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After a severe beating by his father, Alex was left in a coma and broken. Will his memory return and what will it mean for him if it does?

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Broken!

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)

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Chapter Five
 

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ALEX
Today at school is not going quite as planned. But let me give you a quick run-down of the rest of the weekend, first. Fact one, I did not spend the night at JuJu’s. Fact two, we spent a lot of time talking without me getting any closer to understanding why seeing JuJu for the first time since my coma and then putting on a bra would either one cause my father’s memory to ‘attack’ me. I just don’t see any connection. Skincare does not fit in, either—that I can see. JuJu and I did go for another long walk on Sunday, but otherwise it was a quiet day. Oh, and Momma is making sure that I take proper care of both my hair and skin. It seems we had everything I need already at home in the guest bathroom and it hasn’t created any ‘boot’ issues, so...

Anyway, that brings us to today, Monday, and my inevitable confrontation with the Monster. I did spend a good portion of the day yesterday trying to figure out a plan of action. I laid out all the facts in my head. Fact one, wearing a bra is not an option. Fact two, beating her up, even if I could, is also not an option because that would make me no better than my father. Yes, I can somehow…sense…what he would say—“It’s just a girl and she needs to be put in her place; just slap her good to put some sense into her and show her her place.” Fact three, my best option is just to avoid her.

With that plan in mind, I try to avoid her, I really do. It does me no good, however. Just an hour into the day I run into her and her posse in the hallway. Unfortunately, it is an area without a camera. She grins when she sees me and starts right in, “Look girls! Our little new girl is not only still swinging her boobs free, now she seems to want to be a girly-girl. Look at her hair and fresh-scrubbed skin! Do I detect a faint hint of floral lotion? Listen slut! Fat slobs like you need to just give up. A pretty hairstyle and fresh skin won’t make up for being a tom-boy slob.”

I look at her and am speechless. I think she thinks I am a girl. I decide to go on the defensive, “Look, bitch. I’m bored of your verbose abuse. I may be adipose and suffer from an acute case of gynecomastia. I am aware that I’m not the shining example of male symbolism but when my testosterone levels increase with puberty there is a good chance that will change and I don’t want an accompanying chronic case of acne with its advent. All of that aside, however, there is absolutely no reason to diss the hair!”

Her jaw drops and she gives me a hyper-intelligent response, “Huh…? Wait! You’re a dude?”

I give her a suspicious look and nod.

She looks at her posse and explodes, “Who knew? I never would have guessed. I thought she was some bitch trying to look a little butch. It seems we have a dude that wants to look all girly.” She looks back at me and says, “Look, you’re still a fat slob but I don’t have time to worry about fairies. I will give you kudos for at least striving to pretend to be the better sex. Don’t get in my way, though, or I will pop your fat ass like a zit. I’m queen bee around here. Got it?”

I decide silence is golden and just nod.

She nods back and before I know what is happening, she and her posse are gone. Other than a slight headache, I feel fine—and I have hope that my issues with the Monster are maybe over.

The rest of the week is mostly boring in comparison. Fact one, classes are simple and bore me. I am at least three class levels ahead of the subject matter at hand—even with my coma-induced break in education. Fact two, I have no friends. At least the truce with the Monster seems to be holding—she simply ignores me. Well, mostly—I do catch her and posse sniggering when they look my way on occasion.

With nothing better to do, I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out the common denominator between JuJu and a bra—other than the obvious of her being a girl and wearing one. Why would either of them cause an attack—and why would both of them? I am still discounting any effects of the skincare lesson.

I do walk for an hour every day with JuJu ,and Momma has me on a strict diet in addition to my new hair and skin regimen, which now also includes the appropriate dietary supplements. By Friday, I am feeling the effects. Fact one, my legs are sore. Fact two, my hair is getting really soft and shiny. Fact three, my skin is also looking much better from the attention. Fact four, my stomach is in a constant state of growling.

