Story:

The Day the Earth Stood Still:
or Happy Alternative New Years

This is not a fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. This is my second entry in Erin’s holiday 2006 story contest at BC. This story has nothing to do with my Whateley stories what-so-ever -- honest! The flood of inventive short stories inspired, or was it shamed, me into trying my hand at one.
Your constructive criticism and advice does wonders. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whatel … in appreciation of Erin’s generous spirit in hosting this contest. Any violations of copyright, trademark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2007.

Adult content advisory: this chapter may contain situations and topics unsuitable for children. It’s usually mild stuff, but you were warned. And if it didn’t have any, who would read this fluff, I mean, let’s be serious.

The Day the Earth Stood Still: or Happy Alternative New Years

By John from Wauwatosa
Rhetorical refinement by Itinerant
Adverb advocacy by Janet Nolan

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Sunday 01-07-2007 at 01:07:20 -0500 am, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 

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-- Okay, so I *borrowed* the title, as James Cagney said in the film of the same name, “Never steal anything … small.” --

* * * *

“Acme Savings, how may I help you?”

“Charlie, I know of this great party tonight. It will be fun and I’d rather go with someone I can trust if I should drink.”

“Jules, a young stud like you can’t get a date? What about Paula in accounting? She’s single and a looker,” I suggested.

Jules was our new IT guru. Fresh out of college -- the ink on his MS still wet -- but skilled beyond his years, the bank was lucky to hire him. Jules knew his stuff and was infinitely patient with us *front line* peons who were constantly crashing the network -- not a good thing at a bank.

“Not my type and she’s seeing a guy. Let’s bach’ it tonight, we get along well, Charlie, please?”

“Okay. Jeese, sometimes I swear your whine like a woman.”

"Yeah, so? It got you to say yes. How do you think I swayed the board to purchase new printers for the tellers?” Jules asked then laughed.

* * * *
Jules was comfortable in his masculinity and would sometimes do the most outrageous things that no *red-blooded* man would dare, yet when he did it, it was manly. He served food at our company picnic in an apron, high heels and skirt on a dare from some of the office staff. He pulled it off magnificently.

~~Did I have to phrase things that way? It sounds like he stripped.~~

I, of course, gave him a hard time, but he laughed so heartily at my ribbing him, I felt nothing but admiration after.

~~Good grief! I’m a subliminal potty-mouth.~~

The bet paid off in sizable charitable contributions by the losers to the local children’s hospital. I threw in a couple fifties to make up for being a pest -- I’d been a bad boy. Despite my teasing, we got along great. I don’t think he had a lot of close male friends. As I was much older, we weren’t natural rivals so maybe that’s why we clicked. Hell, the man actually likes sci-fi and he wasn’t a geek!

* * * *

“Where’s the party?”

“At Tamara’s, it’s her annual Alternative New Years Eve party.”

“Jules, it’s the sixth of January!”

“That’s why it’s her *Alternative* New Years Eve party. You know Tamara and her sense of humor, Charlie, and she throws a great party.

“I said I was coming,” I replied a bit peeved.

“Sorry, I thought you were backing out on me, Charlie.”

We agreed on a time and place to meet since I would be his ride.

* * * *

To be fair, further information is required for you, the reader, to understand what happed that night. Tamara Doyne was a third-generation Scotch-Irish American and a free-spirit in the truest sense. She’d dye her hair odd colors on a whim, or wear the strangest costumes on Halloween. Once she was a Highlander complete with kilt, sporran, and strawberry Kool-Aid colored hair. She has a fiery temper and an equally intense love of life. I don’t know how or why, but her husband adores her. Oh, and she’s a Wiccan. I mean a real, serious follower of Wicca. We sometimes jokingly call her a witch, but she smiles and laughs quietly, as if she knows something we don’t.

* * * *

We arrived around eight and were soon greeted by Tamara, who was appropriately dressed in a tasteful hooker-witch outfit. It was outrageous, but it suited her personality.

“I thought this wasn’t a costume party,” I complained.

