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Down to Earth Book One A Question of Balance by Andrea Lena DiMaggio |
Three women, centuries old and practitioners of Draehoidel, the old arts, come along side a girl in desperate need of understanding and encouragement; each taking the form of mortals to influence three souls close to the girl. The women have come to help her along with others that need the healing that only love can provide...
They stood in a circle around the table in the middle of the old, roofless church. Moonlight illuminated the figures that held hands and spoke in a low, almost indiscernible tongue. On the table lay a young man, barely conscious, but still able to see his captors loom over him.
He writhed, pulling against the bonds. Three women, all clad in black, stood over the table where the man struggled in vain to free himself.
“Are we agreed?” The first said, pulling her cowl back to reveal raven hair and a terrible beauty.
“We must, for it is the only way to restore the balance of the realm.” The second woman said. She too, had her cowl removed, displaying a shock of long red hair. She glared at the man, whose eyes widened in terror at her words.
“Yes…there is no other course of action; we must act now before midnight strikes. It is time.” The third woman said, pulling her own cowl back, uncovering a face filled with sadness.
“I wish I had a choice, I really do,” she said to her sisters, but she looked at the man bound before them, noting his fear.
“It will be over quickly.” She almost smiled, indicating mercy, but her voice filled with sad sarcasm. What they were about to do would be over in moments, to be sure, but the effects of their efforts were permanent.
“I don’t want to…I’ll do anything you wish…just please don’t do this,” he plead, but it was clear that they would not be swayed. He must have committed some unpardonable sin, whatever that was in their eyes, and he was going to pay, and dearly. The moonlight cast an eerie pall on his prostrate figure, partially shadowed by the remnants of half-lost stained glass and broken lead filigree. The hourglass sat on a large stone in the middle of the church next to the table. He looked at the quickly escaping sand fall into the bottom half, marking his impending doom.
The women reached into their robes, pulling out identical wands, which they quickly crossed directly over the man’s forehead.
“It is time,” they said in unison, “Time to restore balance!” A crackle of static sounded, growing louder even as the final grains of sand fell into the globe below.
A blood curdling scream escaped the man’s throat, almost guttural and beast like. In moments, the scream had subsided, replaced almost with the sound of a contented purr. The women looked down, and in the place of the man who had plead only moments before, seeking mercy…lay a beautiful woman, clad in a robe similar to their own. The black haired beauty pulled back their new sister’s cowl, revealing long blond hair, curly and full. Her face was beautiful. A new sister was born, no longer evil or twisted or cruel, but understanding, compassionate, and caring.
Across town, a figure lay on a bed in a room above a dilapidated garage. The neighborhood dog could be heard barking through the broken window. The glare of the street light pierced through a partially torn curtain, revealing the figure to be that of a sixteen year old boy. On his wall posters displayed his love of animals; he wanted to be a veterinarian. Pictures of cats and dogs filled his room. A large cage held an old flop-eared rabbit along with a brindle-colored guinea pig.
He lay asleep after a fitful unrest, his pillow stained with tears, and not just from this night. A copy of a bridal magazine lay half hidden under his bed, and he gripped a stuffed kitten tightly with his right hand... He wore a soft, cotton night gown and one felt slipper still clung to his left foot. No one stood over his bed…he was alone in his pain, wondering if he would ever live a day without sadness. He was kind and considerate and such a lovely boy whose only offense to his neighbors and class mates was that he wanted to become…no, she wanted to be known for the girl she already was.
Above the house, looming almost like monoliths, but living and beautiful, stood four giant figures, all women, all clad in soft, gossamer gowns. They peered through the broken window and saw the boy/girl writhing in pain, much like the man in the church, but she was bound by the constraints of convention, held fast by lack of acceptance and resource, shackled by fear and ignorance.
The oldest of the four turned and shook her head as tears streamed down her cheek. Her weeping was soon joined by the other three, who spoke silent but futile and powerless prayers. Upon closer look, the women weeping over the girl were the very same trio who had now welcomed the new sister only moments before.
“Why can’t we intervene?” The redheaded woman asked her sisters. “Why could we transform the meanness and cruelty into beauty, but be helpless to do anything for this poor innocent creature?” She plead desperately, as if she knew the poor child.
The older woman looked down at the sleeping girl and then at her sisters and simply said,
‘An imbalance of power….It was magic that changed the evil into something good; it always works that way.” She smiled gently at the newest member of their group before looking to the girl below, who had awoken and was weeping into her pillow once again.
“But why not her, why not this poor hopeless child?” The fourth woman asked, her own weeping echoing the sad girl's sobbing.
The older woman looked upon the sad girl before urging her sisters to depart, while pointing to the girl on the bed one last time, saying,
“Because this, my dear sweet sisters, is real life.”
Four women stood together outside the house where the girl still slept.
Only moments before, the women wept in frustration over the poor girl's sad tears. Calleigh, the oldest looked at her sisters, and her expression changed, as if she had remembered something long forgotten, but really had in her mind all along.
She looked back; the sun’s rays illuminating the sky; its warmth slowly replacing the glare of the streetlight, as if hope had begun to rise.
"Come, dear sweet sisters, we have work to do." She smiled softly with a smile that says, "I know something that you do not, but it isn't a secret; I just have lived long enough to learn this." She looked again at her sisters, who were rapidly diminishing in size. The glow to their clothing was replaced by ordinary shadows and contrast as the fabric of their dresses grew opaque, losing their shimmer.
"What other tasks await us, Calleigh?" Orla, the redhead faced the oldest of the quartet, who appeared to be in her thirties, despite the centuries between that moment and the moment of her birth. "Who can we help, now that this child is beyond our care?"
"Yes, said Maired, the newest member of the four, innocent and wide-eyed, no longer encumbered by doubt and illusion. While "he" had been cynical and sarcastic, she was filled instead with wonder and awe. "If we can't help her, can we at least do something? Maybe sing a song through her window to dry her tears?"
Maired had already begun to understand something important, even if she didn't know she understood. While they couldn't change things for the poor creature who had awoke with tear-stained cheeks; they could at least provide comfort.
"We will sing, dear little one, but not now. Soon we will sing, and it won't just be for comfort, but in joy and hope."
"I don't understand," Orla said. "What could possibly bring this poor girl joy if we cannot?"
"Orla, sweet dear Orla, it isn't our place to bring her joy, that is the place of others. We simply do what we can to help those of her race to find it in themselves to help her." Calleigh smiled wisely, remembering when she was new, a babe as it were, feeling that power must be the key. She discovered, and would help her sisters understand that it was not power, but love and compassion and understanding that transformed the hidden into knowledge; weakness into strength, and the doubt and sadness into hope.
"Then what is our part," the newest sister said, wanting so much not to seem too eager, but her enthusiasm was contagious and wonderful, prompting her older sisters to reply in kind, "Yes, what can we do?"
"We, my sweet dear sisters, wait and pray and nudge and suggest and urge those who can help to choose to do so. We are four, and they are four as well. Three love this girl so much that it will just be a matter of direction and guidance.
"Orla, there is a girl who a friend to this child...she needs your help in order to be a help herself. She will need you to show her she can make a difference for her friend, even if it is at the peril of losing her own love for the girl."
"Fiona, you must remind the man who has been a help not to give up, for it his passion to see this child succeed that will in turn give him what he needs to help her."
"As for me, I know that the one who loves her most feels the most helpless, and she will need to know that her own wisdom is what will give this child courage."
"You, Maired,' she said to the newest, "have the hardest task of all, that of helping the fourth understand, so that he can become better even as he learns to love and accept this girl for who she really is. You, of all of us, will understand and will have the hardest task, since that person who needs to help this girl is the person you once were and shall again become."
Fiona and Orla looked at the oldest in shock, almost horrified that their newest sister would return to her former form, robbed of the chance of immortal service to the lost and hopeless, deprived of the joy of living beyond mortal life to see countless others receive hope. Calleigh looked at them and said simply,
"We must hurry; there is no time to lose.
Maired looked at her sisters, blinking out tears, but the change in her heart already had brought her acceptance of the task at hand and the enormity and responsibility placed upon her shoulders. She wept, but not out of sorrow; she wept from relief and a new-found sense of purpose.
Her form began to change even as they wept with her, and in a moment, Maired no longer stood in their midst, but instead the man who had been transformed the night before. In place of the powerful but gentle woman, a man, nervous but still relieved, given a second chance. A young man...one who only days before had been the first one to shout and tease and curse the poor girl; her own brother Michael.
'What about the balance, what do we do to restore that?" Fiona asked, nervous over the possibilities.
"Another will take her place, do not worry, all is as it should be."
The McCarthy home...
She woke with a start, fearful as she was every morning. Her door was closed, and no one would know how she had fallen asleep after a fitful night, wearing the nightgown she had found in the box under the stairs. She treasured it so, although one might wonder why. Her mother, wanting to be a liberated woman, had decided quite on her own that she didn’t need a father’s help to raise her child, and she never told her boyfriend about the baby she had carried alone.
The girl rose from her bed and walked into her bathroom. She looked in the mirror, once again expecting something different, as if Shaylee or Eolande, the fairies her aunt told her about when she was small might have come in the night to grant her a wish. “No change,” she thought sadly as she got dressed for the day. The mint-green night gown was replaced by a tee shirt and jeans. The hair was pulled back and the face scrubbed for the day, revealing not Maura or Sinead or even Shawn, but Padraic, or Patrick, as her mother named her. Her name, a name she almost despised, was pretty much all that her mother had left her, abandoning her and her brother Mike to the care of her Aunt Breena.
A knock came at the door.
“Paddy, are you decent, love?” Breena’s voice came from the hallway.
“Sure, Aunt Breena, just a sec.” The bathroom door opened and in place of the girl who had cried herself to sleep the night before, a boy stood facing his aunt.
“Now I want you to promise me somethin,’ darlin’. Will you come to me when the teasin’ gets like it did yesterday.” Breena had overheard Michael, Paddy’s brother, repeating all the nasty insults that the boys in the neighborhood had yelled as they stood in the alleyway the previous day. Michael was almost as bad as his friends when it came to insults, but it hurt beyond hope since he was family.
Outside the house, three women stood next to a young man; handsome and imposing, but nervous and sad.
‘You’ll be fine…you’re among your kind now, dear, never forget that.” Calleigh reminded Michael that he was no longer the man he had been the night before. Today was a new day and he had been blessed with the wisdom that persuades and convinces softly, kindly, to bring him to a place where he’d never imagined he’d ever be; to a life he never thought twice about living. No longer cruel and uncaring, he was now kind and understanding.
The task before him was daunting, since in order to convince his family he had really changed, he would have to change on the outside. In order for Paddy to believe that Michael understood he would have to endure the same taunts and cruel treatment which only days before he had given Paddy.
He’d have to become a girl. Not with magic, but by standing alongside his brother as the two became sisters together. Easy enough to manage in an instant with a spell and deep magic; quite another to manage with nothing but imagination, some clothes, and a new-found love for his baby…sister.
A Nervous Day All Around
A brief synopsis — Four women, centuries old, versed in the ways of Draehoidel, the old art used not for power or influence, but rather for blessings and help for mortals; they are charged to bring hope and courage to a child living in doubt and fear. Each woman has the task of influencing one mortal only that knows the child, so that they in turn can bring hope. Power was useless; it usually was and is; persuasion instead, imbued with love, acceptance and understanding would be the weapon they would use to fight this battle.
Calleigh the Wise would enable a fearful woman find the courage to stand up for this child
Orla the Passionate would bring the girl’s best friend to understand that in order to love the child, she had to let her go.
Fiona the Resourceful was given the task of helping a man understand that he had it in him to help the child, provided he could receive help from the one who love him more than life itself; his wife
And Maired the Innocent? Her task was the hardest, for she was charged with returning the immortality she had just received only to resume her former self; that of the child’s brother
It had not even been twenty-four hours, and Michael was already reverting to form… somewhat. Most of the wisdom he had received as a member of the family of women had worn off, so to speak. While he was Maired, all the wisdom his predecessor owned was given to him, rather her while she still remained a part of the whole. When he transformed back, some of what she had been given naturally left, being only meant for the time of being Maired.
But the compassion and understanding would never leave him; being special and life-long gifts he received during the first transformation. These gifts were really part of him all along, awakened as he felt first guilty and foolish and cruel when the memories of his brother’s pain flashed before his eyes in an instant. When he became Michael once more, those memories were still intact, along with a determination driven by his desire to change; things would be different. Like a distaff version of A Christmas Carol but where he was almost one of the ghosts as well.
Paddy was sitting at the dining room table studying for a geometry test when Michael walked in. Aunt Breena was outside hanging clothes on the line and Neddie, their Irish Setter sat quietly at the back door waiting for her return. Paddy looked up to see his brother walk into the dining room and winced out of habit, expecting a slew of invectives followed by “Hey Patty, or Patsy-girl.” Michael pulled up a chair and sat down next to Paddy, evoking another wince as he turned his attention back to his study.
“Pat, we’ve got to talk.” Calmly, simply, and so out of character with Mike. Paddy expected it was leading up to some teasing but he saw that Michael had tears in his eyes….not fake crying, but real honest to goodness tears.
Michael was going to lie. Out of all the things he remembered as a member of the group was that he had been dishonest and certainly disloyal to his brother, preferring the company of the very same crowd that teased Paddy every day. He had prayed before entering the house, and almost felt a dispensation to fabricate a story. It really wasn’t lying, since he had every intention of revealing the truth to Paddy but was sworn not to. So he exaggerated. The tears were real, even if the story wasn’t. Michael felt the sting of guilt and shame even as he had entered the room…Not false guilt or misplaced shame. But the guilt and true shame that we feel when we actually realize how much we have hurt someone. And while the tears were real, they were also helpful, since they were the catalyst for Paddy’s trust.
“I’ve been thinking…about how I’ve treated you….” Michael looked into Paddy’s eyes, which still displayed doubt. That is until Michael continued.
“I’ve been keeping a secret from you and Aunt Breena,” which was actually true; just not the secret he was about to confess. Michael realized that to gain his brother’s trust he would have to demonstrate understanding and acceptance in a way that could not be mistaken as being insincere or false.
“The reason I’ve been picking on you is because…” Here he actually cried, remembering the nights that he heard Paddy cry himself to sleep over the pain of rejection by not only his classmates, but his own brother. “I’m so sorry…I...should have…” Michael could no more have told Paddy his “secret” any sooner since it was a secret only born yesterday, literally.
“If this is one of your jokes…” Paddy said, his own eyes misting up, wanting to believe his brother, but afraid of another lie or cruel insult.
“I want…this is so hard,” which it was, since he didn’t want it at all save for his new-found desire to love his brother and understand and support him. “I think I…..Oh fuck…this is so fucking hard…” He lapsed into his usual profanity, but it lent an authenticity to his obvious frustration.
“Michelle…her name is Michelle.” Michael buried his head in his arms on the table and wept harder than he ever had. He had no intention of becoming a girl at that point; he wasn’t even sure that he knew what that meant. But at that moment, in the dispensation of his tale, Michael finally almost magically understood his baby brother for the first time.
“Patty” he said softly, uttering the name with such affection and love that things changed in a moment between siblings.
“Patty…my name is Michelle”
Rustin High School, West Chester, Pennysylvania
Three women stood in the hallway outside the man's office. His door was open, but they remained outside. The hallway was empty save for a young girl talking with her track coach about missing practice, and a woman posting some photos in a display case.
"Is this the one?" Fiona asked Calleigh.
"Yes, he has spent much time trying to help the girl, but with little success. His colleagues don't appreciate what the girl is going through; although they sympathize somewhat with the bullying the boy has endured."
"They don't understand but they sympathize...now I don't understand." Fiona displayed her childlike innocence even if it spanned three centuries. Always exuberant and hopeful, she was the most resourceful of the quartet...trio. Their fourth member had departed only recently and her replacement, so to speak, had been "sent back" with her own task.
"Almost all of her teachers find her to be intelligent and kind and friendly, but they do not understand who she is inside. They see her clothes and her hair and are sorry that a boy should be harassed; that a young man would receive such cruel treatment."
"They see her as him," Orla interjected, not to presume to correct or instruct Fiona, but to express the lament that they all felt for the girl.
"If they don't see her for who she is, what can I do to help?" Fiona wasn't upset at all by Orla's observation. She always deferred to Calleigh's wisdom, which usually identified what needed to be done. Calleigh was not only wise, but she encouraged her sister's giftings. Fiona merely needed Calleigh to identify the task, and she would find a way; she always did.
"The man inside the office has a secret he needs to share. If left unsaid, it will paralyze him and prevent him from helping the girl. But if he has someone to tell, someone who will understand him, he will have the courage to help the girl himself."
"So I am the one he tells?' Fiona asked, anxious to start.
"No, my sweet sister. You must pray for him to gain the courage to share this secret with his wife." Calleigh smiled, not because Fiona knew the secret, although she did. She smiled because she had every confidence that Fiona would somehow prepare the way for the man to confess his own fears and shame. Only when he had the courage to trust the love of his sweetheart would he be able to help the girl with her own fears and doubt.
Fiona looked at Calleigh and beamed, a wide grin spreading across her face. In a cute, if altogether centuries old manner, Fiona said in an almost singsong voice,
"Then I guess I better get started!"
Dan Lambert was sitting at his desk reviewing some paperwork when a knock came at his open door.
"Excuse me, but is this the guidance office?" The woman at the doorway asked, with a soft but deep brogue.
"Yes it is," Dan said as he stood to greet the woman's proffered hand.
"Then I'm at the right place,” while shaking his hand. "I understand this is where I talk to someone about an outside presentation for an assembly?"
"Yes it is, but I'm afraid you’ve wasted your time coming down here," Dan said as he noticed the woman's hands were about the size of his. "The spring schedule has already been set, and there are no other dates left until next fall," he said apologetically. He looked up and noticed a decided lump at the woman's throat and her jaw seemed very strong. He realized that he was looking at a man; or rather a woman who used to be a man.
"Oh, dear me, where are my manners," the woman said again, her deep voice belying her feminine appearance. "My name is Fiona...Fiona Ryan. I lead a transgender support group in town here, and I was told we had a date for our presentation. I had talked to a Linda Calabrese? She said the last Tuesday in May was open”
"Oh, yes," Dan said nervously, struggling not to stare at the woman's face, which was "sufficiently" feminine while retaining some of her former masculine characteristics.
Fiona enjoyed this part the best since it was like playing dress up, charmingly childlike perhaps if she weren't over three hundred years old. She had indeed assumed the form of a transgender woman, and her effort to be authentic succeeded.
"I...I'll have to check the calendar," Dan said nervously, but Fiona cut him off.
"Your year planner on the wall says TG Assembly, May 29, 2012. Is that about right?" Dan knew it was right; he and Linda had been talking on the phone the day before. Linda had been in a very bad car accident, and wasn't due back until the week after the assembly, leaving the administration representation to him as temporary coordinator of Student Activities. Which meant he had to attend the assembly, which evoked the nervousness Fiona was looking for.
"It's right..." Dan's voice trailed off.
"Mr. Lambert, is there something wrong?" Fiona asked, once again the voice seemed disconcerting coming from someone wearing a floral print knee length skirt.
"It's just that I wasn't prepared..." Dan's voice trailed off once again.
"I certainly understand your nervousness, bein' as I'm lookin' and soundin' a wee bit like a boy but wearin' girls clothing, yes?" Fiona always played up the Irish accent, knowing it could be helpful in putting her assigned mortals off their guard. One time, about 1972 or so, she lapsed into her Irish persona and spoke with a gentleman for nearly ten minutes before she realized she was speaking in Gaelic.
"I had it just as difficult the first time I laid eyes on someone like me. But, as you can see,” she used her hand in a broad gesture to point to herself, "I got over it....and you will, too." She grinned slightly, feeling just a little bit impish. Fiona was resourceful, and could always come up with some sort of persona that helped her mortals feel connected.
"Our assembly isn't very involved, but you might not like it once you hear what we've planned."
By now Dan was very nervous indeed and becoming more uncomfortable and even anxious moment by moment.
"We'll do a brief presentation, have a few of our members get up and talk about their own experiences, and then do a question and answer thing at the end." She actually said 'ting, once again playing up her accent. It won't take more than an hour or so." The "or so" made Dan even more nervous, wondering how long this presentation would actually last.
"We've really only got one request, but I'm afraid it makes your job that much harder."
Dan winced expecting the worst, but actually agreed when Fiona continued.
"Since this is such a controversial subject, and since the TG Student group asked us to come specifically for support, we would request that you "disinvite" anyone who isn't interested in understanding or even attending. And yes, I know that would include most of your students, but it's really to keep the presentation safe for those who really want to attend. I know you can't guarantee that there won't be some fools who think it's a fine thing to taunt, but that's okay. Maybe they'll stay long enough for some common sense and civility to sink in. Either way, I'm sure you'll be able to handle whatever comes along."
Dan smiled nervously, attempting to hide his frustration. Since the time for the assembly had been blocked out, it really meant an early dismissal for over 400 students, with the nightmare of transportation and other considerations.
"I think that about explains it, Mr. Lambert other than that we need to get together to coordinate your part of the assembly."
Dan looked at Fiona as if she had two heads...his part...what did she mean? Fiona noticed his shocked look on his face and smiled what would have been a comforting smile but for the fear and utter dread in Dan's face.
"You are transgender, aren't you?
Orla took a deep breath and walked into the classroom. She was wearing black jeans and a black tee-shirt with the words "Too Sad" written on the front. She had lost her accent for the day, assuming an amalgam of New York-New Jersey and a slight lisp. Her hair was jet black save for a white streak back to front and just a little off center. Her ears featured three studs each plus a loop, and her nose was decorated with a faux diamond stud as well. Not a bad approximation of a teenage girl, considering her birth pre-dated the American Revolution.
"Hey," she said quietly as she sat down. The desks were all pushed aside and about fourteen or fifteen chairs were arrayed in a circle. There were only about seven or eight teens, all girls sitting around talking. She noted that at least five of the girls were in fact, boys, if biologically. The Teen TG group (it would hardly do to call a support group a club) met every Wednesday during lunch period, more owing to transportation and consideration for privacy. Never the less, the usual parade of traffic promised at least one or two taunts and a bang on the door during their meeting. Orla sat down next to another girl clad similarly as her, sans the dyed hair.
"My name is Fay," I just transferred from Trenton..." She paused and blinked out some tears. They were real; they always were. Orla was passionate at what she did, not because of the task at hand, but because of the needs of the mortals she was assigned to. She continued.
"I just broke up with my boyfriend." She started to cry, imagining every girl like her and the one next to her and the sadness and helplessness they felt.
"I'm Chelsea....I'm sorry, but are you sure you're in the right place? This is the TG Support group."
"Oh...yeah, I'm sure. My boyfriend is transitioning and he...well she's not..." She started to sob, provoking Chelsea to lean over and hug her while patting her back in support.
"I know it's what's best. My mom always said (Orla's own mother was over seven hundred years old, but would have likely said the same thing) if you love somebody… really love them…then you have to be able to let them go."
Chelsea continued to rub Fay's back even as she thought of what her own mother said that morning"
The Molineaux home...that morning...
"Chelsea, sweetie, can you make sure the last load gets into the dryer when you come home. I've got a quick meeting to run out to, and I'll try to have it done before I leave, but be a dear and take care of that if they're not done?" Her mother walked over and kissed her as she got up to grab her books off the counter.
