In My Sister's
Footsteps

This is a story about true identity and the healing of the transgender mind

Blazing a new trail is difficult for a young burn victim, but he manages well enough with support from his mother, some unusual help from his sister, and a little luck.

Chapter 7: I'm a Girl
Chapter 8: Losing Myself
Chapter 9: Pleasant Surprises
Chapter 10: Identity Confusion
Chapter 11: Momma's Girl
Chapter 12: Confusion Therapy

In My Sister's Footsteps
by Terry Volkirch

Part 2 of 8

Chapter 7: I'm a Girl

Six days after my surgery, I woke up. Since my eyes were still bandaged, I waved my right hand to make fairly sure I was alone. No one spoke. It must be early but it's hard to tell without a clock. Over the past three days, my waking hours had blurred into a mixture of exercises and meals. My mother still wasn't allowed to visit.

I used the free time well. I hadn't had a decent moment to myself since I first woke up three days ago. I was well overdue for a little introspection ... and exploration.

My skin felt loose, though I might have imagined that, and I think it was a little softer. My male skin hadn't had much hair so it was hard to tell.

I let my arms flop back to my sides and gently rolled from side to side without any problems. It felt good to move without pain. I wouldn't push it by trying to get up. That would hurt, as it had last night when I'd managed to walk around the bed from one side to the other. It took me over an hour to recover from that little trip.

I thought about all my physical changes but my body didn't really feel any different. Wasn't it supposed to? Was I really a girl? Of course I didn't have any previous experience to compare to, and being so young, the raging hormones of puberty hadn't had time to work their magic. I hadn't looked all that different from Beth. Our eye color was different. I had gray eyes. Hers were brown. Besides that, our faces were virtually identical, even the chin and jaw line. Bullies had sometimes called me a girlie boy. I wondered what they'd call me when I got back to school with my new look.

There were a couple important differences that I knew of, the ones hidden behind laws of common decency. Did I dare check those? If I did, would I suddenly feel like a girl and have overpowering urges to shop for clothes and talk about boys? It didn't matter because before I could work up the nerve to touch myself, a voice interrupted me.

"Does it feel good?"

The prick was back. It was the same man who'd harassed me before my surgery. His squeaky shoes were either fixed or he wore a different pair, but I knew that voice anywhere.

I instinctively folded my arms over my chest, worried that he might be a pervert and try to tweak my nipples. He gave me the creeps.

"Don't be shy," he purred. "I've been watching you. I know you want to feel more of your cute little body."

I was really glad I held off and didn't explore my body further. I hated to think that I almost gave him a cheap thrill.

"How does it feel to be a girl? Are you happy? You should be happy. You'll be shopping and trolling the mall for boys in no time."

I quietly simmered, waiting for someone to rescue me from the jerk. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction if I could help it, but I couldn't hold out much longer. I just hoped I didn't hurt or embarrass myself too much if I did lose control. If he touched me, I was sure I'd scream, and I'd probably shred my fragile vocal cords. Please. Don't touch me.

"You think about it. Think about touching yourself some more, and think about how exciting it'll be when you start getting boinked by boys."

I couldn't believe what he said, or the stupid slang he used. He needed to be taught a lesson ... in vulgarity if nothing else. I reached out for my side table and fumbled for the notepad and the pen that was tucked into the spiral binding.

"Fuck you!" I scribbled hastily, and then threw the notepad in the direction I last heard him speak. My mother wouldn't have approved but I believed the situation called for it. I'd learned the offending phrase just last year. It was impossible to go to my middle school and not know the meaning of what I'd written.

The creep didn't get angry like I hoped. Instead, he clucked his tongue, and I could hear him rip the page from the notebook.

"That is so unladylike." He said with mock disappointment. "But thanks for the souvenir. I think I'll take this home and frame it. I'll look at it and always think of you, lying helpless in bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy hospital gown."

I was livid. I had no doubt he'd do exactly what he said. I imagined him hoping for just such a reaction, and I gave it to him. I seriously considered getting out of bed and going after him, pain or no pain, when Sarah finally arrived at that moment to save me from further humiliation.

"Who are you?" she asked the man. "Do we have a problem here?"

"No ... no problem at all. I was just leaving. Good-bye ... Beth."

He called me my sister's name! That made me shake with anger. I wanted to thrash him. I wanted to slowly kill the bastard and grind my foot into his crotch as he took his last breath. Sarah couldn't help notice my mood.

"Goodness, girl. Take it easy. He's gone. What did he do?"

