“Maybe if someone warned you early, before you ‘lose it’, then you could stop it. I can tell when you’re starting to get too irritated.”

“What? You can? How?”

“Your cheeks get flushed. It can be seen even through your daily makeup. Sometimes you’ll frown, or sigh, or wrinkle your brow – but the most reliable indicator is a red face, especially the cheeks.”

~o~O~o~

Saturday nights in the El Paso autumn meant watching college football to many; it was fun to cheer the UTEP (U. of Texas – El Paso) Miners as they played on Sun Bowl field. Bernard Andujar and Willow Eiken could see the lights emanating from the stadium from their vantage point at the nearby drive-in carhop eatery. Staying in his El Camino afforded more privacy so they could talk about things.

“OOF! The chili on that coney dog was extra spicy tonight. I’ll probably have some vivid dreams tonight after I go to bed,” Bern burped.

“Do you remember your dreams after you wake up?” asked Willow.

“Most of the time? No. Sometimes I do. Why?”

“Do you ever dream about me?”

“OH yeah. Mostly in my daydreams. MMmmm. Yellow bikini bod.”

“Psh! I’m a little frustrated with my body now, to be truthful.”

“Maybe you just need reminding of just how hot you are. Short and cute, with that long black hair that’s now down to your chest. Your sensitive boobs with those hard nipples, and of course your awesome butt and hips that I love to run my hands over. And when you smile, it brightens up my rainiest day.”

“My boobs are too small. I need implants.”

Bern choked on his cola. “Wha – NO! Please don’t do that, Willow!”

She was confused now. “Don’t you want me to look hot for you? Won’t I turn you on more with big D-cup breasts?”

“Willow. You remember the blonde I took to prom? She had implants.”

“You mean Stunning Sandy? Yeah. She has a really nice rack, as I used to say when I was Bill. That didn’t attract you?”

“Willow … breast implants aren’t the real thing. A guy can feel them in there; I can feel the edges at the base a lot of times. And implants don’t look or hang like natural breasts. I just don’t prefer them. And on most women, those falsies aren't good for life; after ten years they bust, or turn hard, or any number of things that really are a turn off. Then you've got to get 'em replaced or removed. Mom had implants, and she said they turned rock hard after 8 years; they became so uncomfortable she to get them taken out. Even if yours don’t grow one more bit, I’d rather you just keep what you have.”

“But there’s not much there for you to play with!”

“There is, baby. And you know what the French say, right? A mouthful is all that’s necessary.”

"Ha! Well, I'm thankful that you don't have a big mouth," she laughed. "So, is there anything else that attracts you to me? I keep worrying that there's nothing I can do for you that some natural born girl couldn't do better."

Bern squinted as if concentrating, and looked out into the sky. "How do I describe this? Um ... your peaks fill my valleys. And vice versa."

"What does that mean? Are you talking about my hips, or butt, or -"

"No, Willow. I mean you - boy, this sounds sappy - you complete me. Your strengths kind of fill up the holes and flaws in my character - and I think my best points help fill any shortcomings you have. As guys, that made us great friends. Now as BF and GF, it makes us a fantastic couple. I think that we could accomplish anything in life, as long as we did it together."

Willow was warm with affection now, but still had concerns. "Back when I was Bill, I kind of gave the orders and you carried them out. That sounds more to me like an employer/employee relationship than a friendship. I mean, I don’t order you around like that now, but … were you happy with that?"

“You know, Willow … I’m great at following directions. I can absolutely accomplish a task, if I’m guided in when/where/how to do it. But if I have to organize the plan, and give the orders? That’s not my strong suit. And you are great at making a plan. That scheme to get Angie away from Rico and those hoods? Pure genius. All I had to do was follow your instruction. Together we're an unbeatable team; and yes, that makes me very very happy."

“Bern … if we stay together, I'm worried I'll just be a dead weight holding you back. I don't have a plan for my life. The only thing I know how to do is be a drug dealer!”

“Have you really tried doing anything else?”

“Hm. No. But !'m at a loss for thoughts. How do my talents translate into a real legit job?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the plan maker, remember? But I know there's an answer somewhere out there. Don't give up hope, babe. Have you talked with with the Montclair High career lady? Maybe she's got an idea.”

“The Guidance Counselor. Yeah, Dr. Estrada talked about me seeing her too. That sounds like a good next step."