When April drops us off at the Dojo for our first Jiu Jitsu session, I am not at all confident about how well this will go given my soreness. Momma had brought us over on Tuesday after our walk to sign up and get our kimonos and white belts. I quickly learned how to tie the belt and felt proud of that accomplishment—strangely enough, that pride had not triggered an attack, so just pride alone does not seem to be the trigger.

Rather than get dressed at the dojo this first time, JuJu and I get fully dressed and ready to go before we get there. JuJu insists on putting my hair into a high, tight ponytail that will not come loose and stay out of my way. She also uses a couple of bobby pins to hold back my bangs. We excitedly run in and nervously take off our shoes and stand barefoot at the side of the mat like the sensei had instructed us on Tuesday. After a minute, a girl with a brown belt comes over and bows to us. JuJu kind of hits my hip with her hand to catch my attention and we both bow back to the girl. She smiles and says, “Hi girls, I’m Amy. Welcome to class.”

I choke and say, “Ummm, hi, Amy—but I’m a guy. I’m Alex. This is JuJu.”

She blushes and says, “Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. My bad!” She looks at JuJu and grins, “JuJu?” JuJu smiles and says, “Well, I have Alex to thank for that. My real name is Cindy and my first nickname was Jewel. Long story. Anyway, I have wanted to do Jiu Jitsu for a couple of years, now, and Alex here saddled me with Jiu Jewel which morphed into JuJu.”

Amy grins, “Well, welcome, Alex and JuJu. Let’s get started. I’m going to be your mentor of sorts for a while. We will see what kind of commitment you show. Don’t get me wrong, but there are a lot of people that come through here all gung-ho at first that don’t last long. But if you stick with it then I will stick with you. So, let me tell me you a little about what we will be doing to move you to the grey belt group. Sensei told me you’re interested in moving up as quickly as possible. That is why I am with you. I don’t want to boast, but I am damned good and a good teacher. So, we will begin with you learning the names of each of the main positions and acquiring a basic familiarity with each of them. For example, you will be able to identify the guard position.”

She takes a breath and demonstrates that position. She continues, “We will also start by choosing one technique and mastering it. Any questions?”

We both shake our heads and the rest of the class is a blur of landing on our backs and getting our first collection of bruises.

JEWEL
We are lounging on my bed after class and drinking a diet Dr. Pepper. We both are still wearing our kimonos and I feel a little like a steak must feel after being well tenderized with a mallet.

Alex has that ‘look’ on his face that he gets when he is deep in thought. Finally, he says, “It just makes no sense, JuJu!”

I shrug and ask, “Can you be a little more specific?”

My mistake.

He says, “Well, fact one, when I saw you for the first time since my coma and without any memory of you, I had a fleeting feeling that I was going to remember something and had an attack. Fact two, when I felt pride at getting the bra on correctly—not just putting it on, I had an attack. Fact three, when I felt pride at mastering tying my white belt, there was no attack. There has to be something that has a commonality in the triggers, but I don’t see it. Then, fact four, the Monster thought I was a girl. Fact five, Amy thought I was a girl. I would say it is the hair, but Jessie thought I was a girl before the new style. That is, however, a little clearer. I need to really step up getting in shape, lose the man-boobs, and pray for puberty.”

I giggle, “So, is there a question?”

He glares at me and drones on, “The triggers—what is causing the attacks? Seeing you isn’t doing it anymore, so it had to have something to do with the fact that seeing you that first time almost opened up some memories. Just being proud about something doesn’t do it, so it must have something to do with the bra without it just being the bra itself. Well a bra, anyway, unless you’re not telling me something about that one, in particular.”

I shake my head. If he only knew the truth about his history with bras. I cannot tell him, though.

He sighs and asks, “Why would a bra trigger an attack? I have to know! Give me a bra!”

I vehemently shake my head and say, “No! You can’t!”

He glares at me again and says, “I’m not going to put it on. I just want to hold it…”

I shake my head.

