fault the young woman for her treatment of me. As someone who had his fair share of experience with children eating in restaurants, the first rule was that you always keep the kids busy. Crayons, stupid faces, games- whatever. If they were entertained, then the parents felt at ease, they would come back. Even an incredible meal could be ruined by a temper tantrum. Some people probably felt embarrassed, which in many cases, they should have. Some allowed the kids to do anything, which usually involved large messes. The worst I had seen involved some kids running and knocking over one of the eight plate trays. The ones for the patio.

The waitress said, “My name’s Paulina, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Normally, I would have had a beer, but since that was out of the question, I just wanted a coke. I took a quick look at the kid’s menu and frowned- no flaming enchiladas. Before anyone had a chance to answer Paulina, I piped up, “I want a normal menu.”

Paulina smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of look I wanted, which was sort of a mix of bedroom eyes with a play-hard-to-get smile. It was the same one the bus drivers gave me, the one right before they said: “Wow, you’re such a big girl riding the bus by yourself.”

I sighed and seconds later, it came. Paulina smiled and handed me the menu, “Well I guess we have a little lady here tonight! OK. But I have to explain something to you. See these little peppers next to each dish? That means it’s spicy.”

I rolled my eyes, “I know…I’m not stupid. I can read. It says it here. Five is volcanic spicy, four is five alarm, three is hot tamales, two is tamed heat and one is mild.”

Paulina looked at Eve and Greg in admiration. Clearly, it was impressive that a girl my physical age could read so well.

Eve said with a measure of hesitation, “Um, we read to her every night since she was two.”

Paulina replied, “It shows. That’s really amazing. How old is she?”

Feeling left out of the adult conversation, I decided to rejoin it, interrupting Greg, who was in the process of opening his mouth. “I’m six. And I’d like a coke.”

Paulina smiled at me, but she again turned to Greg and Eve, “Some parents don’t like their kids to have a whole can. I can bring her a fountain drink instead. It’s in a tumbler and about half of what’s in a can. It’s up to you guys of course. I can bring her the can too.”

I said quickly and firmly, “I want the can.”

Greg looked at Eve, each appearing indecisive. Then, they both looked at me. Finally, Greg said with strong uncertainty, “Um- well- I guess. The tumbler. Yeah, bring her the tumbler.” Eve seemed to be in agreement. Paulina smiled and left with the orders.

I glared at Greg, “What the fuck was that? I wanted the can.”

Eve snapped, “Riley, language!”

Greg, as if sensing impending doom or at least additional embarrassment, quickly leaned in to whisper to me, “Remember that you are supposed to be a kid. I know it sucks to have to play that part, but you did it really well on the show. And I can see you’re still Ryan. It’s only for one night. Just enjoy the meal and try not to look at Eve and me like you want to put us through some Saw-like booby trap. I’m guessing one with spikes. Lots of spikes.”

I smirked, “Just don’t overdo it.”

Greg was one of the only people that could successfully calm me down. It didn’t help him when he was the object of my anger, but in this instance, Eve had whacked the hornet’s nest with a baseball bat.

Paulina returned two minutes later with the drink orders. She asked with a smile, “Do you still need a few minutes to decide?”

I made eye contact with Paulina and said firmly, “I’ll have the flaming enchiladas platter.”

Paulina’s happy expression grew immediately pensive, her pleasant smile becoming a concerned mask. Her eyebrows furrowed and worry lines creased her youthful features. “Are you sure about that? It’s really spicy, sweetie. There’s some fun dip nachos on this menu. They come with three different dipping sauces. Does that sound yummy?” She held up the children’s menu, which featured a cartoon mouse wearing a sombrero.

I shook my head and said, “No, I want that. I like spicy food.”

Paulina turned to Eve and Greg, and with that simple action, my ire rose again. The waitress shifted her eyes back and forth from Eve and Greg, but they never returned to me. She said, “Has she had that before? She seemed to know exactly what she wanted.”

Once again, Greg played the rapid mediator. He said, “Yeah. She’s had it before. Don’t worry about it.”

Paulina smiled and took the other two orders. Eve was clearly unimpressed with Greg’s quick interjection. The moment after Paulina left the table, Eve huffed lightly. Either Greg wasn’t bothered by it or he had figured out how to tune it out. I, however, was left thinking Eve wanted me to eat off the kid’s menu. She treated me like a kid way more than Greg, telling me to clean up and especially when she washed my hair. Could she actually be enjoying seeing Ryan Sullivan trapped within such a slight feminine frame?

