Lost and Found Again
By Missy Crystal

This is the final part of the Lost and Found Series. Although it can be read on its own, I recommend reading the first two parts ("Lost and Found" and "Found and Lost") for context. For those who have followed the story, but forgotten it, for which delay in completion I apologize, Jack Blaine is an investigator hired to find a transgendered boy who left home. While searching the transgendered community, he meets Penny Johnson, the transgendered director of a GLBT outreach program. Jack falls in love with Penny, but their relationship ends when he asks her to marry him and give up her work. She turns down his proposal and they break up. Now Jack realizes he made a mistake and sets out to win her back. Can they find hapiness togther? The conclusion of a romantic novel.

I went back to my apartment and tried to get some sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Penny. I loved her and she loved me. When two people love each other they get married. When you love someone, Jack, I reprimanded myself, you don’t ask them to give up something that’s important to them. Penny was right. The concession did not help my insomnia.

I moped around for the next few days. Each time the phone rang, I grabbed it hoping it would be Penny. Why should she call you Jack? What would she say to you? “Hi, honey, of course I’ll give up my career and everything I’ve worked for to be your wife.” You’re the one who needs to apologize. Okay, but what will you say to her? “Sorry, just kidding?” You weren’t kidding. You know it and she does too.

Insincerity will not win a girl’s heart, Jack. Candy, flowers and expensive presents might work for most women, but not Penny. No, I didn’t mean it like it sounded. It’s not that she’s not a woman. Well, okay, she’s not a woman, sort of, but even if she was, well, she is, sort of, she wouldn’t care about those things. She’s a different kind of woman. No, not different that way. Well, okay, different that way too, but I meant her values. She cares about other people. You think only about yourself. You need to show her that you care about people too, if you want her back.

How do you do that? You could go down to the Red Cross and give blood. That’s a good cause. Yes, spending fifteen minutes on a cot bleeding into a bottle would certainly impress her. Just as well anyway, Jack. You hate needles. What about volunteering at a shelter? Too easy. You need something that requires real commitment. You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing it for you. If you can’t, then she’s right. You don’t have a future together.

I kept myself busy with my work. Each night I was tempted to drop in at Ginger’s. I mean, it’s a free country right? A guy can stop off for a drink at a t-girl bar on his way home, can’t he? If someone in particular happened to be there too, well, small world. “Oh, hi, Penny. Fancy meeting you here?” Right, Jack, like she wouldn’t see right through you. You’d have to deal with Lola and the other t-girls too. Did they know that you and Penny broke up? I doubted it. Penny wouldn’t discuss her personal life with them. Even so, they must be wondering why she hasn’t been coming in with you lately. Was she going by herself? Probably. They’re her friends. It wouldn’t take much for them to put two and two together, or one minus one. If so, then I was fair game. That was another complication in my life I didn’t need.

The funny thing, or at least the frustrating thing, was that I had lost my interest in other women. I’d see an attractive woman on the street and all I could do was compare her to Penny. I checked out guys too, just to see if perhaps my tastes had changed, but they hadn’t. I had to find some way to demonstrate my change of heart and it had to be soon or I was going to go nuts having these conversations with myself.

Each night I would go back to my apartment and nuke some dinner while remembering how insistent Penny was about eating healthy. Well, Jack, maybe if you kill yourself with cholesterol she will be sorry. Unfortunately, her remorse over your self-inflicted coronary will do you no good. After dinner, I’d pour myself a large scotch to drown my sorrows and watch TV until I went to bed. Then one night I saw a commercial about abused animals. I liked animals, but they only wanted money. Spare time I had; spare money I didn’t.

Just as I was about to hit the power button on the remote and spend one more sleepless night, there was a commercial about being a big brother or big sister. I could do that. Of course, the commercial was over before I could write down the number. They had to be in the phone book. I had no idea what I did with the phone book. I rummaged around, but couldn’t find it. I had one in my office. Tomorrow I would call and soon Penny would be back in my arms or, better yet, my bed or, even better yet, her kitchen. My arteries and other vital parts of me were overjoyed. I turned out the lights and dreamed of Penny in a white bridal apron. I can’t help my imagination when I’m asleep.

As soon as I got to my office, I got the phone book. It took a little of my superb investigative skills to find the right organization. It was called Big Brothers Big Sisters. I punched in the numbers. A pleasant female voice answered.

“Hello, Big Brothers Big Sisters, how may I help you?”

“Umm, well, umm, I was thinking, umm, I would like to join or whatever. You know be a big brother.”

“Wonderful,” she responded reassuringly. “You will find it a very rewarding experience. May I have your name, please.”

“Jack.”

“You last name, please, Jack.”

