[- Relief -]

“Okay, so you’re smiling; that’s a good sign,” Sara said as she was walking towards me ten minutes later.

“Yeah, it went our way... Jen and Lance were so composed, me – I was a wreck,” I said as I gathered her in my arms and instantly thinking to myself that this felt good.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I leaned in to kiss her, and when I pulled away, I said, “I am now… That was stressful, though; I don’t want to do that again anytime soon.”

“I’m with you on that. It was stressful for me too… I’ve been worrying about you all morning; good thing I wasn’t in the OR; I’d have been a mess,” she said with a little giggle, but her face told me the giggle was her coming down off of being nervous or maybe just relieved. “Are we celebrating, or do you feel like celebrating?”

Her focus was on me, my feelings, and my needs, but did she know I had everything I needed at this moment in my arms? I couldn't help but smile back at her.

“I’ve seen that smile before. What are you thinking, Bradley?” She asked in a comical voice using the proper version of my name as if scolding me or thinking I was up to no good.

“That I just want to be with you.”

It was the truth, and I was about to say that, but she raised a brow, and I couldn’t help but take her in fully.

“Is that because I make you happy?” She asked maybe a little too shyly, so I couldn’t help but pick up on her fishing for some affirmation.

“That and more…” I smiled.

“Right answer, mister! Dinner, my place, six-thirty?” She asked, giving me a quick peck.

“Wouldn’t miss it—float me an address and I’ll see you soon,” I requested and kissed her properly before we separated to get on with the rest of our days.

[---]

I got to work just after 3 PM and told Ken and Marty I’d basically won and would tell them more after the markets closed and I got caught up on any calls I’d missed. Once in my office I found I had a dozen voicemails to get through; the next to last one of those was from Denise, left twenty minutes ago, asking that I call her. Shit!

“Everything alright?” I asked as soon as she answered.

I was hoping she and Jenny hadn’t started to argue about today’s events.

“Yes, Jenny is fine, but I kept her home from school so she could decompress. I just wanted a chance to discuss the mediation…”

Okay, reasonable action—have Jen take the day to relax after the stress of meeting with the mediator and seeing her parents getting all legal on each other. I can live with that. Her wanting to talk about the mediation? Not something I was interested in doing right now. She sounded like she was out, so at least this conversation would be contained to her vehicle and not spill over onto Jenny at the house if it went to hell.

“Would it be possible to do this another time? I’ve got clients I need to speak with, and right now I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

“Look, I’m not going to apologize, not now or later or ever, so you can wipe that smug look off your face you had earlier, Brad.”

“I’ve got no smug anything on my face, and up until your message, I had no particular look on my face other than my ‘I’ve got work to do’ look. What do you want from me?” I complained.

“Caution when allowing ‘our’ daughter around this,” she caught herself from saying something inappropriate, “person you’re seeing. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

It took a lot of restraint for her to swap the word ‘person’ for whatever insulting identifier she wanted to lump on Sara. She might have sounded like she was playing the innocent, but I knew better.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Gary’s DUI? Seems like something I should have been privy to these past couple of years you two have been together,” I countered, though kicking myself for egging her on and not insisting we talk about stuff later instead, like after work later.

“Who gave you the pictures, Alice? No, I’ll bet it was Wade; I never really liked him. He’s gay, you know…”

“It doesn’t matter who gave me the pictures, Jesus! Does Gary drink when you two are out and with Jen? That seems like it would be something you should be more focused on than who I choose to see.”

“Of course not; he learned his lesson, so don’t go getting all righteous with me.”

“Righteous? Please… You know what? I’m trying to figure out how someone I used to respect has lost their ability to empathize or look objectively at someone’s situation in life without malice being the driver. This isn’t you, or at least the woman I was married to. I can’t see this attitude originating from Gary, so it’s really confusing to me why you’re so unwilling to give Sara the benefit of the doubt.”

“You know damn well the whole tranny way of life is nothing but fetish sex, and I don’t want any of that shit around Jenny! Can’t you see she’d be a temptation for someone like your… You know, ‘friend’ to do something that harms her.”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, but Sara isn’t a threat to anyone. I’d trust Sara with Jen alone, and you complaining to me about her sure sounds like you don’t trust my judgment. That’s insulting, given Gary’s history.

