As Time Goes By
By: Annette MacGregor

Perhaps things didn't happen the way the newspapers all claimed... Or not exactly that way.

---

It was sad burying my last parent. At least it was a sunny day, even if it was brutally cold. It was so different from the funeral we'd had for my sister all those years ago. That day had also been cold, but it had also been raining. The service had been closed casket though mom and dad hadn't understood.

We'd been so close, and she'd had to die so young. I'd protected her all I could, though it wasn't until near the end that I'd realized how torn and sad she really was. The last overdose was what finally convinced ME that it couldn't go on.

The eulogies were over, and I tossed my handful of dirt. I didn't really pay much attention to the other mourners, until this working man tossed a handful, and tried to turn away before coming up to me. That's when I woke partially from my daze and really looked at him. He was a stranger, yet looked vaguely familiar. It was almost like he could have been a brother or cousin; that kind of familiar.

Since he was the last, I stepped forward, to stop him with one hand. "Thank you for coming."

"How could I not, Richard?" returned a deep voice.

That really got my attention. He knew me, and I couldn't place him. "I'm afraid you have the advantage on me. You look familiar, but I can't place you and I'm usually very good with putting names to faces."

"I know. You've always been that way, unlike me." The stranger made a wincing attempt at a smile.

That brought me up short. "You've known me a long time?"

"I don't think now's a good time to go into it, but, yes."

I shook my head, trying to place the man. "If you have time, why don't we stop at cafe and have a cup to warm up, and maybe you can explain?"

The man looked at his watch and then appeared to think. Obviously coming to a decision, "Okay, I can stay another half hour, but not much more. I need to catch the bus at 11:00."

"You came to town on a bus for the funeral?"

He nodded, "I could use that cup of coffee, and it'd be warmer to talk there anyway."

We walked, in silence for about five minutes, to the cafe. It wasn't very busy at this hour, so we were able to get a corner table in the back.

After ordering, we sat quietly a minute. He appeared to come to a conclusion. "Ricky, we grew up together."

"Ricky, but, nobody's called me that since..." My voice trailed off and I looked at him. I started again, "Ka.."

"Yes, and it's Carl, now."

I shook my head. "I can't believe how much you've changed." It was amazing. "It's been twenty years. I never imagined..." I couldn't go on. She, no HE had been so slim before. While the man in front of me was no giant, he was obviously larger than he had been.

"It wasn't easy, at first. It was especially hard not contacting the family. I missed you, but as we discussed, if I'd tried to stay in touch, they would have found me."

"We all missed you, Ka... Carl. The folks were sad at your funeral, and there was some flack at the closed casket. It was also hard on them, what the press said about your overdose."

He nodded. "It'd have been hard to have an open casket, what with nobody in it." Then, he turned more serious. "That was the hardest part, back then; leaving you all behind. I can't thank you enough for what you did then. The overdose was real, after all."

I nodded, "I wasn't the famous one; you were. It was enough believing you were alive, and out there somewhere making a life." I stopped, not knowing where to go. "Finding you like that, after you took that overdose. I hate to think what might have happened if I'd come back up even an hour later."

"I'm sorry, Ricky. I couldn't go on any more."

"I know. We went over that after they pumped your stomach and I finally understood how hard things were for you."

I paused as the waitress brought our rolls and coffee.

"You gentlemen sure you don't need anything more?"

"Thanks, no."

Carl picked up his coffee, and I could see his hands were still a little small - though they had scars here and there.

"I'm so glad to see you again, si Carl. What did you do with yourself?"

"The cash, you got for me, let me move and find a therapist, and get a start in Norfolk." At my startled look, "Yeah, Virginia; though, it turned out to be a better location than I'd thought and it did help me keep my head down. The first year wasn't easy. I had no real skills except the music, and I wouldn't admit things. My therapist, yes I found one that knew what folks like me were like. They had a surprisingly large (to me anyway) transsexual practice. In any event, my therapist suggested I try a trade school, to see if there was something I liked. Ironically enough, I found wood working a pleasure. It was so nice seeing and feeling a piece of furniture come alive in my hands. After that, I was able to get a job as a carpenter's apprentice. The master was a nice enough guy, and didn't give me a hard time for my high pitched voice or slight frame. The money from that, plus the cash you'd insisted I take with me made the first years much easier. After two years as Carl, the committee agreed I could start on hormones. That really felt good, though it was hard at first. Can you believe I even picked a few fights on job sites?"