“Oh, Blaine, Jack Blaine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blaine. May I have your address, please.”

“My home or office?

“Wherever you’d like us to send the application form.”

“I have to apply?”

“Yes, Mr. Blaine, Jack, we’re a social service agency and we have to screen our volunteers before we match them with a child. I’m sure you can understand the need for us to be careful when putting adults together with children.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

I wondered if my having a transgendered girlfriend would disqualify me. It didn’t seem like the time to ask. I gave her my office address.

“Thank you. You should be receiving an application form in the mail in the next few days. Please fill it out and return it. One of our social workers will be in touch with you for an interview. Being a big, that’s what we call the men and women who volunteer, is going to be a very rewarding experience.”

She laughed. “I already said that, but it’s true. You’ll see. Thank you Mr. Blaine, Jack. Please call back if you have any questions about completing the application. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” I replied and hung up.

Perfect. In a few days I would be a big, as the woman called it, take a kid out for a burger and ice cream and everything would be back to normal. Okay, things were never normal, but back to the way they were. The kid wins, I win, we all get what we want. Does he, Jack? Do you? This isn’t a game. It’s a child’s life. You can’t just use him. Penny would never respect you for that. Even with your low standards you wouldn’t respect yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Well, you probably won’t qualify anyway and that will solve the problem. There’s no harm in applying I assured myself.

The application arrived and I immediately began to fill it out. In addition to the basic information, it wanted three people who had known me for at least two years as references for my character and reputation. I supposed that “known” was a relative term, so long as they were comfortable vouching for me. I put down the name of an attorney who used me as his investigator and a police detective who I helped out occasionally with tips from my contacts.

I gave it a lot of thought and for the third reference I put down Penny. She didn’t qualify as to how long she had known me, but I was sure that her being a social worker would make the difference. I also expected that they would contact my references and I wanted her to know that I was applying . Two birds with one stone, so to speak. Three birds, if you count the disclosure of my relationship with her. Would she reveal that she was transgendered? I suppose she would, if she thought it was relevant. Was it? I guess she’d know better than anyone.

I kept waiting for the call back. After a week passed without hearing from them, I assumed that they had decided I wasn’t suitable and didn’t want to waste their time talking to me. You’d think that at least they’d have the courtesy to write me a rejection letter, I complained to myself. When the phone did ring, I answered it as a regular business call.

“Jack Blaine investigative services,” I announced. “How may we help you?”

“Jack Blaine, please.”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Blaine, this is Betsy Sidman at Big Brothers Big Sisters. I would like to make an appointment for an intake interview. When would it be convenient?”

“I, umm, well, actually, my schedule is flexible, Ms., ah, umm, Ms. Sidman. I work for myself and I can come in pretty much any time.”

“Would tomorrow at two o’clock be too soon?”

“No, tomorrow at two would be fine.”

“Do you know where we are located?”

“Where I mailed the application, is that right?”

“Yes. Two o’clock tomorrow. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No. Oh, you’ll need a driver’s license or photo ID to get through the security desk in the lobby and we also need it to verify your identity.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Okay, Jack, you’re on a roll, I congratulated myself. Then I realized that was how my clothes looked, like I had been rolled. I finished up the report I was working on and hurried back to my apartment. Did I have a clean shirt? Damn, no. They were all in a pile on the floor. Maybe I could steam the wrinkles out in the shower. I picked out the one that had the best chance of rehabilitation. A sniff told me that it needed more than moisture to be wearable.

For crying out loud. Where is Penny when I need her. She is the one who made sure I had clean clothes. How am I supposed to get her back if I need her to help me to get her back? Pull yourself together Jack, I ordered myself. Take a deep breath and think. Why in the world did you say okay to tomorrow and leave yourself no time to get ready? Call what’s her name, Betsy, and tell her something came up and you need to postpone the interview. Brilliant, except you want to go tomorrow. The cleaners. Of course. They can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon. You might as well take your slacks and sport jacket to be pressed too. There, Jack, you see. If you think calmly, you can solve any problem.

All that was left was to find a tie that didn’t have an obvious stain and to shine my shoes. Since I only wore a tie when I had to go to court for a client, they were in pretty good shape. I didn’t have any shoe polish, but there was a shoemaker on the way to the cleaners. I got everything together and dropped off the clothes. I stopped at the shoemaker’s on the way home. Back at my apartment, I celebrated by ordering Chinese takeout. In deference to Penny, I told them to hold the MSG. I poured myself a glass of scotch to celebrate the solution to my wardrobe problem and await the delivery of my dinner.

