APRIL
I smell a rat. They had returned from a two-hour walk and a very sweaty Alex pitched this ‘new’ idea while I serve them lunch. “Jiu Jitsu? Really, Alex? That is how you want to get in shape? And how did you come to this realization,” I ask suspiciously.

He looks a little like a deer in the headlights when he says, “Well… OK, fact is that I found out about how JuJu got her pet name and that it was me and all… Well, and I figured that since I came up with it, I must have this deep-seated desire to learn it?”

I give him a look.

He shakes his head and does something between a snicker and a giggle. His eyes are twinkling now when he says, “Well, to be honest, April, it does sound like it could be fun to learn it with JuJu.” I start to break in when he adds in a dead-serious tone, “And maybe if I had known it when Daddy beat me it could have changed things. I mean I know deep down it wouldn’t have, but I want to at least feel like I’m as prepared as I can be to protect myself in the future.”

Well…damn! How do I counter that? I still smell a sweaty rat, but one with perfume on it. I sigh, “Well, it’s ultimately up to your Momma. If she’s onboard, then I guess I can’t argue—but you both have to stick with it and move through belts at record pace, so I know you’re truly committed. Deal?”

JuJu is literally jumping up and down and nodding vigorously. Alex just says, “Deal!” Then he gives me a strange look and asks, “So, April, can I ask you a strange question…it’s sort of personal for me and professional for you…”

I can’t even begin to think what may be coming next, but I put on my most encouraging face and voice and urge him, “Of course, Hon. What’s on your mind? Do you want to talk in private?”

He shakes his head and sort of gives JuJu a lopsided grin. He sighs, “Well, JuJu and I were discussing my issue with ‘The Monster’ and I’m slowly getting onboard with your idea that I need to get myself back into shape to boost my self-confidence. Fact is, at first, I thought it was bovine feces but I do now think it definitely has merit. Sorry, April. Anyway, she keeps harping about my gynecomastia…my…man-boobs. So, let’s hypothesize that your plan to get me in shape works and I’m successful by becoming a black-belt in Jiu Jitsu in record time.” He gives me a shit-eating grin and continues, “So, I ooze self-confidence and I’m in top shape months to years from now. That’s not going to help for months or years.”

I hate to say it, but I see his point. I am still not sure where this is headed, so I relent, “OK, I see your point. I assume this is going somewhere?”

He actually looks embarrassed when he says—or asks, “Should I…” His voice lowers in volume but increases in pitch to a high squeak, “wear a bra to school?”

I sit down in amazement and put my head in my hands. Where did he get that idea? Then I look at JuJu and growl, “Cynthia Antoinette Smythe, is this your doing? I thought I could trust you!” I look at Alex and try to find a way out of this train wreck. I measure my tone as I ask, “Aside from my daughter’s misguided influence, why would you think this is a good idea?”

He sits down, too, and grabs JuJu’s hand in support—or for support; I am not sure. Either way, it is sweet and I want to cry just at that. He says, “Please don’t blame JuJu, April! Yes, she brought it up at first and, like you, I thought it was totally…crazy… Then she explained her thought process and urged me to forget it—she mused that just because the process works for her doesn’t mean it would work for me. I couldn’t forget it, though, because my hypothesis is that she may be right. I went through several possible scenarios in my head and kept coming back to the conclusion that best case it would take at least months to get past just this one issue.”

I have a hard time coming up with something—anything—to counter this without opening the whole world of ‘Lexi’ and with that a million cans of worms. I cannot do that… Not yet. I have to buy some time and see if he opens an opportunity to shut this down. I just have a really bad feeling… I counter, “So, wearing a bra to school may throw her off her game for a split second. Then she finds something new—say piercing your ears or wearing makeup. Are you willing to do that, too? Look, I get the strategy. I taught it to JuJu and it works for girls fighting mean girls, but you’re not a girl, right? Yes, the basic strategy should work against any bully, but this is…unconventional...to say the least.”

He looks me straight in the eye and says, “This hairstyle is unconventional. I have no idea why I may have wanted this in the past. I’m willing to let that play out—and get a buzz cut later, if need be. It’s strange that you mention pierced ears. Momma mentioned something at the mall last night about me wanting to get my ears pierced before my coma. I can’t imagine that, but it also feels somehow…right. Makeup? Maybe not, but necessity makes for strange bedfellows, so who knows?”