“It’s a come-as-you-desire party, Charlie. I thought this would liven things up. Coats go over there; the food gifts I’ll take. Oh my, six-year-old cheddar and a bottle of chardonnay. Thanks! Most of the beverages here are non-alcoholic, but I am serving some wine for those who wish a glass. For you, Charlie, I have something special,” she said.

I looked at Jules he shrugged and I looked back at Tamara.

“I know you’re the designated driver so you get a bottle of my homemade root beer. I brew it myself. This batch was made specially for tonight. It’s non-alcoholic, and I hope you find it agreeable,” she added.

Then she handed out golf pencils and a small slip of paper to each of us with a number in fancy hand calligraphy on each end. A line was scored across about a third of the way in from one end.

“On these I want you write your fondest wish, no matter how impossible. It may be a wish for yourself or you may use your wish for the sake of another. Only one wish per slip, boys!” she admonished us. “When you are done, tear off the stub end, fold the long piece three times and drop it into my cauldron, um, the large cast-iron kettle over there.”

“In the cauldron ... right Tamara. So, what happens then?” I asked.

“At midnight, I say a prayer over the cauldron, pull out a slip at random and grant the request, the Fates and Goddess willing,” she said smiling.

~~She’s an odd-ball but a kind one. All this effort for a party?~~

* * * *

There was a true smörgåsbord of meats, cheeses, meatballs, mini-sausages, sauces, condiments, dip, chips, buns, bagels and baguettes. She had snack foods, coolers full of well-iced soda, and a small amount of wine, closely controlled by her husband so no one would over-indulge.

Jules and I each filled a sizable plate and we found a comfortable two-seater couch -- a love seat -- to sit down and eat. The coffee table in front of it was perfect to set our drinks on.

“This root beer is quite good,” I told Jules.

I was feeling unusually sociable, but I enjoyed the feeling. I was fast approaching middle age, single and never married. Never engaged, a vir … Um, you don’t need to know *that*. I was average in appearance and balding, though if I tried hard I could be very average. I was happy as a man, but shy around women, and rarely went on dates. A few bad experiences in high school and early college saw to that.

There was this petite woman I’d become friends with through a sci-fi club. Julie was more of a geek than I was, what with her degree in computer science, but had a clever and engaging mind. That was if you could keep up with it and her mile-a-minute way of speaking. She was also pixie cute and single. I’d tried to ask her out, but was politely shot down -- she wasn’t interested. I suspected my being six feet plus and well over 225 pounds intimidated her. Whatever the reason, I was devastated. I withdrew more from social occasions, though we remained friendly. Then her mother got ill, and Julie moved back to California to be with her. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I was lucky; my friends saw I was down and did what they could to cheer me up. I was crawling my way back to normality when I met Jules at a training seminar in the bank. He was new to the area and wondered if I knew of any local sci-fi clubs. He’d heard from the company grapevine I was an enthusiast. I mentioned a couple local groups and within weeks we were friends.

And, no, there was nothing between us. I was not interested in men, nor was he. Hell, he tried to set me up with dates. I refused at first, but he was insistent. I went on a couple dates with women he met at the title companies and mortgage brokerages we did business with. I had fun, but nothing clicked.

“Someone hurt you bad for you not to hit it off with Nicole, she’s a wonderful gal,” he said of the 40 something divorced woman I’d gone out with several times.

“Nicole’s a nice gal, but she’s not …”

“Not who?”

“I’ll tell you sometime. I fantasized about this one woman for two decades and when I finally asked her …”

“She said she wasn’t interested. I’m so sorry; unrequited love sucks. The only thing worse is knowing someone loves you, but you can’t love them back, even if you want to,” he said and sighed.

“That happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but yes. I knew this great person who liked me, but I wasn’t attracted. A pity, we could have made beautiful children together.”

“Attraction is fickle thing. I’ve known girls with average looks who had that something extra that made them desirable to me. I’ve know gorgeous women who were like an ice-cold shower,” I said, nursing that remarkable root beer.