“And, you do realize that Trans-identifying people are less than a couple percent of the total population? I’m going to go out on a limb and say you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to someone who’s Trans. Is there fetish or sex happening? Sure, just like straight regular porn – which we’ve both watched together, so I don’t understand this ‘porn’ complaint of yours. I’ll bet porn for someone who’s Tans is a very small percent of those people who are Trans, so to lump them all into one bucket? Come on, you’ll find more porn bullshit from those who identify as being straight male and female than Trans identifying people.

“Do you know how stupid what you said sounds? If you’re this worried about any Trans influence on Jen, you might want to consider homeschooling her or putting her in a damn bubble for God’s sake,” I complained.

“Yeah, well that’s something Jenny and I will be discussing—hanging out with those kids who are Trans. And back to my point,” she began, but I started talking over her.

“Please get there, because I’ve got work to do.”

“I will, but first, you know these people revert back all the time, like this is just a game to them, and they get off on tricking men into...,” she didn’t get to ramble on because I interrupted her again.

“You said you have a point? Want to get to it, please?” I begged, sounding annoyed, I'm sure, because I was nearing the end of my rope with her.

“Fine, I’m going to tell you again: you need to be aware of the ‘person’ you’re with and allowing them around Jenny. I don't want that 'person' alone with her, understand? If they do anything to harm her, I will hunt them down, Brad, and it will not end very well for him, I can promise you that!” she barked into the phone.

Congrats, you misgendered my girlfriend; why am I not shocked? Guess what? You still don’t get to dictate who I see or allow around Jen!

“Understood…” I said, pausing so she’d get that I heard her before dropping a bomb on her she never seemed to remember. “You realize all my office calls are recorded, right? It’s because legally we don’t want to be caught in some situation where a client said to sell ten shares of Tesla and we sell ten thousand of their Target shares instead. You just threatened Sara, Denise...”

“Fuck you, Brad, and your boyfriend too!”

The line went dead before I could say anything more, and I was left scratching my head as to what had just transpired and why I’d even bothered talking to her in the first place. I did, though, have a high level of confidence that that would be the last call she’d make to me on my office. Maybe I should consider talking to Lance about filing for a greater custody percentage of Jenny. This attitude she had kept sparking new embers to burn up my respect for the person I once knew and loved…

[---]

“She called? What for?” Sara asked, surprised.

I was surprised I’d even mentioned it and now was regretting I had. Damn you Ricky Martin!

“I’m really not sure, but she rambled, and it was pointless to engage with her. I should have known that,” I replied, knowing full well I’d bent the truth of what happened.

“Okay, but like, give me one thing she threw at you; maybe I can help with understanding her position.”

“Can we set this aside for another time?” I asked, drawing her into a hug as we sat there on her couch after a dancing lesson.

Dinner had been good, though it was DoorDash from some Mexican restaurant close to her condo, and we had to reheat some of it after it arrived. We’d talked about the mediation session while eating, and I spent a lot of that conversation focused on Jen’s interview. When I mentioned Jen telling the mediator I couldn't dance, that led to a bit of fun.

"How can a man with six hundred or more records not be able to dance?" she asked.

"I don't know, it just wasn't something I did. I've got no rhythm."

"Are you saying you can't even slow dance?"

"Isn't that just hugging with music in the background?"

That got her giggling, and then she got a conspiratorial look on her face combined with a wolfish grin.

"Come with me," she encouraged and led me by my hand to the living room.

"What, you're going to teach me to dance? Now?" I asked, smiling and sounding very skeptical.

"I want to see this lack of rhythm, because in another room... Well, you've got what I’d consider perfect rhythm," she replied with a seductive grin.

I felt a little flush and embarrassed but couldn't help but smile at hearing that. I considered telling her I very much enjoyed her ‘rhythm’ too, but I didn’t want to sound like a pervert or crass. Should I suggest we should go practice that kind of dance? Augh!

"Okay... Alexa," she called out, and after the 'ding,' she said, "Play La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin..."

The speaker parroted back her request, and the music began playing a few seconds later.

