– A companion short story to the short story Break a Leg! –

Rabbit’s Foot –

Eight year old Alan was fidgeting with the dial on his great granddad’s old Zenith trying to figure out how an old fashioned record player worked. “Why can’t I hear anything yet?” he asked aloud. Then he heard a hum and thought it was strange. “Is that the speaker?” It was followed by a couple of clicks and then a pop came from the speaker. Then he could smell a faint odor that seemed to warm the air around the old player. He took the rocker arm with the needle and bounced it up and down causing a deep bass knocking sound to come from the speaker. “It must be working now.”

He looked around and found a record. Taking it out of its sleeve, with little regard to his tiny fingerprints marring the surface with their oils, he slipped it on a silvery spike. He watched the record slide down just like he had seen in a Youtube video and then watched it as it turned on the turntable. He watched the player automatically place the needle on it. Out of the speaker came a very fast voice singing about “having the world in his hands.” He giggled and twirled around for a moment or two dancing real fast along with the music. Finally, he lifted the floating record arm like the Youtube video said to do and searched for a knob. Finding it, he turned a selector from 45 to 33. He then lowered the needle arm back onto the record and heard a man named Perry Como singing about having the world in his hands.

Alan loved to come into the old bomb shelter next to his family house and play. It was added on to the family home years ago, he had been told, by his grandparents who had inherited it from their grandparents who had inherited from their parents. The shelter had a musty ancient smell. His Mom had told him the bomb shelter was built during this weird time in America’s history called the Cold War. And specifically during a period called the Cuban Missile Crisis. All he knew was that the bomb shelter was just off the garage and was, these days, used as a storage room more than anything else.

At least for them it was a storage room. For Alan, it was a time machine to take him back to days long ago. As if to make it easier for him to explore, he went techy commando when he explored. No, that didn’t mean not wearing underwear. Rather it meant he left his iPod, his iPhone, his iPad, and his Mac Air sitting in his room as he slipped the bonds of modern life and became one with the past. Ancient history to him. Well, as ancient as can be for an eight year old.

While listening to the soothing record, he explored the many boxes that crowded the room. One of them marked Cecilia caught his eye and he opened it. His aunt was named Cecilia. Could this be her old clothes? She had recently gotten married. In fact, he was the ring bearer at her wedding. Everyone complemented him on how cute he was in his little tuxedo. But, the truth was, he loved Cecilia’s wedding dress more. He liked how this big glop of white fabric followed her down the aisle. He giggled when she gathered it up and had to stop because his grandpa was standing on it. His grandparents lived in the farmhouse next door now. He wondered briefly if they missed living in the big house which he and his parents now occupied.

As he opened the box, he could smell folded stale cotton sheets. On top was an old balloon. He pulled it out and started to blow it up. It couldn’t take the strain after so many years and easily popped. The shattered relic from the distant past did make for a neat device to make raspberry sounds. And he delighted in that for a few moments before curiosity guided him back to the box. He looked at the sheets. They were pink, of course. Nice color, he thought. Underneath them, he found a big pink comforter which could have been inviting him to wrap himself in it had it not been a warm day. And underneath that was some of what appeared to be her underwear neatly folded. He picked up the pair. It was different than his. It was smooth. It didn’t have this weird looking pocket like his underwear had up front. He had asked his mother what that strange pocket was on the front of his underpants, one day. She said it was so he could pull his thingy through and pee. That just seemed silly. When he told his dad what his mom said, all he could do was laugh so hard that Alan couldn’t understand what his dad said next.

His aunt’s elastic band had lace on it too that made it look pretty. Underneath it was an old school uniform neatly folded. The vest had a school patch sewn onto it. Underneath it was a dark blue and green plaid skirt with nice pleats. He pulled them out and saw that skirt appeared to have a belt sewn into it. Pulling out more items, he soon had most of the elements of his aunt’s old school uniform in hand. He giggled since he too went to St. Matthew’s Academy. The patch was close to the one he had on his nice school sweater. All the Calhouns attended St. Matthew’s and were what his dad called a “fixture” there.

The uniform he wore to school was much different than this one. His aunt’s uniform was even different than the girls at school today. He remembered his dad mentioning one day when dropping him off to school in the morning that back then, when he went to the school there, they were trying to compete with the Catholic school a few miles away and the girl’s wore nice uniforms and the boys wore stiff ones that had to be starched and neat. But, his dad said that the Episcopal diocese had years ago relaxed the rules and allowed the girls to wear shorts and pants too, Alan would hardly ever see a girl in a dress at school anymore. And, most certainly, he had never seen a girl in one of these skirts. Today, the girls wore a flat tan or a flat green skirt if they wore a skirt at all.