I sent a less than gentle sneer in Eve’s direction, which made her react in mock innocence. A moment later, Greg started a conversation about the upcoming classic car expo at the civic centre, and I quickly forgot about Eve’s behaviour.

A few minutes later the conversation shifted to an age-old debate. I said, “Come on, man- you drive a fucking Hyundai. There’s no way we can even have this discussion. The ‘67 Mustang beats the ‘67 Camaro in every single category. First of all, the ’67 Camaro was just a copy of the original ’64 Mustang. The Camaro handled like a shopping cart compared to the Mustang, and it was way slower. Bigger engine on the Camaro didn’t make it go faster with a heavier load.”

Greg nodded, “Okay fine, but you have to admit that the ’69 Camaro looks way better than the late 60s Mustangs. That and the shock towers, you could put almost any engine in a Camaro from that era. It was more customizable.”

I grinned, “Curves. Every Mustang has curves. The Camaro is like a flat chested girl. The Mustang, it’s like our server. Amazing depth to the body.”

Eve interrupted, speaking in a hushed voice, just loud enough for Greg and I to hear, “Might I remind you that you are supposed to be a six-year old girl? Because you really don’t sound like one.”

My tongue travelled to the front of my mouth, passing gently over my teeth. It exited my mouth but stopped short of being fully extended. Greg looked at me with concern, while Eve was clearly amused by the fact I had almost stuck my tongue out at her. Normally, I would have given her the finger or insulted her weight. They were classic deflections, but the insults, and especially those related to her weight, usually had her immediately on the defensive.

I couldn’t think of anything clever and instead blurted out, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” My tongue again passed gently over my teeth seemingly trying to exit my mouth, causing me to quickly shut it.

Thankfully my moment of weakness lasted only that long as Paulina brought three plates of delicious smelling food. I breathed in the amazing aroma, the spicy chillies tickled my nostrils, filling my mind with a pleasant photo gallery of memorable moments. Beyond any other place, El Casa was my safe zone. I’d never had a bad meal there or a bad experience.

Yes, I’d slept with a few servers there, but like Monique, they understood that it was just messing around. It was hard to pass up incredible food and sometimes incredible sex. Greg used to ask me about the secret to my success, and it was simple- confidence without being cocky. Most women like confident men- men who know what they want. I would own the room first, catch the woman’s eyes gaze and lock onto them, just enough to let them know my interest.

I was never pushy, and I always knew when a girl wasn’t interested- case in point, the night I met Eve. I could usually tell when a girl wanted to play hard to get. She would cast these eyes toward me, letting me know my presence bothered her, but if I caught her looking, and they usually did, I knew they wanted to play hard to get. I’d been slapped before at least a handful of times, usually when one of my lines backfired or I completed misread signals, but it was rare. Unfortunately, I could never teach Greg my secret because he didn’t have the capacity to own every inch of a room. He needed more aggressive girls like Eve to make the first move. Still, they had moved in together, and it must have been Greg who asked…right? If not, well it was just something else I could tease him about.

Paulina deposited the plates in front of us, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she stared at me pensively, her face adopting a careful smile. It was unusual behaviour for a server to stay and watch customers consume the food. Usually, a server checked after a few minutes to ensure everything was to the satisfaction of the customers, but to stay and almost stare? It was weird, and it immediately made me feel anxious.

Eve and Greg had also turned their undivided attention on me.

I glared at the assembled eyes, taking a turn with each to let them know my displeasure. I said, “OK, you guys are freaking me out. Just let me eat in fucking peace.”

Eve caught Paulina’s eye and frowned apologetically. She then shook her head slowly and said, “Riley, that’s enough. We’ll go home right now if you don’t start behaving.”

I clenched my teeth, fiercely grinding down on them to the point of pain. I leaned in and whispered harshly to Eve, “You’re pushing it.” I then looked to Greg and then motioned to Eve. It was time for him to get his girlfriend in line.

Paulina said hesitantly, “I’ll be back in a few minutes to make sure everything is OK.”

I nodded and reached down for my fork, cutting a large piece of enchilada, making sure I had a good mix of cheese, chicken, onion and tortilla. It was far too big for my mouth, but I stuffed it in there anyway.

Before I could even pull the bite off the fork and begin to chew, my eyes opened wide in shock and the bite soon found its way back onto my plate. Half a second later, it felt like there was a fire in my mouth, as every inch of my tongue was seemingly covered by tiny dancing flames. The heat spread over my tongue until it filled my entire mouth with an intense and painful burning sensation. Immediately, my eyes began to water and my nose started to leak.