"Honey, I know this is hard, but Paddy has to do what....she's got to do."
"Mom...I...he...she's been my best friend since kindergarten...we..." Chelsea started to cry, her disappointment overwhelming her. She had dreamed of marrying and having lots of children. It was like The Jungle book; she was like Kitty and Paddy was like Mowgli; she'd loved him since they were little, and now all her dreams were slipping away as Paddy was finding his...her true self. And it hurt, too much almost to bear, like someone you love had just died. And in a sense, there were two deaths, both with promise and hope, if only Chelsea could see them.
Paddy was gone, almost a ghost of Chelsea's past, replaced by a girl who still remained her best friend. And her dreams and hopes for the life they would lead had died as well, but the resurrection had yet to take place.
"Honey, I know this hurts so bad, like it will never end. I still cry when I think of all the wonderful times your Daddy and I had before he died and I miss him so. Paddy still is your friend, and you know that will never change, no matter what happens. But Paddy needs to know you support her. This is such a difficult time for her and she needs to know her best friend is still her best friend." Her mother pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheeks and eyes.
"If you truly love someone, really love them...then you must love them enough to let go when the time comes. I'm sorry, baby, but that's the way it works. If you won't let go...if you must have them at all costs...it's more like you loving that they love you than you really loving them. I know this feels like it will never end, but it will.
A horn honked, telling Chelsea her ride was outside. She kissed her mom once before grabbing her books again. She paused before walking out the door.
"Mom," she said, wiping her tears with her sleeve, "when does the crying stop...when will I stop hurting...when will I stop loving ...her?"
"You will stop crying…as hard and eventually the tears will be more out of sweetness than sadness, but the love will never end, if it's the kind I know you have inside of you. Let's forget about my meeting; I'll ask Trish to fill in for me; let's have dinner out, and we can talk some more when you get home, okay?"
Chelsea ran out the door. Her mother stood there for a moment, blinked out her own tears and said a silent prayer before tackling the morning dishes.
"Jimmy and I had been together (Orla had gotten down tri-state-speak, and it sounded more like tageddah) for three years. So he comes to me and sez I gotta secret I need to tell you.' She was half-smiling through the tears...the story was real; she had helped another girl just like "Fay" a few years ago.
"Anyway, he tells me he thinks he's a girl...can you believe that? Well, I couldn't at foist, but I sorta knew somethin' was up...but imagine how fucking surprised I was. I just didn't want to believe it.
I had plans an' everything...A big wedding at St. Margaret's...the big reception...I had a dress picked out and everything, and we was only eighteen!" She started to tear up again, mimicking the same response she had from the other girl years before.
"And me thinkin' we was gonna get married, but now it's Fay and Tiffany...well, that ain't workin' for me no how. But you know, after it all, I still love…her...oh not like that, not that there's anything wrong with that. She's still my best friend and we do stuff tageddah...did stuff until my dad got a job here and she and her mom moved to Chicago to take care of her grandma."
Orla's tears began to slowly subside, replaced with a faint smile. Much as the girl she helped years ago had been able to let go, Orla wanted to help Chelsea do the same.
"How about you, you don't look anything like a guy or a girl who wants to be a guy?" She wasn't trying to be crude, just be realistic enough to evoke a real answer from Chelsea.
"My boyfriend...my friend is transitioning, and I wanted to support her..." She paused and blinked out a few tears of her own and blurted out,
"Was it hard? Did it hurt so bad you wanted to puke sometimes? I haven't stopped crying since he said he wanted to be a girl."
"Honey...I still love her to death like a sister, but I haven't stopped crying myself. But now, sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, I cry for happy, like my grandma used to say, cause the one person I love more than any other besides my mom and dad is happy...I guess that makes me happy too."
Dan sat at his desk, feeling more uncomfortable than he ever had in his entire life. He wondered, even as he looked across his desk at Fiona, who was smiling with that kind of smile that says, "You're not fooling me, so don't bother to try." How could he...she have known. He hadn't dressed in years, and the only one who knew about his femme self was his counselor, and she surely would never have said anything.
"So I suppose you want to know how I knew that?" Again, her brogue deepened, both in timber and intensity, and it sounded more like "Oy knew dat?"
"I don't know what you're talking about...." He tried...he really tried, but he felt defeated even as the words left his mouth.
"You are transgender, my dear man, and there's no point in denying it. How much good has it caused you for you to keep this secret. Do you feel any better about it? Do you feel any more secure or safe holding it in?" Fiona smiled a half-smile and her eyes indicated she wanted him to know, more than for him to answer her.
"I...I..." Here in his office, sitting in front of a stranger, Dan felt his anxiety diminish somewhat, eased by the accepting smile and the presence of tears in Fiona's eyes. He had become so settled and safe that he completely lost sight of the fact that Fiona never told him how she knew.
He almost felt as understood as if he were sitting in his counselor's office. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He began to cry, prompting Fiona to get up and close the office door, thankful that no one was in earshot of their conversation. She meant to encourage him, not embarrass or shame him.
"Listen, lad, just for a moment." Fiona reached over and held his hand, an odd scene for anyone else to behold, but a touching and tender moment rarely shared between two men (Of course, Fiona had gone all the way, so to speak in her disguise, not just for appearance sake, but to understand his pain and insecurity)
"I've been married for sixteen years to the same woman...the one I would trust with my very life. We've been through everything you could imagine” Like her sister Orla had with Chelsea earlier, Fiona had drawn on emotions and memories of a mortal she had helped in 1986, who had at that point held in the very same secret as Dan. And Fiona had been successful in helping that young man realize the same thing she was about to tell Dan.
"I know that counselors are helpful and all, but they can only go so far. It's wonderful that someone with flesh and blood understands you the way she does. But don't you owe it to yourself and your wife to trust that love between you? You've been married, I'd guess, maybe fourteen or fifteen years, judging by how old you look." Fiona knew that Dan was exactly thirty-eight and had been married fourteen years, making him and Trudy twenty-four when they got married.
"I bet if you really looked past your own fear for a moment, you could close your eyes and see her smile through her tears...the same expression she had when you first married, yes?"
Dan hadn't meant to do it, but he reflexively closed his eyes, envisioning the same expression Fiona had just described. Trudy didn't worship the ground he walked on, thankfully, but at the end of the day, when it was time for bed, they both put aside the few problems they might have had, or remembered the good times of the day, and then fell asleep in each other's arms...every day, without fail for fourteen years, save for the occasional day or two for his business trip or her woman's retreat. His heart was filled with sadness mixed with joy as he remembered what Trudy had said on their wedding night,
"I love you, no matter what. I know you love me the same way...I was damaged goods when we met, and you waited until I got over my pain. You let me walk through my healing after the divorce without asking, without questioning my past, but I knew if I told you the things I had done you would have loved me just the same. No matter what, you can tell me anything...anything, and none of it will matter because I love you. If you can't tell me or there's nothing to tell, fine. But if you ever need me to listen, I'm your girl. I thank God for second chances, and you are my second chance. So no secrets, okay? I love you."
The precious meaning of that memory overwhelmed Dan with guilt and shame, not over his secret, but because he had failed to understand and accept and cherish the depth of Trudy's love for him. He had wasted so much energy and time over something he now understood was insignificant when set side by side with his wife's love for him. Fiona was glad that she had thought to shut the door, since even with the hallways empty for the moment; no one would have missed the sounds of the sobs coming from the office. Years of guilt and shame over his deception...yes, his deception, were replaced with a momentary feeling of regret and shame that would be erased with one act...confession.
What Fiona wanted Dan to know, and where the almost condemning deception, had hurt the most was in the lost time he had experienced with his wife. Dressing or not dressing weren't the issues. What was supremely sad was his mistrust of the greatest gift he had ever received; his wife's love. There would be no guarantees that she would accept what he had to tell her.
What Fiona knew...her faith was strong in relation to the character and integrity of 'her' mortals; was that Trudy would always accept and love Dan, no matter what. There was no reason to focus on being transgender or dressing or the future. The only thing important was what Dan had realized...Trudy loved him, unconditionally. She had proven that time after time throughout the years, and he needed to trust that love one more time, for both their sakes, no matter what happened.
In a gesture that might have seemed odd at another time, Fiona walked around the desk and stood behind Dan as he continued to weep. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, not like the centuries old woman she actually was, but the gentle man she pretended to be. And in a deep but soft brogue, she said.
"She loves you, Daniel Lambert...Go tell her what she needs to hear and let her love do the rest, okay?"
The doorbell rang and Neddie ran to greet whoever stood on the other side of the door. Breena heard the barking from the back step, where she had just hung out some laundry. She put down the bag of clothes pins and walked slowly to the door, wondering who would be visiting on a Thursday afternoon. She opened the door and got the shock of her life. Standing in front of her, “plain as day,” was her sister Sinead, although she had gone by Janey since their teens.
“Well don’t just stand there, come in.” Breena said abruptly. She had lost almost all of her love for her sister, mostly due to the lack of care Janey had demonstrated for her sons. She gave Janey a quick hug, more like what you might do in church with a stranger than her own sister. The love that was lost had been replaced by intense anger and even a feeling of superiority. While she never told the boys, her description of her care for Janey’s sons always included, “you don’t know what I’ve had to deal with,” or “If you only knew, me bein’ single and all and tryin’ to raise two boys on my own.”
Standing behind Janey was an attractive middle-aged African-American woman, who was using her hand to guide Janey to a seat on the couch.
“I’m Esther Clarke, ma’am. I’ve been takin’ care of your sistah, and she asked me to com along wit her to help out,” she said in a decidedly Caribbean accent. Esther offered her hand, which Breena accepted with just a little anxiety and mistrust.
“I’ve come home, Breena…home to you and the boys.” Janey said almost apologetically.
“She still can’t bring herself to say ‘her’ boys.” Breena thought to herself. Janey didn’t say her boys because in the last two years of dealing with her illness, she had come to the wrong conclusion; that she didn’t deserve the blessing her children were.
“Now just remember wot we talked about, Miss Janey…You know how much you love your boys.”
This almost infuriated Breena; it was painful enough seeing her sister here at her home after no visit for years and no contact for months. But to have a stranger validate her sister’s neglect was too much. Breena had no idea that the woman standing by her sister’s side was Calleigh the Wise, helping provide Janey with what she needed to say, and that Breena was about to find out how much her sister actually loved her sons.
“I can fix up the guest room for you,” she said to Janey, “but I don’t have any room for you, Miss Clarke.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t tink you understand, Ma'am. Your sister is very sick, and I’m her nurse…for as long as it takes. I can sleep on da couch, if dat's okay?” Esther said, evoking another abrupt response from Breena.
“Well, no one called, how was I to know...It’s not like you communicate…” Breena had almost begun a tirade when Janey interrupted her.
“Breena…I’m dying.” She didn’t say it sadly, or in a matter-of- fact tone. She spoke of her own end with a smile on her face. “Pretty soon you won’t have to put up with me. Three…maybe four weeks tops.” Her eyes were filled with tears, but not over her coming demise. She began to weep for all the lost years between her and Breena. Esther stepped closer and kissed Janey on her forehead and said,
“Dere, dere, Miss Janey, it’s going to be all right…you’ll see.” She in one moment had shown more hospitality to Janey than her own sister, which caused Breena’s cheeks to grow dark. But not out of a shame, but anger.
“She’s my sister, Miss!” She said, with the word Miss almost dismissive.” Calleigh prayed for wisdom and spoke, not harshly, but still as an advocate for Janey
“Den I suppose you should be actin’ like one instead of a stranger. Come over here and hug your sweet sister…come on…she’s not going to be around much longer and you’ll curse yourself for it later, I guarantee.” She grabbed Breena’s arm and literally pulled her over to where Janey sat.
“I’m sorry for everything, Bree…the missed birthdays…the report cards. God knows you’ve done as fine a job raising Mikey and Paddy as any mother ever could, but it wasn’t right for me to leave them here. Look what we’ve all lost. Please forgive me.” Janey began to weep, and buried her face in Esther’s dress.
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Like anyone else in her situation, Breena’s first inclination was to defend her attitude toward Janey, but the look in Esther’s eyes changed all that in an instant. Gone was the self-satisfied “put-out’ woman who acted the martyr most of the time, sadly on occasion in front of the boys. In her place stood a woman feeling so small as to be dwarfed by the two in front of her, both of whom were sitting down. She realized, perhaps supernaturally, or maybe it was a spiritual awakening, and she felt a debt of gratitude for having the privilege and trust of raising Mike and Paddy.
“I tink dat the best thing you could do is say, “I love you, you tink?” Calleigh was abrupt herself, but her soft accent felt more like an invitation than a command.
“Oh…yes….oh…I’m so sorry Janey….I’mm soo sorrrry,” Breena sobbed as she fell at her sister’s feet and placed her head in Janey’s lap, just like when they were younger. “I love you…oh…. my God I am so sorry.” Decades of bitterness washed away as the sisters wept and hugged.” Esther/Calleigh cried as well, but filled with joy at the site of a reconciliation no one could have hoped for save for two boys who had prayed each night since they were little for this day to arrive.
“Hey, Dan, Paddy McCarthy is here.” Connie van Zyle, the department secretary said over his intercom.
“Send him….send her in,” Dan corrected himself.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Lambert?” Paddy said as she walked into Dan’s office.
“Yes…have a seat,”” he said pointing to the chair on the opposite side of the desk where he sat.
“You planning on attending the assembly?” He asked.
“I’m not so sure…I can’t handle all the teasing…” Her voice trailed off. She was glad she finally had an ally in her brother/sister, but the unmerciful harassment was almost too much for her.
“I want you to know something…something only one other person knows. I’m going to be at the assembly, partly because Mrs. Calabrese is laid up and won’t be able to make it. But I’m going there for another reason.” He smiled nervously and took a deep breath.
“I had a long talk with my wife last night…hardest conversation I ever had. Ever have one of those?” Paddy thought about the talk she and Mike had only a few days before.
“Been married nearly fifteen years; she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He held up the wedding photo that sat next to his phone, always a reminder of God’s grace in the form of his loving wife. He was half-kneeling next to her wheelchair kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“It’s no use ever keeping secrets, Paddy. It doesn’t really work all that well, and it usually makes things worse.” Paddy had not secrets that he was aware of, so Mr. Lambert must be talking about someone else.
“I’ll be at the assembly, and my wife Trudy will be there with me for support.” His eyes misted up, some for what he had to say to Paddy, but mostly out of gratitude for the love of his wife.
“I’m tg, a crossdresser, but maybe even more than that…and she still loves me, Paddy, can you believe that?” He looked away, trying not to be too embarrassed; wanting so much to encourage the girl in front of him.
“I’m going to need all the support I can get, Paddy, and I think you of all people will know what I’m talking about. Please consider attending? Don't worry if you can't...I'll be alright.” Dan didn’t want to manipulate or use Paddy in any way, so he left it up to her to decide.
The assembly started about ten minutes late; owing more to logistics. The school, for the most part, received an early dismissal, apart from some extra-curricular activities. There were no home games, save a girl's field hockey game that had already started. The remainder of the schedule was away, which was actually helpful because many of the guys that typically harassed the tg students were off fighting other battles. After all the early buses left, apart from the odd club, the school was empty save for about thirty teens. All of the transgender attendees were boys; in a school only a little over 400, the odds were small there were any girls in the school wishing sexual reassignment, and if there were, they didn't attend.
Out of the thirty, about fifteen were girls who were supporting their tg friends, who numbered about seven, including Paddy and Michelle. The remaining eight teens consisted of four curious boys and four hecklers. Mrs. Grabowski ushered the hecklers out of the auditorium, but one asked permission to remain after apologizing.
Michelle sat nervously between Paddy and Chelsea, who was looking nervously across at Paddy. She was determined to support Paddy in this, even though it was breaking her heart. She did a fairly good job holding back the tears even as Paddy sat rapt listening to the few speakers from the TG Support Group. Orla, as Fay, sat by her side and rubber her arm, saying
"You know it's for the best, since it's what she wants, sweetie..." Fay leaned closer and said softly,
"You're her best friend, honey....that'll never change unless you want it to." Chelsea looked at Fay, wondering why she would say that, since it had become important to her, probably the biggest sacrifice she'd ever make, to let Paddy go. She had told Fay that much.
There were only three speakers besides Fiona. A married cross dresser spoke first, explaining that the transgender "spectrum" was not just transitioning, or pre-operative, but included cross dressers and girls who had chosen to live as women but without the surgery. Rather than go into data or information, the speakers all spoke about feelings and learning to deal with rejection, what to do to reach out for support, more relationship issues than anything else.
After Fiona spoke briefly about her experience (duplicated entirely from the experience of a then nineteen-year old cross dresser from Cleveland) she handed it off to two brothers in their mid twenties who were post-operative women, who discussed their transition in light of the acceptance they had received from their family. It was a process, not arrived at quickly, with only some of their family reaching out and understanding and loving them.
A final unscheduled speaker walked slowly onto the platform, her pace slow and nervous, but she was determined to speak, if only for her own benefit, but ultimately for the benefit of a teen who had felt unsupported and misunderstood. She was pretty, in her thirties it appeared, and she was dressed modestly owing to the importance of the presentation. She walked up to the mike, her blue shirt set off by the maroon curtains behind the lectern.
“I would like to thank the school for giving me this opportunity to speak. Some of you already know me, having sat across from me in my office,” she said softly. She was accompanied on stage by a very attractive woman who looked up at her with pride from her vantage point from her wheelchair.
"I would also like to thank a student I've know for a while, whose courage and understanding also helped me make the decision to speak today." She paused and choked back a sob.
“Some know me as Mr. Lambert, or Dan…but today, with my wife beside me, you may call me Diane.” She half smiled and turned to face Trudy, who had tears in her eyes. To be sure, she was anxious for her husband, but what couldn’t they face, such was the confidence in their love.
A hush filled the auditorium. Diane had cleared her appearance with the administration; she had not wanted to detract from the presentation, but felt if the teens knew someone they trusted was like them, it might help them with their own struggles. So she chose to appear, not as Dan...but as Diane. Paddy looked up at her…him…it was entirely confusing and marvelous at the same time, and felt better at that moment than at any other time in her life apart from her talk with Michelle and her mother’s return.
In total, the "testimony" phase of the assembly lasted about forty minutes. It was followed by a question and answer period that lasted only ten minutes, owing more to the embarrassment of the teens. However, after the presentation ended, the teens hung around for over an hour just talking with the support members.
Michelle was anxious for several reasons. She was finding out that her own fears and anxiety over her feelings about herself had fueled her panic and succeeding harassment of her own sister. She was sure she wasn't all-girl as some might say, but she had discovered in the process she wasn't all-boy either. As uncomfortable as she felt being dressed as a girl from the embarrassment, she also found that when she wasn't thinking about what others were thinking, she actually started to relax. That ease disappeared quickly as she felt a tap on her left shoulder as she stood listening to Paddy talking with Diane Lambert.
"Mike...." A voice came from behind and interrupted her peace with just the mention of her name, being that it was said by her best friend Jimmy Dolan. Recognizing the voice, Michelle reverted to her male self and became unnerved by his best friend's presence; that is until Jimmy said...
"Mikey...hey...don't sweat it..." He smiled at Mike and continued. "I don't fucking understand this...what the fuck...but you're my best friend...since like when we was in pre-school...." He smiled an awkward smile before saying,
"I'll talk to Tony and Jack...I think it's about time we decided to be human for a change...I got your back, bro"
He turned to walk away before asking,
"You...n' me...we cool? I mean...I don't...I..."
"Yeah...we're cool...and just so you know..." Mike softened his voice, but smiled in a silly grin, wanting to ease his friend's questions and doubts, understandable, but still needing an answer. Michelle looked over at the girls who had come in support, and said softly,
"I still like girls...yes?"
"Cool...I'll talk to Tony and Jack...it’ll be okay. And Mike...Tell your brother I'm sorry."
Chelsea stood next to Paddy, waiting for her to finish talking with the presenters. After Diane hugged her, Paddy smiled and said thank you. She turned to face Chelsea, nervous and sad. She was going to be going on a journey that likely didn't include her best friend. As great a day as it was for her, Paddy couldn't help herself and burst into tears. Chelsea hugged her and patted her back, wanting so much to never let go. And Paddy hated it, but she feared the same thing.
Fay walked up to the two of them and whispered in Chelsea's ear,
"She'll never know if you don't tell her." In a rare moment, Orla stepped out of character for a few seconds. She kissed Chelsea on the cheek in a decidedly un-Fay-like manner and said softly, her voice returning to its natural brogue,
"Go ahead, sweetheart, tell the girl...it'll be alright...I promise." Orla never promised anything she wasn't absolutely sure of...until now. But she strongly felt something, so she said it anyway.
"Tell her and see what she says...you'll never lose her as a friend either way."
“Paddy…it’s okay…it’s going to be alright.” Chelsea was crying almost as hard as Paddy, but she continued.
“You’re my best friend…nothing will ever change that.” She said, rubbing Paddy’s back.
“You….you…since we were little. Wanted to be together.”
Paddy wept, but it wasn’t just for Chelsea. “Ever since we were little…’we’re going to get married in a big church with all of our friends.” Paddy remembered how Chelsea lined up all her dolls and stuffed animals as guests. She had a huge stuffed giraffe who “presided” over the wedding.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted…” Paddy’s voice trailed off, and Chelsea was going to say something until it struck her exactly what Paddy had just said.
“What you’ve always wanted? You mean what you wanted, right? You don’t mean…” Chelsea paused, not believing what she had just heard.
“Does it have to end, Chels? I wasn’t sure what I needed or wanted when we were little; I’m still not entirely sure who I am…but I’ve always wanted that wedding. I just didn’t know I wanted wear the wedding dress too.”
She was sobbing so hard Chelsea had to lead her to a seat. She looked at Paddy with the same loving eyes that beheld him for the first time when they were little. She certainly had not stopped loving Paddy now that he was a she.
“Oh Paddy…honey…no…no…” She stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks. Their lips met only briefly before the realization of where they still were sunk in.
Standing behind them, almost as a witness to a solemn ceremony, they heard the following.
“Like I said…” Orla once again reverted to her Fay-like Tri-state accent, “My mom always says, ‘Love will find a way.”
The girls sat together on the couch, flanked by Breena and Janey. The four were joined in their sorrow by Calleigh, who had once again assumed the form of Esther, Janey’s Jamaican nurse. Every day seemed to cast a pall on the wonderful reunion of the family, and it was getting harder each day to remember the good that had occurred between them with the grief that lie inevitably ahead.
“Miss Janey, the agency said they’ll send over the bed this afternoon so you don’t have to use the stairs. Missy Breena has got the living room cleared out, so there will be plenty of room for you and anyone who comes along.” There would be some comfort from the arrangement, but not enough to mitigate the pain that was increasing every day. The doctor gave her a week, maybe ten days at the outside, but even that was only an estimate. There would be a few visitors; Jimmy and his buddies had already dropped by earlier that morning, mostly to apologize for their behavior toward Paddy. Tony and Jack had been reluctant at first, but Jimmy reminded them of how close they actually were with Mike…he still had an understandably hard time saying Michelle. Hell, Michelle had a hard time saying it.
For the first time in over a week, all three of the women were together since there was one more task to accomplish, but perhaps the most bittersweet, since it was going to commemorate a life soon to end; a tender and heartrending moment that was only a day away. The doctor, as good and kind as he was, was no magician. To be sure, even the women had no power to delay the inevitable, so their task was to prepare their charge for her final transition.
Orla had once again assumed the guise of Fay, Chelsea’s new friend from Trenton. She and Chelsea had come over to spend time with Paddy, who was overwhelmed with the sadness and feelings of how unfair it was to reunite with his mother only to find out she was dying. Chelsea was there to support her friend….more than a friend now…and Fay was there to support them both.
Fiona had dropped by to give Paddy some information about some competent sensitive doctors in the area. She gave her the business card of a Dr. Katie Kelly, a psychologist who specialized in dealing with transgender issues, and would be a great support during Paddy’s transition. Fiona also took time to help Michelle understand that her act, while a selfless one, in supporting her sister at the assembly, indicated much more than just a brother’s kind gesture.
The next day, a soft knock came at the door. Janey tried to lift her head, but was unable. Chelsea and her mother Martine were over, ostensibly to visit, but the hospice nurse had told the family that there wasn’t much time. Before the girls had a chance to respond, Chelsea had gone to the door. Opening it up, she saw three figures, two of who she knew. Esther, Janey’s nurse stood in front, flanked by a teenage girl bedecked all in black, including her nails and lipstick. A taller woman stood behind, whom Chelsea recognized as Fiona, a transgender woman who had spoken at the assembly last week.
“I’m sorry….” She choked back a sob. “She hasn’t much time.” The three women smiled and entered the house. As they passed through the doorway, a magical thing happened. First Esther entered, but once inside, it was no longer Esther the nurse from Jamaica who stood there, but Calleigh the Wise. Michelle recognized her and embraced her, having been a member of the Women only days before.
Calleigh was followed immediately by Fay from Trenton, who transformed back into Orla the Resourceful. Chelsea and her mother held each other, more out of wonder than out of fear.
The tall almost mannish looking woman entered last…Fiona the compassionate. As she passed through the door, her features softened and her manner became softer as well. She paused to walk to Janey’s bed, which sat in the middle of the room. She leaned over and kissed her forehead and said quietly,
“Almost time, dear one.”
And it was almost time. The Women had no control; no foreknowledge. The disease had run its course. Janey would be gone before the end of the day, and it was time to gather to say goodbye.
The hospice nurse smiled warmly at the family. Un-phased by the transformation she had just witnessed, she walked over to Janey’s bed. A small Vietnamese woman, she was small but energetic, and her presence in the house had been a blessing in the days she had been there to help. Her energy was directed at care; no one expected any less, despite the fact that the disease had won….this time. Perhaps another day…another patient. She kissed Janey on the forehead and stepped back.
Janey looked up from her bed and motioned for Chelsea, who was standing with her mom. The both stood by the bed as Janey spoke.
“The first day I met you, I dropped Paddy off at your house for lunch; you were both five. It was a right proper tea and ‘caca mine bui’ as I remember and it was a good day, in spite of his trip home. Jimmy Dolan’s older brother was somewhat of a bully back then. (Timmy Dolan was now a Marine serving in Iraq) and he and two of his friends pushed Paddy into a big mud puddle and teased him. “Patsy’s got a girl friend…Patsy’s a girl…” Janey’s eyes teared up, remembering that she had not been there for all the other teasing and harassment, but she continued.
“He walked in the front door, dirtier than I’d ever seen. He choked back a few sniffles and smiled.
“Mommy…I made a new friend today…Her name is Chelsea!”
“It’s been that way ever since. I know I can depend on you…you’ve been keeping an eye on him….her ever since, even after I wasn’t.”
She grabbed Chelsea’s hand and pulled her closer while grabbing Chelsea’s mother’s wrist.
“Take care of my baby, honey, won’t you?” She pulled her closer and kissed her, almost a request, but mostly a blessing. Chelsea turned away and fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing.
Calleigh walked over to Breena, who was trying so hard not to cry, but having no success. She grabbed her hand softly and walked over to the bed. Janey looked up and smiled weakly while reaching out to grab Breena’s hand.
“We will require another to restore balance.” Breena was aware of the old arts, and looked at Calleigh with anticipation until Calleigh shook her head and said.
“You are needed here much more than for any need of other mortals. Your place is with the children.” Calleigh pointed to Michelle and Paddy, who were hold each other and crying softly.
“Bree…honey,” Janey said weakly, “They need to know…Paddy needs to know.”
A look of panic and horror swept across Breena’s face until Fiona walked up to her and hugged her, saying,
“She needs to know someone will advocate for her, someone who knows what she’s been through… someone who knows what she will continue to deal with…someone who has walked this path before her.”
Michelle and Paddy looked at their aunt, wondering if what they just understood Fiona to say was true. Janey spoke up, a little louder, but still just above a whisper.
“Your Grandma Maureen had two children…both somewhat rebellious in their own ways, but both beautiful. Sinead, that’s me and her other child…my brother Sean.”
“Janey…no…don’t…please.” By now Breena could barely stand from crying, and was held in a comforting embrace by Orla, who stroked her hair.
“Shhh….shhh….it’s going to be alright…you’ll see. It’s for the best, and the best is better than you can imagine.” Orla kissed her cheek softly.
“Sean was a lovely child…but Momma didn’t appreciate how different he was. The boys all used to tease him. He had only a few friends growing up. I suppose I was his best friend, but even I didn’t understand. In high school, he was beaten up by some bullies, and Momma finally understood. He went away for a while, but he never came back. In his place, as special and precious a sister anyone could ever have, came your Aunt Breena.” By now Paddy had moved over to her aunt and had joined Orla in hugging Breena.
“I was no use as a mother….oh, don’t worry, I’m alright now. We had our talk, we had our angry words, but Bree forgave me, and I her. I was never able or willing to take care of you precious children, but she was. If anything, and don’t get upset, it’s really true in a way; I’ve been more like an aunt and Bree’s been more like your mother. And no finer more caring or loving mother could God have provided than my sister.”
Janey motioned, and Breena walked over to the bed. She leaned over and wept for her sister, too sad in coming so late in their lives, but glorious in coming at just the right time.
She kissed Janey once more and motioned for Michelle and Paddy to come over to the bed. Michelle hung back feeling awkward, not being used to her new appearance and demeanor. Somehow she felt ashamed and guilty that she wasn’t who her mother expected. Paddy, however, practically ran to her mother’s side. She fell to the floor and put her head on the edge of the bed next to her mother’s hand. Janey stroked her hair but returned her attention to Michelle.
“Mikey, come here, sweetheart. Come bless me one more time, will you?” It wasn’t a demand, but a sweet request that melted Michelle’s heart. She walked around to the other side of the bed and leaned forward to kiss her mother.”
Janey put her hand on Michelle’s neck and pulled her closer.
“Michael Kevin McCarthy…I am so proud of you. No mother was blessed with a finer, more courageous son than I…you are my treasure, dear one. I know that much of what I see today is for your sister’s benefit. I do know that part of what I see is part of who you are, and I’m glad I have another daughter, too. I love you so much.” She kissed Michelle on the lips like when she was little and being tucked into her bed.
“And you, my sweet baby girl…I cannot begin to tell you of how proud I am of you. Brave and kind and sweet and innocent and loving. You are heart of my heart, my darling daughter. I love you with all my heart.” She pulled her daughter closer as Paddy rose to kiss her. Both daughters rested on their mother’s bosom as she wept and caressed their hair. Slowly, her hands began to lighten, as if she was lifting them. They ceased moving and she was gone.
As the family gathered close at Janey’s bedside, the Women left quietly and gathered together outside the house. Calleigh stood and held Fiona in her arms as her sister wept for the family and their loss. It was a special, wonderful but sad time that could not help but affect the trio. Orla stepped closer and rubbed Fiona’s back while wiping her own tears away.
A figure walked toward the trio, vaguely familiar yet utterly new as well, if you follow me. The Women noticed her and ran to greet her, excited at her presence. She looked younger than Fiona, yet looked also old beyond her years, almost like a stately oak or a supple beech tree.
“Welcome, dear sister…We are glad for your joining, though we weep at the toll it has taken for the dear mortals inside. Welcome, Sinead the Merciful. It says somewhere that those who have received mercy shall be merciful. Welcome dear sister.”
“Thank you, all of you for restoring me.” Sinead looked at herself, seeing health and strength; not only in her restoration, but far beyond anything she had ever known.
Calleigh embraced her and said softly, “We only witnessed what the One who created you has done. It is to Him you owe your thanks.”
Calleigh embraced Sinead and was joined quickly by Orla and Fiona. Another figure stood off to the side, almost reverently staying apart from the group, feeling so out of place and unworthy.
“Come, dear heart…you belong here too, if only for a little while.” Calleigh held her arms open to embrace the fifth woman…restored for just a short time, and soon to return to her former form stood Maired the Innocent. But really, as odd and wonderful as it was, she really was just Michael Kevin McCarthy...a member of the group for one last time, it would seem.
“There’s not much time; we’ve some dear precious hurting souls elsewhere,” Fiona said with much regret. By now the women’s tears were sorrowful and joyous, filled with excitement and sadness. Orla gently pulled Maired to her in an embrace and said,
“Heart of my heart, I bless you…dear one, always do what is right, love mercy and justice.” She kissed Michael on the cheek and stepped back.
“Come, be blessed, my sweet sister,” Fiona said. “Whatever you do, do it wholly and with passion, dear sister; love and be loved.” She also kissed Michael and turned to face Calleigh.
“Temper wisdom with love; thank you for being with us, even if it was only for a while.” Calleigh kissed Michael and they both turned to face the last woman.
Brand new in the old ways, Sinead was left to say what she needed to say, not as a member of the group, but as the dear one bidding farewell for the last time.
“Michael….I know you’ll do well; you have a good heart and you learn quickly. You are my sweet son, and I am so proud of you. I’ll look in from time to time, if that’s okay.” Michael embraced his mother for the last time, and hugged Sinead for the first, if that makes sense.
“I love you, momma…be well and filled with joy.” Tears fell like gentle rain as they said goodbye for the last time.
As before, the women started to change. Their clothing began to shimmer and glow, almost iridescent, taking on the appearance of something almost spiritual. Michael stood and watched as they all began to fade away, almost like vapor taken by the wind. The sound of music filled the air and he heard one last voice, that of Calleigh, as they finally disappeared.
“Be ready, Maired the Innocent….always be ready.”
Michael looked around and found himself alone. Still dressed as Michelle, he, rather she turned and walked back into the house to join the sad celebration.
 |
Down to Earth
Book Two A Question of Love |
This story is a continuation of A Question of Balance. Thus far: Three women, centuries old and practitioners of Draihoidel, the old arts, had come along side a girl in desperate need of understanding and encouragement. Each had taken the form of mortals to influence three souls close to the girl. The fourth member of the group, the girl’s brother had been a practitioner of the old arts for only a few days. The women have returned to help the family once again, along with others that need the healing that only love can provide...
Previously...
“Hey, Dan, Paddy McCarthy is here.” Connie van Zyle, the department secretary said over his intercom.
“Send him….send her in,” Dan corrected himself.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Lambert?” Paddy said as she walked into Dan’s office.
“Yes…have a seat,”” he said pointing to the chair on the opposite side of the desk where he sat.
“You planning on attending the assembly?” He asked.
“I’m not so sure…I can’t handle all the teasing…” Her voice trailed off. She was glad she finally had an ally in her brother/sister, but the unmerciful harassment was almost too much for her.
“I want you to know something…something only one other person knows. I’m going to be at the assembly, partly because Mrs. Calabrese is laid up and won’t be able to make it. But I’m going there for another reason.” He smiled nervously and took a deep breath.
“I had a long talk with my wife last night…hardest conversation I ever had. Ever have one of those?” Paddy thought about the talk she and Mike had only a few days before.
“Been married nearly fifteen years; she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He held up the wedding photo that sat next to his phone, always a reminder of God’s grace in the form of his loving wife. He was half-kneeling next to her wheelchair kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“It’s no use ever keeping secrets, Paddy. It doesn’t really work all that well, and it usually makes things worse.” Paddy had no secrets that he was aware of, so Mr. Lambert must be talking about someone else.
“I’ll be at the assembly, and my wife Trudy will be there with me for support.” His eyes misted up, some for what he had to say to Paddy, but mostly out of gratitude for the love of his wife.
“I’m TG, a cross-dresser, but maybe even more than that…and she still loves me, Paddy, can you believe that?” He looked away, trying not to be too embarrassed; wanting so much to encourage the girl in front of him.
“I’m going to need all the support I can get, Paddy, and I think you of all people will know what I’m talking about. Please consider attending? Don't worry if you can't...I'll be alright.”
Dan didn’t want to manipulate or use Paddy in any way, so he left it up to her to decide.
The assembly started about ten minutes late. All of the transgender attendees were boys; in a school only a little over 400, the odds were small there were any girls in the school wishing sexual reassignment, and if there were, they didn't attend.
Out of the thirty, about fifteen were girls who were supporting their TG friends, who numbered about seven, including Paddy and her “sister” Michelle. The remaining eight teens consisted of four curious boys and four hecklers. Mrs. Grabowski ushered the hecklers out of the auditorium, but one asked permission to remain after apologizing.
There were only four scheduled speakers. A married cross dresser spoke first, explaining that the transgender "spectrum" was not just transitioning, or pre-operative, but included cross dressers and girls who had chosen to live as women but without the surgery. Rather than go into data or information, the speakers all spoke about feelings and learning to deal with rejection, what to do to reach out for support, more relationship issues than anything else.
Fiona, one of the Draehoidel women in the guise of a man, spoke briefly about her experience (duplicated entirely from the experience of a then nineteen-year old cross dresser from Cleveland). She handed it off to two brothers in their mid twenties who were post-operative women, who discussed their transition in light of the acceptance they had received from their family. It was a process, not arrived at quickly, with only some of their family reaching out and understanding and loving them.
A final unscheduled speaker walked slowly onto the platform, her pace slow and nervous, but she was determined to speak, if only for her own benefit, but ultimately for the benefit of a teen who had felt unsupported and misunderstood. She was pretty, in her late thirties it appeared, and she was dressed modestly owing to the importance of the presentation. She walked up to the mike, her blue shirt set off by the maroon curtains behind the lectern.
“I would like to thank the school for giving me this opportunity to speak. Some of you already know me, having sat across from me in my office,” she said softly. She was accompanied on stage by a very attractive woman who looked up at her with pride from her vantage point from her wheelchair.
"I would also like to thank a student I've know for a while, whose courage and understanding also helped me make the decision to speak today." She paused and choked back a sob.
“Some know me as Mr. Lambert, or Dan…but today, with my wife beside me, you may call me Diane.” She half smiled and turned to face Trudy, who had tears in her eyes. To be sure, she was anxious for her husband, but what couldn’t they face, such was the confidence in their love.
The next day...
"Hi Marion, you wanted to see me?" Dan Lambert stood in the principal's office doorway, feeling quite like a teen ready to be scolded.
"Close the door, Dan." Marion Langhorne looked up only briefly from her desk, and her expression was less than welcoming.
"Sure," he said, closing the door, wondering what would prompt her glare.
"What's the meaning of this?" She tossed a folder to the other side of the desk. He grabbed it and opened it up.
"What do you mean...this is the assembly we had last week for the transgender students." He smiled, but his expression was not reciprocated. Marion glared at him once again and frowned.
"You're supposed to get approval for any assembly from me Dan, you know that." Her voice sounded almost like a mother reminding her child of the rules of the house.
"You approved it...Here's your signature...right here? What's the problem? The assembly went great."
"My problem isn't so much with the assembly itself, but your participation in it." She said.
"Why should that be a problem?" He asked, not because he didn't know the answer, but that he wanted to hear it from her lips.
"You showed up at an after school assembly in drag, Dan...That's the problem...Don't you see that as a problem?" she asked dismissively. He took a breath. He had expected some flack for his part in the assembly, but not from his closest colleague.
"No...Not at all." He said it firmly but softly. She looked at him as if to say, "I don't believe this!"
"Let me get this straight. We have an after school assembly, and you show up wearing womens' slacks, a blouse and a blond wig and makeup and you don't have a problem with that? What were you thinking?' Her question sounded more like an indictment than an attempt to learn.
"We have several students who are transgender, Marion. I figured that if I came dressed as I did, they might feel a sense of commonality and perhaps that the school understood." He smiled, but immediately regretted it.
"Well, you figured wrong. We got about ninety letters of complaint because of your decision, and I don't know how to answer them, do you?" Once again, her tone seemed dismissive, as if she was more than just a little reluctant to hear his side, no matter what it was.
"I'd be willing to bet if you look at those letters, they would be from parents whose children didn't attend the assembly. We had less than fifty kids there, and apart from one parent who disapproves of their child's lifestyle, all the feedback was positive." He didn't smile, but he leaned on her desk.
"Nevertheless, I have to consider the students who aren't transgender. What do I do about that?" She frowned.
"I don't know...what did the principal down in Little Rock do? What did they do up in Boston?" Dan said.
"Come on, Dan, that's not fair at all. I have to be accountable to the needs or more than just a handful of students; this place functions almost like a democracy from what the school board imparted to me not 15 minutes ago."
"You know what the definition of a democracy is, Marion? Two foxes and a chicken deciding what to have for dinner!"
"This is not funny Dan. You can't pull crap like this without consequences. You do this again, and there'll be "hell to pay," as the Superintendent told me. And from now on, no more assemblies without my approval. The assembly you've got coming up is...postponed." She said it and turned away as if to get something out of her credenza.
"That's not fair. You approved that months ago. The speaker is coming all the way from Chicago...at her expense."
"I'm sorry Dan, but this isn't my call. I don't have much say in this either." Marion looked away once again. She turned back and there were tears in her eyes.
"Off the record, okay?" She said softly. Dan noticed the change in demeanor. He took a seat next to her and looked at her intently.
"This place pisses me off. They cry for diversity and then they pull this shit. We've known each other for a long time. You honestly don't think I'd pull this on you. It comes from further up the chain of command...way up." She frowned and put her hand on his arm.
"The mayor and city council met in an emergency session to discuss this. Apparently my inability to answer eighty-seven letters in one day was met with disapproval. Dan, if you do something like this again, they've promised me it will mean your job." She sighed and bit her lip.
"I understand." Dan said in resignation. Marion put her hand on his arm once again and said,
"For what it's worth, in my twenty-three years here, your act has to be one of the bravest, most considerate things I've seen. I am proud of you. On the record...you show up like that again, and you're fired." She said it in a half-hearted attempt at imitating Donald Trump, but she closed her eyes, put her head in her hands and started crying.
"Marion?" Dan said softly.
With her head still down, she reached out with on hand and gripped his before letting go. Dan rose and left the office, locking the door behind him.
Six months later...the Lambert home...
“Are...are you sure about this?” The voice called with hesitation from the bathroom. The woman lay on the bed, her long blond hair draped over the edge, almost like an old pin up. She wore a long mint green satin robe which lay open, exposing her body. Her hands caressed her breasts and she cooed softly.
“Of course, my darling.” She purred. The room was dimly lit from the light streaming from the door of the bathroom, which was only slightly ajar. The voice called out again.
“I’m afraid.” The voice almost cried.
“Honey, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. This is who you are…we’ve known it for some time. Come and love me….like you always have.” The woman on the bed smiled to herself, feeling content.
“I’m not the one you fell in love with,” the voice called out again. “You married me thinking I was going to be the strong one…the one who would protect you. I can’t even protect myself.” The voice sobbed.
The woman looked up from the bed to the doorway of the bathroom. A figure stood in the doorway, trembling.
“Honey, come here, please.” The woman said. She looked up again.
“Trru….Trudy…honey.” By now Dan was weeping. His body had already begun to change, the product of subtracting and adding, as the chemistry began his metamorphosis. Soon, there would be no turning back…perhaps an irrevocable decision that he still was unsure of.
“I’ll ask again, please come to me?” Trudy said softly, not as a command but a plea. “I married your heart. You know that. Things have never been what we wanted. My body is broken beyond repair and yet you have treasured me and loved me and held me close. How can I do anything different with you?” Her own eyes had filled with tears.
Dan wore a copper colored camisole and tap pants with a short robe, all in soft silk. For the first time, he had sprayed his body with the perfume that Trudy had bought for them both. He wore no makeup and his hair, while longer than ever before, still was more akin to a boy’s cut, and yet his body had begun to display the product of his journey…he was beginning to display a more feminine appearance, however subtle.
Still lying on her back, Trudy extended her arms toward him and said softly,
“You look lovely, sweetheart,” Her voice cracked as she began to sob softly as well.
“I’m so sorry…I’ve made you cry…I can’t do this to you.” Dan said. He turned to walk back into the bathroom, but was stopped by her call.
“Do not apologize for making me cry…I’m crying because you’re hurting…You have been carrying this for too long, Diane. No more. And no more Daniel…you are Diane to me, as if you had been Diane to me all along.” She would have turned and sat up but for the legs that no longer felt or supported or walked. “Come help me, please.”
She was angry, more for the helplessness she felt, not for her body, but for the decades of doubt and shame her lover had been made to feel by unknowing and uncaring people.
“I know what you’re thinking, Diane and you’re wrong.” She welcomed his attention with a half-frown as he picked her up and placed her gently on the pillows piled against the headboard of the bed.
“We can never know how I would have felt if I never got hurt.” She frowned, not at Diane, but at her motionless legs, as if her eyes were gesturing.
“I have no feeling there,” she said as she looked at her body, “but I feel and enjoy and relish and savor every moment of every time we get together!” She bit her tongue as the tears fell onto her chest.
“You bring me great joy with your tenderness…your sweetness…as if I were the only woman in the world. Your words strengthen me and your kisses bless me, even if I can’t feel every kiss in every place in every way. Even if I have never felt you inside me, you invade me with your presence and fill me with great joy.”
She spoke almost as if she were singing a grand love song, for she loved and felt love in one moment. She pulled Diane to her and kissed her, over and over and over, laughing softly as they enjoyed each other, feeling truly blessed.
Everyday to myself I'd say point the way
What would it be?
I ask myself what's the best thing for you
And myself and I seem to agree
That the best thing for you would be me
I remember you
You're the one who made
my dreams come true
A few kisses ago
A few weeks later...the Lambert home...
The light streamed through the parting of the curtains, bathing their bed in warm sunlight.
"Hey, sleepyhead. Good Morning," she said, kissing her lover on the cheek. Diane turned over and smiled weakly.
"Your eyes are so puffy, honey. Were you crying?" Almost a rhetorical question.
"I'm so scared." Diane looked at Trudy and shrugged her shoulders softly. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this." She used her eyes as a gesture as she looked at her body. While her transformation was nearly complete, save for the final alteration, she wasn't thinking of her transition.
"You may not be ready, but we are. We're in this together." Trudy smiled and kissed Diane's cheek once again.
"You've got so much going for you...me included!" She laughed softly.
"But what if this doesn't work? What will I do?" Diane bit her tongue and shook her head softly from side to side.
"We will be okay." Trudy nodded and widened her eyes as if to make a point.
"You have everything going for you. You love those kids. You love your job. We'll be fine." Diane looked at her wife as if to plead for mercy, but she really was looking for assurance. She had never been confident, either as Don or or Diane.
