Crossing The Line Chapter 23 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

By the evening, the doctor had sanctioned the physio referral, and Drew was eating and drinking encouraging amounts. The antibiotics were now oral, and he was walking to and from the toilet by himself. Actually, he was accompanied by Bunny each time, as his protective talisman. Sadly, the side effects of antibiotics can be excessive bowel movements, and this was Drew’s case. It meant he sped up his walking, once or twice only just making it to the toilet in time. Jenny promised to bring in some pro-biotic yoghurt, to help re-colonise his intestines, he told her he’d, ”Prefer some concrete, to block things up a bit.”

On the drive home Jenny mulled over Drew’s dream, while Dave was still reeling from the makeup episode. He had seen Gaby in full war paint, but assumed Maddy or Jules had done it for her. He knew differently now. But he was also irritated with himself for being so surprised, even shocked. It stood to reason, that if something is done often enough, one gets practised and more competent. It was mainly that he had never witnessed the job being done before, and the speed of it. It was just as quick as when Jenny did her makeup and even more elaborate, and Jenny had had much more practice. It had shocked him, to see a boy put on slap so quickly and so effectively. But then was Drew a boy any more, or was he now a girl named Gaby?

“Watch out!” shouted Jenny, and Dave braked hard, narrowly missing a van. “Are you alright to drive?” asked Jenny.

“I don’t know,” replied Dave. He felt distracted almost detached from the physical world, while his inner one tried to resolve the various torments that assailed it.

“Pull over to that pub, let’s have a quick drink. It might help,” suggested Jenny. Dave wasn’t about to argue, a glass of beer sounded rather good to him.

They found a quiet spot and Jenny brought over the drinks. “Now,” she said, “tell me what has got you so rapt.”

Dave took a couple of sips of his beer. “Thanks, that’s good,” he said avoiding the question.

“You were visibly shocked when Gaby put on her own makeup, weren’t you?” Jenny smiled a little as she said this.

“Did it show that much?” he replied, knowing full well that it had.

“Yes. But you weren’t on your own. I’ve known she could do it, but I hadn’t seen her do it, and so natural.”

“Yeah, that’s the scary part, it was so natural. It was like watching you or Juliette doing it. A few weeks ago, that was my son, now…”

“You have a lovely daughter,” said Jenny, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “No one said, this was going to be easy. Lots of past things to forget or change. But we have to do it, for Gaby’s sake.”

“What was she on about in her dream, wanting to leave the hospital and being prepared to have an operation, to do so. What d’you make of that?”

“I don’t know love, is it her conscious mind coming to terms with what her unconscious has already decided? I was thinking about that as we were driving, but I don’t have any more idea than you. I don’t want to press her because I feel it has to happen at her pace.”

“Don’t you think it’s time we saw some experts, or at least talked to the doctor?” asked Dave, “Because it’s already out of my league.”

“Perhaps, I’ve done a bit of reading on the internet, and I don’t always like what I see or necessarily believe it.”

“There’s a whole pile of crap as well as the good stuff,” offered Dave.

“Yes I know. It’s difficult because I want her to find her own path at her own pace. Once we see experts or doctors it becomes official, and it goes on her records.”

“Jen, that child is growing breasts. Biologically, I thought she was supposed to be a boy. Now I know I’m better at understanding the past than I am the intricacies of the human body, but not many boys I know are growing tits!”

“I know, I know! I saw them too. It’s not just breasts, her whole body shape is feminine. She has broadening hips and narrow shoulders, and a girls voice.” Jenny looked at Dave, he was shaking his head. ”I think the decision might already have been made by nature. I just want to give her time to take it all on board.”

“I sympathise with you Jen, but what about the practicalities? Our erstwhile son has got to go to school in less than a month, how is she going to cope or is Drew going to make a visit. In which case how does he disguise his body? If Gaby comes to stay, what do we tell the neighbours and all his friends? ‘Sorry, but Drew spontaneously turned into a girl!’ What about the cycling bodies, British Cycling and the local club? They’ll all have to know.”

Jenny was nodding, “I know love, I know. But Gaby or Drew has to make the decision him or herself to go official.”