I set my alarm for six a.m. to be sure that I had enough time to shower, shave and stop at the cleaners. Everything went perfectly and at one thirty an impressive me was heading for the address of Big Brothers Big Sisters. I showed my license at the security desk. The security officer checked my name against the visitor’s list and handed me a temporary pass card. He directed me to the elevators and told me to get off at the ninth floor. I got to the office about ten minutes early, but I thought that it would show both reliability and enthusiasm. The security officer had called up, so the receptionist was expecting me. She buzzed the door open.

“Mr. Blaine,” good afternoon she greeted me.

“Hi. I have an appointment with Ms. Sidman.”

“Yes. I notified her that you’re here. She should be out shortly. Please have a seat.”

I sat down. The receptionist went back to typing and answering calls. It seemed like a very busy place. I could hear only bits of her conversation with callers. Mostly, just names or an occasional message to have someone call back. I waited anxiously. I glanced at my watch. It was five of two. A few minutes later, a door opened and a young woman came out. I sized her up as in her late twenties, average height, short reddish brown hair and dark eyes, attractive by my standards, and casually dressed in slacks and a sweater.

She extended her right hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Blaine. I’m Betsy Sidman. Please follow me.”

She turned and went to the door, using a key card to open it and holding it for me to go in. We went down a corridor and into a small office. She directed me to one of the chairs in front of the desk, went around and sat down. She opened a manilla folder. I could see that my name was on the tab.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blaine. May I call you Jack?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Jack. I must say your references spoke highly of you. I was pleasantly surprised to have the opportunity to speak with Ms. Johnson. As you might imagine, it’s a small community of social workers and I have listened to her speak. How is it that you know her?”

Using my deductive skills, since she was asking the question, I assumed that Penny had not volunteered any details of our relationship or ex-relationship. I didn’t think that now was the time to get into it.

‘We, umm, I, umm, met her when I was working on a case and we became friends,” I summarized.

That must have satisfied her, because she moved on without any comment.

“I have some standard questions we ask all of our prospective volunteers. May I start?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

She went through a list, noting my answers. Most of the information she wanted was innocuous. How long had I lived at my address? What kind of work did I do? Where did I go to school? What was my religious affiliation, if any? Everything was going great until she asked the one question I feared.

“Jack, would you tell me your sexual orientation, please?”

Uh oh. Think fast, Jack. “I though you couldn’t ask that,” I challenged her.

“An employer can’t in most cases, but we don’t have any such restriction in screening volunteers. We don’t discriminate, but it’s up to us whether you are a suitable match. Once we accept you into the program, it is up to the child’s parent, usually the mother. She has a right to know about the person who she is trusting with her son.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s up to you, Jack,. You don’t have to answer the question, but, if you don’t, it will be difficult to place you.”

“I understand, Ms Sidman.”

“Betsy, please,” she interrupted me.

“Betsy, it’s not that I don’t want to answer the question. It’s that I don’t know how to answer the question.”

“The answer to the question is to say that I am straight or I am gay.” She paused. “Oh, do you mean that you’re bisexual?”

“No, not bisexual. Just sexual, but it’s complicated. You mentioned that you spoke with Penny Johnson.”

“Yes,” she replied curiously.

“Do you know that she’s transgendered?”

“Yes.” Her eyes went wide. “You, you’re not?”

“Transgendered,” I finished her question. “No. I am what I was born, a male.”

“Oh, then I don’t see what that has to do with your difficulty in answering the question.”

“You asked me how I knew her.”

“Yes.”

“I told you that we met when I was working on a case. That was true, but it became more than that. I’m in love with her. I asked her to marry me. Now do you see the problem? Am I gay, because the person I love was born male, or am I straight, because she considers herself a woman and so do I?”

Betsy smiled again.

“I can’t help you with the philosophical answer, but I can with the clerical one. I write down whatever you tell me. Pick one and we can go on to complete your interview.”

“I consider myself straight.”

She made a note and looked up.

“I hope you won’t think that I’m being too nosey, but are congratulations in order?”

“You mean on being accepted as a volunteer?”

She shook her head.

“No, on getting married.”

“Oh, no, it, it didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure you will be relieved to know that we’re done with the interview. I need you to sign some release forms that will let us check your criminal record. I told you, we need to be thorough in screening our volunteers.”

“No problem. As a licensed private investigator I have to have a clean record. You’re welcome to check.”

She handed me the forms. I signed them and gave them back.

“The last item is the agreement which says you’ll follow our policies and procedures. They’re simple. So many visits per month, common courtesy with regard to notifying us and the family about any problem and keeping us advised as to how things are going. Sign here please.”

I took the pen she offered and signed the form.