She called me a girl. That was odd, and it calmed me down a little. As I took a moment to think about it, I realized that she'd never used my name or gender specific pronouns. I had some serious writing to do.

I held out my hand, palm up to signal that I wanted the notebook and Sarah handed it to me.

"If you ever see that man again, kick him in the balls," I wrote. First things first. I wanted to answer her question. It was a long sentence to write without being able to see but it felt so good. I held it out for her to read.

"Wow." Sarah laughed. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Seriously." I wrote on a new page after flipping over the previous one. "He's a creep and a pervert. Please don't let him near me."

My physiotherapist stopped laughing when she read that. I'm sure she was sensitive to the problem I alluded to. It wasn't a laughing matter.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I'll ask about it and see what I can do."

Thank goodness. Now came the really hard part.

"Why don't you call me by name?" I wrote, being careful not to give away my real name. I had a strange feeling about my current situation.

"I'm not supposed to, and I'm not supposed to talk about it," she said. I could almost feel the tension in her body when she spoke.
It was obviously a touchy subject.

"I'm sorry," I wrote. I was still curious but I backed off. I didn't want to get Sarah in trouble, especially after she saved me from the prick.

As I held up my apology for her to read, she suddenly leaned down near the side of my face. I could feel her breath on my ear. "It's okay," she whispered. "Doctor Franklin is supposed to talk to you this afternoon. I'm sure you can ask her about it then."

That made me feel better. I vowed to ask Doctor Franklin a lot of things. As a psychologist, she should be able to help me. I'd ask her about the apparent secrecy surrounding my name and gender, ask her about why she felt my mother couldn't visit me, and I'd make very sure I'd ask about the prick who'd already harassed me twice. If he had such easy access to me, there was a good chance he'd try again.

***

My morning therapy went well, and I got a pleasant surprise after I made a few easy laps around my room. It almost made up for the prick's visit. I got to start using my voice.

Sarah handled my vocal cord exercises like she handled all of my other physical therapy. She pushed hard, but not hard enough to do any damage or cause any setbacks. The woman was quite the professional. By lunchtime, I could speak quietly with no pain or discomfort. I could talk, and I couldn't wait to meet with Doctor Franklin.

Chapter 8: Losing Myself

I don't remember much about lunch. Someone held a glass of liquid up to my lips and fed me little pieces of something edible. That's about it. I was too busy thinking about my upcoming meeting with Doctor Franklin to pay any attention to my meal.

When my psychologist entered my room, I knew it before she said a word. She had a slow, hesitant walk quite unlike any of my other visitors, and I could tell she held a book or file with papers in it because of the sound of pages being flipped. I decided to test my powers of observation and try to impress her.

"Hello Doctor Franklin," I said in a quiet voice.

"Hello." Like everyone else, she didn't call me by name, and guessing her name didn't get a reaction. Curiosity battled anger, and won. I had to know what was going on, and I figured being nice would make it easier to get some answers.

"I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask you if I may."

"My my," she said with very little inflection. I got the sense that she was reading whatever papers she flipped through. "You're such a polite little thing. I have some questions for you too, but first you should know a couple things."

She proceeded to tell me that my vocal cords were weak but mostly healed. I'd be able to speak normally in a couple days. That was great news, but even better in my mind was the fact that they'd be removing the bandages from my eyes tomorrow morning. The brightness level of the light in my room would be lowered and a vision specialist would test me. If all went well, I should be able to see and speak normally very soon.

I wish my physical therapy would progress just as quickly. Sarah had told me earlier that it would be at least another two weeks before I'd be fit enough to go home, wherever that was.

Just as I did when Sarah first mentioned it, I wondered where I'd be living, and that naturally made me think of my mother. I had planned to first ask why no one called me by name but that could wait. My mother was definitely more important.

"I miss my mom. When can I see her?"

"I'm sorry but your reunion will have to wait. Both you and your mother need time to adjust to your new ... situation."

"But she was fine before my surgery," I whined. "I really want to see her."

The doctor paused and cleared her throat. I felt her eyes on me, studying me, and it made me very nervous. I needed to get out of that place. I needed my mother.

"I didn't want to upset you but it seems you leave me no choice. Your mother isn't handling your new look very well. She keeps referring to you as your sister. It's as if she believes Beth is the one who survived the fire."

That revelation took me by surprise. So did what she said next.

"My colleagues and I think the best course of action would be to have you pretend to be Beth for the next couple weeks, both for your mother's sake and yours."

"What are you talking about? That's crazy." I said, trying not to raise my voice.

