As the story of "Me and Sam" continues to unfold, Joan finds out what became of her father. Sam has a surprise of his own to reveal.

Chapter 2

All I Need Is A Miracle

Mom arrived home promptly at six. I did my best to put on a happy face. I hoped that she’d be able to have a "real" conversation with me. I poured her drink for her and delivered it to the table. Unable to control myself any longer, I blurted out, "Mom, we have to talk." She eyed me warily as I engaged in an inner battle over how to proceed. Sometimes, its better to just get it out and consider the consequences later. She sat there silently waiting for me to continue. My eyes locked on her own as I asked her, "Mom, what’s happened to Dad?"

It was as though I’d said some trigger phrase that sent her into hysterics. I didn’t mind consoling her, but I was determined to get some answers. I walked over to where she was sitting and grabbed her head in my hands and pulled her to my chest. I ached with the realization that I had no bosom for her to rest her weary head upon. "Mom, cry all you want, but I really need some answers." She sat there wailing, but no tears would come. After a few minutes she finally calmed down. "I tried calling Dad at work," I said softly before continuing. "I was told that Mr. Johnson was no longer employed there. I guess what I really need to know is my situation the same as Sam’s?" For a moment a look of confusion swept over her face.

"So, you know about Sam," she said at last. "No John, you don’t need to worry about that. Robert Johnson is your father." The way she said it, she could have just as easily said "sperm donor."

"Why hasn’t he called me?" I asked point blank.

"OK John, I’m not going to pussy foot around with this any longer. Your father has run off with his secretary."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"He claims to be in love for the first time in his life," she continued. "He’s set up his own practice somewhere in the state of New Jersey. As to why he hasn’t contacted you, I have no answers. I’m sorry sweetheart," she said at last. My body began shaking uncontrollably as I processed the information.

"He just up and left without a word?" The "to me" was implied.

The tears began flowing in earnest as Mom said yet again, "I’m sorry sweetheart." My life was becoming a cliché. I sighed audibly. For some reason I found myself unable to cry for my father. I was more angry than anything else. For a moment I thought about pouring a "drink" for myself. I resisted the urge. I sat back down as I numbly processed the information just provided. My father… hell, I didn’t know what to think. So many conflicting thoughts assaulted my mind that I couldn’t make sense of any of them. It all came down to: my father had deserted me. As I watched Mom sitting there, staring at me, my hatred for the man grew. Part of me hoped that I just didn’t have the whole picture, that there was more to this than met the eye. Still, the bottom line was he’d left and made no attempt to contact me.

I sat there and tried to convince myself that it was for the best. There was no way in hell that Dad would ever accept "Joan." I thought for a moment that somehow I’d find a way to make him understand, but given the circumstances, I knew I was just lying to myself. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to eat anything. Somehow, I figured if I did that it would help Mom snap out of her funk. I took some food and carelessly shoveled it into my mouth. There was no way I was going to be able to do this. I got up from my seat and ran to the waste bin. I wasn’t even sure what it was that I’d attempted to eat as it spewed from my mouth and into the can. Between heaves and sobs I exclaimed, "I’m sorry Mom!"

Perhaps that was the best way of dealing with the situation. Mom, instead of sinking further into her own funk, came over and comforted me. She moistened some paper towels and carefully cleaned off my face.

"Don’t worry Joan, it’s going to be all right." A few minutes later, having calmed down, I began putting everything away. There would be no dinner this evening. I had the love of my mother, the love of Sam, yet this overwhelming sense of emptiness surrounded me. Would it ever go away? Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that all of this was my fault. It wasn’t really, but that’s how I felt and there was no consoling me.

For something to do, I put on a pot of coffee. Just doing anything seemed to keep me from crumbling. I poured us each a cup and sat back down at the table. Mom didn’t bat an eye as I lit a cigarette.

"You know, smoking will stunt your growth," she said at last and began laughing.

"Good," was my one word reply. The mood had somehow lightened a bit.

"What do you say us girls go shopping this evening?" she asked. I sat there for a moment mulling over her proposition.

"OK Mom, but I do have one condition."

"What’s that?" she asked.

"That we stay away from the Piercing Palace," I said with a smile on my face. She laughed at that and soon we were on our way to the mall.