Paulina returned to the table quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I realized she had likely been hovering behind me, waiting for me to sample the enchilada. She pushed the tumbler of coke away and set a glass of milk in front of me. I wasn’t stupid. I had bitten into an uncooked Jamaican hot pepper once. It is amazing what pot and too much beer can do to a person. I loved spicy food, but this was beyond what I was used to, it scorched my mouth and brought tears of laughter to the eyes of Danny. He was the same one who thought it would be funny to get so high we could pretend we were crippled. Even through the haze of the drugs and alcohol, I knew what I had to do. I ordered a white Russian, and then a mudslide.

So, as my eyes watered and my nose leaked pathetically, I downed the milk. Within a few moments, the burning sensation subsided.

Paulina smiled gently, “You are brave to try a new food, Riley, but with spicy foods, you have to start at very mild. Your enchilada was a level 2.”

I sighed heavily- I couldn’t even stand tamed heat. Worst of all, I couldn’t enjoy my favourite meal.

Paulina looked at Eve and Greg, “If you want her to be able to eat spicy foods regularly, it’s a good idea to start her with strong spices. The chef here suggests cumin, garlic, cinnamon. This will expand their palates. Then move onto a dollop of hot sauce, a low level one. On a hot dog or hamburger. If she can take that move up a level gradually. Kids have really sensitive taste buds. This method worked for the chef’s kids apparently.”

Eve smiled, “Thanks, we’ll try that.”

Paulina nodded happily, “In the meantime, I’ll bring Riley something really special. She’ll love it!”

My shoulders slumped and I leaned down to take another sip of milk (Paulina had refilled it after I downed the first glass). I peered longingly at Greg’s beer and watched him wash down a mouthful of his quesadillas with the frothy import. Paulina had put a multi-coloured crazy straw in the milk, but I refused to use it. Although, it would be fun to watch the milk pass through all the loops on its journey to my mouth. I shook my head firmly and removed the straw from the glass.

Nothing was said as we awaited Paulina’s surprise. No words were necessary- Greg and Eve knew that I was mortally embarrassed- humiliated beyond belief. Defeated by tamed heat, when previously I could even take volcanic spicy in small doses. This small seemingly insignificant fact drew a clear line of separation between Kaylee and Ryan. It would probably take years to build up my tolerance to reach volcanic again. It was what made a relatively bland melange of onion, chicken, chipotle, salsa and tortilla, pop.

Greg and Eve ate their food silently. I couldn’t tell if they were watching me because my eyes stared downward. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt movement behind me, followed by something light being slowly lowered onto my head.

Paulina said excitedly, “We usually only do this for birthdays, but it’s a special night and I want you to have a great time, Riley.” A platter entered my line of sight, and it was quickly deposited in front of me. I raised my head, seeing what was initially offered to me- the fun dip nachos. I reached up to touch the object on my head. I knew what it was instantly.

A paper crown.

The seemingly innocuous object awoke my slumbering imagination. My mind was filled with wonder as I pictured the games I could play with the thin cardboard crown. Paramount in my mind, however, and unsurprisingly was Frozen.

I could be Elsa, Queen of Arendelle.

A tiny smile appeared on my face, however, a moment later, I snatched the crown from my head and tore it, but in the process, I upended my glass of milk directly onto my plate of nachos. They were ruined. Eve, Greg and Paulina watched the whole event in shock.

In one solid motion, Greg grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the restaurant. As I was being pulled away, I heard Eve apologizing profusely to the waitress.

***

“What the fuck was that? You dragged me out of there like a kid having a fit in a store. You remember that mom who wouldn’t get the kid that toy in the Wal-Mart, well fuck, man. It wasn’t the same thing. I was freaking out. That crown was like a goddamn mind control device.”

Greg said evenly, “You were really upset. It seemed like the right thing to do. You can calm down out here. We’ll just get some pizza or something.”

I shook my head and poked Greg in the stomach with my finger, “No, no- you don’t get off that easy. What you did was really embarrassing-…”

“You think you were embarrassed? What you pulled in there was embarrassing. And, for someone who isn’t supposed to be acting like a kid, you sure acted like a brat in there.” Eve stood over me like a punitive parent while Greg said nothing.

I said, “I’m sick of fucking being treated like a little girl. It messes with my head.”