He gives me a penetrating stare and I actually find a thirteen-year-old making me sweat. He asks, “Let me ask you this, April. Why do you think this is such a bad idea? Humiliation? Is this any more humiliating than what I’m currently being subjected to? I think not. So, fact is…there must be something else. What is it?”

At that point, I do the purely professional thing. I punt! I say, “OK, look. You two eat! Then hit the showers! I need to talk to your Momma, Alex. Then, later, I will be talking to Jewel.”

MADDIE
“He wants to do what,” I exclaim incredulously. I am not sure I heard April right. We are video-chatting and she is sitting on the swing on her front porch.

She says with a red face, “I’m sorry, Maddie. I thought Alex was ready for this step. I still think he is. I’m not so sure about JuJu, though.” I shake my head and say, “Look, I know my child. Lexi or Alex—no one is going to make him/her do something he/she doesn’t think is right. But a bra? Could this work?” She sighs, “Under normal circumstances, I would say it is a bold solution with a high chance of success—with caveats. But this is clearly not a normal circumstance. I’m highly concerned about what cans of worms we may be opening with this ‘solution’. Especially after today.”

I pause and then ask, “So, bottom line. Is it dangerous?”

It is her time to take a pause. She finally says, “To be honest, I don’t know, Love. There are definite risks after I saw what happened today. There could be benefits, too. I just don’t know. Again, under the best of circumstances, I would urge extreme caution and not be inclined to endorse this. In this case, I double that, but I just don’t know if it could actually…help…or be totally devastating.”

I do not say a word. I am not sure what to say, yet.

She continues, “If we are going to do this…”

She trails off without finishing the sentence out loud and I finally say, “Look, Love, I totally understand that you have concerns, but I trust you completely when it comes to my child’s welfare. I mean, soon enough, it will be our child’s welfare. Let’s just go with we are going to do this…what are you thinking?”

She blushes and says, “I think, in that case, we have to let JuJu and Alex try this out privately in JuJu’s room. If Alex makes it past just getting the bra on without an episode, we will have made significant progress based on what I’ve seen today. I have very little confidence that will happen, though. I’m afraid that he will succumb to the terror of his beating—just like has already happened today. Are we willing to risk that twice in one day? Look, Love, I’m the professional, but I’m too close to this. Maybe we really need to find another psychiatrist for Alex.”

I feel my face turn red and exclaim, “Bullshit, Hon! I told you that I trust you. I know I got burned with Jeremy. Why would you do that to me or my child? I can’t believe it. Call me naïve. Anyway, I know that it goes against ‘convention’, but I don’t want Alex—or Lexi—in anyone else’s care! Now, how are we going to handle this? Because I know my child…our children…won’t let this drop.”

I see her smile. She says, “I love you, too, Sweetheart. So, if we are going to go through with this farce, I suggest we let Alex ‘practice’ in JuJu’s room with me ready to jump in when it goes south. I don’t really know what we will do if it doesn’t. I twice don’t know what we’ll do if it does, since, knowing Alex, that won’t stop him.”

I nod and offer, “OK, do you want me to come over?” I want to be there when it goes completely wrong. How can I even consider this? But what if this is the right thing to do? I’m just so confused! She shakes her head and says, “I think it’s best to just let this play out like Alex wants. That puts the least amount of stress on him. If you’re here that just adds extra stress that I don’t think is worth the price.” I relent, “OK, Love. Let me know how this goes… I assume you’re going to have a talk with JuJu. Go easy on her, Love. This wasn’t malicious.”

She smiles again wanly and nods. Then she says, “We will talk. Malicious or not, she needs to understand that she can’t force Lexi to come back to us. She may just wind up with a brother. Not what she may have envisioned, but… She’s not giving up on pulling out those memories, though. She is up there showing him how to do proper skin care and he is going along with it—almost with as much enthusiasm as Lexi. I hope you still have her products squirreled away? I’m praying this doesn’t cause another episode all by itself. Heavens knows she isn’t giving up on her quest!”

I nod and say, “Yeah, like I said. They won’t give up. And, yes, I have Lexi’s old products in the ‘guest’ bathroom. You think he will start using them?” She just shrugs and says, “Encourage him if this doesn’t cause an episode. The more old routines he voluntarily gets into without issues the better the chances of them triggering his memories. It all depends on how much he associates the activities with girls and with that his father’s disapproval as to whether the memories triggered are good or bad.” Then she gets this shit-eating grin on her face and asks, “Oh, I assume you’re OK with our kids going to Jiu Jitsu?”