He found this skirt was so much nicer that the ones today. It was pretty and what his mom might call sophisticated. It was enticing in fact. Almost without thinking, he stripped off his clothes and hurriedly put on her underwear. Her underwear felt so different from his own. It felt kind of slippery actually. He ran his hand over the fabric. The smoothness sent weird but pleasantly warm feelings through his body. The bulge showing that he was a little boy was odd. Feeling it ruined the look, he reached in and somehow pushed two objects back into his body. He learned he could do that when he played in the bathtub and his mother wasn’t watching. After pushing them in, he pushed his thingy down between his legs and, while there was still a tiny bulge, he noticed it looked better.

Satisfied with his achievement, he proceeded to pull up the skirt. But, as he was doing it, it occurred to him that he would have to tuck in the accompanying shirt, so he slipped it back off and reached for the school shirt. He remembered that even though they had relaxed the dress code for the girls and the boys, the school insisted that every boy and girl have their shirts neatly tucked in during the day.

The shirt was also different. At first he started to button it and the buttons didn’t work. Baffled, he realized that they were different than his. Did he have the shirt inside out? He checked. No, he didn’t. He mumbled to himself that whoever made the shirt must have been crazy for making such a stupid mistake. Maybe, he hoped, they charged the school less for the mistake. Even so, after a few failed attempts, he quickly got the hang of buttoning the shirt.

Proud of what he had done, he grabbed the skirt once again. Now it made sense. Pulling up the skirt this time, he carefully tried tucking in the shirt while trying to gather up the waistband. It didn’t work quite as well as he had expected, but then he rested against a metal pole which helped hold up the skirt while he buckled it. The skirt was kind of big on him and a part of the skirt bunched up underneath the belt too. It was at this point he learned that the belt wasn’t built in. It had just been left on the skirt. It was a black cloth belt too. He cinched it up to the lowest point and fed the excess through one loop and then down into where he was tucking his shirt in.

Next, came the vest. It too was buttoned on the wrong side. It was a bit over sized also, but at least it hung on his shoulders. Finally, he looked into the box and saw some black shiny shoes and white socks. He pulled them out and sat down on a dusty old box to put them on. A cloud of dust puffed up and made him cough. It also dusted the skirt too and dirtied it up. The socks climbed up his legs to above his knees. The shoes fit better than the rest of the uniform. Even so, his feet slid around in them still. Getting up, he patted off the dust on the skirt and vest. Finally satisfied that he had become presentable, he looked around for a mirror. In a corner of the room, he saw a mirror leaning up against a wall that needed cleaning. He found an old rag and cleaned off the mirror. Then he stood back and looked at himself in the mirror.

At first he thought he looked like a boy still. Then, slowly, with a change in how he put his feet close together and holding his hands together instead of having them on his hips, he felt he looked more and more like a girl. Maybe even more like a real girl, he realized.

Off in the distance, he heard dogs barking. His attention was drawn back to soft words coming off the record player that sent shivers down his spine. “Came those lovely scarlet ribbons, scarlet ribbons for her hair.” A tear rolled down his cheek as he heard “Lovely scarlet ribbons.” The beauty of the music stirred something in him that made him feel, well, girly. He started to look at his hair and imagine what it would be like long with scarlet ribbons in his dirty blond hair. Transfixed on himself, he began to think of himself as even pretty. It gave him a warm soft glow to think of his being a girl.

All of a sudden, he was startled out of his dreamy trance by a firm but gentile voice that announced, “Alice, is that you in the looking glass?” He turned to see his grandmother standing there smiling at him.

---

The young lady stood at the door to the office. The plaque said simply, Dr. Martha Jones, Clinical Research and Neurology. She cautiously knocked on the door’s window and seeing a wave of approval from the other side opened the door. “Come on in Alice.” said Dr. Jones. “You are Alice?” Alice nodded yes. “Sit down please young lady.”

As she sat down, she looked around the room. An assistant was busy sorting papers. He was about twenty, she thought, and he looks like a college student. The doctor in front of her wasn’t in a lab coat at all. She wore a blouse and jeans. She was well endowed and had a little weight to lose. Her unkempt hair hide two pencils and she seemed to be searching for something on her desk. Alice spoke up as if to reassure herself more than to talk to the woman. “I am not really sure why I am here. My shrink says it could help others and sent me over here. Did I come at a bad time?”