“That’s it, Jack. It can take a week or two before we get the background check completed. I will call you as soon as we hear back. Thank you, Jack. It’s been a pleasure.”

She came around the desk and extended her hand. I stood up and shook it.

“Likewise.”

She went to the door and opened it to escort me to the elevator.

As I was leaving, she asked me, “Jack, does your volunteering have anything to do with Ms. Johnson? You don’t have to tell me. It’s not part of the interview, but it is important in making a match. I don’t want to put you together with a boy who is emotionally fragile if you’re doing this just to impress her and not going to follow through.”

She must have seen from my startled expression that she was right. The woman was obviously good at her job. The was no point in trying to be evasive.

“Yes, that is the reason.”

“Thank you for being honest, Jack. Please understand that a volunteer’s motive is not important. Even doing something good for the wrong reason can have its benefits.”

“It’s not like that, Betsy. I do want to impress Penny, Ms. Johnson, but not by volunteering. Our relationship ended because I asked her to give up her work and lead what I foolishly thought could be a normal life for us. Penny knew better. Now I need to prove to myself I can be a different person. One who understands and accepts the kind of commitment she has to the people she helps. That is what will impress her. At least I hope it will.”

“I hope so too, Jack. If it does, can I come to the wedding?” she lightened the conversation.

“If it works, you can be maid of honor.”

She held up her left hand and wiggled her finger to show me her wedding ring.

“Matron of honor, maybe, but that’s up to the bride. Will you put in a good word?”

“Better than that. If you help me make this work, you can be the best man. That position is still vacant and under the circumstances I don’t think being a GG disqualifies you. You know what that is?”

She laughed.

“Ms. Johnson put on a training seminar for us. Yes.”

Betsy escorted me to the reception area, we said goodbye again and I left. Now that it was over, I was really excited about becoming a big brother or Big. I had to start using the jargon. It was still working hours, so I went back to my office to check my messages. There was nothing urgent. All I had to do was wait for a call. I wondered who I would get for a little. I hoped he wouldn’t be too young. I wasn’t very good with little kids. I’d just have to wait and see.

Two weeks went by and I was getting impatient. And horny. The idea of going down to Ginger’s was becoming more appealing. Then again, I remembered Penny’s warning about my undergoing INSGR, involuntary non-surgical gender reassignment, if she caught me with one of the other t-girls. Patience, Jack. All good things come to he who waits and Penny was worth waiting for.

Wednesday of the third week I got the call. I had been approved and Betsy had a match for me. The boy’s name was Dimitri. He was nine years old and his mother emigrated from Russia three years ago. His father stayed behind to care for his elderly parents. The boy’s mother felt that it was important for him to spend time with a man. Would I like her to arrange a meeting?

I asked her if she had any more information. Did he like sports? I was concerned that I’d get a boy who belonged to the chess club and took violin lessons. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as much in favor of culture as the next guy, but I thought that it would be difficult to find activities we both enjoyed. Betsy said that she had done her best to match my profile from her interview. Did I want to meet him she repeated. Yes, I told her, please set up a meeting. Okay, she’d call me back. Was my schedule still flexible. Yes, it was.

The next afternoon I got a call from Betsy. Since the boy was in school, the meeting had to be on a weekend. Was I free on Saturday morning. I was. She said that she preferred the first meeting to be outside the home, a neutral environment, usually a restaurant that was kid friendly. I suggested the coffee shop across the street from my office. It had an inexpensive breakfast menu and was relatively quiet. I gave her the address. She said she would set up the meeting. I should be there at 10 o’clock, unless she called with a change of plans. I asked if there was anything I should bring with me. A present for the boy maybe or something for the mother. No, I shouldn’t do anything that might influence their decision.

At least this time I could make myself presentable before the meeting. That evening I checked my wardrobe, a rather generous term for three pairs of pants and a half dozen shirts. Maybe if you included a dark brown sports coat, three ties that almost went with it and a pair of black semi-dressy loafers. Well, they had a tassel, so you could call them that. The good news was that I just got my underwear back from the laundry, so my personal hygiene would not be criticized. I decided to dress casually. Khaki pants, an open sport shirt and comfortable boat shoes that I knocked around in would do. Betsy said that I shouldn’t try to influence them and this was the real me. Now all I needed to do was wait a few days and get there a little before they did, so I could greet them.

The rest of the week dragged on. I wanted to call Penny and tell her about my becoming a big brother, but it was premature, since the match wouldn’t be made until after the meeting. There was nothing to do but wait. Friday night I set my alarm for 7 a.m. and went to bed early. I tossed and turned all night, at least it seemed all night, but the alarm woke me when it went off, so I must have gotten some sleep. I got up, showered and shaved, made sure I used a generous amount of deodorant, better safe than sorry, and got dressed. It only took twenty minutes from my apartment to my office and there wouldn’t be any traffic on Saturday. I got to the restaurant early, as I had planned, to make sure I got one of the large booths. Ann, the waitress I usually flirted with, didn’t work on the weekends, which was just as well.