“Is it legal for a former boy to compete as a girl?” said Dave, almost to himself.

“What if she never was a boy, one of those in-betweeners, intersex I think they call it. Or one of those whose body doesn’t recognise male hormones. I don’t know, it could be anything.”

“That’s why I think we need to see somebody. This will-she won’t-she stuff is doing my head in, God knows what it’s doing to Gaby.” Dave took another sip of his beer. “She has said she’s a girl really. She did so in front of the police and has indicated to the doctors, much the same. So why don’t I quite believe her? Is it my stuff, or is it something about the way she’s said things?”

“You’ve picked up on it too?” said Jenny, “which is why I don’t want to do anything we can’t undo. I know it will cause all sorts of problems, but if she wants to transition gradually, we’ll just have to cope with them. If it’s affecting you, think what she’s going through. Would you like to be unsure what sex you are? It’s so fundamental, Dave. It is such a core thing in your own sense of self and your identity.”

“Don’t you think I know? Why do think I’m so confused? All I can see is problems I’ve never encountered before. I’ve never had any doubt about who or what I am, any more than you have, or Jules or Maddy for that matter. So what the hell is she going through, I just can’t conceive or imagine. It is so alien to everything I know.” Jenny could see the distress in his eyes as he bared his soul to her. There were tears in both their eyes. “How can I help her with something I can’t understand?” as he said this, the tears rolled down his cheek. Jenny felt her own stomach tighten and knot.

“I know Dave, I know. But we will help her because we love her, because she is our child and she needs us…” Just then Jenny’s mobile rang. She wiped the tear from her own cheek and answered the phone. It was Carol, wondering where they were. They decided to drink up and go back to the cottage.

Meanwhile, at the Palmer’s house, Harry was just finishing an hour-long stint on a turbo trainer, having persuaded his father to buy him the rollers, so he could continue his cycling fitness until Meadows was caught. Although there was no proof that Meadows was responsible, Mrs Palmer had believed Harry’s story and hence the turbo.

Harry desperately wanted to see Gaby, to tell her how much he missed her and to relate how much progress he was making. He couldn’t believe that someone who a week ago was leaving him for dead on a bike, could have been fighting for her life in a hospital bed. Maddy had kept him up to speed on Gaby’s progress, and he was so pleased to hear she was recovering enough to be out of intensive care. Now he wanted to go and see her. It was too late that night, but tomorrow he determined he was going to see her parents and ask for permission to go and see her. He wandered off to the shower, as he stripped off his damp clothes, he could see he had lost some of his flab and was beginning to build some real muscle. It made him feel better about himself but most of all, he hoped he would impress the light of his life. All girls like a well-toned body on their boyfriends, so he was going to get as toned as he needed to win her hand.

He’d even managed to persuade William to go down the gym with him. Both boys were shaken by the rope incident and felt that travelling together was a safer option than being alone. Neither cycled out of doors, but they did walk or take public transport when parental taxis weren’t available.

William’s short romance with Maddy seemed to be on hold. Since Gaby had been taken ill, she’d been pretty well confined to barracks. He was disappointed because he quite liked her, but he was far less smitten than his pal was with Gaby. However, turning his body into an Adonis-type babe magnet, was something he was beginning to enjoy. He was still some way from that objective, but he noticed that several of the girls in the village were beginning to look at him, where they had ignored him before. Being seen attending a gym was a bonus point with the girls, his deepening voice and increasing number of spots, were an indication that his hormones were doing what they were designed to do. Something of a contrast with Drew.

In the cottage, Dave and Jenny kept quiet about their thoughts from earlier in the day. They gave a progress report on Drew, and told Maddy and Jules, they could visit tomorrow. Maddy was more pleased than Jules, who said she would have to speak with John and disappeared to the phone.

That night Dave and Jenny found sleep easier insofar as they knew Drew was now likely to survive, however, they knew there would be other problems to be dealt with in the future, based on their experiences of the day. Both tossed and turned a little before managing to sleep.