"Is there anything you need?" she asked as we entered. I thought of my very limited supply of clothes and figured maybe a new top or two wouldn’t do too much damage to our meager budget.

We picked out a few shells together. Mom was a lot more into the shopping stuff than I was. I have to admit though, I was happy to have the new clothes even if they did come off the clearance racks. As we walked through the main mall Mom attempted to grab hold of my hand.

"Mom!" I implored. "I’m not five years old anymore," I said a bit huffily.

She smiled at that and gave up in her attempt. "How’s your new job?" she asked me. I gave her the long version and told her everything that had transpired that day including my trip to Aunt Vivian’s. It’s funny, but as John I know I’d have simply responded, "it was fine Mom", and let it go at that. It just seemed easier talking to her now.

"OK daughter, I’d better get you home," she said at last. "You do have to go to work tomorrow." We were both silent on the short ride home. The funk that we’d slipped out of for awhile found its way back.

Not sure why, but I found myself saying yet again: "I’m sorry Mom." She gently assured me that I had nothing to be sorry about. I believed her.

"It’s just going to take some time to get used to," she said at length.

I hugged and kissed her and whispered, "I love you Mom."

We made our way into the house and I modeled my new tops for her. I’m not sure which of us was more excited about them. I loved the new tops and was determined to get some use out of them.

"Mom, is it ok if I go and call Sam?" I asked more concerned with her state of well being than my own.

"I don’t see why not," she replied. I made my way upstairs and dialed Sam’s number.

"Joan!" he exclaimed upon picking up. "I made the team!"

"That’s fantastic Sam," I said to him halfheartedly. I’m not sure why I wasn’t happier for him, but something about it made me sad. Was I upset because I wouldn’t be the one playing baseball this summer?

We talked for awhile longer and he asked if it would be ok if he came over for a few minutes. It was only 9:30 so I told him I didn’t see why not. No more than a minute later he came bounding through the front door still wearing his uniform. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing his spikes. He was quite a sight in that get up. Sam took off his baseball cap and bowed to me. His hair was beyond short.

"Oh Sam! What have you done?" He laughed and asked me if I liked it. I’d never seen Sam with short hair before. I was stunned. No one would be mistaking him for a "girl" anymore. I wondered how Aunt Alice was handling this situation. "Has your mother seen you yet?" I asked. He looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "It’s ok baby," I whispered, "you look fantastic!" I said, though I wasn’t really sure I believed it. He smiled sheepishly at me and embraced me firmly. I let out a gasp as I begged him to ease up a bit. He laughed carelessly and reduced the pressure of his embrace.

"Hey, Aunt Joan!" he called out obviously seeking approval from someone besides myself. Mom came walking into the living room and her jaw dropped.

"Samantha, is that you?" she asked. This was not the response that Sam was seeking. Tears began forming in his eyes as he plopped down on the couch. "Sam, you look quite handsome," Mom assured him. "I honestly didn’t recognize you there for a moment."

That seemed to placate him and he replied,. "It’s all right Aunt Joan, I guess I’m as much of a shock to the system as Joan here," he laughed a bit cynically.

Mom left the room abruptly with Sam and myself sitting on the couch. She returned moments later carrying her camera. Seeing her holding that brought smiles to both of our faces. It meant acceptance. It meant that she’d want to remember the way we both looked that evening. We sat there and Sam put his arm around my shoulder. We both looked up and smiled without any prompting. Mom snapped a few shots and thanked us for indulging her.

"No, thank you, Aunt Joan," he said and got up and gave her a hug. Pictures taken, Mom made her way back into the kitchen. The next thing I heard was her half of a conversation with Aunt Alice…

"I always thought they’d wind up together, but not like this," I heard Mom say as her voice drifted off. Sam and I unable to tune out the words being spoken and not wishing to hear what was being said made our way outside.

There was a slight scent of salt in the air. I closed my eyes and embraced it. Sam wrapped his arms around me, kissed me gently and whispered, "I love you Joan." I melted at his touch. Given everything that had happened, I was a bit wary of relationships, but I knew that I’d always love Sam.

"I love you too sweetheart," I whispered in return. We stood there for a few minutes locked in embrace, both of us with goofy grins on our faces.