"It'll be easier to fit in at school if everyone believes you're Beth. They'll be sympathetic that you lost your brother in the fire and they'll treat you as a normal teenage girl."

"But I'm not a normal girl!" I raised my voice and grabbed my throat right afterwards. My outburst didn't cause any pain but it worried me nonetheless. I just called myself a girl.

"Please. Calm down." Her words had to opposite effect of what she intended, and it didn't help that I could tell she was smiling as she spoke. "I'm just trying to act in your best interest."

It suddenly occurred to me why no one had used my name so far. They must have all been briefed by Doctor Franklin to keep quiet until she could talk me into changing my name. I still wasn't sure I believed everything I was being told but I was sure of one thing. I didn't want to pretend I was Beth.

"My name is Mike," I said as I folded my arms. "That's the name my mother gave me and I like it."

"I understand your feelings but that name doesn't fit your new gender. As you must know, you are a girl now. I've been assured that you'll be menstruating soon to prove it. Boys do not menstruate."

"Huh?" I hadn't had Health class yet so I didn't know what she was talking about.

Doctor Franklin gave me a quick summary about menstruation and all things related. When she started talking about pregnancy, my mind froze. I stopped listening. It took her several minutes for her to get my attention again.

"Messy business, menstruation ...," she started to say, but I interrupted.

"You're not making me feel better."

"You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that menstruation is unpleasant, but it's not nearly as bad as what you've already been through. If you can handle the burns you received and the surgery you've just been through, you can handle anything."

"Okay. Fine. Physically, I'm a girl," I conceded the obvious. "But my name is still Mike." I refused to budge.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I sense great inner conflict."

"I feel fine," I insisted.

The two of us continued butting heads for a long time. We were at an impasse. Then she tried something different. She told me I needed hypnosis to relax before we could resolve any issues, and I was sure she was right about that much. I felt very tense all over my body. That didn't mean I was crazy about her suggestion though. Hypnosis made me a little nervous, and I resisted, but she eventually got me to try it for my mother's sake.

The doctor began speaking to me in soft, soothing tones, and she soon had me enter another world. My body melted into the hospital bed and I felt great. My discussion with Doctor Franklin could resume, and this time I was sure I'd be able to convince her to let me keep my name.

"Can you hear me?" The doctor asked.

"Yes."

"May I call you Beth?"

"No. My name is Mike."

"Won't you consider letting your mother call you Beth?"

"No. She named me Mike. I like my name."

"Okay. Let's go back to something else. You accept that you're a girl, correct?"

"Yes."

"You'll need to learn what it takes to be a girl. You'll need to learn how to care for your body."

"Yes."

"As you develop into a young woman, male clothes won't fit you well. You'll need feminine clothing. You'll need a bra."

"I don't want a bra."

"You don't want your breasts bouncing free. That might cause pain. You don't want pain, do you?"

"No."

"Then you'll wear a bra?"

"Yes."

"Your mother and girlfriends at school will help you be a girl. They'll like helping you. Your sister would appreciate it too, if she was here. You want to be a good girl for your mother and sister, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You could honor your sister's memory by minding your mother and being a good girl. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

"Would you temporarily change your name to honor your sister's memory?"

"I don't know ... maybe."

"I can make the name change easier to accept. If you'll let me."

"Okay."

"Imagine that whenever anyone calls you Beth, you hear the name Mike. Whenever you see your name written or typed as Beth, you see it as Mike. You look and sound exactly like your sister. Everyone will see you as your sister. Everyone will know you as Beth. But you'll still be Mike. Everyone will be happy. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes."

"Good. Repeat after me then ...." Doctor Franklin went on to slightly rephrase my hidden name change. She spoke one sentence at a time and had me repeat each one after she finished it. She did it several times until the directions were firmly implanted in my mind, but she didn't stop there.

"I have one more thing to help you, Beth."

She confused me at first. I thought she made a mistake and called me Mike. Then I remembered my mental conditioning. It worked.

"Whenever you hear someone call your name, or see your name displayed anywhere, it will make you very happy and you will smile."

"Okay."

"Good. Let's test it then, shall we, Beth?"

I heard my name and felt great joy. I couldn't help but smile.

"Excellent. I'm going to have you wake up very shortly," Doctor Franklin told me. "And when you do, you'll be completely refreshed, and you'll forget everything about this therapy session except for your acceptance of being a girl and your name change conditioning. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

She woke me up and I never felt better. I heard her scribble something and then she told me good-bye as she left my room. My therapy session had ended abruptly but I didn't care. My future never seemed brighter. I couldn't wait to continue my physical therapy and get home to start my new life as a girl with my mom.