I seated myself and a waitress came over. It wasn’t very crowded, but she still gave me a questioning look. I told her that I was expecting three other people. She nodded and put down four menus. Did I want to order? No, I would wait until they got there. Coffee? She had two pots with her. Yes. Regular or decaf? Regular. She filled the mug from the pot in her right hand and walked away. I doctored up the coffee and sipped on it while I waited.

About fifteen minutes after I arrived, I saw Betsy come in with another woman and a boy. I slid out of the booth and stood up to get their attention. Betsy looked around and saw me. She took the woman’s arm and brought her over. I tried to get a look at the boy as they approached me, but he was behind his mother. Betsy let go of the woman’s arm when they got to the table. The boy stayed behind his mother.

“Hi,” Betsy greeted me.

“Hi,” I replied making eye contact with her and then the woman.

“Jack, this is Tanya Ilianskya.”

“Hello, it is pleasure to meet you,” the woman took the initiative. She spoke with a noticeable Russian accent.

“Hello, Tanya, I am pleased to meet you.” I put out my hand and she gave me a firm handshake.

“And this is Dimitri.” The boy shyly stayed behind his mother. She turned and guided him forward.

“Offer hand, Dimitri,” she coached him. He put out his right hand. I shook it.

“Hello, Dimitri. I hope that we will become good friends,” I said, trying to put him at ease. I noticed that Tanya smiled and nodded her approval. So far so good.

“Please,” I gestured at the table, “sit down. Tanya and Dimitri slid into one side of the booth. Betsy seated herself beside me. I handed them the menus.

“The food is good. Dimitri, what do you like to eat? They have bacon and eggs and pancakes.” Then I realized that they may have had breakfast already. “Oh, if you’re not hungry, it’s okay. They can make milkshakes or you could have a soda or juice.” Damn Jack, stop trying so hard. Let the boy make his own choice.

The waitress noticed that the other people had arrived and came over with her two pots of coffee. Betsy had decaf and Tanya asked for tea. The waitress filled Betsy’s cup. She left and came back with a mug of hot water and a tea bag. She took out her order pad and waited with her pencil poised. Tanya and Betsy both wanted just their beverages.

“I,” I gave a sheepish shrug, “didn’t have breakfast. Would you mind if I ordered something?” I also wanted to give Dimitri a chance. Kids always had an appetite. Otherwise, it would be awkward if they all watched me eat. “Dimitri, are you hungry?” He nodded. “Good. What would you like.”

“Pancakes please?” He looked at his mother. “Dah,” she told him. I knew enough Russian that it meant she approved. The waitress tapped her pencil impatiently on her order pad. I made a mental note to skimp on her tip. “The buttermilk stack for Dimitri and the number two special for me, over easy with bacon,” I ordered, “and a glass of milk.” I looked him and then at his mother. She smiled at me, so I assumed I had made the right choice. The waitress left.

There was an awkward silence. Betsy was obviously experienced with these type of meetings. “Jack, why don’t you tell Tanya and Dimitri a little about yourself.”

“Okay, well, umm, I, umm,” great start Jack. “I’m a private investigator. I work on my own, for lawyers mostly, helping them prepare their cases. My office is across the street. That’s why I suggested this restaurant. I come here a lot for lunch. I, I’m single. I live in an apartment. I have a car.” I realized I was babbling and also I didn’t know how much Tanya understood. I stopped talking.

“Tanya,” Betsy continued as master of ceremonies, “tell Jack something about yourself and about Dimitri.”

“We come from town outside Moscow. I am engineer. I do big projects in Russia. I do little projects around house here. No license.” She looked at me. I couldn’t tell if she was being humorous or serious. Her accent and unemotional delivery made it hard to tell. “Dimitri, he good boy. He get good marks in school. His father, he is engineer too. We meet at work. Maybe Dimitri be engineer. He good with math. You like math, Jack?”

So much for this match. “No, I am terrible at math.” Then I had a thought as to how I could turn it around. “Maybe Dimtri could tutor me.” That suggestion got a big smile from Tanya and even a little smile from Dimitri. Well done, Jack.

“Dimitri,” tell Jack something about yourself, please,” Betsy seized the moment.

“I like football.”

“Terrific, Dimitri, I like football too. Maybe we could go to a game.” Oops, Betsy warned me about trying to influence them. I looked at her, but apparently it was not a hard and fast rule, because she gave me a little nod of approval. With that encouragement I added, “I have a friend who has really good seats.” I could see Dimitri become more comfortable.