Eve said, “Maybe if you didn’t act like such a child people wouldn’t treat you that way. Was it really necessary to make such a big deal about a stupid paper crown? The waitress was just trying to make you feel better. And it was really dumb of you to order the enchilada. Paulina even warned you.”

Eve and Greg started walking toward the car, however; I decided to quickly walk in the opposite direction. Eve, who didn’t notice at first, continued her lecture, “People are going to treat you that way because that’s how they see you. And especially when you- Hey! Where are you going?”

I said, “Away from you and your spineless traitor boyfriend.”

My friendship with Greg was over unless he apologized for taking Eve’s side and dragging me out of the restaurant like a kid having a major tantrum. I didn’t even care that they were letting me stay with them for free.

I took off down the sidewalk, my only thought being that I desperately wanted to be away from Eve and Greg. The narrow sidewalk perfectly represented the tunnel vision I was experiencing. El Casa is in a busy more upscale part of Los Angeles with many shops along an expansive strip mall. With the spring time rain now nothing more than light drizzle, many people lined the concourse.

I couldn’t tell if Greg or Eve had given chase, but it didn’t matter- I was quickly lost in the mass of shoppers. I first passed a women’s shoe store, but finding nothing of interest there, I moved on to a store so brightly lit, it hurt my eyes. Inside, dozens of women browsed through a rainbow selection of makeup. Again, I found little of interest there.

I was pleased that I hadn’t suddenly become obsessed with things commonly attributed to women. I had no desire to play dress-up and try out lipstick or anything like that.

The third store, however, did catch my eye. It wasn’t an electronics store, a Porsche dealership or even a strip club. A retro ice cream shop popular with hipsters and nostalgic baby boomers loomed before me. I blinked slowly as I watched a girl a little older than Kaylee eating an ice cream cone. It wasn’t the solitary act of eating that I noticed, no- it was the bubbles she was blowing. I knew the exact flavour she was eating too, and it reminded me of summer days and simpler days. It was bubble gum ice cream with its light blue tinge, leaking over the side of a quickly softening cone and yielding a seemingly endless supply of gumballs.

Once again, the serum had shown itself to be a versatile and layered enemy. First the crown, and now a fucking ice cream cone. The problem was that kids did things to amuse themselves because otherwise they were bored, and apparently, there was nothing worse than being bored as a kid. So, even the simple act of eating an ice cream cone, enjoyable as it is, is turned into a game. The little girl licking the ice cream took the time to suck one or two gumballs into her mouth. She followed this by blowing a massive bubble, which she would blow to the point of near explosion and then slowly allow it to deflate. This amused her younger sister whose face was covered in chocolate ice cream, and apparently, me too. It should have been stupid, but not only was it funny, I really wanted to try it. I wanted to do exactly what this older girl was doing.

“If you wanted ice cream, you should have just said that instead of running off. Look I know you are pissed off at me and the whole thing that happened at the restaurant, so let me get you some. Whatever you want.” Greg was apparently in a hurry to bury the hatchet. He placed a five dollar bill in my little hands. I started to walk into the store, when Eve blocked my path.

She snatched the money from my hands and said, “I don’t think you want to do that.’

Greg frowned, “What gives, Eve? It’s just an ice cream cone. Relax.”

She shook her head and pulled me out of the crowd, “Think of it this way. Is this something Ryan Sullivan would do? I saw you watching those kids. I saw how you acted at the restaurant. You told us that the serum causes the victim to regress when they act like a kid or when they play with kids, right? Think for a second about what you are going to do. Because you’re feeding the little girl this serum wants you to become.”

I sighed gently, peering down at my feet. I squeaked, “I…know. My head is just- it’s really fucked up, Eve. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.”

I leaned down, feeling my arms, suddenly weightless. They swung back and forth, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. Eve was on one knee, and as my face looked up, I could see that her softness had returned. A part of me wanted her to hug me, to tell me everything would be OK, that I wouldn’t slowly be swallowed up by an alien world of dolls, dresses, and pink- so much pink. I didn’t know any little girls, other than Ashley, so it was easy to assume most were similar.

I tended to go for really feminine girls, and I’d never had butch girl cousins to show me another side to their sex, so I really only had a traditional view of women.

Eve leaned in slowly, seemingly initiating a hug, but I managed to slip out of her grasp. I stared at her angrily.

She looked at me regretfully, “I’m really sorry, Ryan. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

I sighed, “Let’s just go back to the car, OK?”

She nodded and without a word, we returned to the parking lot.

As we passed the ice cream shop in the car, I stared longingly at the little girl with the bubble gum flavoured ice cream cone.