Chapter 9: Pleasant Surprises

The next morning, I had a big surprise. Sarah adjusted the bed so I could sit up and then I had the bandages removed from my eyes. No one told me that was going to happen.

"Don't worry if you have a little trouble seeing anything," my vision specialist told me. His name was Don and he was very nice. "The lights in the room have been dimmed to make it easier on your eyes."

"Okay," I said. I didn't care how dark it was. I just wanted to see again.

As expected, various objects slowly came into focus after the bandages were carefully pulled away from my eye sockets. I couldn't see any color but of course that was normal for the low light level. I was so excited I didn't wait to be asked any questions.

"I can see!" I shouted at who I thought was a man standing very near my bed. Then I recognized Sarah's voice as she reminded me to be careful of my vocal cords.

"Right," I said quietly. "Sorry. Why didn't anyone warn me about this?"

"I thought you already knew," Sarah said as she approached my bed. She seemed shorter than I imagined her. She was much shorter than Don. "Didn't Doctor Franklin tell you yesterday?"

"No," I heard the doctor's voice coming from the direction of a silhouette in a doorway. "We never got around to that. We had more important things to discuss, didn't we, Beth."

I heard my name and smiled. "Yes, we certainly did," I said. It felt so good to finally hear someone call me by my name, and I hoped that meant everyone else would do the same.

"Well, Beth," Don said. "If you're willing, we'll turn the lights up a little now. I'm sure you'd like to see a little better."

"I certainly would," I beamed. That made two people who used my name and I anxiously waited to see if Sarah followed their lead.

The lights got a little brighter. I still couldn't see any color but I could make out faces. Don was clean-shaven and wore glasses. I think he also had a receding hairline. Sarah had her hair tied back in a pony tail. That's all I could see of her, but it was more than I could see of Doctor Franklin. My psychologist stood well away from me and remained a slender silhouette.

"Let me know if you feel any pain," Don said. "We'll wait another five minutes and then brighten the room a little more."

"Okay," I chirped. I could barely contain my excitement.

The lights soon brightened again and I could see a little color. Don wore one of those long, white lab coats, and then I looked at Sarah and gasped. She was dressed in a light blue sweat suit. I'll never forget such a beautiful sight. She wore my favorite kind of clothes in my favorite color, and she looked so young and beautiful. She was a goddess in my eyes. If only she'd call my name, the morning would be perfect.

The brightness continued to increase in five minute increments and I was soon seeing everything normally for the most part. Colors seemed unusually vibrant but Don assured me that was normal for someone who'd been blind for over two weeks.

My eyes were tested and found to work perfectly. I once again had 20/20 vision, and I casually mentioned that I couldn't wait to see a movie.

"Spoken like a true teenager." Don laughed, and it was contagious.

Sarah laughed but it didn't last long. She was too busy working me over. She'd been massaging my legs during the vision testing to get me ready for the grueling exercises of the day.

Don pronounced me ready for movies and even books if I still remembered how to read.

"Ha ha," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smiled and apologized. Then he had to go, leaving me with Sarah and Doctor Franklin, who still lurked over by the door. The doctor finally approached me after she had to move so Don could leave the room.

"Well, Beth," my psychologist said. "It looks like you're well on the way to a full recovery."

"Yes," I smiled. "Thanks to some dedicated doctors and my sister." I was giddy. It felt so good to be alive, and to speak and see.

"I don't think now is a good time to discuss your sister," she warned. "I'm still concerned about the long term effects of the fire. We can talk about it this evening. I have another session scheduled after dinner at 7."

"Okay," I agreed. Her concern confused me a little but I didn't give it a second thought. I was too happy about making such good progress. My eyes followed her out the door and then quickly scanned the room to find the small clock that hung on the wall above my bed. I'd make sure I was ready with the zillions of questions I had in the back of my mind.

Sarah went to work right away after Doctor Franklin left, except she embarrassed me a little when she helped me slip into my first pair of panties. She hiked up my hospital gown and slowly pulled the panties up my legs. That wasn't so bad but I really didn't like it when I had to raise my butt off the bed to get them all the way on. I had nothing to worry about though. My therapist was all business, and we were both female. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact.

She helped me out of bed and dressed me in a loose-fitting black yoga outfit. Then she started my exercises, and I accepted and attacked every challenge. I walked around the room, performed a few calisthenics and tried some yoga poses, all while managing to resist the temptation to stop and look at every little thing. Getting my vision back that morning still had me very excited.