I watched as she took my hands and said, "We're not going to move our feet, just our arms. I want you to just be all loosey-goosey and let me move us."

I did as requested, skeptical this was going to give me any sense of rhythm to the up-tempo Latin beat of a bubblegum dance song that came out when I was probably still in high school.

"Why this song?"

"It's a repetitive beat, see...," she said, pulling/pushing our joined hands back and forth. "See, easy... Just like this, right..."

"I'm not doing anything," I complained.

"Sure you are; feel our movements with the beat," she said before singing along with the chorus, "Liv'n La Vida Loca..."

God damn, she was cute! She could so effortlessly make me feel alive and want her, all of her.

"When I step forward, you're going to step back. Same, following my lead with our arms," she said before stepping forward, and I was slow to engage with my cement filled shoes.

When she stepped back, I felt like she was pulling me and apologized, “Sorry…”

“We’re not done here... Loosen up those arms for me… Yes, just like this,” she said, pulling and pushing my arms to the beat. “Now a step back… See, you’ve got it. One more time, but step to me… ‘Liv’n La Vida Loca… Liv’n Lav Vida Loca…”

I did as requested, and she seemed pleased. We did this for the entire song, and when it ended, kissed and then had retired to the couch. That’s when I’d said something about Denise being ‘loca’ this afternoon and having called me. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I obviously wasn’t thinking!
Of course Sara wanted to know about the conversation. I was trying to take back what I’d said, and here we were now sitting on her couch with me wanting to be done talking about Denise, at least for today.

“How about this: share one thing she said, and I’ll,” she thought about what she wanted to say and finished with, “You can ask me anything you want, and I’ll give you a truthful answer.”

I smiled back at her, “Don’t I already get that?”

“I think you’ve got questions you’d like to ask but are maybe worried I’ll take offense or you think you might hurt my feelings if you asked. I don’t have much to hide, to tell you the truth, and I’m not afraid to share with you; I trust you.”

Those words hit home and hard, and they made me feel a bit soft inside.

“Like, what would you be willing to share? Not that I have any burning questions or specific question that is burning a hole in my head.”

“Ah… I see what you’re trying to do, mister… No, you first, then I’ll let you ask away.”

“What would I ask?”

“Anything you want… Quit stalling,” she replied smiling and giving me that cute raised brow look of hers.

I sighed, but only because this still wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, sharing with her the crazy from someone I’d been committed to in the past and was a total psycho this afternoon. I’d rather continue to embarrass myself learning to dance than admit I had any connection to Denise right now.

“Okay, one thing… Ah, so she… She said something about those who are Trans un-transitioning, no ‘revert back.’. That’s not true, right?” I asked.

“It would be a pretty small percentage, but there are some who do de-transition. I couldn’t do it, nor would I want to, and I’d bet you’d get a ninety-eight percent response to that idea for ‘not’ wanting to go back to the crazy people experienced prior to transitioning when they knew they weren’t living life as their true selves,” she stated.

“Denise was very… Like angry, saying stupid stuff, and all I wanted to do was get off the phone. I only returned her call to make sure Jen was alright, ya know...”

“She’s a bit confusing, I’ll give you that, and I’m glad to hear at least Jenny was okay. Did she say anything else?”

“Just making a point of still not being happy I’m seeing you. Oh, she said being Trans is about feeding the porn industry. Well, not in so many words, but basically that being Trans is all about ‘sex’ and the only focus. I told her that was nuts because there’s way more CIS porn crap out there.”

I felt pretty good about using the acronym CIS in such a way that it rang true considering what I was telling her.

“You’re probably right about the amount of CIS porn out there compared to the Trans-related stuff available. But,” she paused for a second to fix her eyes on mine, “the demand for that kind of thing is as big as any other kind of porn, so there are plenty of Trans folk with OnlyFans accounts or doing actual porn. It is what it is, though, in the end—porn—and absolutely not anything you’d find in a healthy relationship. There’s a lot of money to be made, though, with that stuff; don’t ever doubt that, and that’s why some people who identify as Trans sometimes do it. I think it’s about the quick cash and, secondly, for the ego hit, the attention, in my opinion at least. The idea that stuff could haunt then later in life isn’t considered and kind of sad.”