He says, “Fine!” He gets up and goes to my laundry hamper and pulls out a dirty one. I groan, “Alex! You’re going to get hurt and me in trouble!”

He shakes his head and mumbles, “Just touching it doesn’t elicit any reaction.” He looks at me and says, “I promised I won’t put it on, so relax. No one has to know.”

He continues to fiddle with the bra for a few minutes with a practiced ease that he doesn’t realize that he has and throws it back in the hamper in disgust. “I give up—this is hopeless! I’m never going to figure this out or get my memories back,” he wails.

I so wish I could just ‘remind’ him of Lexi, but Momma has strictly forbidden it and firmly impressed the importance on me of how dangerous that could be. After my last attempt to help, I am certainly going to listen to her now.

APRIL
“They’re upstairs relaxing, Hon,” I tell Maddie on the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring Alex over in a bit. Let them chill. My hope is that by spending more time with JuJu that Alex will relax enough to let some of those memories sort of slip by whatever walls his father has forcibly built around them. Does that make sense?”

She sighs and says, “I guess. This week has been tough, and I don’t think we’ve made any progress. Well, except that Jessie McCarthy is now leaving him alone. I still don’t guess I understand the whole misunderstanding there.”

I let her in on the latest development on that front, “Well, it seems their Jiu Jitsu teacher mistook Alex for a girl today, too. I think he is exhibiting subtle subconscious signs of Lexi that others are picking up on. We are just too used to them to notice. Well, and there are also the beautiful post-operative results of Dr. Renault’s plastic surgery expertise in rebuilding Lexi’s face that I am sure are also confusing to those not in the know.”

She sighs again, “My poor child. We have to figure this out, Love. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up without slipping up—or just giving up and saying to Hell with it all and telling him about his past. Having to remove everything in the house that is a reminder of his ‘pre-coma’ life is starting to put a strain on things. He is pressuring me more and more on why there isn’t anything around. The story that his father destroyed everything in a fit of rage is not holding up as well as we hoped—even if it is largely true.”

I squeeze the phone tightly in frustration and say, “Hang in there, Love. I do think we are making progress. Don’t let up now. I actually think the next few weeks or months are going to be crucial—or his memories could come back in the next few minutes.”

“Or never,” she grumps.

I relent with a sigh, “Yes, that is possible. I honestly doubt it, though. He has to work through his demons, and we have to carefully help him find a path to safety. Once that happens, I think it will go very quickly. I am pretty sure he is trying to work some things out on his own based on what JuJu has told me. She has strict instructions to let him do it without any ‘help’, though.”

I end the call with, “I will feed them some late dinner and bring him back by ten. Love you!”

She sighs and says, “OK, thanks, Love. Love you, too.”

I put the phone down and go check on dinner. I hope I can keep my two ‘helpers’ on track. I am afraid this could all end up in a disaster if they do not toe the line.

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ALEX
The rest of the school year goes by about the same. In other words, I am bored to tears with the mundane lessons. I envy JuJu who is going to a private school that actually has programs designed to challenge accelerated learners like myself. Unfortunately, fact one is that it is way too expensive for us and fact two, even if it wasn’t, it is an all-girls school.

JuJu and I are fast becoming the best of friends—I guess, I should say again. I still don’t remember her from before, but I somehow find myself discovering things that I just know about her. Her favorite color, her favorite band, her favorite food… It is strange, though. They are things that I would not expect to really know about a girl—unless she was maybe my girlfriend. I still don’t see how that could have been possible, though—not that I would mind. I really like her as a friend, but she is becoming more like a sister to me.

We have continued taking Jiu Jitsu seriously and are close to being ready to take our first belt test together—we mostly just have to meet the time mandate, now. Since we are under sixteen, it won’t be for a blue belt, but for a grey/white one. We have been at it for four months now and have four more to go before we can attempt it. The memorization part is a piece of cake for me. Learning some of the moves is not, but JuJu is excelling in that piece. So, we complement each other as partners—I help her memorize the names of the moves and she helps me practice them.