"Let me tell you something, sweetheart." Trudy's eyes began to mist even as she recalled what she was about to say.
"The day we met? I was wheeling myself into my office building and you were walking by. Remember?" Trudy's vision of the moment was brilliant and vivid. Diane's vision had been dimmed and shaded by doubt and misplaced shame. She looked at Trudy blankly until she heard these words,
"You said, 'excuse me, can I help,' and smiled at me. The nicest smile I had ever seen; the most welcoming smile I have ever known. You didn't rush to my side or take charge...just 'excuse me, can I help?.'" Trudy smiled at the thought of the memory while Diane frowned, not being able to recall. Her memories were clouded and shaded by the worry of the moment.
"I nodded, and you just helped me. Once I was freed from the doorway, you released the chair. It was like you were saying, 'Here you are, I hope that was okay.'" She smiled once again. Diane's eyes began to fill with tears as she began to recall.
"And then the most wonderful thing ever in my life took place. You got down on one knee and grabbed the armrest of my chair to steady yourself. You looked me in the eye and smiled that smile of yours. I thought it couldn't get any bigger or brighter but it did. And then you said, 'I don't believe I know you.' Like you were missing something...like I had just brought something special to you…to someone...as if I were blessing you."
Trudy shrugged her shoulder as if to say, 'sorry, but that's just how I feel.
"'Hi, I'm Trudy Pavelich.' I said. I stuck my hand out and you took it gently and held it for a moment. And then you said the most wonderful words I had ever heard. 'I am so pleased to meet you, Trudy.'" Trudy paused to savor the moment.
"You made me feel so special...the first time since the accident." Trudy's eyes filled with tears. There would always be regrets and sadness over her limitations, but her tears were tears of joy.
"In that one moment, when you lowered yourself to my level, not to be condescending, but to be inclusive...you made me feel that I finally belonged once again. You not only brought yourself to my level, but you lifted me up at the same time.”
Diane looked at Trudy; overwhelmed with gratitude. Trudy went on.
“You know I always thought there was something about you…something different?” She looked in Diane’s eyes, almost searching for some understanding…something that would convince Diane of her support and love.
“You and I talked about children…I know you didn’t want to…you didn’t want to hurt me.” Trudy glanced downward at her own body, remembering the day.
“Two words made me think…two words that I didn’t give a second thought at the time...'I know'; you were so understanding and supportive…you seemed so connected to my grief. And then one day it came to me…you knew the pain I felt because you felt it yourself. You knew my loss because you never had what we both wanted…to bear children. I knew then how much different you were; not only from other men, but from what I thought you were.” At those words Diane winced and tears began to fall once again.
“No, dearest…no crying…no guilt…no more shame. Today it stops. You were never whom I thought you were, but you have always been and always will be whom I really need…and love.” Trudy touched her heart with her palm and smiled.
"You won't be going into that school today by yourself. I'll be right there with you." She touched Diane's chest almost like ET did with Elliot.
"I'll be right there. Okay?" Trudy pulled her lover into her and kissed her. She loved more than anything that her arms were still able to hold...her hands able to caress and explore and comfort. And when she pulled Diane close she felt empowered and alive.
After a few moments, they parted lips and looked at each other. Both were crying, but with tears of gladness. In a brief moment, Trudy's strength had empowered Diane for the day ahead; the biggest day of their lives, perhaps.
"I guess there's only one question I have for you. Maybe the most important question of the day." She smiled at Diane.
"What?" Diane said softly with a smile.
"Will it be Navy Blue with the slacks or Charcoal Grey with the skirt?"
I remember you
You're the one who said
I love you, too, I do
Didn't you know?
As the couple prepared for the day, four figures stood or rather hovered by the window, unseen; Calleigh, Orla, Fiona, and Sinead, the newest member of the Women, Draehoidel they are called, magical spiritual beings from the old country. They looked at the couple through the bedroom window and then moved off
“So these two, we know them don’t we?” Orla said, but it really was a statement rather than a question.
“Yes,” Calleigh said. “Fiona was blessed with the responsibility to help the woman…Diane is her name, but you may remember her as Dan. And her wife is Gertrude…Trudy she is called.” Calleigh smiled at Fiona who beamed at the mention of the man who had become something else, perhaps something more.
“So they need our help?” Sinead asked. The newest member, she was learning all about who she was in the scheme of things. Never a patient mortal, she was beginning to understand the meaning of patience, but her question was anything but hasty.
“In a way, dear heart, but not directly.” They have each other. It is the ones they serve and the ones who serve them that require our assistance. Orla smiled knowingly. She had recognized the needs of the two at first, and her resourcefulness had crafted a plan, if you’ll excuse the expression.
“Each of us will influence a mortal to make decisions. We are bound by those decisions, even if they become difficult or even problematic, as they say. Whatever they choose to do will guide and may ultimately decide what happens to this sweet couple.” Calleigh smiled once again.
“Will I be able to help this time?” Sinead asked. In the intervening months since their last visit, she had only been allowed to observe.
“Oh, yes, dear heart. As a matter of fact, your assignment should be waking and getting ready for the day just now as well. Shall we go and see, ladies?” Calleigh smiled at Orla and Fiona, both of whom already knew how special the plan would be for Sinead. In a moment they were transported from the couple’s home to another home not far away; a home that Sinead recognized.
The McCarthy home...
“You kids need to get ready. I know that having a car changes things, Mike, but you still have to get to school on time. Michael McCarthy bounded down the stairs, his sister Patty following close after him.
“Mind you get straight back here right after school. I need the car to take Patty to the doctor.”
“Oh, can we just skip today, Aunt Breena?” Patty asked. I can just pop by her office tomorrow and get the new prescription tomorrow morning. Chelsea and I wanted to go to the library to study.” Breena half-frowned and said,
“Plenty enough time for that…besides, Dr. Murdoch is off to a conference tonight and she won’t be back until Tuesday. I’ll drop you by her house right after the appointment, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mike said with a sigh. He had wanted to get together with his girlfriend Hilda that afternoon as well. Less focused than his sister, Mike had lapsed into some poor habits recently and really had not considered the implications. He was going to learn soon enough that actions have consequences; some difficult to deal with perhaps, but also beneficial if one is willing to learn from them.
As Breena placed the cereal bowls on the dining room table, a bright light began to stream through the window of the front storm door. A moment later the bell rang.
Sinead…Janey McCarthy, most recently deceased and even more recently the newest member of the Four, stood at the front door. Breena was surprised enough to drop one of the bowls. Neddie ran quickly from the kitchen, wagging his tail. Ignoring the woman at the door, he made a beeline for the pile of spilled Cheerios and inhaled them in an instant. Patty stood stock still, while Mike walked over calmly and opened the door and smiled warmly at his mother as if greeting a dead parent was something he did every day.
Janey looked back and forth between her son, her daughter, her sister and the Irish Setter who was wagging his tail and said simply,
“Begging your pardon, dear hearts, but can ye tell me…Am I late for breakfast?”
The Guidance Office at school a short while later…
The woman sat nervously at her desk. She was clad in a simple charcoal gray A-line skirt and a button down navy blue blouse. Her hair was pulled into a bun and she wore little makeup, save for some eye shadow and lip gloss. The watch on her left wrist was a recent gift from her partner and she wore a gold wedding ring on her left hand. The clock on the office wall said nine-twelve. A moment later a knock came at her door, followed by a familiar face in the doorway. The woman greeted the face with a soft, welcoming laugh.
“Come in Connie.” The woman said softly and Connie Van Zyl, the Guidance Department secretary stepped into the small office, her head down, looking at a folder.
“Your nine-fifteen is here…Petey Carlucci…he’s got that note you asked for and….” Connie interrupted her own thoughts as she noticed the woman behind the desk, saying simply,
“Son of a bitch…you’re doing it.” Connie laughed nervously and smiled, handing the folder to Diane Lambert, simultaneously the newest and second-most tenured counselor in the department behind Linda Calabrese, the department head.
“I’ll be honest with you, hon, I didn’t think you’d do it. Really.” She smiled once again and said,
“I’ll give you this, Dan, you’re a braver….girl than I am.” Connie chuckled. Diane looked at her and said,
“We’ll see how brave I am when everybody opens their mail this morning.” She smiled once again as Connie started to leave.
“Connie?” Diane said once again. Connie turned and faced Diane, wondering what she might say next.
“Thanks for everything…just in case?”
“Oh, Dan…Diane…let’s hope for the best!” Connie left the office. A moment later another knock came at the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” Phyllis Jenkins stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
“Whatever do you mean,” Diane said softly, barely looking up from her desk.
“You know what I mean,” She said coldly. “Why are you wearing that?” Phyllis pointed with her outstretched arm in a broad gesture.
“Because it is too warm for a jacket?” Diane said calmly?
“No…you know what I mean…why are you wearing womens’s clothing?” Phyllis insisted.
"Because I’m a woman, Phyllis.” Diane remained calm. Phyllis took a step toward Diane’s desk.
“The school board is going to hear about this.” She said. Diane looked at her and reached for an envelope on her desk.
“The school board has already been informed. I anticipated that you would want to know, so here’s your copy.” Diane handed Phyllis the letter, but Phyllis ignored it and continued.
“I want to know what is going on, and I want to know now.” She demanded.
“Alright, Phyllis,” Diane said softly and calmly,
“Here’s the story, okay?” Diane began to read the copy of the letter on her desk.
“To whom it may concern. This letter will act as formal notification that my client, Ms. Diane Marie Lambert, with the approval and medical advice of her doctors, is entering into next phase of her Real Life Experience, commonly known as a ‘real life test.” She is under doctor’s care and has already completed prerequisite aspects of this requirement prior to her gender confirmation surgery. During this phase, Ms. Lambert will live and present herself as the woman she is.
This letter is also to serve as notification that any attempt by the School Board of Milltown, Pennsylvania and/or their agents to interfere with Ms. Lambert’s legal rights under the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania shall be met with legal action on Ms. Lambert’s behalf.
Respectfully, Amos Henderson, Esq., Attorney at Law…etc….”
“I don’t know about this…the school board should know about this.” Phyllis repeated.
“They already know…they received a letter identical to the one in your hand…the very same letter I just read to you.” Diane continued to speak softly and calmly, which only seemed to bother Ms. Jensen more.
“Well, I’m the principal here…” Diane calmly cut her off.
“Sorry, but I hate to disagree. Marion is the principal. You’re acting principal while she is on vacation and at the conference in Pittsburgh.” Diane smiled warmly, which served to fuel Phyllis Jensen’s anger.
“Never the less I am in charge.” Diane waved her hand and said,
“You are acting principal in name only. Any decisions regarding personnel have to go through her office and in her absence, the department head. As Linda is on maternity leave, that leaves someone in this department with seniority in charge. That would be me.” Diane smiled again. She knew somehow Trudy was reaching out to her, perhaps imbuing her with strength beyond the moment.
“I’m going to take this up with the school board.” Phyllis said once again.
“Feel free, but they’re going to be under the same constraint as you. Unless Marion is removed from her position, which she won’t be, any personnel decisions will have to wait until she returns next Friday, so the only thing left to say is …have a wonderful day, Phyllis.” Diane smiled warmly again, astounded at the courage she had just shown in the face of what she expected would be only the beginning of opposition.
Phyllis turned and walked out of Diane’s office, nearly knocking over a fifteen year old boy who had just transferred from another district. Petey Carlucci smiled at Phyllis and waved.
"You're coming with me young man," she said as she pointed the way across the hall to her office.
Petey Carlucci, most recently of West Chester, but before that a student of Draihoidel in County Sligo in 1626; Calleigh took a deep breath and entered the office.
I remember too a distant bell
And stars that fell like rain out of the blue
When my life is through
And the angels ask me to recall the thrill of them all
Then I shall tell them
I remember you
Someday, when we are wiser
When the world's older
When we have learned
I pray someday we may yet
Live to live and let live
A few moments later, in the office of Phyllis Jenkins, Vice Principal...
"Well, young man?" Phyllis stared at Peter Anthony Carlucci, or rather his Avatar, to use an entirely overwrought expression.
"I'm trying to find your file, but it seems it's been misplaced." No sooner than Phyllis had uttered those words than a knock came at the doorway.
"This just arrived via FedEx, Ms. Jenkins." Connie handed her the envelope. Phyllis opened it and found a fairly worn green folder containing Petey's school file. She nodded in acknowledgement and Connie left them alone. After a few minutes, Phyllis looked up and spoke.
"Well, Mister Carlucci, it seems as if you were a bit of a troublemaker at your last school. We won't have any of that here, mind you. You can be sure we will put an end to your 'activism."
"Excuse me, Ma'am, I may only be fifteen, but unless I read the Constitution wrong, you can't put an end to my exercise of free speech."
"We'll just see about that." She paused and looked down at the file before continuing.
"It says here you violated the dress code frequently while at your previous school." She frowned and shook her head as if he was a five year old.
"No, Ma'am, I merely chose to wear the clothing I prefer." Petey folded his arms and smiled warmly.
"It doesn't say here; a page is missing. What did you wear that violated the dress code." Phyllis looked at him askance, as if already doubting what Petey had to say.
"Nothing really. I actually wore age appropriate clothes....my mom bought them at J.C. Penney.
"Jeans? Tee shirts? Logo tee shirts are not permitted." She felt proud that she had helped to establish that rule.
"Oh, no Ma'am, I really don't care for tee shirts." He smiled, once again causing her to look askance at him.
"I actually like calf-length cotton gauze skirts...peasant blouses....boots... sandals, you know...pretty." He smiled once more.
"Well, we have several children here who are transgendered. Mind you, we tolerate them as much as possible; we don't want the other students upset by their behavior or presentation." She smiled, but her tone was anything but welcoming.
"That's interesting, Ma'am, but I'm not transgendered...I just like wearing dresses and skirts." Petey smiled one more time, and Phyllis became almost apopleptic.
"Well, Mister Carlucci, I must disappoint you. You aren't permitted to wear girls clothing if you're not transgendered. That's not acceptable."
"According to whom, Ma'am?" Even as she uttered Petey's words, Calleigh thought to herself,
"This one is going to be difficult. I wonder why she feels so strongly?" Calleigh knew that folks rarely if ever formed a strong prejudicial opinion without some underlying belief.
"According to the dress code put in place last year by the Board of Education. You would be best served to remember that you don't have the right to wear just what you please. It's bad enough...." She broke off her sentence. She was angry that the board was already accomodating those children and she could see nothing but trouble if she indulged the boy in front of her.
"I expect you to report to class tomorrow morning dressed appropriately. Do I make myself clear, Mister Carlucci?" She stressed Mister yet again.
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll be dressed appropriately." Petey rose and nodded before exiting. As he left he; rather Calleigh, thought, "I think that went rather well."
Someday, when we are wiser
When the whole world is older
When we have love
And I pray someday we may yet
Live to live and one day, someday
Someday life will be fairer
Need will be rarer
And greed will not pay
Godspeed this bright millenia
Let it come
If we wish upon the moon
One day, someday....soon
Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood
The McCarthy home....
"Mom?" Patty ran to the door way and hugged Janey, for that is who she was in her once mortal form. Breena continued to stand by the dining room table, staring at her sister while the dog continued to eagerly lap up the cheerios at her feet.
"As ever was, baby girl." Janey grabbed her youngest and squeezed tightly as the two stared at each other; Patty in amazement and Janey in pure joy.
"It seems my first assignment will be to work with a dear lovely family that I just happen to know."
"Assignment? Are you going to be working with us?" Michael said as he closed the front door. Janey turned and smiled.
"In a manner of speaking; rather, dear boy, you will be working with me. I've got more than a couple of folks to help, and I need help myself if I'm going to be of any use to them. And who better to work with than my own kin?" She smiled wryly at Michael and continued.
"Besides, Calleigh, my new friend and mentor, has mentioned that someone here has some experience?"
"NO...no tell me you're not...." Michael held up his hands in protest.
"No, darlin', nothing so drastic as a transformation this time...leastwise anything that drastic..." She smiled at him again.
"What...what are you going to do to me?" Michael almost cringed. Being transformed into one of the women the last time and then to be returned to his mortal form, only to be asked to dress in girls' clothes to show solidarity with his sister...it was almost more than he could handle, but handle it he did.
"Michael, son of mine....why does this have to be all about you?" She practically giggled, evoking a similar response from Patty.
"You haven't even asked who we...yes, we are going to help." She shook her head and raised her finger in mock scolding.
"Well, either way, come give your mother a kiss, won't you. I don't bite, you know!" She held out her hands in welcome. He stepped closer and hugged Janey who pulled him close and whispered,
"I can't talk right now, but I need you, Michael...for your Aunt Breena's sake!"
A while later, at the school...
"Diane Lambert, Guidance department," she spoke softly into the phone. A smile crossed her face as she recognized the voice on the other line.
"Oh, hi, honey! No...I'm still alive. The tar and feathers don't seem to be anywhere in sight; maybe I'll make it to the end of the day after all. Yes...I could feel your prayers. No..yes...I am scared. This job...it's more than a job....yes...yes....I know....If God is for me...who can be against me....No...I know I should trust more, but this is so hard." She shook her head and paused, looking out the window.
"One sec, hon...just a moment, okay?" She bit her lip and put her hand to her face. Hopefully Phyllis wouldn't burst in and find her crying. Trudy was such a blessing, and just the sound of her voice and her encouraging words had brought her to tears.
"I'm sorry, honey....it's so hard....this is all so new and with not much help here...I know.... Maybe? The board hasn't called me, so I guess I still have a job...." Her voice faltered at the mention of the job. She really loved the kids she worked with. She was a fairly soft-spoken person, but recent events had brought her out of her shell; she worried that her boldness may have been to the detriment of the students.
"No...I know...maybe I should have waited...oh gosh, Trudy...what if I've been wrong all along... what? Yes, I know you love me....you really think it's the right time? I'm not...what?
Yes....yes...no, It's not about me, Trudy...it has to be about the kids...if my needs get in the way of the work....I'd leave...yes I would...." The thought of quitting was too much for her and she began to sob; she didn’t even notice she had disconnected the call. A few minutes later...
"Ms. Lambert? Diane?" A voice came from the doorway. Connie van Zyle leaned in and spoke softly.
"Hon? Diane?" Diane lifted her head from the desk.
"Trudy just called me...said you were having...anyway, she said she'll see you at home." Connie smiled warmly. She had a tremendous amount of respect for Diane, even though she only new this part of her colleague for a few days. She stepped inside the office and closed the door.
"Connie...I'm so sorry...you're going to be in the middle of all this." Diane said as she wiped her face with her blouse sleeve.
"I've been through worse, and besides, you need all the help you can get." She laughed softly and stepped closer to the desk. Leaning over she put her hand on Diane's shoulder; an altogether foreign gesture when Diane was Don, but it seemed so necessary and right.
"You're going to be fine, sweetie. Everything is going to work out. Your wife loves you; the kids just adore you....maybe even more than ever. And I've got your back. “Connie walked to the window and lowered the shade. She did the same to the door window before returning to the desk.
"I'm going to hold all calls for a while. I want you to rest for a bit, okay. Power to the Sisterhood,” She chuckled and touched Diane lightly on the wrist.
"It's going to be just fine." She smiled and continued.
"Diane...Trudy said to tell you something else....Believe." She was out the door a moment later. Diane put her head down on the desk and wept.
Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains long
Before we knew we could
A while later...at the Athletic Director's office...
“Hey, Boss, you hear what happened in Guidance?” Dave Ackerman stood at the doorway to Paul Giambrone’s office. Paul looked up from his planner and sighed. He knew, but he also expected he’d hear about it from Dave, no matter what he said. Dave didn’t wait for an answer.
“Lambert finally did it...he came to work...dressed as a....”
“I believe the word you’re searching for is woman, Dave.” Paul shook his head but resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Yeah...I just don’t get it. Why would he want to do that?” Dave laughed.
“Well, for one thing, it’s not he!”
“What do you mean, not he? This is a guy we’ve known for how many years? Of course he’s a ‘he.’”
“Dave...she explained in the assembly last spring that she was a woman...that she had been dealing with this issue for a long time. I guess she decided to finally address the issue.” Paul shook his head once again and sighed. He had known Don Lambert since high school, and while they never were that close as teens, they developed an instant rapport when Paul was hired as the Athletic Director at the school.
“Best friends tell each other their secrets, right?” He thought. Apart from Trudy, no one really knew about Diane’s plans to “come out” besides Paul.
“Diane...” He thought; even as Dan's best friend, Paul found it hard to remember that names change at times like these. He treasured his friendships like gold, but this one had been special. Dan's ...now Diane’s ability to see through his defenses challenged him to change and grow; He’d miss that now that ‘he’ was a ‘she.’
“I just don’t get it,” Dave was stuck. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, Dave, keep in mind that we don’t have to understand everything; some things we just have to accept as what is important or real for someone else. If you’re really having a hard time, you can always look at the circular the Board sent over last spring about transgender teens; it applies to adults. And our new Health text book has a whole chapter on it as well, okay?” Dave nodded but it was clear he still didn’t understand. Paul went out on a limb, which was going to prove to be very shaky.
“Bottom line? She’s a great person and a great counselor. She’s my best friend, and I trust her decision, even if I don’t understand it.” Paul didn’t mean to snap at Dave; he meant well as far as ignoramuses go, but Paul had grown tired of the constant carping by Dave and his fellow teachers regarding Diane Lambert.
“Take it easy, boss...I didn’t mean anything by it; I always liked the guy...I guess I’ll have to figure out how to like the girl, huh?” Dave shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
“You know, Dave...I think that there’s hope for you, yet.” Paul smiled and went back to his day timer as Dave left the office.
“Hope for me, too.”
There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe
At the Lambert home that afternoon...
“Hey, honey, how did it go today?” Trudy wheeled her chair up to Diane as she closed the front door. Diane gave her a peck on the cheek before laying her purse on the table in the hall. She watched as Diane walked down the hall way to their bedroom without comment.
“Honey? Diane?” It was rare but increasingly more frequent for Diane to hear her name. They usually exchanged ‘hon’ and ‘sweetie’ and the like, with an occasional ‘Di’ or ‘Tru’ thrown in, but she had hardly heard her name since her transition had begun. To be fair, Trudy rarely called her Dan before the process began, preferring dear or darling instead. She wheeled herself into the bedroom and found Diane on the bed, her face buried in a pillow, weeping.
“Oh, God, honey...Don’t....please...it’ll be okay...” Trudy pled with her as she wheeled up to the bed. She reached over and grabbed Diane’s left hand and squeezed. Diane turned her face toward her and sighed.
“I should have never started this. It’s going to take away from the kids and it really serves no purpose other than soothe my feelings. I’m so sorry...I...” Trudy squeezed her hand harder.
“Shhhh....shhhhh....no, Di...no....don’t do this.” She began to tear up; the pain in her face a mirror image of the hurt etched in Diane’s face.
“I’m...who am I trying to kid. This is so...selfish. Look what it’s done. I’ll probably lose my job. I’m of no good to them if I can’t be there. I should have just stayed the way I was. It would have been.”
“Diane...it would have killed you if you didn’t change. Even if you had never acted on it, you would have died inside.
“Oh, Tru...I’m sooo sorrreee,” she sobbed. Maybe the hormones were responsible; of course they might have added to an already difficult emotionally charged situation, but really; the tears and sobs were driven by untoward guilt and shame. Diane had nothing to be sorry for; no more than any of us perhaps, but she had done nothing wrong, and was feeling condemned for finally acting on something that made her complete and more helpful and caring than ever.
“No...Stop this instant. I’ll not have you apologize for being who you are. Look at me, Di...look at me.” Trudy’s tone was angry, but of course wasn’t directed so much at Diane as at the guilt and shame behind her weeping. Diane lifted her head and looked into Trudy’s eyes.
“No...look here.” Trudy used her hand in a broad gesture to point to her as she sat in the wheel chair.
“What do you think of me? Of this?” She knew the answer. Their time together from the beginning had been marked by unconditional acceptance and encouragement.
“What? What do you mean?” Diane shook her head. Trudy smiled at her.
“Should I just give up? I mean...I’ll never walk...I’m not a whole person, Di. Should I just give up?”
“Oh, God, honey...no....of course not....You’ve been such a blessing...why would you say that?”
“Why would you say what you just said, Di? If you’re not redeemable then neither am I. If you should just stay in your pain and disappointment...then why shouldn’t I just give up? You’ll never be a real woman, and neither will I. We just have different lacks. We both fall short...we’re both flawed... incomplete.” By now Trudy was crying almost as much as Diane.
“Trudy...no...you’re not incomplete...you complete me..you make me whole...you make my life real and worth living. No...no, my God....you’ve given me life...” Diane reached over and pulled Trudy out of her chair and into bed.
“Then if I’m worth redeeming then so are you.” Trudy sobbed as she kissed Diane. They held each other tightly, almost as if the storm of the day threatened to sweep them away.
“You’re going to become who you have been all along. You are going to show them how much courage and heart you have, and that you have so much to give.... there’s nothing wrong with you...nothing, my dear sweet...” The two wept in each other’s arms. It had been a long day for both of them, but the evening would be filled with hope and joy and love.
In this time of fear
When prayers so often prove(s) in vain
Hope seems like the summer birds
Too swiftly flown away
Yet now I'm standing here
My heart's so full I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say
There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any...
Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll be your true love forever.
The next morning...
The women gathered unseen near the couple as they slept; it was 4:30 am, and both had finally fallen into slumber after a very challenging day.
“What can we do for these precious dears, Calleigh?” Orla turned her head in deference to their privacy.
“Oh, it’s not for these, although they will go through a wee bit of trouble before the end of it all. It’s the poor woman who stands in the way of their happiness.
“Why then would we want to help her? I don’t understand.” Fiona stared agape as the older woman smiled calmly.
“Because, dear one, she’s sadder than you can know, and we have to see her through this... we’re all she has.”
“She’s been hurt, hasn’t she?” Orla asked, her head tilted a bit in question.
“Aye, that she has, and very much so. In fact, she’s almost at a point of hopelessness, although you wouldn’t know it by her actions.” Calleigh said calmly.
“Who will be workin’ with her?” Fiona asked.
“I’ve already started. You see I’ve a bit of understanding about her, and I hope that will guide me.” Calleigh sighed. It wasn’t often that she showed worry or concern; the tasks at hand always seemed to be in reach when she spoke, but she seemed earnestly worried about Phyllis.
“I’m afraid we may be a wee bit late, but I’m prayin’ that we’re not. There’s a lot of good deep down in that woman, and I mean to coax it out; or have it come out kickin’ and screamin’.”
“What would you have us do?” Orla asked with a smile.
“You’ll be workin’ on the other side, so to speak of the same coins Sinead and I are ‘minting’ if you don’t mind, ladies?” Calleigh asked the question even though she knew there wasn’t a disagreeable bone in either of their bodies.
“Orla...there’s a man in the school where Phyllis works...you’ve been there before. I’ll leave it to you to affect some nice but strong influence on his thinkin’, aye? He needs to understand that all of us have a right to live, and that means as we choose, not him, understand?” Orla nodded and winked with a sweet grin.
“And you, my dear old friend,” she said to Fiona, will be helpin’ Sinead with her charge. There’s an awfully sweet man who is very, very lonely and needs to discover his answers lie in real people and not tasks and helping and in the past, however well intended he may be. You’ll find that Sinead is approaching a very kind and helpful lady in the same manner.”
“The boy’s aunt?”
Fiona asked as she looked away; almost as if she could see their house.
“Aye... and before you go sayin’ something foolish, dear one; I do know that she doesn't seem kind, but she is helpful in her kindness, and Sinead knows better than anyone how big a heart the woman has, even if she doesn’t yet know it herself. So we’ll have our work cut out for us, but I am going to choose to believe it will all work out somehow.” The other women nodded before she added;
“And Fiona...no matter what you hear or see, trust that this is the right thing. The man is a very sad man, even if you never see it on his face, and his healing is going to through her’s.”
Three hours or so later, a few miles away...
“Would you mind having Dave cover my first and second period health classes? Oh, yes ...I’ll be in a little late; no, everything is okay...yes...thanks, Jan...bye.” Paul Giambrone clicked off his cell. Okay? Not really. He walked over and picked up his keys off his dresser and headed out.
At school...first period health class...
Dave sat down behind the desk. He didn’t mind filling in for Paul, but today was going to be a particularly odd morning. He looked up to see his twenty-three charges walking in the classroom. But his eye was drawn to first one...then a second student who seemed out of place.
“Excuse me, girls...this is the boys health class, can I help you?” He asked as he walked around the desk.
“Nope, Mr. Ackerman...I’m in the right class.” A fairly familiar voice spoke from the taller of the two girls. She was dressed in a hip length pink and purple dress over purple tights with a black hip length sweater and black boots; not unfashionable for most girls, but she wasn’t ‘most’ girls.
“Mike McCarthy?” Dave put his hand to his face and almost did an aside to the class.
“Yes, Mr. Ackerman.” Dave knew about Mike’s brother, or rather, sister Patty, who was in the midst of transition, what ever that meant. He’d gotten the memo from adminstration last year.
“You...are you...” His words got stuck in his mouth as he shook his head.
“If you mean, am I like my sister? No, except in family name. I’m just showing some support for my friend here.” Mike pointed to the girl next to him.
“And you are?” Dave didn’t recognize the girl at all.
“I just transferred in last week.”
“I’m sorry, young lady, but you can’t be in this class.”
Dave tried to be kind, but this really stretched his patience, considering it wasn’t his class. He stared at her. She was what some might consider a bit geeky with a little goth thrown in for good measure. Her hair was a mousy brown, cut in a short shag. She had tortoiseshell barrettes on either side, and her hair was pulled back over one ear to reveal a single stud made of a small shell. She wore black ankle length boots and black tights under a calf length lace dress over a charcoal underdress with a black hip length cardigan. And tortoiseshell glasses with half-lenses and a beaded eyeglass cable caused her to resemble a teen goth librarian.
“But this is my class,” the girl said, handing a paper to Dave. He looked at it and saw it was a class schedule for Peter Anthony Carlucci.
“What are you trying to pull?” Dave raised his voice.
“Nothing, sir. I just like these clothes.”
“Oh...so you’re just like Mike’s sister...oh…okay?” Dave hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the whole transgender thing, but he was trying.
“No, sir.”
“No, sir, what?” Dave shook his head.
“No, sir, I’m not a girl like Mike’s sister. I’m a boy, just like everybody else here.”
“Let me get this straight? You’re a boy...but you want to wear girl’s clothes?” The class started to laugh until Dave turned and glared. One by one the boys quieted down as he returned his attention to Mike and Petey.
“No, sir.”
“Now what... No, sir, what?”
“I’m currently garbed in girl’s clothing, so it’s not so much a matter of want as to like. I like to wear girl’s clothes.” Petey smiled, while his real self inside, Calleigh, the leader of the four women, resisted the urge to laugh at Dave. She realized he truly was trying to understand.
“You like to wear girl’s clothes? Okay...but that’s not permitted. You’ll both have to change.” He said firmly, but still trying to understand.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Petey said.
“Why not? You’ll just have to go home to change.”
“I can’t go home. I have no transportation, and my mother is unavailable to pick me up,” he said, trying hard not to grin. Petey’s, rather, Calleigh’s mother was at home alright, but home was in County Sligo in Ireland, and at 835 years of age, she wasn’t much inclined to travel these days.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to report to the principal’s office then until the end of the school day.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but okay.”
“What about you, Mike?” He asked.
“Yeah, what about you? Mikey...Michelle? You a fag like your brother” Denny Colhane yelled from the back of the class. In a moment the boys were all laughing and pointing at the two boys. Mike turned a bit red, but maintained his composure.
“I’m with him,” he said and followed Petey to the door. Petey turned and said,
“Mr. Ackerman?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“You have a nice day, okay?” He smiled and the two walked out of class and down the hall.
And a very nearly invisible woman stood as Petey and Mike walked down the hallway. She nodded at Petey who used his eyes to point in the direction of the classroom. Orla nodded as well and peeked in and smiled.
Dave Ackerman grew angry; the boys had disrupted his class and he was determined get control.
"Shut up!" He didn't yell, but they got his message and quieted down. He opened the text to the assigned chapter only to discover the following;
"The Transgendered Teen and Development."
He shook his head and closed the text.
"Okay, guys, who watched the Celtics game last night." Orla stood silently and unseen in the corner by the door and shook her head.
Graceland Park Cemetery...
Paul stood and looked down at the ground. A simple plaque with roses on each corner lay at his feet.
“Alice Katherine McGowan Giambrone - My Rose 1979-2006”
“Happy Birthday, honey, I miss you so much.”
It had started to rain, and the drops mixed with his tears and fell off his face onto the flowers he had laid next to her grave. He put his head down; the grief, while bearable, still pierced his heart like a spear even after nine years. He felt something on his shoulder as a nearly invisible woman whispered in strange but soothing words unheard by ear but heard by heart. Fiona smiled as the man put his hand to his face and wept harder, but in some strange sense of peace and relief.
It's not for the parting that my sister pains
It's not for the grief of my mother
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass
That my heart is breaking forever.
A Stá³r Mo Chroá, when you're far away
Far from the land you'll be leaving,
It's many a time by night and by day
That your heart will be sorely grieving.
Late that afternoon...
“Hey...Paul...thanks for leaving me such a nice present this morning,” Dave tossed the text on the desk.
“I thought you’d like it.” Paul hadn’t planned it; the assigned reading involving gender issues was just the next chapter in line for review. Dave grinned.
“Well, I’m really not up on that gender stuff, so we just talked about the Celtics game last night.”
“I’m not surprised, Dave, but you’d learn more if you actually read the material. I’m sorry about dumping that in your lap; I had a personal matter to attend to. I’ll pick it up next class.”
“You missed something really strange. You know Mike McCarthy?”
Who didn’t? Mike was popular, even before the whole gender thing with his sister, Paul remembered. And Paul remembered Mike for another reason; he was well meaning, polite, kind, and altogether coasting through his last year in school. He was smart enough to get into college, but was settling on the local county school. Two year schools are great for kids with limited resources, especially when they’re discovering what they want to do. Mike could probably do anything he put his mind to, if only he was motivated.
“Something happen in class?” Paul turned his head sideways and winced at the odd grin on Dave’s face.
“You might say that. He and some kid showed up wearing dresses...dresses...” He laughed, but Paul didn’t follow his lead.
“I know.” Paul leaned back in his chair and smiled. “They asked me if they could and I said yes.”
“You know? And what the...you said yes??” Dave shook his head.
“Yeah...something to do with the Constitution.” Paul tried not to, but his shoulders shook a bit as he laughed softly.
“Seriously, the new boy, Petey? He came to me last Friday afternoon; apparently he’s a transfer, and he feels the need to express himself. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I didn’t know that Mike was going to follow his lead until I read a note yesterday that he left under my door. Seems the two of them want to support Diane.”
“Oh, shit, no. You mean she’s behind this?” Dave said, looking out the window of the office door.
“Well, two things, Dave... First, no, she’s not behind this. It was the boys’ idea. And second, you should be proud of yourself.” Paul laughed softly and shook his head in wonder and just a little bit of relief.
“Why should I be proud of myself?”
“You just referred to Diane as ‘she.’ See, there’s hope for you yet. Welcome to the Twenty-First Century.”
“Well, Mr. Politically-Correct. You probably won’t like the fact that Phyllis Jenkins wants to see you and me and the boys in her office tomorrow afternoon. An impromptu parent-teacher conference that she called for; she’s pissed at you, at me...at the boys, and probably everybody else in school, considering that Marion is back next Friday and Phyllis goes back to being Assistant-Principal.”
“Temporary power corrupts temporarily?” Paul sighed.
“Anyway, it looks like this whole gender thing just hit the fan, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m keeping my head out of the way... and you’d better, too.” Dave noticed the frown on Paul’s face and continued.
“Look, I know you and she are friends and all, but when push comes to shove, it may mean your job. Are you willing to risk that over friendship?”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” He shook his head and half-smiled before fixing his gaze on the photo on his desk. The woman in the picture was smiling at him; almost as if she was approving of what he had just said. He smiled back before finishing,
“Some things are worth risking everything, Dave.”
At the McCarthy home later that afternoon....
“What do you mean; I’ve got to go to a conference?” Breena looked at the two boys and frowned.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Breena...but we sorta got into trouble for....” Mike pointed to their clothing. His mother Sinead, rather Janey in her mortal form, interrupted.
“It’s the plan, dear sister. Now you know that things are going to work out alright, don’t you?” Even understanding that the Draehoidel way was working for the good in the family, standing next to her erstwhile late but entirely animated sister still was difficult for Breena to get used to.
“Yes...I suppose. And this little one here? I’m supposed to be takin’ care of him and all, but he’s really not a kid, is he?”
“I’m not even a he,” Petey said, assuming the voice of Calleigh, the matriarch of sorts of the Women. Orla and Fiona were off influencing their charges, leaving her and Janey to work with the family.
“This is on behalf of this family, dear sister, and I know you trust me, even if it seems a bit...odd?” Janey smiled, leaving Breena only slightly encouraged.
“They want you down at school tomorrow afternoon to...discuss why your nephew is wearing girls’ clothes to school. And they sorta think you’re watchin’ out for Petey here since his mother isn’t available.”
“A fine thing...as if takin’ care of a marginally motivated nephew and a fairly new niece wasn’t enough? Well, fine. Just point me in the right direction and tell me what to say.” Breena shook her head.
“Well, that’s just it, sister mine. I’m not telling you a thing to say. In that, you’re on your own. You go to the school, and you’ll know what to say. I’ve every confidence in you that by the time the conference is over, everybody will know what’s what and who’s who and just how things should work out for all the McCarthy’s, aye?” Petey, rather Calleigh, nodded in approval as Breena shook her head once more before retreating into the kitchen, but not before saying,
“I expect that since you’re here, you two will be stayin’ for supper? You eat food, don’t you?” Janey turned to the others before turning back toward Breena, who stood with her hands on her hips in the kitchen doorway.
“I may be only recently deceased and Calleigh here may be centuries old, but we both still do so appreciate a fine meal, sister dear.”
Dave's apartment that evening...
Dave sat at his kitchen table, eating yet another meal by himself. He was anxious about the meeting the next day, and was barely able to finish dinner. He thought about what Paul had said about risk. He had nothing to risk because apart from his possessions, he really had nothing. His mother had died years ago and his father? Things hadn’t been right for a long time; not since his brother died. He was alone; or rather he felt alone. Orla was sitting, unseen, at the table with him. She held his hand, even though he felt nothing, and she prayed for wisdom.
Paul's townhome that evening...
Paul sat quietly in the living room; the lights were turned off and the sound of Dervish came softly from the CD player. It had been a long day, and he was revisiting the grief of the morning as he closed his eyes; ’s face filled his memory and he heard her soft voice singing as if she were sitting beside him. Fiona sat on the couch next to him, unseen. She had wondered if her actions were manipulative until she remembered a note she had found that afternoon in a book on Paul’s shelf at work.
“Be happy and find someone who’s as cute as I am,” Kate had written.
“You and I will have plenty of time to catch up, but for now, live your life, okay? I love you very much. I know I won’t ever need to remind you to remember me, Paul....Just remember to remember yourself, okay. Till we meet again. Katherine”
Fiona smiled at the thought of just how many souls would be crowded into Phyllis’ office tomorrow and she laughed loudly. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter until she remembered that Paul could neither see nor hear her, causing her to laugh even louder.
For the stranger's land may be bright and fair,
And rich in its treasures golden.
But you'll pine, I know, for the long, long ago
And the love that is never olden.
Phyllis's apartment that evening...
Phyllis Jenkins sat in her apartment, her home aglow with light as played just low enough not to upset her neighbor. She was thankful for the corner apartment. She held the picture in her hands tenderly; an uncharacteristic gesture for anyone who didn’t know her. The boy in the picture was fourteen and the girl was only slightly older by a few minutes. The girl wore jeans and a knit purple top, nearly duplicated with the boy’s lavender top... her twin brother. She recalled the day the picture was taken.
“Listen, Eddie...I’ll do the talking, okay...you just stand behind me and crouch. They won’t know what hit them.”
“I hope so...I don’t know what I’d do if they got angry...you think this is okay?” The boy’s face was a mask of fear.
“Sure...Mommy and Daddy love us...What can they say? Trust me...it’ll be fine.” The girl patted her twin on the back.
It wasn’t fine.
“What the hell, Phyllis? Are you crazy? This is the stupidest thing you two have ever pulled,” the father said. She began to cry, matching the sad sounds coming from the boy on the couch beside her, who was weeping from the figurative and literal slap in the face from only moments before.
“Get up...get into the bathroom and take that shit off. No son of mine is going to act this way.” He faced the twins once more before turning his attention to their mother.
“This is your fault...you indulge him like...well you’re just too easy...”
The sound of breaking glass woke Phyllis as the picture fell to the floor. She stared at the photo and remembered the day after the picture was taken.
“Phyllis...honey...sit down....” Her mother had grabbed her by the hands as she walked in the door after school. She had barely gotten settled when her father walked into the living room, his face a mask of grief mixed with rage. He stood in front of them and glared before speaking.
“This is your fault...the two of you!” He stormed off as Phyllis turned to her mother in confusion.
“Honey....I....Eddie....he....” She collapsed in her daughter’s arms and wept. No need for explanation; the details of his death would follow soon enough.
The family died that day. A father who left his family even while remaining as a rageful alcoholic. A mother who grieved for a dead son while neglecting her daughter. A twin who died in fear and hopelessness, leaving a sister who felt abandoned to a life of misplaced guilt and shame. And a girl who grew up feeling that she had to see things were done the right way...so that no one would ever feel the grief and shame and loss that she felt on her fifteenth birthday.
She looked again at the photo, twisted a bit from the broken frame, but still straight enough to display the smiles of two loving girls; frozen in time as nearly identical twins with two different futures. One brief and filled with doubt and rejection; the other long and painful while also filled with doubt and rejection. Phyllis reached down and picked up the photo from the floor and held it close to her chest and wept. And Calleigh put her hand on the woman’s right over her heart, her own eyes filled with tears as well, but tears of renewal and hope and love.
A Stá³r Mo Chroá, when the evening's mist
Over mountain and sea is falling,
won't you turn away from the throng
And maybe you'll hear me calling.
For the sound of a voice that is surely missed
For somebody's quick returning.
A ruin, a ruin, oh won't you come back soon
To the ones who will always love you.
'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone
All her lovely companions are faded and gone
No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh
At school the next day...
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the office is? I’ve a meetin’ to attend with my nephew, and I’m sorry but I’m just a wee bit late.” She was fifteen minutes early; Breena always wanted to be prepared; sometimes to the exclusion of her own needs. Paul smiled and used his arm to usher Breena out of the way as a cascade of students piled out into the hallway as the last bell rang.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be so forward, but the halls here get a bit chaotic at the end of the day.” Paul smiled and Breena smiled back. She was being polite, most likely, since she hadn’t ever taken the time to notice anyone. But the return smile; almost like a volley in a tennis match, did her in. She shuddered; she hadn’t felt this way since she was twelve. It was lifetime and a gender ago, when Billy O’Casey kissed ‘him’ full on the lips. She recalled with a bit of nostalgia and irony that it was the only time she could remember the word ‘fag’ feeling like a complement.
“That’s okay...?” She tilted her head and Paul picked up on the gesture.
“Oh...I’m sorry, I’m Paul Giambrone. You must be Mike’s Aunt Breena. I’m pleased to meet you.” He smiled again and she turned away, red-faced. There still remained within her a feeling that she was somehow second-rate; a poser or pretender. Having spent most of her adult life raising her sister’s children from almost the time she had transitioned, she had little time for relationships with adults, much less romantic feelings, and this moment just served to reinforce just how inadequate she felt. Both of them needed someone...bad. They were complete without another in their lives, to be sure, but there just are some folks that should be with another.
Fiona, or rather Melissa Grabowski as she was ‘clad’ today, smiled at Orla, or rather Tommy Washington, a recent transfer from Pittsburgh. Tommy smiled back and ‘tripped,’ falling against Paul’s back; pushing him forward. Melissa dropped her Calculus book and in reaching down to pick it up, ‘stumbled’ against Breena, causing her to lose her balance. The resulting collision resembled the telephone scene in It’s a Wonderful Life, where George and Mary are pressed against each other; both looking uncomfortable and falling in love all in the same moment.
“I’m sorry...I can’t seem to move. Oh...you’re falling, here let me....”
“No...that’s alright...no...please.” Emotions can arise at the most inopportune moments. Paul had sworn, despite Kate’s insistance, that he would never find another love. Breena looked everyday in the mirror above her dresser and wept silently to herself, consigned to living without love or even friendship; inauthentic and therefore unworthy. Both took notice of the other; possibly with a bit of magic, but really the only magic was that the two were such nice people, they really deserved each other.
“Oh...no...no...” Breena thought, believing as always that she was unlovable; suited for cleaning and cooking like an old maid servant. Paul looked into her eyes and saw the same sad kindness that filled his late wife’s countenance; her eyes filled with hope like Kate’s as well. He smiled and said quietly,
“I’m sorry...” He helped her stand as the crowd in the hallway. “You know? It’s really odd that we so often ask for forgiveness for something as normal and pleasant as making contact with another human being. Having said that, I apologize if I have in anyway made you feel uncomfortable.” She looked up into his eyes and something brand-new and wonderful took place. So profound that Melissa Grabowski and Tommy Washington began to tear up at the sight.
Paul took Breena’s hand and led her into the office across the hall. It was only after a few seconds that both of them noticed that he had yet to let her hand go. And without even thinking, he squeezed her hand as he released it; almost as a way of welcome. Melissa Grabowski stood across the hall and sighed. Tommy Washington seemed to have disappeared as Alice Noonan, the newest member of the custodial department, made her way toward Phyllis Jenkin’s office...
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem
Since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them
Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead
A short while later...
“Oh...hello, Dave. The others have yet to arrive. Why don’t you have a seat?” Phyllis seemed abrupt. The past twenty-four hours had been unkind to her; leaving her with little sleep and a lot of emotion to deal with. Dave smiled, noticing her expression, which he rightly attributed to being tired. Just how tired he was about to find out. She had just sat down when a knock came at her office door.
“Beggin’ yer pardon,” Alice Noonan said, poking her head through the open door way.