I was watching her closely; she seemed bothered by the mention of porn.

“I wouldn’t judge…”

That made her face snap back alert, and she was quick to say, “Oh, no… I’ve never done any of that. The closest thing to sexy I’ve posted was a picture of me at a beach in a bikini after, well, after I took care of that remaining male part of me. I’m not ashamed of having posted it or anything, but I’ve never thought of myself as pretty enough to do porn…”

“I’d disagree on the ‘pretty enough’ comment; you’re beautiful in my eyes,” I said, lifting her chin since she’d looked down after her comment and studying her eyes before leaning in to kiss her.

When we broke the kiss, she smiled that smile I loved seeing and took my hands.

“Thank you… Okay, so you shared; my turn, I guess. What would you like to know?”

I still didn’t have anything pressing I thought to ask about, though I did wonder if I asked to see pictures of her when she was younger if she’d be willing to show me. When I got the tour of her condo, I’d asked about the various pictures of her with people, like her mom, friends, and even one of her dad—though she’d said he passed when she was twenty-six due to bladder cancer. I knew enough not to ask her about her ‘dead name’ – though was curious…

“Nothing is off the table; I’m serious. Whatever you want to know, so don’t get all PC on me or noble…”

“Fine… I think, well... What’s your biggest fear about having transitioned?” I asked.

It seemed like a good question, not too tough or personal, and I was curious if there was something about having made such a permanent change that she worried about something in particular.

“Oooo… You met with my psychologist before coming over, huh?” she asked with a little giggle.

I nodded I hadn’t, but knew that was pointless because she was messing with me.

“So, transitioning is different for everyone that does it, but the fear of being alone the rest of your life afterwards is never far from your mind because you’re not what society is comfortable with… That’s a pretty big fear for me. I’ve got body image issues related to my weight, and I worry that I’ll balloon up and look ‘manly.’ I worry about hair loss a lot… I know there are amazing wigs to combat that if it happens to me, but I’ve never had to do that in the past, so it’s something I worry about when I look at my hairbrush on occasion and see a lot of hair. Stupid, I know, but something that kicks my dysphoria monster, my confidence. I’ve got plenty of insecurities I work really hard to keep buried or within manageable ranges.”

“Well, I can assure you I find you plenty pretty, and I like everything about you,” I said softly, squeezing her hands.

She stared at me for a long moment before speaking, “You probably don’t have any idea how much saying something so simple makes me feel, do you?”

“I didn’t say that for any reason other than it’s the truth and how I feel.” I got that out but felt like I’d stumbled a little while trying to do it right.

“Are you saying you like me?” she asked shyly.

“I kind of thought that was obvious and didn’t need a PSA announcement,” I offered, smiling.

“Make a note of this: women like hearing those things.”

“Noted,” I said before taking her in my arms and kissing her to let her know I ‘liked’ her.

[---]

The next couple of days were spent making adjustments to my usual routines. Tuesday night, after having ‘won’ the mediation, I’d stayed at Sara’s condo until about ten-thirty. I made it home and got five hours of sleep before I was up and joining my morning spin class, before joining her later at the café a couple a few minutes later than usual. That Wednesday and then Thursday she’d spent the night and my morning routine was modified, one of those mornings pleasurably with her instead of my spin class – so we’d both gotten our heart rates up. The other morning we’d hurriedly rushed to get going because we’d overslept somehow, so no spin class, and we’d arrived at the café later than usual.

She’d come over prepared for her own morning routines with a small duffle bag of clothes, makeup, skin care items, and her own hair care suite of products, brushes, flatiron, and hairdryer on those days. My bathroom now had a few of her things in it and I kind of liked seeing her toothbrush next to mine.

Our showing up together Thursday morning late hadn’t gone unnoticed. We got comments from Megan and the couple retired regulars, but it didn’t seem to faze either of us. Megan had told me Wednesday she was happy to hear about the mediation and then said something to me I found interesting.

“Not sure what you’re doing with Sara, but keep it up.”

“I don’t think I’m doing anything special,” I’d replied.