The training, together with the walking we do and the diet Momma placed me on, has literally melted the pounds away and I am now nearly back at my goal weight. I have been going to see Joyce on a biweekly basis and my hair is healthy and close to an inch longer than it was. I still have the same basic style. Once I got used to it, I kind of like it. Doing one hundred strokes with a brush each night is now second nature and I do not even really have to count them anymore. My skin regimen has also been successful in keeping any zits and acne at bay—puberty, or not. Overall, I look and feel much better—I just really look a lot like a girl, though. There still is just no sign of puberty kicking in to help with that…

Speaking of girls, summer is approaching and with that there will be more time for JuJu and I to do things together. She has already planned big trips to the mall. Oh joy…

JEWEL
Well, school has sucked this year—as always. But at least this is the last week and I will be free for the summer. I already have plans with Alex on top of our usual walks and Jiu Jitsu. Shopping for one! I know Alex isn’t into it like Lexi was, but that won’t stop me!

Jiu Jitsu classes are going pretty well. I have mostly mastered ten defensive moves. If I could only remember their names. Alex has that down pat but struggles with some of the moves. So, we practice on our walks. He drills me on the names, and I make him practice the moves. Win, win! If it were not for the stupid time requirement, I am sure we could pass the next belt exam and get our grey/white one.

Alex is looking great! Whether he knows it or not, his hair and skin are totally back to Lexi standards. It is really hard at times not to slip up and call him Lexi—he looks so much more like a girl than a boy. Thank goodness he has not entered puberty yet!

He has not had any more attacks since the bra incident. Well, not full-on ones, anyway. There have been times when he got a little close to doing something feminine and got splitting headaches—but no boots or passing out. Like he nearly decided to get his ears pierced once—something about Maddie mentioning that he had once wanted it. The closer he got to the store, the more his head hurt. He finally gave up. There were other incidents. I think he is beginning to piece together a pattern. Momma is worried.

APRIL
I look back over my notes from the last four months. I am worried about Alex. Not because he hasn’t made progress but because he has. He is in a dangerous sort of purgatory—in between complete amnesia and remembering. His attack triggers are largely the same, but with more muted responses, since it seems to ‘only’ be largely severe headaches rather than debilitating visions, which is good. But he is starting to see the pattern and I am afraid he will start experimenting—or start paying more attention to some of the things Maddie, JuJu, or I say that are true slip-ups. Like the time months ago that Maddie slipped up and mentioned that Lexi—or Alex as she covered—had once wanted pierced ears. He actually tried to go through with it a while back but couldn’t. I have no idea what would have happened if he actually had. I am afraid he will succeed in some ‘experiment’ and trigger another severe episode that could have long-term damage or put him back in a coma.

Mads and I have also nearly slipped on several occasions and let the cat out of the bag on our relationship. It’s not that we are ashamed of it, or that we want to keep it secret. We just do not want to pile that on top of things just, yet. It is getting hard to hold back, though. I know Mads is really struggling.

MADDIE
I undo the straps and take off my shoes with a sigh of relief. I sit on the couch and tuck my legs up under me with my knees off to the side. I rub my feet and moan. We had left Alex with JuJu and had gone for a night out and there may have been dancing involved. I love my four-inch stilettos, but after two hours on the dance floor, well…not so much.

After April leaves with JuJu, Alex looks at me and sits on the couch beside me. He pulls my feet onto his lap and starts rubbing my left one. I genuinely moan. He lets out something between a snicker and a giggle. He says, “OK, Momma. It can’t be that bad, right? I mean—not like two hours on the mat and getting all bruised up! Although, I don’t see how you even walk on those stilts.”

I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it is because I am so relaxed with him rubbing my aching feet; maybe it is me just sub-consciously tired of holding back the truth; I really don’t know. I moan and say, “Keep that up, Hon! And you used to do just fine in shoes just like those…”

I realize what I just said at the same time his hand clamps down on my foot and he gasps, “What? I did what?”

I actually gulp. What do I do now? I finally say, “Well, you used to practice walking in heels before your coma.”

He looks at me in a funny way and asks, “And why would I do that?”

I sigh and get back on the tightrope, “Well, Hon, I guess you will have to regain your memories to completely know the answer to that question. However, I suppose you saw it as a challenge you wanted to master. Kind of like your Jiu Jitsu now.”

He isn’t buying it, I can tell. He counters, “But why would I want to master heels? Is that something that Daddy got mad about?”

Oh shit! I am so sunk!

I shake my head and say, “Your father got mad about everything, Hon. If he did, it was nothing unique.”

He scrutinizes my face and I surprise myself when I keep from blushing. Finally, he says, “So, I don’t suppose it would harm me to try them on?”

I force myself to remain calm, “I don’t think they are your size, dear.” I know that is true, but they are only a size too big and the straps could easily be tightened enough to make do. Lexi had done it before—before I got her shoes in the correct size.

He smiles sardonically and gets up. I sigh and say in a warning voice, “Alex…”

He shakes his head and says, “What’s the big deal, Momma?”

Before I can stop him, he steps into my shoes, tightens the straps, and starts walking like he has spent hundreds of hours practicing—which, actually, he has. The fact that they are slightly too big doesn’t even phase him.

He turns with a proud smile and drops to the floor with a moan and is overcome with the first full-on attack in months.

ALEX
Walking in the heels is a breeze. I surprise even myself when I simply take off in them. I expected to stumble and fall first thing—especially since they are too big and have these huge heels. I turn to Momma proud of myself despite everything.

And a torrent of boots starts raining down on my face.

I drop to the floor and mentally cringe. My head splits and I hear Daddy yelling at me, “You little fag! I will beat that out of you! You are my son! Do you hear me? I have talked to Reverend Bigotto and he has promised beating it out of you will work. He will be over soon to pray for you!”

I hold my hands in front of my face in a vain attempt to protect it and plead, “Daddy, no! Stop! You’re hurting me!”

I feel the bones in my arms and face crack and I pass out from the severe pain.

Momma’s voice slowly fades in through the fog of the episode, “…lex! Alex, Sweetheart! Please wake up! Your father is not here! He is not beating you up! Come back to me! Please! Lexi, wake up!”

My eyes snap open and I look at Momma. I am still groggy and the memory is already starting to fade into the all-too-familiar fog. Then I remember Momma calling out to Lexi and I latch onto that. Somehow, I manage to focus on that and the memory of the attack stays in my mind.

My head is still splitting, though, and I am not sure that I heard right, after a minute. Why would she call me Lexi? I must have misheard.

I rub my head and ask, “Momma, did you just call me ‘Lexi’? I’m having a hard time holding on to the memories of the attack, but I am pretty sure that is what I heard. I even remember Dadd…father calling me a fagot and something about a Reverend…Bigotto… What is going on? Please tell me!”

APRIL
I am nearly home after dropping Mads off and picking JuJu up. The phone rings and the car announces that it is Maddie. I look at JuJu in worry and click the button on the steering wheel to answer the call, “Maddie, what’s wrong?” I instinctively know something is wrong.

Her voice comes over the car’s speaker, “Please come back! I screwed up and Alex had an attack. He’s awake and asking questions that I need your help answering!”

I respond, “I’ll be right there, Love.” That gets me a strange look from JuJu. I know she has suspected things, but I have never confirmed them—I guess until my slipup just now.

I exceed the speed limit and pray there are no patrol cars out tonight. We make it back to Maddie’s in record time and I hurry in the front door without knocking. I rush into the living room where I hear Alex pleading with his Momma, “…need to know!”