"I’d better get going," he said at last. "I’ve got practice everyday except Sunday for the next two weeks and then our season begins." A surge of pride in his accomplishment finally washed over me and I let him know that I’d always be his biggest fan. He gushed a bit at that and finally kissed me goodnight.

I made my way back into the house. Mom was still on the phone with Aunt Alice. Shandy and I played catch until we both grew tired of the game. I let her out and went upstairs to ready myself for bed.

"Joan?" Mom’s voice assaulted me. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine Mom," I assured her. I told her that I was tired and was going to call it a day. She bade me goodnight. I stripped naked and climbed under the sheets. I found myself wishing I had a pair of satin pajamas to wear as sleep overtook me.

The next thing I knew, the alarm sounded letting me know that a new day had dawned. Sure, I wanted the money, but I really didn’t feel like going to work today. Ah well, a small price to pay. The hours weren’t bad and my work mates were acceptable. It was getting too warm to be wearing long pants, so I decided to wear my black skort. I grabbed a cute tee shirt to wear as a top and donned my sneakers. Since, apparently Mr. Ferris was "expecting" Joan, I decided not to disappoint him. I put on some lipstick, grabbed my purse and pedaled off to work.

Two doors down from Mr. Ferris’ house I noticed a familiar face lugging a garbage can to the curb. Damned if it wasn’t Sarah. Fortunately, she didn’t see me, or at least I don’t think she did. Something else to worry about. I found my way back to the shop, and went inside. Paul was already measuring wood to be cut.

"Good morning Joan," he said to me. I smiled at him and wished him a good morning as well. Mr. Ferris was nowhere to be seen. I decided that rather than wait for him to arrive, I’d grab the sandpaper and start in where I’d left off yesterday. A while later I heard Mr. Ferris yell a good morning to me over the sound of the power machinery. Thankfully, he called me "Joan."

Being Joan was easier in a lot of ways, but I found myself more wary of everyone and everything than I had ever been before. No, I wasn’t being paranoid, just cautious. Lunch time arrived and I quickly downed my sandwich. I decided to go for a quick walk. OK, so it wasn’t about the walk. I wanted a cigarette and I’m beyond positive that Mr. Ferris would not have permitted it. I walked two blocks up the street (away from Sarah’s) and back again. It was time to get back to work.

"Mr. Ferris!" I called out upon his return. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" He sauntered over to me and asked what he could do for me.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. I smiled at him and told him "absolutely." His expression said: "what then?" I told him about my plan to make and sell custom made jewelry boxes. He looked at me like I was nuts.

"Do you think you could help me decide on what tools I’d need and what they might cost?" I asked him.

"Joan, the required tools will cost more than you’re going to earn this summer. If you’re serious about doing this, I’ll rent you the use of my tools," he said solemnly. I gave him a look of disappointment. "Joan, you’ll need a table saw, a router, a sander, a proper work table, clamps and a lot of other things. Why don’t you take me up on my offer and then if it looks like it’s something you want to continue, I’ll help you plan out a nice beginner’s workshop." I couldn’t possibly argue with his logic and thanked him for his suggestion.

Soon, my sanding was finished for the day. My "work week" was now officially half over. I said my farewells to Paul and Mr. Ferris and found myself once again going out of my way to avoid someone. There was no way I’d be pedaling past Sarah’s house again. I wondered to myself briefly if I was a coward? Once again, I found myself at Darla’s front door. Once again Aunt Viv answered and told me that the girls had gone to the beach for the day. My face fell and Aunt Viv asked me if I wanted to come in for a cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure if I was really there to see Darla or her. As I’d done yesterday, I cleaned myself up and made my way to the kitchen.

"So, how’s the new job going?" she asked me. I told her all about my new job and explained that I hoped to be working on her jewelry box soon. She smiled at that and told me that there wasn’t any rush.

"You really want one though, right?" I asked her. She gave me a puzzled expression and asked me how I could possibly doubt it. "I plan on using a slightly different design," I told her. Again, she eyed me quizzically. "I just mean that I’m going to put your secret compartment in a different place." I told her.

"What secret compartment?" she asked.

"Ahhh, nevermind!" I said laughing. I doubted that Darla would want to share that bit of information with her mother.