“Yeah, well, keep doing it…”

“Did she say something to you?” I asked a little worried because, to this point, Megan and I hadn’t really shared much in regard to what Sara and I were doing together. Had she been talking to Megan?

“No, and that’s the part I find interesting about you two,” she’d started, but I gave her a look that said I was totally confused with this conversation now. “She’s only been in one long-term relationship, and even in that one she knew it wasn’t going to last, but clung to it harder and longer than she should have. With you… Well, she’s been very different, more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a while, definitely more confident in herself, and happier than I’ve seen her ever. I really love seeing her like this and thought I’d pass that along,” Megan had said in a conspiratorial tone.

“I’m happy she’s happy.”

“I think you might be too?”

I reached for our cups of coffee after paying for them and just winked. I might have been smiling pretty good at her question.

[---]

“Dad?”

“Be right out,” I called from my bedroom.

I’m sure I heard Jenny ask me something else from somewhere out in the main living area of the condo, so I replied, “Huh?”

“It can wait,” she yelled, likely annoyed we were trying to have a long-distance conversation rooms apart.

“Hey kiddo,” I greeted her in the kitchen after finishing up putting laundry away and got a quick hug. “How was the game?”

“We lost; what’s new?” She complained.

“Ah… Did you at least have fun?”

“Guess so… What’s the Peloton doing out here?”

“Thought I’d switch it up,” I answered, smiling.

“Oh, the old ‘switch it up’ because you don’t want to disturb someone sleeping in your room in the middle of the night to pedal your frustrations away?” She sort of asked but mostly stated with a shit-eating grin.

“Ha, ha… How was school, besides your football team losing tonight?”

“Okay, I got a report I need to ChatGPT for next Wednesday…”

“Yeah, not happening… You know your teachers can smell that AI-generated stuff from a mile away,” I scoffed.

“Not if you are extra creative in the prompt you supply it with,” she stated, pleased with that answer.

“Still a big ‘No’ from this parental unit…”

“Mom doesn’t have that opinion.”

“Don’t care and think you’re plenty smart enough to ace whatever you put your mind to. You don’t need that AI stuff,” I coached. “How is your mom doing anyway? You didn’t have much to say about her all week. Are you two getting along?”

“She’s not happy with you, but what’s new... We’re fine, though she did insist on having the ‘Beware of Trans’ talk with me. She was less insulting than I thought she’d be and I’m not going to ignore my friends. I listened to her and do not agree with any of her position. Is Sara coming over tonight?” she asked with a little enthusiasm.

“I’m not surprised she’s still miffed. I got the same talk, if that helps any.”

“I’m sorry about that… Can’t be easy,” she said, looking a little sad.

“Not your fault, kiddo…”

“Sara?”

“She picked up a later shift today to get some time in the OR, so she said to say ‘Hi’ and wanted to know if you’d be up for early coffee or dinner tomorrow.”

“Absolutely, dinner—I’d like to sleep in, though. You can go meet her at O-dark-thirty if you want,” she said with a smile and then stopped to consider her next statement. “You know she could spend the night. It’s not like I don’t know what you adults do behind closed doors. Just keep it down, though…”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Damn kid, too smart for her own good and a wise ass sometimes.

[---]

My Saturday morning started much like yesterday had, up at 4:30 AM, eating and drinking some water, riding for thirty minutes, taking a shower and getting ready for the day, and meeting up with Sara at the café.

“Morning… You miss me?” She asked smiling, but I think she only asked that because I’d turned around to look her way a couple of times while in line waiting for my coffee.

“That obvious?”

“Maybe a little, but it makes for a nice way to start the day,” she said, rubbing a foot on the outside of my left leg for a moment and then reaching across to squeeze my hand.

I liked that she didn’t remove it after the squeeze.

“Withdrawals…”

“Jenny not up to a 6:30 AM start?”

“Nope, but she’s interested in catching some dinner, though. She… She said you could have spent the night; we’d just need to ‘keep it down.’.”

That elicited a giggle from the beauty sitting across from me.

“I’d be up for that, you know that, though I can’t say I wouldn’t have trouble staying quiet.” There was a knowing smile that accompanied that statement. “Probably best to let Denise’s ire calm a bit before we do that and Jenny accidentally says something.”

