by Melanie T
This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
Seventeen
I slowly came back to my senses as the tears subsided and my sobs quieted down. I straightened up a bit and let go of Stacy, who also sat up.
She winced as she felt where she had hit the wall and brought her hand to her head. “My head hurts. What was that?”
I quipped “I didn't get the plate of the truck that hit us.” She made a pained expression and I realized that my attempt at levity had misfired. I said, “I guess I got mad.”
“They did say to avoid strong emotions, and that it could get messy. Seems this is what they were talking about.”
“No shit. I really need to learn to control that stuff.” I said. “I need to call Alyssa.”
I went for the phone and then got on the computer. I called up her email and dialed the number from her signature. After a couple of rings, I heard her voice “Hello?”
“Hi Alyssa, this is Veronica. I just sort of lost my cool. I hurt Stacy and blew out the window.”
“That's not good news,” she said, “I half expected it to happen, but not this soon. I would like to see you; we need to try to do something about these uncontrolled releases of power.”
“I have a 3pm with the lawyer,” I quickly checked the time, “and I don't think I have time before that. I need to get the window fixed or boarded up. Can we meet after?”
“Sure, I have all evening. Do you have a pen handy?”
“Yes, go ahead.” I said, taking a pen and pulling a sticky note off my block.
She gave me an address to go to and directions, and told me she would like to see me as soon as possible, preferably right after I saw the lawyer.
I checked the time again, 11am. Not much time for everything, considering that the window needed to be taken care of. I pulled up Google to find emergency window repair firms near here.
A couple of phone calls later I was assured someone was already dispatched and I would have the window fixed in no time flat.
Stacy chased me into the bathroom to wash my face, so I wouldn't look as if I had cried, and followed me to do the same. Fortunately, she didn't have any visible bruises.
“Can you describe what you did,” asked Stacy?
“I don't know,” I said, “it just happened. I got so mad at the universe for this epic joke played on me, and felt this hot ball of energy form inside of me and then it just blew up outward, I guess.”
“So it was your anger? Nothing else, not wanting to lash out?”
“At least not consciously,” I said.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Stacy went to open it. I felt very insecure, this is the very first time a man would see me since the transformation.
Two men entered and Stacy showed them through into the bedroom. One said, “Hi. I'm Steve from AAA Windows and Doors.”
I held out my hand and said, in a timid voice, “I'm Veronica, nice to meet you.” I motioned to the broken window and said, “This is the window we'd need closed.”
He took a look at the window, did a double take, and said “That's really unusual. We normally see damage like this after terrorist bombings or gas explosions. This room doesn't really look like either one happened here.”
I was at a loss at what to say to him, when Stacy came to the rescue, and in a somewhat bitchy manner, said, “I'm sure that won't keep you from fixing it and letting the cause be our worry?”
“Yes, certainly,” he said, visibly put out but not willing to let go of the job now. He motioned to his colleague and they proceeded to remove the two sliding frames from the rails and take them downstairs.
I went to the living room, which had a window facing the street, and looked down. They had come in a small truck, and were apparently carrying glass panes in various common sizes. They selected two that were slightly larger than the sliding frames, and, with practiced ease, trimmed them to fit.
After reassembling the frames, they came back upstairs. I was anticipating the knock and had the door open before they reached the top of the stairs so they could walk right in.
All of 5 minutes later, I was the proud new owner of 2 glass panes, and was handed the bill. Not cheap, that's for sure. I was about to hand them my card, then I realized that it didn't have the right name on it.
Stacy rescued me again; she pulled out hers and handed it to the man. He ran it through his wireless terminal and handed Stacy a receipt.
“Thank you,” Stacy said.
“Thank you, and have a nice day,” he said and the two men left.
The door clicked shut and i mimicked Stacy, “... letting the cause be our worry.” I never knew you could be Miz Bitch!
Stacy laughed and said, “We I can be Miz Bitch, and you better believe it. And, come to that, you'd better learn it, too!”
Eighteen
Stacy looked at her watch and said “12:30, we need to go!”
“Do we have to?” I asked, not relishing the thought of war paint at all.
“Yes, she said. Just because you threw a tantrum,” she grinned, “that hasn't changed.”
“OK,” I acquiesced, “do your worst.”
“Not me,” she said, “but the Bobbi Brown girls!”
She laughed and pulled me to the door, and I followed her to her car.
After a short drive, we pulled into the lot of the Sak's that was hosting the Bobbi Brown road show for the week, and Stacy had to coax me out of the car because I froze up. When I was finally out, she had to physically pull me towards the store. I was petrified, afraid people would start shouting “That's a man dressed as a woman,” but of course it never happened.
We wound our way through the “islands” of cosmetics vendors that department stores insist on setting up to the large one that Bobbi Brown had set up. A black archway with their name on it led into the demo area, where a couple of girls were giving makeup demonstrations.
Stacy asked if they had time to fit her friend in, because she was one who never wore makeup and she was trying to convince her to try. Of course she was talking about me. I was looking around for a hole to vanish into, but none availed.
I was scheduled for 20 minutes later, 1:15. That was cutting it pretty close, to make it to the photo place and then to the lawyer by 3pm.
We were asked if we wanted to wait there or come back, and before I could accept the offer of a seat, Stacy said, “We'll be taking a look around and come back in 20 minutes.”
Of course. Shopping. That figured. The following 20 minutes, I was dragged through the cosmetics department and, while shopping for herself, Stacy introduced me to more factoids about female appearance than I had ever wanted to know.
Of course, she was a receptionist. Her looks were a vital part of her job. I wasn't planning on doing something where my looks were important, but when I told her, she said, “As a woman, your looks are always important. It is the first thing people judge you by.”
“Great,” I thought. “Just great!”
One-fifteen came way too soon, and we headed back to the Bobbi Brown thing, passed under the archway and Stacy handed me off to a bubbly little thing who introduced herself as a cosmetologist named Kim. “You can call me Kimmy, everyone does.”
She proceeded to drape different color cloth around me, while I looked at a mirror that was set up so I couldn't see the cloth, but I could see my face. She was asking whether I thought I looked better this way or that. When I tried to stretch so I could actually see the colors, she explained that I wasn't supposed to see them. I was supposed to judge the color of my skin as it appeared in the subtle change of lighting caused by the color I was “wearing”.
To my surprise, when I went with the flow instead of questioning and really looked at myself, I found that I was able to perceive color differences that I could not remember ever seeing. I filed that for later, to ask Stacy about it, or possibly Alyssa.
After we did the stuff with the colors, she draped me with a white cloth, to keep my clothing clean, and pulled up some color charts. According to her, I was a Spring type. I could wear yellow, rose and other bright colors well. Pastels would suit me, but I should stay away from white, because I would leach out my own coloring. She tried a few dabs of makeup on my hand and then proceeded to spread a “liquid foundation” over my face.
Despite a reluctance to learn this, I was drawn in and watched carefully what she did in the mirror. I saw her sparingly apply blusher to my cheeks and jawbone, making me look a little like those models do, then she applied eyeliner. I had a hard time not blinking or twitching, but it seemed she was used to that and didn't make a mess of my face. Mascara was a challenge and I was blinking so hard that she finally gave up on it and said “I don't think I can get this on without making a mess of your eye makeup, and we don't have enough time left on your slot to do them again. I would suggest you practice at home, I'm sure your friend will help you.” She gave me a really strange look that said, “No idea why a woman like you doesn't know how,” and offered the products she had used on me to us. Stacy accepted and bought everything, which put a smile on Kim's face. I guessed they work on percentages, so I was happy for her. I wasn't happy for myself, although I had to admit I looked pretty good, I hadn't asked to look like this in the first place.
Two o' clock saw us entering the photo place, where I was sat on a stool in front of an off-white wall, and was told to look straight ahead, tilt my head a little this way or that, smile a little, no, not that much, yes, click, yes, click, nice, click.
In the end, I received a CD with 4 pictures Stacy had picked from the session and a print containing four copies of a picture suitable for a driver's license. We left the place and headed for the lawyer's office.
Nineteen
We arrived at the offices of Halcroft, Webb, Biggs, Attorneys at Law, at 10 minutes before three. We had been lucky to make it in such good time, the traffic gods must have been with us.
We presented ourselves at reception and were ushered into a spacious meeting room, all dark wood and soft carpeting. The door closed behind us and another opened.
A tall, distinguished man introduced himself as Steve Biggs. Wow. A partner! He then called in an assistant, a younger woman in a conservative skirted business suit. When she entered, I felt an aura around her. Remembering what Alyssa had said, magical people can sense each other, so she was probably a sorceress. One of “us.” Strange thought.
She gave no indication of having sensed me, so I also didn't mention it. Steve, who was a very personable guy, explained what they would do for me.
“We can file the needed paperwork with the courts to get your name changed today. By tomorrow, you will be receiving interim identification and a letter from the court that will allow you to get the name on your bank accounts and credit cards changed with a minimum of fuss. We will be handling the DMV, you won't have to appear in person at all. That is why we asked for the picture, we can handle that all for you.”
“I'm surprised, how can you do that?”, I said, “I didn't think that was possible?”
The assistant spoke up, “We have Family there...”
I nodded and Steve went on. “We will, shortly, procure medical letters to the effect that your sex was wrongly assigned at birth because of an error in judgment on the part of the obstetrician. We will file for correction of your birth certificate and we can guarantee that it will be granted. You will receive your new birth certificate by courier by the end of the week.”
“Wow.” I said. “This is really moving fast.”
The assistant took the photos and my old driver's license and dropped them into a brown envelope that already contained some papers, sealed it and put it into her case. She said, “I'll take these to the court house right away, they'll be processed by noon tomorrow.”
We said our goodbyes and thanked the lawyers, and were ushered out. We left the building barely half an hour after we had arrived, and got into the car to see Alyssa.
Stacy entered the address into her smart phone, and it's GPS told her it would be a 39 mile drive. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes.
End of part five
To Be Continued...
Comments
Thank god the histrionics are over...
Not Ronni's but mine, now that you've delivered the next chapter. Excellent and leaving me disappointed that I don't reside in your head, wanting so much to read more. Thanks!
"She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones." Che Dio ti benedica! 'drea
Love, Andrea Lena
At least
Veronica managed not to lose her temper this episode, That sort of behaviour apart from being very expensive will draw attention to herself ....And right at this moment maybe the limelight is not a place Veronica should be!!
Kirri
Shorter and Faster
The chapters are getting shorter and reading faster. Things are heating up and getting good. I'm still enjoying this story a lot.
I like how the Family sticks together, and I have to wonder if Ronni's ability to detect others with power will help her sometime in the future, especially since they can't seem to read her. Very interesting.
Thanks for another good chapter.
- Terry
The Venus Touch 5
Wonder ust how powerful a blast she can do and what she can do with the blast once she can control it.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
name change
lucky. it took me a lot more hoops!