"Just trust, babe. Trust in our love, and in your Higher Power. The answer is out there. Like Fox and Mulder said."

"You mean 'The Truth Is Out There'. That was the X-Files motto. You're such a nut!" Willow held her tummy as she threw her head back in a big, giggling laugh. "Oh, Bern. Now you’ve done it; you’ve lifted my spirits again. Can I have a taste of the spicy chili?”

“Umm … I already ate all of the chili dog.”

“There’s a little left on your lip,” she whispered as she got close and licked his mouth, then proceeded into a deep sexy kiss.

~o~O~o~

Willow was back home when she got a text notification on her phone.

Amanda! Howzit going friend?

Great day so fa; went 2 counselor @ school like u said 2 and she was so cool! Really wants 2 help. Said she would even talk 2 'rents for me – prob this week. So nervous! But feel some hope now

Thass good! Tell me more!

…

Manda?

…

Amanda u still there?

This is Willow, right? Bill and Gwen Eiken’s kid?

?? Umm … Who’s this?

Are you Willow or not?

Yes I am

I’m Mr. Guidry, Toby’s father. I saw him on his phone and grabbed it to see who he was texting with. Are you and your parents home? Need to talk to you in person.

I’m home and Momma is too. Poppa’s still at work. Sir instead of coming here can you just call my Momma? I can give u her cell #.

On my way. Stay there.

Willow numbly stared at her phone screen for a few seconds as she held her breath. Then she gasped “Omigod!! Momma – MOMMA, HELP! WE HAVE A SITUATION COMING, AND HE SOUNDS TICKED OFF!”

~o~O~o~

An angry man drove up to the Eiken’s front gate with his young son strapped into the passenger side of his Cadillac Escalade. He rolled down his window and punched the intercom button. “Hello? Mrs. Eiken – Gwen, are you there? Phil Guidry from church here – just need to talk to you in person. It’s about your kid – you know, the transvestite. So please let me in, and let’s talk inside.”

“Let’s not,” answered Gwen, driving up to the closed gate on her golf cart from the inside of the property. Willow rode with her. “You look mad, Phil. I’d prefer my husband to be home before I meet with you in your current state. Or you can just stay over there and we can talk through the gate. Your choice.”

“Stay in the car, Toby,” barked the man as he exited the ‘Caddy and walked up to the gate. “Gwen, you look nice. And my, isn’t your son as cute as a bug.” He scowled towards Willow as she sat in the cart, wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt that had overlapping white heart patterns.

“Let me guess what this is about,” replied Gwen as she redirected the conversation. “Willow has been communicating with Toby via text, and you’re upset about it.”

“Really? Upset? Whatever gave you that impression? Of COURSE I am, dammit! If you want to raise your son to change his sex, then fine but KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. I don’t need any of my family infected with this shit!”

“Watch your language please, Phil. We are supposed to be Christians, after all. As I understand it, your child sought out mine – that’s how they got to know each other. And I’ve done a quick scan of their texts; it looks like Willow is only encouraging your boy to reach out for help, and speaking words of encouragement. What’s so bad about that?”

“I’m confiscating Toby’s phone, and YOU,” – he pointed directly to Willow – “YOU are to NEVER have contact with him again, you hear? Or so help me God I will find a way to hurt you; physically, financially, socially – SOME way.”

“I’m not quite sure I got what you meant there,” quipped Willow.

“THEN LET ME BE CLEAR, PERVERT. YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON AND MY FAMILY, OR I WILL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP. DID YOU GET THAT?”

Willow lifted her smartphone up high and pushed a button. A video of the Phil at the front gate came on, as he said “ … OR I WILL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP. DID YOU GET THAT?”

“Yes sir, I did,” smiled Willow as she wiggled her phone at him. “I got all of it.”

“Now it’s my turn to get mean, Phil,” said Gwen in a shaking but resolute voice. “I’m taking that video to the police, and filing a restraining order against you. And I’m calling Child Protective Services; pretty sure they’ll want to see it too.”

~o~O~o~

“Well, that was Becca Guidry, Toby’s – I mean, Amanda’s – mom,” related Gwen as she placed her phone back in her purse. “She was shocked and hurt to hear what her husband threatened. She’s taking both her kids and they’re leaving to stay in the Residence Inn; Phil’s alone in their big house now. Their family needs prayer and tons of counseling. I hope it works out for Amanda; heck, even for Phil.”