“Probably the smart move, but I don’t like that very much. I like seeing you more than a couple of minutes in those mornings we’re not waking up together,” I said, turning my hand so I could hold hers. “I moved my Peloton to the living room—that move wasn’t lost on my daughter.”

“Won’t be on me either… Thank you for doing that. It means we could shower together, you know, since I’m up at 5:30, and that’s about the time you finish your morning routine of staying healthy.”

“I like the sound of that… What are you studying this morning?”

“Anesthetic effects on recovery time, it’s dry, but another one of those things I need to file away and likely never need to recall,” she chuckled. “Seriously, though, the anesthesiologists are more in tune and responsible for this stuff, thankfully.”

[---]

When I got home, I peeked into Jen’s room, and it looked like she was still asleep. I was pulling the door closed when I heard, “I’m awake… How was Sara?”

I opened the door and stuck my head in. “Disappointed you didn’t want to get up at O-dark-thirty to grab some coffee, but happy you wanted to grab dinner.”

“Not believing that… She’s a smart girl; she knows when sleep takes precedence, I’ll bet,” she complained mildly, finally rolling over to look at me. “My guess is she suggested the Peloton get moved, right?”

“Actually, that was my idea… When I told her, she was happy about it, though.”

“I’m sure.”

“You want breakfast?” I asked.

“I’ll figure something out. Are we driving?”

“If you want… Oh, Sara said you need to figure out where we’re going tonight.”

“Too early for requests, Dad...” she moaned, but I knew she was just goofing.

“Yeah, well, get up and let’s get you behind the wheel. Here’s an idea—you could ask ChatGPT for a local restaurant recommendation with good reviews.”

“Haha…,” she groaned and rolled over.

“I’ll be around, ready to go when you are.”

“Mmhummph…” was my reply as I shut the door.

[---]

The driving lesson didn’t get underway until just after 11:00, and thankfully Jen was wide awake and prepared, because while out, someone didn’t stop at a stop sign on a side street and nearly hit us. I may have reacted inappropriately to the woman driving, flipping her off and uttering, ‘What the fuck, lady!’ That slip got me a snarky reply from Jen, ‘Language, Dad…’ I may not have laughed or liked taking my own medicine at the time, but when I’d told Sara about it, there were plenty of giggles, and I might, might have chuckled about it—finally.

Jen was an adventurous eater, which I think she got from me, so tonight we were sitting on the floor on decorative rugs with a couple of large metal platters set in the middle of us eating Ethiopian food. No forks, no plates—just our fingers, some kind of flatbread to scoop items together so we could shovel delicious food in our mouths. It was fun and the conversation lively.

“Does the hospital use AI for anything?” Jen asked, before taking a sip of tea I wasn’t too keen on since it was darker and more bitter than I cared for.

“I’m sure they’re looking at how to implement it; certainly there’s use of that in medical research going on, but we’re not as research-focused—though our cancer care is thought of as being one of the top places to get treatment on the east coast,” Sara replied.

“Dad won’t let me use ChatGPT to do a paper I need to get done,” Jen complained playfully.

“A lot of ‘gotcha’ issues to look out for with AI result sets. I’ve done some research, and some ideas they’ve returned repeat themselves later in the results, just worded slightly different. Super annoying,” Sara offered.

“You use AI, Dad?”

“It’s rare, but I have a few times. I just don’t like reading perfectly grammatical void of a human's thought process results. It’s dry and annoying,” I replied.

“Wonder what ChatGPT would have to say about the ‘Gulf of American’ idea?” Jen asked with a bit of a giggle.

“Or Canada and Greenland as a states?” Sara tossed out, shaking her head.

“I think even without any AI assistance, we know the guy heading for office is ‘off’ by a few brain cells,” I chimed in.

“Trinity is worried about her being able to continue to get access care, aren't you?” Jen asked Sara.