“I’m sorry this has taken so long, but the work order only got to me a few minutes ago...”
“I’m sorry? What is this about?” Phyllis snapped.
“Oh, please excuse me. The broken lock on your door? I’ve got to get it fixed before I leave; my supervisor said to make sure it’s repaired before tomorrow.” She shrugged as Phyllis shook her head.
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Dave said. He turned to Alice and nodded with a finger to his lips to encourage her to be quiet. Alice nodded back and closed the door quietly. She proceeded to remove the door handle and set it on the desk outside Phyllis’ office just as the fire alarm went off; signaling a fire drill. No one liked impromptu fire drills, especially at the end of the day.
“Oh, Christ...that’s all I need.” Phyllis got up with a start and walked quickly to the door. She pulled at the door handle to turn it and it came off in her hand.
“Oh, hell.”
She looked out the small window in the door and saw that no one was in the suite outside. The alarm continued to sound. Dave noticed her anxiety and offered his assistance with a wave. She nodded and stepped back but her heel caught on the carpet and broke, sending her into Dave’s arms. Phyllis was always professional; virtually unemotional...even when her cat died. But remembering Eddie had taken a huge toll. She looked down at her broken heel and burst into tears; the culmination of an absolutely horrible day. He helped her to the chair in front of her desk.
“It can’t be that bad.” Dave quipped. He really didn’t understand, but he wasn’t all that slow on the uptake either. Phyllis put her head in her hands and continued to weep.
“Gosh, Ms. Jenkins...Phyllis...what’s...it’s only a fire drill...we’ll be out of here in no time.” He half-smiled while looking over at the door. She was never one to ‘share’ her feelings. But today was not a normal day. She had planned the meeting to confront the boys about their behavior in dressing ‘up’ for class. But the more she thought about Petey and Mike, the more it made her recall her brother Eddie. And the more she remembered her brother, the more convicted she felt about her feelings toward ‘those’ kinds of boys; the kind that dress in girls’ clothes and kill themselves out of despair and hopelessness. She began to shake almost violently as Dave shook his head, not knowing what to do.
“Gosh, Phyllis...is there anything I can do? I can see this isn’t about anything here and now.” It almost sounded like a stupid question; Dave’s reputation as being obtuse and insensitive was really unfair. He sighed out of frustration as the woman continued to weep; a little softer and the shaking had subsided. A moment later she began to speak.
“Dave....Have you ever felt...” She shook her head. “Guilty?”
He knew immediately how she felt; not only because he was perceptive, although, again, he wasn’t as ‘dense’ as everyone supposed. But he also knew how she felt because he felt guilty too.
“Yes...all the time.” More candid than he had ever been with anyone, it was as if after years of bottling up his feelings and beliefs, the pressure was being released like the steam valve on a radiator. He smiled at her, a knowing smile; not happy but a smile that says ‘I understand completely.’ She tilted her head and frowned at the frustration of the day until he began.
“When I was fifteen, my brother Jimmy came to me and told me he had a secret. You know how brothers keep secrets...how we’re supposed to protect each other? I told him I had his back.” Dave bit his lip at the memory. Phyllis put her head down, fearing where this was leading; a dread that he was leading her down a very famiilar and painful path.
“’Davey...don’t...please don’t tell anyone.’ He begged me, you know?” Dave’s voice broke and his eyes began to shed big tears.
“No...Dave...please...you don’t have to.” Phyllis didn’t know the story, but she recognized the look in his eyes, the same that greeted her every morning and ushered her to bed on sleepless nights.
“I have to...I’ve never told anyone...ever.” He looked over at the door; almost hoping someone would break it down and give them both a reprieve.
“He told me. Phyllis...and I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.” He shook his head.
“Daddy got pissed off that the lawn wasn’t mowed and he wasn’t a soft man...you know? He pulled out his belt and was gonna hit me...” Dave choked back a sob. Phyllis shook her head. She was still crying, but part of her took in every word he was saying; even the ones he had yet to speak.
“I yelled, ’Jimmy wants to be a girl...he told me...he dresses when nobody’s home.’ Daddy’s eyes got wide and he looked at me like he was grateful...like I did him a big favor. And then he beat me anyway ...harder than I ever got beat before. I swear to God...I didn’t think he’d do it...but he did...My beating was like a fucking picnic...oh gosh, I’m sorry...it was like...easy....He put Jimmy in the hospital.” Dave put his head down, almost as if he was only into the first chapter of a horror story. He lifted his head and the look on his face was one of sheer grief.
“Jimmy...Mommy found him in our room the day after he got home from the hospital....” Dave said, but choked back a sob and finished.
“You know what the old man said? ‘I hope you’re fucking satisfied!’ Me...” Dave looked at Phyllis and saw the woman had stopped crying and was staring at him in disbelief.
“I’m so sorry...you didn’t need to hear that...I am so sorry.”
“Dave...” She spoke softly as she looked into his eyes.
“You were a kid...” She paused as the words that she spoke to give him solace and forgiveness pierced her own heart.
“I...I was a kid...” She shook her head as the tears came once again, but finally in a wave of forgiveness and relief. For the first time in either of their lives, someone understood; someone accepted them and someone understood. Dave grabbed her hand and squeezed and wept.
So soon may I follow when friendships decay
And from love's shining circle the gems drop away
When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown
Oh who would inhabit this bleak world alone?
This bleak world alone
Orla and Fiona stood over the two, their own eyes filled with tears; tears of intercession and concern as they tended to a pair of broken hearts that were only just now beginning to heal.
Calleigh appeared out of nowhere as the locked door opened on its own. She stepped beside the two and placed her hand gently on Orla’s shoulder. Orla turned and spoke.
“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” Calleigh nodded with a tearful smile and said,
“Aye...just the beginning.”
Moments later...
The sound of the fire alarm caught the two by surprise. Paul quickly grabbed Breena by the hand and ushered her out the door, into the hallway and quickly thorough the exit into the parking lot in the front of the school.
"Probably a drill." Paul said as he looked over the crowd of students still walking out of the building.
"Mr. Giambrone?" Breena spoke up; a soft brogue only hinted at earlier became more apparent as she continued,
"Yoo've stell got me hand in yours." She blushed at the words as he let go, his fingers lingering only a short while before he raised his hand.
"You kids have to move back and give these guys room to get out." He quickly forgot the moment and assumed his responsibility. After about fifteen minutes, the all clear was given and the students made their way back into the building only to be turned around for the late dismissal as several teachers ushered them toward the waiting school buses and to the parking lot. Paul turned around and was disappointed to find Breena had left. And he was surprised to find he was disappointed.
If you were to love me...
the way that I love you...
happy the heart...
the heart it would be
At the Lambert home that evening...
Diane folded draped the blazer over the chair and tossed her blouse in the hamper by the bathroom door. She looked over and noticed Trudy staring at her. Her face grew warm and she turned away quickly.
“What’s that all about?” Trudy wheeled her chair close and grabbed Diane’s hand.
“I...” Diane half-smiled at her before turning away once again.
“You’re...very pretty.” Trudy tugged at her slip, pulling it a bit down off her hip.
“Stop...” Diane snapped.
“No,” Trudy snapped back; an uncharacteristic tone rose in her voice.
“I won’t stop. I said you were pretty because you are. You make me feel alive...I can’t believe sometimes that you’re in my life.” Trudy pulled at her hand softly.
“Maybe before...but now? I’m stuck between two worlds, Tru...like you got stuck with an irregular off the rack.”
“Diane.” Trudy said it emphatically, as if Diane wouldn’t recognize her own name. Her mate turned and shook her head.
“No...you don’t deserve this...you deserve...” Diane turned away and choked back a sob.
“What...a husband? I had a husband once...who turned out to be the most beautiful person I knew...the most precious woman I know...your heart is mine, dear...I love you. I don’t know how many times I can say it before you’ll believe the words. Look at me,” Trudy pulled again at Diane’s hand and Diane stood still.”
“Damn it, Diane...Look at me.” Diane turned to see Trudy’s face; a mask of anger and sadness mixed together.
“It stops now... the doubting...the questions? You’re who you are...not what they say or think...no even what I say...but what you’ve known all along, Diane Lambert! You’re my love and my life, and I will not have you running yourself down ever again, ever!” Trudy began to sob. Diane stooped down and grabbed the wheelchair arms, facing Trudy.
“Oh, dear God, I am so sorry....” Diane put her head in Trudy’s lap as her wife began to stroke her hair.
“No more, honey...If you can’t trust my words, trust my heart. I am blessed beyond measure and you have nothing to be ashamed or sorry about. I love you.... I have since we met and I will never stop believing in you. Okay?” Trudy squeezed the back of Diane’s neck as an almost punctuation to her words. Diane looked up and nodded.
“I need you...let’s go to bed.” Trudy leaned forward and kissed Diane’s head.
Quite a while later they lay side by side, nearly spent in amorous bliss. Both seemed to glow. Trudy cuddled close to Diane and began to sob. Diane turned over and held her close and kissed her breasts, returning sob with sob as they fell into each other; loving and loved as much if not more than the day they first wed. The same dear hearts and yet so different in so many ways...including one new way neither had ever anticipated.
“Diane...honey?” Trudy gasped even as her wife continued to kiss and fondle and caress. Diane paused, her hand on Trudy’s cheek, softly wiping away her tears.
“Yes?”
“I’m beginning to feel something...down there...it’s not like a touch...an aura? A warmth? I don’t know, but I think...Hold, me honey.” She continued to cry as Diane kissed her face over and over, almost in reverence.
“Honey?” Trudy spoke once again; a lilt that almost laughed.
Diane would always treasure the sound of Trudy’s voice, but that moment became a moment in time where they felt as close as they ever had. Trudy still wept, but the look of joy on her face beamed brighter as she said softly,”
“Honey....Dr. Levine called today....we’re...we’re going to be....Mommies.”
A Ghra Mo Chroi (Love of My Heart)
If you were to see me
the way that I see you...
Happy the eyes..
the eyes they would be...
The McCarthy home...later that evening...
Michael sat down in the living room, his feet free from the calf-high boots, which he had borrowed from his sister Patty. His longish hair remained pulled back in a short pony-tail and the traces of the days makeup were nearly wiped off, leaving his eyelids looking merely smudgy rather than made up. He sat back and sighed; feeling disappointed for the first time in a long while with himself; a good thing but troubling none the less.
“Would you be wanting something to drink, Michael?” His Aunt Breena said as she passed through from the front porch to the kitchen.
“That would be very nice, Aunt Breena…thank you.” He watched her walk to the fridge from the open doorway and something struck him; something he hadn’t noticed before. Only a few months ago, he had learned that she had started out…not as his aunt, but as his mother’s brother; her only sibling. From that point on, there was an almost tension between him and her; as if he was testing her to see if she was ‘authentic.’ He sighed as something touched him in a way that made him feel convicted, realizing that it wasn’t his place to judge her; neither as her nephew or even as another human being.
“Will a bottle of water do? We have cranberry juice as well?” She called.
“Water is fine.” He called back. She walked into the living room with two bottles and offered him one as she sat down. She looked very tired and somewhat upset.
“Aunt Breena, can we talk?” He half- smiled, hoping that she had the time and the energy; he had been wanting to talk with her for several days, but the events of the week seemed to spur him into a greater urgency.
“Sure, Michael…”
The last few months had changed her as well. The past few years had been a struggle for them all with Michael and Patty’s mother finally coming home only to die. That she was resurrected as an immortal woman of the old Arts made things all the more intriguing, but it was really her revelation of whom their aunt had been that caused things to change.
“Michael…I think it’s really kind and brave of you to stick by that woman at your school.”
“I think that’s sorta what I wanted to talk with you about, Aunt Breena…if that’s okay?” He pulled back a bit, fearing he’d crossed some sort of line. Her smile indicated otherwise and he continued.
“I think it’s not just because Mom is doing her magic thing….it helps to know she’s helping Patty, but really, it’s because of you that I’m doing this.” Breena peered at him in confusion.
“You…you’ve been such an example to me and Patty…you know?” She shook her head and gasped,
“No…not me…your mother…she’s the one….”
“No…seriously…you’ve…”
“Now don’t go startin’ with me, Michael. I’m nothing special...”
“No! Please stop…I have to get this out, please?” He got up from the chair in the corner and walked over and sat down on the couch next to her, grabbing both of her hands. It was the most physical contact he had with her in years, and it showed as she went to pull away.
“No…please….listen…I have to say this…for both our sakes and for Patty as well.” He smiled at her and she turned away slightly, looking down.
“Aunt Breena…my Mom….she gave me life, and I’ll always be grateful to her…we’ve talked, and she understands what I’m about to say.”
“No…Michael…don’t…I can’t…” Breena knew where he was going with this, and it felt wrong. She was wrong…inauthentic…a pretender. She wasn’t an emotional woman from what he remembered because she hid her tears and her heartache. She couldn’t then, since he wouldn’t let go of her hands.
“Ever since she started going away…and when Daddy never stayed…you were the one who took care of me and Patty….when she cried all the time after the kids started teasing her…when I broke my arm and couldn’t play baseball…when Mommy would promise and not come home…you held my hand and dried my tears. You showed Patty how to be a girl.” She winced.
“Yes…you….you were the one who helped her see who she was…the one who held her at night when she had fears and doubts. You’re the one who showed me how to be kind and caring, even as you pretended you weren’t…My Mom may have given birth to us, but you’ve been our mother all along, and you need to know that.” For only the second time in his life, Michael saw his Aunt cry. He touched her cheek.
“Please, Michael…I don’t deserve this.” She began to sob. He gathered her into his arms and spoke softly.
“I don’t know how to say stuff like this, but I have to say something, ‘cause I think you need to hear it. You’re just as much a woman as any woman I know, even Mom. You’re talented and resourceful and clever. You have a great sense of humor.” She shook her head but smiled a bit at the last part.
"Knowing about you what I know now? You're the bravest person I know, Aunt Breena ... really." She continued to sob and pulled against his embrace, but he wouldn't let go.
“And you’re pretty…one of the prettiest women I’ve ever met, really.” He was exaggerating only a wee bit as relatives do, but he recalled that when he was little, he had a crush on her. At one time that would have made him feel uncomfortable, knowing her past, but now…it was something that brought them closer; a special bond between nephew and aunt.
“Michael…I’m not…you don’t know what you’re saying.” She argued, even as the tears continued to flow.
“And I’m not the only one, Aunt Breena…you know who I’m talking about…” He wasn’t trying to tease at all, but she was still too sensitive and too self-critical to receive any complement regarding herself. She stood up and ran to her room, slamming the door, not in anger, but in embarrassment and shame. Michael wiped the tears out of his own eyes, weighing whether or not to follow her and continue his attempts to encourage her. As he stood up, he noticed his sister leaning against the kitchen doorway, her own eyes filled with tears.
“Michael…that was the sweetest thing you’ve ever done…I am so proud of you, big brother. But I think I should go talk to her now, okay?” He looked toward her bedroom before nodding reluctantly.
“You may look like a girl right now…and that’s nice and all, but I think it’s better if I have a girl-to-girl talk with her.” She took a few steps toward him and kissed him on the cheek, causing his blushed cheeks to grow redder before she said,
“I think the copper eyeshadow suits you just fine!” She laughed before kissing him again. She turned and walked slowly to Breena’s bedroom door and knocked softly.
"Go away, please..." Breena called from inside. Patty tested the door and found it wasn't locked. She knocked softly on the inside of the door as she leaned into the darkened room
"Aunt Breena...please...may I come in?" Even as she asked, she had entered and stepped closer to the bed where Breena lay crying.
"I don't want to talk...please, Patty." It was surprising. At one time, Breena would have been abrupt and dismissive, but the last few months had proved that she was not an angry woman, but a scared woman whose defenses had been shredded as she moved closer and closer to the truth about herself; her discovery was painful but necessary. Her guard was still up but about to topple.
"I'm not here to talk, Bree..." A bit familiar for a girl to call her aunt, but it felt right, and it was what she needed to hear as her niece sat on the bed.
"I'm here to cry." The girl lay on top of her prostrate aunt and began to weep.
"I love you, Mom...." She kept saying it over and over, and nearly every time, it was answered by,
"No...no me...I don't deserve this...no." Breena cried harder than she ever had as her niece's tears were cleansing and healing. The girl kissed her over and over like a little child kisses her mother, for Breena was truly her mother, if not in name, certainly in reality.
"I love you." The girl sobbed, nearly matching the intensity of her aunt's weeping, but the intensity was not in the shadow of sadness that the two shared in common, but in the light of healing that both were bringing about in each other. And at the doorway, it was Michael's turn to weep in witness to the miracle that was taking place in his own family; not with magic, but with real live love and acceptance and healing.
Paul's home that night...
He sat in the dimly lit living room. The sound of Dervish playing in the background softly..."My Bride." In his hands he held a picture; the last picture taken of Kate and him together. She looked playful with his old Phillie's cap covering her hairless scalp. Even though she was near the end, the life in her eyes shown out almost like a beacon in the darkened room. He put his hand to his face and wept; mostly from lingering grief, but some from a feeling of guilt. As he wept, two figures stood close by, both crying softly in unison with the man before them. Fiona held the other woman's hand and nodded in encouragement. The woman stepped next to Paul and leaned over, whispering softly in his ear,
"I love you...don't feel bad...she's nice...just like I hoped she'd be. And it's time." As the tears rolled off of his face, he felt something; almost like a kiss, brush his cheek. He looked once again at Kate's face and nodded as he thought he heard the words in the back of his mind,
"It's time...."
If you were to love me...
the way that I love you...
happy the heart...
the heart it would be...
If you were to see me
the way that I see you...
Happy the eyes..
the eyes they would be...
Gra mo Chroi!
(Love of my Heart)
Go deirigh mo sli
(Til the end of my life)
Miracles Do Happen
When the light begins to fade,
And shadows fall across the sea,
One bright star in the evening sky,
Your love's light leads me on my way
At school the next day...
“Mike? You got a minute?” Even Paul had to laugh a bit to himself. Petey (or rather, Calleigh in her mortal coil) convinced Mike to wear a knit knee-length gray dress with a maoon shawl over black leggings and black ballet slippers, leaving him looking like an art student.
“Hey, McCarthy…you busy Saturday night?” Vinnie Crocetti yelled from down the hall, leaving Mike blushing. Paul shook his head and motioned for Mike to come into the temporary haven of his office.
“Hey, Mr. G…” Mike put his head down in embarrassment. He wanted to do the right thing, whatever that called for, and between what he had witnessed the night before with his aunt and the knowledge of Ms. Lambert’s need for support, a little teasing was worth going through.
“First, what happened? I understand we don’t have a meeting with Ms. Jenkins after all?”
“She called up Aunt Breena last evening and said she wasn’t going to be opposing our wearing these clothes. When my aunt asked her what had happened to change her mind, she just said she couldn’t talk. What’s going on, Mr. G?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad of it. Diane is dealing with a whole world of opposition from the school board as it is, and your support is going to mean something…I’m sure of it.”
“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” Mike asked, quickly adding, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal.”
“That’s okay, Mike. We stood up for each other at our weddings. My wife Kate and she went to grad school…She and Trudy were there for me when Kate passed.” Paul sighed. At any other time in his life, he would have remained guarded enough to just nod at Mike’s question, but now, with things changing inside?
“Mr. G? What was it you wanted? I’ve got to get to class.” Mike looked at Paul, who seemed lost in thought. He turned away for a moment before answering.
“Mike…I…Would you….” He hesitated.
“Whatever it is, Mr. G. I’m sure it’s okay.”
“No…I’m sorry, Mike, but I have to do this. You’re the man of the house, right?” It was oddly amusing since Mike was dressed more like the woman of the house. Mike nodded in embarrassment.
“Listen, Mike…what you’re doing for Ms. Lambert? It takes a real man to be considerate enough to put himself out there for her…and your sister, of course.”
Mike looked away and bit his lip. It was for another, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?
“I wanted to ask your permission to call on your aunt.” Mike’s face went pale, which was a stark contrast with his previous complexion.
“I’m sorry, Mike…I shouldn’t have… presumed too much.” Paul shook his head in disappointment.
“No…Mr. G. no…it’s okay…you just took me by surprise. I think….I’ll ask her if it’s okay. If she says yes, it’s absolutely great with me and Patty…I’m sure!”
“Oh…okay. That’s the right thing to do. I…I’m really…” Paul stopped in mid-sentence. It was awkward having the conversation, since Mike was not only Breena’s nephew, but he was a student, and it might be considered inappropriate.
“She’s the best, Mr. G.” Mike smiled awkwardly before shaking Paul’s hand. He wasn’t about to say anything about his aunt without her permission; better yet; he’d leave it to her to tell him about herself. It did worry him, however. Having a transsexual for a friend or student was one thing. How would Mr. G. handle courting one?
“Hi, Mike.” A soft voice called from behind. He turned to find his ex-girlfriend standing in the hallway across from where he stood.
“Oh…hi Doreen.” He smiled nervously and put his head down.
“I think what you’re doing for Ms. Lambert is sweet.” She stepped closer and touched his arm.
“I think you look great in maroon, too.” With that she brushed his cheek with her hand and was off down the hall, leaving him dazed.
Phyllis Jenkins' office that afternoon...
“Ms. Jenkins? Do you have a moment?” Phyllis looked up to see Dave Ackerman standing in her doorway.
“Yes?” She sounded cold.
“I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” He smiled; warmer than usual and not with a silly comment or joke.
“What do you mean?” She looked at him blankly.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to?” She said curtly.
“You were very candid about yourself; I needed to talk to someone about my brother.”
“Oh…you’re welcome, of course.” She put her head down and shuffled some papers on her desk. Dave looked at her in confusion. She raised her head slightly.
“I’m sorry, but I have work to do here; if there’s nothing else?” She looked at him, but there was no focus in her eyes.”
“Phyllis…what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean, and I’d rather you referred to me as Ms. Jenkins, please.” She put her head down and shuffled the papers once more.
“Sure…whatever you say…” Dave shook his head and walked away. A moment later Connie Van Zyle knocked on the door.
“Ms. Jenkins? I’ve off to my dental appointment. Is there anything I can do before I leave?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Please close the outer door and turn off the lights?” Phyllis managed a smile.
“Sure thing.” Connie nodded and turned off the lights as she left. Phyllis waited until she heard the door close before setting aside the paperwork. She grabbed the picture frame from her desk and stared at the photo; recently repaired and placed in the new frame. Two girls….nearly identical save for the short hair of the younger….the baby sister by seventeen minutes. She placed the photo in front of her on the desk before placing her head on her arms and weeping.
Rain comes over the gray hills,
And on the air, a soft goodbye.
Hear the song that I sing to you,
When the time has come to fly.
That evening at the McCarthy home...
“Patty….you got a second?” Mike sat on his bed. Patty stepped inside and smiled.
“I see you took my advice about the eye shadow.” She laughed. “We girls have to stick together.”
“Funny!” He actually enjoyed the very rare foray into his feminine side; he had tested out at ‘only’ fifty-four percent masculine in one of those on-line gender exams. But he really had learned to understand a bit more about himself when he had been transformed into a Woman of Draehoidel months ago when called upon to help his then ‘brother’ Paddy with ‘his’ transition.
“I’m really glad you’re hanging in there. It really…it touches me that you’d do this to support Ms. Lambert.” Patty sighed and blinked out some tears.
“It’s not just for her, you know?” He turned his head away.
“I know…and I love you for that. Can I ask a question?” She smiled.
“Sure….what?”
“You ever wonder…you know…after last year and all? I know you still like girls.”
“Yes….I do.” He breathed out a heavy sigh.
“But what about this?” He was still wearing his outfit from the afternoon and she pointed to his clothing.
“What about it?” He said defensively.
“Do you wonder what it would be like…to be like me or Aunt Breena?” She laughed softly, which only served to make him feel more uncomfortable.
“No!” He practically yelled. She looked at him and sighed. Sitting down on his bed, she pulled his face around gently and spoke.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to, Mike…I understand.”
“It’s not that…If I could just be and do what I want whenever? I like who I am…I really do, but this part of me?” He pointed to himself with his hand.
“It’s a lot more a part of me than I knew…and I didn’t need some online exam to tell me that. It’s just…” He put his head down and started to cry.
“What, Michael? What’s wrong?” She lifted his head gently and held his face with both her hands.
“You don’t have to be like me to be kind and gentle….you’re the best brother any girl could ever hope for, and it that means being a brother most of the time? You don’t have to change on my account.”
“It’s like…I wondered…is this who we are…what I’m destined to be? It scares me, Patty, it really does.”
“Just like being a boy scared me, Mike…I understand. You are who you are, and you’ll do what’s best for you. It really breaks my heart to see you struggle when you’ve been such a blessing to me. You’ll be just who you need to be; a strength for me and Aunt Breena. And maybe someone I can confide in about my fears…you know? I’m still so scared about all this; how people look at me and treat me. You make it all better at the end of the day, okay?”
“Okay….” He put his head down again, prompting her to lift it softly one last time.
“And we can go shopping for gowns for the prom, okay?” She teased.
“Now…what was it you wanted to talk about?” She rubbed his back.
“Mr. Giambrone wants to….” He breathed out a heavy sigh and shook his head.
“No…really?” Her eyes grew wide with acknowledgment. After her talk with Breena the night before, she knew something was up.
“He wants permission to ask her out.” Michael looked down at himself once again and began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know…Is this a suitable outfit, or should I change into something more formal if I’m going to be entertaining suitors for my Aunt?”
“I guess we’d better talk to Aunt Breena, aye?” She said in a pretend brogue.
“Aye, that we should, dear sister, that we should,” he said before they both started laughing. Mike looked up and saw Breena standing in the doorway with some mail. She shook her head once before walking away in tears. Mike sat there for a moment, expecting Patty to take care of things, but she turned to him and said,
”I think this needs a man’s touch, Mike.” She sighed and then looked at him again. Despite the awkward seriousness of the moment, they couldn’t help themselves and burst into laughter. They quickly calmed down before Patty finished,
“You know, Mike…it was silly, but I think you being dressed this way…I don’t think you should change…just go talk to her. I think it might help…I don’t know, but she needs you, but she also needs you to understand, and I think this will help, okay?”
“Okay…wish me luck…”
* * *
“Aunt Breena?”
“Go away, Michael…”
“I can’t…you’re hurting, and I made that happen. I am so sorry. We weren’t laughing about you… please.”
“I know that, Michael…it’s the other part…I….tell your teacher I can’t see him.
“No, Aunt Breena…at least until you hear me out, okay?” He leaned his head against the door in frustration.
“I can’t imagine you saying anything that will change my mind, but go ahead…make it quick.”
“Will you at least open the door.” He said softly as he rapped on the door frame. A moment later she opened the door.
“Please be kind to yourself. I don’t know why I’m saying this other than that it’s very selfish and the only reason I can come up with.” She looked at him and his face was red and he had begun to cry.
“Mikey…what’s wrong?”
“I want you to be happy….just as much if not more than you’ve made our lives happy, Aunt Breena. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you! And….”
“I know what you’re gonna say, Mike, and I appreciate all that he’s doing for his friend and how he’s supported Patty all along, but datin’ a girl like me is something else entirely.”
“I know that…but if you never try…you’ll never know…and you’ll be kickin’ yourself, like you always say…in the wonderin’ ifs.” His tears had abated somewhat, but he still cried as he stepped closer. It was indeed an odd moment, but at that instant, Michael had truly become the man of the house as he pulled her in and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.
“Please, Aunt Breena…please…for me…for Patty…for yourself…okay?” Maybe it was the odd mixture of her nephew standing there in the knit dress…the one he had borrowed from her; but he was truly the man of character the family had hope for him to be; even as part of his other side was coming to the fore as they say. She looked at him with pride and her resolve melted away as she burst into tears.
“It’s okay, shu shu shu,” He said, holding her tight as she wept harder than she ever had in her life. The boy who was almost a girl became a man (and perhaps a woman as well?) stroked her hair and cried along with her. A moment later they were joined by Patty as Michael grabbed her hand and placed it in Breena’s.
“I think it’s going to be okay!”
Paul's home...
“Well, sweetie…I don’t know…she’s awfully nice…I really need your help on this…” Paul stared at the photo of Katy and him on their honeymoon; all wool and corduroy bundled up and warm on a walk in the hills.
“I don’t want to let go…you know? It feels like I’m betraying you, but this was your idea, remember.” He put his head in his hand and began to weep. Once more, like a soft breeze, a presence entered the room…two in fact. Fiona held Kate’s hand as she visited one last time. She stepped close and kissed his cheek and touched his heart.
“I love you, Paul…and I love her…for being here. Dia duit, my fair love…Di duit.”
There's a dream that will not sleep,
A burning hope that will not die.
So I must go now with the wind,
And leave you waiting on the tide.
Time to fly, time to touch the sky.
One voice alone - a haunting cry.
One song, one star burning bright,
Let it carry me through darkest night.
When I leave and take the wing,
And find the land that fate will bring,
The brightest star in the evening sky,
(Is your love far from me)
Is your love waiting far for me.
(oh) Is your love waiting far from me..
One look at love, and you may see
It weaves a web over mystery
All raveled threads can rend apart
For hope has a place in the lover's heart
Hope has a place in a lover's heart
At the Lambert home that evening...
“Honey…you got a letter from the school board…I’m sorry, but I opened it up.” Trudy’s eyes began to tear up. Diane had just returned from her support group. She sat down on the couch and hugged her wife.
“I know…I got one at school too; I guess they wanted to make sure I knew how they felt.” She tried to laugh, but her heart wasn’t in the mood.
“This is so unfair…” She put the letter down on the couch and glared at it. “A review of your performance has been submitted to the board?” What does that mean?
“It means they’re trying to back-door a dismissal for cause; this way they don’t even have to deal with my gender issue. They can let me go just because they feel I haven’t been doing my job.”
“But you have been doing your job…I can talk to any family of any kid you’ve worked with in the past four years and find someone who will testify to that.” She sighed and her tears came stronger as she realized the irony of what she just said.
“Damn it, Diane…this is like a trial…they can’t do this!” She protested.
“According to the board, they can. And since it’s a personnel matter, they can keep the hearing private; no ‘witnesses’!” Diane fought hard but her own tears began to flow.
“This hurts more than angers me….what have I been doing all these years? Have I wasted my life? Am I wrong for what I’m doing now? It calls my whole being into question.”
“Diane Lambert…don’t you dare say that. You are a gift to me and to the kids…you were made for this…helping kids discover themselves. And if you discovered yourself along the way…we’re all the better for it. I know I am.! She gave her a tearful kiss, but she was still angry.
“It’s Phyllis Jenkins, isn’t it? She submitted the report to the board. Can she do that?”
“I don’t know if she can…but she probably did.”
“Why does she hate you so much?”
“I don’t think she hates me, honey…she seems to feel like it’s her duty to stand in my way…like some guardian at the gate, you know…but there’s more. When she got angry with me the other day there was something in her eyes…I don’t know…almost a sadness…”
“I don’t care…this isn’t fair. We’ll show them…”
“You can’t come. I can bring my lawyer, but no one else is permitted in the meeting besides the board…. School policy.” Diane began to tremble at the words….
“I…I know you’ll be there in spirit, honey…I’ll feel your presence…” She tried as hard as she could to be encouraging, but it was more than Trudy could handle and she broke down into heaving sobs against Diane’s chest. Diane gave into the sad moment and joined her wife as they cried together.
Under the heavens, we journey far
On roads of life, we're the wanderers
So let love rise, so let love depart
Let hope have a place in the lover's heart
Hope has a place in a lover's heart
The following day...late Saturday morning...
“I’m so scared, Mikey.” Breena sat on the couch next to her nephew. Mike was taking a ‘break’ from his expression of solidarity and was wearing jeans and a navy tee sans the recent custom of wearing a brassiere. He felt oddly out of place.
“It’s going to be okay…nothing ventured?”
“It’s not your heart they’ll be picking off the floor if he hates me, boy.” She snapped, returning briefly to her put-out persona, but she quickly apologized.
“Oh, Mikey…I’m so sorry…you do care and I think it will hurt you and Patty if this doesn’t work almost as much as me.” She looked over to Patty in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table with her girlfriend Chelsea eating an early lunch.
“I think this is so sweet, Ms. McCarthy,” Chelsea said as she walked into the living room. Patty quickly joined her as they sat together squeezed into the large easy chair catty-corner to the couch.
“Just where is your mother now that this is all happenin’?” Breena said.
“She mentioned something about a thinking meeting, whatever that is.” Patty said.
“I know she’s planning on ‘being here,’ when Mr. Giambrone comes…she won’t be making an appearance though, since everyone at school knows she’s dead.” She giggled as the last words came out of her mouth, knowing that the being her mother had become after death was both magical and immortal.
“I’m so glad you can know her and speak to her. I don’t think I could ever handle it if my Mom died…I miss my Dad so much.” Patty squeezed her hand before continuing.
“Aunt Breena…this is a good thing you’re doing. Mr. Giambrone is one of the nicest teachers in the school. I can’t imagine him wanting to see you unless he’s serious. That he asked Mike if he could see you? It’s like you told us about back home…the respect.”
“But will he be respectin’ me when he finds out who I truly am?”
“That you’re nicer and kinder than what you let out to be, Ms. McCarthy? That you raised two great kids?” Chelsea beamed as she looked at Patty.
“I’m hoping and praying for you, Aunt Breena. I haven’t prayed since fourth grade, but seeing Mom and seeing all the great things that have happened has sorta made me rethink some things, you know. I want you to know that Patty and I and Mom, of course are believing for you.” He leaned close and kissed her affectionately on the cheek.
“That we are, dear sister!” Janey McCarthy, now Sinead the Merciful of the Women of Draehoidel, walked into the living room. Mike looked up, expecting her to be in some character or even more so, perhaps a long flowing green velvet dress with a circlet in her hair. She was, of course, wearing none of the accoutrements of her newly adopted craft, preferring instead jeans and a forest green sweatshirt with ‘Villanova’ emblazoned on the front. She was eating an apple and leaning against the kitchen doorway.
“I need your help, Janey,” Breena looked up and tears began to well up in her eyes. Janey nodded, and said calmly,
“Aye, sis…I suppose you do. And you’ll get it, but not in any way you’re expecting. We can’t do anything but nudge folks…prod them a bit to take action where it’s needed or to be merciful…” She paused, remembering how her own conversion helped her to see the need for mercy and kindness.
“So what can you help me with?” Breena looked almost like a panicky girl going to the prom, which fit well with Janey’s next comment,
“I, dear Breena, am going to help you find a dress! Let's just believe that your first date will be one of many, dear one. Let hope have a place in your heart, aye?”
Phyllis's apartment that afternoon...
A knock came at the door. Phyllis shook her head, wondering who would be knocking on her door on a Saturday, or any day for that matter. She grabbed the shawl off the couch and threw it over her shoulders and walked to the door. Opening it, she got a surprise…
“I’m sorry for coming over unannounced, but I just had to talk to you.” Dave Ackerman stood on her landing, looking very anxious
“Dave…Mr. Ackerman…we have nothing to talk about.”
“I’m sorry, but we do….MS. Jenkins.” He backed away from her slightly, trying to be less imposing. He failed
“Dave…Mr. Ackerman! Please leave. I can’t talk to you…now or in the future unless it’s on a strictly professional basis.” She went to close the door. He didn’t want to appear threatening so he smiled and said ‘FINE!’ Phyllis was so surprised she stopped and stared as he continued.
“I’ll just sit out here on your front porch. I’ve got all the time in the world, and believe it or not, I want to be your friend.” Phyllis tilted her head and stared again at his welcoming smile.
“Yes, Ms. Jenkins…I do want to be your friend. I’m sorry for coming on so strong, but I’m not used to talking with….” He hesitated.
“Women?”
“Administrators.” He laughed but continued with a more serious look on his face.
“I mean it…people in authority really scare me…I guess I get that from how my dad was.” He hadn’t meant to go there, but their conversation came back to him in too vivid detail as he remembered just how much he and Phyllis had in common. And he shook his head as tears began to fall on the concrete landing, leaving little puddles. Phyllis stared at him again, and something just touched her like nothing she’d ever felt before.
“Mr. Ackerman…I’m sorry. Please. Come inside…we can…we can talk. I think I can do that.” She grabbed his arm softly; the first time she had ever reached out to another human being since her brother had taken his life. At thirty-two, apart from a final few hugs from her mother before her passing and the occasional touch of the arm in conversation with her hairdresser, she hadn’t had any significant physical contact for nearly seventeen years.
“I’ll make some coffee, okay?” She ushered him into her home and closed the door. And sitting on the wrought iron railing on the landing, Orla smiled and breathed out a deep sigh of relief.
Whispering world, a sigh of sighs
The ebb and the flow of the ocean tides
One breath, one word, may end or may start
A hope in a place of the lover's heart
Hope has a place in a lover's heart
Love in Unexpected Places
A tall tree
Turn and face the west
Oh we're running with the wind
On high cliff top
We're waiting with the rest
For this journey to begin
At the Lambert home...
“How’s Marnie doing?”
“She’s fine…Dr. Levine said that she has been taking her vitamins and everything should be okay. She’s a very healthy girl.” Trudy smiled and wheeled over to the kitchen table and poured herself some coffee. Diane sat down a moment later and did the same before continuing, a look of sadness crossing her face.
“I’m…”
“Stop…”
“But…”
“Diane…we knew that it was a long shot any other way. Besides, this way we get to help the girl out and we can be parents. I know you want to have children, but it isn’t meant to be.
“I feel guilty.” Diane put her hand to her face. “Like somehow I betrayed myself.”
“What…because you wanted to use what God gave you before this? It’s not a bad thing…just a different thing. That’s part of who you were…who you are, since that part of you…the person…is part of the person I love. You feel ashamed because you wanted to and now feel ashamed because we can’t? Don’t feel ashamed of where you came from, who you are…anything! Diane is who she is today because Dan helped make her that way…now the two of you are together; finally a whole person instead of two halfs. So it’s all good, honey.” Trudy rubbed Diane’s arm.
“So…what do you say we go into the livingroom with our coffee and sit down on the couch and start thinking about names?” Trudy smiled and grabbed her cup and wheeled quickly into the living room, followed close behind by Diane. She lifted Trudy out of her chair and the two sat on the couch.
“I love you,” Diane said as she kissed Trudy, her hands touching Trudy’s hair and face gently.
“Easy girl...” Trudy protested. She pointed to the baby name book on the couch.
“Besides, we’ve got nine or so months…no hurry,” Trudy said, touching Diane’s face.
“That’s just what I was going to say,” Diane laughed and tossed the book onto the chair in the corner before kissing her wife again.
And oh, how we laugh
But maybe we should crawl
And ask to be excused
We shout loudly
Have answers to it all
Oh, but we have been refused
A bit later...the McCarthy home
“Are you not goin’ to help me, Janey?” Breena sat on the bed staring at the green pullover she was wearing.
“I am helping you, Breena. We’ve narrowed it down to the claret a-line of mine…as if I’ll ever be wearin’ it again.” She laughed and Breena gasped a brief sob.
“And what would be troublin’ you now, dear sister?” Janey said as she pulled a forest green dress out of Breena’s closet.
“This is a nice one…I should know; I gave it to you for your birthday a couple of years ago…still has the price tag on it. I don’t suppose you can exchange it now, so you might as well wear it, dear.” She laughed until she saw that Breena had started to cry.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“You…you’re goin’ to go away when this is all over, and I’ll be left alone again. It will feel just like you died all over, and I can’t bear to think of that.” Breena said haltingingly.
“Now, now…shu…shuu….shuu…” She pulled close to Breena and kissed her.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere…least wise not for a while. We’ve got lots of work for us all around this place…so many hurtin’ souls and sad folks. I’ll be poppin’ in from time to time; maybe like this…” She pointed to her jeans and sneakers,
“And maybe like this,” she said as she pointed to the mirror on the closet across from Breena’s bed, revealing Breena’s image sitting next to a boy of about seven or so.
“Or this,” she repeated, pointing once again to the mirror where Breena sat with an Asian woman of about forty.”
“We never run out of work because folks never run out of pain and sadness.”
“Why can’t you just change me…make me into a real woman?” Breena shook her head as she looked down at herself; literally and figuratively. She lifted her head and saw Janey’s expression had changed from whimsical to sad and caring.
“My dear sweet girl; I can’t because of a few things. The first is that I don’t have that much power…yet. I have to learn the craft, dear, before I get so much responsibility…earnin’ my wings like that Clarence fellow in that movie, you know?” Breena nodded, blinking back tears.
“Second, we’re permitted but only a bit of intervention, so to speak. Like I said, we can nudge and suggest and hint to other folks who really do the heavy liftin’, you know? Maybe cajole and shove when necessary, but we help others help themselves or help their friends or family or even folks they don’t care for, you understand?” Breena nodded once again, but still felt lost and almost hopeless. It would take more than a new dress to bring some promise into any relationship, if it ever got that far.
“But here’s the most important thing to remember, Breena.” She said ‘Breena ‘with the most affection she had ever used since her brother came back home as her sister; feeling a bit guilty over neglecting this part of the sibling with whom she shared a childhood. Breena put her head down and looked up, anticipating another prohibition or regulation that threatened to prevent any action on Janey’s part. Janey kissed her again and hugged her, perhaps as tight a hug as she’d ever had, saying,
“You have to remember, Breena…no matter what, you’re already a real woman; as real as any woman I’ve ever met…” Janey paused and tears came to her own eyes as she finished,
“And the finest woman I’ve ever known…ever.” With that she pulled Breena closer and hugged her as the two sobbed, feeling perhaps for the first time really connected, sister to sister. A few moments passed before Janey stood up and smiled, pulling Breena to her feet, saying,
“Now, dear sister, get those jeans and pullover off….Let’s just see how sexy you can look in that green number, aye?” Breena looked at the closet nervously before taking off her pullover, saying anxiously,
“Aye…”
The Olympus Diner...Saturday evening...
Paul sat across from Breena in the booth; they were in the far corner of the diner and the lighting was low, but not low enough to calm Breena’s anxiety. Paul was wearing a tan cord jacket over a blue button-down shirt and jeans. Brenna had settled on the green dress along with a white cardigan. A tall red haired girl of about nineteen or so came up to the booth and smiled at the two.
“Hi, I’m Marcie, I’ll be your waitress tonight; can I get you somethin’ to drink?”
“Diet Coke for me, please, and..?” He looked at Breena who looked back at him nervously and put her head down.
“The same,” she said, nearly in a whisper.
“I’ll be right back,” Marcie said and was gone.
“I’m very glad you decided to come tonight.” Paul said with a smile. Breena looked at him and smiled weakly. Her face grew warm and she could feel a bit of a quiver in her lips.
“We can go to another restaurant if you like if….” Paul shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
“If we go out again, that is.” He laughed softly and Breena turned her head slightly toward the window.
“There’s a really good Chinese restaurant over on 4th Street.”
“I’ve not had Chinese in a while.” Breena said.
“Well, consider that for our next date, if I may presume.”
“Presume all you want,” she thought to herself. This was the first date ever for Breena, if you didn’t count the time Sean took out Moira Connelly when ‘he’ was thirteen. She thought about the prospects of seeing Paul again and her face grew red and her lip quivered even more.
“Now, if you don’t care for Chinese, there’s a really good pizza place not far from your house. Do you like Italian?” He smiled warmly and he put his hand out. He pulled it back quickly, but not before his hand brushed hers. She shrugged and shook her head before blurting out,
“I’m a transsexual.” She bit her lower lip softly and began to shake. Paul tilted his head slightly and smiled; almost as if he hadn’t heard her.
“What did you say?” His voice was soft and had no hint of the accusation she expected. She kept her head lowered and said softly,
“I like Italian.”
“Before that,” he said with a soft laugh; not mean but almost playful and certainly warm and accepting. She lifted her head slightly and revealed the tears that had begun to well in her eyes.
“I’m…I’m a transsexual.” She lowered her head onced more as the waitress came with their drinks. As she put them on the table she noticed Breena had lowered her head and turned her face toward the window once again. Paul shook his head slightly and Marcie said,
“I’ll give you two some more time, okay?” With that she walked away.
“Breena, look up at me, please?” He was tempted to cup her chin softly, but even that gesture would have been intimidating. A moment later she lifted her head, revealing a tear stained face.
“Listen, please, okay? I’m not like that.” Paul said it softly with a hint of regret in his voice.
“That’s why I’m crying, Mr. Giambrone. I expect you’ll be takin’ me home now. May I have a ride home, please?”
“Why go home…what do you mean?” He asked.
“You’re not like that…I understand. Not used to datin’ girls like me, aye?? Well…I’m sorry.” She put her head down once again.
“No…not that way…I’m sorry…here.” This time he did cup her chin, gently as he had first intended. Apart from the brief brush of his hand against her fingers moments before, it was the first time any man had ever touched her.
“You know I was married?”
“Yes, Michael told me.”
“She died a few years ago…cancer…it was quick.” He sighed and it was his turn to look away at the window. She reached out and touched his hand; not in a ‘date-to-date’ way, but as the woman who raised two children with virtually no help and a lot of love and kindess.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Even still, she became nervous once again and withdrew her hand quickly.
“Would you like to see a picture of her?” He was reaching for his wallet even as he asked the question. Pulling a photo out of a clear pocket he held it out in his palm as a display.
“This was taken on our second anniversary.” He smiled and her eyes widened.
“Michael said your wife came from the old country….Dublin?” Breena looked back at the picture. Paul Giambrone was hugging his wife at the side as they both smiled at the camera. Her features were soft and pretty and her skin was dark as was her hair.
“Her father was an engineer from Nigeria; her mother was a chemist in Dublin. They met at university and fell in love. He was killed in a car accident when she was seven. Katy and her mom came to the States when she was about twelve.” Breena sighed. How could she even think of wanting a widower who had lovely wife?
“She’s very pretty. Again, I am so sorry for your loss,” Breena repeated herself as she stared at the photo.
“She had never really dealt with rejection until she came here. She was still trying to cope with the loss of her father, and then she never fit in, rejected by two sets of heritages in a strange culture. I met her in college, and she still bore some ‘scars.’
“I don’t understand.” Paul knew she would have added ‘how does this apply to me,’ if she wasn’t looking at the dinnerware on the table.
“We’re all different, Breena. All of us. Some of us are different on the inside. Some of us are different on the outside. Some of us are different both ways. Which makes us all the same, I suppose.”
“I don’t understand.” Breena had started to cry; still somewhat over her own hurts, but also for the loss this man still felt. And she felt so small and insecure; as if she didn’t matter when placed side by side with this woman; an ideal she would never achieve.
“What I’m trying to say, Breena, is it doesn’t matter to me.” He looked out the window, almost seeking something more than the distraction of moments ago.
“You’re a lot like her.” Breena tilted her head and her eyes widened in question.
“She was someone who…maybe because of her insecurity, but only a little bit…she placed everyone’s needs above her own. And she used to act put out even as she sought to help more and more. Like you, from what Michael told me.” She blushed as she wiped her face with her sweater sleeve.
“And she was pretty like you as well.” The pink in her cheeks grew red and very warm and she started to cry.
“Breena…I already knew.” He smiled but there was sadness in his eyes.
“What do you mean, you already knew.” She shuddered and it was almost as she had shrunk as she lowered in the booth.
“Michael told me after you agreed to see me.” Her face tightened, more out of shame than anger until he continued,
“He wanted me to know because I was going to find out, and he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed if turned you away after I found out. He was trying to spare your feelings.’’
“And this is what he calls sparing my feelings. When were you going to tell me?” She said with a tinge of anger in her voice, but her head was down, almost ashamed.
“After dinner tonight, I was planning on asking you out on another date, but…” He paused. She looked up and frowned in fear
“But now that you’ve met me? Well, I’ll be askin’ you to take me home so as I don’t embarrass you any more, Mister Paul Giambrone!”
“You don’t understand. And you don’t know me. If I was at all worried or ashamed of you, we wouldn’t have been sitting here in the first place, Breena. I knew and I asked you out anyway…doesn’t that mean something?” He stopped.
“No…I suppose it doesn’t. I see the same look of shame in your eyes that Katy wore even up to the day she died. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’re a very nice person, Breena McCarthy, and I’m sorry you have been hurt and feel this way. You deserved more than what you’ve gotten, but I can’t change that other than to let you know I know ‘what’ you are and it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me.”
Paul was more than a bit angry, but it wasn’t at her. He lowered his tone and leaned closer, once again cupping her chin. Leaning over he said softly,
“And I suppose there’s only one way to show you just what I mean.” He stood up and leaned over the table and kissed her, not hard or erotic or sexual, but still a boy to girl kiss; Breena’s first ever. She smiled weakly before bursting into tears.
Paul sat down and held her hands in his, rubbing them gently. She looked up and blinked back some tears and looked straight at him; her eyes questioning whether or not what just took place had actually happened. A moment later she sighed and bit her lip once again as his hand touched her cheeks sofly, brushing away some stray tears. Marcie came back and Paul turned to her. She smiled and looked at Breena before saying in a near whisper.
“Take all the time you like; just wave when you’re ready to order, okay?” Paul nodded and Marcie, or rather Fiona turned around and walked back to the kitchen, breathing out a relieved sigh.
Girl Child
You're dancing with the stream
Growing with the silver trees
Your young questions
You ask me what it means
Oh, but I am not at ease
Consider the flowers of the field in their beauty
More lovely than even the clothes of a king
Consider the birds of the air
Flying high, flying free
You are precious to me
School Board emergency meeting...the following Friday evening...
“I’m sure we can all agree that this meeting is in the best interest of the children.” Superintendent Carlyle said turning to the panel. The school board was in quorum even if they were a bit short. Only five of the seven members were in attendance.
“Now, Mr. Lambert, Donald, we have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Before we go any further, I’d like to state for the record that in addressing me as Mr. Lambert instead of my name, Diane Lambert, it appears that you have already determined the outcome of this meeting. My legal name is Diane Lambert, and yet you insist on using my former name in these proceedings, which I believe is a violation of my human rights as well as policy.”
“I apologize,” Martina Carlotti said, leaning over the table. “Ms. Lambert, would you mind saying something to add to the letter you sent to the board; perhaps a word of explanation so that we can understand what your intent is?”
“My intention is to fulfill my responsibilities to the board and to the school as a guidance counselor at the High School.” Diane blew out a breath. She had debated wearing the skirt that accompanied the suit she wore, but felt it might be a bit provocative. Trudy argued unsuccessfully that Diane needed to be free to wear whatever she wanted, but ‘common sense’ prevailed and Diane stood before the board in slacks and a shirt-like blouse, looking almost androgynous.
“No one questions your commitment to your job. It is troubling that you received a negative review this past quarter.” Diane’s eyes grew wide as Richard Newsome held up a bunch of papers, waving them slightly as if to indict her. She went to pick the microphone up to respond but a voice from the back spoke up.
“I can answer that.” Phyllis Jenkins walked to the podium and stood next to Diane, who looked at her, puzzled. “May I,” she said quietly to Diane, a smile on her face that had replaced the smirk she usually wore.
“The report is erroneous, filled with misstatements and inaccuracies.” She said almost in a whisper.
“Excuse me, Ms. Jenkins, but didn’t you write the report?” Ms. Carlotti asked with a confused grin.
“Yes, I wrote the report, but it is, as I said, erroneous.” She shook her head slightly and lowered her gaze.
“One moment,” the superintendant said before covering the microphone. He turned to each side and spoke quietly. Diane leaned closer to Phyllis and said,
“What’s going on? I thought?” She asked nervously.
“Well…you thought wrong, Diane.” She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes and she shook slightly. She grabbed the podium and tapped the microphone.
“If I may explain?” All of the board members turned to each other and after a few nods focused their attention on the podium in front of them.
“I wrote the report in haste, without due consideration before submitting it. Ms. Lambert has done an exemplary job in providing our children with the utmost courtesy and regard to their various academic and emotional needs. I wrote the report without having all the facts, and I was influenced to a great deal by the advice of someone who has since been discredited.” A few murmurs and some head shakes before Superintendant Carlyle spoke again.
“And who would that someone be, Ms. Jenkins?” His tone was demanding and annoyed.
“That would be me, Sir. I let some preconceptions and bias sway my opinion of Ms. Lambert, and I want it be in the record that I formally recant my report. The report was filed without consulting my supervisor, Marion Langhorne, whom you know is attending a conference. At this time, I’d like to extend my apologies to Ms. Lambert and her family for all the trouble I have caused. I apologize as well to the board for taking up your valuable time, and at the same time I would like to tender my resignation as Assistant Principal, effective immediately.” She put her head down and placed her hand over her face for a moment before turning to Diane.
“I...I am so sorry, Diane…Please forgive me?” She went to turn away but Diane grabbed her arm softly and beckoned her closer. She stepped closer, tentatively and allowed Diane to hug her; allowing reluctantly while looking away, as if to satisfy Diane’s need to extend forgiveness while maintaining her belief that she deserved none. Diane pulled her closer.
“It’s okay, Phyllis…I understand. If I’m worth saving, then you are, too. I forgive you…I just hope you can forgive yourself.” Phyllis looked into her eyes and shook her head.
“How could you possible know…who told you?” She wasn’t so much resentful as embarrassed and ashamed that Diane could know about her story. A voice from the board interrupted them.
“You told me the other day…you spoke angrily to me, but your eyes…they spoke fear…for my sake, it felt. Like you were really just worried about my decision.” Diane had no idea where that came from; it almost felt like she sensed the un-sensible.
“I finally figured out where my treasure lies.” Diane looked at her and smiled and nodded as she finished,
“I…It’s a long story…I’ll have to tell you sometime,” she said between sobs.
“That’s all well and good, Ms. Jenkins, but we still have a matter her to dispose of regarding Ms. Lambert’s continued violation of school policy; specifically by encouraging students to dress in a provocative manner and then there’s the unsanctioned scheduling of controversial speakers for assemblies.
“If I may, I think I can help here.” Paul Giambrone strode forward.
“Who are you, and what is your business here; this is a closed meeting.
“First of all, I’m an employee of the school, which you should know, since you hired me, Mr. Carlyle. My name is Paul Giambrone; I coach and teach Phys. Ed. and Gym at the high school. My business, which should be the business of everyone here, is to see that Diane gets a fair shake; something I fear would be lacking in a so-called closed meeting.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it is board policy.” Carlyle was getting abrupt.
“It may be board policy, but it’s against state law, Robert.” Yet another voice interrupted the proceedings as Marion Langhorne stepped to the podium.
“And so is holding a meeting ad hoc when the agenda is personnel discipline. The immediate supervisor is supposed to be in attendance to allow the personnel to discuss the issues openly.”
“You were out of town and….”
“And you knew I’d be coming tomorrow. This meeting could have waited until Monday. There was no emergency, and frankly I resent your decision to move ahead without me. If you had bothered to answer any of the e-mails I’ve sent over the past week, you’d have learned I was coming this evening. Oh, and by the way, the only condition allowing for an emergency personnel meeting is if there is a serious breach of policy. Clearly here there wasn’t.”
“But Ms. Jenkins’s report? “
“Oh, hell, Robert, she just explained what happened, and you seem to have carefully ignored all the commendations and letters from parents in Ms. Lambert’s file.” Marion turned to Phyllis while the board members once again began to talk amongst themselves.
“And you and I will be having a talk in my office first thing Monday morning!”
“But I…I just ….you’ll find my resignation on your desk Monday.” Phyllis turned away, almost looking for a way of escape.
“Found it there just before I came over here…I ripped it up. You can’t quit on me, Phyllis because I won’t quit on you, okay. Dave Ackerman e-mailed me this morning…I know…I know…’he had no right,’ is what you’ll tell him…he’s waiting outside for you, dear, and I suggest you make nice to him, too, while you’re at it.”
“If you’re finished talking, folks, I’ve got something to show you, okay?” Marion nearly shouted into the microphone. The board members looked up just in time to see the door to the meeting room open once again as student after student poured into the hall; each wearing clothing which would be more suited to the gender opposite their own. Petey Carlucci and Patty and Mike McCarthy entered first, all three wearing nice skirts and tops and sweaters. Then one-by-one they were joined by nearly one fourth of the student body. Mr. Carlyle banged his oft-used gavel and protested,
“This is a closed meeting.”
“By the regulations and laws we previously cited, Robert, this is an illegal meeting, and thereby cannot be a closed meeting.
Several boys from the baseball team came dressed in prom gowns. A few girls came dressed in boys clothes, which they had ‘girled up.’ The drama club came dressed in their costumes for, of all things, Twelfth Night. One girl came dressed as Abe Lincoln, complete with beard. And at least half the faculty came dressed as well.
“There’s nothing wrong with all of these folks, is there, Robert?”
“No, Marion…I suppose there’s not.” He hit the gavel on the stand once more before saying,
“This meeting is concluded.”
A chorus of cheers filled the room as one lone figure held back by the front door. Marion pulled on Diane’s sleeve and pointed to the solitary figure in the wheel chair.
“It was her idea. She did all the research regarding policy and law, and she called every single family and employee the last several days, including me. Where she got my private cell I don’t know, but I’m awfully glad she did. I can’t imagine how we’d manage without you.” Diane made her way to the back and knelt down, almost in the exact manner she had when she and Trudy first met years before.
“You did this for me?” A statement rather than a question until Trudy answered.
“I did this for us, sweetie. I love you so much and I am so proud of you.” She smiled and began to cry. Diane pulled her almost out of her chair and embraced her and kissed her tears.
“And I love you. Let’s go home, okay?”
“Like I said…first thing Monday…and you’ve got bus traffic in the afternoon for the rest of the year, do I make myself clear?” Marion smiled and Phyllis nodded. Marion took two steps toward the front of the hall before turning one last time.
“Oh…and Phyllis?”
“Yes?”
“Happy Birthday.”
Phyllis picked up her purse from the podium and made her way to the door. She spotted Dave Ackerman standing by the door way and picked up her pace. Part of her wished to make a hasty exit, but part of her wanted to confront him. No matter how well things turned out, she was upset with him over what he had told Marion. As she got to the door, she stopped and began to laugh as the crowd by the door dissipated to reveal a very tall girl in a USA Olympics Women Basketball team uniform…that is to say a moderately tall Dave Ackerman in the uniform. He was leaning on the door frame trying to look nonchalant.
“Best I could do…I borrowed it from my sister Val.” He shrugged his shoulders as Phyllis stepped closer to him.
“I don’t know if I should be angry with you or pleased,” she said, taking his arm.
“I’m sorry…I…” He stammered. She touched his cheek with her hand; another new thing for her as she said,
“I know, Dave…Thank you.”
“Well, I suppose this is payback for last year, right?” Robert Carlyle said as Marion stepped up to the desk.
“You know it is, Robert. We’ll get you this year, alright?” Marion said, referring to the annual BOE vs. school budget meeting.
“I’m sorry…I guess I was wrong about her.” He surprised himself with the use of the feminine pronoun.
“Yes you were, but I forgive you. You always were so opinionated and headstrong. These people need our support and encouragement and not condemnation. I hope you at least got that out of this?" He nodded and put his head down before she said,
"You gonna be at Mom’s for dinner on Sunday?”
“Yes?”
“You know what they say about family and friends, Robert?” He shook his head no.
“You can pick your friends….Don’t worry…I still love you.”
“Well, kids, I guess we should be headin’ home, aye?” Breena McCarthy smiled at Mike and Patty. Patty was hugging her girlfriend Chelsea and Mike sat in a chair looking a bit forlorn until a girl came up to him.
“I think what you did for Ms. Lambert is just wonderful.” Doreen Connelly stood with Mika Sinkowitz, both resplendent in jeans and sweat shirts with their hair pinned under their baseball caps. Doreen handed Mike a piece of paper and kissed his cheek before walking away slowly. It read, “dinner at my house…tomorrow…wear something ….pretty.”
Breena looked back and forth between the two before turning to Paul Giambrone.
“I best be going…would you mind taking me home?”
“Of course…may I…” Paul paused for a moment before continuing.
“May I see you again?” He smiled at her and she smiled back; a rare moment soon to gain more frequency as Breena McCarthy made the third most important decision in her life and said,
“That you may, Mr. Paul Giambrone; that you may!”
And in the back of the room, almost hovering, but not quite were three women. Looking down, they spotted two young ladies in their twenties sitting close toward the back. One wore a lilac cowl neck with sleeves pulled up to reveal a white blouse. She wore a light brown corduroy skirt and brown boots. Her red hair set off her lovely green eyes. Her friend...companion, really, was blond and petite and wore a charcoal cardigan over a royal blue shirt-waist dress, also in corduroy with black boots. The two had their heads together and were smiling and laughing.
"Who are those two...are they our next assignment?" Orla asked Calleigh, who smiled and shook her head no. Fiona tilted her head and Siohbhan laughed softly.
"That's Ashley and her girlfriend Zoe. Distant 'relatives' if you take my meaning. They may be helping out from time to time. You know the kind of tasks we have...balladeers...they sing into existence the strength some of our charges may need, if you recall? But we've got work to do here yet, dears. Before we go, we have some partings to arrange and a new beginning."
"I thought we aren't supposed to interfere, Calleigh? What makes this different?" Orla asked as Fiona nodded her head.
"Oh, no, sweet girl...we won't be doin' anything except plannin' a party. We've got some celebratin' to do."
If a child asks her father on earth for fish or for bread
Who among you would give her a snake or a stone?
How much more does the Father above
Have a heart full of love
For the children that He calls His own?
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
There is your heart
If a child asks her father on earth for fish or for bread
Who among you would give her a snake or a stone?
How much more does the Father above
Have a heart full of love
For the children that He calls His own?
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
There is your heart
Outside the Board of Education Building...Friday Night...
"I'm still angry with you!" Phyllis looked over at Dave, who stood quietly while folks walked past to their cars.
"I know...but after our talk, I was so scared that you...you'd leave, and I couldn't let that happen...I promise I will never interfere in your life again....unless you want me to." She looked up at him and smiled.
"I guess it would be alright to interfere once and a while.
"Would you mind? Are you free next Friday?" He smiled at her and she grinned.
"Oh...I supposed I could be...what do you have in mind?"
"Well..." He paused and she seemed to grow brighter in anticipation until he said,
"There's a grief support group that meets at my church at seven...I thought maybe you'd like to go."
"Oh...I guess so." She half-frowned in disappointment until he added,
"And maybe we could grab a late dinner in the city? Would you like that."
"Yes...David Ackerman...I would like that a lot."
The McCarthy home...a bit later...
"Well...this is it...I'm off in a bit..." Janey had stayed back, since no one other than the Women, Patty and Chelsea, Michael, and Breena ,knew of her 'existence.'
"Do you have to go?" Patty began to cry. Chelsea held her hand and they walked over to Janey.
"I'll be just around the corner...Malaysia or some place...just a stone's throw away." She laughed, knowing really that when your stride and voice span eternity, a half-planet is a very short distance.
"You...you'll come by? Often?" Patty hugged her mother.
"As often as I can be spared, but you're in good hands, what with your darlin' girl here and your sister. Speakin' of which, come give me hug, okay?" Michael was still dress as Michelle, and felt awkward once again.
"Listen, my dear child. You have nuthin' to be ashamed of. You're as fine a man and woman as I've ever known," she said, teasing only a wee bit.
"That's just it...it this what I am...what's wrong with our family this way." He put his head down. She lifted his chin with a soft gesture and said quietly,
"Nothing at all Michael...the McCarthy's have been bless this way...something in us? I don't know...but you'll be a better person for it. You are a fine man, Michael, but I believe your path lies elsewhere, if you understand me...Calleigh won't be but a wee bit more before she starts thinkin' about retiring, and you, my dear have the heart for it..."
"Mom...I..."
"The best of both worlds, Michelle, my dear daughter." She kissed his fore head before walking out the front door. Standing on the porch, Breena held Paul's hands in hers. She was crying again, but she didn't look upset at all.
"Ahemmm!" Janey made a point to make the noise loud enough to interrupt them.
"Oh....Paul....this...this is my...."
"Hello? I'm Janey...Breena's cousin from Ireland...I've heard about you? Mr. G, the kids call you. I'm glad to meet you." She held out her hand, which he shook gently but firmly.
"Aye...a man's shake...I'm awfully glad you and Breena have hit it off so well." Breena began to blush at the comment.
"You'll likely not find a finer man that this one, my dear girl, and I'm telling you, Mr. Paul Giambrone, you will never find a finer woman in all the world as well." Paul nodded and turned to find Breena crying once again.
"Well, dear, come give me a hug...I'm off...I'll be back soon, don't you worry. Keep on loving those precious children of yours..." Janey's voice trailed off, not out of regret, but out of relief and joy, knowing that somehow love had redeemed the McCarthy family, and that everything was going to be alright.
The Lambert home...that evening...
"I love you so much..." Diane lay beside her wife in bed, basking in the joy of the moment that would definitely transcend time. People had rallied around her, but more importantly, she understood finally that the true measure of a person is gauged by how many friends she has, which with Diane and Trudy both were many.
"So...what about names?" Trudy said with a conspiratorial giggle, something Diane completely missed.
"I've always loved Roberta...after my grandmother...but I also love Liz..."
"How about Kelly, after my grandmother...or maybe Zoe...after your Aunt?" Trudy giggled again.
"So hard to decide." Diane shook her head. She was still amazed and relieved and overwhelmed at the outpouring of love she had been blessed with.
"Why not Roberta Elizabeth? Or maybe Kelly Zoe...or a combination of any of them." Trudy kissed Diane's ear, causing her to shrink a bit from the tickle.
"Or maybe all of them?" Trudy began to laugh; a relieved laugh, but a joyous laugh filled with wonder and awe at the day and the days to come. Diane looked at her slightly crosswise and confused until she said finally at last,
"Dr. Levine called again today...they did another ultrasound for Marnie today..."
"No..." Not a disagreement so much as an amazed gasp.
"We, heart of my heart, are going to be mothers to two darling little girls.
"Roberta Kelly and Zoe Elizabeth...mmmmmm."
"What's that look?" Trudy said with caution. Diane leaned closer to her wife and kissed her deeply before saying at last,
"Let's celebrate."
Calleigh stood outside the McCarthy home with Orla, Fiona, Sinead back in her role as a Woman of Draehoidel. With them were two young women in their twenties. They were dressed in similar garb as the others, almost gossamer gowns in colors to wonderful too describe.
"Is this going to hurt?" Zoe asked, more out of concern for Heather than herself.
"Not at all, and we'll be back before the night is over...that's how it goes." Ashley looked at Calleigh with amazement.
"You'll not be needing your instruments this time, but I expect you'll do fine with the singin'. We're going to go to Australia. A very nice grandmom...Alison Mary her name is...needs help because a friend is sad and scared and feelin' all alone. Alison has done what she can, and this girl needs the strength and courage that only the Sacred Songs can provide. So sing you will, darlings...and I know you'll do fine.
"Miss Calleigh," Ashley said, touching Calleigh's arm softly.
"I think I might be afraid to fly...I've never flown in a plane." She put her head down, almost embarrassed. Zoe held her tight and whispered quietly,
"Honey...I don't think we'll be flying in a plane." Even as she said that the six women began to shimmer and glow as their clothing became almost a wisp of smoke or a cloud of vapor. And in a moment they were gone.....
If a child asks her father on earth for fish or for bread
Who among you would give her a snake or a stone?
How much more does the Father above
Have a heart full of love
For the children that He calls His own?
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
Where your treasure is
There is your heart
There is your heart
For my girls...
The series will continue in a new story, The Singer and Her Wife
The Best Thing For You
Words and Music by Irving Berlin
As Performed by Diana Krall
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvheuZA8p98
I Remember You
Words and Music by
Victor Schertzinger / Johnny Mercer
As Performed by Diana Krall
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7MRuddACeGk
Someday
words and music by
Steven Schwartz and
Alan Menken
As performed by
Celtic Woman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cd8JBSzcpAc
When You Believe
from the Motion Picture
Prince of Egypt
Words and music by
Kenneth (Babyface ) Edmonds and
Stephen Schwartz
as performed by
Mariah Carey and
Whitney Houston
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kfpE8xYBmY
Red is the Rose
Traditional Irish song
as Performed by Dervish
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOmUSfuULH4&feature=related
A Stor Mo Chroi
Words by Brian O'Higgins
Traditional Irish Melody
as performed by Dervish
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oARdc1EqhWE
The Last Rose of Summer
Traditional Irish Melody
Words by Thomas Moore
as performed by
Méav Ná Mhaolchatha
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=696zriZO-Q4
Gra Mo Chroi! (Love of My Heart)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hx4etzMFeFI
My Bride and I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEfXDRFX7IY
The Soft Goodbye
Words and Music by
David Downes
As Performed by
Celtic Woman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36P0LEVe_2U
Hope Has a Place
Words and Music by
Enya (Eithne Patricia Ná Bhraoná¡in)Brennan
performed by Enya
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFz3jybXyxM
Broken Wings
Words and Music by
Dougie MacLean
As performed by Cherish the Ladies
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El5FBBAM160
In A Lifetime
Words and Music by
Pá³l Brennan and Ciará¡n Brennan
as performed by Clannad and Bono
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_klil_eOEY
Treasure
words and music by
the performing band,
Iona
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssqrc5pE1Sc
http://www.iona.uk.com/
And for all of you folks who read all the way to the end, a special Bonus track:
Dervish, singing Boots of Spanish Leather
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNFRvQrvLtM&feature=related