I see that he is sitting up and looks fine. Maddie, on the other hand, looks very haggard. She sees me come in and the relief on her face is palpable. In for a penny, in for a pound, I rush over to her and give her a hug and a kiss and say, “I’m here, Love. What is going on?”

If nothing else, that shuts Alex up. I look at Alex and JuJu and say, “We are an item—we have been since shortly before Alex’s coma but thought it best to keep that to ourselves. I slipped up and let the cat out of the bag to JuJu, so there is no sense trying to keep it quiet anymore. So, now what is going on, Mads? You said you messed up?”

She sighs and holds my hand in a death grip. She tells me about how she slipped up with the shoe comment…and then the rest of the story. Alex confirms what he can remember—which is more of the episode than usual. Great news and terrible news, all at the same time, given the circumstances. His memories have not completely returned so we cannot just drop it on him that he was—or is—transgendered.

I look at Alex and say, “OK, Alex, we will answer your questions—but only your specific questions. We will not divulge anything that you do not ask. But it can’t be fishing, deal?”

He pouts a little, but knows it is the best offer he is going to get, so he nods. He starts out as predicted, “Lexi?”

I squeeze Maddie’s hand and take that one. I carefully answer, “Alex, your father is a die-hard bigot. He despises anything that he considers gay. He found you one time wearing your mother’s heels and it set him off. That is partly what you are remembering…now…about your episodes. In the end, he beat you very badly and put you in a coma. He seems to think that ‘gayness’ can be beaten out of someone. He has a ‘mentor’, I guess is what you would call him, ‘Reverend’ Bigotti, who ‘leads’ a ‘church’ who’s mission it is to eradicate ‘perverts’ as they call them.” I use a lot of air quotes in that explanation to get across what I really think.

He processes that for a couple of minutes and asks, “So, are you saying I am gay?”

I shrug and ask, “Do you feel gay? What do you think, Alex?”

He slowly shakes his head and says, “I don’t think I have ever thought about girls or boys in that way, so I wouldn’t know. I doubt that would have been any different back then. Then why would he think that?”

I shake my head, “That is a fishing question. You have to be more specific than that.”

He sighs, “You still didn’t answer why ‘Lexi’.”

I sigh back, “OK, you aren’t going to give up on that. You didn’t just wear your Momma’s shoes that once. That should be apparent by the fact that you could walk in them so well, so I will save you that question. When you wore them, you decided you wanted to be called ‘Lexi’. That is probably why your Momma used the name. Is that right, Love?” I look at Maddie and squeeze her hand.

She nods and says, “That’s right, Hon. It was your nickname when you wore them. You were determined to master them as a personal challenge.”

I jump in, “Before you ask, I can’t tell you why you wanted to. That is for you to answer.”

He screws up his face and says, “That is bovine feces! That just leaves me with nothing! Am I a pervert? Was Daddy right?”

I sigh and say, “What I can tell you, Love, is that you are not a pervert. You have to have a conversation with yourself about whether you feel gay—or anything else that some would consider perverted—and I am happy to discuss those feelings with you. But no matter what your feelings are—gay, straight, or multi-dimensional—you are not a pervert and don’t let anyone tell you differently!”

He sits there quietly—processing.

I add, “And as for the shoes…it was a masterful challenge. You were better at walking in them than JuJu!”

JuJu blushes and nails it perfectly, “Yeah. I dared you and we had a bet who could walk better in them the quickest. You beat the skirt off of me!”

He looks at JuJu and slowly grins. He blurts out, “It was a bet? Why didn’t you say so?”

She sticks her tongue out and nails it again, “You didn’t ask!”

He blushes and grumbles. Before anyone can stop him, he is on his feet again and slips into the shoes. He minces perfectly around the house for ten minutes without an episode. Finally, he says, “OK, other than a slight headache, I seem to have mastered this particular challenge twice now.”

He looks at Maddie and grins, “Tomorrow, I will master the next. I want to get my ears pierced!”