“I’m a good ways down that road,” Sara began. “They can try to roll that stuff back or restrict it, but they’re going to run into problems enforcing it legally I would bet. I could be impacted, but kids will suffer if we deny them care – that’s my biggest fear. If she’s got stuff set now for care now, she might want to ‘stock up’. Her doctor is going to know. If she hasn’t filed for a gender marker change, she might want to consider that before they try to lock it down and it becomes more painful to get. No fear mongering or anything, but it’s not going to be the way it was under the last president.”

The conversation drifted to other topics, and eventually the two large pizza-sized platters were picked up and a custard dessert was delivered. It was just the right amount of sweet after eating a savory main course. Thankfully we got spoons for eating it!

On the way out of the restaurant, Sara complimented Jen on the choice of restaurant as we walked Sara to her car.

“Thanks, ChatGPT, and someone in my biology class mentioned they’d eaten here and it was good. Are you coming back to the condo?” Jen asked Sara.

I was about to step in to encourage that, but Sara said, “I’d like that too; it’s just I’ve got an earlier morning than usual in front of me with a 6 AM assist for a gallbladder removal—otherwise I would. Rain check?”

“K…,” she said, doing something that surprised me—stepping into a hug with Sara.

Sara turned to me after the quick ‘girl hug’ event, saying, “Thank you for dinner. No coffee in the morning, but I’ll see you Monday.”

“Absolutely…,” I said, giving her a quick peck and hug.

[---]

In the car and on the way home, it didn’t take long for Jenny to start probing.

“I like her…”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied.

“Were you in doubt?” Jen asked.

“No… I’m just glad you two get along. Anyone I decide to see knows you’re my first priority, so that Sara buys into that really makes me happy.”

“So you like her, like a lot?”

The question was innocent, but I could tell there was a real interest in where my head was concerning Sara.

“I do… I like the way she makes me feel and how she’s ‘partner’ focused,” I offered.

“Partner?”

“You know, like jumps in for the benefit of the relationship because she wants it to grow…”

“And you want it to grow?” she asked and when I took a quick look at her there was a smile on her face.

“Yeah, I’d like to keep this going if that’s your question,” I said smiling back at her quickly.

“What about her being Trans?”

“That’s not a problem… Pretty sure some smart teenager pointed that out,” I said, reaching over to pat her leg.

“Have you gotten any grief from anyone besides mom about seeing her?”

“No, not really… She’s exactly the person she appears to be, and I like the person she is. If people don’t like that, well too bad.”

“Doesn’t hurt she’s cute though, right?” She asked with a little giggle, and I could tell she was looking at me.

“Yeah, it helps…,” I answered honestly keeping an eye on the traffic ahead of us.

“What percent does it help?”

“Percent? No percent… Where are you going with this questioning, kiddo?”

She sighed audibly, “You know Aaron Temple? He lives down the street.”

“Tall kid, baseball player; his dad is a cop – that Aaron?”

“Yeah, ‘that’ Aaron… See, well, he’s… He asked Michelle to ask me if I was interested in him.”

“They still do that in the tenth grade?”

“Dad! I’m being serious here,” she complained.

“Okay, okay… I know Aaron. What’s the problem?”

“He's nice and funny; I just don’t know about the acne, like if I can overlook it…”

“Are you thinking acne in some way compares to Sara being Trans?” I asked, confused.

“No! God, Dad! That’s not it,” she barked, annoyed.

“Okay, well… If you like him as a person, I can tell you his acne isn’t going to follow him through life. He’ll have good days and not good days, right? Couldn’t hurt to just do something casual, like a movie or troll the mall together, and give him a chance to show you who he really is.”

I was hoping, without saying so, that I’d taken the same advice from her about Sara.

“Okay… Can I go see a movie tomorrow with him?” she asked?

“I don’t see why not,” I smiled.

::: --- :::

Author's note: Don't ask me how I managed this get this chapter done with all that's going on in my world. There are probably one to two chapters left in this tale and you'll get a few answers to close this story out. Is it happily ever after? Stay tuned!

Don't be afraid to click the "Kudos" (Thumbs Up) icon for this story if it's done anything for you. If you comment, I will reply.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected]) - I'd love to address them if I can and have fixed many an “Oops!” after posting a story (Thanks to All for those assists – very much appreciated). I'm still growing as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued.

Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore