Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.
 
 
Forty-three

I woke up because Alyssa had decided that the easiest way out of bed was to climb over me. I caught her by the leg and said, “Missy, that's not nice to climb over sleeping people.” Although I was trying to give her a stern look while saying that, I couldn't help giggling a moment later, when the absurdity of the situation hit home.

A few months ago, I had thought I might be a father one day, now here I was, “mommy” without even being a mother! “Well, I do have all the right bits for that now,” I mused, “but no, let's not go there!”

Alyssa laughed about the expression on my face, and that woke Stacy. A look at my watch confirmed we've had all of 5 hours of sleep. Not enough for the old me, although the new me seemed to cope just fine.

Stacy won the race for the bathroom, leaving me to roll about and play with Alyssa until she was done. I actually felt pretty good; some of Alyssa's carefree, childish mood must have rubbed off on me.

When Stacy was done, I made a beeline for the bathroom to relieve myself and freshen up. By now, sitting down had become second nature; I rarely gave it any thought at all. I stepped in front of the mirror, brushed my hair and pulled it together with a scrunchie, applied a bit of lipstick and pronounced myself ready.

Lipstick was about as far as I had taken the makeup thing on my own. Something within me stubbornly refused to accept that makeup was a proper thing for me to wear; also I thought I was already feminine looking enough without it.

Stacy's opinion differed, of course, but she didn't push it and we packed the cases we had taken up to the room and went downstairs. The motel didn't serve any meals, so I just paid for the stay and we found our vehicles. I strapped Alyssa into her seat while Stacy went to start the truck.

Backing the truck out from behind the building turned out to be tricky, so I had to walk beside the truck, telling her which way to turn the wheel. Finally, the truck was on the street and I got into my car and joined Stacy on the road.

Being the one who knew where we were going, I overtook the truck and set course for Los Angeles.

Forty-four

Some miles along the road, we stopped at a fast food place and got ourselves and Alyssa something to eat. She took to the food well enough and ate with a healthy appetite while making a mess of the table and herself.

All we had to take care of things was some thin paper napkins, so we had no choice but to leave with Alyssa looking like a chainsaw murderer. At least we knew it was only ketchup, but we also knew we would have to do some clothes shopping, and soon.

I clicked on the radio to listen to some music and we drove for a while. Alyssa, having eaten, had fallen asleep again. In a way, I envied her. She didn't have a care in the world.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a newscast on the radio: “In other news, there are no new developments in the case of the mystery girl who claims to be a California congressman. She was found on the streets of Hollywood, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, accosting strangers with her strange story of transformation. As sources have reported, her behavior is not what we would expect of a congressman, though, even in Hollywood. Police are looking for the congressman in question, who seems to have vanished. The girl is being held for questioning at this time.”

I signaled to turn off at the next opportunity and pulled off the highway, with Stacy following. We stopped and I got out to talk to her. “I just heard a news bulletin on the radio. Seems another guy got transformed. A congressman, so it's high profile enough to make the news. She's being held for questioning while they're looking for the congressman. Apparently no one gives any credibility to her story, because she seems to behave like a slut. They didn't say it in those words, but knowing what the curse is, that is the only thing they could have meant.”

“It'll be a one-day wonder in the news. We need to get to the girl once this dies down a little. This could be an important break, and we might be able to help her. Well, you might be.”

“Yes, we know the spell parts that modify her behavior can possibly be broken. I'd hesitate to experiment on a person, but I don't think I have much choice. We're her best shot, I doubt anyone else cares.”

“Yeah. Let's head on, I'd like to get there before dark.”

“Ok.”

We got back on the highway and continued our trip.

Forty-five

“This won't do!” Stacy said.

“I know.” I said, in a subdued tone. “It was enough for myself, but I understand.”

Surveying the room I had at the residential motel, it looked a right mess.

“This looks like a bachelor pad!” Stacy said. “I'd never, ever, think a woman lives here!”

“Well, miss smarty-pants, you're right! If you remember, I'm not what you'd normally call a woman!”

“Oh? Last time I checked, you looked pretty female to me!”

“So what? You know what I mean! I wasn't born that way, wasn't raised that way. How would I suddenly become a Susie Homemaker?”

“Well,” Stacy snorted, “you could have made an effort!”

I gave her a sheepish look “I guess.”

Forty-five

Stacy soon had me working alongside her to straighten up the mess I had made of the place. Clothing piles were sorted and made ready for the Laundromat, litter collected and bagged and things were put away in what little space I had in that room.

We also got Alyssa out of her dirty clothes and I took a roll of quarters and a load of sorted clothing down to the Laundromat, while Stacy stayed in the room with Alyssa.

When I came back with the laundry, Stacy had spent some time talking to Alyssa. She filled me in on what she found out. “She knows her name is Alyssa. She remembers no past events, or people. She considers you her mother; she knows what a mother is, and all her other knowledge and perception seems to be in line with a girl her age. I think we can think of her as having amnesia.”

“Sure makes it easier to deal with her, as opposed to remembering her real background.” I said. I didn't want to say too much in front of her, so I didn't get further into it.

We got Alyssa dressed in her now clean clothes and went out to get some fast food yet again. Stacy said “We've got to stop eating like this!” with a smile, and I grinned, getting the pun.

Seriously, though, I was aware that things had to change, what with a child around, living off fast food was simply no longer an option. We needed to get a place, and we definitely needed to get some paperwork.

We resolved we would hunt for an apartment to rent first thing in the morning. Alyssa got a bed made up from blankets and sheets on the floor and Stacy and I skipped under the covers of the double bed. Sleep soon took us.

Forty-five

I woke up from the incessant beeping of my cheap little alarm clock. A couple of swats with my eyes still closed put paid to that and I dragged myself out of bed. Stacy still lay there, sleeping, and I took a moment to watch her while I pulled myself together mentally.

Then I used my advantage of being up before Stacy to avoid the bathroom race. Business done, I splashed some water into my face and quickly toweled off. I put on the obligatory lipstick, brushed my hair and I was done. Returning to the bed, I softly shook Stacy awake.

She blinked and looked at me, then she seemed to focus on her surroundings and she rolled out of bed with a sigh and headed for the bathroom.

Needless to say, she took a fair bit longer. She was nicely made up when she came out, a reminder that I would also have to learn how to do that. I wasn't looking forward to that; it seemed to be such a waste of time and money. Well, considering that I wasn't planning to appeal to any men, anyway.

While Stacy looked through the cupboards to see what I had in the line of edibles, I fired up the PC and connected to the internet. Google yielded a huge list of realtors; I could see this would be hard work.

Switching applications, I called up the email program and opened my old email account. I was pretty sure no one knew who my news contacts were, so I felt safe to mail one of them about the case of the “mystery girl.”

Hi Pam,

Yesterday I heard on the radio that there is some girl who claims to be a congressman changed into a woman. I'm interested in this case, if you come across anything, I would appreciate if you could pass it my way. I promise, scout's honor, if and when the story I'm chasing breaks, you'll be in on it.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Ron

I clicked “send” and watched with a bit of trepidation as the outbox emptied again. If Pam were to ask about the reasons for my interest in the story, I would probably have to come clean. I dreaded that moment, it felt like I would totally give up on ever becoming myself again; well, my old self, anyway.

Stacy had finished rummaging around and declared. “Ronnie, there is absolute no food fit for human consumption here!”

“And no kitchen to cook it, if I had any,” was my reply.

Stacy shot me a look that made me realize that I had put my finger on the issue and I redoubled my efforts to find a few realtors who had suitable apartments for rent.

Stacy asked “Where's the store around here?”

“There's a 7-eleven in walking distance a block to the south.” I said.

Stacy said “Be right back!” and breezed out of the door.

I pulled out my mobile and called the first number.

Needless to say, the call was a fiasco. I had no explanation why we needed a place fast, no explanation for us being two women and a child and in the end I was told I would have to produce ID to rent anything, anyway.

I'd definitely have to get our story in shape fast, if we wanted to get any viewings today. I pulled out a piece of paper and started putting down some facts, then shifted them around mentally to try and make a sensible story out of them.

By the time Stacy came back, the gears in my head had ground to a halt; I simply had no idea how to take the hurdle of having no ID.

Stacy had picked up some bread, cheese and jam and started to set the table for breakfast. She woke Alyssa, who had begun to stir by then, and took her to the bathroom to wash up. She then got her dressed and sat at the table, where I joined them.

While we ate our frugal breakfast, I told Stacy what had happened and she agreed that it would not be easy to find a place to rent in a neighborhood where Alyssa would be safe unless we had ID.

I realized I had forgotten about Alyssa again. I felt ashamed, I was supposed to be the girl's mother and her very existence kept slipping my mind. I wondered if this body just didn't have a “mommy” gene, but when I voiced my concerns to Stacy she laughed and said that my need for tampons was proof that I was all woman, genetically. In a more serious tone, she calmed me down and told me that I didn't have these hormones and the upbringing all my life, and I was probably still refusing to accept who I was, and that I should be patient and cut myself a little slack.

I got back on the computer and saw a flashing envelope icon, telling me I had mail.

Hi Ron,

Now why do I think there is more to this than meets the eye? That's a pretty far-fetched story; it makes me wonder what you know that I don't know. I have something about it right here on my desk, but I have to be bribed to give it up. With a Lunch, maybe?

Pam

There it was. The moment of truth. The thing I was afraid of. But I had to do it. No choice, really. Then it hit me. “Stacy!” I said, “I have a solution.”

“What solution, and for which problem?”

“The ID problem. Pam is a reporter. I have yet to see a reporter who doesn't have a source for reasonably good fake ID!”

Stacy nodded and said, “Great idea!”

I started writing:

Hi Pam,

I hope you're sitting down. If you're not, have a seat. I really don't want to be responsible for you hurting yourself.

Yes, I have a vested interest. You guessed right. I know for a fact that these transformations are real. I believe the girl is actually the congressman.

How do I know? Easy. It happened to me, too.

Yes, it's true, I'm now a woman. Now that you know, I'd be delighted to have lunch with you. If you'd still have a weirdo like me.

Ron (who is now Ronnie)

I hit send and watched the message zip away across the net, waiting anxiously for a reply.

End of part eleven