I nearly drop my sandwich and exclaim, “What?” She blows me a kiss and says, “Gotta go, Hon. I’ll let you know how it goes with the skincare and the bra.” I stare at the blank screen as she ends the call.

I may cuss just a little.

ALEX
I finish rubbing the lotion into my body after the grueling face-scrubbing and moisturizing session JuJu put me through. I smell the scent of the lotion and it vaguely reminds me of flowers. I marvel at how much better my body feels after washing off the sweat and getting some moisture back into my skin. I sigh and smile, then start to get a strong headache. I shake my head and tie the white terrycloth robe that JuJu loaned me. I do my best to ignore the pressure in my head and leave the guestroom to go into her room.

I move to stand in front of her bed after she makes a big deal about how much better my skin looks. I continue to ignore the mounting pressure in my head and look at the lacy bra she has laid out on the bed. She sees me stare at it and apologizes with chagrin, “I’m sorry, Alex. All my sports bras are dirty. I can wash one, but…”

I shake my head and say, “For this, it doesn’t matter. There is no way I would wear that to school—not that a sports bra is a better option.” I square my shoulders and ask in a resigned tone, “OK, so how does this work?”

She giggles and says, “Well, you’ll need to take off your robe…”

I blush and say, “OK. I can do that back in the bathroom. Then what?”

She looks at me seriously and says, “The easiest way is to wrap it around you, hook it in front, spin it around, and put your arms through the straps. It will need to be adjusted after that. Of course, it is a B-cup and I don’t think you’re there… I can…help…with that if you want.”

I am honestly at a loss at what she means.

She shrugs and pulls these jiggly things out of a drawer that look a lot like rubber chicken breasts. She motions that they go inside her bra. A bright light goes on and my face turns just as bright—only red. I laugh and say, “I don’t think so, JuJu. I shouldn’t need that with a sports bra, right?”

She giggles, “Well, maybe not, but this is not a sports bra! It has sophistication and class. You can’t leave it…deflated… It will get a complex.”

I blush even more and say, “Forget it, JuJu.”

I go back into the bathroom and take off the robe. I once again let my mind marvel at how much better my face and body feel after a proper cleansing with a luffa sponge and a generous application of lotion. I explore why the thought of doing that seems right but scares me at the same time. The headache once again increases to the point of bringing tears to my eyes and I start to see black spots, so I quickly stop thinking about it and focus on the bra.

I follow JuJu’s instructions and get the bra situated after clasping it in front of me, twisting it around, and putting my arms through the straps. I look in the mirror and am extremely proud of myself for actually accomplishing the feat but wondering why I feel like I should have—could have easily—put it on differently.

And that is when my head does split open and the boots rain down…again.

APRIL
“Momma! Come quick,” I hear JuJu exclaim from upstairs. Fearing the worst, I run up the stairs and see my frantic daughter cradling Alex’s head in her bathroom. He is out cold and jerking wildly. I cannot tell if it is a seizure or something else.

I rush over and ask, “What triggered it?” I notice he has a bra on and no shirt. One of JuJu’s robes is draped over the sink.

She shakes her head and wails, “I don’t know. He did OK with the skincare, then went back in to put the bra on. He had the door closed and I heard him cry out and then the sound of him hitting the floor. I barged in and found him like this.”

I give his head a quick examination and do not find any blood. I mutter, “I think it is another episode likely triggered by the bra. I was afraid of this. This nonsense will stop this instant. Help me get him to your bed.”

We, well mostly I, carry him to the bed and gently lay him down on it. I notice that he smells vaguely of JuJu’s body lotion and hair products. I unclasp the bra and remove it, then I cover him with the sheet. I gently rub his forehead and notice his skin is well-moisturized. I say in a soothing voice, “Alex, it’s alright. Your father isn’t here. He can’t hurt you. It’s just a bad dream. Wake up, Sweetheart.”

He continues to thrash around and cry out, but my efforts seem to be having an effect in calming him down. After a few minutes of soothing talk, he opens his eyes and I do not think I have ever seen that much terror in a child’s eyes before. I have seen children wake up from nightmares before with abject fear in their eyes from imaginary threats, but this is at the deepest level of PTSD that I have ever witnessed, including in the most hardened of combat soldiers.

He shrinks back, not immediately recognizing me, but I gently pull him into a hug and whisper, “It’s OK, Hon. You’re in JuJu’s bed and he wasn’t really hitting you.” I have no real idea if that is what was going on in his mind, but it is my best guess.