"Did you check out any of those websites that I suggested?" she asked. I told her I was sorry but I hadn’t yet had the opportunity. "By the way, you look very pretty today Joan," she added. I blushed slightly at her comment and thanked her. "How’re things at home?" she asked in mind reading mode.

Did she know about Dad leaving us? It certainly seemed as if she did. So, I replied, "not so good." She didn’t say anything but simply waited for me to continue. I poured my heart out to her leaving nothing out.

"I’m so sorry Joan," she said at last. "I just want you to know one thing," she stated finally. I knew what she was going to say before she said it and she didn’t disappoint me. "It’s not your fault," she said at last. Logically, I knew that was true, but what if it wasn’t? Had it been my fault that Dad and I weren’t closer? How could he simply abandon me like this if it wasn’t my fault? I couldn’t help my reaction. I started crying. Not wailing like a baby, just weeping softly. I fought back the tears. Aunt Viv made no move towards me. A look of anger swept over her face. Was she angry with me?

"Joan, what your father has done is inconceivable. It’s really not your fault. You are truly a loving person and any parent would be proud of you." I almost believed her, but I still found myself thinking if that were true, then why? Why did he do this to me? "So," she said changing the topic, "how do you like being a girl full time?" For a moment, I looked at her like she was nuts. Did I magically morph while I slept last night?

Knowing that sarcasm wouldn’t be appreciated, I replied, "I’m just me being me." She smiled at that and let it go for now. I was grateful. I wasn’t up for any more introspection that afternoon. I thanked Aunt Viv for the coffee and her company and bade her goodbye.

"You can stop over anytime sweetheart," she said. My next words gave her pause.

"Do you mean that?" I asked.

"Joan, if I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it." I found myself giving her a tearful hug before beginning my ride home.

"Woof!" Shandy beckoned as she heard me approach the front door. How could she have heard my bicycle approach, I wondered? I opened the door and she was all over me. I was beyond grateful that she was there for me. "Come on girl, let’s go outside," I beckoned her to the back door. She flew passed me onto her hallowed ground. I sat at the table and waited for her to finish. With each passing day I was becoming more comfortable with being myself. An odd thought to have, I considered. "OK girl, I have to go and see what’s on the menu for today," I told her. She didn’t understand what I was saying, but I could tell she appreciated the fact that I was talking to her and her alone.

The menu called for steak and potatoes. I smiled as I considered that no meal could be easier to prepare. Except for the potatoes, I wouldn’t have to start cooking till about 5:45. Hell, the steaks cooked so fast on the grill, I decided to wait until Mom got home to put them on. I made us a couple of salads and ran upstairs to start sorting laundry. With a load in and another ready when that was done, I gave some thought to the overall cleaning situation. I filled up a bucket and began washing the windows. With all of the inside windows finished I wondered whether or not to enter Dad’s inner sanctum (home office) and wash the windows in there as well.

I stood outside the closed door and found myself "wishing" him there. I took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was empty. There were no signs that the room had ever been occupied. I sat down in the middle of the room, on the hardwood floor, and wept copiously. Somehow, I had to get past these feelings. I decided that I’d offer up the room as good news to Mom. Hey Mom! Great news! We have a new room in the house! Any thoughts as to how we should use it? I was half-serious in my decision as I finished washing the windows and exited my father’s former home office.
I closed the door upon exiting, not wishing to give the space any further consideration.

With the potatoes cooking I made my way into the backyard to fire up the grill. Six o’clock was rapidly approaching. I decided that the dining room and candles were in order for the evening. Maybe a change of scenery would do us both some good. I carefully set the table and waited for Mom to arrive. Six o’clock came and went without any word. At six thirty, I began to worry. I dialed her cell phone and urged her (in my mind) to pick up as it continued to ring. At last I heard her loving voice.

"Joan, I’m so sorry," she said to me. Her words gave me both relief and added worry.

"Sorry for what Mom?" I asked her.

"I had to work late and forgot to call. I’m on my way home now and will be there in ten minutes," she said. Relief washed over me.

"It’s ok Mom, see you in a few," I said and ended the call.