Our conversation was interrupted by the waitress delivering our food. Dimitri put syrup on his pancakes and went after them with a fork. I cut up my egg and took a bite. I maintained proper etiquette by wiping the egg yolk dribble off of my lips with my napkin. Since Dimitri and I were absorbed with our meals, Betsy maintained the conversation. I was really impressed with her. She reminded me of Penny.

Tanya talked about her life in Russia and the difficulty she had adjusting to America. Too many choices, she complained. “In Russia, only one brand toilet paper and never in state shop. Buy on black market. Here I spend twenty minutes in supermarket to pick out.” I could tell that she did have a sense of humor. Dimitri looked unhappy about his mother’s choice for illustrating the difference between East and West.

When Dimitri and I had finished our breakfast, Betsy suggested that she and Tanya take a walk and let us get acquainted. They got up and went out. Of course, the waitress took that as a cue that we were finished. She came over, started to clear the dishes and put down the check. I gave her a disapproving look. She scowled back at me and walked off. Obviously, no refill for you, Jack, not that you wanted one.

“So, Dimitri, what grade are you in?” I remembered that Betsy had said he was nine.

“Fourth.” That would make him almost ten, I guessed.

“When is your birthday?”

“April.”

“Dimitri, when you said you liked football, you meant American football, right. Not European football. We call that soccer.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you play football?”

“American football?”

“Yes.”

“No. I play soccer at home.”

“You mean at home in Russia?”

“Yes.”

I continued to talk to Dimitri about sports. He liked sports, but he wasn’t on any teams. His mother made him come home after school and work on his math with her. I expected that he was way above his grade in that subject, but probably struggling with the others, because of his difficulty with English. I asked Dimitri whether it was a problem. He said that he could speak English, but had trouble reading it. I remembered that the Russian language used a different alphabet. I was impressed with how much progress he had made, but also I was concerned by how strict his mother seemed to be with him. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV either.

Kids should have fun, although I couldn’t claim any experience with parenting. I suppose things are different in the society Dimitri comes from and Tanya is simply doing what a good Russian mother does. Dimitri definitely needed an American adult to help him adjust. You couldn’t get more apple pie and baseball than me. He was in luck and so I was I. I really liked the boy and maybe I could do some good. You have to be careful, though, Jack, I reminded myself. You can’t contradict his mother’s decision to focus on his education.

Betsy and Tanya returned. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, so there was no reason for us to hurry and leave. They sat down. I told them that I would enjoy being Dimitri’s big brother, if Tanya wanted me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be so direct. I looked at Betsy to see if she disapproved. To my relief, she looked at Tanya for her decision. Tanya looked at Dimitri and said something to him in Russian. He answered in the same language. Although I didn’t understand what they were saying, it was obvious from how long they spoke that it was more than a yes or no discussion. Finally Tanya nodded.

‘Dimitri say he like Jack.” She looked at me and smiled. “Dimitri want to know if you have gun and you let him ride in your police car, make siren.”

“No, I’m a private investigator,” I explained. “Sometimes I work with the police, but mostly I am on my own. I don’t have a gun and I just have a regular car. I know some people on the force and they might let Dimitri sit in a police car, but they aren’t allowed to give civilians, umm, people who don’t work for the police, rides. Sorry.” I looked at Dimitri. “Does that change your mind?” He said something to his mother in Russian. “He still say okay.”

“Wonderful,” Betsy said enthusiastically. “Jack, I will do the paperwork to make the match official. Tanya, I will give Jack your telephone number and home address. Jack, please give Tanya a call at the beginning of next week and arrange to pick up Dimitri. It’s up to you two to work out the details of day, time and when he needs to be back. Okay, unless there are any questions, we’re done.”

None of us had anything more. I took out my wallet to pay for the breakfast. Tanya opened her pocketbook to pay her share of the bill.

“No, please, Tanya. This is a special day. Let me.” She closed her pocketbook.

“Thank you, Jack.” She looked at Dimitri. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” he repeated.

“You are both very welcome.”

Everyone shook each other’s hand and I waited as they filed out. On the street, we waived goodbye. Betsy made the telephone sign with her thumb and little finger against her cheek. I nodded. On my way back to my apartment, I complimented myself on successfully getting a Little, as they called them. I wondered what we should do on our first date. Was that what you called it, a date? It didn’t sound right. Funny, I thought. You are really into this for a guy who told Penny he would make a terrible father. Maybe there is hope for you yet.