“Wow, Momma,” sighed Willow. “His face! Is that how I looked when I got out of control?”

“Are you kidding?” Gwen laughed. “THAT was NOTHING compared to ‘Angry Bill’s’ rages! I only handled this because you’ve put me through a lot worse. But since you raised the subject … how is that old anger problem? I know you’ve been better since you became my daughter, but does it ever come back like it did with Rico at the coffee shop?”

“Oh, sometimes,” Willow hemmed, deciding against telling her Momma about the bike-in-the-road episode. “The problem is that it comes on so fast! I don’t realize I’ve gotten out of control until it’s too late.”

“Maybe if someone warned you early, before you ‘lose it’, then you could stop it. I can tell when you’re starting to get too irritated.”

“What? You can? How?”

“Your cheeks get flushed. It can be seen even through your daily makeup. Also, sometimes you’ll frown, or sigh, or wrinkle your brow – but the most reliable indicator is a red face, especially the cheeks.”

“I … I had no idea!”

“Even your Poppa and Angie have seen it. Sometimes I’ve even warned them to keep their distance because you’ve gone crimson. How about I tell you when it’s happening?”

“So I can abort the coming meltdown?”

“Exactly. This will be the code phrase: ‘Willow, your face is red.’ That means STOP. Take a break, call a friend or your sponsor, laugh at the situation – just anything besides letting the irritation fester.”

“Sounds like a plan. Anything to avoid tossing my bike in the street again.”

“Wait! Wha – aaat? What are you talking about?”

“Gaaah!” Willow groaned, slapping her palm against her forehead. One day I’ll learn. I should always be open and honest, especially since I can’t keep a dang secret anyway.

~o~O~o~

William Eiken was in the middle of adjusting a patient’s upper braces when his assistant interrupted him.

“Doctor, you’ve got a call – from your minister, at church. He says he urgently needs a few seconds of your time.”

“I’ll be back in a sec, Ms. Stratelli,” he said as he walked out of the room and over to the front desk phone. “Hello – Dr. Eiken here. Is this Father Wilson?“

“Yes, William. Sorry to interrupt you. Are you planning to come to church this Sunday?”

“Of course. We won’t be out of town or anything. Why?”

“I need you and all of your family there when I give the morning sermon. I know your wife has missed services recently due to her needing to stay home with her father; if possible, can someone else take that duty so she can be here too?”

“Grandpa John no longer stays with us; as of last Tuesday, he’s in an Alzheimer care facility. Father, what’s this all about? This feels like bad news. Are we being disciplined? Does any of this have to do with Willow?”

“Yes, to the Willow part. No one’s being scolded. But there are some concerns I am going to address publicly – some tensions and unrest that need to get dealt with. I will not go into it over the phone; I just need your commitment to be present.”

“Father. Please tell me you’re not going to hang Willow – and my family – out to dry.”

“William ,” assured the minister. “I’m asking you to trust me. I know you feel some alarm with this mysterious call, but if you’ve ever trusted me before, I need you to do so even more now. Please.”

The orthodontist took a big breath and exhaled. “Okay. We’ll all be there. I’ll trust you, Father; but will have a ‘plan B’ just in case. It involves sitting next to the aisle, so we can beat a hasty retreat if things get nasty.”

“That’s fine, Will. I’ll see you Sunday.”

~o~O~o~

The Career Guidance Counselor for Montclair High was encouraged to hear a knock on her door, especially since it came just 4 minutes after the end-of-the-school-day bell rang.

“Come in,” she chirped.

“Ms. Steinberg? It’s me –“

“Willow Ramos, correct? Thanks for being so prompt! Some students leave me to cool my heels for a good 20-30 minutes before they finally show up. How can I help you, young lady? Most kids wait until their senior year before they come to me for career direction; you’re just a junior.”

“Um – first of all, let me put all my cards on the table. I’m –“

“A transitoning girl, right? An ‘M to F’ transgender student. I haven’t been living in a cave, cutie; the whole school’s aware of you. I’ve read up on your history and grades in prep for our meeting, so I know more about you than you realize. How is the year going here at school? Teachers treating you okay?”

“Oh yeah – especially Ms. Moscowitz in geometry. She’s awesome.”

“I heard about the awful near-assault from Connor Irving. Any more bullying or threats?”

“No, not at all, amazingly. It’s been a good first couple of months here. The biggest problem is most people avoid me like the plague; making friends has been a little tough.”