He whimpers a second and says in a hoarse whisper, “It was him again. He just kept kicking me and yelling that I better not keep listening to that quack and that I am his son and I better listen to him.” Tears are starting to form in his eyes and he tenses up.

I stroke his now disheveled hair and say, “It’s OK to cry, Alex. He can’t hurt you. Only you can by letting him win. You are the bravest little boy I know, and you can beat this. We can all beat this together. I promise.”

I cannot say that I am overjoyed about the reasons for him now quietly crying on my shoulder, but I can say I am overjoyed that he is. This is a huge breakthrough. And while I am still going to kill my daughter for starting this whole thing, I will have to say we probably lucked out in the end. This still doesn’t change my mind about shock therapy, though. It is cruel and while it may take a little longer to get results otherwise, the ends do not justify the means.

I continue stroking his hair and say to JuJu, “First, go and get a Dr. Pepper and bring it up. Second, call your Aunt Maddie and let her know what happened. This is on you, Sweetheart, and we will talk about it later. Alex is going to be OK, but we lucked out—don’t ever go against my word like that again. Promise?”

I know that was harsh, but she has to understand the stakes here if she wants to be a part of the process of getting this poor broken child healed.

She is shaking and whispers, “He is going to be alright? Oh, thank you, Momma. I was so afraid. I didn’t mean to…”

I just say, “Go! Do what I said. We will talk later when you’ve had a bit of time to think about your role in all of this. I’m not mad, Honey, but I am very disappointed. Part of your punishment, though, is to let your Aunt know that Alex had another episode and that he is OK.”

Alex speaks into my shoulder, “It’s not her fault, April. She didn’t force me…”

I continue stroking his hair and say, “Shh… We will all talk in a bit. Now, go get that Dr. Pepper, JuJu!”

JEWEL
I can’t believe I could have really caused my best friend some serious damage. I mean I never meant to. I really was trying to help, but I guess maybe I did also hope that by putting on the bra it would spark some memory of Lexi. I just had no idea what that would result in.

I go downstairs and call Maddie. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I let her know that Alex is alright but has had an episode. She relays that she is on her way. I take a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and open it. I pour it into a plastic cup with some ice and carry it upstairs. Alex is sitting up in bed now and talking to Momma, “…already fading again.”

Momma takes the cup from me and hands it to Alex. She says, “Here, take slow sips and see if you can remember anything else. You said he was kicking you again. I assume ‘he’ was your father?”

He takes a careful sip and nods at the same time.

Momma keeps on, “And you said he was yelling something about ‘that quack’ and ‘being his son’. Do you have any idea what he meant?”

It is clear he is struggling to remember and then holds his head. He sighs and says, “It makes my head hurt when I try to think about it, but I’m pretty sure he was mad at me about something. I already don’t really remember the details of the dream or vision or whatever it was. It’s just gone. But if you’re sure I mentioned ‘quack’ then at least I know where I got that term from.” He blushes.

Momma gives him an inquisitive look and prompts, “Care to elaborate?”

He blushes even more. Momma just keeps looking at him and he finally gives in, “Well, before today when I learned that I’ve known you a lot longer than since waking up from my coma and that I always called you April… Well and before I figured out that you really do care, I might have referred to you as ‘Dr. Quack’ in my mind.” If possible, he blushes even more. I giggle at the look on Momma’s face and then she suddenly bursts out laughing.

“Dr. Quack, huh? I’ll show you Dr. Quack,” she giggles and starts to tickle him mercilessly.

Finally, he gasps, “Uncle! Uncle! I give up!”

It takes him a minute to catch his breath. As he is recovering from Momma’s attack, Maddie comes into the room and rushes over to Alex. She seems calm enough when she sees he is alright and asks, “Alex, Hon, are you OK? You had another episode?”

He blushes again and admits, “Yeah, I guess my idea didn’t work.”

I pipe up, “Alex, it’s my fault. I gave you the idea.”

He shakes his head and says, “Fact one, you did bring it up first. Fact two, I convinced myself it was a good idea—and then convinced April and Momma. Fact three, I don’t understand why wearing a bra would trigger one of these…attacks. My hypothesis was that I may be way too embarrassed to actually pull off wearing it to school, but there is no way I could have known that it would literally knock me out.”

He looks at Momma and asks, “Why would a bra trigger my bad memories of Daddy attacking me? I don’t get it.”

I am wondering if anyone besides me is picking up on the fact that he is referring to his father as ‘Daddy’, just like Lexi used to. I decide to not mention it—yet.