~~What’s in this? I don’t recognize half the flavors, but it’s good.~~

* * * *

We ate and talked. They stared playing videos, playing games, even billiards in a side parlor off the main living-dining room. Maybe it was all the people or the food, but I got sleepy and nodded off. I woke, my head on HIS shoulder!

“Ghod, Jules, I’m so sorry, I ... ah ...”

“You fell asleep, nothing more. I didn’t want to disturb you. A rested designated driver is a safe …”

“Funny, Jules, but thanks, I do feel better for the rest. Damn, I haven’t felt this good in some time. Thanks for bringing me.”

“My pleasure, I was about to wake you anyway. It’s almost midnight. Time for Tamara’s magic,” he said.

* * * *

She had us take out our stubs as she lit candles, burned incense, and chanted up a storm.

~~What a performance, Tamara. You sure know how to entertain your guests.~~

At the height of her act she thrust he hand in the cauldron and pulled out a slip.

“Mother of all, I beseech you; grant the wishes of the one who wrote upon this paper, number 61, if thou believe them worthy. So mote it be,” she exclaimed and the paper at her fingertips flashed into flame and was gone.

~~Damn, Tamara’s good. I’ll have to get her flowers or something to thank her at work. What a performance!~~

* * * *

The party wound down over the next couple hours and I took Jules home.

“Thanks for dragging me along, Jules. I had fun. If you were a woman, this would be the perfect evening,” I said half joking.

“Thinking of that girl again? You’ll find someone. She was a fool, Charlie. Good night,” he said and I drove home.

* * * *

That burst of energy I’d felt earlier was waning fast and being replaced by aches and pains. I felt feverish, and my right calf spasmed in a painful cramp.

“Ah, shit. I’ve got the flu. No wonder I felt great then like crap. I hope I feel well enough by Monday.”

I stripped to my underwear and went to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * * *

I woke feeling like a person who’d been really sick. You can use all the metaphors and adjectives you want, but you know the feeling better than words can convey. My eyelashes were stuck together, my lips covered in gunk, my pillow crusty.

“Euh! That was awful … What’s with my voice? Ah great, my voice is all screwed up by the flu. I sound like Lauren Bacall in heat. Better get cleaned up and see how I feel,” I said to my cats who were looking at me strangely, but then cats often give you *looks*.

I sat up, the covers snagging on my chest as my hair got in my eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not appropriate language for a young lady, Charlie. Let’s get you cleaned up and see my handiwork.”

“Tamara! But, how and what are you … How’d you get in here?” I shouted in surprise.

“Do you know any other witches, girl? If I can transform you into your dearest wish, a dead-bolt is child’s-play,” she said as she helped me into the shower, stripped me and turned on the water.

* * * *

I thought long and hard about what Tamara said as she helped shampoo my hair and generally put me back together.

“These should fit if the spell worked as designed. You never can tell with magic. Oh, hon, I mean Charlie. I’m sorry, but you’re not a standard size -- men and your libidos. The 35 inch hips are nice, and the five-foot ten-inch, 140 pound frame is tall but well within normal spec, but why the stripper breasts?” she asked. I grabbed frantically at my chest, and she laughed.

“These are ... hey, these aren’t that big. Are they?”

“A 39 D-cup; big, but on your frame well proportioned,” she said, then snickered. “It’s your own subconscious’s fault you’re top-heavy. Why do guys fantasize about huge breasts? You're definitely on the generous end of the normal *curve* for breast size, so-to-speak,” Tamara grinned. She must have noticed I was scared. “You have an outstanding figure, dear, but you’re no freak if that’s what worries you.

I saw myself in the mirror. I had no makeup, and I was in a simple bra, panties, woman’s t-shirt and Lady Wranglers, but I looked like a fashion model. I looked like I belonged in Playboy, or a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. I smiled at the pretty twenty-something in the mirror, then I started to cry.

“Why? I didn’t ask for this; I don’t want to be a girl!”

“Charlie, it was your wish I offered to the Goddess. You wished that your best friend would find that perfect someone. It was an unselfish wish so the Goddess -- praise be to her -- granted it,” she replied.