“Part of that is your transition; but part of it is likely because of who you used to be.”

“Used to be? You mean when I was Bill?”

“Not just Bill; Willy. Willy the Dude, drug dealer, and rage monster, someone you didn’t dare cross. The scuttlebutt going around on you is that you still can get upset at times, though you don’t lose it as bad as in the past. When your face gets scarlet, everyone stays away from you.”

Willow gaped. “How is it everybody knew about my red cheeks, and I just found out recently??”

“We’re all blind to ourselves the most, honey. That’s why you need friends; some people to keep you grounded, who won’t tolerate any poop from you. Why don’t you reach out and take the first step – join a club, try out for a sport, invite someone to just hang with you? Speaking of clubs, the Spanish club is trying to recruit more members. Your last name is Ramos – do you speak the language at all?”

“Just enough to get by. Wow, I appreciate your interest in my social health. I’ll try to reach out more. But the reason I’m here is I don’t know what to do with my life; the only thing I was ever good at was dealing drugs.”

Willow recounted her concerns that she’d spoken of with Bernard during their chili dog date. Ms. Steinberg asked some more questions too; then stopped and jotted down a few notes as her visitor watched.

“So … am I only fit to flip burgers or be a supermarket cashier?” the girl fretted.

“Don’t count on the grocery thing. Technology is advancing so fast, human cashiers will become obsolete in the next 10 years. No, my young friend – I think you’re destined to be a businesswoman.”

Willow’s jaw dropped. “What? How so?”

“The things you did when you dealt drugs – setting up a supply and distribution chain, making contacts and contracts, keeping your promises – those are business skills. You appear to be a genius at networking. You just need to do it for a legitimate business, not narcotics.”

“But - what kind of business?”

“You can leave that up to someone else. Businesspeople are experts at taking another’s dreams and making them reality. You don’t have to have the initial vision. Why don’t you take some college level courses next year, maybe do an internship this summer? Yeah, you’re only 16, but you’re precocious. I’ll see what strings I can pull. How does that sound?”

“Like I might actually have a purpose!” Willow exulted.

~o~O~o~

Malachi Eiken was spending his Saturday in a most inglorious manner – on the toilet. Every 15 – 20 minutes, having to have a movement; although the last 3 had been mostly liquid diarrhea. He exited the bathroom yet again, looking drawn and tired. As he stepped out into the hall, he was met by the younger of his two sisters carrying a big glass of sports ‘ade’ on ice.

“Here, Mal – you need to stay hydrated. You washed your hands good, right?” fretted Willow.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for the drink. I dunno what’s happened – food poisoning, maybe?”

“Maybe you ate too many of the double chocolate chip cookies I made this morning.”

“I ate ALL of them. You know I can’t control myself when you bake sweet stuff. But I didn’t start with the shits until a few hours later. And this has never happened to me before – with ANY type of food.”

“Who knows, bro. Maybe it’s the type of flavoring I used. Cocoa syrup, choco chips, and – oh, yeah, I remember now – chocolate flavored laxative. Like, a triple dose.”

Mal’s face, already ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale. “You POISONED me??”

“I medicated you – well, overmedicated. You’ve got only yourself to blame! I can’t cook sweets for the rest of the family, because you steal and scarf them up before anyone else has a chance! I’ve warned you the last few times not to do that; Monday I almost had an anger meltdown over it. Thank God Mom was around to help me stop that.”

“So I ate all your Monday cookies. Big deal!”

Willow shook her head. “Monday was Bernard’s birthday. Those were to be his present. I left a big note on the platter warning everyone of that.”

“Bern’s … birthday? Oh crap,” moaned Mal. “Sis – I’m sorry. I didn’t read the note beyond the DON’T EAT. Are … are you still mad at me?”

Willow’s face relaxed with a smile and a sympathetic look. “Anger doesn’t work for me; it just hurts me and those I love. Now, revenge … that works,” she laughed. “I just made this special batch and left another DON’T EAT note; and no one did, except you. So drink plenty of fluids; I’ll bet the rest of the day you and “cousin John” are gonna be close friends. And in the future don’t let me hear of you ever taking more than your fair share of my cookies, because I know of many ways to get even.”

“You’re so full of crap,” he smirked – then his eyes opened wide with panic, and he grabbed his tummy.

“Can't say the same for you,” snickered Willow as Mal ran for the toilet again.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

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