I stared at the man who'd been my sister. Fighting? Oh, she'd had a temper, and didn't back down to anyone, but fights? "Guess that was the testosterone?"

He nodded. "I got a good cussing out after one fight, and found a way to get hold of my temper. It's been easier since, but at the time." He paused, taking a swallow of his black coffee. "It was easier, once I started shaving and my voice started dropping, though I did take a lot of ribbing over finally going through puberty." Seeing Carl smile as he said that was nice. "A year later, they approved my top surgery. Being able to stop with the compression and strapping was relieving, I assure you. A year later, I had my hysterectomy… I actually made master carpenter about five years ago."

"I'm glad you're doing well. Though, I'm surprised you were able to turn your back on the music. You were as crazy about it as I was."

That drew a hearty laugh from my brother. "I didn't completely."

"Sounds like there's a story there."

He nodded, "If you were to guess, what would I have had the most trouble giving up?"

"You? To be honest, I'm surprised you're not tapping your fingers now. Even then, I didn't see how you could stop drumming."

"I managed without, for the first year or so. But, my therapist convinced me that I needed SOME outlet. So, I got a pad and some drum sticks. It was all private, until a few years ago though."

"Let me guess, you started drumming on the job site?"

He shook his head. "No. It was not as strange as that. Several of us were over at a friends place; he had this new game he wanted us to try out. You may have heard of it, as it got a lot of play in the press; 'Rock Band'." He looked at me, and I nodded that I'd heard of it, though I'd not touched it. "I watched for a while, but everyone was getting into things and trading positions around. It was a lot of fun. It reminded me of the garage we started in. But, when I got my turn on the drums; it was so easy, I knocked up such a high score the other guys just stared. It was 'you've played this before?' or 'where'd you learn to play the drums' and such. It didn't take them long to find out that I actually knew what I was doing on the drums and it wasn't just lucky."

"So, do you play?"

"I guess you could say that. One of the guys played guitar; he and some others got together once or twice a month to jam the oldies… And, wouldn't you know it, their drummer had just quit. Apparently his wife wanted him home more."

That word made me glance at his hand. No, no ring.

"No, Ricky, I'm not married… Though, I was tempted once, but she wanted kids and with my past, I couldn't have any. That's past history now."

Thinking back at how much my sister had loved kids, I knew that must have hurt. But rather than dwell on that topic, I moved back to what we had in common, "So, you play now?"

"Nothing as serious as we were; we all have real jobs now. We could probably play some gigs, if the other guys really wanted… But, none of us could make a living on our music."

"You could!"

"No, not any more. It's not the same, now. I don't feel the pain and urgency that drove me back then. I guess I'm just that much happier with life. I don't need to try to get out of it, now." He glanced at his watch. "I've gotta get going. I don't want to miss my bus."

We got up, and headed for the door, each of us leaving a few dollars on the table.

"Carl, please keep in touch?" I asked him.

"Maybe. She can't come back, you know."

I nodded. "I can see that. But, I've missed you all these years. I really don't want to lose you again." I pulled out my checkbook.

"No, I don't need money."

"I wasn't going to offer, though you know you do have a LOT of royalties piled up." I could see my brother shaking his head. "I was getting a deposit slip to write my e-mail address on."

He smiled at that. "Okay. I can take that."

Carl headed to the bus station, and I walked over to my car. It's strange how you can know someone, but not really know them. Thinking back to how sad Karen had been, especially at the end, and looking at the man she'd become I knew he'd made the right decision however hard it was on all of us. As I got into my car, I started humming a song I'd not thought about in a long time. "As time Goes by".

---

Author's Note: The idea behind this story initially came to me shortly after she died. I wondered why she'd had to die so young. I knew how things were with me (or, I understood it a bit better anyway a few years later once I realized I wasn't crazy). But, at the time, I didn't write. Last year, while listening to YouTube and clicking related songs, I ran across her singing "We've Only Just Begun." Then, I clicked the song "As Time Goes By" and suddenly the idea for the story came back with a vengeance. I started writing it - with their parent's funeral. I fudged the dates a bit - allowing one of them to live until just a few years ago as that made the story flow better, but hey, this is fiction, isn't it?

I hope there aren't too many typos / errors in this, as I'm flying without an Editor now... I don't know how to go about trying to find someone to take over where Gabi was doing such a wonderful job. She'd not seen this piece, though we had talked about it, but there are two other "works in progress" bits that she did review and suggest needed more (so they've not been finished). I hope this is something she'd have enjoyed.

Comments or suggestions welcome.