“But why am I ... My Ghod no! I won’t do it. I am not someone’s fuck toy. Change me back, please!” I pleaded.

“I can’t. Even if I hated you, Charlie, I wouldn’t. You might die. If you insist on reversing the spell, we could safely try in a year or two, but certainly no sooner than a couple months minimum. To subject your body to conflicting magics is dangerous, and the outcome might to be uncontrollable. I’m sorry,” she said.

“But what will I do? I know you meant well, and it’s great to be so young, but I have no papers, no ID.”

“That’s not true. The spell alters reality; only you, I, and one other know your true past. To everyone else you’ve always been Charlie, the pretty tomboy,” she said.

“I’ll help you, Charlie. This was the result of your wish for me, wasn’t it?”

“Jules?”

~~What is he doing here?~~

“I’ll leave you two alone for a while. You need to talk,” Tamara said and left the room.

* * * *

I’d never noticed, but Jules was a stud. Oh, I knew he was fit and good looking, but now I was drooling at the sight …

“Get away! It’s the stupid spell. It’s trying to make me fall in love with you. See, I had to force my legs back together. My god, I’m wet at the sight of you and it’s wrong; I can’t love you,” I said and sobbed.

Jules sat next to me on the edge of my bed and held me.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault. Charlie, it’s not the spell making you desire me; it’s only revealing that which was already there. You loved me for years, but I could never return your love. Charlie, I was a lesbian, Jules said.

“What? That makes no sense.”

“I was Julie.”

He stopped speaking and put his strong hands on the sides of my face so we were looking eye-to-eye.

“This was the only way I could be with you. I shouldn’t have, but I was desperate,“ he said.

~~He did this to me?!~~ I felt sick and angry.

“Then why not have the spell-slinger here make you hetero?” I spat with some venom behind it and pushed away from him. Jules winced and replied.

“To do that Tamara would have had to change my very essence. The person you knew as Julie would have died and a person with her memories, but none of her feelings, would have taken her place. Other than my body, I am as I was and I’m still a lesbian, I love women, and you in particular. You are as I have wished you to be for years, a woman, only now it is no longer just a wish,” he said sweetly, but I didn’t buy it.

“You never asked me what I want. For *this* to work for *you* I have had *my* tastes changed to like men. I was hetero. Not very successful at it, but it was what I was. So you had Tamara change my body and my very *essence* instead?! Get out and never come back, bastard! You too, Tamara, climb on your broom and skedaddle!” I shouted.

“It’s not a simple as that, Charlie, men and women fall within a wide range -- people’s souls are both male and female to varying degrees. We’re all a mix. Given each of your souls this was the best possible solution.”

I glared at them.

“I can see you’re still upset. You need time, we’ll talk a …” Tamara tried to say.

“Go, damn it!” screamed and shoved them both out of my house. My house -- the magic had filled it with the reminders of my being a woman. All my cherished mementos, everything I ever done as a male was gone and replaced by that so-called wish. I locked the door for what it was worth and collapsed in bed, crying myself to sleep.

* * * *

“Sis, you need to get up. Everyone is worried about you. My god, haven’t you eaten or anything?”

It was my older sister -- by twenty years. I used to be four years her senior.

~~That would make mom 55 when I was born, whoa!~~

“I still can’t get over how mom could have carried me at her age,” I finally said.

“When you were born she told me you were her miracle baby. They wanted a third child, a boy if possible, but she had so many miscarriages. Then you came along. Mom was into menopause; she rarely had her period anymore. Her ovaries gave it one last shot, no one knows why, and wow, I had a baby sister. You turned out so pretty,” she said as she got me up and fed me.

“I’m still your baby sister then?”

“You always will be, but I would have loved you if you were my brother,” she replied.

“What time is it?”

“It’s ten in the morning, Monday. We’re both off today. I called in for us when Tamara called me yesterday. She was afraid you were suicidal. Did Jules break up with you?”

“Don’t ever say that name to me again. He ruined my life!”

“He raped you?”

“Worse,” I muttered inaudibly.