I wanted to call Penny and tell her right away, but I was afraid she’d think I was doing it just as an excuse to talk her into getting back together. Besides, Jack, you haven’t even spent time with Dimitri. What if your first date, whatever, turns out to be bad. Then you’d look even worse. I decided to wait.

In fact, things went well. I took Dimitri to a movie for my first visit. That’s the term they use. I cleared it with Tanya. They lived in an apartment across town. The drive to the theater gave us some time to get to know each other and watching the movie meant we didn’t have to strain to keep up the conversation the whole time. I bought a huge tub of popcorn, sodas and an industrial sized box of Sno-Caps, my favorite. Dimitri acquired a taste for them too. I worried that Tanya would be angry with me for spoiling his appetite. She turned out to be very understanding and appreciative.

I was an only child, so having a little brother, even one who wasn’t related, was fun. In fact, I got so involved with planning my visits with Dimitri that it was two weeks before I thought about calling Penny. I picked up the phone and started to dial her office number. Then I thought maybe it would be better if I spoke to her at home. I hung up and puttered around the office for the rest of the day. I picked up a pizza and a six-pack on my way home. After finishing my gourmet dinner, well, I did splurge for Italian sausage and peppers That’s gourmet, more or less. Okay, a lot less than more. I downed a third beer for courage and made the call. My luck, I got her answering machine. Where was she? At Gingers? Without me? Of course without you, Jack. You’re here. Maybe I should go down there. Beep, the tone sounded.

“Umm, ahh, hi Penny, it’s Jack.” Yeah, Jack, like she wouldn’t recognize your voice. “I, umm, well, umm, I wanted to, I just wanted to see how your were doing and to tell you, umm, something, ahh, umm, I have a little brother. I mean not a real little brother, you know, like big brothers and sisters. You gave me a reference. That kind of little brother. His name is Dimitri. I, I don’t know, I, I just wanted to talk to you. Will you call me. I’m home.”

Brilliant, Jack. I was hoping that her machine had one of those options to erase and re-record the message, but it didn’t. What I said was what she got. Then again, Penny knew me well enough that she wouldn’t expect Shakespeare. I hung up. I stayed up until midnight, hoping she’d call back. Either she got in late or she didn’t want to talk to me. Oh my God, what if she had someone with her and that’s why she didn’t call me? You’re losing it, Jack. Go to bed.

I dragged out my morning routine, hoping that Penny would pick up my message and call me before she went to work. I gave up at nine o’clock and headed to my office. The phone rang a number of times, but they were all business calls. By the end of the day, I had resigned myself to the fact that Penny didn’t want to renew our relationship. I couldn’t blame her. Just as I was about to leave, the phone rang. I answered it as usual.

“Jack, Hi.” It was Penny!

“Hi Penny. I, umm, I ah, I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you? Why would you think that, Jack?”

‘I, umm, well, I, you know, you didn’t call me back, so, I, umm, thought that... “

”Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry,” she interrupted me. “No, no, I was speaking at a seminar today, so I worked late last night updating my presentation. By the time I got home it was too late to call you and this morning I had to leave early. This is the first chance that I’ve had.”

“Oh, I, umm, I’m glad, Penny. I,” I sighed, “I really care about you.”

“I really care about you too, Jack.”

“Then why aren’t we together, Penny?” I challenged her.

“Fire and ice, Jack. Each is fine by itself, but together they destroy each other.”

“Penny, I’m sorry, really. I was wrong. That’s why I volunteered to be a big brother. I told you that in my message. It has helped me to appreciate commitment. You’re patient with others, Penny, please be patient with me. I have to see you,” I pleaded.

“I don’t know, Jack. What would we talk about?”

“About us, Penny.”

“We’ve already had that conversation, Jack.”

“No, Penny, you spoke to a different Jack. This one wants you back and he won’t take no for an answer. He will sit on your doorstep until either you open the door or he dies from starvation. Your neighbors will be very upset if there is a corpse cluttering up the hallway.”

After a brief silence, she relented. “Okay, come on over and I’ll make us some dinner. I believe there’s something in my lease about not leaving dead bodies in the common areas and I don’t want to get evicted.” Penny always was able to top me. “Give me about an hour to get ready.” It was five o’clock.

“Okay, I’ll be there about six, bye Penny.”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

After hanging up the phone, I raised my left arm and took a sniff. Luckily, my deodorant had not failed. I kept a bottle of mouthwash in my desk drawer in case I had to speak with someone after having a burger with onions for lunch. I took a swig, swished it around and held it while I locked up. I stopped into the men’s room and spit it in the sink, relieved myself for good measure, washed up and walked to my car. It took about twenty minutes to drive over to Penny’s apartment, so I had time to pick up a bottle of wine on my way. I stopped at a liquor store and asked the clerk for something special. She recommended a twenty four dollar bottle of California chablis. Penny usually ordered white wine when we went out. Now was not the time to economize. I bought it.