The young man brought over a file and handed it to her. “Oh thanks Charles. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She turned back to Alice. “The kid is a lifesaver. Best assistant I have ever had.” Folding her arms over the file she had placed in front of her, she looked at Alice and smiled. “Yes, this is a good time. I am always a bit scatter brained. Guess that is how I got into this business. I was never organized like my sister. She makes Martha Stewart look lazy. Oh yes, my name is Martha. How funny. Anyway, my sister could organize anything and make it look neat. She takes after my late mother, God rest her soul.”

“Sorry to hear she is gone.” Alice said politely.

“So am I. My mom got me through medical school. You see, I am organized. Just organized chaos. I have a condition called Asberger’s. It is a high functioning form of autism. I thrive in chaos. My sister, who is really normal, doesn’t. I tease her about being busier than Martha Stewart. The truth is that she can function much better than I can. That is why I went into research. I have a horrible bedside manner.”

“What kind of studies do you do?” Alice said trying to sound interested in the woman.

“Brain studies. I try to understand the structure and chemistry of the brain so I can help people like myself and you deal with life.” she said assuredly.

“Like myself?” Alice said with a bit of confusion in her voice. She was unsure what the doctor knew about her.

“Well, yes. We are very similar. Your brain is wired like my sister’s and I want to know why and how that happened.” she said frenetically.

“To prevent it from happening to someone else?” asked a perplexed Alice.

“No, no! To better understand how to treat it. Right now, the protocol is spend, as you know, years in therapy so they can determine if what you say you are is true or what you say you are is a delusion you can be cured of with on going therapy.” Looking down at the file, she suddenly looked up at the clock and stated, “Oh my! I have to run this to the office next door real fast. Hang on, I will be right back.”

Alice watched her dash out the door and then return in a moment. “Darn. Forgot the file. Just be a tick.” And she dashed out again leaving the door swung wide open.

As she watched her disappear down the hallway, someone said in a pleasant voice, “Can I get you something to drink?” Alice turned to look at the young man in the room. He smiled at her and, seeing the concern in her eyes, he said apologetically, “It’s okay. I do know. You are very pretty. Frankly, if no one had told me, I would never know. And … I don’t care. In fact, I bet you have lots of boyfriends. In fact, if you weren’t underage, I might even be one of them.” Alice blushed at the attention and his pass.

“Thank you. Just water please.”

He reached into a mini frig and pulled out an Aquafini, loosened the cap and then handed it to her. Then he went back to work. She was impressed with how gentlemanly he was. She watched him continue to turn a pile of paper into an organized stack of papers with great skill. Thinking desperately of something to say at that moment to break the tension of just sitting there waiting for something to happen, she observed, “I see Dr. Jones really needs you. Is she really that bad?”

“Oh yes. She is. In actual fact, prior to my coming in, she could find anything in this chaos easily. But, when she received a grant last week, she realized that she will be having staff come on board and she decided she has to get it organized for them to work with her. Luckily for her, she has a nephew in college who takes after his mom.”

Something about finding out that she was Charles’ aunt stirred something in her. She liked this handsome man. “And he loves his aunt it seems?” she giggled out in response.

He nodded. “Yes, I have been her little angel for years. She isn’t married, so, I am her family. Well, my brothers and sisters too. My mom made up for her not getting married. She wanted two kids in every bedroom and a chicken in the garage.”

Alice smiled at his silliness. “I have an aunt Cecilia who is the same way. She is an international patent attorney for a pharmaceutical company. She travels everywhere. Makes lots of money. And works too hard. She will leave me and brothers loads of money. But, as she often says to me, she has no time for a man or a family. In fact, the man she did marry divorced her after a year because he never saw her. He is now married to a hairdresser in Philly.”

“Do you think you could ever work that hard? Do you want to start a fam ...” Charles stopped short of finishing. “Sorry, my bad. I totally forgot. Please forgive me.”

Alice looked down feeling a tinge of regret and then forced a smile looking back up to him to say, “It’s okay. In sort of strange way, it is nice to know you forgot. Thank you for that. I guess I can always adopt.”

Charles sighed deeply, “Still. It was rather thoughtless of me. I wish I could make it up to you.”

“It’s fine. Maybe ...” she paused to watch him pensively wait on her next sentence, “when … I am … eighteen?”

Charles tried not to smile but his face lit up anyway and his eyes twinkled. “Maybe.” he said with a wink. He added with a wry smile, “You would certainly be worth the wait.”

Alice felt her face turn a bright red and noted he liked what he saw in her face. “Two years and ...” she shyly began to say and before she could finish, Dr. Jones swooshed back into the office like a whirlwind. The two broke their flirtatious repartee to focus on Dr. Jones’ getting back into her desk chair.

“I was just telling your nephew here … “ she started to say.

“Oh, so he told you. How nice. He is my favorite nephew and I love him dearly. Well one of my favorite nephews. It changes from day to day.” she said and winked at him.

Alice was beginning to really like being here. She wasn’t like the doctors she had been visiting for the last eight years. They were nice, but never personable. Always professional. She never got to know about their family or their lives. In some ways, she felt that Dr. Jones was wrong. She did have a good bedside manor. She should give herself a little more credit, Alice conjectured in her mind.

Dr. Jones continued, “Anyway, you must be wondering why I need you for a study?”

Alice quickly responded, “Yes. Most certainly.”

“Well young lady, I am doing a research project on the differences between the brains of transgendered boys and girls versus their normal counterparts. The plan is to do a thorough MRI study of your brain and then find a male born about the same time as you, from a family similar to your own, from a race similar to your own, same economics and who would have been the same size and weight as you were you not put on hormone blockers and HRT. With this, we will be able to create a baseline for you and other transgenders.”

Alice ventured, “And what will this tell you?”

“Based on studies done in the Netherlands, we believe we can aid in the diagnosis of gender dysphoria and treat it much earlier and more effectively when the patient is young thus creating enhanced results for either gender transition or retention of biological gender. I can tell you the studies in the Netherlands are very promising.”

Alice thought that now she was showing her bad bedside manor. The doctor was clinical and detached from Alice’s own experiences. Nevertheless, she responded, “So, I am told you need me to stick my head in a machine so I can help others.”

“Yup. That is pretty much it. We are collecting together as many transgenders as we can. We scan their brains with an MRI. Then, we look through a population similar to your own for individuals to compare you with. Look, I have some paperwork to do for my grant that I need to work on. If you don’t mind, you and Charles can go off to the Cafeteria and he will have you fill out the survey. Then he will give you the permission forms for your parents. I really do appreciate you helping me on this project.” Dr. Jones seemed distracted as she shuffled papers on her desk and began to make notes. Charles came over and handed her some more papers and then took papers from her.

Following Charles out to the hospital cafeteria, Alice marveled at his tiny butt. Charles was about six foot and had dark brown hair. His eyes were a bright blue and she could tell he had been working out. “What is your sport?” Alice asked trying to sound as casual as possible.

He didn’t ask why she knew he played sports. That impressed him. “I play third base for the college here. It is my sophomore year and I have to try out again in the Spring. I played on the Freshman Varsity last year. I did very well. They say I have promise. This year I want to step up to the big leagues.”

“How good are your stats?”

“You play?” he asked hoping she did.

“No, but my dad loves the Cincinnati Reds. I like watching baseball with him.”

“I don’t know many girls who like baseball.”

“There are a few of us around.” They entered the cafeteria and found a quiet table. He put down the folder of paperwork, opened it, and began to write some things down. As he did so, he asked, “Do you like baseball or the man who likes baseball.”

“Mostly the man. My dad is cool! I love him very much.”

“He is a lucky man.” he said with a blush. “Well, I have a good throwing arm and can field well. And, I have a good ERA along with a two eighty nine batting average.”

“Think you may go pro?”

“Nah. I don’t like the odds. And frankly, I am much better at accounting.”

After filling out all the forms and handing her permissions to take home to family, Charles leaned back. “Whew! My aunt maybe a messy office keeper, but she is sure thorough. She is a good researcher too from what I hear. Thank you for your patience.”

Alice giggled and said, “You’re welcome. But, I guess I better go now. You have work to do.”

“Can you stay? I’ll buy you an awful hospital lunch?” Charles pleaded.

Alice considered the request for a second and then asked, “And what would be for dessert?”

“Time with your favorite research assistant?” he ventured.

“Not enough. There needs to be something more.” she said with a smirk on her face.

He looked around for a second and then reached into his pocket. “And a lucky rabbit’s foot!”

“Ewe, a rabbit’s foot. You actually have one of those.”

“Well … er … it does go with your being named Alice, if you think about it!”

“All right, I will stay. But not for the rabbit’s foot.”

“Thank you, m’lady.” he said gallantly. After being delivered a tasteless lunch, Charles asked her, “Why did you choose Alice for a name anyway?”

“Oh. Yes. Well, that was chosen for me. My grandmother found me in my aunt’s old school clothes looking at a mirror just like your Alice in the Looking Glass story. And the name stuck.”

“I thought so! See, my rabbit’s foot is lucky.” he exclaimed as he rubbed it. She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him.

Laughing, she continued. “From that time on, my girl name was Alice and Alan was becoming a memory. Well, just between me and my grandmother at first. She liked seeing me dressed as a girl and thought nothing of it. She said her brothers used to do the same thing when they were little and quickly outgrew it. At the time, she thought I was just finding out what a girl was and what a boy was. She didn’t panic.”

Charles poured hot tea into her cup and nodded along as she continued. “A month later, we were in the kitchen when she asked if I was done yet. I began to cry and asked if I had to be. Why, she inquired. I answered that I liked being a girl and that I thought I was one. She said she would talk to my parent’s and not to worry.”

“Did you parent’s object when they were told?” he asked wondering if the story was going to turn down a dark path.

“No. They are of the belief that if you staunchly say no to a child on these kinds of matters, they will do something out of spite. In my case, they decided that I should talk to a special person about my feelings. So, I was ushered into this strange office where a nice older man was sitting behind an old fashioned desk. My parents stayed in the back of the room while he asked me questions. Soon, we were playing hopscotch. Then I showed him how to do a Cat’s Cradle and a Witch’s Broom.”

“Cat’s Cradle and Witch’s Broom?” he said sounding rather perplexed. “Is it some kind of game?”

“It’s a game, I guess, or rather a trick you play with a loop of string and your hands. I learned it from the girls at my school. Anyway, he asked me what things I liked to play with and I showed him how I played with some dolls and some toy trucks.”

“Isn’t a toy truck a boy’s toy?”

“Normally, yes. But I used a dump truck as a cradle for a doll.”

“And when did he believe and say you were a girl?”

“When I broke down in tears because, I don’t know why, he brought me scarlet ribbons for my doll’s hair. I don’t know why they were so important? My grandmother reminded me of the song I was listening to when she first found me. But, that was about two years earlier. I was nine when they let me be a girl all the time. You know the rest. They put me on hormone blockers and then began to give me girl juice.”

As they ended their lunch, Charles said, “I will see you in about a week after you get the permission forms in. They want to run the MRI on you as soon as they can. And I will be there to help you, okay.”

She blushed and said, “Then I will be sure to hurry.” He smiled broadly in response.

True to his word, Charles came into the room when she was being tested. Looking at all the strange gear in the room, she looked at Charles with pleading eyes. “This is scary stuff.”

“Don’t worry, I brought along my lucky rabbit’s foot. Just rub it while they have your head in the evil chamber.” During the tests, she did just exactly that. When it was all over, she gave him a hug and asked, “Do you think you can come and see my school play next month? It won’t be a date, but it would be nice.”

Charles was startled, but had the presence of mind to ask, “I will think about it. What is the play and what are you playing?”

“I thought you would never ask.” she said proudly. “I am going to be playing Alice in Alice in Wonderland.” They walked out to her waiting parents hand in hand with him looking like a Cheshire Cat. Her dad looked more like the Lion King as he watched his daughter come in with a stranger.

After all was said and done, the phone rang at her house. Her mom rushed to the phone to answer it. “Yes. Really? Of course you can share the information Dr. Jones. Let us know if Alice can help.”

A few seconds later, Alice, who was in her room trying on her costume for the play, heard her mother calling her. So, she gathered her frilly skirt up and rushed down the hallway to answer her and found her slowly placing the phone back on its cradle as though she was in deep thought.

Realizing she had come into the room, her mom stated, “Honey, the doctor called. She says that a test subject she is working with has tested out as potentially transgender. She asked if you would be willing to assist this person. I told her yes. I hope you don’t mind my answering for you.”

“No, of course not. You know me and that I would love to help. Thank you for saying yes. Wow. Isn’t that exciting. This project has already helped someone. Anyway, what do you think of this frilly dress for the play?”

Her mom’s attention back on her, she looked her over. “I like it!” her mom said. “Maybe your new transgender friend will like frilly dresses too.”

“I wish!” she commented. In her hand, she rubbed the lucky rabbit’s foot Charles had given her and thought, ‘But there someone else whom I hope loves me in the frilly dress too. And if I help this stranger, I will get to see him more. That’s an added bonus.”

So, she skipped off to her room in her frilly dress to daydream a special dream.

Copyright © 2018 by AuP reviner