In a rather hard hospital bed, our hero was himself tossing and turning. Some Loperamide had eased the bowel movements, so he could finally sleep. He’d been told a physio was coming to see him tomorrow. He wasn’t unduly worried except he thought they dealt with arms ‘n’ legs ‘n’ things. He was tired and slipped off to sleep quite quickly. Once he got there, things were less than restful.

“So as soon as it’s healed you’ll be able to ride your bike again,” said the surgeon grinning.

“As soon as what has healed?” asked Drew. He felt sheepish, something had been done to him that he didn’t seem to know about.

“Your girly bits,” grinned the surgeon.

“I don’t have any girly bits, I’m a…” he felt down to his groin and…

“You do now,” smiled the surgeon.

“But I don’t wan…” Before Drew could finish the sentence, the surgeon left, a very pretty nurse who looked liked his mother appeared.

“I don’t want gir...” he began to cry.

“You’re a real girl now, Gaby, no worries about anyone finding out now,” said the nurse/mother.

“But I didn’t want to be a girl,” sobbed our heroine.

“Too late now, kiddo. You should have said before. But at least they are now going to let you home.”

“How can I go home, like this?” continued the distraught Drew.

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll find you something nice to wear,” said the nurse.

“But, I’m a boy!” he continued to protest.

“Not any longer sweetheart,” said Jenny.

“How could you do this to me?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“We didn’t do it, you did it. You told them you wanted to be a girl, all we did was to sign some forms.”

“But I didn’t really mean it,” protested Drew.

“Well, maybe that will teach you to say what you mean, or mean what you say, rather than say what you think people want you to say. You’ll make a very pretty girl.”

“I don’t want…” Drew woke up in a bath of sweat, a nurse was standing by him rubbing his hand.

“Hey Gaby, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

“Wha…at!....Who are you?” said the sleepy-eyed youth.

“I’m Gemma, the night nurse on this ward. You were having a bad dream and shouting in your sleep”

Drew sat up, “Was I? Sorry if I caused a fuss.” He rubbed his face, he felt the mixture of tears and sweat.

“You okay now?” asked Gemma.

“Yeah, think so. Can I have a drink?” His mouth was dry, and he sipped the cold water thirstily.

“It could be the pills you’re on, they can cause bad dreams in some people.”

“Yeah, probably,” agreed Drew, not wanting to give any further explanation.

“Back to sleep now?” asked the nurse.

“I’ll try,” he said, then began to cough.

The next morning after breakfast, Drew learned that physiotherapists, frequently called physio-terrorists for good reason, do more than play with arms and legs. A pretty blonde physio called Karen arrived, and she taught him some breathing exercises, she also massaged his back, pounding here and there to help dislodge the phlegm. He was surprised that someone so small could exert so much force on his thorax, but the amount of gunge he was coughing up was equally surprising.

“See how much better that will feel,” said Karen to an exhausted Drew.

“Thank you, I think,” said Drew with deliberate ambiguity, but his chest felt a little clearer and his breathing felt easier. He paused, while Karen played with her ponytail, her long blonde hair threatening to become unruly. “Do you do this all the time? Beat people up?” joked Drew.

“That’s just for starters, sometimes we hang ‘em up by their feet and beat them with clubs.” Karen kept a straight poker face and for a moment, Drew nearly believed her.

“You don’t do you?” he decided to check out his scepticism.

“No, of course, we don’t, but I have pounded a few backs in my time,” said the pretty physio.

“Do lots of people have chest problems?”

“Quite a few, children with cystic fibrosis, their lungs fill up with mucus. They have to be seen regularly. Children and adults with asthma, chest infections, and emphysema. There are all sorts of things that can go wrong with the lungs. Yours are apparently very good, do you do sports; because lots of girls don’t these days.”

“I cycle a bit,” said Drew with an amount of coyness.

“How much is, ‘a bit’?” asked Karen.

“Most days,” Drew kept things deliberately vague.

“What to school and back?”

“No, we catch the bus for that.”

“I feel there’s something you’re not telling me,” said Karen, picking up something from Drew’s non-verbals.

“What is she not telling you?” said a semi-familiar voice.

“Hi Suzie,” said Karen to the nurse, “she told me cycles a bit, but won’t tell me how much.”