I got to Penny’s apartment and parked. It was just like old times, sort of. Well, parking and going up to her apartment was the same. Convincing her to take me back was something new. I rang her on the intercom and she buzzed me in. I took the elevator and got off on her floor. I knocked and waited nervously for her to open the door. I felt like a schoolboy on his first date. I heard her turning the lock and there she was. Okay, Jack, sweep her off her feet. I stood there unable to think of anything to say to her.

“Why Jack Blaine. How nice to see you. Do come in,” she teased me.

“I, um, I, um, ah.” For crying out loud, Jack, give her the damn bottle. “Here.” I handed her the wine. “I hope you like it, it’s, um, it’s real wine.” What? No, you brought her pretend wine. It’s grape juice. “I mean, um, it’s really good wine. Um, the ah, woman at the liquor store said it was. I, um, ah.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Penny mercifully interrupted my babbling. She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. She took the bottle, put her hand on my arm to move me out of the doorway and closed the door. She kept her hand on my arm as she led me to the living room.

“Sit down. I’ll open the wine. Dinner’s almost ready. I know you prefer beer. I have some in the ‘fridge.”

“Please, Penny, I’d like wine too.”

“You’ve changed your drinking habits?”

“No, but, well, I want to share the wine with you. It’s a special occasion.”

“Really? Christmas, Halloween, someone’s birthday?” she continued to tease me.

“Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jack. You’re serious and I’m being silly.” She paused and considered her admission. “No, not silly, cruel. I made you believe it was your fault when it was really my own.” She shook her head.

“How can you blame yourself? I’m the one who asked you to give up your career to marry me.”

She shook her head again. “No, it is my fault. If it was just about our life together, we could have worked it out. There’s always a compromise. At least that’s what I counsel. I’m a hypocrite, Jack. I can help others deal with their gender confusion, but not myself. I was born male, but I’m not a man. I live my life as a woman, but I’m not female. I am terrified of being rejected by someone I care about, so I rejected you first. You deserve better.” She lowered her eyes sadly.

“Better, Penny? You’re pretty. Heads turn when you walk in a room. You’re smart. You have all of those letters after your name. You’re sympathetic, sensitive, loving and caring. You watched over Lavender when she was in the hospital and Dawn died at peace because of your support.” I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face to look at me. “I don’t care if you have a penis or a vagina or a pouch like a kangaroo. I love you for who you are, not what you aren’t.”

She gave a little whimper, her lower lip quivered and she couldn’t hold back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Penny,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m, I’m not very good with words,” I admitted.

“Shut up, Jack,” she managed to get out through the sobs.

“Penny, I’m really...”

She struggled to control herself. “Please. I’m not sad. I’m happy.”

“But? Oh, the hormones.”

“No, Jack, it’s not the hormones. It’s your words. They were perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now shut up and let me enjoy them.”

Quit while you’re ahead, Jack. I held out my arms and she cuddled up, her liquid happiness soaking my shoulder. Finally, her crying subsided. She moved back, looked at me lovingly and this time her kiss found my lips. Tongues make excellent aiming devices.

“Jack?” Penny asked once we came up for air. “Exactly how many marsupials have you made love to since we stopped seeing each other?”

“How many whats?”

“Marsupials, animals with pouches.”

“Oh, those. Umm, none actually.”

“Well, then,” she continued playfully, “how do you know you wouldn’t prefer one to me?”

“I’m just guessing. I suppose I could stop off at the zoo and see if there are any female mar-whatevers looking for dates.”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Oh, okay.” Actually, I was relieved that I would not have to romance Australian wildlife to prove my love.

The rest of the evening was, well, the meal was better than any I had for a long time. I regretted that oysters weren’t on the menu, lots of them, although I did manage to hold my own. Well, actually, umm, no I didn’t. She, we, umm, never mind. Who held what isn’t important. Well, no, it is important, more or less. Okay, more than less. Anyway, the next morning Penny was up early making breakfast. It might be the most important meal of the day, but that doesn’t excuse tofu bacon. She gave me a long kiss goodbye as consolation. I went back to my own apartment, showered, shaved, changed my clothes and went to work.

Things were back to normal between Penny and me. At least as normal as they ever got. I still wanted to get married., but I didn’t want to renew my proposal until I was sure she was ready. Exactly when that would be or how I would know was a mystery, but, I reminded myself of that wise advice: don't mess with success. Also, I doubted that my rejection of kangaroos as a mate would work a second time.

THE END