I took advantage of every opportunity to speak and ask questions, and I made sure to include Sarah's name as often as possible. I hoped she'd get the hint and return the favor, but I had a long wait to hear much of anything except one word answers. My physiotherapist would never be accused of being a chatterbox.

Finally, after several hours, the moment of truth came.

"Good-bye, Sarah." I called to her. She was leaving me to have lunch and wouldn't be back for two hours. I needed that long to eat and recuperate.

"Good-bye, Beth," she responded.

I smiled after she said my name, and she looked back at me with a silly grin. Smiling and laughter really is contagious, unless your heart is frozen solid or something.

***

After lunch and a short power nap, I was ready for more exercise, and I got it. The sweat poured off me and Sarah opened up for some much better conversations. She uttered my name several times and the smiles were plentiful in spite of my pain.

The hours of physical therapy took their toll but I felt good afterwards. My heart rate elevated and my blood flowed liked a mighty river through my body. Most importantly, the pain was almost all gone. I just hoped I'd have the energy to take a shower in the little bathroom that connected to my room.

Every little change since my surgery had been a step forward, and they all lifted my mood. I'd started taking showers yesterday and that was a big step towards my independence, and one less embarrassment. Don't get me started on sponge baths.

Sarah stayed to make sure I didn't have any trouble but she let me clean myself. Then she gave me yet another surprise after my shower. I'd just dressed myself in a clean hospital gown and she gave me a long wonderful hug. My day was full of pleasant surprises.

"You're doing so well, Beth," she said, keeping me in her embrace. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks," I whispered in her ear, torn for the first time between smiling when I heard her say my name, and crying tears of joy.

The hug lasted a long time but not long enough. I loved the smell of Sarah's hair, the feel of her heart beating, the sound of her breath. I never wanted to let her go, but with all good things, it had to end. She told me she'd see me first thing tomorrow morning and left so I could start my dinner and be ready for my appointment with Doctor Franklin.

Chapter 10: Identity Confusion

I had my usual evening checkup. A nurse checked my vital signs and took a small sample of blood. Then Doctor Franklin arrived, stepping foot into my room at 7 o'clock sharp. I suspected she'd been waiting outside my room, out of sight to make sure she'd be exactly on time. She just struck me as that type of person.

She pulled up a chair next to my bed and we started my therapy. There was no greeting, only what sounded like a carefully prepared script, with very little emotion. I wondered if she could use a little therapy herself. Her cold blue eyes disturbed me.

"I think you've done very well today, Beth."

I felt good and smiled, but I felt a twinge of anxiety about what was coming next.

"Now I want to take you to the next level and get you ready to see your mother. Would you like that, Beth?"

My mother! She was first on my list of questions. Of course I wanted to do whatever I could to see my mom as soon as possible.

"Sure!" I said with a big smile on my face.

"Excellent. Let's start with a little hypnosis then."

The promise of seeing my mother overrode all of my common sense. Doctor Franklin hypnotized me and I eagerly let her, ready to do whatever I needed to do to see my mom.

"Everyone treated you as a girl today. They knew you only as being a girl. Did you like the way you were treated?"

"Yes, except for getting dressed."

"What didn't you like about getting dressed?"

"Sarah helped me and I felt a little embarrassed."

"That's understandable. It happens to a lot of girls. Do you think it would embarrass you to dress in front of your mother?"

"Yes."

"That could be a problem when your mother helps you learn to be a girl. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

"No."

"Would you like me to help stop you from being embarrassed?"

"Yes, please."

My psychologist directed me through several visualization exercises and thought experiments, making me realize how wrong it was to be embarrassed about undressing in front of my mother as well as any girls. The shame I felt appeared to be a body image problem and was linked to low self-esteem. I had to be shown that I had the body of a perfectly functioning teenage girl and had nothing to be ashamed of. Doctor Franklin helped me to love my body.

When she'd finished, I couldn't understand how I ever could've been embarrassed about dressing in front of Sarah. I was a cute teenage girl and Sarah was a beautiful young woman. Girls and women dressing together struck me as very natural and normal.

"Very good, Beth. You've done well."

I smiled.

"Now I have one more issue to cover. It's about your mother and it's very important. Are you ready to address it?"

"Yes."

"Your mother is confused about your gender. I've been helping her and she's made good progress, but she might still get upset by your name. You want everything to go well when you meet your mother, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Everyone here has been calling you by your sister's name, even though you hear the name Mike. Everyone here knows you as your sister. That might upset your mother. You don't want to upset her, do you?"

"No."

"In the interest of helping your mother, are you ready to correctly hear your sister's name when people call you by that name?"

"Yes."

"You will still feel great happiness and smile when you hear or see yourself referred to by your sister's name. That will help you accept it. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Now there's only one more thing we have to do to help your mother. This might be difficult for you to accept but it must be done in order for everything else to work. Will you please consider doing it?"

"Yes."

"Since you will be Beth for your mother and everyone else, that means everyone else will believe that Mike died in the fire."

"No!"

"Mike died saving you. He was a hero. Everyone will remember and love him."

"I didn't die!"

Doctor Franklin suddenly held a small hand mirror up to my face and asked me to look in it. It was the first time I'd seen my reflection since my surgery. There were no mirrors anywhere in my room or the adjoining bathroom.

"Who do you see?"

"Beth." Even though I was the one saying my name, I still smiled.

"And who are you?"

"I'm Beth." I smiled again. I was happy being Beth. I was a girl and my name was Beth. I was proud of who I was, and if any boy or girl gave me any trouble about it, I'd smack 'em.

"There was a fire at your home. It was a terrible fire, and your sibling died saving your life. You're Beth. Who saved you?"

"I ... Mike saved me."

"Good. Mike saved you. I'm very sorry he died but you can be proud that he saved you. He's a hero. Isn't that right?"

"Yes. Mike's a hero. He saved me and he's a hero."

I started to cry. I missed my brother. I missed him so much! Why did he have to die?!

"There there." Doctor Franklin said in a quiet, emotionless voice. "You might feel a little guilt but you shouldn't."

She was right. I did feel guilty, but I couldn't figure out why. It didn't make sense. I felt like I should've done something to save Mike but there was no way I could. I was unconscious in my bed.

"It wasn't your fault. You were overcome by smoke. You couldn't help that, and you couldn't help that your brother sacrificed his life to save you. He did it out of love and you should honor him for it."

"Yes. Thank you, Doctor Franklin. I will."

"You're welcome, Beth."

She brought me out of my hypnotic trance with her cold, steady voice, and even though I was smiling after just having heard my name, I felt a chill go down my spine.

"You did very well today, Beth. Now it's time to be reunited with your mother."

Chapter 11: Momma's Girl

My smile couldn't possibly have been any wider, and it stayed on my face the whole time I tried to get out of bed. Of course I still had a little trouble moving. I'd been unconscious for three days after I'd had what my psychologist called minor cosmetic surgery -- it didn't feel minor, but I couldn't find any scars to prove otherwise. My medical doctors had administered sedatives to keep me unconscious and give me a chance to heal, and after three days, I woke up and suffered through the four days of therapy that I needed to get my brain working with my body again. According to Doctor Franklin, my brain had been starved of oxygen and needed to relearn how to control my motor functions -- of course I also needed to recover my voice and sight, but that was the easy part. I'd gone through all that and yet I was giddy with excitement, even as I struggled and strained to get out of bed. That's because after a week of hell, I was finally going to see my mom.

My mother and I both had trouble accepting the death of my brother, though for very different reasons, so the doctors kept us apart, telling us it was for our own good. It wasn't until that day that my mom had shown enough progress to allow her to visit with me. Of course I'd adjusted very well. I just had to wait for her. Doctor Franklin warned me I might have to be strong for her, so I steeled myself and waited.

"Mom!" I shouted as soon as she stepped into the room. "I missed you so much!" She didn't have a chance to respond before I slowly walked over and hugged her. She seemed too busy worrying. I could tell by the way she chewed her lower lip.

"I missed you too ... honey." She briefly patted my back but stopped when I tensed up. It was something she always did with Mike, and that got me started thinking about him.

"I'm so sorry, Mom." I pulled away and started crying for my dead brother. I missed him terribly, but I'd never be able to hug him. I'd never see him again.

My mother matched me tear for tear.

"Don't be sorry ... Beth," she said, choking over my name. "It's not your fault. The fire isn't your fault. Nothing is your fault."

I smiled as usual when I heard my name, but I felt awkward about it, and I started trembling from fatigue and sorrow. My mom noticed and helped me back to bed. Then she explained what had happened the night of the disaster.

As far as anyone could tell, the fire started from an electrical short. The wiring was old or rats chewed on it or something. It was just a stupid accident. I'd been overcome by smoke and Mike fought his way through the burning house to save me. He pushed me out of my bedroom window to safety, but he wasn't pulled out before he'd been horribly burned. He was so badly burned that there was no way he could survive.

"At least you weren't there to get hurt," I told her, my eyes brimming with tears. "I'm happy about that."

"I still wish I could've been there. I might have been able to do something to save both of you."

"Don't feel bad, Mom." I try to smile but my heart wasn't in it. "Mike sacrificed his life for me. He's a hero! We should honor his memory, not beat ourselves up over it. Right?"

"Oh honey!" My mother hugged me from the side and we cried our eyes out.

Doctor Franklin had been waiting in the background, watching our emotional display before she finally spoke.

"It was a tragedy, but we grieve and move on," the doctor said after the tears slowed to a trickle. "When's the funeral, Mrs. Wagner?"

"Oh yes," my mom sat back in her chair and sniffled. "The funeral is next week."

"Right. I'm afraid Beth won't be able to attend. She's still too weak."

I watched Doctor Franklin and when she said my name, I smiled ... and she flinched. I thought it an odd reaction for both of us. I certainly didn't have anything to smile about.

"I'm sorry, honey," my mother said, turning her head to face me. "It's just as well. The body will be cremated and the ashes will be buried in the old cemetery."

"It's okay, Mom."

"We'll visit the grave once you get out of here. I promise. We'll bring flowers and ... and ...." She broke down and cried again, hanging on my shoulder and pressing her face into my arm.

I looked over my mother's head and noticed that my psychologist looked slightly uncomfortable -- with good reason. My mother and I were having what should've been a private family moment.

"Can we please have a moment alone?" I asked Doctor Franklin.

She hesitated a moment, like she was actually thinking about refusing me, but she turned and left without a word, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked my mom.

She slowly nodded and continued to hang on my shoulder. Her hands dug into me and it started to hurt a little, but I didn't say anything. I just sat quietly and waited.

"I'm anxious to get out of here," I said after several minutes.

"I imagine you are," she mumbled into my arm.

"Do you know how much longer I'll be here?"

She lifted her head and removed her arm from my shoulder, and I sighed with relief.

"I'm not sure ... at least a couple weeks I think," she told me.

"What'll we do for a place to live?"

"I'm staying at your grandma's until the insurance company pays out for the house. You can help me look for a new house after that. You should be out of here by then. Would you like that?"

I nodded vigorously.

"We might have to stay in an apartment if we can't find a house right away."

"That's okay," I said. "I'm more concerned about clothes." That got me a curious look from my mother.

"We lost all our clothes in the fire," I said. "We'll need to go shopping. Right?" For some reason, I felt a strong compulsion to go shopping, and I couldn't wait to get a training bra. I really hoped I started developing boobs soon. I couldn't wait to fill out a real bra.

"That's right, honey. I took a few things with me to the seminar but most of my wardrobe is gone. I've shopped for a few things for both of us already. Would you like me to wait so you can go shopping with me to get your clothes?"

I smiled and nodded vigorously again, and my mother couldn't help but return my smile.

"That's my girl," she said, though her smile quickly turned into a frown. She tried to hide it by lunging forward to hug me but it was too late. I saw it, and I began to believe Doctor Franklin was right about my mom. She did seem to be having trouble accepting me.

I thought back and remembered that she always seemed to favor Mike. She hugged him more and took him shopping a lot, leaving me alone to play video games. It made me a little jealous but Mike always seemed to make up for it somehow, bringing me gifts from the mall. He was always thinking of me so I couldn't help but think of him. I will miss him so much.

Chapter 12: Confusion Therapy

My mother couldn't visit me more than twice during the week and once each day of the weekend. Doctor Franklin thought I needed to minimize time spent with my mom so I could concentrate on my therapy. I thought I'd do better with more family support but I was just a girl. A psychologist would surely know better than me.

Sarah worked on my body by day, and Doctor Franklin worked on my mind by night. They had me mentally and physically exhausted, but I was happy. I progressed faster than they expected.

The promise of leaving the hospital motivated me more than anything. I wanted my life back. I wanted to get back to school before I had to go through 8th grade again. Girls who had to be moved back a year were never popular.

At the end of my second week of therapy, I had a minor setback. I suddenly discovered that I'd actually been hospitalized for four weeks instead of just two. It came up when I asked to have textbooks and home assignments sent to me, and it really upset me for some strange reason. I couldn't resolve the missing time.