Once again I found myself wondering just what the hell I’d ever do without my Mom. Could I care for myself? Of course I could. The world at large, however, would not permit a not-quite fourteen year old to care for herself. Who then, if not Mom? Dad? Absolutely not, I reasoned. Aunt Alice? Probably not. Aunt Melissa? I had no intentions of leaving the good old USA. All of these thoughts made me worry for Mom even more. I shook my head violently in an attempt to NOT turn into a total basket case and put the steaks on the grill. The potatoes were done and I turned the temperature down to the keep warm level. I made Mom her drink. I still felt somewhat guilty as I realized that a bit of the "gin" was actually water. With that in mind, I made her drink "extra" strong.

Mom arrived and I ran to the front door to greet her. I gave her a huge hug. She had no idea why I was giving way to such an extreme show of emotion.

I looked her in the eyes and whispered, "I’m just so glad you’re home." She seemed to understand and made her way into the kitchen. Seeing nothing laid out she looked at me questioningly. "The dining room," was all I said. She chuckled a bit and made her way into the room. I brought Mom her drink and an ashtray. I ran into the backyard to check the steaks. I flipped them and ran back inside. Mom smiled at me as I sat down.

"I’m really sorry for not calling," she said before I could say anything.

"It’s ok Mom, just don’t let it happen again!" I admonished. Her smile widened as she told me not to worry that it would never happen again.

As we ate, I asked her about her day. I did my best to pay attention, but honestly it was all over my head. Not to mention, and I hate to admit this, but I didn’t really care. I was however, beyond glad that she was here: alive and well: whew! She wound up asking me if I liked my new job and I found myself replying that.. "a job’s a job." I went on to tell her that while I loved working with wood, I didn’t see myself being a professional sander. That, at least, got a laugh out of her. As I cleared the table I asked her if she’d like her dessert in the dining room or in front of the television.

Honestly, I had nothing planned, but I was sure I could find something "sweet" to serve up. She demurred and told me that coffee in the living room would be nice. I began brewing a half-pot and finished cleaning up the dishes.

"Is it ok if I go out with Aunt Alice this evening?" she asked me. I was totally taken aback by her question. Mom was asking me "my" permission to do something? I was beyond amazed.

"Just don’t stay out too late," I told her sternly. She laughed at that as I’d intended. She made her way upstairs to get herself ready for her evening out. Hell, it was only Tuesday, where on earth could she be headed?

She descended the stairs looking radiant and my smile was all the approval she required.

"I should be home by 11:00 PM," she informed me. "If I’m not, I’ll be sure to call, OK sweetheart?"

"Thanks Mom," was all I could think to say. With that she was out the door. The clock neared eight as I wondered what to do with the rest of my evening. I really wished that I had an opportunity to spend some time with Darla. Why was I suddenly feeling so alone? I briefly thought about ringing Sam, but hey, my Mom had just headed over there and besides, if Sam wanted to talk to me, he knew my phone number.

I decided to check out some of the websites that Aunt Vivian had provided. I’m not sure if I felt better or worse when I was finished. The problems that were facing me seemed to grow out of proportion the more that I read. This would happen, that would happen… sighs… I almost felt overwhelmed by the time I was finished. When I stumbled across the "Harry Benjamin Standards of Care," I was outraged. It seemed for me to feel as I did made me ipso facto, "seriously mentally ill." Thanks Doc… I thought as I shut down the web browser. This isn’t hard enough without being considered mentally ill….. damn!

Finally, at almost 9 PM Sam called. "Joan! How are you?" he asked me as I picked up the receiver. I wanted to tell him that I felt miserable and disconsolate, but instead I said nothing. Silence filled the airwaves as moment after moment passed. "Let’s go for a walk," he said when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. I’m not sure why that suggestion lifted my spirits, but it did.

Ten minutes later I was decked out in my blue pleated skirt with one of my new tops and just the right amount of makeup on my face. I waited patiently for Sam to arrive. Another five minutes passed and I was beginning to get annoyed. Finally, at 9:30 Sam showed up as though he was on time. I briefly considered not opening the front door at all. At 20 minutes late I locked the front door so Sam couldn’t just come waltzing in. I’d run like a maniac to be ready and then? Then nothing: I was pissed!

"Well, if it isn’t the late Samantha Peters," I said upon opening the door. He simply glared at me. "It’s too late now Sam, I’m going to bed," I said closing the door before he could enter.

I waited ten minutes till I was sure that he’d gone. Damn, I really did want to see him. I considered calling and giving my apologies for my earlier behavior. No! I wasn’t going to do that. He should know better than to keep a lady waiting. Grrrrrrrrrr! I also considered calling Darla. What was wrong with me? Couldn’t I handle simple set-backs any longer? I stepped outside, locked the front door and headed for the boardwalk. Well, after I’d left a note on the refrigerator telling Mom that I’d be home by eleven. My stride was purposeful. I’m still not sure what my actual purpose was though. I found myself in need of serious diversion. The lights,, the sounds, the action! Summer was in full swing as my feet assaulted the boards.

As soon as I hit the boards all of my worries slipped away. This truly was a magical place. I stopped and lit one of my Virginia slims with supreme confidence and continued my quest. I found myself on a bench across from the arcade with the cheap ski ball games. I sat there smoking and watching the passers by. A few boys ventured by but my glare kept them at bay. I finished my cigarette and made my way to the cheap games. I changed a dollar for dimes and walked over to the machines. Sam had already beaten me there. I stood in the background unnoticed and watched him play. He was good. I wasn’t sure if I could beat him in a "head to head" contest. Still, I could handle the doubt. Probably better than Sam himself could.

Having watched Sam roll another 400 game, I deposited my dime in the machine next to his own. Did he even know I was there? I ignored him totally as the nine balls arrived for me to play. I picked the first one up and gently set it on its course. It carefully dropped in the innermost circle. The next seven balls did the same. I’d never before rolled a perfect game. I knew that Sam knew I was there at that point. He never said a word. I hefted the last ball slowly from its place. My eyes opened and closed involuntarily. I measured the arc with great care before releasing the ball up the alley. It slid quietly into the 50 point slot. My first perfect game ever! Before I could react, Sam spun me around and lifted me off the ground. "You did it!"

I forgot that I was mad at him. I was grateful for his hug and his acceptance of my prowess at the game. "Oh Joan!" he said at last. "I’m so glad you showed up." Did he know that I was going to be here? I wish he would have told me! I collected the unwieldy amount of coupons that exited the machine. He kissed me possessively as I attempted to gather my wits as well as my coupons. A perfect game. Damn… should I ever play this game again? Perhaps it would be best to end on a high note? Lol… yea yea yea, I know that the odds were overwhelmingly against me should I continue to play, so I didn’t.

"Want to go for a walk Sam?" I asked. Rather than attempting to match my score. Hell, he couldn’t beat it, he readily agreed. It was pitch black outside as we made our way to the beach. A few suitors quietly stalked me, but Sam’s glare kept them away. I was greatly relieved. And while none of them scared me, I was grateful that I didn’t have to deal with them.

Before he could say anything, I said, "I love you Sam," as we made our way down to the beach. He didn’t respond at all. I was glad that he didn’t. We silently made our way to the waves. As we grew near, the sounds of the boardwalk completely faded away. All we could hear was the sound of the crashing surf. I swung my hand, firmly locked with his, like a mad-woman possessed. He looked at me expectantly. I smiled at him. "I love you Sam," I said again. He seemed both delighted and befuddled by my statements. We continued onward.

As we were walking beside the ocean, Sam pulled me up short and said: "I love you Joan!" For some reason, this declaration meant more than any other he’d made up to that point. My heart as well as my spirit melted at his words. I felt like a puppet in the hands of a very skilled puppeteer. I simply smiled at him as I wrapped my arms around him and waited for his kiss and his embrace.

We slowly made our way back home. Damn, I loved this person. If I had one wish, it would be to have Sam’s babies. I had a reasonably firm grip on reality and knew that I’d never be having anyone’s babies. That fact left me inordinately depressed. Why had I been born male and Sam female? I felt like screaming. I would have if I thought it’d have done any good. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my house. Sam kissed me again and again: his kisses taking me to a safer place. "Tomorrow darling?" I begged. He continued holding my hand as he slowly walked away. With only our fingertips touching, he stopped for the briefest of moments.

"Tomorrow sweetheart," he said and was gone.