“Tell her Gaby and tell her who your mum is.” Suzanne was the nurse who had invited Jenny to open the hospital fete.

Drew blushed bright red, but said nothing. “Alright, I’ll tell her. This scrap of nothing is a junior national champion, and her mum is the world champion. That’s right, isn’t it Gaby?”

Still blushing, Drew nodded. “Yeah, that’s right,” he added when he had calmed a little.

“So how much do you ride?” asked Karen.

“A couple of hundred miles a week,” said Drew, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Two hundred miles a week!” exclaimed Karen, “Wow! You are seriously fit!”

“I was.” Drew, seemed to go inside himself for a moment as if checking on something. “Will I be able to race in the future?” There were tears in his eyes as he asked the physio.

She came and sat on the bed and put her arm around her patient, “Gaby, if I can get kids who have the sticky mucus in CF, better, then I am pretty sure we’ll have you feeling well very soon. Once we get your lungs clear, then you can start to exercise again, and hey presto, back on your bike before you know it.” She gave Drew a squeeze as she stood up.

“Thanks,” said Drew reaching for a tissue and wiping his eyes. He paused for a moment, “What’s CF?”

“It’s a genetic condition called Cystic Fibrosis, it can affect all parts of the children who get it.”

“What, they’re born with it?”

“Yes, it affects their lungs, which produce this sticky mucus, plus noses and sinuses – the tubes between ears and noses – it can affect their gut, so they don’t absorb food properly and they are often smaller than their peers. Sadly, many don’t make it to adulthood.”

“Why not?” asked Drew, not quite sure what he was hearing.

“They tend to be prone to lung infections, and some of those can be very serious.”

“You mean they die?” asked Drew, his eyes wide.

“ ‘fraid so,” said Karen.

“Like I nearly died?” said Drew, the seriousness of his previous predicament had filtered through.

“I’m not sure…” said Karen, who looked at Suzanne. The nurse nodded. “Looks like it,” said Karen, holding Drew’s chin to maintain eye contact. “But you’re going to be a fine young lady. Your lungs are essentially good, very good in fact. So don’t worry.”

Tears were streaming down Drew’s face. It now dawned on him how sick he had been. He’d been too involved, too ill to take much of anything on board. Suddenly the penny had dropped, he’d been very ill, but he was going to be okay. He felt relief, then he felt guilt. He was going to be okay, but what about all those kids who weren’t? It didn’t seem fair and that offended his sense of right and wrong. Why didn’t God sort these things out rather than let small children suffer? It didn’t seem fair at all. So he cried and cried while Karen held him and offered soft words of comfort.

“Why do children have to die?” he sobbed on Karen’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, my love,” she cooed back.

“It isn’t fair,” he continued.

“I know, I know,” she offered in comfort.

Drew was dressed in his nightdress and thin dressing gown when Maddy and Harry burst through the door. He was still a little red-eyed after his distress in the morning.

“Hi,” said Maddy and gave him a monster hug, which prompted a coughing bout. “Sorry,” she said a little sheepishly, “don’t know my own strength.”

“Hi Gaby, I brought you these,” said Harry proffering a box of chocolates and bunch of tiger lilies. Drew accepted them graciously and allowed Harry to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks,” he said, sitting back in his chair. A small armchair by the side of his bed

.
“So how’s it goin’?” asked Maddy.

“S’alright, I s’pose.”

“You been crying?” asked Maddy, noticing his eyes.

“Yeah,” admitted Drew, blushing. “With the physio.”

“What it hurt that much?” asked Harry.

“No, not much at all. She was telling me about kids who are born with CF, who die, sometimes quite young.”

“What’s CF?" asked Maddy.

“Cystic Fibrosis,” said Harry, who suddenly looked quite sombre.

"How do you know that?” asked Maddy.

“My brother died with it,” said Harry, very quietly.

“I’m sorry,” said Maddy blushing furiously.

“So am I,” said Drew and tears began to form in his eyes, one escaping to trickle down his cheek.

Harry saw it, and immediately put his arm around his ‘girlfriend’, “Hey, don’t cry. It was like, a long time ago.”

“I nearly died,” sobbed Drew, “I nearly died.”