Momma shakes her head and says, “I couldn’t say, Hon. You tell me. Is there anything that you can think of that might have triggered it? Walk me through exactly what you were doing when the ‘attack’ happened.”

He falters and Momma looks at me and says, “Maybe if you start with what you remember before he went into the bathroom, JuJu.”

I sigh and say, still terribly embarrassed, “Well, I had finished showing him how to care for his skin and he was in the robe that he borrowed from me. I just showed him the bra and teased him that it would need some help to fill out. I showed him my chicken filets and he laughed and made it clear that wasn’t an option. I told him I was just joking around and then explained the easiest way to put on the bra. You know, latch it in front and spin it around.”

Momma gives me a dark look when I mention the enhancers but before she can say anything, Alex speaks up, “I was fine. I did start getting a headache when I thought about how good my skin felt. The joking around helped distract me from that. As far as putting on the bra, like I said, I had no way of knowing what would happen. I went into the bathroom and followed JuJu’s instructions. I took off my robe, wrapped it around me, and clasped it in front. I spun it around and put my arms through the straps. I remember thinking it was easy and was proud of myself for accomplishing the task, but thinking there is an easier way.” He gasps, “That is when it hit me—just as I was proud of myself. Did Daddy not want me to be proud of myself? Is that why he attacked me?”

MADDIE
I am still kicking myself as I listen to Alex explain what he had done. Lexi could put a bra on in her sleep—not that she needed one, of course. It just made her feel better—like any young girl. I guess that is why I convinced myself this might possibly be a good idea—or at least not a terrible one. I look at JuJu. It is clear that she is blaming herself and I am pretty sure that April was hard on her—we will have to talk. I am also surprised that he keeps referring to Jeremy as ‘Daddy’—that was a Lexi thing.

I am pulled out of my thoughts by the need to answer his question and shake my head. I carefully craft my response, “Alex, Hon, your father is deranged. It’s hard to say what he may have been thinking. He has very strange views on a lot of things and I think he wants you to think the same way he does. He is very bigoted and old-fashioned in his thinking. You did absolutely nothing wrong except to challenge his world views by being yourself. He couldn’t handle that.”

I sigh and look at JuJu. I muse, “JuJu, thank you for calling me and letting me know this did not go as hoped. I want you to know that I am neither mad, nor disappointed in you. I am proud that you had the courage to call—even if I’m sure that your Momma made you do it.”

I look at April and say, “You tried to talk me out of letting Alex do this and I take the responsibility. Don’t punish your child for genuinely trying to help mine. The million-dollar question now is, what are we going to do next? Alex, wearing a bra to school is out of the question.” I look at him and continue, “I’m not sure I would have allowed that even if you had worked up the courage to do so. My hope was that working up that courage would have been enough for you otherwise to stand up to your nemesis.”

He looks at me and grimaces, “The fact is, she’s basically just a real-world version of my inner demons. If I can learn to beat her, then maybe I can learn to beat my ‘inner’ attacks. I was pretty agnostic about wearing a bra—except when I would think about it, my head would hurt like somehow it was telling me it was wrong. Besides, it just doesn’t make sense for a boy to wear one. JuJu made me revisit that notion in this case. That’s why I was willing to try this—I needed to know if the paradox would work to stop the bullying. It was an interesting supposition. My head doesn’t seem to want me to work this out, though, because of Daddy’s undue influence. I’m not giving up on the idea of wearing a bra—maybe not to school—but just getting to the point that I don’t let my father’s ghost dictate anymore what I can or cannot—will or won’t—do. He does not deserve to have that power over me—over us.”

April is wiping a tear from her eye and I just sit there in awe. April gives him a hug and says, “Well said, Alex. And I can tell you’re feeling better as the complexity of your vocabulary seems to correlate with the clarity in your head. I take it your headache is gone?”

He nods and says, “I’m ready to try putting on the bra again.”

I say, “No way, Jose! You’ve had enough for one day, young man!”

April agrees, “Alex, Hon, I think we need to find better ways of beating your demons. After we make some progress, how about we use the bra test as a marker for improvement?”

He sighs and says, “I suppose you’re right.” In an abrupt change of subject, he looks at me and says, “Momma, JuJu and I are going to practice Jiu Jitsu together, I hope that’s OK with you. I hear it’s a good way to work out frustrations.”

I laugh, “I heard about that. I expect belts in record time.”

JuJu exclaims, “Deal! This is going to be so much fun!”