Apparently, I'd been misled about the seriousness of my condition. I was in a coma for those missing two weeks. That explained why I needed so much physical therapy. I'd been bedridden longer than I thought.

Luckily, Doctor Franklin helped me a great deal. She helped me get through a lot of conflicting memories that had apparently been created by my severe trauma and the death of my brother. That's how she explained it anyway. All I cared about was getting my head straight. I really wanted to get home and get back to a normal life.

***

I sat up in bed with a lap desk over my stomach, doing my math homework when Doctor Franklin knocked. She made a habit of knocking to try to give me some measure of privacy and make me feel more independent. It was a nice gesture.

"Come in!" I called to her.

"Hello Beth. How are you? Are you ready for our session?"

"Oh!" I said, twisting around to look back up at the clock. "I'm sorry. I lose all track of time when I'm doing math. I love math."

"Right." She had a file with her and wrote a few notes while I moved my lap desk aside. "It was such a good idea to have you catch up on your schoolwork here. I'm very pleased you thought of it."

"Thanks, Doctor Franklin."

"Now then. Are you ready to begin?"

"Ready!" I vaguely remember feeling a little uneasy about my psychologist when I first met her, but that soon changed once I really got to know her. I can be such a silly girl sometimes. Only her eyes still bother me. That'll never change.

The doctor hypnotized me as she always did, and our session began.

"How do you feel about your English class?" she asked me.

"I'm not very good at writing so I don't do well."

"Does that mean you don't like English?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel about mathematics?"

"I love it."

"Would you say you like math because you do well in it?"

"Yes."

"And do you do well in math because you like it and try hard to do well?"

"Yes."

"If you worked harder in English, you'd do better, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like English more if you did well in it?"

"I think so ... yes."

She then showed me my transcripts for 7th and 8th grade, pointing out my grades in English class. I had nothing but A's. I was much better at English than I remembered!

"I'm afraid you have another conflict, Beth. You do very well in English. You must like it. Here's the proof." She pointed to my transcripts. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You've convinced yourself that you don't do well in English and therefore, don't like it. You've confused your skills and preferences with your brother's. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

"No."

"So if you still have trouble with English, you need to remember that you can do well in it and like it. You need to try harder and spend more time on it to make sure you do well. Will you do that?"

"Yes."

"You also need to devote less time to math so you can spend more time on English."

"But I like math."

"You'll still do well in math, but you need to make sure you do better in English. Look at this."

She pointed out my math grades. They were a mix of A's and B's.

"You're better at English than you are at mathematics. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"So you'll spend less time with math and more time with English. Right?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

As soon as she said I was a good girl, I smiled. I always felt good whenever anyone reinforced my femininity in any way. Doctor Franklin told me I had problems with self-esteem before and I needed to get over it, so she helped me. She cared so much about me. I loved her almost as much as I loved my mom.

My psychologist ended the session, bringing me out of my trance, but she didn't leave right away. She said she wanted to observe me for awhile first. It made me a little nervous but I kept it to myself. She knew what she was doing.

I pulled the lap desk back over my stomach and looked down to see my math homework. It was nearly done but I wasn't in the right mood to finish it so I folded it up and stuffed it in my math book. I had more interesting things to work on. I had a short essay to write.

My English teacher, Mrs. Flaherty, gave me a special assignment, asking me to write about my physical therapy. She thought it would be interesting to read in front of the class so they could appreciate how difficult it can be for some people after they have an accident. Even teenage girls like me sometimes had to go through a lot of pain and work to get healthy again.

I scribbled some thoughts until I filled a sheet of notebook paper. That wasn't too difficult. Then I organized them on a second sheet and reworked them until I was happy with the way it all flowed. Putting it all together was a struggle but I stubbornly kept at it. I read over what I'd written several times, scratching out parts and adding new ones until it sounded really good.

When the essay was finished, I looked up and was surprised to see Doctor Franklin still in the room. She'd sat on a chair across from me and was looking down at her files, writing notes.

"Doctor Franklin? As long as you're still here, would you do me a favor and listen to this essay I wrote for English? I really want a good grade on it and I'd appreciate some feedback."

She agreed and I read the essay out loud. I even put some emotion into it, thinking how much I liked it when I heard other classmates read that way.

"That's excellent, Beth." She smiled and I smiled back. "I think you captured the experience very well. You might want to work on your grammar a little bit more though."

I thanked her and then started reading ahead in my English book, looking for ways to improve my grammar, and my essay. I studied so hard, I didn't even hear Doctor Franklin leave the room.

*** to be continued ***

 © 2009 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.