“What did you say, Sis?”

“Nothing. It wasn’t totally his fault. Just what he wants isn’t how I saw my life,” I said as Tamara’s parting words and my sister’s love got through my anger.

“What do I do?”

“You get yourself together and come back to work tomorrow like nothing happened. If he’s worthy of you, he’ll find the way to persuade you. If he can’t, you can have anyone you want, Sis, you’re beautiful. Don’t forget it.”

* * * *

We spent a pleasant day together, mostly talking. I found most of my old memories as her brother translated into the female equivalent. My past was not so different that I couldn’t see both my original life and my new one in it. That was what had made me most angry, that I had lost myself. The reality was I hadn’t. My nearly fifty years of memories were now condensed into 24 years of the most fulfilling life imaginable. And I was still a virg … Never mind. I had a good nights sleep and went to work the next day a new woman.

~~That is true in so many ways.~~

* * * *

“Charlie, I’m so glad to see you. About the other night,” Jules said on seeing me at work.

“I’m not speaking to you other than as my job requires. Good day, sir,” I said, and turned away.

This went on for a week until she -- well he -- got the message and stopped bothering me or sending flowers. The girls thought I was being unfair to him. I said he had done something I wasn’t sure I could forgive.

~~Why did I say I wasn’t sure. Could I forgive him, no!.~~

If I had to, I would learn to accept, maybe love my new life. It didn’t make what happened right, though.

* * * *
I got back into the swing of things, though sometimes it hurt. It was surprisingly easy to fit in as everyone, with those *two* exceptions, remembered the new me. I had both sets of memories and found I fell into my female role convincingly. My coworkers stopped asking me about Jules as they saw the hurt in my eyes whenever I thought about it. On occasion they did try to get me to rejoin the living.

“Valentine’s Day is coming soon, Charlie, do you have any plans?” a co-worker asked.

“I’m staying home, I don’t feel like … you know,” I replied sullenly.

“I have a cousin; he’s 23 and back from a tour in Iraq. He’s very sweet for an Army Ranger,” she said.

“Please, no pity dates. I’ll work this out myself. I’d be lousy company; your cousin deserves better,” I replied.

* * * *

Jules sent me an elegant floral arrangement for Valentine’s Day. I’d have refused it if I’d been the one to sign. I saw the attached card, recognized *his* handwriting, and dumped all of it -- lead-crystal vase, flowers, water, unopened card -- in the trash in plain view of everyone. I wasn’t letting *it* of the hook.

* * * *

Winter gave way to spring. My personal life was in tatters, but my professional life took off. Maybe I was substituting work for my social life, but whatever the reason my sales increased dramatically. I was called to meet with our Human Resources Director.

“Charlie, I’ve been working on your performance review and you are on a roll. You have always been a good worker, but the last couple months you have took off like a rocket. I’ve had numerous complements referred to me from customers and coworkers. Your sales are top in the company, and our trainer says you passed with high marks on our product knowledge test. I know you’ve been unhappy as of late in your personal life, but you’ve not let it interfere with your performance.

“An opening for a loan officer became available recently, as you know. I’d like you to apply for it. We have to offer the job to all current staff, but you’d be my first choice, dear. It would mean working out of corporate,” she explained.

“I’d like the promotion, but … No, I can’t.”

“You would not be working directly with Jules, if that’s your concern. What happened is your business, but I can tell you he’s hurting. You were such close friends, and we all thought you two would … Then in January something changed -- if I can help in anyway, Charlie?”

“I’ll put my name up for the position, and I can work with him but beyond that, thanks but no thanks,” I said, my tone flat and unemotional.

~~ I don’t want to feel this way but how could he!~~

I left the meeting crying.

* * * *

I slowly came to accept my sex. If I was stuck, I would make a success of womanhood, though I hoped that would not be necessary. I’d made up, in a limited way, with Tamara as she was my ticket back. She would change me back if it was what I truly wanted, but I would have to wait until the summer solstice.

“Changing you back is many times more difficult and dangerous than simply transforming you. The delay will minimize the residual magic from your first transformation. The solstice is by tradition a day when a witch's powers are at their greatest. That’s not the case for me, I’m not of that *faith* but it’s the earliest I feel confident in trying. I owe you for forcing this change upon you, and I am duty-bound to get it right. Please forgive me?” she asked.

“I will try, Tamara. I will try.”

“I never would have considered the transformations, but I *read* your souls -- Julie’s and yours, Charlie. Poor Julie could never love you as you were, though she wanted to. Yet within her deepest desires there was this spark that said she could be happy as a man, if he had the love of the right woman. Julie was content as a lesbian, but the thought of sex with a man sickened her. Oddly the thought of her being a man and having sex with a woman did not upset her in the least. As long as her partner was a female she/he was happy.

“Your soul was content as a man with no interest in a homosexual relationship, but was not averse to becoming a woman. For a man you had considerable woman’s character to your soul. I’m not saying you were effeminate, just that you came at things from both a male and female perspective. I think Julie fell in love with the female part of you as much as she respected the man. Similarly, you were more attracted to her than you dared to admit to yourself, Charlie. All those years you waited to ask her out, afraid to lose her as a friend, must have been frustrating.

“Please don’t condemn her; she was caught in an untenable situation. Her chance of finding true love was fading as middle-age approached, and then I came into the mix. I could have made you a woman and her lesbian lover but Julie knew you wanted your own children. She took a great risk in becoming a male; it was more dangerous than turning you into a female. In stripping away part of her genes to make a Y chromosome she left herself wide open to crippling, even fatal genetic abnormalities. Thankfully she came through it healthy -- extremely so, in fact. She faced a real risk of dying or being crippled, Charlie. She loved you unreservedly to take the risk. I only wish we’d asked you first. I’m sorry,” she said, and hugged me.

* * * *

I noticed Jules was not at work when I returned from the Memorial Day holiday. I’d gone out of town with my sister to reinforce our relationship. It was as fun our trips together as brother and sister, only better in some indefinable way. I was continually finding my old life wasn’t gone; it was all a bit different, but I was still me. Charlie was Charlie, male or female. I decided I might still be upset with Jules, but I should forgive him making a mistake in his desperation. I went to see him in his office, and it was locked.

“Um, where’s Jules?” I asked the receptionist.

“No one has told you? Right, it happened while you were on vacation. He’s in the hospital; there was an accident and … his car rolled over and he’s pretty shook-up.”

“Will he … Is he alright?” I asked, guilt welling up and ….

“He’s battered, but no life-threatening injuries, just a few broken bones and bruises.”

“Can I see him or call him, I …?” I was anxious to see him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said a bit harshly.

“Why?!”

“We’re not supposed know, but his sister called and said he’s under a suicide watch. They suspect he changed his mind at the last second which is why the car rolled rather than hit a bridge abutment.

“What did he do to you that you hate him so, Charlie? We all thought you’d get married someday.”

* * * *

No matter what I said I couldn’t get his hospital number. I think they were afraid I’d say something to incite another suicide attempt. I was able to send him some flowers through his sister, signed simply, “Jules, please forgive me? I forgive you, Charlie.”

He was released a week later to convalesce at home prior to returning to work. I tried to call him but I couldn’t. I got so nervous I froze every time I tried. I saw him come to work a few weeks later, bandaged, on crutches with his broken leg in a cast. He looked so handsome yet sad.

I started to get up, then I collapsed into my chair. I picked up my phone, my heart racing. I dialed the number, hands shaking. “Um, Jules, it’s Charlie. Please listen. I’m still upset over what ... you know. But for you to give up being a woman for me was a great sacrifice and, well, we are so much younger and um ... I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and I’m sick over how I’ve treated you … My cousin is having a big BBQ and family get together on the Fourth of July … Yes, I know that’s tomorrow. I … I’d like to start over. I want to give us both a second chance. We do it my way or not at all, but I do miss you so, Julie, Jules, whoever you are … whoever we are. I miss my friend.”

The End

Notes:

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